#fully prepared for this to flop but I couldn’t get this out of my head until I made this

[runraerun]

🦋 • billy hargrove + billie eilish (BLUE)

[mooooonnnzz]

Forward Beckons Rebound

Dad!Stanford x teen!reader

⚜ 9,8k words OH MY GOD is anyone actually going to read this?

⚜ this was such a pain to complete but writing it was so fun? mixed feelings

⚜ book of bill major spoils

⚜ quick summary: ford is soooo obsessed with finding the secrets of gravity falls and learns to regret making a deal with bill because he almost loses you and he lost fiddleford?? erm...

⚜ bit of gore and blood is described here! u r warned! it's not bad tho i promise

⚜ angst!! + gender neutral reader also instead of stan and ford not seeing each other for 10 yrs, i changed it to 17 cuz it didnt make sense before 😭

⚜ DONT KILL ME PLS but i unintentionally wrote fiddleauthor BUT IT'S NOT LIKE, in your face, nothing is ever stated so take it as you will?

⚜ to anyone who fully reads it, i hoped you enjoyed!! this might flop ngl

Ford stared at his billboard that was filled to the brim with photos of all of Gravity Falls anomalies. A thin string of red was strung across the board, ultimately leading to the middle where a big question mark was laid. For days he’s been theorizing theories on where all the abnormalities came from. Was there a rip in their universe where it expelled all their strange creatures into your world? Or was this a natural occurrence that happens only in Gravity Falls. Ford couldn’t figure it out. Tapping his chin with his pen, his mind raced with thoughts. “Where did it all come from?” He uttered under his breath, eyes squinting in thought. “Where did what come from?” You slip in his lab, placing a plate of food on his table. 

“Oh!” Ford yelped out in surprise. “You scared me there, Kiddo.” He says, chuckling. 

“Sorry,” You sheepishly smile. “I brought you dinner.” Ford’s eyes graze the plate for a second, making a mental note in his head to eat the food you prepared later. Eating was a waste of time and he can’t waste any time when he’s on the brink of solving the mysteries hidden within this town  “I’ll eat it later.” He said with a dismissive tone, his attention going back to the board. 

“This again?” You roll your eyes. “Dad, can you back away from this just for a second and eat dinner with me?” You walk into his view, hands locked together as you pleaded with him. “It’ll be quick! You’ll be back to your work in no time!” You add. Your eyes search his face for any sign of him changing his mind but none came. All he did was side step you, his attention so sucked up in his own head he didn’t even notice what you were saying. He only noticed that you were standing in his way. “Dad,” You let out an exasperated sigh, hands falling down to your sides. 

“You’re not even listening to me.” You said, your eyes landing on a table. An idea sprouted in your head. You kicked the leg of the nearby table, eyes darting over to Ford, looking for a reaction, anything that’ll give him a reason to look at you but be doesn’t budge. Your heart shatters a bit, he’s been so caught up in his work that you and him haven’t properly spoken in awhile. Him being wrapped up in his work wasn’t abnormal, but to this degree, it was very rare for him to cast everything aside and hyper-focus on his findings. You mindlessly kicked the floor, eyes glued to the ground. 

“I’m gonna…” You pause for a moment, voice getting caught in your throat. You couldn’t fully focus on what you were trying to say. You were too absorbed in retaining the tears in your eyes, too ashamed to let them fall. You felt so pathetic for being so deeply wounded that your very own dad pushed you and the food you spent a lot of time making away. There are other problems in the world and you’re over here, on the brink of tears because your dad was being too dedicated to his lifelong work? It all felt so stupid in the grand scheme of things, but it didn’t alleviate the sadness that was bubbling inside of you.

“I’m gonna go,” You meekly said, rapidly wiping the tears that escaped with your arm. 

“Not now, sweetie. I’m this close to breaking this case. I can feel it!”

Silence overcasted him instead of your usual banter. Odd, he thought. Whipping his head over to where you stood, he visibly deflated. You were no longer there. 

Ford smacked his head in annoyance that was directed at himself. He was doing it again. Discarding the pen in his hand, he went to look for you. “Sweetie?” Ford calls for you, heading towards your room. Not wanting to intrude, he cautiously knocked on your door. “Can I come in, kiddo?” He had his forearm resting against the casting of the door, hand over his eyes.

After hearing some shuffling and quiet sniffs, you open the door. “Yes?” Your eyes are glassy when you look at him and his heart cracks in two. He’s the cause of this. “I came here to apologize.” He said, voice audibly full of regret. “I’m sorry for the way I acted. It was out of line and not a way I should treat you when all you wanted was to spend time with me.” You wracked your brain for a moment, debating whether you should accept his apology or mull over this heartbreak just a little longer. You fidgeted with the door, moving it side to side as you continued to think, prolonging it just to purposefully bug with Ford. 

Falling right into your trick, Ford bit his lip, anxiously chewing on the skin. “Are you going to say anything or you’re going to leave me hanging over here?” His hand dragged down the trim of the door, finger tapping on the wall, nervously waiting for your answer. You couldn’t stay mad at him. A small smile pulls to your face and you wrap him in a bone crushing hug. “You better not ignore me like that again!” Your voice muffled through his long sleeved sweater. His arms wrap around you tightly, kissing the top of your head. “I won't, I promise.”

He wasn’t lying when he promised you he wouldn’t get so enraptured by his work like that ever again. He saw how he secluded himself from you and swore up and down he was going to spend less time researching, even if it meant that he had to shove his hungry curiosity away. 

But he would be lying if he said he never laid in bed thinking about what he could be doing instead, what mysteries he could be unsolving and what discoveries he could make that would bring him closer to the question that had been gnawing on him ever since he arrived to this peculiar place.

Many nights were spent restlessly imagining what could be the final piece to his concluding mystery. And one day, he had enough of sitting around. Curiosity killed the cat, a phrase you’d tell him whenever his relentless interest in the unknown occasionally backfired on him, circled throughout his brain but he paid no mind. The yearn to find answers was too great. Slipping on his trench coat, he grabbed his bag. Stringing it over his shoulder, he told you that he was heading out. Completely unaware of his plans, you bid him goodbye from your room. 

Ford came back a little while with nothing new other than discovering an old inscription carvings in a cave. He had hoped that reading them outloud would at least summon something that would give him answers! But his actions were fruitless. Defeated and annoyed, he came back. Entering the house, he called out for you. 

“In the kitchen!” 

He removed his coat and hung it on his coat hanger, along with his bag. He walked over to the kitchen, the smell of spices and cooked meat lingered in the air. “Smells good, kiddo.” He comments, grabbing a Pitt Cola from the fridge. You turn over to him, exaggerating an angry look on your face. “I would have normally taken your compliment but I’m more curious on where you went for practically the whole day!” Ford playfully rolled his eyes at your joking tone. “I was out, sweetie. I lost track of time.” He says, popping the soda can open. Your eyes lock on the Pitt Cola can in his hand. “You don’t drink soda,” You turn off the stove, putting the dirty cooking utensils in the sink “Drinking some once and awhile doesn’t hurt.” He shrugs, ruffling your hair. “dad!” you smacked his hand away from your hair. “Go sit down!” You grumbled, to which he complied. 

While you were setting up dinner, a terrible headache overcame Ford. Clutching his head with his free hand, he threw away the Pitt Cola, thinking the soda was the cause of his headache. When you called him for dinner, his brain squirmed in pain. He walked over to the table, sitting himself down as he gripped his head. Too lost in the mind numbing pain, he fails to hear your calls.

“Dad?” 

No response.

“Dad?” You called out again, kicking him from under the table. He jolted up in surprise. 

“W-What?” He groaned out, his hand still on his forehead. “Are you okay?” You reach out to him, hand on his arm as your thumb moves side to side. Ford weakly smiles, appreciating the gesture. “I’m fine, sweetie. Don’t worry about me.” He looked at you, offering a timid thumbs up. “I’m just getting old.” He said, the pads of his fingers pressing against his temples. 

“Do you want me to get you tylenol or—?” Ford waves you off. “It’s okay, kiddo. I’ll tough it out.” 

For the past few minutes, you’d catch him staring off into the distance, eyes wide and mouth half open. Everytime you would have to snap him out of his trance, worried if he stayed like that any longer something bad would have happened. Abruptly getting up from the chair, he mumbles, “Heading to bed.” Leaving you alone in the dining room. Unsure on how to react, you watched him leave. No goodnight? No kiss on the forehead? You frowned and got up from your chair, grabbing your plate and his. While washing the dishes you thought of all the possible reasons on why he’s acting so weirdly. But nothing came to mind. Drying your hands on your pants, you walked over to his room.

Opening the door, you peeked your head in. You found him fast asleep on his bed. Carefully stepping inside his room, you pull his blanket over his shoulder and pressed a kiss on his cheek. “Sleep well, Dad.” You whisper. 

The next morning was weird to say the least. You woke up to the smell of breakfast wafting into your room. Curious and hungry, you quickly brushed your teeth and skipped down the hall. “Dad?” You walk into the kitchen to see him cooking up breakfast, a large smile to his face. “You look happy?” You say rather confused, watching as he flipped the pancake up in the air. 

“Today is a good day, kiddo!” He said with so much energy you were convinced that your dad was kidnapped and replaced by a poorly made replica during the night. Never once in your life have you seen him so chipper to be up so early. “Is that so?” Ford finishes up the pancakes and sets them on plates. He hands you a plate and puts his down on the table. 

He grabbed butter and syrup from the cabidents, popping the syrup bottle open and drenching his pancake with the sweet syrup. “Want?” He asks you. “No thank you.” 

He sits down on his chair and picks up his fork. You watched him closely as he cut a piece of the pancake with the side of his fork, the smile never washing away from his face. “Did you have a good dream or…?” He laughed, stabbing the piece of the cut pancake with his fork. “Guess you could say that.” He looked at you, a flash of yellow ignited in one of his eyes. You blink and his eye is back to normal. You shake your head, brushing it off as your mind tricking you. “Okay?” You looked down to your plate, the fluffy pancake suddenly looking unappetizing. The whiplash of his sudden change in attitude really struck you hard. You pushed the plate away from you, taking in a breath through clenched teeth. “I’m gonna eat later, okay?” You got up and headed to your room before Ford could respond. 

“That was weird, wasn’t it, Sixer?!” A voice boomed in his head. Ford jumped, dropping his fork. “Can you give me a heads up when you do that?” He grumbled under his breath, recollecting himself. “Oops! Sorry,” Bill laughed loudly in his head. “Heads up!” He warns.

“There’s no point if you say it after.” Ford mumbles, grabbing his fork to continue eating his breakfast. “You humans and their foods,” Ford could imagine Bill rolling his eye. “Hurry up or else I’m going to rip my eye out of boredom!” 

Months ticked by and Ford was still strung up on building a portal. When you’d ask him about it, he would vaguely respond by saying; “This will break the boundaries between our worlds!” And continued to mumble incoherently to himself, pacing around the room as he stewed in his thoughts. He also began to collect weird art of this godly being. His lab was shrouded with tapestries, paintings and statues of a yellow triangle. Questioning about the art led you nowhere. Ford would act like it wasn’t such a big deal and make it seem like you’re the crazy one for finding an issue with his sudden obsession with this triangle. You just pinned it as him obsessively worshiping whatever this god is. As long as it doesn’t get too out of hand. 

Even if he was knee deep in his work, he still managed to find some time to spend time with you. Outings were pretty common and you made it known that you appreciate him stepping out of his little man dungeon just to spend some time with you. 

Everything was going good for Ford and you. He was slowly reaching his answer he’s been desperately looking for this whole time and you were happy to see him in such high spirits all the time. Not that he never was! He just seems more confident in himself, like he knows his self-worth. You wondered what exactly happened to him to make him so assured of himself. 

Although, there would be times where his usual outgoing spirit was washed out for weeks at a time, even months. You were always there to cheer him up, to ground him, to tell him that everything was going to be okay during those times. You never thought much of it, just chalking it up as him going through mental exhaustion. It made the most sense to you. After all, he practically spends most of his day going out to that UFO crash landing site to collect scraps for the portal. There’s days where he’s all beaten and bruised and you’re left to take care of his wounds. You pestered him like a mother would to their child. 

Ford sat down on the couch with a loud sigh, unbeknownst to him, you were in the kitchen browsing the cabinets for any snacks when Ford started mumbling to himself. “My muse,” He says. “Gone without a word once again.” He groans. You could hear him take off his glasses and place them somewhere. “Muse?” You whispered under your breath. You waited for him to say anything else that you can latch on to, but unfortunately for you, the TV sparked to life. Latest news reports filled the room and you were left stumped with new information.Was this supposed muse the reason why he gets all sad and anxious? Is this Muse a partner he hasn’t introduced you to yet? Your head is thick of conspiracies and feasible reasons but it was cut short when Ford interrupted your thoughts by walking in. 

“Sweetie?” He’s surprised to see you in the kitchen, hunched over in thought. “How long have you been standing there?”

“Uh,” You look at the open cabinet, flipping your eyes between the cabinet and your dad. “Not long! I was…looking for snacks!” You grabbed a bag of chips. “Oookaayy?” He walks to the fridge and grabs a bottle of water. 

“Are you seeing anyone?” 

Like a flash of lightning, your face is sprayed with Ford’s mouth water. “I’ll take that as a no,” You said, voice raspy. You waddle out of the kitchen, dripping water onto the floor. “I’m sorry, kiddo!” 

At some point, he needed a few extra hands to help assemble the machine. Ford chose you and an old friend of his, Fiddleford, to be his helpers. Meeting Fiddleford was a delight. He’s a kind hearted soul who had the brains of a genius. When there were slow days in building the portal, he’d play a song on the banjo to lighten up the mood. You all grew close as time went on and you felt like you had your own little family. You cherished every laugh, smile and conversation that passed between you and the others. 

“What songs can you play?” You ask Fiddleford who was strumming the strings of his banjo without any thought. Catching his attention, he takes in your question. He considered his answer for a minute or so. “I don’t think it’s a song you’d know.” He says, beginning to play the opening tune on his instrument. “I know Ford will know this one though!” He smirks, head craning over to Ford who was drawing the outline for the portal. As Fiddleford smoothed into the middle of the song, Ford was turned over on his chair, head swaying to the beat. Once the song came to a close, the lab erupted in rounds of applause. “Thank you, thank you all!” 

“I remember that song all too well.” Ford grins. You furrowed your brows. “I’m curious. Why do you two know the song?” Your finger switching between Ford and Fiddleford. “There’s nothin’ really special behind it,” Fiddleford lightly shrugs. “I just played this song whenever Ford had trouble concentrating on his work.” 

“And it worked?” Ford nodded his head. “Worked seamlessly.” 

You weren’t surprised when Fiddleford would start playing the song whenever Ford was stressed out. 

June 15th rolled by, Ford’s birthday! You and Fiddleford secretly planned a surprise party for him, something small between the three of you to remind him how much you and Fiddleford love him. You knew he never was a fan of his birthday. Celebrating one without his twin grew harder each year, but you seemed to lessen the ache in his heart and with Fiddleford a part of the little family now, his birthday surely won't be as bittersweet! 

Walking over to his lab, you felt your shoe press against something squishy. Looking down to the floor, you saw a pile of dead rats that spelled out his name. The one you stepped on was flattened, mouth hung open as its bloodied guts pool out of it. You let out a scream, stumbling backwards in disgust and horror. 

The door to Ford’s lab flew open, a concerned Ford stood behind it. “Kiddo, are you alriighht…?” His words trailed off into the air, his attention now shifted to the pile of dead rats on the ground. “What the…?” His eyes flicker between you and the rats. He looks equally horrified and disgusted. “I’m gonna get something to clean—“ A gag interrupts you. “To clean that up!” You said in a hurried flash, hands cupping your mouth as you scurried away from the scene. 

When you came back with a mask covering your nose and mouth, disinfectant spray, a broom and a trash bag; You saw Ford sweetly smiling at the pack of dead rats. “Uh, dad?” Why was he looking at the rats like that? His head flew up, eyes locking with yours. “Oh, kiddo! Th-Thanks! I’ll clean this up, don’t you worry.” He says, grabbing the cleaning product and broom. 

“Uh, okay? Me and Fiddleford are upstairs. We made you something.” You tell him, fidgeting with your fingers. A quick “mhm,” leaves him and you’re left to walk back to the kitchen, a little weirded out by his smile. “Did you clean it up?” Fiddleford asked, adding the finishing touches to the cake. “dad’s cleaning it up. He was acting weird though,” You look at the cake. Gorgeously decorated with white frosting all by Fiddleford’s amazing handiwork. “Weird in what way?” He curiously asked. “Like, there was a pile of dead rats that formed his name and he was disgusted at first, but when I came back with cleaning supplies he looked…” You stop, searching for the word in your head. “Touched?” Your voice high pitched with uncertainty “He looked at the rats as if they were a gift almost.” 

“Now ain’t that something.” He looks at you with a shake of his head. “Listen, I love your dad but he’s been actin’ weird.” He pushes his glasses up, setting the piping bag aside. “I sometimes catch him talking to himself. I knew to a certain degree he talked to himself, but I don’t remember it being that bad.” 

“I notice that too, do you think it’s that–” 

“What is all of this?” Ford asked, amusement trailing his voice. The conversation between you and Fiddleford evaporated in thin air and was replaced with you and him both yelling out, “Happy Birthday!”

His birthday went smoothly and perfect in your eyes, if you ignore the hiccup from earlier. Your dad was laughing heartily at what Fiddleford told him, drinks in both of their hands. Plates of eaten cake were left on the table, confetti was strewn about and you were more than satisfied with you and Fiddleford’s work. You watched as the pair happily conversed with each other, sharing old memories of college together. As the mini party came to a close, Ford turned to you as he hugged Fiddleford goodbye. “Thank you for this, truly. I needed this.” Hugging him, you gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Anytime, dad.” You smiled.

Soon enough, Christmas was right around the corner. The small little town of Gravity Falls was celebrating the festive cheer by blasting music from every corner and littering their house with decorations. Something you also partook in. Standing on top of the very tall ladder, you decorated the roof with Christmas tree shaped lights. 

“Kiddo!” 

Looking down, you saw Ford waving at you. “Hi, Dad!” You wave back, slowly ascending down the ladder. Once you reached the bottom, Ford had shoved a snowglobe and a 6-fingered mitten your way. “Look at what Fiddleford made me.” Ford beamed, a small hue of pink flushing his cheeks. You picked up the snowglobe and shook it. You watched in awe as the glittery snow cascaded down to the bottom. “He’s so good at making things.” You say, handing back the adorable snow globe. “And a six fingered mitten?” You slipped the glove on. It covered your whole hand and almost up to your forearm due to how big it was.

“Give me that.” Ford chuckled, removing the mitten off your hand with a swipe. “That’s so sweet.” You say, seeing Ford bleed out utter joy. “And look what he got you!” Digging in his pocket, he pulled out a picture frame. Within the frame was a photo of you, Ford and Fiddleford at Gravity Falls local park. All three of you were stupidly posing in the photo, faces pulled in different ways to make the weirdest face ever. The frame was decorated with a mini wreath and tinsel. On the back, he wrote “To my family,” with a tiny heart scribbled as a period. “He thinks of us as his family!” You held the picture frame close to your chest. “dad! I’m going to cry. This is so sweet.” 

“He’s one of a kind.” He says, staring at his gifts longingly. “Where is he? I need to go thank him.” Your eyes search around the premise. “I’m afraid you’re too late, kiddo.”

“What?” You quickly turned around. “Is he dead?!” You practically yelled out. “What? No, no.” He shook his head. “He’s out of town. Spending time with his wife.” You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding in. “Why did you say it like that!” You shoved his shoulder with your hand. He let out a snort. “Sorry, sorry!” He raised his hands up defensively. “Whatever,” You said jokingly. “Are you done decorating the house?” He wonders, peering his head up to see the lights flashing on the roof. “Not quite. I still need to decorate the front porch and such. Wanna help?” Ford didn’t hesitate to agree. He grabbed your gift and placed it inside where it was safe and started helping you decorate.

Wordlessly, you disappeared into the house for a moment. Ford was puzzled but it all made sense when he heard loud Christmas music grow near. The door burst open and there you were, radio in hand with a multitude of DVD’s in the other. “I had to play some music.” 

“Just don’t play the songs Fiddleford plays!” 

“Those are the exact songs I’m playing.” A groan was heard from Ford and you had to stifle a laugh. That day was spent entirely accessorizing the whole house. The next few days progressed nicely. The christmas spirit was thick in the atmosphere and nothing could shatter it. And as if it was a Christmas miracle, Ford had told you that Fiddleford came back earlier than intended due to relationship problems back home. He also slid in that he had just met The Krampus before crashing down on the couch. The next hour was you trying to shake your dad up from his slumber to get the full story. How could he drop the mention that he met Krampus and knock out like that?  

Later that day, Ford was magically possessed by the spirit of Christmas and chose to decorate the portal with lights and a ‘Happy Holidays’ banner. “What’s all this?” You point towards the portal that was covered in flashing lights. “I just wanted to make the place look festive.” There was another reason why he did this and you read him all too well.

“I bet it’s for Fiddleford.” You tease. He scoffed, waving you off. “I may or may not have called him over.” You squeal, hugging Ford with all your might. “Is this how having a full family feels like?” 

“What! Did you not like when Christmas was just us two?” He took your comment very personally, even though a smidgen of him thought the same thing. “No. I loved it, but it’s nice to share the festivities with someone else.” 

After a bit of waiting around, a knock resounded through the house. Ford perks up from his chair. “That’s him!” He exclaims. Quickly turning to you, he throws the remote to the lights to you. “When we walk in, turn on the light and throw the christmas confetti.” He instructs you. 

“You can count on me!” You said, puffing out your chest. Hiding behind the wall, you heard Ford’s footsteps lull to whisper. Quiet chatter was heard and soon, the footsteps drew near. Your finger hovered the On button. You overheard a tiny little yelp and the sound of something unraveling. Looking towards the portal, you saw a little gnome hanging upside down by his foot. 

“Oh, c’mon!” You smack your head. You didn’t have time to unwrap the lights off his ankle. Mouthing a “hold on!” to the gnome, you watched as Ford and Fiddleford’s shadow crept into view. You smashed your fingers on the On button, the lights flickering to life. 

A gasp left Fiddleford. “First you decorate the house and now the portal? Gee, Ford! And to think I thought you were a mini grinch.” He jested, delivering a slight punch to Ford’s arm. “I’m glad you like it, Fiddleford.” He said softly. He then coughed to his hand, his eyes moving to the general direction where you were at. “Imagine if we had CONFETTI thrown at us. That would be AWESOME.”

Your eyes widen. You forgot the confetti! Jumping right in front of them, you threw the ball of confetti in their face. Your vision was full of confetti fluttering down. When it cleared out, you saw Ford’s unimpressed face and Fiddleford’s large smile. He cracked into full blown laughter, hunched over as Ford coughed out confetti from his mouth. “Really?”

“Oops?” You awkwardly laugh. 

“Is that a gnome?” Ford points over to the gnome who waved at him enthusiastically. “Ignore him…” You said quietly.

Half of the cold night was spent warmly tucked in the lab, all huddled up behind blankets and hot cocoa in hands. Sooner or later, they swapped out their hot cocoa with nog. They both told you stories from their past together, stemming from embarrassing stories to really heartfelt ones. Each story either had you hooked on every word that left their mouth or a messy ball of tears. 

“You know,” Ford begins, leaning back, looking at Fiddleford and you adoringly. “Maybe we should stop building the portal.” 

Shock strikes you and Fiddleford. “What happened to making scientific history?” He asks. 

“Don’t get me wrong, I still want to make history but…” His eyes trail to the portal.  “I just want to spend time with my favorite people in the world outside of this lab.” His fingers tapped the floor mindlessly. “I have people around me who love me. Why waste that, you know?” 

“Am I goin’ crazy?” Fiddleford whispers to you. “I think it’s the nog talking.” You whisper back.

“I can hear you guys talking!” 

Facing Ford, Fiddleford had a light blush on his cheeks. “You tell me I’m the sappy one but I think I’m rubbin’ off on ya,” He nudges him. “Don’t make me take back what I said.” He threatens with no actual meaning behind it. 

“Why don’t we go outside to build snowmen? That way I can see you wear that six-fingered glove I tirelessly worked on.” Fiddleford suggested. Liking the idea, Ford got up to his feet. He lent out a hand to Fiddleford who graciously took his hand. “Last one to go outside is a rotten eggnog!”

