#i just wanted to spend the day writing before my shift but i'm second guessing everything and can't commit to a single fic | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

itsharleystuff · 2 years ago

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↳ 𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐂𝐊𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐄

Gif not mine!

— 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Joel Miller x afab!fem reader

— 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 7k

— 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Ellie finds an old chessboard somewhere in Jackson and asks you to teach her how to play. Joel joins and isn’t too happy about losing three times against you.

— 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 18+ content (minors dni!), age gap (reader is in her mid twenties, Joel is early fifties), sex, p in v, unprotected sex, vaginal fingering, dirty talk, use of whore (like once), pet names (darling, sweetheart, angel), multiple orgasms, they do it on the table, cum eating, bit of angst, insecure Joel, canon divergency, probably ooc Joel and Ellie, mentions of death and loss, alcohol consumption, confessing feelings. Let me know if I missed something!

a/n: this one’s a bit rushed but I wanted to post it before my birthday so I apologize if it isn’t great. Anyways, I’m writing a second Javi fic, so if you liked 𝐌Í𝐀 I’m certain you’re going to love the next one:)

no use of y/n

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊

"You're cheating." Ellie rambles, standing up to get a better view of the board and analyze it from different angles. You can't help but giggle at her childish attitude, cause it truly brought a certain joy to the dynamic. "Hey! It's not funny."

"How could I cheat? You were watching my game the whole time." You defend you case, raising your hands in a sign of peace but gaining a glare from the girl.

"I don't know, you're the one who's teaching me." In that moment, you hear the crack of the front door opening, but none of you bother to stand and greet the main resident of the house, too busy in your own matters.

"Look, I'm playing fair. I am simply older and more experienced than you." Ellie grimaces and sits back on the chair, both arms crossed over her chest. "But try not to feel too bad. I've always been really good at chess."

Joel enters the dining room and walks right past you, going straight to the kitchen. You guess he's either going for a beer or to pour some whiskey into his favorite glass. Always the same routine every weekend: he would come home late with absolutely no explanations as to where he was, drink something strong and spend some time with both of you before heading to bed.

"You must be a really good strategist, then." She replies, amused. "I’ve heard this game is all about that. Strategies."

When you're about to respond, the man's heavy footsteps get closer as he comes to the room once again and leans back on the wall opposite to you, a glass of whiskey on his hand. His grayish hair is messy and his eyes seem to shine brighter under the warm light hanging over your heads when he looks at you intently. Often, he would appear exhausted after being off all day, but tonight it was different. Something about him was, but you couldn’t quite pinpoint it.

Ellie must've sensed a shift in the air, since she changed her approach in a second. "Joel, you're pretty ancient. I bet you know how to play."

You hold back your laughter at her mocking comment, reaching the board to rearrange the pieces. He cocked an eyebrow in her direction, straightening his posture nonchalantly.

"I'm more of a poker man," he retorts with a distant air, diverting his gaze to Ellie.

"Poker?" You frown as he comes your way, but doesn't take a sit just yet. "I didn't take you for a gambler, Miller."

He sets the glass down on the table, leaning over the chair next to you with a smirk. "M'not. There’s many ways of playing other than betting your money, f’you know what I mean.”

Your eyes widen at his response, taken aback. So he meant like… The one were you end up naked. “Now, I would’ve expected that from Tommy, but you? That’s a surprise.”

He shrugs, faded smile still on his lips.

You remembered what Ellie once told you, ‘he does that whenever you’re around,’ she had said in a meditative tone, ‘smile, I mean. It’s kind of creepy cause… y’know, he never does.’ Perhaps that’s why she acted differently every time you three were together.

“Yeah, whatever.” The girl grumbles. “Can you play chess or not? I need someone to take revenge for me.”

Joel takes a seat beside you, slowly, glancing over the board before sipping from his drink again. He looks back at Ellie, whose eyes were sparkling with excitement. The man sighs in defeat, well aware that he just couldn’t say no to her. A dad reflex, maybe, but it worked out in her favor and she’d take advantage of it as much as she could.

“Fine. I call black.” You nod in agreement and the younger one leans on her elbows for a better view. “Either way, I know you like making the first moves. Ain’t that right, darlin’?”

Your first reaction was almost choking on your own saliva. Honestly, how dare he say something like that in front of Ellie? Did he suddenly forget that she was fourteen and terribly clever? Had he lost his mind? Also, he never called you by anything other than your name whenever she was around, so this whole situation felt like a personal attack.

“You okay over there?” Ellie asked, slightly concerned at your incessant coughing.

“Yeah…” you give him a dirty look and press a hand to your chest, making the first move with a white pawn. “Could you bring me some water? I think my soul might’ve left my body.”

“Sure.” She quickly answers, standing up. Joel doesn’t say anything else, his mind focused only on the game now.

It had all happened last weekend.

Thinking in retrospective, your relationship with him had always been ambiguous. You couldn’t quite recall when he actually started talking to you and not just ‘bear with your presence’, nor when his invitations to come over to his place started coming from him and not Ellie.

At first, it was simply you and her. Bonding was easy, despite her sharp character. She looked up to you, for whatever reason that might be, and that smoothed things. Joel was a completely different story. He acted like you didn’t exist, as if you were merely another bug roaming his house. Though when he saw how good your friendship with Ellie was, his brusque behavior started to fade, or at least settle down somehow.

Sooner than later you started coming over to make dinner, or teach the teenager how to bake some of the recipes your grandmother had thought you -more like you’d do everything while she chatted to keep you entertained-. But truth be told, it became more of an excuse to see him.

Honestly, you were doomed since the very beginning. There was undeniably no way you would’ve been able to escape Joel Miller’s silent charm. His presence became a constant need to you, and you’d often find yourself relating certain things to him. Smoke, denim, pills, booze, watches and boots, to mention a few. To you, he was all gray and blue, merging in the best way possible.

You didn’t expect him to thank you for taking care of them. Them. Not just Ellie, him too. Or that he’d suddenly show up to places you would frequent, which made you wonder, could he possibly feel the same way? Sure, it could’ve been a simple coincidence… If it weren’t for the stolen looks you’d often share. Though his face rarely reflected any interest in you, his piercing gaze would frequently burn your skin every time you were hanging out with other men.

Two weeks ago, Maria had been held back from patrol due to her pregnancy, and you were called to fill up her place. The thing is, you were supposed to leave with Tommy, but somehow ended up with his older brother, riding at dawn in utter silence and searching for a prey to hunt. It wasn’t particularly uncomfortable, yet it allowed you to watch him more attentively: his broad shoulders and sturdy back, the dark graying hair that, in some way, made him more attractive. And then your mind, went to some… Darker places.

How would his big, manly hands feel cupping your breasts? Flashy images of his rough, calloused fingers pinching your nipples meandered your mind. His face buried between your legs, his mustache tickling your…

“You ‘kay there, sweetheart?” He had asked, abruptly taking you out of your freakish daydreaming. “You seem distracted.”

Well, that was a way of putting it. “Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just…” you babbled, “I hate the rifle.” Joel glanced back at you with a stiff, confused expression. “If I shoot this thing, I’ll feel the kickback on my shoulders and back for at least two weeks from now.”

The horses were stagnant, waiting by the trees while you took a stroll nearby, keeping an eye for any sort of animal that would serve for dinner.

“Show me.” He said, internally amused by your inquiring expression. “Show me how you hold it.”

“Oh…” You compeled, in spite of the anxiety his stern eyes brought upon you.

“You’re doin’ it wrong.” He grunted, coming to approach you, still holding the position.

You scowled, raising a brow to him but not daring to move a muscle. “Maybe you’re just making me nervous, did you think about that?”

Joel plants himself behind you, staying so close that you could feel the warmth of his body through the many layers of clothing. Your heartbeat races when his hand rearranges the rifle on your elbow, unintentionally wrapping his arms around you.

“You need to hold it like this.” His tone was low but still firm. “Keep it up.” You feel his chest pressed to your back and his face near yours, making it hard to breathe.

You can’t bring yourself to look at him, cause if your head turns even a little, you fear the distance between you might as well disappear. His hand holds your wrist steady, the other one going from your elbow to your waist in a tight grip that makes you gasp.

“Do I make you nervous?” He questioned, without letting you go. Paying no mind to the way your nerves buzzed and ears rang at the proximity, you slowly nodded. “Are you afraid of me?”

His doubt made your heart jump and knit your brows together. “No. I trust you.” Joel’s breath hit your temple and it took all the self control in your body not to get rid of the distance.

“You shouldn’t.” Both his hands are on your waist in a firm grasp. He definitely noticed your flushed cheeks, the ragged breathing and constant desire to look at him. Like a damn teenager in love. You gulp, trying to regain composure.

“And why is that?” He didn’t answer, and every second that passed and his hands were still on you only made it worse. You needed to get closer or your lungs would crush under the weight of expectation. “Joel?”

You finally gave in, raising your head to face him. He was already looking down at you, eyes smitten and lost. A reflection of him you’d never seen before. Your gaze goes to his lips and inevitably lick your own before going up to his deep, brown eyes again.

Fucking hell, the man was mesmerizing.

Before you even knew what you were doing, you’re leaning forward, completely forgetting about the rifle and the whole world around you. Your noses touch and your lips merely brush against each other’s. Instinctively, you close your eyes in hopes that he’d go for it.

But he didn’t.

Instead, his hand comes to arrange your posture again, murmuring a lazy ‘easy’ in your ear, that shared moment vanishing in thin air.

“When shooting a weapon this big, you gotta bring your strength from your torso and legs.” And then he acted like nothing happened; nevertheless, he was perfectly aware of the effect he had on you. “That way it won’t hurt after.”

Well shit. Now you had screwed up.

This man was like a father to Ellie and you were not only infatuated with him, but also add to the list that you had purposely tried to kiss him. You were embarrassed, to say the least. Specially since it appeared that whatever feelings you had were one-sided.

Or so you thought, up until last Saturday.

You hadn’t talked with him about it. In fact, you hadn’t even been alone with him ever since. It was probably for the best, though, that way you wouldn’t have to humiliate yourself in front of him any further. Every time you happened to cross paths, he seemed aloof, more indifferent than usual.

It was pretty late, probably past midnight and Joel hadn’t yet arrived. You had spent all day with Ellie and now you were just waiting for his return, but she was growing tired and you didn’t think it was fair for her to stay up for too long.

“Go to bed, okay? I’ll wait for him.” You told her with a smile.

“Nah, don’t worry. I’m not even…” whatever she was going to say got cut off by her yawn.

“Right. You were saying?” She rolled her eyes and snorted at your victorious air.

“Fine. But promise you won’t stay for too long. I’d hate to know you didn’t get any sleep because of me.” You agreed and said everything would be fine, that she had nothing to worry about.

So you waited there on his living room, reading old crappy magazines about celebrity gossip while facing the crackling fire that kept the house warm. It was easy to lose track of time this way, therefore, when the door opened at last, you had no idea how long you had been waiting around. You rushed to his encounter, but you were totally unprepared for what happened next.

“Jesus Christ, Joel. Are you- shit…” the man standing ahead was someone you knew, but could barely recognize. The side of his face was bleeding, a cut going from his temple to the cheekbone and there were bruises scattered around it. He was sweating and you could swear he was about to faint.

You closed the door behind him, tugging his shoulder to drag him inside, all the way to the kitchen. Despite his rumbles of protest, Joel allowed you to do it, putting up no resistance. His mind was screaming at him to tell you that you should leave and that he didn’t need any help. But he was too fucking exhausted and you were being so kind and warm… He just couldn’t bring himself to do it, ignoring the part of his brain that kept telling him ‘you’ll regret this later’. For once in a very long time, he was being irrational, letting another part of him take control; or rather lose it completely.

You sat him down on a chair and took a clean towel, wetting it with cold water to treat the wound. In addition, you also took the bottle of whiskey that he kept locked away where Ellie wouldn’t find it, pouring him a glass. He gulps it down straight away.

Joel observes your every move closely. Your steady hands going to his chin and raising his face to the light, the way your features drown in concern and your dazzling eyes examine the injury. His skin burnt there where you touched him and it was becoming hard for him to keep his mind focused, growing dizzier with pain and intoxicated by your perfume. He really shouldn’t be feeling this way, and it burdens him to know it. Your lovely, young self shouldn’t be an object of his desire; and the fact that you were what he wanted the most was killing him achingly slow.

Because, even if you did want him back, what good could it possibly come from the whole thing? He’d just hold you back. There were plenty of other men in Jackson that could offer you things he certainly couldn’t. Yeah, that was it. He was way too corrupted to be deserving of someone like you.

“Does it hurt too much?” You muttered while getting rid of the blood, careful not to be too harsh.

“S’okay, angel.” The name-calling wasn’t something you usually liked. It sounded condescending coming from other men, but when he did it, your stomach fluttered. “Were you waiting for me?”

You nod vaguely, “I was worried.” His eyes bore into yours and your heart skips a beat. “I mean we. We were worried.”

“Right…” He noticed how your fingers brushed the hair out of his face tenderly, his self-control threatening to crumble under your touch with every second that went by. His hand takes your wrist, preventing you from keeping up your work. For a moment, he says nothing, simply staring at you fixedly. “I think you should leave.” He blurts out, letting go of you.

Oh, there they were. Those mixed signs that you always seemed to misinterpret.

You groan in exasperation, leaving the bloody towel beside the bottle of alcohol. “I’m just trying to help.”

“I don’t need your pity.” Joel was being petty and his deliver managed to hurt a little. But you would not give him that much power, at least not without putting up a fight.

“It’s not about that and you know it.” You cross both arms over your chest and sit on the edge of the table, determined to get out of that agog that wouldn’t let you sleep. “Why are you pushing me away?”

He rubs a hand over his face, taking his time to retort and avoiding your eyes. “I can’t give you what you want.”

You laugh sardonically, challenging him. “And what is that?” His gaze is disdainful and rude, but you don’t let him intimidate you. “Are you afraid?”

If you were anyone else, you’d be shaking with fear. Joel was tough, to the point where some might call him cynical. But you knew he wouldn’t hurt you. His goal was to scare you off.

“Go. I don’t need you here.” You don’t move an inch, resolved to bring an end to whatever this was and ignoring his vicious glare.

“No,” you huffed.

“I told you to leave.” He was getting pissed, his voice trembling with anger and the cold words slicing the tense air.

“And I said no. I don’t take orders from you.” His lips were sealed in a fine line, eyes feisty. “Be honest with me and then I’ll see myself out.”

Silence again. A more prolonged one in which none of you had the bravery to come forward. Every second that went on and nothing happened was a torture you could not endure. That was it then, you’d made a fool of yourself yet again.

“Fine.” Your voice comes out unsteady from choking down the tears as you stand up straight, set on leaving all these feelings behind.

But right when you walk by his side, Joel’s hand grabs your arm softly. His grip wasn’t strong enough to hold you back if you really wanted to go, kind of like he was unsure about his own actions.

“Push me away.” He pleads. And it sounds desperate, as if the whole situation caused him agony. “Please, push me away.”

Your wet your lips, astonished by how guilty he appeared when practically begging you to stay away, “I can’t,” you respond, “I won’t.”

There was no turning back now. He had trapped himself on purpose and jeopardized everything the moment he laid his hand on you. The minute your eyes found each other’s, he realized he’d just lost all willpower that remained.

Joel pulled you closer and the sudden action almost made you trip, forcing you to place both hands on his chest to stay still. Something flicked in his eyes, something you couldn’t quite comprehend. But you took it as a sign to fully give in to your desires, as long as he’d permit it. You sit on his lap, solely enjoying the moment. His face, despite the beating, was ever so beautiful. It wasn’t fair. If he wanted you too, why did he have make it this difficult? Perhaps he was simply… Insecure.

“What have you done to me, sweetheart?” He asked, voice strained as he looks down at your lips. Your fingertips gently trace the edges of his face.

“I’m afraid I don’t understand.” One of his hands covers your thigh and the other rests on his knee.

“Do you like playin’ around with an old man like me?” You can’t help but laugh a bit, your thumb going across his bottom lip. “Is this what you want? A sweet thing like you can do so much better.”

“I don’t care for boys, or any other men for that matter.” His chest swells at your words. “I like you, Joel. Is that so hard to believe?” The man swears you can feel his heart thumping against his ribs when he whispers a barely audible ‘yes’. His honesty moved you and grew a weird feeling in your chest that impelled you to prove him wrong.

In response, you lastly get rid of that awful distance, pressing a sweet kiss to his lips and feeling the unfamiliar tickle of his mustache. It was stubborn at first, but he caved in eventually, kissing you back slowly. He took his time to relish on your taste before deepening the kiss, manhandling you on top of him. Joel’s hands are on your lower back and the nape of your neck as his tongue explores your mouth in depth, letting go of himself. You moaned in between the kiss, drunken by every light stimulation, which only spurred him on and turned the situation hungrier, more desperate.

“Joel…” you pull back, laying your forehead against his. “I have to go.”

You feel him chuckle at your declaration. “Seriously? Now?” His tone was raspy and faint.

“I don’t want to.” You assure with a pout, “But I fear that if I stay, this won’t end in a simple kiss. And Ellie’s upstairs, remember?” He agreed it was for the best, but still couldn’t seem to keep his hands to himself, asking you to stay the night even if he had to sleep on the couch.

That was the night that started everything.

After that weekend, the way he acted changed radically. He remained with that grim, stoic exterior. Yet, he was brighter around you, more beaming. In public, he’d always find a way to touch you, even if it was merely a brief brush of skin. On bolder days, he’d pull you apart from a crown and take you somewhere darker to make out for as long as you could. Which wasn’t much, since everyone always appeared to have some sort of unresolved business with either of you.

Today, however, something was odd. Joel went off, as usual, and you stayed with Ellie, who had found an old, ragged chessboard somewhere in Jackson. A game that, as it turns out, you particularly loved.

That’s how you ended up here.

Three rounds afterwards, you keep winning and increasing his irritation.

“Checkmate.” You say for the fifth time tonight, giving him a triumphant smile, getting up from your seat to pour some whiskey into your glass.

“You’re cheating.” He barks, annoyed.

“See! I told you.” Ellie backed him up and the way they teamed up to bash you almost made you giggle.

“Suck it up, losers!” You shout from the kitchen, entertained by their resentment.

“Spill your secrets then, otherwise I will simply not be convinced.” She replies, glowering.

The drink nearly dissolves on your tongue and you leave the glass on the counter, coming to join them again. You rest both hands on her shoulders in a friendly gesture.

“My grandpa thought me when I was young. Before the outbreak, I mean.” Ellie turns her head to look at you in interest. “He got sick afterwards… Forgetful and amnesiac.” You explain, “Chess stimulated his brain and since I was his only family left, we would spend hours playing.” Joel’s chest feels heavy at the sight of your nostalgic smile. “We had a great time together. He… Passed away a couple years ago.” Ellie takes your hand on her own in a comforting manner, but you don’t feel particularly sad, simply emotional about the past. “Hey, kiddo. Didn’t you have a movie night with Dina today?”

“Shit!” Her eyes widen. “Thanks for the reminder, I totally lost track of time,” she gets up with an apologetic smile, “I’m gonna head out now.” She quickly takes a jacket and ties her hair up. “You guys can keep playing or… I don’t know, just don’t wait around for me.”

And just like that, you’re left alone.

After an entire week of sneaking around and behind everyone’s back, you’re finally alone.

There’s a shift in the air of the room and you narrow your eyes when you gape at him. “You think she knows something?”

He tilts his head to the side and finishes his whiskey. “Probably. Can’t know for sure.” The vague answer made you shrug, deciding to put a pin to it for later.

Now that no one was around, you were determined to have some fun, coming up with a plan that could escalate things between you. And he surely thought so too. It wouldn’t be difficult to get his attention, since he was constantly monitoring your every move. Being that way, you intentionally stand beside him when leaning to reorder the pieces, giving him a very good view of your ass.

“Another round?” You ask tauntingly, “Or are you already tired of getting defeated?”

He grunts, upset by the previous resolutions. “I’d like to play another game.” You turn around with a cheeky smile. “One that I won’t lose.”

“And what would that be?” He gives you a darkened, intense glance, his lips pursed in a smirk.

Joel Miller was a man of few words and he totally lived up to it. Instead of responding, he grabbed your hips and dragged your body to the side, so that you were now standing between his legs, lingering against the edge of the table. You swallow hard, meeting his heavy gaze from above him. It made your pulse raise and blood rush, igniting something that you haven’t quite felt with anyone else yet. He presses a kiss to your clothed abdomen, eyes never wandering from yours as he lowers his lips to your pelvis, lifting your shirt leisurely.

“Look at you, darlin’. All flustered and I’ve barely done anything.” Your chest rises and falls methodically, the atmosphere feeling dense despite the chilly air. Your tongue darts out to lick your lips when he starts laying open-mouthed kisses along your exposed belly, sending shivers through your whole body, “Off,” he motions at your clothes.

You do as told, getting rid of the shirt and tossing it to the floor. His big, warm hands strain your movements as he explores your skin, kissing all the way up to the valley of your breasts.

“Joel…” you take a fistful of his hair and pull at it mildly, just enough to yank his head backwards and bring your lips together, swallowing a whimper from him.

The kiss is ambitious, all teeth and tongue, as if you had been craving each other for long and had just barely given in. He swiftly stands up and sits you at the end of the table, spreading your knees to settle in between your thighs. He parts from your mouth and traces your jawline, neck and collarbones, nibbling and sucking the sensitive skin, lightly scraping it with his facial hair. You were a mess at this point, panting and tugging at him as if you were about to collapse. But then he stops, breathing heavily against your chest and looking up to you with dark, lustful eyes.

“What- Did I do something wrong?” You stutter with uncertainty.

“Ain’t nothing wrong, angel.” His hand rests heavy on your thigh, a mischievous grin painted on his face. “But I told you we’d play a different game, didn’t I?”

This new side of him was exciting in many ways possible and whatever it was he wanted to do, you were certain it was going to be fun. And, possibly, a bit tortuous. You peer at him in expectation.

“Make your move.” He commanded, pointing the board with a succinct head movement. You obligue, choosing a random pawn and moving it with shaky hands while struggling to think straight. The man hums and decides to mirror your tactic. “Keep goin’.”

Next thing you know his fingers unhook your bra and you have to make a quick choice in spite of all the distractions. At the end, you go for a horse, barely capable of register anything other than his hands taking off the piece of clothing. After contemplating your scheme, he moves another pawn in return.

