#got people outside the bubble notice me

[mitamicah]

confession time: After sleeping on it, I actually think I miss the Joker Out guys a bit more than I miss Jere and crew atm. That might be because it has been longer since I've watched them live comparred to Käärijä ...

... but because of this I'm actually tempted to do something very scandalous *gasp - I know; how nonkääryle of me* and only go for Hamburg tomorrow in hopes that Joker Out will get some Europe dates this fall as well :'D

(and if they don't then I hope the Käärijä shows in germany won't sell out too quickly :'D)

[number1mingyustan]

Still Yours

idol!mingyu x fem!reader

Warnings: kissing, cursing, grinding, lots of sexual tension, explicit smut, protected sex (missionary), fingering (f.), low-key rough sex, scratching, teasing, they're so cute and domestic ugh, teensy bit (a lot) of angst cuz i can't live without it, if you realllyy read into it it’s a lil toxic but they’re so cute 😪

Summary: When you’re with him, the time around you ceases to exist. You’ve got your own little bubble that’s immune to reality where he’s just yours.

Word Count: 5.1k

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(a/n: i usually don't read/write content where they idols because I'm simply not a fan. but i read a jk fic like this recently and it was a masterpiece. to say the least i was inspired so shout out to that author and i hope you enjoy)

The cool outside air fills your lungs as you step onto the sidewalk. It’s not cold, just fresh and cool enough to rejuvenate you from the hot sweaty air from inside of the club.

It’s a lot emptier out here, it helps to clear your mind. There’s only two or three other people out here, having a smoke in silence or waiting impatiently for an uber.

Your mind is still just a little bit muggy from the alcohol coursing through your veins, but being outside has instantly given you clarity.

You just couldn’t be in there any longer. The guy at the bar just could not take a hint. He was cute too, the type of guy you would typically be interested in. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t interested in him at first.

But then halfway through your conversation and his hand touched your lower back, the guilt settled in. It suddenly felt so wrong. The guy in the club’s hand didn’t feel the same as when he does it.

Almost instantly, it registered in your mind. This stranger didn't compare. He had nothing on the guy who really has your heart.

The famous idol who doesn't hesitate to answer your phone calls or cook for you when you're hungry.

This guy was a nobody.

One phone call and you’d have so much better.

The stranger clearly didn’t pick up on your shift in energy, probably too drunk to notice how you started to pull away. You were suddenly uninterested in anything he had to say and it was exhausting to have to fake laugh and smile as you tried to make excuses as to why you weren’t going home with him tonight.

But he was persistent and suddenly felt too touchy. He probably wasn't touching you as much as you thought, but you were suddenly so aware of him that it felt wrong with him being so close. His very presence alone was irritating. You finally caught the attention of one of your friends and gave her the ‘SOS’ look. She drunkenly stumbled over to you and pulled away from the conversation somewhat smoothly.

You thanked her before letting her know you were stepping out to get some fresh air.

But now it's a little after one in the morning and your thoughts are clouded with him. Your mind begins to wander to the moments you've shared over the past few years. The pet names, the sleepovers with homemade face masks, the phone calls from his hotel rooms.

Now you're texting him.

You: you awake?

________

Mingyu sits at home on the couch, beer in hand as the TV flashes in front of him. He's watching a movie he's got no real interest in, but he can't sleep. He's been home for a little more than a day and he's still got major jetlag ruining his sleep schedule.

No matter how hectic his life has been, he always dreads the jetlag.

The buzz of his phone captures his attention and he can't avoid the smile that pulls on his lips when he sees your name flash on the screen.

Mingyu: nah, sleeping

You giggle at your phone, smiling at the device just as he is. Your hands move a little slower to text back as the cool air outside changes your body temperature. You shiver, blowing on your hands as they grow cold.

You: call me

The message flashes delivered briefly before your screen changes entirely. You're surprised to see an incoming FaceTime and not a regular call.

You hold the phone up to your face, fixing your hair before you hit answer.

He lays on the couch in the living room, the darkness surrounding him heavily contrasts the colorful beams of light that flash behind you. The loud music thumps in the background.

"Hi." He smiles.

"Hi," You grin.

You feel giddy inside. Partially because you were drinking a bit and mostly because you're talking to him again. It's been quite some time since you've seen each other.

"Where are you?" He asks first.

You take a moment to respond as you walk toward the curb. You fix your dress and sit on the curb of the sidewalk, holding the phone up to your face.

"At the club," You reply.

"Ah, fun night I presume?" He asks.

You shake your head. "Not really."

"Sorry to hear that Shorty," He says.

Your heart skips a beat at the nickname. Your heart always leaps when he calls you that.

"Yeah, not really my thing anyway," You frown.

"I remember, surprised you're even there this late," He comments.

You smile. He remembers.

"Took some convincing from my friends. It wasn't so bad when we were drinking earlier, but then it started to hit and I wasn't feeling it anymore," You say, chipping away at the white nail polish on your fingers.

"They didn't abandon you, did they?" He asks, voice laced with concern.

"Who? My friends? No, they were looking out for me but I just wasn't feeling it anymore so I told them I was stepping outside for a minute," You continue to chip away at the polish mindlessly.

"I don't like you being alone like that, especially if you've been drinking," He frowns.

"I'm okay, I promise..." You assure him. "I wanna see you though."

A boyish smile forms on his face. "Yeah?"

You nod. "You home?"

"Yeah, come over," He offers. "I'll get you something to eat and you can spend the night."

Your ears perk up from his words. Your heart jumps out of your chest in anticipation.

"Okay, I'll order a–"

"–Text me what club you're at," he interrupts. "I'll get you an Uber here."

______

You call another one of your friends while you wait. You’re surprised she picks up on the second ring. “HELLO?” she shouts into the phone.

“Hey love,” You say.

“Y/N WHERE DID YOU GO?? The hot guy you were talking to is still here, I thought you went home with him.”

The loud music thumps in the background, but you can surprisingly hear her clearly.

You shake your head. “I’m heading home, I’ll see you guys later.”

Of course, the terms of your NDA don’t allow you to tell them where you’re really going. You make up an excuse about not feeling well and she pouts.

“Aw but we were– Hana NO!” She interrupts herself and the line goes silent for a few moments.

You hear shifting and wait to hear her voice again.

“Sorry, we’re in the bathroom and Hana started throwing up. She’s fine now. You feel better though, and text one of us when you get home. Stay safe babes.”

“Okay, I will.”

Before you can hang up, she’s calling out to the other girls. “GUYS, Y/N IS GOING HOME.”

More shuffling suddenly fills your ears and female voice.

“Nooooo, don’t leave,” Hana drunkenly slurs.

You laugh. “I’ll go out with you guys again next weekend.”

After a little bit more drunken banter, you finally hang up and wait on the curb until your ride gets here.

____

Considering he's the one who ordered the Uber, you know he'll know exactly when you get there. So, you spend the entirety of the ride in the backseat fixing up your appearance.

You play with your hair, refresh your lip gloss, and adjust your appearance for the better.

When you arrive at the familiar home, your heart rate picks up and you open the door with shaky hands. You stand outside the car, purse in hand as you shut the door.

Just as you close the car door, his front door opens almost on cue. His full stature comes to your sight and your excitement bubbles over.

He leans against the door frame, grinning at you. He looks cozy, wearing a pair of grey sweatpants, a white wifebeater, and his glasses. Your knees nearly give out at the sight of him in his glasses. He looks so good. His muscular body is visible in the tee and you have to stop yourself from pouncing him.

His hair is definitely shorter than the last time you saw him. And it's been well, months since you've seen him. Two? Maybe even three? But that doesn't matter, what matters is that you're here with him now.

You try not to express how excited you are, but you just can't wipe the smile off your face. You walk toward him and he invites you in with open arms.

His strong arms wrap around your frame. You're so happy you could cry. Your arms wrap around him, squeezing his frame. You inhale, breathing in his scent. He smells like home. His touch is so comforting, this moment feels unreal. You hold him and appreciate him for everything he is.

He pulls away, looking down at you with a grin. He presses a kiss to your forehead. "Hi, Shorty."

You grin up at him, bringing your hands to his hair. You run your fingers through it. "You cut it."

He nods. "Couple days ago yeah, you don't like it?"

"I always like it," You tell him truthfully. "But it was a little sexier when it was long."

He pulls you all the way inside, closing the door and locking it. "I'll tell management to let me grow it back out just for you."

"Doubt they'll see me as reason enough for that," You say.

"They'll just have to deal with it," He runs a hand through his hair. "I'll never let scissors touch my hair again if you say so."

Oh my gosh. You hate him.

You hate how he makes your heart skip a beat and he somehow always knows all the right things to say to you.

You giggle. "I wouldn't ask you to do that, Gyu."

"You'd still like me if I was bald?" He asks.

"Yeah Gyu, I would." You admit.

"Oh wow" He has a boyish grin on his face. "You like-like me."

"Yeah well, you like-like me too," You remind him.

"Damn right I do, Shorty," He pulls you in by your waist. "Don't know why you're so far away."

You squeal when your body moves against his. "I'm still wearing my shoes! I need to take them off."

"Relax Shorty," He lifts you up effortlessly, placing you on the kitchen counter.

He drops down, undoing your heels and placing them on the mat next to his front door. He stands back up to his full stature, face mere inches above yours.

He leans in. "I missed you."

You look up at him with soft eyes. There's so much yearning behind your pupils, that it makes you wonder if he can see through to it.

"I missed you too," You admit.

You find yourself back hin his arms. His big hands circle your waist, pressing your chests together. But now, his lips are on yours.

The kiss is soft, just delicate enough to express how much he missed you. Your small hand cups his cheek as your lips move against one another. His touches are gentle, but they spark so many things inside you, igniting you from the inside out.

But your moment is cut short when your growling stomach interrupts.

You pull away just a little bit, brushing your nose against his, giggling to yourself. He lets out a genuine laugh, holding your hand in his. "I did promise you food, didn't I?"

You nod. "I believe you did."

He helps you off the counter and back onto your feet. He walks over to the pantry.

"Sorry to get your hopes up," He admits sheepishly. "I just got back so... there's not much."

"Oh that's okay, it can't be–"

You open the fridge, finding virtually nothing. Some milk, A couple water bottles, half a carton of eggs, a few bottles of liquor, and a can of half-eaten kimchi.

You wedge your way in front of him, looking into the pantry and it's somehow worse. There's only stuff that needs to actually be cooked, and there's not much of it.

You fall dramatically into his chest and he laughs. "I told you there wasn't much."

His hand touches your lower back as you sink your face into his chest. This time, it feels right.

"Why did you even offer me food if you didn't have any?!" You exclaim.

He holds your head in his hands, cupping both of your cheeks. "I don't know, I guess I forgot Shorty. You do that to me."

While his words are making your stomach turn, the hunger rumbling is a lot louder. "Is the milk in the fridge even good?"

"Yeah, I just bought it today." He says casually.

"You went out and bought milk... and nothing else? Knowing you had no food?" You question.

"I needed it to go with my cereal," He shrugs. "But that's not important. Look, there's some rice in here."

He grabs the uncooked rice out of the pantry. "I can make you some fried rice with egg and kimchi. I've got soy sauce somewhere around here."

"No I think I'll just take some cereal," You walk out of his grasp, making your way toward the fridge.

He pouts. "I can cook for you though."

"I'll take you up on that offer another time," You tap his cheek with your palm lightly. "I'm very hungry. And you've got no vegetable to go with, not even a green onion. I'm getting some cereal."

You open the fridge, grabbing the milk while he gets the bowls and spoons. You try to grab the cereal box from above the fridge, but you can't quite reach it. Mingyu comes up behind you, grabbing it with ease and a shit-eating grin on his face.

You frown, but you're too hungry to make any comments. The two of you sit at the table, each pouring yourselves a bowl of cereal. "You said you just got back?" You ask.

He nods. "Like two days ago, I think. My sense of time is a little messed up, jetlag."

You nod in acknowledgment. He continues to tell you about the past few months since he's seen you. You play friends catching up as he answers all your questions about his life as of recent. The shows, the photoshoots, all the traveling, filming, and preparations for the upcoming months as well.

He asks you about work too, although your updates are not nearly as interesting as his though. But he doesn't ask out of courtesy, he genuinely cares. He likes hearing about your life, likes just listening to you speak even if you're not the one doing Calvin Klein photoshoots.

The time flies, and before you know it, it's 3 in the morning. You always find yourself invested in him when you're together, like the world around you ceases to exist. You get caught up, failing to realize that time is indeed still passing, and a lot of it.

He pulls you in by your hips, pressing your back onto his chest.He pulls the bowls and utensils out of your hands swiftly and turns you around.

"Nope, don't worry about that," he drops them into the sink. "You just go hop in the shower, I'll give you one of my t-shirts."

"Are you saying I stink?" You accuse him playfully.

"Never, Shorty." He kisses your cheek. "As much as I love this little dress on you, it's getting late and you should be in something comfy. Now go." He playfully taps your butt, sending you to the bathroom.

You look back at him, feigning offense as he grins.

______

When you step out of the bathroom and into his bedroom, there's a t-shirt laid out for you with a pair of boxers. You get dressed before walking down to the living room.

Mingyu lays there, scrolling through his phone. When he hears you enter, his attention shifts to you immediately and he gives you a warm smile.

He sits up all the way and pulls you onto his lap so you're straddling him. "Thank you, for letting me using the shower and for the food."

He holds you close to him. "Of course Shorty

"Where are your clothes?" He asks.

"Folded on the dresser in your room, why?" You ask.

He pulls you off his lap and stands to his feet. "Wanna wash them so you can have them tomorrow. Are they washer and dryer safe?"

"Yeah, but you don't have to worry about it." You assure him.

"Don't worry about it, I have clothes I need to was anyway. I'll just through yours in with them," he says.

He disappears up into his room and when he emerges, he's holding a basket of clothes and your dress on top. He walks down and walks over to you on the couch.

"That's all you had? Just the dress and the panties? No bra?" He asks.

You grin. "Nope."

He inhales sharply, but pushes his thoughts aside. "Come with."

You follow behind him downstairs. He leads you to the laundry room in the basement.

You sit on the dryer as he loads the washing machine. There's a comfortable silence in the atmosphere. Everything about this is so comforting... so domestic. It's exactly what you needed.

"Hand me that?" he says, pointing to the detergent behind you. "Please?"

You grab the detergent, handing it to him. "Thank you, Shorty."

After he's done with it, he hands it back to you and adjusts the settings before starting up the machine.

"Ready for bed?" He asks.

You nod, reaching your arms out to him. He turns around, lifting you off the machine and piggybacking you all the way up to his bedroom. He drops your body on his plush mattress and strips down to just his boxers. He places his glasses on his dresser gently. Immediately after, he climbs under the covers. You join him, making yourself comfortable in his bed.

He pulls your body against his, yearning to have you close to him. He looks at you with a softness in his eyes. His hand runs along your thigh gently and innocently.

But right now, close doesn't feel close enough. You've missed him so much, you want to feel consumed by him. You need him inside of you.

You press your forehead against his, look at him with soft, sultry eyes. His hands start to wander, moving from your thighs to your butt.

Almost simultaneously, you pick up on one another's energy. The sexual tension grows and pretty soon his lips are on yours again. You moan softly against his lips.

He brings his hand to your cheek, cupping it softly as your lips move against his in perfect harmony. He takes everything you give and vice versa,perfectly in sync.

Pretty soon, you're itching to get undressed even though his clothes are extremely comfortable. You're eager for more of him, pulling away from the kiss.

"Gyu," You breathe out.

"I know baby, fuck–I know," He pulls you onto his lap so you're straddling him once again.

He lifts your hips enough to pull his boxers off of your body. The t-shirt you're narrowing is next to go, leaving you completely naked on his lap.

"Fuck," He whispers. "You're so pretty, Shorty. Need you so bad."

You lean over, leaving a trail of kisses on his neck. You know better than to leave marks, but you grind down against him slowly. He lets out a shaky breath, holding your hips as you move against him. "Mm-fuck."

His cock grows stiff beneath you, poking against your bare core. You grind down harder, feeling the veins of his cock against your clit through his boxers. "Feels good, Gyu.." You moan.

You chase the friction selfishly. You know you could cum like this, and with how good it feels, you're not entirely against it. But his hand comes in between the two of you, pressing against your pussy to feel how wet you are.

"Fuck, Shorty you're soaking..." he groans.

You can only nod in agreement as the pads of his fingers graze your clit. You're dripping on his fingers, so much so that he could easily slip–

"–You want my fingers?"

Fuck, he knows you so well.

You nod eagerly. He pinches your clit, making you yelp.

"Use your words baby."

You mewl. "Yes, fuck yes, please."

He lifts your body, flipping you over so you're underneath him. He holds himself up with his arm, hovering over you as he slips two fingers into you with ease.

Even though it's just his fingers, he can feel how tight you are. Your cunt stretches around his digits as he pumps them into you. You moan out, feeling the way the pleasure builds in your lower region.

His fingers are so skilled and he knows your body well. He knows that when he curls his finger, you're gonna squeeze your legs together and cry out.

Which is exactly what you do when he curls his fingers inside of you. He pries your legs back open, picking up the pace of his fingers as you moan out loud. "Ah fuck–nngh."

His cock twitches in anticipation as he pleasures you. He's not focused on it right now, but your pleasure is his pleasure.

"Shit–I'm gonna cum," You warn him, gripping his bicep.

He grins, teasing you with his words. "Already, Shorty?"

You breathe out, pushing your hips against his hands. "Fuck– 's been a while.

Oh?

His digits press against the sweet spot deep inside of you and you arch your back up off the bed and cry out. "You don't touch yourself when I'm not here, Shorty?"

"Not enough–ah!" You moan. "Can't cum."

You know you'd never admit this if you weren't drinking earlier or on the brink of an orgasm. But your words affect him more than he lets it show.

He's ruined you.

That means you haven't slept with anyone since he last saw you. And to top it off, you can't get yourself off without his help. A sense of pride fills his chest and only encourages him to go faster, pushing you over the edge.

Although, the same can't be said for him. The pride in his chest is pinched by a small twinging of guilt.

It's not something you really talk about with each other. You know it happens, but you choose not to acknowledge it. As much as it feels like it when you're together, you're not together. It's been nearly three years since your relationship, if you can even call it that, came to fruition.

But with him constantly busy and on the move, you've spent a small fraction of those three years in each other's presence. When he's not with you, he's performing and traveling the world. He catches the attention of plenty of other pretty girls who are more than willing to sign an NDA to spend the night with him.

He's just a man after all. And a famous one who constantly travels at that. He's got needs of his own and the means to fulfill them.

He's someone you trust. You know he'd never catch something and risk bringing it to you. He's too careful, has too much at stake with his career.

But those thoughts only cloud his mind, and for a brief moment at that. With you underneath him, writhing and gasping for air as you cum on his fingers, his attention is fully on you.

He pins your body on on the bed, adding more pressure as you grip his bicep. You nails dig into his skin, sure to leave marks. He doesn't mind though, not when you cry out his name and screw your eyes shut in pleasure.

Your hips move on their own, grinding against his fingers as you ride out your orgasm. "Shit, Shorty... that's it, yeah."

It takes a moment for you to come down. When you do, you blink your eyes open, loosening your grip on his bicep. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, warm breath fanning against your neck. His fingers slip out of you slowly and you whine as the loss of touch.

His hard length presses against your thigh, making it very known how badly he needs you. You think about pushing him down on the bed and sucking him dry, but you'd much rather have him inside of you.

You press a hand on his chest gently, pointer finger lightly dragging on his skin. "Mmm, that was so good, Gyu."

"Yeah?" He lifts his head up.

You bite your lip seductively and nod softly. "Yeah... want you to fuck me now, though."

He licks his lips slowly. "Want it, or need it?"

"Need it, need it so fucking bad, Gyu" You pull at the material of his boxers. You're so needy. He can hear it in your voice and it's clear in your actions. He wants to give you everything and more.

He presses his hips down against you and you help him to pull of his boxers. You wrap your hand around his cock and start pumping him slowly. He lets out a breath of relief.

His cock is hard and heavy in your hand. It's pulsing and aching to be touched. He inhales sharply when you circle your thumb around the tip, smearing his precum around.

You love it when he's sensitive like this, so reactive. It reminds you that you have just as much of an effect on him as he does on you. You continue to pump him, and he reaches into the drawer of his nightstand and pulls out a gold package.

You snatch the condom out of his hand. "I wanna do it."

He grins. "Okay, Shorty."

You tear open the packaging with your teeth.

"You know, you shouldn't do that," He warns you. "Could accidentally puncture a hole in it. Wouldn't want another pregnancy scare would we?"

You toss the gold wrapper onto the nightstand. "First of all, you use your teeth every time we do this. Second of all, you used your teeth to open the condom the time we had to scare." You remind him.

He smirks. "I learn from my mistakes, baby."

You ignore him, rolling the condom onto his length and laying on your back. He hovers over you again, stroking his cock a few times before lining himself up with your entrance.

When he enters you, the stretch is immaculate. You both breathe out, moaning as he bottoms out inside of you. He sinks further into you, deep into your warmth and you stretch to accommodate him perfectly.

"Fuck... Gyu," You moan out, wrapping your arms around his muscular back.

"Shorty... fuck me–" He groans. You breathe out, wrapping your legs around his waist, pushing your hips up into him. You move in perfect sync as his hips drive into yours. His neck nearly goes limp as his head dips down. "Yeah, Shorty–just like that–uh. Fuck, you're so hot, baby."

"Mingyu–" You moan out. "I missed you so much... so fucking much."

His hips snap back, his cock thrusting deep into you. "Missed you too, missed everything about you."

His thrusts slow down, but they don't stop. He taps the side of your thigh, silently telling you to unwrap your legs around around him. You oblige, and he lifts your legs up.

He drives his cock deeper into you, bringing your legs over his shoulders. You gasp out at the sudden stretch and wave of pleasure that hits you.

The pure force of his thrusts, how good he feels as the pain turns into pleasure into pleasure, the noises he makes – it's overwhelming in the best way possible. It's so much, but it's so good, you don’t want him to ever stop. Your mouth falls open in a silent moan as your breath catches in your throat. You eyes fall shut as your face scrunches in pleasure before the sensation courses through through you and you can hardly take it. Your hands grip the sheets tightly.

"Fuck... pussy's so good," He groans. " 'S all mine."

"Hah-fuck," You cry out.

"Tell me it's mine, baby," He demands. "C'mon Shorty."

Your eyes fall shut and your breathe in through your nose as his cock pushes deeper into you. Your voice is broken and soft. "It's all yours–"

He thrusts into you particularly hard. "Say it again–louder."

"Fuck! It's all yours."

It's a lie, somewhat. Everything between you two is complicated, yet simple. But in moments like these, you don't focus on the small details or realities.

"That's what I fucking thought," He groans.

You whimper, pussy fluttering around him. A telltale sign that you're close to the edge. His pace doesn't falter, and he continues to fuck you as your orgasm courses through your body.

Your body spasms beneath him, writhing to escape the overwhelming pleasure. He doesn't let you though, pinning your body down as he continues to drive his cock deep inside of you.

"Fuckfuckfuckfuck–uh!" You cry out. Tears are brimming the corners of your eyes.

Your pussy tightens around him, convulsing as you cum for the second time tonight. He watches as your face twists and contorts with pleasure, a sight that remains forever etched in his memory.

You're still coming down while he's fucking you, grunting and groaning with each thrust of his hips. There's sweat dripping down his body, causing his skin to glisten in the moonlight.

Your mind is hazy, still struggling to process all the pleasure you're body is enduring. You're growing overstimulated, but you can tell he's getting close.

His hips lose their rhythm, thrusts growing erratic and uncoordinated as your pussy milks him. He lets out a long groan, cursing out your name as he spills his load into the rubber.

His chest rises and falls rapidly as he sits up. He presses a kiss to your ankle before pulling out of you and allowing your feet to touch the bed.

His body is spent, and the soft look in your eyes relaxes him. It makes him feel blissful and at ease, it makes the sleepiness creep its way into his body.

You wrap your arms around his neck softly pulling his face toward yours. "All good?"

"Fuckin perfect," he sighs with a smile.

He's too close and too tempting not to kiss. So you do, softly pressing your lips against one another. The feeling in your heart is overwhelming. You don't know that he feels it too, two hearts moving rapidly yet somehow in perfect sync.

It's moments like these where there's a conundrum of things weighing heavily on your mind that you want to express or say out loud, but you don't. You know better than that, and so does he.

So a kiss will have to do. To speak the words that will remain unspoken and seal it closed. A silent way to express the thoughts that run through your brains and the emotions that are pouring out of your hearts.

So you kiss him, because that's all you can do for now. While he's still here, while he's still yours.

___

After you two clean up, you climb back into the bed. You face each other, laying on your sides.

His eyes are closed, but he's not fully encaptured by his slumber. He's halfway there though, pouting in his state of rest with a soft expression. He looks so peaceful, so cute. Such a contrast to the man who had your legs thrown over his shoulders only minutes prior.

You press your hand onto his hair, pushing it back ever so lightly as you admire his features. You see the smile tugging at his lips. "Go to sleep, Shorty."

His eyes don't open as he speaks to you.

"Sorry," You say sheepishly. I was just admiring."

"Cute, you can admire in the morning though. Go to sleep, baby."

You nod, although he can't see you, and exhale softly. You adjust the comforter and his eyes blink open slowly.

"I'll make you breakfast in the morning," he offers, pressing a kiss onto your forehead.

You hum, smiling to yourself. "lemme guess, cereal?"

A breathy laugh escapes his lips. "Alright, I'll take you out for breakfast, or we can order in if you can't walk."

You punch his shoulder playfully before burying your face against his chest. You fall asleep in his arms peacefully.

_______________________________________________

© number1mingyustan - Do not repost without permission.

[baronessvonglitter]

Sweet Summer Peach

dbf!Joel Miller x f!Reader

Word Count: 3.7K

Summary: when your dad's best friend Joel catches you with his younger brother Tommy, it sets off a spark of jealousy that can only be tamed by showing you how a real man treats a woman.

WARNINGS: 18+ Only! Mature and Explicit, big ol' girthy age gap (reader is between 18-21, Joel is in his 50s, Tommy is in his 40s), Tommy is a womanizer and Joel's just trying to save you from him while also getting a little of you for himself, innocence kink, first time/loss of virginity, fingering, dry humping, truck sex on a hot day in July, unprotected p in v sex (not stated whether reader is on birth control but we'll assume she is), creampie, come eating, praise and pet names (angel, darlin', baby from Joel; sugar, sweetheart from Tommy) definitely a daddy kink as you've known Joel your whole life and he's like a second father to you, once again your dad is clueless as to what's going on, reader is also Sarah's best friend but she is only mentioned not seen. Reader has hair that Joel can pull and wears a bikini and a sundress. No use of y/n.

JOEL MILLER MASTERLIST | FULL MASTERLIST

"Why don't you ditch that silly little wine cooler and let me give you a taste of somethin' else, sugar?" Tommy Miller's voice is sinful in your ear. "Somethin' a little stronger."

It's over a hundred degrees outside, with no comfort in the shade. The Millers are hosting their annual Fourth of July barbecue, and plenty of people are over, eating, drinking, chatting, swimming in the brand new pool. You've known Tommy and his older brother Joel for years, the latter your dad's best and oldest friend. You and Sarah, Joel's daughter, have been best friends as long as you can remember, being the same age and living just across the street from each other. Joel himself has always been like a second father to you, having watched you grow up. He took you and Sarah to ball games, to the zoo, on fishing expeditions, helped with homework, practically helped raise you. Sarah was his Baby, and you were his Angel.

Tommy, on the other hand, hasn't seen you in years. But he definitely likes the woman you've grown to be.

He's been making eyes at you all afternoon, not-so-subtle glances your way, obviously enticed by your new, revealing bikini. You're garnering a lot of attention from people today, just as you'd expected when you bought it. Your dad would sure have some comments to make on how underdressed you are, but he's not here, working until the evening, and you're taking advantage of your freedom.

Tommy awaits your answer, and with your drink gathering condensation in your hand, you tell him, "Okay," with a soft smile.

He takes your hand, fingers weaving around yours. "Let's dip into the house for a few minutes," he murmurs, eyes gleaming with mischief. Taking a quick look around you notice Joel's eyes on you, his gaze unreadable but you can sense he's on the verge of moving to stop you. But the sight of his glare only serves to stoke the fire of your excitement. It's highly likely he does not like watching Tommy lead you away to privacy.

"Where are you takin' me?" you ask, a giggle bubbling in your throat as you leave your drink behind. He's guiding you to the side entrance of the house, down the hall and to a small den. The blast of the AC hits you with sweet relief and you nearly sigh with satisfaction.

"Away from all the heat," he says, gently pushing you to the wall.

"Tommy," you giggle, half anxious, half excited.

His hands go immediately to your hips, his grip warm and firm as he pulls you close. A low, primal growl rumbles through his chest and he leans in, his nose brushing against your neck. "Don't worry, sweetheart. I got ya." His breath his hot against your skin, his teeth graze your throat, sending a shiver of want down your spine.

"You like that, sugar?" he whispers, his hands exploring your soft thighs, caressing upwards until they brush against the fabric of your bikini.

"More.." your voice comes out in a whimper.

