#now hes complimenting me for being a right decent girl

[dullahandyke]

Lowering the brightness on my phone so the chatty old man on the bus next to me doesnt see my wallpaper which is in fact aurametis naked gay sex

[wintrwinchestr]

strangers | part 1

summary: following in the footsteps of a girl you once knew, you decide to up and leave home one morning without looking back. when you find yourself to be tired, hungry, and alone in the middle of nowhere, you're thankful when a kind stranger offers you a ride, a warm meal, and a place to sleep for the night. he only tells you about himself in bits and pieces, but he seems trustworthy enough, and what you don't know can't hurt you, right?

!!PLEASE READ WARNINGS, THIS IS A VERY DARK FIC!!

I've tried to label this fic as detailed and as boldly as possible. I will not be held responsible or bullied off the internet if you choose to read this potentially upsetting/triggering work of fiction anyway.

warnings: joel miller x f!reader, 18+, smut, age gap (reader is college-aged, joel is mid-50s), no outbreak au, serial killer!joel, dark!joel, talk of death/murder and blood, mommy & daddy issues, brief talk of domestic violence, lying/gaslighting, manipulation, f-receiving non-con somnophilia (no sex, but groping, fingering, dry humping, kissing, and choking), degrading language toward victims, pet names (baby, darlin', sweetheart), some joel pov, no ellie/sarah but tommy has an unnamed daughter, somewhat inspired by "strangers" by ethel cain, takes place in illinois/ohio/indiana, vaguely set in the 70s/80s, this part is mostly introduction/storytelling/yapping, please respectfully let me know if i missed anything and i will rectify the tags

word count: 9.8k

a/n: i started this as a oneshot way back in november, and then it sat abandoned for a very long time. thank you to my lovely friends @polaroidpascal and @chippedowlmug for encouraging me to finish it, and also bestie kiers who never hesitates to match my freak. also thank you to the many writers who made me feel inspired to write something dark and not give a fuck what people think about it. i hope you enjoy this joel he's a freak and i love him and if you say anything mean about him i'll send him after you <3

divider by @saradika

series masterlist/moodboard

read this chapter on ao3

part 2

Ruby Carpenter.

You had spent all day trying to remember her name without really knowing why. Maybe it’s because as the sun sets on what would be the first day of your junior year at the nearby state school, you wonder if she ever made it to one of the fancy ivy leagues she had always aspired to attend. You wonder if she’s even still alive.

Ruby had disappeared a few years ago now, the summer after your senior year of high school. For nearly a year afterwards, her missing posters remained stapled onto every telephone pole and stuck onto every store window around town, until the paper began to disintegrate and the ink began to fade. In that time, you couldn’t even make a quick run to the grocery store without being confronted by dozens of replicas of her yearbook photo printed onto the sides of all the milk cartons. Despite all of the efforts to find her, including several search parties and a decent amount of statewide media coverage, everyone had just stopped looking for her, eventually. Even the police. Even her parents.

It was decided that she had probably just run away, and you can’t entirely blame her, but you can’t imagine why she would, either. You remember her perfect head of blonde ringlet curls that shone a yellow gold in the sun, and her bright blue eyes that turned fiery in her more passionate moments during classroom debates. She had every boy in your grade wrapped around her finger, was the teacher’s pet in every class, and it wasn’t even a question whether she would win prom queen your senior year. She was always sweet to you, always complimented your outfits or your makeup or your art projects with a genuine lilt in her voice and a kind smile, so you could never bring yourself to hate her even though it would’ve been so easy to. You figured she was going to cure cancer or become the president after you had all graduated, which is why you never really stopped wondering whatever happened to her that summer. She was beautiful, with boundless potential and a bright future ahead of her, why would she have just given it all up?

Everyone around town knew Ruby, or at least it seemed that way. But maybe nobody ever really knew her as well as they thought. Maybe she’d had a secret boyfriend all that time who whisked her away that summer, maybe she had decided to try drugs and fell down a rabbit hole that she couldn’t claw her way out of, maybe she had finally figured out that the only thing this town would ever be good for is holding people back. Maybe she did just wake up one day and decide to run without ever looking behind her.

Maybe you should do the same.

With your dad long gone now and your step-father doing a piss poor job of filling in the hole he left, following in Ruby’s footsteps has sounded like a better idea with each passing day. Rob isn’t even really your step-father, anyway, just your mom’s sorry fucking excuse for a boyfriend. The guy’s already been married upwards of three times before, why try for another one? He’s a lazy son of a bitch who can’t hold down a job at a fast food joint for more than a couple of weeks at a time, who sleeps every second of the day that he’s not chugging through a six pack, and who leaves marks on your mother uglier than his fucking face. 

She doesn’t deserve to be treated that way, of course, but it’s not like she’s winning the “mom of the year” award any time soon, either. She’s never even been nominated. She’s forgotten just about every one of your birthdays, been the reason you’ve never had any friends come over, and in her most recent offense, blew all the savings you had put away for your last two years of college. Which is why you’re not spending tonight celebrating being one year closer to at least having an official-looking piece of paper to show for yourself. Instead, you’re using the rattling of your bedroom window unit and the booming bass of your radio to drown out yet another drunken screaming match between your mother and the guy she lets live in your house now, watching the world outside pass you by and knowing that if you don’t do anything about it now, you’ll never make it out of here. You’re thinking about Ruby Carpenter, hoping she found somewhere greener and more promising and was able to make something of herself, far away from here. And you’re thinking that this rusted orange sunset is the last one you’ll ever see from your bedroom window.

It’s decided, then. You’re leaving, first thing tomorrow.

—

You’ve only gotten a few hours of sleep by the time your alarm clock chimes to life at five o’clock on the dot. You’re quick to silence the shrill beeping with a swift swat of your hand, careful not to wake anyone else in the house. The sun has just barely begun to stream in through the blinds of your bedroom window, but it illuminates the room just enough for your eyes to land on the backpack you had stuffed full of a few changes of clothes last night, waiting for you by the door. 

You don’t waste any time stripping off your pajamas and pulling on just about the only clothes left in your room that aren’t in your bag. You’ve got your teeth brushed, face washed, and hair tamed in all of about ten minutes, too anxious to spend even one more unnecessary second in this house. You swing your backpack over your shoulder, pull your bedroom door open at just the right speed so that the hinges don’t squeak too loud, and tiptoe delicately down the stairs, careful to avoid the creaky floorboards that you know like the back of your hand—the one three steps from the top, the one at the landing about halfway down, and the very bottom one.

You land softly when you leap over that tattletale bottom step, successful in the most difficult part of your escape plan so far. Rob is passed out on the living room couch in typical fashion, his mouth full of crooked teeth hanging open as his grating snores permeate the calm morning air. He’s still got a death grip around an empty beer can, even in his sleep, and your mother will likely be the one to toss it into the trash for him, useless fucker that he is. You aren’t going to miss either of them, and you imagine they’ll just skip trying to replicate the first half of the aftermath of Ruby’s disappearance altogether—no posters, no search parties, no police. You’ll just be gone, one less mouth for your mother to feed. Though, you’d been mostly feeding yourself since you were tall enough to slide a couple of bills across the counter at the corner store down the street, anyway. You’re ready to disappear, the same as candle wax when it burns, the same as the end of a rainbow, the same as Ruby Carpenter.

You don’t bother looking back when you shut the door behind you, content to leave it all behind just as the sun begins to rise and set the sky ablaze. By the time it sets again tonight, you hope to be in a different county, in a different state, anywhere that isn’t here. The rest, you’ll just have to figure out when you get there, wherever “there” may be.

—

You had only realized about an hour ago that you’d forgotten your cheap digital watch in the drawer of your bedside table, where it’s laid unused for the past couple of months, because who needs to tell time during the summer? You never had anywhere to be, never had to get to class or turn in a paper by a certain time, so it’s just been collecting dust since you had unclipped it from your wrist on the last day of spring semester. It sure would have come in handy right about now, when you have no fucking clue what time it is. The sun had disappeared behind the hills several mile markers back, so it must be… eight o’clock? Ten o’clock? Fucking midnight? You have no idea. What you do know is that you’re exhausted, hungry, and your feet hurt like hell. You aren’t really sure what you expected, the reality only just now setting in that you don’t even have ten bucks to your name anymore, thanks to your narcissist of a mother. The crumpled up bills you do have in your pocket are hardly enough for a goddamn sandwich, let alone a motel room. The cool night breeze raises goosebumps on your skin, and you swear you can see your fucking breath, even in the middle of August. You wrap your arms around yourself just as tears begin to prick at your waterlines, and you let them fall as you collapse onto the scratchy patch of dead grass on the side of the freeway, not a park bench or a bus stop or even a gas station in sight for God knows how many more miles.

You sit cross-legged, elbows propped up on your knees so that your hands can support your weary head, the skin of your palms becoming slippery with salty tears as your crying just doesn’t seem to stop. The road you’ve found yourself on seems relatively low-trafficked, the heaving sounds of your sobs accompanied by more cricket chirps and rustling wheat than rumbling tires. But a few high beams do streak across your vision every once in a while, coloring the backs of your eyelids a flaming scarlet.

After several minutes, your tears seem to dry up on their own, your body likely too dehydrated now to produce any more. You wipe the moisture from under your eyes with the back of your hand, sniffling as you gnaw at the skin of your bottom lip and debate if you should just turn back now, give up on your stupid little plan (or lack thereof) and just call the whole thing a loss, pretend it never even happened. Your mother and Rob won’t have even noticed you’d left.

Just as you pull yourself back up to your feet, set on at least finding somewhere that isn’t the hard ground to sleep on tonight before you make your way back home tomorrow, the warm headlights of an old pickup truck are shining bright in your eyes. You put your arm up to block them as the truck slowly squeals to a halt in front of where you’re standing, and you squint your eyes at the driver as your vision adjusts.

“You need a ride, sweetheart?” A man asks in a gravelly voice, and you can still hardly make out what he looks like. Based on the southern accent you pick up on, he doesn’t sound like he’s from around here. 

“N-no, thank you. I’m okay,” you respond shakily, taking a nervous step back from the stranger and his rusted pickup.

“You sure? Looked like you were cryin’ over here, like you might be lost or somethin’.”

“‘M not lost, I know where I’m going.”

“Oh yeah? Where’s that?”

Shit. 

You take a guess.

“Um… the motel down the road,” you reply, tilting your head in the direction you had been walking in.

“There ain’t a motel down there, sweetheart. Ain’t nothin’ in either direction for miles, ‘s all just farmland out here. Reckon you’ve already figured that out, though.”

You pause, unsure of what your next move should be. He knows you’re lying, knows you’re alone with no fucking idea where you are or where you’re going. You could run, but even that shitty truck of his could catch up to you in a matter of seconds. You take another step back, swiveling your head around to look up and down the road as you try to figure your best way out of this.

“Just lemme give you a ride somewhere, darlin’. There’s a diner just off the exit, ‘bout twenty miles up ahead. Could take you that far, at least, get you somethin’ to eat,” he offers. A warm meal does sound pretty good right now, and you suppose you aren’t exactly in a position to refuse his help.

You think on it for a second. “What’s it called? The diner.”

The stranger huffs. “Moody’s.”

“What do they have?” you challenge.

He sighs. “It’s a fuckin’ diner off the side of the freeway, darlin’. They got greasy food and black coffee, ‘s about all you need.”

You don’t say anything.

Then, after a beat—“They got some kinda sloppy mess they call the Thunder Burger. ‘S got onion rings and shit on it. Ain’t half bad.”

You have to admit, he’s passing your pop quiz with flying colors. His answers have been too quick, too specific for him to be lying to you. There’s a pretty solid chance this diner does exist, and that he’s been there before. The man hasn’t said anything that’s indicated he wants more to do with you than to offer you a ride and some dinner. He’s probably just somebody’s harmless grandfather, anyway, judging by his motheaten flannel and gray-stricken beard you can see now that you’ve approached his truck a few paces closer.

“Okay,” you concede, your stomach growling loudly as the man leans over the bench seat to pop open the passenger side door for you. You shrug off your backpack and climb into the cabin, clicking your seatbelt into place as you situate yourself on the cracked leather seat. 

“All set?” the stranger asks.

“Mhm,” you hum, finally getting a better look at the man you might just owe the rest of your life to after tonight. For being somebody’s grandfather, he’s… kinda handsome. Really fucking handsome, actually, in a rugged sort of way. He’s got warm amber eyes that sparkle even in the dark of night, a kind smile that completely disarms you in an instant, and a splintering scar across the bridge of his nose that somehow only adds to his good looks. You try to suppress your own grin as you look away from him quickly, opting to focus on fidgeting with one of the fraying edges of your denim shorts instead. Even in your peripheral vision, you don’t miss how his eyes shift from your own to the exposed skin of your thighs. He doesn’t say anything, just clears his throat as he shifts gears and steers his truck back onto the road again. 

He lets the next few minutes pass in comfortable silence before asking, “You got a name, sweetheart?”

You tell him, and he flashes another charming smile at you. “I like that, ‘s pretty… Well, I’m Joel. Sure you were wonderin’. Now you ain’t gettin’ a ride from a stranger no more, are ya?”

“Yeah, I guess I’m not,” you giggle, and you’re surprised at how comfortable you feel with him. “So… you’ve been to Moody’s before?”

“Handful of times, yeah. When I’m passin’ through.”

You nod. “So you come up here, like… for work or somethin’?”

Joel chuckles. “Or somethin’. You never even heard of the damn place, so… reckon you don’t find yourself out here very often, do ya?”

“No… ‘M not even really sure where ‘here’ is, to be honest. I just kinda… started walking.”

“Ah… a runaway, then, are ya?” Joel asks, with an appreciated amount of understanding in his tone rather than judgment. “‘M sure your folks are missin’ ya right about now, must have your boyfriend worried sick.”

You scoff at that. “Fuck no. They probably don’t even know I’m gone, won’t even bother trying to come look for me. And I don’t have a boyfriend, so…”

“Damn shame. ‘M sorry about that, sweetheart,” Joel comforts, placing a large calloused hand on your thigh. It makes your breath hitch, but his touch isn’t entirely unwelcome. You let him squeeze once at the plush of your leg before he replaces his hand on the wheel, and your cunt spasms out a little fluttering pulse against the seam of your shorts, despite yourself.

The rest of the drive to Moody’s is relatively quiet, save for the gentle crooning of an old country singer emanating from the cassette player on the dash. The soft singing and steady strumming of a banjo combined with the muffled chugging of the truck’s engine is enough to lull you to sleep, especially after the day you’ve had. You know that just about every mental alarm bell you have should be screaming at you to jump out of the car, to run, that sleeping alone in the dirt would’ve been a better decision than getting into this strange man’s—Joel’s—truck, but you’re too tired to hear them. He smells good, like woodsmoke and pine and cinnamon, and if he wanted to do something awful to you, he probably would’ve done it by now. So you trust him, for now at least, and let your lashes fan out against your cheeks as your head falls back against the cushioned headrest, coaxed into sleep by the lullaby of tires against pavement and fingertips against guitar strings.

—

You only rouse when you feel the truck come to a stop about half an hour or so later, slowly blinking your eyes open against the bright neon sign that reads “MOODY’S” in bold capital letters. Your jaw stretches wide as a yawn overtakes the muscles, and you hear Joel’s southern drawl replace the one from the cassette as he shuts the engine off.

“Mornin’, sleepyhead. Not too tired to eat somethin’ now, are ya?”

Another unpleasant-sounding rumble from your empty stomach answers for you, loud enough for both of you to hear this time. The air puffing out of the diner’s kitchen smells strongly of fatty bacon and rich coffee, just like Joel had promised you the place would offer. Although the digital clock on the dash read just after 10:30 before you fell asleep, you’ve never craved breakfast quite like you do right now. You absentmindedly lick your lips as you imagine the sweet and savory—and more importantly free—meal that could be waiting for you beyond that blinding beacon of a sign.

“Well, alright then. Let’s get some food in ya before you keel over, hm?” Joel says as he exits the truck, landing on his feet in the dirt parking lot with a soft groan. He waits by the hood for you to meet up with him, and you walk up the couple of steps to the entrance together. He holds the door open for you, and you offer him a shy ‘thank you’, to which he responds with a soft spoken ‘welcome, sweetheart’. You stand shyly behind his broad form as he asks the hostess for a table for two, and she leads you to a green leather booth tucked into the corner of the diner. She hands each of you a sticky laminated menu, the pages a charming mess of clashing colors and faded pictures and retro-looking fonts, then departs with a promise that your waitress will bring the two of you some water as you take your time deciding on what you might like. 

You light up upon reading that Moody’s serves breakfast all day, and that they can make you exactly what you were hoping for—a stack of chocolate chip pancakes with sides of bacon and hashbrowns. You can’t help but smile to yourself as you wiggle in your seat, excitedly anticipating the waitress to come back around so you can order.

“Whatcha so excited about over there?” Joel asks, eyeing you from across the table as he glances up from his own menu.

“Nothin’, I was just hoping I could get some pancakes, and they have ‘em on the menu,” you explain giddily. “I’ll probably get some coffee, too, really complete the whole ‘breakfast for dinner’ thing.”

Joel huffs through his nose. “Decaf, I hope. ‘S the middle of the goddamn night, sweetheart. Gonna be bouncin’ off the walls in the room later, hardly get any sleep.”

He’s right, you suppose. But wait—“What room?”

Joel shrugs casually. “There’s a decent motel another exit or two down, figured they could probably get us a couple o’ beds for the night. But, ‘m sorry, shouldn’t have assumed—”

“No! No, it’s okay.”

Is it? You only met the man less than an hour ago, and you already agreed to let him give you a ride before you even knew his name. You suppose you hadn’t really thought about what would happen after he bought you dinner, but not thinking ahead seems to have been a theme today, hasn’t it? You remind yourself that he’s only been kind and respectful to you so far, save for that placement of his hand on your upper thigh soon after he picked you up. But that could’ve just been a friendly, paternal gesture, right? And he said a couple of beds, when he mentioned the motel, which seemed to imply that he plans on the two of you sleeping in separate beds, maybe even separate rooms. You’ve found yourself having to make yet another somewhat reckless decision tonight, but one that would be in your best interest to say ‘yes’ to, at this point. What other option would you have if you declined his offer?

“Don’t really have anywhere else to go, so… yeah, okay. Motel sounds good. And decaf it is, I guess.”

Joel’s apologetic expression quickly morphs into a satisfied smirk. “Good girl,” he praises. You like how the words sound coated in his thick drawl, even though you probably shouldn’t. You shift where you sit as that familiar fluttering sensation returns to the seat of your panties, just for a moment. You’re grateful that the waitress arrives at the booth not a second later, cheerily introducing herself as she sets down a glass of water for each of you. When she asks if you’re ready to order, Joel gestures to you as if to say ‘ladies first’, and you politely prattle off your request. You make sure to emphasize that you’d like your coffee decaf, and ask if she could please bring some more of the little cups of vanilla creamer to the table. “Not a problem, honey,” she replies, and Joel winks at you as she asks what she can get for him. He orders the Thunder Burger he had told you about earlier, and a black coffee, which he doesn’t request to be decaf. The waitress leaves the two of you alone again with an ‘I’ll have that right out for ya,’ and you let your eyes follow the calming baby blue color of her dress as she glides her way back to the kitchen. When she disappears around the corner of the bar, you take the opportunity to study Moody’s other patrons. There isn’t another young person in sight, mostly just men around Joel’s age with similarly heavy bags under their eyes, likely truck drivers indulging in their first hot meal of the day within the diner’s comforting wood-paneled walls. You wonder if that’s how Joel knows about this place, because he “passes through” this area on long hauls across the midwest. You open your mouth to ask him if your assumption is correct, but he cuts you off before you can say anything.

“I gotta admit, sweetheart, I’m curious… The hell was a pretty thing like you doin’ out in the middle of goddamn nowhere tonight? I mean, I know you’re a runaway ‘n all, but… shouldn’t you be one o’ those college party girls or somethin’? ‘M sure you got plenty of friends wonderin’ where you are.”

You sigh, shaking your head as you distractedly pick at a splintered piece of wood at the edge of the table.

“I was in college. Was supposed to be going back again this year, but… my mom spent all the fucking savings I had left for the rest of it on fixing up her dumb boyfriend’s car. It’s just been sitting in the fucking lawn all summer, sure as hell not being used for something useful like going to the job he doesn’t have. That bastard…” You say the last part under your breath through gritted teeth.

“Shit… Tha’s a tough deal, baby, ‘m real sorry to hear that,” Joel comforts. “But y’know, everybody’s got mommy ‘n daddy issues, don’t mean you just up and start walkin’ all by your lonesome, not even have any idea where you’re goin’.”

“Well, it wasn’t just that. There was… nevermind, it’s stupid.” You slump into the cushioned booth, silently cursing yourself for even bringing it up.

“What is it?” Joel pushes, sitting up straighter to show you that he wants to listen, wants to get to know you. And God dammit, he might be the first person you’ve met in a long time who actually seems to care about what you have to say, as strange as it is. You flick your eyes up to his face, and he’s wearing a sincere gaze that convinces you to continue.

“There was this girl I went to high school with. She disappeared a couple of years ago, nobody ever found out what happened to her. People figured she probably just ran away, and I thought… I dunno. That maybe she had the right idea, leaving that place behind. I always held onto this hope that maybe she was still out there somewhere actually doing something with her life, that maybe she just changed her name or something and disappeared on purpose.” You pause. “I guess I just thought I might be able to do the same, if I left.”

“I see…” Joel muses sympathetically. “Maybe I oughta give you a lil’ more credit, then. Must’a been tough losin’ a friend like that, not knowin’ where she ended up.”

“I mean, Ruby wasn’t really my friend. She just—”

“Hang on. Ruby, you said?” Joel interrupts, his eyes suddenly looking a little wild.

“...Yeah. Her name was Ruby. Ruby Carpenter.”

—

Fuck.

Joel has to adjust himself under the table, his dick now hardening uncomfortably in his jeans at just the mention of her name. He remembers Ruby, remembers chuckling to himself when he realized the irony of her name matching the color of her blood, remembers watching the news coverage of her disappearance in this very same diner, those handful of years ago. She was a sweet thing, he remembers this, too. It was a shame she had ended up being such a fighter, that she had to get put down the way she did. But she shouldn’t have thrown that fucking rock at his face, called him a sick fuck and a freak as she made her pitiful little escape attempt. Joel is lucky that all he came away from it with is that ugly little scar that mars the bridge of his nose. He can’t say the same for her.

“Why? You heard her name before?” You ask him, an unfortunate little twinkle of hope in your eyes.

“Maybe.” Yes. “Sounds a lil’ familiar, might remember hearin’ about it on the news or somethin’.”

That goddamn news coverage sure as hell taught him a lesson. Joel had spent months trying to keep the cops off his fucking tail after he had dumped her body on some forgettable patch of land behind an old decaying barn. He had even gotten pulled in for a fucking interview at the station in what he now presumes to be your hometown, where they had questioned him for an hour or so about her disappearance. He still isn’t sure how he talked his way out of that one. Ruby might not have been good for much else, other than pissing him the hell off with all of her pathetic crying and begging to just please, please let me go back home, but she did help him perfect his craft, he can give her that much. It’s because of her that Joel makes certain now that any girl he picks up doesn’t have anybody who will miss her or plaster her face on every local channel or send out goddamn search parties to find her. Girls like you.

You’re just so perfect, it would be so fucking easy for him to make you disappear for good, it’s almost comical. It had hardly taken any convincing at all to get you to climb into his truck, had taken even less to get you to agree to go to some seedy ass motel with him that might not even exist, for all you know. It does, but you didn’t even try to test him about it this time, just put all of your trust in him like a stray puppy would to the first person to pick it up off the street. That is just about what you are, he supposes. So far, you seem like the perfect candidate to become his little captive pet. If you keep it up, maybe you won’t meet the same fate as the rest of them. He’d told himself he’d be done after the last one, anyway, his body too old and achy and slow now to chase after the ones who put up a little more fight, like she had. She’d nearly escaped, made it a decent way through the woods and almost reached the main road before tripping on an exposed root and snapping her ankle. He remembers how weak and scared she’d looked before he’d used his knife to put her out of her misery, and it makes his dick twitch. Joel doesn’t plan on snuffing you out, not right now at least, since you haven’t given him a reason to. But his fingers still twitch where they rest on the table, moving out of instinct as he can’t help but imagine what they’d look like wrapped so tightly around your little throat. Would you cry? Would you beg? Would you pray? Would he have to glide his blade across your vocal chords just to get you to stop screaming so fucking loud? He wonders.

“Oh… Was that one of the times you were just ‘passin’ through’ for whatever reason you haven’t told me yet?”

Joel hadn’t realized that his eyes had been unfocused for so long, or that he’d been holding his breath, or that his hand had been squeezing his glass of water so hard he’s glad it hadn’t shattered. The airy sound of your voice brings him back to reality, and he huffs a light chuckle as he fixes his face into a more pleasant expression. 

“Yeah, ‘spose it was.” 

You roll your eyes at him playfully. “Come on, Joel. I just told you, like, my whole sob story. I feel like I deserve to know at least one thing about you now.”

You have a point.

He gives in. “Fine. I got a brother, used to come through this area when I’d pay him a visit. That good enough for ya?”

You cross your arms. “No. What’s his name?”

“Tommy.”

“What’s he look like?”

“Like me. Little younger. Little uglier.”

You laugh at that.

It makes Joel smile.

Maybe you could be the one he’s been looking for all this time. Too bad he had to waste so many others before he finally got to you.

—

The waitress comes back to your table soon after that, with your steaming plates of delicious-smelling food and hot mugs of coffee balanced expertly on a large plastic tray. She sets them down in front of the pair of you with a cheery smile, and you thank her happily when she doesn’t forget the extra sickeningly sweet cups of creamer you had requested. Joel doesn’t take his eyes off you once during the interaction, not even to feast his eyes upon the monstrous burger now sitting before him, not even as he thanks the waitress for delivering it to him. His lingering gaze makes you feel a little warm, but it could just be from the heat radiating off of your plates.

“What? You’re not getting a bite of mine, if that’s why you’re looking at me,” you tease, already getting to work putting the sugary creamer to good use.

Joel just shakes his head, his caramel colored eyes still never leaving you as your coffee begins to resemble their hue. “No, ‘s not why.”

“Whatever,” you reply through a giggle, making a poor attempt to hide your girlish grin behind the lip of your white ceramic mug. 

The two of you eat your meals in relative silence, mostly enjoying each other’s company and basking in the relaxing ambience created by silverware tapping against porcelain, hushed conversations, and the local country station playing through the old radio sitting on the counter. The reception is a little spotty way out here in wherever the hell you are, so you can’t quite tell what song it is. But Joel seems to know, judging by the rhythmic bouncing of his knee under the table that creates little circular ripples in your coffee. Maybe you’ll ask him what it is later, how he knows it, if you can listen to it again in the truck together. He doesn’t seem to be as much of an open book as you’ve already given yourself away to be, and you respect that about him. It doesn’t make you any less curious, but you resign yourself to getting to know him better in the small doses he’s willing to offer you. 