“Shit.” He hissed at the sight of your exposed tits, nipples hard from the cold air and arousal. “Focus.”

You weren’t sure if that last order was for him or for you, but either way the game kept going. He had enough attention span to grope your breasts and tweak your nipples between the pads of his calloused fingers, while also moving the chess pieces around. You couldn’t say the same for yourself; a louder moan escaping your lips when he replaced his fingers with his mouth.

The more ministrations he provided, the harder it became to make strategic moves. But you were determined not to let him win, regardless of the ache between your legs and the growing wetness in your panties that he refused to attend.

“Joel, I…” He takes away one of your rooks, his lips attached to your neck and hands caressing your inner thighs. “I need more.”

He huffs a laugh that vibrates through your lower body. “That right, angel? Tell me what you want.”

You take away his only bishop left and hear him growl at his approaching defeat. “Touch me, please.”

“Where?” His scent fogs your senses, so manly and distinctive of him, growing the need to feel him in any way possible. “Words, sweetheart.”

“I need your fingers in my cunt, Joel.” You spit out, watching his Adam’s apple bob up and down his throat and increasing his arousal with your lack of coyness. “Please.”

“Anything for my pretty girl.” He unbuttons your pants and slides one hand inside, palming your pussy over the underwear, altering your breathing pattern and moving the queen with his free hand. “Fuck, you’re drippin’.” You grind against his hand and his grip on your waist tightens to keep you still as he kneads circles on your clit over the thin fabric. “Your turn, darlin’.”

The game carries on at the same time as he moves your panties aside and slides two thick fingers inside your entrance, his thumb still fondling your nub slowly. You can’t keep your moans at low and the stimulation picks up when he curls his digits to hit your right spots. All that can be heard in the room is the cracking wood of the fireplace and the squelching sounds of your pussy.

“Jesus Christ, Joel…” you cry out his name, burying your face on the crook of his neck, grabbing the soft flannel in your fists and spilling all your whimpers into his ear, delighting yourself with the way he smelt. He groans at the feeling of your bare chest pressed to him, his cock throbbing painfully at every sound you’d make.

“You like that, darlin’? You like to fuck my fingers on top of this table like a needy little whore?” You clench around him and throw your head back, a new wave of slick coating all the way to his knuckles. “Ah, so you do like it.”

“Yes, Joel. I-” he speeds up his pace, greedily circling your clit in a way that makes your back arch, giving him a glorious view from his position.

“Fuck, you’re so hot. Been wanting to do this for so fuckin’ long…” He admits, peppering kisses all over your breasts.

“Me too. Thought about you when I-” your voice gets lost at the sudden feeling of heat settling on your lower stomach, building up your crescendo. “When I was alone.” Your confession only manages to prompt him further and make his movements more effective. You squirm under his touch, a hand messing his hair while the other holds his belt to keep him close.

He groans a deep ‘fuck’ at the pathetic sound you made. All because of him. No; all of them for him.

“Joel, I’m- shit, I’m close,” there’s a hotness on the pit of your stomach that extends to your legs.

“I know, angel.” He coos, his free hand brushing the hair out of your face. “Go ahead, do it.” His words are all it takes for your orgasm to hit, shocking every nerve on your body. He helps you come down from it, tracing soothing patterns on your bare skin as your body quivers from elation.

“Joel…” you whisper, both your hands on his belt and going to unbuckle it, watching as he takes both fingers to his lips and licks them clean.

“Sweet” he kisses you again, deeply. You happily return it with the same energy, nibbling at his bottom lip while your palm slides inside his jeans to feel up his bulge over the underwear. He muffles a moan in your mouth, his hot, hard cock twitching under your grip.

Your hand drifts inside his boxers to feel him directly, your thumb rubbing over the tip to spread the surprising amount of precum that oozed there. Joel gasped into your mouth, the sound prompting you further.

“Checkmate.” You tell him, pulling back only when you needed to breathe, guiding your finger to your tongue in order to taste him. “I won.”

His eyes divert to the board in awe, and you admire his mesmerized expression when he confirms that you had, in fact, won again. Joel comes back to dote on your devilish grin, fueled up by a new thrill of excitement.

“Fuck this…” he mutters through gritted teeth, mindlessly tossing the board to the side and letting it fall off the table along with all the pieces, making an absolute mess. It appears like he doesn’t even register any of it, going straight back to kissing you, his hands sliding your pants down your legs.

“Shit, Joel…” You can’t help but laugh at his reaction, encouraged by his sudden passion.

As your lips collide once again, you start to unbutton his shirt and he helps you out of your jeans, along with your very wet panties. He pushes your back against the wooden surface, holding you down with a hand around your neck.

“Winners that boast in their victory are only brats.” He snarls, taking his dick out for you to see. Your mouth waters at the sight of it: thick, bigger than you could’ve expected, the head swollen and glistening. “Brats need to be tamed.”

You whine when he parts your thighs even wider, teasing your slit with his tip, covering it in your slick and intentionally grazing your aching clit, urging you to grab his bicep for support.

“Can’t you just fuck me already?” You blurt out, the sensation only edging you more. “I might just cum again from all the teasing.”

His fingertip sweeps across your bottom lip, an eyebrow raised. “You really that sensitive, angel?” He questions, “Or is it just because of me?”

The inquiry nearly makes you crack up. Damn, the man was totally clueless. “Are you really that unaware of the effect you have on me?”

His stare reflects how pleased he is to hear that. “How many times did you beat me tonight, sweetheart?”

It takes an actual effort for you to recall and muster up an answer when he keeps toying with you so mercilessly. “Three, I presume.”

Joel’s hand slithers to your lower back, keeping you angled for him. “Then I’ll get you off three times.” Your heart jumps at the sentence and you look at him in disbelief. “Can you do that, angel?”

Three fucking times?

When your whole life men had only ever given you… None, practically. One at most, if you were lucky enough. And Joel mother-fucking Miller had the nerve to ask if you could handle three.

“Bet.” The answer is music to his ears, giving in once and for all as he enters you unhurriedly.

He’s so big and you feel him splitting you open exquisitely, the sensation fading any thoughts, beliefs or identities from your mind. Right now, all you know is him. It stings a little and it forces you to screw your eyes shut, letting out a small whine as he bottoms out, your nails digging on his arm.

“You’re doing s’good, baby.” He continues to say in midst of it, talking your way through it, “Taking me so well…” You think it’s somewhat unfair that he’s still fully clothed and you’re naked as the day you came; yet, at the moment your mind can’t even think of anything but his cock, buried deep inside you. “If something feels off or it becomes to much… Let me know and I’ll stop.” You nod, eagerness starting to scratch your insides.

“Yes. Now can you please, please start moving.” He holds back a chuckle, gazing at you from above, barely lifting your hips to feel more of him.

“Atta girl,” he obeys, thrusting his hips sharply and deep. “Look so pretty beggin’ to be fucked.” His big arm travels to the arch in your back, withdrawing and pushing in again, slowly losing his consciousness to pleasure.

“Fucking hell, you fill me up so good…” he moans gruffly at your comment, pulling you down on his cock as he picks up an unrelenting pace, hitting every right spot as if he knew them all by memory.

“Shit, you’re so tight,” Joel drags in an out, rejoicing himself in every high pitched moan you’d spill. Your legs wrap around his waist in an effort to keep him as close as you could.

The angle is very intimate, his whole body flushed against yours, warm and firm, while your hand snakes under his flannel to dig your nails on his bare shoulders, the other scratching his scalp delicately and Joel’s hot, erratic breaths hitting your face as you gape at him. It’s like everything else disappeared and it was all about the two of you and this moment of pure rapture. Unable to contain your urge, you search for his lips, kissing him one more time, the mixture of mint and alcohol in his mouth fogging your senses in the best way possible.

His tip nudges your g-spot relentlessly, the stretch his girth provided so satisfying that you clench around him as your second orgasm approaches, causing him to pull apart from the kiss and let out a sinful groan, deep from his throat, that sends a shudder up your spine. It all becomes too much; the friction of your delicate nipples with his shirt, his thick cock dragging against your walls and lastly, Joel’s teeth biting down the soft skin under your ear, his facial hair scraping deliciously. That is your cum button.

“That’s my girl, making a mess on my dick,” he fucks you through it, slowing down his pace and only pulling out when your legs tremble. “Say it darlin’, tell me who you belong to.”

“You, Joel…” he basks in the view of your fucked out self, looking up at him in a delirious state, eyes low, heat soared across your cheeks and lips plumped. “Shit, Miller,” you sit up, arm still hanging around his broad shoulders while his hard, throbbing cock rested against your thigh. “You’re so fucking hot, did you know that? It drives me insane.”

He laughs huskily, his big hand caressing the side of your face in a caring manner. “I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he speaks softly, “I think I might’ve fucked you so hard I scrambled your brain.”

You actually crack up this time, pressing a kiss to his forehead and muttering an: “Idiot.” He grabs your thighs and methodically swirls your body, flushing your back against his chest. Without warning, he slams into you again, making you yelp at the sudden action.

“You’ve got a dirty mouth,” he pokes fun at you, “next time we’ll put it to use.” And the promise raises goosebumps on your skin.

This new position gave you the opportunity to feel him deeper, if that was even possible. His thighs and hips firm against yours, every single snap making you feel that delicious stretch he provided as your cunt envelopes him tightly. But you were already far too sensitive and every light touch added to his thrusts made your body feel weaker.

“Joel, I-” he holds you with an arm covering your waist, his fingers pinching your nipples. “Fuck, I won’t last…”

He becomes more vocal, his disjointed moans drifting from his lips right into your ear while the hand on your hip makes its way to rub your clit gloriously, in a way that makes you wonder just how the fuck does he know exactly what your body likes.

“Is my sweet girl gonna cum for me?” you nod, unable to form any words, only capable of reveling on the way his cock throbs inside you. “Speak, remember?”

But you can’t. Nothing comes out of your mouth besides his name, like a constant plea. When the third one finally came, it was simply euphoric; your whole body shudders and your vision goes white, tears spilling from the corners of your eyes as you start to feel lightheaded. Joel draws out with a grunt, a string of curses leaving his lips as you spin around to see him. Your hand wraps around his own when he fucks his fist and you take in the sight of him cumming all over your fingers, his forehead laying on your shoulder as you milk him. Inevitably, you lick your fingers to taste his salty load. A sight that would be engraved in his brain for the rest of his days and that could possibly haunt him in his time apart from you.

“Checkmate my ass,” he grits between shaky breaths, your hand stroking his hair as he comes down from his high.

“What a sore loser…” you joke. In fact, you plan to say something more, but you feel too tired for anything.

It didn’t really matter, though. Joel took good care of you. He bathed with you, cleaned up the whole mess and gave you one of his shirts for you to sleep with, eventually going to bed with your very passed out self.

Well, if Ellie didn’t know anything before, she surely will now.

#joel miller #joel the last of us #the last of us #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #the last of us oneshot #the last of us hbo

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weemsfreak · 2 years ago

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Girl In Red (Lips)

Larissa Weems x Vampire Teacher

One shot I thought of as I was listening to Girl In Red

Fluffy ~2500 words

It was a Saturday night. Your favourite night. Not because you wanted to go out and party, although it has been awhile since you did. You liked how Saturday was a day to yourself, and the nights were usually stress free. Today though, or rather tonight, you were caught up in writing your masters thesis. Teaching at Nevermore and doing your masters at the same time was exhausting, but recently your students have been very well behaved and on the ball with things. Kind of suspicious.

You were writing your paper on The History of Shapeshifters. You were a vampire, so this topic related to your specialty, but it was a bit far out. You wanted to write your paper on something more rare in the outcast community, but this topic may have been chosen by you because you wanted to spend more time with a certain someone. You wanted to get to know her better, and you wanted to show her that you thought her specialty was rather interesting. You were an English teacher, so you always had to take the time to perfect your work, even though that was technically impossible. After researching and writing all day, you had questions about the biological part of shapeshifting. How did it work, specifically? How do you change formation? Do your cells change? You should know more about shifting, but you weren't the best at chemistry, although you had always found it fascinating. Luckily, Larissa took the same masters years ago, she was the English teacher at Nevermore before she became the principal. Obviously, she would be the best person to ask if you had any question at all. You looked to your phone, “Hmm 8pm, she shouldn’t be in bed yet.” You jumped from your bed and collected your bag with your laptop. Remembering that you were wearing shorts, an oversized sweater and slippers, you thought nothing of it as not many students would be out this time of night.

Arriving in the hall one over from her office, you hoped that she would be there. Her living quarters were attached to her office, so she basically didn't leave it. You paused in the hallway, you could hear music in the distance. You recognized the song, Girl In Red. "Girl In Red slaps, someone is cool" you mumbled to yourself. You continued walking toward Larissa's office and as you did the music got a bit louder. You stopped in front of her large wood doors, staring at yourself in the gold plaque. Is the music coming from her office? You leaned in close to the door, placing your ear against it. "I don't wanna be your friend, I wanna kiss your lips.." was playing inside, muffled by the doors. You went wide eyed and slapped your hand over your mouth so you wouldn't squeal out loud. Larissa is listening to Girl In Red! What? Is she...you know? You guessed there was no reason you would know, she doesn't have a partner that you knew of. Trying not to smile too big, you brought your hand up and knocked on her door. A few seconds later, the music stopped. You tried not to laugh, you probably embarrassed her. She opened the door slowly and smiled when she saw you. Still, you could see the nervousness on her face. Pretending you didn't just hear her music, you quickly said "Hi Larissa, sorry I'm visiting at this hour, I just wanted to ask you a few things for my paper! If you're free?" She opened the door to let you in and gestured for you to sit at the fire. She held up a bottle of red wine, "Would you like a glass Sansa?" Of course you did. You pulled out your laptop as she sat next to you, passing you the glass. "So, I just wanted to know how shapeshifting works, like chemically. Cells and stuff. I read about it online, but it's not explained well. I thought you could do a better job" you looked over to her, hopeful and all smiles. She was still in her makeup from the day and her hair was done up, but she was wearing a tan colored satin sleep set. You looked her up and down right quick, hoping she wouldn't notice. "Wait, is this your masters thesis?" "Yes" "You're writing it on shapeshifting?" You froze, suddenly you were the embarrassed one. You thought she already knew that was your topic, you hoped she didn't ask why. "Um, yes." Her face lit up and she smirked as she looked to the fire, taking a drink of her wine. "Okay, well I'll tell you all about it."

You tried so hard to write down everything she was saying, it was so interesting. You wanted to understand it all. She was so easy to listen to, her voice so soothing. Despite this, it was hard to listen when all you could do was watch her. You stared at her the whole time, trying to type while only glancing at your laptop. She talked with her hands and watched you the whole time she explained it. She was mesmerizing, she was smart, witty, clever, stunning, and her smile lit up the whole room, never mind the fire. At one point you stopped typing, you got too lost in watching her and didn’t process any information. "Sansa, are you okay?" she asked worried, you hadn't typed for the last minute. You snapped back into reality as you realized she stopped talking. "Oh, sorry Rissa, yes, continue." She told you everything she knew that she thought would be helpful. In the end you had pages of information. Finishing your third glass of wine you thanked her. "Thank you so much Larissa, this is all really good to know. How did you learn all of this?" Books of course, and obviously if you're a shapeshifter, you have a lineage. "Shapeshifting is so rare, its hard to find anything on it, but it's soo impressive" you batted your eyelashes at her, you were no longer thinking before you said things. She blushed as she giggled at you. "Well, thank you for listening to my rambling, love." You'd listen to her talk all day, any day. You shrugged your shoulders signifying that it was no big deal. You didn’t know what else to say, but you didn't want to leave. You put your laptop away, and turned to her. She smiled, "Another glass? Or do you have to go?" You thought about it, you weren't going to get anymore writing done tonight, fuck it. "Well I think I'm done writing for the night, so…" you held your glass out to her. She fill it and put more wood on the fire, then she sat next to you again.

You didn't know what to say, and you were drunk, so you got up and made your way to her balcony windows. "I have another question" you said confidently, trying not to giggle at the thought of the question. "Sure darling, what's up?" You held back a smile, you always loved when she called you darling or love, it was so cute. "What music were you listening to before I came in?" She bit her lip and her eyes went wide, she was embarrassed. She had thought maybe you hadn't heard, it wasn't that loud, was it? "Um, I think it was by Kings of Leon?" Good lie, you thought. "No, I know them, I don’t think it was." Apparently you were a good actress when you were drunk. You looked out the window, it was hard to keep your composure. "Oh, well I don't remember. Did you like what I was listening to?" You went over and sat next to her, closer this time. "Yes I did, it was something about not wanting to be a friend, but wanting to kiss…someone?" You took a sip of your wine, raising your eyebrows at her. She giggled, giving in. "Okay Sansa, so you listen to them too?" "Yes! I love Girl In Red" you said with a smile, laughing. She shook her read side to side, laughing at your state. You noticed her staring at you and you realized she must be looking at your fangs. You stopped smiling, maybe she wasn't comfortable with them. It was quiet for a couple minutes, then she asked you a question. "So, do you just like Girl In Red, or do you like…women?" she asked you quietly. Thank god, you didn't know if she'd ask or if you would have to. "I like women" you replied, as equally as quiet. It's not that you were ashamed of liking women, but you weren't out. Nobody in your life asked or really cared, and you didn’t have a partner either. She looked at you and her face told you all you needed to know. She was in the same situation as you. You smiled at her, "You too?" She looked down into her wine and chuckled, "Yes." You wanted to hug her, you were so happy for her. "Does anyone know that?" you asked her, not wanting it to be out in the open if she didn't want it to. "Not really, but I guess there was no reason for anyone to know." You knew what she meant, she didn't have a partner for as long as you've known her. You sat back on the couch, looking up to the ceiling. Larissa Weems likes women, well shit. This was the best news ever, but all in all, it didn't mean you had a chance with her. Your smile dropped, the hope that you partially had before, gone.

You sat up and put your hand on hers, "Don’t worry, I won't tell anyone if you don't want them to know." She gave you a small smile, and turning to you so that your legs were touching, she looked you up and down. You didn't know why she did this, you weren't wearing anything even remotely nice. "Do you have a girlfriend?" she asked you, and you frowned, "No, you?" She pursed her lips and looked down again, "No." Why was she asking? Was she just curious or was this an invitation? She looked lonely, ashamed or disappointed maybe? There was something going on in her brain that she wasn't telling you about. She looked back up at you and you couldn't help but hug her when you looked into her big sapphire eyes. You wrapped your arms around her and pulled her close. You didn't know if you did this for her or you, but it felt so comforting. She hesitated at first, then wrapped her arms around you and pulled you closer. You smiled at her soft touch, she smelled of vanilla. Her scent reminded you of something from your childhood, it was so inviting, so pleasing. You didn't want to make it weird, so you pulled away after a minute, even though you would've stayed in her embrace all night. When you released her and went to sit back, she grabbed you and held you close to her body. You sat there, face so close to hers. You didn't know why she was holding you here, it was kind of an awkward pose. You looked over her features, how you loved older women. Her eyes were so bright, she had seen so much yet still had lots of life. The small wrinkles below her eyes and around her mouth were adorable, there because of how much she had shown her beautiful smile over the years. Her lips were full, so soft looking, and god how you loved that red lipstick on her. Oh, you were looking at her lips. You looked back up into her eyes, scared she would get the wrong idea from you looking at her lips. When you did, she brought her forehead to meet yours. She stared into your soul and whispered, "Are you, by any chance, into older women?" Your heart filled with excitement and you giggled at her question, obviously you were. "I love older women" you whispered, it was your little secret. Not so secret anymore, though. Larissa smiled, showing you her teeth. You loved when she smiled with her teeth. It made you feel like the whole world lit up and nothing bad would ever happen again. You brought your hands up to cup her face, she was adorable. So much so, you had to tell her. "Larissa, this may sound really weird, but you are absolutely precious" you whispered to her, still resting her forehead against yours. She blushed and looked down to her lap, you ending up giving a kiss to her head. When she looked back up at you she wasted no time capturing your lips with a passionate kiss. She grabbed your neck so that you couldn't pull back and kissed you like she's wanted you forever. You had no problem giving her the same energy back, she was the most beautiful woman you've ever laid your eyes on. She was so loving, and she tasted like a mix of wine and sophistication. You tangled your hands in her hair, how silky it was. Coming to straddle her, you pushed your hips down into hers, making her gasp into your mouth. Neither she nor you expected you to be so forward, so wanting, but you really adored this woman. She stuck her tongue into your mouth surprising you. Her tongue ran against your fangs and you were scared you'd hurt her until you heard her moan at the feeling.

After a few minutes Larissa pulled away, and you couldn't help the grin on your face. "Did you just kiss me?" you giggled jokingly. She let out a deep laugh as she turned away from you, looking into the fire. Larissa wouldn't ever let on, but she was longing for touch, and that's what she wanted most. You let go of her as you saw her smile fade, like she had lost interest in your activity. You started to climb off of her, thinking that she didn't want you on top of her anymore. As you backed off, she turned her head towards you and again wrapped her arms around you, tighter than before. The look in her eyes told you what she wanted, she just wanted someone. She wanted to bask in someone's presence, and she wanted someone to bask in hers. Gladly, you would do just so. "Sansa, this may sound odd but, can we just be together? Can we cuddle?" Her words sounded so deprived, so quiet, like she was so unsure someone would want that with her. You cupped her face with your hands, "I would love nothing more Rissa." You kissed her cheek, getting comfortably closer to her. "Can I play with your hair?" you whispered, longing to run your fingers through it. She hummed and nodded in confirmation and you reached up to take the pins out. As you ran your fingers through the soft white strands, you settled in her neck and felt her hug you tighter, perhaps tighter than you've ever been hugged. This elicited a happy sigh and a smile from you and you kissed her neck tenderly. "Thank you Sansa" she whispered, and you prayed to all that was worthy and good that this wouldn't be the last time she held you so tight.

#principal larissa weems #larissa weems x reader #larissa weems #larissa x reader #lesbian #so gay omg #wednesday netflix #larissa weems fanfic

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scummy-writes · 15 hours ago

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Hold some suspension of disbelief for this one, given Gilbert's odd technology advancements for whateverthefuck period they're in.

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The First Prince of Obsidian, the Conquering Beast, your fiancé; Gilbert was a man of many names, but one you knew him best by was -

"Stop being such a drama queen," the words came out in a huff, yet it was difficult to hide the smile tugging at your lips.