Tommy's eyes gleam with pleasure at your desperate plea. "Greedy girl." His fingers find their way beneath your bikini bottom, gliding across your folds, grinning when you begin to grow even more wet under his touch. He teases without pushing inside, wanting to see you grow absolutely uninhibited with need. "What's the matter, sweetheart?" he teases.

"Not.. used to bein' touched like this," you tell him, brow furrowed in concentration of desire.

"Mm. I can tell." His touch is gentle and insistent, seeking out the spots that make your knees buckle. "You only ever had your own fingers in ya? That it?" He drinks in your sounds of pleasure as you nod at his question. He traces over your clit, watching your hips jerk. "There ya go.." he coaxes, lips on your neck as he continues touching and teasing you. "You like that, huh? Like how I'm touchin' ya?" His fingers circle your clit until you feel yourself grow tighter and tighter, soon to unwind..

"Yes.. yes.. oh my god, oh my god," you moan, and when you open your eyes Joel is there, watching both of you. He looks pissed. You shriek as you meet his searing gaze.

"Get your fuckin' hands off her," he growls menacingly.

Your blood freezes and you're vaguely aware of Tommy's fingers slipping away as he moves from you. Then as you realize your state of dress you try to fix your disheveled bikini, a feeble attempt to cover yourself. "Joel.. I'm sorry," you whisper.

Joel's eyes stay locked on you, a possessive rage smoldering in his black depths. He steps towards you, his movements deliberate and calculated, like a predator stalking its prey. "Sorry?" he mocks. "What the fuck are you doin' in here with my little brother's hands all over ya?"

"I.. I wasn't thinking." It's the truth. For once you'd let your hormones think for you.

His expression hardens. "You weren't thinkin'? That's all you have to say?" His gaze flicks to Tommy, the simmering anger still present in his eyes. "You. Get out," he commands, his voice sharp and authoritative.

Tommy hesitates briefly, all former bravado gone in the presence of his older brother's ire, and leave you and Joel alone.

You feel ashamed, scared, still dizzy with desire if you're honest, the ache Tommy created in you still lingering. "Joel, I'm sorry.. you won't tell my dad, will you?"

Joel's gaze is intense. "You're damn right I won't. Your daddy would rip my brother limb from limb if he found out what just happened." He steps closer to you, his eyes roaming your body, taking in your scantily clad appearance. "But you and I, darlin', we need to clear some things up."

"Like what?" you ask in a small voice, expecting the worst.

"First: I don't want you alone with Tommy ever again. Am I understood?" His voice drops to a low growl. "Second: I'm not done with you, angel. You're comin' with me."

Despite knowing you're in trouble already, you're recalcitrant. "You can't tell me what to do! I'm not a child anymore!"

Joel's eyes flash with anger, and before you can react, his hand quickly clamps around your wrist, his grip firm but not painful. "You're actin' like a child, darlin'. Now you can either come with me quietly, or you can put up a fight and I'll carry you outta here. Your choice."

For some reason the thought of him carrying you out sends a jolt straight to your center. But you relent. "Fine," you growl back. Joel hands you your sundress and you put it on, not caring to ask why he had it in his possession while you were in here with Tommy.

"Good girl," he mutters, leading you to his truck outside. He opens the door for you, the gentlemanly gesture a stark difference from his earlier demeanor. As you get in, Joel climbs into the driver's seat, his large frame filling the small space.

"Where are we goin'?" you ask as he starts up the engine and drives away with you.

He doesn't turn to look at you as he drives, his grip on the steering wheel white-knuckled and tense. "Somewhere we can talk, darlin'," he says gruffly. "Somewhere my meddlin' brother can't get his hands on ya."

You blush with shame as you think of what Joel saw you doing with Tommy, even though it was mostly innocent. "You don't see me as your little angel no more. do you?"

Joel's gaze flicks to you for a moment, his expression showing disappointment. "You stopped bein' an angel the moment you let my brother touch ya."

He pulls his pickup into a dirt parking lot, the location surrounded by trees and secluded from prying eyes.

"Better him than someone I don't know," you say lamely, looking around the deserted area.

"That's a low bar, angel," Joel mutters, voice thick with restraint. "You're not the only one who's noticed ya, darlin'. Hell, the whole damn town's been watchin' ya grow up."

"Tommy's the one who approached me. It wasn't my fault."

"Of course. He'd be blind not to want ya," he mutters darkly. "But you're not the first girl he's had his eye on, baby, and you ain't gonna be the last either."

It stings, but you try not to let it show. "I'm not tryna marry him, we were just havin' fun."

Joel scoffs, his eyes betraying his jealousy. "Fun, huh? Is that what you call it? You have no idea what my brother is like. He's no good for you. You're too young, too innocent, too damn pure."

"Evidently I'm no longer pure by your standards," you shoot back, arms crossed. "A girl can't enjoy herself without bein' a slut, right?"

His jaw clenches. "That's not what I meant. You're not just some toy for my brother to play with and toss aside. You don't know what he could do to you."

You remember Tommy's gentle, sure touch, the way his fingers glided over your most secret parts. "I got a sense of what he could do to me," you can't resist goading Joel. "And it felt so good.."

Joel looks like he's trying to swallow glass. "I bet he made you feel things you've never felt before, didn't he?"

"Almost.. not quite.." Blush fills your face.

"You mean he didn't make you come."

To have it put so bluntly makes you blush all over again. "No.. he didn't."

Joel wets his lips. "I bet it drove you crazy, havin' him touch you like that and not bein' able to finish.. must've driven you wild, huh?"

This is crazy. This conversation is crazy. This whole thing is crazy! It's like you're a kid again and Joel's trying to explain the birds and the bees because your own father doesn't want to.

"Yeah," you answer softly. "It's like an ache that won't go away."

His gaze darkens, drinking in the image of you all desperate, unable to get what you want. "And you're still achin', aren't ya, darlin'?" His voice is low, husky, intimate.

You feel small under his gaze, like a piece of meat being dangled before a hungry lion, like Little Red Riding Hood and the Big Bad Wolf. "Yes," comes your whispered reply.

Joel leans close, his large hands reaching out to cup your face. "Tell me what you want, angel."

He's giving you a choice, unlike Tommy who did what he wanted to do. Joel is giving you a choice.. "Make this ache go away for me.. please.."

His desire burns fiercely as he hears the plea in your voice. "You sure that's what you want, baby? Because once you let me in, there ain't no goin' back." His hands slide down to caress your neck, his touch both possessive and gentle.

You whimper. Once you let me in.. You're a fool not to think he means anything else. "I'm sure," you whisper, keeping your gaze on his dark eyes.

It sounds like a dare, like a threat, as he says, "All right, darlin'. You asked for it," and grabs hold of your waist, pulling you onto his lap so you're straddling him. You let out an involuntary gasp. His hands slide down from your waist to grab handfuls of your round ass, squeezing and kneading your cheeks firmly. "I've had a mind to do this for a long damn while," he growls. "You've been fillin' out lately, and those tight little shorts you wear 'round my house ain't doin' nothin' but teasin' my cock."

All your breath leaves you, the way he's grabbing you sends waves of heat and longing throughout your body.

His eyes burn as he feels your reaction to his touch. "You like that, baby?" he continues to grab and squeeze. "I've had to look at those tight little shorts of yours every time you come over.. always showin' off that perfect peach. Even now, this lil' sundress ain't barely coverin' anything." He kneads your cheeks again, giving them a light slap each.

You gasp at the sweet little stings, and each insistent knead of his hands on your ass pushes you forward onto his hard-on that tents his jeans. "That's it, angel. Ride my lap, just like that," he grunts. Your palms are planted on his shoulders, fingers gripping tightly as you grind yourself against him. Your heart is liable to shoot out of your chest but he feels so damn good, and so dangerous. "Like this?" you ask.

"Yeah, just like that, baby." Joel looks up at you, the mask of his authority slipping just a little as he watches you. "You feel that? That's what this pretty lil' ass does to me." Another quick little slap on your butt.

"Mm hmm," you reply, too caught up in the feeling to give a proper reply. "Oh my, I'm makin' such a mess on you," you whisper, noticing the wet spot on his jeans where you've been grinding on him without a care.

"Don't worry about me, darlin'. That's what I want." His voice is thick with desire and need. "I want you all wet and messy for me."

Jesus, the man knows just what to say.. "Joel," you whine. "You said you'd make the ache go away but you only made it worse.."

He quirks a brow. "That so? Well then I better do somethin' about that." One hand snakes its way between your bodies, his fingers easily finding your pussy through the thin material of your bikini bottom. You bite your lip as a curse word leaves your mouth, your head tilted back as he finds you wet and wanting. His fingers glide easily through your folds. "You're soaked, angel." He presses a kiss against your neck, grazing his teeth upon your skin as his fingers finally enter you, pressing into your sweet, welcoming warmth.

Brows furrowed, you start moving against his touch, sighing darkly as you feel his gentle love bite. "It's all.. for you," you sigh.

"I know it is, darlin'. Always has been." As his fingers rock inside you his thumb rubs small circles against your clit.

You ride his fingers, your breath shaking, gasping at the sweet intrusion. "Joel.. don't stop.. don't stop, I'm gonna come!"

"Go on, angel," he gruffs out. "Come for me.."

He holds you tight as you come undone on his lap, your pussy walls contracting around his fingers. "That's it.. good girl.." he praises. He withdraws them gently, shiny and covered in your thick, stringy slick. In a haze of pleasure you watch as he brings them to his lips, licking them clean. "You taste even better than I dreamed."

"Let me taste," you whisper, grabbing him for a kiss and swirling your tongue against his, tasting the remnants of your fulfillment. Your heart leaps as he goes to unbuckle his belt, and your body pulsates with unbridled need that overshadows all other thoughts.

"I need to be inside ya, darlin'."

"Yes.. please," you beg shamelessly.

"Lift up, angel," he whispers, pulling his jeans and boxers down halfway as you give him room. His cock springs up from his nest of dark brown wiry curls: a perfect, slightly curving length, thick and veiny, reaching up past his belly button, his precum already dribbling from the tip. His balls are heavy and full, lifting slightly as he pulls on himself, getting him primed for you. "You ready for me, baby?" he asks, voice low and thick with desire.

"Yes," you nod eagerly.

With your bikini bottom pushed to the side, he puts you over him again and starts to press into you. A deep, guttural groan rumbles from his chest as he firmly holds your hips. You gasp at the surrealness of the moment, straddling him in the driver's seat of the truck he taught you how to drive in just a couple short years ago. You whimper his name as you take a little of him at a time.

He claims your lips in a deep kiss, tongue delving into your mouth as he slowly sinks deeper inside you. Just when you think it's impossible to fit all of him, his kiss eases the way and you sink further down. "God," you sigh.

"You're doin' so good, baby. You feel so damn good around me," he soothes, completely. He starts to lift you up, to go slow and steady as already you're dripping onto him, your juices flowing down his shaft and drenching his pubes. You spread your thighs wider, feeling every inch of him inside you, a pleasure and yet a small pain. "Let me feel you like this for a little bit," you tell him, sheathing him with care.

"Whatever you want, darlin'. It's all yours," he mutters, leaning his forehead against yours, trying to still his heart, trying to catch his god damn breath.

"All mine," you whisper back, your breath tickling his ear. "My first.." You kiss him again and let your tongue tease his.

"Damn right," he growls. "And I'm gonna make sure you remember it forever. You're gonna feel me for days.." With that he starts to move, slowly, generating the friction your unsatisfied body so craves. "Grind yourself on me, just like that," he whispers, pulling the front of your sundress down to reveal your bikini top, and peels that back to expose your breasts, your nipples like pert raspberries. He palms them roughly before tasting each one, swirling his tongue around one bud while pinching the other.

You squirm in his lap, moving up and down his shaft, coating him with your cream. "You're so fucking deep," you moan, cupping his head as he feasts on your tits.

"There ya go.. take all of me. Lemme fill ya up," he grunts. His body tenses under yours as you speed up, mesmerized as your tits bounce up and down right in front of him. "That's it.. ah, such a good girl for me. How much more ya want? How much can ya handle?"

"I want.. fuck!.. I want more," you moan. "Fuck me, Joel!"

At your command he thrusts up, deep and rough, pulling your hair back so he can watch your body, gleaming with sweat, pulsate with pleasure as he taps into your primal need. The truck windows are fogged up as the vehicle gently bounces with your movements. His long, thick fingers leave marks on your hips and your ass cheeks.

He pistons up into you relentlessly, the sound of skin slapping on skin echoing in the truck, along with his grunts and the heavenly crescendo of your sweet moans. He keeps up the rigorous pace and you're on the edge, about to topple over into bliss. "Come on, baby," he urges you. "Yeah, that's it.. come for me.."

Only a few more fierce, upward thrusts and you come, with him nestled in up to the hilt so that every inch of him can feel you quake with pleasure. Your pussy flutters and convulses around him as you rear your head back, basking in the sublime pleasure. Joel follows soon after, unable to resist as he comes deep inside you. You give a little gasp at the warm bursts of his release, unlocking something primal in you. "Give me every drop," you whisper.

"It's all yours, darlin'," he hisses, holding onto you as he pumps stream after stream of his thick white cum within you.

Your eyes meet as he finally stills, slumping back down in his seat, still holding you close so you can feel the thundering beat of one another's hearts. "God.. you filled me up," you say in amazement, feeling him drip out of you already though he hasn't made a move to disengage from you yet.

"Imma fill you up any damn time you want," he rumbles. "Even if I gotta sneak into your room at night. Your daddy ain't gonna know a thing."

You bite your lip, realizing he's not kidding, he's not giving promises he doesn't mean to keep. "He'd probably kill you if he knew what we just did."

Joel's eyes burn with a determination that scares you a little. "Well he ain't gonna ever know. I got ways of keepin' things quiet." He gazes at you and his eyes soften, as if he's looking upon the most beautiful and innocent thing in all the world. "I always knew I wanted ya, ever since you turned into such a sweet little treat."

His phone rings and he groans when he realizes it's your father. He puts a hand over your mouth even though you wouldn't dare let on that you're with him, and makes the conversation as quick as possible before hanging up. "We better go, darlin'. Your daddy's waitin', wonderin' where you are," he says casually, as if he hadn't just had a conversation with your dad while balls-deep inside you.

You lift yourself off him wincing a little at the soreness between your thighs. The remnants of Joel's sticky seed start to trickle down your leg. He runs his thumb along your inner thigh, gathering his cum and brings it to your lips. You suck the salty fluid off his thumb. "I'm not wasting any of it," you tell him, licking your lips as you swallow.

"God damn," he mutters hotly. "You're killin' me, angel," he says, helping you arrange your clothes so you're decent again.

"Not anymore.. you just turned this angel into a devil.."

"Hey pumpkin, where ya been?" your dad greets you as you get out of Joel's truck in his driveway. Walking is a little painful as you're still sore, but you try to act natural.

"Beer run," Joel answers for you, holding up a twelve-pack of Corona Extra.

"Joel took me on a ride," you can't help saying, "It was fun." His cum is still collecting in your swimsuit bottom. "Hey Daddy, Sarah asked me to spend the night with her, so I'll be here all night. Is that okay with you, Joel?" You suppress a smirk as you address both the men.

Joel's heart rate spikes and his imagination runs wild in the quick span of a moment before he says, "Of course it is. You're always welcome here."

And later, when the Fourth of July fireworks cast their multi-colored lights on the black horizon, no one notices as you and Joel sneak away together, the booms overhead concealing your noises of gratification.

dividers by @saradika-graphics 👑

[evnseokz]

{ ☆ drunk confessions - l.hs }

pairing: close friend! heeseung x f. reader

based off this request here

contents: mentions of drinking, and alcohol, cunnilingus, tongue fucking, pet name: baby, no clear power play, heeseung a lil desperate at one moment, kissing, making out, force feeding

a.n: i got carried away with this one and it ended up being more than a drabble 😭 hopefully you enjoy!! w.c 1.9k

music thumped in the background as you swayed slightly, your laughter spilling over the rim of your half-empty glass. you had definitely had one too many, but the warm buzz made the crowded room feel like a cozy bubble. when the call from your close friend, heeseung came through—his usual check-in—you quickly picked it up, giggling into the phone with a bubbly “hellloooooo!”

“where are you?” he asked, concern laced in his voice. “hmmm… i don’t remember,” you giggled to yourself as you answered. “are you drunk?” heeseung asked bluntly. more giggles escaped your lips: “i don’t think so!” heeseung pinched the bridge of his nose on the other end of the phone; your clearly drunk and clueless state is frustrating him. “i’m coming to get you.” is all that’s heard from heeseung before the phone is hung up abruptly. your brows furrow in confusion, but that quickly fades away when the next song comes on. you’re quick to jump right back into the crowd, dancing to the loud music.

heeseung arrived not long later, scanning the club for your presence. he pushes through the crowd of people and is finally met with your familiar silhouette. your back is turned, and you suddenly feel a hand on your shoulder. you turn and are met with the face of your close friend. the sight of him instantly sobering you up a bit, though the warmth of the alcohol still lingered. “y/n, let’s go,” he says firmly, his hand still gripping your shoulder. your skin tingled under the warmth of his hand, and you looked at him with your brows furrowed. “but i’m having so much fun,” you pouted. heeseung brought his other hand up to tuck some hair behind your ear. “i know, but it’s getting late, and i need to make sure you get home safely.” he looked down at you with all the adoration in the world, and you probably would’ve noticed immediately if it weren’t for your drunken state.

heeseung grabs your hand, a pout still present on your face, and he guides you through the sea of people and out the door. his hand still holding yours, he walks the both of you to his car, opening the door for you as he ushers you in. you sit down, and heeseung closes the door behind you, going around to the driver's side and getting in. he looks over at your figure, the lights of the car shining on your flushed face. he leans over the center console to grab your seatbelt, quickly buckling it before settling back into his seat and buckling his own. as you guys drove through the quiet streets, you felt a familiar flutter in your stomach. the city lights blurred outside, and you couldn't shake the feeling that you had something to say.

once you made it to your home, heeseung dug your keys out of your bag and opened the door, letting you go in first and shutting it behind him. you made your way to the kitchen and leaned against the counter, swaying slightly. heeseung leaned in, concern etched on his face. “are you okay?”

before you could even think, the words slipped out, “you know, sometimes i think about you when i touch myself.” a goofy smile splayed on your lips as giggles followed your sudden confession. heeseung’s eyes went wide, heat rising to his cheeks. he shook his head slightly. “y/n, you’re drunk.” you stuck your hand out in front of you, waving your finger. “im being serious heeseung, i get off faster when i picture your mouth on me,” you whine playfully, words slightly slurring together. the weight of your words, baring nothing on your conscience as they come out. heeseung shakes his head again, leaving your presence as he gets you a glass of water and some pain medicine. “take these, please,” he says as he takes his place back in front of your smaller frame. you shake your head at him, “don’t wanna.” your lips form a pout as you look at the boy in front of you, and he can’t help but roll his eyes.

before you know it, his thumb is on your bottom lip, applying slight pressure until your lips part just enough for the digit to hold your mouth open. he places the pill on your tongue, grabbing the water and gently pouring some in your mouth before closing your mouth and holding your chin. “swallow,” he says sternly, narrowing his eyes at you as you reluctantly take the medicine he just forced into your mouth. once you swallow the pill, you open your mouth and stick your tongue out, showing him that you’ve done what he asked. he nods his head in approval and hands you the water cup again. “don’t talk to me until you’ve finished this,” he says lightheartedly.

he stands in front of you as you drink the water, making sure you’ve emptied the cup. you finish your last sip with a quiet "ah,” and you look up at him. the light is shining on his face in such a way that has your heart racing, suddenly all more aware of his presence. your gaze trails from his eyes to his lips and back to his eyes again, a sudden wave of need hitting you as you press your thighs together. “heeseung,” your voice is just below a whisper. he tilts his head at you, a small smile on his lips. “yeah y/n?” the air thickened between you two, charging with possibilities. you hesitated, your desires on the tip of your tongue. “i need you,” you finally admit, meeting his gaze once again.

a heartbeat passed, and the world around you faded. heeseungs smile faltered, and you saw a flicker of something deeper in his eyes—desire. he reached out to you, hand brushing against your arm as he held onto you, sending shockwaves up your skin. “y/n…” he began, his voice low and intense. “you’ve been drinking; you’re not in the right headspace,” his words hung between you. “i’m well aware of what’s happening right now and what i’m feeling,” you urge, suddenly more sober than you were moments ago. heeseung stares at you, his self-control wearing thin as you look up at him with big, shiny eyes. when he doesn’t reply, you bring a hand to his chest, resting it there. “please?” you’re practically begging at this point.

your breath hitched as you scanned his face for an answer, the weight of the moment pressing in. your mind raced as you anticipated an answer, and instead of responding, heeseung leaned in closer. the space between you two felt charged with an urgency that felt impossible to ignore. your heart pounded in your chest, your lips mere centimeters away from each other. “are you sure about this?” heeseung whispered against your lips. “i’ve never been more sure about anything.” and then, without thinking, you closed the gap between you two, the world around you immediately falling away. your arms instinctively wrap around his neck as his hands rest on your waist. heeseung leaned in more, and that was all the invitation you needed to deepen the kiss. your lips moved against his with a hungry urgency that sent sparks flying. you leaned into his body, feeling the heat radiating off of him.

the kiss was intense, each brush of your lips igniting a fire, and you could feel yourself surrendering completely. but just as you started to lose yourself in the moment, heeseung pulled back, breathless, searching your eyes. “can i touch you?” he whispered, “can i please touch you?” he practically begged as his chest rose and fell, desire burning into him. you nodded, and that’s all it took for heeseung to guide you to the couch, laying you on your back as he leaned over you. he connected his lips to yours briefly before trailing kisses down your jaw and neck to the exposed part of your chest. he centered his nose on your sternum before slowly dragging it down your torso, stopping at the hem of your shirt. he nestled his nose in the fabric, letting the tip of it slide underneath, before slowly using it to push your shirt up. gentle kisses fall on your skin as your shirt bunches up. you whimper slightly at the feeling of his hot breath against your skin.

his nose leaves the fabric of your shirt, letting it stay bunched up around your rib cage as he trails kisses back down till he reaches the waistband of your skirt. with one final kiss, right above the button, he looks up at you through his eyelashes. “let’s fulfill those fantasies of yours, yeah?” his voice is deep and sultry; you nod frantically, wetness pooling between your legs. “yes, please,” you breathe. his fingers find the button of your skirt, fiddling with it for a moment before undoing it and sliding the zipper down. he removes your skirt and panties in one go, not wanting to waste anymore time. when your bottom half is bare, heeseung can’t help but gawk at the sight of your wet, puffy cunt, swollen and needy all for him. you begin to feel insecure under his intimidating gaze, and your legs begin to close. heeseung stops you before your knees meet each other, hands gripping each leg, and spreading you out for him. he licks his lips as he stares at your pussy, and wastes no more time, dropping his head in between your legs.

he starts off by trailing kisses up your thigh, lightly sucking on the skin as you moan. and when you feel his hot breath fan over your heat, you almost fall apart right then and there. he places an open-mouth kiss over your mound, causing a whimper to erupt from your throat. heeseung smirks to himself before dipping his tongue in between your folds, licking a stripe up your cunt, and landing on your clit. he takes the bud into his mouth, sucking slightly on it as you mewl in satisfaction. his mouth trails down towards your dripping hole, taking the opportunity to taste all of you as he pushes his tongue in. you cry out, hands reaching for something to grip, but you’re left fisting the air.

heeseung has been watching you through lidded eyes, noticing your struggle to find something to hold onto. he pulls his mouth away from your cunt for a moment. “wanna hold my hand, baby?” he asks. “y-yes,” you reply, voice shaking. he reaches up, resting his hand on your stomach as he holds his hand out for you to grab. you immediately take hold of it, squeezing tightly as he continues his assault on your cunt. he’s making out with your pussy at this point, pornographic sounds coming from where his mouth connects to your heat. moans are falling past your lips, and the knot in your stomach begins to tighten. “i-im s’close” you manage to get out in between moans, heeseung makes sure to pay the most attention to your clit as he helps you approach your high, the stimulation being all too much as you fall apart on his tongue. your eyes are squeezed shut, and your hips are bucking into his mouth. but he doesn’t mind; he continues to lap at your pussy until you’re done shaking and are pulling his hand to let him know to stop.

you’re a panting mess, your chest rising and falling as you stare at the man in front of you, his lips wet with your juices. your cheeks flush at the sight, and heeseung smirks before licking his lips clean. he leans forward, holding your head in his hands, and places another kiss on your lips. he pulls back, taking your hands in his as he looks at you. “was it as good as you imagined?” he asks.

“even better.”

.

..

…

[eupheme]

— common ground [into the fire, part iii]

part i | part ii | masterlist

cooper howard / the ghoul x f!reader

rated e - 4k

tags: dubcon, power dynamics, vault dweller!reader, bounty hunting, pwp, sex for favors, 1 spank, sub/dom elements, light degradation, use of chems, shotgunning chems, riding, PiV, canon-typical violence and death

a/n: the scene where he complained about doing all the work had me like 👀 (reimagining), so here we go! 💖

“S’that right? Need me to fuck you? Fill up that greedy little cunt?”

His head tipping back as he hums, as if disappointed. Each word exaggerated, with his slow drawl, “Well, I’d sure like to sweetheart… but it seems to me like I’ve been doing an awful lot of work around here.”

“Findin’ this place. Cleanin’ it out. Gettin’ you clothes.” A sigh, before his voice drops, “Makin’ you come.”

“Think you oughta return the favor, don’t you?”

(Or - you take the Ghoul for a ride)

"Fuck!”

You crouch outside as another loud shotgun blast fires - the wooden door next to you peppering with bullets.

This wasn't what you had in mind.

You had thought you'd find a chem station in the next town. A pharmacy, an old hospital. Something somewhat respectable - not standing watch as the Ghoul blew his way through a long-abandoned two-story home.

The layered yelling dies off with each pull of his trigger, until everything going silent.

He finds you there a moment later, still curled in on yourself. A roll of his eyes when he sees you - still unused to the violence.

"It's clear." The Ghoul beckons, "Let's find that station."

You follow him inside, your gaze boring a hole into his back. Trying hard not to look down, nose wrinkling when you almost trip over a set of legs that sprawl across the floor.

A hand pinches at your elbow, keeping you upright.

"What?" He asks, at your expression.

"Did you have to..." You start, as he checks down the hallway.

It's empty - the doors leading to two bedrooms. The bed frames bare and rusted, the rooms already picked through.

A shrug, "They shot first."

"You goaded them."

You could hear him, even from outside. That knowing tone - some kind of warning. A rough laugh, and then the firefight had started.

"We're looking for a chem station, sweetheart." He scoffs, head cocking as he backs you up against the door he just closed, "Think they're gonna share with you like you’re on a goddamn play date?"

"They-" You blink up at him, "They might have."

He clicks his tongue, giving you a long look,"You still got a lot to learn, Vaultie."

A second, before he steps away.

"These weren't those kind of people."

You find it in the basement. A man slumped just outside the cracked-open door, the weathered lab coat stained and splattered red on the left-hand side.

Anything salvageable from above must have been brought down here. Three threadbare mattresses behind a makeshift wall. A long couch that faces a television that still runs, the picture blurry with static.

The station sits along the back wall. A beaker still bubbles over the burner, the smell acrid. Bottles litter the surface - something being made in a batch.

Your mind is already racing ahead, eyes scanning for things you'll need. Too-large gloves shoved on, disposing of the burnt mixture while you search for an empty glass.

Missing how he angles the couch to watch, feet propped up on the wooden coffee table. That ever-steady wariness waning with your focus, the tension in his shoulders easing as he sinks into the cushion.

You're too busy to notice. Sorting the different ingredients, littered across the counter.

There's an excess of toxic soot flowers, their petals papery between your fingers. Opened packages of Med-X, a spilled pile of Buffout. A jar of acid.  

Psycho. Cut with something else, something stronger. You think the Ghoul was right - maybe you had been foolish to underestimate them.

You try to shake the thought away, as you gather what you need. Antiseptic, from your own bag. Three jars of glowing fungus, found beneath the sagging counter. Ground up and tipped into a dusty beaker, the heat turned down low.

"Can you get me some water?" You call from over your shoulder, a jar held in your hand.

There's no answer. Silence, until something hard presses into your back, pinning you against the table.

It feels familiar, the way his hips nudge against yours, and it sends your mind back. An urge to arch - bend low. Mimicking the days before, where you can still feel the twinge of him with the stretch of your thighs.

"You think you're callin' the shots now, sweetheart?" His voice is low, the brim of his hat brushing your head as he leans over your shoulder.

"No," You squeak - caught off-guard, "I just-, I can't leave this until it thickens."

"Mm.” His hum is low. “Too bad. Would've liked to see you try.”

Heat blooms in your cheeks at his words, that rough drawl, even after the last couple days. A thin layer of suggestion in his tone, as he shifts closer - his chest bumping into your back.

Your mind flickering through possibilities, before his voice cuts through.

“Said you need water?”

"Yes. Please," The nod you give is small - you have to start your stirring over, losing your rhythm, "I saw a few cartons in the kitchen. If you don't mind."

"Polite little thing, when you're distracted," He husks, "I'll have to remember that."

