#but if i have work the next morning i'm not tired until 1 am

[shellsgrave]

me: wahoo i have tomorrow off and no errands to run, i can't wait to stay up all night playing video games (: me: sleepy before 8:30 pm

[mallowsweetmiri]

Potter!Reader x Remus

Summary: after weeks of having a painful crush on your brothers best friend, you make a plan to seduce him.

Warnings: smutty and slutty

Word count: 6k

—————————————————————————

You groaned into your pillow, wiping the sweat from your forehead into the cotton fabric. This was the second time this week you'd woken up sweating from a dream about Remus Lupin, and it troubled you deeply that the scenarios you imagined would never happen. For one, your brother would instantly shut you down if you even suggested going out with any boy, let alone his best mate. The more unfortunate part was that you were almost certain Remus saw you as nothing more than James' little sister, a title you were tired of carrying. You huffed again as you rose to start getting ready. How much longer could this crush go on? It had started on the train in September. You remember thinking to yourself that Remus had become quite good looking over the summer and left it at that. But soon, he started to catch your eyes in the hallways, then in the common room, until finally he had managed his way into your head. You were constantly thinking about him. Thinking about the glimpses of his chest you'd caught one time when his shirt was unbuttoned, thinking about the way his adam's apple moved in his throat, thinking about his hands...

You shook your head and stepped into the shower. If only you could know what he felt like, then maybe this incessant urge to be with him would go away. You felt the water fall down your back as you washed yourself up. You were a pretty girl, you knew this. If you were someone else, had a different last name, maybe you'd have a chance. Although, you'd never really tried before. You kept these thoughts to yourself, having nobody to talk to them about. Normally you would tell James everything, and he would usually play parent when it came to your school girl crushes. But you couldn't exactly go up to James and say, "Hey, do you think you could set me up with Remus? Y'know, your best mate? I really want to see what he looks like with his clothes off." No, you couldn't do that. But perhaps you wouldn't have to...

You stepped out of the shower feeling confident in your plan. You had spent all this time pining in silence over Remus, it was time for action. While you got ready, you made subtle changes. You hiked your skirt up just a little and slipped into the button down that was just a touch too small. When you did your makeup, you were sure to make your lips look extra lush and rosy. You put on your favorite perfume, the one you saved for special occasions. This seemed as good a day as any.

"There she is," James smiled and stood as you came down the stairs to the common room.

"Good morning, Jamie," you chimed, "were you waiting on me?" James laughed as he grabbed his bag off the floor, the two of you heading through to the portrait hole.

"I'm always waiting for you," James nudged you with his shoulder. "You look nice today." You raised your brow at him, his statement more of a question as if to ask "Is there a reason you're making an effort?"

"Thanks," was all you replied as you made your way to breakfast.

PHASE 1: Hook

When you got there, the other marauders were already sat down. Sirius was talking animatedly with Peter as Remus sat quietly reviewing notes.

"We've finally arrived," James said to no one in particular, taking a seat and immediately filling his plate. Remus look up from his book and mumbled something before delving back into his work. You sat next to James and made a bowl of porridge, listening to Sirius boast about the Quidditch match tomorrow.

"Ravenclaw is going to destroy Slytherin," he bellowed, thumping his fist on the table. "And then I am going to destroy a bottle of Firewhiskey in their common room." He smirked, earning and high five from James.

"That's the spirit, Pads," James cheered, taking a drink from his cup. You rolled your eyes and stirred your oats.

"I don't know how the two of you haven't died from overconsumption yet," you quipped, spooning sugar into your bowl.

"Genuinely," Remus added, looking up from his book, "you two are menaces." You hummed in agreement, bringing the spoon to your mouth to lick the extra sugar off. You caught Remus watching from your peripherals and made a show of it, bringing your glossed lips together at the tip of the spoon. When you glanced up thoughtfully through your lashes, he was still watching. It made you chuckle as his eyes quickly averted back to his book. Baited.

"Are you coming tomorrow, Y/N?" Peter asked, shoving toast into his mouth. You swallowed your porridge and swore that Remus' ears seemed to shift at the question.

"Y/N never comes to quidditch parties," James pouted, turning to look at you. You rolled your eyes.

"Correction, I never come to your quidditch parties," you teased, poking a finger into his shoulder. "I'll probably go tomorrow to see Pandora. If Ravenclaw wins," you reminded them. Sirius grumbled something but you couldn't tell what he was saying through his mouthful of sausage. James' face lit up with excitement.

"Ooh! Sibling bonding time," he gushed cheesily, squeezing your cheeks. Oh, for fucks sake. Could he stop? You were doing everything in your power not to be seen as his bloody little sister and he was ruining all your efforts.

"Okay, that's enough. I'm going to class," you grumbled, trying to hide your annoyance in front of Remus. The boys chuckled as you gathered your things and got up from your seat. If James was going to be a tosser, you'd have to up your game.

"Oops," you said innocently as you dropped your book on the ground, loud enough to make a clatter. You bent over to pick it up, praying that James was currently not watching.

"Merlin, Y/N. Pull your bloody skirt down," James scolded, making a foul face. You rolled your eyes at him again and stuck your tongue out as you continued to exit the hall. Well, if Remus hadn't been looking before, he surely was now.

PHASE 2: Line

You were more than excited for the Quidditch game, especially after spending yesterday evening stuck in the dungeons fixing your laughing potion. You were also excited because you had another chance to see Remus. You had only seen him briefly yesterday, and he was always buried in his work. Hopefully you'd be able to gain his attention today at the game.

With this intention, you slipped on a white babydoll top and watched yourself in the mirror as you buttoned it up. You looked good. You left the top button purposely unlatched, knowing it could catch someone’s attention. After slipping on your favorite pair of jeans, you felt confident- sexy, even. Just the idea of Remus thinking you were sexy made you bite your lip.

You didn't wait for your roommates to finish getting ready. You did a last check of your things, grabbed your coat, and started down to the common room. As per usual, the marauders were sitting around the couches, talking loudly and taking up space. This time, Remus was clearly in on whatever bet was being placed over the quidditch game. His crooked smile made you curse under your breath and fix your hair. You decided to play it safe and sit by Marlene in an attempt to hide your fluster.

“Hi Marls,” you chimed, plopping down next to her.

“Princess Potter! You look absolutely dashing today,” she gloated, giving you a quick hug into her shoulder. You blushed from her compliment and peered upwards from the hug. Remus was smiling at something Peter had said, but was looking at you. You sent him a small wave from under Marlene’s arm to which he nodded up in response before turning his attention back to the boys. Why was that so hot?

Within twenty minutes, the group of Gryffindors was ready to leave, so the lot of you began the journey down to the pitch. It was nice out today, one of those afternoons where the sun seemed to warm the grounds and the breeze. This meant that the entire school would be at the game. You weren’t usually a fan of crowded spaces, but you silently thanked the gods for putting you behind Remus as you filed into the stands. It was so packed, you could smell the cologne lingering off his clothes as you sat down on the bench. You bit your lip, trying to hide your smile of satisfaction. It felt like the universe was helping your scheme.

“Y/N!” James called over the crowd, leaning forward to see you. You raised your brows and leaned forward to see him, giving him a forced smile.

“Yes, brother dearest?” You called back in a sickly sweet voice. At least now you had an excuse to lean over Remus, who was currently leaning back as far as he could to get out of the way. Perfect position to climb onto his lap, your brain thought intrusively.

“Your boyfriend’s up on the pitch,” he wiggled his eyebrows teasingly, pointing to Theodore Pompous, a 7th year Ravenclaw. You leaned over Remus and Peter to smack your brother.

“Bugger off,” you grumbled. “I admit to having a crush one time in third year, and you still haven’t shut up about it!” You felt your cheeks blush as James and Sirius continued to tease you in the most immature manner. All you could do was roll your eyes and take it, those prats.

“Still have a crush on that posh boy?” Remus leaned in with a teasing smile. You internally groaned at him for joining in on the joke, but you wouldn’t pass up the chance to tease him back.

“Why, are you jealous?” You challenged with a devious head tilt. Remus scoffed and trained his eyes back on Theodore.

“Nah,” Remus replied coolly. “Besides, James would never let you go out with that git.”

“Oh, yea?” You asked, leaning in slightly. “And who would my brother let me go out with?” He turned to face you, his eyes meeting your provocative stare. His eyes flashed with something before Marlene tugged on your arm.

“Can you tell the boys to scoot down? Lily just got here.”

You stifled the urge to roll your eyes as you and Remus called out for the boys to move further down the bench. There wasn’t much room to spare, and you ended up wedged between Marlene and Remus. You were painfully aware of his leg against your own, though Marlene's thigh didn't seem to cross your mind. Remus leaned away from you, his hand behind Peter on the bench to support his weight. It was only a minute of this compromising position before they announced the start of the game. Then, everyone leapt to their feet, eager to watch.

It was a riveting match, and Slytherin almost took the win. Luckily, Theodore managed to catch the snitch at the perfect score ratio, ending the game and sealing the win for Ravenclaw. As the excitement and cheers began to die down, everyone started slowly filing out of the stands. You shuffled behind Marlene, the noise of chatter and brushing of shoulders making you feel slightly overwhelmed. The party was going to be packed tonight. You were almost to the stairs when your foot got caught on a raised step, tripping you into the walkway. You gasped as your heart lurched forward. You prepared for impact against the steps, but it never came. Suddenly, you felt that Remus’ hands had wrapped around your waist. Your cheeks flushed red as you twisted around to face him, his right hand still lingering on your body.

“Thanks,” you muttered sheepishly, your body still shaken from the almost fall. He hesitated for a moment with his hand on you, and was about to say something before James appeared next to him. Remus dropped his hand and shoved it in his pocket. You turned back around and kept following Marlene, carefully watching where you stepped.

“Y/N, fix your shirt!” James called from behind. You clenched your jaw as you kept trudging on, shuffling along with the rest of the Gryffindors. Marlene fell beside you and scoffed.

“He is such a prat about you,” Marlene complained, throwing a dirty look back at James.

“Tell me about it. I almost eat shit and all he cares about is my shirt buttons,” you grumbled, begrudgingly buttoning your top. Marlene cackled and threw her arm around you.

“Please tell me you’re coming to the party tonight,” Marlene pleaded, shaking you slightly.

“Oh, I’m coming to the party tonight,” you grinned delightfully, nudging her in response. “And James is going to freak out when he sees what I’m wearing.”

PHASE 3: and Sinker

"Okay, actually what the fuck are you wearing, Y/N. This is my last straw," James warned, pushing himself up from the arm chair. His outburst made the other three boys heads snap up. You couldn't help but smirk as you felt Remus’ eyes on your body.

"What? This is what people wear at Ravenclaw parties these days," you shrugged, waving past them towards the exit. "Not that you lot would know. You don't get invited." Sirius barked out a laugh, while James sputtered in disbelief behind you.

"She's right!" Mary called from the stairs, bouncing into the common room with the rest of the Gryffindor girls, all looking flawless. You couldn't blame James for his reaction- If anything, you should be thanking him. He's doing a great job of getting everyone to stare.

"While I respect your opinion James, I think I look great. And I can wear whatever the hell I want," you snapped, spinning around to face him with a stubborn glare. The girls cheered, shouting some excited "Hell yeahs!" as James gave up with a resigned eye roll. He knew better than to cross you on something you wanted, and you clearly wanted something. He just didn't need to know exactly what it was. The girls followed you excitedly as you started out the portrait hole. This was going to be a fun night.

As predicted, the Ravenclaw common room was packed. By the time you arrived, the moonlight was already pouring through the glass ceiling dome, casting everything in a dreamy glow. It wasn't hard for Pandora to spot you, pulling you onto the dance floor with an airy giggle. The music was pulsing through your veins as you finished your first drink, then your second. Pandora pulled you into her body, the two of you laughing as you swayed and twirled. For a moment, your eyes focused on the group of Gryffindors hanging out in the lounge area, laughing at something Sirius had said. Remus sat back in a chair, his casual demeanor seeming out of place in a room like this.

Remus.

Your swaying slowed as you trained your eyes on him sitting nonchalantly. He was watching you, his jaw tightening as his eyes dropped to where Pandoras hands rested on your hips. It was too bad that Pandora twirled you around and you lost your train of thought.

"Panda, let's go smoke. I'm getting dizzy," you called over the music, Pandora nodding in response. The two of you resigned to a quiet corner, where you pulled out a tin of cigarettes and lit one with a flick of your wand. You inhaled deeply, enjoying the relief of cool air away from the crowd. You leaned your back up against the wall as Pandora took the fag from your hands.

“Lingering eyes are on you,” Pandora sang, her spacey eyes falling behind you as she took a drag. You turned your head to see where she was looking and was met with Remus' stare.

“Perfect. Those are just the eyes I want lingering,” you replied, bringing your drink to your lips as you watched him. You half expected him to look away, but his eyes were burning through you. You watched as he scanned up your body, his eyes meeting yours before he downed the rest of his drink. He then quickly averted to James who was trying to get Remus' attention.

"I need another drink,” you mumbled as you pushed yourself off the wall, Pandora's giggles echoing behind you. You crossed the room over to where the drinks were. You couldn’t tell if the room was charmed to be slightly purple or if it was the night sky above you. Either way, the ambiance certainly added to your intoxication as you neared the edge of the room. You almost didn’t realize someone slipping up behind you.

"Are you teasing me, Y/N?" Remus asked, cornering you by the drinks table as you spun around. He moved quickly, and you peered behind him to check for any lingering marauders.

"I'm always teasing you idiots," you sassed, turning to grab a bottle off the table. Remus seemed to step even closer to you. If one of the boys saw you like this, they'd certainly take notice. He was being bold. Luckily, you were hidden by an abnormally large globe and the mist that seemed to float about the room.

"I see you everyday," Remus challenged, huffing out a laugh, "and I've never noticed you looking at me with those eyes, Y/N." You hummed as you filled two shot glasses.

“What eyes?” You asked innocently, looking up at him through your lashes as you held out a shot for him. He scoffed out another laugh and took the shot from you.

“Cheers, love,” he winked, clanking his glass with yours before downing the shot. You followed suit, happy to consume some liquid courage. He leaned in closer to you and lowered his voice, “You know, you should really be careful wearing something like that.”

“Why’s that?” You swallowed, the burn from the shot making your cheeks hot.

“You might catch someone’s attention who you don’t want,” Remus said darkly, making you bite your lip. You’d never seen him like this before.

“And what if I catch the attention of someone I do want?” You asked coyly, looking up at him again through a tantalizing gaze. Remus scoffed again for the third time, as if he couldn’t believe your audacity.

“And who is it that you want, Y/N? Hmm?” He asked, more of a challenge. At this point, you were certain that he wanted you. That, or you were about to be in serious trouble. Either way, the risk seemed worth the reward.

“You.”

Something broke in Remus as he stepped forward again, impossibly closer as his hands met your hips.

"You mean to tell me you wore this dress, just to get my attention?" He laughed, his voice low and teasing. You bit your lip and blushed, trying to hide your blatant satisfaction. Remus was smarter than he looked.

"Mmhm," you nodded, your poorly hidden smile spreading to his face.

"Fuck, Y/N," he broke and turned to scan the room, his hands still grasping your hips. You stared up at him, watching his jaw tense as he tried to locate the marauders. His hands were burning through your dress as you stood completely still. You felt relieved when he muttered, "Follow Me," and ushered you towards the exit. You weren't sure where your brother was, but you trusted Remus to get you into the hallway. Once you had exited the doors, he wasted no time as he pressed you into the wall, the force causing you to gasp. He held you in place as he pressed his forehead into yours.

"Can I kiss you?" he whispered and you almost scoffed. You tugged him by the collar and collided his mouth with yours, groaning when he deepened the kiss immediately. His hands were greedy, grabbing at your body as he pushed himself against you. This was even better than your dreams. All sense left your body as he continued kissing down your neck. He pressed his knee roughly in between your legs. A moan left you lips as he bit down, nipping and sucking at your skin.

"Fuck, Remus," you panted, your hips rolling up towards his body. He grunted and pushed you back against the wall. Who knew Remus Lupin would be so intense?

"Can I take you back?" he breathed heavily, as if he was barely holding onto his control.

"Do you even have to ask?" you teased, his body flush against your own. He huffed out a laugh as he kissed your neck again.

"You know I have to ask, Y/N," Remus muttered darkly, as though the act of asking in itself was a violation. And maybe it was, but you couldn't care less about the line he was crossing.

"Does this answer your question?" You whispered, pulling his hand down to touch you. He cursed under his breath as he felt you, his hand seeming to move on its own as he ran his fingers up your soaking panties. It took him a minute to regain focus.

"Okay, let's go," he commanded, guiding you down the hallway with haste. You giggled as he held your waist, moving you quickly towards the Gryffindor tower. You couldn't believe this was actually happening. It surprised and satisfied you that your plan had worked, that you'd managed to tip Remus over so far that he was bringing you back to his dorm.

"You're moving so fast," you fussed as he dragged you up the stairs. His legs were significantly longer than yours.

"M' sorry," he muttered, his eyes focused ahead. "I don't want to waste any time." His urgency was contagious, and you felt yourself pick up the pace. He released you as you stepped through the portrait hole, his grip loosening with surprising restraint. He was careful, and as much as it didn't concern you in the moment, you were glad at least one of you was being responsible. There weren't many people in the common room, everyone either asleep or at the party. Remus' hand found your back once again as he silently steered you towards the boys dorms. You went up the staircase until you reached their door, looking back at Remus for permission before opening it. The windows let in slivers of moonlight and a cooling breeze. Remus shut the door behind you and turned you around. Somehow his faced seemed more real as he stood there, his eyes searching your face.

"Remus," you breathed, feeling the weight of his gaze. He huffed out a breath through his nose, stepping close to you.

"Just tell me Y/N," he said, his hands finding your neck, "Just tell me if you want me to stop."

"I want you," you whined, standing on your tip toes and pulling him down by the neck. He gratefully returned the motion, groaning as his mouth found yours. Remus was everything you'd expected and more. He knew what he was doing, and his blatant want for you made your legs buckle under his touch. He walked you backwards, lifting you by the thighs and lowering you carefully onto his bed. His hand smoothed its way over your leg, pushing up the hem of your dress. His thumb swiped against your front, causing your back to lift slightly under his touch. He hummed into your mouth as he ground his hips down into yours. You could feel him through his pants, and you groaned at his size. Fucking hell. You ran your finger nails down the back of his shirt. Remus pulled his wand out of his pocket and closed his curtains, sitting up on his knees and unbuttoning his shirt. You watched, mesmerized by the show in front of you. The scars that ran down his chest, lower to his abdomen, and lower...

"My eyes are up here, darling," Remus teased, smirking down at you as he tugged off his shirt. You swallowed, looking up at his eyes which were no less intimidating than his body. He scoffed out a laugh as he climbed over you, running his fingertips down your body.

"If your intention was to get my attention all night, you did a good job," he breathed, pressing his finger into your clit. "Such a good job."

He stifled your moan with his mouth, his kiss wet and needy. His fingers moved carefully over your panties, provoking a response from your body that you'd never experienced before. You were trying your best to keep up with his kiss, but the overwhelming sensation of Remus had you melting into the bed.

"Oh, fuck," you moaned, throwing your head back into the pillow as his fingers moved underneath the fabric. He hummed as he began to kiss roughly down your neck. His fingers swiped over your slickness, teasing your entrance. You grasped onto him tighter, your nails digging into his shoulder as he plunged a finger inside you. He pushed himself up to watch you as he pumped another finger into you, you hips moving rhythmically with his hands. By this point, you looked a complete mess with your dress bunched around your middle and your mouth in a permanent gasp. You groaned as you felt yourself beginning to pulse on the brink of an orgasm.

"Fuck, Y/N. Are you going to cum?" Remus mocked you, he fingers stealdiy curly up inside of you.

"Y-yea. M' gonna cum," You whimpered, screwing your eyes shut. Remus muttered a curse under his breath before ducking his head and finding his way in between your thighs. Without warning, he buried himself in you, lapping at your clit while pinning you down by the waist. You grasped at his hair, attempting to pull him off of you but it was no use. He was humming into you as you moved in circle around his face, teetering on the verge of your orgasm. He let out a particularly throaty grunt that sent you over the edge. You let out a muffled cry as you spilled your juices onto his tongue repeatedly. He finished you up, humming as he began to kiss up your body until he hovered over you again. You pulled him down into a rough kiss, your hips snapping up to feel his hard on. "You're so perfect, Y/N," Remus praised, pulling your dress down over your bum. Your tits were now fully exposed, Remus' hands and eyes exploring over your body like he was trying to memorize you. "So perfect... I want you so badly..." He groaned, kissing over you chest and rubbing your tit in his hand. You groaned with pleasure.

"Then have me." You didn't hesitate to pull off the rest of your clothes, helping Remus unbutton his pants and pull them over his ankles. He did the same with his boxers, his length springing free. You bit your lip at the sight, a little nervous for how big he was. This didn't deter you though as you sat on your knees and leaned forward, beckoning him to use you.

"You're so fucking-” Remus let out a groan as he pushed himself inside your mouth, grabbing the back of your head with his hand. You wet his shaft with your tongue, moaning as he began to move down your throat. "So fucking good." His praises made you clamp your knees together, groaning again as you took him as far as you could handle. He gripped your hair roughly and throat fucked you for a few seconds before pulling you off, as if he couldn't control himself. "Turn around."

You did as you were told and spun around onto you hands. He pushed you chest down into the bed lined himself up with your entrance. You tried to sit back onto him, but his other hand held your hips firmly in place.

"Please, Remus," you choked out, your face buried into the mattress. He groaned as he pushed into you slowly, stretching you out with every inch he pressed inside of you.

"Oh, fuck," Remus breathed, moving slowly to let you adjust to his size. This consideration didn't last long before he was pounding you into his mattress, calling you filthy names and tugging on your hair. All the restraint he seemed to have went out the window as he fucked you mercilessly from behind.

"R-Remus. Fuck- me-" you cried, whimpering with every thrust. His hand gripped your hip with a squeeze as he leaned over your body.

"You're taking me so well," He breathed, running his hand under you body. He snaked his hand over your tit and pulled you up against him, making you gasp with pleasure from the new angle. "You're doing so good, angel."

He had you melting from his touch as your body gave out underneath his hands. He bit your neck gently, sucking and kissing on the sweet spot he had found earlier. You groaned as your head lulled back on his shoulder. This was not what you were expecting. You had no complaints though as he reached down between your legs and started pressing on your clit, pushing himself deep inside of you.

“R-Remus,” you warned, struggling to hold yourself up. You could feel a knot forming in your stomach for the second time as his thick cock moved inside of you, putting more pressure on your nerves.

“Just like that, Y/N,” he murmured, his strong hands holding you in place. “Just let go, sweetheart.”

You didn’t have to be told twice as you let yourself release around him, guttural sounds coming out of your mouth. You had no time to feel embarrassed over your moans as he pushed you back on the bed and started fucking you senseless.

“So good, fuck me,” Remus mutter incoherently as he rammed himself inside of you, grabbing at your hips. You looked back at him to watch, and were not disappointed at the sight. When his eyes locked onto yours, he broke. He snapped his hips haphazardly as he released himself inside of you. You moaned again at the feeling of Remus Lupin filling you up with his cum. He thrust into you one last time before falling over you, moving your hair to one side to kiss your neck.

“So fucking good, Y/N,” he praised again, cleaning the both of you up with an impressive flick of his wand. You hummed and turned yourself around in a fucked out daze. He watched you pout as you pulled weakly on his neck. He chuckled under his breath and came down to kiss you. The two of you stayed like that for a while, lazily kissing as his hands rubbed gently down your body, a stark contrast from his rough actions just moments ago.

“I should probably go,” you frowned as he came up for air. He mirrored your response and sighed.

“You’re probably right,” he said, pushing himself off of you. “Here, let me grab you a shirt.” He pulled on his own pants before you heard him shuffle to his trunk. Just as you were about to move to get up, you heard someone bounding up the stairs.

“Shit,” you whispered, frozen in place. You saw Remus’ hands toss a shirt through the curtain before retreating, and you gratefully put it on. Luckily, your dress was still under you. You heard Remus kick your shoes under his bed.

“Moony? Why’d you leave so early?” You heard Sirius ask with a slight slur, stumbling into the room.

“Started boking,” Remus replied casually. “I feel like shit, I’m just gonna go to bed.” Sirius hummed and fell on his bed. You heard him kick off his shoes and manuveur himself under the sheets.

“You and me both, Moons,” Sirius groaned, seemingly too drunk to care about any lie Remus was spewing. Remus moved towards his bed.

“Alright, well. G’night,” Remus murmured, climbing into bed quickly.

“G’night,” Sirius muttered, rummaging through something. You looked to Remus with concern, who only put his finger to his lips as he came to lay down next to you. His haphazard smile seemed to relax you a bit as he pulled you into your chest, humming with content.

“Just go to sleep, love,” he whispered quietly and kissed your head. “I’ll get you back safe and sound.” Perhaps it was against your better judgement, but you seemed to trust Remus wholly to take care of you. That and your body was completely exhausted from him. You murmured a goodnight as you buried yourself into his neck, falling asleep to the sound of his heartbeat. At some point, you heard your brother come in with Peter. Remus momentarily tensed causing you to shift. His grasp tightened on you before he heard Sirius grumble something along the lines of “sick” to James and the room fell silent again.

The second time you stirred, you felt Remus pulling away from you. You mumbled lightly, confused as to why he was getting out of bed. He turned to shush you quietly before stepping out. You heard him shuffle across the room.

“James,” he whispered, “James, wake up.” You sat up quietly in his bed. What the fuck was he doing?

“Mm,” James groaned, turning in his bed. “Moony?”

“Yea it’s me,” Remus said quickly. “Can I borrow your cloak? I think a Slytherin charmed my drink last night and I need to go on a quick mission.” You rolled your eyes at this. Remus was smart, and his lies would perfectly convince James. He would never turn down a prank.

“Oh, shit,” James said, slightly more awake. “Do you want me to come?”

“No,” Remus answered quickly. “Uh, no. I’ll be super quick. I just can’t sleep until I know I got back at them.” This seemed to appease James as you heard him fall back into bed.

“Sure, Moony,” James yawned. “It’s in my trunk.” You heard Remus shuffle through his trunk before coming back around to the other side of your bed. You heard him slip on some shoes before holding the curtain open, once again holding his finger to his lips. You rolled your eyes at this and quietly stepped out of the bed, thankfully blocked by the rest of the room. Remus threw the cloak over the both of you and guiding you to the door, trying to be as quiet as possible. Both of you felt relief as you stepped into the stairway, making your way down to the common room. Nobody was here at this hour. Remus threw the cloak off of you.

“I’m sorry about that,” he said, spinning you around to face him. “I should’ve been more careful.” You shook your head.