Gil currently leaned against the kitchen island, pouting with another heavy sigh escaping him. He came here looking for your tears regarding his upcoming trip closer to the border. While you weren't entirely used to him gone for days on end, you were getting better at managing yourself while he was gone.

Yet Gil, as capable as he was, loathed spending that time away from you. Each time a schedule trip like this occurred, he grew clingier by the day. Pestering for some 'love' to bring with him on the trip.

"You know I'll miss you too, right?"

He turned his pout towards you with a hum, "I'm not sure, little rabbit. You haven't made that exactly clear."

Another sigh from you. And another kiss to his pout, pulling away before he could nip back.

"Well, you know the letters I've sent with you previously?"

He perked up, his playful smile coming back, "mmm, did you write more for me? Or are you going to let me leave with something a bit more naugh-"

"Ta-dah!" You quickly cut him off, presenting him with a small, closed pouch.

He tilted his head as he took it, fingering the small bow tied to keep it closed, "what is this?"

"Someone has been lamenting that they can't bring along some treats of mine, but I was thinking about the rations you have, and tried to make some of my own for you."

With that, he slipped the bow off and peered into the pouch.

"...This is chocolate?"

"I got it in as small of pieces I could manage, and mixed it in with some sugar and spices, all you have to do is add hot water and-"

"And I'll have a copy of your hot chocolate," he grinned, eye trailing over to the counter where a cloth covered a tray, "and you've made multiples?"

"I thought you would go through a lot. I also wanted to make a few for Roderic and-"

Just as you suspected, he stiffened. A frown coming out the second you mentioned others sharing this with him. But you were still determined, and you hurriedly continued.

"And some special ones for you. See? Some of these pouches have a little heart on them."

Gilbert followed where you pointed, and shifted through a few of them, noting which were which.

"What makes them different?"

"I guess you'll just have to find out, won't you?"

He didn't like having answers right away, but when he looked towards you, there was a softness in his gaze reserved solely for you. And maybe your minor antics.

"This makes it harder to leave, you know. I want to make them all here, right now."

"Whiiich is why I will make you a fresh hot chocolate... right now. To tempt you to savour my surprise for your trip instead."

"Hehe... You're learning to know me well."

#my phone wanted to put The Connecticut Beast

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valerie-is-in-the-cupboard · 5 months ago

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Untamed nightmares - Alastor x reader

A/N: Hello! I don't feel like writing the third chapter for "Out of darkness" today, but i had this small, cute idea in my head. Btw sorry for the whole Alastor spam, but since you're here, my best guess is that you don't entirely hate it :3 Words: 590 TW: fluff, a bit of angst

Alastor was never the type to open up. Not in the beginning at least. You obviously could sense when he was tense, sad or worried, but he would brush it off, his smile plastered on his face. You wouldn't pressure him into talking. But as time went by, you proved your loyalty to him and he started to slowly but surely trust you more and more. It wasn't much at first: he would come home, complaining about his day, not giving too many details. Over time, his smile would falter more and more when in your presence, more of a... relaxed look on his face taking its place.

At night, before you fall asleep, he would tell you about his past. About his friends, his radio host career... or about his mother. At first, you tried to comfort him, but he would shut down almost immeadiately. That's when you understood: Alastor doesn't need someone to comfort him. He needs someone who listens. So, that's what you did. You lay there, next to him, caressing his chest, a gesture that took months for him to accept. You listened silently, occasionally chuckling at his silly jokes, his voice low and missing its usual static effect.

You knew his past was dark, that sometimes it caught up to him, but he was yet to show you that it affected him, that a part of him kind of wished it was different. But as much as he wanted to hide his fears, he couldn't stop the nightmares.

They were so vivid, so hurtful, making him wake up half-screaming and out of breath, cold sweat covering his body. At first, he would dismiss your attempts of communicating, getting out of bed and going out on the balcony where he would spend the rest of the night, alone. He was embarassed to be seen like this.

But one night, it was different. You woke up, overheated, when you noticed he was holding you, tightly. His head was buried in the back of your neck and his breath was quick.

"Alastor?" you said whispering, not knowing if he was awake or not.

"Yes, darling?" he answered after a few seconds, contemplating wether he should have just stayed silent. His voice seemed weak, trembling. You caressed his hand, his claws brushing softly against your skin.

You shifted positions, turning to face him. You placed a hand on his face, gently brushing it with your thumb.

"You wanna talk?" you asked gently, fearing a bit that this would make him run from you once again. But he didn't.

"No, dear... Not now." he whispered. He lowered his head on your chest as you hugged him, running your hand through his hair, while his grip on you tightened. You stayed like this for minutes, your eyelids starting to feel heavy, slowly drifting back to sleep.

"You're not gonna leave... right, (y/n)?" you heard his voice, slipping back into the real world once again.

"No, love. I'm not." You said, placing a kiss on his forehead, a shiver running down his spine at the sudden action.

He burried his face deeper into your chest, listening to your breathing and heartbeat. He would never mention this moment again. He would never accept the fact that, inside, he felt weak. He knew that at any time you could be taken away from him just like his mother was. That he could fail you like he had failed everyone... But now you were there, now you were his and he wouldn't change that for anything.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor #alastor the radio demon #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor fanfiction #alastor x you #human reader #fem reader #female reader #x reader #x female reader #fanfic #alastor x reader fluff #alastor one shots

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strawberrymosaic · 5 months ago

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7/20/2024 5:13pm

Didn't journal for the past 2 days, but I'm back with more little updates!!! On Thursday, I was in my lab from 9-4:30. I actually really enjoy the time I spend in my research lab. It truly feels like I'm not working when I'm there, because I enjoy what I do and I enjoy my colleagues. I haven't posted many specifics about my lab, but it's a molecular biology lab that focuses on studying pediatric brain cancer. I helped with some surgeries & got to practice my suturing techniques. Surgery days are really exciting to me because it feels like the most tangible application of our wet lab work. After I got out of my lab, I had some self growth wins. Despite enjoying my time in the lab, I do still tend to come home exhausted. Most of the summer, I've been coming back from my lab and crawling right into bed. However, some specific tasks I did Thursday morning helped pave the way for me to avoid that post-work crash. Before I left for work, I made sure my bed was made & my desk was tidy. I wanted to make it as easy as possible for me to sit at my desk instead of crashing into my bed. This was very successful because I did end up avoiding my bed! I sat at my desk & got right to work being productive. I made some calls that I had been dreading putting off. I need to get tested for sleep apnea (I'll write more about this later), but insurance has been such a hassle. I finally found a sleep testing center that takes my insurance & set up a consultation appointment! I also called my university's financial aid office to get some questions answered about the upcoming school year. I think I'm actually going to be set to pay my college tuition & housing without too much struggle, so I'm very happy with how that turned out. After those calls, I did scroll social media for a little bit, but not for too long because I had dinner with some friends afterwards. I ate dinner + went to get boba. I had to work a desk shift from 8-10pm. My friends are also employed by the university, so they came with me to my shift. Most of the time the desk shifts are DEAD so we just hung out and talked because there wasn't much for me to do. However, I was quite overstimulated by the end of the night, and lowkey I wished they would just go home so I could sit in silence. I love a good silent moment. After my shift, I had to go pick up the duty phone for the night, because I had an overnight on-call shift. I didn't get to bed until well after midnight because my second duty round doesn't end until then. Getting to bed late on Thursday night, in addition with my sleep problems made it super difficult for me to wake up Friday morning.

For Friday, my friends and I had planned to get lunch and then go to my college town's art fair. I guess they accidentally decided to get lunch at 12:30 without confirming the time for me. I knew we were going to head to the art fair at 2:00pm, so I had just assumed that we'd eat around 1:00 or 1:30. I texted at noon to confirm our lunch plans, and they both were like "oh 12:30!". I had JUST woken up at this point, and I had nothing to wear so I was lowkey freaking out. I also desperately needed to do laundry because the outfit I had planned in my head was dirty. I texted my friends that I'd just meet them later and quickly threw my clothes in the wash. I also got ready as quickly as I could. My friend (I'll call her L), always wears a full face of makeup, has beautiful hair, and always has super cute outfits. She also eats like a bird. I always feel super self-conscious around her, so I felt extra pressured as I got ready. My other friend (I'll call him B) is just a random male coworker I befriended, so I don't really care too much what he thinks. However, he does have a bad habit of commenting on other people's meals. I get a bit self-conscious when eating around him. Because I do get a little skittish when eating around B and L, I secretly hoped they'd just eat without me. However, they decided to just hold off on lunch until I was ready. We ended up eating around 1:10 and then headed to the art fair. The art fair was BEAUTIFUL. I really enjoyed seeing all the booths. I spent a bit too much on this gorgeous ceramic piece, but I justified it with the fact that I was supporting a small business. The art fair had a lot of booths to try free samples. We tried some delicious teas, got to test some new products for the Sharpie brand (and were even featured in a video!), and tested out these unique phone speakers. Around 3:30 we stopped at Panera bread to get some drinks. I ended up buying a sourdough bread bowl, and I ripped off chunks of bread for us all to share. We felt like medieval peasants. We ended up wandering the art fair for a few more hours until we headed back to another part of campus for dinner. I had a desk shift at 6pm, and L and B ended up following me to this shift as well. Once again I was starting to get really overstimulated, and I secretly hoped they would leave lol. I promise that they are good friends, I just also enjoy my quiet time. L has a crush on B, and I have been trying to set them up. After spending all of Thursday and Friday together, they really seem to have some chemistry, so I was quite happy. This also worked out well for me, because they were so interested in each other that I could sit quietly without having to interact much. We ended up playing Fireboy and Watergirl on CoolMathGames for the rest of my shift, and I enjoyed my time a lot. I got home around 10pm, bought two bags of cheese-its and called my family. Then I called my boyfriend (we are long distance right now). We ended up having L join the call so that we could give her advice about her developing relationship with B. After L left the call, I talked to my boyfriend a bit more. At this point I was really exhausted from my day, and instead of going to bed when him and I were done talking, I stayed up for another hour scrolling social media. This was definitely a bad move on my part, because it made it really difficult for me to wake up this morning.

This morning I didn't get up until almost noon. I got dressed & went to get brunch in the dining hall. Then I ended up texting my boyfriend & scrolling social media for like 2 hours. I also sorted a bit of dirty laundry so that I can do it later tonight. Around 2:45pm I started to get really tired, so I took a nap until 3:45. I had another desk shift at 4pm, so after my nap I headed over to the building I needed to be in. I am at my shift now, and not much has happened. I've put my work schedule into my Gcal for the rest of the summer, set up my electricity for my apartment this fall, and checked some emails. It is now 5:45 as I finish typing this, so I've been journaling for quite some time. I've found it very therapeutic to get all my thoughts out, so I don't mind at all that it's taken me so long. After my shift ends tonight, I'm going to try to get some laundry done and then go to bed early. I'll update again either tonight or tomorrow. If anyone has stuck around to read all of this, just know that I think you're amazing and I appreciate you being here. Even if nobody reads this, I find it really helpful to have an 'audience'. Maybe it's somehow related to the concept of ADHD body doubling. The thought of writing to someone really helps me get my thoughts out. Anyways, I'll update later. Byeeee!!

#diary entry #journal #self growth #adhd #anxiety recovery #depression recovery

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questinwitchface · 4 months ago

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So I have about 45 WIPs right now (about 30 of them are technically fully written, just awaiting that final editing pass and post). So I apologize if my answer gets long, but there are a couple I wanted to talk about because they're close to being done and should be posted soonish (like within the next couple months).

First, the thing I'm probably most excited about: my 31 Days of Halloween event! Around the end of March, I enlisted the help of my beta reader, a friend, and my partner to help me come up with a list of Halloween-related prompts to write fics for, and every day in October, I'll be posting a new fic until Halloween arrives. The fics are mostly SamBucky with some other ships. I'll be sharing more about it as October gets closer, sorry I can't really share more right now. I don't want to confuse people into thinking this is a fan event or something when it's really just a personal challenge for myself.

Second, Sam's Birthday Fic! I started writing this fic back in 2022, and I FINALLY finished the first draft of it a couple days ago. It takes place in the Sappy Names Universe, but it's a standalone fic, so you don't have to read "Pet Names" or "Sam and Bucky Discover that KYJ Is a Thing" in order to read this one. Basically, the plot is that Bucky takes Sam on a vacation to a remote cabin to celebrate his birthday, and spends the entire time spoiling Sam so much. It's so much fluff, and I'm hoping I'll actually manage to post it by the end of this month, but I still need to go back and add the sex scenes, and of course, there's the beta reading process and all, so I may not get there in time, but I'm hopeful. Here's a snippet:

Sam is exhausted from the amazing sex and probably a little from the travel today as well. “You thinking about dinner?” Bucky asks before pressing a kiss to Sam’s shoulder. “I’m not thinking of anything,” Sam answers. Bucky grins. “Good.” Sam laughs. There was a time he’d be embarrassed admitting how good Bucky had made him feel, but that time is long past. “Yeah,” he agrees. Sam shifts, lying on his back, and Bucky follows, rolling on top of Sam, his head on Sam’s chest. “I love you, Sammy,” Bucky murmurs before dropping a kiss to the center of Sam’s chest. Sam smiles. “I know. I love you, too.” Bucky nuzzles his face into Sam’s chest, so it’s kind of muffled when he answers, “I know.” They lie like that for a moment. Then Sam sighs. “I guess we should think about dinner.” “You’re tired,” Bucky says, looking up at Sam’s face. “I’ll get dinner ready. You can just rest on the couch down there. Put on some show.” Sam’s smile widens to a grin. “Season three of Beach House Bachelors?” Bucky sighs a long-suffering sigh, but it’s more for show than it used to be. He’d gotten pretty attached to one of the season three bachelors, Kenny. He swears it’s because Kenny has pretty eyes and has an interest in art, but Sam has seen the look on Bucky’s face whenever Kenny is on screen and shirtless. “Yeah, that’s fine,” Bucky agrees. He drops one more kiss to the center of Sam’s chest and then hauls himself up and off of Sam. Sam stretches and then crawls out of bed himself. Sam finds underwear quickly, and he turns in time to see Bucky holding a T-shirt. “Leave your shirt off,” Sam says while he slips on a pair of comfy sweatpants. Bucky turns back to him, frowning. “Why?” Sam grins. “Because you’re sexy with your shirt off,” he answers. Then he puts on an old T-shirt with the sleeves cut off. “But you’re wearing a shirt,” Bucky says, his frown turning just this side of pouty. “That’s no fair.” Sam steps close, sliding his hands up Bucky’s chest. “Look, if you want to tell me not to wear a shirt on your birthday, I’ll gladly do that for you.” Bucky grins. “Yeah?” Sam nods, keeping his expression serious. “Yeah. If you’ll wander around shirtless on my birthday.”

Third, The Grease AU! I've written a SamBucky, Sharon/Natasha, Kate/Yelena/Joaquin, Steve/Thor Grease AU, and the first draft has been complete for months, just waiting on beta readers to get back to me with feedback so I can get the revision process started. Tbh, this one isn't meant to be taken too seriously, it's meant to just be a fun fic for me because Grease is a comfort movie, and these are a few of my comfort ships. Idk if I'll even actually post this one because I feel like people expect more "serious" works from me, and this one is just silly. Idk. Here's a snippet from the "First Day of School" chapter:

When lunchtime rolls around, Thor, Sharon, and Loki claim their usual table outside. Thor grins at Sharon. “Did you see Bucky in English class?” he asks, raising his eyebrows in a sort of faux-innocent expression. “He’s looking pretty good this year, isn’t he?” Sharon scoffs. “That’s ancient history,” she says firmly. “Well, history often repeats itself,” Loki needles before taking a bite of their macaroni. Sharon glares at them for a moment. “Did you see anyone interesting, or have you been around with everyone already?” “Been around with everyone already,” Loki answers shamelessly with a small frown. Then they look at Thor. “Maybe this is the year you finally get with Steve, huh?” Thor sighs. “Maybe.” “Hey everyone!” Joaquín says, coming up to the table with Sam on his heels. “This is Sam Wilson, he just moved here. Sam, these are the Pink Ladies. This is Thor, and that’s Loki, and this is Sharon.” “It’s nice to meet you all,” Sam says with a smile. Sharon looks Sam up and down, her expression unimpressed. “Charmed,” she says flatly. Thor scoots down the bench so that Sam and Joaquín can sit. “So how was your summer, Sam?” Thor asks. Before Sam can answer, there’s a commotion from nearby. Sharon glances over her shoulder and then groans. A moment later, Scott appears next to her. “Hi!” he greets with a huge grin. “You’ll never guess what just happened!” “Probably not,” Sharon says flatly. “They just posted the ballot options for student council, and guess who’s up for vice president?” Scott asks. Sharon glances at Loki. “You didn’t tell me you were running for student council.” Scott’s face falls. “Oh, I’m not running,” Loki says, wrinkling their nose. “Besides, if I ever did, I’d be going for president.” “That’s true,” Thor agrees. Then he grins and shares a look with Joaquín. “Can you imagine Loki as student council president?” “My first order of business would be addressing the restrictive nature of our dress codes,” Loki announces.

Hello Sambucky fandom. I'm too tired to write anything myself so I want to hear all about your favorite WIPs or recent fics you want to talk about. Taglines, synopsis, excerpts, anything you want. I'm craving some sambucky tonight (and every night) and bite sized chunks are about all I can manage right now

#sambucky #my fanfic #fic teaser

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lynnie-ee · 2 years ago

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Hello hello!,I love your writing and was hoping to request a lil floyd leech x gender neutral reader oneshot?,where he realizes he has a crush and tries to figure out how to ask his crush out?

╰┈➤"A weird sensation of hunger has taken over Floyd, and with the help of Jade and a bag of chips, he might discover the cure."

╰►Gender neutral reader, oneshot, 1.3k words.

╰►Note: Thank u for requesting! 💫. English is not my first language, so feel free to tell me if there's any grammatical mistake <3.

╰►Masterlist.

⤿

"Jadeee, I think I'm hungry."

"... Care to elaborate?"

"I have had a weird feeling ever since yesterday, so I'm probably hungry. Can you get me something? I'm tireeed."

"We ate lunch ten minutes ago."

Jade quickly discarded his brother's comment, as he seemed to find a cereal bar in his pockets a few seconds after they spoke. He thought it was a mere small complaint that was now satisfied.

"Heyyy bro, I think I'm still hungry."

He was wrong.

After that day, the second-year student complained about his hunger every two minutes, no matter where he was.

At class, at the cafeteria, in the middle of his shift at the Mostro Lounge, and Jade could have sworn he heard him mumble about it in his sleep.

“Are you sure you’re just hungry?” Questioned the Octavinelle vicehousewarden, while he folded his clothes, as Floyd was laying on his bed on the other side of the room, with a frown on his face.

“Of course it is, why else would I feel that weird thing on my stomach and face? Sounds like I should go buy some takoyaki. Maybe Azul would want to join me, hehe.”

“On your face, you say? Do you think that’s normal when you feel hungry?”

“I mean, it never happened to me before, but I guess it’s because I’m really really hungry or something.” He replied with a relaxed voice.

“… Don’t you think it has something to do with the fact that almost every time you complain about wanting food, the prefect of Ramshackle is near you?”

The other twin remained silent for a few seconds, as he reflected on his brother’s question.

“Uhm, I don’t think so. Besides that I like them, I guess.”

“You mean, romantically?”

“Yup.”

Jade stared at his brother with an amused smile, and then chuckled, not really surprised at his sudden confession.

“Since when, may I ask?”

“Dunno, but I realized a few seconds ago, so thanks, bro.”

“You’re welcome, Floyd, but please confess to them before you spend all your money on snacks, if you can.”

“I’ll try, bro.”

⤿

“Aw, this one sucks, shoulda bought the pizza-flavored chips.”

The second-year eel complained with a frown on his face, as he was laying in the middle of the sports field, a bag of potato chips in his hands. It has been a couple of days since his chat with Jade, and he still didn’t know how to confess to his dear Shrimpy. He just wanted for them to get together without having to investigate human courting, as his brother suggested to him.

It sounded boring, but he understood the prefect might feel better with a familiar approach for them, instead of the traditions Floyd learned ever since he was little.

"Hmm, I think I saw someone give flowers to his partner a while ago, maybe if I give them a bouquet of dandelions? Maybe no, Sharksucker might want to eat it, humpf."

"Floyd?"

Even though his eyes were fixed on the sky above him, he could easily recognize the voice that called his name, his mind quickly imagining their curious gaze at him even when he didn't actually turn his eyes towards them.

"Shrimpy~Come here, do you want chips?" He lazily extended the bag in their direction, and the prefect was able to spot an amused smile on his face.

"Sure."

(Y/n) sat next to him, without questioning further about why was he lying in the middle of the field when he was supposed to be at the cafeteria, as it was lunch break. It was fine, either way, they also didn't want to explain why they were walking in the middle of the field when they were supposed to be at the cafeteria. Definitely not because they were looking for him, of course.

"You've been pretty busy at Mostro Lounge lately, haven't you?" The prefect asked, as they picked a few chips from the bag.

"Yeah, Azul has been making me work extra hours to pay for all the food I eat in my shifts."

"Oh? And why's that?"

"Because I got hungry, duh."

"Makes sense." They shrugged off the comment, as they ate one of the chips. "These are awful, the pizza-flavored ones we ate yesterday were a lot better."

"I was thinking the same, but they're more expensive now and Jade says I shouldn't spend so much money if I want to get out of my extra shifts." He pouted, suddenly getting up from the grass to sit properly, looking at (Y/n), who smiled fondly at him. "I think we should date, y'know? I like you a lot, Shrimpy."

"Sorry?!"

The prefect widened eyes gazed into the relaxed ones of the eel, as he didn't seem bothered after such statement. Bewilderment could be read on the first-year's face, as they scanned Floyd's face in an attempt of looking for signs of it being a joke. They found nothing.

"You mean, like, being lovers?"

"Lovers, high school sweethearts, spouses, you call it. That's how humans address each other romantically here, right?"

"Yeah..." They tried to speak through their bashful state, as they felt their cheeks being warmer than usual. "It's just that...I didn't expect you to confess so suddenly."

"I just felt like it, it's better if I get it out of my system fast, I guess."

Well, maybe the prefect should have expected a confession of that kind, now that they thought about it.

"But what do you say? Wanna be my partner? I promise to squeeze you carefully, and to buy you chips as soon as Azul pays me~."

(Y/n) laughed nervously, not knowing immediately how to answer. The expectant eyes of Floyd were kind of hypnotizing as they silently hurried them up to speak.

