#cos i don’t think i’ve ever come across it

[geotjwrs]

Could I request a fanfic featuring a male reader x Jenna, where they are co-stars in Beetlejuice 2? The story follows the trope "she fell first, but he fell harder." Jenna falls for the reader during filming, but later, the reader also falls for her—and much harder.

i like you, i do

Pairings ; Jenna Ortega x Male!Reader

Warning/s ; none

The lights on set flickered as another take wrapped up. You were in your full costume—black and white pinstripes, messy hair, and green makeup smeared across your face as you played your role in Beetlejuice 2. The director’s voice echoed across the set, calling for a quick break before the next scene. You glanced at Jenna Ortega, your co-star, who had been absolutely killing it as Lydia’s daughter.

From the moment filming had started, you noticed something different about her. Jenna had an infectious energy, always professional and kind to everyone on set. She had a knack for slipping into character instantly, but off-camera, she was the first to crack a joke or offer a smile. There was something magnetic about her, but you chalked it up to her being a talented actress.

What you didn’t realize was that she had started to notice you too.

Jenna had always been good at keeping things professional, but over the past few weeks, something had shifted. Maybe it was the long hours spent on set together or the easy banter you shared between takes. You didn’t see it, but every time you made her laugh, her eyes lingered on you a little longer. When you walked past her, she couldn’t help but follow you with her gaze.

It was subtle at first—the way she’d find excuses to sit next to you during lunch breaks, the small comments she’d make about how great your performance was that day. It wasn’t until one night, during an after-hours shoot, that you noticed something had changed.

You were waiting for the next setup, leaning against a prop table and going over your lines. Jenna walked up beside you, her face still smeared with a bit of makeup from her last scene. She was dressed in Lydia’s iconic goth aesthetic, but the soft smile she gave you was worlds away from the character she was playing.

“Tired?” she asked, her voice casual, but there was a hint of something deeper in her eyes.

You smiled back, shrugging. “A bit. But you know how it is—long days come with the job.”

Jenna tilted her head, her gaze flickering over your face like she was seeing something no one else could. “You’re doing amazing with the role, though. Really. I’ve seen you work on other films, but this… I don’t know, it just feels like you’ve completely embodied the character.”

You chuckled, rubbing the back of your neck. “Thanks, that means a lot coming from you. You’ve been killing it as Lydia’s daughter.”

She smiled at your compliment but didn’t look away this time. “You ever think about what happens after the movie wraps up?”

You furrowed your brow, not sure where the conversation was heading. “What do you mean?”

Jenna shrugged, her hand absentmindedly brushing against yours as she leaned on the table. “I don’t know… We’ve spent a lot of time together, and it’s been fun. But what happens when we’re not filming together every day?”

There was a weight behind her words that caught you off guard. You blinked, glancing at her, and for a second, it felt like the air between you changed. You hadn’t thought much beyond the movie. Sure, you got along great, but this was a job—at least, that’s what you had told yourself. But now, with Jenna looking at you like that, you couldn’t deny the connection building between the two of you.

“I guess we just… move on to the next project,” you said, though the words sounded hollow as they left your mouth.

Jenna’s gaze flickered down, and for a moment, you thought you saw something like disappointment in her eyes. But she quickly covered it with a soft laugh. “Yeah, I guess so.”

The conversation ended, but it left you thinking. Over the next few days, you started to notice all the little things you had been ignoring—the way Jenna would glance your way when she thought you weren’t looking, how she’d laugh a little harder at your jokes, the way she’d linger after filming when everyone else had gone home. It was subtle, but it was there.

You didn’t want to assume anything, though. Maybe she was just being friendly. Maybe you were imagining it. But then, one night after filming, she invited you to hang out at a small diner nearby. It was just the two of you, and the conversation flowed as easily as it did on set, but this time, it felt more personal.

At one point, as you both laughed about some behind-the-scenes mishap, Jenna’s smile faded slightly, and she looked at you with that same look from before—the one that felt like it was asking more than what her words said.

“You know,” she began quietly, “I wasn’t sure about this movie when I first signed on. But meeting you… it’s made it better.”

Your heart skipped a beat. There was no mistaking the look in her eyes now. She liked you. And for the first time, you realized you liked her too. You hadn’t been paying attention, too focused on your own work to notice, but now that it was in front of you, you couldn’t ignore it.

But even then, you hadn’t fallen yet—not completely.

It wasn’t until the last few weeks of filming that you started falling, and you fell hard. The more time you spent with Jenna, the more you realized how much you loved being around her. She was funny, down-to-earth, and despite her fame, she never let it get to her head. Every moment with her felt easy, natural. You found yourself looking forward to her texts after a long day of shooting, smiling when her name popped up on your phone.

You’d catch yourself thinking about her at random moments—during rehearsals, on your way home, even when you were supposed to be focusing on other things. It was like everything about her had crept under your skin, and now you couldn’t shake the feeling.

One evening, after a particularly emotional scene, you were both walking off set when she stopped you.

“Hey,” she called softly.

You turned to see Jenna standing just a few feet away, a soft, almost nervous look on her face. She shifted on her feet, biting her lip before she spoke again.

“I need to tell you something,” she began, her voice almost timid. “I… I’ve liked you for a while now. I didn’t want to say anything because I wasn’t sure if you felt the same. But now that the movie’s almost over, I don’t want to miss my chance. I really like you, Y/N.”

For a second, you stood there, stunned. She had fallen first. All this time, she had been waiting for you to catch up. And now that she had said it out loud, the weight of your own feelings hit you like a tidal wave.

You stepped closer, your heart pounding as you looked at her. “Jenna… I didn’t realize it until now, but I like you too. A lot. Maybe even more than I should.”

Her eyes widened, and a slow smile spread across her face, one that made your heart race even faster.

Before you could say anything else, she closed the distance between you and pressed her lips to yours. It wasn’t a rushed kiss—it was slow, sweet, filled with all the feelings that had been building between you both for months.

When you pulled away, you rested your forehead against hers, both of you breathless but smiling.

“Guess I fell harder than I thought,” you admitted with a grin.

Jenna laughed softly, her arms wrapping around your waist. “I think we both did.”

From that moment on, things were different. You and Jenna had found something special, something neither of you expected when you first started filming. It wasn’t just about the movie anymore—it was about each other.

Filming wrapped up a few weeks later, and while you both moved on to new projects, your relationship stayed strong. The chemistry you had on set carried over into real life, and no matter how busy things got, you always found time for each other.

And every once in a while, when you caught Jenna looking at you with that same soft smile, you’d remind yourself just how lucky you were to have fallen for her—because while she might have fallen first, you definitely fell harder.

[thetriggeredhappy]

Hey hey, 48-hour moratorium's over! In light of that --

It's been a good 72ish hours and I'm still beside myself (in a good way) about how everything panned out -- like, woah; this might be the most upbeat conclusion I've ever seen a Valve game get. And the fandom's (largely) positive/joyful reaction to the comic has been delightful to witness. Three cheers for the comics team... wasn't expecting to see issue #7 this year, but it was a fantastic holiday gift.

Really looking forward to seeing what people make of post-canon and the seven-year timeskip (Scout's post-canon life being the most fleshed out out of all the mercs is fascinating to me... leaves a lot of room to interpret what the others have been getting up to, which is fun!). Very curious to know more about all the cut content Jay Pinkerton was talking about in that one email -- but I'm also (somewhat uncharacteristically) content with not knowing? What we got was pretty golden.

Pointing and nodding at the subtle little things (Heavy & Medic, Patton being dressed up like a mini-Demo)... likewise reckoned that semi-implicit stuff's probably the most we could've gotten from a Valve IP, so I'm glad to have it.

On a Scout-related note: overjoyed to see him living his best sitcom life, with his four kids and his Venture Bros haircut (and his seemingly-better relationship with Spy). Figured for a while that he might retire post-canon, but actually seeing that pan out was wild. In a nice way. Very happy for him.

i’m honestly really surprised to see so many people being taken aback at how lighthearted the ending of the comic series is. the tone of the comics in TF2 have pretty much universally been silly and goofy and fun and campy, this seemed perfectly in line in my opinion—the only thing i find at all unusual is the lack of sarcasm. that’s the thing, is that it’s extremely easy to write something over-earnest and for it to come across as kind of… shiny-eyed and nauseating. to be frank, a ton of what we did get was toeing the line, but they put enough effort in over the previous comics to make it all feel pretty deserved. all things considered, after what they’ve all been through, pyro deserves a puppy. of course medic would keep the baboon. of course soldier and zhanna would have kids. more shocking to me is the slightly smaller heartwarming moments—it would be so easy to make saxton hale just kick olivia out because we cut ahead 11 years and oops, she’s 18 now, scram! it would be so easy for miss pauling to have just been bowled over by the plane instead of having spy leap to help her in an incredibly selfless moment, considering his character. it would be so easy to make pyro wave to the engineer on the balcony instead of running, visibly cheering, completely estatic.

it would’ve been so easy to make the “our team were never even considered a real team—the other demomen don’t need to make their own explosives, the tech is handed to them on a silver platter. our demo is forced to do it himself because Mann Co does not care.” reveal so cruel and direct and cutting, but instead, demo is having it entirely on his own, quietly, subtly. the choice to make it something you have to really think about to notice speaks to a level of… maturity, from the writing staff.

the reason we get this happy ending is, to a degree, because at this point the writing is done with the assumption that the readers can be trusted to read and marinade and interpret.

frankly, i’ve known for many years that the only happy ending that any of them could truly get - i mean this from the bottom of my heart - is for several of them to stop being mercenaries entirely. Mann Co and the teams and the desert and miss pauling burying these bodies and negotiating for weapons have always been backlit in the subtext as that the thing they are doing is hurting them and preventing them from living real lives and growing as human beings. any ending where they didn’t break free of that cycle is grimdark and edgy in a way that the writers have made very clear they like to mock and cartoonify, and the choice to instead take itself fairly seriously and to commit to things being okay is a much more daring decision, from a writing perspective. a few issues ago medic was pouring blood back into them in buckets.

fantastic comic, my favorite thing in the world is stories and writing that trust you to engage with them earnestly, and this probably takes the cake. the administrator’s storyline is fucking haunting. and, unfortunately, would.

[killa-trav]

sebastianvettel: Pictures were taken during a homestory for Auto Bild Motorsport written by @.f1insidercom .

[luveline]

hi! i hope you’re doing well! could i please request a little something about hotch coming home from a case to non bau!reader and jack watching star wars, just bonding and being cute. he wants to hug you both so bad cause he missed you and loves you but he doesn’t want to interrupt your moment

thank you for requesting! fem, 1k

You drop your head back into the cushions to avoid getting whacked in the chin with Jack’s forehead. “Woah,” you say, laughing as a wave of buttery yellow popcorn kernels drop onto the floor. “Good thing we have hardwood.” 

“Why?”

You grab a handful of popcorn to eat from the bowl. “‘Cos all I’ve done today is make a huge mess.” 

Hotch smiles from the doorway. It’s dark in the house, and the music blaring from the television has occluded his arrival. You’ve no idea he’s watching you now, and you don’t act much differently than if his presence was announced. In fact, he’d say that sometimes you’re so focused on not overstepping your place in Jack's life that you restrain yourself. 

Butter and comfort alike has loosened the reins. You cuddle Jack to your side, the two of you laying across the long sofa with a faux rabbit fur throw wrapped around your two bodies, his head nestled under your chin. Your arm is around his tummy, belting him to you while blue light flashes over your faces. Lightsabers paint your eyes, their zinging and humming near painful in his bad ear. 

“Who’s side are we on again?” you tease. It’s subtle, but Hotch knows you’re joking. 

“Oh my gosh,” Jack says, “you forgot again? That one,” —he points at the screen— “that’s Obi Wan Kenobi.” 

“And we’re team Obi Wan?” 

“Yes, of course.” 

“Of course,” you echo, clearly finding him funny. “But the other one is more handsome, don’t you think?” 

“Am I handsome?” 

“Jack, you are the most handsome.” You stroke his hair back and encourage him to meet your eyes. “You’re so, so handsome, babe, you’re beautiful, and so smart, and so awesome. You’d wipe the floor with Obi Wan Kenobi.” 

Jack manages a reproach through his bashful smile, “I wouldn’t fight him, he’s the good guy. I would fight him.”

“Hmm.” You grab some popcorn from the bowl in front of Jack and eat a few pieces, then offer it to Jack. “I wouldn’t fight him. He’s too pretty.” 

“He’s evil.” 

“He doesn’t look evil.” 

Jack laughs and turns to you completely. “You’re funny. People don’t look evil, they just are sometimes.” 

“I know, baby, I’m just confused because all the good people in my life are beautiful.” You hug him behind his shoulders, looking at him with all the love in the world. “You’re a great example. You’re handsome, so how am I supposed to know you might be evil?” 

“You have to be careful,” Jack says sincerely. 

“Baby, I am. I promise I am.” Your eyes squint closed with your gentle smile, your noses almost touching. “I’m just kidding with you. I love having jokes with you.” 

“I love having jokes with you.” Jack gives you a quick hug, arms tight behind your head and his face nuzzling your collar. “Thanks.” 

“Thanks! Oh, you’re welcome, you don’t have to say thanks!”

“Well…” Jack pulls away, shrugging as you manoeuvre him bodily into a more comfortable position beside you. “I just think you should fight Anakin because he’s not kind, even if you think he’s handsome.” He says handsome with all the intonation of a boy discovering cooties for the first time. 

You shrug, eat another handful of popcorn, and seemingly see the light. “Alright, I’d fight him. I suppose I already have your dad, right? I don’t need any more handsome men in my life. Two is enough.” 

“Yeah,” Hotch says, flicking on the light, “I’d say so.” 

Jack jumps, upending another wave of popcorn onto the floor. You grab the bowl, and Jack has enough wits about him to hop over the spilled kernels rather than crush them as he presents himself to Hotch for hugging. 

“Hi!” Jack says. 

He’s getting longer. It takes Hotch more effort than it ever used to to pick him up and pat his back. “Hi, buddy. Nice jammies, those are new ones. Is Y/N giving you gifts again?” 

“She always gives me gifts.” 

“I’m buying your love,” you say, shielding your eyes from the glare of the big light. 

“I love it,” Jack says. 

Hotch puts him back down on the ground with a kiss. “You should. Did you have a good day? Sorry I was working, I missed our Saturday.” 

“Dad, it’s okay, you always work. We went to the store and we got candy, and now we’re watching Star Wars and you’re back, so it’s okay.” Jack beams and puts his hands behind his back. “Will you watch it too?” 

“Sure, buddy, I just have to wash up. Did you have dinner?” 

“Y/N made me lasagna from scratch, even the pasta,” Jack says. 

He sounds deeply, sincerely loved. His pride at having you put time and care into the meal is evident, and Hotch knows that he and Jack are incredibly lucky to have you and to have Jack be able to experience it. Something as nondescript as dinner can make all the difference. 

You sit on the couch still, a touch bashful. “It didn’t take long.” 

“Was it delicious?” Hotch asks Jack. 

Jack nods hard enough to hurt his neck, head bobbing up and down. “The best!” 

“Well, she deserves a good thank you, huh? For taking such good care of you today?” He lowers his voice to a whisper. “What should we do for her, in return? Did you have dessert?” 

“No,” Jack whispers back. 

Alright, then that’s what they’ll do. You treat Jack like he’s a found treasure, and you love Hotch as easily as breathing. Hotch takes Jack’s smaller hand in his and gives you a look that promises the world’s most squeezing hug after they’ve procured dessert. “Can you pause the movie, honey?” he asks you. “We’ll be right back.” 

You shake your head at him, but your smile isn’t easy to hide. “Your dinner’s under the grill,” you say. 

He adores you more, somehow. “Thank you.” 

[sofiawritesstuff]

Platonic

part 3

summary: When Lando's "playboy" image is setting a bad reputation for him. He's turns to the person he trust most in this world for help.

pairing: landonorris x bestfriend!reader

warnings: none (i don't think)

part 2

It wasn’t uncommon for you to be late to plans, actually you had gotten used to it spending most of your time with Lando.

You ran through the paddock, running past as much people as you could without being rude and within two minutes you had finally reached the meeting point.

Slowing down to a fast walk you came out onto the terrace in hospitality, noticing the girls straight away as they waved you over.

“Well we’ve only been waiting ten minutes, I think that’s a new record time” Kika jokes as you sit at the table “Sorry, I was watching Lando in media, he’s just finishing up in the garage now and then filming stuff with Oscar”

“How is Lando?” Carmen asks “I seen his interview after free practice this morning”

“I tried talking to him about it but he really didn’t want to. I’m going to try when we get home”

“It’s sad that he just sees all these negative this about himself” Alex smiles sympathetically across the table

“I know, every time I tell him he just doesn’t see what I see” you sigh, running your fingers through your hair

“What’s wrong?” Carmen asks “Nothing” you shake your head “We can tell by the look on your face something is wrong, come on tell us” she encourages, putting a hand on your shoulder

“If I tell you something, can you promise that it stays between us. Like you can’t tell Charles, George or Pierre” you whisper looking around you

“We promise, what’s going on?” Kika asks leaning closer

“A few days ago, Lando came to me. He told me that recently McLaren have been told that Lando’s image outside of Formula One makes the team look really bad, Zak said that he needs to fix his “playboy” image. So they wanted Lando to go into a PR relationship, Lando refused and Zak told him that he needs to for the team. Every single girl they showed Lando he said no. So Zak told him that if by a miracle, he can find someone that is willing to help Lando and be in a relationship for a few months then that’s who he can’t fake a relationship with”

“So Lando came to you” Alex nods understanding “You’re basically already dating, it shouldn’t be too hard” Kika jokes

“It wouldn’t be hard if I didn’t have actual feelings for Lando”

The girls look at you with wide eyes, they never thought they would see the day where you actually admit it.

“When did you come to this realisation?” Carmen asks

“You know how I used to date that guy from my office?”

“The one that none of us liked? Yeah I remember” Kika laughs

“Well after we broke up, Lando was comforting me, we were lying in his bed watching a movie. It wasn’t until I woke up in the middle of the night and we were cuddling that I realised how safe I felt when I was with him and everything he did to comfort me. David wouldn’t have known any of that stuff”

“You need to tell him” Kika says excitedly “I can’t”

“Why not?” Alex asks

“Because if I tell him now, it wouldn’t be fair. I’ve w him so many times and now to switch up my feelings would be like playing with his”

“Have you ever thought that maybe you have always felt this way but you’re just now realising it? I mean you guys have been friends since you were like five?” Carmen asks “You know how he feels about you, so why don’t you just tell him?”

“I can’t bring myself to do it, if it didn’t work out I can’t risk losing what i already have with Lando. He means too much to me to loose him”

“So you think being in a PR relationship will fix that?” Kika asks seriously

“It will be the closest thing that I get to a relationship with him, guys I need honest opinions on this”

“Well I think you’re being stupid” Kika says bluntly “Kika!” Carmen scoffs “What? Would you me be honest or would you rather I lie to you? she asks turning her attention to you

“Honest”

“Well it’s a stupid decision if you want to continue with a PR relationship. You think that admitting your feelings and being in an actual relationship would go wrong. Doing this only to have a feeling on what could be will only give you the chance to make up stuff that could go wrong, whereas if you were in an actual relationship with him you could progress rather than having a countdown to when it’s over”

“I agree with Kika” Alex smiles taking your hand “You are thinking that it could be the worst thing when it could be the best”

“Thank guys, now enough about me. What’s been happening with you guys?”

“So how was meeting up with the girls?” Lando asks with a smile, swinging your hands back and forth as you walked

“We talked. A lot” you nod “Anything interesting?” he pries “Just how we can resolve problems” you shrug

“Any problems I could help with?”

“Nothing that we both can’t resolve” you smiles “Now tell me what you film today” you jump up and down excitedly “Nope, nuh uh. You’ll need to find out like everyone else” he laughs stopping in his tracks

“Come on I hate when you do this” you groan turning to face him “Yeah well that’s why I do it” he smiles, putting his hands under your shirt “Your hands are cold”

“Exactly” he laughs, tickling you “No! No!” you squeal trying to run away “I don’t know where you’re trying running to, I have the keys to the apartment”

“Im going home to England!”

“No you’re not!” he laughs picking you up and throwing over his shoulder “You’re never leaving me” he says calming walking with you over his shoulder

“I wouldn’t dream of it”

part 4

TAGS

@harrysdimple05 @ironmaiden1313

[alotofpockets]

Co-captains | Leah Williamson x Lionesses!Reader

Where your teammates try to get you with someone at the World Cup to make Leah jealous

Woso masterlist | Words: 1.7k

-----

While representing your country was always an honour, especially at the World Cup, it felt different this time around. Ever since you were thirteen you had represented England with your best friend Leah, but this year she wouldn’t be there with you.

Leah had done her ACL a few months before the World Cup, everyone was devastated for her. The injury in itself was horrible, but to have it happen right before a big tournament like the World Cup made it even worse. 