You decide to begin a mental list of all the things you want to ask him later, knowing that by the time you make it to the motel tonight, you’ll be far too exhausted to do anything more than just collapse onto the springy mattress and sleep until you get kicked out of the room the next morning. You almost wish you hadn’t listened to Joel’s request for you to take your coffee decaffeinated tonight, and you still aren’t quite sure why you did. It just feels so strangely easy to give into him, to trust him, to let him make decisions for you. You suppose that’s what you’ve been needing all this time, someone to guide you and understand you and at least pretend like they care about you. Joel has shown you more concern and care and protection in the last hour or so than either of your parents have pretty much your whole life. And he’s good at this, making you feel wanted, making you feel like somebody, even in subtle ways, just by looking at you.

“A’right, why don’t you finish up, darlin’, ‘n we’ll hit the road again. Practically usin’ your pancakes as a pillow over there.”

“Oh, sorry,” you apologize sleepily, waking yourself up enough to make quick work finishing off your plate and your last few sips of coffee. 

“Nothin’ to be sorry ‘bout, sweetheart. Lord knows you need some rest, won’t be too much longer now,” Joel assures, fishing a few tens out of his faded leather wallet and placing them on the table. He slides to the edge of the booth and stands himself up with only a few pained noises as he straightens out his back, then offers his hand for you to take. You use it as leverage to pull yourself upright, and your hands linger in each other’s hold for a few seconds longer than they need to. The hostess thanks the two of you for stopping in when you pass her by, and Joel opens the door for you again as you leave Moody’s. He opens the truck door for you, too, and promises you that the motel is just another couple of minutes down the freeway. You make an effort to stay awake in your seat this time as Joel begins the drive, opting to gaze out the window and focus on trying to make out the sparkling constellations above the treeline. You smile privately at the moon when you find that she’s following closely behind you just as she always does, bright and full. 

She doesn’t leave your side until you reach the unassuming little roadside motel, which to your gratitude, proudly displays their vacancy on the flickering sign in the parking lot. It doesn’t look like a five star joint by any means, but you know it will serve its purpose just fine. Joel instructs you to stay in the truck while he goes about getting a room for the two of you, and you don’t object. He’d insisted that you didn’t need to be on your feet any longer than you already had been today, and you were too tired to argue with him even if you wanted to. When he returns, he taps lightly on the passenger side window so as not to startle you from the half-asleep, half-awake state you’ve found yourself in, and swings your backpack over his shoulder as he helps you out of the truck. He leads you to the room at the end of the row, and the door takes some finessing of the key and a shove of his shoulder to open. Joel flicks on the light, and you let out a disappointed-sounding ‘oh…’ when it reveals your accommodations.

There aren’t two beds like you had assumed Joel was going to request. There’s only one.

Joel catches your reaction. “‘S this gonna be alright? I know it ain’t the Ritz Carlton, but—”

“No, the room’s fine, it’s not that. I just thought… I just assumed that… I didn’t know it was gonna be, like… just the one bed.” You try to explain your discomfort as gently as possible, without seeming ungrateful for everything Joel has done for you tonight.

He looks at you sympathetically. “I know, I ain’t tryin’ anythin’, I swear. Guy told me it was the last room they had, jus’ figured it was better than nothin’.” 

You offer him a soft smile, but your eyes must still look a little wide as you begin to nervously pick at your fingernails. Joel continues, “I can take the chair if you want, darlin’. Get the bed all to yourself, how’s that sound?”

You visibly relax at that, your shoulders deflating as your smile becomes a little more genuine. “Okay, that’s good. Thank you.”

“‘Course, sweetheart. How’s about you take a nice hot shower, rinse off some o’ that dirt you picked up from walkin’ all day… Don’t suppose you got some suitable clothes in here for sleepin’ in?” Joel asks, handing your backpack off to you.

You shake your head. “Just some jeans and t-shirts, and another pair of shoes. And… y’know, some underwear, and stuff.”

Joel pinches the bridge of his nose, then rubs his fingers across his forehead exasperatedly. “I swear… it’s like you didn’t think there’d be a tomorrow or somethin’, girl. Christ.” Joel looks out the window to his truck parked just outside. “Tell you what, think I got somethin’ in the truck you can wear. Why don’t you see if they got anythin’ on the TV tha’s worth a damn, ‘n I’ll be back, alright?”

You nod, “Okay,” then set your backpack down on the drab carpet in favor of picking up the remote perched in front of the small square television. You sit yourself down on the edge of the bed as Joel leaves the room, and begin to flick through the few channels that aren’t just a screen full of snowy static.

Local news. Commercial. Game show. Commercial. Documentary. Commercial. 

Eventually, you land on what seems to be one of those old black-and-white western shows that you can never remember the name of. You only know that the reruns used to play on Sundays around lunchtime, because Rob would always be half paying attention to it with a beer in his hand when you and your mom would get home from church. For how adamant she was that you attend every weekend, she sure never called him a harlot and a sinner for not wanting to go with her. You’re not sure she had ever even tried to get him to go, but he probably didn’t own anything decent enough to wear, anyway. Whatever, fuck them. The show seems like the kind of thing Joel would like, so you let it keep playing. 

He comes back a moment later with a small stack of folded up clothes, tossing them over to where you sit on the bed. You unfold what he’s given you and examine them—a pair of simple pink cotton shorts, and a white tank top with a ditsy floral pattern scattered across the fabric. The clothing is a little more revealing than you’d like, but you figure you’d be a hell of a lot more comfortable wearing them to sleep than the denim shorts you have on now.

“These are… great. Thank you, Joel. But…” you snicker. “Should I be concerned that you have a very convenient supply of girls’ clothes in your truck?” Joel scoffs. “‘S for when I got Tommy’s kid with me, smartass. He’s got a daughter, few years younger ‘n you.”

“Okay, well, I dunno how I was supposed to know that, but… as long as you don’t have a girlfriend who’s gonna come after me for wearing her clothes.”

Joel only chuckles in response, his attention suddenly pulled to the TV.

“Gunsmoke, huh? ‘S a good choice, definitely what I’d classify as ‘worth a damn’.”

You smile to yourself, and his approval makes that warm fluttery feeling return to your belly. “I didn’t even know what it was called, just seemed like something you’d like.”

He turns back to you. “That obvious, huh? ‘S just ‘cause I’m old and southern, ain’t it?”

“Maybe a little,” you admit, making a pinching gesture with your hand.

Joel nods as he makes his way over to the armchair on the corner of the room, collapsing onto it with a groan. “Well, why don’t you go ‘n get yourself all changed and cleaned up, ‘n if you’re quick enough maybe we can finish the episode together and then get some shuteye, hm?”

You swiftly unzip your backpack to retrieve one of your clean pairs of underwear, then bound over to the small bathroom with them and your new change of clothes in hand. It’s not the most spotless one you’ve ever had to use, but you’ve honestly seen much worse. You rinse off quickly in the steaming shower, using the scratchy motel-provided washcloth to scrub the dirt from your legs, stuck to you with the sweat you worked up from God knows how many miles of walking today. 

Today. You can hardly believe it hasn’t even been a full 24 hours since you left home yet. It seems like you’ve already known Joel for days, maybe even years, as silly as it sounds. You wonder if he might just take you in after this, or if he’ll have had enough of providing for you after just one night. He seems like a man of limited means, and he’s already given you so much. If you’re brave enough, maybe you’ll ask him tomorrow, when you get to the ‘so… what now?’ part of your time together.

For now, you step out of the shower and dry yourself off with an impossibly scratchier towel, then pull on your panties and the tank top and shorts Joel provided you with.

Jesus, how much younger is Tommy’s daughter?

The shorts just barely cover your ass, and there’s a sizable gap between their waistband and the bottom hem of your top. The thin, white material of the shirt only serves to accentuate the way your nipples poke through the fabric, but you suppose there isn’t anything you can do about that.

You quietly crack open the bathroom door, and are somewhat relieved to find that Joel’s already fallen asleep in the chair. You do wish you could’ve finished the episode of Gunsmoke with him, but the end credits seem to be rolling already anyway, and you’d rather avoid being seen in your very ill-fitting pajamas. Although, you do wonder if he’d say anything, or if he’d just let his hungry gaze linger in silence again, holding himself back from touching you beyond a comforting pat on the thigh.

You pick the remote up off the bed and use it to make the TV screen sizzle to black, then tip toe over to the lightswitch by the door and turn it off, the room now completely shrouded in darkness. Joel snores softly from the chair as you blindly feel your way back over to the bed, pulling the covers back and nestling yourself underneath them. The bed is surprisingly comfortable, considering, and it doesn’t take long for your exhaustion to catch up with you. Your thoughts become slower and slower along with your breathing, and you’re asleep not even five minutes after your head hits the pillow.

—

The last room they had, yeah, right. You’re just the most pathetic little thing, aren’t you? You’ll believe just about anything that comes out of his mouth if he turns up the ‘southern charm’ dial a few ticks, throws in a feigned apologetic-looking expression for good measure. It’s sad, really. For you, anyway.

Joel fakes his snoring for another thirty minutes or so, until he’s certain you’re sound asleep. He had heard your breath even out almost immediately after you had tucked yourself in, but he had chosen to lay in wait for a little while longer, just to make sure you wouldn’t put up too much of a fight when he made his move. You don’t seem like the type, considering how you’d hardly argued with him at all tonight, like when he had convinced you to forgo the caffeine with your dinner. There’s a reason he wanted you sleepy and subdued tonight, but you didn’t know that. Joel likes how well you listen to him, how easily you do as he asks.

He also likes how warm you are, how small your body is compared to his own, the difference in size especially prominent now that he’s laying snugly against you, his front pressing firmly into the back of you. You don’t wake from his lumbering movement, only coming to slightly when you feel his arm slide underneath your body, his warm hand snaking its way beneath your tiny shirt to squeeze at your plush tits. 

You mumble out a little “Hm?”, which he’s quick to quiet with, “Sorry, darlin’. Chair was too hard on my damn back. Just go back to sleep, ‘kay?” That chair felt like laying on a goddamn cloud compared to some of the other surfaces he’s found himself having to sleep on before, but again, you don’t know that, and what you don’t know won’t hurt you. You probably won’t even remember this in the morning, how his hard cock is slotted so perfectly against your ass, especially without the confines of his thick jeans holding him back. They’re discarded onto the floor now in front of the armchair, along with his flannel shirt and jacket. Joel holds you tightly against his bare, hairy chest as he circles a roughened pad of his finger around one of your nipples, smirking to himself at how quickly the bud hardens from his touch. He knew you wanted this, and the wet spot that the fingers of his other hand are teasing in the gusset of your panties is proof of it. How long have you been leaking for him like this? Had you been soaking the seat of his truck earlier today? Filthy thing.

You still don’t rouse when he pulls your panties aside and slips a finger inside your slick cunt, or when his grip on your tit loosens in favor of sliding up higher under your tank top, his hand coming to a rest around the base of your throat as he pumps his finger in and out of your tight heat. It would be so fucking easy…

But he can’t, he won’t, because you’re not like the others. You want to get to know him, you let him take care of you, you seem to like his company, and you don’t leap out of bed and call him a fucking perv and a dirty old man for what he’s doing to you. That’s what the others would have done. It’s what they have done. And they faced the consequences.

But you’re different. You’re not like them. You’re like him. A lost soul, that’s what you are. Nowhere to call home, no one who misses you or loves you or gives a damn what happens to you. Joel’s mouth had tasted bitter when he had told you about Tommy, or rather, lied about him. Joel hasn’t seen the fucker in years, certainly doesn’t pay him any visits or watch his brat, not since Tommy had learned the truth. You better not show your goddamn face around here ever again, you understand me? Tommy had spat at him. You’re fuckin’ sick. Only reason I don’t turn your ass in myself is ‘cause you’re my goddamn brother. But if I ever fuckin’ see you again, I won’t hesitate. Better make yourself pretty fuckin’ scarce ‘fore I change my mind. That might’ve been about the only time Joel had ever taken orders from his little brother. 

That bitter flavor is cut by the sweet tang of you that he tastes on his finger now, so young and eager and fresh. The hand around your throat squeezes a little tighter, and Joel’s hips begin to move against your ass as he allows himself to suck wet kisses onto the skin under the hinge of your jaw. Softly, gently, so as not to wake you. He could come just like this, using your pliant body in your sleep, rutting himself against your still form with the taste of your pussy on his tongue and his fingers pressed against your pulse points.

He’s close when you stir again, making broken hiccuping sounds as you choke on your breath.

“Shh, shh,” Joel soothes. “You’re alright, sweetheart. ‘S just me. Just—fuck—hold still, go back to sleep, baby.” You let out a quiet whimper, squirming against him just a little bit, but return to your unmoving and silent state a second later. Joel finishes himself off quickly with another couple of shallow thrusts against you, his large hand still gripped around the column of your neck, trying to stifle his groans as he spills into his briefs. He removes his suffocating hand and keeps you pressed tightly against him for a while after that, tanned arms wrapped around your waist and breathing in your scent as he waits for you to settle back down. 

When he’s sure he won’t disturb you again, Joel releases you from his hold and pads quietly back over to the armchair, redressing himself and resuming the position you had left him in. In the morning, if you do remember any of it, you’ll just chalk it up to a very strange dream, one fueled by the desire he knows you’ve felt towards him since he picked you up. You’ll be left with a strange assuredness that he feels the same way about you, without really knowing why. 

But Joel will always know.

—

The digital clock on the nightstand only reads around 8:00 when you’re awoken by a beam of sunlight shining brightly against the backs of your eyelids, streaming in from the window’s lopsided blinds. You had gone to sleep with your back to Joel, but you find yourself facing him now. He looks kind of peaceful when he’s asleep, that permanent furrow etched between his brows finally smoothed out as he dozes. A small smile tugs at the corners of your lips, but they fall quickly when you adjust your legs and feel the cool dampness against your core, the sensation bringing back the memory of the dream you’d had last night. 

It had felt so real, but it couldn’t have been, could it? There’s no evidence that Joel had really laid next to you last night, that he’d really touched you like that, that you’d wanted him to keep going. It must just be some kind of strange side effect of the affection you feel toward the man who had rescued you, more or less. You’ll likely just part ways after today, anyway, so it’s probably best to just try and forget about the whole thing, put on a fresh pair of underwear and pretend it never happened. 

Joel is awake by the time you’re done freshening up in the bathroom, and he greets you with a raspy ‘Mornin’, sweetheart’ as you retrieve your backpack from next to the bed and shove your ruined underwear into the bottom of it. “You get some good sleep last night?” He asks, rubbing a hand over his eye.

“Mhm, the bed was nice, more comfortable than the one I had at home, honestly.” You finish zipping your backpack closed and sit back down on the bed, pulling on some socks and the lace up sneakers you had been wearing yesterday. “I hope the chair was okay, like, for your back and everything.”

“What makes you say that, baby?”

You pause in the middle of tying one of your shoelaces, turning to look at him with a confused pout. “Didn’t you…? I thought you had told me something about how the chair would be hard on your back. Like, last night.”

Joel frowns, shaking his head. “Don’t think so, darlin’. Chair was just fine.”

“Oh… Well, that’s good.”

Maybe it had just been a dream, then.

Joel hands you a few bills from his wallet, and tasks you with getting the two of you some breakfast from the gas station across the street while he cleans himself up. He tells you that he doesn’t eat much in the mornings, but that you can get yourself whatever you want, as long as you bring him back a carton of cigarettes and a black coffee. You obey eagerly, retrieving what he asked for and getting a pack of miniature powdered donuts and an equally as sugary coffee for yourself.

He’s just stepped out of the bathroom when you return to the room, and your face feels hot when you see him with his dark hair slicked back and wet from the shower. The few strands that fall onto his forehead as he laces up his boots almost make him look a little boyish, despite his whitened temples. 

“Such a good girl, thank you,” Joel praises when you hand him his items. 

You respond with a shy ‘You’re welcome’, but he doesn’t miss how you seem to light up at his words. You plop yourself down onto the worn-in chair that Joel had used as a bed last night, happily munching on your gas station donuts and sipping on your coffee. It all makes you feel warm from the inside out.

But you figure you should find out what the rest of today might look like before you let yourself enjoy the beginnings of it too much.

“So, um… We’re just gonna check out this morning and then… what?” 

“Whaddya mean, baby?”

“I mean… are you just gonna, like… take me to the nearest bus station or something?”

Joel’s confusion is written all over his face, embedded deep into those lines between his brows. You could swear he almost looks a little hurt. “Why would I do that? ‘S that what you want?” He asks softly.

You try to backpedal a little, afraid you might’ve offended him or seemed ungrateful in your question. “I just thought it might be what you want. That you probably have somewhere else you need to be, like Tommy’s or—”

“No, I don’t,” Joel says definitively.

You pause. “Okay, so—”

“You ever been to California?”

His question stumps you for a moment, seeming so random in its nature. “No.”

“You want to?”

You shrug. “I mean… sure. Maybe someday—”

“Why don’t you come with me then, baby?”

You let out an awkward giggle. “...Come with you where?”

“To California. Come with me.” Joel’s tone is genuine but firm.

“Like, today? Are you sure?”

“I mean, we ain’t gettin’ there today, darlin’. But yeah, I’m sure. We both got nowhere else to be, do we? So let’s just go, we’ll see it together.”

You beam up at him, realizing that he’s being serious. Joel does want you, wants you to be his companion, maybe even something more that you’ll discover on familiar-looking back roads and in cities you’ve only ever seen pictures of. 

“Okay,” you agree excitedly. 

Joel nods. “Okay, then. Lemme go check us out ‘n we’ll get back on the road again. Burnin’ daylight already,” he jokes. He carries your backpack out to the truck for you, setting it down between your feet after he opens the door and helps you inside with a stable hand. It only takes a few minutes for Joel to hand in the room key and pay for the night, and then he’s back at your side. You begin to feel like that’s where you always want him to stay. 

“So, where to first, baby? California ain’t goin’ anywhere, can take as long to get there as we wanna. We’ll go wherever you like, take your pick.” Joel leans across your body to dig a folded up map out of the glove compartment, handing it to you. 

You examine it, your eyes darting across the dozens of dots with the names of cities next to them, some you’ve never even heard of. You point to one that you have heard of, but have never been to, because you’ve never even left the state you grew up in before.

“Um… how about Detroit? I’ve heard it’s nice, I think.”

Joel belly laughs at that. “It ain’t, but sure. You wanna go to Detroit, that’s where we’ll go. Buckle up, baby,” he instructs, patting your thigh. You oblige, and it feels good to finally know where you’re going, and that you’re going there with someone who cares about you, who feels safe, who wants you around. You also feel a little hopeful that maybe you were right about Ruby, after all. That you didn’t start walking for nothing, that you weren’t following some childish delusion, that if something as good as Joel had happened to you when you left, that maybe she had found herself on a similar path, ran into somebody good who took her wherever she wanted to go and helped her find someplace she belonged. Maybe she found her way out to California, eventually. What you are certain of is that neither of you ever have to go back to that town ever again, and that feels good, too.

And if it feels good, then it can’t be bad.

tag list: tag list: @beefrobeefcal @iamasaddie @rebel-held @dilfgestivo @zliteraturehoe @joeldjarin @kamcrazy123 @hellowoolf @rexamongthestars @stevie75 @luxurychristmaspudding @noisynightmarepoetry @mewantpeepaw @pedritoferg @alex-does-art-things @evolnoomym @annoyingmarvelreader @k1l4ni @joelsdagger (if your name is crossed out, it won’t let me tag you!!)

[wisteriaiswriting]

Reader That Can Bake

Words: 1757

Includes: Dipper, Mabel, Stan, Ford, Wendy, Gideon, Pacifica and Bill

Honestly, he doesn’t have the biggest sweet tooth, but being young he still craves them a bit.

Knows the basics about baking in general but only with box sets, so he’ll stay out of your way in the kitchen.

Won't ever decline anything you give him, opting to either eat them right then and there, or hide them for later. (And away, safe from Mabel.)

Normally whenever he heard the sounds of someone in the kitchen, assuming it was Mabel, he would walk the other way immediately. But now that you’re spending more time in there he’ll take the gamble of peeking in, hoping it was you baking and not Mabel ready to drag him in.

This time he was lucky, finding you washing up all your used dishes and putting away the leftover ingredients. Standing in the doorway until you noticed, waving him over. “Dipper, you’re just in time!” Hopping on the spot as you stepped out of the way, revealing a whole bunch of cooled cookies.

“I tried some different flavours this time,” Grabbing one of each to shove into his hands, which he almost dropped. “There's classic chocolate chip, white chocolate, uhh… What else?” As you rambled and thought he took a bite of each, silently ranking them favourite to least favourite, not that he’d ever tell you.

“And oh! Hazelnuts, oreos and s'mores!” “You made s’more cookies?” “Yeah, this one was a small batch, I’ll get more stuff tomorrow.”

While yes, she bakes pretty often, you’ll always be the better chef around! (And she’s not afraid to admit it, sometimes.)

This girl will never shut up about ‘How good these are!’ ‘Even Waddles loves them!’ (It’s true, you have found him scarfing down a whole pile of your baked goods.)

Occasionally (And if you let her) she’ll join you, while she enjoys baking just spending time together is enough for her.

As soon as the door opened Mabel ran off, skidding into the doorframe. Smelling something very familiar and delicious. “ARE YOU BAKING AGAIN!” Your only response was to laugh, of course she would notice, really, you’d be an idiot thinking she wouldn’t.

“Yeah, they’re in the oven right now, so I’m just cleaning up.” “I’LL HELP!” God, she was excited about your baking. “Why don’t you pile up the dirty dishes while I start the sink.” In no time you had finished the dishes, everything was clean, dried and put away.

Reaching for a hanging cabinet, but this one was just out of reach. Stretching to your limit but unable to grasp the handle, about to turn around and ask Mabel for help only to be jolted upwards. Looking down to find Mabel's toothy grin looking right back atcha.

“Whatcha grabbing? More dishes? Decorations? Is it the icing? SPRINKLES!?” Laughing once again as you grabbed, as you could guess (And Mabel.) the icing and sprinkles. Being dropped back down when you had the items. “I think they’re ready for the toppings.”

Stan doesn’t go around flaunting his love for baked goods, but he doesn’t really hide it either.

But he does openly compliment anything you make, even if it’s not his favourite, he’ll make it positive.

He may not like to spend a lot of money on anything really, but he’ll throw you a wad of cash to buy whatever you need. (As long as he gets the first taste test.)

“Where ya going toots?” Arms wrapped around your waist, his head sitting on your head. One of your hands held your car keys, well, they were Stans but he’s given you permission to take the ‘Stanmobile’ out. “Gotta buy some more ingredients.”

His body pulled away from yours, hands digging into his suit pockets before pulling out a decent wad of cash. Grabbing a few notes (Which were 100s btw) and passing them over to you, “Make me my favourite later.” “Oh I will~”

He’ll scarf down plates full of your stuff, he hasn’t eaten anything this good in years! (And no he is not exaggerating, thank you!)

Always takes something with him on every adventure he goes on. (At first he was nervous to ask, but now he’ll try to ‘bribe’ you for anything. (Both of you know he doesn’t need to.))

Part of him is curious about how well supernatural ingredients would go, he would never force you to do it, but that means he would. So at least watch over him. (But by gods, don’t let him eat anything he makes. Who knows what would happen, and you don’t want to know.)

Hearing the front door slam open you peeked out of the living room, only to find Ford stumbling by, into the kitchen with a large box. After gently shutting the door (With this amount of abuse you don’t think it’ll last much longer.) you followed him, watching him pull and lay out plenty of things on the counter.

“Hope you were going to clean up after yourself?” “AH!” Throwing something between his hands for a few seconds before calming down, “Oh! Y/N, I was, don't you worry.” “With everything you brought in here? I will.”

Quietly laughing to himself, “I don’t blame you, but how well would these bake?” “Ford, honey, I just bake, you’re the one who knows about these guys.” Gesturing to the box, “I guess you’re right.”

Very similar to Stan in the sense, she won’t go out of her way to admit her love for sweeter things but will if asked.

If you’re willing to make more she’ll take a bunch for her friends. (They all love them, even if some won’t admit it.)

Brings some to work with her, which makes her shifts actually bearable.

“I’ll see you guys later.” Lifting her hand as a quick wave before turning to leave, “Wendy!” Looking back to find Lee rushing towards her, skidding to stop just before hitting her. Throwing her a now empty container, which surprisingly enough, was still in one piece. “You gotta bring more of those snacks, they were amazing!”

“I’ll let them know.” Now that she was finally able to leave the group, she started her tract home. Pulling out her phone to send you a quick message, nothing much really. (It was a whole paragraph.) Watching you respond, pause then send the message, along with a picture. ‘Already ahead of you!’

Tapping into the image to find you back in the kitchen, flour covered every surface. There were other ingredients on the floor and everything, really. She couldn’t stop her laughter, taking a pause in her steps to catch her breath. ‘I’m on my way, don’t make a bigger mess.’

Luckily she wasn’t that far from home, and it was also a good thing that her family loved you. (They wouldn’t let you live down that image.) Letting her spend the night to help you clean and finish baking.

Absolutely will not go anywhere near the kitchen when you’re in there. (He may love you, but he also loves being clean.)

This doesn’t stop him from rushing in the second everything is cleaned up, impatiently waiting until the food is finished. (You will have to stop him from eating them hot, because he will whine about being burned.)

Will never share them with anyone else, the only exception is at the Tent of Telepathy.

Placing the hot tray onto a cooling rack before shutting the oven door, it’s been hours since you started baking. As Gideon wanted some baked goods to hand out to anyone who comes by the Tent of Telepathy, and that meant you had to bake it all.

Although he made sure to pay you for it, so it wasn’t a complete loss. But that's when you heard a door slam open and footsteps running down the hall, watching as Gideon entered the room. His first stop was the currently cooling tray of cookies, not the others that were cool and in containers.

“Gideon do–” It was too late, his hand touched the tray first. “OW!” Guiding the hand under some running water as he complained, “Why were they hot?” “I just pulled them out from the oven, those ones,” Pointing at multiple containers put to the side, “Are for you.”

Huffing as he removes his hand from the water to dry it off, grabbing the containers before leaving the room.

Honestly, she never thought about baking in general really. (There’s always been butlers or chefs, or whatever to do it for her.)

Doesn’t have the biggest sweet tooth, but will eat any of your less sweet items. (It better not be messy, otherwise she’ll (lovingly) wipe it on you.)

Sometimes she’ll sit around and watch you bake, she secretly finds it interesting but it’s highly likely she won’t join you for a while.

“What did you make this time?” Even as her face showed disinterest her tone gave her away, “This one is funfetti!” Handing over the cupcake, watching as she made her way through the wrapper. Trying to avoid the icing, although she wasn’t successful, a small chunk smeared over her fingers.

Clearly unhappy with it, the fact you were waiting next to her and no tissues or anything nearby. Reaching over to ‘subtly’ wipe the icing onto your shirt. “HEY!” “These aren’t that bad.” “Don’t ignore me!” You tried to stand in front of her, except that she kept turning as well.

“Pacifica!” “You should probably check on the other ones.” Oh yeah, you probably should.