The Ghoul makes no effort to move, though. Fingers wrapping around the glass. His other hand gripping the edge of the table, boxing you in. You wonder if he can hear the way your heart thuds in your chest, eyes fixed firmly on your work.

“Where’d you learn to do this?”

It takes you a second to answer - he’d had never offered many questions. Responses that were no more than a couple of words, over the stretch of long hours on the road.

“Uh, my Vault. We were short on hands, my mother was a chemist.” Your words are slow - a still-painful topic, “Used to make all kinds of stuff. Medicine and… and chems, alike.”

People who left were always brought back. Dazed and half-sick from the world above, whatever they had seen. Left at your doorstep to be patched up, if they made it that long.

You always told yourself that wouldn’t be you.

That when you were gone, you’d stay that way.

“Hm.” His tone flattens, “Wouldn’t have guessed. Don’t seem the type.”

“Yeah?” You head turns, catching his shadowed ones. Leaning into the welcome diversion, “What type do I seem like, then?”

The Ghoul’s eyes narrow, an unconscious flick down to your mouth.

“Trouble.” He husks, with a shallow roll of his hips. You can’t help the short inhale that he’s certain to hear, the way your fingers tighten around your instruments.

“Though I’m still workin’ out what kind.”

It’s there that he leaves you. Flustered and silently revisiting evenings before, a familiar anticipation curling low inside you.

The steps creak behind you as he slips upstairs. Returning some time later with what you need - twirling a dented pot found in the kitchen, so you can purify it. Folding himself onto the couch when you tell him it will be a while.

A cut glass decanter salvaged as well, that he drinks directly from. A rough gasp as the bitter alcohol floods through him. Helping himself to the chems that litter the tabletop - before his feet kick up, the hat tipped low over his face.

You think he does rest - a rarity.

You examine him then - as you wait for the water to boil, and then cool, before you can use it to mix with the other components.

Taking the rare chance to do it freely.

In the Wasteland you’ve learned to stay cautious. That you can’t fall behind. That surely he would notice, if your gaze lingered on him for too long.

But here, time seems to slow for a moment. Nothing to do but wait, as your fingers drift to your neck. Pressing into the bruise, as if you could feel the indents of his teeth.

His presence feels the same.

A mark left on you. Something you can’t help but want to touch, even if it aches. A reminder that lingers, and there’s a part of you that wishes it would stay.

It has you wondering, as your eyes sweep across him. Over the long-faded clothes, hiding rough and reddened skin - every inch of him wrapped away.

If you got close enough-

Would you find that he bore a mark of his own?

You make enough for a little over two weeks. Carefully poured and sealed into a variety of small bottles and tubes you’ve scavenged, scraping out every last bit that you can.

In the less-than-stellar conditions, it didn’t turn out so bad. The vials you had seen him buy was a thin, piss-yellow that had made you cringe. Poor work to begin with, and that was even before it was cut with more water.

What you offer out to him is thick - a sheen clinging to the glass as it sloshes, when it passes from your hand to his.

Liquid gold, in comparison.

“Mm.” The Ghoul hums - eyes greedy, as he examines, holding it up to the bit of light.

Before they’re focusing on you. Flickering from head to toe - considering - before his legs spread a bit wider. A hand clapping down against a thigh.

The look you give him is blank. A squeak when his fingers hook around one of your belt loops and pulls - hauling you onto his lap.

“You think I’m just gonna take somethin’ you cooked up?” His brow lifts, hands pinching against your hips, “Not a chance, sweetie. I think we oughta try this together.”

The Ghoul’s fingers slip up then, rucking up the hem of your shirt. His tone turning knowing.

“And I don’t think you’ve got enough in you.”

Your cheeks burn at his insinuation. More than aware, your breath catching as the rough tips of his leather gloves drag across your skin.

“Bet I’ve been leakin’ out of you since last time.” The Ghoul rasps, “Wouldn’t want to waste this, would we?”

He’s solid beneath you. Your thighs splitting on either side of his waist, knees digging into old cushions. Close enough to kiss - if you weren’t so certain he’d bite.

Lost though, on how to proceed. You don’t know the rules to his game. Always keeping you at arms-length - wrists bound, caught in his grip.

Would he let you touch him?

He mistakes your hesitance, his brow pinching.

“Spent enough time starin’. Lookin’ like you wanted to take a ride.” Acid slips into his tone, teeth bared, “Change your mind, now you’ve got a front row seat?”

That knocks you out of your thoughts - embarrassed that you were caught staring at him. Annoyed by his assumption. A scoff, as your hips start to move, a slow roll. Hands coming up to rest against his shoulders, meeting his eyes.

They’re pretty, like the rest of him. Shades of light brown - looking like they’re caught the sun, even underground. Thick lashes, above the deep hollow of sunken eye sockets, the split cavern of his missing nose.

Something that had startled you, the first time you saw him. Now, you hardly even notice. And his mouth -

“I’m not scared of you.” You murmur, watching the way his lip curls in a sneer. A soft sound bitten back as you grind down, feeling how he’s stiff beneath you.

You wonder how long he’s been this way. Hard, from watching you work. Waiting.

Another exchange, though you wish you could tell him it doesn’t have to be that way. You had meant what you said, when you had made your offer - even if you mean it a little differently, now.

Maybe you still could.

“You should be,” The Ghoul growls - hands ghosting over your sides, up to the thin cotton, “If you had any goddamn sense. Letting me touch you like this-”

A hand is cupping your breast now. A hard swipe of his thumb against your stiff peak, your fingers biting down into his jacket.

Your hips jerk against his. A soft moan, when the seam of your pants catches against your clit - leaving you clenching around nothing.

“I want you to.” You confess - catching the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head, “Told you, whatever you want.”

The Ghoul makes a rough sound in his throat, watching as you tug the cups down to fit beneath your breasts, putting yourself on display for him.

“Haven’t learned, have you?” He warns, his voice low, “Don’t make an offer you can’t follow through on.”

The pinch of his fingers sends an ache down to settle between your thighs, the hint of pain pairing with your pleasure.

Your own hand wandering, wanting to see more. Sliding against a leather vest, the stained shirt beneath that was once as blue as your suit. Frayed, looping embroidery on the faded collar.

Feeling the warmth of his skin as you tug at the snap at his throat. An inch, and then another, before he’s catching your hand.

Dragging it up to his shoulders, fixing you with a look, “You best keep those right here.”

“You don’t want me to touch you?” You ask, eyes flicking down to the peek of skin at his throat.

“I want these off.” He tells you instead, snapping the waistband of your pants against skin.

You have to leave him to do it. Watching the way his arms stretch across the back of the sofa, as you kick the pants off, then your underwear beneath.

Bare again, as you settle. Fitting yourself against the curve of his cock. Leather and metal kissing your skin as you move against him, until his lips are parted with a ragged breath.

You can feel your muscles clench. The slick slide of your pussy against his bulge, barely nudging at that deep-seated ache to be filled.

“Makin’ a mess, sweetheart.” He husks, his hips lifting to meet yours. Gloved hands moving to curl around your waist - pulling you down to meet him, coaxing a lazy rhythm from you.

“Rubbin’ up against me like a bitch in heat. Should make you clean that up.”

It coaxes a whine from you, as you let him move you. The sound does something to you - the layered approval in his tone, the low rasp of his voice. Not so unaffected as he seems, with how hard he is beneath you.

He must see it in your expression, a hand leaving the couch to grasp at your chin. Flexing up and into you, letting you feel the hard ridge of him.

“This what you want, sweetheart?”

Making you meet his gaze, as you answer. All dark eyes and the flash of teeth, under the brim of his hat.

“Yes.” You keen, “I need you, please-”

“S’that right? Need me to fuck you? Fill up that greedy little cunt?”

His head tipping back as he hums, as if disappointed. Each word exaggerated, with his slow drawl, “Well, I’d sure like to sweetheart… but it seems to me like I’ve been doing an awful lot of work around here.”

The hand leaves your chin to drop down. Slowly loosening a belt buckle, letting it pool on the cushions. Your cheeks heating when you see the slick shine to the front of his pants, where you’ve rutted yourself against him.

“Findin’ this place. Cleanin’ it out,” His eyes are on yours - your breath short as he tugs the zipper down. “Gettin’ you clothes.”

A sigh, before his voice drops, “Makin’ you come.”

You moan at that, a soft sound caught behind your teeth - fingers pinching into his shoulders.

Waiting for him to draw his cock out - fist wrapped around the base. Flushed and thick in his palm, inches away from where you need him.

The Ghoul does grin then, a wicked thing that shows his teeth.

“Think you oughta return the favor, don’t you?”

He’s giving you an inch - seeing if you’ll try to take a mile. A firm handle, still wrapped around a fist, but loosening the reins.

Letting himself watch.

“Seems fair.” You manage, breathless.

“Then go on,” He husks, “Show me how you can take it.”

Your hand reaches down, but then he’s clicking his tongue - fingers fixing back on his shoulders.

Leaving you to lift your hips. His cock slipping against your slick core, your teeth biting into your lip as you line yourself up - the rough head catching at your entrance.

It’s different this time. Sinking down on him, feeling each inch as it splits you open - instead of suddenly filling you to the hilt.

“Fuck,” You sigh, with the stretch. It twinges deep inside you, where his hips fit against yours.

Lifting yourself only to sink back down, his arms flexing beneath his coat as he lets you ride him, your pace slowly picking up until you’re bouncing on his cock.

As much as you enjoyed last time, there was something about this. Fully able to watch the way his lips part, hear the rattling groan when you tighten around him.

See the way his eyes skate across the bruise on your neck, only to drop down to watch the sway of your tits as your fingers lace behind his neck.

“Goddamn, sweetheart.” His hand flattens against the small of your back. The other gripping your hip, tugging you towards him, “You sure know how to ride.”

Not giving you time to answer, before his head is dipping. The brim of his hat knocking back when it hits your chin - the tips of your fingers just catching it. Slipping it on your own head for safekeeping before he can protest.

It earns you a sharp nip against the curve of your breast, before his lips close around the tight peak of a nipple and sucks.

You cry out, chasing the pressure that builds in your belly. Growing even more wet with the slick swirl of his tongue and the scrape of teeth - his cock grinding against a spongy spot inside you as you arch into his mouth.

“Please,” You whine, fingers flexing and then curling. Needing more friction against your clit, where your heartbeat has dropped and settled.

Trying so hard to listen, a whine between your gritted teeth. Your tits glossy with spit when he leans back, giving you a knowing look.

“You wanna come?” He husks - his eyes dropping, as you nod, “Only if you lean back and show me, sweetheart.”

Relief sings in you, as you adjust. Thighs spreading, as you grip onto his shoulder. Leaning back until he can watch the way he spears into you. How he shines, all slicked up, with each roll of your hips.

Your other hand loses its grip in his coat to slip down, press where your bodies meet.

Fingertips circle, a low moan at the much-needed touch. Your rhythm grows sloppy until his hands hook beneath your thighs. Guiding you into a harsh rhythm, each pound of his cock winding you higher and higher as the couch creaks beneath you.

“Come on, cowpoke.” He rasps, his hand cracking down against your ass, “Is that the best you can do?”

It builds - your fingers pressing harder against the slick bud. Whimpered noises that are more sound than words, as his thighs spread, feet planting so he can drive up into you.

“I said come on.” He growls, “Wanna feel you come on my cock again.”

Like before, it feels like the control slips through your fingers. Your own touch brings you close to that edge, but it’s the pounding of his cock that makes you fall.

Your back arching, crying out as your core clenches. Pleasure bursting deep inside you, racing up your spine and down to the tips of your fingers and pointed toes.

The quick thrust slowa into a lazy grind. A low “atta girl” that he grits out, as he feels the way you come hard around him.

Eyes dropping from your face to watch the greedy press of your fingers as you draw it out - until his own hand is wrapping around your wrist.

Tugging your hand away as the pleasure still courses inside you, hips still chasing the last ripples as you ride his cock.

Bringing your fingers to his mouth. Fitting them against teeth and tongue as his lips close around, tasting the slick that clings to them.

It makes goosebumps raise on your skin. The briefest thrill of fear. Certain that if you pulled your fingers free right now, the flesh and muscle would peel from you - leaving only bones behind.

He groans loudly around them, teeth indenting your skin. Tongue swirling against your knuckles, his hips rocking up to meet yours.

Freeing you, only to grasp at your hips - urging you to move faster. A loud slap of skin until his jaw is clenching - and he’s bringing you down once more against him with a rough sound.

Coming inside you again, but this time you get to see the way his head tips back with his snarl. How his fingers bite into your skin as you feel him throb - throat bared as he spills deep inside you with each rough jerk of his hips.

A flare of something flicking to life in your belly, knowing you did this to him. The groan he made when he tasted you echoing in your mind, giving you something to keep.

You make to move when he goes still, but a hand grips at your hip - holding you in place. Keeping you full of him, as the afterglow still glitters in your veins.

His eyes are dark, fixed on you. Taking in your shadowed, half-lidded gaze - sweat-dewed and bare skinned against him. His hat, still perched on your head. Looking like it belongs there.

A hand digs around in his bag. Pulling out the inhaler for his serum. Snapping it together without his gaze leaving you.

Bringing it to his mouth after - sucking in a deep, held breath. Those eyes closing with a low, contented groan.

A broad hand slips from your hip to splay across the back of your neck, fingers digging into your throat. Pulling you down to him - just as his head tilts to press his lips against yours.

Just as you soften, he exhales - the RadAway flooding through your parted lips. A stinging, metallic taste of iodine that makes you shudder, before you realize he’s deepening the kiss.

You lean into it without thought. The ache in your gums fading with the brush of his tongue. His grip anchoring you in place as he takes, licking into your mouth while his cock still fills you.

Leaving you breathless. Letting him, as your own arms wrap around his shoulders to keep him close. Meeting the messy scrape of teeth and swirl of tongue. The sharp taste fading, layered with the whisky and a hint of you that still lingers.

Before he’s pulling back far too soon, eyes dark as he pants.

“Fuck.” He rasps - his tongue tasting where yours had been, flicking across a lower lip. Before he’s looking at the inhaler - shaking it for another use.

“Looks like I might just have to keep you around.”

You make what you can with the rest of the supplies afterward - waste not, want not. An extra stimpak. Swiping the rest of the mentats, keeping the grape and berry ones for yourself. Refilling your canteen with more of the purified water.

The rest of the chems you gather - packing them in a tin. Tossing them his way, a low whistle when he sees what’s inside.

It’s late enough that the Ghoul decides it’s best to stay here, and leave at dawn. Certain that he will catch up to the bounty tomorrow, already sure of two places where he might be offloading the stolen wares.

You don’t mind. The uneasy thought of sleeping in a house with corpses quickly overshadowed by the real mattresses waiting in the basement. Stained but there’s still bedding - patched up blankets.

A fire, that he coaxes to life in the fireplace upstairs. Dinner, roasting over it.

It almost feels like something. A moment you can play pretend - that these walls will keep you safe.

That maybe you could clean it up.

That maybe he didn’t despise you, and maybe he’d want to stay.

It’s a foolish thought, a sigh as you push it from you. Digging a spoon into the rusted can of Pork ‘N Beans you had scavenged - not trusting the look of the skewer he had been tending.

A thumb running across your lower lip, as you chew. Remember how his had felt. Examining the angry marks pressed into your knuckles. 

His shadow crosses over you, then - you have to crane your neck up to see him. His hat back where it belongs, much like your own clothes.

The tilt of his head, as he considers you again. Before his hand is slipping into the bag that slings across his shoulder.

Gloved fingers curling around something - tossing it silently into your lap, before he’s disappearing upstairs to finish his sweep of the house.

It’s golden, in the light of the fireplace. Seems like he’s already done a little looting of his own. A rolled up bag, the tube and needle tucked inside.

And a bottle of the RadAway you made for him.

save a horse, ride a cowboy and all that 🤠💖 (thank you so much for reading! would love to know what you thought if you enjoyed!)

[girlokwhatever]

can u do reader coming home drunk after a nightout and paige takes care of her?🥺 (smut or fluff is fine)

𝄞₊ ⊹˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ taking care of you,,

paige bueckers x fem!reader

paige is sitting in your shared apartment’s living room when she hears you fumbling with the keys outside. she immediately sets down her textbook, opening the door before you can even find the right key. she’s been expecting your arrival after you texted her a jumble of words, piecing together ‘home’ and ‘soon.’

you went out with a few of your friends from class to a local club, trying to unwind after a stressful few weeks. of course she wanted you to have fun but sometimes if other people were drinking, you tended to do the same. unfortunately for you, you were a lightweight.

“baby!” your eyes gleam at her, wide and glossy. you’re a bit of a bubbly drunk tonight, finding everything funny and somewhat joyful. you smiled at your girlfriend and jumped into her, craving her touch after being away for a few hours.

“hey ma, how was your night? had fun?” she catches you, holding the back of your thighs when you wrap your legs around her. your smile immediately turns to a dramatic frown, bottom lip pouted out. she has to resist the urge to kiss you, settling for the feeling of your body heat on hers.

“this guy was flirting with me paigey,”

“oh yeah?”

“yeah, told ‘em i have a pretty girlfriend already.”

now she’s smiling at you like a dope, pride swelling in her heart at your little story. you’re smiling with pride too, as if you just got told you did a good job. you’re paige’s favorite person in the world, no doubt. so hearing you brag about her is something that makes her feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

“how much did you drink?” she’s closing the door now, not missing the smell of alcohol when your soft breath hits her face. you shrug your shoulders because you genuinely have no clue. just from your answer, or lack of one, she knows it was a lot more than you can probably handle for one night.

you drop your legs from around your girlfriend and she lets you, letting go of the grip she has on your thighs. you wobble for a second while you adjust to standing on your own again. paige watches you carefully, slightly concerned at how out of it you seem. she finds herself getting a little angry at your friends for letting you drink so much, but she lets it go because she knows it was all in good fun.

“oh.. wow. that’s not-“ your hands are on your stomach and paige knows what’s about to happen. she’s ushering you to the bathroom, lifting the toilet lid, and pulling any loose hair out of your face. she lets you get it all out, patting your back and telling you it’s ok, the same way she always does. if you weren’t battered drunk it would probably make you blush.

“are you okay?”

you silently nod, already feeling a bit more sober. paige sends you a soft smile, kissing your forehead and pulling away again to turn on the shower. she grabs your pj’s from your room and when she comes back you’re half asleep against the wall.

“baby, gotta get you cleaned up okay?”

now you’re both in the shower together while paige lathers the shampoo and conditioner into your hair. you pleaded with her to get in with you, still not feeling the best. she said yes, tied her hair up in a bun, took off her clothes, and now she’s in here. with you.

she helps you rinse your hair out (she does it without any of your help) and just takes a moment to admire you. it seems you had the same idea though, staring up at paige with doe eyes. she notices you’re not exactly smiling, a light frown taking your features.

“what’s wrong?”

“miss you p,”

“i’m right here”

“yeah but.. you’re in minnesota.”

paige is genuinely shocked at your statement, laughing out loud and throwing her head back at what you said. she was in minnesota for a few days last month and you couldn’t free your schedule enough to go with her, which is what she thinks you’re referring to. of course in your drunk mind you think she’s making fun of you, which only makes you feel worse. you step out of the shower, the cold apartment air making your nipples peak and your body shiver.

paige follows in suit, having to hold her breathe at the sight of you. she jogs to your room, putting her own pajamas on and quickly returning to you.

“baby i’m sorry. don’t be upset please, i wasn’t laughing at you.”

you’re clothed too, standing in between paige and the bathroom counter as she rubs lotion on your back from underneath your shirt. her hands are large and warm, smoothing over your skin with a delicacy that you appreciate. you don’t exactly realize it all the time, but paige does a phenomenal job at taking care of you. especially on nights like this.

“yes you were.”

“ok… i was. but! but- it’s because i was just a little shocked, is all.”

you turn to face her, eyes scanning over her face until you determine how you feel. you try to remember what you even said, but nothing’s popping up so you decide to just forget it.

“feeling better?”

“for a kiss.” paige kisses you, gentle and soft. her hands situated on your hips pull you closer until you’re chest to chest. all of the sudden you’re pulling away with a frantic energy, like you just remembered something of the upmost importance.

“skincare!” you (in true clumsy fashion) try hopping up on the counter. once you fail a few times and then some, paige decides to just lift you herself. she digs through your drawer, not knowing where to start.

you don’t even seem to be in the same universe, eyes closed and legs swaying ever-so little. she decides to just pick a few things, mixing them all together in her hands before smoothing it over your face. it isn’t really her thing, you’re always the one doing it for her and yourself. once she’s satisfied, she taps your legs and kisses your nose. your eyes flutter, giving her a lazy smile.

“ready for bed?”

“mhm”

“brush your teeth first” you groan and she smiles as she walks away, pulling the covers back and throwing extra pillows to the floor. by the time she’s cut all the nights off in the apartment and returned, you’re rinsing your mouth out with water. she notices you’re ever more clumsy than usual, knocking over a few things on the counter and almost tripping over your own feet before she catches you.

“c’mere baby,” paige motions you closer, picking you up and carrying you to your shared bedroom. she lays on her back with you on top of her still, never letting go.

her face nuzzles into your damp, freshly washed hair. your face buries itself into her neck, the slow thump of her pulse helping ground you to reality. you couldn’t ever remember a time being this drunk, but to be fair you couldn’t remember much of anything right now. just that you love paige, and paige loves you.

“hey wait, take this advil and drink some water before you pass out please.” you whine, obviously too comfortable to lift your head.

“no. don’t wanna.”

“for a kiss?”

“…..fine.”

ㅤᵕ̈⋆｡°✩`✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹✩°｡✮☾☼

just finished reading like 5 diff kate martin stories on wattpad guys

also this isn’t spell checked pls forgive me

[boydepartment]

three strikes - nishimura riki x fem! reader

a/n: HIIIIII this was a request from my 🧈 anon :3 i hope you love it my dear

warnings- jealousy! nothing insane tho, mostly fluff 😋 i added a small inside joke that riki would call ricky from zb1 “discount ricky” all jokes tho (pls don’t kill me)

wc- honestly over 750

MASTERLIST

“here.” you looked over to riki setting your drink down on the table, you looked up at him and smiled as he sat down across from you at the cafe table.

“did you-“

“ask for extra peppermint? yes. even though it’s gross..” riki mumbled, you giggled and sipped your hot coco. it was freezing cold at least to you and so the coco helped a lot.

“when is your project partner arriving?” riki mumbled, sipping his coffee.

you shrugged, “any minute.” setting your coco down riki watched you, he wasn’t necessarily happy over this whole project partner thing. riki knew your project partner, and safe to say he was just irritated by his presence. he didn’t know why, but he was just irked.

so when the OTHER ricky walked in, he just waved and watched as the other boy sat next to you.

“hey y/n!” he smiled, you grinned back at him.

“hey! it’s cold outside are you sure you’re bundled up enough?” you asked, grabbing your books. riki just decided to go on his phone to pass time.

“yeah! it’s crazy how quickly the weather changed huh? are you warm enough?”

you and ricky made small talk which didn’t bother your best friend. that was until one sentence.

“your hands are freezing y/n!”

riki’s eyes shot up to see the discount ricky’s hands on yours. if stares could kill a man, discount ricky would be six feet under.

“oh! yeah that’s why riki, well, my riki got me hot coco.” you let go of his hand and turned to your hot beverage.

nishimura riki would be lying if he said some pride didn’t bubble up inside him, which didn’t go unnoticed by the boy sitting next to you.

riki didn’t take notice and he went back on his phone, he just wanted your project to be over so he could walk back to the car with you and just be away from people. by people he meant discount ricky. this was strike one for his patience.

“i think we should work more on the details of the piece of art itself. like things that normal people look past in monet’s art. there’s a story everywhere.” you suggested, this art project was pretty big for your grade. and you were just relieved that your project partner agreed to do monet.

“that’s such a good idea y/n.” ricky smiled.

oh please riki thought to himself, at that point discount ricky should just get on his hands and knees and beg for your attention. that’d be way less embarrassing than kissing your ass at every little- wait what the hell

to riki’s horror, discount ricky, was readjusting your beanie so your hair didn’t get in your face. this pissed him off, strike two of his patience gone. riki was the one who spent HOURS trying to crochet you that beanie last year and now he’s going to have to make you another one because discount ricky’s grimy hands touched it! riki felt his eye twitch, he ended up making eye contact with the boy next to you. a smirk ghosting his features.

riki wanted to kick his shin under the table or maybe throw his hot coffee-

“i think we should also choose one of monet’s less known works aswe- oh ouch…” you mumbled rubbing your hands, whenever you wrote or sketched too long your hands would hurt. riki always took notice of this so he looked up proper hand massages- safe to say he could be certified- WHAT THE SHIT?

discount ricky grabbed your hands and started massaging them.

strike three

“can you get your hands off her?!” riki finally snapped, “god at this point it’s revolting! i’m right in front of both of you!”

your eyes widened as you watched you best friend actually lose his temper, yeah you’d seen him bicker but this was different.

“what are you two dating?” ricky asked, if you were in a tv show you’d see the angry lightening bolt hit both of them. this was not good, you quickly packed your bags and grabbed your best friend. apologizing to your project partner.

“what’s his fucking problem?!” riki stomped through the fresh snow to your car.

“what’s his problem?! what’s your problem? what the hell was that?! are you okay?!” you had a million questions. and they were flying out.

“i- what- how is this my fault!? he had his grimy discount ricky hands all over you! only i’m allowed to do that as your best friend!”

it was really hard to take him seriously as you finally got to the car laughing. you leaned against the hood trying to catch your breath.

“y/n this isn’t funny!” he stood right next to you.

you finally caught your breath, “i’m sorry where did the nickname discount ricky come from?”

“well obviously i’m the better one way more deserving of, um hello, touching your hair, massaging your hands because im youtube certified, AND THE COLD HANDS THING?! he was flirting with you shamelessly in front of me!” riki swung his arms around like a crazy person trying to explain that the end was near.

your hat fell slightly as you laughed again which riki fixed gently before speaking again, “then he’d smirk at me like he knew he was getting on my nerves! like that discount version of ME KNEW HE WAS MAKING ME ANGRY!”

“should i take my hat off and give you sanitizer? since you touched my discount ricky infected beanie?” you asked, unlocking the car and throwing your backpack in the back. you turned around and bumped into riki.

“actually yeah take off that hat. i will sanitize it and crochet you a new one.” riki grabbed the hat off your head and gave you his own beanie.

“should i sanitize my hands too?” you asked giggling, going to open your door but slipping on black ice.

riki immediately caught you, “um guess who couldn’t catch you- discount ricky. i’m clearly better for you so.”

you started laughing again, hitting his chest playfully, “you’re acting like a jealous boyfriend.”

“is that a bad thing?” riki asked quickly, suddenly unsure of himself.

you shook your head no, “it’s cute.”

riki smiled down at you; it was obvious he was at least a little smug.

“you know what he didn’t contaminate?” you asked, still giggling, your eyes flickered from riki’s eyes to his lips. immediately he got the hint and took his chance.

discount ricky is out and nishimura riki hit a home run

[chiyuuchu]

Can u do a bakugou best friend with reader (but he likes her….)

I. so close yet so far <3 (5th August 2024)

Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

Prompt! The all time favorite of best friends to lovers trope

a/n my first ever ask! I’m so happy!!

second part here!

Bakugou Katsuki had known Y/N since they were kids. They had grown up together, attended the same schools, and now, they were both students at U.A. High. Their bond was strong, forged through countless shared experiences, secrets, and laughter. Y/N was bubbly, carefree, and had a quirk that matched her personality perfectly—Bubble. She could create bubbles that could either imprison people or objects or explode with a force that rivaled Bakugou’s own explosive quirk.

Bakugou, on the other hand, was intense, driven, and fiercely protective of Y/N. Somewhere along the way, his feelings for her had evolved from mere friendship to something deeper. But he kept these feelings buried, afraid that confessing might ruin the perfect relationship they already had.

Their classmates often saw them together, and it wasn't long before they started to notice Bakugou's subtle affections.

"Dude, have you ever noticed how Bakugou is always with Y/N?" Kaminari whispered to Kirishima one day during lunch.

Kirishima nodded. "Yeah, it's pretty obvious he's got a thing for her. But I don't think Y/N has a clue."

"Well, they're best friends," Mina added, joining the conversation. "But do best friends really sleep together all the time and share clothes?"

The trio watched as Y/N bounced over to Bakugou, wearing one of his old t-shirts. She greeted him with a bright smile, and he responded with a rare, genuine smile of his own.

As the days passed, Bakugou’s friends became more convinced that he had feelings for Y/N. They decided to subtly encourage him to confess, but Bakugou was torn. He valued their friendship too much to risk losing it.

One evening, the Bakusquad was hanging out in the common room, and the conversation turned to relationships.

"Bakugou, do you like anyone?" Mina asked, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

Bakugou scoffed. "None of your business, Pinky."

Kirishima nudged him playfully. "Come on, man. You can tell us. We’re your friends."

Bakugou hesitated, glancing at Y/N, who was laughing with Jirou across the room. He sighed internally, feeling the weight of his secret crush.

"It's complicated," he muttered. "I don't want to mess things up."