But his entire expression gave them a different feeling, a sensation of honesty and fondness they didn't see before on his face, as they never dared to look at him for too long due to shyness. He looked so adorable, so genuine at that moment, the prefect couldn't help but want to see him more often in that state.

To be able to admire his features as he smiled, when he got bored, when he felt relaxed, when he was angry, when he was comfortable, when he was being himself.

Most of the students of NRC found the demonstration of his moods scary, as they said he was unpredictable and intimidating, but (Y/n) knew he was just being honest. Not a single trace of falsehood was spotted in his voice as he proclaimed his intentions of being lovers.

"Of course. As long as you buy different chips, these ones are really bad." They pointed at the bag that now was laying on the floor, as they chuckled.

"Woohoo!"

Floyd suddenly celebrated, quickly throwing his arms around the prefect's body, in a hug that was significantly softer than his usual squeezings, but that still had enough strength to tackle them into the grass of the field.

"Careful, careful! You almost throw the chips out of the bag, don't waste your lunch in that way." The first-year laughed once again, as Floyd nuzzled his head into their neck.

"Don't worry, Shrimpy. I'm not hungry anymore."

⤿

╰► Bonus:

"Here ya' have, a pretty dandelion for a pretty Shrimpy." Floyd extended a small flower he found nearby to the magicless student, who received it with a fond expression. "Careful not to let Sharksucker see it, though."

"Uh? Ruggie?"

"Yup."

"And why would that be?"

The eel scanned his surroundings suspiciously as if he was about to reveal a big secret.

"Seagull has told me things about him." He said whispering.

"C'mon, what did Rook tell you?"

"I'll tell you if you give me a kiss~."

"Floyd!"

⤿

#twst #twisted wonderland x reader #disney twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland oneshot #disney twst #twst x you #twisted wonderland floyd #twst oneshot #twst floyd #floyd leech #octavinelle #lynnie's request #lynnie's post

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bi-bard · 3 years ago

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Fights - Gary "Eggsy" Unwin Imagine (Kingsman)

Title: Fights

Pairing: Gary "Eggsy" Unwin X Reader

Word Count: 682 words

Warning(s): a bit of violence

Summary: When someone spends their childhood learning how to kill people, they don't commonly realize how much they miss out on.

Author's Note: I... don't know what this is. It doesn't really follow the plot of the movie. It's really just a very short, self-indulgent fic. I needed a break before the next part of that "From the Vault" writing challenge.

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I remember the first day I trained with Eggsy.

I was just told he was new.

Then, I met him.

He seemed caught off-guard by the scale of everything, but after that wore off, he just seemed cocky. Very over-confident for someone who was just starting his training.

When he was told to beat me in a fight, he smirked.

I let that be fuel to the fire.

In a matter of moments, I had Eggsy on the ground with a knife up to his neck. He just blinked at me.

"You get too interested in yourself," I commented. "You forget to actually focus on your opponent."

I stood up and went to step back. Eggsy made an attempt to grab my ankle and drag me down. I turned quickly, my free foot landing on his wrist. He yelled.

"Don't get confused," I replied. "They dulled my knives so I couldn't stab you. There are plenty of other ways for me to hurt you."

I stepped away again so he could frantically push himself off the ground.

"You'll be training with (Y/n) every day until you're deemed prepared. Be careful. They've been training for longer than you've probably been out of diapers."

And so, the pattern began.

Eggsy would walk in at the same time every day. He would attempt to beat me in a fight. He would fail. That didn't mean he wasn't improving. I just had more experience than him.

We were in the midst of this normal pattern when I pinned him again. He tried to find an escape, as I had told him to, but soon groaned and gave up.

"You're getting better," I complimented as I stood up. I walked over to grab my water.

"What," Eggsy asked. "I haven't beat you yet."

"You're still improving," I said. "It's getting harder to beat you. That's progress. It's not your fault I'm more experienced than you."

"Y'know, you are a badass fighter, but a shit flirter," he said. The comment caught me off-guard.

"I... I was not flirting with you," I scoffed.

He furrowed his eyebrows at my sudden stammering. He stepped forward.

"I don't believe that," he tilted his head at me. "Not for a moment."

I stared him in the eye. I refused to look away. It would give up control of the situation.

"I'm going to kiss you," Eggsy warned as he stepped forward again. "You can either push me away or not. Please note that neither option involved the use of your knife."

"You know what, Eggsy," I said.

"Please inform me," he replied.

"I think you are arrogant and expect far more from this organization than you deserve," I started ranting. "I have been here years longer than you and if I acted like that, I'm pretty sure they would've hunted me for sport."

He just dramatically nodded as he moved closer to me. I continued rambling, dead set on proving that I didn't like him that way.

"(Y/n)," he spoke up after a moment. I froze when I suddenly realized how close he had gotten during this moment. "Shh..."

His lips pressed against mine a second later. I felt my shoulders tense and I just stood there. I didn't want to push him away, but I also had no idea what I was supposed to do. My life had circled around beating up people, not shit like this.

When he leaned back, his face had changed. A smirk had turned into a soft grin and his eyes had softened. The air felt like it had shifted. It felt heavier. Warmer. It was just... different.

"Do that again," I muttered.

Eggsy chuckled before leaning down to kiss me again. His hands touched my sides, gently pulling me forward. My arms awkwardly reached up to wrap around his neck. I tried to mimic his movements.

He slowly leaned back, "I'm guessing you like me then?"

"Don't ruin it," I replied.

He just laughed again and leaned his forehead on mine.

"I'm still gonna kick your ass when training."

"Oh, I was counting on it."

--------------------------------

Masterlist (Includes links to All Writing Challenges)

What I Write For

Some Original Characters

#eggsy unwin imagine #eggsy unwin fanfiction #eggsy unwin x reader #kingsman imagine #kingsman fanfiction #kingsman x reader #fanfiction #imagine #x reader

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fainthedcherry · 3 months ago

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3 hrs spent total for sketching - and skipping my pizza time for this xD

I'm VERY happy to say, that I had a lot of fun trying to come up with some alt-designs!!!

I got the idea to draw these doodles from a blog I really like, from @shoechoe !! (sorry if you hate tags, just wanted to credit back to you and also reblog the source of inspo!!!)

I've never drawn Doppio NOR Diavolo ever before, plus I mainly draw anthros in my free time, so I put some extra effort into these in trying to make these look appealing despite my obvious time-crunch LOL!

Since unfortunately I have to go to work in order to feed myself LOL, that means I couldn't of spend the rest of my midnight on this, so this looks REALLY rough and ofc some anatomy-mistakes were ignored, but yeah! For 3 hrs, I'm p OK w/ the results!!! :o;

RAMBLE SECTION ABT ART/DESIGN PROCESS BELOW;

Hope any fans out there enjoy my weird ideas I had design-wise. xD

Diavolo was giving very oldhead punk - maybe even the gatekeepy types KLFGSDLKGDS, but I also thought about "OOH he'd probably LOVE glam-punk. Somewhere around his era too w/ 80s-90s dude probably musta LOVED David Bowie!!" So I've drawn one with glam-punk influences, the other just freely off the top of my head, on what I consider something more punk-ish xD

Oh, also I sliiightly dulled the colours,, just sliightly. If the colours look off in some way, blame my program, that prevents me from getting migraines due to bluelight. I have a filter, that sets my screen to a certain % of orange, so if colours look colder than they're supposed to...It was bc of that. xD It's 3AM here in Germany, as I write this!! :>

That was my main thought-process,,, then last second I thought "omg I also need to throw Doppio in here bc I love him too who WOULDN'T" - soO here we have emo-Doppio!! or...Emoppio I guess. xD You think his band-kid energy would've been SO off the charts, that Abbacchio could've gotten to him first instead of the other way around? ;T /hj

Honestly tho...I think bandkid Doppio and Risotto could've gotten along better than what we got. xD I can dream I guess. 😌

(JIC that joke about Korn is very specific, I know that Korn is more nu-metal and stuff pls don't behead me fellow Korn fans for a joke, Diavolo fans pls don't behead me for making a joke about KC's genera intelligence to know what music-genres are, my acoustic arse wants to make sure, to clarify it in case someone might think I wrote that down in a serious manner, I am just a court-jester throwinf tomatoes at the king basically CKSKDJ)

IMA KEEP THIS SHORT BC I GOTTA SLEEP OBV. LATE SHIFT WILL ABSOLUTELY BODY ME IN TERMS OF CONTRACTS I GOTTA WORK ON LATELY.

I'll do my best to try and catch every Dia and Doppi tag sdfjksklg, I am notoriously AWFUL at tagging my posts no matter on what platform xD

I hope I'm fine to use a fanart tag tbh I'm kinda scared bc I never draw fanart as most of my friends know,, ovo;: I am SO new to drawing fanart man. xD

I hope to Abbacchio-post some day too,, I thought of a funny comic but it's gonna take a GOOD while to draw ofc ><

i can never get over diavolo being canonically punk

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writtenbymisunderstoodnerds · 2 years ago

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Reignited passion (Alyssa Naeher x Reader)

Guess who's back at 1am after only having less than 3 hours sleep in the last day. Apparently lack of sleep makes me want to right. This isn't really edited, but hope you enjoy.

Words: 2.5K

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It was the last day of camp and I was sitting on my bed with Alyssa. We had about an hour until it was time to leave for the airport, but we had finished packing already. Alyssa and I were going to the same place, but after the chaos that was camp, it was nice to just chill with someone who was so calm.

"Can you sing for me?"

It had been over a year since I sung. When my mum died, any passion I had for singing seemed to disappear. We used to sing together all the time. When I was upset, stressed, or hurt, she would sing to me as a way to help me calm down. We would spend hours together, writing and singing. It didn't feel right singing without her. I never seemed to be able to say no to Alyssa though. We weren't dating or anything, but I did have a rather large crush on her.

Alyssa placed her hand on my arm, a small smile present, "You don't have to Y/n."

I already knew I couldn't say no so I took a deep breath and closed my eyes before starting to sing the first song that came to mind.

I've been awake for a while now

You've got me feelin' like a child now

'Cause every time I see your bubbly face

I get the tingles in a silly place

It starts in my toes

And I crinkle my nose

Wherever it goes

I always know, that you make me smile

Please stay for a while now

Just take your time

Wherever you go

The rain is falling on my window pane

But we are hiding in a safer place

Under covers staying dry and warm

You give me feelings that I adore

They start in my toes, make me crinkle my nose

Wherever it goes

I always know

That you make me smile

Please stay for a while

Now just take your time

Wherever you go

But what am I gonna say

When you make me feel this way

I just mmmmm

I finally opened my eyes when I felt something touch my knee. Alyssa had shifted closer so she was sitting cross-legged in front of me, our knees touching. Her hand hesitantly reached out, lacing with mine when I met her hand halfway. My heart sped up, like it did every time Alyssa was close. It took a lot of self control to keep singing without stuttering, but I managed. Alyssa kept her focus on me as I continued. There was a look on her face that I couldn't quite figure out. Her eyes were soft, sparkling almost, a slight smile playing on her lips.

It starts in my soul

And I lose all control, when you kiss my nose

The feeling shows

'Cause you make me smile

Baby, just take your time

now holdin' me tight

Wherever, wherever, wherever you go

Wherever you go, I always know

'Cause you make me smile

Even just for a while

"You are amazing Y/n/n." Alyssa whispered as I finished. We seemed to both lean in slightly as if we were drawn together. She cupped my cheek with her spare hand. I closed the space between us. Our lips moved slowly yet perfectly in sync, like they were made to all along. Her lips were soft, yet slightly chapped and so, so addictive. We pulled away after a few seconds, I could taste the slight hint of her chap stick as I licked my lips. Relishing in the taste of her. A wide grin spread across her face, lips meeting the back of my hand. "I've wanted to do that for a long time."

There was no stopping the huge smile that spread across my face at Alyssa's admission, "Me too Lys."

---

She's got a smile that it seems to me

Reminds me of childhood memories

Where everything was as fresh as the bright blue sky (Sky)

Now and then when I see her face

She takes me away to that special place

And if I stared too long I'd probably break down and cry

Everyone seemed to quieten down around us, but I was focused on the small child in front of me. We were back at camp and Alex had brought Charlie with her. I'm not really sure what happened, but Charlie had suddenly started having a meltdown. I'd managed to get her to stop crying, but her lip was still wobbling. A threat of more tears appearing at any minute. I took her hands, slowly swaying.

Whoa-oh-oh! Sweet child o' mine

Whoa, oh-oh-oh! Sweet love of mine

She's got eyes of the bluest skies

As if they thought of rain

I hate to look into those eyes and see an ounce of pain

Her hair reminds me of a warm, safe place

Where as a child I'd hide

And pray for the thunder and the rain to quietly pass me by

Charlie giggled as I spun her around, ending the song. She ran over to Alex, yelling about how she was a princess because I spun her around. Everyone looked at me, surprise on all of their faces. It had been a long time since anyone had heard me sing except Alyssa. Even she had only heard me once at the last camp. My passion for singing and music in general was coming back, but slowly. I also still struggled with getting back into singing in front of people.

Alyssa subtly placed her hand on my back when I stood next to her. We had been together for a few months now, but we had decided to keep it to ourselves for a while. It was hard because she was still so addicting. All I wanted to do was hold her hand, cuddle with her or kiss her. It was also nice though, we got to just enjoy us while getting used to the new relationship.

---

We were on the bus heading to the stadium for game day. Everyone seemed slightly nervous, especially the few players that were attending camp for the first time. There was music playing quietly, but no one was singing or dancing like usual. I pushed myself up off Alyssa's shoulder and squeezed her hand. It wasnt unusual for me to rest against Alyssa on the bus, we had been doing it for a long time, now it was just with added secret hand holding. She gave me a questioning look, but I just smiled.

"Em, can I borrow your phone?" She reluctantly handed it over, I went through her music trying to find something more upbeat. Everyone sat up a bit when the song changed and I started clapping my hands.

Oh Mickey, you're so fine

You're so fine, you blow my mind, hey Mickey, hey Mickey

Oh Mickey, you're so fine

You're so fine, you blow my mind, hey Mickey, hey Mickey

Oh Mickey, you're so fine

You're so fine, you blow my mind, hey Mickey, hey Mickey

Oh Mickey, you're so fine

You're so fine, you blow my mind, hey Mickey

Hey Mickey

You've been around all night and that's a little long

You think you've got the right, but I think you've got it wrong

Why can't you say goodnight? So you can take me home Mickey?

Emily and Kelley stood up with me, dancing around the bus. A few of the other girls were dancing in their seats while others clapped along. The speaker died, but no one seemed to notice so I just decided to have fun.

Oh Mickey, what a pity, you don't understand

You take me by the heart when you take me by the hand

Oh Mickey, you're so pretty, can't you understand

It's guys like you, Mickey

Oh what you do Mickey, do Mickey

Don't break my heart, Mickey

Simmer down, simmer down

They say we're too young now to amount to anything else

But look around

We worked too damn hard for this just to give it up now

If you don't swim, you'll drown

But don't move, honey

You look so perfect standing there

In my American Apparel underwear

And I know now, that I'm so down

Your lipstick stain is a work of art

I got your name tattooed in an arrow heart

And I know now, that I'm so down (hey!)

My focus went straight to Alyssa. Since we started dating she had developed a habit of stealing my clothes. Mostly the oversized stuff I had for sleeping in or my hoodies. It never bothered me though, she did look amazing in my clothes. Red was creeping up her cheeks as I kept singing to her. Emily bumped up against me, which made me look away from Alyssa, it was probably a good thing since we were supposed to be hiding our relationship for now.

Let's get out, let's get out

'Cause this deadbeat town's only here just to keep us down

While I was out, I found myself alone just thinking

If I showed up with a plane ticket

And a shiny diamond ring with your name on it

Would you wanna run away too?

'Cause all I really want is you

I got my first real six-string

Bought it at the five-and-dime

Played it 'til my fingers bled

Was the summer of '69

Me and some guys from school

Had a band and we tried real hard.

Jimmy quit, Jody got married

I should've known we'd never get far

Oh, when I look back now

That summer seemed to last forever

And if I had the choice

Yeah, I'd always wanna be there

Those were the best days of my life

Ain't no use in complainin'

When you've got a job to do

Spent my evenings down at the drive-in

And that's when I met you, yeah

Don't stop believin'

Hold on to that feelin'

Streetlight people

Don't stop believin'

Hold on

Streetlight people

Don't stop believin'

Hold on to that feelin'

Streetlight people

"We're here," Someone called, making pretty much everyone groan in protest.

"But we were having fun," Emily whined.

I pushed her forward towards the front of the bus, "Come on Em, we have ass to kick."

Alex patted my back, "It's good to hear you singing again."

I smiled, heading back to my seat to grab my bag. Alyssa was waiting for me, holding my bag. Everyone was already off the bus so I squeezed her hand quickly before letting go, "Thank you beautiful."

"You're the beautiful one. Do you want to have dinner tonight?"

"Like go out for dinner?"

Alyssa played with her fingers nervously, "If you're up for it. I realised today that we've only ever been out on a proper date once or twice in the few months we've been together. All we usually do is hangout at your apartment or maybe go for walks where no one will see us. If you don't want to it's fine, I get it, I just-"

Lindsey popped her head into the bus, "What's taking you guys so long?"

"Coming, sorry we got distracted." We made our way out of the bus. When Lindsey was far enough in front of us, I stepped closer to Alyssa, "I would love to go to dinner with you tonight. I'll make reservations for 8."

The smile on Alyssa's face made butterflies erupt in my stomach the same way they did before we started dating. I had expected it to go away after we got over the newness of it all and it started to feel real, but it hasn't happened yet. Every time I saw her smile, heard her laugh or kissed her, the butterflies would go wild.

---

"Lys you ready?"

"Just a second."

Alyssa walked out of the bathroom wearing blue skinny jeans, white blouse, and black leather jacket, "Maybe we can just stay here, you look so good in this, I bet you look even better without it."

She chuckled, pressing a quick kiss to my lips, "Keep it in your pants Y/l/n. Let's go, we're going to be late."

Dinner consisted of secret touches under the table and whispered comments while trying to act as much like friends as possible. Despite that, it was fun. I had never felt that carefree or happy around anyone other than Alyssa. Everything just seemed that much easier when I was with her. I was looking forward to the day we could go out without hiding, but in a way hiding brought me a sense of security. Like I had a place in this world that was just us, a safe place I guess. Somewhere we could escape to when our jobs or lives were crazy.

We were walking along the beach hand in hand. It was dark so we weren't that worried about people noticing us. I was humming the tune to teenage dream by Katy Perry. Some of the girls were playing it earlier and it had been stuck in my head since.

"What is that?" Alyssa asked after a few minutes. I smiled and decided to just sing it for her.

You think I'm pretty

Without any make-up on

You think I'm funny

When I tell the punchline wrong

I know you get me

So I let my walls come down, down

Before you met me

I was alright

But things were kinda heavy

You brought me to life

Now every February

You'll be my Valentine, Valentine

Let's go all the way tonight

No regrets, just love

We can dance until we die

You and I, we'll be young forever

You make me feel

Like I'm livin'

A teenage dream

The way you turn me on

I can't sleep

Let's run away and don't ever look back,

Don't ever look back

My heart stops

When you look at me

Just one touch

Now, baby, I believe

This is real

So take a chance and don't ever look back,

Don't ever look back

We drove to Cali

And got drunk on the beach

Got a motel

And built a fort out of sheets

I finally found you

My missing puzzle piece

I'm complete

"You're a dork."

"Hey, Katy Perry is awesome."

"I never said she wasn't, I'm just simply pointing out the fact that you are a dork."

"You love it."

"I do, I also love the fact that you're singing again. Your voice is amazing, you are amazing."

"Who's the dork now?"

Alyssa laughed loudly, "Still you."

---

"What made you start singing again?" Ali asked. We were sitting on the field, waiting for the others to finish their warm ups.

I shrugged, "I guess I found my passion again."

"Or someone helped you find that passion," Ali nudged me before looking over at Alyssa who quickly looked away.

"Maybe, don't tell anyone yet please."

"I wasn't even sure myself until you just confirmed it. So you two are together?"

I couldn't stop the smile as I glanced back at Alyssa, "We are."

"Your secrets safe with me. I'm just glad you're happy again. And that you're singing again, I missed your voice."

"People have been saying that alot."

"It's true. We love when you sing Y/n. We love your voice. Camp wasn't quite the same without it. Now tell me how you and Alyssa happened." I filled Ali in on the night Alyssa and I first kissed. A smile on my face the whole time. It was nice to have someone to talk about Alyssa with.

Later that night, Alyssa and I were finally back in our room after team bonding. I cuddled against her, head on her chest as she held me close. "Thank you Lys, without you I don't know if I ever would have sung again."

"You don't have to thank me. You have no idea how amazing it felt to have you sing to me that night. It felt like an honor. You seem a lot happier now that you're singing again."

"You have a lot to do with that."

"Maybe I do, but it's not just me. You seem lighter in a way. I love you Y/n."

I cuddled further into her, enjoying the warmth and safety she provided, "I love you too Alyssa."

#uswnt x reader #uswnt imagine #uswnt imagines #woso imagines #alyssa naeher x reader #alyssa naeher imagine #alyssa naeher

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marvelslut16 · 2 years ago

Text

Grief

Pairing: Billy x reader (technically) but it's mainly Max x platonic!Reader

Synopsis: The reader helps Max through her confusing grief after Billy's death by reveling bits and pieces of her own twisted relationship with him.

Word count: 1.7k+

Warnings: Swearing probably. A lot of talk bout death. Wishing death upon someone. Toxic abusive relationship. Angst. Some fluff. But I mean mainly angst. Grief.

A/N: I've had this idea since the end of the third season, but since the fourth season dealt a lot with Max's grief it helped me flesh out this one shot. I'm embarrassed to admit that I cried while writing this. Also I had this fic finished for like two months but didn't know what to name it so it's just been sitting in my drafts, I decided to give it a shitty name before second guessed the entire thing and never posted it.

“So whatcha’ listenin’ to?” you ask the redhead as you plop down on the edge of the picnic table.

You aren't surprised when she doesn’t respond, instead turning her body away from where you're sitting. You sigh, shifting to lay across the length of the tabletop, you may as well try and get some sun while you sit with Max. The redhead continues to ignore you until you hear her walkman click, signaling that it’s time to flip the cassette.

“Why are you here?” she finally asks.