Besides being best friends, you had also been co-captains for your country the past couple of years. Doing this tournament without her felt wrong, but you knew you had to step up and make her proud.

The team had definitely noticed your mood during your training sessions in Australia. You were very grateful to be a part of the team, but not having Leah there to do it with you kept playing over and over in your head. 

“Missing Leah?” Keira asked as she sat down next to you in the hotel lobby. “Yeah, I wish she was here with us.” A playful smirk formed on Keira’s face. “What?” You asked with your brows furrowed. “Oh nothing, but if I were you I’d turn around.” You had no idea what was going on, but you turned around like she said.

“Lee!” You quickly stood up when you saw your best friend walk through the doors. “You’re here!” With a couple steps you had reached her and wrapped your arms around her. “I’m here.” She whispered. 

“I can’t believe you’re really here.” You hadn’t smiled this much since you had gotten to Australia. “You didn’t think I was gonna sit this one out completely, did you?” 

You let Leah greet the rest of the girls, and hugged her brother Jacob who had been filming the whole thing. “Jakey, I saw you a few days ago, how could you not have told me?” The first day you had landed in Australia, you had gone to visit Leah’s brother. The two of you had talked about the World Cup, and Leah’s wellbeing, and yet he hadn’t said a word about this surprise. He playfully shrugs his shoulders. “What would have been the fun in ruining the surprise?”

The rest of the day was filled with laughter and excitement. Leah joined you at training, while she wasn’t playing, she was a captain at heart and had plenty to say to prepare her team for the upcoming games.

After training you all gathered in the common room of the hotel, you sat down between Ella and Jordan. The room filled with a mix of conversations about everything and nothing. Leah was sitting across the room from you, and every now and again your eyes would fall on her. A small smile playing at your lips when she would look your way as well.

“Look at them,” Alessia said softly enough for only Ella to hear. “They’re such idiots.” Ella followed her best friend’s eyes between you and Leah, “Completely clueless.” Alessia nodded in agreement, “We’ve really got to do something about that.”

An idea formed in Ella’s mind and a smirk grew on her face. “I’ve got an idea.” She turned back towards you. She spoke loud enough for all of the team to hear this time. “So, y/n, it’s been ages since you’ve been on a date, hasn’t it?”

The question took you off guard, seemingly coming out of nowhere. “Eh, I guess so. What does that have to do with anything?” You felt watched by everyone on the team and suddenly you grew nervous.

“Oh, I was just thinking that we could help you out. There are so many good looking players at this tournament, there must be one that has caught your eye, right?” Your cheeks flushed as the intensity of the eyes on you grew stronger. “Oh, eh, I don’t know. I’ve just been focussed on football.”

Your eyes darted to Leah, silently asking for help. She was sitting back in her chair, looking nonchalantly, but for a second you thought you saw a flicker of sadness in her eyes. Before you could think about it further Jordan chimed in on the conversation. 

“Oh come on, there must be someone. Name one player you think is fit.” You felt put on the spot, so you named the first player that came to mind. “Oh eh, maybe Alexia Putellas, she’s a very talented player.”

The team erupted in laughter at how you were still choosing to look at this through football lenses. Only one person wasn’t laughing, and that was Leah. Her jaw was clenched as she looked at you, but it went unnoticed by you. 

“I can definitely set you up with Alexia. In fact, I can call her right now!” Keira joined in on the fun. “No! Please don’t do that.” You didn’t like the turn this was taking. “Oh I won’t then, someone else maybe?”

Everyone on the team joined in on calling out names. Raso? Rölfo? Kaneryd? Bonmatí? Kennedy? Sonnet? Fleming? 

Leah sat watching the scene unfold unamused. Her arms were crossed and her expression had turned into a frown. Everyone was enjoying getting a reaction out of you by listing every player they could think of, so they hadn’t noticed the change in her demeanour, until she stood up abruptly. Her chair loudly clattering against the floor.

The room went fully silent. No more names being thrown around, and no more laughter. “I eh, I’m gonna go check on her.” You stood up and followed in the direction Leah took off in. 

“Lee, what’s wrong?” You say as you reach her about to open her hotel room. She huffed and walked into the room, just before the door closed behind her, you managed to slip through. 

“Nothing, go meet up with any one of those people the girls mention. Go out, have fun.” Your brow furrowed, “Lee, I don’t know what’s going on. But-” She cut you off before you could continue telling her that you never said you wanted to meet up with those people, that it was just coming from your teammates. 

“I can’t deal with listening to you potentially being with any one of those people. I don’t wanna hear who you think is good looking or fit. I don’t want to hear it because… because I want you to think of me that way.” The last part of her sentence was barely above a whisper.

You stood there, too stunned to get out any words. Leah figured she had put it on the table now, so she might as well continue what she just started. "I like you. I like you more than just my best friend. More than I ever thought I would. I didn’t realise it until I heard you talk about other girls that way.” She looked up at you nervously. 

“Well, I was going to say that I didn’t talk about any of the people that way, and that it was only the girls doing so. And honestly the reason for that is because I only have eyes for you Leah. I like you too, I have for a long time.”

“You do?” Your smile grew, “Yes, you dummy. I’ve been a total grump without you here. You are the only person that I want. I don’t care about any other players going into this competition, it’s always been you.”

Leah stood up quickly and moved towards you. “I am so happy to hear you say that.” She said with her face mere inches away from yours. One look at her lips and then quickly diverting your eyes back to hers, was enough for Leah to lean in and connect your lips. 

The kiss was short and sweet. It was everything you had hoped it would be and more. “Will you be my girlfriend?” Leah asked as soon as you pulled away from the kiss. “Definitely.” You said with a big smile.

“Can we go back down and show the girls everything is alright?” You asked shyly, not wanting to make Leah feel bad for walking out on everyone the way that she did. “Only if we can tell them that they can stop trying to match you up with someone.” You chuckled at her request. “Deal.” 

As you walked back to the girls, Leah took ahold of your hand and gave it a soft squeeze. You couldn’t believe that she was your girlfriend, but you knew that with Leah by your side everything was going to be great.

The atmosphere in the common room shifted the second the both of you walked in. The team had been quietly speculating about what had happened, and if they had taken things too far. 

As soon as they looked at your intertwined hands, the speculation started back up again, this time in the direction of did this actually work? 

“Everything alright?” Keira asked with a knowing smile. Leah glanced at you and squeezed your hand once more. “Yeah, everything is more than alright.” She pulled you a little closer. “You can stop matchmaking, I’m taking her out tomorrow morning.” 

The room filled with cheers and laughter. A few of the girls high fived each other. “Finally, I thought we were going to have to list every player in the tournament before the two of you finally got together.” Ella says dramatically, earning a laugh from the whole group, including you and Leah.

The teasing of the girls didn’t stop, but this time around it felt different. Leah’s arm was wrapped around your shoulder, with her thumb lightly caressing your arm. 

You still had the tournament ahead of you, but tonight had given you a bit of extra encouragement to perform better than you had ever done before. You felt ready to take on the world and make Leah proud.

-----

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[hazbinshusk]

blitzø x fem!reader.

the day after another full moon, blitzø comes into the office bragging about his sexual prowess. when you make one too many snide comments about it, he decides to show you just how good stolas gets it every month.

based on an anonymous request and far longer than I originally planned.

4k.

featuring: pure smut, bondage, oral sex (m&f receiving), breathplay, dom!blitzø, overstimulation, degradation, daddy kink, sex in the i.m.p. office, creampies, very minor bloodplay.

“Well,” Blitzø makes a show of stretching his arms out in front of him as he comes strolling into the office, interlacing his fingers and cracking his knuckles. “If the way his Royal Bird-ness was still shakin’ and droolin’ when I left is any indication, we’re good for at least another – where the fuck are you guys?!”

You roll your eyes from where you’re holed up in the conference room, suddenly wishing you had decided to work from home today. The last thing you were in the mood for was listening to your boss brag ad nauseum about his sex life; you’d had the latest of a long string of bad dates last night, and while they’d actually managed to impress you enough to earn the chance to come home with you, they’d proved quickly disappointing.

“In here!” you call out despite your reluctance, your feet kicked up on the table in front of you, and you fold your arms across your chest.

“The fuck is everyone else?” The imp demands as he enters.

“On a Sunday? D’you really think M&M are gonna come in on their day off just to hear you brag about how you fucked the prince again?”

“Well, you’re here, aren’t ya?” he shoots back.

You wave a hand at the stack of papers piled up beside your shoes. “I pulled the short straw on paperwork this month. You’d remember that if you weren’t so busy thinking with your dick all the time.”

He narrows his eyes at you for a moment before shrugging and rounding the table to take his own seat at the head of it. You smack away the spade of his tail as it comes up to caress your cheek mockingly as he passes, and he snickers.

“Guess you’ll have to do, then. You wanna hear the panty-droppin’ play-by-play, or you want me to just tell you the gushiest top ten?”

You sigh heavily. “I’ve got work to do, Blitzø.”

He cocks an eyebrow at you, tail waving back and forth behind him. A downright evil grin plays across his features and he sing-songs, “Ooh, someone’s jealous.”

“Oh, sure,” you reply, voice dripping with sarcasm. “I just sit here all day, pining and completely wet with jealousy because you’re off fucking the owl instead of me. It’s a miracle I wasn’t just getting myself off right here thinking about it.”

Blitzø cocks an eyebrow, his gaze sliding down over your body. It lingers at where your thighs are pressed together, your knees against the edge of the table. He smirks up at you from under his brows when his eyes return to your face. “Hey, tits, don’t let me stop you. You wanna rub one out thinking about Stolas squirmin’ on my thick co—”

“For the love of Satan, please shut up.” you say dryly, and Blitzø cackles. “Besides, if you were half as good as you think you are, you wouldn’t constantly feel the need to tell us about it.”

The imp scoffs, sneering. “Bitch, I’m twice as good as I think I am.” He jabs a finger at you, tossing his sunglasses onto the table in front of him. “You might know that if you ever unwadded your panties from your ass long enough to have some fun.”

“Because ‘fun’ automatically translates to getting naked with you.”

He shrugs a shoulder, that infuriating, knowing smirk still in place. “Don’t have to be naked. Got plenty of things I could do to you without takin’ off a thread, and you’d still be gaggin’ for more. Besides, you’re so hard up and overdue for a good bone sesh that I bet I could get you beggin’ for it just as much as Birdy-boy does in half the time.”

“Uh-huh,” you manage to deadpan despite the way his words have sent heat rushing through your body to warm your belly and your cheeks. Instead, you lower your feet to the floor, pointedly dragging your paperwork across the table towards you. “Whatever you need to tell yourself, boss.”

“Hey!” he jabs his finger at you again, standing up so he can plant a hand on the table and lead towards you. “I don’t come in here and question your skill in the sack!”

“You just told me I was hard up!”

“Yeah, but that ain’t because of your…” he stops, eyes widening. A broad grin widens over his features as realization hits him and you hold back a grimace. “You had a date last night!”

Damnit Millie. “I—”

He pouts at you mockingly, leaning closer to you and further into your personal space. It’s getting harder to avoid his eye. “What’s the matter, sugartits? Did they get your motor runnin’ then fail to deliver all the rough and tumble you wanted? They get you all hot and bothered, all ready to beg for it like a good little slut and then leave you high and completely fucking dry?”

“Stop calling me that,” you snap, pointedly trying to ignore the insinuation. Because fuck the bastard, but he’s right… and something in his tone is really starting to send a prickling over your skin that leaves goosebumps in its wake.

Blitzø’s smile widens, darkening into something seductive as he moves around to your side of the table. He spins your chair towards him, taking hold of your knees and pressing them far enough apart to step up between them. You feel your face flush further. “Don’t avoid the question.”

You roll your eyes again, hands curling into fists in your lap as he leans ever closer into your personal space. His claws are still wrapped around your knees, and you feel them smooth up your thighs at a glacial pace. “Fuck, Blitzø, you’re such a fucking—”

His mouth meets your roughly, teeth grazing your bottom lip before he slides his tongue into your mouth. It’s hard and angry and hot, and he kisses you with enough force to press you back into the chair and knock the air out of your lungs. His hands are still on your thighs, and you feel his claws tighten on your flesh. Your curse yourself when you hear a whine slip out of you, and even muffled by his mouth, you just know he hears it too.

When he breaks the kiss you inhale sharply, and he only moves back to meet your eye again. His claws skim over the inside of your thighs tauntingly, and even through your jeans, it makes you shudder the closer he gets to the apex of your thighs.

“So,” Blitzø says, and the sudden huskiness to his voice makes you swallow. His tail is switching back and forth behind him, an almost predatory edge to the movement. There’s a challenge in his eyes, and despite everything, it thrills you. “You wanna fuck me or not?”

You exhale a breath in the hopes of steadying yourself. He knows the effect he’s having on you, the cocky bastard. “…You’re gonna be fucking insufferable either way, aren’t you?’

He nods slowly, that irritating, self-assured smile widening slightly.

You sigh, reaching up to take hold of the lapel of his jacket. He snickers as you tug him roughly back towards you.

“You know if you suck, I’m never gonna let you live it down, right?”

Blitzø’s attention has already dropped to your front, his fingers releasing your thighs to instead slowly unbutton your shirt. You shiver as his claws just ghost against your sternum as they move. “You gonna talk this much during?”

“Prick.”

“Bitch.”

 He spreads your shirt open, walking his fingers idly up your stomach. He palms your breast suddenly, grin widening as your breath hitches when he squeezes.

“Seriously, though, might wanna save your breath.” he continues, pinching your nipple hard. He grins when you jerk at the sudden pain. “’Cause you’re gonna need those lungs for all the ways you’re gonna wanna scream my name.”

“Ugh, you’re such a—”

Blitzø’s mouth is on yours again before you can finish the insult, one hand still on your breast. His other hand bunches in your hair, forcing your head back almost painfully. He bites at your bottom lip before his mouth moves lower, teeth and tongue teasing at your throat. His fangs graze your pulse point, and you hiss at the pain of it, feeling blood well up against your skin. His tongue slides over the same spot, and he purrs.

His other hand tugs the cup of your bra down to bare the soft flesh to the cold air and to him, palming it roughly. You arch under his touch, tightening your hand on his lapel and tugging him closer. Blitzø chuckles against your neck, straddling your thigh, and you shove his jacket off his shoulders.

“Shoulda known you’d be an eager little slut,” he mutters against your collarbone and you take his face in your hands, bringing him back into another heady kiss. One hand moves up to flick fingers over the spines between his horns, and he groans into your mouth. “Just like Stolas… you uptight bitches are always—”

“Shut the fuck up, Blitzø,” you snap back at him, taking hold of his horn as his mouth returns to your throat and lower, lips sucking a mark into the curve where your neck meets your collarbone.

He grinds down against your thigh and you thrill at the feeling of his hardening cock against you. When his tongue finds your nipple, you gasp.

“Nope,” he replies simply, annoyingly self-assured, his breath teasing the damp flesh of your breast. Your nipple tightens further under the caress of it. He cups a hand between your thighs, rubbing it roughly against your denim-covered cunt.  He toys with it through your pants for a moment, pulling his hand away as soon as a moan slips past your lips. “Now, get your hot little ass up, slut. Supplies are in my office.”

“The fuck do you need supplies for?!”

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

“Holy fuck, Blitzø!” you buck up into his mouth, eyes rolling back.

He’s got you spread out on the desk, your hands bound up with rope and tied to the base of the legs at one end. The length of the rope has forced your hands up over your head, the ache in your biceps completely eclipsed by the sensations between your thighs. Blitzø is kneeling between them, his tail wrapped tightly around one and his hand around the other, your knees thrown over his shoulders. He’s lifted you up off the desk so all your weight is balanced on your shoulder blades, his other hand wrapped around your stomach to reach his claws between your thighs to torture your clit.

His tongue is deep inside your cunt, the sound of his feasting on you the only thing competing with your moaning. Blitzø groans into you, and you swear you can feel his smirk when you try to grind your pussy up against his mouth, hindered by the position he has you in. His tongue finds your g-spot and you whimper brokenly, teeth digging hard into your lip. You can feel your own release dripping down between the cheeks of your ass; you’ve come three times already, and your entire body is shuddering with the stimulation.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck…” you chant through gritted teeth, brow furrowed. Blitzø is watching you from beneath his brows, eyes hooded and his claws tightening on your thigh. You strain against the ropes, the threads of it digging into your wrists, and he grins against your cunt, his tongue pressing against your g-spot just as he pinches your clit. “Oh, fuck!”

You cum again, hips jerking under his touch, desperate to get away from his torturous tongue.

You hate yourself a little for admitting, “Blitzø… I can’t…”

He snickers, flicking his tongue over your clit as he withdraws it. “Aw, c’mon, sugar. Birdy made it all the way to six before he was tapping out and begging for me to finally give him my sweet cock. You can last longer than that, can’t you, slut?”

The spade of his tail slides over your clit, and you twitch. You know he’s goading you but you can’t help but clench your jaw petulantly and nod, and he grins up at you.

“That’s a good girl,” he tells you huskily and you whimper as his breath teases over your swollen clit. He raises a brow. “Ohhh, you liked that, huh? You like being a good girl for daddy.”

You glare up at him even as you feel your face flush with heat.

“You do,” he continues cockily, tongue touching your clit for a moment and you shiver. “You love being daddy’s good little slut, don’t you?”

“If you…” you say breathlessly. “…If you need a breather, Blitzø, you can just say that.”

He snorts, squeezing your ass. “Uh, uh, tits. You wanna another round, I need to hear you say it.”

“Satan, you’re an asshole.”

“Yup,” he replies, ever so slowly circling your clit with his thumb. You exhale shakily. “Now say it. Tell me you’ll be a good little slut.”

You force yourself to heave an impatient sigh, trying to inject as much impatience into your voice as possible. Still, despite your efforts it comes out breathy and shuddering. “I’ll… I’ll be a good slut for you… daddy.”

Blitzø’s grin widens victoriously and he rewards you by returning his tongue to your cunt, and your head falls back against the desk. Your chest heaves as he quickly works you undone again, two fingers pressing into you.

“Alright, alright, don’t embarrass yourself, tits.” he tells you tauntingly.

“Go fuck yourself, Blitzø.”

“Heh.” he chuckles obnoxiously. “Keep talkin’ dirty like that and I might just leave you all trussed up and pretty like this for M&M to find tomorrow morning.”

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

“Fuck, you’ve got a slutty little mouth,” Blitzø groans as you swallow around him, choking slightly as the head of his cock brushed the back of his throat. “Satan’s taint, listen to you. You’ve been holdin’ back on me, pretendin’ to be all innocent.”

You’d roll your eyes if he didn’t choose that moment to thrust hard into your mouth, the length of him sliding against your tongue. You curl it obediently around him as he does, and his eyes roll back for a moment.  He’s kneeling between your bound arms, watching with hooded eyes as your throat bulges each time he fucks himself into your mouth. You can barely breath; you find yourself lightheaded even as you suck at his cock eagerly.

You’d just barely made it to eight orgasms without blacking out before he’d finally let up, childishly determined to take more than he’d expected. It had left you sweaty and aching against the desk, and you could still feel a small pool of your own cum against your ass as you’d finally been allowed to relax your hips down against the wood.

Blitzø has claws fisted in your hair, and you whine around him as he reaches down to squeeze your breast, pinch your nipples. Every now and then he lets the spade of his tail brush over your clit, and he snickers when it makes you jerk and gag around him.

“Fuck,” he moans, his hand leaving your nipple to take hold of your throat. He can feel his cock thrusting beneath your skin, and he squeezes, grinning devilishly as you let out a choking moan. “Baby likes being choked, too, huh? You’re just full of surprises, aren’t ya?”

Blitzø plays with you like that for who knows how long, withdrawing his cock from your mouth just long enough for you to pull air into your lungs with a desperate inhale before he presses in again. You’re drooling and whimpering, body quaking against the desk as his tail starts teasing your clit again in earnest.

Your hips buck up under his ministrations, and Blitzø doesn’t stop until you gag in earnest, pulling out and smirking as you cough.

“That’s my girl.”

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

Blitzø’s cock slides into your cunt slowly and you whimper at the feeling of it, eyes squeezed closed.

He’d watched, annoyingly amused, as you’d caught your breath, sitting back on his heels over you. Then he’d surprised you by producing bottled water when he’d untied you.

Still, he’d barely given you more than a minute before he was urging you to roll over onto your knees. He’d wrapped the rope around your thighs before retying your wrists, tightening it until it forced your thighs apart. The way he’d tied you forced you to sit with your back arched slightly, your kiss-bruised breasts on full display as you knelt on the hard wood. You’d normally find yourself embarrassed by the way you were exposed, but the way he watched you, admired you, instead made your mind spin and your heart throb in your chest.

You’d heard his belt buckle clink at he unfastened his pants behind you, surprising you by pressing an almost tender kiss to the side of your throat. His claws ghosted over your inner thigh, making you shiver. “Always knew you’d look good on your knees, baby.”