“It’s fine, I didn’t mind using you as my pillow for a bit,” you chuckled lightly. “Besides, I could’ve used a bit more caution myself.” You blushed shyly at him. You hadn’t been the most discreet throughout the whole ordeal. Remus laughed at this and ran his thumbs across your hips, causing you to shiver. You wore only his oversized shirt and your panties.

“Nah,” Remus said with his lopsided grin. “I think I quite like your obvious pining for me.” You slapped his chest lightly as he chuckled. “I’ll just have to work extra hard to keep you to myself.” He leaned in to kiss you, and you felt your heart leap. So much for getting over your crush.

“Hmm, I’ll guess I’ll have to keep trying to get you attention then,” you whispered, pulling back from his lips. He hummed and kissed you again, as if he couldn’t get enough.

“Go get some sleep, love. I’m sure you need it,” he teased, flashing another grin at you. You rolled your eyes at him but couldn’t keep your smile down.

“Goodnight, Remus.” You started towards the girls dormitories.

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

Remus found himself staying in the common room with James’ cloak, not wanting to return too early. He tried to convince himself this was a bad idea, but he couldn’t justify it. There really wasn’t anything that could stop him from fucking you again. His mind flashed with images of your perfect eyes looking back at him as he rammed himself inside of your perfect pussy. His head fell back onto the couch with a thud. He was a goner.

[theereina]

Bad News Pt. 2

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Plus Size Fem Black!OC "Bella"

Wordcount: +1.4K

Warnings: MDNI (18+) mature content, such as cursing, no smut, heavily dialogue-centered, mental health mentioned (anxiety), *emotional distress*, angst, heartbreak, chronic illnesses mentioned, health conditions mentioned (c*ncer, PCOS, endometriosis), infertility, slight verbal ab*se

A/N¹: Remember, I just got back into writing. I'm open to critiques, but I am a little 🤏🏽 sensitive about my writing. Please, don't be too harsh.🥺 Feel free to bring my attention to any typos. Divider by @firefly-graphics. Also, this work is not to be plagiarized or reposted (on any site other than here on Tumblr). I do NOT give consent for any form of republishing or rewriting.

A/N²: I am not a medical doctor. Please, forgive me if my knowledge of any of the mentioned medical conditions is incorrect.

Bad News Pt. 1=> 😢

Walking into the room, my heart was crushed even further. All of the feelings I wish I could explain; I couldn't. Terry and his bags were gone. I hadn't even heard him leave. He didn't even care enough to at least say goodbye. After all these years, I wasn't worth a goodbye. Two seconds just solidified that this relationship wasn't worth any more of my energy.

I couldn't understand it. How did we get here? Had he always been like this? Was I that blind? I guess I was so busy trying to find love that I forgot the most important rule— love wasn't supposed to hurt. Then again, every version of love I've experienced was painful, manipulative, abusive, and damaging. So, maybe I found what I was familiar with. I mean, why else would I be so comfortable putting up with this?

But, what do I do now?

*2 hours later

The room was covered in crumpled and torn pieces of notebook paper. I have tried and tried to write this letter. My hands were stiff, and my head was throbbing. I just wanted him to know how I felt because my mind was already made up. I'm done, and this is over.

If he would've just listened, we wouldn't be in this predicament. If he hadn't said those words, there would still be hope in my eyes and love in my heart.

Better yet, fuck this and fuck him. He doesn't deserve a letter. This doesn't concern him anymore. I've already changed my flight for tomorrow morning. I leave on the first flight out. Since I no longer have anything to say to him, there is no need to wait. I can return to the West Coast and be at home with my Godmother and Godsister when I receive the news.

*The next day

“I will never like flying’. I don't care!” I said stepping out of the bathroom after showering. I was dressed in a pair of sweats and a plain black T-shirt. I had wrapped a scarf around my head to protect my hair during my shower.

My Godsister, Shante, was waiting for me. She was relaxed on the bed with her back against the headboard. Her satin black bonnet and black fluffy robe made her look so much like her grandmother. “What?” she asked turning her head towards me. “You look like Nana Elsie!” I laughed into my hand. “Shut up!” she said slinging one of the pillows at me.

I walked to the bed and sat on the edge closest to me. I was tired. I knew why she was in here. She wanted to make sure I was okay. Honestly, I wasn't. My life was shit right now. Leaving Terry was just another stab to the heart. All I could do was pray to God that I didn't lose anymore. I couldn't possibly see myself being any lower than this.

“You wanna talk?” Shante asked rolling on her side facing my back. “Not really, I just wanna wait until they call,” I said solemnly. My shoulders were beginning to feel heavy again. I didn't want to think about what the doctor would say. I already knew this day was coming.

After years of medical neglect and misdiagnoses, I was finally given a proper diagnosis of both endometriosis and PCOS. I had been ignored for years when I complained of a forever-growing mountain of signs that something was wrong. I was told to “lose weight” to alleviate my symptoms. When I lost the weight, nothing changed. Some symptoms even seemed to get worse.

I had grown tired of all the referrals and guesses. I had explained to my original primary care physician years ago that I suspected that I had PCOS. It was dismissed as anxiety and medical hysteria. I tried again with three other physicians to be met with the same fate— try to lose weight, take this metformin, exercise daily, change your diet, etc.

This could have been treated years ago if someone would have just listened.

*3 hours later

I was in the kitchen eating when my cell phone rang. I picked it up thinking it was the call I had been dreading. I was eager to get this over with. Just say it, and let's move on.

“Hello, this is Bella,” I mumbled into the phone. I was on the edge again. Trying my hardest to breathe and stay calm. “Bell, where are you?” asked Terry. “Terry?” I asked pulling the phone away from my ear and looking at it. Fuck! Why didn't I look before answering? Why didn't I block him?

“Bella, I'm s—,” he started to speak before I interrupted him. “Save it. I… I don't care anymore,” I said through tears. “Bells, I was—,” he started again. “No,” I said sobbing into the phone. “Could you just—!” he yelled into the phone. That was it. I didn't have to deal with this. I hung up the phone and laid it on the table in front of me.

Pushing the plate away, I laid across my arms crying with my head down. My Godmother and Godsister were both gone to work. That left me alone once again with my emotions— all of them.

ring ring ring

Not again. I picked up the phone in anger. “I don't want to talk to you!” I screamed into the phone. “Isabella? It's Dr. Moore. We need to speak about scheduling your surgery immediately,” he said in a startled tone. “I'm sorry, Dr. Moore. I'm having a…,” I said taking a deep breath. “I can call back if—,” he said. “No!” I blurted out. “Sorry. Please, tell me now,” I whimpered. I was flying between emotions faster than my body could manage.

“Well, honey. I'm sorry to bring you such bad news at this time, but we're going to need to remove your left ovary. The cysts were quite large, and… Unfortunately, the biopsy indicated they were cancerous. The safest option is to remove the affected ovary and all endometriosis deposits. Later on, we can discuss any further changes,” he said. “Changes?” I questioned while sniffling. “If it progresses any further, we may have to perform a hysterectomy.” Dr. Moore continued to talk, but I had dissociated from the conversation. This was it.

My mind was overflowing with questions. Will I be able to have kids? Would this even get rid of the cancer? If it did, would it come back? Would life ever be normal for me?

I don't know. I'll probably never know.

*Later in the day

ring ring ring

Hours had passed since the call ended. I didn't want to talk. I didn't want to move. I didn't want to think. I had planned my whole life around me and Terry's relationship— kids, a house, a minivan, a dog, all of it. Now, everything was gone. Maybe my mother was right, I am cursed.

ring ring ring

“Who is it?” I sobbed into the phone. “It's me, Bella. Baby, can you please just listen to me?” Terry pleaded over the phone. “Why, huh? What’s there to listen to? You said everything you needed to say,” I yelled. All of my feelings were being overshadowed by my anger.

“I didn't mean it, Bella. That wasn't supposed to happen. I love you. You know that!” Terry yelled. “I don't know that, Terry. If you loved me, you wouldn't have said it. You meant it with all your fucking heart. You stood on it when you left without saying a word. No goodbye. No sorry. Nothing. That's not love,” I blurted out. I was beyond tired of holding my tongue. “Stop being so fuckin' childish right now and use your brain. You're always so damn emoti—,” he said cutting himself off. “Nah, say it! I'm too fucking emotional, huh? Ain't that right, Terry?” I screamed again. Tears were streaming down my face falling onto the kitchen table.

“I’m always sick, and… and I'm… I'm always emotional. That's what you… that's what you said, right? THEN, WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU WITH ME?!” I screamed as loud as I could. I threw the phone across the room. It hit the wall and shattered. Good. No more phone calls. No more doctors. No more — Terry.

Taglist: @avoidthings @brattyfics @slutsareteacherstoo @pocketsizedpanther

@nahimjustfeelingit-writes @blowmymbackout @5headsupremacist @creartivefairy

@insidefeelingofanadult @revealingco @keyaho @jimmybutlrr @gg-trini

@nayaxwrites @miyuhpapayuh @poektiou624 @gwenda-fav @nayaesworld

@ittsstephanieee @beenathembo @blyffe @thegreatlibraryofalex @persethegawd

[doctor-dusk]

𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐬 | 𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐱 𝐭.

a private session, as he said.

warnings: mutual masturbation, fingering (f receiving), exhibitionism and voyeurism.

word count: 3.4k

part 1, part 2

it took me longer than expected. ngl that i've been feeling a bit discouraged and insecure about my writing lately and i've been putting off posting. anyway, hope you like it :3

you haven't stopped talking for a minute since alex got your phone number. like, for hours, going into the early hours of the morning sometimes. 

you found out he lived a few minutes away from you and was a bartender at a night pub, so eventually he had to be absent when he was on his shift. of course you understood, but you couldn't help but miss talking to him when he was away for too long, especially at night. you found yourself looking at his profile picture, or at the photos he sent you throughout the days. 

obviously, at this point you already had a certain level of intimacy, so he didn't see a problem in sending you some kind of spicy photos, for example, after the shower. oh, these were your favorites. you loved his toned muscles glistening with water, the fluffy towel wrapping around his waist, the marked v line. and of course, you loved seeing the outline of his cock in the towel. 

a was a tuesday night. particularly rainy, the wind was not violent and the news reported that it could last until the next day, but that doesn't bother you. you were reading a book peacefully on your bed when you felt your cell phone vibrate under your pillow.

you fumbled around the bed looking for your cell phone, reaching under your pillow to grab the phone, turning on the screen and smiling when you saw that he had sent you a message.

“hi baby, just got back home.’’ he texted you.

you smiled at the nickname. it was already natural for him to call you that, but you still found yourself giggling about it whenever he called you like that.

“did something happen?” you texted him back. he should be working now, since he had said he had a shift at the pub that night.

“the power went out at the pub because of the rain,” he explained in another message after a while. “guess i'll have to go back tomorrow to make up the hours. yay.” 

you chuckled softly. it wasn't like he didn't like his job, he just found it tiring sometimes.

“what are you going to do now?” you asked him. 

“well, for starters, i’m gonna take a shower and eat something.” he answered, sending another message afterwards. “but first of all take off these clothes. i'm so fucking wet.” 

“hey, that's my line.” you joked, imagining he must have laughed when he read it. and he did.

“cheeky. later i'll make you wetter than i am now, what do you think?” he suggested. you bit your lip.

“i’ll wait for it.’’ you texted back, swaying your legs up and down like a teenager.

“good. i’ll call you in 30 minutes. wear something nice for me, love ;)” 

you thought you were dressed appropriately for him. a cotton cropped shirt and a flared mini skirt. but you thought there's something missing. it wasn't "nice" enough for him.

you opened your closet and drawers, looking for some suggestion. you didn't even know exactly what you were looking for. 

your eyes landed on your underwear drawer, remembering that you had a pair of white knee socks somewhere. you didn't know if he would like them, but knowing him well enough, you could deduce that was worth a try.

you put on the socks, the soft fabric gliding over your legs like a massage, the hem resting right above your knees. you looked at your reflection in the mirror, flexing your leg and bending your knee to see how it looked. then you turned your back, looking over your shoulder to see how it looked from this angle. it wasn't bad. it showed off your legs nicely. he might like it, but if he doesn't, he'll be polite enough to ask you to take it off.

you made sure your door was locked, turning the knob twice as a precaution. once confirmed, you jumped on your bed, grabbing your phone. as if on time, a message from him popped up on your screen.

‘’ready?’’

‘’yep.’’ you texted, settling yourself in bed, lying partially between your pillows, your back resting on the headboard, your knee bent so you could rest your phone on it.

seconds later, a video call popped up on your screen, and you answered it without delay.

oh, as always, he was handsome. unlike you, he was standing, probably walking around his apartment, the position of the camera revealed that he was holding his phone a little too low. and of course, shirtless.

‘’hey love, i- fuck, no, no! wait a minute.’’ he said before you could say anything, leaving his phone in a corner, the camera focusing on the ceiling was all you could see now. you waited for him to come back, listening for some noises and trying to figure out what it was. seconds later, he came back. ‘’sorry, i had to put the neighbor's cat out. the bastard tried to steal my last slice of pizza.’’ 

you laughed at what he said. you expected anything but that. 

‘’how did he tried to steal your pizza?’’ you asked as he was making his way to the bedroom, turning off the lights on the way.

‘’he came in through my kitchen window. can't turn my back for a bloody second.’’ he rolled his eyes, entering his bedroom, sitting on the edge of his bed. ‘’you look lovely, baby. new necklace?’’ he pointed out. you looked at your chest, the silver necklace resting on your collarbone. you didn't even think he would notice that. but he was very observant, especially when it came to you.

‘’yeah, i bought it yesterday when i went out to shopping with my mom.’’ you answered and he hummed, his mouth was too busy eating a piece of pizza. ‘’although this isn't the necklace i was looking for.’’

‘’which one did you want?’’ he asked, his voice a little muffled as he was finishing the slice of pizza.

‘’your hand.’’ you answered him, causing him to cough almost uncontrollably because he almost choked on the piece of pizza. you would have laughed if you weren't so worried about him. “are you okay? i'm sorry, i-”

‘’no, no, i'm fine. wasn't expecting it, you can't do this to me, jesus.” he laughed after catching his breath, his face was a little red because of it. “you can't have my hand as your necklace if you choke me to death on a piece of pizza.”

“sorry, i didn't know you'd be so surprised.” you chuckled softly, watching him wipe his mouth with a napkin, throwing the paper in the trash.

“you just caught me by surprise, hon. you're not usually this forward.” he said. he was right, sometimes you were a little shy, even though you've done things that say otherwise. “by the way, are you wearing something nice like i asked you to?”

you nodded, adjusting your posture, getting into an angle so he could see your body when you stretched out your arm holding your phone in your hand, giving him a good view. he let out a low whistle, enjoying the view.

“no way, knee socks?” he asked with raised eyebrows as his eyes landed on your legs, making himself comfortable in his bed. it wasn't in a disapproving tone, by the way.

“yeah, did you like it?” you asked a little insecurely.

“hell, a lot.” he licked his lips, taking a look at you. “i have an idea, do you want to know what it is?”

you nodded eagerly. by the tone he spoke, he was certainly going to suggest something for you to do.

“take off your clothes. i want you in nothing but those knee socks. can you do that for me, love?”

the idea made your hair stand on end. you knew that eventually you would undress for him, but you didn't know that you would be so nervous about the idea and that it would be so exciting to be naked for him, wearing only a pair of white knee socks.

“you can take your time, baby. don't worry, i've got all the time in the world for you.” he reassured you, making you even more comfortable with the idea.

“shirt?” you suggested and he hummed in agreement.

“are you wearing a bra?” he asked and you shook your head. “good. i miss those nice tits of yours.”

you giggled, grabbing a pillow and placing it on the middle of the bed, positioning your phone so that it rests on it.

“is the angle okay?” you asked him, sitting with your legs spread on the bed. he could even get a small glimpse of your panties.

“amazing, baby. keep going.” he said. he didn't really care about the angle as long as he could see you and your body on full display for him on his phone screen.

you pulled your crop top up, pulling it over your head. the mere sight of your breasts on the screen made him groan, biting his lip as he palmed himself over his sweatpants, even though you couldn't see it for now.

‘’so beautiful. one day i'm going to suck those tits, mark my words.’’

you smiled at the idea. alex seemed like the kind of hungry man who could devour you if he could. and he really was. he wanted to mark you, to sink his fingers and teeth into your flesh, so that he and everyone else could see that he was the one who did this to you. he wanted to make sure everyday that you were his, that only he could see you like that and make you feel that way. 

you touched your boobs, adding a little more anticipation to the moment, your nipples hardening with the mere stimulation on them, your eyes rarely looking at him on the screen, focused on losing your shyness as you touched your left breast while your right hand went down your belly.

“the skirt too?” you asked him, tracing your index finger along the waistband of your skirt.

“everything.” alex answered, a minimally authoritative tone was noticeable in his voice, but you didn't think it was bad. it turned you on even more.

you shifted in bed, your fingers hooked on the sides of your skirt, slowly pulling it down, letting the material slide down your legs, his eyes watching every move without blinking, as if he would never see something like that again in his life. his hand tightened his grip on his cock, feeling that sooner or later he would have to take it out, such was the pressure inside his boxers.

“you have beautiful legs, love.” he praised you as he drank the sight of your semi naked body, the only thing that kept him from seeing you naked were your panties and knee socks.

“thank you.” you smiled, you liked it when he complimented you, even when it was something simple. you felt desired, in a way.

“you're nervous, aren't you?” he asked. he had never seen you in person and never lived with you physically, but he knew you well enough to know that.

“god, yes. i'm sorry, i've never done that.” you mumbled, closing your legs a bit so you wouldn't feel so exposed.

“that's okay, baby, you're doing so good. take your time.” he said in a reassuring tone, not wanting you to feel insecure or embarrassed around him. “just remember that sooner or later i'm going to see this pretty pussy of yours. and believe me, i'm going to gorge myself on it.”

you chuckled awkwardly, still feeling a bit insecure. he pouted slightly.

“hey, look at me.” he asked you, he couldn't just hold your face and make you look at him, so he expected you to look back at the screen, which is what you did. “don't worry about it. we're just going to have some fun, i want you to enjoy yourself with me, hm?” he spoke calmly and patiently, knowing he needed to be careful with his words.

you smiled, nodding in response to him. he knew how to reassure you, how to make you feel safe. you were in this together, after all.

you tried opening your legs again, your hand running over the fabric of your underwear, testing the waters as he swallowed hard at your actions. you touched your sensitive bud, feeling it contract inside your panties with the touch of your fingertip.

‘’mhm, that’s it. doing so good, love.” he said, his voice almost in a whisper as he stuck his hand inside his sweatpants, squeezing his cock more directly over his boxers, his thumb ghosted over his sensitive tip, leaking precum and staining the fabric of his underwear. 

he felt uncomfortable with this, shifting in bed to get his sweatpants and boxers down, freeing his cock, the angle he was lying at made the tip touch his stomach.

“you're making me hard as fuck.” he moaned in a somewhat anxious way.

“yeah? show me.” you instigated him.

fuck, you didn't even need to ask twice. he angled his phone so you could see his cock, his free hand grabbing it firmly by the base, massaging it deftly, working his way up until he reached the head, pulling back the foreskin so you could see his glistening tip practically taking over your screen.

you leaned against the headboard, supporting your body weight there while your hands were free. one hand hooked your panties, finally pulling to the side, showing him your most intimate area.

“beautiful. just like i imagined.” he bit his lip, watching your fingers firmly grip the fabric of your panties like a real hook while the fingers of your other hand roamed the skin of your crotch, teasing both you and him. “god, i can already imagine myself with my face buried in this pussy all day.”

you giggled, you loved how vocal he was. your index and middle finger wandered through your folds in an inverted 'v' position, sliding up and down your labia, feeling your digits getting wet.

“'wet?”

“so fucking wet.” you answered and he groaned. you also knew how to tease him with words, his dirty thoughts getting the best of him as he saw you touching yourself like this.

“yeah? think i can shove my cock inside you without needing lube?” he asked you, starting to pump his cock faster.

“oh, you have no idea.” you said in a sly tone, moving your hands away from there only to pull the panties down your legs, discarding them on the bed among the sheets. and you were just the way he asked, completely naked, except for the knee socks. oh, that made his cock throb.

“god, you're so fucking hot.” he hissed, pumping faster, his fist closed so tightly that his tip was getting redder and the veins were getting more visible. “touch yourself for me, love. please.”

you brought your index and middle fingers to your mouth, thinking about it. please. he never asked you “please”, not that you remember. he always asked, in a polite but authoritative tone, sounding like a gentle order. but never added the word please. 

it sounded like he's begging you. and you liked it.

“please?” you repeated the word, wetting your fingers, bringing them down to your sensitive bud that was aching to be touched.

“fucking please…” he said in a desperate growl, his eyes fixed on your body as you tesed him furter, circling your fingers on your clit, the contact making you hiss. “feels good?”

“mhmm, so good…” you hummed, circling your fingers counterclockwise, the way you always did when you pleased yourself alone in that bed in your room. “i wish you were touching me right now.”

“don't say that to me or i might come out in the rain and climb in through your bedroom window just to fuck you.” he panted, making you imagine the scene, a small whimper leaving your lips.

“yeah? would you fuck me good?” you asked, moving your fingers down, teasing your wet and slick entrance, your fingertips sliding in with ease.

“so good, baby. would you like it hard and deep?" he asked you, feeling the pleasure starting to get the best of him, he tried to hold on as much as he could.

you nodded eagerly, sliding two fingers inside your tight heat. he watched as you buried your own fingers inside your cunt until reached your knuckles, withdrawing them just to repeat the motion. nothing had ever turned him on as much as this. he felt like a teenager watching porn for the first time, but it was a thousand times better. it was real, and it was for him. only for him.

“so be it. gonna fuck you good, baby. the way you deserve it.” 

his words entered your mind like a virus, your eyes squeezed shut as your fingers went back and forth, coating them with your arousal. you couldn't help but vividly imagine him fucking you hard, his hips snapping against yours, his cock filling you to the brim as he squeezed your neck, calling you his little slut who takes his cock so fucking well.

“oh my god, please…” you whimpered breathlessly, your legs starting to tremble involuntarily, your head tilting to the side.

“are you going to come for me, love? you're so close, i can see it.” he hummed, watching you nodding, his fist was hurting, but he didn't want to stop, not when he was so close too.

“yes, yes, oh alex…” you moaned his name, making him grunt in response, his breath ragged and his body trembled, he could barely concentrate on holding the phone anymore, even though he doesn't want to miss a single second of you fingering yourself, chasing your climax.

“fuck, i can't hold back…” he almost whined, and you let out a satisfied smile, so close that you're already seeing stars.

“yes, fuck me, alex…” you moaned, and that was the last straw for him. he moaned loudly, his head falling back into the pillow as he came, making a mess of his own belly and chest, but he didn't stop, even though his senses were overwhelmed at this point.

as you watched him fucking his own fist through his orgasm and heard his whimpers, you followed him suit, cumming on your fingers, your free hand covered your mouth so you wouldn't moan loudly as the climax hit you, your trembling legs closed automatically around your hand as your fingers pumped and curled inside you to prolong your pleasure.

in the seconds that followed, all that could be heard besides the sound of the rain outside were the panting breaths as the bodies lay completely exhausted on the respective beds. it was so intense, you couldn't remember the last time you had an orgasm that good, especially when you were touching yourself.

after a few seconds, he broke the silence.

“still there?” he asked. you gave him thumbs up and he chuckled. you needed a few more seconds to recover.

“yeah, yeah…” you mumbled, taking a deep breath through your nose and letting it out through your mouth. then, you lifted your head, looking at him. he was as broken as you were.

“it just gets better, princess. you're amazing, really.” he said. and he was sincere, you could see it. or at least he gave you enough confidence to make you think that.

“you're amazing too. you must be even better in person.” you answered him next. it was like you were having pillow talk after sex. the difference is you hadn't had sex. not yet.

“well, baby, i'll try to impress you. i have to win you over every day.” he chuckled, groaning as he saw his own mess, knowing he would have to clean himself up. “hate this part.” 

“i wish i could lick you clean.” you pouted and he pouted too, chuckling at your boldness.

“you always get feisty after having your orgasm, huh?” he questioned and you giggled, picking up your panties to put them back on carefully, your legs felt like jelly. 

“only with you.” you winked at him, licking your fingers as he sighed at the sight of you. he was quiet for a while, just looking at you, his mind working in different ways. “what?”

“i want to see you.” he answered after a few seconds of silence.

“you’re seeing me already.” you chuckled and he shook his head after letting out a weak laugh.

“no, i want to really see you. to meet you in person.” 

oh. now that was another level.

[luveline]

hi lovely :) i have a request for you!!

i’m thinking spencer reid x reader (and platonic!bau team if you don’t mind!!) where reader is having a bit of a rough time with mental health, but is 1 year clean and they have a lil celebration? thank you!!

-🍓 (this is my application for being an emoji anon lmao)

hi, thank you! ♡ fem 1k

cw implied drug use

You're expecting your boyfriend's voice when a hand touches your shoulder, but it's actually Hotch that speaks. "Good morning. Are you feeling alright?" 

You meet his furrowed brow with a softer expression. "Morning, Hotch. I'm good, I'm," —you stretch your arms out in front of you in a lie— "just really tired." 

"Take it easy today, okay?" You nod quickly. "Okay. And Y/N? Well done." 

You enjoy the shoulder squeeze he gives you and hide your abject puzzlement as he heads up the steps to his office, briefcase in hand. It's always nice to be doted on, but what's today? 

"Hello," a new voice says, a hand again on your shoulder, ducking down to kiss you behind the ear. Here's your expected boyfriend, Spencer's voice low and spectacularly sweet, "Good morning. You're here early, I haven't even made you coffee." 

"That's okay, I can make it." 

His arms cross over your chest. He touches you so confidently, his lack of hesitance a great encouragement; it's hard to find room to feel insecure about things when Spencer seems to see no faults in you. Hard, but not impossible. 

As though he can sense your rough morning (rough week, rough month), he holds you that second longer than usual, lips like angora silk where they touch to your cheek. "I'll make it, thanks. It's the least you deserve today." 

"Right," you say. He strokes your shoulder with his thumb in farewell, leaving you wondering. Today isn't your birthday, you'd probably know if it were. 

"Hey, good morning!" Emily says as she arrives, thrusting her bag and her travel mug onto her desk before she descends on you. 

It's her hug that breaks the camel's back, so to speak. You give her hands an absent minded hold but pull back in her embrace. "Emily," you say, frowning at her, "what's so special about today?" 

She blinks like she's worried to tell you, but she gets it together and hugs you again. "You're one year clean today. Everybody's so proud of you," she says quietly. 

You almost bite the tip of your tongue off. "How do you know that?" you ask. The thing about staying clean is that it haunts you until it doesn't. Some people can't ever beat it, and some people can. It's been a huge struggle for you, but eventually relapsing stopped feeling like an option, especially while you've been with Spencer. You can't do anything to jeopardise your safety while you're with him, you just can't. (That doesn't mean you haven't desperately wanted to.)