“Because your friends are worried about you, I’m worried about you,” you sit back up, leaning your forearms on your legs, feet resting atop the bench next to Max. “It’s been over two months Max, and you aren’t talking to anyone.”

“Well I still don’t want to talk,” she states matter of factly, rewinding her cassette. You can hear two songs play through her headphones before she sighs and looks back at you. “What will it take for you to leave me alone?”

“Tell me what you’re listening to,” you hope that she’ll be more likely to talk if you don’t start by asking her how she is.

“Kate Bush, running up that hill is my favorite song,” you hum looking down at your hands.

“Ya know, my friend has that same cassette. She played that song for me the other day, it immediately made me think of him.”

“How could you move on? How are you so okay?” her voice equal parts desperation and anger, you can’t bring yourself to look at her when you respond, afraid she’ll be able to see how much you’re hurting.

“I’m not okay, and I haven’t moved on. My friend thought I was crazy because I immediately burst into tears at the song. I haven’t been back to the pool since he died. I buy his cigarettes and light them, I never smoke them, I just want to smell them-smell him. I wear his earring everyday, and I go to bed every night clutching his stupid jean jacket. I’m not okay, and that’s normal, but I can’t spend every moment wallowing because it won’t change anything,” you don’t even realize your crying, not until tears are falling out your forearms.

“I hated him,” Max admits, reaching over to hold your hand.

“I know,” you laugh wetly, you’d grown close to the girl over the year you had dated Billy, and she wasn’t good at hiding how she really felt. “He treated you like shit, it makes sense.”

“You don’t get it! He loved you while he made my life a living hell, it’s different. There were times when I wanted him to die, and I just feel so guilty.”

“Max, there’s nothing wrong with feeling like that, he was horrible to you and you just wanted him to leave you alone.”

“I wanted him dead, and now he is! What kind of person does that make me?” she pulls her hand away from yours, throwing it in the air in exaggeration.

“New Year's Eve. Some Senior was having a big party to ring in the new year. I didn’t want to go, I had begged Billy to just stay home, we could pop Jiffy pop and ring in the new year with you since your mom and Neil were going out. But he forced me to go, so I got all dressed up for him and he ignored me almost the entire time we were there. Tommy H. and Carol stole him away the moment we walked into the house, none of them even tried to involve me in their conversation.

I ended up spending three hours leaning up against the wall in the living room before some guy from my history class came over to talk to me. I spent the next few hours talking to the guy since we were both alone, and some gorgeous leggy brunette was flirting with Billy. And he was flirting right back. Right before midnight Billy finally noticed I wasn't hanging all over him and waiting for him to give me attention anymore. He saw that I was talking to a guy and would have beat him to a pulp for it had I not stood in between them.

Instead of starting the new year off with a kiss, we started it with a huge fight. He calmly pulled me out of the house, but as soon as we were in his car and driving away he was screaming at me. He was berating me for flirting with some other guy, even though I wasn’t the one flirting at that party, he was. He just kept going on and on about how I embarrassed him by talking to the guy and thow I defended him, when all I was trying to do was keep Billy from a useless fight that could land him in jail.

I remember, vividly, wishing the alcohol would get to him and he would swerve off the road and into a tree. I didn’t want to die, I didn’t want him to die, I just wanted him to shut up. I thought that if he hit a tree he would just stop yelling at me for a little bit, and hopefully forget about how mad he was.

If you think you're a bad person for having normal thoughts, then I must be the world's worst person.”

“That actually happened?” Max’s expression is unreadable.

“I wish it hadn’t” you reach up to and anxiously run your fingers over Billy’s spiked earring that’s dangling from your ear. “To this day I feel guilty for thinking that, because I never thought he’d actually die, not this young. I figured I’d never feel this much guilt for thinking those things because we’d be broken up long before he’d die. But it’s normal for both of us to feel guilty about our thoughts we had in horrible moments with him, and it’s okay that we both feel those things. So long as we never act on them.”

“Thank you,” Max squeezes your hand, and you can tell by the look in her eyes that what you had said actually helped her.

“I should be the one thanking you, I just got a lot off my chest,” she laughs lightly, starting to look guilty again.

“You really don’t think I’m horrible?”

“If anyone was horrible, it was Billy. He treated you like shit most of the time, he liked to beat people up, he almost cheated on me multiple times, and he was a little racist,” you grab her hands and wait until she looks you in the eye. “It really is okay for you to have had those thoughts, and it makes sense that you’re conflicted and you feel guilty now. But you are honestly the furthest thing from a horrible person, Max.”

“Thank you,” tears start to prick at the corner of her eyes as she pulls you in for a hug, hiding her face in your neck.

“And for what it’s worth, he cared about you more than he’d ever like to admit. Yeah he despised you at first because he blamed you for the move and for how Neil treated you so much better than he treated him. But Billy grew to care for you, and he wanted to protect you. First night of summer break you were late coming home, you lost track of time with Lucas, Billy was so pissed when you got back at the house, but it was because he was a nervous wreck when you were late, he was worried something had happened to you. That obviously wasn’t the right way to express his feelings, but he was never good at that.”

“He loved you,” Max responds, voice breaking from her tears.

“I’m not sure he could love, I don’t think he’d ever let his walls down enough for that.” you pull away, giving Max a watery smile. “But he did probably hate me less than he hated most people.”

“Stay right here,” Max frowns before running off to her trailer. Standing awkwardly in the middle of the trailer park you look around, Aerosmith is coming from the Munson’s trailer, but the rest are silent. Everyone else is either at work or, more than likely, passed out drunk somewhere in their respective trailers.

Max comes running out of her trailer a few minutes later with a little white box clutched in her hands. When she gets back to where you’re standing she thrusts said box into your hands.

“What’s this?” you look at her in confusion, fingers playing with a torn corner of the box.

“I found it in Billy’s room before we moved. It was under a stack of Playboys, he probably knew you wouldn’t look under there,” you let out a little laugh, because Max was right, that probably was Billy’s thought process.

You gasp when your eyes land on what's inside the box, gold wiring twisting to spell out Billy attached to a matching gold chain. You had told him once, aftering seeing some freshman with her boyfriend's name on a necklace, how badly you wanted one, even if it was disgustingly cheesy and over the top. “I can’t believe he remembered,” you murmur. More to yourself than to Max.

Taking out the cardboard piece the necklace is resting on you notice a polaroid below it. Billy’s boxers are sitting low on his hips, barely even on him, his happy trail is gone and in its place is a fresh tattoo of your first and middle names running across his pelvic bone. The polaroid is dated 6/28/85. You think back to the week before he died, when he refused to swim, didn’t try to get in your pants once, and told you he had something to show you, something he never got around to doing.

It hits you like a freight train, Billy loved you, in his own twisted way. He would never say those words to you, but he got your name permanently inked on his skin to let you know that he felt the same. Your knees buckle as the weight of the realization comes crashing down on you, you're thankful that you're still standing so close to the picnic table that you slam onto the seat and not the ground. It’s Max’s turn to comfort you as you let out a sob, a new wave of grief washing over you as you realize just how much you meant to him and what you truly lost.

#stranger things #stranger things imagine #billy x reader #billy hargove x reader #billy hargove imagine #max x platonic!reader #max mayfield x platonic!reader

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nightowlwriting · 3 years ago

Text

summary: steve is acting weird. avoiding you, being snippy and mean, leaving the room when you enter. all you want is your boyfriend back, but all he wants is to pretend you don't exist. when he's almost hurt on a mission, you do what you're made to do.

word count: 11k

reader specifics: no race/gender/sexuality/body type mentioned, no pronouns for reader used, powered!reader, insecure!reader

warnings: steve is mean to the reader in the beginning, heavy angst, hurt/comfort, canon-level violence, brief ptsd symptoms, slight description of blood, brief mention of racism in the '30s & '40s

brief mentions of: reader's parents being toxic, homelessness, past accidents, ableism in the past & present

note: this one hurt me lmfao. idk why this went the way it did but i'm not mad at it // also i am a queer, trans, disabled american. i have fundamental disagreements with things that marvel/the mcu as it stands for and some of the more nuanced things that you might not notice unless you're looking for it. this will take place in my writing because i cannot separate myself from the lens in which i consume/create content.

title credit: lil nas x

mobile masterlist - request - support my work? - ao3

Falling in love with Steve Rogers went against every instinct you had. You knew that he was going to hurt you from the first moment your lips touched his. Sure - he’s clever, righteous, courteous… You can’t forget he’s also drop-dead gorgeous because every trashy gossip magazine in a three-state radius of New York doesn’t let you forget. Neither does the sight of him waking up in your bed every morning. (Well, actually, maybe that would remind you if he was still fucking doing that.)

But lately, you’ve had to rely on the fucking tabloids to catch a glimpse of your super-hero boyfriend. The university class you had picked up on a whim at the end of the summer - Life & Times of the ‘30s and ‘40s - avoids any mention of Steve Rogers and the Howling Commandos. Not that your classmates do because, Christ on a bike, those magazines manage to catch pictures of you and Steve in moments that you don’t even remember. Plus, you’re an Avenger too. It’s bound to catch some attention when you waltz into a college classroom.

You’re sure if you were an undergrad trying to fill a gen-ed requirement and were sitting next to someone who could kill you without blinking but also dating Captain Rogers you’d be a little distracted too. You try not to blame your classmates too much, but they do make it hard to concentrate with their -really dating Captain America?- and -wonder if I could get an autograph- whispers. None of that matters because you’re learning, really studying, in between missions and missing Steve and believing that maybe the gossip reporters are right.

Maybe he’s forgotten about you.

You grit your teeth and push the thought away. It does you no good right now, while you’re training with Peter. He’s working his way up to bona fide missions and, because you’re the only one on the team who has experience with real-life teenagers outside of saving their lives, it’s up to you to get him to the level that he needs to be. Plus, the mission where he’s going to get his gills wet is just you, Tony, Steve, Nat, and Bucky. You’d much rather be the one to train him because you won’t traumatize him.

Right now, though, you’re just kicking his ass to try and get rid of some of the tension in your body. You feel a little bad about it, but when you started as his mentor you told him point-blank that you’d never go easy on him. That meant if you were having a bad day he either needed to up his game or he’d have a bad day too. It appears he’s taken that to heart as he struggles to dodge the hits you’re throwing his way. He lunges out of the way when you try to land a right hook but practically walks into the leg sweep that sends him crashing to the ground.

“Awe,” Peter groans, letting his guard down. You take the momentary lapse of focus to grab him by the collar of the hoodie he’s wearing and haul him to his feet, jerking one fist back to cold-clock him but he beats you to it. You hear the sound of your nose cracking before you feel it but then the pain rushes you all at once. You’ve had worse but coming from Peter, the move surprises you. You don’t yell out but he does when you push him away from you and call the fight off. Peter practically yelps your name, hands up by his head as he watches you bend at the waist, both hands over where your nose is absolutely gushing blood. “I am so sorry, I just reacted-!”

“It’s fine, Pete,” You shake your head and stand straight again, the blood beginning to leak through your fingers, “Just go get me a towel, okay?” Peter practically trips over his feet to get something for your nose and as you track him on his way into the locker rooms, you see Steve, Bucky, and Nat. The latter are looking your way, eyebrows raised like they’re asking you if you’re okay. Steve hasn’t even broken stride in his conversation so you wave them off with a bloody hand. Peter’s back in a flash, pressing a wet towel into your grasp and snapping you out of your self-pity party. “It was a good hit,” You compliment as you wipe your face off, “I just wasn’t expecting it. Prob’ly wouldn't have landed it if I had.”

He wrings his hands, shifting from foot to foot. “I’m sorry-”

“It’s a good thing, Peter, means you’re getting better.” You deadpan, checking to see if your nose has stopped bleeding yet, “I don’t think you actually broke it, but I’ll go down to medical to check later.” You do your best to clean up your hands with the wet towel, but it’s so soaked with your blood that it mostly just smears it around. You grimace and shake your head. “Well, I should go now before our sparring match ends up looking like I murdered you.”

“I’ll go with,” He offers, “I’m the one who broke your nose.” You let Peter walk you down to medical even though you were originally going to refuse. Perhaps petty, but it was the way that Steve didn’t even look your way as you left that made you let the teenager walk you the two floors to where you’d be able to clean yourself up. He hums in the elevator and you know that he wants to ask you something - it’s the way he holds his mouth when he’s prying for information or keeping a secret that tips you off. Finally, just before the elevator opens, you sigh and turn to him.

“What, Peter?” He grins but then it falls when he has to skitter after you down the hall. Maybe that’s why it falls - the question he asks next nearly sends you to your ass.

“Is everything okay with you and Captain Rogers?” He easily catches up to you when you stop in your tracks, ignoring that you’re still bleeding a little bit down your face and you might be dripping blood everywhere from where it’s run down your arms.

“What?” You do your best to look confused like everything is fine, but Peter is perceptive. He may fumble around and be pretty awkward, but those are really just teenager things that he’ll hopefully outgrow. You should have known that when someone caught onto how bad things are on your end, it would be Peter. (You wonder if Nat or Bucky has brought it up with Steve, considering he’s spent more time with them in the past week than he’s seen you in the past month.) “We’re fine.” Your words are stilted as you begin walking to the medical wing much faster than before.

“I just thought I’d ask, well, because I’ve sort of noticed… Something just seems off, you know? Like, you two used to spend a lot of time together, and maybe it’s the recon mission coming up, but I was just thinking that you two really barely look at each other even when you’re in the same -”

“Peter!” You say his name much louder than either of you expected and both of you jump. “Peter,” You say softer, looking at the glass door to the medical wing instead of him, “Just leave it, okay? It’s nothing you have to worry about, kid.” Peter ducks around to open the door, forcing you to look at him. “He’s just focused on his stuff and I’m focused on getting you whipped into shape for this mission. We only have two days.” Once you’re inside and surrounded by the medical crew Tony keeps on staff, he thankfully drops it. You love Peter, you do, but it’s a lot like having a little brother. You can only love them so much before you want to fucking strangle them. Eventually, as the doctor checks to make sure he hasn’t broken your nose, you have to order him away to go study or something. “I’ll join you later,” You promise him as the doctor prods at your tender flesh, “I have an essay due soon.”

That’s another thing that’s been bugging you that Peter surely picked up on. Nearly everybody knew you were taking a course at the local community college, but nobody knew what it was about. You’d wanted to keep it a secret until you told Steve, but the day you had registered he’d flown out for a two-week mission without telling you or saying goodbye. After that, you decided it didn’t really matter if anyone knew what class you were taking, and keeping it a secret sort of spiraled from there. If they wanted to know they could look it up. Maybe it was petty, but you just wanted the class to be over and done with so you could forget that you really only picked it up so you relate to your boyfriend more.

If you can even call Steve your boyfriend anymore. You’re not so sure where you stand and, honestly, you’re really close to giving up on the relationship as a whole but you can’t do that. Before you were dating, you were friends, and Steve… He never gave up on you. Not once. How could you repay him by giving up on your relationship? The one that you thought was The One? Even if it hurts, even if you’re unsure more than sure these days, how could you? Somewhere, though, you know you deserve better. You don’t deserve the sinking, dark feeling that lingers in your gut for most of your days now or the way that you second-guess every move you make - even in the field. It’s dangerous but you can’t do anything to fix it.

You’re too scared. You know that eventually, it will happen, he’ll break up with you, but you’d like to put that day off for as long as possible. To relish in the love he once had for you, how pure and powerful it was. You’re sure that you’ll never experience anything like that again.

Hell, you might never fall in love again.

Those thoughts don’t do anything to help you, though, so you try not to have them. You get clearance from the doctor and get cleaned up as much as you can without taking a full body shower. The idea to go back to your room and take one crosses your mind but you know that Steve’s probably done training, probably heading back for his own shower, and you don’t want to open that can of worms. Instead, you go to the common room and drop into the couch between Peter and Tony. They’re talking about something something science something something, but you pull your stack of books and notebooks out from the shelf underneath the coffee table and continue outlining your essay from where you left off. The assignment was focused on how the end of WW1 changed American life and then how life changed leading up to and during WW2 but that had hit a little too close to home for you, so you’re writing about the racial tension and overall racism of the times. Tony and Peter keep talking over your back and then you hear footsteps heading toward the common room.

You barely look up when they enter - Nat and Bucky - because it’s fine. It’s normal. They’re just two of Steve’s best friends, that’s all, nothing to be jumpy about. You don’t even register that emotional pain that hits when you realize that, yeah, you’re not one of his best friends anymore. You doubt you’re even considered a friend in his book.

You groan and lean back into the couch, bringing your study materials with you. Peter glances over, skimming over your page and a half of shorthand, and gags. “Jesus, can you write like a normal person?”

“Oh, sorry,” You say lazily, not looking up as you continue to scribble in your incomprehensible code, “I do forget that some of us had privacy at home.” You lift your lips just a little bit to let Peter know you’re kidding, looking up at him through your lashes as you slouch next to him. He looks red in the face. “Besides, once you have to start doing mission reports you’ll be begging me to learn my shorthand and use my stenography machine.”

“I keep telling you that I can update that ol’ thing,” Tony draws your attention. For the first time, you realize that Nat and Bucky are on the loveseat looking at you expectantly. Steve is standing in the corner over their shoulder reading a book from the bookshelf in front of him. His back is tense and he looks like he’s not reading, just listening. You force your eyes back to Tony on your right and shake your head.

“No, because then you’d know my shorthand and it makes me too happy to see you spend hours trying to decipher it.” His eyes wander to your essay again, trying to find any patterns that he can use to figure out what the hell you’re writing on anything ever. He’s opening his mouth to make a smart-ass remark that will no doubt lift some of the weight off of your shoulders when another voice speaks up.

“Wow,” Steve doesn’t even look at you even as he says your name sardonically, “Way to be a team player.” Your mind comes to a screeching halt, trying to figure out what the fuck he’s playing at. Even Bucky and Nat look surprised at the cold way he spoke to you, Tony and Peter both gasping from your side. You can’t say anything, throat tight and burning with tears as you stare at your boyfriend with raised eyebrows. What do you say to that? How do you respond? You know it wasn’t a joke because he’s not laughing, not smiling, not even looking up from that fucking book in his hands. You can’t tell if you’re more hurt or embarrassed, but either way, you don’t want to stick around for someone to get the nerve to say something.

Instead of replying, you slam your textbooks shut and bundle everything into your arms. You doubt Steve even notices that you’re making such a hasty retreat but if he does, he doesn’t say a fucking thing. You feel like you’re in high school - practically running through an empty hallway with your notebooks and textbooks pressed to your chest, trying not to cry. It’s ridiculous. You’re a trained assassin, you’re an Avenger, you are strong and powerful and yet… And yet. You’ve given so much of your heart and soul to Steve Rogers that he can knock you down eight pegs without even trying. Without even looking at you. You can’t wait to go on this fucking recon mission, where you can put all of your focus on making sure Peter is doing okay and gathering the intel. Where you can stop thinking about how easily Steve Rogers seems to be pushing you to the side.

You spend the next two days writing your essay, ignoring almost everyone, and working on your essay. On the day of the recon mission, you’re running out the door for your eight a.m lecture, printed essay in hand, and reminding Tony that he promised to pick you up on campus after class for the mission.

You’re lucky that you went, too. You hadn’t counted on the professor making everyone stand up and tell the class the subject of their essays - didn’t realize that it would be twenty-five percent of the grade on the paper. You’ll never understand college professors and the weird shit they do, but the class is informative and entertaining. He goes around the room, starting on the opposite side of you, so you’ll be last. Great.

Several students did their papers on the propaganda of the time, one student was brave and did her essay on the ethical dilemma of the super-soldier serum and eugenics, and most of the other students focused on pop culture and how it changed. When your professor looks at you it’s almost like he’s expecting you to have done nothing but fawn over Steve and Bucky, considering you know them personally. He looks surprised when you clear your throat, stand and say: “I focused on the casual and institutional racism that faced non-white Americans at the time.” You almost preen when he looks impressed and then the shame fills you. It’s just… You want Steve to be proud of you. You want him to congratulate you on going back to school, even if it’s just for one class. You want him to be happy and surprised that he was the inspiration for taking the class.

Though, lately, the class has been more for you than for him. You like learning new things, pushing the boundaries of assignments, making people uncomfortable with the truth of the times you’re studying as told to you by two people who lived it. It’s nice. Normal.

Everyone needs a little bit of normal.

But, honestly, normal is fucking boring. By the time your class is over and you’re handing in your essay it’s like ants are crawling over your skin. A combination of nerves from the upcoming mission, a head full of fog from whatever is happening with Steve, and a little bit of fear at the thought of taking Peter into the field has you bolting for the door the moment your essay is taken from you. You’d worn your tac-suit underneath a pair of baggy sweats and a loose hoodie, so you don’t even bother slowing down as you head toward the car that Tony has waiting for you. He’s in the front seat, grinning at you from underneath his aviators and Peter is driving.

You slip into the backseat without thinking or looking at who’s there, tossing your bag in the back and peeling your hoodie off. “God, Tone, we’re goin’ to die before we even get to the mission with Petey driving.” You toss your hoodie back to join your bag and finally see who’s sitting next to you.

Of course, it’s Steve. He’s looking at you - but not really. He’s looking through you, like he can’t stand that you’re both crammed in the backseat of Tony’s electric car. His gaze catches you and holds you in place. Everything around you goes cold and fuzzy, making you miss Peter’s indignant complaining that he has his license so he should be able to drive… And then Steve scoffs and looks out his window, ignoring you. It stings but you have a job to do. You make some witty retort back to Peter, but it falls flat as you struggle out of your sweats. This is what life is, you think. Relationships aren’t meant to be forever - you learned that at a young age.

Until your accident at fifteen, you had watched your parents run out of helium, their relationship expanding and cooling in arguments, in days spent not talking, in trips to your grandparents without the other, in passive-aggressive computer searches for divorce attorneys left open for anyone to see. Then, after you were trapped between those machines - after you spent hour after agonizing hour with electricity pressing between your atoms, being torn apart and rebuilt as a young god - after that day you watched them expand against each other before the neutron core of their relationship collapsed on itself and the resulting supernova sent you to the streets. But then Fury found you. Then Tony, then Nat, then Steve.