Sometimes you forget that he can actually eat as he doesn’t do it much. (That’s until you watch him eat some deer teeth. Which is so disturbing…)

There have been so many times where he comes to bother you for some food, then just leaves with it. (You have no clue what he does with them but you can only assume someone else* is eatting them. (*Ford))

He will try to bake on his own with ‘non-human’ ingredients even if you try to stop him. (They end up inedible, even to other demons. Like fuck, he’s terrible.)

It was fucking comical how Bill entered the room, floating through the window towards the tray of cookies. Staying afloat for a few extra seconds before dropping to sit on the counter, batting his eyelashes at you. “No Bill, they’re still hot.” “WHO CARES?” Grabbing a handful (Which was like 2.) before shoving it into his mouth (Eye? Honestly man, you have no idea anymore.). “Are they good at least?” “HMM, THEY'RE ALRIGHT. COULD DO WITH SOME ꀤꈤꁅꌃꀭꀸꈤꍟꊼ.” “What.”

[itneverendshere]

all that talk is killing me - rafe cameron

request here: Fighter!Pilot!Rafe AU x Sweet!Reader. word count: 6.5K (YIKES) warnings: tooth rooting fluff and rafe being too charming.

There was that god-awful distinct scent of jet fuel in the air, a reminder that you were in one of the Navy’s busiest air bases. The hum of roaring engines wasn’t anything new; it had become a part of your day-to-day existence. The bar you worked at, The Mirage, was a hotspot for pilots, flight crews, and pretty much anyone else who was stationed nearby. A quiet coastal town didn’t offer many options for a social life, and if you wanted to get a cold drink or unwind, The Mirage was the place to be.

You’d been working here for just over a year and a half, long enough to recognize the distinct swagger of a military man when he walked through the door. They were easy to spot – especially the pilots.

Sunglasses permanently glued to their faces, that stupid untouchable arrogance radiating from them, the knowledge that they were some of the best in the world at what they did. It was almost admirable, if it wasn’t so…predictable. 

You had sworn off pilots. No, you’d sworn off men in a uniform all together.

It wasn’t like a hard rule or anything, but after what happened with your last boyfriend—who, shocker, also wore a uniform—you weren’t about to make the same mistake twice. You’d learned the hard way that guys like that came with way too much baggage. 

Long deployments, their egos inflated to the size of fighter jets, and let’s be real, they weren’t exactly known for being faithful. Military men had a reputation, and in your experience, they earned it. You weren’t about to get your heart broken again.

You’d been there, done that, and had the emotional scars to prove it.

So yeah, working at a bar right next to a Navy air base wasn’t exactly ideal, but you weren’t here for the guys. The Mirage was just a job, a way to pay the bills while you figured your life out. It was a decent gig. Good tips, a steady flow of regulars, and every now and then, you’d get to watch a squadron of cocky, ego-driven fighter pilots try to charm their way into someone’s pants. 

Fun to watch, but that was about it.

The first time Rafe walked into The Mirage, you felt it immediately—the shift in the air. 

You had your back turned, trying to keep busy wiping down the bar, but you could practically feel his presence as he swaggered up, like the whole place had just taken notice of him at once. Lean and built like he was carved from the side of a mountain, with shoulders that filled out his flight suit just right, and a chest broad enough to make any woman’s heart skip a beat.

And when you finally turned around? He was standing there with that stupid, lopsided grin, a couple of dog tags peeking out from beneath his half-zipped flight suit, the sleeves pushed up like he had zero intention of playing by any rules but his own. He had this ridiculously good-looking, disheveled kind of vibe going on, like he’d just gotten off a jet and didn’t care that his hair was all over the place.

You almost hated how good he looked.

He didn’t even hesitate when he caught your eye. He walked right up to the bar and leaned on it like he owned the place.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he said, flashing you a panty-dropping smile that probably worked on most girls. “Can I get a beer?”

Sweetheart? Oh God, one of those guys. His voice had that low, southern drawl, smooth as Tennessee whiskey, dripping with charm. It was the kind of voice that could make anything sound like a compliment, even when he was teasing. And the way he leaned on the bar, just a little too close, just a little too familiar, like he’d been doing it his whole life and knew exactly what effect it had—it was almost criminal.

“Sure,” you said, not bothering to match his energy. You grabbed a bottle and slid it across the bar to him, intentionally keeping it short and sweet. You weren’t about to give him the satisfaction of a flirty smile or small talk. Guys like him lived for that.

“Thanks, darling.” He tipped the bottle to you, still grinning like he knew something you didn’t. You sighed, turning back to your work, already half-expecting him to hit on someone else.

But over the next few days, Rafe kept showing up.

Every night, like clockwork, he’d stroll in after his missions with that same laid-back swagger. You noticed how people gravitated toward him, like he had this magnetic pull. His squadron buddies? They idolized him. Girls? Yeah, they fell for him hard, like they didn’t see the giant walking red flag that he was.

But the worst part? He kept coming back to you. 

Every time he walked into The Mirage, he’d make a beeline straight for the bar, leaning in with that smirk that was starting to get under your skin.

“You’re not like the other girls around here,” he said one night, lounging across the bar like he was settling in for the night.

So typical it gave you chills. He was a natural-born flirt, and he knew it. He wasn’t subtle; he didn’t have to be.

You snorted. “Oh yeah? How’s that?”

“They all like a guy in uniform.” He motioned to his flight suit, like he was showing off. “But you? You don’t seem impressed.”

You met his gaze and deadpanned, “I’m not.”

That should’ve been the end of it. Usually, when you gave guys the cold shoulder, they got the hint. But Rafe? He wasn’t so easily shaken. If anything, your disinterest seemed to make him more determined.

“Gotta say, I like the challenge,” he said, watching you like you were some kind of game he was about to win.

You rolled your eyes, but part of you couldn’t help but laugh. The guy had confidence, that much was clear. But you had to remind yourself why you’d sworn off pilots. This wasn’t your first rodeo. You’d been with a guy like Rafe before. The type who’d make you feel like you were the center of his universe—until you weren’t.

“I don’t date pilots,” you told him flat-out one night after he tried to get cute, leaning closer than necessary over the bar. You were done playing games, and he needed to know it wasn’t happening.

He just raised an eyebrow, his expression unreadable for a second before that grin returned. “That a hard rule?”

“Pretty solid, yeah.”

“And why’s that?”

You raised an eyebrow, skeptical as hell, “You don’t even know my name.”

He leaned in slightly, that annoying grin never leaving his face as he took a sip of his beer, eyes never leaving yours. “You’re right,” he said casually, placing the bottle back down. “So, what’s your name, sweetheart?”

The audacity. Like his smooth confidence was supposed to melt away all your reservations like you were just another one of his conquests. You could see it so clearly now—the cocky smirk, the way his voice had that low, drawling quality that practically screamed “I get what I want.”

You let out a humorless laugh, shaking your head as you wiped down the counter. “I’m not giving you my name, Rafe.”

"But you know mine," He arched a brow, not even remotely phased. “Fair enough. Guess I’ll just have to earn it.”

“Not happening,” you shot back, trying to keep your tone firm. 

But you could feel a tiny sliver of amusement creep into your voice despite yourself. He was relentless, and for some stupid reason, it was kind of fun to watch him keep trying.

There was something about a man in uniform that made women lose all sense of reason, and you weren’t about to be that girl again.

And yet, Rafe Cameron kept coming back. 

Like a stray, relentless and impossible to ignore. And as much as you tried to play it cool, to not be another notch on his flight log, you couldn’t help but notice how his grin deepened every time you turned him down, like he was getting some kind of kick out of the challenge.

“You really don’t give up, do you?” you asked, throwing him a sideways glance as you refilled a couple of drinks for some regulars down the bar. You could feel his eyes on you the entire time.

He chuckled, that easy confidence still dripping from him. “Not when I see something I like.”

You fought the urge to roll your eyes, grabbing an empty glass and polishing it to distract yourself. “Well, you’re wasting your time,” you muttered, half-hoping that would be enough to shut him down for good.

But he didn’t take the hint. Instead, he leaned in a little closer, lowering his voice just enough to make it feel like the two of you were in on some kind of private conversation.

“Maybe. But something tells me you’re not as immune to my charm as you think.”

That did it. 

You turned to face him, arms crossed over your chest, giving him the most unimpressed look you could muster. “I’ve met guys like you before. You roll into town, flash that cocky smile, and think you can get anyone in bed because you’re a hotshot pilot. You’re probably great at what you do, and I’m sure girls throw themselves at you left and right. But I’m not one of them.”

His posture faltered just a little, and you almost—almost—felt bad for bursting his bubble. But then he just laughed, “You really don’t hold back, do you?”

You shrugged, nonchalant, but you could feel a small sense of satisfaction. “Why should I? Guys like you are all the same.”

Rafe leaned back, studying you with a look that was half amused, half intrigued, like you were some kind of puzzle he couldn’t quite figure out.

“Nah, I don’t think we are,” he said, almost to himself. “But I guess you’ve got your reasons.”

That hit a little closer to home than you expected, and you felt your defenses kick back in full force. “Yeah, well, they’re good ones.”

“I don’t doubt that,” he said, his tone softer than before. He tapped his fingers against the bar, like he was considering his next move. “But just so you know, I’m not looking for an easy win here.”

You raised an eyebrow, skeptical. “Oh really? Because everything about you screams ‘I always win.’”

He laughed—more like he was in on a joke that only he understood. “True. But this feels different.”

Different. Sure, like every smooth-talking pilot didn’t say the same thing when they were trying to get a girl to let her guard down. You’d heard it all before.

“Look,” you started, leaning on the bar now, “I’m sure you’re a nice guy when you’re not playing the whole ‘bad boy in uniform’ thing. I’m not about to go down that road again. Especially not with someone who spends more time in the sky than on the ground.”

His eyes stayed on yours, unwavering. “But you don’t know me. Not really.”

“And you don’t know me either,” you shot back, feeling a bit defensive.

“That’s true.” He nodded, but there was a spark in his eyes that made you feel like he was more than ready to change that. “But I’d like to.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “You don’t give up, do you?”

“Nope.” His grin was back, but this time, it felt less like a game and more like a challenge. Not in the annoying, overconfident way, but in a way that made you almost—almost—want to see how far he’d go. “And I’m willing to take it slow, if that’s what you need.”

You weren’t used to guys like him offering to go slow. In your experience, they wanted everything fast—fast cars, fast planes, fast relationships. The fact that he was even suggesting the idea caught you off guard.

“I don’t need anything from you,” you said, though your voice wasn’t as firm as you wanted it to be.

“I know,” he said, his voice soft but steady. “But maybe you want to give me a shot. Maybe.”

You stared at him for a moment, trying to figure out if this was some kind of trick. But all you saw was that stupid grin and those frustratingly blue eyes that were starting to chip away at your resolve.

“I’ll think about it,” you muttered, not fully committing but not entirely rejecting him either.

Rafe’s grin widened like he’d just won a small victory. “That’s all I’m asking for.”

You rolled your eyes, turning back to the drinks you were supposed to be serving, but you couldn’t stop the smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. Damn it.

You weren’t ready to let him in, not yet, but maybe—just maybe—you didn’t mind the idea of him trying.

Because, against your better judgment, you kind of liked the way he made you feel.

Over the next few months, Rafe didn’t just disappear like the others. 

He stuck around, but not in the way you expected. At first, you thought he was still working some angle—coming into The Mirage every night, sitting at the bar, chatting you up like he was trying to wear you down. But after a while, something changed. It wasn’t like he was chasing after you anymore. It was more…normal. Friendly, almost.

It started small. He’d ask you about your day, your shift, little things like that. He didn’t push for more. When he wasn’t in the bar, he’d still check in—he’d send these short, goofy texts from time to time. Just little updates, nothing deep.

“Heading out on a mission, don’t burn down the bar while I’m gone.”

Or, when he was away for a while:

“Bet the place is boring without me around, huh?”

It wasn’t anything serious. Just light, casual. And you liked it that way. It was enough to feel like he was there, but not so much that it freaked you out.

Sometimes he’d ask about your life outside of work—how your art classes were going or if you’d gotten your car fixed yet. He never let you walk home alone. You hadn’t expected that from him. Like, when you first met Rafe, you pegged him as the type of guy who only cared about himself. But he’d actually listened to you, remembered stuff you’d said, which was…surprising. And kind of nice.

Still, you kept your guard up. You weren’t about to let him in fully. Not after everything you’d been through before. But you couldn't deny that a part of you enjoyed his company.

One night, about six months in, he came into The Mirage after being away on a longer mission. He looked more exhausted than usual, but his grin was still there as he slid into his usual spot at the bar.

“Miss me?” he teased, tapping the counter as if he’d been gone for a year instead of a few weeks. That flight suit clung to him like a second skin, half-zipped just enough to reveal a sliver of tanned skin and a hint of a tattoo peeking out. The sleeves were rolled up, showing off forearms roped with muscle, veins running down like they were tracing a roadmap to all the trouble he’d been in. His dog tags swung carelessly against his chest, catching the dim light of the bar.

He looked good enough to eat.

“Not even a little,” you shot back with a smirk, pouring him his usual. But the truth was, things had felt kind of off when he wasn’t around.

He took a sip of his beer, watching you closely like he always did. “Sure about that?”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Cameron.”

You expected him to throw some cocky line back, but instead, he just chuckled. “You been good?”

It was such a simple question, but there was something in his voice that made you pause for a second. “Yeah,” you answered, nodding. “Same old, same old.”

“Good.” He nodded, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer before he turned his attention to the rest of the bar.

Everything felt kind of…easy with him now. You didn’t really know how or when it happened, but somewhere along the way, you’d started to see Rafe as more than just a cocky pilot. He was still all of that, sure, but there was more to him than you thought. He wasn’t just the guy who flirted relentlessly; he was the guy who checked in, who listened, who made you laugh when you didn’t even feel like smiling.

It was nice.

That night, The Mirage was packed. The air was thick with cigarette smoke and loud laughter. The usual suspects were there—pilots unwinding, a few locals mixing in, and the occasional sailor trying his luck. You’d been running around non-stop, the orders coming faster than you could keep up. Rafe had disappeared to the bathroom a few minutes ago, and you were focused on getting through the rest of your shift.

That’s when someone came up behind you. You didn’t even see him coming—just felt the sudden press of a hand on your waist, fingers gripping too tight, a body too close. Your breath hitched in your throat, heart picking up speed as you twisted around to see who the hell thought they could just grab you like that.

It was some guy you hadn’t seen before, a stranger with bleary eyes and a stench of cheap whiskey rolling off of him. He leaned in, way too close, his breath hot against your cheek. 

“Hey there, gorgeous,” he slurred, his hand sliding lower, and you felt your stomach twist.

“Get off me,” you snapped, trying to shove him away, but he didn’t budge. Instead, he grinned, like he thought this was some kind of game.

“Aw, come on, don’t be like that,” he drawled, his other hand moving to grab at your arm, pulling you back toward him.

Panic flared fast in your chest. You tried to twist out of his grip, but he tightened his hold, pulling you closer.

“I said, let go!” you shouted, shoving him harder this time, your voice cutting through the noise of the bar. Your heart was racing now, pounding in your ears.

You glanced around, hoping someone would see what was happening, maybe step in, but everyone seemed too caught up in their own worlds, too fucking drunk to notice.

The guy just laughed, a low, sleazy sound that made your skin crawl. His hand slipped lower, fingers pressing into your hip, and you felt a cold rush of fear. “Just want to have a little fun,” he murmured, his voice thick and rough.

You opened your mouth to scream, to shout for someone, anyone, but before the words could come out, you heard it—the sound of glass shattering. You blinked, confused for a second, and then you saw Rafe.

He was back, and he was livid.

You’d never seen him like this before, eyes dark and wild, his jaw clenched so tight you could see the muscles twitching. He shoved through the crowd like a storm, fists already balled at his sides, his whole body taut with rage.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he snarled, voice low and dangerous, like he was barely holding himself back.

The guy barely had time to turn around before Rafe grabbed him by the collar, yanking him away from you with a force that sent him stumbling back into the bar. 

“Get your hands off her,” He spat, his voice like gravel, his eyes blazing.

The guy looked stunned, confused for a moment, before his face twisted into a sneer. “Hey, man, relax—”

But Rafe didn’t let him finish.

“Don’t ‘hey man’ me,” he growled, stepping closer, his hands still clenched into fists. “You touch her again, and I’ll break every bone in your fuckin' hand.”

You were still trying to catch your breath, your pulse racing, adrenaline pumping through your veins. You’d seen him mad before, but this was something else entirely. His whole body was tense, like he was ready to pounce, and there was a look in his eyes that was almost… feral.

The guy seemed to sober up real quick, his eyes flicking nervously between you and Rafe. “Alright, alright, I’m going,” he muttered, hands up in surrender as he backed away, disappearing into the crowd.

Rafe watched him go, his chest heaving, his fists still clenched like he wasn’t quite done yet. He turned to you, his eyes softening a little, but his face still hard, still angry. “You okay?” he asked, his voice rough, breathless.

You nodded, swallowing hard, trying to steady your breathing. 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you managed, but your voice was shaky, betraying the fear still thrumming through you.

Rafe stepped closer, his hands reaching out to gently touch your arms, his fingers light against your skin. 

“You sure?” he asked, his eyes searching yours, his face so close you could see the worry etched into his features.

You nodded again, feeling a little steadier now, your heart still racing but slowing down, your breath coming easier. “Yeah,” you whispered, “Thanks to you.”

“You don’t have to worry,” he said quietly, “Not with me around. I got you.”

You felt your heart stutter in your chest, and you realized—maybe, just maybe, you were really starting to trust him. And that thought, more than anything, scared you to death.

It's why it felt so hard to be around him from that day on. You were trying to balance between wanting to keep things normal with him and avoiding getting too close. After what happened that night, you were more on edge than ever, and it didn’t help that Rafe was still making his usual appearances, his cute texts and late night calls. His protective streak had only made things more complicated.

“Everything alright?” he asked, his tone casual like he was trying to read between the lines.

You shrugged, “Yeah, why wouldn’t it be?”

He didn’t buy it. “You seem off. Did something happen?”

“Nothing happened,” you said, a little too quickly. “Just a long night.”

Rafe didn’t push. Instead, he grabbed a drink and started chatting with you about mundane things—the kind of small talk that was meant to fill the space without digging too deep. 

He casually mentioned his plans for the weekend, how he was heading out with some friends, making it clear that he was open to other social opportunities.

“Gonna be out of town for a bit,” he said with a shrug, almost as if he was testing the waters. “Thought I’d let you know.”

You looked at him, trying to keep your expression neutral. “Okay.”

He paused, a smirk playing at his lips as if he was waiting for a reaction. “You sure you’re okay with that?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” you asked, trying to sound nonchalant, but the tightness in your voice gave you away.

Rafe’s smirk widened, clearly satisfied with the effect he was having. “Just checking. Didn’t know if you were going to miss me or somethin''.”

“I’m sure you’ll manage to find plenty of people who will,” you shot back, grimacing.

He chuckled, his eyes glinting with mischief. “You know, you’re more complicated than I thought.”

“That’s what makes life interesting,”

You finally let yourself admit it—his casual flirtation and the way he seemed to enjoy getting a rise out of you was starting to mess with your head. And that was exactly what he wanted.

So maybe, your petty self, doesn't answer to a single one of his texts while he's away. You figured if he wanted to play the game, you could play it too. It wasn’t like you were avoiding him or anything; you just wanted to make a point.

The first day, you didn’t think much of it. The second day, you told yourself it was no big deal. By the third day, you were trying not to obsess over the fact that your phone hadn’t buzzed with a message from him in the past twenty four hours. Like he'd given up. You kept yourself busy with shifts at The Mirage, catching up on sleep, and even dabbling in a new painting project.

When he finally came back, you were trying to act like it was just another day. You were behind the bar, pouring drinks and chatting away when he walked in.

Rafe’s usual swagger was in full force, but today, there was a hint of weariness in his eyes, like he’d been through the wringer. He slid onto his usual stool and flashed you that same charming grin, but this time, it felt a little more… tentative.

“Hey, stranger."

“Hey,” you replied, trying to sound casual, like you hadn’t been avoiding him. You set a beer in front of him and went back to wiping down the bar, giving yourself something to do so you wouldn’t have to meet his gaze.

Rafe took a sip of his beer, “So, you’ve been quiet lately. Everything alrigh'?”

“Just been busy, I guess.”

“Busy or just avoiding me?” 

“Why would I be avoiding you?” you chuckled, trying to keep your voice steady. “I’ve been working and catching up on things.”

“Uh-huh,” he said, clearly not buying it. “Did I do something to piss you off?”

Uh, duh. He was making you fall for him. Recklessly. 

“Nope,” you said, popping the ‘p’ with a little too much force. “Everything’s fine.”

Everything was not fine, especially not when a girl you'd never seen before decided to eagerly join him on the stool next to his. 

You didn’t mean to be staring at them. You really didn’t. 

But there she was, practically hanging off Rafe’s arm like some kind of human accessory, her giggle obnoxiously loud over the music in The Mirage. She had this glossy, perfect hair, one of those flirty little dresses that clung to all the right places, and legs for days. And she was touching him. All over. Laughing way too hard at whatever stupid joke he’d just made.

You could feel your stomach twist into a knot, and for the life of you, you couldn’t figure out why it bothered you so much. It’s not like you hadn’t seen this before—girls throwing themselves at him like he was the last guy on Earth. You’d watched it happen a dozen times. Maybe a hundred.

But today? Today it felt different. Today, it felt like there was a boulder lodged in your chest, and you could barely breathe around it.

God, this was so stupid. You didn’t even like him like that. He was just…a friend. A hot, annoyingly charming friend who maybe made your heart race a little bit every time he walked into the bar. Whatever. It didn’t matter. You were not—repeat, not—catching feelings. You couldn’t be.

Still, your hands were gripping the bar a little tighter than necessary, your smile plastered on your face as you poured drinks for some regulars, trying to pretend you weren’t glancing over at them every five seconds.

But then she had the audacity to look right at you, her big doe eyes blinking innocently, and ask, “Hey, could you get me another drink?”

Your fingers tightened around the beer tap, and you felt a jolt of irritation shoot through you. The girl was practically hanging off his arm, and here she was, smiling at you like you were her personal waitress. 

You forced a smile, the kind that didn’t reach your eyes, and nodded. “Sure, what do you want?”

She twirled a strand of hair around her finger, leaning in even closer to Rafe as if she needed to be attached to his hip. “A tequila sunrise, please,” she chirped.

You had to grit your teeth to keep from rolling your eyes. “Coming right up,” you muttered through clenched teeth, turning your back to them as you reached for the tequila.

You could feel Rafe’s gaze burning into the back of your head, could practically hear the smirk in his voice without even looking. He was loving this. Watching you squirm, seeing you get all pissy while he played the charming flirt. God, he was such an asshole.

“Here you go,” you said, managing to keep your voice steady.

She beamed up at you, completely oblivious, and took a sip. “Thanks! You’re the best.”

He looked like he was having the time of his life. That stupid grin plastered on his face, his blue eyes sparkling as he leaned in close to hear whatever the girl was saying. And she was soaking it all up, practically melting into him, flipping her hair like she was auditioning for a shampoo commercial.

You felt this weird, hot sting in the back of your eyes and immediately blinked it away. Oh, hell no. You were not going to cry over this. Over him. No way.

But it was getting harder to hold it all together. You turned away, busied yourself with wiping down the counter, anything to stop looking at them.

And then it happened.

He looked over at you.

Just a quick glance, but enough to catch your eye. Enough to let you know that he knew you were watching. And damn it if he didn’t look like he was enjoying every second of it.

That did it. You felt the flush of heat creep up your neck, the anger boiling under your skin. You slammed a glass down a little harder than you meant to and mumbled something about taking a break.

“Hey, you okay?” one of your coworkers called after you, but you were already pushing through the back door, needing some fresh air, some space to get your head straight.

You ended up in the alleyway behind The Mirage, your back against the cool brick wall, eyes squeezed shut as you tried to keep it together. You felt so stupid, so ridiculous for even letting this get to you. He wasn’t yours. He was just…Rafe. And you were just you, the girl who’d sworn off guys like him a million times.

But it hurt. Way more than you wanted to admit. And before you knew it, a tear slipped down your cheek. You quickly swiped it away, cursing under your breath.

And that’s when you heard it—the creak of the door swinging open, footsteps on the gravel.

You didn’t even have to look to know who it was. Of course he followed you. Of course he did.

“What’s this?” Rafe’s voice was teasing, that familiar low drawl that usually made your heart flutter, but right now it just grated on your nerves. “Are you crying?”

You scoffed, keeping your back turned, hoping he’d take the hint and leave you alone. “No. Just…got something in my eye.”

“Sure you did.” You could hear the smirk in his voice, that stupid, smug grin that he always wore like some kind of armor. “You jealous or something, sweetheart?”

God, he was such an ass. “No,” you snapped, turning to glare at him. “Why would I be jealous? You can flirt with whoever you want. I don’t care.”

He stepped closer, still grinning like he’d won something. “Really? ‘Cause you looked pretty pissed back there.”

You felt another tear threatening to fall, and you bit down hard on your lip, willing it to stop. “I’m not pissed,” you lied, crossing your arms over your chest. “Just…busy. And you’re distracting.”

Rafe laughed softly, and you wanted to smack that grin off his face. “Distracting, huh?”

He was closer now, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating off his body, and it just made everything worse.

“I’m serious,” you said, your voice shaking just a little. “Just…leave me alone."

But of course, he didn’t. Instead, he took another step closer, reaching out to tilt your chin up so you had to look at him. His thumb brushed against your jaw, and you hated how good it felt, how much you wanted to lean into his touch even though you were mad as hell.

“Hey,” he said, his voice softer now, all teasing gone. “Talk to me. What’s going on?”

You sniffed, trying to pull away, but he wouldn’t let you. His grip was gentle but firm, and for some stupid reason, that only made the tears come faster.

“It’s nothing,” you mumbled, hating how weak you sounded. “Just…go back to your fan club, okay?”

His eyes searched yours, and for a moment, you saw something there, something that wasn’t just amusement. “Fan club?” he echoed, his brow furrowing slightly. 

“You mean that girl?”

You nodded, swallowing hard. “Yeah. That girl. You seemed pretty into her.”

He let out a low chuckle, but it wasn’t mocking. It was almost…gentle. “Sweetheart, you think I’m interested in her?”

You blinked, not trusting yourself to speak, so you just shrugged.

Rafe shook his head, his thumb still brushing your cheek. “Nah. I’m not. I was just…” He paused, a grin tugging at his lips. “I was just waiting to see how long it’d take you to get jealous.”

Your mouth dropped open. “You—what?”

He grinned, his eyes lighting up with mischief. “Oh, C'mon. You think I didn’t notice the way you were glaring at her? You looked like you wanted to rip her hair out.”

 “I did not,” you protested, but the redness in your cheeks betrayed you.

Rafe’s grin widened. “Yeah, you did. And I gotta admit…kinda hot seeing ya all riled up over me, sugar.”

“Shut up,” you muttered, but there was no heat in your voice now. It was hard to stay mad when he was looking at you like that, like you were the only person in the world.

He laughed softly, but then his expression softened, and he cupped your face with both hands, pulling you closer. “Hey,” he murmured, his voice low and serious now. “For the record, there’s no one else. Just you, okay?”