You’d turned your head as he had, catching him in a kiss that was all tongue and still-desperate need. He’d groaned into it, letting it linger for a few long moments before he finally broke away again. Now, he’s laid out beneath you, his hands clutching at your hips as he lowers you onto his cock. You close your eyes, letting your head fall back as he bottoms out inside you. His pelvic bone brushes against your clit and you whine. Blitzø echoes the sound with a growl.

“Holy shit, sugar,” he grunts, flexing his claws against your flesh. “Holy fucking shit, didn’t know someone could feel this fucking good…”

He urges you into riding him slowly, his claws trailing over the ropes crisscrossing the flesh of your thighs. The way Blitzø watches you grind over his lap sends sparks through you in ways you don’t want to address and your hands strain against the ropes with the sudden urge to touch him.

You want to see how he’ll react to your hands running over his sides, your nails scratching over his nipples. How he’d react to your hands gripping at his horns as you ride him. And you want to kiss him again, you want to trail your lips over his throat and feel his pulse under your tongue.

You want to work him undone that same way he has you.

Blitzø pushes his hips up into yours, hand retaking your hip. His grip is harsh and demanding, claws digging so hard into your flesh you wouldn’t be surprised if it bruised. He’s watching your breasts hungrily as they bounce with every thrust he makes up into you, and the hand still on your thigh moves to tease your clit with his thumb.

“Fuck, Blitzø!” you cry out, voice rough with overuse and need. Your thighs tense, the rope digging further into your flesh. You’re so close to cumming again, and the fact that the ropes are stopping you from taking full control of the pace is driving you mad. “Fuck!”

“Fucking told you you’d be screamin’ my name,” he growls, head falling back against the desk. “Shit, you’re gonna feel so good gushin’ all over my cock, princess.”

You moan aloud, eyes squeezed shut.

“Gonna need to hear you beg for it, remember?” he tells you, his voice breaking slightly and you know he’s close too. He pinches your clit, his tail wrapping itself around your middle. “C’mon… be a good slut and beg…”

You’re almost sure he’s so far gone that all you’d have to do is wait and he’d cum before he got what he wanted, but you need to cum too; you’re so close that your jaw clenches and your toes are curling. So, you give him what he wants. What you both need.

“Please, Blitzø…” you whine, eyes meeting his. “Please, I need to… I wanna feel you cum, Blitzø…”

He moans, claws quickening against your clit. The two of you actually cum together, his hips thrusting hard up into you. You can feel tears in your eyes as your orgasm wash through you, your chest heaving.

The two of you stay frozen like that for a while after he slumps back down against the desk, both of you struggling to catch your breath. You close your eyes, shuddering with each exhale.

Your eyes snap open again as you hear the shutter effect of his phone’s camera.

“The fuck did you just take a picture of?”

He grins lazily up at you, turning his phone so you can see. The photo shows his hips framed by your thighs; your cunt still stuffed full of his cock. Only the base of his cock is visible, his cum drawing lines down it as it leaks out of you.

You jerk your wrists against the ropes, the movement making you whimper as you accidently squeeze your over-sensitized cunt around him. He snickers, the sound breaking off as his eyes roll back at the sensation.

“Delete it, Blitzø.”

He shakes his head. “Are you kidding? You’re pure spank bank, tits.” his smile widens. “Speakin’ of…”

He snaps another photo, this one aimed high to capture the curve of your breasts. There are makes littering the soft flesh, let behind by his teeth and lips, and the spade of his tail has come up to rest its tip against your nipple.

“God, you’re an asshole.”

“Don’t I know it.” he replies nonchalantly. You feel his tail unwind itself from your stomach and he frees your wrists. The rope slackens immediately around your thighs, your legs prickling with pins and needles as blood returns to them. He rubs his hands over the flesh to help the blood flow. “And you fuckin’ love it.”

“‘Love’s a strong word for it,” you reply dryly, massaging one of your wrists with your other hand.

“Yeah, but it’s a four-letter word,” he says, tossing his phone over his shoulder towards his clothes and propping himself up on his elbows. You can feel him softening inside you as he hands you the water bottle. “I don’t even know how many letters are in ‘get all hot and drippy over it’.”

“Twenty-four.” you say almost immediately, taking a sip of water. You offer it to him; you can feel his tail brushing back and forth against your calf. It feels strangely, surprisingly normal to be still straddling his lap, naked and breathless, and you try not to let yourself question it.

“Freak.”

You smile softly to yourself at the fact that he’s managed to try and insult you even as he takes hold of your wrists and uses his thumbs to rub sensation back into them. He doesn’t even really seem to be aware that he’s doing it.

“You know I’m not helping you clean up this mess, right?”

Blitzø snorts, grinning up at you. “What makes you think I wanna clean up? How’s anyone gonna believe you let me rock your fuckin’ world if they don’t see the evidence? And you know I fuckin’ did.”

“Don’t get too cocky about it, Blitzø.” you shoot back. “How d’you know I wasn’t just faking it so I didn’t hurt your feelings.”

“Heh. ‘Cocky.” he says, and you roll your eyes. “Tell what’s left of your voice you were fakin’ it.”

“You’re so—”

Blitzø reaches up to wrap his hand around the back of your neck, pulling you down into another fiery kiss. Your back aches as its finally allowed to bend that way again, but you barely register it with the way his tongue feels sliding against yours.

“Sexy? Fuckable?” Blitzø suggests against your mouth. “Ready for round two?”

You giggle despite yourself, letting your forehead bump against his. When you pull away, he’s smiling like he’s pleased with himself for making you laugh. “You might be, but I’m gonna need a minute.”

“Alright,” he tells you, his tail grazing over your thigh. “But I’m countin’.”

[blissfullyecho]

My 2025 Resolutions List

Pre-New Years Resolutions (Nov/Dec 2024)

MY TIP: I think it’s important to establish pre-new year resolutions to get the momentum going for the new year. The best way to go about it is to look at your NY resolutions first, then see what you can do beforehand to prepare and those would be your Pre-New Years Resolutions

1. Prioritize Health + Fitness: Commit to a consistent fitness routine that enhances my body and confidence. I’m going to achieve this by attending 4-5 fitness sessions per week, stay disciplined with a healthy eating plan (with holiday plate exceptions), and setting physical milestones (like weighing X amount of lbs by 1/1/25)

2. Personal Branding Solid Foundation: Get clear on what personal brand I’d like to create for myself and indulge heavily in content and experiences that embody this ideal image I have for myself. I’ll achieve this by constantly checking in with myself by asking “is this on-brand with who I’d like to become?”

3. Build my Luxury Sales Career: ***For the record, I’m in luxury real estate (I’m licensed in 2 states) and international yacht sales.*** I’d like to grow on social media with my business accounts and reach my accounts to 400,000 across all of my BUSINESS platforms (right now I have a little over 350,000 followers)

2025 New Years Resolutions

1. Keep every promise I make to myself if it’s going to benefit me. I’ll make changes if something better comes along

2. Start taking reformer Pilates on a more regular basis

3. Get my desired hair length without extensions

4. Get back into coed stunting/tumbling (I was a cheerleader all my life and still love it in my 20s)

5. No more blackout nights when I drink (embarrassing but I’m such a lightweight)

6. Get back down to 110-115lbs

7. Start dating again, but dating guys that actually meet my standards and not settling because I’m bored or feeling lonely

8. Make the most $ I’ve ever made annually

9. Start fresh with my personal social media and keep my IG followers to under 10,000 (for those of you who don’t know or are new, my personal TikTok has over 1M followers and my IG is close to 800K). The issue is that I have more male followers than I do women and I want to change my IG to friends/family/acquantances/brands/women. I don’t even get paid all that much on IG anymore but TikTok I do so that’ll stay.

10. Break the habit of buying a sweet treat every single day

11. Lower my A1C to under 4.8 (it’s at 5.0 rn)

12. Practice buying quality, no matter the price point. I should be able to afford what I want if I hit my annual income goal.

13. Move to (a different city local to me) in downtown and live at (one of the new high rises they are building)

14. Become more photogenic without nitpicking every single thing about me with each picture I take— this also goes hand in hand with no longer using filters on my photos or making any changes

15. Renew my passport (I’ve been extremely lazy to do so) and travel more. My goal is to travel at least 3 times AT LEAST out of state, preferably out of country if time/work allows

16. Get close with God again. He is the only reason I got to where I am today and then I fell off.

17. Prioritize in taking care of myself and treating myself like a princess. I should always be checking in with myself by asking “is this on-brand with who I’m becoming?” and act accordingly.

18. Start going out more— go to more events, dinners, say yes to invites more, date. I’d like to increase my social calendar to at least once a week. By the end of the year, I’d like to be social at least 3-4x per week.

19. Reset my gut health and actually feel like I’m in my 20s and not in my 90s

20. Become completely unbothered and know when to emotionally detach (or avoid attachment altogether— seriously)

21. Stop oversharing… being exclusive with information about me/my life

22. Don’t dream big, but dream bigger

23. Stop being so trusting and forgiving— HUGE lesson I learned in 2024.

I’m sure I’ll be adding to this list. But any personal posts regarding my own rebrand and level up will be under the hashtag on my blog #2025. I will constantly be updating from now until the end of 2025.

[muldermuse]

An Unlikely Hero (ex boyfriend!Billy Butcher x reader)

this is going to be a multi part series!!! i love exboyfriend!butcher and he is on my mind constantly. if u would like to read more about him here’s some more posts! if you wanna talk about him pls send me your thoughts ❤️ dividers by @saradika ❤️

part one: the first date

OR

the first time you meet Billy Butcher

You swore to yourself that this was the last Tinder date you’d subject yourself to. Last week, you matched and met with Jack who had a Homelander sleeve tattoo and cried to you about how hard it was to be a ‘true American’ nowadays.  The week before that, it was Shay who seemed sweet but kept trying to ply you with drinks and invite you back to his place (he bragged that his ‘folks were out of town’, which would be impressive if you were a hell of a lot younger than you actually are). This week’s date is named Harry and he’s just not right for you. You thought it over texts but as soon as you sat down with him tonight; it was confirmed. It’s not even like you have a great previous relationship as a point for comparison, all romantic love has been fleeting and, with how things are going currently, you imagine it always will be.

It's a few hours later and Harry’s suddenly a lot drunker than you. You’ve moved from the overpriced restaurant to your favourite bar. The drinks are questionable in that they’re both incredibly cheap and very strong. You grab two stools at the bar which is overwise empty, apart from one man nursing a whiskey. You’re sure Harry’s drunker than you because he’s currently sobbing into his craft beer about how he hasn’t felt a connection with anyone since his ex-girlfriend, who left him 3 months ago for a co-worker.

“Like, you’re nice y’know. You seem like a nice girl” you try not to recoil at the phrase “but my ex? She was great. There’s no one else who’s ev-hic-ever been like her and there never will be”. The guy sat next to you at the bar mutters a “fuckin’ ell” under his breath as he gestures towards the bartender for another neat whiskey. His accent is completely out of place in this local dive bar; he sounds European. No trace of an american accent so you consider that he could be a tourist who’s wandered into a bar looking for a cold drink and some respite.

You try not to smirk at the utterance and tune back into what Harry’s saying, “I think we’ve both just gone through the motions tonight, don’t you agree? I can tell you’re not really into me and to be honest, I’m not into you”. You kind of admire his candor because he’s right, you’re not into him in the slightest but the next thing out of his mouth quickly dispels any misplaced respect you held for him. “I’ve been real lonely since she left though…maybe you could come back to my place-hic-she’s uh…some of her stuff is still there but there’s not a lot of it in the bedroom”. He’s that plastered that what he assumed would be a casual hand slide up your thigh becomes a full push, hurtling you into the whiskey sipping man next to you. You fall into his chest, it’s strong and kind of feels like slamming into a wall. 

“Right, tha’s fuckin’ it” the potential tourist speaks and it’s only when he stands up that you realise how broad he is. He’s tall with thick black hair and the beard to match. His outfit is seemingly prepared for a spectrum of weathers with a Hawaiian shirt clashing with a thick overcoat. He’s older than you, definitely older but absolutely attractive. More attractive than anyone you’d seen on Tinder or, probably, ever in your life. “You alright there darlin’?” his dark eyes bore into yours as you nod and cough out a meek ‘yes’. You silently curse yourself, the first thing you say to this strong man makes you sound like a small frightened mouse.

“’M jus’ gonna get rid of your little pal there and then I’ll buy ya a drink- alright?” his hand rubs your bare arm and sends a flurry of goosebumps across your skin. The whole interaction feels more charged than anything you’ve had before with another human, you wonder if he’s feeling it too and pray that he is.

“Oh nice one man, I’ll have uh…another craft” Harry gestures towards the tap, completely oblivious to the situation in front of him

“All you’re fuckin’ gettin’ cunt is a helpin’ hand out that fuckin’ door. Now, I’ll ask ya politely one last fuckin’ time…fuck off” he elongates the 3 letter word. A comically confused look spreads across Harry’s face. “’M on a fucking date here man and she’s coming back to mine, aren’t you?”

“No” you quickly deadpan, shaking your head at the still unnamed man.

“There’s your answer then cunt, off ya fuck” 

“Butcher- no fuckin’ blood on my bar this time man” the bartender shouts whilst idly checking his phone. Butcher? Is that the guy’s name? 

Harry stands up, pushing out his chest which, if anything, only exaggerates how small he is in comparison. “I’ve bought her meal, paid for her drink and I’m go-hic-gonna take her back to my place and fuck her”. He finishes his sentence in Butcher’s face. Whilst you see a flicker of fear cross Harry’s expression; Butcher’s look borders on hysterical. 

“Alright then big fella, I’ll tell ya what’s gonna happen” he slams his hand down on Harry’s shoulder, his eyes now boring into his. “You’re gonna fuck off back to your shitty little home, grab some lube, cry and wank to ya heart’s content about your ex who is probably ridin’ some big fat fuckin’ dick right now-yeah?” Butcher nods as if Harry’s going to agree with him.

Your date goes to interrupt but Butcher presses a finger to his quaking lips before he can start, “what’s not gonna happen, my sad little mate, is that you’re going to fuck her. She’s hadta listen to your fuckin’ whinin’ about your ex all night whilst you’ve fuckin’ insulted this gorgeous woman. So, get out before I throw ya through the fuckin’ window”. Harry’s lost for words, he doesn’t make eye contact with you as you stand silently behind Butcher. You see tears brimming in his eyes as he smacks $20 on the bar top. 

“Fuckin’ old asshole” Harry spits as he shoves past the pair of you.

Butcher smirks at the remark, watching the door swing shut behind Harry before turning to you. “Right darlin’, whatcha havin’?” 

It’s the best date you’ve ever been on and it’s not even a real date. You finally got his full name. Billy Butcher. Your heart races just to say it. He’s from London but has been in the States for a while. He asks all about you and you surprisingly find you’ve got a lot in common. He’s funny, charming and really fucking exciting- you have to admit. By the third drink, the chat goes from conversational to more flirty. 

“The bartender said ‘this time’, do you do this a lot? Love saving a damsel in distress? Are you a hero, Billy Butcher?” you smirk at him and he returns it back to you. There’s lust in his eyes and you see him take your appearance in for what feels like the upteenth time since you sat down.

As he goes to speak, the bell rings for last orders and he takes your hand to help you off the bar stool. You down the remnants of your drink together and he puts his arm around you and escorts you out of the bar.

You don’t want it to end, he lights a cigarette and you thank any higher deity for the extra thinking seconds it gives you. He speaks before you get chance, “Will ya let me walk you home darlin’? Swear on my mum’s life I won’t try any funny business”. He holds his hand out like he’s making a scouts honour. Honestly, you do anything to spend a bit more time with him so you smile, link your arm with his and pull him down the quiet streets.

The air makes you feel drunker than you are. If you were sober, there is no way you’d be giggling like a school girl at everything this man is saying, yet here you are. Your arms are linked and you’re resting your head on his shoulders as you tell him about your horrific dating history. Everytime he laughs and accuses you of exaggerating you say, “Billy Butcher, I would never ever lie to you”. You say it because his name feels so fun sliding off your tongue. You barely see anyone on your walk home and the sound of your shared laughter fills the empty streets.

As you turn down your street, you wish you lived miles away so you could keep walking together for hours. Your stomach drops at the thought that you’ll never see him again. Which, you completely realise, is fucking stupid. This stranger threatened your date to leave but he also made you feel safe and laugh harder than you have in months. You pull his stride to a stop outside your house. It feels like some awful hallmark romcom or trashy romance novel.

You thank him for escorting you home and he turns down a nightcap in your house as “it’s not gentlemanly on the first date”. He shoots you a wicked grin again as he says, “my mum would be spinnin’ in her grave darlin’”.

You try not to let the heartbreak from that sentence show on your expression. “You’re a gentleman, Billy Butcher?”

“The best one around darlin’. I’ll prove it tomorrow when I take ya out for lunch”

A brief flare of anger hits you, “yeah, I hear that all the fucking time. The lunch never happens, I don’t see you again but then we bump into each other at the store and you apologise and say you’ll be in touch which, of course, you never will be”. You regret it as soon as you stop speaking.

Before you can apologise, he grabs a sharpie out of his coat pocket, takes your hand and scribbles down his number. “There, alright? You call me at any time gorgeous and I swear, I’ll fuckin’ answer and come runnin’”

His kiss to your cheek is soft yet restrained. “You’ll forget about me Billy Butcher, I know it”.

“S’not fuckin’ possible, darlin’”. He says goodnight and walks down your street. A plume of cigarette smoke trailing after him.

He keeps his word.

40 minutes later, and after one final glass of wine, you call him.

He answers on the first ring and says your name. He tells you where to meet tomorrow and what time to get there.

You hope he can always keep his promises.

[vrystalius]

Can I request a sequel to Sanemi and the art teacher? I simply loved this ask, thank you for making me happy with your writing and kindness!

Dinner in his livingroom

Part two of Lunch in the teacher’s lounge <3

Pairing: teacher!Sanemi x teacher!reader

(Not proofread!!)

Sanemi has been eyeing you the whole movie, not even paying attention to it anymore. You made yourself look so pretty with your hair all done, make-up real nice and your outfit perfect. His hands were resting on his lap, grabbing a handful of popcorn every now and then, itching to move a little closer to yours. But that would be weird since you’re his co-worker. Right?

It was already evening when the movie ended, the air around you two cool and the sun already disappeared. “Damn, already this late?” Sanemi took his phone out and checked the time “Didn’t we want to grab a bite as well?” He turned his head to you and stuffed his phone back into his jean pocket, crossing his arms over his chest. You pouted a little. “Yeah, sorry. I guess not. Most of the restaurants should be closed now, I’m sorry. I should’ve planned this out more.” You genuinely seemed upset about not being able to go out with him. Sanemi was eyeing you up and down, silently admiring you. He groaned loudly and shook his thoughts off. “I uhh.. I’ve got food at home. We could cook something up. If ya wanna come over.” He scratched the back of his head while avoiding eye contact. Your eyes sparkled up in delight as you stepped a little closer. “Really? I’d be happy to! I hope you don’t mind.” You clasped your hands together and smiled brightly up at him. Sanemi nodded and gestured over to his car. “Let’s go then. Come.”

Sanemi’s home is actually quite cozy. He has lots of family pictures on the wall and well taken care of plants. Everything is clean and quite organised. While Sanemi grabbed the ingredients to cook, you quietly admired him. You noticed how broad his shoulders are, how muscular his forearms looked and those scars on his face are pulling his whole look together. If you didn’t knew any better, you’d think he was some kind of fighter before becoming a teacher.

“What are you staring at?” While you were admiring him from behind, Sanemi glanced over to you, catching your gaze. He lifted his eyebrow. “Sorry! Sorry. Just tired.” You quickly moved over to his side, washing your hands in the sink.

A small smirk grew on his face while you weren’t looking.

You never knew how good of a cook Sanemi was! He basically did everything for you, leaving you to just watch him cook the best meal you’ve ever seen and probably tasted. You sat across Sanemi as you dug into the beautifully prepared meal he had prepared for you. “Mmhh!” You hummed and smiled brightly. He glanced over at you as you did so. “Is it good?” “Yeah! Thank you so much for cooking for me! I never thought you’d be so nice to me.” Sanemi raised his eyebrow slightly and glanced at you. Sure, he has the reputation to be a little meaner and rude, but were you really this hesitant to talk to him? “You don’t know a lotta things about me, I guess.” You nodded. “I hope to get to know more things about you though, you seem pretty nice.” He nodded again while quietly eating his meal.

Sanemi would love to get to know you. The students and teachers adore you, and you’ve been nothing but nice to him so far, even if he was rougher and hasher with you.

“Let’s do this again sometime. I can cook for you again… only if you’d like.“

💠

I love teacher Sanemi so much… I kind of hc him as a smoker and that Genya and him love together, but my creative juices ran out and I was too lazy to write- perhaps another time if you all want! And thank YOU so much for your kindness!!

I just re-read Sanemi’s description as a teacher in the kny again, and apparently small kids cry when he gets too close.. poor Nemi.

Anyways, make sure to EAT, SLEEP and DRINK enough!