You and the boys rush to their respective rooms, hastily changing out of their thin long sleeves to their thick jackets and pants. Throwing the door to your room open, you stumbled out of the house and onto the snow where you tripped. Laughter sounded around you. Lifting your head up from the fluffy snow, you saw Ford and Fiddleford already out, all bundled up to protect themselves from the cold. “No way!” You gasped, scrambling to your feet. “Yes way!” Ford said. 

The other half of the night was spent building snowmen, making snow angels and snowball fights. You tapped out after a while, hugging the both of them closely. “Best day ever!” You said, throwing some snow in the air. “I’m glad you had fun, kiddo.” His hand patted your back, giving you a kiss on your temple. Fiddleford ruffled your hair endearingly.

“Night, guys. Don’t go too crazy on the nog!” They did exactly what you told them not to do.

A month passed and you believed everything was going alright, you thought everyone was getting along but something happened to Ford a few weeks ago. He’s been more paranoid now, snapping at you or Fiddleford and erratically going off on tangents of how he needs to finish the portal. The talk of discarding the portal many nights ago was lost to the wind. Now it rested as some silly little pipe dream. 

Fiddleford was noticeably putting less and less effort in the project. You’d often find him daydreaming on his desk, mind far away from the lab. Your work was beginning to become sloppy, head full of thoughts and worries. You stressed over the thought of how everything was just fine a few weeks ago. Now it was slowly falling apart.

You were taking a break outside of the lab when Fiddleford stormed out. His face pinched with a mix of anger and sadness. “Fiddleford?” You rushed to your feet, running over to him. “Fiddleford, what happened?” You stood in front of him, stopping him in his tracks. His lip trembled, looking off to the side. “I don’t wanna talk about it. Go ask your dad since he’s so keen on yellin’ at me.” 

Your heart drops to your stomach. Your dad did what? “D-Do you wanna stay here? I-I can talk to him and you guys can make up or something!” Your words stumbled over each other. You can see your whole world crumbling down right in front of you and it was all because of your dad. “It’s alright, pumpkin. I’ma head home now.” A somber yet reassuring smile pulled to his lips.

“I’m going to talk to him, I promise.” You tell him with a firm nod to your head. “Thank you.” His voice was weak, something you’ve never heard from him before. You brought him into a hug, squeezing him before letting him go. He wished you a good afternoon and left, leaving you alone to deal with your dad.

You sucked in a deep breath and trudged towards the lab. Walking in, you saw Ford pacing around anxiously, a scramble of words tumbling out of his mouth at rapid speed. “Dad?” His head snaps to you, a light yellow glow in his eye. The same one you saw almost one year ago. He blinked and suddenly it was gone. “What do you want, kiddo?” His tone was harsh and clipped.

“I just wanted to talk to you.” You cower a bit. His anxious energy and rude tone shook you to your core. He’s never talked to you with such anger before. “Are you here because of what happened between Fiddleford and me?” He inquired, taking a step towards you. Seeing his face better, you could see that it was pulled into an irritated scowl. “What happened, dad?” 

“He was going through my stuff! Without my permission!” He said, his hands cupped towards him, directing them at himself. “And to think I trusted him!” 

“He probably got the cabinets mixed up or something.” You shrug, not getting the whole show he’s throwing. Ford pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering to himself. “You don’t understand.” 

“Understand what?” Your lips quivered. You felt so little compared to him. He towered over you with such burning anger you couldn’t process that he was your dad. “You don’t understand what’s going inside my head!” He jabs his finger to his temple repeatedly. “You can’t trust anyone, especially him!” 

“This is Fiddleford we’re talking about, Dad! He wouldn’t even hurt a fly.” You said. You couldn’t grasp the words that were coming out of his mouth. Since when did he start doubting Fiddleford’s loyalty? What planted this ridiculous idea into his head? Your heart was pounding in your ears.

“So explain to me why he was rummaging through my belongings!”

“I’m not Fiddleford, I can’t answer that question!” 

Ford scoffed, he opened his mouth to say something when it faltered close. He was quiet for a moment, lost in his thoughts when he took a step back. His expression screamed betrayal. “Unless you’re siding with him to work against me.” He murmured, eyes narrowed at you.

Your stomach twisted into knots. “Seriously?” Your voice wavered. You closed your eyes, biting your lip to suppress your cries. When you opened your eyes, you were locked on a tapestry of that yellow triangle. That’s when it all clicked. Swallowing your sorrows, you pointed to the tapestry. 

“That triangle,” You start. “Ever since you started hanging up those stupid paintings or whatever, you’ve been acting strange in all kinds of ways.” You walk over to it, fingertips brushing the material. Ford eyes you warily. “Is this your Muse I hear you talk to yourself about?” Your fingers wrap around the tapestry. 

“Don’t.” His finger pointed at you. You felt like you were a kid again, being disciplined by him for acting irresponsible, for breaking something you shouldn’t have. It made the reality of the situation a lot more serious. This wasn’t something that Ford could shrug off due to your poor impulse control. This is something you chose to do. “Please don’t.” He begged, his eyes glossing over with tears. 

You yanked it, ripping it in half. Ford reached out to grab the ripped tapestry but you were too quick. You moved to the side and observed the art designed on it. A flying yellow triangle was depicted as the saving grace of our world. In the background there were people on their knees, while some stood behind them. What stood out to you the most was their eyes yellow, their pupils replaced with a black straight line. You’ve seen those yellow eyes before. You turn your head over to Ford, your heart crushing against your chest. You could barely recognize the man in front of you. He had deep dark eye bags under his eyes, the whites of his eyes had dark crimson veins that irritated his eyes. His hair was disheveled and his chin had little stubbles of hair growing out. 

“What is this?” The back of your hand smacks against the tapestry. “Who is this? Why am I just making sense of all of this now?” You shoot questions at him like rapid bullets. “Why haven’t you told me anything about this?” 

Closing his eyes, he leaned his head back. “I don’t know if I should tell you.” He says, voice low. “I don’t want you to jeopardize our main goal.”

“What main goal, Dad?” You shot back. “The one you said you didn’t want to do anymore because you didn’t want to lose track of what’s in front of you?” Your hands clenched the tapestry. “I changed my mind.” Ford rubs his forehead, looking away from your eyes, clearly ashamed of himself. “Clearly!” You stared at him for a moment. “Why?” He looks over to you, his face riddled with exhaustion. You soften your tone and repeat it. “Why?”

“I don’t know.” He responds. “Did the triangle guy give you shit for it?” You watch as he winces. Right on the dot. So this entity, this being, it speaks to him. “Does he talk to you?” He nods slowly, as if he’s unsure that the information he’s sharing is allowed to be told. “Dad…” You drop the tapestry. “What have you gotten yourself into?” 

A prolonged silence entraps you and him. You stare at him and he stares at you and he looks so terribly conflicted with himself. He looks at you like he doesn’t know what’s right or wrong. He pushes his glasses up, his lips pressed into a thin line. “I need you to get out of my lab.” 

“What?” Your whole body tingles with cold chills. You can’t tell if he's joking or not. He has to be joking, right? There’s no way he’s demanding you to leave, right? “Dad I—“

“—I said that you need to leave. Why haven’t you done that already?” His voice is dangerously low. His irritation seeps deeply into his words and punches you right in the heart. You open your mouth, ready to protest, ready to fight with whatever energy you had left in you but closed it. 

You backed out. 

Kicking the tapestry over to him, you forcefully knock your shoulders with him as you leave. Hot tears escaped your eyes as you ran to your room, shutting the door of your room.

Ford sighs out, despair riddling his body. “And you’re sure that [Name] and Fiddleford devised a plan to turn off the portal?” He asked Bill who floated in front of him. Bill flicked his hand down. “Don’t you worry, pal! You did the right thing.” A distant look was evident on Ford’s face. 

“You do a good job at listening to me, you know that, Fordsy?” Ford could only grumble in response. 

Bill spun around to face the portal  “When do you think this portal can turn on?” 

“Tomorrow.” Ford firmly says. “Do you think you can rally those two knuckleheads tomorrow? You need a test dummy afterall!” 

“I might be able to.”

The morning blooms to life and you’re left rotting on the bed, not wanting to move from the only place that provided you constant comfort. Hours pass by when you hear Fiddleford’s voice. You sprung up from the bed. What is he doing here? Making a beeline to the bathroom, you quickly brush your teeth and hurry on down to the living room. They’re nowhere to be seen. 

You rush to the lab and open the door. The ground shifts as the portal powers to life. You watch as they approach the roaring portal, test dummy in hand. What happens next all happens too fast. Fiddleford’s wrist got tied to rope that was on the test dummy and got pulled along with it, his head getting sucked in. You run over to your dad, hands latching on to the rope that was conveniently on his ankle. Together, you and Ford pull him back in. You fall back to the floor. Fiddleford violently trembles as he speaks some garbled nonsense. 

“Fiddleford?” 

He sits up, staring blankly ahead of him. “When gravity falls and earth becomes sky, fear the beast with one eye!”

“Fiddleford, get a hold of yourself. You’re not making any sense!” Ford reached out to Fiddleford but he flinched away before he could. “This machine is dangerous,” He states, hugging his arm. “You’ll bring about the ends of the world with this!” He grabs onto Ford’s shoulder. “Destroy it before it destroys us all!”

“I can’t, Fiddleford. This is my life's work!” 

Fiddleford looks down to the floor. “I fear we unleashed a grave danger on the world.” He looks petrified. Whatever he saw on the other hand has mentally taken a toll on him within a matter of seconds. He looks up to Ford, his eyes brimming with tears. “I’m not gonna ask again.” His body tremors in fear. “You need to destroy the machine, Ford. Please, I beg of you.”

“Fiddleford. I can’t just throw this all away.” Ford says. 

Fiddleford studies his face, hoping that a part of Ford was lying. But when Ford’s stern face unwavering, Fiddleford broke. “Then I quit.” He stands up from the floor, his eyes gazing at you one last time before he marches out of the lab, leaving you and Ford stunned. 

“Fear the beast with one eye,” You echoed, your mind instantly flashing to the image of the yellow triangle Ford has everywhere. Ford had seemed to make the same revelation. He shuffles to his feet, still shaken up by what had just happened, he stumbles a bit as he goes back inside the lab, pulling out his journal 3 notebook. “Shut off the portal!” He commands. 

You don’t waste a second getting up and switching off every knob, lever and button. Sneaking careful glances to Ford, you can see him writing, his pressure on the pencil is so hard that the words he writes come out thick and black. You just stand there and watch him visibly break down, his mental health deteriorating as the minutes go on. 

“I need to destroy the portal and burn the journals,” He finally speaks up after a long minute. “And we’re leaving Gravity Falls once I deal with everything.” He slammed the book shut and tucked it inside his coat. “We’re what? Leaving Gravity Falls?” You follow him closely as he leaves the lab, eyes clouded over with fear. “It’s not safe here, [Name].” 

The whole day is such a messy blur. Too overwhelmed with your emotions you couldn’t grasp the severity of the situation. You were still hung up on the fact Fiddleford left. The look in his eyes will be forever ingrained in your memory. Everything around you is falling apart and you can’t seem to pick up the pieces and fix it. Sleep was unachievable. Closing your eyes would replay the memories of what happened hours prior. 

Footsteps approached your room, but they weren’t the ones you were familiar with. These were messy and uncoordinated. Bangs of someone slamming against the wall shook your room and before you could have any time to react, your door whips open, revealing Ford. You breathe out in relief. It was just your dad.

Ford’s head pulls up as if it’s being controlled by a string and stares you down with a wide smile. His comforting brown eyes weren’t there anymore. Instead, they glowed a disgusting yellow. His pupils were a black slit and you felt your blood run cold and the world around you stopping. You felt like a fool to think you were safe. 

“Nice to finally meet you!” Another person’s voice spoke using your dad’s mouth. “Names Bill, Bill Cipher!” He hung out his hand for you to shake. Your body felt like cement was encased in your veins, preventing you from moving. His eyes switched from his hand to yours a few times before pulling his hands back. “I see you don’t do handshakes. I get it! You’re probably thinking where’s my dad right now? What is inside of him? What is going ooonnn?!” He lets out a laugh. “Right? You’re thinking that?” 

Your voice dies in your throat, your words failing you. “Hmm, maybe I chose the wrong day to come out…Should I have done it tomorrow?” He thinks out loud, tapping his finger on his chin, exactly the way your dad did. “Well, too late to think about what could’ve happened!” He jolts towards you, his hand grabbing your wrist. You break out of your trance “Let go of me!” You screech. Your fist clenched, ready to blow a punch to Bill’s arm when it hit you, this is your dad’s body. Any injury you inflict on Bill is also harming your dad. “What? Are you too scared to hit me because I’m in Ford’s body?” A cackle leaves Bill. “This will make this so much easier then!”

“Make what easier?” Not knowing what Bill was scheming made everything feel so much scarier. “I’m breaking into Sixer’s lab! But I just need your help.” A warm sensation drips onto your hand and slides down to your arm. You feel bile climb up your throat when you see that it was blood seeping out of the various open wounds Bill had given to Ford on his knuckles. “W-what did you do?!” The wounds weren’t deep, but the skin was ripped open and Bill dragging you down to the lab only peeled the skin open even more. “Just tried bashing the door down. Is it obvious that it didn't work?” 

You reached the lab’s door. Blood was smudged on the door, some dripping down to the floor. The strong scent of metal hung in the air and you could feel your stomach churning. “Unfortunately for me, Sixer can be a real genius at times. He implemented this stupid security system so I couldn’t get in!” Bill’s other hand grips your hair. “It won’t work with my eye, but it’ll work with youuurss!” His hand in your hair pushes your head towards the eye scanner. You yelp out in pain. “Oh, stop complaining!” His finger pressed a button and the scanner began inspecting your eye, before it could do a proper scan you screwed your eyes shut. “Oh no you don’t.” Bill pries your eye open and starts the scanner all over again. You tried struggling against it, but his boot stomped down on your ankle, twisting it sideways. “I just wanted to do that!” You screamed in agony, tears pouring out of your eyes. 

A loud beep sounded and you thought you were granted access when Bill cursed under his breath. He throws you against the wall, you head knocking against it. “So useless!” He delivers a punch to the door. “I will get access to that portal.” He shoots over to you, a large toothy smile that spreads ear to ear unnaturally took over Ford’s face. “Or maybe I can think of other ways to convince him to–” His eyes roll to the back of his head and he falls back. “Dad!” You crawl over to him, hands on his cheeks as you watch his eyes flutter open. No longer were they yellow. 

“Oh, thank god!” You wrap him in a hug, tears falling down your face. “D-Did I fall asleep?” Ford slurred out. As Ford’s surroundings came back to him, his face scrunches up when he’s assaulted with the stench of blood. “[Name], what happened?” 

“Bill tried breaking into the lab to use the portal.” You say, giving him a squeeze before giving him space. “Did he get in?” He groans as he sits up, body terribly sore. “No, he didn’t.” His eyesight focuses on you, eyes blowing wide when he sees blood staining your hand and arm. “Did he hurt you?” He grabs onto your hand, looking for any damage. “He didn’t make me bleed. Just gave me a tiny concussion and a twisted ankle probably.” 

Ford stays silent for a moment, his head replaying your words. Anger boiled in his chest as he thought of the ways he hurt you while he was possessing his body. “Don’t worry, Dad. I’m fine!” You assure. “I’m more worried about your knuckles.” You say, looking at the splintering skin. “My knuckles?” He casts his gaze over his knuckles and winces at the sight. “He does not know when to give up.” 

The rest of the night was you patching Ford up and him patching you up. Conversation floated between you and him as if the previous days were nothing but a nightmare. That’s when he unloaded everything about Bill onto you, from the moment they made the deal to when the portal was revealed to be nothing but a way for Bill to take over Earth. You could see the remorse on his face as he talked, speaking on how he felt so stupid for falling into his tricks, believing the lies he told and how he almost caused a rift between the two of you. You already figured out most of what he told you prior to the conversation, but having it proven to be true and not baseless guesses was astounding. 

“I’m sorry for how I’ve been acting for the past year.” He says, holding you tightly to his chest. “It’s okay, Dad. You were under his influence and believed him more than you believed yourself.” You tell him. 

From then on out, you and Ford searched for anything that’ll help defeat Bill. Ford stumbled across a book with armor that was supposed to keep Bill out of the mind. The machinery was horribly outdated but by growing on their ideas, you and Ford had a solid outline of a modern alternative. Assembling it was another story. 

“Does this go here or here?” 

“No..I think it goes here?” 

The idea was scrapped and Ford was back to square one. Without Fiddleford’s brilliance in machinery, the protective armor was pretty much unachievable. And right before you knew it, the inevitable came. Ford fell asleep. You walked into his room with what you originally thought was him hunched over his desk, sticky notes stuck to every part of the wall and desk. Bill heard you walk in and shot up from his chair. “Oh, am I glad to see you!” Bill approached you with open arms.

“What are you doing, Bill?” You tried your best to sound menacing but your voice betrayed you. “I’m just trying to convince your dad to talk to me again. Do you think that’s possible?” He grabs your arm and pulls you to the desk. “Or maybe shedding your blood on the post-it notes would fasten the process?” His hands dig in the cabinet, pulling up a box cutter. You watch in horror as the blade pops out. “My blood won’t solve anything!” You said, trying to yank your arm away from his grip but it was too tight. “Then should I spill your blood and his?” He has the blade to your arm and you do your very best to stay still. Any movement and you'll surely rip some skin open. You sit in a pool of your own anxiety, waiting for Bill to slash your arm open but he never does. He drops the box cutter and shoves you. “Doing that will only make him hate me even more!” He yells, bashing his head on the wall repeatedly. 

“Hey!” You pull him back by the shoulder. “Are you trying to give yourself a headache!” Bill ignores you and sits back down on the chair, obsessively writing post-it notes where he begs for Ford’s forgiveness. And for a while, that’s how they communicated. Through notes. At some point, the whole room was covered in writings of both Bill and Ford. When that didn’t work, he tapped a snake to Ford’s journal. It was back and forth of childish antics between the two of them.

The more this progressed the more sleep deprived Ford became, the more paranoid he grew. “There’s no other options left.” He said, running his hands down his head. “I was stupid to believe I could defeat Bill and I thought Fiddleford would’ve had something, but he didn’t. Just a ripped up picture of us from college.” In his hands were the two pieces of the photo. You reached a dead end and you’re not sure if you can escape this one. “Has Fiddleford answered your calls?” He asks, thumb caressing the photo of Fiddleford. 

“He answered.” You crack your fingers. “He, uh…Doesn’t remember us.” 

“What do you mean he doesn’t remember us?” 

“I don’t know, he just asked who I was and why I kept calling. And when I told him about you and me he said I got the wrong person and hung up.” Heartbreak, after heartbreak. Nothing good seemed to come out of this situation and you were growing tired of all of it. You haven’t even gone outside to catch a breath of fresh air. You were too afraid Bill was lurking, waiting for you to be alone so he could find a twisted way to convince Ford to be on his side again.

Ford clenched the hand where the photo of himself was. Tears dripped from his eyes and down to the floor. “I’m so sorry for pulling you into this, kiddo.” He says. “You didn’t know that this was going to be the outcome, Dad. It’s okay.” You pull him for a hug. “I was so obsessed with finding answers that I–” Ford stopped himself with a garbled sob. “You didn’t know, Dad.” This was all too real, all too scary. You didn’t even want to think about how it would end. 

The months passed through your fingers and before you could sit back and relax, winter was here. Your favorite season. You were unsure on how to feel. The last winter was filled with memories to remember but thinking back on them only brought a chill to your heart. One day, a knock was heard from outside. “Dad!” You run over to get him, your heart bashing against your ribcage. “There’s someone at the door.” A year prior to this, you would’ve been more than happy to open the door, but considering what has happened the last few months, anything that dealt with leaving home was mind numbingly terrifying. “It’s okay. If anything happens, hide in the lab.” 

Arming himself with a crossbow, he opened the door. Aiming the crossbow at the person in front of him. “Well, I can always count on you for a warm welcome.” A gruff voice spoke. “Stanley,” Ford drops the crossbow. “Did anyone follow you, anyone at all?”

“Eh, hello to you too, pal.” Ford grabs him by the collar and pulls him in, shutting the door behind him. “[Name], flashlight please! And hurry!” Ford holds out his hand and you place the flashlight you found discarded on the floor in his hand. “W-What? Who?” Ford flashes the lights in his eyes. “Ah! Hey,” The man in the beanie pushes Ford’s hands down. “What is this?” Then his eyes trail over to you. “And who is this?” The gears turn in his head and his eyebrows furrow in shock. “You have a kid!” 

“That’s not the point.” Ford urged him to come in. He followed, his eyes never leaving you. “Hi, Uncle.” You nervously waved at him. “Does he talk about me?” Stan asks but he was pulled away from you before you could answer. Ford began spilling to him how he couldn’t trust no one, no one except him. Collecting all the books in his hands he went to the portal, you and Stan behind. 

Showing him the portal, he explained how he’s the only person he could trust with the last notebook. He tells Stan to sail far away to keep the book from getting into the wrong hands. ”That’s it?” Stan clenches the book in his hand, a scowl on his face. “I finally get to see you after 17 years and the first thing you tell me is to get as far away from you as possible?” 

“Stanley, you don't understand what we’re up against. What we’ve been through!” Ford walks past Stan, his hand gripping his hair. “We? C’mon, Stanford. Don’t tell me you dragged your kid into this.” 

An argument unfolded and no matter how hard you tried to stop them from fighting, they continued on. It got to the point where it got physical and where Stan got injured. Ford came to his side, asking if he was okay. Stan, overrun by anger pushed him, Ford’s back slamming against the lever which powered on the portal. Your stomach drops. Last time that portal was on, you lost Fiddleford, you can’t lose your dad too. 

Shoving the book into Ford’s chest was the last straw that broke the bridge. The portal sucked up Ford, suspended in the air he threw the book towards Stan. You ran over to grab your dad but he was too far beyond your reach. Your breathing was quickened and your head was spinning. You couldn’t believe this was happening. 

“Uncle Stan, do something!” 

“Stanley, do something!” 

His name was being shouted in his ears, overwhelmed he didn’t know what to do. Ford was fully sucked in and the portal shut off, blasting you and Stan back. When you recovered from the initial blast, you got up to your feet and grabbed the switch. You pulled with all your might, but nothing worked. “Uncle Stan!” You sobbed out. “Do something, please! Help me!” 

“K-Kid, I…” He walks towards you. His words were failing him, he didn’t know what to say. He had just ripped your father away from you and he lost his brother. Not knowing what else to do, he wraps you in a hug as you painfully sob into his jacket. 

“I’m sorry, kid.” 