Kaminari leaned in, whispering, "But do you really think Y/N doesn't feel the same way? She spends so much time with you. Maybe she’s just waiting for you to make the first move."

Bakugou clenched his fists, frustration boiling inside him. He knew his friends were right, but the fear of ruining their friendship held him back.

Later that night, Bakugou found himself outside Y/N's dorm room. She opened the door, her face lighting up when she saw him.

"Hey, Katsuki! What’s up?"

He stepped inside, closing the door behind him. "We need to talk."

Y/N’s smile faded slightly, replaced by a look of concern. "Is everything okay?"

Bakugou took a deep breath, his heart pounding. "Yeah, it’s just... I need to tell you something important."

Y/N sat down on her bed, patting the spot next to her. "Okay, I’m listening."

Bakugou sat down, struggling to find the right words. "We've been best friends for a long time, right?"

Y/N nodded, her eyes wide with curiosity. "Of course. You’re my best friend, Katsuki."

He looked into her eyes, feeling a mixture of fear and hope. "Yeah, and that's the problem. I don’t want to mess things up."

Y/N looked confused. "Mess things up? What do you mean?"

Bakugou glanced around the room, feeling the pressure build. He had the perfect opportunity, but his nerves got the best of him.

"I... I just wanted to say thanks. For always being there for me," he said quickly, standing up. "You know, I don’t say it enough."

Y/N smiled, relief washing over her face. "Oh, Katsuki. You know I'll always be here for you. You don’t have to thank me."

Bakugou nodded, avoiding her gaze. "Yeah, well... I should get going. Training and all."

Y/N stood up, giving him a quick hug. "Take care, Katsuki."

He left her room, cursing himself for not taking the chance. But as he walked back to his own dorm, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he had made the right choice. For now, their friendship would remain as it was—strong, unbroken, and precious.

Late at night in the quiet of the U.A. dorms, Bakugou Katsuki lay in his bed, drifting between sleep and wakefulness. The room was dark, illuminated only by the soft glow of the moonlight filtering through the curtains. Just as he was about to slip into a deeper sleep, he heard a soft knock on his door.

"Katsuki?" came a trembling voice from the other side. "Are you awake?"

Bakugou immediately recognized the voice. He sat up, rubbing his eyes. "Yeah, come in."

The door creaked open, revealing Y/N standing there with a worried expression. She hesitated for a moment before stepping inside, closing the door behind her.

"What's wrong?" Bakugou asked, concern lacing his voice.

"I... I had a nightmare," Y/N admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "I couldn't sleep, and I didn’t want to be alone."

Bakugou's heart softened. He patted the space next to him on the bed. "Come here."

Y/N walked over and climbed into his bed, nestling close to him. Bakugou wrapped his arms around her, holding her gently. He could feel her trembling, her breath shaky.

"You're safe now," he murmured, stroking her hair. "It was just a dream."

Y/N nodded, taking comfort in his presence. "Thank you, Katsuki. You're always here for me."

Bakugou tightened his hold on her, trying to ignore the pang of longing in his chest. "Of course, I am. I'll always be here for you."

Y/N snuggled closer, her breathing slowly evening out. "You're the best friend ever, Katsuki. I don’t know what I’d do without you."

Bakugou forced a smile, even though she couldn't see it. "Yeah... best friend."

As Y/N drifted back to sleep, Bakugou stared at the ceiling, his mind racing. He wanted to tell her how much she meant to him, how his feelings for her went far beyond friendship. But as he held her close, he realized that, for now, just being there for her was enough.

"Sleep well, Y/N," he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. "I'll always protect you."

Bakugou stood at the edge of the training field, his arms crossed over his chest as he watched Y/N and Uraraka spar. Y/N’s quirk, Bubble Burst, created shimmering, iridescent bubbles that floated around her, each one capable of popping into small explosions or trapping her opponent. Uraraka was giving it her all, using her Zero Gravity quirk to dodge and counter, but it was clear Y/N was holding her own.

Bakugou's eyes never left Y/N. He watched as she skillfully manipulated her bubbles, creating an almost mesmerizing display of light and color. Her face was lit up with determination, her movements fluid and confident. She was strong, capable, and everything he admired in a hero.

Yet, despite the pride swelling in his chest, there was an ache deep inside him. She was right there, so close, yet she felt so far out of reach. Every time she laughed or smiled, he felt his heart clench with the weight of unspoken words.

Uraraka managed to float over a particularly large bubble, giving Y/N a playful grin. "You're really good at this, Y/N! I can barely keep up!"

Y/N laughed, her eyes sparkling. "Thanks, Ochaco! You've gotten faster too!"

Bakugou clenched his fists, trying to suppress the torrent of emotions that threatened to overwhelm him. He wanted to be the one sparring with her, the one making her laugh, the one she turned to when she needed support. But every time he thought about telling her how he felt, the fear of ruining what they had held him back.

He watched as Y/N created a series of bubbles that surrounded Uraraka, who quickly floated out of their reach, laughing. Y/N’s expression was one of pure joy and concentration, and it took everything in Bakugou to not march over there and pull her into his arms.

"Hey, Bakugou!" Kirishima called from behind him, pulling him out of his thoughts. "You okay? You've been staring pretty hard."

Bakugou turned to face his friend, his usual scowl in place. "I'm fine, idiot. Just making sure they’re training right."

Kirishima raised an eyebrow, but didn’t press the issue. "Alright, if you say so. Wanna join in?"

Bakugou shook his head. "Not right now."

As Kirishima walked away, Bakugou turned his attention back to Y/N. She was closer now, laughing with Uraraka as they took a break from sparring. Her laughter was like a melody he could never tire of, and her smile was the light in his often-dark world.

All he ever wanted was right in front of him, yet he couldn’t bring himself to reach out and take it. The distance between them wasn’t measured in steps, but in unspoken words and unshared feelings.

One day, maybe, he’d find the courage to bridge that gap. But for now, he would remain where he was, watching her from afar, content with the knowledge that she was happy.

Even if it meant his own heart ached with the weight of longing.

The semester break had finally arrived, and Y/N found herself at the Bakugou residence, a place that felt like a second home. Mitsuki Bakugou, Katsuki’s mother, greeted her with a warm hug as she walked through the door.

“Y/N! It’s been too long!” Mitsuki beamed. “Come in, come in! We’re just setting the table for dinner.”

Y/N smiled, feeling the familiar comfort of the Bakugou household. “Thank you, Mitsuki. It’s great to be here.”

Katsuki’s father, Masaru, gave her a gentle nod as she entered the dining room. “Welcome, Y/N. It’s always a pleasure to have you here.”

Dinner was lively, filled with laughter and reminiscing about old times. Mitsuki loved teasing Katsuki, and tonight was no different. As they finished their meal and settled into the living room, Mitsuki’s curiosity got the better of her.

“So, Y/N,” Mitsuki began with a mischievous grin, “have you got any crushes at school?”

Y/N blushed, shaking her head. “No, not really. I’m not interested in anyone right now. I’m happy just having Katsuki around.”

Katsuki, who was sipping his drink, nearly choked. He tried to hide his flustered reaction, but his reddening ears gave him away. Mitsuki laughed, patting Y/N on the back.

“That’s sweet,” she said. “You two have always been close.”

Later that night, after the lights were dimmed and the house had settled into a comfortable silence, Katsuki found himself wide awake. Y/N was fast asleep in his bed, and he couldn’t stop thinking about his feelings for her. He slipped out of the room quietly, heading to the kitchen for a glass of water, only to find his father there, sipping tea at the table.

“Can’t sleep?” Masaru asked, looking up at his son.

Katsuki sighed, sitting down across from him. “Yeah, something like that.”

Masaru took another sip of his tea before speaking. “You know, Katsuki, it’s clear you care about Y/N a lot. If you really like her, you should tell her.”

Katsuki looked away, his fists clenching slightly. “What if she doesn’t feel the same? I don’t want to ruin what we have.”

Masaru gave him a gentle, understanding look. “You can’t control her feelings, son. But you owe it to yourself to be honest. If she doesn’t feel the same way, she won’t abandon you. You’ve been friends for too long. She values you, just as you value her.”

Katsuki sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s just... hard.”

“I know it is,” Masaru said softly. “But you’re strong, Katsuki. And no matter what happens, you’ll get through it.”

Katsuki nodded, feeling a bit more resolved. “Thanks, Dad.”

As he headed back to his room, he paused at the door, watching Y/N sleep peacefully in his bed. He knew he needed to tell her how he felt, but for now, he was content to let her rest, to savor these quiet moments of just being close.

He climbed back into bed carefully, lying down beside her. As he watched her breathe softly, he thought about his father’s words. Maybe one day, he’d find the courage to tell her. But for now, he’d cherish what they had, hoping that when the time came, he’d be ready to take that leap.

Late one evening, Bakugou lay sprawled on his bed, absently scrolling through the 1A group chat. His thumb paused over a string of messages from the girls:

Ochaco: "Did you hear? Some guy from Class 1B asked Y/N out!"

Mina: "Omg, I know! Do you think she went?"

Jirou: "She didn't mention anything to me. Maybe she kept it a secret."

Hagakure: "Why would she keep it a secret? This is huge news!"

Bakugou's grip tightened on his phone. Why hadn't Y/N told him? They always shared everything. Well, almost everything. His mind raced, picturing Y/N on a date with some random guy. The thought gnawed at him, unsettling him in ways he couldn't quite understand.

He tossed his phone aside and lay back, glaring at the ceiling. "Stupid," he muttered under his breath, reaching for his headphones and queuing up his playlist of intense, brooding music. As the heavy beats filled his ears, he tried to drown out his thoughts, but they only grew louder, replaying every interaction he'd had with Y/N over the years.

Hours later, just as he was about to drift into a fitful sleep, his door burst open. Y/N stood there, slightly out of breath, a puzzled look on her face.

"Katsuki, what's wrong? Why are you listening to this... emo music?" she asked, stepping into his room.

He sat up abruptly, pulling off his headphones. "How was your date?" he blurted out, his tone sharper than he intended.

Y/N blinked, clearly taken aback. "Date? What are you talking about?"

"The guy from Class 1B," Bakugou said, trying to keep his voice steady. "You know, the one who asked you out."

Y/N tilted her head, genuinely confused. "Oh, that. I didn't go."

Bakugou shot up from his bed, his shock evident. "Why not?"

She shrugged casually, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "I don't know. It's hard to find someone compatible with me, I guess."

Bakugou stared at her, his emotions a whirlwind of relief and confusion. "You... didn't want to go?"

Y/N shook her head, a small smile playing on her lips. "Nope. I'd rather spend my time with people I care about. Like you."

Bakugou felt a weight lift off his chest, but he couldn't let his guard down completely. He scoffed, trying to mask his relief. "You're such a pain, you know that?"

Y/N laughed, moving closer and plopping down on the edge of his bed. "Yeah, but you wouldn't have it any other way."

He couldn't help but smirk, shaking his head. "Yeah, yeah. Just don't keep stuff from me, okay?"

She nodded, her eyes sincere. "Promise."

As they settled into a comfortable silence, Bakugou felt a newfound sense of hope. Maybe one day, he’d find the courage to tell her how he really felt. But for now, he was content to just have her by his side.

The next day, Bakugou found himself sitting with the Bakusquad in the common room. Kirishima, Kaminari, Mina, Sero, and Jirou were lounging around, chatting about their latest training sessions. But as soon as Bakugou entered the room, their attention shifted.

Kirishima grinned, nudging Bakugou with his elbow. "Hey, man. How’s it going with Y/N?"

Bakugou rolled his eyes, leaning back in his chair. "We're best friends, nothing more. It can't go anywhere."

The group exchanged concerned glances. Mina was the first to speak up, her tone gentle but firm. "Dude, since nobody is gonna say it then I will. You do realise that best friends don’t casually do the things you two do."

Kaminari nodded in agreement. "Yeah, like sleeping over all the time in the same bed, sharing clothes, spending every second together…"

Sero raised an eyebrow, smirking slightly. "You two are practically inseparable."

Jirou leaned forward, her expression serious. "Have you ever considered that maybe she feels the same way about you?"

Bakugou's eyes narrowed. "We’re just best friends. She said she’s not interested in anyone."

Mina sighed, crossing her arms. "People don’t just do all those things with someone they don’t have feelings for. You’re special to her, Bakugou."

Kirishima put a hand on Bakugou’s shoulder, his voice earnest. "You need to be honest with yourself, man. Don’t let fear hold you back."

Bakugou stared at his friends, their words swirling in his mind. He knew they were right, but the fear of losing Y/N’s friendship if she didn’t feel the same way was too much to bear.

"We’ve been best friends our whole lives," Bakugou muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. "I don’t want to ruin that."

Jirou gave him a sympathetic look. "But what if you’re missing out on something even better?"

The room fell silent as Bakugou contemplated their words. He knew he needed to figure this out, for his sake and Y/N’s. But for now, he would have to gather the courage to take that first step.

The dorms were buzzing with excitement as the girls of Class 1-A gathered for a girls' night. Mina, Jirou, Ochaco, Tsuyu, Momo, Hagakure, and Y/N were settled in Y/N’s room, surrounded by snacks, blankets, and the latest gossip.

After a lot of giggling and chatting about their latest adventures and crushes, Mina leaned forward, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "So, Y/N, do you like anyone?"

Y/N shook her head, smiling softly. "I’m not really interested in dating right now. I’m fine with just having my best friend, Bakugou."

Jirou raised an eyebrow. "Really? No one has caught your eye?"

Y/N shrugged. "It’s hard to find someone who’s the same standard as him. He’s...special."

Mina exchanged a knowing look with Jirou before asking, "Why not just go for Bakugou then?"

Y/N laughed, shaking her head. "We’re just best friends."

Before she could say anything else, Hagakure chimed in, her voice filled with curiosity. "But best friends don’t usually do what you two do. You know, like sleeping over all the time in the same bed, sharing clothes, and more things I could add to the list."

Ochaco nodded in agreement. "Yeah, it sounds like there's more there than just friendship."

Tsuyu added, "Maybe what you’ve been looking for is right beside you."

Y/N blinked, a thoughtful expression crossing her face. "I... I never really thought about it like that."

Y/N found herself unable to focus. The words from last night’s conversation with the girls echoed in her mind. She sat on the sidelines, watching Bakugou spar with Kirishima. His movements were precise, his strength and determination evident in every punch and kick. She couldn't help but notice how well they complemented each other, how perfect he seemed.

As she watched, she found herself checking him out, admiring his toned muscles and the intensity in his eyes. A blush crept up her cheeks as she realized she was thinking about Bakugou in a way she never had before.

Lost in her thoughts, she didn’t notice Izuku approaching until he spoke. "Y/N, are you okay?"

Startled, she jumped slightly and turned to face him. "Oh, Izuku! You scared me." Izuku Midoriya was another one of her childhood friends whom she grew up with along with Bakugou.

Izuku gave her a concerned look. "Sorry about that. You seemed really deep in thought. Is everything alright?"

Y/N nodded, trying to shake off her flustered state. "Yeah, I’m fine. Just...thinking."

Izuku raised an eyebrow. "About what?"

Y/N glanced back at Bakugou, who was still sparring with Kirishima, and sighed. "Just...stuff."

Izuku followed her gaze and then looked back at her, a knowing smile forming on his lips. "Does this 'stuff' have anything to do with Kacchan?"

Y/N’s blush deepened, and she looked away. "Maybe."

Izuku chuckled softly. "You know, you two have always had something special. Maybe it’s time you both saw it too."

Izuku’s smile grew softer as he noticed Y/N’s reaction. “You know, Kacchan always been fond of you,” he said casually, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Y/N turned to him, her eyes widening in surprise. “What do you mean?”

Izuku looked thoughtful for a moment before continuing. “I’ve known you both for a long time, and I’ve seen how he’s always been there for you. Even when we were kids, he would get really protective of you. It’s like he always wanted to make sure you were safe and happy.”

Y/N blinked, absorbing his words. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Izuku nodded. “He never says much about his feelings, but he’s always been the first one to help when you needed it. He just never lets his guard down, so it���s easy to miss. But I’ve noticed.”

Y/N’s heart fluttered at the thought. “I had no idea. I always thought he was just being his usual abrasive self.”

Izuku chuckled. “That’s his way of showing he cares. He might act tough, but he’s got a big heart, especially when it comes to you. You’ve always been important to him.”

Y/N glanced back at Bakugou, who was finishing up his sparring match. Her thoughts were racing, piecing together the moments they had shared over the years in a new light. “Maybe I should talk to him.”

Izuku smiled encouragingly. “I think that’s a good idea. Just remember, it’s okay to be open about your feelings too.”

Y/N nodded, feeling a mix of nervousness and excitement. “Thanks, Izuku. I’ll think about it.”

Izuku gave her a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “Anytime. Good luck.”

As the days went by, the rest of Class 1-A couldn’t help but notice Y/N’s noticeably different behavior around Bakugou. It started subtly but quickly became apparent to everyone.

Mina, always quick to pick up on changes, nudged Kirishima during lunch. “Hey, have you noticed Y/N and Bakugou lately?”

Kirishima glanced over at the two. Y/N was laughing at something Bakugou said, a genuine, warm smile on her face. Bakugou, for once, seemed less gruff and more at ease. “Yeah, I see what you mean. They’ve been talking a lot more and… she looks really happy around him.”

Jirou, who was sitting nearby with her headphones around her neck, added, “I noticed that too. Y/N’s always been close with Bakugou, but recently, it’s like she’s more… attentive? I don’t know how to describe it.”

Hagakure, who was peering curiously from behind a book, chimed in, “And Bakugou’s not being his usual loud self around her. He’s actually listening to what she says and even laughing.”

Momo, who had been quietly observing, nodded thoughtfully. “It’s as if there’s a new dynamic between them. I wonder if something happened?”

As they continued to discuss, Y/N and Bakugou finished their conversation and walked toward their seats. Y/N’s face was slightly flushed, and Bakugou had a rare, relaxed smile.

Mina leaned over to Kirishima. “I bet something’s going on. We should find out what’s up.”

Kirishima grinned. “Definitely. It looks like our two friends might be getting closer. And judging by the way they’re acting, I wouldn’t be surprised if there’s something more going on.”

Jirou laughed softly. “I think you’re right. It’s about time they figured it out.”

As Y/N and Bakugou settled into their seats, the rest of Class 1-A exchanged knowing glances, eager to see where this new development would lead.

[struggling-with-drivers]

People Watching - Lando Norris

⋗ Pairing - Lando Norris x Reader

⋗ Summary - You've never been in love, at least you don't think you have

⋗ Word count - 2k words, fluff, [Requested by Anon]

⋗ Masterlist - requests are open, this was just a short cute idea I had on my mind after getting a request. Feedback and reblogs are appreciated

You’re enjoying a nice lunch with Lando. He has a lot of things to be doing after, but for now. It’s just the two of you, a set of good friends. Your eyes wander over his face, a soft look of concentration is on his face as he tries to take pictures of you and your lunch. The way his lips are slightly strained, as he keeps fiddling with his camera. Then he rearranges your glasses, and then he puts them back, before rearranging them once more. 

“Do you need help?” You ask, a small laugh bubbling in your throat, as he can’t seem to get the shot he wants.

“No no, just keep sitting there, you look good!” He chirps up, quickly dismissing the thought of you moving from the pose he instructed you into. 

Your laugh finally makes it way past your lips, at the absurdity of the scene, your eyes close as the flash goes off once more. You don’t notice how Lando mutters, got it, nor how he takes a few more just for his enjoyment. 

“Time to dig in.” Lando scrambles to sit down and stuffs his mouth with his slightly cold food. 

You stick a bit to your food, but your gaze falls out onto the crowd of people navigating outside. So many couples are spread across the grid as all the fans gather to get a closer look at the cars. Despite your perspective from above, the thing most glaring to you seems to be all the hands clasped into others. 

“How long do you think they’ve been together?” 

“What?” Lando looks up from his plate of food, trying to follow your gaze, but he gets lost in the crowd of people immediately, not at all being able to figure out where your eyes are looking. 

“The elderly couple.” You say, as though it’s the most obvious thing, as though there aren’t multiple, as though you and Lando didn’t call Max Verstappen and his girlfriend an elderly couple last weekend, despite Max barely being 2.5 years older than Lando and less than 2 years older than you. 

“Three days.” Lando says, voice full of conviction, “They actually met this Tuesday and have had the wildest sex for 3 days straight, before any of their children realise that their parents are missing from the nursery home.” 

You snort loudly, accidentally getting soda into your nose, making Lando laugh with you, as you struggle to breathe. 

After recovering from your soda mishap, you wipe your nose with a napkin, still chuckling. Lando grins mischievously, taking a sip of his drink as he watches you with amusement.

“Smooth move, right?” he teases, referring to his imaginative tale about the elderly couple. “I mean, who wouldn't want a love story like that? Beats the usual 'met in high school and got married' scenario.”

You both share another round of laughter, the casual banter making the lunch even more enjoyable.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been in love.” You sigh wistfully as you glance down at the crowd of people once more. “Not seriously. I mean, I’ve had a fling here and there, and a few you don’t know about.”

“Ouch.” Lando mocks being hurt, as he throws a piece of lettuce in your direction. Missing you completely. He’s an excellent driver, but a terrible thrower. You’re suddenly elated that he never became a handball athlete or a basketball player. 

“I just mean, I’ve never had that big grand love moment, you know. Nobody has ever done any big gestures, I’ve never had fireworks go off during a kiss. Never pictured that American suburban picket fence dream, you know?” You rattle off as Lando leans his head to the side. You can see the grin on his face before the words leave his mouth. 

“And here I thought you loved me,” he throws another piece of lettuce in your direction. It lands on your plate, and you cock an eyebrow at him, very unimpressed. “I don’t think I know anyone else that would get up at 3 am just to make the world's worst pancakes, all because it’s some pancake holiday, and I had to be out of the door at 5 am.”

The memory of that early morning springs vividly to your mind, and you can't help but chuckle at the recollection.

The night before Pancake Day, you meticulously planned your pancake surprise for Lando. You envisioned a perfect morning: the smell of freshly made pancakes wafting through the air, the joy on Lando's face as he discovered the delightful breakfast you had prepared just for him. However, the universe had other plans.

At 3 am, you tiptoed into the kitchen, trying your best to be as quiet as a ninja. Armed with a box of pancake mix, a whisk, and an optimistic spirit, you were ready to conquer the culinary world for the sake of surprising your friend.

The kitchen was dimly lit, and you moved with caution, not wanting to wake anyone up. As you began mixing the ingredients, you felt a surge of determination. This was going to be the breakfast surprise of the century. You even hummed a little tune as you worked, believing that love and effort could conquer any culinary challenge.

However, in your sleepy stupor, you made a crucial mistake. The sugar and salt containers looked eerily similar in the low light, and without double-checking, you confidently poured what you thought was sugar into the mix. Little did you know, you had just set the stage for a disastrous flavour profile.

Undeterred, you moved on, mistakenly grabbing the baking powder instead of the baking soda. As you mixed the concoction, the batter started to take on an unusual texture, but you pressed on, convinced that your culinary masterpiece was just a few flips away.

With the batter ready, you heated the pan and poured the first pancake, envisioning its perfect golden-brown finish. However, the sizzle that followed was more like a hiss, and the kitchen started to fill with an unpleasant aroma. You tried to fan away the smoke, hoping that the burnt scent wouldn't reach Lando's bedroom.

Unfortunately, fate had other plans. As the smoke thickened, a piercing sound echoed through the apartment – the unmistakable wail of the smoke detector. Panic set in, and you rushed to open windows, waving a towel at the alarm, and desperately trying to save the surprise.

Meanwhile, Lando stirred in his sleep, disturbed by the cacophony of the smoke detector. He stumbled out of his bedroom, bleary-eyed and disoriented, only to find you amid your culinary chaos, smoke billowing around you.

“Ah, Pancake Day,” you say with a grin. “I thought it would be a fantastic idea to surprise you with a breakfast feast before your busy day. On the other hand, I gave you a free day off from having to sit in on a bunch of meetings.”

“Yeah, because my house nearly burnt down, and a bunch of firefighters showed up.” Lando waves his fork at you. “I doubt a lot of other people would have done that.”

“Tried to burn down your flat?” You mock him, as you flick the piece of lettuce back to his plate. 

He laughs, shaking his head. You’re missing his point, but he’s also not attempting to make it clearer for you. 

“What about when I stay up with you on the phone, because a sale is starting past midnight, but you’re barely holding it together and it’s not even 10 pm? Isn’t that an act of love?” He asks, but he leaves no room for you to answer his question as he goes back to eating. 

Lando can’t see the storm that’s slowly brewing behind your eyes, as you go over memories of your friendship. All the small things you do for each other. All the time you spend together. 

As the memories flood your mind, you find yourself caught in a whirlwind of emotions. The snippets of shared moments and small gestures between you and Lando become a cherished montage.

There's the time when he surprised you with a playlist of your favourite songs on a day when you were feeling down, the carefully curated mix capturing the essence of your friendship. You remember the genuine joy on his face as he handed over the playlist, completely aware of how much music meant to you.

Then, there are the instances when you stayed up late into the night, listening to his racing stories and sharing in his victories and disappointments. You recall the laughter and camaraderie that transcended the distance, making those late-night conversations a treasured part of your connection.

Lando smirks mischievously as he eyes the last bite of your dessert.

"Mind if I grab that last piece? You know I need the extra energy for my thrilling life as a driver."

You narrow your eyes at him, holding the fork protectively. "Oh, please. The only thrill you get is trying to beat me at Mario Kart."

He chuckles, leaning back in his chair. "I'll have you know that being a Mario Kart champion requires skill and precision. It's practically a training regimen for the racetrack."

You scoff, taking a deliberate bite of the dessert. "Skill and precision? Last time I checked, you kept getting stuck in the void on Rainbow Road."

"That was a strategic move. I needed a better view of the stars," he replies with a grin, trying to swipe the fork again.

You playfully slap his hand away. "Nice try, but you're not getting this last piece. I already had to fight off your trainer once this month, because you keep stealing my food."

Lando feigns offence, placing a hand over his heart. "Are you saying I don't have the physique of a finely tuned athlete?"

"I'm saying you have the physique of someone who eats all the desserts that aren’t meant for finely-tuned athletes," you retort, 

He leans in, a playful glint in his eyes. "Well, at least I can burn it off on the track. What's your excuse?"

You raise an eyebrow. "I burn calories, dodging your attempts to steal my food. It's a full-body workout, really."

"Fair enough. But mark my words, next time we play Mario Kart, you won't stand a chance." Lando laughs, shaking his head. 

"Bring it on, slowpoke. I'll be waiting with banana peels and blue shells," you challenge, finishing the dessert triumphantly, savouring the last bite right in front of him. Silence falls as he starts typing on his phone, and your mind gets distracted by what he said earlier.

As Lando mentioned, the nights when he stood by you during stressful sales and business endeavours resurface in your mind. The unwavering support he offered, even when the clock struck midnight and exhaustion threatened to overwhelm you, painted a picture of love in the small actions.

And of course, there are the countless times when he'd spontaneously pop by with your favourite snacks or the coffee blend you adore, just because he remembered. Those little acts of consideration spoke volumes.

Lost in these memories, you realise that love comes in various forms. It's not always grand gestures or sweeping romantic moments. It's found in the everyday kindness, the shared laughter, and the unwavering support that defines your friendship with Lando.

A thought strikes you down.

Do you love Lando?

Lando glances up from his phone, sensing the shift in the atmosphere. He meets your gaze, and there's a silent understanding between you. In that moment, surrounded by the echoes of shared laughter, failed pancake attempts, and genuine care, you realise that love, in its purest form, is already present in the beautiful tapestry of your friendship with Lando.

An even more terrifying thought hits you as he looks at you with that soft smile and those shiny eyes. 

Does Lando love you?

⋗ a/n - thank you for reading this, I had a lot of fun writing this small piece, it was just pure fluff and enjoyment

[bouncybongfairy]

Late Night At Fazbear's

Mike Schmidt x Fem Reader

Summary: Mike is an ex-coworker with whom you have a situationship with. Knowing about your interest in arcade games, he invites you to visit him at an abandoned pizzeria to check it out. Things get a little heated before you get a chance to look around.

Word Count: 2.5k+

(!This is a smut fanfic, you’ve been warned!)

<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3

You were working on some last-minute statistics homework after you got out of the shower. It was a Friday night and even though you got an offer from your friend group to go out, you decided to stay home. Going to house party after party was getting annoying. Half the time, the only people there were drunk frat boys trying to get some before their whiskey dick kicked in. Being a wing girl for your friends was fun the first thirty times but now you’d rather stay home. Things in your life seemed so stagnant, it was like all you did was school, work, then bumming it at home. Like you were some uncharismatic dad in a sitcom. Suddenly your phone goes off, which breaks you out of the trance you were in. When you answered, you immediately recognized the voice to be Mike from the pizza place you guys used to work at together. You thought it was kinda weird that he was calling you so randomly but you did talk often when working together. For reasons that still are unclear, you answered.

“Hey! Sorry I know this is- it’s kinda random but can you talk for a second?” his voice spoke over the receiver. 

“Yeah, I’m just hanging out at home. What’s up?” you asked, now standing up to pace around your room. 