Take care of yourselves <3

[sinful-sonnet]

Whiskey & Wildflowers

Chapter 3

Prev | Next

“Fractured Comforts”

Dbf!Joel miller x f!reader

W/C: 7.7k

Summary: Grieving the loss of your mother, you find unexpected comfort in your father’s best friend, Joel. As you struggle with loneliness and depression, Joel steps in to help you regain stability. Despite the tension of forbidden feelings growing between you, Joel becomes your steady source of support, offering warmth and safety when you feel most lost. The story unfolds as you navigate grief, healing, and the complexities of your connection with him.

Content warnings: grief and loss, mentions of ed, power dynamics, self neglect, depression and isolation, emotional vulnerability, co feelings of attachment, unprotected piv, m orgasm, f orgasm, lmk if I missed anything

—-

Life without your mom felt surreal. The house was quieter, heavier, like the absence of her presence was weighing everything down. Your dad had taken it the hardest. He’d always been the strong one, the one who held everything together, but now he was crumbling in ways you’d never seen before.

You’d stepped up, doing everything you could to keep things running—making meals, cleaning, and trying to keep your dad from completely shutting down. It was exhausting, but you pushed through, telling yourself it’s what your mom would’ve wanted.

Joel and Sarah started coming by more often to help out. Sarah would sit with your dad, trying to distract him with little conversations or even just her presence. Joel, on the other hand, took to fixing things around the house—stuff that didn’t even need fixing, really.

“You’ve done enough,” Joel said one evening when you tried to stop him from working on a squeaky cabinet hinge. “Why don’t you take a break, darlin’? You’ve been runnin’ yourself ragged.”

You shook your head, setting down a pile of laundry. “I can’t, Joel. If I stop, everything’s gonna fall apart.”

Joel gave you a look—soft, but firm. “It won’t. You’re not alone in this, you know. Let us help.”

You sighed but nodded, sinking into a chair. Joel was right, though it didn’t make it any easier to let go of the reins.

Later, Joel sat with your dad, who was nursing a half-empty glass of whiskey at the kitchen table. He hadn’t said much since Joel arrived, and it was starting to worry him.

“I’ve known you a long time,” Joel said, his voice low and steady. “I ain’t ever seen you like this, man. You gotta talk to me.”

Your dad looked up, his eyes tired and red. “What’s there to say, Joel? She’s gone. She was my whole world, and now I don’t even know how to… how to be without her.”

Joel leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “You got your kid to think about. You ain’t gotta do it alone, but you can’t shut down on her. She needs you.”

Your dad ran a hand through his hair, nodding slowly. “I know. It’s just… hard.”

Joel stayed quiet for a moment, then said, “We’ll get through this. All of us. One step at a time.”

From the living room, you watched the two of them, grateful for Joel’s steady presence. Despite everything, you felt a little less alone knowing he was there—not just for your dad, but for you, too.

—

“I think I need to get away from here for a bit,” your dad said one evening, his voice low and uncertain. He sat across from you at the kitchen table, his hands wrapped around a cup of coffee he hadn’t touched.

You froze, the words hanging in the air like a weight. “What do you mean, Dad?” you asked softly, trying to keep the worry out of your voice.

He sighed, his shoulders slumping. “It’s just… everything in this house reminds me of her. Every corner, every damn thing I see. I can’t—” He stopped, taking a shaky breath. “I can’t breathe here. I need to clear my head.”

You didn’t know what to say. The thought of him leaving felt strange, like the house would be even emptier without him. It wasn’t like he was doing much to keep things lively, but at least he was here.

“How long would you be gone?” you asked hesitantly.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “A week, maybe two. I just need some space to figure out what the hell I’m doing.”

You nodded slowly, though a knot tightened in your chest. “I get it,” you said, even though you weren’t sure if you did. “Just… don’t stay away too long, okay?”

He reached across the table, placing his hand over yours. “I won’t. And I’m not leaving you alone. Joel and Sarah will check in. I’ll call every day, I promise.”

It didn’t make the idea of his absence any easier, but you forced a small smile. “Okay.”

Later that evening, when Joel came by, you told him about your dad’s decision. His brow furrowed, and he rubbed the back of his neck. “He said that, huh?” Joel muttered.

“Yeah,” you said, your voice quiet. “I get why, but… it feels weird. The house is gonna feel even emptier.”

Joel looked at you, his eyes soft with understanding. “I’ll be around,” he said simply. “You won’t have to do this alone.”

You nodded, the reassurance helping a little. But as the days passed and your dad packed up to leave, you couldn’t shake the unease that settled deep in your chest. The house would be quieter than ever, and even with Joel and Sarah stopping by, it wouldn’t feel the same without him.

You reminded yourself that you weren’t a teenager anymore—you were 25. You could live on your own, and technically, you had been managing everything in the house since your mom’s passing. Still, the thought of your dad leaving made you uneasy.

It wasn’t about not being capable—you’d proven you could cook, clean, pay bills, and handle the day-to-day chaos of life. But the house had always been a shared space, a place where you felt anchored by family. Without your dad there, it felt like something essential was being taken away, leaving you adrift in a sea of silence.

“You’re grown, kid,” your dad had said when you expressed your hesitation. “I know you’ll be fine. Hell, you’ve been keeping things together better than me these past weeks.”

It wasn’t exactly comforting, but it was true. You nodded, trying to reassure him—and yourself. “Yeah, I know. I’ll be fine.”

And you would be. You’d done it before—college apartments, short stints away from home—but this felt different. This wasn’t about independence or learning to stand on your own. This was about filling the void left behind by the people who were supposed to be there with you.

As the day of his departure came closer, Joel stopped by more frequently, making sure you were set up with everything you might need. “You got enough groceries?” he asked one afternoon, leaning against the counter.

“Yeah, Joel. I’m good,” you replied with a small smile. “I’m not helpless, you know.”

He smirked but didn’t argue. “I know that. Just… makin’ sure.”

Deep down, you knew Joel was trying to fill in the gaps, to make sure you didn’t feel completely alone once your dad left. It wasn’t lost on you, and for that, you were grateful. But it didn’t change the lingering emptiness you felt when the house fell silent at night, the weight of memories pressing in around you.

You’d be fine—you kept telling yourself that. You were 25, after all. You could handle it. But that didn’t mean it didn’t feel impossibly hard.

———

A few weeks had passed since your dad left, and you’d fallen into a pattern of isolating yourself. The house felt cold and empty, like a hollow shell of what it used to be, and you found it easier to just stay in your room.

You stopped answering the door when Joel and Sarah came by. Even when they unlocked the door with the spare key your dad had left, you’d lock yourself in your room, pretending to be asleep or too tired to come out. The truth was, it was all just… too much.

Deep down, you couldn’t shake the nagging fear that your dad might never come back. He hadn’t said much the last time you talked—just short, clipped answers that left you feeling more worried than reassured. The thought of losing him, too, was unbearable, so you retreated further into yourself, hoping that maybe shutting everything out would make it hurt less.

It didn’t.

Sarah had tried coaxing you out, knocking softly on your door and calling your name. “We’re worried about you,” she said one day, her voice filled with concern. “Please, just talk to us.”

You didn’t respond, your body curled up under the blankets as you stared at the wall.

Joel wasn’t as patient. He stood outside your door the next time he came by, his voice firmer. “Darlin’, I know you can hear me. I’m not gonna push, but you can’t keep doin’ this to yourself. Open the door. Please.”

But you didn’t.

Joel hated the idea of leaving you alone like this. Sarah could see it in the way his jaw tightened whenever you shut them out. He wasn’t the type to sit back and let things happen, but this was different. You weren’t just shutting the world out—you were shutting him out, and it was killing him.

“She’s not okay, Sarah,” he muttered one evening after they’d left the house again, unsuccessful in getting through to you.

“I know,” Sarah replied, her voice small. “But what can we do? She’s gotta let us in.”

Joel shook his head, running a hand down his face. “I just… I hate seein’ her like this. I just wanna—” He stopped himself, swallowing hard. He couldn’t finish the sentence. He couldn’t say out loud what he really wanted: to hold you, to make everything better, to take away your pain.

But you weren’t letting anyone in, and it left Joel feeling helpless in a way he hadn’t felt in years.

You hadn’t been eating properly or drinking enough water, and it was catching up to you. Your body felt weak, like it was falling apart bit by bit. Your head throbbed constantly, your limbs were heavy, and even getting out of bed felt impossible most days. You didn’t know exactly when you’d let things get this bad, or why you hadn’t tried harder to stop it. Maybe it was just the depression, weighing you down like a lead blanket.

You stared at the wall, the hours bleeding together. You couldn’t even remember the last real meal you’d had, let alone the last time you’d actually felt like yourself. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you knew you should care—about yourself, about everything—but the energy just wasn’t there.

Joel barely crossed your mind. Even though he and Sarah had been coming around, you hadn’t let yourself think about him too much. It was easier that way. The ache in your chest from everything that had happened—the loss, the loneliness, the guilt—it was already too much. Thinking about Joel would just add another layer to the mess.

You rubbed your hands over your face, trying to snap yourself out of it, but the haze of exhaustion and hunger wouldn’t let go. Deep down, you knew you couldn’t keep going like this. Something had to give. You just weren’t sure if you had the strength to do anything about it.

Joel couldn’t stop thinking about you. Every time he came by and found your door locked, every time Sarah came back with another failed attempt to reach you, it ate away at him. He’d thought about breaking down your door more than once, just to make sure you were okay, but he stopped himself every time. He didn’t want to push you further away.

The guilt weighed heavy on him. He couldn’t shake the memory of that day—the look in your eyes when he pulled away, the way your voice broke as you thanked him before leaving. He wondered if rejecting you had been a mistake. Maybe if he’d let you in, been there for you in the way you wanted, things wouldn’t have gotten this bad.

But he also knew that line of thinking wasn’t fair—not to you, and not to himself. It wasn’t just about that moment. You were grieving, trying to hold it all together while your world fell apart, and Joel knew there was only so much anyone could do to pull you out of it.

Still, the thought lingered. What if? What if he’d said something different, done something different? Would you be eating properly? Would you be taking care of yourself? Would you have let him help you before it got this bad?

Joel rubbed his hands over his face, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. He couldn’t keep sitting on the sidelines, watching you waste away. He needed to figure out how to reach you, but he didn’t know how to do it without making things worse.

All he knew was that the thought of losing you, of not being there when you needed him most, was something he couldn’t bear.

•

Sarah had started a new job recently, which kept her busy most of the time. She rarely came by to check on you with Joel anymore, leaving him to shoulder the worry on his own.

Joel noticed the difference immediately. Without Sarah’s presence to balance things out, the silence in your house seemed even heavier when he visited. He still used the spare key to let himself in, hoping each time that maybe this visit would be the one where you finally opened your door.

But you never did.

Joel tried not to let it show, but the absence of Sarah’s help made things harder. She’d always been the optimist, the one to reassure him that you just needed time and space. Now, without her around, the weight of his concern felt even greater.

He caught himself lingering in the living room some days, hoping to hear any sign of you stirring upstairs. When he didn’t, his frustration and helplessness grew. He hated the thought of you being up there, alone, letting yourself waste away.

“Damn it, kid,” he muttered to himself one afternoon, pacing the living room. He ran a hand through his hair, debating once again whether to break down your door. But just like every other time, he held back, telling himself that forcing his way in might only make things worse.

Still, with Sarah gone most of the time, Joel felt more alone in this than ever. And no matter how much he tried to shake the guilt, it kept clawing at him, whispering that maybe—just maybe—he could have stopped this spiral if he’d done something differently.

—

Joel sat on the couch, staring at the muted TV, his thoughts far from whatever was playing on the screen. The house was quiet as always, the silence pressing in on him. He was about to leave, convinced it was another fruitless visit, when he heard the sound of running water upstairs.

His heart skipped.

For a moment, he thought he was imagining it. He stood slowly, listening carefully. When he heard the faint sound of the faucet, his chest tightened. You were up. You were moving.

Joel hesitated, unsure whether to call out or stay where he was. He didn’t want to scare you back into your room. He sank back down onto the couch, trying to calm the sudden wave of relief that rushed through him.

Upstairs, you hadn’t even realized Joel was there. You’d decided, finally, that you couldn’t take the grime and heaviness anymore. A bath sounded like just what you needed to feel somewhat human again. Thinking you were alone, you left the bathroom door open, letting the warm steam drift into the hall.

You sank into the tub, the hot water enveloping you, and for the first time in weeks, your body started to feel a little less like it was falling apart. You leaned back, eyes closed, letting out a long sigh.

Joel didn’t know what to do. He could hear the faint sound of water splashing upstairs, and he felt conflicted. Part of him wanted to go up, to check on you, to make sure you were really okay. But the other part of him knew how fragile this moment was. If you knew he was there, would you shut down again?

So, he stayed put, his leg bouncing with nervous energy as he listened to the faint sounds of life coming from upstairs. It wasn’t much, but it was something. And for now, that was enough.

After your bath, you wrapped yourself in an oversized hoodie, your legs bare beneath it. You didn’t think much about it as you padded downstairs, your hair still damp and sticking to your neck. For the first time in weeks, you felt hungry enough to try making yourself something to eat.

As you descended the stairs, Joel caught sight of you, and his breath hitched. He hadn’t seen you this close in weeks, and the sight of you knocked the air from his lungs. You looked so much thinner than he remembered, your cheeks hollowed and your frame smaller beneath the loose hoodie.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Joel whispered, his voice heavy with worry as he stood and started toward you.

You froze on the bottom step, gripping the railing tightly as his words hung in the air. The raw emotion in his tone—the mix of concern and sadness—hit you like a wave, and for a moment, you didn’t know what to do.

Joel slowed his approach, raising his hands slightly as if to show he wasn’t going to push. “I didn’t mean to scare ya,” he said softly. “I just… I wasn’t expectin’ to see you.”

You looked away, your eyes darting toward the kitchen. “I was just gonna make something to eat,” you mumbled, your voice hoarse from lack of use.

Joel’s heart twisted at how small and fragile you seemed. He wanted to say a million things—to ask if you were okay, to tell you how worried he’d been, to apologize for not doing more sooner—but he held back, not wanting to overwhelm you.

“Let me help,” he said gently, nodding toward the kitchen. “You don’t have to do it alone.”

You hesitated, your fingers tightening around the railing. Part of you wanted to tell him no, to insist you could manage on your own. But another part—the part that felt so worn down and tired—wanted to let him in, just this once.

“Okay,” you whispered, barely audible.

Joel gave you a small, reassuring smile and gestured toward the kitchen. “C’mon. Let’s get you somethin’ to eat.”

As you followed him into the kitchen, you couldn’t help but feel a flicker of warmth in your chest. It wasn’t much, but it was a start.

As you shuffled into the kitchen, Joel’s gaze unintentionally drifted down, and he realized you were only wearing an oversized hoodie. His eyes lingered on your bare legs for a moment too long, the sight catching him off guard.

His cheeks warmed as a faint pink crept over them, and he quickly looked away, clearing his throat. “Uh, you want eggs? I can whip some up real quick,” he said, his voice a little strained as he busied himself at the stove.

You nodded, not noticing his brief lapse, and moved to sit at the table. “Yeah… eggs sound good.”

Joel cracked a few eggs into the pan, his movements a little more deliberate than usual as he tried to distract himself. Get a grip, Joel, he scolded himself. She needed help, not… whatever the hell that was.

The sizzle of the eggs filled the room as he worked, sneaking glances at you from the corner of his eye. You looked so small, sitting there with your hands in your lap, your damp hair sticking to the side of your face. The sight tugged at something deep in his chest, pulling him back to his primary focus—making sure you were okay.

He placed a plate of eggs in front of you a few minutes later, leaning slightly over the table. “Eat up,” he said gently, his voice softening. “You need it.”

You murmured a quiet “thanks” before picking up your fork, and Joel took a seat across from you, keeping his eyes firmly on your face this time. For now, he told himself, it was enough just to be there for you.

As you picked at the eggs Joel had made, you glanced up at him briefly, noticing how tired he looked. His brows were furrowed, and his jaw was tense, though he was trying to mask it. You realized, maybe for the first time, that all of this—your isolation, your grief—might have been weighing on him too.

The thought sent a pang of guilt through you. You hadn’t considered how your downward spiral could be affecting anyone else, let alone Joel. He’d been coming around, checking on you, probably worrying nonstop, and you’d barely acknowledged it.

Your grip tightened on your fork as shame bubbled up inside you. “I’m sorry,” you said suddenly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Joel’s head snapped up, his expression softening as he met your eyes. “What for?”

You shrugged, looking down at your plate. “For… shutting you out. For making you worry. I didn’t mean to…” Your words trailed off, and you swallowed hard, unsure how to finish the sentence.

Joel leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. “Hey,” he said gently, his voice steady and reassuring. “You don’t need to apologize for that. You’ve been through a lot, more than anyone should have to deal with.”

You nodded slightly but didn’t look up, the guilt still gnawing at you.

Joel sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I ain’t gonna lie—it’s been hard seein’ you like this. But I’m not mad, and I don’t want you feelin’ bad for leanin’ on me, alright? That’s what I’m here for.”

His words hit you harder than you expected, and you felt your throat tighten. You nodded again, this time meeting his eyes briefly before looking away.

“Thanks, Joel,” you murmured, and for the first time in weeks, you felt a small, fragile spark of hope that things could get better.

As you glanced up at Joel again, your eyes lingered on him a little longer this time. The feelings you’d been trying to bury for weeks came rushing back, hitting you all at once. Despite the exhaustion etched into his face, the slight dark circles under his eyes, and the way his shoulders seemed heavier than usual, he still looked devastatingly handsome.

His hair was slightly tousled, strands of gray catching the kitchen light just right. The lines on his face only made him look more rugged, more… Joel. And the way he looked at you—with that steady, unshakable concern—made your heart ache in ways you didn’t know how to handle.

You quickly looked down at your plate again, your cheeks warming. You felt ridiculous, sitting there in your oversized hoodie, barely holding yourself together, and yet your mind was consumed with how much you wanted him.

Joel noticed the shift in your demeanor, the way you fidgeted slightly with your fork. “You alright?” he asked, his voice low and laced with concern.

You nodded quickly, not trusting yourself to speak. If he kept looking at you like that—with those warm, tired eyes—you were sure you’d say something you couldn’t take back.

Joel leaned back slightly, still watching you. “You sure?” he pressed gently.

You forced a small smile, nodding again. “Yeah… just tired,” you managed to say, though your voice betrayed the storm of emotions swirling inside you.

Joel seemed to accept it, but his gaze lingered on you for a moment longer before he looked away, his brow furrowing slightly. You couldn’t tell if he was buying your excuse or if he just didn’t want to push you too hard.

Either way, you were relieved—and maybe a little disappointed.

Your foot brushed against his under the table, tentative at first, but then you left it there, resting lightly against his. Joel froze for a moment, his fork stopping halfway to his mouth. He glanced at you with a confused look, his brows furrowing slightly as he tried to read your expression.

You met his gaze innocently, a small, almost playful smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

“What are you doin’, darlin’?” Joel asked, his voice low, carrying both curiosity and caution.

You shrugged slightly, your smile widening just enough to let him know it wasn’t an accident. “Nothing,” you said softly, tilting your head as you watched him.

Joel’s eyes narrowed slightly, not in anger, but in that way he did when he was trying to figure something out. His jaw tightened, and he leaned back in his chair, his foot staying planted firmly on the floor now.

“You shouldn’t… do that,” he said after a moment, his voice quiet but firm, though there was a hint of something unsteady underneath.

“Do what?” you asked, your tone light, almost teasing.

Joel gave you a look that was a mix of exasperation and something else—something deeper, something he was trying desperately to suppress. “You know what,” he muttered, glancing away briefly, like he couldn’t hold your gaze for too long.

You could see the faint pink rising in his cheeks, and it made your heart race. You didn’t push further, but you left your foot resting where it was, feeling a strange sense of satisfaction at how easily you could fluster him.

Joel cleared his throat and picked up his fork again, though his movements were stiffer now. He didn’t look at you as he focused on finishing the meal, but you could tell by the tension in his shoulders that you were on his mind.

-

You leaned back in the chair, resting a hand on your stomach as you let out a content sigh. “That was great. Thank you,” you said, your voice warm and genuine.

Joel finally looked up at you, his expression softening as a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Glad you liked it, darlin’,” he said, his voice low and steady. “You needed it.”

You nodded, feeling the weight of his words settle over you. It wasn’t just about the food—it was about the fact that he cared enough to make sure you ate, to be here when you hadn’t let anyone else in.

“You didn’t have to do all this, you know,” you said softly, your gaze lingering on him.

Joel shrugged, leaning back in his own chair. “Somebody had to. Can’t have you wasting away on my watch.”

His tone was light, but there was something serious behind his eyes, something that made your chest tighten. You didn’t know how to respond, so you just nodded again, letting the moment hang in the air between you.

Joel stood up after a moment, collecting your plate along with his. “You want anything else? Somethin’ sweet, maybe?” he asked, glancing back at you.

You shook your head. “No, I’m good. Thanks, though.”