Your parents exploded out from each other and the shockwaves ruined your life. At least now, your relationship with Steve is ending silently. There’s no explosion, no collapse, no rapid expansion to take over your cosmos. Your relationship with Steve is simply approaching the event horizon, where it will hang in the air until one of you takes the final step and you both become frozen, two collapsing objects on opposite sides of the universe. Maybe that’s what you already are. You feel so far away from him in the back of Tony’s car - like he’s eons and light-years away from you - and you feel so cold. Frozen, down to the bone. It makes you stiff in your replies to Tony and Peter, slow on the uptake when the car pulls up to the quinjet, nearing stasis and unable to respond when Nat asks if you’re okay.

Finally, you turn to look at her, nodding. “Fine,” You clear your throat, “Been a rough day.” You do your best to smile at her, but your face feels heavy. Your chest feels cold and tight, making you worry about your performance on the upcoming mission. When Peter shakes his head next to you, discreetly telling Nat not to press, you’re focused on Steve and the electricity humming in the most base part of your body.

He scoffs and rolls his eyes. You turn away and force yourself to smile, throwing a weak and numb arm over Peter’s shoulders. “Are you ready for this, Pete?” You jostle him back and forth, leading him toward the sitting area behind the cockpit. “Gonna get your ass kicked?”

“Please,” He shoves you off, nervously laughing, “Not with the skills you’ve taught me.” He mimics throwing webs, making hissing noises under his breath, and you bark out a laugh, shaking your head.

“You’re payin’ my medical bills when I have to save your ass, Spidey.” You shake your head and strap in next to the wall, Peter taking the seat to your right. Tony, from the aisle across from you, points a thick finger your way.

“You don’t pay medical bills anymore,” He waggles his finger, “So you’ll just have to make him do your homework for a week.”

“Mister Stark!”

“He’ll have to earn shorthand to do your essays,” Nat chimes in from between Bucky and Steve, who are both doing their best to not look at you - or anyone really. “You willing to share that with him?”

You lean back in your seat and jab at Peter with your elbow. “Hell no, so I guess Spider-Boy better do his best.” The arachnid in question grumbles, crossing his arms and slouching in his seat.

“No pressure, right?” He complains, “Not like I’m already nervous or anything.”

“You’ll do fine, kid,” Bucky pipes up, drawing your eyes back to Steve, “It’s goin’ to be a cakewalk.”

“Don’t jinx it, Barnes,” You warn half-heartedly, tucking in on yourself, “We need this to be easy.” From the look on his face - everyone’s face, really - you know that they heard you loud and clear when you were really saying I need this to be easy.

After an uneasy laugh from Bucky, a claustrophobic silence settles over you all as the jet begins to take off. You’re in for an hour ride and plan to spend it going over battle plans with Peter when harsh whispering catches your ear. It’s Bucky and Steve nearly crushing Nat between them until she gets up and sits across from Peter, rolling her eyes. Still, you try your best to run him through the actions you both had planned - the names, the setups you needed to execute them, everything. If something happens to Peter, you’ll never forgive yourself.

And then, cutting through your soft promptings to Peter and his equally soft replies, Bucky’s voice. “Leave it, Steve. Until after this mission.” Even Tony looks up from his tablet, curiosity piqued. Their faces are both red, set hard and angry at each other and your stomach drops. What the hell is going on that Steve ‘Till The End Of The Line Rogers is fighting with Bucky You And Me, Pal Barnes? You must shift, or lean too far into Steve’s eyesight, because for the first time in what feels like years he is looking directly at you - and seeing you, too. It makes your pulse jump and, almost instinctively, you want to reach out and ground yourself on the rubber of the seat underneath you.

You don’t get the chance, though, because Steve speaks. “No, why should I? This is clearly affecting the team.” He’s still looking - glaring - at you like you’ve done something wrong. “What’s the point of waiting? I’ve been waiting to talk about this.”

“Bo, I don’t think this is the time,” Bucky looks over his shoulder at you, then, and you know what’s coming. You know that it’s time, that Steve is about to break up with you in front of your teammates. Your friends. Your family. You steel yourself for the anguish you’re about to feel and then jerk your chin out, hardening your resolve.

“Buck, it’s fine. If Steve wants to address something, he can.”

Natasha says your name, a low warning over the hum of the quinjet. “I think he should wait.”

“Well, I’m not goin’ to wait!” Steve unbuckles himself and stands, “I have tried waiting, and look at where that has gotten me.” He puts his hands on his hips and puffs out a breath. You unbuckle and stand, too, unsure of where this is going. “You need to,” He holds one hand out, pointing at you while his voice shakes. You notice his hand is shaking, too, but fractionally. If you didn’t know Steve as well as you do you may have never noticed it. “You need to get it together.”

“I need to get it together?” You question, eyebrows nearly hitting the ceiling with how fast they shoot up. You’re not totally sure you’ve heard him right because what do you have to get together? The broken shards of your relationship? The information and research for your final paper? The awful way you’ve let yourself be treated for what seems like forever?

“You heard me,” Steve says, at the same time Bucky leans his head back and groans deep in his chest. “What? Someone had to say it.”

“We should wait for this,” Nat speaks up again, but lifelessly. She knows now that you and Steve are both on the warpath, neither of you are going to stop. (That’s also why the two of you work together as a couple so well. Very rarely are you both so worked up about something that you can’t back down, so the other is always there to meet you halfway and get you back to earth.)

“No, no, no,” You say, near hysterically, “No, he wants to do this now? Before a mission? Instead of the fuckin’ weeks we had to hash whatever crawled up his ass and died out? Be my guest. He’s already dragged everyone into this by treating me like a pariah.” You’re not sneering, but your teeth are gritted so tightly together you can hear them scraping and feel a tension headache beginning to bloom in your temples. Bucky looks… Almost incredulous at your statement. Like putting the blame on Steve is a dick move or something.

“Oh, so I’m the bad guy here?” Steve is curling his lip, glaring at you. There’s something behind his eyes, but he’s buried it so deep that you can’t reach it and figure out what it is. “I’m the bad guy, right. Right, right, right.” He scoffs, shakes his head, and then he’s running his fingers through his hair like he really can’t believe what you’re saying to him.

“Well, what else am I supposed to think?” You throw your hands out to the side and let them slap back down on your thighs. “You ignore me, you make me feel like shit, you talk down to me like I’m some insignificant foot soldier. How else am I supposed to take that, Steve?”

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe ask me what’s wrong? Maybe ask me why I’m acting like this, instead of ignoring all of your problems like a child?” He mirrors your moments, but the sound his hands make when they hit the outside of his suit is more powerful than yours. Fueled by anger, you think. Anger and whatever the hell was in the serum Erskine pumped into Steve.

“Ask you?” You repeat, near-hysterical, “Ask you? Oh yeah, let me get right on that. Hey, Mister Rogers? Mister Captain America? Mister Ignores-His-Partner-For-God-Knows-Why? Hey, just why are you doin’ that?” You’re surprised that you’ve said something so snotty, but you don’t back down. (Steve looks surprised, too, and Bucky has stood up next to his friend like he’s about to start berating you as well. At least he looks more cautious about it, like he’s not totally sure that this fight should be happening.)

The more surprising part of your fight is how fast it’s shut down. Tony and Nat stand at the same time and exchange a glance like they’ve surprised each other. “That’s enough,” Tony starts.

Nat cuts him off. “I don’t care if you fight this one out instead of talking, but if you do it before this recon mission you two are going to blow it. Do you understand me?” She looks dangerous, the sharp edge of a knife spiraling through the air. You force yourself to look away from her, from Tony, from Bucky, from Steve. She’s right. You know she’s right - especially on this mission. Peter is there, going to be in real danger even though there’s not supposed to be one Hydra agent in a four-mile radius. You have to clear your mind and focus on protecting him.

Steve seems to think the same thing because he stands down. When you watch him collapse in on himself, Bucky’s arms around his shoulders, into the little quinjet seats your everything aches. Heart, lungs, eyes - everything. Even though you don’t know what’s going on, what could have possibly happened to make your relationship sink this quickly and out of the blue, you still love him. He’s still The One for you. You still want to be the one to comfort him and make him feel whole when he’s struggling.

But you can’t. You can’t and it kills you.

The heat of battle makes a lot of things fade into the background. Important things like why the fuck are there Hydra agents here? and Steve is going to break up with you when you get back on the jet and Tony swore on the fucking limited edition AC/DC vintage tour poster he has in his office that this would be an easy in/easy out information mission. None of that matters, though, because you’re in deep shit. There are seventeen of them, all primed to the teeth with weapons made to take your team down permanently.

You’re practically glued to Peter, calling out commands and plans for him to initiate. It’s when all of your plans fall through that you take a hit from a heavy fist on purpose, hitting the ground hard. “Plan F, Spidey, Plan F!” You cover the instruction with a groan and then you’re back on your feet, working your way toward him.

“Plan F?” Tony says, somewhere above you in his suit. Your comms crackle ominously as another heat-seeking grenade is launched, interfering with the radio waves your tech relies on. You don’t worry about it, because you know Tony is on it. He’s your eyes in the sky.

Peter is the one who answers his question, watching your close hand-to-hand tilt out of your favor briefly. “Plan Fuck It, Mister Stark.” He grunts as he webs up a Hydra agent, jerking him away from where he was about to slip a knife up and under Natasha’s kevlar. You finally drop the guy in front of you, ignoring Steve’s disappointed Language! and toss one of your knives toward Nat for her to use. Tony is still laughing in your ear, wheezing as he drops down and snags the rifle from one of the snipers and then takes back off.

What your little protégé failed to mention about Plan F is that it’s not just chaos, but controlled chaos. You let loose, letting a soft current cover every inch of your skin as Peter switches to his conductive webbing and takes special care to not web any of his allies. Except for you - if you’re in the way and he catches you in a web it doesn’t matter because you’re you, alive with electricity that drops the men that get caught in the web, too. You rip out of the webs and turn the current off when one of your teammates gets too close.

More Hydra agents are pouring out of the woods, topping out their numbers around twenty-five. That’s twenty-five too many in your opinion, especially when you can see Peter getting tired, his anxiety spiking, his moves having more and more hesitation behind them. You need to get this over with quickly, but you don’t have the options to do that. Steve, Bucky, and Nat are really the heavy-hitters - you, Pete, and Tony are the only ones without serums despite all of your individual abilities. Desperately you reach out for a web that’s still connected to Peter’s arms, pulling him out of the way of a baton that’s about to come down on the back of his neck.

The baton the agent is wielding glints in the coming dusk, freezing you as Peter scrambles past you with a quick apology. You’ve seen that before - seen it, felt it, know it like the back of your hand. There’s no way that you could ever forget that weapon. The man stumbles when his hit doesn’t connect but then rights himself and searches for a new target.

A long, black baton that splits into two prongs at the end is heavy in his hand. Electricity crackles between the bulbs at the end, flashing in the setting sun and your memories. The man only has one, but if it was hooked up to a machine, spinning. If there were four, five, six. If you were pinned between them, screaming in the pain as they rewrote your DNA… You’ve only felt it once, but you’ll never forget it.

And now, you’ll taste it again. On purpose this time. The man holding the stun baton is going for Steve’s back - his strong back, the one that protects people, the one that holds the weight of the world, the one that lays in your bed, the one you see whipping out of rooms as you’re entering just so that he doesn’t have to look at you - and you can’t let that happen. It only takes ten amps to kill a regular human, but you know those things are cranked up to twenty minimum. You don’t want to see how many amps of current it will take to stop Steve’s heart. You’re between the baton and Steve before you can think about what you’re doing or what comes next, the hard bulbs settling unyielding into your side and cranking out maximum power for maximum damage as soon as the current is connected and able to flow from one bulb to the other.

The pain hits you and your throat catches on it. It burns through your body, setting everything on fire - your chest hurts as your heart protests the electrons and then your powers kick in, sweeping them into your very atoms and cells. You’re a live wire now, ears humming and body thrumming with power you’ve only dreamed of. It hurts, and it burns, and you feel tears rising in your eyes because you’re back there - back begging for death or for life or for God and god at the same time - but then it’s over. The man sees that you’re not seizing up, not dropping dead in front of him, and he takes three steps back.

It’s not far enough.

You’ve only felt like this once before - right after you were unhooked from the machine that changed your life and brought you to your new family. You remember how you looked when you were put in front of a mirror with all of the pent up electricity circling your body - how your eyes were filled to the brim and dripping with bright and blue electricity, the way it was jumping across your body, how you didn’t need to breathe because your body was fully saturated with pure, unadulterated power. You wonder if you look like that now and assume you do because you can see the bright blue reflecting in the terrified eyes of the Hydra agent.

Your suit, unlike everyone else’s, is not grounded. It’s metal, metal, metal. You’re made to conduct, born for it, and the earth beneath you comes alive with bright white as you release all of the energy, the power, surges down and out. You’re practiced. You can reach out and feel the synapses and neurons of every human being in the clearing, know exactly where your teammates are standing, and know exactly how to target everything but them and the pitiful amount of electricity their brains carry. You grin, something truly feral and unhinged, and you can see the fear in the Hydra agent. Then, you let go.

You know that everyone is going to be pissed. (Maybe not everyone.) You’re not built for this, not made to take down nearly twenty fucking people at once. As you let go, you feel what they feel. The seizing muscles, the stopping of their hearts, the inside of their bodies crisping against their bones. At that moment, that delicious moment, you see the universe.

You become God. You become everything - your mother and your father and God and god and anyone else who’s watching your life from the ether. You become the judge, jury, and executioner of souls that you don’t know from Adam. You become lightning, and thunder, and exposed nerves of the cosmos at the same time. The world bends to your will and you relish in it, taking that power in your fist and wielding it to protect the man you’ll love for the rest of your life and the family that you’ve made. You will stop at nothing to end this, even if it means turning yourself inside out to do it.

You damn near do turn yourself inside out too, but that doesn’t matter, does it? The blood spilling from your ears, nose, and eyes feels like heaven. It’s hot, and thick, and it’s proof of the power that your body holds. You’re a temple and a sanctuary, a war-room and a bunker, a field of flowers and a sun-dry desert. It does not matter if Steve doesn’t love you at that moment, because you are love and hate wrapped into one package. You are everything and nothing, spread thin at the beginning and the end of time.

And then none of that is true. You are just… You. Standing in a clearing, surrounded by twenty-something dead Hydra agents and your terrified, terrified family. It hurts to breathe and you can taste blood in your mouth, but that’s an afterthought. Steve is still standing behind you, but he is alive. That is what matters.

This is what love is, you think.

Pain and pleasure.

Even if he leaves you, you will always love him.

Pain and pleasure.

You’re weak at the knees when he finally turns to see you - and you’re a sight. Struggling to stand, fingertips blackened with soot but not burnt, blood pouring from your nose, ears, eyes… You look like death, but you feel like life. Someone says something behind you - Peter, maybe? Or maybe Tony, in your comms? - but you don’t hear it. Everything tunnels out, your weak knees finally collapsing as you keel backward.

Steve bears down upon you almost immediately. You’re halfway to unconsciousness when he wraps you up in his arms, keeping you from falling in with the pile of bodies around you. He’s saying your name, harsh and soft and then in a voice like he’s ordering you to wake up. You loll about as he drops you down onto a patch of clear grass, hands searching your body for wounds. When he skims over your side, where the baton has burnt through your suit and your flesh, you surge back toward being able to have cohesive thoughts. The pain brings you back, hands wrapping around Steve’s arm and calling out his name. “Steve! Fuck, that hurts!”

“Honey,” He breathes, “Fuck, we have to get you back to the jet.” His jaw ticks, hair dirty and loose from its normal style. “Why’d you do that?” Steve doesn’t wait for an answer from you, ordering Peter to web something up to carry you over your protests.

“I’m fine,” You argue, only slurring slightly, “I feel fine.” But you’re going to let Nat and Bucky load you up on the webbed stretcher anyway because it’s the first time Steve has cared for you in a long time. You want to relish in this moment, the way that he didn't say your name but called you honey.

Well, and because Natasha slides a thumb across her neck over Steve’s shoulder in a silent threat.

You groan when Bucky accidentally grabs your calf where there is an absolutely awful stab wound, but you wave off his apology. “How could you have known?” To be honest, you hadn’t even known it was there until his Vibranium hand was slipping against it and sending shockwaves of pain through you. Peter is next to you the whole time that you’re being carried back to the jet - Tony staying back to begin scanning the bodies of the Hydra agents for the information you need and any other information they may be carrying. The poor kid is nearly at a breakdown, so you reach out to him and shake his arm when his fingers twine with yours. “Chill out, kid, I don’t know how you got it into your head that this is your fault, but it sure isn’t.” He sniffles, but hands back with Steve as Bucky and Nat get you situated in the small medical room of the jet. They transfer you and then make to leave, only Bucky hesitating near the door.

“Stevie’s goin’ to be here soon and… I don’t know what made you do what you did but you have’t explain it to him. He’s bendin’ over backwards to figure it out, and we don’t have’a clue. Came out’a nowhere.” He looks at you for another moment before shaking his head and stepping out of the room. Your head is spinning, partially from what Bucky just said and partially from the pain and stimulus of electricity. You wait there, then, because this is it. This is the event horizon. You wait there, eyes closed, until you hear footsteps approach the med room, and then the door slowly opens. Steve says your name, holding all the finality and weight of an atomic bomb. You don’t open your eyes until he swings a chair next to the stretcher and lays a hand on your calf.

“You don’t have to do this,” You finally say, pushing yourself up onto your elbows to watch him. “I know that you don’t want to.” Steve only scoffs and begins to wash the stab wound using a packet of soap and a water bottle. You say his name twice before he looks at you, something between hate and hurt curdling into a glaze over his eyes that stops you in your tracks.

“Just let me do this. It is the least that you can do.” His words are painful and stilted, like it’s taking force to push them past his teeth. You lay back down and close your eyes, content to just feel the pain of Steve beginning to stitch you up and then dress the wound before you feel the pain of Steve leaving you like you knew he always would. (Falling in love with Steve Rogers went against every instinct you had. You knew that he was going to hurt you from the first moment your lips touched his.)

When he’s done he sits back and puts his elbows on his knees, head in his hands. He heaves a heavy sigh and then shakes it off, “I’ll dress your burn, and then we’ll talk.” And normally, yes, you would agree but this is too important. You want to get it over with so you can lick your wounds metaphorically and dress them literally - and then you want to go home, you want to pack your bags, and you want to disappear and remake your life somewhere else.

Some far-off place where everyone you know won’t take one look at your face and know that you’re still painfully, deeply in love with Steve Rogers, end of your semester be damned. Family you’ve made be damned. You can’t sit around and be in love with him like a neon sign on a dark highway while it’s painfully clear that he hasn’t had a sign on his highway in a long time.

So instead of agreeing, you swing your legs over the stretcher and swallow your flinch when the burn pulls tight. Steve opens his mouth to argue but you give him a tight-lipped shake of your head and his jaw snaps shut. “No,” You say, voice not giving in to the emotion swirling in your chest. “I have let this go on long enough.”

It’s the wrong thing to say because Steve fucking scoffs again and looks away from you. “One day was long enough.” He says, cutting straight to your core. Okay, ouch. You take a deep breath and shake your head to try and bite back the tears that are inevitably rising in your eyes. If one day was long enough for him to realize he doesn’t want to be with you, why did he let it go on for nearly a full year? Why did he spend so long leading you on, pulling you by a thread before garroting your heart with it? What was the point?

“If you want to leave me, just say that,” You reply harshly, standing and wobbling away from him. He just watches you go, watches the way you struggle past the lead weights your muscles have become, the way you’re starting to feel the stab wound on your leg, the way the skin on your burn is beginning to blister and only just now losing its heat. He just watches you, where the Steve that loved you once upon a time might have helped. You turn your back on him, hands on your hips so that you can hide the way that you’re crying and your hands are shaking.

“If I want to leave you? If?” He says. You hear the scrape of his chair as he stands, “I think after what you’ve done, it’s not an if, sweetheart.” The way he says it tastes like iron. Steve never calls you sweetheart like he never calls you by your name. It’s always honey, lover, dovie. You don’t turn to face him because you’re struggling to keep yourself above water. “I spent so long thinkin’, wonderin’, askin’ myself - God damnit, will you look at me?” You turn slowly, not because you’ve never heard Steve speak like that but because his voice is desperate and raw. When you turn, you’re not sure what to expect. Maybe him, standing in front of you, broad-shouldered and disappointed like in those PSA’s he had to film once. Maybe he’d be angry, hands clenched at his sides and eyes narrowed like he gets in meetings when he doesn’t agree with something but he’s out-voted. But you never expect to see him crying, lip wobbling, folded in on himself like a young boy instead of the strong, invincible man you’ve come to love.

He looks so different.

It hits you, then, that you’re not looking at Steve Rogers. Not really. He's not Steve Rogers, not Captain America, not even Captain Rogers. You see him as he was - before America spat it’s untruths all over him and injected him with a serum that changed who he was, is, will be. He’s not the able-bodied man that you know, not strong and unreachable, not the heartthrob that overshadows the team during press events. He’s not America’s Darling, not really. Not where it counts.

You’re looking at Stevie Rogers. Stevie Rogers who, for all intents and purposes, was supposed to die before he made it out of toddlerhood or soon thereafter. Stevie Rogers who the doctors said wasn’t supposed to survive. Stevie Rogers who grew up sickly, rattling painful breaths and never playing ball with the neighborhood boys. Who couldn’t walk until middle school when he got his braces off. Who never had a partner because Bucky, strong and handsome and tall Bucky, was always deemed the better option. Who believed in his country so much that he tried to sneak into the second world war, subjected himself to a painful medical procedure so that he could change his very DNA to be what the world wanted him to be.

Captain Steve Rogers. Captain America. Strong, blond, patriotic, resilient.

You’re sure that if men don’t want to go to therapy now, in the modern age, they certainly didn’t want to go in the ‘40s. So where did that leave Steve, your Steve, standing in front of you and looking small, and broken, and sad, and alone? Did they expect him to take his new, taller, working body and run with it? Did they not think about how he would lose a part of himself in the process? How did they expect him to go from disabled to abled without some disconnect?

You think about the You That You Were Before and the You That You Are Now, and how you lost a part of yourself when the accident gave you your powers and how you’d lose yourself if someone figured out a way to take them away. You Before formed your identity around being normal - living in a shitty home with shitty parents, sure, but normal - and You Now form your identity around your powers, your team, your job, your love. If you lost those things, what did you have left? Who would you be?