@catr4dora @squ4respace i hope u guys liked it!! i wrote it with u guys in mind LMFAO and if u didn't im so sorry gulp

[froggibus]

Valentine's NSFW - Overwatch Men

Pairings: Baptiste, Cassidy, Genji, Hanzo, Ramattra & Reaper x fem! reader (reader uses she/her pronouns + has a pussy)

Genre: smut/NSFW

CW: cheesy Valentines things, aftercare, manhandling, bondage, role play, toys, shibari, praise, degradation, dirty talk, oral (giving & receiving) unprotected sex, p in v, cum stuffing, overstimulation, cervix fucking, teasing

i flopped so hard this Valentine’s Day but here’s some overwatch content 😭 im sorry my fellow lucio enjoyers i simply couldn’t do it i could not write him for valentines

—

Baptiste:

he’s a busy man, it’s a rare occasion that he has a day off, let alone two 

wants to make the most of his time with you 

takes his time to decorate your room, even changing the sheets to nice red ones and lighting some candles

for him it’s all about the ambience 

takes his time to seduce you, starting with kissing you, then moving down your neck and so on

takes his time with your chest, his expert hands turning you into a moaning mess 

when you’re finally so wet that you’re begging him just to touch you, he knows you’re ready

has you spread out on the bed, his head buried between your legs 

it’s been so long since he was able to eat you out, it’s like a feast to him 

doesn’t stop until you’ve came on his face at least twice, until his beard and chin are dripping with your juices 

he’s so gentle but so intentional with his touches 

teases your clit with his cock and laughs at the way you squirm and plead for him to put it in 

once he puts it in, it’s not coming out until he’s fully satisfied 

the man is insatiable, he’s drilling his cock into you like he’s trying to push it straight into your womb

it brushes your cervix and makes you wince, the pain only adding to the overwhelming pleasure you feel

loves cumming inside of you but saves it for special occasions like today

his aftercare is unmatched, the man has a basket of things to help soothe you after the fact 

he’ll massage your shoulders and talk you down

and always forces you to pee because god forbid you get a UTI (although he’d take extra good care of you then, too)

Cassidy:

wants to try absolutely anything

he’s always a kinky mf but Valentine’s is his excuse to dial it up to 11

buys you cute underwear that you can show off to him 

wants to roleplay 

once you get in bed with this man you’re not getting out all night 

he’ll have your hands cuffed behind your back while he watches you try to ride him 

just watching you struggle to take his cock without bracing yourself with his hands is enough to have him cumming

it’s just so cute how pathetic you are, dragging your walls up and down his thick cock and whining how it’s “too much”

gets tired of your whining and has you flipped in doggy, your head pressed into the mattress

this man is breeding you for hours

even after your pussy is aching and dripping with his cum, he’ll try to keep going 

switches between praise and degradation so fast he gives you whiplash

“so good f’me…takin’ my cock so well.”

spanks you if you get too quiet

“fuck, you’re sucha slut for me, aren’t ya?”

there will be bruises on your wrists from the handcuffs

when he finally lets you out of the bed, you can’t even walk on your own

so he runs you a hot bath with nice smelling salts, candles and lotions 

Genji:

kinky mf 

he’s probably been preparing for tonight for months 

has some of that aphrodisiac chocolate and definitely feeds it to you

so much foreplay 

he has you laying against his chest, legs spread out over his own, your pussy wide open for his fingers to dip into 

he loves playing with you and teasing you, listening to you whimper that’s it’s ’too much’ and you ‘can’t take it anymore’

your cute whines must make him want to bury his cock in you and pound you 

but tonight is about you and he wants to take his time 

definitely brought some toys with him, like a magic wand and a rabbit 

has the vibrator pressed against your clit while he fingers you

even after you cum a few times and whine about how you’re getting overstimulated, he still wants to fuck you until your brain is mush

it’s sweet relief when he finally puts the toys away and lays you down on the bed

you weakly spread your legs around his hips and give him access to your puffy pussy

feels so fucking good 

he gets so deep inside you every time, and he’s going slow enough that you can feel it every time his cockhead brushes your walls

whispers praises in your ear about how good you are, about how you just need to give him one more and he’ll be done 

“one more” turns into an extra hour 

by the end of the night, you’re completely fucked out and drooling, your pussy aching from how good he took care of you

helps you clean yourself up, planting kisses on your burning skin  

Hanzo:

SHIBARI

he’s been waiting so long for you to want to try it

you run to the bedroom when you get back from dinner 

Hanzo is so patient waiting outside until you finally yell come in 

you’ve stripped yourself to just your lingerie and you’re kneeling on the floor, holding silky red ropes in your hands 

he’s instantly hard just seeing you submit to him 

binds you up so nicely in the pretty little ropes, making sure you’re properly tied but keeping all your good places on display

manhandles you in front of him so he can prod at that pretty mouth with his cock

smears pre all of your lips and cheeks before pushing past your mouth and finally feeling your tongue on his length

you look so cute and helpless sitting beneath him and slobbering on his cock 

probably straight up carries you by the ropes on your back and tosses you into the bed 

you are doing it in every position tonight 

bent over, balls slapping your clit with every thrust 

on top of him, laying on his chest clawing desperately while he pounds you

against the wall, over the bed, on your knees, on his lap

he’s taking you any way he can

ends it in a mating press, undoing some of the ropes to offer you enough slack to fold your knees into your chest

leans over and coos about how cute you look with tears and cum smeared on your face

you’re stuffed with cum at the end of the night, laid out in the bed, face on his chest

Ramattra:

has no idea what Valentines is, and even after you explain doesn’t quite understand it

but if it’s important to you…

is teasing you the whole fucking day 

pinning you against the wall and rubbing your pussy until you’re dripping wet, pulling you into his lap when you walk by so you can feel the thrumming in his crotch plate 

he wants you soaked, prepped and ready for him at any time so that when he does decide to take you, he doesn’t have to waste any time

has you cockwarming him while he does work, an arm around your waist to hold you down on his massive length while his other taps away at a keyboard 

you’re squirming and writhing in his lap for more but his grip is like iron 

eventually he gives in to your incessant pleasing

“it’s St Valentines after all”

but don’t even think about trying to disobey him or try anything funny 

pretty much uses you like a flesh light the rest of the night 

the benefit of him being so strong is that he can manoeuvre you in anyway that he wants 

and given that he’s an omnic, he can go all night and never falter 

he’s brutal with his thrusts, pounding into you until your juices are spraying out and coating the plates of his thighs

“Look at how you’re gushing on me,” he teases, “look at how ruined your pussy is.”

probably fucks you until you’re on the verge of falling asleep 

after he’s done with you, when you’re laying and looking al cute and fucked out in his bed

he’ll just brush your hair away from your face. “Happy St Valentine’s, dear.”

Reaper:

he does not give a fuck about Valentine’s Day 

but if it gives him an excuse to take you in anyway he wants, he’s in

absolutely not what he has in mind when you’re binding him to your headboard with handcuffs 

he won’t admit it but he’s into it 

you spend over an hour just teasing him 

rubbing, licking, drooling on his cock, watching the way he shifts uncomfortably with every move 

it’s only after he calls out, “just fuck me or move on, please” that you listen to him 

Reyes never says please so you know he’s desperate 

of course you won’t even think about putting his cock inside of you until he's came in your mouth at least once

when you finally straddle his hips and sink down on his cock, Reaper is beyond impatient 

he’s straining against his handcuffs, telling you what a whore you are and how he can’t wait to get out of these and fuck you silly

you ride him painfully slow, scratching up his chest with your nails as you slide up and down his cock

eventually you get desperate and start bouncing even more, forcing his cock as deep as it can go

just as you’re about to cum, Reaper snaps the bedposts and frees his hands 

you’re in shock from the pure fucking strength it took and have no time to react before he’s flipping you on your back and taking you 

the muscles in his arms are strained as he props himself up above you, veins protruding 

just for teasing him, you’re not leaving the room until you’ve come at least three or four times 

or unless you beg for mercy (though Gabe is a wild card, and it’s a 50/50 if he’ll even let you go)

—

masterlist | overwatch masterlist

[minnielvrr]

Living Canvas

Lee: Minho Ler: Hyunjin, Chan Word Count: 2.7k

A/N: it's almost insane how much I love seeing Lino getting all the tickles his sweet heart deserves🥺💖hope you like it✨🤗

Tags: @itzsana-kiddingmenow, @lajanaa, @bbybumblelee, @hearted-anon, @lunalattae,

@reginald-stay09

Hyunjin was BORED. You may wonder, of what? Of painting, particularly on his usual canvases. He never thought a day would dawn when he’d feel that way, but here he was.

He lay draped over the carpet in their living room, mindlessly tracing patterns into the soft fibers, only to brush them away in frustration.

He was still there when Minho came over, stopping to stare at the moping puddle that was Hwang Hyunjin.

“Wow, a new rug,” he commented dryly, toeing at Hyunjin with one socked foot before heading over to Chan’s room. Hyunjin let out a long, drawn-out sigh, continuing his sad ministrations on the carpet.

Minho eventually did emerge from the leader’s room and flopped himself onto the couch. They stayed in a comfortable silence until the older’s voice cut through it.

“What’s wrong?” There was a tinge of worry and concern in Minho's voice that made Hyunjin roll over to face the kitten. “I don’t wanna paint anymore…” The older’s brows shot up at the confession.

“What? Like at all? Why not?”

“It’s not interesting anymore. I don’t feel as inspired to paint as I did before. Something about the canvas itself is throwing me off every time I so much as pick up a brush.”

The dam broke and Hyunjin rambled on until a finger was pressed onto his lips, effectively shutting him up.

“Did you try switching things up? Maybe try something other than a canvas to paint on?”

Minho’s suggestion was predictable. After all, that had been the first thing Hyunjin had tried. But maybe—maybe Hyunjin had been looking at this all wrong this whole time.

An unnerving smile crept slowly onto his face, his calculating gaze assessing Minho’s figure as an idea formulated.

“Hmm. You’re right hyung! Perhaps swapping out my usual for a more…interactive canvas would be a good idea.”

Minho did NOT like the emphasis the artist had put on the word ‘interactive’. His eyes narrowed and a chill ran down his spine.

Every instinct in his body screamed at him to run at the look Hyunjin was giving him. But the older remained seated, ever the poster child for a poker face.

But even as his face remained impassive, his body seemed to give him away. His feet drummed anxiously on the floor, his clasped hands writhing where they lay on his lap and sweat beaded his forehead.

“Hyungie, will you pleaseee help me out? Pretty please? I’ll take you out to eat afterwards!” Hyunjin’s voice was sugary sweet, eyes wide and innocent as he tried to convince the older to make a deal with the devil.

By now, Minho had a good idea of what was being expected of him. The kitten gulped, caught in a stare-off, until he folded—he really couldn’t say no to the kids.

“Fine, but you’re getting me ice cream too.” He hesitantly agreed, fully aware of what was coming his way.

“Deal!” Hyunjin’s smile was demonic. “Sit tight hyungie~ I’ll go fetch the supplies!”

Anxiety, nervousness and anticipation swirled like a soup in Minho’s stomach, his feet tapping more and more frequently on the carpet the longer Hyunjin took. Minho’s thoughts raced a million miles an hour as he mentally prepared himself.

After a good 10 minutes of this, the artist sauntered in, wearing a paint-streaked black apron and holding a big wooden box filled to the brim with paints and a collection of different brushes. He gave Minho a warm smile, setting the box down next to him on the floor.

“I’m just going to lay down some newspapers so we don’t ruin the floor,” he explained as he worked, covering the carpets with multiple layers of newspapers and finally with a paint-stained towel.

When Minho crouched to lay on it, a little dazed from the unexpected turn his day had taken, the artist stopped him, gesturing for him to lose the shirt.

“Your pants might get stained though…gimme a second hyungie!” Hyunjin raced to his room, reappearing with a pair of shorts, “Wear this, I don’t want your clothes to get messy.”

Then the ferret disappeared once more, this time into Chan’s room, allowing the older to change. By the time the kitten was done, Chan and Hyunjin emerged together.

"Channie hyung, help me hold him down, will you?” Chan was all too happy to lay Minho on the towel, cradling his head gently in his lap.

The leader clasped Minho’s hands in his own ones, gently rubbing circles into his palm to soothe his nerves.

“Okay! Time for prep!” The artist announced with a flourish, cracking his knuckles. Minho gulped at the action, biting his lower lip nervously. This wasn't in the script!

“W-what do you mean ‘prep’?”

“Hm?” Hyunjin sounded genuinely puzzled by the question. Then a twinkle of mischief appeared in his eyes.

“You’re too ticklish hyung. If I use my brushes on you right now, you’ll squirm around so much it’ll ruin my painting! So Channie hyung and I will get you ready so that you won’t be so sensitive.”

Minho didn’t buy that nonsense. He was all too familiar with this particular technique, being one he often used on the younger members (mostly Innie) whenever the youngest needed to put on makeup on his neck and ears.

Minho always volunteered, dragging their maknae away from their makeup noonas to wreck him, claiming it’ll let them do their job ‘easier’. Surprise surprise, it didn’t.

But now that the tables were turned, the kitten didn’t find it as funny. “That—that won’t be necessary. You can just get started. I’ll stay stiHIHILL!! HYUHUHUNJIHIN!”

The ferret had dragged one of his brushes over Minho’s lower belly, his eyes already flickering over to the next spot—Minho’s hips.

The kitten shook his head, blabbering in a panic,” No! Nohot there, JihiHIHInnie pleheheHEHEASE! Ihihi sAHAid noahAHAHAHA ah!!”

Hyunjin ditched the brush, carefully massaging the spot with his thumbs. The oldest grinned at the way their lee arched and squirmed. This was just the beginning.

“Chahahanihihie hyuhuhung!! Ahahahaha sahahave meee!!” He screeched at his only hyung. Chan just grinned at him, and wanting to get in on the fun, he grabbed a brush.

Holding Minho’s hands with one of his own, he moved them to the side of his face.

Then as the kitten watched with growing dread he lowered the brush to his ear, running the soft bristles over the shell of Minho’s reddened ears.

“Ah nohohoho not my eahahahahars!! Thahat's cheHEHEATING!”

It had the cute lee squeaking and shaking his head desperately…until Hyunjin’s hands cupped his jaw, fingers wiggling at his neck while Chan happily ran the brush all over his ears and the backs of them.

“Mhmhmhehe ahahahAHAHAHAA!! PLEHEASE!”

Minho’s face burned as he tried—and failed—to stifle his giggles, his attempts at self-control crumbling with every ticklish touch. He kicked his legs and tugged at his arms but Chan was stronger and he held firm.

For all his attempts to escape, they didn’t stop. Hyunjin’s hands moved from Minho’s hips to his belly to his sides and ribs, leaving hysterical laughter in its wake. Chan focused on rubbing Minho’s ears and scribbling under the younger’s arms.

“Nahahahaha lehehet me goHOHAHAHAHA! Ihihit tihihihickles!” He squealed out. “Yes baby, that’s what we’re tryna do~ Dohohon’t behehe ihimpatient,” Chan mocked the poor boy’s cries for mercy.

The two continued their playful torment on Minho’s torso, only stopping when Minho’s laughter grew breathy and his struggles started growing weaker.

After a short break and some words of praise, the artist grabbed a palette, squeezing a dozen or so different colors on the flat surface.

“Prep’s over! Now for the real fun~” He snickered meanly.

Hyunjin decided to start off with a smaller paintbrush, dipping it in some water, he hovered the brush over the older’s tummy.

Minho’s breathing was picking up, a smile already tugging at the corners of his lips as he watched a drop of cool water fall from the brush and onto his hot skin.

That ‘prep’ had done nothing. Not that any of them expected it to anyway.

“Hmm so much to cover! Where should I start?” Hyunjin pondered, staring dead into Minho’s eyes and the poor flustered boy averted his gaze, prompting a high-pitched cackle from Chan.

“Aw don’t be shy Linoya~” he cooed, simultaneously moving his eyes to tell Hyunjin to go for his stomach. Boy was Chan mean when he wanted to be.

Then, while Chan gently tickled his underarms, Hyunjin scooted back, leaning forward to plant a kiss on the center of his belly.

Now, ticklish kisses don't usually work on Minho but the way Hyunjin's and Chan's fingers scritch scratched at his waist and armpits made him feel that much more sensitive.

His body seemed suddenly receptive to the soft pressing of Hyunjin's plush lips on his belly and Minho couldn’t help jerked his body away. But there was nowhere to go.

“ohoHO MYHYHY GOHOHOD, IHIHITS SO BAHAHAHAHAD!!” He wailed, his body shimmying around helplessly. If he twisted away from one hand, he'd only be shoving his sensitive spots into the other hand. It was merciless.

“Lino hyung…how on earth are you so precious. Just look at you! I’m touching you so lightly and yet you look like we’ve tortured you for hours! What a mess we can make of you hyungie~”

Minho’s eyes flew open at that, his mouth falling open in shock. Hyunjin had murmured those words but it felt like he’d screamed them in Minho’s ear instead.

“I—you- Hyunjin I swear to god I will literally KILL YOU aft—nO shihiHIHIHIT SOHOHORRY, IHIHIM SOHOHORRY PLEAHEHEASE!!!”

At the threat, Chan’s fingers went crazy on his armpits, Hyunjin’s hands now starting to knead his sides as he kissed all over Minho’s belly before letting up.

The two waited patiently for the kitten’s breathing to calm down, and just when Minho least expected it, Hyunjin struck once more.

Hyunjin grinned and grabbed a paintbrush. Dipping it in water, he surged forward, swirling the wet tips along Minho’s upper arms, just above his armpits.

The poor kitten jolted, arms coming down only for them to be pulled back up by the leader. “Uh uh, you have to be still or Jinnie won’t be able to concentrate~”

But even as he said that, Chan showered a pokes Lino's torso with his free hand, giggling as he watched the kitten squirm. “Nohohoho whyhyhy ihis Chahahnihie hyuhung dohoing thihis tohoohoo?!”

“Yah! Can’t this old man have some fun too?” Chan scolded playfully, praying that Seungmin hadn’t heard him. He’d never hear the end of it otherwise.

“Sohoho youhuhu admihit youhu’re old?” Minho teased through his giggles, immediately regretting it when Chan’s thumbs drilled in between his ribs.

“So cute hyungie. You’re absolutely adorable.” Hyunjin’s reverent words cut through their playful banter.

The tips of Hyunjin's fingers drag along the soft expanse of skin along with the brush on the other side, observing with the kind of attention that he’d usually keep reserved exclusively for their dance practices.

The artist's gaze was trained on the way Minho squirmed, goosebumps raising on his bare skin as his eyes fluttered shut. Minho was so soft, so sensitive when it came to this little weakness of his.

“Hyuhuhunehehe plehease! Ihihit’s sohoho bahaHAHAD! ehehehEHEHEhehe~”

He was putty in Jinnie’s unforgiving hold. His pretty doe eyes sparkled with an innocent, child-like excitement that Minho himself didn’t seem to be aware of.

He’d strongly denied it when Chan had brought it up once, threatening to utterly obliterate the older if he wasn’t careful. But the blush on his cheeks and the way he couldn’t meet their eyes gave him away.

“I love you so much hyungie,” Hyunjin murmured softly, tears welling up when he suddenly recalled their past. Minho blinked up at him in confusion, bambi eyes wide and shining as they flickered over Jinnie’s features.

Then a small smile broke out, wiping away the previous sadness and Hyunjin pressed his fingers into Minho’s sides more firmly.

The lee squealed at the abrupt change, bucking and twisting as he tried to escape those mean fingers. “shihihiIHIT ! NOHOHOT THEHEHEHERE AH!”

“Do you feel how much I love you Lino hyung? No? That’s okay, I’ll tickle you until I convince you”

Minho's vision is a little blurry with tears of mirth, the two lers appearing as wobbly figures in his eyes. In contrast, the feeling of hands attacking his worst spots felt so much more intense than before.

“YEHEHEHES! YEHEHES IHI DOHOHO HYUHUHUNJIHIN NAHAHAHAHA!!”

“So handsome~ So sensitive~ You’re just perfect hyungie,” Hyunjin’s voice dripped with so much love and affection, it had even poor Chan feeling a little flustered, ducking his head to hide how the words affected him.

Minho was full on blushing, his eyes squeezed shut and giggles rising in pitch with how embarrassed he felt.

“Our shy little kitten,” Hyunjin breathed softly as he ran his fingertips lightly over Minho’s painted sides. The poor lee giggled some more, squirming around.

“NAHAHAHAA I CAHAN’T TAKE ANYMOHORE!! HYUNJIN PLEASE! I WANT TOHOHO DIE NATURALLYHYHY!!”

Chan and Hyunjin died at his dramatic proclamation, laughing almost as hard as Minho was.

Lino's body trembled and shook with the force of his laughter, words growing warbled and incoherent as it mixed with his sweet, bubbly cackles.

It wasn't often his laughter got the chance to spread through their dorm so the red lights duo were determined to milk that opportunity for all it was worth.

"ChaHAHAhanihie hyung plehehEASE lehehehet me gohOHO! Hehehehes gonna kiHIhill me lihhihihke thihis!! ArghAHAHAhaha NOHOhoho"

With a sly smile, Hyunjin leaned back, gripping onto Minho's thick thighs with his paint-stained hands and gave it a squeeze. The poor boy squealed, feet skidding on the floor and almost tearing the newspapers as he struggled.

“FUHUHUHUCK! ChahanNIHIHIE HYUHUNG PLEASEPLEASEPLEASE!!”

But of course, that didn't deter the artist, who pinched and squished the soft flesh between his fingers and watched with growing amusement at the way Lino threw his head back, loud bouts of laughter ringing through the wide space.

He was hysterical. Between Chan's fingers gently wiggling in his armpits and Hyunjin's skilled fingers at his thighs, he was a goner in seconds.

Minho yelped, dissolving into shrieks and giggles, his sounds bringing smiles to everyone who heard it. “N-nohoHO MOHOhore pleHEHEhease!!”

And much like the tune from the pied piper, summoning a couple of eager faces to the scene of the crime with his infectious laughter.

Minho strained against Chan's hold, desperately trying to fight back. But the leader was obviously stronger and the hands running along his body only served to weaken him further.

“Linoya is this really that ticklish,” Chan asked as he used his free hand to lazily scratch over each of Minho's ribs.

The poor lee nodded furiously, his hair whipping everywhere and tears getting yeeted in all directions from the sheer force of the movement.

It made the leader giggle, “Is our little tsundere kitten so sensitive he can't even form a single thought? Can't remember how to say yes hm?”

Minho had to get them back for this. He certainly would. He'd use his electric toothbrush right on Chan's belly button and his feathers on Hyunjin. But revenge would have to wait. He'd have to survive this sweet torture first.

The thought of revenge was what got him through their relentless taunts and jabs at his sensitivity. Despite the fact that he had turned a concerning shade of red, his struggles getting weaker, Minho held on.

“I cahAN'T tahaHAHAHAKE IT!! AHHAHAHAHAHAHA,” he wailed frantically, his feeble attempts at escape doing nothing to help him.

The two menaces went on till Minho's sweet hiccupy sounds cut off completely, replaced by little spray bottle noises that only brought with it more hysterical laughter from the rest.

Minho curled up on his side, rubbing over all the spots that were now pink from their playful assault as Chan stroked his hair in adoration.

As Hyunjin wiped away the paint, Minho’s giggles softened into quiet chuckles. “You-you’re evil Hyunjin,” he complained, voice still shaky from laughter.

Hyunjin grinned innocently, “Only for you hyungie~”

The leader himself massaged gently along his arms, soothing the hyper kitten from his giggly fit.

“Go take a shower, let’s cuddle after okay baby?” Chan cooed, pulling Minho up and pushing him towards the bathrooms.

Hyunjin has a lot of snacks prepared, humming contently as he placed them neatly on a table.

Minho’s idea had seemed to work it’s magic and Hyunjin already knew what he wanted to paint next. Maybe this was the right way out of his creative slumps.

And after a nice, warm shower, the three spend all evening cuddling and snacking together as they watched a random k-drama.

Later, a certain kitten received a rather embarrassing—and extremely flustering—painting that captured a moment from their...eventful evening.

His breath hitched as he unwrapped the painting, looking over the vibrant colors and playful lines that captured his every ticklish struggle.

Minho’s face was bright red in the canvas, little tears forming at the corners of his eyes as a wide, beautiful smile adorned his face.

The painting also included some rather unnecessary details like the hands that had put him in that state and he most certainly did NOT hang it on his bedroom wall. No, he definitely did not.

[throneofsapphics]

loyal friends

poly!Ruhnlidia x Reader

Summary: “You look so pretty on your knees,” “At least I didn’t get arrested,” and “You look so good with my hand around your neck” with Ruhn and Lidia. 

Warnings: references to drinking/intoxication, sexual content, oral (f!receiving) minors dni

A/N: for this! I'm so obsessed with them.

You slipped through the door, shutting it quietly behind you, trying to hide your heavy breaths.  Somehow, you’d managed to avoid whoever was on patrol, but it was a close thing. Your heels were long gone, discarded behind some dumpster or another. It had taken you an hour longer than it should’ve to get home, covering your tracks as best as you could. 

Vandalizing hadn’t been on the agenda for the evening, but when that asshole insulted your friend it was all too easy for the three of you to find their home, and leave a nice little message behind. 

A tang of guilt hit you. Not for the sweet revenge, but for leaving them behind. They’d told you to run after you’d figured out you were caught. Sure, you’d all disguised yourselves from the camera’s, but the world knew who your mates were and how much of a shit storm it would cause if you had been caught in the act. Lidia and Ruhn were out late tonight, but your alcohol hazed mind couldn’t remember exactly what they were doing. Work, probably. 

Hot water washed the grime away, aided by furious scrubbing. After washing your hair, twice, you slipped into comfy clothes, fully prepared to spend the rest of your night on the couch, letting a mindless reality tv show calm your still thundering heart. 

Turning the volume up to an obnoxious level, your phone slipped from your hand. Cursing, you tried to shove it closer to you with your foot - only succeeding in sending it under the couch. Groaning, you slid off, kneeling in front of it - ass up in the air, arm reaching blindly to try and sweep it out. 