"Well, I knew it would've been around now, but Spencer sent us a memo. Nothing too detailed, you know, but we all…" She smiles at you wryly. "We care about you so much, and we didn't get it right with Spencer." 

No, they didn't. Spencer didn't get half the support he deserved, so he's making sure you do. 

There's something of a mental block in you that doesn't allow you to cry, but this shakes you roughly. Emily gives you a sorry smile and a last quick hug, apologising that she has to go and speak to Hotch before the work day officially begins. You lean back in your chair and click dazedly on an email from Penelope detailing how deeply loved you are and wondering if you'd like to go shopping. I know today might be really hard, so if you need me you know where I am. Love Pen. 

"You okay?" Spencer asks, placing your coffee in front of you on the desk. 

"Come and sit with me for a bit." 

You don't sound like you're asking, but you are. Spencer hears the need in your demand and immediately grabs his chair to sit next to you. You're surprised he didn't squat. 

You turn your face, lay your cheek on the short back of the chair uncomfortably, and take him in. He looks great these days, the memory of a young man firmly buried beneath a well-fitting suit, a cropping of facial hair, and the subtle, lean lines of muscle especially evident as he sits back to copy you, curls falling into his eyes. "You told everyone about my anniversary." 

"Your accomplishment," he corrects quietly. "I did." 

"I do want them to know, just… I feel a bit raw." You hardly remembered yourself, though you knew it was soon. 

Spencer takes your hand, pulling the joined pair between his knees. "It's something to be extremely proud of. And there's nothing wrong with celebrating it." 

"It's embarrassing–" 

"It isn't." He sits up as someone comes closer and you follow suit. This is a complicated conversation and your simple intimacies are necessary but inappropriate in the workplace. "I'm sure there are a ton of people who find sobriety embarrassing, but those are all people who don't know what it feels like to have to do it. We," —his voice softens— "do. I know exactly how it feels, and I know exactly how you've been feeling lately, so I'm proud of you and everyone else should be too." 

"How I've been feeling lately?" you ask. 

"Come on." Spencer stands and takes your face into his hands. One is warmer than the other, and he uses it to stroke the baby hair's at your ear very gently. "You do a really good job at hiding how you feel, but you can't hide from me." 

"I'm not trying to." 

"Good," he says, leaning down to kiss you. A soft, brisk connection. "I love you." 

"Not as much as I do, loverboy!" Morgan says as he arrives, giving Spencer a little nudge as he needles his arms behind your back and kisses your cheek. 

"You're squeezing me." 

"Have I told you lately how much I love you?" Morgan asks, squeezing your harder. 

"Morgan, she knows you know." 

"Know what?" 

"You didn't see the memo?" Spencer asks. 

"What memo?" Morgan grins at you with pearly white teeth and scrubs at your shoulders until you're squirming at the pressure. It's nice. "Looking good, gorgeous." 

[yesitsmewhataboutit]

Out Of Sight, Out Of Mind

Alpha!Shoto x Omega!Reader

➤ Part 2 to this fic - Shoto has no memory of what happened, or what he did (u can find request in part 1 comments)

Warning ⚠️: injury talk

»»——⍟——««A/n: I feel like Todoroki is OOC here…. The title sucks and I feel like the fic sucks. Why am I posting it? Who knows 😭😭but ig maybe yall will like it

Omegaverse Key

Masterlist

̶̶̶̶ ̶«̶ ̶̶̶ ̶ ̶«̶ ̶̶̶ ̶ Requests open　 ̶»̶ ̶̶̶ ̶ ̶»̶ ̶̶̶ ̶ ̶

You spend the rest of the night there with Todoroki. When he's asleep, you manage to slip away to put the groceries away and clean up the blood from his face and hands. By the morning, he's still out cold. You call his agency to tell them he won't be in and start making breakfast, preparing to wake him.

You walk to the couch and kneel down next to Shoto, putting your hand on his shoulder and shaking him a bit. "Sho. Sho, wake up," you say gently.

He groans, his eyes opening and chest rising as he takes a deep breath. Shoto tries to turn his head and look at you, but the second he moves, you can see the slight flitch in his face, his hand rising to his shoulder, feeling the bandage over his scent gland.

"What happened?"

"Your scent glands got infected. Do you remember yesterday at all? Or how it may have happened?"

Shoto groans. "That's the last time I use that stupid detergent from Kaminari."

"What?" you laugh.

"There was a... incident after a fight, involving some weirdly constructed slime, some dirt, and flower,” he mumbles. “Anyway, long story short, I had to wash my suit at the office, and Kaminari offered a special mix of detergent he uses. Considering his "special mix" of slime was part of how I got into that situation, it was a poor decision on my part. Must’ve had a reaction.”

You can't help but snicker a little. "Oh, Shoto." You shake your head and stand. "Come on, I made breakfast. Let's go to our room."

Shoto spends the day recovering in bed. While he's taking a nap, you begin washing the dishes from breakfast. In your own world you don't hear him walking up behind you. "Hey, Love," he says, resting his hand around your waist and leaning on your back, a normal action for him. Before you can respond, though, you feel the slight surge of pain jolt through you, him unknowingly touching the bruise on your back, making you jolt away from him.

You try to play it off, turning around and smiling at him. "Hey, how are you feeling?" You lean up to give him a kiss, but he backs away, a frown on his face.

"What was that? Are you ok?"

You turn around, shrugging like it's nothing. "Yeah. I'm fine." Shoto stands behind you, watching you closely. He raises his hand, gently touching you again. You don't react as much, but he notices how your body tightens up a little. "Y/n-"

"Shoto, I'm fine-" you begin, turning around to face him again, and as you do, you hit a glass off the counter, it shattering on the floor. "Oh, sorry!" you say, putting your hand out so he doesn't get cut.

"Y/n, be careful!" Shoto says, reaching out his hand to help you over it. You take his hand, stepping over the glass and grabbing the broom.

You and Shoto being cleaning, you'd like to believe it really was an accident and not a subconscious way to distract Shoto from your reaction. You knew he'd feel crushed if he saw the -still fresh and red- marks all over you, and you know he doesn't remember, so you decide to move on and not mention it to him until they're a bit more healed.

Three days later, Shoto is feeling better and heading back to his agency. In the area you work for, your schedule is one week on, and one week off, but the week off is set as only on-call, this's your on-call week.

You end up getting a call around two o'clock, and by the time you're done, you're tired and sore, especially where the claw and teeth marks are, your hero suit having been rubbing against them for hours. When you get home, you shrug off the top of your hero suit, figuring Shoto isn't home yet from the fight you heard he was in earlier in the day.

You stop at the counter in the kitchen, wanting to make a quick snack that you can take with you to the bedroom. You hear shuffling in the hallway, and then a voice. "Y/n." You turn around and smile.

"Oh! Hi, Shoto," you smile. You can make out his figure in the darkness, and you're hoping he can't see you clearly with only the light you turned on over the sink.

You know if he sees you, you'll be busted. You have a tank top on, but it doesn't hide what's on your shoulder.

"Hey! I was just making a snack," you say, turning around and reaching to grab your plate and turn the light off. When you turn back, he's only a few feet from you, and he stops with only inches between you. He takes one hand, taking the plate out of your hand, and at the same time reaching behind you and flicking the light back on. You can only look up at him, as his eyes focus on your shoulder and his hand slowly sets down your plate. "Y/n," he asks lowly.

"Yeah?"

"Who did this to you?"

"Sho, it's nothing," you say, trying to turn and walk away, but getting caught by his hand instinctively flying out, catching your side and again, making you flinch.

Shoto makes a face, his hand dropping away from you. "Let me see."

"Shoto-"

"Let. Me. See." You sigh in defeat, turning around and lifting your shirt. "Are those claw marks, Y/n?" The color in his eyes darkens, the color of an alpha coming out, the telling sign of anger levels rising.

"Yes, but they're not even that deep-"

"Who. Did. This."

You couldn't look at him, you didn't know what to say, how to say they were his claw marks. "They aren't that bad, Sho, it's fine."

"You're bleeding Y/n! How could you say that!"

"It's only sometimes, they're healing. How'd you know?"

"There's been blood on your shirts. It's small, not super noticeable, but not to mention every time I'd get too close or touch a certain spot you flinch. How did it Y/n? These are claw marks, deep claw marks. And a bite, that's frankly too close to your mating mark for my taste. And I know it is not from a fight, that no part of this is from a fight. What happened Y/n?"

You look down at your hands. "You did. Um, you were pretty out of it when Recovery Girl came over. So, to make sure you didn't attack her and stay still, I had you lean over me. You're body reacted automatically, it's really no big deal, Sho." You look up at him, and part of you wishes you hadn't. The anger and darkness in his eyes were replaced with hurt and sadness.

"Y/n, you- why didn't you tell me?" his voice sounds so small, so broken and it nearly breaks you.

"Cause, I knew you would beat yourself up. It's really not that bad."

"Y/n, it could get infected. Why aren't you treating them?" Shoto takes your hand and leads you to the bathroom, making you sit and take your shirt off.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you," you say as he starts treating the marks on your back.

"It's alright Y/n, just please don't do this again. You need to tell me next time. Accident or not. I thought you were attacked."

You sigh again. Shoto coming around and looking at your face, his eyes meeting yours, his hand tenderly caressing your cheek as he places a kiss on your lips. "I'm sorry, Love. And I promise I'll make this up to you."

"There's really no need. I told you, I'm fine."

No, Y/n. You're my omega and I left marks on you. Lasting marks. I will make this up for you. Promise."

Masterlist

[storiesfromafan]

Leavin' On Your Mind - Benny x Reader

A/N: double feature tonight haha, but different one-shots. And I'm back with Benny x Spitfire.

Also, I promise to work on my Mattheo stories haha.

Part 1, Part 2

Tag list: @strayrockette

Wedded bliss had been beautiful. And lasted for three weeks before your first small fight with your husband. It was over something trivial that you’d forgotten about. But with that first fight there were gradually more, and they grew in intensity. A fight here and then heated makeup sex in your shared bedroom – sometimes the lounge room – a little while later. You’d always bounce back quickly.

Until it got to the point were Benny would start saying he’d leave, take off and it would be best for you. How he was trouble and you deserved more than that. You jumped at this, telling him you needed him, now and always. And not to leave you. It would talk him down, and back to you. Leaving you cuddled up together, holding the other. Something told you he did it for reassurance that you loved him, and needed him. Just as much as he loved and needed you.

It was at the sixth month mark of your marriage when the next major fight hit. It was bigger then any fight you’d both had. There was raised voices, some curse words, and slamming doors. And what was it over? Benny not getting home till four in the morning, after you’d gotten home from a long day on your feet, and made a sixth month wedding anniversary dinner for you both. You’d been tired but still put in the time and effort for your husband. Only for him to not show up.

You slammed the front door in Benny’s face, crossing your lounge room with fury. The door opened, Benny moving inside, before slamming the door himself. Though not as hard as you had. The look on his face was a mix of confusion and annoyance.

“What’s ya problem!?” Benny asked with a huff, standing by the front door.

You had gone into the kitchen, only to reappear in the door frame, fire in your eyes. “Are you serious!?” You asked shaking your head. “Alright, if you can’t work it out. My problem is you rockin' up at four in the mornin'. Stayin’ out, without a word from ya”.

He sighed. “Really!? That’s it!”

You straightened up, crossing your arms over your chest. “That’s it” you said, dangerously calm. “That’s not just it Benny!”

He sighed in frustration. “Tell me what I’ve done, and we can move on”.

You stared at your husband, if looks could kill, Benny wouldn’t be lucky. “You wanna know Benny?! It was our sixth month wedding anniversary last night, and I came home – after a long, bad day – to cook us dinner! Only for you to not come home till four in the morning!”

Slightly flinching, Benny got the picture. But recovered quickly. “You never told me!”

Now you sighed. “Yes I did! I mentioned it earlier in the week, but I guess ya weren’t listenin’ to me. Like most of the time”.

That hit a nerve in Benny. He listened to you. He always did as you asked. Yet he didn’t remember you mentioning your anniversary. If he had, Benny would have been home asap, flowers in hand for you. But now you were fighting, you telling him he didn’t listen.

“Look baby” Benny began, trying to keep his voice calm. “I don’t remember you mentioning an anniversary dinner, can we both agree to disagree, and move on?”

His voice had cooled you off, but his words fanned the flame and ignited your anger yet again. “No! We can not! I am tired of speakin’ and you not always listenin' Benny!”

Running his hand over his face, Benny felt like you both were going around in circles. He understood your anger, but its like you weren’t listening to him. All consumed by anger. You watched your husband for a few minutes, and when he didn’t speak, you let out a loud, annoyed noise. Before storming off up stairs. You wanted him to talk, wanted him to put you first more. He had in the beginning, but now you were an after thought.

Guess the honey moons over, you thought heading for your shared room.

Benny sighed with frustration, clenching and then unclenching his hands. Once that urge to punch something passed, Benny took off upstairs after you. Coming to your bedroom door, Benny lent against the frame, head resting against the cool wood. His baby blues watching you fold some clean laundry.

“I’m sorry...” he said softly, admitting defeat.

You continued to fold the clothes, back to him. You were glad he apologised but it wasn’t entirely enough. For all you do for him, for you both, he couldn’t be home at a reasonable hour. You don’t want him to do it every day, but a few nights a week would be nice. Especially when you’ve had a long day of catty women over their hair, falling into his arms is the best way to relax. In fact, it’s been almost a week since the last time you had cuddled up with your husband.

There is love in what you do for each other, but there’s been a lack in physical love between you both. Almost a week since you cuddled up to him, his arm holding you tightly like a comforting blanket wrapped around you, his head resting on yours or in the crook of his neck. Nor has there been much sex, maybe three times this week. When you would have sex at least twice a day.

Benny stood up from his leaning position. “I said I’m sorry baby”.

“I heard ya” you said, calm but sharp.

“So, do ya forgive me?” He asked in a voice that pulled at your heart, the need thick in it.

“I don’t know Benny...” that hurt to say, but it had to be said. You needed to be heard. “You’ve been coming home at all times of the mornin’. Or goin’ to the bar, which I don’t want you to stop doin’. But I need you too. I need my husband”.

His guard went up, but he heard you. “You sure you need me? Because it feels like ya don’t. Feels like I’m the problem...”

You shot around, clothes forgotten, as you stared at him. “You’re not the problem! I’m sayin' ya being out all hours is, when I’m here waitin' for ya!”

Benny’s eyes darkened, a fair off look in them. “Maybe I should go, just leave. It would be better for ya...”

When things got tough or real, this was Benny’s way of dealing with it: running away. Or saying it. Every damn time. It hurt you more then the initial reason for your fight. Which would make you cave, telling him not to leave, to not leave you. But this time it sparked anger in you, not washing you in worry and desperation to have him stay. No, it stoked the anger embers that resided in you, giving them life yet again.

You snapped. “Fine! Then leave Benny! Ya always talkin’ about it, and being the loving wife I am, I talk ya out of it. But not this time” you stared him in the eyes. “If ya got leavin’ on your mind, then go!”

Benny was shocked. Shocked you didn’t protest, nor fight for him to not leave. And maybe part of him knew one of these days you’d finally have enough of his threats. But he hadn’t expected it to be today. Then he felt anger and sadness. Anger because of your lack of fight, sadness because you were telling him to go. Yet it’s what he proposed in the first place.

“Fine!” He growled, slamming his hand on the door frame. “Alright, I’m leavin’!”

With that Benny turned around, stomped down the stairs and grabbed his jacket with colours before leaving out the front door. Door slamming loudly behind him. You stood there, looking to the open bedroom door way, not daring to move a muscle. You heard the roar of Benny’s bike, before it took off down the street. And possibly out of your life.

That was when it all washed over you. The fight, your words, his words, his threat to leave and you sealing his fate to go. How did it get so heat and this far? You slowly sat on the end of your shared bed, tears rising in your eyes while your chest ached and rose, and fell from your fast breathing. What had you done? What if Benny didn’t come back? What if he has an accident on his bike because he was angry? You wouldn’t be able to live with yourself if something bad happened to him.

For the next few hours you floated around the house, physically there doing things on autopilot, but mentally you were constantly playing everything over and over. Trying to work out what had happened. And then when it got too much, you would begin to cry. It would hit at random times. You would cry, your heart aching while you are full of worry.

At nine o’clock – when you were put together for the moment – you called the bar. You just wanted to know if Benny was there and alright physically. You know he would be mad or upset, or both. On the fourth ring someone picked up the phone, it was Brucie. You asked him if Benny was there, he told you to wait a moment while he checked. When the phone was put down you could hear how lively the bar was.

There was movement, the phone was picked up again. “Hi (Y/N)” came the voice of Johnny, he sounded concerned.

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “Hi Johnny...i-is Benny there?” Your voice cracking.

He sighed. “Nuh, he’s not. But he came in earlier. Wasn’t too good, he went on about leavin’ and I couldn’t make heads or tails of what he was on about”.

You lent against the wall, slowly sliding down to sit on the floor. A sigh left your lips. You told Johnny what happened, how you had been angry over Benny not being home for dinner. How you wanted him to be here with you more, just a couple of nights. You weren’t trying to stop him from being with Johnny and the guys. And then you told him how Benny always threatened to leave, just up and go.

“I said fine! Then leave! I was angry Johnny” you had started to cry, voice straining to remain clear. “I didn’t mean it, really. But I just lost it...I didn’t want him to go...”

Johnny was quiet for a few minutes, just the noise of the bar being heard. “I know ya didn’t mean it. I know what it’s like to have a wife, and how fights can go” he started, being sympathetic. “It might not have been the right thing to say, nor does it not mean your anger didn’t mean anything. Couples fight, it’s about workin’ it out. Give him some time to cool off and sort himself out, yeah?”

Having vented to Johnny, and hearing his words, helped pull a bit of you back together. You were glad he listened to you and didn’t take Benny’s side right away. Maybe he had a point. Giving Benny time to cool off and think might be the best thing. When he comes home you would have a talk and sort it all out. You knew it.

“Yeah, I will give him time” you agreed. “If he comes back to the bar first, will ya let me know, please?”

“Of course. I’ll keep ya informed if I hear anything on him too” replied Johnny.

With that you said thank you before hanging up. Once again left alone in the house. It felt empty without Benny’s presence. Like half of it was missing. And it was. You were feeling it. You didn’t liked how this all went. You wish you could go back and do it differently. But what’s done is done.

The first few days without Benny or hearing about him were hard. You were on autopilot, going about your day without much thought. Only when someone mentioned him, or something reminded you of him, did you find yourself crying. At work you would slip out the back of the shop, taking a moment to let your tears flow. If you were at home you would just let it flow. You would end up in bed, head resting on Benny’s pillow, allowing the small remaining smell of him invade you. Those tears falling heavier and faster.

By mid week your tears had dried up a bit. Maybe you were all out of liquid to shed. And at work you more present, able to function better. At home you still found yourself – when you didn’t have chorus to do – you would sit around or lay in bed, staring off into space. Your mind thinking of your husband, hoping and praying he was fine. And that he would come home soon, as soon as possible.

By the end of the week, Saturday, your anger had started to rise. For Benny had still not come home, nor has Johnny updated you. If this was Benny's plan to teach you a lesson, that wouldn’t fly. If this was to be cruel, then he was cruel. And so you pushed him to the back of your mind. If he didn’t care, nor did you. You went out during the day and went shopping. You decided to go and buy the dress you had been eyeing. And buy it you did.

It was on your walk home did you run into Pam. She had been out shopping for a gift for a family member. It was nice to run into her, and she was just as happy to see you. Somehow your chat ended with you being invited out for drinks that night. At first you were going to decline her offer, but after a thought, you accepted her invitation. Your husband be damned. He wasn't here, so why should you stay in and wait for him?

So, that evening you got ready – choosing to wear your new dress. Done your make up like you use to, before Benny left, as you had been too depressed to do much during the week. Your hair was done in a half up, half down do. You admired yourself in the mirror, talking yourself up. Reminding yourself that before Benny you were strong and confident in your appearance.

Thankfully the bar you were meeting Pam at was on the opposite side of town. Less likely to run into a Vandal. Entering the trendy bar, you scanned the room before spotting your friend. She waved, seeing you looking for her. You hugged each other when you made it to her table.

“Wasn't sure if you were goin’ to come" Pam said, sitting back in her seat. “Thought you'd probably go to the Vandals bar".

You flinched at her words, but did your best to cover it up. “Nuh, not tonight".

She smiled. “I take it Benny is there”.

This time you stiffened in your seat, Pam noticing it this time and giving you a soft concerned look. “Is everythin’ alright?”

“I’m gonna need a drink – or two, first” you replied with a sad smile.

So, with your first drink you told Pam about your whirlwind romance and marriage. With your second drink, you got into the small fights before getting to this big one. And how Benny had taken off. She was surprised and concerned for you. Asking you how you feeling and going. You were honest with her. That you were hurt and sad, missing him. But now you were angry. Angry he hadn’t come back or called, as you don’t know if he was alive or not.

“I just...I just wish he would at least let me know he’s alright, ya know?”

Pam nodded her head. “Unfortunately not all men think about anyone but themselves”.

You nodded. “I know, but Benny wasn’t like that. Not till now, I guess” you said in thought. “He always thinks of me, like makin’ sure I had what I needed. Pickin' me up from work if I needed it. If I asked him to do somethin', he’d get right to it. But then it changed...”

“The honey moon faze is over” she commented, almost the same words previously mentioned to you. And you had said no chance.

“I had hoped it wouldn’t...but I guess it did” you sighed.

After that chat, you and Pam tried to lift your spirits. You both drank and changed the topic. Choosing to talk about her and how her life was going. She was happy with her man, and her job. And you were truly happy for her. After a few more drinks you both got to dancing, laughing and having fun. When the night wrapped up, you parted ways happy. Thankfully, Pam’s partner had picked her up, and was kind enough to drop you home.

Waving to them at the stairs of your porch as they drove off. Smiling to yourself, partially from the good company and alcohol, you turned to your door to unlock it. If only your good mood was to last. Just as you crossed the threshold, you caught the roar of a bike engine. You froze, heart stopping. It got closer, and you turned around to watch as the person who’d been missing for a week came into view.

Benny pulled up to the curb, killing the bike before putting down it kickstand. He then swung his leg over, coming to stand by his bike. That was when he looked up to see you standing in the open door way. He had hopped you would have been in bed, considering the late hour. But he wasn’t so lucky. He noted that you were dressed up, probably coming back from a night out. Which surprised him, for Johnny had told him – when he dropped into the bar not that long ago – how upset you had been on the phone with him. Saying it killed him to hear your voice like that. And in turn, it was killing Benny to know how he hurt you.

It was when Benny slowly began to walk from his bike up the path to the porch stairs did you finally come back to your senses. You relaxed your face, putting on a blank look. Yet you felt your anger rising. Benny stopped at the foot of the stairs, seeing your blank expression. He realised your defences were up, and he understood that.

“Hi” he said softly, voice raw and vulnerable.

You released a shaky breath. “Hi...”

Silence filled the space, neither of you not knowing what to say. Nor did you want too, afraid of what the other would say. But it had to be done, Benny knew that.

“You look good, baby” he said, looking you up and down.

You stiffened at his words and roaming eyes. But then that flame of anger flickered, slowly coming to life. Of all the things he could have said, he said that. No sorry for leaving or making you worry. No explanation.

You narrowed your eyes at him. “That’s what you have to say to me?” You questioned, tone sharp.

Benny took a step back. “Huh?”

You took a deep breath, keeping calm. “You show back up after a week, and all you can do is admire me? I thought I would have gotta a bit more then that!”

“What do you want me to say” he questioned, drawing his brow together in uncertainty.

“Gee, maybe sorry I left baby. Would be a good start Benny” you sighed. “But you know what really got under my skin? You never let me or anyone know you were alright. I was worried sick you’d have had an accident. But I got nothin’ from you”.

Benny moved up the stairs, stopping once on the porch and before you. “I’m sorry, baby. I know I should have, I was just upset and in my head. Ya know?”

“Oh I know what that’s like, I’ve been livin’ it every moment after ya left!” You pointed your finger at him.

He went to hug you, but you held up your hand to stop him. “Come on. I’m sorry, baby. Let’s go inside and talk”.

You shook your head. “No Benny. It’s my turn now to choose to have space. So go to the bar, stay there or with one of the guys”.

With those final words you softly slammed the door in Benny’s face, locking it to make a point. And Benny got it. You needed time. And he would give you all the time you needed. Because while away he realised a few things. One, you loved him. Two, you wouldn’t leave him, like he did. Three, he missed you, to the point it hurt. Four, you were his person. And five, he had disrespected you by leaving like he did. You showed him how much you loved and wanted him, but he just left. What did that show you? That if it got hard enough he would run away. But he was going to prove he wouldn’t leave again.

[prettyoatmeal]

can i request konig angst and fluff fic plss like an argument etc i love your work so much 🫶🏽🫶🏽

Apology Accepted

1 order of Angst coming right up!

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Summary: Everything had gone wrong today, all you wanted to do was forget about what had happened and move past it, the very very very last thing you needed was König having a go at you. But when he finds you having a few drinks after you've missed his calls and messages, he isn't happy.

Warnings: Arguing (sorry, I'm not good at writing conflict), angst, slight mentions of alcohol addiction.

Word Count: 1856

Masterlist here!

***************

It seemed nothing had wanted to go right today.

Waking up was a disaster. You had accidentally set an alarm for 6 pm rather than 6 am. Curse 12-hour time. Waking up late with such little time to get ready and leave, you couldn't have your usual morning sit down with König. Or really talk to him all that much really. A simple ‘Goodbye’ and a kiss had been exchanged between you two before you had to leave to make it in time for the train. It was understandable, you were in a rush.

When walking to the train station, it had suddenly begun raining, causing you to have to run to the station with your work clothes to get soaked.

Even though you left the house late, you found yourself arriving to the station couple minutes earlier than you normally would have, so you took that extra time to fix yourself in the bathrooms. Unfortunately you had misread the time and took too long in the bathroom, missing the train to the city, ultimately making you an hour late to your job. Your boss was understanding, though it didn’t mean you were completely off the hook. You agreed to stay an extra hour in the office in compensation for your tardiness.

That was until you realised you were in such a rush in the morning that you had completely forgotten the paperwork you were required to bring back that day. Maybe it was for the best, it would’ve gotten soaked. You’re lucky you kept your work laptop in your desk the day before otherwise that also would have gotten soaked. So you’d stayed back even longer to make up for the lost paperwork, working yourself half to death out of guilt, promising to bring it in tomorrow and take an umbrella with you next time. 