When Steve lost his identity and became everything that America wanted everyone to think that America was, what did he have left? Sure, he could tell himself that he represents America - strong and patriotic and just - but it must have conflicted with everything he knew about himself before that. You know that disabled people now know that American society is unjust, unfit for them with abled people not willing to make room to allow them to thrive. You can only imagine what it was really like for Steve in the ‘20s and ‘30s and ‘40s. What he had to do just to survive. (Medical experimentation, you remind yourself. Did they know it wouldn’t kill him? Did they know his body wouldn’t rip itself apart with the new sinewy muscle they were packing on? Did they care? Or was he just a body they saw as broken? A project to fix? To turn him into something more like them and call it patriotism?)

You shake your head at him, still filled with despair, and try to figure out what he’s talking about. “Stevie,” You start, pet name easily replacing what you had been calling him because it’s not fair to shoe-horn him into a body that doesn’t feel like his own. You wonder if he still expects the bone-grinding pain that he used to tell you would happen when it rains. He raises a hand, a strong and family hand, shaking his head.

“I just need to know why I wasn’t enough for you,” Steve looks sad, slouching in on himself like he’s expecting to get his ass handed to him in another alleyway and hope Bucky is there to save him. “I need to know why you wouldn’t just break up with me if you wanted to see other people so badly.” You suck in a shocked breath because, okay, that’s not what you were expecting. Between that and the paradigm shift you’ve had on how Steve must view his identity, body, and self, you’re stunned. Steve continues like he doesn’t even register that you look shocked and pale and now you’re crying because he thinks you’re cheating on him? “And I get it. I get it. You have no idea how much I understand. If I were you, I wouldn’t want me either, okay?”

You cut him off there because what the actual God damn fuck is he talking about? “No, Stevie, I’m not cheating on you.” You shake your head again and this, your statement, lights a fire in him. He still looks like Stevie rather than Steve, but there’s anger there. You imagine that’s what it might have looked like moments before he got himself in trouble back before he was serumed. “I’m not.”

“Oh, yeah?” He challenges, jaw ticking and chin jerking up, “Oh, yeah? You can’t lie to me. I know, okay? The act is up, it’s over, I know, okay? You can stop pretending.”

“Steve, I do not fucking know what you’re talking about but I”m not cheating on you!” You raise your voice, not really angry but more out of necessity. You need to get it out of his head that he is anything less than everything you want - that you could possibly love anyone more than you love him.

“I wanted to clarify something for you,” Steve says like he’s reading an old script from when he was just a beefy, red/white/blue stage prop for the American military, “I am excited to meet with you, but there are some rules. Do not talk about Captain Steve Rogers. I don’t want to hear about him,” As he continues to recite something that has clearly hurt him, you go lax. You know exactly what’s happened - your fists unclench, your jaw drops a little bit, and it feels like someone has gutted you, “I think it is wise to keep work and pleasure separate, and it’s a rule I will enforce heavily. I look forward to seeing you again.” He’s sneering at the end, tears falling down his ruddy cheeks.

“Steve,” You try again, but he cuts you off.

“Am I just work for you?” His voice is shaking more than you thought possible, and so are his hands. You’ve never seen Steve so off-kilter, so thrown, and it breaks your heart that yes, technically, you’re the cause of this. Before this, before this horrible misunderstanding, your relationship with Steve was the paragon of trust so neither of you cared if the other read emails or texts. You remember the email - the email from your fucking college professor - because it had made you so angry that he’d referred to your relationship with Steve as something as simple and base as just pleasure - like you could even put words to the galaxy of a relationship you had with Steve - that you’d gone to the gym to work off some of that irritation. You hadn’t wanted to take it out on anyone accidentally. When you came back from the gym, Steve was gone on that two-week mission that he’d left on without saying goodbye.

Oh, God. You feel sick to your stomach as the paradigm of the way that Steve’s been treating you shifts violently to the left. You have to physically hold yourself up and try to speak past the lump in your throat. Steve looks… Brokenly smug. Like he knows he’s right, but he’d rather gnaw his own legs off than be right.

“No,” You croak, “No, Steve, you’ve got it all wrong.” You want to reach for him, but it feels like the room is closing in on you. You’re second-guessing everything now - especially what you’ve just said. How many people said the exact same thing to him pre-serum because they said something meant for Bucky to him? How many times did he hear that when he was getting a new diagnosis, hoping for the best? How many times had his own mother said it to him when he told her something someone had said, fresh-faced and not yet used to the way that abled people sometimes treated disabled people? You think you might be sick. “That email was from my professor, Steve. I’m not cheating on you, I’d never.” He laughs darkly and sits back down in his chair, head in his hands again. You try to gather the strength to move toward him when you see his shoulders shaking, a telltale sign that he’s crying.

“A professor,” He says with a watery laugh, “Right.”

Finally, you realize that he needs you, needs to know you love him, that you’d do anything for him. You can iron out the kinks later - figure out why he didn’t want to come to talk to you past the original hurt, why he treated you so coldly, why he didn’t trust that you wouldn’t do this to him - but now, you need to show him that you’re here. That you choose him. That you’ll always choose him.

You make your way to him and set a shaking hand on his shoulder. For a brief second you think he’s going to shake you off but then Steve’s hand shoots up and latches onto where your hand is resting, dipping his head to press against your arm. “Stevie, please,” You say, unsure of what you’re asking him to do, “I picked up a class, just one, and it’s… I picked it up for you, it’s about the ‘30s and ‘40s and…” He looks up at you and he looks so broken - face ruddy and wet with tears, lip wobbling, chest heaving as he tries to not sob. His brows are knit and he looks confused, “I just wanted to be able to understand you better. You had to leave so much of yourself at the door when you joined the Avengers, had to leave so much of yourself in the ice… In Erskine’s lab… Stevie, I just wanted you to be able to be you when you’re with me. I wanted to know the you that you were before you became Captain America.” Your voice is shaking, knees knocking together, and honestly? You feel like you might blackout.

“What?” He rasps, “What?”

“He sent that email because too many kids signed up for his class thinking that they’d be able to look at pictures of you and Buck for a semester. Emailed me directly because he knows we’re…” You choke on your words, shaking your head because you’re not even sure there’s a we anymore, “Because he knows I’m on the team. Didn’t want me walking in and making his class about just a few years in the ‘30s and ‘40s rather than the culture of the time.” You don’t know how else to explain it to him, but Steve isn’t saying anything - practically isn’t moving or breathing- so you continue to try and explain what’s really happening as best as you can, “And - and that email made me so angry because he singled me out, didn’t email anyone else about it, and I left to try and work some of that out; I didn’t want to take it out on you, or let it spoil - let it spoil… But when I came back from the gym, you were gone. You were gone for two weeks and I didn’t know why.” You’re crying harder now and pretty sure that within the next sixty seconds you’re going to collapse if you don’t sit down.

Steve shakes his head, still looking like he doesn’t understand. “What?” He says for a third time, “A class? A college class?”

“I just wanted to feel closer to you,” You confess, “Just wanted to understand a fraction of your life without making you do the heavy liftin’ and teachin’ me. Shouldn’t have’t do that,” You’re sobbing, barely biting out your words as you realize that something you’ve done to strengthen your relationship with Steve has destroyed it, “Shouldn’t have to explain a whole different time just to feel loved, Stevie. Should be able to be with someone who understands without you havin’ to explain.” You’re not sure you can say Peggy’s name out loud, and you hope he understands what you’re saying without making you actually say it, “Should’a been able to have love with someone who knew, and I know I’m nothin’ compared to what you should’a had, but I want to be. I want to be in the same ballpark instead’a watchin’ from the stands.” You wipe your face with your free hand and look away from Steve when he stands in front of you. You don’t want to see the look on his face - what he’s thinking about what you’ve said.

He says your name and you glance at him, but his expression stops him in your tracks. Where Steve looked broken and hurt and fuming with anger to hide the anguish, now he looks stricken. You shake your head, “No, no. I didn’t say that to make you feel guilty-”

“You think that I care about whether or not you can understand the ‘40s?” He cuts you off, hands moving to curl around your biceps, “You think that I care whether or not you can relate to a time in history when you weren’t even thought of?”

“Of course I love you. I love you more than anything in this world, but you shouldn’t have to not care, Steve,” You argue, shaking your head, “That’s what I’m trying to say. You should be with someone who understands without explanation. I just wanted to give that to you - didn’t know that this would happen.”

“I should be with someone who loves me,” He argues back, “If you love me, that’s all that matters. My past be damned.”

“But your past is you!” You try to pull away from Steve, but he anchors you there. You’re dizzy from being so close to him after this long, but also because of how many different twists this situation has taken. You can barely keep up with how bad your communication with Steve has become - barely keep up with how you need to fix it, or how to fix it. “Your past is you,” You repeat when you realize that Steve isn’t going to let you go. “And you shouldn’t have to give that up so that someone will love you.”

“But you love me,” He says desperately, ducking his head so that he’s nearly nose to nose with you, “You love me, right?”

“More than anything,” You say, closing your eyes and relishing in the feeling of being so close to Steve, “I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone. I don’t care about what anyone else thinks, or anyone else. I’ll even stop goin’ to class if you want me to - Steve, I just can’t do this anymore. Can’t do this thing where you don’t talk to me about what’s botherin’ you.” You’re choking up, barely whispering, but you know he hears you. YOu can feel his warm breath on your face, “Nearly fuckin’ killed me.”

“I thought it was goin’ to be easier,” He breathes, nose bumping yours, “When you eventually decided to leave me for him. Thought I was savin’ myself some trouble.” You can practically taste his tears as they fall again, “Buck and Nat tried to tell me that you weren’t - that you wouldn’t - but I just couldn’t believe them.”

When you open your eyes, his are closed. This close to him you can see the soft freckles that are blooming over his eyelids, his soft eyelashes kissing his cheekbones. You can feel him breathing, feel him nearly pressed against you in a way that feels hauntingly nostalgic and terrifyingly fleeting; like you’ll be able to feel his warmth for years to come, but he’s about to disappear. “That’s okay,” You finally whisper, “It’s okay that you didn’t believe them. That you thought what you thought. It’s okay.” He shakes his head against yours, opening his mouth to protest, but you refuse to let him feel guilty about feeling this way - you have plenty of time to sit him down and talk to him candidly about the way he acted because of these feelings, anyway. “If I would have been in your place I’m not sure I would have believed them.”

“I treated you so badly…” He shifts and wraps his arms around you. It’s almost immediate - you relax into his arms and wind yours around his waist, keeping him pulled against you as he presses his face into your neck and you press your cheek against his chest. “So awfully.”

“We’ll talk about that, okay? But later. Right now you just need to know that I love you, Steve. I love you more than I can tell you - more than I can express.” You want to kiss him, but you can’t. Can’t kiss him, you need to wait for him to kiss you, for him to close that gap and show you that he still loves you like you love him. “We’ll have to have a talk, a long and hard conversation about this, Stevie, but for now… For now, I’m just content to be with you, okay? MIssed you so much.”

He sighs, nose pressing against yours again. “Missed you too, dovie. Missed you more than I can even say,” His voice breaks as his lips brush yours. Your relationship is not without its flaws and problems - Steve’s actions when he thought you were cheating on him are proof of that and, well, the fact that you didn’t realize what was happening, why it was happening, or a large part of your boyfriend’s psychological makeup having an impact on your relationship while it went unknown by you… There is a lot of work for the two of you to do, a lot of work to do, a lot of communication to be done… But you’d do it all for Steve, over and over again.

When he presses forward and presses his lips gently to yours, you know that he’ll do it all for you, over and over again, too.

#steve rogers imagine #steve rogers/reader #steve rogers x reader #marvel imagine #mcu imagine

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beels-burger-babe · 4 years ago

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Familial Attachments

***Awwwww, I'm so happy that you're enjoying my blog! This request warms my heart and I am WEAK for soft big brother Lucifer. I hope you enjoy @lorkai! - B*** Summary: MC keeps favouring Lucifer. It baffles the other brothers. Lucifer is intrigued by the behaviour and slowly begins to open up to them.

No one really noticed it when you first arrived. You were new to the Devildom, and so much was foreign and scary around you. So you following orders without question and lingering near Lucifer, the strongest of the demons living with you, could've been passed off as a survival technique. But after a few months of you staying in the House of Lamentation, Lucifer thought the initial fear would wear off, and yet you still continued to follow him around like a little duckling. Still, Lucifer hadn't really clued in that there was perhaps sentiment behind your behaviour until he had walked in on a discussion between you, Mammon, Beelzebub and Leviathan. He had approached your bedroom door and raised his fist to knock when he heard Mammon's annoyingly loud voice. "I'm just sayin'! There ain't no reason for you go followin' mean old Lucifer around like that! He's old. He complains a lot. He never has any fun. You should be spendin' time with me! I'm supposed to be your protector ya know!" Lucifer huffed in annoyance and was about to barge in when he heard your giggle. "I'm hanging out with you now, aren't I?" "I don't know MC. I can't believe I'm saying this, but Mammon has a point." Levi pipped in. At this point, Lucifer cracked open the door and peeked inside. You were sitting in Beel's lap as he munched away on a bowl of popcorn. Mammon was standing, punching harshly onto the buttons of the remote he was holding, while Levi sat playing with the ease and skill of the pro-gamer that he was. He didn't even look away from the screen as he spoke to you. Lucifer made a mental note to talk to him about conversation manners. Leviathan continued. "You're always hanging around Lucifer. You only spend time with us if we specifically ask you to, or if we arrange it ahead of time," Levi shifted uncomfortably as he pressed a button on his remote; Mammon cursed as a result. "I-I-Is he your favourite or something?" Lucifer couldn't help but perk at the question. He wasn't aware that you were spending particularly more time with him than the others. Sure, he noticed that you would listen to him much better than any of his brothers ever did (and that alone made him warm up to you), and you always seemed to smile when he was around. But he thought that was just the kind of person you were; happy and compliant. Much to his, and everyone in the room's, surprise, you nodded. "I guess he is." Chaos erupted inside the room.

Beel dropped his popcorn. Levi sputtered and actually looked away from the game to gape at you. Mammon threw his remote and whipped around to face you. "WHAT?!?! You mean you prefer that old bat to the GREAT MAMMON?!?!" to Mammon's defence, he looked genuinely hurt by the confession. "But I'm your first! I thought we were pals, MC?!" Levi tensed and sniffed before turning back at the game. "I'm not that surprised really. Makes sense that you wouldn't l-like a slimy gross otaku like me." Beel remained frozen and quiet. A frown etched on his face as his hands tightened around you. Your eyes widened at everyone's reactions. "Woah, woah, woah! Who said anything about not liking you guys? I love hanging out with you three, and I do see you as my friends," you looked directly at Levi. "Otaku or not. I treasure my time with you." Levi pouted and refused to look at you. "Then what does Lucifer have that we don't? Why does he get the title of your favourite?" Lucifer was shocked to see your expression soften as you smiled gently at just the thought. "He reminds me of my big brother in the human realm," everyone went quiet and looked at you. "I-It was hard being ripped away from everything I knew and be forced to live in a world that I didn't even know existed. When I saw Lucifer and got to know him a bit, I noticed how much he acted like my brother. It was comforting to have just that little bit of familiarity amongst all the chaos of the Devildom, you know?" The eldest brother's heart warmed at the statement. It stroked his pride in the best way possible. He loved his brothers, but none of them were very affectionate with one another with the exception of the twins. To hear that someone cared about him and saw him as an older brother was...touching. His younger brothers seemed to agree as, with a little irritation, they settled back down into their game. Forgetting what he came for, Lucifer smiled and went back to his office. Since that day, he was notably kinder and more vulnerable with you. If you saw him as an older brother then he was determined to be the best older brother you could ask for. He gave you a pat on the shoulder or ruffled your hair every time he saw you. He always made sure to congratulate or acknowledge your accomplishments, no matter how small they were. He asked you how your day was and allowed you to come to him with any troubles (which he would promptly take care of the moment you left the room). Every night he would invite you into his office for some tea and a round of chess before bed. It felt like in no time, he had begun to see you as a little sibling just as much as you saw him as an older brother. Lucifer did his best not to let his brothers catch on to how soft he was around you. He tried to compensate by teasing you a little more whenever they were around. Or pretend that he was taking you into his office to scold you when he really was going to look you over and make sure you weren't hurt in the most recent incident. The result was an endless amount of taunts and ridicule from his brothers on how he was a better sibling to you than he was them (which was mostly true), that you had thawed his ancient icy heart (which he would never admit), and that he couldn't say no to you (which he tried to prove wrong but inevitably failed, much to his embarrassment). Still, the bond between you two was one that was strong and pure. When it was finally time for you to go back to the human realm, you were in tears and refused to let go of Lucifer. Lucifer held onto you tightly. It was obvious to everyone there that he was just as reluctant to let you leave. "You have to go know MC. Your real big brother is up there worried about you, I'm sure," his voice was steady and firm. He refused to cry; no matter how badly his heart ached at that moment. You sniffled and buried your face deeper into his chest. "I know. But you've become just as much a brother to me as him, a-a-and I don't want to leave you. What if I never get to see you again?" Lucifer inhaled sharply at the thought.

He looked over at Diavolo. Something in his eyes must have given away the hurt and inner turmoil he was feeling, for Diavolo's eyes widened in shock before he smiled softly at his friend. "You may take your D.D.D. with you, MC, to stay in contact with the brothers. Perhaps, on occasion, we can also organize visits. This will not be goodbye forever." Lucifer chuckled as you held him tighter and ran a hand through your hair. "See? You'll see me and everyone else again. But for now, it's time for you to return home." You shakily nodded and reluctantly pulled away from his arms; Lucifer felt his chest tighten as coldness filled the warmth where you once stood. Still, he refused to cry or show vulnerability. He would not become a blubbering mess like Mammon. He was better than that. He clenched his fists as you went around giving everyone final hugs goodbye. He held his breath as you picked up the bag the two of you had put together full of keepsakes from the Devildom. You took a step towards the portal. "MC, wait!" Lucifer rushed towards you, damning his own pride and reputation to hell, as he pulled you into one final tight hug and pressed a kiss to the top of your head. He held you there; closing his eyes and allowing himself to pretend for just a moment that he didn't have to let you go. He felt a tear roll down his cheek. "I love you, MC. I will miss having you here." Suddenly you were sobbing again. The two of you held each other for several minutes, as Diavolo had Barbartos escort the others out to give the two of you some privacy. Finally, he let you go, and within a second you were gone and back to your true family. Lucifer went home, and sat in his office, wondering what you were doing with your real big brother and if you were as happy up there as you were with him. ***HOW THE FUCK DID I MAKE THIS ANGST AND END UP CRYING WELL WRITING I AM SO SORRY I SERIOUSLY MEANT FOR THIS BE FLUFF GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!!! *Wipes tears* Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this no matter how accidentally painful it was. Thank you for the lovely request @lorkai! I was touched by how personal it was!***

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starlightxsvt · 4 years ago

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Home | k.mg

pairing ➳ businessman!mingyu x female!reader

genre ➳ strangers to lovers, romance, slice of life, angst, fluff, gets spicy at the end

word count ➳ 5.6k (apx)

warnings ➳ cursing, reader is really indecisive, heavy makeout, implications of sexual activity.

synopsis ➳ an attractive stranger visits your cabin for a week with whom you quickly bond, developing some strong feelings in the process; leaving you to wonder if he's worth leaving everything behind.

A/N: henlooo~ I finally posted! This has been sitting in my drafts for a while but I didn't really feel like writing for a while, hence the delay. I hope y'all enjoy this piece and please don't forget to leave some feedback! It really motivates me :)

A cool gust of wind blew by as you finished typing your last column, leaving a soothing feeling behind as you exhaled loudly. It was hard to finish this piece of writing for some reason, maybe because you lacked inspiration or maybe because your life had been monotonous for a while or simply, a mix of both. Closing your laptop you stretch your hands and legs, feeling somewhat productive. Humming a tune, you looked out the window to see a Lamborghini come to a halt at the entrance.

It piqued your interest because it's not often that people riding Lamborghini come in this cabin so genuinely you're interested in the visitor. You shifted in your chair, waiting for the man to come upstairs to the reception and sure enough a tall- really tall man dressed in a neatly pressed suit appears into your view, briskly walking towards the reception where Chan stood to greet him. You could not get a good look at his face as he moved around quickly, grabbing his small carry on and heading towards his cabin after the formalities.

You watched his tall frame walking away as you got up from your seat and moved towards Chan.

"Who is he?"

"Kim Mingyu," Chan explained, resting his arms on the reception table." A millionaire, owns a lot of companies. No wonder he looked familiar."

"Oh, really? How long is he staying?"

"He has booked for five days. Said he might extend his stay."

"I see."

"Why are you so curious though?" Chan raised a brow at you, tilting his head to a side.

"Nothing." You shrugged. "He just has different vibes than the other people that come here you know?"

Chan hummed in agreement.

There was never much visitors during the rainy season which was both a blessing and a curse. Blessing because that meant the cabin was less hectic and curse because sometimes you are bound to get a bit too bored. You were helping yourself with a cup of tea to somewhat feel re-energised when your newest and the only guest for the week appeared from his cabin, padding through the corridor and stepping into the common kitchen area. You were taken aback for a moment before you composed yourself and smiled at your guest, "Good morning, Mr. Kim. May I help you with anything?"

"Mingyu, please," the tall male replied while scanning the kitchen area. "You're the owner right? What's the food arrangement here?"

"Well, our guests generally cook for themselves or order takeout. When there are many guests I sometimes do the cooking."

Nodding, he hummed before putting in a capsule in the cappuccino machine. You took a seat by the window, tea in your hand as you watched the male move around like he knew this place. Dressed in his pajamas and judging by the fluffy mess that his hair was you assumed he had a good night's sleep.

"I hope you had a pleasant night, Mr- Mingyu." You said to your guest who had whipped out a pan from the cupboard and was making omelette. "Yes, surprisingly so. Normally I have trouble falling asleep but I slept like a baby last night," he casually conversed as he prepared his breakfast.

You smiled, "Well, I'm glad to know that. If you need anything let my staffs or me know."

"Sure. Oh- I didn't get your name though." Mingyu turned to meet your eyes.

"___," you smiled.

"___, okay."

"This is gonna be a rainy week," Hoshi said from behind you as he stood holding a tub of fresh soil for the plants in the backyard of the cabin. You sat on your knees, eyeing the plants which needed their soil changed.

"Yeah? Well, good thing there isn't much guests now."

"I think there should be, I mean it's so pretty here during the rain too. People need to look at it themselves." Hoshi complained.

"Well, most people don't like going out in the rain. Pass me the soil, Hoshi. Let's get this finished before the shower starts."

Hoshi handed you the tub of soil as the sky above started growling, full of thick black clouds. It was gonna start raining soon.