“You should be more aware of your surroundings,” a faintly amused female voice called. A familiar one. 

You cursed violently, you hadn’t even heard the door open, probably couldn’t hear over the noise. Noise that was now gone with a click of the remote. You slid back, shuffling yourself out and sat on your heels. 

First, you saw Ruhn’s boots, then snapped your head up to see him - hand outstretched, looking rather severe. 

“What is it?” you asked, placing your hand in his. He didn’t move. 

“Shame,” he muttered. “You look so pretty on your knees,” and tugged you up to your feet, his other hand gripping your shoulder to balance you. A shiver ran down your spine, his words making specific nerves in your body stand on end, but you’d save those for later - in case an apology was needed. 

“What is it?” You repeated, looking past him to Lidia. Her lips curved into a smile, but she jerked her chin towards Ruhn. 

“Two of your friends,” he started and your stomach dropped, “are currently in holding cells.” 

“What happened?” You tried to keep your voice from wavering. 

“There’s currently a giant dick painted on the home of a very wealthy investor,” a touch of amusement entered his voice, “and said investor is howling about a third ‘criminal’ escaping, demanding they’re brought in at once.” 

It was obvious both Ruhn and Lidia knew the identity of said criminal. 

“And do you have any suspects?” 

“Whoever it is, they’re good at hiding,” Lidia said, “almost like they know exactly how to avoid the camera’s.” 

“Good for them,” you shrugged. Ruhn’s hand from your shoulder, up the side of your neck, thumb brushing over your cheekbone, before dropping back to his side, his other hand releasing yours as well. You flopped back on the couch, phone forgotten for the meantime.

“I should take you in myself,” he glared at you half-heartedly. There was a hint of pride in his eyes. 

“With what evidence?” 

“At least tell me what he did,” Ruhn countered. 

“I wasn’t there,” you emphasized, ignoring his eye roll, “but theoretically, he could have said some very rude things about a friend of mine. Looks like the type.” 

“This asshole isn’t going to let it go.” 

“Tell him he’s hallucinating,” you offered, giving him your best grin. Lidia let out a soft laugh, golden hair falling over her shoulder. “At least I didn’t get arrested,” you threw as much honeyed innocence as you could into your voice, “that would’ve been a bigger mess. Theoretically”

He shrugged noncommittally, but he knew you were right. “You have some loyal friends.” 

“I wasn’t there, remember?”

He groaned, but you noticed some of the tension left his shoulders, and he collapsed back on the couch, arm hanging over the side, legs spread wide. His fingers played with his lip ring. You remembered what that lip ring could do, a shot of arousal running through your core. 

“Really?” Violet-blue eyes danced, mouth curving into a smirk, hand falling to rest on his thigh. 

“I can’t help it,” you shrugged. 

His eyes traced over your shoulder, but before you could follow there was heat behind you, Lidia’s body pressing into yours, one hand on your stomach, pressing you back against her, the other resting delicately around your neck. 

“You look so good with my hand around your neck,” her lips grazed over your ear, words soft and breathy. 

A slow breath, eyes closed, head tilted back, resting against her shoulder, pulse thrumming  against her fingers, her other hand trailing along your waist band, barely dipping into the skin below. 

“Please,” you breathed, and she chuckled. 

“Should we give him a show?” 

“Yes,” Ruhn answered for you, “absolutely.” 

Lidia’s hands dragged up your stomach, nails scratching lightly, taking your shirt with her. Each touch felt imbued with flame, the softness of her lips against your neck making your breath catch, the small whimpers involuntary. 

“Naughty,” Ruhn’s voice interrupted as your arms raised, letting Lidia toss the shirt over. You were bare beneath, as always at this time of night. You rolled your eyes, but twisted, catching Lidia in a kiss. 

Teeth nipped at your bottom lip, tongue swiping against to ask for entrance. 

Parted lips, heavy breaths, hands winding in hair, the world forgotten, you leaned into her, let yourself be fully embraced in her presence and all encompassing aura.

It wasn’t long before Ruhn gave up on his show, deciding to take a more active role. You chuckled as he pressed against your back, fingers sliding down the rest of the fabric covering your bottom half. 

Jeans rough against your bare skin, shadow laced fingers cooling the heated parts of your body, moans grew louder as they worked you in tandem. 

“Too. Many. Clothes,” you managed to force the words out, regretfully breaking your lips away from hers. 

“You’re naked, love,” she teased. 

You tugged at her shirt in response. Her eyes rolled, but she first pulled you - ignoring Ruhn’s discontented grunt, before flipping you over her shoulder in one smooth movement. You squeaked as she carted you off towards the bedroom. 

There, she finally let you tear the rest of her clothes off. Not literally, but they did fly across the room, Ruhn laughing as her shirt hit him in the face. 

“Yours off too,” you scowled at him. 

“Someone’s bossy today,” he tutted, but obliged.

“Have I told you how beautiful you are?” You commented as he undressed, examining the tattoos you already had memorized. 

“Yesterday.” 

Lidia huffed, pushing you back. “My patience is running out.” 

Her head found its way between your legs, bliss following. Each kitten lick, the finger slipping inside, the spot she pressed against was all perfection. 

You barely registered Ruhn behind you, your back against his chest, his fingers toyed with your nipples, focused on the goddess before you - golden hair falling over her shoulders, eyes filled with wicked triumph. 

[from-the-clouds]

texas sun - joel miller x f!reader - vol. xi

series masterlist | series playlist | writing masterlist | previous chapter |

chapter summary: I'm not even gonna be poetic about this: Joel and reader lie to themselves and others about their feelings for 5.6k words. pairing: joel miller x f!reader words: 5.6k chapter warnings: ANGST. Description of panic attacks/anxiety. Referenced death of family members/romantic partners. Implied bisexual reader. Alcohol consumption, hangovers. smoking. Canon-typical suffering. As always please dm if you have questions. a/n: Wanted to give game Joel a little love with the gif choice, ya feel me? I've been excited to write this chapter for months and I ultimately feel like it flopped so hard, it just did not come together the way I envisioned. It's also my last week of work for awhile I'm honestly feeling very burnt out so I'm in a 'fuck it, i don't have the energy to make it perfect' mood, BUT - It’s a lot of backstory/development that I do think is necessary. Next chapter shit will go down tho so get ready.

**ALSO! I got rid of my taglist. Please follow @ftcwriting and turn on notifs if you would like to be notified when I update my works :) **

-April 10, 2024-

Joel reaches out to clutch the patio railing. His chest is tight, like someone’s stitched his ribs together so they won’t expand fully every time he tries to inhale. Each breath wheezes in and out of him, and his head spins. 

None of this feels real. It can’t be real. And if he’s asleep, he can’t decide if he’s in a dream or a nightmare.

That’s until he hears his name. 

“Joel!” 

Her voice is like a jolt of electricity, shocking his body back into equilibrium. He finds Ellie standing behind him when he looks over his shoulder, Tommy walking up the pathway to the front door, brow furrowed. 

“We literally only got here like one week ago, you can’t die already,” Ellie scolds him, and he knows that the jab is meant to be playful. “Woah, are you okay?” she asks when they lock eyes. 

Joel straightens, squaring up with Tommy, fully prepared to give him a piece of his mind, for throwing him into the deep end with nothing to stay afloat. 

“Who was that?” Ellie is completely oblivious. 

Even if he wanted to answer the question, he still probably couldn’t. It had taken him a moment to even recognize who you were, that’s how long it’s been. And he hadn’t even really gotten a good look. It only clicked when you’d taken off your glasses, and when it’d registered, and then he’d seen the kid next to you, he’d panicked. Joel brushes past Ellie, shoving his brother with one hand in the center of his chest.

“What the hell were you thinking?” 

Tommy recoils at the contact, something pained and confused crossing his expression. “I…. I thought you’d be happy to see that she’s still alive.” 

Joel doesn’t answer, just glowers at him. He’s still unable to make sense of the questions swirling around in his mind, each one seemingly more important than the last. 

Of course it’s good that you're alive. At one point, he had tried to find you. It was after Sarah, after he’d tried to- he can’t even think about how foolish that had been. At the time, the thought of seeing you again was the only thing that provided him with even the slightest bit of hope for the future. But the search had been fruitless. 

After a while, Joel decided that you were dead. It didn’t matter whether or not you were. He’d seen the unspeakable pain humans were capable of inflicting on each other and then when he’d gotten involved with some hunters, became the cause of all that pain. If you were alive…it meant those horrible things were happening to you. You were better off dead. 

It also kept his conscience clear. After he’d done what he had done, he knew if he ever saw you again, he wouldn’t even be able to look you in the eyes. And he was right. You knew a version of him that no longer existed. 

“Joel,” Ellie interjects. He’d nearly forgotten she was there, still lost in his shock and rage. 

“Ellie, go inside,” he quips. 

“Can’t I just-”

“Inside. Right now. ” Joel hasn’t used such an aggressive snarl with her since they first left for the Boston QZ, and he turns to look at her just in time to see her face crumple, before she turns and marches up the stairs. He immediately feels bad, but unfortunately, this is just how things go with every person he cares about these days. He hurts them, then they hurt him, and it equals out, only ending when one of them decides to leave. 

“Jesus, Joel,” Tommy scolds, but he doesn’t care. 

“How long?” 

“What?”

“How long have you known she’s alive? That she has a fuckin’.....” Joel feels something get caught in his throat. “...a fuckin’ kid.”

“That’s her nephew,” Tommy says matter-of-factly, as if it was supposed to be obvious. As if Joel wasn’t just grappling with the idea that he had a twenty year old son he’d never known about, and feeling guilty that you’d been alone with him this whole time. “But I guess I can see where you’d think that.” 

Now that you’re on Joel’s mind, he does recall you mentioning your nephew a few times. Maybe you even had a picture of him hanging on your fridge, and he had pegged how you had the same smile. He’s a little embarrassed for jumping to conclusions, but it doesn’t mean he’s done being angry. 

“Shit,” Tommy rubs his beard. “They’ve been here for like three years. It’s been awhile.”

“Three years?” Joel asks, a whole new wave of anger reappearing. “And you didn’t think to fuckin’ tell me all this time?”

“You know the rules. We aren’t allowed to use the radio.” 

“What about when I was here in the winter?” Joel asks stiffly. 

“I just…figured it’d be a shock-

“And why would you think that, Tommy?” Joel raises his voice. 

Tommy holds out his hands, lowering them slightly as if to tell Joel to settle down. Then he nods towards the house. Ellie. “You had a lot going on with that whole situation. I didn’t want to distract you.”

Joel would never admit it, but that was probably a smart decision for Tommy to make. He remembers how uncertain and scared he’d been when he first stopped in Jackson. But Joel still tries to think of a way to keep the argument going, because he doesn’t want to give Tommy any sort of props for how he’s chosen to break this news to him.

“I thought you’d be happy she’s alive, really, I mean you both-”

Joel holds up his hand. “Enough, Tommy. It was so long ago…I barely remember.”

Tommy frowns, gives him a knowing look. “Really?” 

Joel sniffs, crosses his arms. 

“Well, I remember,” Tommy says. “And she was always good to you.”

Joel doesn’t answer, because he doesn’t have anything else to say, and at this point, he just wants Tommy to leave.

“Work through whatever you have to,” Tommy says. “But don’t be an asshole. You should work on that, in general. Or else I’ll have to keep explaining your behavior.”

“Glad I’ve got you looking out for me,” Joel says dryly.  “Don’t know what I would do without you.”

“Fine.” Tommy shakes his head, backs away.

His brother doesn’t say goodbye as he stuffs his hands in his coat pocket and walks down the street. Joel stays in place, alone on the front porch, until his hands relax from the fists they are clenched in and his anger turns to shame. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

-April 19, 2024-

You close the locket and place it back inside the old lunch pail full of tchotchkes and other memorabilia. It’s a fairly empty box, over the years you’ve found that the things you hold onto are either lost or left behind, not unlike the people you’ve met. You swipe away the tears in your eyes. 

Bea had always said it was important to give yourself the space to grieve, to let yourself feel whatever it was that you needed to. It’s advice that you don’t want to take from her right now because you’re pissed at her for being gone. Not that it had been her fault. And also because you know if you don’t stick to a routine it’s very easy to backslide. 

In the bathroom, you hurry to splash cold water on your face, taking a look at yourself in the mirror. Before the outbreak, there was nothing more terrifying than getting old. Now, as you study the new lines and wrinkles on your face, the scar on your bottom lip, the gray strands in your hair, it doesn’t scare you at all. It seemed frivolous that looks were something you’d been so concerned about when you were younger. But you suppose you didn’t have much else to worry about. There was something pretty freeing about being older, that you can be content without being concerned about whether or not someone will find you attractive. And really, getting old means you’re still alive. That’s all that matters. 

You are concerned with the red in the whites of your eyes, but hope they’ll fade by the time you get to Maria’s. 

Grappling with the fact that Joel is still alive has dredged up a lot. Since it had been about a week since your reunion – if you could even call it that – on your front porch, and you’d seen him one other time. The first time, you’d sort of understood why he’d ran off. But you guessed you kind of expected him to come around eventually. He didn’t. 

Just a few days earlier you’d been walking through the town square, and he’d been headed your direction with that teenage girl who Tommy has since told you is named Ellie. She was giggling at something, and Joel even had a slight smile on his face, but when he saw you, it disappeared, and he pulled Ellie to the opposite side of the street. It was clear now that he was intentionally trying to avoid you, which….didn’t feel great. 

That was an understatement. Having Joel back made you realize just how lonely you were. It had taken some time after arriving in Jackson for you to grieve your partner of nearly ten years, so it hadn’t really dawned on you that at some point you might crave a deeper level of intimacy that your friendships couldn’t offer. But you had already had it twice, so you supposed that was better than nothing at all. Plus, your number one priority had been, and always would be making sure Ethan was provided for. 

So what exactly were you expecting from Joel? Not that, of course. But maybe some kind of closure after all those years spent apart. Some kind of acknowledgement of your time spent together. 

When the outbreak first happened, you had spent a lot of time being angry. With Joel and Sarah, the possibility of being normal had been dangled in front of you. You realized you had wanted to be loved after being convinced by your father – and yourself – that you didn’t deserve it. Then, the second you acknowledged that you wanted it anyways, the world had literally ended. It was a little egocentric, but it sort of felt like a sign that your dad had been right all along. Some women aren’t meant to be part of a family.

Of course, Bea had proved that wrong. But losing the people you loved became a pattern. And you even to this day, you alternated between believing that it was the unfortunate reality of life, or that it was your destiny to never get what you wanted. 

Regardless, even if the way Joel is acting has caused you more turmoil than you are willing to admit, you’re not going to follow him around and beg to get back into his good graces. That’s never been your style. 

You’re tidying up the kitchen, getting ready to leave, when Ethan shuffles into the room. It’s nearly noon. 

“Hey, sleepyhead,” you say to him as drags his socked feet across the hardwood.

He grumbles his greeting and tilts his head at the bag you’re adjusting over your shoulder, as if to ask where you’re headed.

“I’m going to Maria’s,” you say. “Then I have to meet with Eugene.” 

He makes a noise of affirmation, still half-asleep, and slumps into a kitchen chair. When you look at him closely, you see the dark circles beneath his glassy eyes, his face pale. 

“You alright, honey?” you ask, putting your bag back on the countertop and approaching him. “Do you have a fever?” when you reach to press the back of your hand to his cheek he swats it away weakly. He doesn’t feel warm.

“I’m fine,” he says, crossing his arms on the countertop and burying his face in them. “I just have a headache.”

“Yeah?” you say. “You were out late last night.”

“Derek and I went to the Tipsy Bison,” his voice is muffled. 

Everything clicks into place. “Oh. Were you overserved?” 

He turns his head, but doesn’t lift it. With how long his hair has gotten, most of his face is obscured. “Maybe. But before I get a lecture, don’t worry – I’m never drinking again.”

“I’m not gonna lecture you,” you’re almost offended. “Is this really your first hangover?”

“I mean….probably not. But it’s definitely the worst.” 

“Well now you know your limits,” you say, crossing the room to pour him a glass of water and get some ibuprofen from the long-expired bottle you keep in a cabinet.

“Maybe if we were allowed to drink when we were with Bea, I would’ve learned that sooner.”

You let Ethan’s get his dig in at the last community you’d lived with before Jackson. The more time you’d spent here, the more time he’d had to convince himself that what you’d gotten yourselves into was terrible. Because you had more of a complex perspective on it, it was the one subject you avoided speaking to each other about. 

Ethan is similar to Vincent in that while he’s very sensitive, he also seems to enjoy being an instigator. Of course, spending all of his life fighting to survive in a world that wants him dead has only intensified that. Bea had been good at helping him manage his temper when he was a teenager and it became too much for you to handle. But besides that, he doesn't get into much trouble, so you aren’t going to chastise him. 

“Drink this, and take these.”

He groans, but reaches out for the aspirin and water, nursing it down with small sips. You bite back a smile. The both of you have endured much worse than a hangover, but there’s something cathartic about seeing him experience the plights of a normal twenty-something. 

“Are you hungry?”

“If I eat anything, I think I will vomit,” he lays his head back down. 

You consider asking him if he wants you to stay so you can look after him, but decide that you don’t want to encourage the habit too much. Instead, you reach out and brush a strand of hair off his cheek so you can see him more clearly, and he closes his eyes. “I bet you’ll feel better in a couple hours. Drink water. It’ll help.”

He blinks up at you, seemingly unconvinced. “I saw that guy yesterday. The weird one.” 

“What guy?”

“Tommy’s brother. What’s his name?”

“Joel?” you ask, and pretend that saying his name doesn’t almost make you shiver. 

“Yeah,” he says. “He was with Tommy at the stables. Guess they’re making him a ranger.”

“Hm.”

“I know you knew him before or whatever, but he’s definitely a weirdo. And I’m not just saying that to make you feel better.”

The whatever in his sentence is doing a lot of heavy lifting. You roll your eyes, but not maliciously. “Well, he did just get here.” You definitely don’t owe Joel anything, so you surprise yourself by defending him. 

Ethan almost ignores your response, winces, turns his head back into his arms and grumbles something to the effect of I’m dying. 

“Rest up,” you ruffle his hair and kiss the top of his head, like you’ve been doing since before he could walk, and it’s hard to stop even though sometimes it annoys him. Right now, he doesn’t protest. “I’ll bring you home some soup from the mess hall. Take it easy.” 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It’s Tommy who lets you in once you arrive at Maria’s. She’s upstairs with the baby, he says, and tells you to wait in the living room, before you hear her frantic voice calling out for him to come help her. 

His footsteps retreat up the stairs, and you hover in the entrance to the living room, your eyes inexplicably drawn to the chalkboard with 

You glance at the little memorial that Tommy had made for Sarah and Kevin, Maria’s son. Even though you’ve seen it a million times at this point, the sight of her name, the date of her passing – the same day as Joel’s birthday – makes your stomach sink. 

That’s when you notice that you’re not alone. Sitting in a chair in the corner is the girl that you’d seen accompanying Joel. You hadn’t actually been properly introduced, you realized, and she’s staring at you like she doesn’t know what to do. She’s a cute kid, a teenager if you had to guess, her dark hair pulled back into a ponytail. 

Based on how he’s been acting, you can’t imagine what Joel has told her about you. Probably nothing good. So you give her a nod and a small smile, before crossing your arms and leaning against the doorframe. 

Surprisingly, the bit of sincerity seems to warm her up a little. “I’m Ellie,” she says.

You nod again, and give her your first name. “It’s nice to meet you, Ellie. Sorry I didn’t get the chance the other day.”

She shrugs. “It didn’t seem like that was your fault.”

You let your arms drop to your sides, straighten up. “Did you uh…come to see the baby or something?” 

Ellie shakes her head no. “I’m waiting for Tommy. He’s gonna take me to see the school.” 

“Oh, that’s nice.” 

“Not really,” she says. “I think school is fucking stupid. But everyone says I have to go, because all the other kids in town do, too.”

Ethan was grown when you arrived in Jackson, and you didn’t have children of your own, so it was the one place you didn’t really frequent. “Well, you probably should but….I hear you.”

There’s an almost imperceptible smile that crosses her features. You turn your head back to stare at the staircase, waiting for the sound of Maria’s footsteps, but all you can hear is her and Tommy whispering with frantic energy as they try to put their son down for a nap. 

“You know Joel won’t tell me anything about you,” Ellie’s voice cuts in, and you turn back towards her. “But you knew him before, didn’t you?”

You’re not sure how to take this information, or…how to respond to it. So you keep your response simple. “I mean, we were neighbors.” But even that feels like a lie, and a useless one to tell. Maybe it’s a little petty, but you don’t owe it to Joel to keep his secrets, especially not after he’s treated you so poorly. So you tell her the truth. “I guess he was also…my boyfriend for a little while.”

Ellie seems taken aback by this. “What happened? Did you break his heart or something?”

“No,” you snort. “We got separated before the outbreak.” 

“Oh.” She ponders for a moment. “So then why is he so mad?”

You shrug. “I’ll let you know if I find out.” 

“Well, he’s an asshole. But I bet you already know that,” Ellie says. 

Based on the time you actually spent with Joel, you would’ve never described him that way. So if that’s really how he’s perceived, even by the people who care about him, it makes you a little sad. Losing Sarah must have changed him more than you could imagine. 

You’re already sick of thinking about him so much, so you change the subject to something that’s at least a little lighter. “How did the two of you end up together, anyways?” 

“Long story,” she answers, and you get the sense there’s something she’s holding back. Because you just met, you don’t press her any further. 

“As I’d imagine.” 

You hear boots coming down the stairs, and Tommy rounds the corner, holding a stack of photos. “I’ve been meaning to show these to you, I went home a couple years back…to Joel’s old place and mine. There wasn’t much left, but I found these.”

He passes the pictures to you, and you look down at them. You don’t think much about your old house at all. It was another thing you lost, but almost everyone did, so it didn’t really make you feel special. Still, sometimes you thought of your cozy back patio and your old friend Martini, and had accepted you’d never see them again.

The first photo in the stack is a photo of Joel and Sarah at one of his soccer games. As sweet as the gesture is, you are pretty sure you can only confront so much of your past at once, and with Joel being back in town it’s starting to get suffocating. Also, when you study the picture and realize that your memory has gotten some of Sarah’s features wrong, you’re overwhelmed with guilt. 

Hesitantly, you place the pictures down on the coffee table, and Ellie reaches for them immediately, flipping through him. “Woah,” she says. “He looks so different without all the grey hair,” she flips to a photo of him and Tommy, and glances up at him. “You look pretty much the same.” 

When you agree with her, Tommy grins, playfully tucking a piece of hair behind his ear bashfully before growing serious. “You better not tell him I showed you these.” 

“I won’t,” Ellie assures him. 

“Look at this one.” Tommy pushes another photo across the table towards you, and you peer down to look at it. “He fucking adored you.”

You remember taking the picture vividly while on vacation with Joel and Sarah, and at one point you’d had your own copy framed on your dresser. There are flowers peppered in his hair, and you both look so young, and so happy, and so oblivious, his arms around you, his lips pressed against your cheek. At the time, you really had no idea that everything you knew was about to be destroyed. 

“Nice,” you say flatly, and in an effort to keep from getting emotional, push it back across the table, and retreat to sit in a chair across the room. 

After some time, and some convincing, Tommy and Ellie leave to go on their tour of the school. When the door closes behind them, you swipe the photo from you and Joel off the table and slide it into your back pocket. You tell yourself it’s so Tommy can’t show it to Joel, but really it’s because it’s one of the only memories you have of yourself before the outbreak, when everything felt perfect. 

Just as you back away from the pictures, Maria appears at the bottom of the steps. She looks exhausted, and before either of you can speak, you wrap her in a hug. Partly because it looks like she needs it, but also because you just want to feel close to someone you trust, even if it’s only for a few seconds. “How are you holding up?” you ask. 

“I finally get some peace and I’m using it to work,” she says, leading you into the dining room, where all the paperwork is spread out. Your plan had been to write a new amendment to the town’s constitution, which then had to be approved by the council. 

Maria hadn’t stayed away from her job as the leader of the community for very long after having their son, despite your encouragement for her to take it easy. She had experience with her previous son, Kevin, but you imagined it didn’t make life with a newborn any easier. So you tried to help her out with any chance you got, especially because you knew she’d do the same for you. it was just how things between you worked. She knew even more about you than Tommy did, and you told each other everything. Well, almost everything….