He nodded and carried the dishes to the sink, his movements deliberate and steady. You watched him for a moment, feeling that familiar warmth creep into your chest again. Joel always seemed to know how to anchor you, even when you felt like you were drifting.

And then you thought maybe you did want something sweet

“Not unless you’re on the menu”

Joel froze mid-step, your words hitting him like a ton of bricks. His back was to you, but you could see the way his shoulders tensed, his grip tightening slightly on the plates he was holding.

He set them down in the sink carefully, taking a moment before turning around to face you. His eyes met yours, a mixture of surprise and something darker simmering beneath the surface.

“Darlin’,” he said slowly, his voice lower now, almost a warning. “You don’t wanna be sayin’ things like that.”

You tilted your head slightly, the hint of a smirk playing on your lips. “Why not?” you asked, your tone teasing but your heart pounding.

Joel took a step closer, his eyes never leaving yours. “Because you don’t know what you’re askin’ for,” he said, his voice steady but strained, like he was holding something back.

You leaned back in the chair, still meeting his gaze, challenging him. “Maybe I do.”

Joel let out a deep breath, running a hand through his hair as he looked away for a moment, trying to compose himself. “You’re playin’ with fire, sweetheart,” he muttered, shaking his head.

But you could see it in his eyes when he looked back at you—he was tempted, and it was taking everything in him to keep his distance.

Despite the lingering grief and the weight of everything you’d been carrying, there was one thing you couldn’t ignore: you wanted him. It wasn’t just a fleeting thought or a harmless crush—it was a deep, undeniable pull. And as much as Joel tried to keep his composure, you could see it in his eyes, in the way his resolve faltered when he looked at you. Deep down, you knew he wanted you too.

You rose from your chair slowly, your bare feet quiet against the floor as you stepped closer to him. Joel watched you carefully, his jaw tightening, his hands gripping the edge of the counter like it was the only thing keeping him grounded.

“Joel,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper, but it was enough to break the silence between you.

His name hung in the air, heavy with meaning. He swallowed hard, his eyes searching yours for a moment before he spoke. “This ain’t right,” he murmured, though his voice lacked the conviction it had before.

You took another step closer, close enough to feel the heat radiating from him. “Maybe not,” you admitted, your voice trembling slightly. “But it feels right.”

Joel’s breathing deepened, his chest rising and falling as he stared at you. “You’re still grieving,” he said, his voice strained. “You’re not thinkin’ straight.”

“I’ve been grieving for weeks,” you countered, your voice steadying. “But this… you… you’re the only thing that’s felt real in a long time.”

Joel closed his eyes briefly, his hands flexing against the counter as if he were fighting some internal battle. When he opened them again, there was something raw in his gaze, something that made your breath catch.

“Darlin’,” he said quietly, his voice thick with emotion, “you have no idea what you’re doin’ to me.”

You stepped even closer, your hand brushing lightly against his arm. “Then show me,” you whispered, your voice daring yet pleading.

Joel’s jaw clenched, his eyes searching yours one last time before he exhaled sharply, his resolve finally breaking.

You stood there, barely an inch away from him, your breath shallow, heart racing. The desire for him flooded you, and in that moment, you knew you needed him. The weight of the grief and the isolation was still there, but it no longer seemed as important. He was right in front of you, his presence undeniable, and you didn't want to back down.

You reached up, your hand gently touching his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin through the fabric of his shirt. Joel's eyes flickered down to your hand, and for a moment, he seemed to lose himself, his breathing becoming heavier. He still tried to hold back, his jaw tightening in restraint.

"I won't stop," you said softly, but with conviction, your voice trembling with the intensity of everything you were feeling. "Not until you're with me."

Joel's gaze snapped back to yours, his lips parting slightly. The tension in the

room was palpable, and for a moment, it felt like the world had narrowed down to just the two of you, the silence hanging heavy as you waited for him to say something-anything.

But instead, he took a slow step closer, his hand coming to rest on your waist. His touch was firm, but the way he looked at you-like he was trying to make a decision he wasn't ready for— made your pulse spike.

"I don't want to hurt you," he murmured, his voice strained. "You don't need this right now."

You met his gaze head-on, refusing to let him retreat any longer. "I need you," you whispered, the words leaving your lips before you could stop them. The admission felt like both a relief and a weight, but you didn't care anymore. You weren't going to back down.

Joel's resolve finally cracked. He closed the distance between you, his hand cupping the back of your neck, pulling you into a kiss that was both desperate and filled with raw, unspoken emotion. It wasn't gentle or soft-it was heated, urgent, like he'd been holding back for far too long.

And you kissed him back, fiercely, knowing that in this moment, you both needed this. Needed each other.

Joel's groan vibrated against your lips as you deepened the kiss, your hands sliding up his chest, feeling the heat of his skin through the fabric of his shirt. The world outside of the kitchen faded away, leaving only the two of you locked in a moment of intense longing. His grip on your neck tightened, pulling you closer as if he couldn't get enough of you.

You responded with equal intensity, matching his urgency, your heart racing as you felt his every movement, every shift of his body against yours.

The kiss grew more feverish, your senses overwhelmed by the taste of him, the warmth of his body, and the undeniable chemistry between you.

Joel's hand slid down your back, pressing you closer to him, his lips trailing to your neck, leaving soft, heated kisses in their wake. He paused

for a moment, his breath heavy, and you could feel the tension in him—the struggle between what he wanted and what he knew was right.

"Darlin"," he breathed against your skin, his voice strained, "this... this can't happen."

But despite his protests, his body betrays him once again. His grip on you tightens, his fingers digging into your skin as he struggles to control himself.

He nips at your neck, his lips and teeth marking your skin in a possessive gesture. "But I want you so badly," he growls, his voice laced with frustration.

The sound of your moan sends a shiver down Joel's spine, his resolve crumbling even further. He lets out a curse, his hands moving to grip your hips, his fingers digging into the flesh.

He lifts you up effortlessly, carrying you over to the couch and laying you down on it. He hovers over you, his body pressed against yours, his breathing ragged.

Joel gazes down at you, his eyes dark with lust and desire. He runs his hands over your body, his touch rough and possessive, as if he's claiming you as his own.

He kisses you hungrily, his tongue delving into your mouth as he devours you. He moves his lips to your neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin there, leaving a trail of marks behind.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted this," he growls against your skin. "How many times I've imagined having you like this."

Joel can feel your body trembling beneath him, and he knows that you're just as affected by this as he is. He lifts his head, looking down at you with a mixture of hunger and adoration.

"I've tried to fight it," he confesses, his voice rough with emotion. "Tried to ignore these feelings, to keep my distance. But every time I see you, every time I hear your voice, I lose a little more control."

“Oh Joel, no more talking and just kiss me already” you teased

Joel lets out a low chuckle, his lips curving into a smirk. He loves the way you tease him, the way you challenge him.

"As you wish, darlin'," he replies, his voice dripping with desire.

He captures your lips in a searing kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth with a fierce intensity. He kisses you like a man starved, like he's been waiting his whole life for this moment.

Joel lets out a shuddering breath as you continue to grind against him, the sensation driving him absolutely wild. He can feel himself losing his mind, his control slipping further and further away with each passing moment.

He grits his teeth, trying to hold back his urges, but it's getting harder and harder to resist. He lets out a strained moan, his hips bucking involuntarily to meet yours.

"You're driving me crazy, sweetheart," he growls, his voice low and desperate.

You reach down to fumble with his belt, desperately trying to get it undone and free the thing you wanted the most

Joel watches you with hooded eyes as you struggle with his belt, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He can feel the heat of your hand against him, and it's driving him absolutely insane.

He helps you with the belt, unbuckling it and quickly tossing it aside. He then makes quick work of his jeans, shoving them down his hips along with his boxers.

With his already leaking cock free, Joel grabs both hems of your underwear and slowly but swiftly pulls them down and off exposing your aching cunt

Joel lets out a low, guttural groan as he finally sees you completely bare before him. He can't help but stare for a moment, his eyes drinking in the sight of you.

"God, you're beautiful," he murmurs, his voice rough with desire. "And all mine."

Joel continues to kiss and nip at your thighs, slowly working his way closer to your core. He can feel your body trembling beneath him, your breathing growing heavier with each passing second.

He reaches your center, his breath hot against your skin. He looks up at you, his eyes burning with desire, before he leans in and licks a slow, teasing stripe up your slit.

Joel grins against your skin as he feels you arch your back, your fingers tangling in his hair. He loves the way you respond to his touch, the way your body reacts to his every move.

He continues to tease you with his tongue, lapping at your folds and circling your clit. He knows exactly what drives you wild, and he's not afraid to use that knowledge to his advantage.

Your head was spinning, you almost couldn’t believe that this was really happening, after everything, But one thing you did know, you needed more.

“Joel, please”

Joel can't help but smirk at your pleading tone, the sound of his name on your lips like music to his ears. He loves it when you beg for him, loves the way you surrender to him completely.

He relents, no longer able to resist your pleas. He moves his mouth to your clit, wrapping his lips around it and sucking hard.

Joel lets out a low growl as you tug at his hair, the sharp sensation only fueling his desire for you. He redoubles his efforts, his tongue flicking and swirling around your clit with renewed fervor.

He slides a hand up your thigh, his fingers teasing at your entrance before slowly pushing inside.

“Joel-“ you breathed, you wanted more than just his fingers, you appreciated the foreplay but you’ve already done this to yourself countless of times thinking about him that you wanted him fully..

Joel could sense your growing impatience, and he knew exactly what you wanted. He knew you'd been thinking about him too, and the thought of you touching yourself to the thought of him drove him wild.

He continued to work his fingers inside you, his pace quickening as he sought to bring you to the edge. But he could sense your need for more, and he wasn't going to deny you any longer.

He lifted his head, his lips hovering just above yours as he spoke in a rough whisper.

"Tell me what you want, baby."

“I-I want you, your cock”

Joel's eyes darken with desire at your words, and he can't hold back a low, guttural moan.

"You want my cock, sweetheart?" he asks, his voice low and rough. "You want me to fill you up, make you mine?"

You just nodded hoping he could see, you were done talking

Joel could see the desperation in your eyes, the need etched across your face. He knew you were beyond words now, and he was more than happy to oblige.

He moved quickly, positioning himself between your legs and lining himself up with your entrance. He looked down at you, his gaze burning with desire.

"Hold on tight, baby," he growled. "This is going to be rough."

Trying to physically and mentally prepare yourself for what’s about to come

Joel watches you prepare yourself, his chest heaving with anticipation. He can see the mix of nervousness and excitement in your eyes, and it only fuels his own desire.

He leans down, capturing your lips in a searing kiss as he slowly pushes into you. He groans against your mouth, the feeling of you around him overwhelming his senses.

Finally.

Joel lets out a low, shuddering breath as he fully sheathes himself inside you. The feeling of being buried to the hilt is almost too much for him to handle, and he has to take a moment to compose himself.

He breaks the kiss, resting his forehead against yours as he tries to catch his breath.

"You feel so good, baby," he whispers, his voice rough with pleasure. "So tight and perfect for me."

You clench around him, adjusting to his size

Joel lets out a strangled groan as you clench around him, the sensation almost too much for him to bear.

"Fuck," he curses, his grip on your hips tightening as he tries to maintain some semblance of control. "Do that again, baby. Please."

You continue to do it craving the way Joel is responding to it

Joel's eyes roll back in his head as you continue to clench around him, the sensation sending shockwaves of pleasure through his body. He can't hold back the moans and curses that fall from his lips, his hips instinctively bucking against you.

"You're going to be the death of me," he growls, his voice strained with pleasure. "I can't take much more of this, sweetheart."

Joel starts to move, his thrusts slow and deliberate at first. He savors the feeling of being inside you, the way your body clings to him with each movement.

But his control quickly starts to slip, his need for you overtaking any semblance of restraint he once had. His pace quickens, his thrusts becoming harder and more desperate as he chases his own pleasure.

Your gasping with each thrust as he hits the end of you so deliciously, nails digging into his back as he moves

Joel hisses as your nails dig into his back, the sharp pain only adding to the pleasure he's feeling. He can feel your body trembling beneath him, can hear the gasps and moans falling from your lips with each thrust.

He leans down, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he loses himself in the sensation of being inside you. His hips snap against yours, driving himself deeper and deeper with each thrust.

Joel’s hitting all the right spots and you can feel yourself bubbling closer and closer to the edge

“Fuck- Joel” you stammer “I’m so close”

Joel can feel you getting closer and closer to the edge, your walls clenching around him with each thrust. He can sense your desperation, your body trembling with need.

He lifts his head, his eyes locking onto yours as he drives into you harder and faster.

"That’s it darlin," he growls, his voice rough with desire. "Cum for me”

You reach down to start rubbing your clit, desperate for your release

Joel watches as you reach down to rub your clit, his eyes darkening with desire at the sight. He can't help but groan at the image, the thought of you touching yourself while he's inside you driving him wild.

"That's my girl" he encourages, his hips bucking against yours as he continues to thrust into you. "Rub that clit for me. I want to feel you come undone around my cock."

And so you do. Coming undone completely as your eyes go dark and the sensation sends an electric pulse through your entire body as you tremble, moaning beneath him

Joel watches as you come undone beneath him, your body trembling and your moans echoing through the room. The sight is enough to send him over the edge, his own release crashing over him like a tidal wave.

“Fuck sweetheart, I’m gonna cum” He buries his face in your neck, letting out a strangled groan as he spills himself inside you. His hips continue to jerk against yours, riding out the waves of pleasure until he's spent and panting for breath.

He lays there on top of you for a while before getting up and quickly heads to the bathroom to grab a warm, damp cloth. He wants to take care of you, to clean you up and make sure you're comfortable after what just happened.

He returns to the couch a moment later, gently parting your legs and using the cloth to clean away the mess he’s made in between your legs. His touch is gentle and tender, his eyes soft as he focuses on taking care of you.

Joel slides his underwear back on and lifts you up in his arms, cradling you against his chest as he carries you to your bed. He's always loved how small and fragile you feel in his arms, how you fit against him perfectly.

He lays you down gently on the bed, tucking the blankets around you before climbing in beside you. He pulls you close, wrapping his arms around you and holding you tight against his chest.

Joel held you tightly, his chin resting atop your head as his hand stroked your back in slow, soothing circles. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your ear grounded you, and for the first time in weeks, you felt like you could breathe.

You cuddled into Joel, burying your face against his chest as his warmth surrounded you. His scent—faintly of soap, coffee, and something distinctly him—was soothing, grounding you in a way you hadn’t felt in what seemed like forever.

His arms tightened around you protectively, and you felt the steady rise and fall of his chest with every breath he took. It was calming, like a silent reassurance that everything was okay.

You let out a quiet sigh, allowing yourself to melt into him. Joel’s hand moved to rest gently on your back, his touch slow and deliberate, as though he wanted to remind you he wasn’t going anywhere.

a/n: soo that happened 🥴 I couldn’t wait any longer to get the show on the road lmao

[chuuyascumsock]

Well This Is Just Slut-tastic || Minors DNI

Summary: Hey guys, here’s the sexless virgin back again to write about something they have no clue about but acts like she does.

Tags: Female! Chuuya Nakahara/Reader, Female reader, LESBIANS LESBIANS LESBIANS, Gay As Hell Sex, I’ve Never Had Sex, Help What Is Sex, Power Imbalance (You’re Her Subordinate), Petnames (Baby, Doll, Princess, Pretty Girl, etc.), Thigh Riding, Cunnilingus (momentarily tbh), Sucking Titties Because I Love Titties IRL, Uhhhh And A Side Of Scissoring, Classic Lesbian W.

Chuuya wasn’t used to being invited to out-of-work events by her co-workers. She couldn’t count how many times she’s seen the same uncomfortable look that’s crossed people’s faces when she walked by or even happened to be in their presence. Like they were scared of her. Being one of the executives came with its title which skewed every individual’s image every time it was brought to light about how much power she held. And it got lonely.

Until you showed up.

“Do you wanna come over for a girl’s night and sleepover at my place?”

At first, Chuuya had thought of you to be obnoxious with your kind compliments and gentle eyes– thinking of it to be a complete facade– much like how Dazai wears a mask to keep others from getting too close. But as you were placed under her as her subordinate by Mori, she came to see that there were no hidden motives or facade. You were the most genuine person she had ever come across. She’d be lying if your compliments didn’t stick with her and leave her blushing with her heart pounding in her chest. Especially when you told her how pretty you thought she looked.

“We can watch The Girl and Her Dog,” You add, watching the taken aback look on Chuuya’s face diminish into a spark of excitement in her eyes.

“Really?”

You nod, jutting your bottom lip out slightly, “So can you? Pleeease, Chuuya?”

Chuuya always wondered how you managed to get away with calling her by her first name so casually like you had known each other for years. It’s not like she did much about it anyways— a small part of her enjoyed the way her name rolled off your tongue. It felt… Intimate. Something she didn’t experience much with any of her other co-workers.

“Fine,” She sighs in defeat. Though it seems unprofessional to do things like this with her subordinate— what’s the harm?

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈

Fuck, did you have to keep it so cold in your apartment?

From the moment Chuuya stepped into your home, she’s been shivering nonstop. When asked about why it was so cold, you just tilted your head with an innocent smile, “Is it? I haven’t noticed.” How could you not feel it? Being in a tight tank top and skimpy shorts— you must’ve been lying.

If it wasn’t for Chuuya’s thick long-sleeved shirt, it was safe to say that her hard nippes would’ve made an appearance through a thinner fabric, just like your siff peaks through the tank top her eyes linger on. But she keeps her mouth shut, refusing to complain or comment about the temperature any longer after you’ve been so kind to her by offering a blanket (it didn’t help much).

You're as perceptive as ever though.

You watch her body tremble under the blanket occasionally— her eyes glued to the TV as she attempts to keep her mind off the cold. “If you want, we can cuddle. I don’t have anymore backup blankets,” You giggle.

Chuuya nearly immediately accepts, but then hesitates with a mixed expression on her face, “Isn’t that weird?”

“Why would it be weird? It’s only weird if you make it weird,” You turn your head back to face the TV.

She sits there, contemplating for a good minute before slowly shuffling over next to you until your shoulders pressed against one another. “Just don’t tell anyone about this,” Chuuya huffs, leaning into your surprisingly warm body. It takes everything in her to not react when you shift your body to wrap your arms around one of hers and hug her arm into your plush tits. A vivid blush crosses her face, fortunately barely visible due to the darkness engulfing the room.

“I won’t.”

Chuuya feels your eyes linger on her stiff posture before you relax against her body and rest your head on her shoulder. She’s stopped shivering, but at the cost of thinking about how your cute, perky nipples would feel with her lips wrapped around them.

It doesn’t get any better as the night continues and you tell her that you won’t stand for her sleeping on your uncomfortable couch.

You roll over to face Chuuya in your bed— eyes blurring in the dark for a few moments before you get a clear outline of her face. “Are you alright, Chuuya?” Your voice is soft, as well as your touch, your hand reaching to tuck a piece of her bangs away from her eyes.

Chuuya shivers at how your fingertips ghost over her skin, “I’m fine, why?” The subtle tremble in her voice betrays her reassurance, her thighs shifting under the covers to rub together from your electric touch and the cold.

Your eyes flicker over her face before you near her, your noses a few inches away, “Are you sure? You’re shivering again— we can always cuddle like earlier, I don’t mind.”

Or you could turn the AC down.

Groaning, Chuuya gives in once more to your warmth and sinks into your arms when you pull her close. “Can’t you turn the AC down?” She speaks her mind, only to be shut down quickly.

“Sorry, don’t know where it is, so I can’t change it,” What a lousy excuse and a lie, but Chuuya doesn’t comment or point it out— too distracted by the way her chest presses against yours.

Suddenly, there’s no space between either of you and everything begins to feel all too hot and sensitive.

With such little personal space, it wasn’t much of a surprise that Chuuya’s mind began to wander. Thoughts of what would happen if the distance between your lips closed and she could have her way with you evaded her, only adding to the heat.

“For someone who says she’s cold, you feel very warm right now, Chuuya,” You point out with a small smile, yet don’t make any attempts to move away.

Chuuya shivers when you shift just barely, your breasts sliding against hers as you adjust your position. With your noses now touching, she’s sure that she isn’t just imagining things. “Shut up…” She whispers.

Your eyes bore into her and she feels like she could just melt under your gaze. “You know, I meant what I said every time I said you looked absolutely beautiful and any guy would be lucky to have you,” You murmur softly.

Chuuya feels her heart skip a beat, but at the same time— a small bit of irritation nips at Chuuya when you mention her being with men. Was it not obvious enough that she wasn’t interested in them? “I don’t like men.”

“Oh…” To anyone else, it would’ve sounded like you were surprised, yet Chuuya could tell that it was something else, “Am I making you uncomfortable?”

There’s a small huff from Chuuya, “No, but I am annoyed that you still refuse to make a move even after telling you I don’t have an interest in men.”

“I was just trying to be cordial,” You respond quietly.