Your heart did a stupid little flip at his words, and you wanted to be mad, you really did. But instead, you just felt relief flood through you.

“Okay,” you whispered, and before you knew it, you were in his arms, his lips pressing against your forehead, his hands wrapping around you like he was never letting go.

“You don’t have to pretend you don’t care, you know,” he murmured against your hair. “I kind of like that you do.”

You sighed, finally letting yourself lean into him, burying your face in his chest. “I hate you,” you mumbled, but your arms were wrapping around him all the same.

He chuckled, pulling you even closer. “Nah, you don’t.”

And damn it, he was right.

Then, you shifted back a little, looking up at him. His face was closer than you’d realized, his breath warm against your skin. You could see every fleck of gold in his eyes, the way his lips curved slightly like he was trying not to smile too much.

"You’re an asshole, y'know that?" you whispered, but your voice came out softer than you meant it to.

He laughed, a low rumble that you felt in your chest more than heard. "Yeah. But you kinda like that about me, don't ya?"

There was no hiding the grin tugging at your lips. "You think you’re so charming."

"That's 'cause I am," he shot back, but his voice had this low, husky tone to it now. His gaze dropped to your lips, lingering there a beat too long. You could feel your heart speeding up. It was like everything slowed down in that moment.

Before you could overthink it, he leaned in. Slowly, like he was giving you a chance to pull away, his eyes locked on yours, searching, waiting for any sign that you didn’t want this. But you did. More than anything, you wanted this.

So, you didn’t move. You let him come closer, closer until you could feel the warmth of his lips brushing against yours, so light at first it was barely there. A soft, testing touch, like he was still making sure this was okay. And then, when you didn’t pull back, he pressed his lips fully to yours.

It was gentle at first, careful, his hands still cupping your face, his thumbs brushing over your cheeks like he was memorizing every inch of you. You could taste the faint hint of beer on his lips, feel the scratch of his stubble against your skin, you felt something sweet, something that was just him.

You kissed him back, tentatively at first, but then something in you snapped. You sighed against his mouth, a soft, involuntary sound, and that was all it took for him to deepen the kiss. His tongue brushed against your lower lip, asking for permission, and you granted it without thinking, opening to him, meeting him halfway.

All the tension, all the months of pretending you didn’t feel anything, it all spilled out at once. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, your fingers threading through his hair, deepening the kiss.

Rafe groaned softly, his hands moving to your waist, pulling you flush against him. And you kissed him back just as fiercely, letting yourself feel every bit of it. When you broke apart for just a second, gasping for air, but he didn’t go far. His lips hovered over yours, his breath warm, his eyes dark and intense, like he was seeing straight through you.

"God," he whispered, his voice ragged, "I’ve wanted to do that for so long."

You didn’t even have time to say something before he captured your mouth again, this time slower, deeper, like he wanted to savor every second. His hands were everywhere now—one in your hair, the other sliding down to the small of your back, holding you like he was never going to let go.

You broke apart again, both of you panting, his forehead pressed against yours. “Fuck,” he breathed out, a smile spreading across his face. "You sure you don't hate me?"

You laughed, breathless, your heart hammering against your ribs. "Maybe just a little," you teased, but there was no hiding the smile that was stretching across your face, the way your fingers still tangled in his hair, like you couldn’t let go.

He chuckled, leaning in to steal another quick kiss, softer this time, sweet and playful. "Well, I can live with that." he murmured against your lips.

And as he kissed you again, you realized that maybe you could, too.

[petriwriting]

Bad Boyfriends - Theodore Nott X Reader

Summary: your boyfriend treats you terribly and Theodore comforts you when you finally break up. Then you realize you love him.

A/N: based on a tiktok meme I saw. Reader is a slytherin. Once again proofreading is for the weak and I wrote this on like no sleep. Contains Cheating & Protective Theo. Friends to lovers. Rupi Kaur poetry.

Your boyfriend, Silas was the stereotypical gryffindor guy. He had decent grades, was relatively social, popular. He played quidditch too. From afar the relationship was the perfect ‘enemies to lovers’ trope. You were a slytherin, and he was a gryffindor but despite being in different houses you were in love, or so it seemed to the average person. it was picturesque.

The halls flooded with students preparing for the weekend, some housemates of yours had invited you to a slytherin after party that would undoubedtly take place after your house won the quidditch game that evening. You had a killer winning streak, and tonight slytherin was playing against gryffindor. Silas wasn’t too excited for you to go, so he said you could come to the gryffindor after party instead, which would be “wayyy more fun” he had said. You were torn, but also tired. Silas grabbed your arm out of the busy hall, and pulled you into a slightly more private hall in the corridors. “Heyy,” he cooed. “Excited for my game tonight?” He said in a cocky tone. “We’ll definitely kick slytherin’s ass tonight I can feel it,” he exclaims. You sigh. “Well slytherin has a winning streak right now, so maybe not.” You say jokingly, you truthfully didn’t care who won, you just wanted to relax at a party with your friends afterwards. “Don’t say that.” His tone is blatant, rude. “I want you to wear my jersey tonight as always.” He winked, grabbing your hand and brushing his thumb over it in attempts to be affectionate. “I was going to wear gear from my house.” You uttered.

There is a slight pause, and Silas looks angry, part of you is genuinely scared. but you know that he won’t do anything too drastic if you’re both in public. You silently thank Merlin that the hallway has some students shuffling through every now and then. Not that Silas would get physical, or hurt you. “Absolutely not.” He says flatly. “You can’t control what I wear,” you retort getting frustrated at his attitude. “Come on you can’t support me this once? After all I do for you?” He pleads. ‘After all I do for you’ refers to holding doors open for you, pulling out your chair, giving you compliments, and holding your hand in public. All which are things that are in fact the bare minimum. You exhale loudly. “I’m not doing this with you right now.” You say quietly, retreating somewhat.

“Come on, you hang out with lowlife bratty snobby kids who think they are way better than everyone else. Didn’t think it would rub off on you this much.” He snaps back. You’re angered, hurt and ready to spill tears but you hold your composure. “Silas I’m not doing this!” You repeat yourself, more stern despite the break in your voice. “Why can’t you just do what I ask?” He mumbles. “There’s girls lining up to be with me but I chose to be with you instead and you always treat me like I’m some bad guy whose out to get you.” He exclaims. His narcism is shining bright at you.

“Silas I’m unhappy.” You uttered, somewhat scared of the consequences. “Really?” He says, in a condescending tone. “Shocker.” He rolls his eyes. “Did your bitchy friends put that idea In your head?” He snapped again. He’s projecting, and it hurts. You did love him at first, but with the arguements of recently, and his attitude being less and less loving and caring you knew something was up. There was even a rumor that he had been seen getting more than friendly with a ravenclaw girl. Everything just bubbled up in that moment. You had stayed because the relationship looked good but now it was doing nothing but hurting you and you were starting to realize it. All the lake night talks, dates at hogsmeade, passing notes in class, it all suddenly meant nothing. Tears welled in your eyes, you wanted to shake him.

“No they didn’t, and my friends are loyal and look out for each other.” You stated through the tears, anger seeping out. “Unlike yours who blow shit up for fun and barely pass their classes.” You snapped back. “We’re done.” You said, the words came out sharp and cold. “Figures as much.” Silas retorted before storming off. He muttered something about you being an evil snake on his way off.

You stood there for a moment, tears falling from your cheeks your face was red and you were exasperated. Your instinct was to rush back to your room, taking the long way to the dungeons to avoid being seen. You walked fast. Faster. Rushing through the castle. You rushed right past your friends who greeted you, and went to your dorm to cry alone. The door heavily shut.

. . . . . . . .

Later that evening, your friends had convinced you to go to the quidditch game that evening, and as suspected slytherin won with a pretty high lead. You were decked out in your slytherin gear, showing your house pride with your face painted. Deep down you were hurting and upset, but you didn’t let anyone see it. The game was cold, as you stood on the stands cheering and clapping. Your scarf was wrapped around your neck tightly, and you wore a bulky sweater over top a quidditch jersey.

Soon enough the after party rolled around. It felt great to not have Silas dragging you down…

By the time you arrive to the party in the common room it is already starting to become full of students who drink and smoke and laugh. The music is loud, some trendy band everyone’s been listening to with a catchy beat and carefree lyrics. Alcohol won’t make you feel better but at least you are with friends. While Blaise and Draco are off dancing with pansy and Astoria. Eventually the chatter and music is becoming loud so you venture to the corridor just beyond common room for some clarity. You wanted to cry again but you promised yourself you would be okay just for a little while longer.

Outside the common room, you follow the scent of smoke and are quickly lead to Mattheo and Theodore. Theodore has a cigarette lit, he’s been drinking and so has Mattheo. Mattheo was in the middle of explaining some grandiose plan he had to impress a transfer student, while entertaining his friend Theodore, who intently listened. He had always had a dark demeanor, quiet but thoughtful. The two were in your friend group but you certainly weren’t close. You knew Mattheo liked to party and was quite rebellious and that Theodore and yourself shared a potions class together. They both nodded and acknowledged your presence. You awkwardly stood, not wanting to be rude but not wanting to seem desperate either. “Y/N, I could hear you cheering us on from the stands.” Mattheo exclaims. You lean against the wall next to Theodore. “Yeah I’ve been excited for the game all week,” you admit. Theodore was very reserved, he offered you a cigarette, which you accepted. You didn’t typically smoke, though you had before. You took a few long drags and thanked him. “No problem.” He said with a smirk. “Mattie!” Someone called. It was a slightly drunken girl. “If you’ll excuse me…” Mattheo ran off after her. He always liked his mischievous antics.

“So,” Theodore began. “How are you holding up?” He asked. You sighed. Did he know? Did everyone know already? You tried to be discrete and keep it private, but words travel fast. “Sorry, I didn’t realize you knew.” You said, hugging yourself in the chilly air. “Well I don’t, but whatever it was I saw you were pretty upset about it.” He states, referring to the moment he saw you rush past everyone playing cards in the common room to your dorm earlier in the day. Theodore had always been the quiet observer, he saw things but didn’t speak much in comparison to his friends. He was still relatively social despite his mysterious demeanor. For the past year and a half, you always saw Theodore as a friend, but never relied on him much except for notes from class and gossip on occasion. You’d spoken with him a few times here and there. It wasn’t a huge issue that he knew you were dating Silas, the school always clung to the gossip and paid attention to the it couples. Especially Pansy and Draco who were both influential. You had been so wrapped up in trying to maintain your relationship with your now ex boyfriend that you hadn’t seen the signs of Theodore pining over you. He doodled you in class, and always romanticized the thought of asking you out despite never doing so out of circumstance. By the time he had decided to act on his feelings for you, you were together with your ex. So it felt pointless. Nonetheless he still cared for you quite immensely.

“Oh yeah, sorry,” you say slightly embarrassed. “I was um..” you stop yourself. “Silas and I broke up. It’s been a rough day.” You admit looking at the ground. “Sorry to hear that.” He says, taking another long drag of his cigarette before putting it out. “It’s okay.” You say. It’s quiet, almost too quiet. The chatter is very muffled and the music is faint from the common room. “Do you want to talk about it?” He asks. You sigh, and think for a moment. You want to say no and forget about this whole thing and move on, but you also know how good it will feel to get it out, and since Theo was the first person to ask you gave in to his offer. “I just,” you began quietly. “I heard a rumor that he was seeing someone else.” You admitted with a shrug. “And at first I didn’t want to believe it until I saw them in the library one day, this was maybe 2 weeks ago. They weren’t just studying but flirting. I was in denial about it, and today I just finally snapped and broke it off.” You continue. “I loved him but it wasn’t worth staying with someone who won’t treat me the way I deserve to be treated, someone who cheats and lies and hurts me over and over again without a care. Someone that genuinely made me so insecure and sad.” You finalized, sternly wiping your tears. As if convincing yourself the words were true the tears welled up in your eyes again as the wound re-opened. “I don’t want to ruin your night it seems like you were having fun.” You say as your voice softens.

Theodore has now turned towards you with his hands in his pockets. “No no,” Theodore reassures. “My night is definitely not ruined.” He states. “I enjoy hearing you talk. We don’t get to do that very often.” He confesses slightly. He’s right. You barely speak, but his presence and his shoulder to cry on is appreciated and you sniffle and wipe your face. “I’m glad to hear you open up.” He replies.

You sigh and shake away some anxiety from your body. “Thank you for listening to me.” You say. “It means a lot.” “Anytime.” He says quietly. “You deserve to spend your time with people who respect your feelings and your thoughts and time, not someone who hurts you that much.” Theodore says. He’s nervous now, he wants to tell you he’s been looking out for you since you first met and that he’s only just come to the realization that he might be in love with you, but he’s silent in that regard. “It’s good to talk about things sometimes,” he says. You were not prepared for him to be vulnerable with you in reciprocation. “When my mom passed,” he says tenderly. “I didn’t talk for 3 years. I was nearly mute. And when I finally told someone how I felt, it felt so good. Amazing. I know it’s not the same as what you’re going through at all, but hey, we’re here for you.” He says kindly. We, as on his friend group. Your friend group too. You want to turn to thank him, right the but instead you don’t. You wrap your arms around him tightly. It feels strange to do so at first but then you both melt into each others embrace. It’s a sweet moment. “Thanks.” You whisper.

. . . . . . . .

The next few months are spent blissfully happy in your new found singleness. Although it can be lonely you have amazing friends to support you through. And since that evening you had grown much closer to Theodore. He sort of becomes one of your best friends. You had pulled away from that friend group for obvious reasons, although it felt good to have your old life back finally. You could be yourself without judgement. You hadn’t seen Silas nearly at all, avoiding his usual hangout spots and ignoring his buddies in the halls. You were finally over him. The cold air was harsh, and a light dust of snow covered the ground outside the castle and soon enough everything around. You found comfort in the quiet of the common room, and warmth by the fire place. A book was in your lap, a lovely poetry novel. You wore a heavy sweater, and cozy socks as you were curled up reading on the couch by your friend. Theodore had become the perfect person to be around. He had a quiet understanding of your pain, and he shared his own with you and opened himself up which you thought was special. Not even the other slytherins had known about some of the things the two of you talked about. He’s sat beside you on the couch, silently doodling in his notebook between the pages of notes. You yawned, and leaned closer to Theodore. “This one reminds me of you.” You said softly before resting your head on his shoulder to read, it was an affectionate gesture that made your heart race.

The world

gives you

so much pain

and here you are

making gold out of it.

As you read aloud the words come out like milk and honey. “That’s pretty,” Theo says quietly. “I like that.” He admitted. Your head stayed on his shoulder and eventually he had snaked an arm around you. You were both sleepy, as it was getting relatively late. The crackle of the fireplace was just soo soothing. “Thank you.” You said quietly, tempting sleep to take you. “For what?” Theodore asks. “Being here for me.” You explain. “It feels nice to have someone who understands me as much as you.” He smiles softly, you couldn’t see his face flush slightly. He hesitates and says this a bit too late, thinking you’d fallen fast asleep, since you chest rise and fell softly and you had let your book relax in your hand. And sighs a bit, “I love you.” He uttered softly, without a response, you were nearly asleep. It wasn’t long before sleep griped the both of you.

The next morning, you’re met with Mattheo smiling in your faces. “Well then good morning love birds.” He chuckled. “Did you sleep well?” He mused. It’s early enough not everyone is awake yet, aside from Mattheo. You were surprised to not see Draco or Blaise wandering about yet, as the common room was still mostly empty. You yawned and stretched. You had been cuddled up to Theo and when you realized you blushed a bit unconsciously. “Breakfast will start soon if you’d like to accompany me.” Mattheo says. “Yeah, sure.” Theodore says rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “We’ll meet you there, yeah?” He says. Matt nods and wanders off. The two of you share one extra moment practically in an embrace on the couch before you lean in closely and utter a whisper that changed the boys world forever. “I love you too.”

[roosterforme]

Adult Education Part 19 | Hangman x OC

Summary: Jake's birthday starts out with the perfect breakfast in bed and ends with a night out at the Hard Deck with his girlfriend. Somewhere along the way, Jessica gets the wrong impression of the way he feels about her and the gift she got for him, but he's ready to straighten her out.

Warnings: Fluff, smut, oral, angst, language, drinking, 18+

Length: 4600 words

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Female OC

This story is part of the Beer Boy and Sugar universe but can be read on its own! Adult Education masterlist

Seriously, who let Jake on my masterlist!? Banner by @mak-32

Jake woke up late with sunlight on his face and Jessica still sound asleep next to him. His fingers were threaded through her hair, and his lips were close to her forehead. When she squirmed a little bit in her sleep, he kissed her, and she tucked herself under his chin. 

"Happy birthday," she whispered, and he stroked his thumb along her cheek.

"You already told me that last night," he drawled softly.

"Is there a limit on how many times I'm allowed to say it today?" She kissed his Adam's apple and ran her fingers through his chest hair, and he melted at her touch.

"No," he whispered. "I'm just not used to anyone making a fuss over me."

"So you said," Jessica replied. "Do you want to make waffles? I'd offer to do it, but I think you should at least supervise." 

Jake chuckled and pulled the blanket higher up over both of them. "Not yet," he murmured against her lips. "I just want a little bit more of this first." She let him pull her against his body while he rolled onto his back, and she ended up on top of him with a smile on her face. "God, Jessica," he whispered, tucking her hair behind her ear. "You're so fucking gorgeous."

He saw the blush that colored her cheeks before she rested her head against his chest. "I should be the one showering you with compliments today," she mumbled. "Not the other way around."

Jake grinned and tucked his hands behind his head. "Go for it," he said, and she met his eyes again. "Do your worst."

She took his chin in her hand and moved his head around at different angles. "You're okay looking," she said with a shrug. "For a blonde." She was obviously trying not to laugh as she said, "And your body is decent."

"Decent?" he repeated. 

"Yeah. You heard me."

In an instant she was on her back with both of her hands pinned above her head in one of his, and Jake's fingers grazed her side. "There goes the idea I had where you were going to be nice to me all day."

She laughed and tried to squirm away from his fingers. "You told me to do my worst! You're hot, and you know it. Now don't you dare tickle me."

Jake winked at her before gently squeezing her below the ribs making her squeal. "That's just a little threat right there, Smart Girl. To keep you in line."

"I'll be nice!"

When he released her hands, she looped them around his neck and pulled him in for a kiss. She was still laughing, which made him laugh. And then Jake just made out with his girlfriend. His hands stayed on her waist even though she was naked and perfect, and hers remained on his shoulders and in his hair. 

"I like this," he whispered against her neck. "Having you here is a nice birthday treat."

She nipped his lips and ran her nose along his cheek as their legs tangled together. "I like it, too." When she ran her nails along his scalp, he groaned and ended up curled up in her arms. "You're adorable," she whispered. 

"I thought you said I was hot."

With a soft kiss to his forehead, she said, "You are. But that's not even close to being the best thing about you, Smart Boy." 

Jake was so in love. It was time to say something. He was sure about it. But she pulled her hand away when his stomach growled, and she laughed. "Let's make waffles."

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

Jessica was wearing one of Jake's TOP GUN shirts and running back and forth between the waffle iron and the wall outside his bedroom door. "Is it straight?" Jake asked as he held up the print of his jet that she gave him for his birthday. And he was completely naked which just made it so much better. 

"Wait!" Jessica called out as the waffle iron beeped. She was getting pretty good at this now. She made the batter this time with just the tiniest bit of help, and she knew just how much to scoop onto the iron to make them come out perfectly. Once a new waffle was cooking, she ran back to Jake again. He hadn't moved an inch, and when she checked to see how the frame looked, she kissed his back and said, "It's perfect."

He handed the frame to her, hammered the nail into the wall, and then hung it up. "I love this," he whispered. "Thank you."

Then he cut up strawberries again and ate a stack of three waffles that he told her were the most delicious things he'd ever had while she finished hers. "Actually... I lied," he said as he took the dishes to the sink. "They were definitely not the most delicious thing I've ever had."

"Oh." She felt a little dejected as she said, "I'm just getting used to making the batter, so I'm sure they'll be better next time." She was about to offer to wash the dishes when he started to grin at her. "What?"

"Come on, Smart Girl, use your big brain. What do you think is the most incredible tasting thing I've ever had my mouth on?"

"Oh!"

Approximately fifteen seconds later, Jessica was on her back in the middle of Jake's bed with the shirt pulled up to her chest and his lips on her pussy. She tried to push him away, tried to insist they could take a quick shower together first, but he wasn't having it. 

He ran his tongue slowly, luxuriously up and down along her slit and whined her name as her back arched off the bed. "So sweet." He plucked meticulously at her clit with warm lips while he spread her open with his thumbs. "And so pretty." She could feel the cool air on her most intimate parts as he ran his nose and lips through her wetness, making her moan.

"Jake."

"Mmm. I love how you make it sound like so many syllables," he teased, looking up at her. "Like you can't get enough of saying my name." Jessica watched him lick his lips before he smirked, and then Jake spit on her pussy. She watched the strand of saliva leave his lips, and she felt it hit her clit, and she bucked up off the bed as his mouth met her once again. 

She was panting, so turned on. She thought about the damp thong Jake had peeled off of her last night that was still somewhere on his floor. He'd fucked her slow and steady after that, but now he was eating her like he was starving. "Oh my god," she groaned when she felt him suck on her a little hard. "Oh hell." It was pleasure skimming the line of pain, and he soothed her with his tongue before doing it again.

"That's it," he grunted when she started rolling her hips up to meet his face. He licked her with his tongue flat and firm while she rubbed her pussy against him, completely out of control now. Her fingers were curled in the bedding, and she was digging her heels in as she got closer. Just a little bit closer.

When he wrapped his lips around her clit and cradled her rear end with both hands, Jessica came, thrusting against his handsome face and shaking her head. She was still hanging onto the bedding, her brain feeling fuzzy as he plucked at her with his lips, drawing out every little aftershock until she was giggling deliriously. 

"Damn," he murmured as he looked up at her and dragged his lips along her inner thigh. "So much better than the waffles."

"Jake," she gasped, his name coming out with surprised laughter as she carefully propped herself up on her elbows. He was kissing her knee now and running his hands along her skin, but she noticed his cock was so hard, so red and so ready to go. "Are you gonna fuck me, birthday boy?"

His eyes went a little wide as she bit her lip. "Is that okay?"

She nodded. "Absolutely." 

In an instant he was easing his cock inside her and kissing her lips. "I didn't want it to feel like too much," he whispered, his voice ragged as he started to thrust. He tasted like her, and she was exhausted, but it still wasn't too much at all. Not with the way he was already so close, and the way he talked her through it. "I didn't want you to think I expected anything more than the pleasure of my mouth on your body."

She moaned and raked her fingers through his hair as he filled her up. He was sweet and loving, and there were so many things she wanted to tell him. But as soon as he was spent, both of them curled up together and fell asleep. 

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

Jake watched Jessica parade out of the bathroom wrapped up in one of his towels. She was insistent that she spend an obscene amount of time on her hair and makeup. Sure, she looked good, but she looked great all the time. He lounged back on the bed, already dressed and ready to go as she finally dropped the towel and started to put on the little lingerie set she brought with her. God, he wished that lived in his closet permanently. 

He grinned as she hooked the black bra that he would be taking off again later, and he said, "Dinner's in the oven."

"Okay," she replied, smoothing the lace against her body before she pulled a little black dress on. "How does this look? Because if it's not okay, I brought like five others to choose from."

Jake raised one eyebrow. "Is this some sort of joke? You look perfect, Baby."

"Are you sure?" she asked, adjusting the fabric across her ass and only making the damn thing look even better. "I want to make a good impression, you know?"

Jake laughed. "You're worried about that?"

"Well... yeah."

He sat up and reached for her. "You know Bradshaw and his Sugar will be there."

"It's so funny to me that he calls her that, because she's such a hardass when she needs to be," Jessica replied with wide eyes.

Jake snickered, well aware of that dynamic by this point. "I think that's why he loves her so much," he muttered, wrapping his hands around Jessica's thighs. "But you have nothing to be nervous about. Coyote already knows all about you and can't wait to meet you. Phoenix will be excited to have more estrogen in her presence. Fanboy will ask you if you like Star Trek or Star Wars better, and he'll judge you relentlessly based entirely upon your answer. Payback is probably the nicest person you'll ever meet in your life. And Bob will blush and stutter as soon as you shake his hand."

"I might be the one stuttering," she whispered nervously as she adjusted her glasses with the backs of her fingers. 

He stood and wrapped an arm around her waist. "You'll feel better after we eat," he promised. 

She gasped in delight when she saw that tray of chicken and vegetables he pulled from the oven. "My grandma used to make these kinds of dinners on birthdays, and I guess it kind of stuck. I'll make one for your birthday, too." He realized that was five months away, but he meant every word of it. 

"With all the fancy herbs and everything?" she asked softly. 

"Of course. All the fancy shit."

He watched Jessica take a bite of food, and all he wanted to do was drag her back to bed for the night as she closed her eyes and moaned softly. "It's so good. Oh my goodness, Jake!" She cleaned her plate and got more, and he told himself he'd make it again sooner than her birthday. 

When she offered to wash the dishes, he said, "I'll do them tomorrow. Let's get to the bar and get back home for the night."

After she slipped on a pair of red high heels that he'd never even seen before, he led her out to his new truck and helped her in. She talked a little bit more about work and her tenure review as he drove, and Jake realized how much happier she seemed when she didn't have to see Brian every day. He wondered what it would be like when that asshole came back to work. He would have to make sure he visited her office hours with enough frequency to keep Brian in line and keep his hands and nasty words to himself. 

"It's so cute!" Jessica gushed when he pulled into the Hard Deck parking lot.

He laughed and said, "Don't let Penny hear you call it that. It's a Naval hangout, Reedy. Supposed to be a little rough around the edges."

She gave him an incredulous look. "Just like you're supposed to be a little rough around the edges? Since you're in the Navy? Yeah, nobody's buying that."

"Come here," he whined, and a second later, she was on her back on the front seat with Jake's lips hovering over hers. He had one hand up under her dress, wrapped around her bare thigh and the other stroking her collarbone. 

"How do we keep ending up like this?" she asked as he moved his hand slowly down to her knee and then her ankle while he kissed her neck.

"I have very poor self control when it comes to you."

Her skin was soft and warm everywhere beneath his hands and lips, but he knew she was right when she said, "We have to go in and have at least one drink." So they walked across the parking lot holding hands, and Jake didn't even bother to fix the little smear of her lipstick next to her bottom lip. In fact, he kind of hoped their kissing was evident on his own mouth, too. 

But after they were inside for about ten seconds, he started to feel a little apprehensive. The girls from last weekend were back, and they spotted him right away. He wrapped his arm around Jessica's waist as she smiled up at him and fixed her glasses. But the bar was also filled with a lot of women he'd hooked up with in the past, some on a regular basis. He felt warm and a little bit embarrassed already, even though his girlfriend didn't seem to notice. 

"I know it's your birthday, but you have to buy me a Sam Adams," she teased, leaning up to kiss his cheek. He felt a little bit better as he ordered two beers from Penny. While they waited, he saw Bradshaw over by the pool table in an obnoxiously bright tie dye shirt and backwards cap, with his lips pressed to his wife's ear. Jake used to think they were a little bit ridiculous, but now he got it. He understood what that felt like as he turned toward Jessica again and kissed her next to her lipstick smudge.