The stress of the day was taking a toll on you by the time you had been taking the train back. You were so awfully tired, practically half asleep on the ride back, completely ready to call it a night the moment you get home. You were so out of it by the time, you hadn’t noticed your phone buzzing in your pocket.

Unlocking the front door and walking in, you were greeted to the warm lights of the kitchen shining in your eyes. 

“I’m home!” you called out, kicking your shoes off before closing the door once more. Walking to the kitchen, you washed your hands before immediately pouring yourself a shot of Scotch straight from your liquor cabinet. Feeling yourself getting restless, you pinched your nose before letting all the liquid run down your throat at once, coughing at the burn in your throat. You poured another glass and filling the rest with coke. Letting out a sigh, you took a sip and leaned back against the counter, letting your muscles relax. Small sips turned to swigs, swigs turned to drinking the glass in a single go again, earning another cough from the fizziness and burn. This only resulted in you pouring yourself a third glass. You didn’t want to think about today. Today was filled with nothing but humiliation and disappointment. But the disappointment wouldn’t end there.

Hearing his heavy footsteps approaching, you look up at him with half lidded eyes, feeling a little hazy from your sleepiness. 

“Schatz! You’re home so late. You haven’t responded to my messages.”

He was fresh out of the shower, his hair damp from what looked like a quick attempt at drying it with a towel. His voice was filled with concern, worry. You quickly took your phone out only to see missed calls and unread texts from Köing.

19:20

Missed Call

Missed Call

‘Hey, you missed my calls. Where are you? You don’t normally stay out this late.’

‘Hello hello?’

‘You there?’

‘I hope you’re safe. Please call me back. Love you.’

20:12

‘I’m getting worried. Please reply.’

‘Hello’

‘Hello’

Missed Call

‘:(’

‘I hope everything is okay, hope you get home safe. Love you.’

The guilt had begun to set in again, frowning at the phone you’re holding in front of you. How could you have not noticed your phone buzzing so much? It’s not like it was on silent either. Maybe the buzzing was lost to the loud noises on the train.

“I’m sorry, I mustn’t have noticed.”

“So you come home and immediately start drinking?” Your stomach dropped. “Where were you? It’s almost 8:30, you finish at 5.”

König had always been protective over you, especially in a world like today. He hated it when you wouldn’t respond to his messages or calls, it would always make him extremely anxious. What you’re doing, who you’re with, what if you’re in trouble and he wasn’t there to help you. With a heavy shame flowing over you as you take a look at your glass, you placed it down after swallowing your last sip and slid it across the bench out of your reach.

“I got to work late and forgot some important files, so I stayed back.” 

“So you couldn’t have called me to tell me you won’t be home on time? That you’ll be hours late and I’ll be stuck worrying about where you are. You couldn’t just send me back a text saying when you got off the train? For heaven’s sake, you’re walking home. Walking home alone in the dark, anything could happen.”

You looked down with a frown. You’d left in the morning with barely any words said and hadn’t heard anything else from you until you’d arrived hours later than you normally would, he had every reason to be upset.

“Honestly, I expected better from you, (Y/N).”

But not to scold you like if you were an incompetent teen.

“Excuse me? I am fully capable of protecting myself. Quit trying to treat me like a child!” You snapped back, looking back up at him, only to see disappointment in his eyes. Disappointment. You’d already gotten soaking wet in the morning, missed your train, was late to work, and had to stay back for hours after. You didn’t need to take this. It wasn’t very often you’d see that look from him, and definitely not directed at you. It only made your stomach drop more.

“I’m not, but you know how worrying it is when you don’t communicate these things with me.” He groaned, “just... go upstairs and take a shower. You smell of alcohol and rainwater. I don’t want to start arguing with you about this.”

And so you did just that, chucking your keys down to the kitchen counter and making your way upstairs. It was probably for the best, the stress from today had finally caught up to you causing tears to well up in the corners of your eyes as you made your way upstairs. König didn’t follow you, but you couldn’t care less at that point, you didn’t want to see him right now, you needed that space. Finally stripping yourself from your terribly uncomfortable clothing in front of the bathroom mirror, you finally felt a small sense of relief.

After brushing away the alcohol from your teeth and dressing yourself in something warm and comfortable, you had finally collapsed into your shared bed. After holding it in for so long, tears couldn’t help but fall from your eyes as a tsunami of emotions washed over you. Everything from today that could have gone wrong went wrong, you thought you could’ve at least relaxed at home, but you couldn’t. All you could do was think back over the day, the goddamn Scotch hadn’t done its thing. Not to mention how König looked down on you, those dark eyes he’d only ever really use on the battlefield. Looking down on you like one would with a child. The alcohol wasn’t helping either. You felt upset with yourself, you felt shame, you felt humiliation. You couldn’t help but sob into your pillow, holding it to your face as tightly as you can to muffle the sounds you were making. It wasn’t even 5 minutes before you felt yourself drifting off to sleep, ready to put this day behind you.

You slowly awaken to the sound of porcelain being placed on top of the wooden bedside table with a small clang of metal, as well as a particularly nice smell. Something warm and homey. You feel a dip in the mattress as König sits down next to you. Opening your eyes, you pry your face away from the pillow and you glance over to the table. Goulash. It’d smelt wonderful, but you couldn’t bring yourself to eat.

“Schatz,” he whispered out, “warmed up dinner for you.”

His voice was soothing, calming. Nothing like how it sounded before. You’d glanced up at him a few times before finally shaking your head ‘no’ in response. You weren’t hungry, quite the opposite of it. It felt as if you were to put anything in your mouth, food or not, you’d throw up. You knew he could tell you’d been crying, your cheeks still warm and streaky, your eyes still puffy and red. Each glance you took at him with your glassy eyes shattered his heart a bit more. König’s figure blurred in front of you, whether it been from your drunken state or the dried-up tears in your eyes from earlier, you weren’t sure.

“I’m sorry.” He muttered out sincerely as one of his rough, calloused hands made its way up to your tear-stained cheek. His hands were large against your face, caressing the plush skin of your cheeks. They may have been rough, but they were also gentle, soothing, calming. Your blinking became slower as you leaned into his warm palms.

“I’m sorry I made you feel like I was disappointed in you. I was just so worried… today was rough for you, I should have been more… kind when choosing what to say.”

His words brought tears to your eyes once more. You didn’t want to talk about this. Not right now at least. You may not have wanted to, but you knew you needed to. Confrontation was always a heavy topic, didn’t matter who was in the wrong. His calm expression turned to concern once more as he noticed how your eyes welled up from his apology. You leaned into his hand more, as if you were trying to cover your flushed face with it, his palm catching the stream of your tears.

Apology accepted.

Sitting up finally, you wrapped your arms around him as tightly as you could manage with König doing the same. It felt like home. You hadn’t realised how homesick you’ve felt until he’d pulled you into him so tightly. He felt like home. You felt yourself melting into his chest as you let out a long sigh you didn’t know you were holding in.

“I’m glad you’re home safe, I’m sorry I hadn’t said that earlier, Liebling.”

All you could respond with was a small whimper.

“I know, I know, ” he whispered back, placing a small kiss on top of your head, “I love you, Mous. I need to work on showing that more often.”

***************

I'm sorry, this isn't proof read 😭😭 please dont mind any gramatical errors or just bad story building in general

Goodnight <3

[winterlynightlystories]

Still worth fighting for? Part 1

Tw; mention of murder, Geto’s racism, future poly relationship angst.

Please do not copy/steal my work

Geto Suguru/Male Reader and past Satosugu

Future Geto Suguru/Male Reader/ Gojo Satoru

Summary; As you are remembering how you and Suguru ended up together, his ex-boyfriend shows up at your place. The presence of Satoru doesn't seem to be appreciated by anyone in your little familly. Yet, there isn't other choice, since Satoru is there for a mission. But his presence awake old memories… old feelings.