“Oh cool cool, so kinda weird to explain but bear with me here. Remember how you were super obsessed with the old arcade games we had in the back of the pizza shop? Anyway, I got this new job at an old pizzeria and there’s a bunch of old games and animatronics. I was thinking while I’m working the graveyard shift you could maybe swing by for an hour or two and check it out with me?” His voice was so sweet and soft-spoken that you couldn’t help but blush over the phone. You coiled your finger around the wire of the landline. 

“Umm, yeah that sounds kinda fun actually, when are you there till?” you asked with a hint of a smirk on your face. 

“My shift starts at 12 am and ends at 6 am, no pressure. Obviously, I’ll be here all night,” he laughed.

“Yeah, I’ll call you right before I leave okay?” you asked softly. 

“Yeah that’s perfect, I’ll see you then,” he said. 

You put the phone back on its hook and check the time on your alarm clock. To your dismay, you’d been studying for two hours and it was 10:50. Luckily you’d already showered but that wasn’t the problem. Internally, you were going through a moral dilemma. Part of you was telling yourself that he was just a coworker that got attached and another part, wanted to do your hair and make-up and hair before going. Making sure that every strand sat just right as if he’d somehow notice. To make sure your eyelashes have the exact amount of mascara they need to be long but not clumpy. If you thought all these things, wouldn’t that mean you do care what he thinks of you? Although you were bubbling with a mix of nervousness and anticipation, you managed to finish getting ready. You start packing your bag, pacing around looking for all your items. Car keys, pocket knife, compact, body spray, and your wallet. As you went to take the cartoon of cigarettes from your bedside table, you thought about taking the joint that was rolled. Sitting on your knees in front of your nightstand, you start dialing Mike’s number to let him know you are on the way. After shoving all the contents into the bag, you make your way outside and start your Mazda. You were sitting in the car for a few moments, thinking about if you were really going. 

Once you pulled into the parking lot, thoughts of regret started to bubble in your brain. You would have turned around if it weren’t for Mike’s car being in the parking lot. You checked the time on the radio and saw that it was only 12:57, was it weird that you were there so early? You were slightly worried that it would look desperate. Deciding to let that unneeded anxiety go, you get out of the car and lock your doors. Take a moment to take in the outside of the building. It appeared to be severely unkempt, brown vines covered most of the building. Due to the unsettling vibe of the building, the bear that was supposed to look cute and inviting was the exact opposite. Creating an ominous feeling as it waved at you. The walls were mostly a dull yellow color with red and blue accents and a black and white checkered line across the middle. One of the R’s of the sign was out, only adding to the sketchy feeling. You knocked on the big metal doors, wiping your knuckles off on your jeans. When Mike swung the door open, it made you jump and gasp. This caused him to break out into a fit of laughter. You playfully pushed his shoulder back. 

He took you back to the small room where he was monitoring all the security footage. The room was more creepy than the outside of the building. You sat down on the desk and Mike plopped down on his office chair. He was completely slouched back, wearing a gray thermal and a dark hooded sweater. His hair was more curly than shaggy and he had a five o’clock shadow. You set your purse on the desk and stood up, looking at the security cameras. One of the first things you noticed was the group of animatronics that were standing on the stage together. It was then that you realized what you really had gotten yourself into. 

He was surprised that you even came, yes you guys had become close while working together but he didn’t think it would lead to anything after. You were currently facing away from him, and he couldn’t help but admire you as you did so. He liked the fact that you were so well put together. Your jeans were fitted perfectly and your thong peaked out slightly from the top of your waistband. When you entered the small room, the entire space began to smell like apple-scented perfume. The white long sleeve was also very fitted, which brought attention to your figure. You turned around once you noticed it had been silent for a while. Grabbing your purse, you pull out the cartoon of cigs. Bringing the lighter to it and taking a drag to light it. After taking a couple of puffs you pass it to Mike who leans forward with a groan. As he took his hit, a piece of ash fell onto his pants. You leaned down and brushed it off his knee. 

“So much for cutting back right?” he asked rhetorically. 

“Oh yeah, I did switch to Spirits though. My grandma swore by these,” you said taking it back. 

“Do you smoke weed?” he asked, you laughed and started digging through your bag and pulled out the Altoids container, grabbing the joint. 

“Will you get in trouble? For like, smoking on the job?” you asked. 

“Oh no, this place is abandoned. There’s usually nobody in and out of here that would notice,” he said. 

You lit the joint and took a deep drag, blowing the smoke at his face playfully. He laughed as he took the joint into his hands and inhaled. You put the cig out on the glass ashtray that sat on the desk. He commented on how good the flower tasted which made you relieved knowing he didn’t think it was reggie. You guys started talking about memories of working together. You guys would always take smoke breaks together and go to lunch every once and a while. Mike actually listened to what you had to say. He wasn’t the type of person that constantly changed to a conversation with himself. A lot of guys you spoke with were usually just telling you whatever you wanted to hear. Everything you had to say was so fascinating and impressive because they were just trying to butter you up. Mike would actually give his opinions on things and would tell you if he thought what you were saying was stupid. It was refreshing, to be honest, to have an interaction with the opposite sex without them drooling on you. You glanced over at Mike, maybe it was the weed but something felt different now. The way his legs were spread so widely made something in you feel hot. Eyes were now bloodshot, making the hazel color stand out even more than before. When he reached for the joint again, his hand brushed over yours. This made you make eye contact with him but then break away once the awkwardness set in. You looked down and tucked a piece of hair behind your ear. 

“Are you still with Jackson?” he asked.

“What? Oh yeah, we broke up a while ago,” you said, rubbing your arm.

“Well, what happened? I mean… If you don’t mind me asking,” he said. 

“No it’s- he just..” you took a deep inhale and spoke as the smoke poured out of your mouth, “he was really aggressive like, not just with his words. Not saying he beat me or anything but some things are meant to be more sweet and gentle. Sorry, I don’t know why I'm telling you this,” you said, passing it back. 

“No, I’m the one who brought it up. He always was a little misogynistic when we talked, I’m sorry you were subjected to that,” he said. You were sitting on the desk, you kicked off your sandals and gently swung your legs back and forth. 

“Yeah, I guess it just wasn’t meant to be,” you sighed.

“For sure, you could do so much better than that,” he said. 

“Oh yeah? When you say better what do you mean by that?” you asked, leaning over to grab the joint. 

“Like if you said he was overly aggressive then you’ll find someone that is more gentle and shit,” he said, chuckling a little. 

“Oh, I see,” you moved your foot so that it was resting on his inner thigh before continuing, “Maybe you could show me?” you asked flirtatiously, he looked up and looked at you with a shocked expression. 

You used your leg to roll him closer to where you were sitting. He was now smirking, looking up at you. He let his hands slide up both your outer thighs. He pulled you off the desk so that you were now sitting in his lap facing him. You still had the joint in your hand, you took a hit before letting it sit on the ashtray. Your noses were touching and you were relieved to see that his breath was as fast as yours. Running your fingers through his hair, forcing his head to tilt back a little. You ran your bottom lip across his, arching your back and pressing your crotches together. He picked you up which caused you to wrap your legs around his waist. He set you on the desk again so that he was standing, hovering over you. You reached your hands down between your bodies, trying to unbuckle his belt. He stopped the kiss and chuckled at your eagerness and helped you. As you unzipped his jeans, one of his arms reached behind you and undid the clasps of your bra. The way he unhooked it with one hand made you throb. He pulled your shirt over your head, leaving you in nothing but jeans. He still had his jeans on but now that his pants were undone, you could feel how hard he was through his boxers. It was like the heat coming off his dick was making your stomach feel warm and tight. Before he buried his face into your chest, the look on his face was almost primal. Like it was taking everything he had to keep his hands off of you. He took one of your breasts into his mouth and sucked, biting down every once in a while. He reached into his backpack that was sitting on the desk and pulled out a condom. He was breathing heavily and a couple of drips of sweat were beading down his forehead. As you unzipped your jeans you looked over at the security camera and thought you saw one of the animatronics move from the stage. You pulled away for a second to show him,

“Mike, I know we smoked and everything. Oh my god, I know this is going to be crazy but I swear I just saw one of those… things moved,” you said as he trailed kisses up your shoulder.��

“This is my third day here and I think that all the time. It’s just your head playing tricks on us because of how creepy they look,” he said, then tearing the foil package open. 

“Are you sure because I could have..” you started but then were interrupted by Mike throwing the still-packaged condom onto the desk and pressing a button that made both doors close around you. He then got down on his knees and gripped the top of your jeans, pulling them down. Instead of trying to pull your panties off of you, he simply pulls them to the side. Sticking his tongue in between your folds, massaging your clit. You had been in a dry spell since you broke up with Jackson and even then, he would never go down on you. The feeling of his mouth pressed against you was so euphoric, the moans that came out of your mouth were completely natural and unrehearsed. His pace was slow but he kept a steady rhythm which helped you chase to your climax. Instead of pulling at his hair, you cupped his face, gently stroking his cheeks with your thumbs. He looked up and made direct eye contact with you. His eyebrows were furrowed but when he saw the look on your face, his eyes closed and he groaned loudly. He grabbed your ankles and pushed your legs back so that your feet were now on the desk. You grabbed two fistfuls of hair and threw your head back, moaning loudly. The pressure of the top of your thighs being pressed into your lower stomach. Crying out as you cum, the moans came out strangled. As you started to come down from the wave of ecstasy, you began to feel insecure about how fast he made you cum. 

“God you are so fucking hot, like seriously I almost came in my boxers,” he said standing up and grabbing the condom. His lips were parted and his mouth was still covered in saliva. Without wiping his mouth, he slid the rubber onto his shaft. 

“Sorry, do you want to keep going?” he asked, you didn’t verbally respond. Instead, you grabbed him by his shirt and smashed your mouth into his. He moaned the word ‘fuck’ into your mouth before continuing kissing. He broke away to look down and line himself up with your entrance. You were still wet and swollen from the previous orgasm, enabling him to slide in with you easily. He dropped his forehead down on your shoulder, mouth open and moaning as he slowly started rocking back and forth into you. You scooted your ass down so that you could fully be pressed against his hips. The desk was continuously banging up against the wall. Your foreheads were now pressed together groaning and growling into each other’s mouth. Everything suddenly came to a halt when everything went dark. You both jump and start looking for any articles of clothing that are nearby. The big metal doors on both sides of you slam open so loud, that your ears start ringing. 

“What the fuck just happened!” you exclaim.

“The battery died,” he realizes. 

“Well has that ever happened while you’re working?” you asked.

“No,” he stated. 

“Holy fuck, do you hear that fucking music?” you whispered. 

[stylesispunk]

Silent strain | part vii

Outbreak!Joel Miller x f!reader

previous chapter | next chapter

Summary: Time passes by, but Joel's feelings and the promises he has made to you are still lingering.

w.c: 9,6k

warnings: angst, harassment, mention of being hostage, mentions of blood, fluff. no proofreading. oh, there's a time jump.

a/n: Hello! This is the third chapter in a row that I don't feel satisfied with. I hope you like it though. Thank you so much for all the love you have given me with this one and I want to tell you that the next chapter will be the last one. I have some ideas for new fics, so I hope to have the strength to write. Thank you so much again and remember that Reblogs and comments are always appreciated. Happy reading.💌

dividers by @/saradika-graphics

I would go mad if something happens to you.

Months pass and life cycle moves. You couldn't even get used to the idea of it. Since you were a little girl you could notice the tree's leaves changing into brown and blossoming months after.

Time went too slow when you were a kid, but it went too fast when the world descended into madness.

It passed fast when you lose your parents.

It passed fast when you lost your sister to a mad man who bit her.

And it passed too slow when you cried to sleep hoping to find someone and kill the loneliness that consumed you.

You wouldn't have imagined that there would be a man and a daughter that would change the scary ending of a woman navigating into a mad world.

Now with Rosie growing up, you could see that time didn't forget, it pauses.

Spring blossomed, the heat of summer came and autumn leaves started falling on the ground.

And Rosie was seven months, she had become a source of happiness for you and Joel. You had got used to the normalcy Jackson provided, completely detached form the reality back at the QZ. Here, you could breathe without constantly looking over your shoulder. The peace felt surreal, as if Jackson existed in a bubble untouched by the chaos outside its walls. You found a rhythm in the days: waking up to Rosie’s soft coos, the gentle mornings spent together with Joel as you adjusted to the family life, you’d both never thought possible. And then there was Ellie, who’d become your family too, her bond with Rosie growing stronger with every passing day. It was as though the world had given you a second chance, a life that felt safe, a life you could finally call your own.

 But still, some nights you had to get up from bed and comfort Ellie from the guilt she felt and not being the chance of saving the world, at not being able to give Rosie a better world as she had promised you before she left to that hospital.

In those quiet, midnight hours, you would find Ellie sitting by the window, looking out into the dark, her expression shadowed by a weight that hadn’t left her since her return.

She held Rosie close, as if this little piece of innocence could somehow soothe the burdens she carried. And every time, you would gently place a hand on her shoulder, grounding her back to the present.

“Ellie, you’ve given her everything she needs—a world where she can grow up safe, with people who love her,” you’d say, your voice soft but steady. “That’s more than most people get in this life. You saved her, Ellie. And you’re saving her every day.”

Ellie would nod, her fingers brushing over Rosie’s little hand, but the guilt lingered. You could see it in her eyes—the questions, the what-ifs. She’d murmur about the promise she’d made to you and herself, the weight of what she couldn’t change. And in these moments, you reminded her that she wasn’t alone.

Joel, too, had his own ways of comforting her. He would tell stories of the world before, of the simple joys he’d had with his own daughter, Sarah. Ellie listened closely, soaking in the memories and glimpses of a life she could only imagine. She became part of this family, tangled in the bond you and Joel shared with Rosie. Tommy and Maria had welcomed a baby boy, who become part of your little family too, creating a new sense of hope that replaced the endless need for answers.

As autumn deepened, the nights grew longer, but the warmth in your small home was a steady light. Together, you were all healing, not just from wounds of the past but from the burden of being the ones who had survived when so many hadn’t. You realized that the love you shared was a gift, one that filled in the cracks left by the world’s broken promises.

Jackson had given each of you something to hold on to: a chance to live, not just survive.

To be human and to have kindness all over again.

The arrival of a new doctor, a young woman named Lena, had shifted things in Jackson. She was efficient, kind, and carried herself with an air of calm that put people at ease. It wasn’t long before she’d settled into her new role, and everyone, even Paul, seemed to take a liking to her. You noticed the way his attention veered toward her whenever she was around. For the first time in months, you felt him loosen his grip on you—both literally and in the unwelcome ways he used to hover.

But the relief was short-lived. Though Paul was now distant, something lingered in the way he looked at you from across the square or when you were with Joel, his gaze sharp, bitter, as if he were wrestling with unspoken resentment. It sent a chill through you, the way he lingered just long enough to make you question his intentions. You’d catch his eyes on you while laughing with Joel or holding Rosie close, and despite the distance he kept, it was clear he hadn’t completely let go of the past.

“You’re safe,” Joel would say when he felt you tense under Paul’s gaze, his voice warm yet firm, as if willing you to believe it as fiercely as he did. “I won’t let him hurt you, not again. I promise.”

Over time, you tried to let Joel’s words settle the unease in your heart, and each day in Jackson was a step further from the shadows of the past. Rosie’s laughter filled the quiet corners of your home, and Ellie’s confidence slowly returned, bolstered by her new role in the community. The family you had all become created a protective circle, one that, despite the lingering fear, was beginning to feel like a fortress of your own making.

But in a lawless world, good things weren’t forever.

You were in the storage room, organizing some of the supplies for the community. It was a quiet day, and the rhythmic task of sorting and counting had put your mind at ease for a while. The door creaked behind you, and without turning around, you assumed it was Ellie coming in with Rosie, as she often did when Joel was out on patrol.

“Hey, you can leave Rosie’s blanket in the corner,” you called out casually, continuing to count the jars of preserves. When there was no response, you glanced over your shoulder. The door was closed, but you didn’t see Ellie or hear Rosie’s familiar babbling.

Your heart skipped a beat.

Slowly, you set down the jar in your hand and turned fully toward the door, a growing sense of unease building in your chest. You walked over to check the door, trying to calm the alarm bells ringing in your mind. But as your hand reached for the handle, the door wouldn’t budge.

It was locked.

A cold chill ran down your spine, and you turned quickly to face the room, dread pooling in your stomach. Standing by the shelves was Paul, his eyes fixed on you with an expression you couldn’t quite read—calm, yet unnerving.

“Paul,” you said, your voice low and controlled, though fear was rising inside you. “What are you doing here?”

He didn’t move, just stood there, blocking the only exit. “You’ve been avoiding me,” he said simply, his voice almost conversational, like you were discussing the weather.

You swallowed hard, trying to maintain your composure. “I’ve been busy,” you replied, stepping away from the door, putting distance between the two of you.

“I get that,” he said, taking a step forward, closing the gap. “But I think there’s something we need to talk about.”

“I don’t think there’s anything left to say, Paul,” you replied, your voice steady but your pulse racing. You tried to keep your movements calm, looking for a way out without escalating the situation.

Paul’s eyes darkened slightly. “You’ve always been different. I saw it the first time we met. You’re not like the others. Strong. Independent. And I was there when Joel wasn’t, remember? I took care of you.”

A wave of anger surged through you at his words. “Joel has always been there,” you said firmly, your voice sharpening. “And I don’t need anything from you.”

His jaw clenched, and for a moment, the calm mask he wore slipped. “I could’ve been good for you,” he muttered, his voice lowering, a bitter edge creeping in. “You should’ve given me a chance.”

The room felt smaller, the air thicker, and you felt your muscles tense, ready for anything. “Unlock the door, Paul,” you said, keeping your tone steady but firm, your heart hammering in your chest.

He stared at you for a moment longer, the silence stretching uncomfortably. Then, with a slight shake of his head, he finally moved toward the door, his hand resting on the lock. “I hope you think about what you’re throwing away,” he said, his voice cold now.

He unlocked the door, but didn’t open it. Instead, he stood there, watching you, as if waiting for you to say something. You didn’t. You just stared back at him, your resolve unwavering, until he finally opened the door and stepped out, leaving you alone in the room.

As soon as the door clicked shut, you let out a shaky breath, your legs feeling weak beneath you.

You stood there for a moment, letting the reality of what had just happened settle in. Your hands trembled slightly as you grabbed the supplies you’d been working on, trying to focus on anything to calm yourself down. But the fear and anger that Paul had stirred inside you wouldn’t leave. You had to get out of that room, out of the suffocating memory of his presence.

Leaving the supplies behind, you walked out of the storage room, making your way toward home. Every step felt heavier as your mind raced. You knew Joel had to know what had just happened, but you dreaded telling him. You could already imagine the storm that would follow—the fury in Joel’s eyes, his protective instincts kicking in. He wouldn’t take this lightly, and you didn’t want anything to happen that would make the situation even worse.

But Paul had crossed a line. He’d locked you in that room, he’d tried to manipulate you, and that was something you couldn’t let slide.

When you finally reached the house, your heart was pounding. The house felt empty without Joel or Ellie there. Rosie’s toys were scattered across the floor, a few baby blankets draped over the couch, and it brought you some comfort knowing that your daughter was safe, likely with Ellie or Maria.

You sat down for a moment, running your hands through your hair, trying to gather your thoughts. You couldn’t avoid this any longer.

Just as you were about to get up, the front door creaked open, and Joel stepped inside, his face tired from a long day of patrol. He paused when he saw you sitting on the couch, his brows furrowing with concern as he sensed something was off.

“Hey,” he said softly, coming over to you. “You okay?”

You forced a small smile, nodding, though you felt like every nerve in your body was screaming the truth. Joel’s eyes narrowed as he took you in, sensing something was off despite your best efforts to hide it. He sat down beside you, reaching out and gently tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear, his thumb grazing your cheek in a way that made your guard falter.

“You don’t have to lie to me, you know,” he murmured, his voice low and reassuring. “I can see it plain as day when something’s eating at you.”

A sigh escaped you, and you looked down, unable to meet his gaze. “It’s... it’s just been a long day. The supplies inventory went a little longer than usual.” You winced at your own excuse, but the last thing you wanted was to burden him with this, not after everything he had already carried for you. And yet, the memory of Paul’s face as he’d locked that door lingered, filling you with an unease you couldn’t shake.

Joel’s hand found yours, giving it a gentle squeeze, and you finally looked up to find his gaze fixed on you with that fierce, unwavering look that said he’d stand by you through anything. You could almost feel his determination, his need to protect. And you knew, deep down, that keeping this from him would only make things worse.

“Are you usure?” he asked, his soft brown eyes looking deep into your eyes.

“I’m sure,” you replied, forcing another smile that felt brittle on your lips. You could see the uncertainty lingering in his eyes, but you desperately wanted to believe your own words, to convince both him and yourself that everything was fine.

But as you spoke, the truth gnawed at you. You could feel the tension in the air, the unspoken worry hanging like a cloud between you. You could sense Joel's instincts kicking in, the way he was calculating every detail, every change in your expression.

“Okay,” he said slowly, though the skepticism in his tone was evident. “But if something’s bothering you, you know you can tell me. You don’t have to shoulder it alone.”

You nodded again, though the weight on your chest remained heavy. You wished you could share everything with him—the fear, the anger, the vulnerability—but you were afraid of what that might bring. Afraid of how he would react if he knew just how deep your scars ran.

Joel shifted closer, his presence radiating warmth and comfort. “Let’s go check on Rosie,” he suggested, a gentle smile breaking through his concern. “I think she might be waking up from her nap.”

You smiled up at him, a playful glint in your eye. “Oh no. Ellie stole Rosie. She took her on a walk.” You leaned your head against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath you. It was a comforting sound, grounding you in the moment.

Joel chuckled softly, shaking his head. “That girl’s gonna spoil her rotten,” he said, the worry in his voice easing just a bit as he relaxed into the light-hearted banter. “C’mon, let’s go rescue our baby from her.”

As you stepped outside, the crisp air greeted you, the autumn leaves swirling around in a golden dance. You spotted Ellie at the end of the street, her silhouette bouncing with Rosie strapped to her chest in a baby carrier.

“Look at that!” you said, nudging Joel playfully. “She’s got her all to herself.”

As you approached, Ellie turned to greet you, her grin wide. “Hey! We were just enjoying the fresh air. Rosie loves it out here!”

Joel’s brows furrowed slightly, a mix of concern and annoyance crossing his features. “You sure she’s okay out here?” he asked, eyeing the carrier with a protective gaze.

“Relax, old man,” Ellie teased, rolling her eyes but clearly enjoying the banter. “I’ve got this.”

You watched the exchange with a smile, appreciating the bond forming between them. It was a light-hearted moment that filled you with warmth, but even as you laughed and chatted with them, a flicker of unease nagged at you.

You couldn’t shake the feeling that Paul was still lingering in the background, like a storm cloud waiting to burst. But for now, in the safety of this moment with Joel and Rosie, you pushed those thoughts aside, choosing to savor the laughter and the love that surrounded you.

“Alright, let’s head back home,” you suggested, hoping to steer the conversation away from any looming threats. “I think Rosie could use a snack before her next nap.”

“Good idea,” Joel said, wrapping an arm around your shoulders as you all started to walk back. At that moment, surrounded by the people you loved, you felt a fleeting sense of safety, a reminder that there were still beautiful moments to hold onto amidst the chaos of life.

The soft light of dawn filtered through the curtains, casting gentle shadows across the room. Joel lay in bed, propped up on one elbow, watching you sleep. Your face was relaxed, peaceful in the way only sleep could allow, and he couldn’t help but smile at the sight. It had been a long time since he’d felt this kind of contentment—where the world outside faded away, leaving only the warmth of those he loved most.

He shifted slightly, careful not to wake you, and glanced over at Rosie’s crib, where their daughter slept soundly, a little bundle of joy. The way she curled up, her tiny fingers reaching out as if searching for comfort, tugged at his heart. It was a reminder of everything they had fought for, everything that had led them to this moment of relative peace.

But as he watched you, he also felt the weight of the past pressing down on him. As the sun continued to rise, casting a golden hue in the room, Joel felt an overwhelming urge to protect you both, to shield you from any harm that could come your way. He wanted to be the kind of man who could ensure you felt safe, cherished, and loved—every single day.

He gently reached out, brushing a strand of hair away from your face, his fingers lingering for a moment as he admired the way the morning light danced across your features. It was a simple act, but it filled him with warmth, a flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, they could create a life free of fear.

Just as he was about to lean in closer, Rosie stirred in her crib, letting out a soft coo. Joel’s gaze snapped to her, and a smile spread across his face. He glanced back at you, still lost in sleep, and quietly slipped out of bed, trying not to disturb you.

He made his way to Rosie’s crib, lifting her gently into his arms. She let out a sleepy yawn, her eyes fluttering open, and he chuckled softly. “Good morning, little girl,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

As he cradled Rosie, he couldn’t shake the feeling that today would be different. There was a strange feeling tugging his heart.

He wanted to talk to you, to reassure you that no matter what had happened, he was there for you, and he wouldn’t let anyone take that away.

He carried Rosie into the kitchen, starting to prepare breakfast, humming softly to her as he moved about the space. The smell of coffee brewing filled the air, mixing with the scent of warm pancakes. He couldn’t wait for you to wake up and share the morning with him and Rosie, creating memories that would last a lifetime.

After a few moments, he heard the soft sound of footsteps approaching. He turned, and there you were, stretching as you entered the kitchen, a sleepy smile gracing your lips. The sight of you made his heart race; you looked beautiful even in the early morning light.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” he said, trying to sound casual, but the warmth in his tone betrayed the excitement he felt at seeing you.

“Morning,” you replied, your voice still thick with sleep. You glanced at Rosie in his arms, your eyes lighting up. “What’s going on over here?”

“Just making breakfast,” he said, moving closer so you could take Rosie from him.

You took Rosie, your face lighting up as she cooed in response. “You’re the best,” you said, planting a soft kiss on Rosie’s forehead.

Joel couldn’t help but grin, watching the two of you together. It was moments like this that reminded him of why he had fought so hard to protect you both. He wanted to create a life filled with love and happiness, a life where fear didn’t overshadow everything else.

As you moved to the kitchen table, settling Rosie in her high chair, he couldn’t shake the feeling that had settled on his heart.

After breakfast, the mood was light, laughter bubbling up between you and Joel as you tidied up the kitchen. But the reality of the day weighed heavily on Joel's shoulders as he checked the time. It was time for him to head out on patrol.

“Hey,” he said, brushing his fingers against your arm as he stepped closer. “You sure you’re okay with me leaving?” His brow furrowed slightly, a hint of concern lingering in his eyes.

You nodded, forcing a smile. “Yeah, I’ll be fine. Just spending some time with Maria and Rosie today.” The reassurance seemed to ease some of the tension in his features.

“Alright.” He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, a gesture that continued giving you butterflies inside your stomach.

With one last look at you and Rosie, Joel grabbed his gear and headed for the door, his footsteps echoing softly in the quiet house. You watched him leave, a mixture of pride and concern washing over you. You knew he had a duty to protect Jackson, but every time he walked out that door, your heart clenched a little tighter.

Once he was gone, you turned to Rosie, who was babbling happily in her high chair, her small hands reaching for the toys scattered around her. You couldn’t help but smile at her enthusiasm; it was infectious.

“Looks like it’s just you and me today, kiddo,” you said, scooping her up and placing her on your hip. “Let’s go see Maria. She’ll love to see you.”

As you walked out the door, the crisp autumn air greeted you, and the vibrant colors of the leaves seemed to dance around you. The sun hung low in the sky, casting a golden glow over Jackson, and for a moment, everything felt perfect.

You strolled through the streets, greeting familiar faces as you made your way to Maria’s house. It felt good to be part of a community, to know that you were surrounded by people who cared about each other.

When you finally arrived, Maria was outside, tending to her garden. She looked up and smiled warmly at the sight of you and Rosie. “Well, if it isn’t my favorite little girl!” she exclaimed, kneeling down to meet Rosie’s curious gaze.

“Hi, Maria!” you greeted, handing Rosie over so she could be cuddled in Maria’s arms.

“Come to brighten my day, have you?” Maria teased, cradling Rosie gently. “What are you two up to today?”

“Just thought we’d hang out, maybe help you with some chores around here,” you replied, the mention of chores bringing a smile to Maria’s face.

“That sounds perfect! I could use an extra set of hands.” She looked at you knowingly, her expression softening. “And it’ll be nice to catch up.”

As you entered the house, the familiar scent of freshly baked bread wafted through the air, making your stomach rumble. Maria always had a way of making her home feel inviting and warm, just like her personality.

While Maria prepared some snacks, you settled onto the couch with Rosie, who was busy reaching for the various toys scattered around. “You’ve been so brave lately,” you murmured to her, feeling the weight of your own fears lift slightly in the comforting presence of Maria and Rosie.

“Paul threatened me yesterday” you confessed.

Maria paused her movements, “Joel went after him, didn’t he?” she asked after a long pause, her voice cautious.

You shook your head, feeling a mix of emotions rise in your chest. “He threatened me, Maria. He’s been hanging around, and I don’t feel safe anymore.”

Maria sighed, her expression conflicted. “I’m not defending Paul, believe me. What he did was wrong. But there’s something you need to know about him, about why he is the way he is.”