When the beers were set down in front of them, Jake cleared his throat and said, "Penny, my dear, this is Jessica. My girlfriend."

He saw the bar owner's eyes go wide as they settled on her face. "Wow. It's a pleasure to meet you, Jessica."

"Likewise," she replied with a smile. "Jake told me not to tell you that I think your bar is cute, but I really do think it's kind of cute." She gestured to all the personalized mugs hanging from the ceiling with a laugh. 

"Thank you," Penny replied. "It's like they don't think anything related to the Navy can also be whimsical."

A minute later, Jake was leading Jessica toward the pool table while she giggled. "You just couldn't help yourself, huh? Now everyone's going to like you, and the secret's going to be out."

"What secret?" she asked as he let his hand settle low on her hip.

"That I'm dating a nice girl."

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

"Advanced Physics! Welcome to the Hard Deck." Jessica just gaped at her friend. Gone were the tweed skirts and pants and loafers. She looked devastatingly sexy in a black bodysuit and jeans with dark red lipstick and her husband's hand on her waist. 

"You look nice," Jessica told her as she started to rethink the rather modest dress she was wearing herself. Actually, most of the other women here were wearing essentially nothing, and she wouldn't be surprised if she saw someone else's breasts soon. 

"Hey, Jess," Bradley said, barely taking his eyes off his wife. "The beers here aren't as good as the ones Dev makes at Beta."

"I don't mind," she replied, taking a sip of her Sam Adams. It was still one of her favorites.

"Can we not talk about Dev? On my birthday?" Jake drawled, downing half of his own bottle. 

Before Jessica could even respond, there was a petite brunette woman in front of her, eyeing her up and down. "You're joking, right? Hangman? You're dating Jake?" Jessica felt her cheeks grow warm in embarrassment, unsure what to say. "What do you possibly see in him?" she asked, sending a smirk in Jake's direction.

"And here we go," he muttered, kissing Jessica's cheek. "Jess, this is Phoenix."

But before she could even respond, Payback and Coyote were both there, too. And then she got cornered in a conversation about the Marvel Cinematic Universe with Fanboy. And Bob did in fact blush when Jessica told him she was pleased to meet him. Then she had a really nice conversation with Coyote about fuel combustion, and Jake handed her another Sam Adams with a smile before he started to play pool. 

She was surprised at how easygoing and welcoming everyone was. She supposed it wasn't so long ago that the group had welcomed Bradshaw's wife with open arms, because she was clearly one of them now. This evening was turning out really nice. Well, other than the two girls who were looking at Jake like he was a snack. 

"Wanna play?" Jake asked, holding out his pool cue for her. 

"Sure," Jessica replied. She watched Bradley re rack the balls, and he let her break. So she did, forgetting herself for a moment. She ran the table just like she always did, sinking shot after shot, leaving nobody else a chance to even go against her. When she was done, she looked up and stood to her full height to find everyone gaping at her. "Oh. I'm sorry."

Jake burst out laughing, head tipped back in delight. "That's my fucking girl. Physics mastermind."

"Damn," Payback said, clearly impressed. "Usually nobody can beat me."

Jessica shrugged and said, "I could give you lessons?"

Now everyone was talking and laughing, and Phoenix winked at her as Jake backed her up towards the wall. "That was so hot, Baby," he whispered. "So fucking hot." His lips skimmed the shell of her ear, and heat flared through her belly as she gasped. 

"Jake," she whispered, reminding him they definitely weren't alone. 

"I'll behave until I get you back home," he promised, but she could feel his hand slide down from her back to her butt, and somehow she doubted it. 

She spent the next hour feeling too hot while she tried to tone down her pool playing skills a bit. Every time Jake looked her way, she felt herself clench with need, and eventually she excused herself to the ladies' room.

"I'll be right back," she promised after he pointed in the direction of a narrow hallway on the other side of the bar. It was thankfully cooler back here and a lot quieter, too. Jessica took a few minutes to get herself under control. It must be obvious to everyone what she was thinking about doing with Jake later in the privacy of his condo. She washed her hands and realized that her lipstick was smudged, but when she checked herself in the mirror to fix it, she looked happy.

With a smile, she smoothed down her dress and headed back out into the noisy bar toward the group of aviators. But she stumbled in her heels when she saw Jake next to the jukebox with his back to her and a girl wearing tiny shorts in his personal space. Jessica didn't even need to be good at reading lips to know that she just told Jake I miss you.

The two beers she drank started to sour in her stomach as she watched the other woman reach for Jake's hand. None of this stuff seemed like such a big deal when he mentioned it last weekend, but now Jessica kind of understood things a little better. This is what Jake was used to, and she was nothing like these other women. Her black dress felt like it was mocking her now even as she just finished checking herself out in the bathroom mirror. She was more covered up than basically anyone here besides the bartenders, and she flushed in embarrassment.

Jessica took a few steps closer while Jake pulled his hand free, but she could clearly hear the woman ask him, "Do you remember what I gave you for your birthday last year? I could take you outside and suck your cock again. Or we could hook up in your truck like a few months ago."

Jake was adamantly shaking his head and backing up, turning toward the bathroom, and then he saw Jessica standing right there. "Reedy," he groaned miserably, reaching out for her just as she stepped further away from him. "Please."

Tears filled her eyes as she watched the other woman grin before walking away, and if she was embarrassed before, now she was mortified. Jessica got Jake an actual birthday present and wrapped it up for him when she should have been offering to do those kinds of things instead? Why was she even here? And how many of these women were looking at her with pity in their eyes, because they knew she was completely out of her depth?

"God, I miss Chippy's," she gasped softly as she tried to turn away from her boyfriend. 

"Baby, listen," he begged, ending up in front of her again no matter which way she turned. "I haven't even looked at her in months. Since before we met!"

She kind of nodded as her lips quivered. It wasn't that she didn't believe him. "I know," she managed, trying to look at him through her tears. "I'm just embarrassed about what I gave you for your birthday. I mean, I can give you a blowjob here if that's what you want. I just...didn't know."

He dropped his hands to his sides and looked at her as if she'd just slapped him. "That's not... Jessica, that's not what I want." He swallowed hard and raked his fingers through his hair as he groaned and looked at the floor. 

"I should have put all the pieces together," she whispered. "I never offered to do anything like that for you before." Her mind was filled with the image of some other woman going down on him right outside where anyone could stumble upon them in the darkness, and she hiccupped awkwardly. The next sentence was out of her mouth before she could even consider her words. "How long do you really see us being together?"

"Jessica," he barked, looking more upset than she'd ever seen him before as he grabbed her around the waist and pulled her closer to him in the crowd. She didn't try to fight him as his forehead came to rest against hers as a tear trickled down her cheek. "Baby. I'm in love with you."

She closed her eyes as more tears fell. "You are?" she asked in disbelief as he pressed her back against the wall next to the jukebox, afraid to meet his eyes. She'd almost said the words before, but she convinced herself it was too soon for them.

"Reedy," he gasped, wiping at her tears behind her glasses with his rough thumbs. "Please look at me." When she opened her eyes, his expression was soft but anxious, and he moved one hand back to her waist like he was afraid she was going to try to run away. "I love you. I love you, because you're not like everyone else. You're not offering to do that shit here, because you don't have to do anything like that to have all of my attention."

She stared at him with softly parted lips while her heart pounded, and he kissed her. "Jake," she whispered against his lips, and he kissed her harder. His hand was a little rough now as he tipped her chin up so she was looking at him. 

"Nobody else has ever called me smart before. Nobody else ever cared about my opinions before you, Jessica. You think anyone ever thought I might like to read a physics journal, let alone pick out some specifically covering topics that interested me? No. Just you," he said, kissing her forehead before continuing. "I love you, because you treat me better than anyone else ever has. You're actually perfect, Baby, and you treat me like I matter. And you made me work for it. I've been flying with a picture of you in my helmet bag so I can look at it whenever I want. I can barely handle going a day without seeing you. So when you ask me how long I see us staying together?" He sighed and studied her face before he said, "Forever? Or until you come to your senses? You tell me, Reedy."

She threw her arms around his neck so hard, he grunted as he caught her. "I love you, too. And I'm sorry I said that. I didn't mean it. I'll never come to my senses."

Jake laughed, and something like a giggle mixed with a sob escaped Jessica's lips before he kissed her again. It was really loud inside the bar now, but they were tucked right next to the jukebox like they were alone, and he dragged his lips against hers and tasted her tongue until he was practically gasping for air. "I love you," he told her again, green eyes earnest. "I've never said that to a woman before tonight, but I love you so much, Jessica."

She scraped her nails along the stubble on his jaw and cupped his cheek, her heart ready to overflow. "Will you let me beat you at pool one more time before we leave?"

"Anything you want," he promised with a grin. 

Jessica managed to inadvertently ensure her victory as she whispered to Jake how much she loved him until his cheeks were flushed and he was missing almost every shot. "I don't even care," he announced after she won. Then he quickly said goodnight to everyone else and accepted birthday hugs as he held onto Jessica's hand. 

When she couldn't run across the parking lot in her heels, Jake carried her while she laughed. "I just want to get home, look at the cool birthday gift that's hanging on my wall, and unwrap you in bed."

Two hours later, when he finally completed everything on his list and finished making love to his girlfriend, Jake lounged back against his pillow as he caught his breath. 

"Did you have a nice birthday?"

"The best."

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

Jessica basically only needs to exist to have Jake's full attention. I'll be wrapping up this series soon! Get at me if there's something you're dying to see! Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 20

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[literaryavenger]

I love you and I hate it

Summary: Bucky's your best friend, but you're in love with him. Now that he has a girlfriend, will you be able to get a handle on your feelings?

Pairing: Best Friend!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Warnings: Bucky being a bit of an ass. Reader being dramatic. Angst. Language maybe. Minimal use of Y/N. My poor attempts at being funny.

Word Count: 2.7K

A/N: this is a two part because otherwise it was too long. Hope you like it! also, it's 4:30am and I can't help myself lol.

Masterlist

Loving your best friend is not something anyone ever plans.

Getting those kinds of feelings for the person closest to you changes the way you look at them, the way you interact and essentially your relationship with them, making everything unnecessarily complicated.

At least that’s how you see it.

You definitely didn't think something like that could ever happen to you. But to be fair, you also never thought Bucky Barnes would ever become your best friend at the compound.

When you first arrived as the newest avengers recruit the brooding supersoldier was not your biggest fan. Things didn’t start on the best note for you two.

- 2 years ago -

Steve was showing you around the compound and introducing you to people and team members as you met them. You arrived at the common room where Bucky and Sam were watching Tv.

"Hey guys. This is Y/N, the new recruit I told you about," Steve introduced you "this is Sam." he said to you as Sam got up from the couch putting out his hand.

"Nice to meet you." he said.

"You too," you said, shaking his hand "it’s so exciting to be here and meet all of you. You are all such remarkable people."

"Oh, complimenting me? I like you already." Sam said chuckling.

"Of course you do." Steve said, rolling his eyes with a smile, then turned to you "and this is Bucky" he said, pointing at the brunette still sitting on the couch.

"Hi Bucky, it’s nice to meet you too." you said, getting closer to him and holding out your hand for him to shake. Bucky, however, just looked at you for a moment before standing up, turning away from you and walking out of the room without saying a word.

"Uh... did I do something wrong?" you asked, very much confused, still looking at the door Bucky just ran out of.

"No, it’s always him." said Sam.

"Sam, don’t." Steve told him, then turned to you again "don’t mind Bucky, he’s not good with new people. It’s nothing personal, he’ll get used to it, don’t worry."

"Right. He’ll get used to me." you said as he gave you an apologetic look "yeah… anyway, let’s finish the tour."

"Sure, bye Sam. See you around, I guess." you told Sam with a smile.

"Yeah, see you guys at dinner." and with that you left to finish the tour of the compound that ultimately ended with your assigned room.

"So this is your room, Natasha has the room on the right and Sam has the one on the left." he pointed at them as he talked and then pointed at the room across from yours "that's Bucky, to his right is Peter and mine is to his left."

"A lot of neighbors, got it."  you said chuckling with Steve.

"Yeah. So I’ll let you get settled and I’ll see you at dinner with the team." he said.

"Yeah, see you later." 

If you were honest with yourself, you were a little disappointed at how meeting Bucky went, you were really looking forward to meeting the super soldier.

While all the other girls were busy crushin on Captain America, you always felt more attracted to Sergeant Barnes.

Something about him just made you curious, and, after all the Winter Soldier stuff came to light, you were one of the few people that saw right away that Bucky was a victim.

You never did understand how people could read all the details of what happened to him and still call him a monster, like it was his fault that he was captured, tortured and made to do things no decent human being would ever do.

In fact, you got in trouble more than one time for fighting when things escalated while you were defending the super soldier from agents that didn’t see it like you.

It’s really a shame that a lot of agents of Shield itself thought so ill of the Sergeant. Maybe that’s why he didn’t like you, maybe he thought you were one of them.

You had to make sure he knew you weren’t.

Having made up your mind, you decided there was no better time like the present. You crossed the hall and knocked on his door, and after a few moments he opened.

"I know, Steve, don-" he interrupted himself the second he laid eyes on you.

"Sorry, not Steve. Clearly. I’m sorry to bother you, Sergeant Barnes, I just wanted to let you know that I don’t have anything against you. I know some agents feel like you should be held accountable for the things you were forced to do, and they’re not really afraid to get vocal about it, but I’m not one of them. I don’t think any of it was your fault. It may not matter much to you, after all you don’t seem to like me very much, but it’s important to me that you know this. You’re kind of my  hero." you finished, a little embarrassed at admitting this to his face. He looked at you for a few moments and, just as you thought he was about to slam the door in your face, he grinned.

"I’m your hero, doll?" he asked, leaning on the door frame with his arms crossed in a way that made his biceps look huge and a smirk on his face.

After that you and Bucky became quick friends, spending more and more time together. Missions, training, down time, you were practically attached at the hip.

You were always careful not to let any feelings grow other than friendship and, mostly, it was easy.

There were some times where you somehow ended up flirting, but they were fleeting moments that passed as quickly as they came, and you decided, for your own peace of mind, to not overthink them and let it go every time.

Now, back to the present, the reason why you’re lost in your thoughts and feelings for Bucky.

You’re watching from a distance as Bucky smiles and laughs, happier than you’ve ever seen him surrounded by his friends, more relaxed than he’s ever been during a party.

You smile at his happiness, glad that he’s finally comfortable around pretty much everybody, but your face falls pretty fast as you see him wrap his right arm around her.

You’ve known Sharon for a while now, she was one of the agents in the list for the spot in the Avengers before you got it. You always felt like she resented you for it, like she should’ve been the one to get it because she was already close with some of the members of the team.

She was never openly hostile with you, but you did notice her hanging around Bucky more and more in the last few months. You didn’t think anything of it, but you were proved wrong just half an hour ago when Bucky started to introduce her to the avengers she didn’t already know as his girlfriend.

As soon as that word came out of his mouth, so casually you’d think he'd been saying it his whole life,  you felt like you were gonna throw up.

It took all your skills to keep your face as neutral as possible, you felt like Sharon’s eyes were on you the whole time, trying to see every micro expression she could find to know what you were thinking.

But you were probably just imagining that, right?

You excused yourself as soon as you could and went straight to the bar to get the strongest drink Nat could make, which she handed to you with a knowing look while glancing behind you.

You barely had time to think before you felt his hand on your shoulder, feeling his body next to you but you didn't turn to look at him, taking a sip of your drink instead.

"Hey, doll, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Sharon before, it’s still pretty new."

You tried to keep your voice as cheery as you normally would around him. "Why would you? It’s your relationship, why are you apologizing?"

He gave you a weird look you'd never seen before, before saying "Because we’re best friends? We usually tell each other everything… right?" he sounded a bit uncertain.

"Yeah, right, duh." you said, trying to give a genuine laugh "Well, it’s alright anyway, now I know! Stop worrying, just go be with her."

He looked around your face for a few more moments, like he was looking for something, before he said "ok, then." and left.

You managed to keep the smile on your face until you were sure he was gone, but dropped it as soon as you looked back ahead of you.

Taking another sip of your drink and making a face at how much alcohol was actually in it, you looked at Nat and, nodding, you left before she could comment on the scene you’re sure she just watched in its entirety. 

So here you are now, in a corner watching people enjoy themselves, just like you used to do at parties with Bucky by your side, except you’re alone.

You try to look on the bright side, you really are, but you can find none.

You can't talk about it with anyone either since nobody knows about your feelings for the super soldier, except for Natasha who always seems to know everything, but  you aren't too close with her and neither of you ever actually spoke about it out loud.

Not that you would've, you aren't the most outgoing person, usually keeping your feelings and most of your thoughts to yourself, with the exception of Bucky.

With him talking seems like the easiest thing in the world, it doesn't matter about what. He knows almost everything that he could possibly know about you, the only thing that you could never bring yourself to talk about is your feelings for him.

You feel a hand in the low of your back and, just as you're bringing your fist up, you realize it's just Steve. "Easy there, tiger." he chuckled, lowering your arm for you. "You seem a little on edge. Everything okay?"

"Everything’s just fine, Captain. You can salute your way to someone else now." His laugh makes you smile against your will.

"Okay, rookie, you don’t wanna talk about it." you roll your eyes at the old nickname, but he keep going, "you know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you at a party without your moping buddy."

You glance at Bucky, who's busy laughing it up with Clint and Laura, his arm still around Sharon. Your eyes find Steve’s again, and you simply shrug. "We’re allowed to do our own thing, aren’t we?"

"Of course you are... I was just wondering why you weren’t with him, that’s all."

You avoid his eyes while you quietly say, "he already has someone at his side tonight, doesn’t need me there."

"What’s that supposed to mean?" comes a voice from behind you.

Damn. The one moment you weren’t looking at him and he sneaks up on you.

You turn around and see him standing there, arms crossed in front of his chest, Sharon at his side with a smug look on her face that you convince yourself you’re just imagining.

"What’s what supposed to mean?"  You try playing dumb, but you know Bucky can see right through that.

He raises an eyebrow at you expectantly but when you just shrug and give him your best confused look, he sighs and looks at Sharon. "Hey babe, can you get me a scotch from the bar? I’ll meet you there."

You don't know if you're more hurt at him calling her that or relieved at the fact that he didn’t use the nickname that was usually reserved for you.

She just nods and, without taking her eyes off of you, gives him a kiss on the lips. Okay, you definitely didn’t imagine that. As soon as she’s far enough, Bucky turns back to you.

"What’s wrong with you tonight?" He asks sharply.

"Excuse me? Who said there was something wrong with me?" You say defensively.

"Oh come on doll, you’ve been weird ever since Sharon got here. What’s the matter, do you not like her or something?"

You don't know what to say. You certainly aren't about to tell your best friend that the reason you don’t like his new girlfriend is because you have feelings for him. That’s not gonna end well for anybody. So you decide to just keep on denying.

"I don’t know what you’re talking about, Bucky, so why don’t you just go after you little girlfriend and enjoy your night with her."

"That, right there." he points at your face in a very accusatory manner. "What the fuck was that?"

"What was what?" you’re starting to raise your voice a little and swatting at his hand, getting annoyed at him for not letting this go.

"You’re being a jerk about Sharon, what is your problem with her?"

"I don’t have a problem with her!"

"Yes, you do!"

"Why are you trying to make this into a problem?!"

"Because I know you!" At this point you're both yelling.

"Well, clearly, you don’t know me as well as you think you do!" Lie.

"Why do you have to be so stubborn?! Just tell me what the hell is your problem!"

"Why do you care so much? Even if I had a problem, it’s my business, it’s not like I’m your girlfriend!" Bucky just looks at you with a face you’d never seen on him before and you can't decipher.

The whole room seems to go quiet as you two just look at each other for a few moments, then Bucky finally speaks.

"You’re right." he says, in a much quieter voice than a second before "you’re not my girlfriend. I just thought you were my friend. Guess I was wrong. I’ll go after my little girlfriend now."

You can't find it in you to say anything and, when you just look at him, he scoffs and turns around to make his way to the bar.

Slowly it feels like everyone else starts to go back to what they were doing before your yelling match stopped the party in its tracks, but you feel like you can't breath, let alone move, as you watch the spot where Bucky was standing just moments ago, tears starting to form in your eyes.

You can’t believe that just happened. Did Bucky really just say you aren’t his friend?

A hand on your shoulder brings you back to reality and you hear Steve saying "are you okay?" from next to you.

In all honesty, you forgot he was even there.

All that comes out of you is a broken sob before you turn around and make a run for the elevator, as fast as you can run in heels and a floor-length cocktail dress.

Steve runs after you, but there are too many people around that slow him down, and by the time he gets to the elevator the doors had just closed.

He waits to see where you would stop, assuming your shared floor but you never know. His eyebrows furrow in confusion and he pushes the button of the elevator, glad that he waited a second more.

When he gets to the roof it's so dark outside that it takes a second before he find you, and once he does he slowly gets close to you.

What he was not expecting was to find you sitting on the ground, hugging your knees and crying.

Steve sits down next to you and puts his arm around your shoulders wordlessly while you cry.

After you calmed down a bit he says "He’s really worried about you, Y/N. If there’s something going on, you should just tell him. He’ll understand…"

You think about it for a few minutes while you find a way to tell Steve what's going on.

"How do you tell someone that the reason you’re sad is because you love them?" you say with tears starting to form again in your eyes.

Steve can only stare at you, at a loss for words. 

You hear something behind you and when you turn you see Bucky’s back, walking towards the elevator.

It doesn’t matter how long he was there for, he obviously heard you.

You look back at Steve that has an apologetic look on his face, confirming your fear. Damn super soldier hearing.

Well, it looks like your friendship with Bucky is officially dead.

Part 2

[silantryoo]

BONUS [ LIKEALOOK ] — normal girl.

l/n y/n, first year high school.

WARNINGS ; misogyny, classism, multiple one-sided relationships, mentions of death threats, mentions of toxic fandoms, hints of imposter syndrome, sexual innuendos, sexualization, objectification, incel behaviour, slut shaming (5.4k)

l/n y/n was born a pretty baby.

her family members - cousins, aunties, uncles, grandparents - gathered around her medical crib hours after she was born, basking in her beauty.

to the l/n's, y/n was a sight to behold. her small smile and her soft cooing ignited a fire within them, one that urged them to pamper the newborn with as much love they could muster.

it was safe to say that y/n was always surrounded with love, a plethora of it.

there wasn't a single time in her childhood that she didn't feel love.

y/n loved her parents, just as much, if not more, than they love her.

they did everything that they could to make her happy and healthy, enrolling her in whatever she wanted at the time. whether that be her attending hanlim (which they could barely afford) or a simple latte at the nearest café, the l/n's first priority was their daughter.

y/n knew that she wasn't as well off as the other kids in her school. her parents were decently well off but not enough to put them in the upper tax bracket that many of seoul seemed to be in, or at least pretended to. she had nice clothes, not designer, but just enough to not be bullied by her peers. her house was a fair bit away from the more booming areas of the city; a cozy, two bedroom house an hour away from gangnam.

she was content, making sure to never take her things for granted, always making sure her clothes were neat, her shoes were clean, and helping out with the chores as much as she could.

y/n didn't need much. she didn't want much, actually. as long as her parents were there with her, she was happy.

y/n just wanted to be happy.

she knew she was pretty.

being pampered all her life does a few things to her ego, but even then, it was only her family members telling her. there was only so much you hear from your family until it started sounding like each compliment was because you were family. y/n had a slight ego, sure, but didn't have a big head. she knew she didn't hold the attention of the general public that her parents were so sure she held.

at least, she didn't think so.

"i've liked you for so long!"

y/n stared at the note in his hands, the upperclassman's hands trembling. she couldn't understand why he was so nervous. they had hung out a few times beforehand, surely he wasn't actually in love with her.

y/n was only thirteen, and this guy - han hyeongjun - had spoken to her less than ten times her entire life.

as his hands continued to shake, y/n gently pushed his arms down, giving a soft smile.

he was in no means ugly. a lot of girls would die for a chance with him, both older and younger that y/n herself. hyeongjun was nice, even funny at times when y/n had spoken to him.

y/n simply didn't know him enough, and currently, her priorities weren't dating.

"i'm sorry..." y/n watched as his face fell apart, hyeongjun's eyes wide with hurt and shock. "i'm not looking for a boyfriend right now."

"i'll wait!" his voice tore through her eardrums, a desperateness lying underneath his shaky breath. hyeongjun swallowed back what seemed to be tears. "please... give me a chance."

y/n frowned. was she hurting someone? she never wanted to hurt anyone.

"hyeongjun-oppa, i'm really not interested." she could feel herself wavering, her guilt slowly starting to outweigh her stance. "i'm sorry..."

hyeongjun crumpled the love letter in his hand, tears streaming down his face. he would never want to force the girl he liked into a relationship with him, even though he so desperately wanted to, even though it tore through him like a pain his fourteen year old self could barely comprehend.

"i understand." his tears poured violently, hyeongjun's head pounding from holding back sobs. "i just... really like you."

y/n knew she was pretty, but she didn't think she was pretty enough to cause someone pain, especially someone she barely met.

"i'm sor-"

he left without a word, bumping into the younger girl's shoulder, his face tear-stained and etched with pain.

why did it hurt y/n too?

it was a one off thing, y/n decided.

han hyeongjun was a sweet, soft hearted boy. it was most likely a crush that he had, and not the emotions he claimed them to be. even if it was, there was no way it could actually happen again.

especially not in hanlim, where idols and future actors wandered the halls, all wearing some kind of designer shoes and expensive makeup.

here, y/n was just another face, just like she always was, despite her parents' preaching.

"what's your name?"

y/n's head shot up, her eyes wide. the girl that stood before her was tall and pretty, her loafers polished as if it was spit shined. her hair was dark, her skin pale in comparison, and y/n could see the faint twinkling of her necklace.

she suddenly felt so out of place.

"me?"

"yeah, you." the girl sat beside her, a scoff threatening to escape from her pink stained lips. "i don't think i've seen you before. what's your last name?"

it was an odd question to ask, at least for y/n. she knew last names held a significance, but only the adults in her life bothered to ask, never people her age.

the girl's eyes bore into hers, as if anticipating her question, ready to jump at the chance to compare herself with y/n.

"it's l/n."

"l/n?" she rested her chin on her palm, gazing at the girl with a predatory gaze. y/n couldn't place what it was, but it felt familiar enough to make her feel uncomfortable. "i don't think i know any l/n's. are you from gangnam? seocho?"

y/n could feel her eyes bug out. gangnam? seocho? there was no way her parents could ever afford an apartment, much less rent in those areas.

"uh, no." y/n didn't know why, but she felt so cold all of a sudden. "i live in nowon."

the girl sat up, her interest piqued. there was something about her eyes that shifted.

"oh." she twirled her blonde hair (probably an idol trainee, y/n thought) in between her fingers, eyeing y/n with a curiosity that seemed less than innocent. "i see..."

she could feel her intentions, how her puppy-like eyes held more than innocence. y/n felt like a zoo animal, being observed from a close distance, and this girl, although outwardly sweet, had ravenous intentions.

the girl smiled kindly, throwing y/n off guard. "what do your parents do for a living?"

y/n blinked. maybe she was wrong.