“I think we crossed that line hours ago,” She mutters before closing the gap between the both of you to press her lips against yours.

It’s firm and straight to the point, it almost feels like she’s still trying to be professional, even when she’s kissing. And it makes you giggle against her lips.

She pulls away with a quiet growl, “What’re you giggling at?”

“It’s just that your kisses fit you.”

“What’s wrong with the way I kiss?” Her brows furrow.

You move your arms away from around her waist before cupping her cheeks, “Nothing, I just thought it was cute. You don’t have to be so stiff, though.”

“Whatever,” She grumbles before you pull her into another kiss, this time much softer as she relaxes.

Chuuya’s hand falls to grab at your hip, pulling you closer to hook one of your legs over her own hip. You shiver as she rubs her hand along the expansion of your outer thigh, teeth nipping at your bottom lip.

When you part your lips, she’s eager to angle her head and deepen the kiss, her tongue invading your mouth as she moves her hand from your thigh to your ass. Her hand squeezes the fat of your ass momentarily, earning a muffled moan against her mouth and your hips jerking into her thigh between your legs.

Chuuya’s lips part from yours and she pants out, her warm breath hovering over your lips, “Have I ever told you that I think you’re fucking hot?” When you shake your head in a small ‘no’, she grips her fingers further into your fat to grind your clothed crotch over her thigh again. “Well you are— n’you make me so fuckin’ wet, baby.” She groans, moving to entangle her tongue with yours again.

The kiss grows sloppy and wet as your lips smack together loudly, a sheen of spit coating both of your lips, her hands not giving away at forcing your hips down against her muscled thigh. You begin to grind down on her thigh, small noises escaping the back of your throat as you feel the pressure rub against your clit through your clothes. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this,” You heave out when pulling away from the messy kiss.

“Yeah? You want me?” She moves her kisses along your jaw and down your throat. She’s given a quick nod from you in return which makes her grin, “I want you too, pretty girl.” Her teeth sink into the skin of your neck softly before she sucks at the spot, leaving a noticeable hickey above the base of your neck.

“Please… Wanna see you,” You plead, tugging at her long sleeved shirt, wanting it off.

Chuuya obliges and fumbles to take it off with how close the two of you are. She tosses her shirt away somewhere in your room and it, revealing her small, pert tits.

“They’re so pretty,” You mumble, hands trailing to run overly flatly against her chest.

“H-Hey, I can’t be the only one taking stuff off,” She shudders at your touch, her own hands coming to tug at your tank top to pull it off. Both topless and bare, you shiver, noticing just how cold your apartment really was, “Told you it was fuckin’ cold.” Her hands grab at your ass to pull you up further, her face now level with your breasts.

Your lips part into a moan when she takes one of your nipples into her mouth, rolling the hard bud between her tongue and teeth. “F-Fuck— yeah— well I was fine with it before cause it got you close to me,” One of your hands come up to thread into her soft locks as she sucks at your nipple. She takes the other nipple between two of her fingers to rub and play with as she hums against your skin.

“So you made it cold just so you could be close with me, hm? God, you just get cuter and cuter, baby,” Her words vibrate against your skin before she pulls away from your nipple with a quiet ‘pop’ and moves to the other one to suck on.

“A-Ah, Chuuya, that hurts,” You whine as she roughly pinches your nipples between her teeth and fingers.

“Yeah, well you don’t get to complain after I froze my ass off f’you instead of going home like I would’ve usually done,” She moves away from your chest to litter your sternum with love bites.

A pout settles over your lips as you tug at her hair, “I wanna have fun with you too, s’not fair that you get to do whatever.”

She puffs her cheeks out slightly, “You’re so impatient, you know that? Bet you’re wet,” She continues to kiss and nip at your skin, a hand reaching down to snap the waistband of your shorts against your hip.

“You’re one to talk— I bet you’re soaking,” You want to reach down to her own shorts, but she has you positioned in a way you can’t reach them, “This isn’t fair.”

“Really? I disagree,” She grins, maneuvering the both of you until you’re lying on your back and she’s hovering over you. Her hands quickly come to tug at the waistband of your shorts and underwear, pulling them off with ease as you lift your hips to help her. “Fuck, spread those legs for me, doll— wanna see that cute pussy of yours.”

It’s embarrassing, but you can’t help but open your legs at her demand to reveal your wet folds glistening with arousal. Her stare burns into your skin, making you squirm under her, “No more— I want to feel you, Chuu.”

Chuuya waves you off as she huffs through her nose, hands holding your thighs apart as she lowers her face down, “After I get a taste— then you can have me all you want, princess. But I need this,” She insists, tongue lolling out to lick a strip up through your puffy folds to collect your taste on her tongue. “You taste so good, y’know that, baby?” She buries her face back between your thighs to press wet kisses against your sopping pussy, uncaring of how messy they were.

Your thighs clamp around her head, fingers threading tightly into her hair as you needily rut your hips against her mouth, “Mm, feels good— but I really want you, Chuu. Please? A-Ah… Wanna feel your pussy on mine.” You whine.

Chuuya groans against you, the vibrations against your clit making you shiver and buck your hips against her before she sits up, “Fine, but next time, you better let me have a proper taste.”

“Promise, okay? But please— just need you s’bad,” You watch her with an impatient stare as she strips herself of her shorts and underwear, leaving her bare for you to see.

“Love how needy you are f’me, baby,” She sighs out as she fits herself between your legs, one of hers straddling over one of your legs to rest by your hip and the other resting near your ass. She grabs the latter leg and holds your leg against her chest for stability and leverage.

You can’t see much from the angle you’re at, but you can feel how wet she is when she lowers her pussy to come flush with you. And it makes you shudder feeling her slick leak from her soft pussy onto yours. “Oh my god…” Your head falls back onto the pillow when she moves her hand hand between the both of you to spread your sticky folds apart for her slippery cunt to slide across yours until her clit bumps yours.

“Fuck, I can feel you throbbing against me,” Chuuya gasps, pressing down against you harder. “Can’t believe you’re getting off on rubbing pussies with your superior, naughty girl,” She growls out, hand tightening around your leg.

You reach a hand out to fondle one of her perky tits as you try your best to rut your hips back against hers in rhythm, “Can’t help it, you’re s’pretty, Chuu.”

Chuuya moans, her chest arching into your hand as she grinds harder against your pussy, the arousal between you both creating a lewd schlicking noise with each time she moves her hips. “I think you’re pretty too, baby. The prettiest— fuck— the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.”

Your soft groans and moans fall into desperate whimpers as your hand plays with her sensitive nipples and her grinding turns into bucking her hips roughly against yours erratically. “M’gonna come— Chuu, your pussy feels so good.”

“Yeah? Wanna feel you come all over my pussy, pretty,” She hunches over to smash her lips against yours, her hips animalistically rutting along with you— desperate to feel your nubby clit rub against hers again.

Jolts of pleasure shoot down your spine as the new angle of her hips and her tongue violating your mouth sends you over the edge. Your toes curl and thighs quake as your lips tremble against hers in the hazy kiss, your cum leaking from your clenching hole to join the slick between your legs.

Chuuya isn’t far behind as her hips falter and slow to long and tedious movements to ride out her own orgasm. You both pant against each other with open-mouths, pulling away just enough to look at the mess between the both of you.

Both of your pussies glisten with cum, threads of arousal connecting each other before Chuuya pulls away completely. “God, you’re so good,” She whispers as she places a soft kiss to your lips before you both untangle your limbs from one another to lie down and cuddle under the covers.

You bury your face into the crook of her neck, “Do you think I should turn the AC off?”

“Yeah— I wasn’t going to say anything, but I’m still really fucking cold.”

[sanccharine]

05:53 | mm

pairing: assassin!momo x handler!reader

summary: good speakers are good liars, too bad momo is neither. co-written by @eternallyghosting chapter summary: momo needs a fucking break

warning: feelings of anxiety and burn out, brief mentions of killing and weapons (generally assassination related themes)

word count: 5.8k

a/n: assassin!momo is here early bc of indigo, everyone say 'thank you indigo' !!! NEED TO MAKE THIS EXPLICIT AS POSSIBLE, AS USUAL I DIDN'T DO SHIT <3

masterlist

“Good work in Johor Bahru, 64. The organization wants you to leave for Bergen right away. Proceed to the airport immediately. I’ll be sending over travel details soon.”

You were met with silence.

“64? Can you hear me?” Momo didn’t answer. 

You sighed, “64, I know it’s a bit of a long flight.” That was the understatement of the century. “But at least that’ll give you some time to recuperate before the next mission, right?”

“I don’t need to recuperate,” Momo mumbled. 

You hesitated for a moment. Clearly, she needed the rest, you didn’t know why she wasn’t being honest. 

“Listen, 64, I know it’s hard—” you began.

“I don’t think you do,” Momo let out a derisive laugh. You swallowed the rest of your sentence.

“Alright, I’ve obviously hit a nerve but I think—”

“I’m not asking you to think! Or sympathise! Or whatever it is you’re trying to do,” Momo spat. “Maybe just do your part of the job and I do mine, yeah, Hippolyta?” 

This was a new development. But not unfounded.

“Sorry,” she said after a few seconds of awkward silence, the waver in her breath caught by your sensitive earpiece. “Sorry, I’m just tired, alright? Please go on.”

“Uh, alright, as I was saying. After this, your Costa Rica mission has been pushed forward by a week. The client wants the cartel taken out as soon as possible,” it was difficult to give her the next order. “I’m afraid you’ll have to leave for San Jose as soon as you wrap up in Bergen, 64.” 

You tried not to let the disappointment show in your voice. Your organization was currently going through an overdrive, which meant more missions kept piling on, leaving no rest for Momo. It had been weeks since you had last seen your wife, last hugged her, or held her. 

She reflected your disappointment as she just sighed. It must be harder for her. 

“Hey, 64,” it was so hard to be personable when you couldn’t say her name. You hoped your voice made up for it. “I’m sorry, I know—”

“You know nothing!” 

Whatever calm had come across her in the last few minutes instantly vanished. 

“You know nothing of what it’s like! What it’s like to be out here for hours on end! To stalk and hunt and kill! Actually, you know, it’s not even about lying in the dirt, or carrying around heavy weaponry, or eating shit for days just to stay undercover. That I can deal with,” Momo let out another scoff. “It’s the waiting that gets to you—it’s the travel, it’s the constant seeking of approval just to get back home… ” 

Once she started, it was hard to control everything bursting out of her. Although she had become pretty comfortable with Hippolyta, and often shared random conversations with them, this was the first time she had let anything personal spill. You couldn’t help but startle initially, but now you just sat there taking the verbal lashing. This wasn’t your fault, you were aware of that much. So why did it feel like it was?

“Mo… hmm, I—” you had to bite your tongue to stop yourself from saying her name. Your heart ached for her. Not just because she was away from you, but also because you couldn’t share this burden with her. You couldn’t help her lighten the load.

Not as her handler. Not as her Y/N. 

You waited for Momo’s breath to even out. When she didn’t say anything, you decided to start again. 

“I may not know what it’s like being out on the field,” you had to tread carefully here. “But I do understand what it’s like being away from your loved one.” 

Your breath hitched when you admitted that. Neither of you had ever let something this personal come into your agent-handler relationship before.

“It’s just the kind of job we signed up for,” that’s all this was. A job. “I won’t deny it’s a shitty situation, but after that one week, you’re done. You can go home. I promise you that.”

The long silence almost had you double-checking the connection of the call.

“Hey, 64, you there?”

You were met with silence.

“Agent, I need an affirmation.”

“... Alright,” she whispered.

It wasn’t much, but you’d take it. After all, Momo had never strayed from official orders before. Not enough to risk her job, at least.

“Wait, what? So you’re telling me—”

“Yup, I’m in Bergen right now.”

“Woah, how did that happen? That must’ve been an insane journey!” you sounded fake to your own ears. You hoped Momo didn’t catch on.

“Yeah, remember when I didn’t answer any of your texts a few days ago?” Momo let out a laugh, there was no mirth to it. “I was on a plane the whole time.”

“I just assumed you lost track of time playing Candy Crush or something.”

That did bring a real laugh out of her. 

“Well, that too,” she said. “Did you know I’m on level 651 now?”

“Real impressive, babe,” you said toying with the earpiece, discarded on the coffee table from your last call. “But anyways, when are you coming back from Bergen then?”

She paused. You saw her pacing around her stuffy hotel room as she hesitantly answered. “Well, actually, I don’t think I can come home right away. They’re sending me to Costa Rica tomorrow.”

“What? Why?” you couldn’t help but glance at yourself in the tiny box on the screen from time to time. You hated how fake your expressions looked, how you couldn’t be honest with her even when she needed you most. 

“I’m so sorry. It’s some internal management thing,” Momo let out a frustrated groan. “They need someone who’s at a higher position to open up the San Jose branch. Just my luck it happened to be me they chose.”

Momo’s disappointed tone broke your heart. You knew this was coming, of course you did, but hearing it once again from your wife’s mouth made the distance much too real all over again.

Still, you tried for a smile. 

“Oh, that’s okay. I’m sure San Jose will be fun. I’ve heard they have amazing museums there!” Knowing how upset Momo was about the constant travel made you want to try harder to be supportive. “Maybe you can go and take goofy pictures in front of the sculptures like we did that one time in Prague, remember?” 

Unfortunately, it seemed that no efforts to cheer her up would work this time. She let out another long groan and threw herself on the bed. Bringing the phone really close to her face, she said, “I really just wanted to come back home. I’m sorry I keep doing this to you.”

Shit. Of all the times to have video called Momo. 

Averting your eyes from her teary ones so that you wouldn’t cry too, you attempted to comfort her. 

“I know how tiring it must be to constantly travel, don’t beat yourself up over it, Momo. And don’t worry about me, okay! I’m fine, truly! I’ll keep everything up and running here while you whip rookies out there into shape. It’s what we do, right?” you were trying to convince yourself instead of her. “Besides, Mr Jones invited us for dinner and I know you really don’t want to have to sit through that again, right?” 

“Still, though,” she whispered, “you shouldn't have to go through that by yourself. I'd rather sit through that than here all alone.”

Oh Momo. If only she knew that you were aware of what she was going through.

“Don’t worry about it! I’ll distract him and ask about his ‘good ol’ golfing days’. That’ll have him chattering on for hours,” she chuckled at that, although it was muffled since half her face was pressed into the pillow. “And I’ll also go down to the store and buy those berries you like so I have a pie ready for you when you come home. We’ll spend our time relaxing. How does that sound?”

She nodded sleepily. Momo must be exhausted to the point of falling asleep right there on call.

You doubted she heard you but said it anyway.  

“Have a good night, Momo. I love you.” 

[11:52] Momo: im boarding now Y/N: Have a safe flight! See you soon <3 Momo: me too, cant wait to be home aaaaa Y/N: I’ll be waiting with your pie!

[16:37] Momo: just landed! Y/N: How was the flight? Momo: eh Momo: were you gonna pcik me up or should i take a cab Y/N: You’ll have to get a cab, sorry. I tried rescheduling it but the town committee meetup is at our place tonight. Momo: omg i legit forgot they still did those Momo: i can take a cab dw Momo: you must be so busy Y/N: Yeah, I’m just making sure all the snacks and drinks are ready. Y/N: Might have to make one more grocery run actually.

[17:20] Momo: found a cab Momo: should be home in 40 mins

She sighed. You must be really busy or else you rarely left her on read.

As the cab neared your street, she could see a crowd of people already gathered around the house. This was what living in a small town was like. Everyone knew each other, and so of course, offered to get together to help for any event you held, no matter how small. 

They have nothing better to do with their lives.

Okay. Perhaps, that was a bit harsh. 

Thankfully, Momo managed to slip into the house, unnoticed by all the townsfolk laying out chairs and tables filled with plates of snacks that you had made. Her stomach grumbled upon seeing all the food, but she hurried upstairs into your shared bedroom before dropping her suitcase and rushing to change out of her travel clothes.

What she really wanted was a long hot shower, maybe even a soak in the tub, but fresh clothes would have to do for now. On her way out of the room and down the stairs, she bumped into you.

“Y/N!” she yelled the same time you screamed. “Momo!”

This would be an incredibly stupid way to die, the voice in the back of your head said, you shushed it quickly and leaned on the stairway railing. The shock had subsided quickly and was replaced by elation; you hugged Momo as hard as you could with the cutlery in your hand.

You broke apart apologetically. “I’m sorry, I wish you could take a rest but the meeting’s starting soon and we’re still missing a few things.”

“No worries,” Momo shrugged it off, though there was no energy in her voice. “Anything I can do to help?”

You passed over the handful of cutlery to her as you hurriedly stated, “Yeah, could you just lay these out for me? And I think we still need to pour some juice for all the kids.”

Momo nodded and went down the stairs two at a time. As she rounded into the kitchen, she wished she’d taken a minute to mentally prepare herself for all the questions the neighbours would no doubt ask her.

She was right. As soon as she went over to the table, she heard. “Oh Momo, when did you get back? Y/N was telling us how you were away for really long.”

Momo forced on a polite smile, she had no idea who she was talking to. Perhaps having files on her neighbours might help, she thought to herself. She made a mental note to ask Y/N how they remembered all these people. “Yes, I had to travel quite a lot for some business-related things, but I’m just glad to be home now.”

“Where was it you went to? Malaysia, was it?” Momo’s vision blurred for a second. “I remember Y/N telling us we had to cancel the meeting two weeks ago.” 

“Mhmm, Malaysia. Then Norway. Now, I just got back from Costa Rica.” Might as well just tell them everything. Sure, why not. Momo tried not to be scornful, she really did. 

“Good Lord, Momo! How do you even manage all that?” That was something Momo wondered herself. “It sure is nice you have Y/N to manage everything here for you while you’re away.”

A burning sensation grew at the corner of her eyes, she would’ve rubbed them if her hands weren’t full of forks and spoons. 

It was a seemingly unharmful statement. 

Well, no. 

There was a bite in there somewhere, Momo was just too exhausted to dissect it. 

Momo ignored the scratchy feeling in her throat and turned away hurriedly, mumbling something about getting the juice out. As she approached the refrigerator, she unceremoniously dropped the cutlery on the counter. She opened the fridge, the cold air doing little to alleviate her tension. When she pulled out the carton of apple juice, she was undertaken with the sudden urge to leave. Being at this gathering was taking more of a toll on her than she had thought.

Momo needed to be alone. Now.

She walked into the pantry and into the cabinet Y/N made sure to leave empty ever since they’d found out about her meditation space. Well, Momo thought bitterly, it wasn’t just a meditation space now, was it?

Momo crouched down, hugging her knees and seeking comfort in the familiar darkness. She could still hear the faint voices of people as they rushed around the house, but this was the best she could do right now.

When Momo closed her eyes, she could feel every muscle pull taut. A headache bloomed at her temple, building down her face until even the act of breathing felt painful. She tried to focus on the warm scent of the ciabatta loaves you always had stocked up. How the bread broke and crumbled as she took a bite. How adamant you’d been to get the best stand mixer available. How you took your time to shape the dough and how Momo had flattened it with one motion. 

What she wouldn’t do to just have a simple sandwich with you. 

No loud music. No clanging cutlery. And definitely no nosy neighbours.

Just the two of you.

The pain seemed to slowly ebb away, she could finally breathe. Momo had no idea how long she stayed like that. She didn’t want to leave but she couldn’t even text Y/N to apologise for leaving them alone because she’d forgotten her phone with her luggage.

However, she didn’t have to wait long before the pantry door opened. 

Momo hid herself deeper in the cabinet when a knock came on its door, an excuse ready on her lips should she be found…

“Momo,” your voice was soft, she wouldn’t have heard it if you weren’t pressed to the door. “It's me.”

Momo visibly relaxed when she heard Y/N.

“Can I come in?”

The answer was the opening of the cabinet door.

As soon as you lowered yourself onto the floor, Momo launched herself into your arms, clutching onto you as though her life depended on it. Confused by the sudden outburst but also suspecting what could have brought it on, you just gathered her closer and gently brushed her hair with your fingers.

“How did you… ”

“Find you here? Couldn't see you in the crowd so I figured,” you shrugged.

“Can we... can we just stay here for a moment?” she sniffled, burrowing her head into your neck.

“Momo, you don’t even have to ask. I’m here for you.”

The two of you stayed like that for a long time intertwining your limbs against each other. You rubbed up and down her arms gently, taking deep breaths so she’d mirror you and relax.

When her breathing returned to a normal rate, you pulled back slightly to look at her face. Although still pale from hunger and exhaustion, she looked considerably better than she had a while ago.

“How’re you feeling?” you whispered.

“Still tired, but I’m okay now,” Momo said, her voice raspy. “Thanks for staying with me.”

You took a moment to take her in. The dim light couldn’t hide the bags under her eyes or how bloodshot they were. She had a pallid complexion, something you would’ve rushed to treat, but instead, you had this stupid meeting to run. But even then, Momo tried to put on a smile for you, as small as it was. Smiling, you pulled her in to press a soft kiss to her forehead. 