Note; not proofread! And yes… I'm starting yet again a new series, but I couldn't resist writing about this dynamic and how the story would have gone if Suguru hadn't become a cult leader/Curse User. But don't worry, I am not forgetting the rest of my stories!

~~~~~~~~

You woke up with sweet kisses all over your face. You chuckled, feeling Suguru’s long hair tickling your bare chest and neck. Slowly opening your eyes, you were greeted with the sight of your tired boyfriend. Dark circles under his eyes and skin sickly pale, you could see the effect of the sleepless nights Suguru went through. You gently passed a hand in his hair, pulling him closer so you could kiss him.

- “Good morning gorgeous.” you said, feeling Suguru melting in your arms and smiling against your lips.

- “I don't think I look that gorgeous right now.” He mumbled, making you laugh.

- “Nonsense, you'll always be the sexiest man in my eyes.”

He laughed, pushing you away as you kissed his neck, putting your hands under his white shirt. Suguru’s skin was warm… too warm.

- “How are you feeling? I'm sorry I've been neglecting you and the girls. You shouldn't be the only one taking care of them. You'll end up as sick.”

- “It's okay, I'm fine. The girls haven't gotten back their voices, but their fever is almost gone. They finally fell asleep.” Suguru replied, laying down next to you, resting his head on your chest. “You have been busy with work, I can't hold it against you.”

- “Still, you need to rest as well. I'll call sick so you can enjoy a good hot shower and some sleep.”

- “No, you don't have…”

- “It wasn't a proposition, I'm going to do it.”

Suguru sighed, yet you still could feel his tired smile against your skin. You kissed his forehead, hating how sweaty and warm it was. Nanako and Mimiko had caught a terrible flu at school. The poor things were coughing so harshly that they were throwing up and losing their voices. The fever went so high one day that Suguru had to take them to the hospital. You remembered the fear and panic you felt when Suguru called you. His voice filled with worries had broken your heart. Thankfully, you were able to leave and join him.

Playing with Suguru’s hair, you remembered how all of this started. It was at school when you both were only seventeen. It was soon after the death of that poor girl, Riko. How her terrible faith had broken Suguru and, besides you, no one seemed to notice it. Not even Suguru’s then-boyfriend, Gojo Satoru.

Suguru and you grew closer as you became his only support, keeping his head out of the water as much as you could. You often went on the same mission, because you asked for it, feeling like Suguru could break anytime. It was during one of your missions that you saved the girls. You still could remember how Suguru almost snapped. The coldness in his eyes, the murderous aura around him. It had taken everything for you to calm him down. You basically kidnapped Nanako and Mimiko, but in the end were able to keep them.

Well, Suguru did, while you lost everything. You took all the blame, trying to protect him.

It was always obvious that you loved Suguru. You were often mocked by Gojo and teased about how Suguru was his. How, even with his six eyes, did Satoru never realize you also liked him? That was a mystery that would never be solved.

So it was a surprise when Suguru abandoned the school, and everything before he left Gojo to follow you. It wasn't long until you found a place to call home far from Tokyo, almost on the other side of the country… then you started a romantic relationship.

Suguru stayed mostly at home, taking care of the girls and teaching them everything about their world. About becoming Sorcerers. You noticed how your man had a bad tendency to call Non-Sorcerers ‘monkeys’, but in the end, you understood him.

So while Suguru took care of the twins, you went to school and became a police officer, but quickly was promoted to detective. It was a job that cost you a lot of time. Being called days and nights, sometimes not even coming home for a day or two.

Just like now.

You were on the strangest case you ever saw. An ungodly amount of blood had been found in a back alley, enough to assume the victim had died from blood loss. Yet, there was a report of sighting. But the witnesses all said the same; the man wasn't acting normally and he had a new large scar and stitches all around his head.

It didn't make sense.

So, when corpses began the pile-up you contacted the Tokyo Metropolitan Curse Technical College, knowing damn well you were dealing with Curses. Something had taken control of a dead body and you preferred letting them deal with that weirdness.

You were supposed to meet with the Sorcerer affiliated to the case today, but seeing how Suguru and the girls were, you preferred calling sick. You'll meet later at night or tomorrow, it wasn't urgent after all.

A knocking at the bedroom door had both you and Suguru sighing. You kissed him on the forehead before slowly getting up.

- “Go take a shower and then rest. I'll take care of the girls.” you said as Suguru closed his eyes and nodded.

You found Nanako standing behind the door, her eyes red and puffy. Her hair was soaked with sweat and she was slightly shaking. Without a word, you scooped her up with an arm, putting your other hand on her forehead.

She was burning.

- “Okay. Let's do another round of pills and syrups, okay? I'm going to take care of you, Suguru is resting.”

She said nothing, after all, she still couldn't talk. Instead, she wrapped her arms around your shoulders and rested her head against your neck. You almost flinched, feeling just how burning her skin was. You cursed mentally, thinking about taking her immediately to the urgences. But you couldn't leave Suguru and her sister behind. You would wait and if really the fever wasn't going down, then…

You carried Nanako back into her bed, grabbing the medicine on your way. You gave it to her after helping her to bed. You didn't leave the room until she was fast asleep and made sure her sister was alright too.

You hated seeing the Twins so sick, but there was nothing you could do but wait until it passed. It was, after all, the first time they were so bad. Normally they would have the flu for a few days then it would go away.

You sighed as you got out of Nanako and Mimiko’s bedroom. You hoped that Suguru wouldn't get as sick as them.

You could hear the shower which made you smile, wanting nothing else than to join your boyfriend under it and take care of him. But, you had a few calls to make. A single look at the clock told you all you needed; your boss wasn't going to be at the police station before at least one more hour. So you called your partner.

- “Oi, mate! Why are you calling so early?” the voice of your old partner and friend asked, as he chewed on something. “Is everything alright?”

- “No. Haru, I'm afraid the girls aren't doing better and Suguru definitely caught the same thing. He's already having a light fever.” You sighed, putting the kettle on the oven. “I won't be able to make it to the post today. Can you pass the word to the captain?”

- “Of course! I hope you don't need to go to the hospital again?”

- “I don't know. Nanako was burning hot and passed out after I gave her her medicine. If her fever doesn't drop I won't have the choice.”

- “Shit! Keep me informed. I’ll ask Inko to drop you some soup. My wife’s cooking is the best when sick! You'll see, your girls are going to be better in no time.”

- “Thanks. Can I ask you to take care of our Sorcerer friend? Just give him the big lines, I'll meet with them tonight or tomorrow to give him the rest of the case.”

- “Yes, yes! I will. Do you know who they are going to send?”

- “Nan. Probably a first or second grade, this isn't something big enough to require one of their best elements. Probably some trashy Curse trapped inside a corpse or something like that.”

Haru was one of the rare persons around you who had Cursed Energy and could see curses. But the poor fellow was mediocre at best when it came to any kind of fighting style and he knew it. So he never even tried to become a sorcerer. Instead, he married his wife when they were freshly out of school. They both knew your and Suguru’s history and had always been a comforting presence in your lives ever since. They always loved to keep the girls from time to time, giving you and Suguru some alone time.

So you felt relieved knowing Inko would be coming around during the day. She would be such a great help to take care of your sick family.

After hanging up, you poured yourself a hot cup of tea before sitting at the table, trying to relax your nerves. In the silence of the apartment, you heard Suguru turning off the shower. Your boyfriend was probably drying himself before going to bed. You want nothing more than to go back to bed and cuddle him, but it is your turn to stay up and take care of the house.

So you did. You washed the dishes and cleaned the living room, grabbing the girls’ stuff they had left around. Mostly school things. You found Nanako’s pull under the sofa, somehow and Mimiko’s socks under the TV. You sighed, throwing them in the washing machine before starting the laundry.

You took the time to make sure the girls were fine. You found them sharing the same bed, unable to tell which limb belonged to whom. You smiled, touching their forehead. They weren't as warm as earlier. You pulled a thin blanket on them before leaving their room.

You found Geto sleeping curled up in the mess of the blanket and discarded clothes. He had a pale grey shirt and his boxer, but nothing else. His shirt was slightly pulled up, revealing his flat stomach and ribs. He had, again, lost some weight.

You heard your phone ringing, but you ignored it, deciding to lie down behind Suguru. You gently wrapped an arm around him, pressing your body against him. You felt his body relax as if he recognized your presence even in his sleep. You closed your eyes, nose buried deep in his damp hair.

You needed to call work and take a longer leave, at least until your little family was back on its feet. And you needed to take Suguru on a date and spoil him after he did so much. Maybe you needed to think about leaving your job for a less demanding one. Suguru and the girls needed you too after all and you hated missing on special occasions.

Before you knew it, you were fast asleep.

You woke up feeling Suguru moving, grunting you tried to keep him in bed with you.

- “Someone is knocking at the door.” he said with a tired voice and you sighed.

- “Stay in bed, it might be Inko. She is supposed to come give us a hand and some soup. Maybe she forgot her key.”

You got up, leaving Suguru in bed.

But as you approached the door, you knew it wasn't your friend. The shadow at the window was way to tall and that hair… You stopped in your tracks, refusing to believe it. But the figure knocked again and you had no choice but to open the door.

And there he stood.

Gojo fucking Satoru.

Somehow the man got taller, but he was still the same. Instead of his round sunglasses, a black blindfold covered his Six Eyes. A smudge grin painted his lips. He chuckled, seeing your shocked expression.

- “What? You haven't gotten a call from your partner?” he asked, leaning against the doorframe.

- “No, I didn't pick up. I was focused on tacking care of my sick family. Anyway, what are you doing here?”

- “Ouch. No ‘Happy to see you!’ or ‘It's been so long, but you still look good Satoru!’?”

- “Yes, yes, but it's not what I mean. Why are they sending you for something so banal? Anyway, come in. Tea?”

You got out of the way, letting the man enter. You closed the door behind him and, as you went to the kitchen, saw him freeze at the entrance of the living room. Gojo must have seen the picture of your family.

You poured two cups of tea before joining Gojo. You found him sitting in the sofa and staring at the wall where you had hung many pictures of you, Suguru and the girls. You couldn't tell which one Satoru was staring at. The one from last year at the beach? Maybe the one of you kissing Suguru outside as the snow fell around. Or the one where your boyfriend sat at the table, helping the girls with their homework? Either way, you could see how tight Gojo's jaw was closed. You almost feared his teeth would crack under the pressure.

- “Here. So, why you?” you asked, giving him the tea before sitting in the armchair facing him.

- “Because it's not the first time a situation like this one happened. We think it might be a Curse User.” He said, not even moving his head. You could tell he wanted to ask question, but didn't press him.

- “Really? I haven't heard of anything similar around here.”

- “Not here, in Tokyo.”

- “Ah…. Yes, we don't really look at the news from there.” you mumbled, sipping at your own tea.

The silence was loud and heavy.

You two were supposed to be talking about the case, but you just couldn't talk. You had this mass in your throat making it difficult to swallow your tea or even your saliva. A part of you had, ironically, missed Satoru. Even if the man had been a dick all the time you were at school, you still had good memories. Because he still gave you a hand when you needed it.

And you stole his boyfriend.

Which was making you the bigger asshole in the room.

- “What the fuck is he doing here?” Asked Suguru, making you jump and drop your tea on you. Suguru came to you, hearing you curse. “Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you.”

- “It's okay, don't worry.” You replied, letting Suguru take your empty cup. “Satoru is here for the case. Apparently, it's not the first time it has happened.”

- “And you believe him?” He asked, grabbing your phone as he sat on your lap. He had put on your pair of jogging.

- “Su’ what are you doing?”

- “Making sure he isn't lying”

You sighed, wrapping one arm around Suguru's waist while caressing his knee with the other. You gave an apologetic look at Satoru, mouthing a ‘Sorry, he is sick.’ while Suguru talked to whoever was on the other side. Poor Gojo was so tense he seemed frozen in place and you felt bad for him. The man didn't ask to be here, didn't ask to witness you loving on his ex. You knew that Gojo definitely still had feelings for Suguru. How could he not? Everyone knew just how in love they used to be.

You sighed, watching Suguru throw your phone on his own lap, grinding his teeth.

- “True?”

- “Yeah. They did send him.” he sighed, giving Satoru the side eye.

- “I’m sorry. Want me to go…” you tried to talk, but Suguru signalled you to shut up.

- “No. It's okay, but I’m staying with you.”

- “Babe, I need my suitcase.” you pointed out, but without a word, Suguru got up and left.

You sighed and passed a hand on your face, knowing damn well this was going to be one hell of a case.

- “I see he is still angry at me.” Satoru said, voice so low you almost didn't hear it.

- “Honestly I don't know. I don't even know what happened between you two. Suguru doesn't like talking about it, so we don't.” you replied, looking at him.

- “We fought… about you.” Gojo admitted, looking away.

- “About me?”

- “Yeah. About how I acted toward you, especially after your expulsion. Suguru left me, pointing out how you were the only one who had noticed how he was truly feeling after… after Riko. Well, that and more.”

You were silent, not knowing what to say. They had broken up, over you? Suguru had defended you, even before you were an item?

You felt your heart swollen with love for Suguru. He was such a strong and kind soul. You loved him even more, if that was possible.

You smiled, almost stupidly, as Suguru came back into the living room, throwing your suitcase at Satoru before sitting back on your lap.

- “Come on. Quite at talking about that day, why don't you repeat what you told me?” Suguru asked, his voice filled with so much venom you almost didn't recognize it. “Are you doing it or should I?”

- “I…”

- “You told me, and I quote “Well, if he is such a great and good man, why don't you leave me for him? Clearly, he would be a way better boyfriend than me!” that's what you told me, right? And yes, he is a way better boyfriend than you ever were.”

You gasped, looking back and forth between the two men. Gods, you really were behind their break up!

You wrapped your arm tightly around Suguru, pulling him closer to you. You took his hand in yours, kissing his fingers. You hated seeing him like that. Angry, hurt and uncomfortable in your own house. You wanted to leave and go somewhere else, so Suguru wouldn't have to face Satoru, but it was clear your boyfriend wasn't going to leave the two of you alone.

This situation was more than awkward and uncomfortable.

The silence that followed Suguru's statement was heavy. Terribly heavy. But, surprisingly, it was Satoru who broke it.

- “I'm sorry. I was cruel and neither of you deserved it. Especially you, Suguru. And I'm not looking for forgiveness, because I know I don't deserve it. I don't want revenge either, I'm just happy you got to build a family and be happy.” He sighed, looking away. “But we have a job to do and a Curse User to catch.”

Against you, you felt Suguru slowly relax. Had he been afraid that Satoru came to try and conquer him again? Or hurt you? You kissed Suguru’s fingers again and he gave you a weak smile. The dark circles under his eyes seemed worse, but his eyes had found back their softness. You mouthed an “I love you” while Satoru was opening your suitcase and pulled out all the documents and photos you had about the case.

You also relax, thinking that maybe working with Satoru wasn't going to be so hard finally.

No.

The hard part was going to try and forget how your heart still missed a beat when you felt his eyes looking at you. Or how Suguru refused to meet Gojo’s gaze.

Yes.

The hard part would be to act as if there were no more feelings when, obviously, they were still there. Intact and waiting.

[ppushable]

two ibuprofen

jean kirschtein x gn!reader / oneshot / wc: 7.3k

part 1 of rose tinted hours

⋅ ⋆ ─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────── ⋅ ⋆

Sunday morning. What's the best way to spend a Sunday morning?

Craned over the plaguefest of the guy I'm dating-not-dating, trying to shove two ibuprofen down his throat?

(It works the second time.)

⋅ ⋆ ─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────── ⋅ ⋆

ao3 tags:

ok here we go / Alternate Universe - College/University / Sickfic / Sick Character / Fluff / Kissing / Alternate Universe - Modern Setting / Texting / Vomiting / Not at the same time / Winter / gender neutral reader / i dont know how to make tea / mentions of sanrio / mentions of bagged milk / slight angst? i guess? if you squint? / reiner texts like a boomer and im sorry / POV First Person / Present Tense

i live in a special part of canada so excuse the bagged milk. (just kidding bagged is better)

reader is gn! if anything seems off please lmk. (do that if the text names are confusing too!)

⋅ ⋆ ─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────── ⋅ ⋆

Bzzz.

The darkness and warm comfort of sleep cracks as my eyes peel open to the vibration of my phone. My blurry wall is bathed in orange light and the cold draft coming in from the open window carries the swoons and trills of birdsong. Pretty…

Holy shit I have class I’ll be late—

With effort, I blink until the shapes around me become clean and defined. Am I late? Sunlight on the ruffles of my quilt like a Renaissance painting. Coats and bags hanging from the hooks on the back of my bedroom door. Clothes from the night before, still on the ground from when I dropped them there, dead-tired. My phone buzzes again, causing an internal jolt that spurs me to snatch it off the nightstand and expel the charger in one swift movement.

mr. handsome: emergency alert! 🚨 alert! god-level threat!

mr. handsome: One image attachment

Oh, it’s a message from Connie.

Oh, it’s 8:19 AM.

Oh, it’s a Sunday.

The glowing numbers on the screen indicate the next minute and I toss the phone somewhere on the bed before re-curling myself into my nice warm quilt in this nice cool morning. Sorry, Connie, the grocery run to 7-11 for more sushi will have to be done by someone else. This is probably the happiest I’ll be all day, provided I stay sleepy enough not to feel guilty for doing nothing. The world goes black.

Bzzz.

This time, my eyes peel open on their own.

Fine, Connie, you win.

Trying to ignore the bitter taste of morning in my mouth, I grope for my phone and lift it above my head.

sashacado: BAHAHAH GOOD LUCK WITH THAT ONE BALDY

Another message pops up.

mr. handsome (replying to @/sashacado): 🖕

mikachu: you need to get out of there, connie. like rn.

lainah: Run while you still can! LOL! 🤣

Although the last text pains me on a metaphysical scale, I open up the groupchat. It’s getting fishy now: first of all, Connie’s never up this early, least of all on a weekend; secondly, he said ‘god level threat’ (which is apparently the worst level of threat), and third, Mikasa rarely speaks in the groupchat. Sure, she lurks, but she only ever emerges when something big is happening.

Some more people are active now and I have to scroll up to find Connie’s image.

Oh.

Oh, no.

Blurry and off-centre as the picture might be, it clearly depicts the ugliest green-and-white striped couch I ever laid my eyes on (“It’s an antique!” Connie had argued) that belongs to Connie and Jean’s shared dorm in which the latter of the two is curled up in (yet he still scrapes the armrests with the top of his head and toes). Littering the stained carpet around him — they prefer eating on the couch than on an actual table, so spills are inevitable — are wads of crumpled-up tissues. To really top it off is the Cars blanket that Jean won at a festival that’s seemingly in the process of being violently torn from his form, clinging to the armrest closest to the camera and pulling beyond. A message banner pops down from the top of the screen.

jean: i’m fine. and give me my fucking blanket back. i can hear you giggling from your bedroom. connie.

grammar police: connie give his blanket back

lainah: Haha!

grammar police: i swear things like this only happen when I’m gone

Right, Marco usually goes home for the weekends.

ymi: Lmfao that thing prolly gave you a disease in the first place

ymi: Have u even washed it once

mr. handsome: cut the ccrap Ymir we wash it more than you wash ur hair

sashacado: LMAOOO

ymi: At least I have hair

sashacado: AGAHAHH CONNIE

grammar police: you guys

grammar police: missing the point here

mr. handsome (replying to @/ymi): and its sad cuz mine is still better than youres

mr. handsome: like girl tf is up with the shaved sides

mr handsome: jojo siwa looking ass

sashacado: LMAOOOOO CONNIE EAT HER UP

Smiling, I return to the main chat screen.

ymi: Count your fucking days springer

ymi: At least I still have a girl

grammar police (replying to @/mr. handsome): ^yours

mr. handsome: ok nerd

grammar police: I’m taking away your Netflix

mr. handsome: I sincerely apoligize for my words.

grammar police: it’s the effort I guess

grammar police: back to Jean though

jean: i told u im prrfectly fine. just give ne back my blanket i’ll sleep it off

grammar police: do I need to come back to campus for the weekend?

mikachu: im stopping by the store. can grab some medicine

jean: ffs IM FINE GIVE ME MY BLANKET CONNIE OR IM TELLING THEM ABOUT THE GRATER THING

grammar police: Jean you need some medicine at least. I heard there’s a nasty flu going around and you’d be the type of person to catch it

grammar police: did you call your mom? I can call her if you want

jean: IM

jean: FINE

jean (replying to @/grammar police): DO NOT DO THAT

Poor Jean. He doesn’t have anyone to take care of him. Connie’s a mild germaphobe, believe it or not, at least when it comes to sickness (he nearly went crazy during Covid) and is probably keeping a safe distance from his roommate. And it’s not like any of his other friends are willing (or able) to help out, with Marco out of town. He doesn’t have any siblings here; the closest relative he has might be his mother all the way back in Trost. Not even a significant other.

Well. I mean.

There’s me.

But we’re technically not dating. Not yet. We’re still trying to figure things out — hell, I don’t even know if he likes me back.

Well, okay, there was that time we kissed. But it’s just a kiss. And it was an end-of the year party, and everyone was feeling it. And it’s January now and we haven’t done it again so it’s nothing. It’s nothing!

But that doesn’t stop the guilt from gnawing at my foundations like a tiny, evil beaver.

Wow. So you’re willing to let a guy suffer just because you’re unsure? Now that’s selfish. While you’re sitting here muttering to yourself he’s probably burning with fever and wishing he were dead. Real classy.

Shut the fuck up, beaver. It’s weird to just barge into someone’s house like that. And we don’t know each other that well.

You’ve known each other for a long time. He’s sick. At least take care of him. You don’t need to be his lover or whatever. Just be a good friend, huh?

I guess…

And you know Connie, too, don’t you? You’ll be doing him a big favour by getting this plaguefest out of his living room. He needs to finish off Breaking Bad so he can look at the memes without being spoiled. You’re not helping dear old Connie out, either.

Fuck, you do have a point.

Besides, everyone knows what happened between you and Jean at the Christmas party. They’re probably waiting on you to—

With great effort I manage to unfocus my eyes to see if anyone mentioned me but Connie and Jean have devolved into another stupid somewhat one-sided argument. So they aren’t saying anything outright. But they’re probably thinking it.

They’re definitely thinking it.

Okay, that’s enough from you.

I swipe off the groupchat to see all of my chats and open up my DM with Jean — right near the top — and start typing.

me: hey. sorry if this is weird, but i wanted to check on you bc ur really sick apparently

No, that won’t do. I purge the message.

me: hey fuckass. did you go out without a coat again? do i need to come and take care of

No, not that, either. Hopefully he isn’t looking at our messages or else he’d see me typing like an idiot. I tap the side of my phone as I think, stringing together ideas and words and different ways he could perceive me based on how I put them together.

I go back to the main groupchat.

me: @/jean @/mr. handsome im coming over. be there in 15

me: also @/mikachu could you pick up some lozenges and cough syrup? ty i’ll pay u back <3

I zone out at the screen until someone starts typing and throw the phone down on the bed again before scanning the ground for something wearable. Goodbye, sweet air and Renaissance scene and birdsong. After assembling myself and brushing my teeth, I check the mirror attached to the back of the shared bathroom door that Sasha decorated with some Sanrio stickers from Amazon. She had a phase.

Matching socks, jeans, campus sweatshirt, T-shirt underneath big enough to splay out underneath like a fan. Hair a mess. Face a mess. Good enough. It’s not like Jean will look much better. It’s not like I care that much about how I look around him.

I pull the door aside and collect my belongings — phone, bag, coat — before whisking through the door, full sail for Connie’s res building. I hit the stairwell running.

Do I know how to take care of sick people? I mean, more or less. It’ll be fine. All you have to do is feed them and make sure they don’t puke all over themselves. Right?

On the way I stop by one of the cafeteria atriums, one of the smaller ones I frequent for its souped-up coffee counter with every additive known to man. I scan the containers on the counter — milk, cream, nutmeg — until I find the packets of honey and shove one into my bag while trying not to look guilty to the few people that dot the room. I more than paid for it just by attending.

Now on the main floor by the parking lot, I struggle to untangle my keys from the mess in my bag and, without looking, push the unlock for my car. It beeps faithfully in the same place I left it and I hurry to the sound like a moth to flame.

It’s a smallish car that’s starting to rust near the top. I open the drivers’ door and toss my bag in the passenger seat before throwing myself in and shutting the door, shutting out the world, disturbing the rubber Kuromi keychain hanging from the rearview mirror. My breath comes out steamy. The car comes to life on the third try — best to let it warm up a bit before I go.

Inhale, exhale. I open up the groupchat.

jean: you will do no such thing

jean: @/me

mr. handsome: so THATS what it takes for u to finally visit

mr. handsome: ive been keeping it nice and clean just for u 😙

mr. handsome: until mr covid came and ruined it

mikachu (replying to @/me): dw about it babes xx

sashacado: mika get me chocolate

mikachu: maybe. driving

Mikasa and I, weirdly enough, were the first to get our full licenses. A smile pulls at my face and I duck down to look at my lap. Jean had nearly begged us to give him driving lessons, and of course, I agreed. Days of close calls, driving under the speed limit, getting honked at, constantly checking the mirrors, nearly rear-ending people at stop signs, elbows touching on the armrest…

Of course, now Jean can drive without a hitch. Maybe not good enough yet that I’d sleep while he does it, but that’s a personal thing.

I almost put my phone down before noticing I have a few more private messages.

jean: seriously you dont have to come. im fine

jean: its acc not a big deal

jean: i had colds like this before. im not ur responsibility

Something about that last line stings. I guess he’s right, technically. We’re not that close. Who am I kidding?

But I already announced to the world what I’m going to do. And I already decided on it.

me: im coming whether you like it or not. watch connie for me

When I can’t see my breath anymore I start driving.

Stohess is a big campus. And while I’m not a huge fan of carbon emissions, I’m also not a fan of 20-minute walks in blistering, dry cold (or wet cold, for that matter). Also, I don’t want to keep Jean waiting. The eco society is going to kill me.

I pull in to the all-too-familiar parking spot, the one Jean pulled into a hundred times in preparation for his driving test in his new, expensive car his parents bought him because “he was doing so good with his driving!”

He’d thanked me profusely for helping him out, which, in hindsight, was mildly out of character for a broody, arrogant guy like him.

But then again, so was kissing me at that party. Not so much the kissing part. Just the me part. And the gentle-tight way he held me, the way he looked into my eyes…

I suck in a sharp breath. But I’m doing this as a friend. Not because of whatever we might be. If Connie was the one who got sick, I’d be here, too.

Steeling my nerves, I take my bag with an iron grip and make for the dorm.

⋅ ⋆ ─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────── ⋅ ⋆

The door is already open when I arrive, propped open by a deflated volleyball. Weird. Some music that sounds like it was taken straight from Fast and Furious plays from inside. Knowing Connie, it probably is.

Nothing stirs when I open the door, but it is a pretty quiet door. The living room is right in front of me, ugly antique couch and all, but it’s completely empty. I didn’t walk into the wrong room, did I?

“Connie? Jean?” I slip off my shoes — Connie is insistent (I think shoes in the house is a crime anyway) — and creep through the dorm. “You guys?“

My voice rings through. Nothing. Peals of dread condense in my stomach and I pick up the pace, nearly barreling to a stop in front of the bathroom. I knock; first on the bathroom, then Jean’s bedroom. Connie left his door open.

“Jean? You in there?”

No response.

“I’m gonna— I’m opening the door, okay?”

And without time to think about what might be on the other side, I twist the knob and push.

Nothing. I even look behind the shower curtains.

Who even closes an empty bathroom?

Next is Jean’s room, but it’s also empty.

Where the hell are they?

I check my phone again and text the group chat.

me: @/mr. handsome @/jean where are you guys?

Waiting…

lainah: Gym

.

What.

me: are you sure.

lainah: One image attachment

Sure enough.

I should have noticed when his parking spot was empty.

me: dont let them leave. omw now

Sasha starts typing something but I throw my phone in the bag. I should have known they’d pull some bullshit like this. Well, not they. He. Something blistering and boiling threatens to spill over within me, but I take a deep breath. I’ll deal with him when I get there.

Jean’s a smart man, but not when he’s being stubborn.

⋅ ⋆ ─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────── ⋅ ⋆

The car ride, despite being short, gave me a chance to cool my nerves.

It’s fine. It’s fine. It’s fine. I grip the steering wheel in front of the gym. It’s fine. And step out.

Anytime Fitness is a strange and marvellous place full of people you might not see anywhere else. I don’t care about them. I scan the machines and see Reiner on the treadmill, and he meets my eyes a moment after. He nods in a different direction and I follow his gaze until I see the unmistakable bronze and shaved hair combination. I mouth a thank you and he smiles.

I must look completely out of place here, weaving between sweaty and half-naked bodies in my coat and jeans like I have a demon on my tail until I’m standing behind the chest press.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Connie’s saying and by the way Jean grunts it’s definitely not the first time.

“Let it go. I’m fine, and I’m going to the gym like I always do.” Jean’s voice is thick and nasal. “Buzz off.”

“Look, I already left the house with you. I can’t let you die here.”

“I said I’m fine—”

At the end of Jean’s rep, I slip the pin out of the weights. Jean nearly lunges over as the heaviness suddenly decreases.

Both look at me.

Connie looks normal. Jean is already slick with sweat, hair askew, red-nosed, with a slight wheeze lining his breath as he sits on the edge of the seat. Not normal. Not fine.

“Jean. My car. Now.” I point at Connie. “You take his back.”

A slight smile cracks his visage and that’s all I see before whipping around like an army man and making my way out.

⋅ ⋆ ─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────── ⋅ ⋆

There’s a lot of things I could be saying, but I don’t, because there’s too much. So we drive home in silence.

Now that we’re closer, I can really hear the struggle with Jean’s every breath, the occasional cough, the mucous-laced sniffs, as much as he might try to hide it. He just sits there, going on his phone, staring out the window, until:

“Pull over.”

And his eyes are closed, head tilted up, pained look on his sweat drenched-face. I move to the side of the door without question and he scrabbles for the handle — I unlock it for him — before opening the door and half-falling over as he pukes.

I pinch my lip between my teeth and look the other way as the smell hits right after. Fine my ass.

Ever since I was young, the sound of heaving has always unsettled me. Even fake gags. Like it flips a switch in my heart to induce a sudden thrill of terror as if someone horror-movie screamed. And yeah, it’s just throwing up, but I hate it.

My heart races as he unloads again and I just want to plug my ears. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I can’t sit here.

When the coast is clear I hop out and walk around the back. Jean is squatting on the pavement right before it hits the grass where his vomit lays, poking up through the stiff shoots. Though we’re outside, the smell is even worse. I try not to look at it as I hand Jean a bottle of water and set a stack of napkins I filched from Wendy’s on the passenger seat beside him.

“Thank—” he manages to croak out before pitching over again.

He’s been growing out his hair. I guess I didn’t notice it before, but now it’s long enough to get in his face in this position.

I gather the strands in my hands — soft as that day before the turn of the year — and hold them on the crown of his head as he retches.

When he’s done, I consider rolling down the windows, but decide against it.

⋅ ⋆ ─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────── ⋅ ⋆