"um..." y/n's parents made a good amount, more than the rest of her relatives. even her high school friends said that she was rich, at least in comparison to them. "my dad's an electrician and my mom's a factory worker."

there was a pause in the air, heavy and suffocating. y/n was sure she said something wrong, but she wasn't sure.

"well..." the girl leaned back, deciding not to attack the poor girl in front of her (for now), and y/n sighed a breath of fresh air. "at least you're pretty."

"oh." y/n was pretty sure it wasn't a complement, but she'd take what she can get, especially since she was the black sheep in a class full of freshly groomed ones. "thank you..."

the girl smiled, resting her hand on her chin, her long, expensive looking acrylic nails slightly digging into her cheek. y/n glances her nails, dull and plain.

"my name's shim hyewon, daughter of shim sin. y'know, the politician?"

"oh." y/n had no idea about the world of politics, much less their names. all she knew was that the girl in front of her must've been rich. "i'm l/n y/n..."

just l/n y/n.

shim hyewon led a life that y/n hadn't been used to.

her parents were busy people, working as much as they could to provide for y/n, and she couldn't be more grateful for them. she rarely saw them in the mornings, her dad having an early start to his day, and her mom usually coming home an hour after she already left for school.

her commute wasn't bad, longer than it was during high school, but that was a given. her place horribly far from hanlim. her ten minute walked turned into an hour commute (give or take a couple minutes it takes to actually walk to the station).

it was a pain, honestly, but this was what she wished for. y/n wasn't gonna let an inconvenience like this get in the way of dreams, not when her parents poured blood, sweat and tears into it.

still, y/n couldn't help but envy hyewon.

the girl had been nice to her these past couple months, and though y/n felt uncomfortable with her constant classist remarks, hyewon was sweet.

she'd wait for y/n at the entrance of the school, scrolling through the latest model of her phone (the case differing week to week, sometimes day to day), barely fatigued from the twenty minute drive with her chauffer.

she shouldn't feel jealous at the wealth, y/n was already rich with the love and support from her parents. she genuinely couldn't ask for more, but perhaps if she had just a little bit of that money...

"took you long enough."

y/n fiddled with her black blazer, shifting around. hyewon's eyes dropped to her legs for a brief moment, and once again, y/n felt like a prize to be won.

she didn't dwell on it longer, as hyewon's face shifted into an expression y/n was used to; amusement.

y/n cleared her throat, rubbing her knuckles. at times, standing face to face with her friend felt more like a job interview than two peers talking about class.

"how long were you waiting for?"

"five minutes." hyewon shrugged, standing up from her leaning position. "i thought you weren't gonna show today."

y/n woke up late, too busy studying for their history exam to sleep. she needed high grades, and there was no time to study, especially since she managed to book some auditions a week before the test.

luckily, she caught the train, but the trek up on the way to school was slower due to her drowsiness.

"i always show up to class."

the two began to walk to class, finally entering school grounds. y/n could already feel eyes on them, more specifically on her.

it was a common occurrence after her first month in school, and she found a lot of the students (mostly boys, but a girl here and there) stealing glances, some of which even handing her confession letters.

maybe they weren't used to people like her walking around, someone who was slightly less well off, and not acclimated to their tightknit social circles.

it didn't make her feel any better though.

"you shouldn't." hyewon sighed, taking in the shorter girl's side profile. "this place is boring."

hanlim wasn't boring, not to y/n. school was school, and although it was tough and monotonous, she was on the path of doing something she loved.

y/n loved the spotlight like it loved her, but sometimes, she wished that people saw her less like a trophy and more like a human being.

hyewon glanced at her as they entered the building, her eyes raking over her with an untold emotion.

she was never a patient person, and her father always scolded her for it. perhaps now was a good time to practice it. hyewon could already tell that y/n was going to be tough to crack.

reaching the room, y/n could feel the cold air on her sweat soaked back, and she couldn't wait to finally sit down. the train was packed earlier, and y/n's legs ached from standing up the entire ride. she needed a breather, sooner than later.

"hey."

oh.

"ew." hyewon scrunched up her nose before playing innocent. she looked up at the older guy, smiling with her teeth. "oops! sorry, sunbaenim. it slipped out before i realized."

jay chang.

two years y/n's senior, and son of some popular american singer that y/n couldn't remember the name of. all she knew was that girls quite literally fell for him with a simple smile, and that jay was nothing but persistant.

"it's a good thing i wasn't talking to you, then." his smile was charming, and y/n was nearly fooled by it the first time they spoke. "you look nice today, y/n."

she nodded slightly, not wanting to give him too much. "thank you, sunbaenim."

"still a no?"

hyewon rolled her eyes. "kinda obvious, don't you think?"

"what?" he smirked, dusting his shoulder. "eventually, she'll need someone like me to take care of her."

y/n didn't think she'd ever need anyone, especially someone as big headed as jay chang.

what she needed was her desk, and her seat cushion... and a cold glass of water.

"i can take care of her just fine."

"whatever." jay frowned. hyewon always seemed to get what she wanted, despite probably being the youngest in the school. everyone treated her like royalty, and it pissed him off, knowing how she truly was deep down. "besides, y/n can't expect me to hold back when she looks like that everyday."

she was no better than him.

"that's all for me, i'm guessing?"

y/n felt a firm grip around her midsection, hyewon's arm anchoring her body against hers. it felt as if she was being claimed in broad daylight, and y/n did everything in her power to push down the discomfort threatening to make itself known.

"yeah." hyewon looked up at jay. "we're leaving."

"it's just a joke!" jay put his hands up, smiling as if he did nothing wrong. "unless you wanna make it a reality, y/n-ah."

y/n shook her head, the unsettling feeling getting worse as jay continued to hover over them.

"c'mon, don't be like that." he teased softly, a hint of frustration underneath. "at the very least, go on a date with your oppa."

hyewon pushed him aside, slamming the classroom door in his face. everyday, it was the same thing; the boy showing up in front of the classroom, loud and annoying, only there to harass y/n.

it was funny, honestly, and hyewon didn't mind that it helped y/n get closer to her.

"you okay, y/n?"

"yeah." y/n pulled away from her, hyewon's arms falling from her side. the younger girl clenched her jaw. "are all the guys here like that?"

"no." she hummed as the two made their way to the lockers. hyewon glanced at y/n once more. "almost everyone here is like that."

y/n couldn't get the icky feeling off her.

she felt an item for auction.

"it makes me feel gross." y/n confided softly, the feeling never leaving her, even when it was just her and her friend talking.

hyewon paused, and y/n felt the air shift into a thick cloud, filled with something similar to smugness.

"do i make you feel gross, y/n?"

she didn't want to upset her only friend.

"no."

but that was the exact answer hyewon was looking for.

"good."

the seasons passed, and so did y/n history exam.

getting her score back wasn't the nerve wracking part.

her grades were what she expected, and although it wasn't enough to be the top of her class (because y/n wasn't gonna slave over a one hundred and go to night school and cram school), she was satisfied.

it was the auditions she was worried about, her very first (and if it went wrong, her very last). she had managed to get a callback a week ago, and like before, it all went smoothly.

until she got to the HYBE building, of course.

"mom?" y/n's feet hit the cold floor, the air conditioning blasting. both her parents must've been home. "dad?"

she wandered into the kitchen, some dishes piled up, and the table freshly wiped. on the stove was a pot of kimchi stew, her mom's favorite meal and her dad's go-to dish.

she trudged to the living room, excited at the signs of her parents finally being home. y/n knew it wasn't normal for a fifteen year old to want to hang out with her parents, but she didn't care.

y/n loved her parents.

she heard the tv and walked faster, stopping as she stood in front of her parents' view, laptop in hand.

"need something, baby?" her mom, l/n eunji, pulled away from her dad's arms, causing him to pout slightly. he was always so clingy. it was cute. "come here."

y/n raced to sit in between them, rushing to open her email.

"can i tell you something?"

"what is it?" her dad, l/n junsang, leaned over her shoulder, snooping like he usually did. "you have a boyfriend? girlfriend?"

y/n glanced at junsang, shaking her head at his over enthusiasm to her getting a girlfriend or boyfriend (which she knew deep down he detested the though of).

"what?" he shrugged. "when i was your age, girls were throwing themselves at me. boys, too."

eunji rolled her eyes. her husband never changed. "girls were running away from you, actually."

y/n, not minding their usual antics, sifted through her open tabs, closing at least eight of them (for her paper due next month).

"but you ran towards me." junsang scrunched his nose, the mole dead center wrinkling along with his skin.

eunji shook her head. after twenty years together, she assumed her husband's ego would deflate just a tad bit. somehow, it worsened when y/n was born, their young daughter resembling him in both her smile and her beauty marks.

"you were the only one who caught my attention, though." he confessed like he always did, declaring his love on a random afternoon. "i could never say no to you and your pretty eyes."

y/n could gag, but it was nice to see her parents in love, even if it made her cringe.

"um..." she shifted the attention to her, hovering over the sketchy email she got. "are you guys done flirting?"

"sorry, baby." eunji looked at her daughter, her cat-like eyes gleaming. "what's up?"

"so..." the email in front of y/n made her heart beat out of her chest. "i had a callback, right?"

"yeah...?"

"i just got the email." y/n whispered. she knew it was her first audition, and there were much prettier and more talented girls that were at the audition, but she couldn't help but hope. "i was hoping to open it with you?"

junsang smiled. he was always so grateful that his daughter was open to sharing her achievements with him and his wife. being so involved in her life, regardless of its gravity, made him happy.

all he ever wanted, ever since he was young, was to watch his kid blossom.

the two older l/n's leaned closer, watching as their daughter opened the message.

y/n's eyes widened, reading the words over and over again, but she could only focus on one thing.

We look forward to working with you in the next coming weeks.

she got it? her first audition, and she got it?

y/n didn't know how to feel, a mix of gratitude and guilt coursing through her. it didn't seem fair to the others, the ones who strived for months, years.

"i knew it." junsang puffed out his chest. "no way can they deny our baby's pretty face."

her pretty face.

was that the only reason she got in? did they chose her for her face, just like everyone did in hanlim? her hardwork was glazed over, the spotlight on her features instead of her feats.

eunji flicked her husband's ear, her head lowering to meet her daughter's gaze.

"obviously, it's not just your face, y/n." her daughter was talented, and sometimes, she needed a reminder, just like everyone in her position would. "your dad and i know how talented you are. he just likes to say your face is pretty because people say you look like him."

"what?" junsang frowned. "am i not pretty?"

"junsang."

"you're very talented." he smiled, ruffling y/n's hair. "and smart too. all of which you got from m-"

"junsang."

"anyway," he waved his wife off, looking at his daughter. "you deserve it. you've worked so hard for it, and we're so proud of you. not only do we have a good daughter, but a talented one."

her parents were always her anchor, but sometimes she wished that she had the friend groups in the shows she had watched.

y/n wanted to belong both in her home and in society, where people saw passed her face.

"thank you." she whispered, earning a kiss on her temple from her mom. "i love you both."

"we love you too." eunji rubbed her back. "and don't listen to your dad about the boyfriend thing. i was the one that was getting hit on."

junsang paused, a frown suddenly on his face.

"you were?" his eyes landed on his wife, y/n deciding that now was a good time to hop off the couch and let her father and mother sort this one out. "wait, why didn't i know about this?"

eunji shrugged, standing up.

"i never told you."

eunji followed her daughter, not to her room, but to the end of the hall, her and her husband's door wide open.

"wait, what?" junsang heard y/n's door click shut, rushing to his feet to chase after his wife. "eunji, what?"

y/n met bts.

no, she worked with them, staring in multiple of their music videos, more than she expected to feature in (all at the cost of privating her social media accounts for a while. her success came with death threats, as expected).

it did wonders to her popularity in the industry, and she was amazed at how much more her peers both avoided and fawned over her. y/n always thought that it couldn't get much worse, but it did.

hyewon seemed to hover over her, watching as her locker was filled with threats from some of the older girls in hanlim. mixed into the pile were confessions, a few of which came from different schools. how they got in her locker, y/n would never know.

all she knew was that the attention was immense.

somehow, she avoided it today, waiting a couple minutes after the class president left to get cleaning supplies. there were a fair amount of students still in the class, but y/n knew they were all respectful enough to not but her.

she dusted herself off, walking outside the room and down the staircase. hyewon was somewhere nearby, either the roof where she usually sat (smelling like smoke) or in the girl's washroom close to the entrance.

"so..." jay? he never stayed after school, even if clubs were going on. "you can do a video with some older men but not go on a date with me?"

y/n's blood ran cold.

"sunbaenim." trying to not show her nerves, she lowered her head slightly, hoping that the sign of respect was enough for him to cool down.

it wasn't.

"do you like older men?" his arms crossed, his usually ironed blazer now wrinkling in his grip. "am i not old enough for you?"

y/n didn't like older men, she didn't even consider older anyone at all. she didn't wanna focus on that stuff, her sights on her dream university unwavering.

"i just don't want a boyfriend." her voice, soft and soothing, was strong with honesty.

"why not?" jay shot up, his dark eyes hard against y/n's features. "all girls want a boyfriend. you know i'll be good to you. i won't even force you to do anything."

y/n was sure his words meant to be reassuring, but it made her feel worse if anything, now knowing that jay saw her more like a toy than a human.

"i'm really not interested." she felt her voice go weaker, her legs frozen.

she wanted to leave, yet her legs stayed glued to the floor. there was a deep, unsettling feeling like her chest had been weighed down by something and she wasn't sure what.

"i don't believe you." the sinking feeling in y/n's chest was overwhelming. "don't tell me one of those bts oppas got to you first."

the staircase turned quiet, the soft whirling of the cooling units pushing through the vents. the green grass reflected the now setting sun through the window, birds chirping in the distance.

it should've been a beautiful day.

y/n felt a sense of shame she didn't understand. dirty and used, yet not even having her first kiss yet. she hadn't even held hands with anyone, yet somehow, everyone saw her as more.

she just wanted connection, love in both friendship and relationship.

jay was annoying, uncomfortable at times, but he wasn't cruel. she must've heard wrong. she had to have heard wrong.

y/n's voice came out in a soft squeak.

"i don't understand..."

she didn't, honestly.

she knew the industry came with it's consequences, but everything started even before then. it amplified, but it had always been like this in one way or another. she was always seen as something to get, something to possess, but never to connect with.

y/n was a want, but she was never a need.

"c'mon, y/n. quit playing dumb." jay was up to his wits end, and y/n could feel it in the air, a heavy smog filling her lungs. "there's another guy, isn't it?"

everyone assumed it was someone else, but it never was.

it was just her.

"are you playing hard to get or something?" his voice got louder, drowning out the birds and replacing it with a shroud of rage that concentrated around y/n. "you know how many girls would kill to have me tripping over them? and you're just here rejecting me over and over again?"

over the past few months, y/n learned to steel herself from the influx of confessions, always slightly in pain at the thought of breaking someone's heart.

it felt real, their 'love' for her.

but she knew this wasn't real, yet it hurt by the tenfold.

"it hurts, y'know." jay didn't seem hurt, and y/n was glad that his major was applied music and not broadcasting and entertainment. "you're not even giving me a chance. is it cause of the rumors you heard? are you that shallow? or are you just trying to hurt me?"

y/n didn't want to hurt anyone. she'd rather hurt herself.

"i didn't mean to-"

"but you did!" jay was fed up, nothing ever going his way. "do you like the attention or something? acting like a fucking tease all the time."

she could feel anger bursting through her chest, sick and tired of the names everyone threw her way. a thin veil frustration started to well up in her eyes, and behind, a seed of disappointment in others and in herself.

calming herself down, y/n spoke. "i don't understand why you keep calling me that."

"because you are!" jay whined, his eyebrows furrowing. y/n could basically see him stomping his foot. "you walk around with that face and expect me not to do anything."

a shiver ran through her spine.

"it's just my face..."

y/n didn't want to be seen as a trophy if it meant attracting attention like this.

did anyone even see her as human at this point?

"just shut up!" jay pushed his hair slick back, his voice echoing through the stairwell. "just fucking leave."

as if by his instructions, y/n's legs finally moved, her frame a blur as she rushed down to the main floor. she could feel her chest heaving, her eyes trained onto her feet. they carried her to the washroom, and she opened the door with a loud bang.

hyewon.

she was safe. her friend was here.

"woah," hyewon hummed, looking at y/n through the mirror. "you look crazy as fuck."

she felt crazy, her mind racing. she couldn't fathom how people saw her in that light, as if she was a medal incased in a collection of glory, plastered for the world to see.

"hyewon."

y/n rushed to her friend. she needed comfort, solace in the storm that happened mere minutes ago.

today should've been a good day.

"oh shit." hyewon pulled y/n in, her hands resting on her lower back. "hey... it's okay."

she could confide here, in between the porcelain walls, where she stood in the arms of someone she trusted. for once, she had someone to lean on, someone her age (or close to it) that listened.

y/n just wanted someone to listen.

"i don't understand why everyone thinks i want them or something." the emotions in her chest whirled with fervor, yet her voice was meek.

"i don't understand either." hyewon pull her closer, rubbing her back. "people here are fucked in the head."

y/n didn't want to believe that. she knew somewhere out there, there had to be people who were pure hearted, with pure intentions. somewhere, there were people who were just like her and her parents.

y/n wouldn't find them until after high school.

"i just wanted to make friends." she didn't mean to whine, but she was tired. "even the girls here think that i'm trying to do something. i can't even go near them without them thinking i'm trying to sabotage them."

hyewon pulled back slightly, looking at the shorter girl with vague intent. "i know you aren't, y/n."

"did i do something?" y/n was careful, never crossing the line of friendship (and most times, acquaintanceship) with anyone. she never wanted her words to be twisted, her actions perceived with an underlying meaning. "do i seem like the people they assume i am?"

she wanted to be seen for her, not for their ideals.

"no." hyewon brushed the tears off her cheek. "no, you're perfect."

"i just want people to understand." y/n was worried she'll never find anyone who cared enough about her. "i need someone to understand, or at least try. is that so much to ask for? for someone to actually care about me?"

"i know, baby." the taller girl whispered, y/n suddenly aware of how her breath hit her face. "i know."

y/n's first kiss happened on a beautiful day, in a porcelain school bathroom, the soft hum of the school's ac whirling through the vents, the sun setting through the windows.

(she always wished her first kiss happened with wonyoung, but wonyoung didn't need to know about this. y/n would rather die.)

she pulled back, bile threatening to release in her throat.

"i'm sorry"

"hey..." hyewon reached for her arm, and the predatory gaze was back. "it's okay."

it wasn't.

y/n rushed out, her legs carrying her as far from that school as they could. her lungs burned, her ears rang, and the humid air clung to her skin, refusing to release her.

sweat dripped down her back, tears poured from her eyes and betrayal suffocated her.

it hurt. everything hurt. the way jay's words stuck onto her like cheap perfume, and the actions of hyewon - of someone she knew she shouldn't have trusted - clawed into her.

she was battered, ripped to shreds, and never had she so desperately yearned for someone to hold her, to tell her that everything would be okay.

y/n wanted the comfort of a close friend, one she trusted with her gut. she wanted to hear the soothing words, the advice they'd give her. y/n longed for someone in her corner.

y/n just wanted to hear that it wasn't her fault.

(it wasn't, and it never was, and it never will be.)

(and two weeks later, y/n sported a new yellow blazer, assigned to a new seat and her commute lengthened to an extra thirty minutes.)

masterlist | next

taglist (CLOSED)!!

@moontealemonpie @rikisgeef @cutieseo @limbforalimb @ahnneyong @yumtooki @lcv3lies @sserajeans @jiwoneiric @blue4hour @trsrina @xyxlyn @misumiausworld @awkwardtoafault @d7dream @slowlyturninggay291 @perfectsunlight @juhyunsthirdwife @uzumakioden @txtbrainrot @rosiehrs @wlwgirlsworld @skisk1 @bzeus28 @deeznutzryu @jisooftme @jihyostolemyheart @li0ilthecxnt @eggomi @ddoxhan @zhivaxo @sweet-dhrafts @bearseulgs @marimo-anura @wonyoluvr @serenitygrace24 @ddeonutz @noiacha @livelaughchoerry @yunnybunnyy @ivy-aurora

[gaybananabread]

tadc headcanons perhaps? Any character, lee or ler

☆—TADC Main Cast Tkl Headcanons—⁠☆

~How about all of them? This took forever; I live in shame. But hey, they're done now, so…yay! LONG so prepare to read for a sec. Thank you for your patience, and I hope you Enjoy!~

💙Pomni🃏

General:

This wet dog of a clown definitely loves tickles.

She just thinks it’s nice that there’s a way to just laugh without needing to think about anything else: a way to just disconnect and enjoy oneself.

A lee-leaning switch. Loves being tickled, but occasionally wants to make someone else giggle and squirm.

Lee:

She gets lee moods pretty frequently, though she rarely tries to fix them. Girl is way too anxious to actually ask for what she wants

Sometimes, one of her fellow players will notice and step in and help, usually Kinger or Ragatha.

She’s a squirmer for sure. Make sure you’ve got a good grip, or she’ll wriggle away (not for long, but still)

If you get her really good, she’ll squeak like a stress toy. It flusters the hell out of her if you tease about it.

Worst spots are her sides, which get loud squeaks if you squeeze them. Navel is sorta bad as well, but she can handle it a lot longer.

Melt spot is her neck, specifically under her chin. She can and will fall asleep if you stay there too long.

Ler:

She’s a softer ler to everyone but Jax. He deserves it honesty-

Gentle tickles, small teases, compliments. Her goal is to make you happy.

“Wow, you’ve got a really pitchy laugh. No, don’t stop, it’s nice.”

“Thanks for not squirming away. Oh, c’mon, I can tell.”

“You’re so soft… I’ve gotta do this more often.”

Really easy to fluster if you can think through the giggles; a quick compliment or praise has her burning.

Her ler moods are usually spurred by something else, like walking in on a tickle fight or hearing the t-word a certain way.

To fix a mood, she’ll usually just go up to Ragatha or Kinger and wiggle her fingers. They usually get the message pretty quickly.

Pretty decent with aftercare. She’s a cuddle bug, but if you’re not big on touch, she’ll find a blanket for you. Other than that, you’ll have to ask.

🦷Caine🎪

General:

The chaos man is a pure switch.

Once he finds out that tickling can affect him and works oh-so-well on his friends, he makes sure to abuse that knowledge whenever possible.

I mean, laughter is better than abstraction, right?

Lee:

The first time he’s tickled is the most confusing moment of his existence.

Like, what? Someone wiggles their fingers somewhere, and it feels like little fuzzy zaps under his digital skin? Crazy.

Once he gets past that, though, the toothy man loves every bit of the odd sensation he can get.

He’ll provoke the players, casually throw the t-word into speeches, or make NPCs to do the job for him (nobody knows about these guys though)

He tries to hold still, but don’t be surprised if he randomly teleports mid-tickle. It always flusters him when he has to go back and ask for it to continue.

Worst spots are his sides and underarms. He’ll screech.

He’s not really all that ticklish anywhere else though, each spot only getting little giggles and titters.

Doesn’t really have a melt spot, though he loves belly tickles. It’s not a bad spot at all for him, but he likes feeling “normal” and connected to the players in that sense.

Sometimes, if you really get him laughing, the sound will glitch. It’s utterly adorable to hear.

Ler:

Run as fast as you can, my friends.

Ler moods come to him for completely random reasons. If he sees someone sad or stressed, if they laugh just a bit too sweetly, if they’re being too sassy: they’re done for.

He uses his digital powers to subdue lees. If you’re hiding? He’ll teleport to you. Fighting him off? Bubbles come and snag your wrists. If you genuinely don’t want him to, he’ll let you go. Other than that, good luck.

“Oh my! You’re quite ticklish, aren’t you?”

“You can’t, hmm? Can’t what? Can’t handle it? Can’t tell me to stop? I’d love to know what’s going through your mind, dear!”

“It tickles, does it? How about I add a few feathers; I hear they’re all the rage among humans!”

He’s really hard to fluster when he’s tickling. Teasy lees, you might have met your match.

Sort of okay with aftercare? He doesn’t understand it at first, but he tries. Head pats and water are his go-to, but he’ll do more if you ask.

💜Jax🐇

General:

Sassy rabbit feels like a ler-leaning switch.

He’s always willing to wreck a bitch, but doesn’t mind the occasional laugh or two for himself.

When he’s feeling lonely or touch starved, tickles are his go-to in either direction.

Lee:

While on the rare side, his lee moods are intense.

Blushes, small giggles, antsy demeanor, flinching from small touches: not exactly discreet.

If another player notices (which almost always happens), he’ll deny and fight it ‘til the cows come home. You’ve gotta fight to give him what he wants.

He’s a flailer for sure. Donkey kicks and stray elbows are his specialty.

Worst spots are his ears, specifically the bases. They get him cackling almost instantly.

Melt spots are the tops of his knees. Nobody really ever targets them, but he goes nearly limp if a few spidering fingers land there.

If you get him just right, he’ll thump his feet against the floor. He dies if you tease him about it.

Ler:

Evil son of a gun, so watch your back.

He lives for a good chase. Will probably try and tease you into running, just so he can trap and catch you.

Very verbal and teasing. He has zero shame in turning you red as a rose.

“You got ten seconds to run, doll. Better make ‘em count~”

“Aww, what’s the matter? Can’t bring your arms down? That’s alright; I’ll make sure you have some fun~”

“You sure do scream a lot, sweet cheeks. I’d cover my ears if they didn’t sound so cute.”

Very smug man, not an easily flustered ler. It really takes some confident prodding or skill to get him.

He uses his tall man advantage every time. Holding a lee up by their arms, using his legs to keep them sitting, putting something on a tall shelf and attacking whenever they try to get it: the list goes on.

He’s actually pretty good with aftercare, even if he doesn’t like to admit it.

He’ll make sure you’re okay and get you water, though he’ll act like it’s such a chore. After that, it’s either cuddles because you “look like death warmed over,” or a special snack to “keep you from annoying him.”

❤️Ragatha🪡

General:

She’s a switch, not really leaning in one direction or the other.

Loves tickling because it can make the other players laugh, which they all desperately need. She knows she does.

Lee:

She’s incredibly shy when she gets in a lee mood. Good luck getting her to do anything productive or coherent until she’s helped.

While she tries holding still, she can’t help but curl up. You’ll need to hold her arms above her head or get used to moving with her.

I like to think she’s got a louder, more obnoxious-sounding laugh (no projection, you have 0 proof-)

Lots of snorts, cackles, and little hiccup-squeaks.

Speaking of which, the easiest way to fluster her is to compliment her laugh. She’s self-conscious about it, so literally any praise will have her coming apart at the seams (hehehe pun)

Worst spots are her neck and back, specifically her shoulder blades. She cannot handle massages around there.

Melt spots are her belly and thighs. Some gentle traces or pokes in either of those areas has her in giggle heaven.

Ler:

She's incredibly sweet, though she's got a different way of doing things for certain people.

With most of the circus members, she's soft and playful. Light touches, quick scribbles and small teases.

“You're such a wiggle worm, giggles. Try to hold still for me, will you?”