“You should take a nap or something.” 

“Don’t tempt me.”

“I’m serious,” you insist. “I can write a draft while you sleep and then you and I can do the revisions together. 

She seems reluctant, but after making you swear you’d wake her if the baby starts fussing, she lies down on the couch and you begin working. 

Like your old job, you don’t really like doing this. The only job you have in Jackson that actually excites you is the work you do with Eugene, and going on patrol. But this work makes you feel the most useful. And despite the fact that you had always been skeptical of authority – you believed in her ability to keep things in Jackson running smoothly. 

About an hour later, you’d drawn up the draft and Maria stirs from her nap. The revisions don’t take very long, since you both are usually on the same page, but when you start packing your things up to go, she seems surprised. 

“Are you hanging around until dinner?” 

“No, I have to meet up with Eugene,” you say. “Plus, Ethan’s at home hungover so I told him I’d make him soup. 

“Do you think he’ll be up for dinner tomorrow night?” she asks. “Tommy keeps pestering me.”

“Well he’s still too young for his hangovers to last two days,” you smirk. “So yeah, I think he will.”

“He invited…..Joel, and Ellie,” Maria says hesitantly, watching your face. “Is that okay?”

“I mean….it’s not my dinner party.”

“You can say no. Or not come,” she offers. She hadn’t been there the day you’d seen Joel again for the first time, but it sounds like Tommy has given her the rundown. 

You shrug. As much as you don’t want to admit it, being forced into the same room as Joel is a little exciting. “I’ll go.” 

“Are you doing okay with that?” she asks. “I told Tommy not to surprise you, but he didn’t listen.”

“It’s all fine,” you say, which isn’t entirely a lie. At the end of the day, everything would be fine. The stakes weren’t life and death. When Maria seems unconvinced, you continue. “I mean, it feels like he’s being a little rude…but it’s nothing I can’t handle.”

Maria lowers her eyes, pauses. “Has Tommy’s ever told you about any of the stuff Joel got him into when they were on their own?”

“Not really,” you say. “But I know they were on bad terms.” 

“I didn’t know you back then,” Maria begins. “So I don’t know what you saw in him, or what he was like. But….I don’t think he’s….I don’t know if it’s worth getting emotionally invested again.”

“Oh, bummer. As you know, reconnecting with an ex is my main priority right now.” you deflect with a smirk, but Maria doesn’t seem as amused.

“Fair,” she says. “But be careful. I saw what he did to his own brother. I don’t want it to happen to you.” 

“You don’t have to worry about me,” you assure her. “Whatever he’s done, I’ve dealt with worse.” 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

-April 20, 2024-

When Joel and Ellie arrive at Tommy’s, it’s clear immediately they aren’t the only people that were invited. 

Seeing the life that Tommy had built for himself here – a thriving community, a wife, a son – fills him with a certain level of envy. But mostly….he’s ashamed. Back when they were hunters, Joel was adamant that it was the only way they could survive, despite the horrible things they were doing. The worst part was, Joel really believed it. Now, the nightmares still chasing both of them, he realizes he was wrong. Even if Tommy won’t say it out loud, Joel knows he resents him for those days, how he’d been forced to trade away so much of his humanity. For Joel, violence came easily – shockingly so – an outlet for all his anger after losing Sarah.  But Tommy had always struggled. And even though there will always be love between them, the tension was still there. 

He’s still adjusting to life in Jackson, only leaving the house when Ellie drags him out, and when Tommy trains him to go out on patrol. It’s hard to accept that he’s not on the run anymore after the chaotic nature of the last year. Only Tommy knows his darkest secret, and he intends to keep it that way. 

While Ellie does seem somewhat hesitant to leave him alone, she does seem a lot more enthusiastic about life in Jackson. Joel knows it’s a good thing, and once again, he feels like he’s let her down by not leading by example. 

Tommy greets them both once they step inside, and Joel is polite — something he’s been trying to do more of lately. Maria gives him a tight-lipped smile, one that tells him she’s trying to be civil despite her reservations. God only knows what Tommy has told her about their time together. At least he can understand where she’s coming from. Had they met twenty years ago in Austin, they probably would’ve gotten along. Nowadays, he’s not surprised when people don’t like him, because he hates himself, too. 

But Maria still entertains them with general pleasantries and questions about how they are settling in, despite looking incredibly flustered. Ellie is more apt to answer them then he is, Joel standing by with his thumbs in his belt loops. 

Over their shoulder, Joel sees you, standing in the corner of the front room with your back turned to him, deep in conversation with your nephew. He’s smiling and telling a very animated story, at one point clapping his palms on your shoulders and shaking them violently while you giggle. It makes him think of you and Sarah. Therein lies the problem. He’s become a little more comfortable discussing his past with Ellie, but there’s a limit to what he’s capable of, especially after repressing so much for so long. 

The oven goes off, and Maria excuses herself to the kitchen, inviting Ellie to follow along. Joel and Tommy are left standing in the entryway together.

“You invited her?” Joel asks, not bothering to hide the venom in his voice. 

Tommy steps back, giving him incredulous once-over. “It’s my house, isn’t it?” 

“I don’t know what game you’re trying to-“

Tommy shoves Joel into the dining room before he can finish his thought, out of eyesight from the rest of the people in the house. “I’m not playing games, Joel. She’s family. Maybe not to you, but definitely to Maria and I. And she’s never shown you anything but kindness. So grow the fuck up.” 

Before Joel can think of another objection, the sound of a baby crying cuts through the air. Tommy freezes at the sound, until you call out from the other room. “I got him.” 

“Come on,” he says. “Maybe you can muster up the courage to hold your nephew.” 

He wants to tell Tommy that he’s trying, even if it doesn’t look like it. But it almost feels better to allow himself to be the black sheep. It makes things easier. If he keeps that door closed, he’ll never need to worry about the problems that lie on the other side. Still, he begrudgingly follows his brother in the other room. 

When he enters the front room, you’re holding Maria and Tommy’s son in your arms.  

After Joel had learned that Ethan was your nephew, he was unsurprisingly relieved. What did surprise him, however, is that some small part of himself was disappointed. Sure, if you actually had his child while you were separated it would have been devastating. But before all this, all he had wanted was a future with you, would’ve gladly given you children….really, anything you wanted.

He tries not to let his eyes linger on you too long, lost in the daydream of what could’ve been, but you meet his eyes and give him such a sterile, polite nod that it’s almost painful.

Dinner is uneventful. Joel ends up seated directly across from you, Tommy’s doing, no doubt, but you do a good enough job of engaging in conversation that you don’t spend much time looking in Joel’s direction, and when you do, he doesn’t recognize your expression. It does give him the chance to study you up close, which he hadn’t done yet, and immediately regrets. 

He’s still just as attracted to you as he’d always been. Sure, you’ve aged, but so has he – although you wear it much more gracefully. When Tommy offers to pour some bourbon into Ethan’s glass, he refuses, and for whatever reason, you stifle a laugh, the wrinkles around your eyes more prominent than they used to be. 

After dinner, when the plates have been cleared, you disappear. He can feel himself growing overwhelmed, so he steps outside onto the back patio for some air. You’re sitting on a porch step looking out at the yard, but when he steps outside, you turn.

When you register that it’s him, you return your eyes forward again, and Joel remains silent, even considers walking back inside without a word. But he stays there so long, contemplating, that you’re the first to speak up. 

“You know, if you stay here….at some point, you are gonna have to acknowledge me.” 

Joel knows he’s the antagonist right now. He’s well aware. But he can’t help himself. Despite that, there’s no malice, and no bitterness in your voice. But you are direct. 

And, because he’s never been good at refusing you, he gives you something in return. “I guess I’m just surprised to see you here….” He recalls a conversation you’d had long ago, curled against his chest, staring up at the stars together. “Being a city girl and everything.” 

You turn to look over your shoulder, gaze making him feel warm, a small smile on your face. For a split second, you’re looking at him how you used to, and then it’s gone. “It is sort of a miracle, isn’t it?” 

He ponders this, and you continue. 

“It’s good to see you, Joel,” you say softly. He wonders how you can make general pleasantries sound so sweet, and is surprised at how easily you betray yourself with the words. Though he had noticed a pattern at dinner. You weren’t nearly as guarded as you used to be. He wonders how that’s possible, if you’ve made it this far. 

“You too.”

-

-

-

[noforkingclue]

Could I request an Indiana Jones fic? Maybe some steamy action when he gets back from a long trip? You can decide whether to go full NSFW or not but I love your Indy writing so I’m excited to see what you do!

Note: requests are currently closed

So I didn't go full NSFW, just some illusions and steamy action!

Hope you like the fic :)

Title: Welcome Home

Warnings: NSFW themes

You hummed as you dried your hands on a tea towel and tossed it over the side of a chair. You put your hands on your hips and looked around the kitchen. You had spent the morning tidying up as you waited for Indy to come back. He had been off on one of his typical life-or-death adventures. You’d usually go with him but your mother was sick so you couldn’t go.

You beamed when you heard the door open and shut heavily behind. Part of you couldn’t move, too excited to go to him. Still, eventually desire won out. You slowly made your way towards the kitchen door. You stood in the doorway as you watched him. He wiped the sweat off his brow and looked up, feeling your eyes on him. He smirked and pushed himself up and walked towards you. He stopped directly in front of you, looking down at you. He took his hat off and put it on your head. It was far too big for you and flopped down over your eyes. You grinned as he tilted it back. Indy always told you that he loved seeing you wear his hat.

“That’s better,” he said as he cupped your cheeks, “now I can see your eyes.”

“I fucking missed your Indy.”

“Missed you too darlin’. Felt strange not having you by my side.”

“Felt strange not being with you.” you muttered

“How’s your mother?”

“Better.”

“Good.”

Indy bent down and captured your lips with his. You let out a mona and wrapped your arms around his neck. He easily lifted you up and you wrapped your legs around his waist. You broke the kiss and tossed his hat to the side.

“Careful with that,” he said, nipping at your lips, “it’s very precious.”

“More than me?”

“Let me think about that…”

“Bastard.”

“You love me really.”

“You’re very lucky I do.”

Once again Indy captured your lips in a searing kiss. You tangled your fingers in his hair as he carried you towards the bedroom. He had only been gone for a short time but it had felt like a lifetime. Fuck, you really had missed him. As he made his way into the bedroom, Indy bumped against the door frame. His breath hitched and you immediately broke the kiss and glared at him.

“What happened?” you asked

“Nothing.”

Indy tried to kiss you again but you pulled away. You tapped his shoulder and he sighed and set you down. You pushed him back and made him sit down on the bed. Indy looked up at you with a smirk and put his hands on your waist.

“Well now-”

“You’re hurt,” you said, “kinda killed the mood. Now, shirt off.”

You plucked at his shirt and Indy smirked at you. He slowly undid the buttons and you put your hands on your hips. Usually this would excite you, Indy slowly teasing you in preparation for the night ahead. However, at the sight of the healing bullet wound in his shoulder you froze.

“It’s worse than it looks.” he said

“It looks awful,” you said, “but at least it’s not infected. Let me get some bandages and-”

You yet out a yelp as you were pulled into his lap. Your hands settled on his shoulder while Indy wrapped his around your waist. You straddled his lap and gave him a disapproving look. Indy smirked and bumped his nose against yours.

“Are those your orders, Nurse Jones?” he asked

You pulled back slightly and pushed on his chest, causing him to fall back against the bed. You were fully straddling him as you leant down and said,

“If you’re a good boy for me we’ll see about your reward later.”

[milllersfae]

𓆉✩°｡ ⋆ rockstar in 616 I rockstar!ellie williams

word count: 929 I warnings: fem!reader, fluff (very tame this time!) I summary: 'it was hard not to be interested. the long empty apartment across from yours had been tenant-less since your arrival, a soulless room that had been that way long before you knew. the first sign of life to re-emerge had been her.'

a/n: i am so sorry for the sudden hiatus! i had writers block and spent some time drumming this up. this is my first attempt at a series fic, so if it flops i deserve it 100%. enjoyyy <3

it wasn't a bad first spot.

the thought crossed your mind as you unlocked the door to your apartment. it wasn't as roomy as you'd like, but it was home; as it had been for the last 3 years.

your life was a little less than mundane. your wages relied on keep others dogs from running into the street, your social life was hopelessly still, and your mind was thinning at the seams. it wasn't awful, but it was empty. unwavering.

you turned on the stove, preparing your late dinner for the night. your routine was consistent; a gentle crutch that helped you stay awake and ready. you threw refrigerated pasta into a pan, heating the meal with a stir before emptying it on a paper plate. your raise the food close to your lips with a slurp before eyeing the trash that had now began to overflow. you put it down back on the counter and retrieve the bag from the metal tin. you muscled up your bit of strength and thrown the trash over your shoulder.

the spoiling smell left your nose as you left the bag outside and headed back to the front door. you sauntered back inside, making your way to the elevator to return to your floor. there the finger pressed the floor button before your hand fully had reached for it yourself.

she stood, brown leather-down jacket silhouetting her figure. rings curved around her fingers as they danced a nervous tic, waiting for the doors to part.

she enraptured you, eyes fixated on the rigid corners of her profile just before the green flicker of her gaze had smoothed across your face. you looked down at your phone as a subtle distraction as the elevator came to a stop, opening for your arrival.

the two of you step in simultaneously, finding you spot to stand as you enter. you froze, even as you were closer to the set of buttons that numbered your floor. you couldn’t find the words to mutter up to ask her where her stop was. in the corner of your eye, she stood slightly awry, before parting her lips to ask herself.

“which floor?” she said, warm pool of the rasp of her voice easing into your ears.

“8, please.” the words fumbled out of mouth, even long after they were prepared in your head.

she nods and puts a curved knuckle at the floor button, a staunch grin appearing on her face. she shoved her hands in her pockets and looked back at you.

“great. that’s my floor too.”

it was hard not to be interested. the long empty apartment across from yours had been tenant-less since your arrival, a soulless room that had been that way long before you knew. the first sign of life to re-emerge had been her.

there was little time to hyper focus on the thought though, as your phone buzzed with a new dog to sit for tomorrow. you accepted, and finished your now sullen food before slumping onto your cramped couch. you nodded off to sleep, mind anchoring back to that damn face you couldn't get your mind off of.

-

you woke up with a startle, instantly checking your clock for the time.

you had done it again, late to sit some poor pup you appointed yourself to watch. you rushed yourself into the shower and into day-old clothes. you dusted yourself off the night before and pulled up the address to your destination.

less than a mile away.

better yet, across the hall.

no fucking way.

you exit the front door, the identical frame mirroring you in the hallway. you felt your heart beat out of your chest as made a gentle knock against the wood.

there was that familiar eye in the peephole as it appeared and then left as the door opened with a pull.

she had been just as surprised as you had been, eyebrows raised in curiosity. your voice had ceased, and the air had filled again as her voice opened.

“my neighbor is my dog-sitter. sweet.”

your face flushed warm and hot as you gave a weak nod in response.

“i’m ellie, nice to meet you—in both ways.”

her hand stretched out to clasp yours, thick veins cascading against the dark ink of the tattoo on her wrist. you took in every distinct feature of her essence, wanting to keep learning. wanting to keep her there.

your introduction came out hasty, head spinning in a cloudy mist. you shook her hand, a flippant smile stretched across your face. it was hard to hide how silently enchanted you were.

a large dog butted his nose to the door, excited to meet the stranger that had been nosily making their appearance.

"there he is—this is comet, the little guy you'll be watching today." ellie relays, patting the fluffy head of the brown and black dog. ellie wrapped the leash around her palm, before sliding it off and handing it to you.

"i sadly have to get goin', but he's low maintenance, don't worry. my home is yours-have a drink, watch tv. i don't care. thank you so much for doing this on short notice." ellie rushed into hug you, the warmth of her body pressing into yours. the feeling nervously rushing through your body. you entered just as ellie left, and the door had locked with a click.

you stood in the middle of the vast living room of her apartment, a clammy film building on your hands.

the shit you get yourself into.

taglist | @zahraaziza @millersaurora @ccinnamongrl @ellabsprincess

want to be tagged? go under my masterlist and post reply below!

[lykaios2]

Mikey x reader right?

ik this a cliche, but Mikey gets turned into a lil tot.

After a day Mikey still didn't turn back and reader is concerned, but the turts have a mission so they are doing this on their own.

throughout the whole thing, the realize how manipulative Mikey really is, but they don't mind cuz he's cute- reader is like a mom the whole time, wpoling him and shi.

mid snacktime(1day later) Mikey turns back as he is begging for cuddles. everything is awkward, w/ reader holding a cup of applesauce and pea-tos in their hands.

"can we PLEASE have cuddles? I promiiiii*turns back with a poof*- ok what the hell. is that peatos?"

*reader just standing in the middle of the kitchen*

enjoy(u request beggar, I need sum too)

-ya gurl chip❤️❤️

oml this was a nightmare to write for no reason at all other than my brain couldn't process this request ;-;

anyway I tried my best

hope you enjoy! ❤️

The Troubles of Turning to a Tot

mikey x reader (platonic? romantic? idk)

“I’m telling you, Raph, my head is killing me!”

“Whatever, dude. Let’s just go.”

Ah, the privilege of being the youngest. He could get nearly anything he wanted if he begged hard enough. He laughed as they left, his scheme working once again. He went to his room and grabbed his comics, flopping on his bed and flipping through the pages. He wasn’t normally the type to just sit back and let his brothers do the work, but he couldn’t help but take advantage of his younger sibling privilege once or twice in a while.

“Yo! Orange! Where are you?!” Your shouts echoed throughout the lair. Much to Mikey’s surprise, you were paying him a visit.

“I ain’t telling you, because my name isn’t Orange!” He hated the nickname. You had heard Splinter call him that one time, and you still wouldn’t drop it.

“Whatever, I’ll find you in like two minutes.”

~~~~~~~

“Dude, no way.”

“I know! It’s so easy!” Mikey again relished in the fact of how easy it was to get his brothers to do almost anything he wanted. “They fall for it almost every time.”

“One of these days, one of them is gonna figure out that this is BS.”

“They probably already have. But it’s either letting me stay home, or hearing me whine the whole time.”

You only sighed in response to his stupid loophole logic. How did you ever come to love this trainwreck of a turtle man?

“Ugh...now that I mention it, though, my head does kind of actually hurt.” He got up and started pacing a little, holding his head.

“Haha, very funny.” You weren’t stupid, Mikey had just told you about how he used this trick on his brothers. Plus, he was quite the prankster anyway, so there was not a doubt in your mind that he was joking. He said his stomach was upset as well, but you weren’t phased. You had seen before how far Mikey was willing to go for the bit. What really raised an eyebrow was when he sat down on the floor in the fetal position. Whenever he started going a little too far like this, you prepared yourself in case something was actually going wrong. You still weren’t fully convinced, though.

“y/n...could you grab me some water from the refrigerator? Whatever’s going on with me, it kinda sucks...”

“Oh sure, what now? I’m gonna open the refrigerator and a boxing glove will come out, sending me comically flying to the other end of the kitchen.” You joked, but at this point, if he started doing anything else, you were going to start taking action.

“Ow...please...y/n...the pain…” He groaned. You quickly got up from your seat and walked over to the cupboards, looking for a cup. While your back was turned, you could hear a loud *poof* come from behind you.

“Aw, come on, Mikey. What is this, a smoke bomb?” You said, waving away the strange  clouds that had appeared behind you. “...Mikey?”

No response. You walked into the cloud of smoke to find...a child? That also looked like a turtle?

“Uh...Mikey?” You looked around, trying to figure out where the turtle had gone. Instead, the child looked up at you and responded.

“Hi! That’s me, Mikey! But what’s your name?”

You stood there, dumbfounded. Was Mikey...a kid now? How had that even happened? Something gave you the feeling that this wasn’t a prank anymore…

~~~~~~~

“So let me get this straight...you’re Mikey, but now you’re kid. You know where you are, but you don’t know who I am. But you know your brothers.”

“Yup!”

You sat in the living room now. You had finally figured out what in the world was going on, but still had no clue how. At this point, the only thing you could do was keep him safe until his brothers came back.

“Well...I guess I have to, like, take care of you.” Mikey gasped and smiled.

“You’re gonna watch me until my brothers get back? Yay! We’re gonna have so much fun! Come on, let’s go!” Mikey ran off, leaving you in the living room alone.

“Hey! Get back here”

~~~~~~~

You had heard stories about how rambunctious Mikey had been as a child. But actually having to take care of him was another thing. He had an impossible amount of energy. He was constantly running around and climbing everywhere. You had never had to watch a kid like this before.

“Mikey! Get back here, you have food all over your face!” He just kept running away, giggling all the while. “How are you so fast?!”

He also had no sense of danger, which meant he got hurt a lot more. Or so you thought, until one time when Mikey tripped and fell, and he started to scream and cry.

“My knee is bleeding! It hurts!”

“Oh goodness, again? Let me grab you another bandaid...” You walked out of the room to get another bandaid for Mikey, when you heard his crying stop. You peeked your head back to find Mikey sitting on the floor completely silent. No crying, not even a single tear. And his knee wasn’t even bleeding. He was completely fine!

“You little liar!” He whipped his head around, shocked to see you. “You weren't hurt at all! You just wanted to...actually, why did you do that?”

He wouldn’t say a word, too afraid to get in trouble. He crossed his arms and turned away from you, refusing to tell the truth. He only spoke after you promised to not tell Splinter so he wouldn’t get in trouble.

“I…I wanted a cool bandaid. I really like the bandaids. But Dad says that we should only use them when we’re really hurt.”

You sighed. Mikey just wanted a bandaid...but he lied for it? Was he really this mischievous of a child? But he also just lied to his brothers…

“We’re gonna have a talk about this later…” You commented under your breath, before speaking to Mikey again. At this point, it was getting late, and you were exhausted. “I have an idea...why don’t we go lay down and watch a movie?” Mikey, ashamed that he  had been caught in his lie, nodded and got up to walk to the living room.

~~~~~~~

Mikey passed out almost immediately. He denied ever being tired, but his eyelids kept drooping lower and lower. He slumped over onto you as he slowly grew more and more sleepy. Looking down at him, he looked pretty adorable when he was actually sitting still, asleep.

“Not tired, huh? Heh, that’s what they all say.” You looked around again for any sign of his brothers, but there was nothing. “Guess I gotta put you to bed then.”

You hoisted him up into your arms. He was heavier than you expected, but he was a turtle mutant. Not exactly a normal child. You carried him to his bedroom, laying him down on his bed. You almost walked away, but not before Mikey grabbed your arm in his sleep, pulling you back.

The little gesture melted your heart, making you completely forget what had happened earlier. You smiled and laid down next to him, letting him have his way. He wrapped himself around your arm, making sure you knew you weren’t allowed to leave.

You laid a blanket over him, and closed your eyes. Next thing you knew, you were fast asleep, right next to Mikey.

~~~~~~~

“y/n...I’m thirsty.”

“Right...of course you are. Come on, then.”

“I don’t want to go. The monster will get me.”

“No it won’t, I’ll protect you.”

“You pinky promise?”

“Yes, I pinky promise.”

~~~~~~~

The next morning, when you woke up, you looked next to you to find Mikey not there. Worried, you frantically got out of the bed and ran to find Mikey. Much to your relief, and also confusion, he was in the living room, watching TV and eating cereal.

“Did you make that yourself? And you put the TV on, too?” you asked, pointing to the bowl of cereal in his hands.