Jean hardly notices when I pull in (again). Weirdly enough, his car still isn’t here — either Connie drives like a grandpa or he’s gone off somewhere.

“Jean.”

He inhales through his mouth, sucking up the new, pukey scent of my car, and opens his door with half-lidded eyes, leaning hard. It bumps against the campus van I’m parked beside and I cringe. Parked too close. He’s in no state to stand up on his own, let alone walk.

“Let me help you.”

He grunts in something like disagreement and I shut my door on him, going around the back again. Soiled napkins are shoved into the door storage and the water bottle is half-empty and crushed on the floor. Well. I offer a hand and after some hesitation he takes it, clasping my shoulder, and when I help him stand the added weight nearly crushes me. Jean is big, maybe not muscular like Reiner, but tall. Even through my coat and his too-thin sweater he radiates heat and he grunts a sickly air into my ear as he finds his footing. There’s barely enough room for the both of us between the car and the van so I shuffle us sideways, around the other side of the car and to the front. I gently lower Jean so he leans against the hood.

“Wait here.”

He doesn’t object as I shut the passenger door and lock the car before going back and offering my shoulder once again and I nearly fall over once again and we huddle together into the building. He’s never this quiet. Never so agreeable. Never so willing to take the help that’s offered to him.

This is a side of Jean I’ve never seen before. A side that I surely was never meant to see.

I swallow thickly and shuffle our bodies forward so I can push the button for the elevator. His head bumps against mine as it droops but he quickly straightens. “Sorry. Sorry.” His voice is gravelly and small, so small, as if it came from another person entirely.

I stare at the side of his face, but he’s focussed on something far away. “You’re okay, Jean.”

The elevator dings open and we go in. Seventh floor button. The door rolls shut.

Beep. Our knees buckle as the elevator accelerates and the screen above the button panel indicates that it’s going up. It usually smells of antiseptic unless it’s been raining.

Beep. The elevator’s always been slow which is why most people take the stairs instead. Connie calls it the ‘hellevator’ because he swears it almost dropped him once.

Beep. Jean’s trying to steady himself; hold himself up.

Beep. We haven’t been this close together since the party.

Beep. Jean takes an unusually large, wheezy breath and holds it. “Sorry.” His voice is hardly a rumble against my side.

“Why are you sorry?” I ask, quietly.

Beep. “For making you do this.”

Beep. The door retracts and muffled hip-hop fills the air. We walk off the hellevator and stand in front of the dorm. 704. An opaque plastic bag hangs off the handle and I take it in the same hand I hold my bag — thanks, Mikasa.

“You have your key?”

Jean grumbles and taps his pockets, pulling out a key ring. A rubber charm — Badtz-Maru, the little angry penguin — hangs from the ring. Sasha gave all of us one in her Sanrio phase. Keroppi for Connie, Charmy for Mikasa, Pompompurin for Marco, Cinamaroll for Eren, Kuromi for me. I (was forced to) help her choose.

The key retracts and Jean uses his free arm to turn the handle and shoulder the door open. He clears — tries to clear — the phlegm in his throat. “Alexa,” he gurgles. “Alexa, stop.”

The music immediately ceases and we stumble to the couch where Jean unceremoniously drops and tucks his head between the armrest and cushioned back, looking utterly uncomfortable.

“Get up, Jean.”

He sniffs.

“Come on. Bed.” I drop my bags on the coffee table. “Not couch.”

“No.”

“Connie will throw a fit. And so will I.”

“Just—” he tries clearing his throat again— “go.”

“I’m not leaving until you get better.” I blink. No, I’m not leaving him here alone. Why does that surprise me?

“I’m fine. I told you. Done it before. I’ll get better.”

“Done it before?” I giggle falsely. “What, you used to rawdogging colds all by yourself?”

A car passes outside, a familiar rising and falling sound against the unfamiliar silence of the dorm.

“Jean?”

“Go…”

And I swear he’s never sounded so… vulnerable before. Like he’s laid out all his organs on a big table and I’m holding the scalpel. Just waiting for the incision.

A little softer, I tell him, “I’m not going anywhere, Jean.”

And I take the goodie bag and head for the simple kitchen — that is, an inlaid fridge, stove, and pantry cramped behind an island counter with a sink. I hold the electric kettle Reiner got for Jean’s and Connie’s fifth anniversary (he thought they were together at first) under the sink and let it fill to two cups just in case before setting it back and switching it on.

Then I rummage through the drawers and cupboards until I find an old, strangely moist box of tea packets. Yuzu mist or Cheerful Citrus? I opt for the latter.

Tearing open the package, I glance at Jean who still hasn’t moved. The teabag I dump into a printed mug that Jean likes to use.

NUMBER 1 COUGAR

I wonder where he got that.

The kettle clicks off when the water boils and I fill the mug. Oh. Honey would be good. I return to the couch and sift through my bag, shifting my keys in the process. Now Jean stirs.

“Are you leaving?”

“No, Jean.”

I keep rummaging. I know it’s in there. Might be in deep, but—

“Please don’t.”

I pause, emotions — affection? concern? — swirling like particles of tea in water. “Okay, Jean.”

I finish making the tea in silence with an almost-empty bag of milk left in the fridge. How do these boys even survive? All that’s in there are cold cuts and a bag of only bread butts, among some other, strange things. Including a pair of boxers.

“Can you sit up?”

Jean sighs into the cushion and braces against the armrest to push himself into somewhat of a sitting position.

“Let’s get you to bed.”

His eyes cast down. I swallow the silence that suddenly envelops us. Nothing weird. Just a room. I’m just a caretaker. “Come on, Jean.”

“Can— can you help me?”

I fall into the little divot in the couch where Jean sits and let him wrap an arm around my shoulder. “Ready?” I say. “One, two…”

We stumble up and pass through the already-ajar door to Jean’s bedroom and I nearly stop to take a better look. He has blackout curtains, currently drawn, painting the room in a dark blue light except for a thin bar of sunlight from between the curtains that propagates as a glowing line on the carpet. The walls are plastered in posters, sketches, paintings, sketches. Half-finished drawings on his desk and swivel chair and a few on the ground. A small compartment shoved into one corner with every art supply imaginable.

Still taking in the view, I (we) back into the bed, butt-first, and Jean unwraps himself from me.

“You won’t… do anything weird… to me?”

I smile. Conversational, that’s good. “Not unless you want me to.” And I wish I had shut up before the first word even came out of my stupid mouth. Standing, I look over my shoulder. “I’m getting the medicine.”

“Wait. Don’t.”

Under the doorframe now, I pause. “I’m not leaving. I’ll be right back.” And I go to the goodie bag.

I should just work on keeping my mouth shut. Mikasa had picked out some ibuprofen, NyQuil, and lozenges. Pills should be good. I take the mug and the box and head back.

When I get back Jean’s sitting against the headboard, trying to uncrumple his blanket to get underneath.

“Let me help.”

He watches me then, helpless — Jean fucking Kirschtein, helpless! — as I set down the pills and mug on his glass nightstand and unfold the mess he’s got on the mattress. “Pull your legs up.”

He obeys. I pull the quilt over him.

I try not to stare. “You can put your legs down now.”

He obeys.

“Sit up, Jean. You need more pillows.”

Eyes glued to me, he leans forward so I can take his other pillow to prop him up more comfortably, leaning back when I touch his warm shoulder. Then I take the mug and offer it to him. “Drink some of this.”

Painfully quiet, he takes the mug with both hands and takes a tentative sip, lips curling around the brim of the ceramic to slurp up the soothing drink. He’s doing good. Until he hits a bump and starts sputtering.

Immediately I take the drink as he coughs up whatever went down the wrong way. When he’s done I realize I’ve been rubbing circles into his back so I take my hand off.

My phone buzzes in the living room. Shit.

“I’ll be back.”

Jean stares at his knees under the blanket and doesn’t move when I come back.

sashacado: omg yall

sashacado: theyre gonma be killed💯

armong us: What’s going on?

sashacado: @/lainah what did u do

lainah: One video attachment

sashacado: ONG LMFAOOO

sashacado pinned a message

mr. handsome: @/me im headed to urs with sash for a while. hope thats cool w you and all lmk if u need anything

jägermeister: are u fr leaving those two alone

mr. handsome: well good morning to u too pricness

Deleted message

jägermeister: oh right

sashacado: connor springer delete that message rn @/mr. handsome

sashacado: @/mr. handsome

sashacado: @/mr. handsome

sashacado: @/mr. handsome

mr. handsome: ok ok jfc im sorry

sashacado: @/mr. handsome

sashacado: ok good

Whatever the hell they’re up to now.

Jean thrashes slowly and I feel a little guilty for staring down at my phone the whole time. “Are you okay?” I breathe, sticking to his beside like a magnet. “Are you in pain?”

“Hot,” is all he says.

I peel the blanket off. He is hot. Really hot.

Not like that. He’s feverish.

“Can you… help me?”

“Yeah?” I stare at him — help with what? — until he raises his arms over his head.

Oh. A few circuits in my head switch off. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m can help.” Idiot.

Like touching something radioactive I grasp the edge of his sweater and slowly raise it, catching the shirt underneath for a fleeting second before it falls back down. Deep breath. Yes, I am helping out a guy I’m dating-not-dating who I’m definitely not attracted to to take off his clothes in his bedroom in his empty dorm. Because he’s sick. No problem. Because I’m a good friend.

The neckline catches on his jaw and I unhook it, delicately trailing the scruff on his jaw in the process.

And it’s off and on the ground. Holy shit. Jean’s been sweating. And I know all that dampness on his shirt, clinging feebly to his attractive sick form, didn’t come from his 10 minutes at the gym.

He doesn’t lower his arms. Oh, so we’re doing it like this.

Okay.

I come forward again, within earshot to the rattling in Jean’s chest with his every breath, and quite literally peel the thin white shirt off. This time it’s impossible not to touch his incredibly warm and damp body, not to scrape my nails against the softness of his skin, from his waist to his broad shoulders all the way down his arms. Now he puts them down.

I almost forget he still smells like puke.

“My pants…”

Ohoho. No way, buster. You’re on your own. I’m calling Connie. Nooo way.

“Okay, but unbuckle yourself.”

He does without question, fumbling first with his belt, which I help slide off, and then his jeans.

What in the ever-loving fuck am I doing? This sounds like a smut setup. No. I’m just a friend helping out a sick friend, two friends who have never done anything even slightly romantic together.

“Sit up on the edge, okay?”

He heaves his sweaty self to the edge of the bed, palms leaving wet marks on the sheets, and, staring at the ceiling, I grasp at the hem of his pants (skirting his boxers or whatever he’s wearing because I’m not looking) and pull them (he lifts himself at first to help) all the way down. In one smooth movement I turn back around.

“Put your shirt over your… yourself.”

I wait a good few heartbeats before turning back around and lo and behold, he’s done as told. Frankly, it looks even worse now, like he’s lying in bed completely naked with just a shirt covering him. (But that’s only true if I think it’s true!) The jeans I’m still clutching for some reason I deposit on a chair.

“Jean, I’ll be right back, okay?” I wait for a response I should know isn’t coming before going out again, this time in search for a facecloth. Which I do find, shoved in the corner of the linen cabinet. I should be grateful they even have some, but then again, it might’ve been another gift from Reiner they didn’t have the heart to throw away. I rinse it under some cool water and announce my re-entry.

“I’m back. Sit still.” Folding some of the damp cloth over two fingers, I carefully dab at the sweat on his forehead. No, I need to… I pick off some strands of his sandy hair from his face, holding his hair back against his scalp, and try again. Better. “Jean?”

He opens his eyes halfway, and they raise lazily to meet mine. He’s sweaty everywhere and too late I catch myself stroking his head. I wipe his cheek next.

“Drink some tea, okay? I need you to take a pill.”

“Pillk?”

“Yes,” I say encouragingly, like training a puppy. Neck next. “Just a pill.”

He takes in a deep mouth breath. There’s a portrait stuck to the ground on the other side of his bed.

Is that…

“I can’t.”

My eyes snap back and I pause, dabbing at his collarbone. “What’s that?”

He shakes his head, furrowing his brows as if the action took too much effort. “Can’t… swallow. Can’t swallow pills.”

I blink. “You can’t take pills?”

A fleeting smile meets his lips. “Vitamin gummies. Not. Vitamin pills. Might get stuck in m’throat.”

I fold up the cloth into a rectangle and smooth it out onto his forehead. “Just take some tea with it.”

“Tried. No.”

Who knew? For a guy with such a big mouth, he sure has a small esophagus.

“Jean, it’ll make you feel better.”

“No.”

I pop open the box and break open the tinfoil seal to take out a single pill.

“Noo…”

“Jean, you’ll be fine. You’re a big boy now.” And I vow never to speak again.

When I push the little oval against his mouth, I find it won’t open. Jean is breathing laboriously through his 90 percent clogged nostrils.

“Open up.”

He purses his lips, further preventing entry, and I swear he’s smiling a little.

“Very funny. Take your pill. You’re gonna suffocate yourself.”

Still nothing. I pinch his nose. He makes a muffled noise but otherwise doesn’t react.

Ten seconds. Twenty seconds. At thirty-three I let go. “Are you really willing to kill yourself over a pill?”

“Don’t want. Don’t need.”

“Yeah, and I ‘don’t need’ you choking over your own puke in your sleep.”

“No…”

“Jean.” I feel terrible already for doing it like this. “Try. If you don’t at least try, I’ll leave.”

I bite my lip, awaiting his response. I really shouldn’t have said that. I’m such an asshole. Fuck.

“Okay.”

Deep breath. I push the pill against his bottom lip and the soft tissue yields against my fingers for a moment before he opens. The mug is to his lips not a moment after; he gulps, Adam’s apple bobbing, and the tea in his mouth suddenly explodes out and sprays warmly all over my face.

All. Over.

I peel my eyes open after impact. Jean looks more awake than he did before, and with a discernible expression, too: terror.

Okay. Good!

Slowly, he reaches for the sweat-soaked cloth on his head and offers it to me. I shake my head.

“Be right back.”

Bathroom. Cold water. Cold water against my face. There’s two razors on the sink and the edges of the white surface have some hairs on them. Face hairs, I’m sure. I pray.

If whatever Jean has is contagious, I sure as hell have it now.

I turn the tap off and swipe the water from my face. Great. Okay. I bunch up my now-wet sweater. I can do this.

I re-enter the bedroom. Jean sits up a little straighter now, sipping in small increments. “Sorry.”

I put my sweater on the chair. “It’s okay.”

“I— really—”

“Jean, it’s okay.”

“I’m fine. I’ll get better.” Which is about the most complete sentence he’s said in a while.

“I told you I’m not going anywhere, didn’t I?”

He doesn’t say anything. Almost unconsciously, I gravitate to his bed.

“You already did too much for me.”

“Nonsense.”

“Why do… you do this?”

Now that gets me thinking. Because you’re sick. Because I’m a good friend. Because you’re my guinea pig for Hospitality 101. Maybe all three.

My eyes trace back to the scribbled portrait on the other side of Jean’s bed and I take the cloth from his forehead.

Thousands upon thousands of excuses, and a singular truth.

“Because I like you.”

And I take my time going back to the bathroom.

Cold water. Cold water against my hands.

“Coming in.”

“It wasn’t nothing.” Jean clears his throat, almost inaudible against my beating heart. “Back at the party. Wasn’t… nothing.”

“Wasn’t all that much, either,” I say dryly. Hopefully he doesn’t notice how shaky my hands are. How shaky against his pallid skin.

Jean inhales and I can see the movement through his chest. “No. Wasn’t a lot.” He tilts his head up at a minuscule angle to scan my face, and maybe it’s the perspective, or the weird lighting, but I could swear he’s never looked at me like this before.

Except for that time.

“So I’d…” he swallows. “Like— like to have more.”

For a few seconds, it’s silent. For a few seconds, all that there is are his dim eyes and mine. For a few seconds, we fall into each other and tread water, sinking, fading…

I break our gaze and tremblingly pluck a tissue from a box on the ground; hold it to his nose. “Blow.”

He takes a shaky breath and obeys.

Fold. “Again.”

He shuts his eyes and blows.

“Again.”

He blows until his air gives out. I drop the spent tissue.

“Again?”

He shakes his head.

“Let’s try the pill.”

He nods and stares as I open the foil for a second time and pop the new one in my mouth.

He watches, confused, until a wave of realization seems to hit him.

He stays statue-still as I lean in, put a hand on the headboard on either side of his head.

His heat, like a barrier, raises the hairs on my skin. He cups my jaw. I cradle the side of his neck, and his pulse beats at a million miles a minute. The pill begins to dissolve.

Our mouths barely touch, and I make the final connection.

Jean is tall. Jean is arrogant. Jean will laugh at you when you fall.

But Jean has the softest lips, the sweetest mouth (even when he puked out a buffet no more than half an hour ago). Jean will melt like soft butter under your touch. Jean will accept your tongue, no questions asked, and retaliate with twice the vengeance.

Like I’ve been dreaming of since that brief moment at the party, I let my hand run insouciant through his hair. No eyes watching. No social boundary.

He gasps softly for air and I do the same, pulling his scalp so he tilts to meet me better with a small grunt. God, I fucking love his hair.

Now both of his iron-hot hands are on me, hooking under my shirt, running up and down, claiming every square inch, and I let mine fall from his neck down to his slick chest down to his stomach down to his abs. Other still planted firmly in his hair, pulling, twirling, pulling, and when I tug again Jean squeezes so hard, doubling down, suddenly hungry, suddenly a starving man. Wrapping his arms around my back and pulling me closer, I oblige, hooking a leg onto his bed, between his knees, and my thigh brushes against his still-damp T-shirt, and he groans softly into my mouth—

and swallows with an ulp!

and it’s over.

I stroke his throat as the pill goes down and he stares hollowly at me until it’s gone. I recline and smile.

“Is that enough for you?”

Unblinking, he pulls me down again.

⋅ ⋆ ─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────── ⋅ ⋆

Connie kicks the asphalt with his definitely real Gucci slides. “Are you done?”

“Shh!”

He shoots his friend a withering look — that is, as withering of a look that he can muster.

“This is creepy. And I’m cold. Can we at least—”

Sasha puts down her binoculars and shows him what a real killer glare is. He rolls his eyes and scans his phone. Eren’s sent a message to the matchmaker groupchat.

emo king🖤⛓️: are u sure this plan of urs worked out

emo king🖤⛓️: excuse me if this is harsh, but it’s probably the dumbest shit of ur dumbshit ideas

me: yeah try telling Sash that

sharmin ultra soft: Eren’s right. Chances are Jean puked and turned everyone off

intimidating woman: i think there’s a chance

emo king🖤⛓️: are u fr in on this mikasa

sashami: you guys shh the star coming

Sasha shoots him another look before putting her non-stalker scope away in preparation for the star of the day’s arrival.

“Whad’d I do?”

As far as he knows, Connie is doing everything right. He’d told everyone that he was sleeping over at Sasha’s. (Her idea.) And now it’s Monday, and it’s time for the star’s (code name) first class (and also Sasha’s), and now they’re sitting out in the cold like a couple of dumbasses watching the stairwell windows. (Also her idea.) What the heck?

“I’m going in the car,” Connie grumbles. He doesn’t wait for the inevitable retort and climbs in to the drivers’ seat.

The car. The one silver lining to this whole ordeal. He’d eaten, put his feet up in, and used up every last drop of gas on this baby and Jean couldn’t do a damned thing about it.

But the person coming through the door isn’t their star. It’s Jean. Huh?

Connie pops out of the vehicle and joins up with Sasha.

“Oh— you’re here, too?” Jean’s brow furrows deeper. “What’s going on?”

“Well, hello to you, too,” Connie grins. “Looks like you‘re doing a lot better.”

“No thanks to you lot.”

“Where are you going?” Sasha pipes in, and he knows what’s coming next. She’s using her interviewer voice.

“Just… going to class.” Jean smacks Connie’s shoulder. “Keys?”

He produces them with a flourish and a jangle and the taller takes them, unlocking the car.

Beep beep!

Sasha casually tails him, twisting around to block the driver’s side door.

“Sash.”

“Were you a good host?”

“I mean, I was really sick.”

“You have actual, proper food, right? Did you feed your dear caretaker?”

“Uh…” he smirks. “Yeah.”

“Is your room clean?”

“It’s fine!”

“Did you sleep together?”

He rolls his eyes and wedges a hand between his car and the girl. “Okay, get out.”

“Answer my question!” Sasha cries as she stumbles back and Jean hops in. Without another word, the car backs out. Jean turns and comes forward so he’s perpendicular to the parking spot before lowering his window.

“Connie! You owe me 20!” And then he’s gone.

Dumbfounded, the boy looks to Sasha, finding her staring at her phone. “What’s wrong? You on your period?”

“Oh, fuck off. Look.”

star: sorry sash,, not coming to hospitality. i got sick :(

star: jeans staying home for me tho. dont wait up <3

And the mastermind screenshots the fruits of her labour.

⋅ ⋆ ─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────── ⋅ ⋆

would you look at that. more kissing. *throws tomato* i did 80% of this in one day. no regrets!! (said eren.) (ill shut the fuck up now) i hope you enjoyed! it actually turned out a lot less gross than i originally planned (they were gonna do it with the nyquil ewwwww) but this is fine. right? i never actually kept a pill on my tongue like that for so long so for my sanity's sake let's pretend this is how it all works.

this started out as a oneshot. however,,, i decided to add more parts to it because i'm a sucker. check it out if you like! <3

byebye

⋅ ⋆ ─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────── ⋅ ⋆

masterlist part 2 - low tide

[study-with-aura]

Saturday, July 6, 2024

All of my new school supplies came in today! It was actually only the calculator and the erasable gel pens, which I really love! Thank you to whoever it was that recommended them to me several months ago! I also love the new calculator, except the manual is in Chinese. I'm sure I can figure it out, but if not, Dad can also read it fluently, so I can ask him if I get stuck on how to change modes or whatever.

I will be heading to my environmental science camp after church tomorrow, so I will be gone again until at least Friday. More than likely, like last time, I will post on Saturday since I am sure I will be tired after unpacking and studying a little.

I have one week of work left of the theory course I am taking. Thus far it has been interesting. I love all of the analyses that the professor does. I struggle with that still. My piano teacher is glad that I've started studying for the harmony and counterpoint exam already. It is going to be a tough one!

We had a lot of fun out on the lake today. We took the boat out, and while Dad and Julien did some fishing, Mom and I enjoyed lying out (with lots and lots of sunscreen). I also went swimming at the beach and went waterskiing with some friends we met up with out there. I'm getting better at it!

It's past my bedtime, but I was up until midnight on the 4th. The fireworks got over around 10pm but then there was traffic and the drive back home, and I needed to shower after being out in the sun during the day and around a lot of people. The fireworks were beautiful over the water, and we had a lot of fun at the concerts before the fireworks. I also got queso asado street tacos for dinner! They were so good! I love food trucks when we're in the main city for fun events like this. They always have something yummy.

Good night everyone! Have a great next week, and I will update again probably on Saturday! 🌱🌞

Tasks Completed:

History 9 - Learned classical music forms and genres + studied ternary form + studied sonata-allegro form through Mozart's Eine kleine Nachtmusik

Theory - Studied 2-voice counterpoint + completed self-assessment

KA GRF Algebra 2 - Completed Unit 1: Lesson 9 (review of factoring quadratics with perfect squares)

Duolingo - Studied for approximately 30 minutes (Spanish + French + Chinese) + completed daily quests

Piano - 60-minute piano lesson + practiced for one hour

Reading - Read pages 223-258 of Lumara by Melissa Landers and finished the book

Chores - Cleaned refrigerator, stove and kitchen counters + put away groceries

Activities of the Day:

Personal Bible Study (Luke 1 + week 20 reflections)

Morning Yoga

Went to the lake with family

Packed

Journal/Mindfulness

[steviebbboi]

Ordinary is Ordinary

Chap 02/02: Gem Meets Steve

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader (Gem)

Rating: Teens and up!

Summary: You viewed life as it was: ordinary. To you, life was an endless cycle of simply trying to make ends meet. People work, sleep and wake up to do it all over again. A chance encounter with a certain captain challenges your philosophy of what is considered to be ordinary.

A/N: Fluff on fluff, a meet cute with Steve and Gem! This is a two-parter that I also wrote around 2018. There's not many warnings other than getting ready for some teeth-rotting sweetness from Steve. Hope you enjoy reading :)

Coffee dividers by @saradika-graphics - Thank you so much for creating these cute coffee banners - perfect for this lil meet cute moment <3

Diamond divider by @firefly-graphics - wonderful work as always! Thank you sm!

Read Part 1 here.

You walked to your coffee shop on Court street, feeling slightly in a daze. You still could not believe that Captain freaking America bought your coffee. It’s been a few weeks since your "meet cute" had transpired and you were hoping to run into him again.

"God, what am I thinking?" You said to yourself, thinking of how the scenario would go down. 

"Hey, Captain—Cap. El Capitán. Thanks for buying me coffee the other day and so sorry I was such a bitch—sorry, excuse my language. I meant to say that I was being rude. Also, thanks for saving the world from flying alien robots. And oh yeah, the robots from the day before..."

You shook your head and scolded yourself for your imagination. People like you did not just run into one of the Avengers. Who were you to ever say anything to them—to Captain America?! You were just a girl born and raised in Brooklyn. 

Taking your life, as boring and ordinary as it was, day by day.

You continued to walk into the cafe, the familiar bell at the top of the door dinged as you pushed the door open. It was 7AM and you're already in line for the morning rush. Falling into line like the other mindless drones going to work, You stood there being idle with your thoughts.

Completely out of it, due to lack of sleep and your wandering thoughts, you neglected to hear the door’s ding as another drone entered the cafe. You subconsciously stepped forward as coffee orders were taken and given up ahead.

You felt the person behind you step up as the line shifted. Distantly, you heard a throat clear. You didn't pay it any mind and continued to stare straight ahead. After a minute, you heard another throat clear, purposefully this time. You began to turn your body and look behind you but then you heard a soft ‘hey Gem’ spoken from someone in the front. You straightened and looked towards the register and saw Chris greeting you a good morning.

"How are you, Chris?" You asked as you gave your coffee order. Luckily, you have been promoted at your job, going from assistant to secretary. Not that big of a bump but you took it since it meant that you would be getting out of buying ten cups of coffee every morning for the next five years.

"I'm alright, Gem. How are you feeling?" Chris asked you. After the ‘transformers’ incident, although the attack didn't happen on American soil, the damage was felt by all people in New York. Everyone was still recovering from all these other worldly attacks.

"I'm alright. World keeps spinning, I suppose." You grinned humorlessly and stepped aside for the person behind you to order as Chris nodded his agreement.

You were waiting for your order at the end of the bar and after a few moments, you heard a voice beside you say, "Does it really?"

You turned and saw the very man, and hero, that has been occupying your thoughts the past few weeks. He looked...tired but still put together. You had a weird moment of just seeing him in his whole get up until you realized that he was just wearing casual attire. You stared at him for a while and noticed that he was just staring at you with his eye brows slightly raised.

You shook your head a bit, "Sorry— what was that?"

He gave you a grin and said, "Does the world really just keep spinning?"

Your mouth opened a few times, as you were at a loss of what to say. How do you respond to Captain America that through all of his stress, tribulations and hard work of trying to save the world, it didn't really matter because the world ‘just kept spinning’? As if nothing happened.

"You, you freaking idiot!" You thought while looking down, a bit ashamed. "I’m so sorry, I meant no offense."

He looked taken aback, a soft grin still on his face. "Hey, it's okay. No offense was taken. That's what the world is supposed to do, spin." He didn't discuss it any further but you understood what he was saying.

It was his job to defend and keep the world going. To keep it spinning. To operate as if nothing happened.

You smiled slightly and said quietly, "Still though, it wouldn't continue to spin without you guys." His eyes widened a bit and his small grin widened a bit as he tucked his head down, not saying anything. 

"My cover is blown, I see." He said.

You smiled and said, "It's kinda hard not to notice Captain America taking pity on the girl in a coffee shop and buying your coffee even after you were being super rude to him."

Steve laughed a bit, "You were not being rude. You were being cautious, as everyone should be. But, I will admit that you're slightly off about one thing. I'm not Captain America taking pity on the girl in the coffee shop and buying your coffee for you."

He extended his grin and his hand, "I'm Steve, and a few weeks ago, I saw a pretty girl standing in front of me in a coffee shop and decided to buy her coffee, all in the hopes of getting her to talk to me."

You were taken aback at his unexpected forwardness, "Captain America is a flirt." Surprise flitted your thoughts. You blushed when you finally registered what he said, "Captain— Steve thinks I'm pretty."

Although still blushing, you extended your hand and introduced yourself. 

He shook your hand, "It's really nice to meet you. So, your name isn’t Gem, either?”

You smiled back at him and couldn't look away from the teasing glint in his eyes. Giving him a glimpse of your laugh, “No, that’s all Chris. I chalk it up to the fact that I’ve tried to charm him into making me ten cups of coffee every morning for the past five years.”

Steve hummed his agreement, “Yeah, I can see why he would.” 

You flushed again as he continued to flirt with you. There seemed to be something in both of your expressions, an energy or a spark that seemed to ignite the moment that your hands touched and your gazes met each other. You both let go, but only after you heard your name called for your coffee.

You turned to get your coffee and checked your watch that read 7:30AM. You noticed that you had no time to chat with him if you wanted to get to work. You wondered if you even should. You smiled sadly, thinking of what it could be like to date a superhero. "I'm better off without that kind of stress. I have my job and myself to look after. Maybe it's not such a good idea. Maybe it is for the best."

You turned back to Steve with a reluctance that you couldn’t help keep out of your voice. "I have to go but...it was really nice to see you again, Steve."

Steve looked at you and you could tell that he was disappointed but not surprised by your reaction and reluctantly smiled, "You too, Gem."

You smiled regrettably and quietly said bye. You walked towards the front door but stopped before you could pull it open. You couldn't stop thinking about the moment you touched hands. The spark. His deep blue eyes. Unknowingly, you were walking away from a handshake that had the potential to change your life forever.

But you didn't walk away.

Steve was still facing the bar counter, waiting for his coffee. Slightly disappointed that he could not manage to stop you from walking away but accepted the situation for what it was. He knew that times were different but he gave it a try and he failed. He was being too forward and you weren't interested.

But, in that moment, he couldn't stop thinking about the moment that you touched hands. The unflinching, bright spark that tingled between your touch. The bright gleam in your eyes.

He made up his mind to chase after you until he realized that he didn't hear the ding of the door nor did he hear the pause of your footsteps. He turned around to see you at the door, facing him, holding your coffee with a genuine smile laid on your face.

It was Steve’s turn to flush as he was caught turning to go after you. You took two steps forward towards Steve and you both stood quiet for a second until you said, "So, how'd you propose a girl would ask a cute guy to walk with you 'till you had to go to work?"

Steve's eyes lit up in humor, recognizing their little dance. "Do you have the time?" 

You looked at your watch that said 7:45AM and looked back at Steve.

"Eh," You shrugged with the same humored smile. "Let the world spin."

Thanks so much for reading this two-part series! Reading this again after a few years, my heart is really staying with Steve and Gem.

Comments/reblogs/like are so appreciated and welcomed. Thanks for reading and enjoying :)

Main Masterlist

[party-hearses]

i am a nightmare, you are a miracle // 1

i'll bury us both, fed to the night as ghosts

series masterlist | next chapter

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader, ex!Tommy Miller x f!reader (NO USE OF Y/N)

Summary: After your two year relationship with Tommy Miller ends, Joel takes you in — and it’s home like you’ve never quite known before. 

Series Warnings/Tags: 18+ MDNI, language, infidelity, eventual smut, age difference, soft!joel, AU - no cordyceps outbreak, Sarah doesn’t exist (sorry), Tommy stans don’t come for me

Wordcount: 5.8 k

A/N: I’ll be honest — I have no idea what I’m doing. I haven’t written a fic in damn near 20 years, so I’m just kind of throwing this out into the void to see what happens. I'm playing fast and loose with years and ages; it's 2023 and there's no outbreak. Also, not a personal fan of the ‘brothers’ trope, but…here we are. 

…I can’t wait until your next business trip…

You press the heels of your hands into your eyes as hard as you can. Who even uses email to have an affair, anymore? 

…miss your hands…

The words are hot against your eyelids, seared into your line of vision, despite the dull ache from your own hands. It had been a week, and the wound still feels gaping — all consuming, bitter pain licking at your insides what feels like every minute of the day. 