“Aww, look at that adorable blush. I'm glad to know you're having fun!”

For select individuals (Jax and anyone misbehaving), she's playfully mean and a touch ruthless. Fast squeezes and very teasy attacks.

“Aww, that spot’s pretty sensitive, huh? I should tell the others; I'm sure they'd love a chance to see you like this!”

She's surprisingly strong, able to pin pretty much all of the players. If you wanna try escaping, get ready for a good fight.

She's amazing with aftercare. She'll make sure you're alright, get you a drink, and swaddle you in a soft blanket for cuddles.

If you aren't big on touch, she'll get you the finest digital cuisine (basically asking Caine for your favorite food) and whatever else you can think of.

🎭Gangle🎀

General:

This ribbon girl is very much a lee.

If she does tickle anyone, it’s an extremely rare one-off occasion.

She’s just more comfortable with being tickled, for a number of reasons.

Doesn’t want to risk pushing someone’s boundaries, uncomfortable touching them, or just a general not-wanting-too feeling.

Lee:

Lee moods are about as rare as pebbles for her. They’re pretty obvious, too.

Tightly coiled posture, a giddy look on her face (biggest giveaway), and very nonchalant staring at people’s hands.

Needless to say, everyone is clued in almost immediately.

She has no shame in wiggling around and unraveling, though she does actually want to get away. It’s fun, and it usually gets her ler to tease her.

Worst spots are the inner parts of her midsection ribbons. She will absolutely try to unravel and slip out of your arms if you try it.

Melt spot is her mask, specifically the back of it. As long as she’s wearing it, she’ll feel the tickles. Girly melts into a giddy puddle in your arms.

Her laughter is really pitchy, with plenty of squeaks and squeals to go around. Kind of like a mouse on helium (great way to tease her, as long as it’s done kindly)

Gets flustered VERY easily. You won’t have to try hard unless you really want to.

♚Kinger🪲

General:

The softest lee-leaning switch you'll ever meet.

He loves tickles, though you won't catch him openly admitting it. It's too embarrassing for him

He gets lee moods frequently, though he's willing to help a friend with theirs if they need it.

Lee:

He's decently shy, never coming out and asking for tickles. He usually just suffers in silence until Ragatha notices.

On a rare day where he's stable and confident, he'll tease Pomni or the ragdoll to try and provoke it.

It rarely works how he'd like, but they almost always realize that he's in a lee mood. Failed successfully.

He'll squirm around like a literal worm, though he can't help it. Lucky for his ler, he's pretty much a walking tickle spot.

If one spot is blocked, another opens up.

His worst spot is his stomach. He goes silent when anyone gets him there, save for the occasional squeak or gasp.

Melt spot is the top of his head on the little cross thing. He'll lean right into it, maybe even fall asleep.

He's got a really squeaky, pitchy laugh. If you get him really laughing, he'll start to snort and flap his hands.

Ler:

If one of his fellow players is close to abstraction or just needs some cheering up, he'll be there.

He's got a very soft, lightly teasing style. Doesn't really push anyone to their limits unless they really want him to.

“Of all the bugs in my collection, I must say I have a favorite…the Tickle Bug!”

“Those are some cute giggles, friend. So glad you could share them with me!”

“Of course I can help with your…predicament. Now, arms up for me, dear.”

Kind of the dad of the circus. He's always there to help if need be.

Super great with aftercare. 80% of the time, he'll tickle you in his fort. That means pillowy cuddles afterwards and a nice nap.

If that's not your thing, he's more than willing to accommodate. As long as you're happy, he's happy.

🎡Zooble🪀

General:

This preschool toy mashup gives me strong ler vibes.

They don’t seem like someone who’d like to be tickled unless the ler was EXTREMELY close to them and knew their boundaries by heart.

Ler:

They’re an absolutely despicable little shit.

Worst spot targeting, slightly mean teases, and the CHASES!

They could throw their arm at the fleeing lee, and it’d all be over. The thing could latch onto their worst spot and wiggle away, leaving the lee unable to do anything but wait for Zooble to catch up.

It doesn’t take a lot to provoke them, but if you want a proper wrecking, you’ll have to work for it. They don’t get annoyed enough to destroy someone easily.

VERY teasy, almost unfairly so.

“Tickles, does it? Maybe if you hadn’t been such a pain in the *boink*, this wouldn't be happening.”

“You brought this on yourself, ya know. Every unbearably ticklish second of it.”

“What? Not my fault this is your worst spot. Get less ticklish.”

Have you seen that lobster claw thing? You can’t tell me that thing wouldn’t tickle like crazy.

For aftercare, they try their respective best. They’ll pat your back, maybe give you a head rub.

After that, they’ll typically bring their undoubtably exhausted lee to Kinger’s pillow fort for a much-needed nap.

[starsomens]

I'm sorry if you're not taking these type of requests or any at all, but I had a thought...

So imagine, after you and noah made one more sex tape and you're editing it he gets so turned on by watching you guys fuck, how hot you looked and how well he fucked you that he wants to fuck you right there and then.

And after ,you're just finishing editing, and you're cockwarming him for the rest of the time it takes to have a half decent tape :)

Obviously, he is a perfectionist. He'll finish the rest by himself until it looks like a movie ( playing with himself along the way because he just can't resist how beautiful you looked taking him)

Thank yooou

Kisses for you 😘 😘😘😘🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

Note: I....ANON! I don't know where yall be storing these stories, it amazes me to no end!

Warnings: SEX! Unprotect PIV (protection first!!), dirty talk, creampie, rough-ish sex, recording, watching your own sex tape, masturbating, slight somnophilia (masterbating while reader is asleep),

You open the door to your room and go right to your boyfriend who sat in front of his computer. You open your bottle of water and take a seat in his lap, after taking a few gulps you off him but he declines. You set the bottle down and lean on his chest watching his computer screen. What was he doing? Well you were currently watching him edit your sex tape. After the first time you made one it kind of became a habit. The tapes became longer, the editing started taking place, and of course more rounds came when editing or watching.

"I like that shot," you said pointing to the screen "You make a good camera man babe" you compliment. The shot was set up at the corner of you bed, filming you in a low doggy position. Noah's arms caging you in, his body low to your own as he thrusted into you. The thrusts werea bit shallow but they were strong and felt amazing. You were able to see Noah fucking you so nicely, and your face while he did so

"Yeah I like it too, look how well you're taking me," he rewinds to the start of that segment to when he first pushes in "I also noticed how your eyes roll back whenever I put it in" he chuckles. Another thing he loves about sex tapes he can visible see what your body reacts to the best.

He lets the segment play to review the edits he made, the sounds of your moans and his grunts leak from the speakers. The slushes of your juices being pumped in and out of you only added to the erotic scene. Noah feels you wiggle in his lap as you watch the screen intently. He leans into yoru ear and whispers

"Like what you see princess?"

"mmmmm" you couldn't help it! At first it was a bit strange to watch yourself get fucked but after some time, to becomes unbearably arousing. Noah's hand trails down to your pussy and rubs over the fabric of your panties, Luckly you only had on one of his shirts. He could feel how hard he was getting the longer he watched.

"Tell me princess, tell me what you want" he asks as he grinds upwards against your ass. His breath becoming heavy against your neck as his digits dip into your aching pussy. His fingers dragging in and out against your sweet spot, your legs spread to allow him more access.

"Mmm I want...your dick," you moan as you grind against his hand, your moans nearly syncing with the ones on the screen.

"Use your manners princess," he kisses your skin as his other hand begins to slip his hard cock out of his underwear.

"P-please!" you nearly beg as you can feel your juices start to drip out on to his fingers

"Good girl....so good for me," he slips his fingers out and licks up your slick juices. His hands find your thighs and adjusts you on his lap, you hover over his dick, as he aligns himself with your entrance.

"Now, sit on my dick like a good little slut," you whimper as you sit down on his hard cock. You were still a little sensitive from how you were just an hour ago. You let yourself slide all the way down, his cock stretching and filling you to the brim

"OH...fuck...." "shit," you both moan out, you back arching away from Noah. Noah hits play on his computer and spanks the side of your ass

"Come on princess, fuck yourself on daddy's dick," you start to rock your hips in circles, making sure to push back a little extra for him to see. He lifts up the shirt you wore up and over your head. His large hand comes down and strikes your skin and grabs at it "yeah baby...just like that..." he watches as your hips bounce up and down his cock. He spreads your ass to watch more clearly.

"Fuck Noah....fuck so good!" you moan

"Mhm, that's right princess...tell me how good you feel..." he leans back to watch your ride his cock biting his lip hearing your whimpers and moans "I know baby, I know."

" 'S...so good! You're so....big...so fucking....good!" you lean foreword allowing more pressure against your g-spot. His arm wraps around your hip, and his slender fingers rub at your sensitive bundle. His lips kissed up your back as he rubbed with more pressure

"Good girl....good fucking girl....make yourself cum baby" he licks and bites down on the junction of your neck and shoulder, holding the skin between his teeth enough to cause you please. Feeling you tighten around him as you hear yourselves finish on the screen.

"Have I ever...told you...you sound like a goddess when you cum?" he chuckles into your neck "Could cum just from it...." he thrusts half way to meet your hips as your moans become louder and your breather sharper

"That's it baby..." he whispers in your ear "let me hear it again" like a prayer being answered you cum again with goosebumps covering your skin as the tremor overtakes your body. You ride him slower and slower riding out both of your highs

He could feel the mix of your cum and his rolls down on to his lap as you pulse around him "making such a mess baby, such a pretty messy pussy" you carefully stand up and whine as you feel him slip out of you leaving your empty. His kisses just above your hip and gives a gentle slap to your pussy

"Why don't you get the shower started, I'll meet you in there" his round brown eyes looking up at you as he tucks himself back into his shorts and takes a deep breath. He saves his progress on his editing and gets up from his chair to go and wash up with you in the shower.

.....

"mmm babbeee..." you roll over in bed and cringe at the light in the room from Noah's computer "come to bed" you muffled against the blanket cracking one eye to look at Noah. He spins in his chair and tilts his head

"I'm almost done angel, 10 more minuets and I'm there" he whispers to you, you simply hum and just close your eyes again. He spins back to his screen and observes the last clip to be edited. This time you were holding the camera and Noah was laying his stomach between your legs. To some this may only be arousing to women, but he loved videos of him eating you out. He's able to recall your taste, your smell, the wetness, the texture and of course the way you'd pull on his hair when he hit just the right spot.

"..oh fuck....yes noah fuck...." he hears your quiet whispers as he watches himself lap at your pussy. His shorts had gotten tighter from just the few seconds he watched, looking over to you, he felt a bit guilty...but damn this was hot. He brings himself out for one last round before his night ends and starts to pump his shaft slowly but surely.

Precum leaking from his tip and giving himself some lubrication to work with. He takes deep breaths as he watches the screen, you legs snapped against his head only for him to pin them down to the bed. He tries to keep his panting to a minimum, not wanting you to wake up and see what state he was in. He looked over his shoulder and stared at you as he slept. Peacefully me now knowing the sinful acts, he was committing just a few feet away from you.

Each curve in detail of your face, how peaceful you looked, the way your lips were slightly parted as you snore in your slumber. Just seeing your gorgeous face made him twitch his fist. The low volume of your moans and breathing brings him back to the screen. He grabs his phone and opens his camera. He knew tours to be difficult, especially when they were more than just a couple of months. He always records a few videos for you or he had to leave on his next one. Just so you can have fresh content before he leaves.

His hips start to buck and thrust up into his hand as you writhe under his hold. He fucks his fist faster and faster as he finally cums. The thick liquid coming up in small spurts as he rises out his high. He knew you loved when he came on video with his moans of course.

Grabbing some tissue he cleans himself up, saves his final edits for the video. He shows the computer down and pushes away from his desk. He crawled into bed behind you and pulls you into his body. He kisses the back of your head and snuggles into you for the night.

Little did he know that you saw the entire thing and you were sure to tease him about it in the morning. ;)

「✨Taglist✨」 @lilhobgobbler @cncohshit @vir-tual @tdopomymind @concretenoah @misspygmypie @leneisdown @lust-for-sacher @thescarlettvvitch @cind6547 @itsmrsfuentes @just-pretend-again @lma1986 @daylightlvrs @darling-millicent-aubrey

[idkwhatthisisfuck]

I know you don’t…

Pairing: Baekhyun x OC

Warnings: none

In which OC has inferiority complex and a toxic mindset.

“I know you don’t like expensive things but look what I got you,” Baekhyun mumbles against her skin softly. She looks over her shoulder and squints at the older male as he cranes his neck to fish out something underneath his pillow.

Before she can see the mysterious gift Baekhyun has gotten for her, she catches the mischievous glint in his eyes, just as usual. Like the old times.

And then there was a silver watch. Undoubtedly, from one of those high-end luxury watch brands. Damn, people with money be spending a fortune to invest on something, something like a watch knowing well they could also use digital devices like phones for it nowadays. Is that supposed to be a reminder that no matter how long she’s been lifted up by Baekhyun in terms of living standards, her roots would never change.

“Baek—”

“Shush,” he leans in, sucking softly at her bottom lip. “I know what you’re gonna say. But you’re not working at the diner anymore now, are you? You’re a corporate girl now. There’s nothing wrong with you showing off a little bit. And you’re my girl. My person for me to spend my money on. And you deserve it all. You deserve all the luxury’s in the world. I’m not gonna let those thoughts get to your head, you hear me?”

She wants to laugh. Those thoughts. Baekhyun, you have no idea. The way he said “Those thoughts”— as if he knows she’ll never fucking measure up.

Golden boy Baekhyun saved his low-class wife from going through living hell, working seven days in a week for a minimum wage, living paycheck to paycheck with zero savings for her future. She should be grateful for that. Right?

Baekhyun I want to wait until my car’s paid off. The look on Baekhyun’s face was nothing but comical. These kinds of people… they have enough in their lives to not have gone through how harsh it could go out there being born without privilege.

I mean— I- I could help you with that now. He had said that time.

And here they are.

Tears that probably won’t see the light of the day well up behind her lids. She can’t crumble. Not in front of him. But every time Baekhyun comes up with stuff like this, she feels her ego falling apart. Like a bitch slap that rubs in her face to remind she’s still nothing. No matter how many gold and glitters Baekhyun adorns her with, she will never be more than a person who never fits in. In fact, she dulls the gold and goodness. She looks at the watch sitting still on his palm. And then she looks at Baekhyun, who is watching, who likes to study every little expression her face makes. Baekhyun probably is someone who has the biggest heart she knows in life. Why can’t she learn anything from him? Maybe if she was born privileged, she would be a decent person like him too.

With a trembling hand and a heavy heart, she takes the million-dollar-worth watch out of his hand. “Thank you, Baekhyun. I love it so much.” With that, she plants a soft kiss on his lips.

She tries to force out a smile. Baekhyun beams. In that moment, the things she sees in Baekhyun’s eyes are love, adoration and sincerity. Unlike someone else when they pretend to be happy. Baekhyun’s eyes have always been genuine, endearing and so full of life. Baekhyun never pretends. Baekhyun never half-asses a smile, or a compliment.

She can’t lie the fact that the way his soft eyes keep darting down to her lips is sending her brain and heart to overdrive. She doesn’t dislike being tied down to him. It’s just that…

“Tell me you love me then.”

Her throat closes. Does she?

“I love you, Baekhyun.”

Do I really?

[onceuponaoneshotfanfic]

Once Bitten

Part of my 900 Followers Celebration!

Request: Happy 900 lovely!! What a boss! 👑Can I please request: "I don't bite, unless you're into that sort of thing?" Just thinking of Roy Kent leaving his mark on you.... ooof! 🥵 That'll do! You're such an inspiration, I adore your work! 😘

Roy Kent x Reader

0.8k words

Warnings: Language

You let out a deep sigh as you walked into the parking lot at Nelson Road. You were definitely not a sports reporter, but when your colleague Penelope begged you to cover the Greyhounds press conference so she could go meet with her daughter’s teacher, you agreed. You’d hoped you’d followed along well enough to take decent notes for her; the Greyhounds press room had been nothing short of overwhelming. Besides knowing nothing about football, you weren’t used to being one of the only women in the room, and you definitely weren’t used to Roy Kent’s expletive-filled way of speaking.

“Alright there?”

Speak of the handsome, bearded devil. As you lingered by your car, contemplating the best way to apologize to Penelope, Roy Kent had walked out of the building. His eyes rested on you with some concern, probably seeing the horror on your face.

“I’m fine,” you lied, giving a small wave.

He glanced around the parking lot and walked over to you. “Don’t look fine.”

Despite your inner anguish, a hollow laugh escaped your lips. “Wow. That’s what a girl likes to hear.”

“Oh. Fuck, not like that,” he chuckled, eyebrows raised. “You look good, trust me. Just… It also looks like you’re thinking very fucking hard about something.”

Trying not to blush at the compliment he technically just paid you, you cleared your throat. “You don’t want to hear about it.”

To your surprise, the handsome manager shrugged. “Sure I do. Otherwise, Jamie Tartt’ll invite me out for a drink, and ‘I don’t fucking want to’ is never a good enough answer for him.” He stuck out his hand. “Roy, by the way.”

“Oh, I know.” You shook his hand. “I, um, was at the press conference right now.” You told him your name and what paper you were from.

“What happened to Penelope?” The genuine interest and concern in his voice surprised you.

“Parent-teacher meeting. She asked me to cover.”

His smile only added to his handsomeness. “And I take it you weren’t very excited to join us today?”

You really didn’t want to offend the attractive man standing in front of you but- “I hate sports,” you admitted reluctantly. “Barely knew what the fuck you were talking about in there. And now I just have to hope my notes are good enough for Pen’s article.”

“Brutal honesty, I like it.” Roy thought for a moment. “Why don’t we grab a drink while I look over those notes with you? Can help you translate sports-speak. Plus, I could give you some quotes no one else’ll have.”

“Why?” you blurted out, unable to believe someone like him would be so nice to someone like you.

He shrugged. “I like Pen. She doesn’t ask me stupid fucking questions like the other pricks do. Besides…” He bobbled his head, hesitating about whether he should continue. “I’d never say no to the chance to buy drinks for a pretty reporter.”

How were you supposed to say no to that?

Twenty minutes later, you found yourself sitting in a pub, sharing a corner booth with Roy Kent. Beers sat in front of you, along with the notes you’d taken during the press conference. Roy was bent over them, mumbling under his breath as he read. He glanced over at you.

“You weren’t fucking kidding. You don’t know shit about football.”

Beer almost came out of your nose as you held back a laugh. “Alright, well help me then!”

His eyes studied your face thoughtfully. “Well, scoot closer so you can actually see the nonsense you wrote.”

You froze. When you sat down, you’d very carefully placed yourself a respectable distance from Roy Kent and his overwhelming handsomeness. If you scooted closer, your thighs would be pressed together and your bare arms would touch and oh fuck, he’d be able to feel the warmth radiating off your body that was completely covered in an embarrassing blush.

He could see the hesitation on your face, although hopefully not the reasons running through your mind. “Come on, get over here. I don’t bite.” A wicked smirk crossed his gorgeous face. “Unless you’re into that sort of thing.”

A choking sound flew out of your mouth, but you managed to return his grin and move closer to him, allowing your legs to lightly press against each other. You didn’t need to worry about your arms touching though; Roy instead chose to wrap his arm around your shoulder.

“There,” he muttered, raising an eyebrow at you. “Isn’t that better?”

Looking into his eyes felt so surreal, as if you were living in a cheesy movie and not just your daily life as a low-ranking journalist with an overbearing mother and a messy roommate. “Yeah,” you agreed in a breathy voice you barely recognized. “Much better.”

As Roy leaned closer and softly pressed his lips to yours, your last coherent thought was a mental note to thank Penelope for having a parent-teacher conference.

[doiefics]

don't fall for the homeboy!

pairing: jihoon x afab!reader

prologue: jihoon was sure he wasn’t the type to catch feelings for his friend, but what happens when he is suddenly struck by the reality?

genre: fluff + friends to lovers

wordcount: 750

warnings: none

"Ding Dong!” your doorbell greeted you.

You went to answer, thinking who could it be at this hour? Certainly not your parents, who just left ten minutes ago.

“Hey, Y/N! Your mom sent me to look after you, now step aside and let me in.” It was Jihoon, your childhood friend.

Together, him and you went through everything. Including from being conceived and born around the same time to going to school. He became an inseparable part of your life.

It was not like you did not want Jihoon around.

You had been seeing him since you were born. You bitched about the people you hated together and were each other’s emotional support.

Many assumed the two of you were dating, but that was not the case.

By now, Jihoon had already seated himself in your living room. Of course, your mother did not assign him the babysitting, but he was her favourite anyway, naturally, he was like a family member.

“Stop standing like a sims character over there, and yes, don’t end up creating any more trouble,” Jihoon tried you boss you around.

“Park Jihoon, I am old enough. And you are just thirty-seven days older than me, for your weekly reminder.” You were quick to defend yourself.

“The last time you were allowed to be home alone, you let a stray cat enter the house and scrape away your mom’s favourite curtains.” Of course, he could not let you win this.

“Alright, Mr. Babysitter,” you surrendered.

“That’s my good girl. I need you to behave well for me now.” Jihoon blurted out without realizing what he had just said.

This habit had caused him trouble in the past. Luckily, this time, it was just you. Taking advantage of the situation, you decided to tease him further.

“Woah! Is this the beginning of a porn movie? What should we name it? Babysitter takes care of his little girl home alone?” followed by your roar of laughter.

To you there was no greater joy than seeing his agitated and irritated face.

"You’ve got such a filthy brain, where do you learn these things from?” Jihoon admonished you playfully as a shade of pink now adorned his cheeks.

A movie watching date was soon planned.

The lead couple was just slowly falling in love, offering cheesy compliments to each other and making unrealistic promises.

Best friends falling in love was a crummy genre for sure.

“Ahh, why do they always romanticize it?" The boy spoke.

"Who on earth falls for their friend like this?" He spoke again.

"Aghh, this is just ridiculous. Y/N how about we better watch-” Jihoon had started his timely rants again.

You were so used to it by know. He ranted about everything from overcooked meat to missed buses. Sometimes you really pondered what he was made up of.

“Men named Park Jihoon do. They do fall”. You answered his unasked question.

His mouth hung open, as if you had stolen his lunch money.

The jaw dropped. You wished you could capture this face to tease him about it later.

Despite his refusal to acknowledge it, Jihoon had some feelings for you. Well, you certainly did. He was decently attractive nd coming to think of it, who else could you even date?

"Stop reading those romance novels of yours." He did not even finish his sentence, but you had another response ready, yet again.

“Hoon, admit it.”

Jihoon shook his head at that statement. “No way, I could kiss you right now to prove I don’t feel anything about you.”

His eyes met with yours next and you nodded, granting him the permission.

Jihoon leaped closer.

Tucking your hair to the back of your ear, lifting your chin to meet his face. His hands were shaking. His nervousness was unprecedented.

Pitying your poor friend, you took matters in your hands and smashed your lips onto his.

He immediately responded back. Holding you by the waist now. His and your lips moved in a perfect sync, as though they were meant to be.

This felt like euphoria to you. You held his muscular arms for a better grip. It seemed as if you had been hungry for this since forever.

After what seemed like a good few minutes, you pulled out.

Jihoon’s gaze changed.

He wanted more, and so did you. Quickly after catching your breath, your lips retuned to where they were need the most.

Men named Park Jihoon did, after all, fall for their best friend.

masterlist please refrain from plagiarising, translating or posting outside of this platform

have a request? prompt fic game is OPEN!

[a1307s]

Flickers of Green #2

(Dick Grayson & Jason Todd)

[Art is not mine! Credit to fish-goat]

Requested by: quirkyshortdumbo11

Keys:

Y/N: Your Name

Word Count: 6,214

Warnings and/or Pre-Notes:

Cursing

Mentions of Death

———————————————————————

I walk out of the abandoned building, the sounds of my gunshot and the now-dead drug lord's screaming still ringing in my head.

Nowadays it seems that these sounds comfort me more than Bruce ever could. Fucking Bruce. I hate him. I hate Batman. I hate the Joker. I hate myself for letting Y/N die. For dragging her to her death. For not being able to save her. For me being the one that's alive.

I can't let guilt cloud my mind right now. It's hard to kill someone as you're feeling guilty for causing the death of someone else. I need something to clear my head, something to reset myself. Coffee should help, it always did when I was originally alive.

I glance around, trying to get my wits together and figure out where the nearest coffee shop is. I tug my phone out of my jacket, taking a glance at the time. Nine thirty-two. Late but not too late, except for coffee. I don't know if anywhere with a decent cup of Joe will be open. I don't need that watered-down bean soup shit they serve at gas stations.

Pamela's cafe will be open. They're always open. I don't want to go there though. The last thing I need is more memories of Y/N.

I do a quick Google search, hoping to find any other cafe open, but I don't. I don't need coffee, but I do need something to eat and a donut sounds so good right now. I can't even remember what a donut tastes like. I'll just have to eat my feelings alongside the donut then.

I pull up Google Maps, glancing over it quickly before heading towards the cafe. The plus side of Pamela's is that the staff is pretty chill with anything; heroes, villains, and citizens alike.

It seems that in the past couple of years, the girls on staff have been adopted by some of the villains. I see Ivy, Scarecrow, and Harley coming and going from there a lot.

When I was at the Iceberg Lounge - aka Penguin's bar, strip club, and not-so-underground business - he mentioned that he "keeps up" on the girls and pays some of their tuition. He also mentioned there's a new girl that started a couple of months ago and that she's "a feisty little one that doesn't fear shit". That coming from Penguin is a bit of an honor. Not many people can get a compliment like that from him.

Maybe I'll meet this feisty new girl tonight. Maybe I'll take her home. I could use the distraction. However, I don't usually end up doing anything with them when I do get them home. I usually just lose my shit cause it's not the same as it was with Y/N.

I switch between being mad and being indifferent about being unable to move on from her. She died only ever loving me, why can't I live only ever loving her?

The neon lights of the cafe cut into my line of sight along with cutting through my thoughts. I forgot how obnoxious all the neon was. Standing right outside the cafe is Penguin and a young girl. She's in the 50s dinner uniform Pamela's staff wears. She's also wrapped up in a fancy-looking coat.

I feel half bad for the girl. If she's working at a cafe, she can't afford a coat like that, which means it's from the Penguin. It's never good for anyone - much less a young girl - to be in debt to Penguin.

My pace slows as I approach them. "Come on Feisty, just let me pay for your courses. Then you wouldn't have to work so much."

"No, I'm good. I don't mind supporting myself." The girl's voice is soft but firm as she speaks. Maybe she isn't as stupid as I thought.

"Listen here you little bitch-"

"No, you listen here you fucking flightless bird," the girl yells back, causing a bit of laughter to brew in my chest. "I already told you I don't want your money and unlike most of the other girls, I don't owe you shit so back off."

"And if I don't?" He asks, starting to turn the head on his cane. Under the head is usually a knife that Penguin is known to use on people when he doesn't get his way.