“Yep! I’m a big kid, I can take care of myself.” You shrugged, sitting on the couch next to him. He quietly finished his bowl of cereal, and went to put it in the sink. You thought to yourself that maybe today he would be calm for once. But when Mikey didn’t come back from the kitchen, those thoughts were gone.

~~~~~~~

He was back at it again, hyper as ever. The only difference between yesterday and today was that you knew Mikey’s tricks. You made sure to check if he was really hurt. Thankfully, he never was. On the contrary, he was quite the resilient kid. But he was still rambunctious. You couldn’t ever get him to sit still for more than 30 seconds.

“y/n, I’m hungryyyyy…”

“Didn’t you just eat?”

“Yeah, but I’m hungry again.”

“I’ll go get you some more Goldfish then…”

“No! I want apples.” You groaned.

“Apples, apples, of course…let’s go then.”

You begrudgingly walked to the kitchen, and looked around for some apples to cut up. As you tried to slice the apples, you could feel Mikey tugging on your shirt. “y/n…”

“I’m working on it! Give me a minute…”

“y/n, my tummy hurts.”

“It’s probably because you’re hungry. I’m almost done with the apples.”

“But it’s not like that…my tummy hurts hurts…”

“Well, some food and water should make you feel a little better.”

Mikey nodded, and started clinging to your leg. You could feel him sniffling, and you looked down to see him with tears welling up in his eyes.

“Oh, hey, hey…don’t worry, it’ll be okay…um…” You looked around for anything that could help him, but before you could find anything, you heard a loud *poof* and suddenly Mikey was standing in front of you, his normal self again.

“Oh, hey y/n! You okay, you look a little stressed. And what’s with the apples, you hungry?”

“M-Mikey?”

“Yeah?” You closed your eyes and all but fell over. “Woah! Man down! You need some rest…let’s go sit down, why don’t we? Then maybe you can tell me what’s going on.”

“Please…that would be lovely.”

[enparallel]

WIP snip

thank you to @boxboxlewis (veeeerry belatedly) and @xalandrix for the tags, I have been dragging my feet finishing this for NO GOOD REASON and I needed to reopen this document today. One little half-a-scene to write and I should be ready to post...

“What?” Draco said, controlling the muscles of his face with a discipline that would take years off his life. (If he had them.) “There’s no telling what these fellows would know. It’s best to be comprehensive. I fully plan to perform every dance I can think of and at least two or three I’ve wholly made up on the spot.” “Naked. In the quad. The Macarena.” “It’s not as if the tango would be appreciably more dignified,” Draco said, laughter bubbling around the edges where he couldn’t hold it back. “Oooh, add the tango. Who knows what ‘tango’ translates to. Maybe it’s The Rooster’s Revenge.” “The Rooster’s Revenge?” “Think of those big long strides… and now picture a giant chicken doing it. Plausible, non, mon poulet?” “This assumes…. I know… how to tango…” Harry’s head had disappeared beneath the table, only his curls bobbing in silent laughter. He’d better not be choking, Draco was at his finest and if Potter died because he was too funny no one would ever appreciate him again. “Get up, Potter, that’s no way to cope. To your feet! We’ll practice now for our grand performance tonight.” Harry sprawled out of the booth, into the empty walkway. Tapas was underappreciated as a student luncheon option, apparently, and the restaurant had risen to the occasion of their visit with several unexpectedly fresh pints and the head waiter excusing himself to make a trip to the market before their food could be prepared. Draco and Harry had moved from despair to fatalism, then hilarity, and Draco now drew himself up and bowed like the conductor of a full symphony orchestra to the empty tables and Potter, who flopped against the booth in helpless giggles. Those uncanny green eyes fixed gratifyingly on him as Draco rose, struck his heels together, and offered a graceful hand to his liquified partner.  He yanked Harry close to his chest and stalked forward, shoving his limp limbs in the direction they should go, slow, slow, quick-quick, slow. The foolhardiness of the proposition exploded upon him as his body flared to attention, just when he needed to carry off the most insouciant carelessness imaginable. He must look deep into Potter’s eyes with the sacred mystery of high camp. He must NOT verge into sentimentality, nor uncertainty, not NOW when at last he had Potter’s undivided attention, had him eating from the palm of his suddenly sweating hand— Draco flung his body backward to throw the most dramatic shape imaginable, spun under the join of his hand to Potter’s, and slid to his knees. A showboaty maneuver that he would consider crass and overdone, marring the comedy, but better to mar it with a too-heavy touch than ruin it completely. He curved his head down like a penitent, so that Potter’s crotch was level with the top of his head, and not his mouth. Every breath passed over his lips in a hyperawareness of sensation. One hand still clasped Harry’s high above him, now lined with sweat— his or Harry’s, he couldn’t tell. But his other hand had turned tacky as well…  Lonely applause broke the silence, echoing off the tiles of the restaurant. The head waiter stood in the doorway, a safe distance from their antics. “Er, bravo,” he said, “Did you still want the mushrooms?”

Tagging @rainstormradish @elskanellis @myrtlefics and @apricitydays-lazynights with much enthusiasm, plenty of patience, and zero pressure

[yvonne-rutherford]

Mother's Day 2024, Pt 2

Yvonne was finally sitting down with a moment to herself. Lunch was spent celebrating with her own mother while dinner involved picking Maria up from her mother’s to join the rest of the Rodriguez family at her future in-law’s. The hustle and bustle of everyone preparing food together without fighting or making everything a competition was something she still couldn’t fully wrap her mind around. They’d arrived home just in time to get both kids into bed and once the last bedtime story was read and admonishment that there was school in the morning, so put the switch away was administered, Félix slipped into his office. The boxes that still contained the majority of their belongings taunted her, but Yvonne instead curled up on the couch with a book.

Or at least that was the plan until she heard footsteps on the stairs. She set the book onto the coffee table, expecting to see her fiancé turning the corner into the room, but instead she saw her ten year old, soon-to-be stepdaughter standing in the doorway. “I know, it’s a school night. I just…. I couldn’t sleep.” Yvonne’s expression softened and she patted the open seat on the couch beside her.

“What’s going on?” After watching her mother’s relationship with her siblings, Yvonne resolved to never have that kind of relationship with Maria. The kids didn’t deserve that kind of disfunction in their lives and Yvonne didn’t have the energy to live through another fractured family like that. Luckily for her, Félix was several years divorced and not a few months widowed. But that didn’t stop her breath from hitching out of fear any time she talked with Maria.

Maria flopped into the seat and pulled her knees up to her chin, though she turned her body to face Yvonne. “Things are just changing so fast. I have stepsiblings with Mamí, but with Papí it’s just been the two of us for so long…” Yvonne reached out to put a hand on the preteen’s knee.

“I know what you mean. It’s been a whirlwind for me too.” She took a deep breath and met Maria’s gaze. For a moment, it was like looking in a mirror at a scared girl who just wanted to make sure she had a place in the family. “I know there’s been a lot of changes lately between the engagement, a new stepsister, a new baby coming, and moving. But you’re still important to your dad. And you’re important to me.” She gave her knee a tight squeeze. “You’re always going to have a place in this family. I know I’m not your mom, but I want to have a relationship with you.”

Maria raised her head. “Your parents are divorced, right? How did you handle that? I’ve seen how overwhelmed you are at Abuelita’s.”

Yvonne nodded. “Yeah, they are. About a year and a half ago. And honestly, I was relieved. Theirs was a relationship that should have ended years ago. And you’re right, you’re abuelita’s house isn’t something that I’m used to.  My family doesn’t get along as well as your papí’s does. But, that’s something for the adults to worry about. Your only job is to keep going to school and to be yourself. And to know that even though you’re getting another brother or sister, there will always be a place for you here.” Yvonne held her arms out wide in an offer of a hug. Maria thought about it for a second before dropping her legs and curling up into the hug.

More footsteps echoed through the house and a second later, Félix stood in the doorway. He opened his mouth to say something, but Yvonne shook her head. The hug lasted a moment longer before Maria pulled away and wiped at her eyes. The moment she saw her father, she was standing up and walking out of the room to preempt any lecture. “I know, I know. It’s a school night. I’m going to bed now.” Félix stopped her on her way out for another hug and a kiss to the top of her head before stepping out of the way of his daughter. He walked over to the couch and pulled Yvonne in to rest her head against his shoulder.

“Is everything okay?”

Yvonne nodded as the hand he had draped around her came to rest on her bump. “Yeah. She just wanted to talk through all of the changes going on. It’s nothing to worry about, I promise.” She leaned up to press a kiss against his lips.

Félix looked at her for a moment before relaxing and going in for another kiss. “Happy Mother’s Day.”

[friedbaekhyunandeggso]

Reason ~ ch. 29

pairing: female oc (devon alba) x levi ackerman

tropes: instructor x cadet, strangers to lovers, male mc falls first

warnings: angst/slow-burn, strong language, upcoming smut(18+ readers only for those chapters pls 🙈), mentions of death/killing (references to Levi OVA episodes)

brief summary: This story takes place a few years after the Fall of Shiganshina. Devon Alba is in her final year of the 101st Training Corps (844-847), due to her success as a cadet she gets the chance to meet Captain Levi. She doesn’t think too much of him until he catches her in the midst of doing something that she isn’t entirely supposed to be doing. But surprisingly, this leads to something unexpected...

ch. 1 [...] ch. 28 | chapter 29 | ch. 30

“Can I help?” Devon asked from her perch on the couch.

Levi’s back was to her as he grabbed a couple potatoes from the cabinet.

She sat up in her seat to try catch a glimpse of what he was making.

He glanced over his shoulder and she immediately faced her book–to pretend she wasn’t looking.

His eyes narrowed, “Just keep your ass on that couch.”

She peeked over the book’s brim to watch him turn around.

She watched him grab the potato peeler and get to work. With each movement of his arm, his dress-shirt tightened over his shoulder blades–outlining his lean back muscles.

She swallowed.

“You didn’t tell me how things went with your co-workers today.”

She didn’t hear his question. She was too distracted by the sight of him turning around to hold the cutting board over the trash, letting the potato peels slide directly into the bin. He glanced down at himself and seemed to notice that one of his shirt-sleeves had unraveled. He set the cutting board down before readjusting his shirt-sleeve, rolling it back up to his elbow.

He then grabbed a fistful of his dress-shirt and yanked it out from underneath his belt, untucking it.

He glanced up, “Devon?”

She blinked, “Y-yes?”

He silently assessed her for a moment before repeating himself, “Did Larsa talk to you about yesterday?”

She finally snapped out of her reverie and her brows furrowed. Something about the sight of him cooking was doing absurd things to her brain.

Are you serious, Devon? She mocked herself.

She ran hand through her hair, “Yeah.. yeah. She did. All my co-workers did actually. They were just concerned.”

“About?”

Her eyes widened momentarily before she looked away. There was no way she was going to tell him that they thought he was abusive.

“They just wanted to make sure I was okay because Iris told them that I looked really upset before I ran off. Obviously I told them that I was mad at… what you did. But I told them that you wanted to come in to apologize. They were pretty understanding, Larsa knew that you were only trying to defend..” me.

She trailed off. For some reason she couldn’t say it outloud. It felt too—

“What’s mine.” he spat.

Her eyes widened before she looked up to see that his gaze was fixated somewhere distant–his lips twisted into a harsh scowl. It seemed he was reliving yesterday’s occurrence.

His eyes flashed towards her, “What even happened to the–”bastard. He cleared his throat, “guy.” he muttered.

She quickly dismissed his earlier comment–not wanting to dwell on how her heart had flip flopped at his claim. Surely he’d just meant it in reference to her co-workers thinking they were engaged. Surely.

“Um.. I’m not fully sure but it seemed they both owned up to saying crude comments after we left. Larsa said they didn’t want to trouble you any further.”

“Tch,” he shook his head, before stating, “So you’re not fired.”

“No,” she absentmindedly fiddled with the smushed corner of her hardcover book, “I’m not fired.”

“Good.” he muttered before turning back towards his food preparation.

She watched him grab a pot and set it in the sink, letting it fill up with water before lifting it easily as he placed it onto the stove to boil–his shirt rippling over his defined back all the while.

She sharply looked down at her book–forcefully prying her gaze off of him with a subtle blush.

What’s mine.

Her heart leapt as she recalled his words. Two simple words that seemed to leave an imprint in her mind.

He’d said those words without a second of hesitance, as if there was nothing else to it–as if it were merely a fact. The earth is round, the sky is blue and she was Levi’s.

Even if he might’ve just spat out the words on impulse… why’d they have to go and make her feel like that?

She scoffed before flipping back a page when she realized that she hadn’t absorbed a single word she just read—too lost in her own head.

“Stop overthinking it.” she mumbled to herself.

Devon ran out onto the rooftop.

Levi stopped the door a second before it hit him in the face.

She glanced over her shoulder, a sheepish expression passing her face, “Sorry.”

He merely shook his head, “Brat.”

Her eyes widened as she insisted, “It was an accident!”

He stood beside her, overlooking the railing.

“Sure it was.”

“If I wanted to hit you, I wouldn’t use a door.”

He glanced over at her, “What would you use.”

She hesitated before raising her fists. He appeared unimpressed.

“They worked well enough last time.” she said in reference to their first and last practice training session on this rooftop.

“Tch,” his eyes narrowed, “That won't be happening again.”

A soft laugh left her lips. She didn’t doubt it—but she’d like to revel in her win a bit longer. And she did that by never offering him a second chance to fight her.

“Where did you learn to fight anyway?” she asked, “I don’t remember seeing those moves in the training corps.”

She was attentive as she watched him lean onto the railing. His eyes hidden from her as his dark hair swayed in the wind, covering his eyes.

Her heart jumped to her throat when silence followed. She suddenly felt like she was being blindsided again. But… she didn’t want to assume, maybe it truly was something he–

“This guy…in the Underground taught me,” his deep voice felt more detached somehow, “He raised me for a little while, after my mother died.”

“I never knew what he was to my mother but–he took me in. He taught me a lot. Taught me how to live in the underground.”

She blinked, stunned.

“Where… where is he now?” she asked–he spoke of him as if he were dead.

“Don’t know. Just up and left one day and never came back.”

“He didn’t–he didn’t say anything before he left?” she asked.

He shook his head.

“His name was Kenny.” he added, almost randomly.

“Kenny?” Where did I hear that name before.. She let out an airy, awkward laugh, “Like Kenny the Ripper?”

Even if the guy was an urban legend, she used to look up to him after what the MPs did to Kate. It wasn’t like she liked the MPs much before her, but Kate solidified it like a hammer to a nail.

“Exactly.”

His deadpan voice made her brows furrow.

He glanced over at her, “He’s Kenny the ripper.”

Her eyes nearly shot out its socket, “A-are you serious?”

At his humorless expression she gaped, “What the fuck? He’s real?”

He looked back out at the distance again, “Yes, he’s real.”

Her mouth was still agape as she processed that. Oddly enough, she believed it. It made sense in her mind–that he was raised by a killer. A killer of over a hundred MPs at that. It was no wonder Levi knew how to fight the way he did..

She stuttered over her words, “I-I don’t understand. How did your mom know Kenny the ripper?”

He turned slightly to face her, but his gaze remained fixed on the view before them.

There was a touch of gentleness to his tone, “My mother was a prostitute, and I was born as a result of it. She raised me there, in that brothel. Once I grew up some she’d send me away at times–so she could… see her clients.”

His hands tightened around the railings, “S-She saw a lot of people before she got ill. Kenny could’ve been one of em for all I know.”

He looked down before muttering, “If he was, he never said it.”

She stood completely still—astonished. This was the most he’d ever spoken about his past and the more he went on, the more she understood why he preferred to keep it to himself.

“Your mom’s illness.. is that how she passed?”

He nodded.

“I-I’m sorry.” the words felt so useless but she felt like she had to utter them regardless.

He merely looked away.

“Your father,” she asked, hesitantly, “Did you know who he was?”

“No, she never told me and I never tried to find out.”

She swallowed before a thought struck her like a bolt of lightning, “Is there a chance.. that Kenny is your father?”

His mouth opened for a second before closing. His thin brows furrowed.

“I- I can’t be sure.” he continued, “He didn’t talk much about her, but he’s one of the few who knew her real name.”

“Her real name?” she questioned.

“Everyone knew my mom as Olympia, but.. he always called her Kuchel.”

“Not like it matters.” he added quietly, almost to himself.

“No wonder you're so strong.” she murmured, still a bit dazed from all this new information.

He looked over at her.

“You were taught how to fight by a serial killer.”

He was still for a moment before muttering, “Everyone in the Underground has to fight, if you wanna live anyway.”

He glanced at her, “You know how it is.”

“I… I do but what did you do? After Kenny left?”

He released the railing and stood upright, “Anything I could at first. Things I shouldn’t have done but I needed the money.”

He ran a hand over his chin, “I got into a lot of shit—didn’t know what the hell I was doing. Didn’t take me long to figure it out though. Kenny gave me all the tools, I-I just didn’t have any direction.”

“Did you join a gang?” she asked.

It wasn’t uncommon in the underground. The underground thrived on gangs, mobs, all the like.

“No, but I almost did.”

“You were alone?” she questioned.

“No, I worked alongside other people but I didn’t find my people until later.”

He continued, “It started when I was offered to steal some ODM gear. ODM gear sells for a shit-ton and we rarely come by it in the Underground so when news broke out that some dumbass Government official was storing some in the Underground everyone wanted their hands on it.”

“I didn’t get what all the fuss was about so when I did the job, I kept one set for myself.”

Her eyes widened.

“In my free time I messed with it till I finally fuckin’ figured out how to use it.” There was a different undercurrent in his tone as he murmured, “It was just like what they said,”

“Makes you feel like you're flying.”

She stared in shock at the newfound glaze that had crept into his eyes. She’d never seen that expression on him before.

He shook his head, “Anyway, it made me realize I didn’t need the mob as much as I thought. Made me realize I could do more–and better.”

“I never really thought much about leaving the mob scene, being a part of it felt like the only shit I was good at. And it was the only thing that brought in money anyway, but..”

His eyes flashed towards her before looking away, “Obviously.. the jobs I took on.. were pretty shit. It was.. starting to mess with me–that dealing with other bitches dirty work was all I knew how to do.”

He leaned back against the railing, crossing his arms, “But ODM gear presented a different opportunity. I told a few of the guys my idea and some of em left with me. I stopped doing most of the mob’s jobs then. Started doing my own thing with the group I had–still wasn’t the best but it was a shit-ton better than before. Things got easier when I managed to secure another set of ODM gear for Furlan..my comrade.”

Something flashed across his gaze and he suddenly appeared gloomier than usual. She didn’t need to ask to know he was dead.

“Did you sell the ODM gear?” she asked, attempting to change the topic.

“No, we used it. It made it much easier for us to do our jobs–MPs could never get us when we were on those things.”

She swallowed–still somewhat mind blown.

Levi was a thug. Captain Levi–was a thug in the Underground.

And now he’s humanity’s strongest soldier.

And from everything he spoke about it was clear–clear that he’s done bad things before. He’s killed–she was certain of it. But instead of feeling fearful, she couldn’t help but find it so… so uncanny.

She’d encountered thugs in the Underground. So secretive and tight knit–people on the streets always had to be wary. They were incredibly foul and money-hungry. Merciless to anyone who came across their way–women didn’t stand a chance. Children, ha, they meant nothing.

The number of times she’d almost been taken, despite being a child—the only thing that had saved her was her legs. Running was the only thing that saved her.

Levi was also young when he’d been abandoned–but he was a boy so things were a bit different. Clearly, they were. He was lucky enough to have someone-a very lethal someone-to teach him how to fight–yet unlucky enough to witness his Mother pass, and his only ‘Father’ figure leave.

But instead of running around the streets and scrambling like she had, he’d been able to fight his way through. To even join the mob, you had to earn your name. And one didn’t just do that by simply existing.

She couldn’t even think about what he’d done.. or what he’s seen.. to get to the point that his ‘jobs’ began to mess with his head. Or maybe it was because Levi had an actual soul compared to those bastards. But-to think-the Levi standing before her was one of them at a point–she couldn’t even picture it. She didn’t want to.

She didn’t want to think about how violent he must’ve had to be–to prove himself capable of ‘jobs’. She didn’t want to think about the blood that rested on his hands. She didn’t want to think about how corrupt the people that hired him must’ve been.

To think he could have been one of the lackeys working for the Government official that had taken her at some point….even if it was just a possibility, or just hired temporarily when she wasn’t around–it didn’t sit right. It didn’t sit right.

He had to do what he could to survive, is what she tried to tell herself but—she had to know. She had to know if.. he’d done jobs like what her false adoptive father had done–or just hurt a kid in general. Or a woman. In the Underground, a lone woman was fair game to thugs.

She would know. She’d narrowly escaped several times.

It wasn’t like killing was any better but the thought of him possibly hurting a woman or child, job or not–

But Levi wouldn’t do those type of things–right? Levi would never… right?

“You.. you didn’t hurt kids, right?” she asked, the sudden rush of fear within her making her words come out fast and uneven. 

She subtly tried to step back, “O-or women–”

His eyes widened momentarily before he grabbed her wrist-stopping her mid-step.

“Stop.” he ordered. He was suddenly directly in front of her, “Women and children was my only rule. I’ve never hurt them.”

He searched her face–concern etching his features when she didn’t meet his gaze.

He placed her hand over his heart, “I swear on my life.”

Her eyes flickered up to his with a sharp inhale. Her breath nearly caught when she saw how steadfast his gaze was.

She believed him.

A deep flush appeared on her cheeks when she realized how distrustful she sounded–just when he’d finally been sharing more about himself. But.. he’d taken it so well. Instead of taking it personally, he immediately reassured her. He must’ve known what she was thinking; that she was thinking of her past.

His heart skipped a beat under her hand.

She squeezed her eyes shut, “Sorry, I just-”

“I know,” his monotone voice quiet. His spare hand tucked a loose strand of her hair behind her ear, “I should’ve mentioned it earlier. Sorry.”

She was speechless. Her mouth opening and closing several times before she stepped back.

She couldn’t think clearly in his grasp–and she still had some questions she wanted answered.

“So how did you become a Scout then?”

He crossed his arms once more as he leaned back against the railing, “It was for a job. I was supposed to steal a document off Erwin and then kill him.”

Her mouth dropped open.

“It was supposed to secure us money and a surface citizenship,” his gaze seemed distant, “So I let Erwin recruit us-my two partners and I.”

She held up a hand, “Hold up, you’re telling me Commander Erwin Smith came to the Underground just to recruit you guys?”

He blinked, “Yes..”

She gaped once more, “What the hell–how did he even hear about you guys? Who even hired you to kill Commander Erwin?”

“Lovof,” he scowled, “that shitty Noble bastard.”

Her eyes widened, “Huh? A Noble reached out to you-an Underground thug-to kill the Scout Commander on the surface?”

A flash of agitation passed through his eyes, “Are you gonna let me finish or are you gonna keep repeating what I’m telling you.”

“Just how good of a thug were you?” she questioned.

“Lovof already knew Erwin was coming for me, so he cornered me into doing what his sorry-ass couldn’t. He knew we would want surface citizenships.”

She didn’t miss the subtle sneer on his lips. “But then–why would Commander Erwin come after you guys?”

He shrugged, “It was probably all planned by Lovof.”

Levi’s eyes narrowed as he thought about it more, “Erwin must’ve.. heard about us from the MPs since we kept bypassing them with ODM gear but-”

“You see–now that’s insane like,” she let out a short, delirious laugh, “Two thugs using ODM gear from the Underground-”

“Three.” he corrected.

She threw her hands up, “Three of you guys managed to get the MPs pissed enough to complain about you to the Scouts-which we all know how much the MPs hate-so just, imagine that conversation. MPs must’ve wanted to gag when they asked the Scouts for help. Only for the Commander Erwin to personally come to the Underground just to recruit you himself instead of turning you in?!”

“He wasn’t Commander then,” he retorted, before shaking his head as he grumbled to himself, “Course that idiot would want to recruit us instead of handing us over-even after knowing our plan–Tch. Bastard.”

Her eyes widened, “Huh!? You’re telling me he knew you wanted to kill him and he still recruited you?”

Levi’s eyes narrowed, “You're doing that repeating bullshit again.”

She covered her face with her hands as she whined, “Commander Erwin must’ve been so impressed with your ODM skills that he just had to recruit you, ugh!”

She removed her hands from her face, “I’m sick of you being good at everything!”

“What are you on about.” he snapped, before glowering, “Would you stop kissing Erwin’s ass already.”

“What–” she blushed fiercely, “I’m not.”

“It’s all you’ve been doing for the past five minutes.”

It shouldn’t have bothered him as much as it did–but, boy oh boy, he was definitely bothered. Jealousy was searing through him as if he’d just been set aflame by a lit match. It was even more conflicting because he knew where her admiration was coming from, but it pissed him off that she respected him without even seeing him in action. Nothing else to it–nothing to do with that fact that Erwin happened to be a tall, intelligent, not-so-bad looking male that caught her marvel.

She held her hands up, “Okay, guilty. Please continue. No interruptions this time–I promise.”

“Tch,” he shifted slightly–the annoyance clear in his tone, “I don’t even remember what I was on about. Point is, the job failed and I ended up staying with the damn Scouts.”

“Wait but–how’d the job fail?”

The second the last word left her mouth something seemed to shift within the air. Her brows drew together quizzically until she searched his face. His narrow eyes were staring off-adrift-as his jaw gradually tightened. His aura exuded something she couldn’t precisely describe.. it felt dark, uninviting.

Maybe he’d shared enough for the day.