Hoshi spoke, "Oh, Mr.Kim, Mingyu you know, asked me about the beach by the marketplace. Apparently he wants to visit so he asked me if I was free to show him around."

"And let me guess, you aren't?" You rolled your eyes.

Soonyoung pouted, "No! Well I would have given him a tour today if the weather wasn't so bad. And my friends are coming tomorrow, so I'll be busy then."

"Wait- you're friends are coming?" You turned, glaring at the boy who smiles sheepishly, "Oh! Um- I didn't tell you? Well they're only staying for a couple of days and it's not like they're staying for free."

"Well, make sure they clean after themselves okay? If I see them trashing all over the place like last time, I'm kicking you out with them." You gave him a pointed look.

"Okay okay," Hoshi rolled his eyes, puffing his cheeks. "Just- take the CEO out on a tour tomorrow for me okay? I haven't seen my friends in a long time."

"Alright, I will...if the weather is good which probably won't be." You sighed, gently removing the old soil.

Hoshi mused about Mingyu, "Bummer for him, he came in a wrong time. It's weird, no? We don't have such guests like him."

"Yeah," you hummed, focused on handling your roses.

Hoshi's friend, Seokmin and Seungkwan appeared early in the morning next day as you watched Hoshi vibrate from happiness when he hugged them. You smiled to yourself, laughing at at the antics of your staff as you saw him guide his friends into their cabin. The day was once again filled with dark clouds and raining which occurred every other hour. You and Chan cleaned up and completed some chores as the noon fell.

"Should I cook something up for them?" You wondered as Chan finished cleaning the common space of the first cabin.

"Nah, Seokmin hyung is cooking for them. He's a pretty good cook actually."

"Really? That's nice." You said pulling up a chair to sit down. "Are you gonna join them? Hoshi has been with his friends since they came."

"Yeah, probably. You should join us too."

"No, I think I'm gonna take a nap. I feel so tired."

"Alright."

You watched as Chan climbed down the stairs and stepped towards the second cabin where everyone else was. You were about to head to your room when the CEO, Mingyu appeared in the kitchen.

"Oh, hello."

"Hi."

"I haven't seen you since morning," you said watching as Mingyu poured himself a glass of water.

"Yeah, I woke up early today, went for a jog."

"Ah, I see."

"Couldn't go far though, the weather sucks you know." He said leaning against the kitchen top.

"Yeah. But I heard that it should get better from tomorrow. I could show you around if you want to. Hoshi, my staff, is going to busy for a while so I can guide you around."

"Really? That would be cool." Mingyu smiled. There was a small stretch of silence as you both listened to the rainfall before he spoke, "Have you had lunch?"

"Uh-no."

"Would you like to join me?" He asked "This is the longest time I've been alone and it feels a bit weird," he murmured more to himself than you.

"I mean- I don't mind," you shrugged. "Though I should be the one doing it."

"It's okay. People say I am a good cook," Mingyu smiled, his eyes crinkling.

"Well, I suppose it wouldn't hurt to see."

It was weird how comfortable you felt watching Mingyu being clumsy and bump into things as he prepared your meal. It felt like you've been doing this forever- like you've known him forever and you thought to yourself what was suddenly wrong with you. He made small talk as he cooked and it felt easy talking with him- almost impossible to believe that he was stranger. He was friendly and easy to get along with, definitely not a cold and grumpy businessman like you imagined him to be.

Mingyu grinned as he set down the food in front of you- chicken soup, rice and cheese omelette. His eyes twinkled excitedly as he watched you take a bite, waiting for you to say something.

"What are you? A part time chef or something?" You tried not to moan as you chewed because it was that good. Mingyu laughed- a sweet, shy laugh that had his canines showing and his eyes forming crescents. "Thank you. I learned from my mom. I like cooking for myself when I get the time which is not often," he smiled- almost sadly.

"Well, you can cook for me all you want as long as you're here because this is amazing!" You grinned at him, cheeks puffed with food.

Mingyu chuckled softly as he dug in and you both started eating. It felt nice, to talk to someone new and spend time with them, someone other than Chan or Hoshi. It was a nice change- a change you probably needed for a while.

"So...What brings you here?" You asked as you finished your food, setting down the spoon and leaning back into the chair. Mingyu who was still eating, looked at you with a perplexed expression so you spoke, "I mean...we don't generally have guests like you. And it's not even a good time to visit...so I was wondering what brought you here?"

"Guests like me? What does that mean?"

"I mean...rich, okay?" You fumbled, feeling awkward. Maybe you shouldn't have asked. "Like...there are fancier places to visit, you know..."

Mingyu smiled at your words for a moment before he deadpanned, "I'm running away."

"Running away?" You gasped, almost jumping from your seat, "From who? The cops?"

"It would have been better but no, my family," he said, his voice as serious as ever.

"Oh...I see," you fell quiet. It definitely wasn't the answer you expected. You both remained silent for a while as he started out the window, lost in thoughts. "It must have been really bad if you're hiding out here." You spoke softly.

"It has always been," he mumbled. "I just couldn't take it anymore, you know? I desperately needed a break," he spoke more to himself than you. Instead of prodding further, you sat quietly, watching him and listening to his words. Seeing him now, he definitely looks troubled and you didn't exactly have the words to console him.

So you whispered, "Well, I hope it gets better."

Later that night, you find Hoshi and his friends and Chan preparing for a bonfire in the front yard of the cabin.

"Wow, you all are really having fun, no?" You said as you fisted your hands in your pockets from the chilly weather. The air was colder than other nights and everyone including you had put on some warm clothes.

"You wanna join us?" Seokmin asked as he stacked logs on top of each other.

"Nah, it's fine. You four carry on," you patted his back as you started walking back towards the cabin and saw Chan and Hoshi coming out with some boxes in their hands.

"Hey! There are marshmallows in the kitchen cabinet if you want.... nevermind," you finished as you saw beer cans and soju bottles in their hands.

"We're gonna get drunk baby!" Soonyoung yelled, grinning like a fool.

"Hyung, you look drunk already," Chan gave him a side look as they trudged towards the bonfire.

Laughing at their antics you climbed the stairs to the kitchen, preparing some hot chocolate for yourself. Holding the mug on one hand you knocked on the door to Mingyu's room, checking up on him since you haven't seen him since lunch.

The door opened revealing Mingyu in a baggy shirt and pajamas, his hair fluffy and messy.

"Hey," you chriped. "Wanted to check up on you. You wanna join the others in the bonfire?"

"Nah, I'm good. I've been watching them from the balcony." He smiled, his pointy canines showing.

"Oh, I see."

"You wanna come in? I've been getting lonely." He offered, moving away from the door to make space for you.

"Uh- I don't mind," you murmured, surprised that he asked you to come in. You tentatively stepped in and it was fair to say that you were surprised to see the room neat and pristine as most guests kept their room messy.

He ushered you into the balcony, which had a great view of your yard and the forest behind. You saw others laughing loudly as Soonyoung acted something out. Mingyu's voice pulled you out of your thoughts.

"You didn't join them?"

"Nah, they can get too loud sometimes," you chuckled, taking a seat on the bench. You eyed an empty mug lying by, guessing that Mingyu already had his fill of hot chocolate.

Mingyu took a seat beside you, stretching his legs and sighing as he mused, "The view is great."

You hummed your agreement. It was indeed. Not only did you have the full view of your yard and the forest, but you could see a vast horizon of the night sky, some stars twinkling through the clouds.

"It's even more beautiful during summer. You can see so many stars that it feels unreal." You told him.

"Then I will try to visit again during summer," he smiled and you were not sure if he was serious or joking. However you replied with a smile, "You're always welcome."

A silence falls among you two after that but it's not uncomfortable, as you both watched the night grow and Soonyoung and his friends got louder.

"Things got really hard for me, you know," Mingyu started speaking, his voice soft as he stared at the mesh of trees ahead. You were somewhat surprised at his words, but you didn't interrupt, opting for him to continue.

"Running a million dollar company was never easy but...it suddenly was unbearable. My parents always interfered in my work and how I run the company but I managed through all of that, really...until..." Mingyu heaved a long sigh, abruptly stopping.

"Until?" You tentatively asked, peeking at him.

"They want me to get married. With the daughter of their business partner. A marriage of convenience, really."

Oh.

You fell silent, watching him as the moonlight dimly lit the side of his face. There wasn't enough light to see his face completely, but enough to see the curve of his face, his sharp jawline and the sad, lost look in his eyes. Your heart suddenly ached for him. Silently you patted his shoulder, conjuring up some words to console him.

"That's ...awful, really. I'm sorry."

"I've never been so mad in my whole life. Can't they just leave me alone? They treat me like a puppet, like my only job is to live for them. I'm so done. " He said, his hands forming fists.

There's a beat of silence as you quietly patted his back and watched your friends get wasted by the bonfire before he chuckled softly, "I'm sorry for dumping all these on you. I just couldn't hold them in you know-"

"It's really fine, Mingyu. I don't mind. It would be nice if I could actually help you," you sighed, retracting your hand.

"Trust me, you are," he said and you caught a smile on his face.

"I suppose you don't have a significant other? Someone you could talk to freely?"

He shook his head. "That is why I came here. Needed to get my thoughts together, away from them. Not to mention I don't remember the last time I went on a vacation."

"And have you got your thoughts together?"

"I think so, yeah." He shrugged.

"What are you gonna do?" You asked tilting your head.

"Stand strong in my ground, I guess. There's no way I'm marrying their business partner, I'd rather die. And if all else fails, I'm staying here. I'm sure you have some type of job for me, right?"

You laughed at his words, "Maybe. But I'm not sure about your skills, Mr. Kim."

"Oh I'm a fast learner, Miss ___."

You both grinned at each other.

That night when you went back to your room, your thoughts were plagued by Mingyu and you could swear you saw him in your dreams too.

The next morning is brighter and shinier; the sky relatively clear other than some light clouds. After getting dressed and checking up on Hoshi and Chan who were still sleeping, you trudged through the cabin and towards Mingyu's room, before knocking on it. A fully dressed Mingyu appeared, clad in a white polo and jeans, his hair styled messily. He looked effortlessly attractive, making your heart skipp a few beats.

Damn it, what was wrong with you?

"Hi," you almost missed a breath, your face flushed with warmth.

"Oh, hey. I was about to come to you. I believe you were to show me around." Mingyu grinned, his pointy canines showing.

"And that is what I'm here for, Mr. Kim."

"Great! Let's get going. We'll take my car."

After showing Mingyu around for a couple of hours, you both ended up at the beach by the marketplace, sitting on the sand next to each other. The weather was nice; not too hot, not too cold as a light breeze flew by occasionally. Though you could see some black clouds gathering above, it wasn't to rain until evening if the forecast was correct.

"This place is so pretty," Mingyu mused, making you smile.

"I know right. The weather is great too."

You both watched the waves crash to the shore, occasionally wetting your feet as you both relaxed on the sand. There was a silence, a comfortable one as you finished eating the corndog you bought from the market earlier with some groceries. As you finished the last bite, Mingyu turned to face you and asked, "Tell me about yourself."

"What?" A squeak of surprise escaped from you.

"I shared a lot about myself last night. It's only fair I get to know about you too."

"Well..." You pondered. "There isn't much to tell. I've a pretty dull life, unlike you."

Mingyu chuckled, shaking his head, "Does the cabin belong to your parents? Is it like a family business type of thing?"

"No, not really," you smiled softly. "My parents are dead. The cabin belonged to my grandfather."

"Oh- I'm sorry."

"No it's okay. They passed away in an accident when I was a kid so I don't remember them much." You spoke, watching the sea, "My grandparents raised me. Growing up I've spent a lot of time in the cabin and when my grandfather retired he handed the job to me."

"Are they alive? Your grandparents?" He asked tentatively.

You shook your head, "Grandpa passed away a couple years ago and it's been a few months since grandma did too."

"I'm sorry, you must've been lonely," Mingyu offered, his voice soft.

You shrugged, "Yeah, like I said, nothing interesting going on in my life."

Mingyu hummed noncommittally and there was a few moments of silence before he spoke again, "Was managing the cabin something you have always wanted to do?"

You were quiet for a while as you thought over the question, "No...not really. I've just kept doing the job I was handed to. I haven't really thought about what I want to do."

"Well...I think you should hire a manager in your place and maybe...I don't come to the city and make friends, see what calls for you."

"Yeah, I've thought about it. But I don't know really." You murmured.

"Well, give it some thought. I could help you find a manager. In fact, I could help promote and upgrade your cabin if you'd let me. It'll be a good investment."

You laughed softly, not taking his words too seriously. He was just a guest. He was probably just being nice.

A gust of strong wind flew by, ruining your hair as it poked into your eyes and you laughed when your eyes landed on Mingyu.

"What?"

His hair was sticking in different directions because of the wind and you shook your head with a smile as you reached to pat the hairs back into place. It happened naturally, before you could stop yourself. For a moment your eyes meet as you quickly retract your hand, face heated.

Something was definitely wrong with you.

Mingyu's gaze stayed at you for a while; you could feel his intense eyes on you and you thought maybe he didn't like you touching him. Before your thoughts ran more rampant, he spoke.

"___?"

"Y-yes?"

"Do you...Do you have a home?"

"Home?" You were confused.

"Yes, home. Not like a real house but like a... person. Someone who makes you feel at ease, someone with whom you can be yourself without judgements, someone who keeps you cozy and safe and loved...like a home."

Somewhat taken aback by his words, you fell silent but their depth hit you and you found yourself thinking about it. Do you have a home?

No. No, you don't.

You shook your head, murmuring, "No."

Mingyu nodded taking his eyes off you.

"What about you?" You asked.

"Me neither."

You smiled, "Figures. Because if you had someone you wouldn't have run here but went to them."

Mingyu smiled, a sad smile gracing his lips. It was a somewhat bitter truth, he hadn't found his home no matter how much he looked for it. Maybe that's what he was doing wrong, looking desperately.

"Let's get going. It has started to rain," Your voice dragged him out of his thoughts as he felt small drops of water fall on his face. You reached your hand out to him and he took it, standing up. As you both jogged towards Mingyu's car, your hands remained connected, no one bothering to let go.

That night you had dinner with Mingyu again but this time it was you who did the cooking. After enjoying dinner over small talk, Mingyu like the gentleman he is did the dishes as you poured some wine for the two of you.

Sitting on the small table in common space by the window, you both watched the clear sky that had appeared after the shower. You sipped your wine, watching the vast expanse of stars that blinked in the dark sky.

"I think I've to go back tomorrow," Mingyu suddenly whispered, his tone so low you almost thought you misheard him. A bolt out the blue, you looked at him.

"Tomorrow?"

"Mmhmm," he fiddled with the hem of his cardigan as he stared at the table. "I've got so many calls and messages from work. My company won't run on its on, I can be gone for only so long." He sighed.

You didn't offer any words, too shocked to know that he'd be gone tomorrow. What is this attachment you've developed towards him? Why did the thought of someone, almost a stranger going back to where he came from, where he belonged hurt you so much? You didn't know what to label your feelings but realizing that you'd probably never see him again was tugging at your heartstrings.

Should you ask him for his number and stay connected with him? Is there even a point in that? You both live miles away from each other. Or should just take his advice and follow him to the city? Would that even be a good idea? Are you just reading all this wrong?

You were so invested in your thoughts that you didn't realize Mingyu was calling you until he shook your shoulder.

"You okay, ___?"

"Huh? Yeah...it's just, the news is really sudden. I didn't... expect you'd return so soon." You mumbled.

Mingyu sighed, his shoulder dropping a little bit. "Trust me, if I could I'd stay here forever. But...I can't keep running. I need to face my parents, the sooner the better."

At a loss of what to say, you just nodded. Reaching for your drink you took a big gulp, trying to calm your nerves. It's okay, you can do this. He's just another one of your guests.

You stood up, taking the empty glass in your hand, "Well, I better leave you alone now. I'm sure you've got packing to do."

You almost turned away; until a strong hand gripped your wrist and pulled you back, making you stumble towards Mingyu's body.

"Don't. Stay for a while. I don't want you to leave." His voice was soft yet deep and it immediately broke your resolve as you set the glass down and looked into his eyes.

He didn't let go of your wrist; instead only wrapped his other hand around your waist, pulling you closer, leaving just a few inches between your faces. You didn't tell him to move neither did you make any effort to get away from him- you didn't want to. It felt good, comforting as he held you and looked at you almost like you were his whole world. His eyes had so much emotion swirling in them and you were sure yours looked the same too.

"___?" His voice was breathy and it set your heart aflame.

"Y-yes?"

"Can I...kiss you?"

You inhaled sharply as his hold on you got tighter. You couldn't process a reply, overwhelmed with emotion. So you just nodded and Mingyu leaned in, pressing his lips to yours.

It was soft at first, his lips just resting against yours, as if he was testing the waters. When you didn't resist but only pulled him closer, he started devouring you, his tongue prodding in your wet cavern. Moans espaced from you as you kept pulling at his hair almost grinding on him, desperate for more. He was the same, kissing you with so much passion and vigour like you were the last female standing.

You somehow managed to tug off his cardigan between the kiss and when you pulled apart for air, Mingyu panted, "Can we take this to the bedroom?"

His deep raspy voice spread liquid heat throughout your body and you had to stop yourself from pouncing on him.

"Yes please," you breathed. Mingyu stood up straight, his tall and built body intimidating you in the best ways possible, "Oh baby, you don't have to beg. I'll give you anything you want."

Once again your breath was trapped as he picked you up, his hand under your ass to support you. When he dropped you on his bed and took off his tee you realized you were in for a long night. In the back of your mind, you also realized that this would make it even harder to let him go.

Next morning you were the first one to wake up as the sun barely seeped through the blinds. If you had to guess it wasn't any more than six am. Mingyu's hand rested on your waist as he remained snuggled against your back. It was so comforting that you almost forgot your reality and went back to sleep, until you remembered what had happened last night. Before you could start overthinking and possibly had a breakdown right there, you ever so carefully removed his hand from your body and scrawled out of the bed, grabbing your shirt and quickly throwing it on. Then you tiptoped out of his room despite the ache between your legs and rushed straight towards yours.

Slamming the door shut, your sat down, head in your hands. You've to now prepare for saying goodbye. Right, you just need to act casual and not let him know that you might have developed feelings for him in the past week.

His words came back to you.

"Do you have a home?"

You didn't have one until now but the realization that you may have found it brought tears to your eyes.

You spent the next hours wallowing in your self pity, curled up in your bed too afraid to get out and face Mingyu. Soonyoung dropped by once, knocking at your door and asking if you want breakfast, which you declined. Time slowly ticked away and you watched as the clock struck eleven. You couldn't stay inside forever. You needed to bid Mingyu a goodbye- that is if he hadn't left already. But you were sure he didn't; he wouldn't just leave without any words.

Sighing, you gathered every last bit of your courage and stepped out of your room. Immediately you saw Mingyu coming out from the opposite end of the corridor, the carry-on he brought with him in his hand.

"Hey, where have you been?" He asked, his steps getting quicker to come and stand in front of you.

"Oh- um, I took and shower and then dozed off, sorry," you lied easily, not meeting his eyes.

There was a beat of silence as you both stood in front of each other and when your eyes finally met his, a blush spread across his face like wildfire. The air was heavy with unsaid words and you coughed, trying to get rid of the terrible awkwardness.

"So, you're leaving now?"

What a nice question.

Mingyu seemed to be lost in thoughts as he snapped back to reality and scratched the back of his head, "Oh yeah, right. It'll be a couple hours drive so the earlier I leave the better."

Nodding you motioned your hand towards the exit, "I'll see you out."

Mingyu seemed to have something to say but he pressed his lips in a thin line and started to climb down the stairs, you behind him. Soonyoung, who was standing at the entrance gave you a conspirational wiggle of his brows but said nothing as he watched you follow Mingyu out.

You observed as Mingyu loaded his bag in the trunk, peeking glances at you every other second. When he finished, you spoke, "Well...good luck. I hope you can overcome your problems."

"Thanks. It won't be easy and my dad will probably take away my shares of the company but...I'm done living like this."

You nodded, smiling softly as you crossed your arms against your chest. It suddenly felt cold.

You both gazed at each other, saying nothing even though you've so much to say, as if the silence would carry your unsaid words to him. You were torn- wanting to talk about last night but chickening out knowing it was probably just a fling, a one night stand for him.

"___..." Mingyu spoke but the words died on his tongue. Not trusting yourself to speak, you swallwed the ball of emotions and looked at him with a curious tilt of head.

"...I hope you find what you really want to do. And I hope you find your home too," he said, his words so soft and gentle. For some reason you had a feeling that those were not the words he wanted to say yet you forced a smile and nodded, "You too, Mingyu."

His eyes swirled with so my emotions but you didn't know what he was thinking. He looked pained, just like you but you were too afraid to speak your feelings, scared that you misread him.

When you spoke no more, Mingyu sighed and backstopped slowly, "Well... goodbye, then."

You managed to choke out the words, "Goodbye."

Your emotions overwhelmed you, tears stinging your eyes as you watched him enter his car. Why did it hurt so much? Why did it feel like your heart was being ripped right out of your chest?

His engine roared to life and your stomach sunk. Was this really the right thing to do? Should you just let him go like this?

You made a split second decision that moment, just as his car moved forward a little.

"Mingyu!" You called after him, immediately making him stop the car. He came out, almost in a hurry, an expectant look on his face as you ran towards him. Then you made another split second decision as you wrapped your arms around his tall frame and held tight.

"I like you, Mingyu. I really like you." You mumbled in his chest.

He didn't say anything back but you felt his arms wrapping around you tightly and you stood there in each others embrace for a while. It felt like time has stopped, the warmth and safety of his arms comforting you and making you realize how you would have regretted if you had let him go.

Mingyu pulled back to take a look at your face, his hand cupping your cheeks, his warm but intense eyes on you, shining with love and adoration.

"Say something," you whispered, still unsure.

He chuckled, a light-hearted, carefree sound that made your heart swoon. "I like you too, if it wasn't obvious after last night."

Elated, you pulled his face down and kissed his lips as you felt him grin and wrap his arms around you once again.

"I want to go with you...to the city," you murmured into his chest as he rested his chin on the top of your head.

You couldn't see it but you felt him smirk, "Good. Because I think I found my home."

Your heart couldn't become fuller as you grinned like a happy child.

"Me too."

A/N 2: If you enjoyed reading don't forget to like and reblog and let me know your thoughts!

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