     “Dammit, peach. I’ve barely seen you in a week and a half, and this is the bullshit you start?” 

     “Oh, so it’s my fault that you’re having an affair?”

     “I didn’t say that!” 

     Tommy’s eyes wild, hands on his hips, southern drawl like syrup over each syllable. 

     “You’re always workin’. In meetings. Pourin’ yourself into spreadsheets and budgets. What  am I s’posed to do?”

     His hands in the air, desperate, shoulders hunched.

     “Still sounds a lot like you’re blaming me.”  

You can feel the tears well up, and you swallow hard to stop them. Do not cry at work. Do NOT cry at work. You breathe deep, the burning in your lungs waning, but not extinguishing. The usual busy noises of your office are absent today, save the soft purr of the air conditioning and the receptionist’s furious clicking at her keyboard. Even the phones are silent; no frantic calls from upstairs to divert your attention from the constant replay of that night. 

Finally feeling steady enough to remove your hands from your eyes, you lock your fingers together and lay your cheek on top of them. Everything feels heavy — your workload, your personal life, your head. Your gaze slowly flickers to the office window, the sunlight streaming through, the heat scorching. It seems to call out to your blood, making you feel restless, agitated, but also so fucking tired.  

Sleep had eluded you since Tommy had left, and you’d barely been able to steal moments here and there, between dinner for one on the couch and the canned laughs of late-night talk shows. How different your life had been even two weeks ago.  

“Did you bring lunch?” 

Abruptly brought back to earth, your eyes snap up to the face of your colleague, Ava. 

“Um, yeah. Just some veggie sticks and hummus. I, uh, haven’t been feeling terribly hungry.” You smile weakly, the attempt at a joke feeling like a weight around your neck. 

Ava nods in understanding, her eyes sympathetic. She had been the second person you’d called the next morning, after your older sister. Kit, five years your senior, had answered, already sounding distracted by her two young children. 

     “Well, girl, I can’t say I didn’t tell you so. Getting involved with a man seventeen years older than you…” 

While Kit had been hard and borderline disinterested, Ava had served as a warm landing for your sobbing, rushing to the empty apartment on a Saturday morning to soothe you. 

“It’s Friday. We can duck out early, grab a drink? You could use one, and Jackson isn’t back from his meeting upstairs.” Ava checks her watch, confirming. “It’s not like anyone will even miss us.” 

Ava is dependable, fun, beautiful. Her cool California attitude compliments her chic New York style, but she had called Austin home since college. She could wrap anyone around her finger with ease, and her insistence on being your friend made your heart clench. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I’d like that.” You nod solemnly, tears now pricking at your eyes from the tenderness you feel towards her. 

She meets the tenderness with a wide grin. “Knew you would, doll.” 

As you turn to gather your bag, a sudden lightning bolt of fear strikes you. 

“Av, what if he’s there? What if we see him?” 

She swallows down a laugh. “Tommy Miller? Downtown?” She leans closer to you, raising her eyebrows. “He wouldn’t be caught dead at Taquero Mucho. Not willingly, at least.” 

Ava is right, as always. The lush pink floral interior and neon signage on the walls of the restaurant do not, and would not, mesh with Tommy Miller’s bearish sensibilities. You instantly feel more at ease, letting Ava order pink, fruity drinks for the both of you. 

One cocktail turns into two turns into three, and the warm buzz in your veins settles your mind for the time being. Ava sits across from you, happily munching on tortilla chips and chattering away. 

“I couldn’t believe Belinda said that! Like, retire already, grandma.” She grins, rolling her eyes. 

You chuckle, only half hearing the story she’s been telling. Noticing, she gently shifts in her seat, drawing closer to you. 

“Doll, I’m sorry to have been chatting your ear off. You know how I get. Let’s hear- ah, wait!” She notices your empty glass, and as if she had snapped her fingers, the server materializes. 

“Two more, please.” She nods toward the server, who rushes away to put the order in, lest they keep Ava waiting. “Okay. So… what are you going to do? We need to get you out of that apartment. And since you refuse to stay with me…” 

Your gaze drops to your hands in your lap. If you thought crying at work was bad, crying at lunch was worse. You clear your throat, eyes catching your chipped fingernail polish.  

“I don’t know, Av. He- it’s his apartment. It’s not like I don’t make enough to get something on my own, but… I don’t know. It all feels so empty.” 

Ava nods as the server places two more pink cocktails on the table. Mouthing a quick ‘thank you’ to him, she reaches for it before responding.  

“Where’s he staying? And for how long?” 

“His brother’s. Said he’ll give me as much time as I need…but I don’t want to be there anymore. I don’t feel like I can be. Maybe I should get out of Austin?” 

Ava raises an eyebrow. “I don’t think so. You can’t let him run you out of town! That’s outrageous. He’s not even worth that.” She rolls her eyes again. 

You reach for your drink, sipping it slowly, willing it to quiet the bitter fire in your blood. 

     “Peach, come on. I- I didn’t mean it. It didn’t mean anything. You’re gonna throw two years away over a one time thing? A-a mistake?” 

     “It should have never happened, Tommy! Fucking a client? And I know it wasn’t just once! What the fuck were you thinking?” 

     Tommy’s eyes soften, but he doesn’t speak. His hand goes to the back of his neck, kneading. 

     “Guess I wasn’t thinkin’.” 

Tommy had shattered you. Betrayed you. Split you open and cut your insides out. But you couldn’t bring yourself to say that he wasn’t a good man. Complicated? Yes. Hard to read? Yes. Prone to making colossal fucking mistakes? Absolutely. But you knew, deep down, that he wasn’t bad. 

You shake your head at Ava slowly, sadly. “I don’t know what I did wrong, Av. Two years. I don’t know what happened.” 

Your eyes well up, and this time you can’t stop the tears. You sniffle, wiping them away quickly, as Ava puts her hand on your forearm. 

“You didn’t do anything wrong, doll. He’s the one who fucked up. He’s the one who ruined everything.” 

“H-he said I work too much. I’m ‘not there’ enough. And…and…the worst p-part is, I don’t think he’s wrong!” It takes everything in you not to wail. You squeeze your eyes shut tightly, trying to focus on the in-out in-out of your breathing. 

Ava signals for the check, another of her magic abilities. You can feel the server’s eyes on you as he brings it, quietly clicking his tongue against his teeth. Another sad drunk girl. Tsk, tsk. It’s barely 3 o’clock. Ava hums softly, scribbling her signature on the receipt. 

“There’s not a justification in the world for what he chose to do. You worked hard for your career, busted your ass to be where you’re at. It’s no excuse for him to have a full-blown affair with a client.” She closes the receipt inside the booklet and stands. “Now let’s get you home, so you can cry it out in peace.”

Unlocking the door of the apartment fills you with dread. The key feels unwieldy in your hand, and you consider for a split second whether it will feel daunting or freeing to give it back to Tommy. You let yourself in, the apartment hauntingly empty — just as you had left it, just as it had been for the past seven nights. 

You’ve only spoken to Tommy sparingly over the course of the week. A few short texts here and there, mostly about the logistics of the arrangement you are both now navigating. He had left for Joel’s late the night it happened, a duffel bag slung low over his shoulder, slamming the door on his way out. 

     “This it, peach?”  

…miss your hands…

 Dropping your bag next to the front door, the tears don’t stop once they start.

Ava had offered to come up, but you knew you couldn’t let her. She didn’t deserve to have to wallow with you, no matter how much she wanted to be there for you. 

 It had been a good distraction, lunch with her, but you still didn’t know what your plan was. Where you’d be going, where you’d be living. 

Hugging yourself, you shuffle into the guest bathroom to wash your face. After Tommy had left, you’d moved everything you needed out of the main bedroom and bathroom, suddenly feeling like a trespasser there. 

     Had he brought her here? Did she sleep in this bed? Did they talk about the future together? What does Joel think?

The last question to run through your mind catches you by surprise, a small gasp escaping your lips. What does Joel think? 

If Tommy was stoic and gruff, Joel was downright intimidating. You’ve only seen him smile a few times, and you can count on one hand the number of times you’ve heard him laugh. He wasn’t, however, unkind, taking to calling you by the same nickname Tommy had, albeit a bit awkwardly at first. Like he couldn’t form his mouth around the languid, round letters - p e a c h. Angular as he was, he had always made you feel welcome, in his own, quiet way, teasing Tommy about you being out of his league. The familial resemblance was strong between the brothers, with their dark waves and warm eyes. But something about Joel made your soul clench, as if he had curved his fingers around your ribs and impressed himself upon your heart. He was comfortable, in a cloudy way — never revealing himself, but not pressuring you to, either. Amicable silence, as it were. 

Thinking about Joel calling you out of Tommy’s league makes you scoff, now. 

“The rich client with the kitchen remodel isn’t too out of his league, is she?” You mumble to yourself, cold water pooling between your palms. 

     “I don’t want it to end this way, peach.”  

     “I didn’t want it to end at all, Tommy.” 

 You bring the water to your face, scrubbing away the salt of dried tears and sting of betrayal.

The sun had dipped below the horizon when you wake up later on the couch. Fumbling for your phone with one hand, you rub your eyes with the other. As you check the time, your phone alerts you to two new text messages, delivered two hours ago.

Tommy Miller: Will you be home tonight? Tommy Miller: I need to stop by to get a few things. 

Your hands tremble as you read and reread the messages. You rub your eyes again, unsure if you’re understanding the text in front of you clearly. It doesn’t change. Panic rises in your throat, searing and sour. 

A vicious cross between fury and complete despair surges through you, and you drop your phone into your lap. Tears pinch at the backs of your eyes. Forget figuring out where to live, you hadn’t even considered how you’d next face Tommy.  

     I don’t want to see you, Tommy. Do you want to talk? I’ll be out, feel free to drop by. Please come home. 

You weigh your options, constructing and dismantling multiple messages. Retrieving the phone, you pray he can’t see that abhorrent blue bubble that indicates you’re typing. That shows him you’re there. 

As if he’d read your mind, your phone vibrates, his name and picture flashing on the screen. The picture gives you pause — a day you had spent on Lake Austin, the wind whipping through his hair, a broad smile on both of your faces. You feel like you’re going to be sick. 

Focusing on your breathing, clenching your teeth, you accept the call.  

 “Hey, Tommy.” Your voice is small. So small. You feel your cheeks burn at how stupid you feel. You should be screaming at him — biting back the venom he instilled in you — but all you can manage is barely a whisper.  

He sounds relieved. “Hey, peach. Didn’t know if I’d catch ya.” 

You hum discontentedly. How can he be so cool about this?  

“Uhhh, well, I, uh, need to stop by the apartment tonight to grab some things. Would that be okay?” 

You don’t know what to say. Would it be okay?  

“It’s your apartment.” 

The response surprises you, that same venom bubbling over without your permission.

Tommy sighs. 

“I don’t want it to be like this, darlin’. Can we talk? Please?” 

“Can you make it here without sleeping with a client?” 

Tommy laughs hollowly. “Guess I deserve that. Sassy today, huh?” 

You picture him then, on Joel’s couch, fidgeting with the hem of his button down with his free hand. Pressed against the cushions, eyes to the ceiling. Gently annoyed with you for ignoring his texts. Football would be switched on in the background, and your heart thrums when you think of Joel being there, watching him. What does Joel think?   

You clear your throat, refocusing your attention. 

“Let’s get this over with, Tommy.”  

Sassy, indeed.

It was easier to be hard over the phone, joined by nothing more than wires somewhere in space. But as Tommy stands in front of you now, elbows on the kitchen island, hands stretching towards you, all you feel is the velvety pull of attraction. The soft lull of two years spent shrouded in each other. 

His voice is low, but soft — practically a purr. 

“Baby. How do we move past this?” 

You don’t meet his gaze, wrapping your arms around yourself. Looking at anything but him, anything but those warm eyes. You know that if you do, it will be over. 

“Tommy…I don’t know if I can. I don’t know if it’s that easy. You had an affair. You didn’t forget to take the trash out, or-or-or make a shitty comment about my friends. You slept with someone! You had a relationship with her.” Your voice is measured, eyes dragging from the floor to the ceiling. Avoiding. 

“What can I do, peach? Please, just tell me. I’ll do anything.” 

 “It doesn’t change what happened.” You cross your arms over your chest, defiant now. “It won’t change what happened.” 

Exasperated, Tommy slams his hand on the counter, drawing his body to its full height. He’s broad — so broad — his shoulders squared. 

“I get it, okay? I fucked up. You’ve made it clear. Joel has made it clear. I fuckin’ get it!” He clenches his fists, bringing them up to his face. “I fuckin’ get it.” 

You drop your eyes instantly as your pulse quickens. “What do you mean, Joel made it clear?” 

Tommy sighs, deeply, not removing his hands from his face. “Joel will barely fuckin’ talk to me. Can’t get more’n two words out of him. Said he doesn’t blame you for bein’ done with me. Said I know better. And you know what? Yeah, he’s right. I do. Can’t even argue with’m.” 

You hum cooly in agreement, your pulse thrumming in your ears. There is a sudden acute awareness of the change taking place in your perception of Tommy following his words; he’s been wrenched open and put on display for you, and the need to step back from the jarring offering is nearly suffocating.  

“Okay. Okay.” Hands falling to his waist, revealing his eyes. Bloodshot, tired. Surrendering, but sharp. His voice, softer now, velvet dipped in whiskey. “I’m sorry, peach. I can’t even tell you how sorry I am. I wish I could take it all back. I…I know I really fucked up.” 

You hold his desperate gaze for a moment before lowering your eyes to the floor again. 

“Tommy… ” His name splintering across your lips. “I can’t do this. I can’t do this.” That small voice again, cracking. Shattering. Sparkling pieces scattered across the kitchen floor around your feet. Meeting his offering with outstretched, empty palms. Nothing left to give. 

He drops his head, tucking his chin to his chest, and exhales a shaky breath. “Okay, peach. I hear ya.”

You can see his eyes bright with unshed tears. This is the softness that you know, that you’ve craved. The hushed tenderness that you’d shared beneath bed sheets, woven between fingertips brushed against silk skin, delicate whispers in the dark of a once shared bedroom.  

As good as strangers, now. 

The silence settles between you, mourning both what once was and could have been.

When the door closes with Tommy on the other side of it, it feels final. An unfamiliar liquid sense of relief floods your veins, and you breathe deeply. For the first time in a week, you feel like you can suck in enough air to actually fill your lungs. You hadn’t recognized the somber, weepy creature you’d become, and you were sure no one else had, either. Ava had treated you like you were made of glass, afraid you would shatter at any moment. And as much as you had needed that, your stomach twisted into knots at feeling so helpless. Ending things with Tommy — officially — felt like giving yourself permission to dig out the shards and stitch the wound.  

You take in the room around you - a blanket strewn across the arm of the couch, wine glasses littering the coffee table, bottles lined up on the floor in front of it. You shake your head, in something that feels a little like disbelief. The reality of leaving this apartment - your home - had begun to truly set in, but the question of where you would land hung heavy in the air. 

Of course Kit would take you in, if she wasn’t multiple states and thousands of miles away. Ava was an option, having offered her couch to you almost the moment she found out, but you had leaned so heavily on her already that taking more would have made you feel too guilty. A hotel would be too expensive for an open-ended move out date, though the prospect of not having to make your own bed or wash your own sheets was tempting.  

Dropping yourself onto the couch with a heavy sigh, you begin to aimlessly scroll through the contact list in your phone. You know, deep down, that it’s for show, though you don’t know for who. You know, too, that you’ll end up at Ava’s, despite your unwillingness to do so. 

 You lean back, pulling your legs up and stretching them across the cushions. Reaching across the empty wine glasses for the television remote, you click it on before throwing your arm over your eyes. You don’t care what’s on, you just need the sounds. Of people. Of laughing. Of life. Resigning yourself to calling Ava in the morning, you slip into a restless, dreamless sleep.

The Saturday morning sun finds you still curled up on the couch, your legs pulled close to your core. Without opening your eyes, you drop your hand to the floor, feeling for your phone. Finding it nestled partially beneath the frame of the couch, you bring it up to your face, cracking your eyes as little as possible to check the time. There’s a missed call, and when it catches your attention, your eyes fly open completely. 

 Joel Miller - 1 Missed Call & Voicemail

“What the fuuuuck… ” you mumble, swiping to your calls app and bringing the phone to your ear. 

“Uh, hey peach. It’s Joel. Gimme a call back when you get this.” 

You can’t quite place his tone of voice, and your hands tremble as your brain rolls through all the reasons he might be calling you. Did something happen? Is he angry that Tommy is still at his place? Is he angry that you ended it with Tommy? Is he going to try to convince you to take him back? You play the voicemail again, to see if you can catch any stormy inflections in his deep voice - though you glean nothing more than a hazy awareness of the hunger coursing through your blood when he speaks.  

Finally sitting up and crossing your legs beneath you, you stare at the screen for what feels like an eternity. It’s not that Joel scares you, but you don’t know of any time that he’s called you for any reason. Worrying at your bottom lip with your teeth, you finally press the little image of a phone next to his name and wait for the call to connect.

“Yeah?” Joel’s tone is curt, and you can tell he’s at work based on the construction noises you hear in the background. It sets your teeth on edge. You squeeze your eyes shut, bracing yourself. Steeling your nerves.  

“Heyjoelit’s-” you manage to squeak, before you recognize the quiet way his breath hitches. 

“Peach.” and he’s soft. So soft. Softer than you’ve ever known him to be. And it’s your name on his tongue; honeyed and heavenly. You could drown in it. 

“Hi,” you whisper. “I’m just…returning your call.” 

He doesn’t answer immediately, but you hear the opening and closing of a door, the groan of an office chair, and then silence. You would think he’d hung up if you couldn’t hear his deep, even breathing. 

“Peach,” he finally says again, and your skin flares. He clears his throat. “I—there’s— you doin’ okay?” His words are rushed, clumsy, as if he’s trying to get them all out at once. The thought that Joel Miller has anything to say to you, much less too much to say to you, clouds your mind. “Could kill Tommy. Fuckin’ bastard.” 

You laugh once, idly. “I’m holdin’ it together, Joel.” 

“Attagirl.”  

Your skin prickles, and you draw in a surprised gasp. 

He continues, unaware of the change in your breathing. “Look, I, uh, know you’re busy, so I’ll get t’the point. I’ve got an extra room. For you. If ya want it, I mean. I know you’re tryin’ to get out of Tommy’s place, and I’m not lookin’ to rush you or anythin’, just..wanted to offer it up. Rent free, ‘n all that.” You imagine him running his hands through his hair as he stumbles through his speech, clenching his teeth. “Least I could do, with my brother bein’ the dickhead he is.” 

Oh. It’s pity — he feels sorry for you. You bite your tongue, sink your fingernails into your palm, force yourself to focus through the haze in your eyes. Stupid. Stupid girl. 

“Joel, I—” 

“I know ya probably have friends you can stay with. I’m not tryin’ t’be weir — peach, is this weird?” He’s lost in his own thoughts, but stops abruptly when the question escapes. He sounds just as surprised by it as you are.  

 It hangs in the air between you for a moment, and you relish just slightly in the idea that he’s floundering.  

“I don’t need you to feel sorry for me.” you reply, gently. “I’m okay to figure something out on my own. I’m a big girl.” 

“Oh, peach, no. No.” His response is quick, and firm; without any hesitancy, or a second thought. “Don’t for a minute think I don’t know how capable y’are. I know you can, I just don’t want you to have to.” 

 His words sizzle across your flesh, urgent and pleading. They leave you feeling dazed, unsure of the reality of the conversation. Your eyes flick to the furnishings of the apartment, desperate for something to ground you. Trepidation clutches at your throat, rendering you speechless. 

Joel shifts in his chair, and you hear him let out a long breath. “I- I know we don’t know each other. I feel like I’m scarin’ you, darlin’.” 

You shake your head, grasping for what to say. Chest tightening at the thought of his worry, the words fall out of your mouth before you can stop them. “What would Tommy say?” 

It feels like a condemnation; speaking it aloud, between the two of you. As if it would make Joel suddenly realize how wrong it was, to ask this of you. To offer this to you. 

“Tommy doesn’t get to say anythin’.” His whisper-soft tone now a growl, clawing at your insides. It covers you from head to toe, and you feel, for the first time in a very long time, shielded from the hurt. A hurt that exceeded the past week, or Tommy entirely. A hurt that was buried so far inside yourself that the aching reminder it even existed left you reeling. Tears prick at the back of your eyes, and you silently scold yourself for crying again. 

The silence on the phone is comfortable, as if Joel knows that you’re digesting everything he’s saying. True to his word, he’s not rushing you — just sharing the space with you, allowing you to take it all in. 

A loud knocking sounds from his end, and it snaps you out of your trance. 

“Shit, sorry peach. I gotta go.” He sounds further away, muffled; the intimacy of the conversation shattered, as if you had imagined it altogether. 

Then, abruptly, his warm, inviting timbre restored: “Please think about it. Bye, darlin’.”

 “I mean, are you thinking about it?” Ava questions, her eyes on the shirt she’s folding. She’s cross legged on the floor, while you stack books in the cardboard box at your feet. 

It hadn’t occurred to you how little you had to call your own, until you had to put it all in boxes.  

You don’t respond to Ava’s question immediately, instead chewing on your bottom lip gently. Turning it over and over in your mind, formulating the most diplomatic response. 

“How bad would it be if I was?” You avoid her eyes, which you know have turned to daggers at your back. 

It’s her turn to mull the question over, bobbing her head side to side as she considers. 

“Tommy’d be pissed.” It’s pointed, but not malicious. Honest. “But…we don’t care what Tommy thinks anymore, do we?” 

 You drop your head, smiling mildly behind the curtain of your hair. No, we in fact, do not. 

“Plus, he’s very…handsome.” Ava chooses her words carefully, but you know to read between the lines: Joel is fuckin’ hot. “The whole ‘older man’ thing really works for you, babe.” 

“Kit would be more upset than Tommy, I guarantee it.” You laugh softly, unable to help yourself. You get cheated on by someone more than fifteen years older than you, and immediately move in with someone even older? You imagine your sister tutting at you, ever the mother-figure. 

“No doubt.” Ava rolls her eyes affectionately as you turn to her. You plant your hands on your hips and survey the bedroom around you. “Seriously, though, how would the…logistics of living with Joel work? Would you, like, have dinner together? Hang out? Be friends?”

You laugh, despite the anxiety settled in the pit of your stomach. “I don’t know, Av. I haven’t thought that far ahead. I’m kind of hung up on the whole ‘moving in with my ex-boyfriend’s brother’ part of it all.” 

Now it’s her turn to plant her hands at her hips. “Are we still harboring some feelings about Tommy Miller, doll?” Her eyebrow quirks. 

“Av! Come on. We spent two years together! I’m not just gonna get over it like that.” You snap your fingers before bending down to close the now-full box below you. 

“You know what they say…the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else.” Ava waggles her eyebrows, and you laugh, full-bellied, at her levity. “You’re a fox, girl. Believe it or not.” 

You roll your eyes, shoving the box out of the door of the bedroom, into the hallway. 

“And he’ll be helping you move all this, right? To his house?” 

“Nope!” you chirp brightly, “that would be you, babe!”

Kit, as you had anticipated, is not thrilled about the idea of you moving in with Joel. You call her from your office phone on Monday morning, gripping the receiver so hard your knuckles are white. 

“Are you kidding? How are you even entertaining the idea?” Her voice is unflinching, and you tap the fingers of your free hand against your desktop, mildly annoyed. 

“I’m 28, Kit.” You remind her, as you always do. “I’m the one who would deal with the fallout. Not you. Besides, it’s not like I have a ton of options.” 

She scoffs, and you can imagine her rolling her eyes. “So you’ve told him yes, then?”  

“No! That’s why I’m…taking a survey. Feeling it out.” You mumble, “You’re obviously not on board.” 

Kit sighs, drawn out and heavy. “I know you don’t care what I think. I know you’re an adult. I just…worry about you. I’m so far away, and if anything happened…” 

You cut her off. “I appreciate that. A lot. But at some point, I have to take care of myself.” 

“I don’t think moving in with a 50 year old man qualifies as taking care of yourself.” She’s trying to be delicate, you can tell, but her remark is biting. 

Twirling the phone cord around your fingers, you purse your lips. 

“Why don’t you come stay with us for a bit? Maybe an extended vacation?” You can picture the sticky countertops, loud toys, an uncomfortable pullout couch. And Kit’s husband, awkward and gangly, never shutting up about ‘the economy’. Kit sounds somewhat hopeful, though, and it makes your heart quiver. 

“Kit…I can’t leave my job. The one stable thing I have going for me.” 

 “They have finance jobs here.” 

 “I’m not letting Tommy run me out of Austin.” You echo Ava’s words, an indignant feeling rising in your chest. “I’ve got a whole career here. This is…a minor setback. If I do move in with Joel, it won’t be for forever.”    

She laughs softly, but you clock the reluctance. 

“I promise. I’m okay. I am okay. I will be okay.” 

Kit pauses. “You’ll tell me if you’re not?” 

“Yeah. Yes. Of course.” 

“Well,” she clicks her tongue against her teeth, “best of luck, peach. It sounds like you have your mind made up.”

You shove the last box into the back of your Subaru, and dust your hands off on your leggings. 

     “Are you absolutely sure you’re okay with this, Joel?” 

     “Yes. Stop askin’ me.”   

      “If I’m too much, at all, I don’t have to stay.” 

     “Peach.” It’s a warning. “It’s Tommy that I need out of my space.” 

Calling Joel back to accept his offer had been harder than every other aspect of moving out of Tommy’s apartment. Once you and Ava had packed all of your belongings, you stood back to observe — and it was like you had never lived there in the first place. The only thing that truly felt different about the space was that you knew you didn’t live there anymore. You feel a pang in your chest thinking about how Tommy would feel without you there — you didn’t know if him missing you or not missing you would be worse. 

“Anything left?” Silas, Ava’s boyfriend-du-jour asks, from your elbow. 

You shake your head, pulling down the hatch to close the back of the car. “Just the key. Which you don’t have to stick around for.” You give him a watery smile, feeling the weight of the day through every muscle in your body. 

He nods. “Cool, cool. I’ll grab Ava. We can meet you over there?” 

You hum in agreement before turning back to the building. Going up the steps to the second floor feels mechanical, a recreation of the thousands of times you’ve done it before, and your legs carry you automatically. The last time, now. Pulling in a large breath, you exhale through your nose, centering yourself while you click the door open.  

Sunlight streams through the windows, bathing everything in the late afternoon light. You glaze your eyes over the room, not searching for anything forgotten, but committing it to memory one final time. You recognize that it feels less like a chapter closing and more like a freefall into something entirely unknown — into the mouth of something that lurks beneath the surface, teeth gnashing, ready to consume. 

Leaving the key on the kitchen island feels like an offering to that dark entity, but you’re ready — willing — to tumble headfirst into it. So you do, with no grandeur, and no looking back, just a deep breath out and the millstone around your neck lifted. 

Joel’s truck isn’t in the driveway when you arrive at his house. Ava is posted up against her car, Silas still in the driver’s seat, arm out the window at her waist. You wave as you pull up, masking the fear radiating through your extremities. 

You throw the Subaru into park, and Ava jogs over to meet you. Her eyes are wide, but kind, as you close the door behind you. 

“Okay?” She asks, her hand gentle on your arm. 

You nod, swallowing hard. “Feels kinda surreal, Av. But I’m good.” 

Brushing her off, you make your way to the front door. There’s an envelope clipped to the mailbox, ‘peach’ scribbled on the front of it, and your hands shake as you grasp it. 

‘I wanted to give you some space while you got settled. Your key is in the envelope. Make yourself at home — I’ll check on you in the morning. —Joel’ 

Your heart flutters as you pull out a house key, with a keychain in the shape of a peach threaded through the top of it. Your breath catches in your chest as you run the metal through your fingers, tightening them around it. If Tommy’s key had been an anchor, Joel’s feels like a lifesaver. 

Blinking back tears, hands still shaking, you slide the key into the lock and twist. 

Eat your heart out, Tommy Miller.

[silentglassbreak]

Fragmented

Noah Sebastian x OFC

The next chapter of Noah & Leena's story

I was so on the fence about writing a sequel, yet here we are. I saw the sequel in my head, and decided it was worth the write. This story is told from Noah's perspective. This time, I'm going to put warnings in on each individual chapter, as some may not need any. Also - something worth mentioning; the names of each part in the first story were obviously Bad Omens song titles. This time, they will be titles from songs that just inspire me. If you're here, thank you for reading! Leave me your thoughts, and let me know if you'd like to be tagged. xo

Warnings: Just some gool ol' fashioned smut with some kinky stuff added in. (Also mention of marijuana smoking)

+It goes without saying. This is a work of fiction. My words are mine. Plagiarism is a crime.

Taglist: @flowery-mess @lma1986 @myownthoughts12 @poisongirl616 @missduffsblog @reidsblessing

Part 1 - Shame On Me

I've been a morning person my entire life. Even before I was active, and in the shape I'm in now, I was usually risen with the sun. However, after having spent the vast majority of my days the last year running on fumes, I found myself still laying in bed, hugging my pillow, letting my brain drift comfortably in and out of consciousness.

That is, until I felt something tugging at the edge of the blanket I had draped over my midsection.

I rolled over, eyes cracking open, seeing the miniature fingers grasping at me, Addison's eyes bright with a smile plastered across her face.

"Da da da da!" I smiled back at her, sitting up and lifting her onto the bed, flopping her down on the pillow next to me. She giggled wildly and I pulled the blanket up over the both of us.

"Five more minutes, baby girl."

Her tiny hand was pulling at the hem of my tank top, trying to 'wake me up' as I laid there, dramatically snoring.

"Da da!" Her voice was getting angrier, and I laughed.

"Da da's tired, Addie! I get to sleep in!"

"Nooo!" I snorted at one of the few words she had come to learn very well.

"No?!" I grabbed her sides, pinching and tickling her, causing a roaring laughter to burst out of her. Her onesie was wrinkled and nearly popping open at her diaper from how hard she wriggled under my grip. "You don't get to say no to me, lady! I am your Daddy!"

She thrashed her head back and forth, gasping for air between happy squeals.

"Addie, would you let your Daddy sleep?" Mileena's voice floated in from the doorway.

I turned my head, and my hand stopped the torment on Addison. Leena was stood in a pair of black leggings, white crop top exposing her belly button, and her dark brown faded hair now pulled up in a messy bun. She looked so comfortable, so unkempt, and absolutely fucking delicious.

I reached an arm out toward her, earning me a small grin when she walked toward me. She placed a hand in mine, and I pulled her close to me. She bent down, her face stopping only inches from mine.

"Happy Birthday, Noah." Her voice was even, but her eyes were hungry.

With everything we had been through the last few weeks, with shows, Addie's first birthday, a bout of the flu, and Laura announcing she was getting a divorce, there had been very little time for us to be alone. I knew she felt it, but we weren't there yet. We needed to get through today, the Halloween party/birthday celebration, before we had any chance of spending time together.

"Thank you, my love. Happy Halloween."

Leena's eyes lit up. Halloween was her favorite holiday even before her and I met, so getting to have a huge celebration was right up her alley.

After Addison was born, it became abundantly clear that living with a newborn and all of the band members was no longer ideal. Addie was as colicky as they come, keeping everyone up at all hours of the night. The constant crying, mess, and general irritation that it caused made our living arrangements difficult. As much as Uncles Nick, Jolly, and Folio loved baby Addie, they needed a change.

I had offered to move us out, buy a new house, but Nick insisted that they would get a place - promised to be close by - to allow us our space. I was eternally grateful, and will never be able to pay him back for everything he had done for me. Eventually, they moved out, and the house was left for just us.

Aside from the struggle that being new parents took on Leena and I's sex life, it also took a serious toll on our recovery. Nothing sounds better to take the edge off from three-day long sleepless binges than a rum and Coke. Leena confessed her drink of choice was Vodka, and she nearly broke down once, driving to the liquor store, but never making it inside.