She struggled to find her words, “Erm—you.. you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

He was quiet for a moment. He dropped his folded arms.

“Okay.”

They both stood, awkwardly avoiding direct eye contact before he finally turned around to face the railing once more. The set of his shoulders tense as he gripped the railing.

She bit her lower lip—suddenly feeling guilty. Of course the reason why his mission failed wasn’t going to be the most lighthearted story to tell and yet she’d kept shooting off questions like a curious child.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled, “I didn’t know—“

His hands tightened around the railing, “It’s not you, damn it!”

He hastily released the railing, “It’s never you.” he grumbled to himself, almost like an afterthought.

He suddenly cut her glance before stuttering, “I-I mean, I don’t have a problem telling you.” his monotone voice a tinge gentler.

“That day was just a bitch, alright? I-I-” his gray eyes momentarily widened before he ran the back of his hand over his mouth while turning his head away. “I lost them. Lost them both.”

Her throat went dry when she realized what he meant—his two partners had died the day the mission failed.

Despite the flat tone of his voice, the sorrow radiating off of him was unmistakable. The look in his eyes was heart-rending. It was almost as if she could see something was tearing him apart.

He shook his head before looking down at his hands, “If I just hadn’t let them come along–”

He squeezed his eyes shut as he sneered, his shoulders flexing imperceptibility as he recoiled.

“Should’ve never left them alone so soon–” his deep voice constrained, so loathsome, “Should’ve never accepted the shitty deal–”

She suddenly reached out, her eyes wide as her fingers touched his lips, “Stop that talk.” her low voice strong.

Her fingers trembled against his lips as his narrow eyes met hers. The shadows under his eyes only made his silver eyes appear more iridescent.

“You did your best.” she said, her voice so gentle it was almost whispery.

She saw his neck physically constrict at her words before he closed his eyes, his brows furrowing subtly as if struggling to absorb her words.

His hands turned into fists at his sides as he stood rod-straight, “Did I.” his lips brushing against her fingers.

Just before he could turn his head away, her fingers cupped his chin–keeping him facing her. His eyes flashed open as he grabbed her wrist.

“You couldn’t have known.” she insisted, her fingertips shaky against his lips. 

His eyes were wide open as his jaw clenched–tears touched her eyes when she saw just how much pain he was in. The self-loathing and self-deprecation within his gaze was too harsh. She fought the tears biting her eyes to hold his gaze–refusing to let the cold, conflicted war raging within them make her yield.

Suddenly his grip around her wrist tightened and he tilted his face further into her hand–making it so that she was cradling one side of his face. His lips wavered against the palm of her hand. His brows drawn together as he squeezed his eyes shut. The ends of his dark hair tickling her fingertips.

He stood still for a moment, inhaling sharply against her palm.

His shoulders sagged before he slowly opened his eyes. His silver eyes pierced her with an unwarranted intensity as he briefly scanned her features.

“It won’t happen again.” he rumbled in a low murmur. A promise she couldn’t have known the weight of.

She swallowed, a tremor passing through her hand as his lips brushed her palm with each word.

Suddenly a perceptible shiver racked her body when a gust of frosty wind blew past them. Her open hair whipped in the space between them.

He hesitantly released her wrist before lightly touching her hip–unspokenly urging her.

“Lets go inside.” he muttered before his fingertips coincidentally touched the bit of exposed skin underneath her shirt–right at the rim of her pants. His eyes widened.

She tensed underneath his hand and quickly stepped towards the door to hide her reddening face. His fingers slipped away but the electricity of his touch remained.

She raised a hand to her elbow-using that arm to cover her side, the one that he’d just touched.

She peeked over her shoulder at him, “Yeah.” she agreed quietly.

He watched her carefully–eyeing her arm covering the hip he’d touched moments ago. He slowly drew together the fingers that grazed her skin into a loose fist.

She walked towards the rooftop exit first and he followed after her–leaving the cloud shrouded moon to its own company.

[maerinhearts]

Away for Work

Your boyfriend Suna Rintarou is overseas for a volleyball tournament. After getting an idea from your friends, you send him a video of yourself while he is in the locker room, waiting to head out for warm ups...

Warnings: slight possessiveness, pet names, unprotected sex, cream pie, fem!bodiedreader, praise. Let me know if I missed anything.

Word Count: 4000+

Minors DNI.

Smut is below the cut.

It’s silent in the house without him. And you’re bored out of your mind. Your friends had stayed for a couple of weekends since he has been gone, but you’re beginning to think that your loneliness was annoying them, despite the fact that they were constantly checking on you and bringing you meals because you seemed to hardly ever eat when he was out of the country.

You make your way to the empty bedroom, sighing before flopping yourself onto the king-sized mattress. His game is due to start in an hour and you find that the longer you think about him, the more frustrated you become. Frustrated that he is gone. Frustrated that you want him. Frustrated that you’re alone. Frustrated that you seem to always be horny when he is gone.

You think back to what one of your friends had suggested.

“Send him a video of you,” she had said. “My husband loves receiving videos of me when he is on business trips.”

You had wrung your hands together. “What kind of videos?” you asked.

“Have you sent him pictures before, Y/N?” another friend had chimed in.

“Well, yes. Of course,” you replied with a roll of your eyes. “And he sends me pictures back.” You had blushed at the memory of the picture you received ten minutes prior. Him, standing naked in front of the hotel room mirror. His erect cock held firmly in his free hand, a slight smirk on his lips that you could barely see around his phone. His hair was disheveled, like he had just woken up.

Your friends giggled. “Has he ever sent you videos?”

You slowly shook your head.

Their suggestions bounce around your head as you head for your closet to dig out the pink dildo you had stuffed away so long ago. With your boyfriend always around, you hadn’t needed it. Until now. He was due back home next week, and you thought you could wait.

With a scowl on your face, you trudge back to your bed and strip yourself of your clothing. When you get comfortable, you finally pull out your phone.

***

He sat alone in the locker room. Well, not totally alone. His teammates were stretching and doing their own preparations for the upcoming game. He had his headphones in his ears, music on full blast with his track suit zipped up over his mouth. He was buried into the jacket, eyes closed and mind on you. He couldn’t wait to get home. You were texting him every day that you missed him, and it broke his heart. He thought you could keep each other satiated with pictures, but no matter how many pictures you sent him, it was never enough. He missed the feel of your soft skin against the palm of his hands. And he missed the sounds of your moans. He missed the way your lips felt pressed against his own. God, he was so homesick, it was almost pathetic.

His phone vibrates in his pocket. With brows furrowed, he sits up and reaches for a bottle of water while fishing the device out of his pocket. He unlocks the screen to see a message from you. Smiling to himself, he opens it and sees you had sent a video. All he could see was blackness surrounding the “play” symbol. Underneath, you had written “I miss you :(“ and there it is. The clenching in his chest. The hurt. He felt bad leaving you.

He takes a swig of his water before holding his phone up and pressing play with his thumb. He thought you had just sent him another video of you enjoying time with your friends. He hears rustling and frowns before the camera moves and he sees you fully on display on his phone. His eyes widen and he presses pause. He needs to compose himself before going forward. He glances around to see that the locker room was now empty. He takes another swig of his water and presses play again. Just as he starts to swallow, he watches as your hand moves down your body and the camera moves to show that exact hand slowly pushing your pink dildo into your cunt. He chokes on the water, forcing it down his throat before pulling the phone closer to his face.

Then, he hears you. A soft gasp followed by a soft, sweet moan as he watches you pull the dildo out and shove it right back in. He’s mesmerized. If he looks close enough, he can see your slick coating the toy. He thinks this might be the greatest thing he has ever received from you. And as his dick hardens against his sweats, his adoration turns to annoyance. And he feels his annoyance flare up into downright anger as he hears the familiar moan of his name through the headphones. You had picked your pace up and between the moans of his name, he could hear the soft wet sounds of the dildo entering and leaving your body.

He promptly closes out of the video, seething, before replying to your message with just the word “Cute”. He checks the time and sees he has five minutes before he needs to be on the court for warmups. He takes that time to send you money before he stuffs his phone into his bag and leaves.

***

Just as you turn the TV on to watch the game, his reply comes through.

“Cute”.

You feel your eyebrow twitch in anger. Cute? That’s it?! Cute?! How was that even remotely cute?! You’re about to type a heated reply back when a notification from your bank pops up on your phone. You click on it to see he had wired you $1,000 with a message that just said “Since you seem bored.” Frustrated, you toss your phone on his side of the bed and cross your arms. What were you supposed to do with $1,000?

You watch the TV with your arms crossed, your heart doing a somersault as you see your boyfriend jog out onto the court. You’re so incredibly annoyed with him but watch him anyway.

“Suna Rintarou seems to be in a foul mood today,” one of the announcer’s comments. You raise an eyebrow at that.

“He does, doesn’t he? He seems to be hitting the ball a little harder than normal during these warmups.”

“He still seems to be hitting his marks and staying in the court though,” the first announcer says. “Who knows, maybe we’ll get a great game out of Suna today.”

When the camera pans to your boyfriend jogging back around to the line, you feel your heart in your throat as you study the tautness of his muscular back. And when he turns to the camera and you get a look at his face for the first time, you see his fox-like feature’s glowering into the camera at you. He knew you were watching. You feel yourself tense at his gaze, now knowing that he didn’t think your video was just “cute”.

You watch the rest of his game, attempting to not fall asleep considering the hour at home. You did not miss how hard he really was spiking the ball. The thought of that same hand smacking your ass crosses your mind and you shake your head, attempting to push it away.

Anxiety settles into your spine, causing you to become tense. Did he not like the video? Why else would he just say “cute”? What was up with that anyway? You guys had been sending pictures back and forth the whole time he has been gone. What were you supposed to do know? If you had to be honest with yourself, you were kind of embarrassed. You were at least expecting a video of him touching himself after his game, but you didn’t even get a picture.

The week following that incident goes by quickly. He was hardly texting you and now he wasn’t texting at all since he was on his flight home. You pout as you lay in bed, hoping to get some sleep before he gets home. He was due to arrive back at your house around 4 am. You tossed and turned most of the night, excitement coursing through your veins, anxiety heavy on your chest. Sleep finally finds you around 1:00, body finally calming down.

Suna finally arrives home, softly announcing his arrival because he knew you were sleeping. He kicks his shoes off by the door, dropping his bag next to them before turning the lock and stalking up to your shared room. He opens the door to find you sleeping, blanket tangled around your waist. You were on your back, hair splayed out across the pillow and hands up by your head.

He smirks to himself as he slowly makes his way over to the bed and crawls up the mattress, pulling the blanket away from your nightgown clad body. He glances down to see the fabric bunched up around your waist, showing off your cute pink panties. His mouth waters at the sight before he forces his knee between your legs and covers your body with his own. For a second, the anger leaves his body, and he finds himself leaning down to press soft, sweet, lingering kisses to the skin on your throat. His hands are skimming along your arms, moving up to grip your wrists as he presses his nose to your skin and inhales your scent. He was so happy to be home, to have you waiting for him in his bed, to have you in his arms.

As he pulls back to look at you, a soft sigh leaves your lips before a pout settles on your face. The longer he stares at you, the more he can feel his anger bubbling up to the surface. He still couldn’t believe you sent him that video. And while he was in the locker room of all places! What if one of the other guys had seen it? Or worse, his coach?! He had told you before he left to only send him pictures and stuff while he is alone in his hotel room. Did you do it on purpose? Just to get a rise out of him before his game?

When he glances down at you again, he notices your eyes fluttering open. “Rin?” you mumble out, voice groggy. A sleepy smile crosses your face as your eyes finally focus on him. You try to move your hand to cup his cheek but find you can’t move it at all. You turn your gaze to see he has you pinned down by your wrists.

“Rin?” you ask a little louder, a little panicked. You feel your face get hot as you take a look at his beautiful, scowling face. “What’s wrong?” Your voice is small, but you’re afraid of what might happen if you’re any louder.

He lets out a breathy laugh. “What’s wrong?” he asks mockingly. “What did we talk about before I left, Y/N?”

You cock your head to the side at him. “Ummm,” you hum, averting your gaze, trying to remember the conversation you had in bed before he left. “That you’ll be back before I know it? And to not cry. You hated seeing me cry.”

His breath catches in his throat. So, you just forgot? You didn’t do it on purpose? That seemed to anger him more for some reason. One of his hands leaves your wrist to rub down his tired face and you use the opportunity to caress his cheek lovingly.

“I missed you,” you say quietly. You take a deep breath before asking the question that had been eating at you for the last week. “Did you not like my video?” Your face heats up in an instant, embarrassment evident on your features.

At first, he can’t believe it. He thinks you’re joking so he lets out a laugh. This immediately embarrasses you even more. You begin fighting your other hand out of his grip and pushing him away from you with your free one. Tears prick at the edges of your vision.

“Let me go,” you tell him, voice turning thick from trying to hold back the tears.

He grabs up the wrist pushing at him and gives you a firm look. “No,” he says simply.

Your bottom lip quivers and you turn your face away from his burning eyes, tears dropping onto the mattress below you. You yank your wrist free from his grasp and cover your face with your arm. If he wasn’t going to let you go, at least you could shield yourself from him.

In his annoyance, it suddenly dawns on him that you weren’t joking, and his eyes widen. He lets go of your other wrist and sits back on his knees. When he looks down, he sees your legs are still spread open to accommodate his body, nightgown still bunched up around your waist. Now, both of your arms are covering your face as he watches your chest rise and fall haphazardly in silent cries. He runs a hand through his hair before leaning back over your body, a hand reaching out to tentatively touch your arm.

As soon as his fingers make contact with your skin you whisper out a “Don’t.” He scowls down at you for a second before sighing and sitting back once more, opting to caress your thighs with his hands instead, loving the way your body shivers at his touch despite your being hurt.

“I loved the video,” he admits quietly, hands gently smoothing across the skin of the outside of your thighs.

Your breath catches in your throat as warmth blossoms in your chest. You peak at him around your arms to see his brow furrowed, head hanging as he rubs his hands up and down your thighs. You sniffle as he continues on.

“I loved it so much, but I couldn’t even enjoy it,” he says, frowning now. “You sent it to me while I was in the locker room. Before a game.” He looks up to see you peering at him from around your arms. “What if one of my teammates saw?”

You remove your arms to glare at him around your tears. His heart clenches at the sight of your red, tear-stained face and swollen eyes. “That’s why you’re mad?” you ask.

He glares back at you. “I told you to only send me stuff like that when I’m in my hotel room,” he answers.

You lean up on your elbows to get a better look at him. “So instead of telling me how much you loved my video, you send ‘cute’ and get angry because someone else might have seen it?!”

His hand darts up to grasp your face tightly, pushing your cheeks together. You wrap your shaking hand around his wrist, biting your tongue through the pain.

“Yes,” he says through gritted teeth.

“Why?” you say around your squished cheeks, still glaring.

He leans down to your face. “Because you’re mine,” he answers, punctuating every word.

For some reason, the words shoot straight to your core and when you try to clench your legs, you realize his hips are in the way. Your face heats up once again, knowing there was no hiding that action. But if he notices, he doesn’t say anything.

“Do I need to remind you of that?” he asks. Your eyes go wide. The last time something like this happened, where he reminded you who you belonged to, you spent hours in bed being overstimulated to tears.

You frantically shake your head and swallow. He smirks at that before releasing your face and tracing the hand down your body. You surprise him by sitting up and fisting the fabric of his shirt at his waist. “Make love to me, Rin,” you practically beg. “I waited for you to come home. I sent you that video because I thought you would like it. I want you to make love to me.”

His eyes widen. You have never been so direct before and he finds himself gently cupping your face in his hands.

“Didn’t you miss me?” you whisper, eyes glistening at him with tears. “Don’t you want to fuck me too?” He clenches his jaw as he feels his dick twitch in his pants. If he was being honest, his cock had been on stand-by this whole time, half hard in his sweats. He just wasn’t close enough to you for you to take notice.

“Which is it, Y/N?” he asks, pupils dilating with lust as he stares down at your innocent expression. “Do you want me to fuck you? Or do you want me to make love to you?”

Your hands slowly move up to his chest, fisting the fabric once more and pulling him closer to you. “Fuck me, Rin,” you say against his lips.

He lets out a soft groan before finally crashing his lips to yours with a bruising force. He can feel the tension leave his body as you kiss him back. Maybe this is what he needed. He shouldn’t have come in so angry. Instead, he should have started by fucking you and talking after. He had so much pent-up frustration from being gone for over a month.

He presses your body back against the mattress and begins lavishing your neck with his tongue and lips, hands pushing your nightgown up your body until your breasts are bare. You’re arching your back into his touch, body touch starved and so reactive it was almost embarrassing. Every little brush of his fingertips has you gasping. And when his mouth latches around your right nipple, both of you let out a quiet moan.

Suna pulls back to flick his tongue across the hardening bud, and you tangle a hand in his dark locks. Your body is buzzing with electricity. When he moves a hand to grasp at your waist, you find yourself jumping at his touch.

You pull at his clothes, a whine leaving your lips until he pulls them off and tosses them to the floor, leaving just his boxers. As he leans back over you, he fits his hand into your panties, skilled fingers rubbing through your folds.

“You’re so wet for me already,” he teases. “And I’m just getting started.”

You part your legs more for him as you feel his middle finger press against your entrance. He slowly pushes the digit into you, a soft moan leaving both of your mouths at the feeling.

“God, you’re still so tight,” he breathes out. Your pussy clenches around him at the words and he chuckles. He leans down as he continues slowly pumping the finger into you, mouth closing around a nipple and harshly sucking.

Your back arches up into him, a hand tangling tightly into his locks as he adds a second finger and picks up his pace. You throw your head back and moan as he hooks his fingers inside of you, harshly rubbing against your g spot over and over. You cry out as your hips thrust up to meet his hand, orgasm approaching fast.

Suna swirls his tongue around your nipple before pulling back just in time to watch your face as you come undone beneath him, body writhing and shaking. He pulls his fingers from you and presses the slick covered digits against your clit, rubbing you through your orgasm.

When you finally calm down, he presses his fingers against your lips. You open your mouth obediently and he presses his fingers against your tongue, giving you a taste of yourself. You moan as he pumps his fingers into your mouth, your own hand pulling him free of his boxers and pumping his length.

He throws his head back and moans before he’s pulling his fingers from your mouth and shoving his boxers off. He lines the head of his cock up with your entrance, the head bright pink and leaking precum. Without warning, he sheathes himself inside of you to the hilt, smirking as you squirm beneath him, core burning at the sudden intrusion.

“What’s wrong, baby?” he coos in mock concern, leaning down to press a sweet kiss to your lips.

“So big,” you gasp out.

He chuckles darkly. “Aww, my poor baby,” he coos again. He moves to press kisses into the skin on your neck. You moan as he begins moving his hips. “But you’ll take this cock like a good girl, won’t you? Hmm?”

You nod, too afraid to speak.

“That’s what I thought,” he says as he sits back on his knees to look down at you. He settles his hands on your hips, gripping the fat tightly in his fingers, and sets a brutal pace, fucking into you with all of his pent-up frustration.

“That’s it, darling,” he praises. “Look at you, taking me so well.”

You whimper from beneath him, pleasure burning through your veins like wildfire. He shifts, angling his hips upward and hitting that spot inside of you without warning. You throw your head back and cry out, hands fisting into the sheets beneath you.

“Fuck, you’re so pretty underneath me,” he tells you. “Sound so pretty. I could fuck this cunt all day just to hear you.”

You clench around him, and he groans.

“Feel so fucking good, baby.”

“Rin,” you moan out as he picks up his pace, slamming his cock into you. Pleasure builds up in your core, cord pulling taut and threatening to snap.

Your moans become higher pitched and louder, signaling to him that you were close again.

“Cum for me,” he demands. “I want you to cum on my cock.”

As if on cue, your second orgasm washes over you, body shaking uncontrollably as Suna continues pushing his cock into you, moaning out at the feeling of your walls fluttering around him.

“Good god,” he gasps out as he stills himself, trying to keep himself from cumming so he can get one more out of his pretty girlfriend.

He leans over you as you come down, breath evening out.

“Give me one more, darling,” he murmurs.

You groan out as he starts dragging his cock through your walls again, pussy sucking him right back in. Tears prick at the edges of your vision as overstimulation sets in. His pace is slow and deep, but it’s building you right back up to the edge again at an embarrassing speed.

He presses his forehead against yours, rutting his hips into yours.

“Let me hear you,” he whispers and you moan out his name, lips brushing against his as you do.

Your body is on fire.

“That’s right, baby,” he gasps out. “Such a good girl for me.”

Suna’s thrusts pick up the pace, becoming sloppy and his orgasm approaches. You’re a wreck beneath him, nails digging into the skin on his back as your third orgasm washes over you and you cry out.

“Fuck, I’m cumming,” Suna warns, just barely in time before he is spilling his seed into you as your cunt sucks him dry. He continues fucking into you, giving you all he has before he is collapsing on top of you.

Your eyes flutter shut as exhaustion settles in and both of your breathing returns to normal. You begin drawing patterns onto his back with your index finger. He’s quiet for a long while and you begin to think he has fallen asleep until he props himself up above you and looks at you with love, admiration and tears in his eyes.

“Rin? What’s wrong?!” you question, panic evident in your voice.

“I’m sorry for being upset with you,” he apologizes, voice soft.

You cup his cheeks in your hands. “And I’m sorry for sending you that video when I knew you weren’t in your hotel.”

He turns and kisses the palm of your right hand. “Let me clean you up.”

You draw in a breath through your teeth as he leaves your body, and his seed slowly spills out of you. You stay where you are, too afraid to move until he’s cleaned you up.

Suna comes back and cleans you up quickly, leaving to put the now dirty rag in the hamper in the bathroom. You pull your panties back on and fix your nightgown, lying down to wait for him to come back and get into bed with you.

Sleep threatens to pull you under, finally successful when he gets into bed with you, pulling you back against his chest and whispering something you don’t catch into your ear.

[genshin-impact-writings]

Strawberry Cheesecake – Tartaglia/Childe x gn!reader

A/N: Just a little something I wrote for my favorite ginger’s birthday. Hope you enjoy! <3 This fic contains spoilers for Childe’s real name, in case you don’t know about that yet. Pls don't let this flop.

Childe woke up when a particularly bright sun beam fell on his face, successfully dazzling him even with his eyes closed. For a brief moment, he considered burying his face in his pillow and trying to get back to sleep and the peaceful dream he had had about his snow-covered homeland but he was way too lazy to move. Instead, he threw his arm over his eyes in an attempt to block out the sunlight, only to jolt up just a few seconds later. 

Sunlight?! What time was it?

He rubbed his eyes before squinting at the clock on the bedside table. Almost 10 am. 

“What the…” Childe couldn’t remember the last time he had slept in. Usually, he got up quite early and on some days, he even was out and about before sunrise. Not that it hadn’t been nice to get a few more hours of sleep but it still was strange that he hadn’t woken up earlier. 

With a yawn, he stretched his back; then he crawled out of bed and plodded to the bathroom to get dressed and brush his teeth. From the kitchen, he could hear you humming the song that had been stuck in your head over the past few days, followed by the clattering of crockery and cutlery as well as a muffled curse. Whatever you were doing, it wasn’t going too well, Childe assumed. Maybe he should check on you, just in case.

With that thought in mind, he made his way to the kitchen. On first glance, everything looked fine, aside from the pile of dirty dishes in the sink that definitely hadn’t been there yesterday when he had gone to bed. But who cared about dirty dishes anyway when you were there right in front of him, wearing one of his shirts over your dark sweatpants? 

“Morning,” he finally said. 

“Good morning, starshine,” you greeted him, a beaming smile spreading on your face as you rushed to his side to press a kiss to his cheek. He looked back at you, ocean colored eyes still full of sleep. “Hey there.” 

Mornings with him had always been your favorite time of the day. In these moments, he had nothing in common with the fierce and dauntless warrior so many people feared. He wasn’t the charming and seemingly carefree diplomat either. In moments like this, he was just Ajax, a young man with messy, ginger hair sticking out into all possible and impossible directions, not fully awake yet and immeasurably adorable for this very reason.

“Why didn’t you wake me up?” he asked, trying to stifle a yawn – without much success. With a soft laugh, you turned around to face him. “Because it’s your birthday, silly. And because you clearly needed some rest.”