With a sigh, you pulled away from her. Her face was held up by your hands. “Although there hasn’t been any yelling or crashing yet, I don’t think it’s right to leave them without a host for too long.”

Momo languidly nodded her assent even when the rest of her body reacted differently. She pressed her forehead to yours until your noses were touching. 

Momo deserved to rest. And you wanted that for her too. If possible, you would have stayed here like this all night long. But alas… 

“I should probably head back,” you whispered. Momo only hummed. “but you can stay here longer if you—”

“No,” Momo mumbled. 

“No?” you asked, not wanting to pull away first. 

Momo did it for you. She exhaled a deep breath before pulling back, her eyes finally looking at you. 

“No, that's fine,” Momo said, shaking her head before helping herself up. Then she extended a hand to you. “We should host together, shouldn’t we?”

“We really should,” you took her hand and pulled yourself up. “I’ve already canceled this three times, I think they’d flip out if it was only me out there,” you said with a grimace. 

Holding hands, you exited the pantry together.

Thankfully, everyone was too caught up in the snacks you’d made to comment on your disappearance. Momo just ignored the few stares thrown her way. Making your way to the front of the living room, you called for everyone’s attention and began the town meeting, steadfastly holding onto Momo’s hand the entire time.

Although the townsfolk had also helped in clearing up after the meeting, there were a few things only you two could rearrange as the people living in the house. You wanted Momo to go upstairs and rest while you quickly cleaned up, but she was as stubborn as ever and refused to leave your side. Fortunately though, having two people definitely made the job go quicker, and before long, you were heading into the en-suite to draw a bath for Momo.

You turned off the hot water at the temperature you knew Momo liked most before adding a spoonful of lavender bath salts to the water, your gift to Momo from when she had returned from a mission complaining of sore muscles. She smiled gratefully at you as she slipped into the tub, leaving you to once again sit on the cold floor beside her. Not that you minded, you’d take any proximity you could get. The both of you just sat there, basking in the comfortable silence as Momo relieved her weary body.

Eventually, you spoke up, making sure to be cautious in the way you approached this topic. “Do you want to talk about what happened downstairs?”

Momo looked at you with a look, a knowing one, but she turned her eyes away quickly. 

“What? About Hector?” Momo managed to laugh, it almost sounded real. “Yeah, it was funny when he stood up and demanded we vote for a stop sign near the corner store, only to realize we’ve had it all along and he needed to change his glasses prescription.”

“Momo,” you took her hand that was laying on the edge of the bathtub. “Seriously.”

She finally turned to face you with a sigh, deciding not to run away this time. 

“I was doing as you said, the cutlery, that is,” Momo’s finger intertwined with yours, she trained her focus on your joint hands. “Someone was asking me questions, I don’t know who, asking about my job and where I’d been and whatnot… and then suddenly,” she paused to take a deep breath, her eyes filling with tears.

You brought your other hand to engulf hers and rubbed your thumb across the back of her hand in circular motions.

“Suddenly, out of nowhere, they said something about how I’m lucky to have you manage everything around here while I’m away,” she trailed off, a small scoff escaping her. Momo mumbled, but you caught every word. “Well, not out of nowhere, they are right. I am lucky. I’m never here.”

“Momo…” 

She continued, talking through her tears, not bothering to wipe them away as they slipped down her cheeks. 

“I just… you’re the one who always has to manage things around here. I just feel bad, you know?” Momo straightened, turning her whole body to face you as an odd resolve washed over her. “Like, I’m always busy flying around somewhere but you always accommodate me and my work. But I don’t do anything like that for you? Actually, what do I even do?” At that, you wanted to stop her, but she kept going. “I guess I feel incompetent? I’m just equal parts grateful for you but also, I feel guilty.”

That was a lot to take in. Momo was never one to bare her soul, so for her to say all this meant she had been bottling it up for quite some time.

“Well, I see it differently,” you leaned in as you formed the words in your mind. “You’re doing all this to provide for us and you work so hard for it. This house, everything we have, is all possible because of you. I could never be upset about that, Momo.” 

“I guess,” Momo sounded unconvinced. “But like maybe I could do more local work? That way, I could stay at home with you and work?”

“As tempting as that is, I can’t ask that of you. I can’t say I don’t miss you when you’re gone. And of course, I love having you around.” 

You spoke slower so the words sunk in. 

“But you’re doing what you have to do,” you tried to be as vague as possible when saying the next few words. “I mean, your company sends you all over the world because you’re a hard worker, and a really good one at that. No one is going to be able to do what you do anytime soon and I’m proud of that. Of you.” 

Momo didn’t say anything, she was staring at something behind your head. Her eyebrows were furrowed together; for once, you couldn’t tell what she was thinking. 

“But the work itself… ” she trailed off, still staring into the distance.

That confession, if that was what she was planning it to be, had you on alert. You had to be careful here. Somehow, you had to glean Momo’s feelings about her ‘actual job’ without asking outright questions about it. 

“What about the work, baby?” you asked. The term of endearment felt sour on your lips. Momo didn’t look at you. 

You had to bite your tongue from interrogating her. Is it monotonous? Is it stressful? Are you having second thoughts about killing? Do you want to be transferred? What’s wrong? What can I do? How can I fix it?

She didn’t speak for a long time. 

Panic was beginning to sink its claws into your skin. You were a good liar, but not that good. 

Fortunately for you, Momo began once again. 

“The work… I mean, sure, every job has its own boring routine and mine does too. It is exciting at times and I’m good at it too, which I can’t confidently say for a lot of other things,” you wanted to interrupt her and tell her how wonderful she was, but she spoke over you. “And I don’t really want to quit right now because we’re also earning decently.“ 

“Enough for an early retirement in the Swiss Alps, right?” you uttered before you could even think about it. 

When she had first been accepted as an agent by your organisation, Momo had excitedly jumped around your tiny one-bedroom flat. Making big talk about how the two of you would buy a cottage in the Swiss Alps and go skiing every day in the winter and strawberry picking every day in the summer.

Reminiscing about the memory bought a real smile out of her. “Exactly.”

But the smile slowly faded as she kept talking. “I just… wish I didn’t always have to keep traveling. I barely get a few days with you before I have to fly out again. And I know that’s a part of my job, it's just that this time around was too long.”

You silently agreed. What was the organisation thinking, making an agent go three weeks out in the field, one mission after the other. You don’t even recall how many cups of coffee you’d downed just to keep up with the time differences. 

“Well, you’re here now,” you placed a kiss over your joined hands. “And we’re going to make the most of it. Hopefully, you get more than a few days this time.”

“Yeah, hopefully,” she repeated, although she sounded anything but.

You bit back the long sigh and nudged her instead, looking for a way to divert her attention. “I couldn’t tell you before, but your pie’s waiting for you in the fridge.”

Momo sat up at that. You jerked back to narrowly avoid being splashed by water. “Me too! Well, not a pie but I did manage to bring back a dessert called Cajetas this time. I didn’t have time to taste it but the lady selling them told me they’re a staple.” 

Her eyes finally regained their usual shine at the mention of the two of you sharing desserts. It had been a longtime tradition for you to bake her favorites when she came back from a long journey, and for her to get local items you both could try together.

“Unfortunately, I’m too stuffed now,” she finally relaxed into the tub, tipping her head back. “Those finger sandwiches were delicious Y/N. What did you put in them?”

“Love,” you said dreamily, before pressing another kiss to the hand you were holding. Momo pulled away and cringed. “What, too much?” you laughed, “besides, I don’t think they were that amazing. You were just really hungry,” you said, poking her shoulder.

Momo just hummed as a comfortable silence fell over the pair of you.

Although the bathwater would’ve been cooler by now, she looked too comfortable to be asked to move. 

By the time Momo finally got out of the bathtub and into the towel you were holding out for her, the water had gone completely cold.

“Ugh, my skin is all wrinkly now”, she complained.

“Hmm I don’t know, it’s giving me a good idea of what you’d look like in another thirty years.”

“And?” she twirled around. “What do you think?”

You gave her a once over. “I think… I think I’ll stay with you for more than thirty years if that’s what you’re going to look like.”

After a quick change into your respective pajamas for the night (with you having to change again due to a mock water fight you two had), you ushered Momo into bed.

“Are you not sleeping now?” she asked, when you didn’t get into bed with her.

“Just about to, don’t worry,” you replied, straightening her edge of the comforter, effectively tucking her in.” Mariko asked for an order of cupcakes for her kindergarten class next Tuesday, so I’m just going to make a note of that before I forget.” 

She pouted, drawing out an arm from under the covers and pulling you down by your sleeve. Leaning down, you had no choice but to look right into her puppy-dog eyes, nearly shutting from exhaustion were it not for Momo resisting her body, fighting to stay open. “I wanted to cuddle but I’m already,” she broke off into a yawn, “falling asleep.”

You kissed her cheek. “Goodnight, I’ll be back before you know it,” you whispered.

“G’night,” she mumbled with drooping eyes.

Your demeanor changed the minute you left the bedroom, gently closing the door behind you. Throughout the evening, you’d noticed how burnt out Momo seemed, and this late-night conversation further proved that she desperately needed a rest. You grabbed your laptop and keyed in a call to your organization, late hours be damned.

“Hippolyta to HQ. Calling in regards to Agent 64.” You waited for the call to go through.

After a few minutes of having to listen to the ridiculous call tone they had put in (seriously why on earth would someone want to listen to that Piña Colada song while they waited to make a serious report), you were about to pull out your earpiece and give up when a bored robotic voice answered, “Hippolyta, your call has now been cued. State your report and wait for an agent.”

You cleared your throat before saying. “As her handler, I believe Agent 64 is in need of a short leave, allowing her time to recuperate and be mentally on track for any and all future missions.” Hopefully, that should be enough to get an agent connected to you.

After another couple minutes of listening to the godforsaken song, a voice sounded on the other end. “This is Baklava to Hippolyta. Your report has been recorded. Do you have other details you wish to share?”

“It’s exactly as I said before. I noticed a change in Agent 64’s behaviour and mental state through her last couple missions, and I believe it would do her good to take a temporary break.”

“Agent 64, huh? Let me see, I’ll pull up her file here.”

“Oho,” you heard after some shuffling on the other end of the call, “so this is the infamous Agent 64 and Hippolyta. I see. Well, I’m afraid I have to deny your inquiry and cannot grant her the break.”

“Wait, what?” you asked, surprised that a decision had been made so quickly. “Why?”

“Clearly, her being your wife makes it a point of personal interest. We can’t really have that, so she’ll continue on her missions as usual.”

“Excuse me, but in all these years, I have never let personal feelings get in between our working relationship.” You could feel your anger rising and had to be careful not to raise your voice too much, lest Momo wake up. “In fact, as her handler, I have made sure to push her exactly as much as she needed to get her missions done. She has a ninety-eight percent success rate, only possible because we don’t let personal feelings get in our way.” 

“Nah, but in this case, Agent 64 has not filed for a break herself. You doing this on her behalf shows vested interest.” 

You didn’t know if it was because of the late hour, but this conversation with Baklava was going nowhere and you were starting to get frustrated. You sighed.

“What’s the matter, Hippo, going soft for your wife? Is that it?” the voice sneered.

You saw red. No one except Momo was allowed to call you that. 

“Grant Agent 64 the break or else you’ll lose not only your best assassin but also one of your best handlers,” you gritted your teeth.

The line suddenly cut.

Fuck.

You didn’t really want to have to go through the whole process of reporting your inquiry again, but for Momo you would do it another hundred times.

Just then, a new voice was heard through your earpiece.

“Hippolyta, this is Shooting Guard. Your report has been transferred over to me.”

Shooting Guard… the name was familiar to you.

“Hippolyta speaking. Not sure how much of my report was transferred over but it’s in regards to Agent 64.”

“Oh yes, I know about your wife, Hippolyta. What’s the matter?”

It suddenly hit you. Of course Shooting Guard was a familiar name. He had been an agent a year above you at the training centre, a hardworking and calculative senior, but friendly once you got to know him.

“Well, I know the organisation has been working through some things right now—” you heard a scoff on the other end, “but 64 has been on individual missions for three weeks straight. She would never say this outright but I can tell the constant travel is getting to her. As… as her handler of course, not her partner,” you hurried to add, lest you were misunderstood once again.

To your surprise Shooting Guard said, “I believe that being her spouse makes you all the more attuned to how she’s doing Hippolyta. And with your spotless record so far, having a spouse as a handler doesn’t seem to be working negatively at all.”

“Does that mean you can get her leave approved?” you asked, hopeful.

“Well, that’s the difficult part. In your words, the organisation is working through things right now,” he chuckled without mirth.  

“Please, just get her a psych eval or something. Anything that grants her a break,” you were coming across as pleading when you should have been firm, but Momo’s wellbeing was at stake here.

“Let me see what I can do.” You heard him hum as he clicked on various files, rearranging calendars and rescheduling appointments, no doubt, before he finally broke the silence.

“I can give her two weeks. That fine?”

“More than fine. Truly, thank you, Shooting Guard,” the stress visibly left your shoulders.

“Don’t mention it. The agents around here need a fucking break anyways.”

You logged off the call once you got the final approval that your report had been accepted. You couldn’t wait to see Momo’s joyous face when she would break the news to you tomorrow. But for now, sleep was calling.

As you made your way back upstairs, a smile spread across your face at the thought of spending the next two weeks with your wife. When you entered your bedroom, Momo was fast asleep, sprawled across the large bed, somehow taking up enough space for two people. You shook your head fondly as you turned off the lights, slipping in beside her. As if sensing your presence, she pressed herself closer to you, wanting to be together even in sleep. You looped an arm around her torso and held her tight. 

Yes, you certainly were excited to spend two weeks with her. But most of all, you were glad your bed would be warm with her presence again.

any feedback is much appreciated.

a/n: so that poll... y'all be impatient as fuck (and i be lazy as fuck bc i think i was the only one who voted for this being split JLDFKSHFK) anyways happy misamo day and have a good day/night !!

taglist: @someone-who-likes-broccoli @happilychaengs

[dragonnarrative-writes]

Part 8 - Romance Isn't Dead

Slasher Handler Masterlist

NSFW under the cut.

CW: Bones, flashback, high anxiety/panic, violence and gore, brandon being brandon (assholery), crying, manic pixie dream ghost (assholery), MREs, descriptions of knives/multi-tools (not in use)

You can’t fucking breathe. It’s like your diaphragm is frozen and you can’t pull air into your lungs. Your vision is tunneled onto the skull in the box, the bright blue scrap of painters tape with Simon’s messy scrawl. Behind and under you, you know he’s saying something. All you can hear is the blood rushing through your ears.

The last expression you’d ever seen on Brandon’s face flashes before your eyes.

A big hand closes over your mouth and nose.

You flail. Before you even know you’re doing it, your elbow comes up to slam against the man behind you. The hand disappears. Using the momentum of your swing, you pitch yourself sideways. But a huge arm wraps around your waist. You’re trapped. You’re trapped. The killer is at your back and you’re trapped.

Simon’s voice cuts through the panic. “Stop squirmin’ before you hurt yourself, precious. Or I’ll make you.”

Every muscle in your body locks up. You burst into tears.

It’s awful, the way he coos at you. But when he gathers you in this arms and cradles you, you can’t help the way you cling. You’re torn between burying your face in his neck and being too terrified to close your eyes.

Images from that night at the ski lodge flash behind your eyes. Finding Stacy bleeding out from her shoulder, already too weak to stand. Your manager, propped against a wall with his guts spilled in his lap. Amber, her throat slit long before you and Brandon stumbled across her. Brandon, who’d followed you downstairs as you looked for matches and candles. The same Brandon who had been trying to convince you to share a bed with him when the power went out.

“To conserve warmth,” he’d said, with that that stupid smirk on his face as he followed you into the kitchen area.

“No, Brandon,” you’d finally hissed at him, whirling on him with a long, unlit white candle in your hand. You poked him with it as you whisper-shouted, sick of his shit. “No. No. Fucking no. What do I need to say to get you to get it? I don’t sleep with my co-workers. And even if I did, I wouldn’t sleep with you because you’re an asshole who can’t take a hint. Go find Amber if you’re so hard up. She’s actually interested in you.”

“Amber’s a slag,” Brandon said, not bothering to whisper. “What, you’re not actually fucking Riley, are you? Won’t fuck a co-worker, but you’re fine shagging a neighbor.”

“I’m not fucking Riley,” you’d snapped, still at a whisper because you weren’t about to be goaded into shouting.

“Then what’s the problem?” Brandon’d snapped right back. “Stop being so stuck up. I bought you drinks, I walked you home more than once-”

“I told you not to!”

“-I’ve brought you flowers and chocolates. I got you coffee from your favorite spot, and a pastry-”

“You think I’m interested in dating you because you picked up a danish on your way to work?” You’d wanted to pull your hair out. Wanted to wrap your hands around his throat and shake. “Brandon, I fucking hate cherries and you-! No, that’s not even the point. I’m not interested. I’ve never been interested. Leave me alone.”

His fingers closing around your upper arm, tight, had made you push him away. Not as hard as you could, just enough to startle and put some distance between you. But he’d slipped in something on the tile and fallen to his knees.

“Shit,” he’d yelped. “What the fuck? Ugh, the floor is wet. You’re lucky I didn’t break something.”

You had snorted, turned your back and picked up the matches that were laying on the counter. Lighting one, and then your candle, you’d turned back as you heard him getting up. You’d opened your mouth to say something scathing, but… “Brandon, what… is that?”

There’d been something dark and wet on his hands, his sleeve. Whatever it was, he’d slipped on more than a trickle of it, coming from under the table. And when you rounded the table, there she was. Amber, in a pink pajama set and a pool of her own blood.

Yours was the first scream of the night. Brandon’s had been the last.

And now the man that had killed both of them is petting your hair and shushing you. You gasp as you pull yourself from the flashback, teeth chattering with remembered cold. A wave of goosebumps sweeps over you. You’re very aware of the gloved hand that rubs up and down your calf.

“A couple of deep breaths now,” Simon murmurs. You can feel his lips on your forehead through the cloth of his balaclava. “Deep breath in, there you are, precious. Let it out. Slow yourself down. That’s it. There’s a good girl.”

Another memory flashes through your body. Simon’s hands holding your hips steady as you rode him, just last night. His voice smoky and soft, “Easy, easy. There’s a good girl. Let me do all the work, yeah?”

You’re wracked by another wave of sobbing.

Eventually, you tire yourself out. Your limbs are suddenly just so much dead weight. Your eyes are so sore it hurts to blink. Every hitched breath shakes your whole body. You don’t fight it when Simon makes you tip your face up so he can see how puffy and red your face is. Only let out a shaky breath when he lifts the bottom of his mask just enough to let him taste the tears on your face.

“That was the worst night of my life,” you rasp.

Simon hums at that. “Worse than the hospital?”

“I thought I could trust you,” you say. You sniffle, then continue. “I knew you weren’t safe. But I thought I could trust you.”

“Can’t you?”

You think about that for a long moment. Have to concede, “Don’t think you’ve ever actually lied to me. Well… you lied about your name. Fae rules.”

He chuckles at that. “Callin’ me a fairy?”

“Equal opportunity serial killer,” you murmur. If you weren’t so tired, it might have been funny. Right now, it feels like the words are all that carry you from one moment to the next.

“Cute.”

He lets you sit in his lap for a little while longer. It reminds you of being locked in his apartment that first week after the lodge. You’d sobbed yourself empty so many times. Felt hollowed out just like this. You’re going to need water, soon.

Finally, you put your feet on the ground, so you’re perched on Simon’s knee. He lifts a water bottle to your mouth, tips a mouthful at a time for you until you feel ready to hold it yourself. When you look at him, the skull is less menacing than in your memories. But his eyes are just as cold and dead.

“You’re fucked up,” you say to him. “You know that?”

The way his eyes crinkle at the edges means he’s genuinely grinning. “You think so?”

“I know so.”

“That’s good, clever girl. Can you tell what I’m thinking?”

You shrug. “Any time I try, I get it wrong. So tell me.”

“I’m thinking,” he says, leaning in to kiss your cheekbone. “That you have eleven minutes left.”

Everything in your body freezes. “What?”

“Haven’t found the key,” he says, kissing your cheek again before pulling his mask back down. “Clock’s still ticking until you’re out of the cuffs.”

The urge to burst into tears again wars with the urge to scream. You take a deep breath, hold it, and let it out slow. “Why are you like this?”

“Probably all the trauma,” he drawls. His hands lift you to stand and he pats your ass. “G’won then. Key’s in the box. You have plenty of time.”

Looking back at Brandon’s skull makes you feel ill. “Can I have the key you have?”

“Too late for that, precious. Don’t have enough time left to trade.”

“You fucking fucker,” you mutter around a hitching breath. A few deep breaths and you make yourself look at the skull again. Try to look at it as an object, a pile of shapes, not the remains of a person.

It takes you longer than you’d like to admit to step closer to the box. But you do. And you realize that the skull is on top of something. Cloth is folded up under it. On the left side of the box is a small, black hard case. You step over to that side, crouch down to pick the box up. Avoid the profile of the skull as much as possible. It has simple clasps. You take a deep breath and hold it before you open it.