We both went back to our meetings once Addie was old enough to be babysat, spending a few hours at a time with either Laura or the guys.

After spending a few more minutes smothering Addie in kisses, I finally began getting out of bed. Leena was folding laundry on the dresser, putting it away meticulously.

"What time is it?"

"Almost noon. Laura will be here in a few hours to pick up Addie for the night." She folded one of my pairs of pants, placing it neatly in the dresser drawer.

I turned my attention back to my daughter, wiggling my eyebrows at her. "Nah, I think she's going to stay here with me. Hang out with Daddy on his birthday!"

Addison squealed, her legs kicking at me. I grabbed her hand and began pretending I was going to eat her fingers.

"As fun as that would be, I don't know that her being here when the sheer amount of musicians in our house come by is such a great idea."

I didn't look at her, still pretending to take bites out of the baby's arm. "What do you mean? Andy loves kids! Oli does too, said Addie was the next Stevie Knicks!"

Mileena shook her head and snorted. "Yeah? Are you referring to the last party, when she was kept awake most of the night, and we had a miserable day afterwards because she was so tired?"

I narrowed my eyes back at her. "Listen, Folio promised he wouldn't play drums this time."

She gave me a look that told me I wasn't winning this.

"You sure she isn't old enough to trick or treat, yet?"

She shook her head at me. "Honey, that's what the trunk or treat last night was for."

I pursed my lips. "Fine, but tomorrow, I'm taking you guys somewhere. Just the three of us, yeah?"

I was standing now, shirtless, and pulled Addie down onto the carpet. She immediately crawled toward Angel laying on the floor.

"That sounds fun." Mileena was bent down, putting one of her shirts in the drawer in the bottom of the dresser.

I walked up behind her, my hand grazing the back of her thigh, coming to rest on the curve of her ass. My touch startled her, making her stand up straight in a flash, her back bumping into my chest.

I took the opportunity to wrap an arm around her middle, pulling her back into me. "Mmm," I hummed into the skin just below her ear. "think Addie's going to nap today?"

Leena pressed her ass against me, pushing into the fabric of my shorts. She leaned her had back against my collarbone, eyes closing comfortably.

"Probably not." Her voice was breathless. "She slept in."

“That’s too fucking bad.” I kept my voice low, glancing at Addie, who was leaned against Angel’s sleeping body, holding her feet in wonder. “Because it’s been so long.” I let my hand graze over the hem of her leggings, slipping a thumb in the waistband.

She groaned. “Noah, don’t start something you can’t finish.” As annoyed as she sounded, she was still pressed against me, hands now gripping my arm where it held her in place.

“Oh, baby, I’m finishing it. The second I get you alone, I’m ripping you to fucking shreds.”

She giggled then, pulling away and turning to peer up at me, her eyes as dark as mine.

“Yeah? You always say that. Yet, somehow, I can still walk afterwards?” Her smirk was devious, and I raised an eyebrow at her.

She chuckled, and picked the laundry basket up from the bed, making her way back toward the hallway.

Oh, she was dead.

-

The living room was buzzing with energy, music playing over the speakers, and conversations filling the air. I stood, leaned against the bannister of the staircase, hands in my pockets. The smell of marijuana permeated the air, which was to be expected.

Hearing we were having ‘dry parties’ didn’t sound like much fun, until people learned we made other accommodations. Although Leena and I didn’t partake, we weren’t opposed to others having a good time.

Speaking of my girl, I had lost her at some point in the night. When Ronnie and Saraya showed up, she had excitedly grabbed the latter’s hand and drug her off to the backyard, where her garden was flourishing. The girls were undoubtedly gossiping. They usually did.

I made my way through the sea of bodies toward my kitchen, where I found Jolly and Nick, ripping a joint, laughing about something I hadn’t heard.

I had to raise my voice for them to hear me. “You seen Leena?”

Jolly exhaled his smoke, a rough cough coming out as he passed it back to Nick. “Last I saw, she was outside talking to Oli.”

I nodded, heading for the back door. I stopped at the dining room table, catching sight of her. Her floor length black, unforgivably tight dress hung so beautifully off of her frame. The sleeves reached her wrists, the neckline plunging disrespectfully. Her, now freshly dyed, black hair was pulled up into a ponytail, the length falling down her back. I drank in the sight of her.

My gaze was disrupted when I saw her hand reach up, grabbing an arm. It was a thick, muscular arm covered in tattoos. I then realized that she was, in fact, talking to Oli. Her lips were pulled in a smile, her teeth flashing. She was laughing. And she was touching him.

He was towering over her. Oliver was nearly as tall as me, his frame poised so you could see the ripples of his chest under his shirt. Something inside me tightened. I didn’t like it.

Stepping outside, I consciously kept myself calm as I approached them. Oli saw me first.

“Hey, there he is! Birthday boy!” His thick accent made me smile, my primitive rage fading slightly.

“Hey, what’s going on guys?”

Leena turned, her body pressing close to me instinctively. “Hey! Oli and I were just talking about that tour you were on with him in Europe?”

I nodded. “Fun stuff, man. Cant wait to do it again.”

Oliver nodded, a lazy smile spread across his face. “Oh yeah, we had that crowd eating out of our hands, man. What a fucking rush.”

Leena giggled at Oli’s excitement, it made my spine stiffen, and my blood run cold.

She shouldn’t be laughing like that, not because of Oliver. That giggle was so high-pitched and squirrely. I didn’t care for that at all. It felt flirtatious.

I knew before Leena and I even got together that Bring Me The Horizon was one of her favorites, of course Oli being, by extension, one of her favorites. However, she was also a huge Falling in Reverse fan, but she sure didn’t giggle like that around Ronnie.

Ronnie was also not Oli Sykes; a big British brute with a natural sense of seduction, whether he was trying to or not. Regardless, I still did not like that laugh, not when it wasn’t pointed at me.

“Hey, could I borrow her for just a few?”

Oliver nodded, clapping a hand on my shoulder. “Well, of course, man! Listen, I’ve got to get out of here anyways, got to head back to the motherland in the morning. Early flight and all that.”

He reached an arm around me first, pulling me into a tough, tight hug. “So good to see you, mate. Come see me on the other side of the pond some time, right?”

I slapped his back while embracing him. “Of course, man. I appreciate you being here.”

Oli excused himself inside the house, leaving Leena and I stood on the patio, alone.

She smiled brightly at me, but I still had this unnerving itch. She must have noticed my stiff demeanor, because her face fell some and she raised an eyebrow.

“You alright, babe?”

I exhaled. “Yeah, why?”

She took a step back, putting a hand on her hip. “Well, you asked Oliver if you could borrow me? And you look irritated?” Her eyes were soft, which contradicted the sass in her stance.

“Mm.” I sucked my teeth and glanced back toward the house. “How is Oliver?”

Anything soft fell right off her face, her eyebrows scrunching together. She saw right through me.

“He’s great.”

I inhaled deeply.

“What did you need to borrow me for, Noah?”

I looked back at her then, realizing I didn’t have a reason to pull her out of her conversation aside from disliking the way she was touching another man. Running it back in my head, it felt stupid.

“Oh, uh,” I ran a hand over my mouth, thinking. “just wanted to see if you heard from Laura? How Addie’s doing?”

She wasn’t buying it. “Addie’s fine, like she always is with Laura. Last update I got was an hour ago, when I came and found you.”

This wasn’t going well.

“Well, good.” I pulled at the skin of my bottom lip with my teeth.

“Noah?” I looked back at her. “What’s going on?”

Shaking my head, I tried to look clueless. “Nothing, why?”

She crossed her arms. “Cause you’re acting weird.”

Something about her tone, her body language, I couldn’t put my finger on why, but it irritated me. She was feeling up on someone else, and I’m getting questioned?

I mimicked her and folded my own arms over my chest. “I’m not the one acting weird.”

Eyes narrowed at her, I held my face even.

“And how is that?” She didn’t falter. Leena was one of the only women I knew who could give my poker face a run for its money.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Were you not just getting all grabby with Oli?”

Her eyes widened then in disbelief. I knew, because when I heard it come out of my own mouth, I realized that was a pretty big stretch. She grabbed his arm, not his cock.

But still, we were already here, and I wasn’t in a place to back down. Not right now, feeling this attracted to her when she was pissed off.

“Grabby?!” Her voice came out louder than I expected, and I whipped my head around to see if anyone else was outside. “How in the hell was I being grabby with him?”

I rolled my eyes.

“Well, it was pretty clear to me.” I was digging myself a hole, I knew it. So did she, but now she was waving her hands around, and her tits were bouncing in her dress, no confines of a bra. My mouth was watering, so I doubled down. “Was it really necessary to be grabbing his arms like that?”

My tone was cool, which contrasted her face that was now turning a shade of pink with rage. Was I proud? Not exactly… Maybe a little.

She’s so fucking sexy when she’s mad.

“You’ve lost it, you know that?” Her voice was filled with incredulous frustration. She then began trying to walk away, forcing me to reach out and catch one of her wrists in my hand. I was too tired, too depraved. I needed her so badly, but the idea of her being spitting mad at me made it worth the effort. I wanted her so angry that she was damn near ready to rip me apart. The idea made my dick twitch in my slacks.

“Leena,” She looked down at where I held her arm, then looked back at me with narrowed eyes. Oh she was enraged. Excellent. “I-“ I wanted to say sorry, tell her I was being dumb and to go inside and enjoy the party, but I just…couldn’t.

Something in her stare told me she had figured me out, and her eyebrows lowered, her lips twisting up in a menacing grin.

“Are you…jealous?”

I was taken back. Jealous? Of Oli? Nope. Couldn’t be me.

“No.” I said through grit teeth. “I just don’t want you to forget who you belong to.”

That was it. That sent her over the edge. She ripped her arm out of my grip, standing back defensively.

“Belong to? Like a piece of fucking property?”

I didn’t respond, just shrugged.

“You son of a bitch!” Twitch.

“How dare you speak to me that way?! As if you own me?!” Twitch.

“I don’t give a half of a fuck who I’m talking to, or grabbing. You don’t own me.”

Maybe this was going too far. Maybe.

But then she stormed inside, and I was barreling after her. She was already halfway to the staircase when I grabbed Nick by the sleeve on my way after her.

“Everyone out. Now.” No one needed to hear what I was about to get into.

The bedroom door slammed when I was about a foot away. I could hear bodies shuffling out the front door, but I didn’t care. I just burst into the room, not surprised it wasn’t locked.

She stood between the bed and the dresser, fists balled at her sides, baring her teeth. Oh it was lovely, seeing her so fucking hostile. I nearly fell to my knees in front of her, begging her to do whatever she saw fit. I didn’t, however.

Instead, I slipped the door closed and turned the lock carefully behind me. My face was stoic, doing my best to keep my own composure. It was taking every bit of self restraint, but I could feel it faltering. We were going down soon, I could feel it. My brain was sizzling just looking at her.

“I don’t care how much I love you, Noah Sebastian. I will not be treated like a piece of meat.” She was waving a finger at me, manicured and perfect.

I took a step toward her. She didn’t allow me the space to speak.

“I’m not sure where you found all of that fucking audacity, but I will tell you, it is so out of character for you.” Her voice had fallen some.

“Is it?” My words came out low and slow.

She couldn’t believe me. As if I had no idea the inconvenience I had caused her.

“Why would you do that?” Her face was now pulled into something that looked like confusion. “I can’t think of one good reason why you-“

She didn’t get to finish, my control finally slipping through my fingers, and my hands grabbing her and pressing our mouths together. She stilled at first, but when I pressed my tongue against her lips, she melted, her anger being fed through her grasp on me.

Mileena pulled at my blazer, ripping it down my shoulders and tossing it on the bed.

In a moment of absolute primal agitation, she growled at me, which sent every drop of blood in my body down to my crotch.

When her fingers began pulling at the bottom of my shirt, I wrapped my hand in her hair and pulled her backwards. She stared at me, all venom and lust, and snarled. I smiled, licking my lips. It was unbelievable. I used my free hand to rip the front of her dress open, her breasts falling out, and capturing my attention. My hand loosened on her hair, sliding down her face, neck, and reaching for her chest.

She used this opportunity to wrap a hand around my throat, which took me by surprise, my gaze lifting. She was controlling this, which was new.

Her teeth ground together, and her fingers squeezed me, the tips of her sharp acrylics digging into my skin.

“On your fucking knees.”

I scoffed. “Or what?”

Her hand tightened even further, and her other hand came up to grab me by the cock, gripping the fabric of my pants in an almost uncomfortable squeeze.

“Or I walk away, right now.”

That sounded like misery in the highest degree, so, naturally, I sunk down to the floor, sharp eyes glancing up at her. The hand on my neck was now running through my hair. She was looking down at me with an almost loving look on her face.

“You were so fucking mean, you need to make up for it.”

My hand grabbed her ankle just above her heel, sliding up the back of her calf, to her thigh. When my fingertips reached her hip, I noticed something that made me nearly fall backwards. She wasn’t wearing any panties.

Using the slit up the side of her dress skirt, I moved the fabric over to see her, already visibly wet. She loved this as much as I did. I only peered up at her for a split second, seeing she now had her head leaned back, waiting, anticipating.

Catching her off guard, instead of starting slow, building her up, making her whine and beg, I attached myself to her core, drawing a sharp breath out of her.

“Fuck, Noah!” She pulled at my hair, looking down at me while I worked her over, feeling the moisture running down my chin. “Ugh, you look so fucking cute when you do that.”

I raised an eyebrow at her, but didn’t detach. I pulled her one leg so her thigh balanced on my shoulder and dove in deeper, sliding my tongue up and down her folds. I saw her tits bouncing up and down as she bucked into my face.

I settled in, intending to let her finish before I took the reins back, but I was interrupted at her pulling me upward by the hair. The unfamiliar sting on my scalp made me wince, but I still stood up in response.

“Lay the fuck down.” She pushed me down onto the bed. “Pants off.” I smirked at her, not moving an inch. “Now.”

Her voice was terrifying. I began unbuckling my belt, and popped the button open with one hand. She must have been getting impatient, because her hands ripped my pants down and off, her eyes focusing on the bulge in my boxers. I leaned back on my elbows, waiting for her to do whatever she needed to torment me further.

I truly did not expect what she said next.

“Touch yourself.” This confused me.

“What?”

“You fucking heard me.” She jumped up onto the dresser, leaning back against the wall, and let her legs fall open, giving me full view of her. My eyes followed her every move.

I reached down and palmed myself over my underwear, feeling vulnerable.

“C’mon now Sebastian, this is no time to be shy.” This made me actually fucking blush. She was enjoying this way more than I expected.

Hooking my thumbs in the band of my boxers, I carefully slid them down low enough to let myself free. My fingers gently grabbed my dick, tugging at it ever so slightly. The sensation was good, but it wasn’t her.

“That’s it, baby.” She spread her legs, her pussy sitting just above the wood of the dresser, putting herself on full display. “Nice and slow.”

I whimpered. I actually fucking whimpered. It wasn’t lost on her, either, her eyes darting to my face and licking her lips.

“See, Noah? This is what happens when you’re an asshole. You get treated like the fucking brat you are.”

Who the fuck was this girl and how quickly could I lock her in a room and never let her escape?

My hand worked up and down my shaft, my eyes falling closed and my breathing erratic. I could feel myself getting close just thinking about her.

“Stop.” My hand froze, and I opened my eyes, staring at her in defeat. “Don’t come yet.”

I was getting frustrated. “Why the fuck not?”

She sat up, crossing her legs, putting herself away.

“If you don’t wait until I tell you to come, I swear I will put on my sweats, go downstairs, and start cleaning.”

That was the threat that made any confidence I had falter. Once she started cleaning, it was over. She would hyper-focus, and I wouldn’t see her again until the entire house was shining.

I moved my hand off of my cock to resist the temptation and laid flat back on the bed, digging the heels of my palms into my eye sockets.

I stopped when I felt the bed dip on either side of me, and looked up to see her kneeling over me, now fully nude. My heart sped up as I felt her slide herself up and down my shaft, her slick pussy gliding so fucking deliciously. Instinctively, I reached for her hips, but my hand was met with a hard slap, which caused me to pull away.

“Not this time, baby boy.” I groaned, lavishing the feeling of her on me, the weight on my hips excruciatingly divine.

“Now, what do you have to say for yourself?” I looked at her, lost on what she was asking for.

“What?” My voice was a breath, an exhale.

“For treating me so foul?” She pulled back, and grabbed the base of my cock, pulling it forward to line up with her entrance but holding steady as not to let it touch her.

“Ugh, Leena,” I moaned,

My hips trying to buck. She pulled further away as I tried to press into her.

“Say it, Noah.” She demanded.

“Fuck!” My body was screaming, fire coursing through me as she ran her hand up and down, grazing the head. “I’m sorry! Jesus Christ!”

With that, she sunk down, enveloping all of me so fucking perfectly. My eyes snapped shut, trying like hell not to finish just from the edge of it.

“That’s right, honey.” Her voice was a soft moan, her hand coming up to wrap around my throat again as her hips snapped forward. My vision was turning white.

“Now, ask me fucking nicely.”

Wild that she could think I could speak, given she was cutting all my air off. It was unholy, and I loved every fucking second.

I choked, trying to speak, and I felt her fingers loosen slightly.

“Please, baby,” I breathed in hard. “please let me come.”

“Fuck, Noah, you’re so fucking gorgeous.” She let go of my throat, reaching down to circle her clit. I felt her rhythm become unsteady.

“Leena, Jesus fucking Christ, please, baby, please.”

She thrusted faster, her climax coming uncoiled, and I felt her tighten around me.

“Oh, fuck!” She fell forward, wrapping her fingers in my hair.

“Fuck me, Noah. Fuck me, please!” Did I need to be told twice?

My hands gripped her ass and lifted her, slamming my hips up and pounded into her. She still hadn’t told me yet, so I was fighting as hard as I could to hold it together.

“Noah, come for me.” She cooed directly into my ear, her voice so fucking sweet.

I think I may have had a stroke, the sheer velocity of my orgasm ripping out of me. I let out a hard, visceral scream.

Once we were both still, her body laid lazily on top of me, I left soft kisses on her shoulder.

“I really am sorry, baby.”

She chuckled softly. “I know, babe.”

I turned my head to look at her face, looking absolutely exhausted.

“You’re so fucking amazing when you’re angry.”

She lazily lifted her eyebrow. “Did you start a fight just to have angry sex?”

I bit the inside of my cheek. That was probably the better answer.

“Maybe.” I tried to be coy, and she seemed to buy it.

I didn’t know what had come over me in the backyard, or why I got so annoyed with her talking to another man. I’m not like that, I never have been.

But something inside me told me that the feeling was going to get me into trouble.

[gavisuntiedboot]

Level 8000 (Gavi x Reader)

28 day writing prompt challenge - prompts are here

Day 6: Meeting for the first time

"Alright I'm going to get onto an online server. No one try to reach me for the next several hours."

Your roommates laughed at the warning as you slipped your headset on. You adjusted the ears, bringing the mic over your mouth, and settled back into the couch. Your hoodie and sweats swamped your form, providing maximum comfort for your gaming session. Were you a fantastic gamer? No. But had you fixated on two or three games for long enough to get good at specifically those games? Yes, yes you did. One of those games was FIFA. You had played all the events throughout the World Cup, in between the early morning matches, and late at night when your 7pm Redbull kept you up until the early hours.

This binge playing over your winter break, as well as the game events, lead to you having a crazy stacked team. You had a super high Neymar as your front man, meaning that as long as you got the ball in the last 1/3 of the field, you were almost guaranteed to score. When all your real life friends had grown tired of you winning 7-0, you turned to PS online. People on the internet were ruthless. You played against stacked teams, losing your first dozen matches. But as you practiced and upgraded your players (as well as googling some good team formations), you started to win. Your win-loss ratio improved immensely with the addition of one piece of equipment: headphones with a mic. You started to join the voice chat, and the sound of a woman sent these poor gamer boys into a frenzy, allowing you to score two goals before they could recover.

Now it was your escape. You loved the power of overwhelming men just by saying "good luck", and the profanities that followed when you won. Tonight was no different. You had already beaten four different whiny men, and had tied a game with another girl on the voice chat, who practically squealed with delight when she heard the sound of your voice. Now it was time for match number 6 of the night, and you were sufficiently warmed up, ready to destroy.

[Opponent] - 6avira30

You smiled, thinking to yourself 'Awe, a Gavi fanboy. I wonder if he has him in midfield." The audio connected, and you heard a couple different male voices yell at each other in Spanish.

"Hello?" You said softly into the mic. Couldn't have them think you were anything other than a soft uwu girl using her boyfriend's account. The voices stopped suddenly, with a long pause before the reply: "Are you a girl?" You laughed at the question. It was not the first time you had gotten it, but the utter confusion in the boy's voice caught you off guard. "Yeah, I am. Hurry up and lock in your team so we can start the match." "Ay, be patient. My great strategic mind needs time to work."

You groaned into the mic. These "strategists" often were the most annoying people to play with, and often the one calling you a cheater or a bot or saying that your "man" was playing while you were on the mic. You locked in the same team you always used, and waited for the great mastermind to lock in his squad. The match began a minute later, and you were not surprised to see it was mostly Barca players, old and new.

"Wow a Xavi-Iniesta midfield. It's been a minute since I've seen that." You said, trying to get the ball across the center line.

"They're the best duo in the world. Everyone should have them in the middle." The boy replied, harshly attacking all your midfielders. It had been a while since you encountered someone who played this aggressively, but it was interesting enough to get you to sit up straight.

"Really? Given your tag, I thought you would have Pedri and Gavi in the middle."

The boy got quiet at this, the statement clearly catching him off guard. It was the lapse in focus that you needed, getting the ball to your super-charged Neymar, and slamming a goal in from outside the box.

"What the actual fuck was that?" A yell came in from the other side. You laughed freely now. This was a fun match. You were being challenged in the middle of the field, really having your defense tested. The boy kept you entertained online, asking all the typical questions about how you got so good. The match ended 3-1 to you, and you were about to say goodbye when a notification popped up on your screen.

[6avira30] - Rematch Requested

"You want to play against me again? One loss wasn't enough?"

"I'm not going to lose again. I just have to recalibrate the squad."

You continued playing against the same opponent for 7 or 8 matches in a row, the conversation moving from the game to your lives.

"So you've never been to a football match in person? How is that possible? You live in Barcelona!"

"I'm a university student who is struggling to pay my rent. I don't have the time or money to buy tickets. Well, at least the tickets that I want."

"Well, what tickets do you want?"

"I want the ones that are right up on the field, so at the end of the game I can ask Lewy for his shirt at the end?"

"Lewandowski? Not one of the younger players?"

"Nah, everyone is always yelling for Gavi's shirt. And while it would be nice to see Gavi or Pedri shirtless, I feel like if I was ever lucky enough to get one of their shirts, my life would be in danger. So I would rather get a shift from DILF Lewy."

A loud laugh came in through your headphones. The boy yelled at his friend in the room, "She just called Robert a DILF."

At the end of the match (a 2-1 win for you), it was time to log off. You informed your online partner, bidding him a good night.

"Wait wait, before you get off, could you send your number in the chat? It's fine if not but I'd really like to talk to you again."

"My number? Why not just my Instagram?"

"I... Can't really follow you on Instagram. It's kind of complicated."

You sent him your number and logged off, going to bed with a stupid smile on your face. A boy had asked for your number. Could he be a weirdo in his mom's basement? Absolutely. But you could find that out later.

You woke up to a text that read: Hope you slept well - Lindo from PS Live. The stupid smile stuck to your face all day. For the next two weeks, you texted this boy almost every waking moment. You could not get enough of him, despite the fact that you couldn't get him to tell you his name.

[PS Live Boy]: Want to have coffee with me tomorrow?

The text set the butterflies in your stomach free, the fluttering feeling spreading to every cell in your body. You has said yes embarrassingly fast. He texted you the location: a pretty upscale coffee shop in the shopping district. Like 17 euro black coffee upscale. You now jumped up and down like a giddy school girl - PS Live boy had money.

You walked into the place, the hostess looking over your skirt and sweater with a sickly sweet smile, asking who you were supposed to be there with. PS Live boy had left the table under your name as to maintain his shroud of mystery. You sat at the table, reapplying your lip gloss and checking your hair in the camera of your phone.

[PS Live boy]: you can't freak out when you see me

[PS Live boy]: Because then I would have to leave and block your number

[PS Live boy]: and file a restraining order. and i dont want to do that

You let out a nervous breath, smiling at your screen. Usually when men said not to freak out, it was because they were ugly. The hostess that didn’t like you walked over to the table again, closely followed by someone in a hoodie, hood pulled up to cover their face. She pulled out a chair, and your PS Live boy sat in front of you. He thanked the hostess, before turning back you you and pulling his hood off.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

Gavi looked at you with a cheeky smile playing on his lips. You were overwhelmed. Pablo mf Gavi had met you on PS live and liked you, asked for you number, and was now here on a date with you.

“Three weeks of being mysterious was worth the look on your face.”

“As Spain’s youngest player on the national team, how are you so shit at FIFA?”

“Okay okay okay, let’s go back to you being surprised and not talk about me getting my ass kicked 8 times in a row. Pedri still makes fun of me?”

“Dang Pedri was there? I should’ve asked for his number instead.”

“You have me leveled up to like 8000 in FIFA. I know you want to be here with me.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: this was supposed to be done last night but I fell asleep lol. I love the idea of Gavi being kinda cheeky and self confident. Most talented young boys are (because society inflates their egos). Anyways, see y’all later tonight w day 7!!

[prawndip]

Acting Grand…?

CHARACTERS: Alhaitham, Jean x gn!reader

TAGS: fluff, written before the release of 3.4 but didn't finish until afterwards, sumeru spoilers in general maybe

SYNOPSIS: being acting grand-somethings is tough work.

WORD COUNT: 1 123

NOTES: saw that alhaitham had become the acting grand sage in the trailer and knew this had to be written. also trying a new format with this one. also I'm so sorry jean's is so short in comparison to alhaitham's every time I went to write for her my brain was empty. also *cries* lost the 50/50 on alhaitham's banner. still draggin him home anyways

ALHAITHAM:

honestly you had expected that alhaitham would turn down the position of sage. you had also expected his work to increase tenfold as he waits for new sages to take office.

what you didn't expect was the way that alhaitham seemed to handle everything with such efficiency. where most people might have crumbled under all that responsibility, alhaitham appeared to be taking it all in stride. not that it was a bad thing. you were kind of impressed, actually

thing was, this mean he spent a lot, and I mean a lot of time in his office in the akademiya, and as his lovely partner, you make it your duty to "distract" him at least twice a day.

The smell of freshly cooked food makes its way through the Akademiya hallways. Students who follow their nose finds it leads them to you, happily strolling through the Akademiya to the office of the scribe, where your boyfriend has been cooped up in there all day doing a copious amount of paperwork. You’re surprised he still has time for anything else.

You approach the door to his office, knocking on it thre times, waiting for him to say something before opening the door. Faintly, you hear a ghostly, quiet “Come in.” from the other side. You frown, opening the door with a bit of concern.There he was, sitting in his office chair, with stacks of paper all over his desk, more than you remember seeing last time you were over. He seriously looked like a ghost in his seat. He looked fine this morning, what could have possibly drained him of all his energy in such a short time? He looks up to see you and a little bit of colour returns to his face.

“So, how is Grand Sage Alhaitham doing on this fine afternoon?” you joked, and he groans as he rests his head in his arms. “What, did they give you more things to do?”

“For the last time, I am Acting Grand Sage.” he clarifies, despite knowing you’re joking. “And they did. I have to review all the possible candidates for the new Sages.”

He sounds tired. He knows he sounds tired. He's been at this all day, all week even. You continue to frown a little despite your lighthearted attitude, pulling up a chair to sit next to him. You get a chance to look at what he was writing before you walked in, where although he had been at this for hours on end, his handwriting was still as neat as always. Still, you could sense that he was in need of a break, and you gently move the papers over to the edge of the large desk to place the food you bought on it.

He sniffs the food, a soft yet weary smile spreads over his face, the kind of smile only you are lucky enough to see on most days. "Curry shrimp?"

"Mhm! Just got it made fresh too!" you open the box up carefully, the scent of the freshly made food wafting throughout the office.

"Just in time. Here I thought I'd die of starvation otherwise." he said jokingly, despite the fact you had dropped by only a few hours, and he had only left his seat once since then, to drop off some papers. “Thank you though, I was wondering when you’d stop by.”

It was anything but silent between the two of you as you ate, simply taking the time to enjoy each other’s presense while things were slowing down. The papers were briefly forgotten about as you chatted about your day with him, and though he was most certainly listening, all that was on Alhaitham’s mind was how wonderful it was to be with you.

“Is something wrong?” you stop your rant about that annoying merchant you saw on the way where when you noticed a look on Alhaitham’s face was he tired? Bored of you? Instead, he pressed a kiss to your forehead, much to your surprise.

“Nothing. I just miss you, is all.”

JEAN

despite your best efforts to try and get her to do things otherwise, jean is incredibly stubborn, and takes on way more things than she can handle

of course, she does spend her off days with you, but on the days where there's lots to do and not enough time to do them, jean still manages to do all of it - at the cost of her sanity.

although you stop by multiple times a day to visit her, it's not uncommon for you to find her asleep in her office at the end of the day.

The sun had long since fallen behind the horizon as you entered the Knights of Favonius Headquarters. You had hoped Jean would be done by now, but it was one of those days where there was just so much she needed to get done, and you had just figured it was taking longer then usual. Still, you decided to check up on her.

You gently knock on the door to her office, quietly calling out her name. No answer. Frowning with concern, you open the door, and your expression softens at the way that the acting grandmaster had put her head in her hands, and you can slightly hear the sounds of her snoring softly. It wasn't an uncommon occurrence for he to fall asleep on days like this, though you see that almost all her work seemed to be done.

"Jean?" you gently tapped her on the shoulder, your voice barely a whisper. "Jean it's me. Let's go home now."

She rises from her slumber, shaking away any drowsiness you may have had. "Y/N... how long have I been asleep for? what time is it? did I leave anything unfinished? Did I-"

"That doesn't matter," You begin to organize Jean's papers into a neat stack, setting them to the side, and you don't dare let her touch a pen to get back to work. "It's late now, and you need to get some proper rest for tomorrow, ok?"

Reluctantly, Jean agrees, taking your hand as she gets out of her chair, though she takes one last glance at her work before leaving her office altogether, shutting off the light.

As the two of you leave the Favonius Headquarters together, you can feel the way that Jean's head lull's to the side, resting it on your shoulder. She mumbles something that you can't quite understand, and you assume it to be about her work.

Truth be told, Jean was mumbling about how much she loved you. No matter how busy her days would become, the last couple hours of the day with you were already the best part.