You looked up at her, surprised by the weight of her words. “What do you mean?”

Maria took a deep breath and walked over to the table, sitting down across from you. “Paul wasn’t always like this. When he first came to Jackson, he was different, quiet, kind, a good doctor. He’d just lost his wife and daughter in the outbreak, and I think that broke something in him. He’s been carrying that grief for years, and I think it’s twisted him into someone he wasn’t meant to be.”

You frowned, trying to reconcile the man Maria was describing with the one who had threatened you. “That doesn’t excuse what he did,” you said softly, more to yourself than to her.

“No, it doesn’t,” Maria agreed. “But it explains it. Paul never got help. He never really let himself heal. And now, he’s become this… person who tries to control everything because he couldn’t save the ones he loved. He’s stuck in that grief, and it’s poisoning everything around him.”

You sat in silence for a moment, letting her words sink in. It didn’t make you feel any better about what had happened, but it gave you a new perspective. Paul wasn’t just a man who had tried to manipulate and threaten you, he was a broken person, consumed by his own loss.

"I lost my family too," you murmured, your voice quiet but filled with a deep ache. "Joel lost his daughter." You felt the familiar sting of grief rise up in your chest. "He hasn’t done—" You paused, the weight of what you knew about Joel, the secrets he carried, pulling at you.

Maria looked at you, her expression soft but knowing. “It’s different for everyone,” she said gently, sensing the unfinished sentence. “Grief changes people in ways we can’t always predict. Some people shut down, some lash out… and some do things they never thought they’d be capable of.”

You swallowed hard, nodding but not trusting yourself to speak. Joel had done things—things that no one else knew, things that weighed heavily on him. And you had promised to carry those secrets with him, even if they still haunted you both.

“But what happened to Paul is not your burden to carry,” Maria added, her voice firm. “You’ve been through enough. You and Joel have your family to think about now, and Paul can’t be a part of that. I’ll talk to Tommy; we’ll make sure Paul knows he can’t come near you again.”

You nodded slowly, grateful for her understanding but still feeling uneasy. “I just want to feel safe, Maria. After everything… I just want to protect my family.”

Maria reached across the table and squeezed your hand. “You will. We’ll make sure of it.”

You gave her a small, grateful smile, feeling a little lighter knowing that Maria was on your side. But as you sat there, sipping your tea and listening to the quiet sounds of Jackson waking up outside, you couldn’t shake the feeling that things with Paul weren’t over. His pain, his brokenness—it wasn’t something that could be easily fixed or swept away. And while you didn’t want to live in fear, you couldn’t deny the sense of unease that lingered in the back of your mind.

Later that evening, the sun began to dip below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink. You found yourself drawn to the bar in Jackson. Ellie was with Rosie at Dina’s place, assuring you she would take care of her while you could be yourself for a bit.

As you entered, the familiar sounds of laughter and chatter filled the air. You scanned the room, spotting a few friends from the community. The atmosphere was warm, and you tried to let the energy wash over you, but the nagging unease about Paul lingered in the back of your mind.

You made your way to the bar, ordering a drink and chatting with the bartender for a moment. But as you turned to survey the crowd, your heart dropped. Paul was there, leaning against the far wall, a half-empty glass in his hand. He hadn’t seen you yet, but you could feel the tension in the air thicken.

You considered your options: you could leave, slip out the door before he noticed you, or you could stay and confront the fear that had been growing ever since your last encounter.

You took a deep breath, your pulse quickening as you weighed the choice. Deciding to stand your ground, you turned back to your drink, attempting to appear calm while keeping your gaze from drifting back in Paul’s direction.

A few moments later, you felt a presence beside you. “Mind if I join you?” Paul’s voice cut through the noise, smooth but laced with an undercurrent of something darker.

You forced yourself to look at him, masking your discomfort with a polite smile. “Actually, I was just leaving,” you replied, your voice steady despite the anxiety bubbling inside.

He chuckled softly, a hint of arrogance in his demeanor. “You don’t have to be like that. I’m not here to cause trouble.” His eyes locked onto yours, searching, probing.

You crossed your arms defensively, unwilling to let him in. “Is that so? Because it feels like you have a knack for trouble.”

He leaned in closer, his voice low and conspiratorial. “You don’t understand, do you? I know what you and Joel have been through. I can help you.”

A wave of anger surged through you, pushing you to your feet. “Help? By locking me in a room? By manipulating me?” You couldn’t keep the sharpness from your tone.

Paul’s smile faltered, and for a brief moment, you saw a flash of something, frustration, maybe even desperation “Actually I wanted to say sorry for that” he said.

You straightened, your heart racing as you felt a protective instinct for Joel kick in. “I don’t believe you.”

His expression darkened, and for a moment, you felt a chill creep down your spine. “You don’t know what I’m capable of,” he said, his tone shifting dangerously low.

Before you could respond, a figure appeared behind you. It was Joel, his presence commanding and protective. He caught your eye, a silent question passing between you.

“Everything okay here?” Joel asked, his gaze flickering to Paul, the tension in the air suddenly palpable.

“Just having a friendly chat,” Paul replied, his tone too casual. But you could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his demeanor shifted as Joel approached.

Joel stepped closer, his eyes narrowing. “I don’t think you should be talking to her at all.”

You felt a mix of relief and fear wash over you, knowing that Paul was the last person you wanted to deal with while Joel was around. But you also saw the challenge in Paul’s gaze, a flicker of anger igniting in him.

“I was just leaving,” Paul said, his voice tight. “But I’ll be watching, you know.” He winked at you before pushing away from the wall, heading toward the exit.

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, grateful for Joel’s presence but still shaken. “Are you okay?” Joel asked, his hand finding yours, grounding you in the moment.

“Yeah,” you replied, squeezing his hand tightly.

“I’ve got your back.” Joel reassured.

Later, some nights after that night, you found yourself wrapped in the warmth of your bed. The familiar scent of Joel lingered in the sheets, soothing your racing thoughts.

Joel lay beside you, his gaze fixed on the ceiling as he traced shapes in the air with his fingers, a contemplative look on his face. After a moment, he turned to you, propping himself up on one elbow. “You sure you’re okay?” he asked, concern etched in his brow.

You met his gaze, trying to smile. “I am now. Just… a lot on my mind.”

He nodded, his expression softening. “I get it. I don’t like that guy lurking around. But you don’t have to worry about him; he’s all talk.”

You swallowed, grateful for his reassurance but still unsettled. “I know. It’s just… I don’t want him to mess with our life here. I’m finally feeling like I belong.”

Joel’s face softened at that, and he reached out, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “You belong here, with me and Rosie and Ellie. No one can take that from us.”

The warmth of his words washed over you, and you nodded, feeling a wave of comfort. “What about tomorrow? What are you thinking?”

Joel smiled, a glint of excitement in his eyes. “I was thinking about finding a guitar for Ellie. I promised I’d teach her a few songs, and she’s been talking about it nonstop.”

Your heart swelled at the thought of Ellie learning to play. “That sounds perfect. She’ll love that.”

“Yeah,” Joel said, a hint of a grin creeping onto his lips. “I was hoping you’d join me. It’d be nice to have you there, and I could use your eye for spotting a good guitar.”

The idea brightened your mood, and you found yourself nodding eagerly. “I’d love to. It’ll be fun to spend time with you outside.”

“Good,” he replied, a sense of relief washing over his features.

“But what about Rosie?” you inquired.

“I already talked to Tommy, Maria is helping at watching her, so don’t worry, mama” he said, caressing your arm.

You shifted closer to him, resting your head on his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. The warmth of his body enveloped you, and for a moment, the weight of the world outside melted away.

“Joel?” you murmured, looking up at him.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you. For everything. For keeping me safe and for being here.”

His expression turned serious, and he placed a hand on your back, pulling you closer. “I’d do it all over again if it means keeping you and Rosie safe. You’re my world.”

You smiled, feeling a wave of affection wash over you. “And you’re mine.”

“I’ll go mad if something happens to you” he said.

The next morning, the sun broke through the clouds, casting a warm glow over Jackson. You and Joel stepped outside, the crisp autumn air filling your lungs with each breath. The vibrant leaves crunched beneath your feet as you walked, the colors painting the landscape in hues of orange and gold. It felt like a perfect day for an adventure.

Joel’s hand found yours as you strolled along the familiar path, his touch grounding you in the moment. “You ready for this?” he asked, a hint of excitement lacing his voice.

“Absolutely,” you replied, your spirits lifted by the beauty of the day and his presence by your side. “I can’t wait to see Ellie’s face when she gets that guitar.”

“Me neither. Just hope we find a good one,” he said, glancing sideways at you with a grin.

As you walked, you chatted about everything and nothing, the conversation flowing easily. It was moments like these that made you realize how far you had come from the chaos of your past. The threat of the outside world felt distant, and for a while, you could just be.

“Look at that view,” you said, stopping to take in the sprawling landscape before you. The mountains stood majestically in the distance, their peaks dusted with early signs of winter.

“Yeah, it’s beautiful,” Joel agreed, his eyes scanning the horizon.

You stepped into the shop, the door creaking ominously behind you. The interior was dim, lit only by the flickering light of the rays of sunshine. Dust danced in the air, swirling around forgotten instruments that lined the walls, remnants of a world that once thrived.

Joel moved cautiously, his eyes scanning the shop for any signs of danger. “Keep your head on a swivel,” he murmured, his voice low but steady.

You nodded, feeling a familiar knot of tension in your stomach. Every sound seemed amplified in the stillness of the shop. You stayed close to Joel, your heart racing as you navigated through the narrow aisles filled with instruments. You couldn’t shake the feeling that danger lurked just beyond the walls.

Joel picked up a guitar from a nearby rack, strumming a few notes. The sound was rich and resonant, a stark contrast to the silence that enveloped the town outside. “This one sound good,” he said, a flicker of excitement breaking through his serious demeanor.

“Perfect for Ellie,” you replied, forcing a smile. The tension still hung in the air, but you wanted to enjoy this moment, to reclaim a sliver of normalcy even in a world turned upside down.

As Joel inspected the guitar, you glanced out the grimy window, your heart tightening at the sight of the empty street. Jackson felt safe, but you couldn’t shake the memories of the horrors you had all faced. The ever-looming threat of raiders or infected was never far from your mind, even in the moments of calm.

“Let’s hurry,” you urged, a sense of urgency creeping in. “I don’t like being out in the open for too long.”

Joel nodded, placing the guitar back on its stand. “You’re right. Let’s see if there’s anything else we can grab before heading out.”

You moved deeper into the shop, scanning the shelves for any useful supplies. A few picks and a worn-out tuner caught your eye, and you quickly grabbed them. Just then, a faint rustle echoed from the back room.

Joel stiffened, his hand instinctively reaching for the knife tucked into his belt. “Stay close,” he said, his voice low and serious.

You felt your heart race as you moved beside him, every instinct screaming to prepare for the worst. The rustling grew louder, and Joel nodded toward the back room, signaling for you to stay put as he crept toward the sound.

As he approached, the rustling stopped. You held your breath, every muscle tense as you watched him disappear into the shadows. Moments felt like hours as you waited, fear coursing through you.

“Joel?” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Then, you heard it—a muffled sound, a faint cry. Panic surged within you. “Joel!” you called again, urgency propelling you forward.

Joel emerged from the shadows of the back room, his expression a mixture of relief and caution. “It’s just a cat,” he said, his voice steady, though you could see the tension in his shoulders. He stepped aside to reveal a small, scruffy tabby, its green eyes blinking in the dim light.

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, grateful for the distraction but still shaken. “Just a cat?” you said, half-laughing, half-sighing. “I thought it was something serious.”

“Don’t let it fool ya,” Joel replied, kneeling down to scratch behind the cat’s ears. “Even the little ones can bite.”

You smiled at his comment, but the nagging feeling in your chest remained. Something felt off. It had been too quiet out there, and you couldn’t shake the sensation that trouble was lurking just beyond the walls of your temporary safety.

After gathering a few supplies, you felt the weight of worry settling heavily on your shoulders. You couldn’t focus on the task at hand; your thoughts kept drifting back to Rosie.

“Joel,” you murmured, glancing back toward the entrance, “we need to hurry. I have a bad feeling about Rosie.”

He looked at you, concern etched across his features. “You think something’s wrong?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted, biting your lip. “But I can’t shake this feeling. It’s like something is off.”

Joel nodded, his expression turning serious. “Alright, let’s finish up here and head back. We’ll check on her.”

As you left the shop, the sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows across the deserted streets. The eerie silence wrapped around you like a thick fog, making every step feel more precarious than the last.

Once you reached your home, the sense of unease deepened. You pushed the door open, calling out, “Rosie! Ellie!” Silence filled the room, and your stomach dropped.

“Where are they?” you whispered, panic creeping in.

Joel’s face tightened as he moved through the house, checking rooms with quick precision. “They might be outside,” he suggested, though you could see the concern in his eyes mirrored your own.

You rushed to the backyard, calling out for Ellie and Rosie, but only the rustling of leaves answered. The sun was dipping lower in the sky, shadows stretching long across the ground. The peaceful atmosphere of Jackson suddenly felt ominous.

“Joel!” you shouted, your voice cracking with fear. “What if something happened? What if Paul—”

As you approached Maria’s home, your steps quickened, a feeling of unease settling deep in your stomach. Joel, sensing it too, sped up beside you, his hand brushing your arm to reassure you.

You knocked once, then twice, before pushing the door open, calling out, “Maria?” But there was no response. Just silence.

Your heart pounded as you moved quickly through the house, each room emptier than the last, until you reached the back room. There was Maria, alone, her face pale and her hands clenched in a fist.

“Maria, where’s Rosie?” Joel asked, his voice tight, barely masking his growing fear.

Maria looked up, guilt and sorrow written across her face. “I... I put her down for a nap, and I just stepped out to check on something in the kitchen. I swear, I was only gone for a minute, but when I came back...” Her voice faltered, breaking as she looked away. “She was gone.”

A cold wave of fear washed over you as you stumbled back, your mind racing with questions, each more terrifying than the last. Joel’s face had gone pale, his hands clenched as he took a step forward.

"Who saw her? Did anyone see anything?" Joel's voice was barely controlled, but Maria shook her head.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, tears welling up in her eyes. “I... I never thought—”

Without another word, Joel turned and stormed out of the house, and you followed him, your own heart pounding with panic as you raced into the street. People began to gather, sensing something was wrong, whispers passing between them.

"Paul," Joel muttered, his jaw clenched with such intensity that you could see the tension rippling through his shoulders.

A knot twisted in your stomach as his words sank in. You hadn’t seen Paul in days, and the thought that he could have taken Rosie filled you with a terror so deep it was paralyzing. But Joel’s fierce determination grounded you, his hand reaching out to squeeze yours tightly, his gaze steely as he looked at you.

“We’re getting her back,” he said, voice low and unshakable. "No matter what it takes."

“No,” you said firmly, meeting Joel’s intense gaze. “I’m going to get her back.”

He shook his head, looking as though he was about to argue, but you placed a hand on his chest, your expression resolute.

“I know Paul. He’s obsessed with me, Joel. If he sees you coming, he’ll… he might hurt her just to get to me. But if I go, I can talk to him, convince him.” Your voice was steady, stronger than you felt, but deep down, you knew this was the only way. “He wants me to come to him. Let me do this.”

Joel’s jaw clenched as he searched your face, the raw desperation in his eyes mirroring your own. “I can’t let you go in there alone,” he said, voice breaking slightly. “I can’t lose you too.”

“You won’t,” you whispered, holding his gaze. “I promise, you won’t.”

After a long, agonizing moment, he nodded, albeit reluctantly. “Alright,” he said, his voice rough, strained. “But I’ll be right behind you. I’ll keep my distance, but I’ll be close, watching, ready.”

You nodded, relief and fear warring within you as you squeezed his hand. “I know you will.”

With one last look, you turned and headed toward the edge of Jackson, your heart hammering as you moved toward the place you suspected Paul might be hiding. You could feel Joel’s presence following you at a careful distance, his silent promise of backup giving you the strength to take each step forward.

As you reached the secluded area outside the town, you spotted an old cabin tucked within the trees. It looked run-down, barely visible from the path, but a faint light flickered through the window—a sign of life.

Taking a deep breath, you approached the door, keeping your composure steady even as every instinct screamed at you to run. You knocked, and a shuffling sound came from inside. Then, the door creaked open, and there he was—Paul, his eyes lighting up with a twisted sense of satisfaction as he saw you.

“I knew you’d come,” he said, his tone smug and expectant, his gaze flickering with a manic gleam. “I knew you’d understand… that you’d finally come to your senses.”

“Where’s my daughter, Paul?” You kept your voice calm, unwavering, as you held his gaze.

He hesitated, his face twisting with something dark. “She’s fine. I wouldn’t hurt her. I wouldn’t hurt something… something that’s part of you.” He stepped back, motioning for you to come inside. “She’s in here, waiting for her mother.”

You steeled yourself and stepped inside, eyes scanning the dim room until you spotted Rosie in the corner, bundled in blankets, asleep but unharmed. Relief flooded through you, but you kept your expression controlled, knowing that any sudden reaction could set Paul off.

“Paul,” you began, keeping your tone soft, as non-threatening as possible. “You don’t have to do this. We can go back to Jackson. I’ll come with you. Just let me hold my daughter first.”

He looked at you, suspicion flickering in his eyes, but he nodded slowly. As you approached Rosie, every muscle in your body tensed, ready to grab her and make your escape.

Just as you picked her up, Rosie stirred, and her eyes fluttered open, her tiny face relaxing as she saw you. You held her close, your heart pounding with both relief and terror as you turned back to Paul.

Paul watched you, his eyes hollow and haunted, but behind that darkness was something else—a hint of pain, sorrow. His gaze lingered on Rosie, softening just a little, but it returned to you with a fierce, unsettling intensity.

“You remind me of her, you know?” he began, his voice low, almost a murmur. “My wife. She was… strong, like you. Determined.”

You held his gaze, wary but silent, waiting to see where he was going with this. He continued, his eyes distant, as if he were seeing something from a lifetime ago.

“I lost them both. My wife, my daughter—they were everything. We were together, out there in the wilderness, surviving. I thought… I thought we’d be safe. But one day, it was just me.” He paused, his face twisting as he choked back something raw. “Just me. I couldn’t save them.”

Your heart twisted with a twinge of pity, the sorrow in his words tugging at you, but you kept your guard up, knowing how quickly his demeanor could shift.

“You—you and Rosie,” he said, his voice cracking. “It felt like fate when I saw you that day. Like I’d been given a second chance to protect someone.” He took a step closer, and you tightened your grip on Rosie, keeping her secure.

“Paul… I understand that pain,” you said softly, hoping to reach the part of him that was still rational. “But I’m not her. And Rosie… she’s Joel’s daughter. We have our own lives.”

He looked at you, his expression darkening with a flash of anger. “But he can’t protect you like I can. He doesn’t know what it’s like to lose everything like I do. You should be with someone who understands—who would do anything to keep you safe.”

You took a steadying breath, meeting his gaze. “Joel knows that pain too. He lost his own daughter… and he’s done nothing but protect us, even from things like this. I’m sorry, Paul. I know you’re hurting. But you have to let go.”

He shook his head, the bitterness etched into his face as he clenched his fists. “You don’t get it. You were supposed to be my second chance.”

Just then, movement outside the window caught your eye, and you realized Joel was close, watching, ready to act. You turned back to Paul, feeling a surge of courage as you took a small step forward.

Paul’s face twisted with rage as he realized what was happening, his hand darting toward his belt, where a knife glinted in the dim light. But before he could make a move, Joel burst through the door, his presence a wall of fury and determination.

As soon as Paul saw Joel approaching, something in him snapped. His face twisted with desperation and anger, and in one quick, impulsive move, he shoved you out of the way. You stumbled back, caught off-guard, and before you could steady yourself, your head struck the corner of a table with a sickening thud. The world around you spun, and then everything went dark.

Joel’s heart dropped as he watched you collapse, unconscious, with Rosie still in your arms. A flash of fury crossed his face as he looked back at Paul, whose regret flickered only for a brief moment before being replaced by fear. Without hesitation, Joel moved forward, carefully scooping you and Rosie up into his arms, his eyes never leaving Paul.

“You’ve done enough,” he growled, his voice tight with barely restrained rage. “Stay away from my family.”

With that, Joel lunged at Paul

Joel's fist connected with Paul's jaw, the force of the punch sending him sprawling to the ground. Paul grunted in pain, his eyes wide with shock and anger, but Joel didn’t give him a chance to recover. He was on him in an instant, kneeling beside him with fury blazing in his eyes.

“Stay the hell away from her,” Joel hissed, his voice a low growl. He grabbed Paul by the collar, ready to land another blow, but Tommy’s voice cut through the haze of rage.

“Joel! Wait!” Tommy shouted as he stepped into the room, his hands raised in a placating gesture. “We need to handle this differently!”

Joel’s breathing was heavy, the adrenaline coursing through him. He looked back at Paul, who was scrambling to his feet, but then he turned his focus to you.

He dropped to his knees beside you, cradling you and Rosie in his arms. “Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he murmured, trying to soothe Rosie, who was wailing. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you both.”

Rosie’s little hands clutched at your clothes, her eyes filled with tears as she looked up at Joel, searching for comfort. The sight of you unconscious, the blood trickling from your temple, sent a fresh wave of panic through him.

“Stay with me, sweetheart,” he urged, gently shaking your shoulder. “Please, just open your eyes.”

“Joel,” Tommy said, kneeling beside you, his expression serious. “We need to get her to Maria. She can help.”

Joel nodded, his jaw clenched. “Right.” He carefully lifted you into his arms, cradling you against his chest, your head resting against his shoulder. He felt the warmth of your blood seeping through your clothes, and it made his stomach churn.

“Rosie, come on,” Joel said softly, glancing at his daughter, who was still sniffling. “We’re going to take care of Mommy, okay? You’re going to be okay.”

“I’m right here,” Joel whispered, holding you tighter, feeling the weight of the world on his shoulders. He started moving toward the exit, Tommy leading the way to ensure they could get through the chaos of the bar.

As they stepped outside, the sunlight hit Joel's face, the brightness contrasting sharply with the darkness of the situation. The street was alive with the hustle of Jackson, but in that moment, all he could focus on was you and Rosie.

“Tommy, get help!” Joel commanded, his voice low and urgent. He could feel the tension coiling within him, a mix of anger at Paul and fear for your well-being.

Tommy nodded, sprinting off toward the clinic. Joel turned his attention back to you, feeling your body against him. You were still unconscious, and the sight of the blood on your temple made his heart race with anxiety. He needed you to wake up, to fight through this.

“Stay with me, please,” he whispered, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. “You’re strong. You’ve always been strong. I need you to open those beautiful eyes for me.”

As they reached the infirmary, Joel burst through the doors, his heart pounding. He called out for Lena, and within moments, she appeared, her expression shifting from surprise to concern as she rushed over.

“What happened?” she asked, quickly assessing the situation.

“Paul... he—” Joel stammered, glancing down at you in his arms, “He pushed her. She hit her head.”

Lena nodded, her hands moving, delicately “Get her on the table,” she instructed, guiding Joel to a nearby exam table. He gently laid you down, feeling Rosie cling tightly to his leg.

“It’s okay, Rosie. Mommy’s gonna be okay,” he reassured, but doubt crept into his mind.

Lena started examining you, her hands steady and practiced. “Joel, I need you to step back for a moment.”

“No,” he said fiercely, unwilling to leave your side. “I’m staying right here.”

“Joel,” she said firmly, her eyes meeting his, “I can’t help her if you’re in the way. Trust me. She is gonna be okay.”

Now, as you lay unconscious in the infirmary back in Jackson, Joel was a wreck. He hadn't left your side since Tommy and a few others had found you in the remote cabin, blood trickling from your temple, unconscious and barely breathing. Paul had disappeared—vanished before anyone could catch him. The sight of you lying on that cold floor, helpless, had destroyed Joel in a way he hadn’t felt since Sarah’s death.

Joel was beside you now, his hand gripping yours, his face hollowed with sleepless nights and worry. He couldn’t keep his emotions in check anymore. “I swear to God,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “I’ll kill him. I’ll find him, and I’ll make sure he never gets close to you again.”

But there was a vulnerability in him, one he couldn’t hide. His thumb brushed against your knuckles, his lips tight, the weight of his guilt pressing down on him. He hadn’t protected you, not like he promised. Paul had gotten close to you and Rosie, and Joel hadn’t seen it coming.

Tears filled his eyes, something that hadn’t happened since Sarah. “I let this happen. I should’ve known… I should’ve been there.” He shook his head, looking down at you, his voice dropping to a broken whisper. “You don’t deserve this. Not you.”

He reached into his pocket, pulling out the small, simple ring he had found not long ago. His fingers trembled as he held it in his palm, staring down at it. “I found this for you,” he whispered. “I’ve been waiting for the right moment, but now…” His breath hitched, and he let out a soft, bitter laugh. “Now I’m sitting here, talking to you while you’re not even awake.”

He gently slid the ring onto your finger, his heart aching as he did. “I love you,” he said, his voice cracking. “And when you wake up, you’re marrying me. That’s a damn promise. I know marriage doesn’t hold the same meaning as before, but I’ll spend the rest of my life making sure you know how much I love you, every single day.”

Joel leaned down, pressing his forehead to yours, his breath shaky as he held onto you like you were his lifeline. “Just wake up, baby. Please. I can’t do this without you.”

And as Joel sat there, his heart breaking all over again, you stirred. It was faint at first, a small twitch of your hand in his, but it was enough. Joel’s head snapped up, his eyes wide with hope.

“Hey,” he whispered, his voice filled with both desperation and relief. “Come on, sweetheart. I’m right here. Just open your eyes for me.”

Slowly, painfully, you did. The room swam into focus, blurry at first, but the first thing you saw was Joel’s tear-streaked face hovering over you. His hand squeezed yours, and the relief in his eyes was overwhelming.

“You’re okay,” he whispered, his voice trembling as he cupped your face gently. “You’re gonna be okay.” He kissed your forehead, then your temple, his lips lingering as he whispered, “I’ve got you.”

You felt the weight of the ring on your finger, and despite everything, a small, tired smile tugged at your lips. “Is this… your way of proposing?” you rasped, your voice hoarse from the injury and exhaustion.

Joel let out a breathless laugh, his own tears spilling over as he nodded. “Damn right it is,” he whispered. “And when you’re feeling better, we’re gonna make it official.”

You squeezed his hand weakly, the pain still radiating through your body, but you knew one thing for sure: you were going to be okay. You had Joel, and despite everything Paul had done, he couldn’t take that away from you.

Joel smiled through his tears, pressing another kiss to your hand. “I love you,” he whispered, “I’m never letting you go.”

Tags 💌: @jasminedragoon @orcasoul @missladym1981 @hiroikegawa @eleganthottubfun @lumpypoll @cuteanimalmama @thespookywookies @goodvibesonly421 @karaslqve @greenwitchfromthewoods @somedayheaven @bambisweethearts @joelsteinfeld @guelyury @biapascal @picketniffler @mrsyixingunicorn10 @httpvomitello @kulekehe @callmecath1 @persephone-girl @colmiillo @pedroswife69 @kulekehe @capswife @fallout-girl219 @sullyselena @cymbalta-slut @my-tearsricochet

If you want to be removed, feel free to tell me.

[harrysfolklore]

dog love - blurb

day 3!! if you’re still following along ilysm okay?💗

GIF BY @delicatepointofview <3

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

//

Yours and Harry's relationship was still a secret to the world.

Even though both of you were famous for your careers and fans and media were always following your every step, you have managed to keep what you had to yourselves for six months now.

Rumors were out there, for sure. And they started when you decided to be in the crowd with Harry's friends for his final show in Reggio Emilia, instead of hiding from prying eyes backstage.

However, no one had really caught up that you were in a relationship, people just assumed that you were friends and you wanted to see the show.

Right now, you and Harry were spending a few months together in his London home, you decided to do that since soon you both would have to go back to your busy careers and be away from each other. You basically moved in to his place, with your dog included.

"Milo! Come over here buddy!" You called out for him, sitting on the den and watching play around Harry's backyard, "You're such a good boy!" You cooed at him when he curled up to you.

"What are you pals doing?" Harry asked, walking through the sliding door that connected the kitchen and the backyard, sitting down next to you and pecking your shoulder quickly.

"We're just hanging out over here," you turned your face to look at him, matching his soft smile, "But I think Milo is eager to go outside, poor thing couldn't go on his walk yesterday because of the rain."

"I can take him for a walk," Harry said, and you noticed that he was indeed dressed up to go outside, "I'm actually meeting with Brad in a few minutes, I can take him with me."

"Would you?" you asked, and he pecked your cheek, standing up and offering his hand so you could join him.

"Of course, love. I can pick up some wine and food on the way back for dinner, you stay here and relax."

You pecked his lips softly before speaking, "You're a dream," he smiled and pecked your lips again, "And you, be a good boy for H, okay?" you knelled down to pet Milo, and with a final kiss to Harry's lips they were off.

You took in Harry's words and decided to relax since you had the house to yourself, you filled up the bathtub, lit up a scented candle and put on some music, leaving your phone behind as you took a bubble bath.