He blinked, dumbfounded. “Oh.”

“Don’t tell me you have forgotten your own birthday.”

“I think that might be the case.”

“Oh Ajax,” you laughed, kissing him again. Sometimes he was just too cute to handle. 

“So…” he said when you pulled away, peeking over your shoulder at the kitchen counters where you had piled up a kitchen scale, various bowls, cups and even two baking pans, one of them containing something that vaguely resembled a cheesecake. A slightly burnt cheesecake, just to be precise. “Is my birthday the reason you decided to turn our kitchen into a mess?”

With a pout that couldn’t quite hide the sheepish smile that tugged at the corners of your mouth, you poked his chest. “Don’t be mean. I was trying to prepare a cake for you.”

“It seems like you weren’t particularly successful with that.”

You sighed. “I got distracted and forgot to take it out of the oven. But I think it’s still edible.”

“Even if it were poisonous, I’d still try it,” Childe reassured you with that soft, genuine smile that never failed to make you weak in the knees. “I wouldn’t want you to think that I don’t appreciate your efforts, sweetheart.” 

You wrapped your arms around his neck. “You’re awfully sweet today.”

“My charm just comes naturally, I guess,” he replied, his smile slowly turning into a grin as you rolled your eyes. “I take it back. You’re insufferable.”

“But you love me.”

“Of course I do,” you said and pecked his lips before you released him from your hug and started to shove him out of the kitchen. “Give me a few minutes to finish the cake, okay?”

Childe hummed in response, quickly stealing another kiss from you before he made his way into the living room. On the dining table, there was a small bouquet of flowers as well as a cheesy birthday card, and he couldn’t help but smile at the sight. Every time you did these kind of things for him, he felt like he was going to melt on the spot, even though you probably would have insisted that flowers, a card and a birthday cake weren’t that special. But to him, they were, even more so because he could still remember the years where no one had cared about his birthday at all. And just the fact that you had let him sleep in while you struggled with a cake, knowing very well that he would’ve helped you without even complaining, was enough to make him feel incredibly loved. 

He sat down at the table, absent-mindedly staring at the flowers, wondering how he deserved someone like you, until you appeared in the doorframe and cleared your throat. “Ta-da,” you said. “A birthday cake.  Hey, don’t you dare laughing at this masterpiece,” you quickly added when you realized that Childe was actually having a hard time to keep a straight face. You had decorated the cheesecake with a hilarious amount of strawberries to hide the burnt top and even managed to stick a bunch of brightly colored birthday candles in there. 

“Okay, you’re right, it looks horrible,” you admitted, joining in his laughter after taking another look at the cake and setting it down on the table. “But it’s better than nothing, right? Now, please blow out these candles and make a wish before I actually consider throwing the whole thing out and buying you a proper cake.”

Without any hesitation, Childe shook his head. “Please don’t. It’s perfect.” 

You then watched him blowing out the candles and closing his eyes to make a wish, and before you even realized what you were doing, you had already stepped closer to him. You leaned in and brushed your lips against his temple before you pressed a tender kiss to his still closed eyelids, then to his cheeks and the corners of his mouth. 

“Happy Birthday, Ajax,” you whispered against his lips, and he pulled you into his lap, wrapping his arms around your waist in a tight hug as he indulged in the absolute bliss and peace he always felt when you were so close to him. “Thank you, sweetheart,” he whispered back. “For everything.”

Thank you so much for reading! <3 If you enjoyed it, please consider reblogging and/or leaving some feedback. I’d really appreciate the support!

Taglist: @the-gayest-sky-kid @shanmie @genshinparty @somemothgoingferal @aphrodicts-imagination

[allthingskakashi]

• Forelsket •

[ Kakashi x Reader]

Fluff Prompt: “I like the way your hands fit in mine”

Tags : Fluff, Hokage Kakashi, Potter/Artist! Reader 

Words : 1.4k 

A/n : Okay soooo here it is, my first fanfic after over a year, i am so nervous about this and hate it vehemently to be perfectly honest, but it has been so long and i really wanted to post something. I’ve been struggling with writing a lot lately and am finding it super difficult to finish anything i am starting because nothing seems to be working out the way i wish it would but anyhoo...i managed to finish this so....here it goes.  Any criticism is completely welcome, i’m very very rusty so i am fully prepared for this to flop. The anon who had requested it probably is not even here anymore, and i am so sorry it took me a year to finally get to writing this lmfao. Okay that’s it. Hope it doesn’t disappoint too much. Thank you so much for reading!! ily <3 

Kakashi had never seen so many pots in his life.

Nor had he ever seen you, in your faded blue overalls, hair stuck to your face and strewn about in every direction, with mud in places of your body mud should never be.

His gaze danced along the ceiling-high shelves, with queues of vases, pots, and bowls of varying shapes and colour stacked in neat rows. The amusement in his half lidded eyes wasn’t concealed.

“So this is what you do”, he stated, his voice taking the tone of a little boy seeing a rainbow for the first time.

“This is what I do”, you repeated. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

When you’d mentioned to Kakashi, the Rokudaime, that he could stop by at your studio sometime to watch you at work—which, despite your multiple protests, he seemed really insistent on doing, you hadn’t thought that he’d turn up at your door, apron in hand, at 11 a.m. on a Wednesday morning.

Especially after that night.

And yet, here he was.

“Well...” Kakashi muttered sheepishly, “I had some time to kill.”

“And....what’s the apron for?”

“I thought I could help you”, he stated, as if him being in your studio in the middle of the day, after that night , offering to assist you in pottery—something you were pretty sure the Copy Ninja had never done before, was the most natural thing in the world.

“Help me...you”, you registered his words, raising an eyebrow at his lean, tall figure that was watching you with a kind of confidence you could not even hope to feign.

“Help you, me, yes“, Kakashi replied with the same nonchalance with which he’d walked in.

You exhaled.

“Right...Okay.”

Rubbing your hands on the pockets of your overall, you watched Kakashi slip the apron in over his head. It had the Konoha Medical Department’s emblem embroidered on the breast pocket—he must have borrowed it from the Laboratory.

You wanted to laugh.

He seemed to have put a fair bit of thought into this.

And well, it was not like you hadn’t been driving yourself crazy for the past few days either...

**

That night had been like any other, with you and Kakashi walking back to your respective homes, engaged in amiable chatter. 

It had rained copious amounts the day before in Konoha, and every step of the cemented road was littered in large puddles of water.

There had been a particularly large one at the lane right across from yours, and Kakashi had taken your hand in his—a completely ordinary gesture for a man of his heart, to help you cross—a gesture that he’d have made for any layperson, be it a child or the elderly, friend or stranger in passing. You knew that. 

And yet, despite the normalcy of the gesture, despite the sheer predictability of it...you’d found yourself buckling at the knees at his touch, the sensation of Kakashi’s hand gently, but firmly gripping yours transcending beyond just your palms.

You couldn’t help but marvel at how natural it felt for your hand to be in his, how completely, devastatingly painful it felt to realise that it would only last mere seconds.

You’d wished there would be more puddles, wished you’d fall into one if that is what it took, and that’s when it happened. The words rolling off your tongue before you had any way of halting them. “I like the way your hands fit in mine”.

The words had been clear, despite how much you wished they had carried even a hint of ambivalence in them. But they were clear, and so was the intent of their speaker.

Of course, Kakashi had masterfully shrouded his surprise, and of course, you’d changed your verses immediately, shifting the conversation to the following day’s forecast before hastening your pace with incoherent mumbles of being late for something, but no amount of escaping, digressing, talking about the weather and pretending like you had said something else could alter that event.

The words were out there. You’d heard it with your own two ears.

What followed the events of that day was of course, complete and unadulterated avoidance. There was no way you could show face before him anymore, but with him being the Hokage, that posed a few complications. He was everywhere.

And so you’d started coming in for work at the crack of dawn to avoid having to work late, you’d gone to markets miles away from your neighbourhood to buy a packet of ramen, you’d taken dingy alleys and unlit lanes to travel home—all to avoid coming face to face with Kakashi.

And you’d succeeded.

Until today.

Because here he stood now, in your small studio, the Rokudaime—in all his glory, wearing the Konoha Medical Department’s apron that he borrowed so he could come help you in the middle of the day on a Wednesday—with a glint of eagerness in his eyes that made your stomach flip within your belly.

“Well?”, Kakashi’s voice tugged at you come out of your stupor. “What should I do?”

You looked around yourself, wrecking your mind to come up with something you could ask him to do that would suit his stature, and his dexterity—or lack thereof, in this regard.

“Um...” you fumbled, watching him eye the abandoned mould on the wheel in front of you which you’d been working on since morning.  “I guess you could...help me make this vase for a wedding order I received yesterday”, you said, eyes avoiding his.

He beamed at the invitation.

“As you say”, he replied with a....(was a tease in his tone?)...as he took his place on a stool behind the pottery wheel.

The absurdity of the scene in front of you made you fall short of words.

Kakashi’s expectant eyes waited.  

You reached for another stool, placing it opposite Kakashi before sitting down facing him, already feeling his eyes on you.

“Okay so um...you just...place your hands on the mould, and do this...” you explained, moving your hands in sync with the wheel as you shaped the clay into curves and bulges, building it into the form of an amphora.

Kakashi’s dark eyes stared in awe, watching in marvel as you let the familiar feel of clay take your mind away from the unfamiliarity—but not adversely so, of Kakashi being so close to your, watching you, your feet almost touching.

“Can I try?”, his voice broke through your concentration.

You let the wheel come to a slowly dwindling spin, before retracting your hands from the piece. Kakashi brought his forward, pressing his palms onto each side of the vase, touching it as if it were the wings of a butterfly.

He looked up at you for reassurance. “Yes, that’s it”, you mumbled, watching Kakashi’s masterful hands moulding your piece with the same diligence and skillfulness of a seasoned potter.

“Wait, hold on” you scrambled, leaning ahead to wrap your hands on his as he fumbled to bring the mould to a narrow concave at the top, his hands faltering, but gaze as steady as ever.

It took a few seconds for you to come to the realisation that your hands were on Kakashi’s, the mud from your palms staining the back of his hands in slimy brown goo.

But by the way that his eyes softened on yours...he didn’t seem to mind.

You continued in silence, the soft whining sound of the wheel the only noise between you, keeping you apart and yet somehow binding you together.

The vase was beginning to take form, growing from between Kakashi’s hands...and yours. The outcome was turning out impeccable, not a curve out of proportion, not an inch of jagged surface.

You willed yourself into meeting his gaze.

A crease made its way onto the smooth black stretch of his mask.

“What?”, you asked, your voice soft, expectant. Like you wished he would say something, grant legitimacy to this moment, let you know that his lingering gazes were not a mirage of your own creation.

“I like the way your hands fit in mine.”

Something red and burning crept up your neck.

The vase was done.

You’d always had a custom of naming your creations. Attributing each piece with a name granted them a kind of sentiment that you hoped to invoke in all those who appreciated and purchased your work.

Sometimes it was difficult, assigning a name that befits a piece. But this one...you knew what this one would be. You’d learnt the word in a book.

Forelsket / Norwegian (n.)

The euphoric experience of falling in love for the first time.

Your eyes met Kakashi’s, gleeful smile tugging at the corners of your lips, before erupting into a wide, beaming, infectious grin.

[quillsandtypos]

The Edge in Revenge

Words: 3k

Warnings: smut, degradation, female oral receiving, sexual edging, and underage drinking mentioned (NO SEASON 2 SPOILERS, I just started watching season one but I needed to get this out of my head)

Pairings: JJ Maybanks x fem!reader

...........................................

JJ really shouldn’t have been the one to underestimate what you were capable of doing in the name of revenge. He’d been fucking with you all day. It had started that morning, you were alone in his kitchen as the other Pogue’s were still asleep. He had you pinned up against the wall lightly sucking on the side of your neck. As he trailed down to your collarbone he suddenly pulled away. You furrowed your brows at him but he just winked and smirked before he walked away; leaving you wet and confused.

Then later after lunch he managed to get you alone before you and the other pogue’s went out on the water. You were still inside grabbing the cooler, as everyone else was already on the boat. He snuck up behind you unbeknownst to you. You felt his hot breath on his ear. “You need help with that princess?” he asked cockily. You felt his warm cock press against the back of your ass, and his hand was at the small of your back.

“Oh definitely,” you responded eagerly. You turned to him as he easily pulled you in with one arm around your back, and the other at the back of your neck. Your lips interlocked, and you hungrily kissed him back, almost begging for more. But just as the time before, he quickly pulled back. Grabbing the cooler from behind you and heading out the door. With a ‘thanks!’ and a barely contained giggle. Oh he was a dead man, you decided right then that revenge was most definitely an order.

So you came up with the perfect scheme. If he wanted to play that game, then he would quickly learn who he was quite literally playing with.

“Ki,” you said. You quickly pulled her away from the boys. “I need a favor, I need you to get JB and Pope away from JJ.”

“Do I even want to know?” she laughed.

“It’s in the name of revenge,” you offered hopefully. She let out a long fake sigh.

“Hmm, let me think,” she took a long pause.

She cracked a smile. “I’m just kidding, you should’ve started with the revenge part.”

“Yes! Thank you,” you said, hugging her tightly.

“Come on JB, we’re gonna go help Pope with whatever he’s doing in the kitchen,” she said, pulling him along.

“What? Oh, okay,” John agreed confusedly as he awkwardly followed her.

And so then there were two. You casually flopped yourself down on JJ’s lap, who seemed slightly startled at first, but then just wrapped his arms around your waist. As much as it was a sweet gesture, you didn’t sit there to be sweet, so you needed to ruin the moment. Lightly, you rolled your hips back so you went right across his dick, and then rolled forward, making sure to move slowly but applying a small amount of your body weight as pressure. You weren’t certain he was giving you a look that could kill, but you didn’t bother looking. But what you did do was speed up a little bit until you felt his dick grow hard.

Smiling a smug grin you moved to get off of him. But his arms helds you there. He swiftly pulled you down onto his chest so your right ear was directly next to his mouth. “When we are alone next, I’m gonna fuck you till you’re screaming,” he whispered lowly.

You adjusted your head so you could see his face. “As if you could ever have that effect on me,” you smirked.

“Care to up the stakes then? Or are you too chicken?” His eyes gleamed, and at the same time so did your’s.

“Name your price,” you said confidently.

“If I can get you to beg, then you owe me a six pack of beers.”

“That’s it?” you asked, surprised.

He raised his eyebrows, “Fine, a six pack of beers, and you have to go skinny dipping with me next Friday night.”

“But I have to work next Friday,” you suddenly remembered.

“What? Not feelin so cocky now princess? Afraid you’ll lose?” he taunted.

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Of course not. So what do I get if I can make you beg?” You poked him in the chest for emphasis.

“Alright, if you win, then you get me as your personal boat driver, or person who gets you things, or whatever,” he offered.

“You sure that’s quite a high bargain JJ?” you now taunted back.

“Yeah, I’m not worried,” he replied cockily. He offered you his hand to shake and you took it.

“Prepare to be my personal maid,” you said.

“You better prepare to beg,” he countered.

You moved off of him just as your friends came out of the kitchen. “You guys wanna come with, we’re going for a night swim?” Johnny B offered.

“Nah, we might be out later though,” JJ answered before you could.

“Suit yourselves,” Pope shrugged. Kiera sent you a wink before also heading out the door with them.

JJ and you practically booked it to his room as soon as they shut the door. You quickly grabbed a condom from his drawer where you knew them to be by memory. You turned to throw him the condom to see that he was already on his bed with his shirt off. Every piece of your body was drawn to his chest and the way his back muscles looked in the low light, but you weren’t going to let him know that. So you deflected.

“Someone’s eager,” you commented.

“I-” JJ started to defend himself but the comment got stuck in his throat as he watched your movements. You began slipping your shirt off to reveal a black bra that was sheer, and lacy around the straps and underwire area. It pushed your boobs up nicely and accentuated your cleavage perfectly. JJ was a mess.

“This is so not fair,” he groaned, his jaw practically on the floor.

You knew the effect the lingerie would have on him, which is exactly why you picked it. “What? You too chicken J?” you said, using his taunt from earlier.

Your words made him recover quickly. “No, of course not,” he scoffed.

“That's what I thought you’d say,” you smirked. Now you let your jean shorts fall to the floor, so you were able to show your black thong, which was not as fancy looking, but you knew it would practically make JJ lose it.

You were right, he looked like you had placed him under a spell. When he finally snapped out of it, he pointed next to him. “Bed princess. Now.”

He was almost making this too easy. “I don’t know about that. How about please?”

JJ nearly opened his mouth, but quickly caught himself before he could say anything. “Fine, I’ll do it myself,” he smirked. He moved off the bed, to grab you. You tried to avoid his hands, but there wasn’t much room to run around, so he easily caught you. He threw you onto his bed, and you let out a small yelp of surprise. Before you could even think about running off again, he jumped on the bed, flipped you onto your back, and pinned you. His knees were on your hands, effectively keeping you from touching him.

“Are you going to be a good slut and scream for me?” he asked. His face a few inches from yours.

“Not a chance J,” you smiled.

“Have it your way then, but either way, you’ll still be moaning my name.” His arms lowered so he could dip down to kiss a couple inches above your collarbone. His knees still held your hands in place. He sucked hard against your skin, making sure to leave marks.

“Wait, no marks JJ,” you told him.

“Should’ve told me that sooner now everyone’s gonna know that you lost a bet,” he teased.

“In your dreams,” you scoffed.

JJ didn’t have a comment on that, but went back to work leaving you many bruises that you would have to cover the next morning. Oh how you wished your hands could be in his hair at the moment. He made an agonizingly slow trail down to your bra, before removing it and throwing it onto the floor of his room. He then started sucking on one of your breasts letting his lower lip just gently brush against your nipple everytime he sucked above it. He had found out about the spot driving you crazy the first time you had sex, and now you were strongly wishing you had never told him.

You had your mouth clenched rather tightly so that no moans would escape your lips. Unfortunately for you, your boyfriend noticed that.

“Come on y/n, just let it out. You know that no one can make you cum like I do,” he taunted.

Luckily, his temporary break gave you a chance to get control of yourself again. “Fuck off,” you retorted.

“Yeah, that was kinda the plan.” He grinned devilishly.

He must’ve realized that he was not going to get you to break by doing that, and instead moved farther down to pull your panties off.

His head ducked down to your pussy, but he made eye contact just as he did so. “You still feeling cocky?” he asked.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Alright, then let’s see how long that lasts since you’re such a slut for me,” he said with a wink before ducking his head fully down. He sucked another hickey on the inside of your thigh, and he slowly started licking towards your pussy. You could practically feel his tongue against your clit, but he was taking his sweet time.

“Stop teasing,” you finally groaned out.

“Is that begging I hear?” he questioned.

“No, I’m telling,” you said matter of factly.

“Yes ma’am,” he agreed with a chuckle.

His tongue slowly started lapping across your folds, occasionally flicking along your clit. Oh god you were in heaven, but simultaneously in hell because you couldn’t make a peep. His tongue once again licked across your spot, and you had to slap your hands over your mouth to keep a moan from escaping your lips. You could feel the smirk on his lips, but you weren’t going to let him have the satisfaction of knowing how much he was affecting you.

A few whimpers nearly came out of your body, and your hands were nearly shaking from trying to hold it in. But all of a sudden you realized that letting it out may be to your advantage, hearing your noises of pleasure, always had quite the effect on him.

So you did. Every moan, and whimper you let him hear. He thought that he was getting to you, which truthfully he was, but the game was far from over.

“You’re eating me out so good,” you moaned.

Your plan was already working; you noticed that he started to pick up the pace.

“Oh god JJ!” you screamed as he licked over a good spot on your pussy.

He continued licking in that exact spot which almost made you want to give up the bet right then in there. You felt shivers go through your spine as your core started to heat up but you were too stubborn to lose yet.

“No one fucks me like you do,” you moaned, knowing damn well the effect it would have on him.

Your plan seemed to have worked as he quickly took off his shorts, put on the condom, and just as his cock was about to enter you, you stopped him.

“Beg,” you insisted.

“Y/n fucking pl-” You had nearly had him, but he managed to stop himself before the words tumbled out.

You smirked, as he finally realized what you were doing. He however was now hell bent on making you lose. JJ climbed back on top of you with new vigor. “You’re smart, which is exactly why breaking you will be so much more fun,” he taunted. His head went back down again.

Your hands entangled in his hair as he went back to licking every single nook and cranny that he could find. “Fuck,” you whimpered as he once again licked your even more sensitive clit. You could feel the tension burning in your core, and a tingling sensation starting to spread all over. You started to buck your hips from the stimulation, and JJ was quick to force you back down. As his flicking became more rapid, you felt your body start to tense up.

“JJ I’m gonna-” you had started, but suddenly he had stopped.

“Beg,” he told you. And as much as you wanted to give in you were determined to knock the cocky grin off his face.

You sat up on your elbows. “Make me.”

JJ looked delighted by your answer. “That’s fine I got all night.”

“Inside me JJ,” you told him. You knew he wanted to make you beg for that as well, but you knew that he wanted to be inside you more.

He thrusted his cock into you and you did your best not to slide backwards from him pushing into you. “Oh my god you’re so wet for me, you really have been waiting.”

After he had checked on you he began slowly thrusting into you, going deep into you. “Oh shit,” he moaned. He would have to explain a lot of scratches across his back tomorrow but quite frankly you didn’t care.

“JJ!” you half moaned, half screamed as he went down again.

“You’re such a dirty slut for me aren’t you?” he taunted you.

You wanted to have some sort of retort but all that came out of your mouth was another moan, which just egged him on more.

“Come on, I know you’re tempted.”

Truthfully, you were extremely tempted, but you could surely outlast him right? But then you had an idea, he couldn’t stop it if he didn’t know what was coming. So as you felt your body starting to be strung out again you did you best to keep your breathing the same, and to not move around as much. But just as you felt the tension building he stopped.

“JJ?” you groaned in confusion.

“You seriously don’t think I don’t know when you’re going to have an orgasm?” he laughed. He pushed his hair out of his face and grinned down at you.

“Y/n you might as well just give up now, and spare yourself,” he suggested.

Collecting what small amount of strength you had left you said “Not a chance.”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he smirked.

The warning was evidently very necessary, your whole body was starting to feel ten times more sensitive than it usually did. Every thrust sent a wave of pleasant goosebumps through your body. Your legs were shaking, and your voice was admittedly starting to go away. Your body felt like it was screaming that it wanted to orgasm. He started to slow down, but you were so close. You attempted to buck your hips into his to get the feeling back but he held you down. With a satisfactory grin on his face, that you needed it so bad.

“You’re not getting an orgasm unless you beg and we both know that I could fuck you for hours,” he taunted.

“Fine, fine, fine, please, please, please let me cum J, please. I am begging you,” you whined.

“That’s all you had to say princess,” he smirked. Finally his pace picked back up, to a more rapid one.

“Fuck you feel so good,” you moaned to him. There was no point keeping it in now. Your hips bucked in rhythm with his, as he moved in and out. But his rhythm slowed down as what you recognized as his climax.

“Oh god,” you heard him say as it finally hit him. His moans of pleasure only sped up your’s. “Fuck,” he moaned on top of you. But he managed to push himself back up to go down into you a couple more times for you to reach your climax.

Your whole body felt like it was on fire with tingles. The feeling spread from your stomach to your breasts to throughout your whole body. Your legs began to shake and you couldn't form words anymore. The only coherent thought you could form was how good you felt. Even after you had reached your climax, you had a sense of euphoria that you just couldn’t shake.

Eventually, you felt JJ start to move out of you, and you both whimpered slightly from how sensitive you were. You saw him take the condom off and throw it away. You lay in bed, still breathing heavily.

“Give me your hand, we’re going to the bathroom,” he said sweetly, but insistently. You groaned but you didn’t protest.

After you had used the toilet, you both flopped back down in his bed. It was quiet for a couple minutes before JJ spoke up.

“You know I’m really excited to see what beers you get me,” he teased.

“Shut up,” you laughed, lightly smacking him in the arm.

He lightly smacked you back. “Oh and don’t forget to call off for Friday tomorrow morning,” he grinned.

“I hate you,” you said as you rolled over.

“I love you,” he said sweetly, as he wrapped his arms around your midsection.

He always had a way of making you happy. “Love you too J,”

“Goodnight princess,” he said as he kissed your cheek.

“Goodnight JJ.” And you quickly fell fast asleep in his arms.

Needless to say, the other pogue’s weren’t worried that you never came outside. They knew where they would find the two of you the next morning.