Inside, surrounded by foam lining, are what look like three folding knives.

“It’s not in there,” Simon tells you. “Once the timer stops, you’ll have plenty of time for those.”

You don’t bother to answer, just put the case down next to you on the ground. The only other option for looking for the key is to move the cloth and, by extension, the skull. You clench your hand into a nervous fist, take a deep breath, and let it out. The cloth, when you touch it, is stiff. A gentle tug wiggles the skull a in place, just a bit.

You put your hands on the edge of the box and close your eyes for another few deep breaths. Fight the urge to vomit. Try to think.

Simon put it there to get a reaction out of you. Labeled it so you’d panic and cry. He knows you, so he probably knew you’d have to interact with the skull with a time limit. The key is in the box, somewhere, under all of that cloth and the skull.

The key… is under the skull.

Before you can let the nausea set in, you open you eyes and reach out to poke the skull hard with one finger. It tips, the bulk of it falling away from the jaw. And there’s the key, taped to the palate. A tiny metal cylinder, just like the one around Simon’s neck.

Even though you know the answer, you ask, “Do I have to touch it?”

Simon, of course, doesn’t say anything. You tug the cloth closer to yourself so you don’t have to reach too far and lay your fingers on the cheekbone. It’s cold, solid, and dry. You’re not sure why you expected different. You use your thumb to pick at the tape, focusing on that and nothing else. It comes away remarkably easily. The key falls from its spot with a soft clack against a tooth and lands on the cloth.

Unlocking your cuffs feels anticlimactic after all of that.

“Three minutes to spare,” Simon says. He sounds impressed.

You sniffle a bit as you rub your wrists. “New personal record.”

“You did yourself proud, Precious.”

The truth bubbles out of you before you can think better of it. “I can’t think of a reason not to hate you right now.”

“That’s because you’ve got some sense in your head,” Simon says. He stands, turns his back to you to go to the table. He picks up two of the MREs, reads off, “Chili with Beans or Mexican Rice and Bean Bowl?”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Gotta eat more than crackers,” he says. “Might as well have some while I tell you about the rest of our little adventure together. Come sit at the table.”

You stand, look at his back where he’s picking grapes from the bag. “What’s outside the door?”

“The not-so-safe zone,” Simon says, without turning. “You go out that door, the next part of the game starts.”

Hunting trip three-point-oh. You sigh and walk across the mattress to the chair at the table. “Mexican rice, please.”

He passes it over. “Good choice.”

He’s quiet while you reacquaint yourself with the heating element and examine the rest of the package. He opens his own MRE and cracks open a bottle of water, offers it to you first. You use it to start the heating process, watch him do the same.

“So,” you huff, crossing your arms. There are a few minutes until the food will be hot. “What’s the next part of the game?”

“We’re gonna play a bit of capture the flag,” he says. “You ever been paintballing?”

You stare at him, jaw dropped. A headache starts to form under your left temple. “Have you lost your mind?”

It’s not often that Simon looks affronted. “Paintball is fun.”

You can’t help the disbelieving laughter. “Then why didn’t you take me to paintball?”

“Gotta train you on gun safety first,” he points out. “And most places make you play on teams.”

“And the guns aren’t real,” you counter. “That’s the real reason, right?”

He shrugs, “I prefer knives. But yeah, I’d want you to have something real.”

That reminds you. “What are the knives for?”

Simon goes to retrieve the little carrying case, snags his chair on the way back. He places the box on the table, turns it toward you and opens it. He picks up the leftmost blade and flicks it open with a quick motion. He hands it to you, black handle first as he takes a seat.

The handle is thick and the whole thing is a bit heavy. You turn it in your hand and realize that it’s a multi-tool.

“This is a Leatherman Free K4,” he says. “Decent multi-tool, lots of uses. How does it feel in your hand?”

How are you supposed to know? “Fine? It’s a knife.”

“Show me you can close the blade?”

You find the mechanism pretty easily, close the knife without incident. Simon nods, presents his hand, so you give him the knife back. He fiddles with it for a moment, and out pop a pair of scissors. And he hands it back.

“This one,” Simon calls your attention to the second item. It has a black handle as well, but the frame is open so you can actually see the tools. “is a Leatherman Skeletool CX.”

It’s impossible for you not to poke around. There are 8 little tools attached the the knife, including the scissors. A few you don’t really understand, but there are three separate screwdrivers and a bottle opener. You can think of a few times in the last couple of years a multi-tool like this could have come in handy.

You snort. “Skeletool?”

“Hush,” he chides you, smile audible in his voice as he hands it over. “This one has pliers, and a few other tools the other one doesn’t. Shorter blade, a bit lighter.”

“I can kind of feel the difference?” you offer.

“Don’t worry too much about it. Open and close it.”

You do. Pliers first, because you can. Then the blade. “Cool.”

He hands you the last one, a tiny thing that’s all silver, as he takes the second from your hand. “This one is the Skeletool KBX.”

You flick it open and closed without him asking. “Itty bitty.”

“That one’s very straightforward. Just the blade and a bottle opener on the handle.”

You pick up the little package of pretzel nuggets that came with your meal and cut into it. The plastic splits like butter. “Dangerous.”

“I dunno,” you admit. “I haven’t used them yet. You gonna tell me what they’re for?”

Simon hums, a noise you secretly have categorized as one of his “happy tiger” noises. You look up to see he’s got those eye wrinkles that mean he’s pleased. He’s looking at the little blade in your hand.

“Do you like them?”

“They’re gifts,” he says. “One for your usual purse, one for your backpack. The little one for the next time you want to go out dancing. After lunch, I’ll show you how to hold them.”

Staring at him, you think that you’d call the way his shoulders come up toward his ears bashful if he was anyone else. “Did you get me romance knives?”

“Skull’s got me in the doghouse,” he mutters, picking up his now-hot food. “Gotta give you something nice to balance it out.”

“Drugging and kidnapping me got you in the doghouse,” you correct him. “The skull has you under it.”

“I’ve got experience digging myself out,” Simon says with a shrug. “Eat.”

You grab your food and start extracting it from the heat pack. “You want to get back into my good graces? Tell me what the fuck happened in 2007. What the fuck does Roba mean?”

Simon chuckles. “That’s not a story you want to hear while you’re eating, sweet thing.”

“You made me touch Brandon’s skull,” you point out as you tear the packaging open. The smell of hot food makes you suddenly aware of how hungry you are. “So you had better start talking.”

“Promise I’ll tell you more when we’re home, Precious.”

“Swear it.”

“Cross my heart,” he says, flat blue eyes staring into yours. “Hope to die.”

“The whole story.”

“Promise you a summary that won’t make you vomit more than once,” he offers. “And I’ll rub your feet.”

You scoop a spoonful of rice and pop it in your mouth. “You’re going to rub my feet regardless.”

Simon gives a dry little laugh as he pushes his mask up over his mouth. “Yes, ma’am. Now eat. I’ll tell you the rules of capture the flag.”

[sh4wty18]

girl of your dreams - chapter three.

one. | two. | three. | four.

pairing: hockeyplayer!chris x figureskater!reader

summary: you have trouble picking an outfit for chris's party, but your best friend helps you. then, something unexpected happens that leaves you feeling more confused than ever.

cw: rivals to lovers, angst, first person POV, language, alcohol consumption + being drunk

word count: 1.7k + edited

tags: @joeshiestyslover @chrissbluehat @h3arts4harry @wompwomp-1 @cassluvsturn @cl1tlover3000 (if you want to be tagged, comment!)

dividers from @plutism

---

Y/n's POV

I stood in front of the full body mirror leaning against my bedroom wall. My best friend and roommate Gracie laid on my bed across the room, scrolling on her phone as I panic trying on every possible outfit combination I can think of. 

“Ugh!” I grumble, “Nothing’s working. I look like shit!”

Gracie looks up and gives me a goofy smile, “Aww, my darling best friend struggling to pick an outfit for a party was not on my senior year bingo card.” She walks up behind me and wraps her arms around my shoulders, squeezing me tight. “I am so proud of you!” 

I hold her arms and continue pouting into the mirror. “Yeah, well, everyone thinks I’m some uptight loser. I’m sick of it.”

“You’re not an uptight loser. Who told you that? I swear to God I will beat a bitch up!” Gracie shouts, letting go of me and pretending to punch the air next to us. 

I laugh, looking down at my feet. “No one told me that…”

“I can hear the hesitation in your voice. Spill.”

I feel my face burning up, “Well, Chris kind of implied that I don’t like to have fun.”

“Chris Sturniolo?! The president of ADPhi? The dude you’ve been in a random rivalry with since freshman year?”

“The one and only.” I laugh as images of Chris playing hockey this week flash through my mind. He looked so good. I don’t know how I managed to land any jumps this week when everyday I was mesmerized by him. The way he glided across the ice, weaving the puck in between his teammates and coming to a brisk halt before swinging precisely. He’d hit the puck every time, and almost always score. My breath would catch every time too, and I hated myself for it. We aren’t even friend-ly let alone friends! Besides, he’s still insufferable. I still want to roll my eyes every time he talks to me. He’s still arrogant and smug, and sure, his cockiness can be hot sometimes, but the majority of the time it’s just plain annoying. He’s annoying. Everything about him irks me, and yet. And yet…

“Girl? Hello?” Gracie waves her hand in front of my face and pulls me back from my haze. 

“Sorry. I was thinking,” I mumble.

“Yeah, thinking about boning Chris,” she cackles at her own joke, and I playfully swat at her arm.

“Shut up!” 

“Y/n, I’ve seen the way you two argue. There’s no way he’s not into you. It’s kind of hot, when you think about it. The sexual tension, the rivalry. It’s like a fanfiction. Enemies to lovers,” she draws out the ‘r’ in the word ‘lovers’ and waves her hands at me. 

I shake my head with a laugh, even though I can feel my face flushing again. But she’s wrong. There’s no way he thinks of me that way. He’s the president of his frat and the captain of a D1 hockey team. Everyone loves him. “No, Gracie. He just knows how to annoy me because we’ve had nearly every class together for our majors and are co-presidents of Model UN.”

“Exactly! He lowkey knows you better than everyone. Except me of course! But still, that does not give him the right to say you don’t like fun. You’re just focused. I admire you, and he should too. Asshole.” 

I laugh and slap her arm again, “Gracie! …You’re not wrong.” 

She snoops in my closet and pulls out a red lacy top, one I bought on a whim this summer. I don’t know why I even bought it. Three full years of university, and I’ve never once been to a party. I guess I was holding out hope for senior year, that maybe this year I’d have the balls to do something like this. Well, I guess my intuition was correct. She hands me the top, “Wear this,” she says. “It’ll look hot, especially with your black jeans.” 

I take off the pink cami I have on and slip the red one over my head, adjusting my boobs as I do. She wasn’t wrong, it does look hot. My jeans are low rise, they sit just below my belly button. The top is tight, and hugs my waist perfectly. I’m not going to lie, I’ve never felt more confident.

“Shit.” Gracie says, staring me up and down. “If I was Chris, I’d do you.”

I smile, “This isn’t about him.”

“Girl, you and I both know it is. You can pretend it’s just a rivalry all you want, but I’ve seen the way you look at him. You want him.”

“Shut up.” I giggle, and it’s because I know she’s right.

– 

Gracie and I walk up to the ADPhi house around midnight, since Gracie said it’s always better to show up to parties late. I also took a couple shots of cheap vodka with Gracie before we left our apartment, and I could already feel the alcohol hitting. Since I’d only drank a couple times since sophomore year of college, my tolerance is low, so the shots I’d had before we left were already making me feel light and bubbly.

We walked up the front steps to where a couple guys in the frat sat, and they stopped us. 

“Who are you with?” one man asked with a serious look on his face. 

I couldn’t help but giggle, he was acting like a bouncer at a club. “Um, I’m the captain of the women’s figure skating team. Chris invited us?”

He raises his eyebrow at me, like he doesn’t believe me. “Hang on.” He walks inside the house and I turn to Gracie. We stifle our laughs until the guy comes back out with Chris.

He looks so fucking hot. Sorry. He looks good. His hair is messy and his blue eyes are slightly glazed over, so I know he’s drunk too. His stubble frames his face and draws attention to his angular jawline. Fuck, I want to kiss him. 

“Woah, shit. Y/n. I didn’t expect you to actually show up. You look…” He trails off, his eyes tracking up and down my body. “Yeah, come on in, guys.” He smiles and slings an arm lazily over my shoulders. I stiffen, and he lets go. “Sorry,” he says.

“No, it’s okay. I just wasn’t…” He gets called into a crowd of friends, cheering him on to do a keg stand. He saunters to the middle of the room, so confident and cocky, and I know I’m in for it. I want him. Fuck, I really want him. 

Gracie leads me to the dance floor and the music is blaring. We start dancing together and to my surprise, I actually like the feeling. Being tipsy with my best friend and just getting to relax on a Friday night, not worrying about med-school stuff or studying or debate prompts for Model UN… it felt good. 

After a few songs I look around for Chris, but I can’t find him. I wanted to prove to him that I was having fun, just like he’d said this afternoon at practice. God, he could read me. Gracie grabs my hand and pulls me toward the kitchen, where alcohol bottles litter the linoleum countertops. 

“Have another shot with me?” she asks, and I nod. Being here makes me think maybe I was missing out on something all along. Maybe I’ve wasted three years of my life not experiencing my youth, just to keep my grades up. Chris had fun, and his grades were still steller. So why hadn’t I? Maybe he was right. Maybe I didn’t like having fun. 

Gracie pours two shots of vodka and hands me one. We click the glasses together before knocking them back, and I wince at the burning sensation in my throat. 

As we walk back into the living room, where people are still dancing and doing keg stands I ask Gracie, “You’ve been here before, right? I gotta pee, but I don’t know where the bathroom is.” 

“Yeah, just up the stairs and to the right. You can’t miss it,” she replies. 

I make my way upstairs and stop outside the first door on the right. I knock a few times, and when no one answers, I walk in. 

It isn’t a bathroom, though. It’s a bedroom, and on the bed in front of me, lies a very drunk Chris in bed scrolling on his phone. 

“Oh, sorry, I thought this was the bathroom,” I say.

He looks up and smirks, before standing and making his way over to me. “You just can’t stay away from me, can you Y/n?” 

I swallow and back up, but he keeps inching closer to me. My back hits the door, which closes behind me. Chris places a hand on the door next to my head and leans in. His face is so close, I can feel the breath passing between us. It's sweet and alcoholic. I kind of like it. 

“Hmm?” he hums when I don’t respond, like he’s waiting for a reply. 

“I honestly thought this was the bathroom, Chris.” I roll my eyes and scowl at him, even though I want nothing more than to close the gap between us, and shut him up with my mouth. 

He reaches out with his free hand and tilts my chin up to face him. “You are such a bitch,” he says with his classic cocky smile. 

I return his smug look, the alcohol making me even more prone to attitude than when I am sober, which is saying a lot. “And you’re an asshole. I guess we have more in common than we thought.”

“Shut up,” he says, his thumb and forefinger still holding my chin, and I catch him stealing glances at my lips.

I smile, “Make me.” I reach out and grab the collar of his t-shirt, pulling his face impossibly closer to mine, until our parted lips brush together. I don’t know why I do it. The vodka might be playing a role. 

“Fuck,” he whispers. He looks down at my lips one more time before letting go of my chin. “I gotta go,” he moves past me, opening his bedroom door to leave. “Bathroom’s the next door to your right. Pay more attention, Y/n/LN, I coulda’ been rubbing one out.” He winks and offers me one last grin–a real one this time–before walking past me, leaving me standing alone in his doorway as he makes his way back downstairs. 

All I can think as I walk into the bathroom is: what the fuck just happened?

---

i love this fic so much. i have ideas!!! lmk what you think :)

[bullet-prooflove]

Poker Face: Dwight Manfredi x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @youngadult9016 @skellyagogo @sca3a @kenbechillin 

Companion piece to:

Dior - Dwight wakes up to the scent of Dior and lipstick on his chest.

Gunpowder & Roses - Dwight's enemies make a mistake when they come after you.

Dwight meets you at a high stakes poker game, one that’s run out of a three grand a night hotel suite. They’re about to overhaul the Bred-2-Buck, turn it into a cabaret & casino focusing on a different type of clientele, the type that’ll think nothing about dropping a couple of mill in one evening. To do that he needs you.

You run the most exclusive card games in town, poker players fly in from all over the country to spend their money at your table. It’s an invite only affair with private security ensuring that nobody gets a stupid idea in their head. He’s managed to secure a place through Margaret because she’s a little sweet on him.

When he steps through the door, his gaze immediately fixates on you because simply put, you are the most beautiful woman he’s ever laid eyes on.

 A face carved out by God himself and a body made for sin, you make his heart rate spike within three seconds of meeting you. He’s not sure if it’s the black, open backed dress that clings to every single one of your curves, the sheer shrug that accentuates your shoulders or the heels, that have fuck me written all over them.

“Mr Manfredi.” You greet him and his eyes linger on your pert red lips before you lean forward and air kiss both of his cheeks.

The scent of your perfume floods his senses as your body brushes lightly against his. It’s dark, sensual, alluring and he almost misses it when you draw away, his hands still clasped in yours. 

“You sure put together one hell of an operation.” He says, his critical eye sweeping over the room. You smile at the compliment and his entire world, it just lights the hell up.

“We can talk business after the game.” You say gesturing at the poker table with six other people already sitting around it. “Let’s see how well you play.”

Dwight’s spend twenty five years hustling luxuries out of other inmates in prison through card games, he’s pretty confident in his abilities, that is until you wipe the floor with him. Just when he thinks he’s got a bead on your tell, you prove him wrong, every single time.

“You’ve got a mean poker face.” He tells you at the end of the night after everyone else is gone.

He’s taken off his suit jacket, unbuttoned the first two buttons of his crisp white shirt. You watch from the sofa as he pours the two of you a glass of bourbon that’s older than both him.

You’re such a pretty sight, your shoes have been kicked off, your legs tucked up underneath you. His eyes flicker up to your face as you pull the silver hairpin, threaded with diamond dahlias out of your hair and it tumbles across your shoulders. He wonders what it would be like to run his hands through it, his soft it would feel between his fingers.  

“Aren’t I supposed to be the one serving you?” You ask him as he hands you the bourbon, taking up residence alongside you on the couch.

“I’ve got the feeling you don’t bow to any man.” He states as he kinks his glass against yours.

“No.” You say with an amused smile. “They usually bow to me.”

If that doesn’t get his cock rock hard…

“I have a proposal.” Dwight says, shifting so his arm comes to rest on the back of the couch, his body angled towards you. “I’d like you to consider running your games out of my place.”

“And why Mr Manfredi, would I do that?” You ask taking a sip of bourbon.

“Bottom line.” He says knowingly. “The hotel suite, the private security. All of it takes a nice big bite out of your profit. We’re rebuilding the Buck, we can give you a backroom for privacy…”

You laugh then and Dwight pauses as you gesture to the space around you.

“The storage room of your bar isn’t quite up to the standard my poker players are used to Mr Manfredi.”

“Dwight.” He says, placing his hand over his heart in a gesture of companionship. “We’re about to renovate it, turn it into a casino and cabaret. We’re happy to design the backroom to your exact specifications if you’ll consider coming on board as a partner.”

“Dwight.” You say, meeting his gaze as you cradle the glass to your chest. “I don’t need a partner.”

“But you do need legitimacy.” He points out, swilling around the ice cubes inside of his glass. “I have a gambling licence which means all the games you run will be above board. It’s less risk, more reward in the long run.”

Now that is something you’re interested in, he can tell from that spark in your eyes.

“What’s the cut?” You ask him because you’re a practical woman, you know shit like this is usually quid pro quo.

“No cut.” He states and your lips purse together in surprise. “You keep everything from your entry fees to the money you win at these games. All I want is for you to bring the whales to our door. You bait and I’ll hook.”

“I get final say on the renovations.” You try to negotiate and Dwight shakes his head.

“Joint sign off.” He bats back. “There’s another partner Mitch Keller, I need for him to be involved in this just as much as you and me. It was his idea to come to you, it’s his place we’re fixing up.”

There’s silence for a moment while you consider the offer.

“Alright we have deal.” You say before you set your drink down on the coffee table and reach for your purse, withdrawing the red lipstick. “I’ll leave you my number so you can contact me about signing the paperwork.”

“Sure, I…” You climb into his lap, straddling his hips and he’s rendered speechless for a moment as you begin to undo the buttons of his shirt, revealing his bare chest.

“You’re a big boy can’t you?” You whisper in his ear as you grind down on his stiffening cock, his palms come to rest on your thighs gripping them as his head tips back onto the couch. “I can tell.”

“I’m told I’m a lot to take.” He admits, his fingertips trailing under the hem of your dress as you uncap the lipstick and begin to write your number on his chest.

“I’m sure we’ll be able to figure it out.” You promise him as you admire your handiwork. “Afterall, that’s what partners are for right?”

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