When you were done in the bathroom and clad in one of Harry's soft hoodies, you grabbed your phone and decided to lurk on social media as you waited for Harry and Milo to come home.

You opened Tiktok, your explore page showing you some Harry videos, cute dogs and even some edits of yourself. When you got bored of scrolling there, you decided to open Twitter, which wasn't your favorite platform at all but every now and then you got there to see what fans were on about.

However, you were surprised to find out that what fans have been discussing over the last few hours was Harry walking your dog.

At first, you found funny that his fans were trying to decode if he had adopted a dog, or where did the dog had come from, not knowing hat it was your dog and you were practically living with him.

However, your mood changed when you scrolled down and saw that they somehow connected the dots and found out that the dog with Harry and Brad was your Milo.

You shook your head, surprised by how quickly fans could put the  pieces together, and not sure about how to feel about yours and Harry's relationship being exposed by your dog.

As in on cur, you heard Harry and Milo walking up the stairs to the bedroom, and soon you saw both of them enter the room.

"We're back, love!" Harry cheerfully said, sitting on the end of the bed and Milo staying close to him, "Brought the wine and some food, are you hungry yet?"

"I think Milo just exposed our relationship." You simply said, laughing and how comical the situation sounded out loud.

"What do you mean?" a confused look appeared on Harry's face, and you showed him your phone so he could see.

After a few minutes of scrolling to your Twitter and seeing what fans were saying, Harry couldn't help but find the situation comical too.

"Well, that's better than TMZ, right?"

taglist: @lightsoutstyles @willowpains @straightontilmornin @sleutherclaw @gimsaysay @hazzassmirk @platinumbarbie143 @musicforcinemas @celesteblack08 @scntfrhs @eleanordaisy @lomlolivia @iceebabies @iloveshawn @be-with-me-so-happily @watermelonsugacry @rayisthehoe @drewrry

[shhhsecretsideblog]

Would love for you to work your magic on this prompt 💜 @shhhsecretsideblog

Heavily pregnant and overdue, she’s been waiting in line for over an hour to meet her favorite author. Unfortunately, the baby’s decided to arrive now. If she could just make it a little longer, she could ask her all of her burning questions about her novel and tell her how appreciative she is of her work!

(birth denial, inconvenient birth, public labor)

What an amazing prompt, your ideas never fail to inspire me!! Thanks my lovely for the ask, really hope you like it 💜

[fpreg, 2500 words]

Dedicated Book Worm

The contractions had started on the bus ride into town, but she ignored them. A few twinges was nothing to worry about, certainly not today; today Ricki was going to the release and book signing of her favourite author’s latest novel. Her stomach was bubbling with excitement and nerves. She'd been a fan of this writer for years now but had never had the opportunity to get anything signed before, let alone meet the writer in person.

Unsurprisingly it was a very popular event at the bookstore and the queue was already pouring out the doors and lacing down the street. She was glad to have gotten here so early, with only a few dozen people in front of her. The downside of arriving so early meant having to wait in line, which wasn’t so great when you were over 40 weeks pregnant.

Ricki rubbed the taut skin of her stretched belly and exhaled a long quiet breath. The cramping had started to ramp up on the bus journey and she tried to dismiss them, but after standing outside for the best part of an hour she was slowly realising these pains were the real deal - consistent and definitely getting stronger. She debated texting her partner, to tell her she was having contractions, but then she’d have to leave this event. Looking longingly through the glass window of the bookstore and seeing the rows of chairs all set up for the author’s reading of the new book, Ricki nodded to herself, determined. She would stay. She had time to get her copy of the new book, listen to her favourite author, and get it signed before she’d have to tell her girlfriend about the baby’s expected arrival. Labour took ages, and this baby certainly hadn’t been in any hurry to be born.

The line was slow-moving when they started letting people in, everyone inching forward every few minutes. As her large belly regularly tightened, Ricki found herself holding it and swaying slightly as she waited eagerly in the queue, thinking about what she might say when she met the famous writer. Her stomach flipped with nerves but then spasmed aggressively, resulting in a soft moan slipping out her mouth as she exhaled. The person in front gave her a worried look after clocking the large and low baby bump hanging off Ricki’s hips. “This little one is just as excited as I am to get a copy of the new book.” Ricki tried to joke and reassure the concerned looks she was getting. But her mind couldn’t help noticing just how frequently her belly was cramping.

All this standing around had put a serious strain on her back, but there was something else, something new; a weighted pressure sitting deeper in her pelvis. Maybe the baby had finally got in the right position. It would be about bloody time, but they wouldn’t be ruining this afternoon for her, Ricki thought to herself.

Eventually she got to the front of the line and presented her ticket for the event. Ricki would be glad to sit down, her back was killing her and the constant cramping of her heavy belly was draining all her energy. “Wow, you look ready to pop.” The bookshop employee said, scanning her ticket and letting the heavily pregnant woman into the cordoned off area. Ricki managed a half-hearted smile, trying to keep her face from showing any signs of discomfort.

Despite the need to sit down, the weight and pressure between her hips was squashing her bladder and Ricki made a beeline to the toilets before the reading started. Thankfully the single unisex toilet was vacant and she disappeared inside. She used the privacy to let out the pained groans she’d been holding in for the last hour, as her belly contracted yet again. “Mnnnnghhhh…. Oh why now…” Ricki moaned, palming the walls of the bathroom and shifting her hips around in large circles. “You can wait a little bit longer. You were quite comfy in there last week on your due date.”

When the contraction faded she used the facilities, noticing quite a bit more liquid leaking into her pad, and hoped that wasn’t the start of her waters breaking. Standing up from the toilet seat Ricki felt the weight quite literally drop back down in her pelvis, the head of the baby wedged harshly against her dilating cervix. “Ooof!—” she clasped her bump, taking a moment to get used to the heavy feeling and the pressure that it brought.

The hustle and bustle of the bookstore was getting louder, the sounds of excited people entering the event seeping through the bathroom door. “Come on bubs, let’s go hear all about the new book.” Ricki said to her bump before leaving the bathroom and going back into the store.

Unfortunately for Ricki the contractions were still coming and getting closer and closer, now almost impossible to stay standing. After waiting in another line to collect her copy of the latest book she had to grasp onto the counter and swallow down the grunt she so desperately wanted to make.

“Ma’am, are you alright?” The girl behind the desk asked, panicked.

“Mmm-hmm.” Ricki gritted and nodded her head, pulling her lips into a forced smile. “Just a c-cramp.”

She needed to sit down, and fast. The labouring woman took the first empty chair she could find in the back row and sighed a heavy breath of relief. She would be okay. She just needed to rest, yes, that was it. Her excitement was heightening everything, that’s all. Holding her copy of the new book in one hand, she rubbed her swollen stomach with the other and prayed the pains would slow down enough to enjoy this event.

Typically there was a delay in the start time, the author had only just arrived and it would be a bit longer before the event could begin. Ricki was sweating by this point, squirming in her seat and trying to keep an even and subtle breathing rhythm. The pressure in her pelvis had suddenly built to astronomical heights and she found herself rocking and quietly humming on the chair. Her hands gripped the edges of the seat, knuckles turning white, as the waves got stronger and stronger. She tried not to clasp her bump so as not to attract unwanted attention, but god did it hurt. The contracting muscles contorting the shape of her pregnant belly was almost visible through her clothing.

She was wearing a pair of wide legged dungarees patterned with sunflowers, a thin black cotton t shirt underneath. Even through the denim like fabric Ricki could see as well as feel the way the whole sphere of her belly hardened, squishing into a solid and narrow torpedo shape over her thighs. “Ooohhhhhhh….” She used the book to fan her damp and sweaty face, no doubt looking flushed in the bookstore, which was already getting steadily warmer as more and more people filled in.

Eventually the host took to the stage and introduced the special guest and Ricki’s eyes widened with glee at seeing her long time favourite author in person, standing only a few metres away. Her belly seized again in that moment, bringing forth a wave of pressure deep between her hips, and she couldn’t stop the groan from escaping her lips. Thankfully her labouring sounds were swallowed by the loud round of applause. Without thought, and focussed entirely on the beloved person at the front of the crowd, Ricki’s legs widened automatically on her chair. Unconsciously finding any way to relieve the building pressure.

Then, the room was silent, the writer stood centre stage with an open copy of her latest book. Ricki was going to hear a new extract, read aloud by the glorious female writer herself, and she waited like everyone else with bated breath.

As the reading began the heavily pregnant woman tried to focus, tried to give this once in a lifetime fangirl moment her undivided attention, but the pressure was getting unbearable. Every few seconds Ricki’s mind was pulled back to the baby in her womb, the feeling of the hard skull sinking deeper into her birth canal, her baby determined to be born today. She panted, as quietly as she could. The thought of attracting unwanted attention right now was mortifying, if anyone discovered she was in labour— No, she was not going to let anyone see her struggle, or give any reason to stop this talk and pull focus from the rightful star.

She lasted about 15 minutes into the reading before it happened, something instinctual and primal tripped a warning siren in her mind. The pressure, it had built too much and now… oh god, now she needed to push. She really needed to push.

It was automatic, she had no control. Ricki’s body slumped slightly in her chair and gripping her book tightly with both hands her uterus contracted and squeezed and…pushed the baby further down. Oh fuck. Her legs were wide on the chair, encroaching into the space of her neighbours. But she couldn’t close them. It felt like she was sitting on the baby’s head. Trapped in another bout of pushing Ricki sucked in a lung full of air and bore down once more. Silently as she could.

The labouring mother lost all track of what the author was saying or reading. Occasionally she’d hear the audience laugh or “awww”, and she was missing everything. All that she could focus on was not giving birth right here in the bookstore. She could make it. She had to. Her girlfriend wasn’t here, and her book hadn’t been signed. She had to make it just a little bit longer.

With every ounce of determination she could muster, Ricky shifted herself upright and painfully pulled her legs together. God it felt like she was sitting on a bowling ball. A whimper slipped from her throat and her eyes screwed shut. The person beside her gave Ricki a concerned look. The labouring woman gritted her teeth and forced a friendly grin.

The reading eventually came to a conclusion, Ricki having succumbed to another half a dozen pushes in that time, but any progress was halted by her posture on the chair and the unforgiving fabric of her dungarees. The owners of the bookstore advised everyone to start making an orderly queue to get their books signed, gesturing to a table and lines of rope set up nearby. Ricki was so close, so close to meeting her idol. Unfortunately the baby was keen to join in.

As she stood the boulder in her pelvis pressed fiercely against the walls of her birth canal and Ricki had to grasp the chair in front of her and instinctively bear down. Oh fuck… she wasn’t going to make it. Her primal grunt wasn’t noticed through the sounds of chairs scratching the floor and numerous conversations erupting around the room. The baby was so low, dangerously low. Feeling like it was sitting just behind her lips, bulging obscenely into her wide-leg trousers.

The crowd around her moved as one, all the guests making their way to the line for autographs. She should have said something, should have excused herself, the baby was quite literally trying to come out right here in the bookstore. Instead, Ricki got caught in the sea of people and somehow ended up in line and surrounded by excited people waiting for autographs.

Just a little bit longer bubs… please. She pleaded with the swell of her belly cradled in her palms. Sweat was dripping down her neck beneath her long hair, her black t-shirt sodden with the exhaustion of her labour. How Ricki managed to stay standing she did not know. Oddly the pain in her hips was easier to manage when upright but gravity was making the pressure unbearable. Whenever a contraction hit she was forced to give in, to bear down with the squeezing muscles, knees bendy subtly and her mouth clamping shut.

They were productive pushes… she was sure of that fact. The baby’s head was slowly but surely spreading her open, her gait unnaturally wide as the baby inched further into the world while she stood and waited in line. Oh god, just— just wait.

This queue moved faster than the one before and Ricki was shuffled forward every few seconds. The author was there, within metres, hair perfectly curled and wearing a flawless outfit. The mum-to-be looked around nervously, realising how stuck in the crowd she had gotten - the only clear way out was forward. Two people, there were just two people in front of her. She had to meet her idol, she couldn’t walk away now, not when she was this close.

Maybe she could time her pushes, was there enough time between them to say Hi, big fan, please sign my book before she had to push again? One person in front now. So close.

Another contraction, oh fuck, and Ricki widened her legs slightly, bending knees ever so subtly and bearing down. The crown in her underwear was getting bigger. It burnt, bringing tears to her eyes. The head was coming out!

“It’s an emotional time isn’t it? Meeting someone you’ve admired for so long.” The person next to her said, bouncing on their toes and excitedly watching the writer sign another book. Ricki couldn’t reply, couldn’t even nod, as her body fully committed to pushing out her baby and bringing it almost to a full crown.

Next. Ricki was next in line. Fuck, what was she gonna do? Before she could form any cohesive thought someone was ushering her forwards towards the desk, towards the friendly smiling face of her idol. The woman’s hand stretched out, ready to take Ricki’s copy of the book to sign.

“Who shall I make it out to?” The author asked kindly, despite having said it numerous times over.

“R-Ricki… w-with an ‘i’…. Oooohhhh….” She stuttered, trying to hold back the groan. Her hands were clasped beneath her contracting belly, every muscle tense and trembling as she fought to hold herself together.

“Are you alright my dear?” The writer asked, staring too long at Ricki’s swollen stomach and the way her fingers were gripped at the fabric of her clothing, knuckles thin and white.

“….no…..” Ricki admitted. “Ooooohhhhh….” The next wave of pressure suddenly hit her like a steam train and any previous plans shot straight out the window. She had to push…. She had to bear down right now…. this second. The burning, the stretching, it was all too much, she had to get this baby out—

“Mmmnnghhhhh!!!!!!!” Grabbing the edge of the desk Ricki bent her knees and dipped her hips as she pushed ferociously, bringing the baby beyond a crown, shoving it past her lips and almost birthing the head in one go.

“Oh my goodness, you poor dear. Someone call an ambulance! This woman is giving birth.” The author said, jumping to her feet and rushing around the desk. “What are you doing here in your condition?” The kind words were accompanied by the writer rubbing her back and holding her hand.

“I just— I just really wanted to meet y-you.”

[foreingersgod]

Can you write a CC x reader fic about reader meeting the team for the first time.

Like Caitlin forgets her practice jersey at home and you drop it off and they all wonder who you are??

Her Jersey . CC

pairing: caitlin clark x reader

synopsis: you and caitlin’s relationship has always been low key, so how will the team react when you bring her her jersey unannounced?

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

you weren’t something caitlin was trying to hide, nor was she ashamed of you by any means. but she had requested at the beginning of your relationship to just keep things quiet. you were both busy people, having so many things to worry about. you with a fairly religious family who wouldn’t be very thrilled to see you dating a woman, and caitlin with a recently large following who didn’t want to bring unwanted attention to you. she would love to show you off on social media and in person, but risking the hate comments and your well being was too much of a risk.

so you guys kept your relationship low key, not announcing it to anyone at all, including caitlin’s teammates. as much as you wanted to meet them officially and as much as caitlin wanted to flaunt you and brag about how lucky she was, you knew it would be too risky to tell any one.

but your ‘secret’ relationship had its perks. you were the only one who got to know the real caitlin, the one who cherished you behind closed doors, no one else. yes, you were often sad that you couldn’t do stereotypical couple things. like going out to dinner dates, the movies, or do all the fun couples trends. but you were appreciative of what you had: late nights at your apartment, being treated to breakfast in her bed, long and steamy showers shared together. you found a way to make it work.

one day, as you were sitting on your couch after caitlin left your apartment for practice, you had noticed a bright yellow piece of cloth tucked into one of the cushions. pulling it free, you had realized that she had left her jersey at your apartment. it had probably gotten stuck in your couch when you heatedly pulled it over her head as you straddled her lap, eager to see her when she came over late after her game last night. your cheeks were heating up as you reminisced to last nights events.

quickly pulling yourself from your day dream (you could have sat there all day thinking about last night if you could) you shot a text to caitlin, asking if she needed it.

you: hey babe, i just noticed you left your jersey at my place last night, want me to meet you somewhere private real quick and bring it to you?

you watched as her text bubbled popped, awaiting an answer.

Cait <3: oh shit, i had meant to grab that. yea if you wanna come down here, I’ll grab it from you real quick.

you: want me to wait outside? just so that they don’t all see me there.

Cait <3: nah, it should be fine, i’ll just be sneaky ;)

you laughed to yourself, typing out your response

you: if you say so, see you soon 💋

and with that, you were out the door, jersey in hand and bag thrown over your shoulder.

you pulled into the parking lot, getting out and heading into the building pretty quickly. making sure to avoid anyone you may know that might ask what you were doing here. you crept through a few winding halls before you saw the open gym doors, peaking inside to see everyone huddled around talking to one another.

you stood, slightly out of view, waiting for caitlin to notice you. after a few moments, she saw you waiting there patiently, fiddling with the hem of the jersey. you were so cute she couldn’t help but smile to herself. she excused herself from the group, jogging over to the other end of the gym.

as she made her way over to you, you noticed that a few of the girls had been watching her as she left. they tried to discreetly sneak a look at who cait was talking to.

“hey, baby!” she panted, pulling you into a quick kiss “thanks for coming all the way down here”

“yea it was no problem” you smiled sweetly, hands resting gently on her chest as she kissed you again. as you pulled away, though, you felt eyes on you. the same girls, along with the rest of the team, were now staring in your direction.

cait tried to say something else to you, but you weren’t listening as you were trying to grab her attention, shaking her shoulder violently.

“what, what?” she looked at you confused.

“cait,” you nodded your head in their direction “i think we’ve been caught”

she quirked her eyebrows, still lost, eventually turning her head to look behind her. and sure enough, there they all were, cocky smirks plastered across their faces as they jokingly whistled and cheered. out of embarrassment, you covered your face in your hands, caitlin only laughing along with them.

“yea, i guess so” she grabbed your hand, starting to pull you into the gym “might as well introduce you then…if you want?”

“i guess there’s nothing left to hide so…why not” you chuckled, letting her lead you, hooking your arm with hers. she led you to the middle of the court, all the girls still curious as to who you were.

“caitlin with a secret woman?” kate laughed, smiling your way, you had heard lots about her. who’s this?”

caitlin looked down at you, hands still intertwined. she ran her thumb over yours, sensing you were nervous with all the attention on you, trying calm you down.

“YN, this is my team” she began “and team, this is my girlfriend, YN”

they all immediately smiled at you, quick to welcome you with open arms. each girl gave you a comforting hug and introducing themselves, letting you know how lovely it is to meet you and how they’re excited to get to know you better. and of course, there was some playful banter. gabbie and kate at some point asking ‘how did caitlin manage to date someone as beautiful as you?’, eliciting a shy laugh from you. but they were all so funny and sweet, you instantly felt welcomed into such a tight knit group.

“alright, can you guys try not to scare her away!” caitlin interrupted as you chatted with the team “she’s really important to me so i’d appreciate if you didn’t freak her out with your dumb ass questions”

you all chuckled, teasing her a bit more before it was time to say your goodbyes to the girls. you thanked them for being so kind to you and they told you they couldn’t wait to hang out with you more some other time. caitlin told them she’d be back, taking your hand again and walking you out to your car.

as you got back to the parking lot, caitlin beginning to open your door for you, you stopped her. “hey, thanks for introducing me, cait. i know we said to keep it quiet, but i’m glad you trust your team enough to introduce me. wether it was on purpose or not” you smiled, squeezing her bicep sportively.

“i’m glad too,” she said “i think it was finally time to do it anyways, i was getting tired of people not knowing that you’re mine anyways”

she continued “you mean the world to me and i love you so much, thank you for putting up with sneaking around for so long”

“it was for the best, but i’m really happy we can be out to more people now” you said. “you’re team was really sweet, i can’t wait to get to know all of them”

“me too, they already love you. they won’t be able to stop asking about you for the rest of practice i bet”

you both chuckled, relieved to finally have such a huge weight off your chest.

“just don’t tell them anything too embarrassing about me, ok?” you quipped.

“i don’t think there’s anything i could say about you that would be embarrassing” she said as she helped you into your car “you’re absolutely perfect”

with that, you kissed her one last time before closing the door and waving her goodbye. as you pulled out of the parking stall, you watched as she jogged back into the building, a smile still lingering on her lips.

truthfully, you didn’t think you’d be so happy to have gotten caught.

[fragmentating]

Honestly not much radicalized me in regards to bodily autonomy the way being a chronic selfharmer for 10+ years has. And one of those things that really are so awful to deal with is a lack of privacy.

When I go inpatient and they ask me if I have wounds, and I answer honestly, they dont just write that down. They make me undress and show each single one, otherwise I wont be "processed" and let into my room.

In the underage psych ward I was in they would sometimes search the rooms of known selfharmers while we were away at a therapy appointment, or seeing family in the visitation room, etc. They wouldn't tell you. They would lie about it if you asked about it. But all your shit had been moved around slightly, enough for observant people to notice. If they found blades, or any other sharp object regardless of it you had used it to selfharm though, you would obviously be punished.

One time I cut and went to the nurses for help, I was scared because it had never been that deep before and their response was tossing my room after I had voluntarily given them the two blades i had, while a male nurse kept saying how uncomfortable he was that he "had to" inspect my pads, saying "why would you need that many", ... they had metal detectors. They could've just swiped it across everything. But that wouldn't have been humiliating enough like seeing a nurse dig through my underwear and pads and diary.

Outside of the psych ward, my family kept up a similar approach. They did not search my room at least, knowing it was futile because there were always knifes in the house if I was desperate anyways, and a store down the street that sold razors. But locked doors were my mothers enemy. If I locked my door to masturbate, and she noticed it was locked? She would knock and yell until I opened it. If I simply wanted to relax in a bath but she decided it was suspiciously long ? The same.

When they couldn't catch me in the act but my scars kept getting more and more theyd threaten me with being hospitalized again.

When the hospital ER would send me to the closed ward for cuts that had nothing to do with suicidal ideation, but they decided I must be lying because it was deep enough, no matter how often I said I simply "messed up" because of adrenaline and blades that were sharper than expected. They had no legal ground to lock me up again but who cares, right. Its just one of those freaks who cuts themselves anyways.

And none of this kept me safe. None of this prevented me from cutting majority of the time. It made me distrust the ER. It made me distrust nurses. It made me hide my body even around my family. And when it did momentarily work I simply started harming myself in other ways. I ended up covered in bruises, with minor concussions, increasingly starving myself, depriving myself of sleep, ...

No one ever went "let's really try to figure out why you do this." Instead they went "why the fuck wont you just chew some bubble gum and roll a spikey ball on the soles of your feet you depressed fuck" or some shit like bro I am being severely traumatized by the world and this is my reaction. It's all "you are the problem".

And as an adult whos decided that I'm not interested in quitting, who "only" practices harm reduction I know that absolutely no one wants to accept that as a choice I should be allowed to make. Doesnt matter that I'm an expert at taking care of wounds and I have not had a single infection in 10+ years aside from once on wounds that got fucking stitched at the hospital. that I actively do my best to avoid lasting damage. That I try to keep the frequency low. They put me through years of surveillance and shame and threats without ever trying to see the root cause, only ever treat me as a bratty problem child who's being difficult just to fuck with them, and can not understand why that wouldn't make me want to stick to the goals they have set for me.

Therapists genuinely lose their mind when I tell them I don't want ~sobriety~ I just want to reduce harm and get on with my life. Their teachings do not allow for this to be but a short term compromise. I do not care.

[rollingsins]

Quinn Bailey Must Die

P1 | P2 | P3

summary: Quinn Bailey is yours and Tara's man-eating, sexed up, horn-dog roommate. She's cool at first, you think. Until she sets her sights on Tara. 

warnings: (+18), Tara is Ghostface, language.

word count: 6.6k

a/n: set in the all hers universe, just a lil (big) one shot. love u guys, as always let me know your thoughts, always makes my day :))

Quinn Bailey is - to put it lightly - an absolute pain in your ass. 

New York City is expensive. 

College is expensive. 

And despite your parents' assistance and you and Tara both working part time jobs, it just isn’t feasible for you to get your own place in the city. 

So you’d put an ad in the paper. Found Quinn. She’d seemed fun at first - lively. The type of girl you’d want to be friends with in a new city like this. A tried and true party girl, glimmering like a jewel in a sea of dreary faces. 

But her sparkle had lasted all of three weeks. 

First it was the dishes. 

She left them piled up in the sink, unattended. For days, sometimes weeks. 

A little pet peeve of yours, but it wasn’t anything major. 

It had nothing on the men. 

They were like a revolving door. An entire roster of bodies to keep her warm. 

Short men. Tall men. Thin men, muscular men. Men with beards. Men without. Pretty men, sometimes, even ugly men. 

If he lived in the tri-state area and had a penis - likely he’d seen the inside of your apartment (and your roommate). 

But really, you’re not in the position to complain. 

You and Tara weren’t exactly known for having quiet sex, and of all the people you’d lived with, Quinn seemed to mind it the least. 

Maybe, looking back, that should have been the first warning sign. 

“I don’t know,” Quinn sighs one night over a glass of wine. Tara’s curled up in your arms, nursing her own glass as you play with her hair, “Sometimes I think I should just give them all up.” 

“Men?” You ask, furrowing your brow. You laugh a little at the thought, “I don’t know Quinn, outside of partying, men are your biggest hobby.” 

It’s not intended as a slight, and Quinn doesn’t take it as one. She throws a coy smile your way. 

“I don’t know, you two have just got me thinking lately,” She says, “I’ve never considered girls before. I mean, I like dick. A lot. But maybe dick isn’t everything.” 

“Poetic,” You say, an eyebrow raised. 

Men or women, it didn’t really matter who Quinn bought home. You’d have to wear your noise canceling headphones regardless. 

But Tara’s shifting in your arms, sitting up. Then, she narrows her eyes at Quinn.  

Like she’s scanning her for a potential threat. 

Although therapy had quietened some of Tara’s more jealous tendencies, it hadn’t gotten rid of them completely. Now, instead of stabbing - she chooses staring. 

You rub her arm, your quiet signal there are no threats here. 

“Besides,” Quinn says, throwing her hair back, “A chick can just strap one on, right? And it never goes soft. Maybe that’s an upgrade.” 

Tara’s tense against you. 

Quinn looks over at her, and suddenly notices the death glare she’s receiving. She pinches her eyebrows, a little confused. 

“What’s got you all worked up?” Quinn asks, with another flick of her hair. Her eyes widen, “Oh? You think I’m trying to make a play for your girl?” 

She leans back and lets out a loud laugh. 

“Chill Tara, if I was going to go for either of you, it wouldn’t be her.” 

And then it’s your turn to stare. 

Your hand freezes over Tara’s arm. A hot, familiar feeling of jealousy seeps through you, settles deep within your bones. 

Quinn catches your gaze and rolls her eyes. 

“Girls,” She says, exasperated, “You’re not the only pussy-lickers in town. Relax, okay?”

Tara leans back into you, seemingly placated. 

Quinn tilts her head, and downs the rest of her wine. She picks up her phone to call some other nameless man, no doubt to terrorize the two of you within the next half an hour. 

The conversation is over. 

But the jealousy bubbling under your skin doesn’t simmer down. And suddenly,  it’s the only thing you can think about. 

-

“What did she mean by that?” You agonize to Liv and Chad, a little later. 

You’re in the NYU quad, picking at your salad with a plastic fork. Tara’s in class, giving you more than enough time to stew on the conversation with Quinn. 

Chad slurps on his milkshake, seemingly unbothered. 

“She was just being friendly, YN, I wouldn’t read into it.” Says Chad, mouth open and full of food. 

Liv turns to him. Smacks his arm, a little too hard. 

“Friendly?” She says, voice shrill, “Friendly?” 

Chad blinks back at her, but she’s turning to you.  

“YN, she was not being friendly, don’t listen to him. Boys are so stupid.” 

“Hey-“ Interjects Chad, but Liv ignores him. She takes your arm. 

“She’s making a play for Tara, YN,” She says, a little urgently, “Girls do this. We like to play with our food before we eat it. She was scoping out Tara’s reaction before she put the moves on her for real.” 

You furrow your brow. 

“You think?” 

“I know,” Says Liv, “How do you think I got Chad?” 

Chad looks over to her, a little owlish. 

“Huh?” He says, creasing his forehead, “I asked you out, babe.” 

Liv shoots him a look. 

“You asked me out after I spent two weekends at your house asking for Mario Kart lessons.” 

Chad’s eyes widen. 

“You said that was so you could beat your brother!” 

Liv gives you a look. 

“Women are masterminds, YN. Watch the fuck out.” 

-

Liv’s comments ring in the back of your mind for the rest of the day. 

Now that you think about it, Quinn had been lounging about the house lately in scantily clad outfits. 

Sleep shorts that rose almost up to her hips. Tiny tank tops that were almost see through. She giggled a little too hard at Tara’s jokes, gushed over Tara’s cooking as if Tara was Gordon Ramsey himself. 

You’re starting to see it. 

Quinn liked her conquests. 

Men were easy, women a little harder - but for a girl who liked to conquer, who better than Tara? 

Your sweet, loving, loyal and devoted girlfriend. 

Prying Tara away from you wouldn’t be child’s play. 

Truly the Mount Everest of conquests. 

“What’s wrong baby?” Tara asks you a little later, after you’d spent half the night glaring at Quinn. 

She’d been traipsing around all afternoon in a pair of black panties and an old t-shirt, an outfit that wouldn’t have made you think twice about it a few days ago. 

But it’s different now. 

Liv’s words ring loud in your head, “Women are masterminds, YN.” 

You don’t respond, instead dropping a soapy pot to the countertop and watching as Quinn disappears into her bedroom, her phone pressed to her ear. 

Tara snakes her arms around your waist, pressing a gentle kiss to the back of your neck. 

“Babe?” Tara prompts. 

“Nothing,” You mumble. You’re in your own head now, half afraid if you say it out loud it will become true. 

You feel Tara’s pout against your shoulder. 

“Something’s wrong, you barely said anything when I tried to get you to watch Saw III,” She says, turning you in her arms. 

She raises an eyebrow to punctuate her point. 

“And you hate gore movies.” 

“I like movies that make you happy,” You lie. 

Tara furrows her brow. 

“Okay, something is definitely wrong,” She says. She stands on her tip toes and presses the softest kiss to your cheeks, “Tell me babe, what is it?” 

You bite your lip. 

Tara is your girlfriend, you reason after a moment of hesitation, and if anyone were to understand jealousy - it would be her. 

You sigh and loop your arms around Tara’s waist. 

“Is Quinn… do you think she’s acting weird?” 

Tara frowns. 

“No weirder than usual.” 

“It’s just…” you chew your lip, “I think she might.. be into you, babe.” 

Tara shoots you a look. 

“I don’t think so,” She says. She leans up and presses a kiss to your lips, “She has a pretty solid roster of dudes to keep her entertained.” 

She brushes a stand of hair out of your face, “Is that what’s bothering you, baby? You know you have nothing to worry about. I only have eyes for you.” 

It placates you for only a moment. 

Of course you don’t have anything to worry about. Tara adores you. Tara’s killed for you. Tara loves you with every fiber of her being. 

It’s just… 

Quinn is pretty. So pretty. 

Tara had fallen hard and fast for you, who’s to say she couldn’t fall the same way for someone else? 

And then the dread is back. 

“It’s just… Liv said-“ 

Tara groans. 

“Babe, don’t worry about what Liv has said. She barely knows the days of the week.” 

“But she knows how to get guys,” You say, a little pointed. 

Tara tilts her head. Her eyes are warm, the softest smile on her lips. 

“I’m not a guy,” Tara promises. She nuzzles her nose against yours, “Quinn could parade around here naked doing backflips and I wouldn’t look twice at her. You know that, babe.” 

You do know that. 

And so you let Tara press warm kisses into your neck and drag you back to the bedroom. 

Make sure to moan a little louder than usual just to remind Quinn exactly who Tara belongs to. 

-

It doesn’t work. 

Because of course, why would it work? 

The barrage of men flitting in and out of Quinn’s room comes to a screeching halt. She’s celibate for almost a week, focusing all her sexual energy on your girlfriend. 

It’s subtle, in the masterful kind of way Liv described. 

“Man,” She sighs loudly, one morning from her spot at the kitchen counter, “Tara, do you think you could help me on this paper for film class? I have to write a paper on iconic women in horror.” 

Tara springs to action, charging away from you like this is her sole purpose in life: to share her catalog of benign horror knowledge to any pretty girl who looks her way. 

You fold your arms, unhappily. 

“Start with Ellen Ripley,” Tara commands, before she even sits down. Quinn begins typing, madly. Tara pulls up a chair next to Quinn’s, leaning in a respectful distance to peer down at Quinn’s screen.  

“Signorney Weaver’s impact on horror is maybe one of the things that made me interested in horror to begin with.”

“I didn’t know that,” Quinn coos. She touches Tara’s arm, only slightly, leaning in until their shoulders brush, “That’s so cute, Tara.” 

Tara draws back, clearing her throat. 

“When you’re done with Sigourney, maybe touch on Jamie-Lee-Curtis.” 

Quinn blinks over at her, eyes round, like an innocent doe. 

You know better. 

Your eyes narrow as you stand, reaching for your purse. 

“Baby,” You remind Tara, leaning over to touch her back, “We need to get groceries today. Before Sam comes to visit.”

Quinn’s schoolgirl act drops immediately. Her eyes frost over slightly as she looks over at you, only the tiniest twinge of irritation apparent. 

“Maybe you could do that later, YN?” She asks, voice tilted, “I have to get this paper done before tonight.” 

“Sorry,” You flash her the mildest smile, not sorry at all, “Tara’s sister is coming all the way from California. We need to get the place ready, right babe?”

Tara nods, turning to Quinn to shrug.  

“Google should be able to help,” She says, scooting off her chair and grabbing her coat, “Carrie’s a great film too, if you’re in a pinch.”

“Well, maybe you can help me when you get back?” Quinn asks, a slight pout on her lip as she looks at Tara. 

Your eyes narrow, but Tara nods, helpfully. 

“Sure.” 

-

Naively, you’d hoped Quinn would get bored with this little game she’d started. 

Her attention span is short, you’d reasoned, as soon as she’d figured out Tara isn’t returning any of her flirty looks or comments, she’d get bored. 

You’d been wrong. 

If anything, Tara’s lack of interest only seems to spur Quinn on more. 

Most of your classes are in the mornings, Tara’s in the afternoon. Tara walks you to class, leaves you with a soft kiss and an “I love you”, but you know Quinn doesn’t work until the evenings, and it’s just her and Tara alone in that tiny little apartment for hours on end. 

So you toil in your classes. Imagine the worst. 

Tara and Quinn, sitting side by side, watching horror movies. Quinn touches her arm, then her thigh, leaning in to kiss her. 

Tara bats her away, most times you think about it. But sometimes she doesn’t. Sometimes she lets herself be kissed. Sometimes she lets Quinn touch her, undress her. Fuck her. 

And those sometimes become all you can think about. 

This is a new challenge, one that has rarely surfaced in your relationship. 

Tara is so enamored with you, most people don’t even bother attempting to seduce her. But Quinn isn’t most people, she’s persistent and pretty and maybe Tara isn’t a guy, but that doesn’t mean she can’t fall for the same traps a lot of them do. 

A sticky hot, honey-trap by the name of Quinn Bailey. 

“What are you doing?” You ask, a little stern when you walk into the apartment that afternoon. Tara’s curled up onto the couch, blanket wrapped around her. Quinn’s hovering over her, the back of her hand pressed against Tara’s forehead. 

A prickle settles down the back of your spine. Your jaw clenches. 

But Tara doesn’t even look over, just nuzzles herself deeper into her blanket. 

“Tara isn’t feeling well, poor baby.” Quinn coos. 

You drop your bag, ignore the rageful little demon in you that wants to bat Quinn’s hand away and fall to your girlfriend's side. The tip of Tara’s nose is red, and her lips are chapped. As she blinks up at you, you notice her eyes are hazy. 

“Honey,” You say, all thought of Quinn gone as you press your lips to Tara’s cheek, “Why didn’t you call?” 

“It’s nothing, just a cold,” Says Tara, but she curls into your side anyway. You press a gentle kiss to her clammy forehead and rub her arm. Quinn disappears into the kitchen, returning with a small bowl. 

“I made her some tea,” Says Quinn, “And some soup from scratch.” 

You blink up at her. You’ve never seen Quinn cook anything in her life. She’s all Deliveroo and fruit roll ups and toast. But the kitchen sink is awash with stray noodles and dirty pots. The smell of soup lingers. 

“Thanks Quinn,” Tara murmurs, reaching out to take the bowl from her hands, “You didn’t have to do that.” 

The angry, jealous demon is back. Quinn’s smile is unsettling, almost triumphant. 

As if she’s out-girlfriend-ed you. 

You swallow the urge to punch her in the throat. 

“No, you didn’t.” You say, warily, “Tara’s allergic to MSG, you didn’t put any of that in it, did you?” 

Quinn shakes her head, her smile coy. 

“All natural, only the best for our girl.” Quinn says, and then squeezes Tara’s shoulder. 

You glare as she cleans up the dirty plates and contemplate homicide for the rest of the evening. 

-

When Tara’s feeling better, you’ll bring it up, you reason with yourself the next morning. 

Quinn Bailey is becoming a pest, a horned up sex-pest determined to get her claws in your girlfriend. 

It has to stop. 

The solution? 

This is where you’re a little stuck. You don’t know the solution. Strangling Quinn sounds great on paper, but not so much in practice. 

Dead people don’t pay rent, that’s the only thing you know for sure.

You contemplate this over the next couple of days, between wrestling a hot water bottle for Tara out of Quinn’s hands, and almost jogging down to the corner store at the end of your block to beat Quinn for the tylenol. 

Tara’s such a baby when she’s sick, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d think she’s starting to enjoy this. Two women fawning over her, competing for who can nurse her the best. 

And the worst part is, Quinn knows exactly what she’s doing and she wants you to know it. 

She doesn’t say it, not outright, too smart to play her hand too quickly. 

She grins as she spoonfeds Tara some leftover soup, flashes you a look as she dabs Tara’s sweaty forehead with a damp cloth. 

She raises an eyebrow at you as Tara croaks out to her, asking for more tissues. 

It makes you stew. 

It makes you want to grab the kitchen knife out of the top draw and slam it through her stupid neck.

It makes you want to grab her by the hair and throw her out of the window of your seventh story apartment. 

But you resist. 

Let her think she’s winning. 

It’ll make the victory you claw from her hands all the more sweet. 

Tara’s feeling better a few days later, and with her recovery comes the first taste of victory. 

Quinn’s making dinner in the kitchen - her newfound passion being culinary for your girlfriend. She hums a little, flitting between batting her eyelashes at Tara and shooting knowing glances in your direction. 

“Tara,” She says, just as she’s about to pour the tomato paste into the pasta “I can’t get this jar open. Can you help me?” 

Tara’s busy with her laptop, but she moves over regardless. She touches your shoulder lightly as she passes, and reaches out to take the jar from Quinn’s hand. 

It pops open immediately. You roll your eyes. 

Quinn beams, and as you look up, she’s running her hand over your girlfriend’s bicep. 

“You’re so strong,” She flirts, brazenly, “Thanks Tara.” 

Tara moves back to her laptop, unperturbed. 

When it comes to attention towards her she has always been oblivious. You let out a growl so low, no-one but you hears it. 

“Dinner’s up, Tara,” Quinn says, a few moments later, pulling out a couple of plates. 

You peer down at your book, suddenly very interested in the words. When Quinn had asked you your plans for the evening - grocery bags in hand - you’d neglected to tell her Tara had asked you out to dinner. 

Tara blinks over at her, a little confused. 

“Dinner?” She asks, closing the lid of her laptop. 

“Yeah,” Says Quinn with a sickly smile, “I made your favorite.” 

Tara tilts her head, “Oh. Sorry, Quinn, we’re going out tonight. I didn’t realize you were cooking for us.” 

Quinn stares a moment. 

“That’s fine,” She says, voice a little clipped, “Only, I asked YN and she said you guys were around.” 

You close your book and stand, grabbing your coat. 

“Oh yeah,” You say, smacking your hand to your head, as if you’d suddenly forgotten, “Dinner. I am so sorry, Quinn. Gosh, I am so forgetful sometimes.” 

Tara peers over at you, a little confused. 

Oblivious idiot when it comes to girls, yes, but not with you. You see the question in her eyes and neglect to answer it. 

Quinn’s eyes harden, but she doesn’t dare give up the jig. Not in front of Tara.

“It’s fine,” She says, “Maybe you can have it for lunch.” 

“Yeah, maybe,” Tara says, a little absent minded as you wrap her jacket around her shoulders. 

You can tell she feels bad by the way she lingers. 

“We haven’t had a date night in a while, that’s all,” Tara explains. She wraps an arm around your waist and squeezes your hip, “Besides, I owe this one a dinner for taking such good care of me these last couple of days.” 

She presses a soft kiss to your lips, her brown eyes warm and shimmering. 

You can’t help the smile that snakes across your lips. 

Quinn crosses her arms, looking unhappy. 

“I seem to remember taking pretty good care of you,” She says, drawing Tara’s gaze, “Maybe you should be taking me out to dinner, too.” 

Tara’s eyebrows knit in confusion. She looks at you, a little helpless, like she’s suddenly aware she’s caught in a chess match she wasn’t aware she was playing. 

Bless her. 

Your poor, sweet, unsuspecting girlfriend. 

You squeeze her hand, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. 

“

“Did you get the feeling Quinn’s mad at me?” She asks, “Maybe we should have invited her to dinner. She did make me a lot of soup.” 

You tilt your wine glass to your lips, needing the rush of the alcohol to get you through this conversation. 

When you set it down, Tara’s blinking back at you, with wide, brown eyes. 

“Remember what we talked about a couple of weeks ago, babe?” You say, “About my conversation with Liv.” 

Tara nods. 

“And have you noticed it, this past couple of weeks?” You prompt, “Quinn flirting with you?” 

Tara tilts her head. 

“No.” 

“Tara, she touched your arm and called you strong,” You say, pinching the bridge of your nose. Quinn had gone to work earlier that day, blown a kiss goodbye to Tara as she’d left. 

Made sure you’d seen it. 

Tara shrugs, “I’ve been in the gym, babe, I’m getting stronger.”

She flexes her bicep. 

“Look, babe, that’s all muscle.” She says, proudly. 

“That’s not the point, Tara,” You say, “She’s flirting with you. She’s been flirting with you all week.” 

Tara frowns. 

“She has?” She asks, looking a little perplexed. 

Then, she pouts. 

“So she was just complimenting my lasagne because she wanted to sleep with me?” She says, looking put out, “I thought she really liked my new recipe.” 

“Forget about the lasagne, Tara, this is not okay.” You say, “How would you feel if she were hitting on me?”

Tara frowns. 

“Not good,” She admits, “Bad. Really, really bad.” 

You sigh, dropping your fork onto your plate. 

“She’s going to have to go,” You tell Tara, “If she can’t respect our relationship, she can get the fuck out.” 

Tara bites her lip. 

“Okay, babe,” She says, a little wary, “It’s just… rent is due next month and I don’t know how easy it’s going to be to replace her.”

She squeezes your hand, a little hasty as she sees the look on your face. 

“I’ll talk to her,” Tara says, leaning up to kiss you, “I’ll remind her I’m taken and not interested. And if she still tries it after that, she goes. How’s that, babe?” 

-

Tara’s talk with Quinn happens a little later. 

You climb into bed, head tilted as you hear the quiet murmur of their voices down the hall. It doesn’t sound heated, and you hear Quinn giggling as she tells Tara goodnight. 

You frown as Tara enters the room. 

“It’s just a misunderstanding, baby,” She says as she climbs into bed, pressing a kiss to your shoulder, “She doesn’t like me. She told me she’s just been a little clingier than usual because we’re her only friends.” 

“Babe-“ You start with a huff, ready to climb out of bed but Tara’s hands grip around your waist. 

“I know, I know, babe.” She assures, pressing another quick kiss to your neck, “I know you think it’s all bullshit so I told her straight up. I told her I’m in love with you and if she tries anything we’ll kick her straight out.” 

You frown, turning in her arms, “Really?” 

“Really.” Tara says, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips, “And I promise to keep my distance, okay babe? She can flirt until the cows come home, it’s going to fall on deaf ears.” 

She snuggles into your chest, soothing your hammering heartbeat with a kiss. 

“I love you. Only you.” 

-

True to her word, Tara goes out of her way to avoid Quinn. 

Gone are their cozy little sessions on the couch watching horror movies. Tara refuses Quinn’s cooking, turns down each of Quinn’s requests to hang out, or help her with homework, or whatever other brainless task Quinn can think of to get them to spend time together. 

The rental market is fucked, you discover in the interim. 

No way can you and Tara afford to move out, and even if Quinn did leave, it could take months to replace her. 

“No,” Mindy says, point blank when you ask her, “Not unless you and Tara swear to a vow of celibacy.” 

You sigh, unhappily. 

“Great,” You say, slumping back into your seat, “We’re going to be stuck with her forever.” 

Mindy looks over at you, taking a little pity on you. 

“Why don’t you ask Chad and Liv?” She suggests, “They won’t be able to hear you fuck over Liv’s soap operas anyway.” 

“I already asked,” You say, voice gloomy, “They’re in a two year contract.” 

Mindy shoots you a sympathetic smile. 

“You’ll find someone,” She says, “You just need to put some feelers out there.” 

And so you do. 

You spend the morning in class writing up the ad. You’ll put in the paper tomorrow, you figure. 

When you get home, ready to avoid Quinn and spend a night snuggling in bed with Tara, Tara’s already at the door. 

“Hey babe,” Tara says, bouncing up to greet you with a kiss. She smiles, lowering her voice, “Missed you. Wanna shower with me?” 

You smile and kiss her. 

“You know we can’t,” You say, regretfully, “Last time we used up all the hot water.” 

“So let’s have a cold shower,” She suggests, her smile turning into a leer, “I’ve got other ways to warm you up.” 

“Izzie, how are you? It’s been ages!” Quinn sounds from the living room. Your smile drops - you didn’t realize she was home. Tara notices your face shift, and rubs your hip, comfortingly. 

“She’s been good, babe, I promise,” Tara says, “Are you sure you don’t want to shower with me?” 

“I’ll start dinner,” You say, leaning in to kiss her quickly, “You go, baby.” 

Quinn’s in the living room, lounging across the couch when you enter. 

“Yeah, I’ve never done it before,” Says Quinn. If she’s noticed you in the kitchen, she doesn’t acknowledge you. She kicks her shoes off and lays back into the couch, twirling her hair between her fingers. 

“I just can’t stop thinking about it. You know? I really want to try it.” 

You pull a few potatoes from the bag and pull out a knife. 

Just a little while longer, you think, trying to stop yourself from glancing over. Just a few more weeks of her and then you’d never have to see her again. 

Quinn looks over, catching your eye. 

As if she can tell you’re thinking about her. 

And then, she smiles. 

“I met a guy last night, took him home because he looked a little bit like her. Dark hair, dark eyes, short.” She says, her voice dropping to a quiet murmur, “Fucked his brains out imaging it was her on top of me. Inside me. And she will be. Soon.” 

She’s looking right at you. Her voice is a low taunt, daring you to take the bait. 

And you fall for it. 

Hook, line and sinker. 

You slam the knife to the kitchen counter, cheeks flushing red. 

“That’s it,” You growl as you launch at her, “You’re fucking dead, do you hear me?” 

Quinn stares a moment, her jaw slacking. 

As if she hadn’t realized her taunting would finally come to fruition. 

In the form of you launching to grab at the end of her hair. 

You tug at it, hard, determined to make the end of your fist meet the slant of her chin. She squeals, dropping her phone as you tug her towards you. 

“YN,” She cries, “Stop it, you’re fucking crazy-” 

“You think this is funny?” You growl, letting go of her hair to shove her back against the couch. You swing at her - and miss - and you know you must look crazed. All wild eyes, red-faced, three weeks of taunting finally setting you over the edge, “ You think trying to sleep with my girlfriend is a game?” 

“Tara!” Quin screams as you launch at her once more, “Tara, help!” 

Tara’s name on Quinn’s lips - if possible, just makes you angrier. You lunge over the couch, but she stands, squealing as she ducks your advances. 

You hear the bathroom door slam, and a flash of dark hair before you turn to see Tara, soaking wet, towel pressed around her torso. Her hair is soapy with shampoo and she looks dismayed as she looks at the sight in front of her. 

Quinn screaming like a child and you feral. Grabbing for her with all your might. 

“Baby?” She says, sounding scandalized, “What are you doing?” 

Quinn lets out a sob. Teary-eyed, she barrels over to Tara and stands behind her, grabbing at Tara’s arms as if she’s her knight in shining armor. 

“She’s attacking me, Tara,” Quinn blubbers out through her crocodile tears, “Make her stop, please.” 

“Oh, give it a rest, would you?” You say, voice harsh, “Tears? Really? Why don’t you tell Tara what you were saying about her on the phone, huh? Why don’t you be honest for once in your fucking life and tell her what you’ve been trying to do this entire time.” 

“I was talking about a girl from my Chemistry class,” Quinn says, as if you’re crazy, “Her name is Charlotte, I wasn’t talking about Tara.” 

“Oh, bullshit,” You scoff, “Just admit it. You’ve been all over Tara from day one.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, you crazy bitch,” Quinn says, “Look, just because you’re insecure, doesn’t mean I’m trying to sleep with your girlfriend.” 

“Enough,” Growls Tara. She wrenches her hand away from Quinn, turning to round on her. The anger within you dissipates slightly. You swallow as you’ve realized Quinn has inadvertently awoken The Rage. 

“Don’t you dare talk to her like that,” Tara says, her voice hot, “Don’t you fucking dare.” 

Quinn blinks at her. 

“Tara, it’s fine,” You say, hurriedly, “Babe, leave it.” 

And as much as you want to see Quinn get punched in the face, you don’t want The Rage to be the one to do it. 

You’d paid for too much therapy to see that fucker unleashed again. 

“Apologize,” Tara demands, her eyes flashing, “Apologize to her now.” 

You reach for Tara’s hand, tug her back towards you, out of Quinn’s reach. Her heart is racing,  her shoulders tight. You press your lips to her shoulder in an effort to soothe her. 

Quinn’s face contorts. You half think she’s about to spit right in your face. Maybe take a swing at you of her own. But then her face softens. 

“I’m sorry, YN,” She says, voice silky sweet, “It really was a misunderstanding. I think we’ve got off on the wrong foot. I’m sorry if I ever made you feel like I was trying to take your girlfriend from you. I’m not, I promise.” 

She sounds sincere, but you see right through her. 

“Alright,” Tara says, though her shoulders are still tight, “Good. Now I’m going to finish my shower, and the two of you are not going to kill each other. Right?” 

Quinn nods, solemnly. 

“Bedroom,” You tell Tara, “Now.” 

-

“She’s going,” Is the first thing you say as Tara shuts the door. You’re pacing back and forth, your skin burning hot and red, “She’s fucking gone, Tara. I mean it this time. I don’t care if we have to sleep on Mindy’s couch for the next three years, I am not spending another second with her-” 

Tara rubs her eyes. They’re a little red, stained with unwashed shampoo. 

“Baby, why don’t you sit down for a bit?” She suggests, “Look at you, you’re all worked up.” 

You turn to stare her down, anger flashing through your features. 

“She was talking about fucking you, Tara,” You hiss, “Right in front of me. She was talking about how she wanted you inside her.” 

Tara moves a little closer, trying to touch your arm. You shake her off to continue your pacing. 

“You’re mine,” You seethe, “I don’t know what part of that is so hard for her to understand.” 

“Baby-” Tara starts. 

“You’re not talking me out of this, Tara,” You snap, “I want her gone. Tonight.” 

Tara catches your arm. She draws you in for a long kiss. 

She’s trying to settle you down. 

It works.  

“I’m yours,” She says, softly, “Like I already told you, you don’t have to worry about her.” 

“You promised, Tara,” You say, voice agonized, “You promised if she tried anything else she’d be gone. And I swear to god, Tara - if you try to take her side-“  

Tara shushes you with another kiss. 

Then she draws back, her voice soft. 

“Of course I’m not going to take her side, sweetheart,” Tara says, “I’m your girlfriend. I’m always on your side. She’s going. You don’t have to ask twice.” 

This relaxes you a little. Tara presses another lingering kiss to your lips. 

“Like hell we’re sleeping on Mindy’s couch, though,” Tara says, crinkling her brow, “Sam can lend us the money. She won’t mind.” 

Sam might mind. 

But it’s really the least of your worries. 

“Thank you,” You say, sighing as you lean into Tara’s chest. 

Tara squeezes your shoulders. 

“Let me finish my shower,” She says, “And then I’ll talk to her.” 

She eyes you, warily. 

“Maybe you should take a walk or something, babe,” She says, after a moment of hesitation. She brushes your cheek, “You’re all red in the face.” 

You frown. 

“If you think I’m leaving you here with that sexed-up-piranha-” You start with a growl, and Tara draws her arms back around your shoulders. 

“Alright, alright,” She concedes, “It’s okay, babe, we’ll do it together.” 

But by the time Tara’s out of the shower, Quinn is long gone. 

You spend the night seething, not even Tara’s gentle kisses enough to coax you out of your mood.

In the morning, you hunt through the apartment like a lion hungry for its prey but she’s nowhere in sight. 

She’s stupid enough to try you, but not so stupid enough to hang around for the fallout. 

When you head off to class, Tara reassures you with a gentle squeeze of your hand.

“She’ll be back here at some point,” Tara says, “As soon as I see her I’ll tell her to pack her bags.”

Economics flashes by in a rage-filled trance. You don’t even bother with your marketing paper. You’re worked up. 

You just want her gone. 

And so you skip the rest of your morning classes and head home.

You don’t bother smiling at the doorman, fish your keys out of your pocket in a grump. 

When you get to the door, you tilt your key in the lock, fiddling around to pry the door open. 

And then you hear it. 

A cry - it’s Tara, and then you hear Quinn. She’s squealing again. You blink. Your mind runs rampant with the possibilities. 

Tara with her knife, plowing through Quinn with the kind of ire only The Rage can bring. 

Tara grunts, and it’s familiar. Your stomach lurches. You might be sick. 

You know that grunt. 

The indicator Tara might be plowing Quinn in a much different fashion. 

Betrayal sinks deep within your veins. You fumble with the door, almost pry it off its hinges in your effort to barge through it. 

It swings open, and the lump in your throat grows with the thought of what you might find on the other side of the door. 

But what you see isn’t what you expect. 

You blink. 

Nothing could have prepared you for the sight in front of you. 

“Tara,” You hiss as your jaw drops, “What are you doing?” 

Tara has Quinn in a firm grip. Her legs are wrapped tight around Quinn’s waist, she has Quinn’s head between her arms in a chokehold. Quinn’s eyes are wide. She struggles desperately against Tara’s grip, eyes bulging as she tries to wrangle her way out. 

The scene in front of you would be comical, if it weren’t real. 

But it’s very real. 

Quinn looks over to you the moment Tara does. 

The sound of your voice is her escape. 

Tara turns to you, grip lessening only slightly as she realizes your presence. Her brown eyes widen, the way they do when she knows she’s in trouble. 

Quinn pulls herself out of Tara’s grip with a heavy gasp, almost shoving Tara to the floor. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Quinn says, voice high as she stands, “Are you actually serious right now?” 

“Explain, Tara,” You say, voice flat, “Now.” 

Tara looks over to you, eyes wide. She splutters as she speaks. 

“She tried to kiss me, babe,” Tara says, voice aghast, “She tried to kiss me and I didn’t know what else to do.” 

Quinn’s breathing heavily. 

She’s scary like this. Thundering over Tara’s tiny frame like she might snap her in two. 

“I throw myself at you and your first reaction is karate?” Quinn says to Tara. Her eyes are wild. She’s pissed, “What the hell is wrong with you?” 

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Tara fires back, “I have a girlfriend.” 

You throw your bag to the ground. The heavy, unsettled feeling that’s stayed with you for the last three weeks is boiling. If Quinn doesn’t leave now, there’s no telling what you’ll do next. 

“Get out,” You tell Quinn, “You don’t live here anymore. Get your shit and go.” 

Quinn doesn’t move. 

“Get out,” You insist, “Before I kill you myself.” 

Quinn shoots an angry look at Tara, before redirecting it at you. 

“Fine,” She says, “You two deserve each other. Fucking Jackie Chan and Princess Prissy-”

“Out.” You snap as she grabs her purse. 

She shoots you an angry glare. 

“You can forget about rent,” She sneers, “And good luck finding someone else to live in this shitty apartment.” 

Your palms are sweating as she slams the front door shut. 

Tara looks up at you, eyes still wide, a little sheepish as you close in on her. 

“I didn’t kiss her babe, I swear,” Tara promises, leaning up to grab your hands, “She leaned in and I grabbed her before she could get close.” 

“I know you didn’t, babe,” You say after a long moment. Your voice softens. You brush her dark hair out of her eyes, “I know.” 

She’s quiet a moment. 

“I’m sorry that we didn’t kick her out sooner,” She says, “I really did just think she was trying to be my friend.” 

You sigh. Tilt your face to hers. 

“I know, babe,” You say, then you snort, “I can’t believe you put her in a headlock. Sam’s going to love that.” 

Tara pouts.

“She deserved it,” She says, “And speaking of Sam…” 

She looks up at her, eyes shimmering. 

“I talked to her about the rent,” Tara murmurs after a moment, “She agreed to help us out.” 

“Oh?” You say. A spark of hope sears deep within your chest. 

Tara bites her lip, “There’s a catch, though. She’s going to come live with us until we find a new roommate.” 

“Oh.” You say with a frown. 

“You’re not mad, are you?” Tara asks, a little hesitant, “I’d tell her no, but we’re really in a pinch, babe.” 

“It’s fine,” You say, after a moment, “I don’t mind living with Sam.” 

Tara hums. She leans in close against you. 

“And hey,” You nudge her, trying to keep the mood light, “At least I don’t have to worry about Sam trying to get into your pants.” 

Tara wrinkles her nose. 

You laugh. 

Lean down to kiss her, deep. 

Fuck you Quinn Bailey, you can’t help but think. 

You hope she enjoyed her little game.

Because when it comes to Tara, you never lose.