The girl yanks the cane away before any damage can be done, causing shock in both the bird and me. "If you don't I'll stab you to death with your own cane. Go back to your dumb pimp square." Penguin stands there for a second, just staring at the girl before he walks away mumbling to himself. His wobble is more present than usual now that he doesn't have his cane to support him. The club owner wasn't kidding about this girl not being scared of anything, or at least she was good at pretending.

Now that the fat man isn't in the way, I'm able to see the girl he was talking to. As my eyes scan over her my mind both empties and explodes. Standing in the neon lights is the spitting image of Y/N, which is impossible... because she's dead.

Or is it? I'm technically dead and yet here I am. But if she was alive, she would have looked for me, right? Like I did for her? She would at least be at the manor, right? Bruce would take her back in or at the very least Dick would... right? Or maybe she didn't want to go back to them. Maybe she's mad at them too.

Y/N - I think it's her - turns on her heels, heading down the road. I need to follow her. If she is my Y/N I need to know. I need to be a hundred percent certain. At the very least, if it's not Y/N I should still watch the girl get home safe after she disagreed with Penguin.

What if it's not Y/N? What if it is? What if this is a trap? Is Al Ghul fucking with my head again? Did he set this up to trap me back within the League? Even if he did, I need to know what's going on. Just in case it is a trap, I stay hidden. I'll have the element of surprise if shit does go south.

I follow this girl, not paying much attention to where she's going but making sure to keep pace with her. If it is my Y/N I can't lose her again from careless mistakes.

My mind runs a mile a minute as I trail her. I need answers, I need to hold her, I need her to be Y/N.

Maybe-Y/N turns, making my heart race. Fear of losing her around the corner mixes with the joy of a split second of light enveloping her.

I catch a glimpse behind her ear. When we were twelve, right before Bruce took us in, we thought it would be a good idea to give each other stick-and-poke tattoos. We tattooed each other's names behind our ears. My name is there, behind her left ear, in my chicken scratch handwriting. It has to be her. There's no way Al Ghul could know about that. I don't even think Bruce knows about our matching tattoos.

My pace quicks as I slide around the corner after her. I need her. I need to tell her I'm here. I need - it's a trap.

Hands land on me, throwing me to my right. My boots slide against the gravel on the sidewalk, aiding in me losing my balance. I fall hard, harder than the Roman Empire.

On my way down, my helmet comes into contact with a trash can. The noise echoes within my disguise, promising to give me a headache.

"What the hell?" I bark, quickly getting back to my feet. I should have known this was too good to be true. I should have known it was a trap. I should have known to pay attention to my surroundings. What the fuck is wrong with me?

Once the sound rattling around my helmet quiets some I'm able to get a grip on my surroundings. Standing in front of me is Dick Grayson in his signature black and blue spandex suit. "Fucking Nightwing," I husk out, shaking my head to get the last of the echoes out.

"Hood," he answers, positioning himself for a throwdown.

From my last run-in with Bruce, it's evident he knows who I am. Despite his attempt to hide it, the Bat was throwing his punches. I'm guessing from the greeting that he didn't share his findings with Dick.

But fine, if a fight is what Nightwing wants, a fight is what he'll get. It shouldn't be difficult to get him down.

I cautiously walk toward him, preparing myself to swing. One easy hit. Just one to knock him down long enough for me to sneak off and find Y/N.

I swing at him, but he ducks. What a little shit. I don't want trouble, I just want to go find - he thinks I'm stalking her. Dick thinks I'm stalking Y/N. Does he know it's Y/N?

"Just move aside, Wing, it's not what you think," I call out louder than I meant to. I throw another punch, trying to get him down again. I don't have time for this. I don't have the want to explain who I am and who I'm chasing after.

Dick needs to get out of my way before I lose Y/N. I can't lose her again. I'd burn the Earth to a crisp before I let that happen.

My thoughts distract me, making me lag as Nightwing tries to sweep my feet out from under me. I almost managed to avoid it but do end up tripping a bit from my late reaction.

"You're a notorious killer chasing after a girl, what else am I supposed to think?" Grayson calls, his cocky attitude present in his words. Well, that answers my question; he doesn't know it's Y/N. Or who I am. Or maybe he does and doesn't want me to know that he's connected to her. I hate the hush-hush behaviors we both inherited from Bruce.

I stumble back, again causing my helmet to come into contact with more metal. I'm definitely going to have a piercing headache for the next couple of hours. Great.

As the object behind me catches my fall, my guns slide across it, reminding me of their presence. If he's not going to go down with physical force, a gunshot sure as hell will work.

Nightwing approaches me, pulling his weapon out from behind his back. He's mumbling, probably answering whoever is on the other end of his coms. Great, I'm going to have to go through Batman too to get to Y/N. If that's the case, so be it. Bruce's name is as good as carved into my bullets if that's what it takes to get Y/N back.

I take Nightwing's distraction as a chance to get the upper hand. Being the asshole I am, I sweep Nightwing's feet out from under him. It's what he deserves and quite good karma. He stumbles back, landing on his back a couple of steps ahead of me.

No time is wasted as I start closing the gap between us. My gun feels heavy in my hand as I pull it out. Richard made his own grave trying to get between Y/N and me again, but that doesn't mean I like laying him in it. I watch as he grabs for one of his sticks as I tower over him. He can try all he wants but it won't stop me; nothing will stop me. Y/N will be safe from him, from Bruce, from the life I dragged her into it.

I level the barrel to his head debating if I should just end it here. It would be quite the message to Batman. "Lady don't!" A young voice screams out.

I glance up to find who else is present but before I can my eyes lock on Y/N. She's rushed and flustered as she races towards me. Before I can stop her, she's shoving the gun up towards the sky. "Don't shoot!" She shouts, her words followed by the sound of the gun going off.

Fear flickers through me before my senses come in. Y/N isn't shot, she can't be, the gun is pointed too high.

She stands in front of me, anger rooted in her eyes as she looks at me. There are flickers of green mixed in with her normal eye color. I take in the rest of her, letting my mind go silent as I look her over. Y/N has a strand of grey mixed in her hair, just like me. She has to be alive because of the Laza pit. She has the same greying hair and recent green added to her eyes, just like me. Mine were caused because of the pit, so hers have to be because of it too, right? Is she suffering from the same side effects I did because of the pit?

"What the fuck is your problem, you daft cow?" Y/N yells, tugging the weapon from my hand before I can stop her. I have to stop myself from laughing at the situation. It's too much like it was when we were younger. Dick and me going toe-to-toe and Y/N swooping in to break us up once again.

"Don't stand there and look dumb at me. What do you think you're doing?" She repeats herself, her attention turning towards the gun.

I shift to point it down, so she doesn't accidentally shoot herself, but she beats me to it. The barrel is pointed at the open pavement between our feet as her hands work on disconnecting the bullets from the gun.

Y/N's fingers look smooth and soft as they work. I want to touch them. I want to hold them in my hands. I want to press kisses into them. I want to touch her. I want to know she's real.

"I..." I start, my mouth feels heavy and suddenly full of cotton. "Hi." The word sounds loud when it tumbles out.

"Hello," Y/N says back, her eyes sparkling. The color I've grown so used to comforts me despite the newly added flickers of green. She's so bright and here and alive.

Her focus stays on me for a beat longer as she hands me back my gun. Our fingers bumping into each other, sending shivers up my spine. She's alive.

I let the feeling envelop me as my eyes switch from her face to staying locked on the shitty tattoo behind her ear. My mind is on overtime, running through a million questions even as Y/N moves up and down in front of me. I can hear her voice as she talks to Dick but it's hard to focus on processing her words.

My eyes snap back up as Y/N stands. She whispers something, the words lost in her uncomfortableness. Am I making her upset? Is Dick? I glance around her to hopefully see what shifted her tone. Since being distracted, Bruce's new Robin has appeared in front of us. Is he making her upset?

Y/N starts walking away, causing panic about losing her to wash over me. Before I can stop myself, I reach out for her, my hand wrapping around her arm to stop her movements. "Let..." I start again, my mouth still feeling dry, and it gets drier as Y/N turns towards me. "Let me walk you home." The words come out quieter than I thought they would.

Her eyes harden as she looks at me and shakes me off of her. "What the fuck is with all you superheroes? Two days ago, I had a frantic Batman shoving hundred-dollar bills into my hand. You have been trailing me for three blocks, you-" So she knows I was behind her? Does she know it's me? Does she not remember Bruce is Batman? What does she remember?

I shake my head again, trying to Etch-A-Sketch the thoughts out of my head. I focus my attention back on Y/N. Her hands are on her hips, her right one popped out. I want to touch her again. I want to put my hands on her hips. I want to feel her between my fingers. I want to feel her warmth against me. I want-

My thoughts are cut off again when Dick starts touching her. "I... Y/N?" Dick says his tone as quiet as mine was. All the love-struck feelings wash out of me and are replaced with anger and jealousy. I don't want him touching her. I should be touching her. She's mine. She's always been mine. What the fuck does Dick think he's doing?

"Good guess," Y/N answers, her figure relaxing some. Does she remember that Grayson is Nightwing? Why does she remember that but not that Bruce is Batman? Does she like him touching her?

"Y/N?" He repeats, his face scrunched up in confusion. He needs to stop touching her before I lose my shit.

Almost as if Y/N can read my thoughts, she shrugs him off and starts walking away again. "That's my name, don't wear it out." Her tune is light and happy, making butterflies flap around my stomach. Nightwing and I stay frozen, watching her slip out of the alleyway before vanishing from our sight.

Dick's attention turns back towards me. His eyes are watery. Apparently, I'm not the only secret Bruce has been keeping from him, how in tune for the bat. "What's next? You going to end up being Jason Todd?" He asks, a sad laugh following. It tinges my heart, almost making me regret being willing to kill him a few minutes ago.

I hum a bit, turning towards the direction Y/N went in as I think about what I'm going to do. I start heading after her before changing my mind. I know she's alive and in town. That's all that matters. It'll be best for her if I back off, give her time to think over the event, and give Dick time to tattle to Bruce so I can see how they'll react. I glance at Nightwing behind me before opening my mouth again, "We both know that Y/N being alive isn't the only secret Bruce Wayne is hiding from the world."

I let the words hang behind me as I walk away. Waiting to go after Y/N also gives me time to think over what I'm going to do. If she doesn't remember parts of her life - if any of it - I don't need to scare her away by coming off too strong.

———————————

My heart jumps around as I walk up the path from the other day. The neon lights are still obnoxious as fuck, but I don't mind. Y/N will be there. I know she will. I've been watching her, keeping tabs on her, getting the hang of her schedule. I know, I know, I know. I sound like a stalker. But it's not stalking. It's... intel collecting.

I know she'll be here. She works until nine-thirty, so unlike the other night, I come in earlier, so I have time to see her. Time to talk to her. I also know they're not too busy at night so the cafe will at least be mostly empty, if not completely deserted.

From my stalk- intel collecting, I know Dick came in earlier to talk to her. I don't know what they talked about though. I don't know if I want to know. It pissed me off seeing Dick with Y/N. Pissed me off seeing him touch her again. Pissed me off seeing the smile that stayed on her face even after she left the cafe for class.

What does Dick think he's doing? I'm not stupid or blind. Hell, even a blind man can see how down-hard Dick is for Y/N. Even when we were younger, he pretty much had hearts in his eyes anytime Y/N was around. She wanted me last time; she'll want me this time too... I think.

The jingle of the bell on the door competes with my heartbeat for space in my ears. Sitting in one of the bar chairs at the coffee island is Y/N. Scarecrow is next to her, helping her with her chemistry homework. I'm not thrilled about this arrangement but at least Y/N is getting the academic help she needs.

"Hello!" Y/N peeps out, sending a smile at me as her attention turns away from Scarecrow. Her eyes soften when she focuses on me. "It's you again."

"It's me again," I mumble, taking slow steps towards her.

Scarecrow stands up, placing himself between Y/N and me. He's always been a small man, even when I was a kid, but he seems even smaller nowadays. "Again?" He asks, trying to look intimidating. He's barely intimidating when he's in his suit, and definitely isn't when he's dressed like a civilian.

"Again," Y/N peeps up, her voice still airy and soft. The same voice that used to whisper sweet nothings into my ear until I fell asleep most nights. "Helmet man here walked me home after I argued with Penguin the other night."

"You got into an argument with Penguin?" Crow asks, turning his attention from me to Y/N. "What did he want?"

"You know, the usual. He wants me in debt to him for another body to do his bidding," She teases a soft smile on her face in an attempt to comfort Crow. Scarecrow shifts around a bit glancing at me a few times.

I step aside, standing next to the skinny man and joining him looking at Y/N. She's so pretty, even out of her style and in the dumb uniform for the cafe. "Can I buy you a coffee?" I ask her, slowly tugging my helmet off as well as making sure the mask under it stays in place. The last thing I need is Scarecrow knowing I'm Jason Todd.

"Look at you, pulling all the guys today," Crow half teases, sending glares my way.

"I guess so," Y/N says, her smile even bigger as she scans over my face. Maybe she does know who I am.

"I have something to deal with. Will you be okay if I leave?" Crow asks, his attention not being pulled from me.

"I'll be fine. I'm pretty confident that I can take him if need be." Y/N giggles at herself, pulling a soft chuckle from Crow as well. He nods at her before turning on his heels and walking off. "What do you want to drink?" She asks, standing up and sliding behind the counter.

"I'll have whatever you're going to have." She hums, starting to make whatever it is she's making. I watch her move around, my eyes drinking in every moment. Memories flow in and out as I watch her. Memories of her hands on me, her lips on me, of her laugh, of her. "What do you think he's off to go do?" I ask, being careful not to call him Scarecrow in case she doesn't know. It would be better if Y/N didn't know; it would be one less person to protect her from.

She hums, her hands working at pouring our drinks out. "He's probably going to go line the fog machines in the Iceberg with fear gas. He gets pretty pissy when Penguin fucks with the staff." So, she does know. Is that good or bad? Probably good in this situation. "Here you go," She murmurs, pushing my cup towards me before walking back around the counter with her drink.

Y/N slides back into her seat, patting the one next to her. I obey, sitting down. Her eyes stay locked on me, the flickers of green swirling around them as she stares. The space is quiet, the only sound being us sipping on our coffees. "Are you stalking me?" She asks, filling in the space and causing me to choke a bit.

My lungs force out a cough in an attempt to counteract my choking. Y/N's eyes stay locked on me, the green standing out as she watches. "I... no?" Why the fuck did that come out as a question? That's pretty counterproductive. "No, I'm not." That's better... maybe.

She hums again, sipping on her coffee as she thinks over my answer. "Defiantly seems like you're stalking me. Most people don't sneak around and follow me all day." Once again silence falls between us. How am I supposed to respond to that?

Y/N sits in silence, enjoying her coffee as she watches me. Even though I know she's suspicious of me, I still find comfort in her gaze. "I don't remember much of my life before six months ago so if I'm supposed to know you, I'm not avoiding you. I just don't know who you are, so you don't need to sneak around me; you just need to talk to me. Well, and be patient please." She says, being the one to break the silence again.

Oh... So, she doesn't know anything. That's... scary. For many reasons. "Is there anything you do remember?" I ask, gently pushing my coffee back and forth between my hands.

"Snip bits of stuff. Though some things have started coming back since I ran into Nightwing and you. Some more came back after my coffee chat with Richard Grayson too."

Don't fucking say his name. Don't say it. You should be saying my name. Should be remembering stuff because of me. Not because of fucking Dick. "Oh ya?" I peep out, glaring ahead of me at the menu instead of focusing my anger on Y/N.

"Mmhmm..." She falls silent, nodding her head back and forth as if she's trying to wiggle her thoughts around. "Helmet man-"

"Red Hood," I say, cutting her off with my correction.

I turn my attention back to her, being met with her eyes already on me. "You're my Jason, right?"

"Ya," I push out, suddenly finding it hard to breathe. The word 'my' repeats nonstop in my head, bouncing around my brain as I try to sort through my feelings of bliss.

"I think I love you," She whispers, her hand dipping back behind her ear to mess with her tattoo.

The bliss is all washed away once the words hit my ears. She thinks she loves me? Does she not remember loving me? Of course not, Y/N doesn't remember anything. Well, at least a small piece of her remembers me. Remembers me enough to know she's supposed to love me and that's good enough. There's enough hope there for me to build on.

"Well, I know I love you," I whisper back, keeping my eyes on her to see her reaction. She's still looking at me, her eyes shining.

She hums a bit, tilting her head as she scans me again. "Can I take your mask off?" Y/N asks, her hands slow and gentle as they slide over my cheeks and come into contact with the mask covering my eyes.

"Ya."

Her fingers are soft as they snap off my mask. The joy drains from me as the warmth from her touch is removed. "Your eyes are green... I remember them being blue," Y/N says, her fingertips soon back on my cheeks.

I can feel my cheeks heating up, both from a blush and the hands present on my skin. "They used to be, now they're green." Y/N hums, running her fingers over my cheekbones before sliding them into my hair. I let my eyes close, soaking in her touches. It's calming, being able to be so close to her again, feeling her touch me again, feeling proof that she's alive. I lean forward a bit, getting close enough to feel Y/N's soft breathing coat my face. "Can..." Asking to kiss her might be a little much right now. Maybe I shouldn't ask.

"Can you what?" Y/N prompts, her hands dropping down to my shoulders.

My eyes snap open and once again they're met with the familiar color and the newly added flickers of green. Why did she only get slivers and mine completely changed color? "Can I take you on a date?" I finally ask, shifting a bit so our noses are touching. God, I want to kiss her. I want to hold her. I want her in every way possible. It's going to kill me having to work back up to that.

"I'd like that, Jason."

Yes. God, yes. "Say my name again," I mumble, rubbing my nose against hers.

"Jason," She whispers, bopping my nose with her own before pulling away from me.

———————————

Butterflies flap around my stomach, threatening to come up in a not-pretty way. My hands shake as I lift one to knock on the door of Y/N's apartment. The knocking feels loud as I do it. Maybe I knocked too loud.

The door swings open soon after, the door frame filling with the image of Y/N. She's dressed up with her hair down to cup her face. "Hi," I breathe out, my eyes drinking her in. She's so pretty, so perfect, so alive.

"Hello," she answers back, her eyes glancing at my hand. "You got me flowers?" Y/N asks, leaning against the door frame.

"Oh ya," I bark out, definitely too loud, as I push the bouquet toward her. I couldn't decide what flowers to get so I ended up getting three different bouquets and had the lady mix them. "Your favorite flowers are orange roses, but I didn't know if you still liked them or not, so I panicked and got more flowers than you probably need or want." That was dumb. Why did I say that? I feel like a thirteen-year-old with his first crush again.

"I still like orange roses," Y/N tells me, taking the flowers from me before walking back through the door. I follow after her, making sure to close the door behind me. Her apartment is small but cozy. There's not much in her home either but I guess that's expected since Y/N doesn't know herself.

There is a small couch and one of those old, bulky, shitty TVs tucked into her living room. The apartment smells nice, like pork and chili pepper. A million different dishes are stacked up around her countertop in the kitchen. "What are you making?" I ask her, sliding my jacket off before laying it on the couch.

"I'm making Pozole. I remember you liking it. Or I think you liked it. Somebody did at least," She mumbles a bit, keeping her attention to the pot on the stove in front of her.

"I like pozole. Alfred and you used to make it for me all the time."

Y/N's eyes light up at my words, making my chest fill with the warmth of joy. I walk into the cramped kitchen, making sure to stay out of her way as I stand in her presence. I watch her like a hawk as she works away, letting the warmth of the stove and the smell of dinner fill the space between us. For the first time in two years, I finally feel okay, finally feel at peace.

"You didn't answer my question the other day," I voice, sliding in closer to her. I want to hold her; I want to wrap my arms around her waist. I debate it for a second. I don't want to scare her off.

"What question?" Y/N asks, glancing at me before turning back to her project at hand.

"Is there anything you remember from our - er - your life?"

Y/N snaps the heat off, continuing to stir the pot as she thinks it over. "There's not a lot I do remember. I'm starting to remember this dude named Wally, I think. I don't know. I'm going to talk to Dick about him tomorrow. I remember a bit about Dick too but not much. I remember a bit about you... about us." Her eyes glance at me, before turning back to our dinner. She picks up some heat absorbers, wrapping them around the pot before setting it on a cutting board on the counter.

She's talking to Dick? About her memories? Or lack thereof, I guess. I don't want her talking to him. What's he going to say to her? What has he already said to her? What ideas is he putting into Y/N's head? Has Dick tried anything with her?

"What do you remember about us?" I ask, trying to push for more information as I try to forget my worried thoughts.

Y/N floats around the kitchen, taking out dishes for our food. My eyes trail her as she moves around the small space. "Umm... I remember us kissing a lot."

I chuckle a bit at that response. We do - did kiss a lot. We did other things a lot too. "Ya, ya we kissed a lot. We were very... touchy." Y/N giggles a bit as she makes our plates. My eyes keep glancing from her face to her hips. I really want to touch her. Before I can stop myself, I push off the counter I'm leaning on and wrap her up in me. My hands are firm on her hips and her back is pressed into my chest as I bury my head into her neck.

Y/N stiffens a bit in my hold before relaxing her muscles again. "We danced a lot too," I mumble into her neck, softly shifting her hips so we can sway together. She sways with me, her body weight feeling so good against mine. "You liked to read out loud to me too."

"Do you not know how to read?" She teases, shifting in my hold so we're face to face.

"I know how to read, I just read too slow for your liking."

"Oh ya?"

"Absolutely not, I just like your voice," I answer, lifting my head from her neck and placing our noses next to each other.

Y/N's hands slide up my arms, resting on my shoulders. "Our favorite book is The Great Gatsby, ya?"

My heart swells a bit at her words. "Ya, it is," I whisper, trying to focus my eyes on hers instead of her lips. It doesn't work so I decide to close my eyes, letting myself focus on her body heat instead. We stay silent, sitting like this, with me holding her. I could stay like this forever.

"Could you kiss me?" Y/N mumbles, shifting in my hold.

My eyes snap open, taking in her face. I roll the words over in my head. I already thought holding her was much for a "first date" and now she's asking me to kiss her? Maybe this is a trap. Maybe I'm making her feel like we have to move fast. Maybe Al Ghul is fucking with my head somehow. "Why?" I peep out, loosening my grip on her.

"Well, my therapist says doing stuff I used to do can help with my memories coming back. We were together ya?"

"Ya, we still are." Her face pinches some as her body stiffens again. Maybe I shouldn't have said that. It isn't fair of me to expect a relationship from Y/N. She doesn't even know who she is, let alone who I am.

"Well, I thought maybe kissing you again would help. We don't have to-"

"I really want to kiss you," I say, cutting her off, and tightening my grip on her again. Y/N's hands slide to the back of my neck, her fingers shaking a bit against my skin but her body relaxes again. "Close your eyes," I mumble, sliding my nose against hers again.

Y/N obeys, fluttering her eyes shut. I take my time, trailing kisses across her nose, her eyes, and her cheeks, before placing myself above her mouth. I soak this scene in for a second before closing the gap between us. Her lips are soft against mine and taste like mint gum.

I shift my hands up, cupping her neck with one and softly dipping the other into her hair. All my need and want and love is boiled into the kiss. Our lips shift against each other for a while, the kiss getting heated way more than it meant.

As my lungs start burning, Y/N pulls back, making me a bit sad. I'd gladly suffocate to death from her kiss. "Jason," She murmurs, her words a little slurred.

"Say it again," I whisper back, tilting my head so our lips are close again.

"Jason," She mutters again. Her lips brush against mine as she speaks.

Fucking Christ. This is too hot, too heated, too much for her right now but I can't stop thinking about hearing her whisper my name all night. "I can't wait for you to fall in love with me again," I say, keeping my tone at a whisper as I glance over her face.

"Why is that?" Y/N asks, her fingers tangling into my hair.

"Because I still love you so fucking much."

———————————————————————

[cycat-carisi]

I Left My Pretty Baby With Ralphie

Pairing: Steve Harrington x f!reader

Summary: If you haven't heard the tune "Ralphie" by Joe's former band, Post Animal, check it out! The tune inspired me to write a little thing about our favorite former King of Hawkins High and the massive crush he has on the reader.

Tags: Fluff, Summer of '85, Post-season 3, Pre-season 4, Steve Harrington has it bad and he really doesn't know what to do about it.

Warnings: some alcohol consumption, partying high schoolers, spoilers for season 3

Length: ~2.5k

A/N: This is pure, unedited word vomit. I don't have the time to write right now and yet here we are. (:

Fic below the cut or on AO3 here

Steve should have known better. Afterall, when one king falls, another is always waiting to take his place. Steve’s fall from grace had been less than glorious. Billy had shown up to claim the crown and had rubbed Steve’s face in it for good measure. And now, with Billy having succumbed to the Mind Flayer, the position of king had once again been ripe for the taking. This time it was little Ralphie Baker who rose to the occasion – well, not so little anymore. Over the summer of ’85 he had finally gotten a long-overdue growth spirt in both height and muscle. At six feet tall and a hundred and sixty pounds, Little Ralphie Baker’s ascent to the throne came just in time for his senior year.

Steve wouldn’t have been so bothered by Little Ralphie Baker if it hadn’t been for what happened at the last house party of the summer…

~~“It’s not in the way that you walk that gets me off. It’s the way that you think. It’s the way that you talk.”~~

The summer of 1985 started out pretty decent except for the obvious humiliation of working at a place like Scoops Ahoy. Sure, Steve struck out with the ladies and sure, Robin made fun of him for it, but at least working at the mall allowed him to see the people he cared about regularly. People including you.

You were Robin’s age, about to go into your last year of high school. After having been paired for a group project in one of your classes last year, you found out how awesome Robin actually was. The two of you became fast friends and during the summer you would visit her at Scoops for free samples and a back entrance into the theatre.

That’s also how Steve met you. The first time Robin introduced you to him made quite the impression on Steve. After all, he had come to respect Robin’s judgement on a lot of things, so, for you to be worthy of Robin’s friendship already spoke volumes about the kind of person you were.

As time went on, you and Steve found yourselves getting along really well too. So much so that it became the highlight of Steve’s day when you’d walk into the ice cream parlor with a lovely smile springing to life when you spotted him. The two of you would chat on his break and Steve was more than happy to show another member of Hawkins High that he wasn’t the same person that he used to be.

The lovely friendship between the two of you continued to grow, even after the Mind Flayer wrecked havoc on Hawkins. Instead of free ice cream, both Steve and Robin would let you use their Family Video discount; the store being your new place to hang out over the remainder of summer break.

Having such a strong and effortless connection, it was no wonder Steve found himself falling for you: your pretty smile, the shy way you’d tuck your hair behind your ear when he gave you a compliment, and especially how you just seemed to get him. He never felt judged when he was around you, only accepted. In his head and in his heart, Steve knew that he loved you; he had just never found the courage to tell you yet.

That’s why the last house party of the summer bugged Steve so much. You had generously offered him to tag along with yourself and Robin, but the former king of Hawkins High, Steve Harrington, had completely blown it.

~~“But I can’t tell this girl what’s on my mind. And it seems it's getting closer all the time.”~~

The night had started out fine. Your little trio flitted from social group to social group, sipping drinks and exchanging pleasantries with the other guests. Being the only one with a car or driver’s license, Steve had graciously agreed to be the DD for the night allowing you and Robin to let loose to rhythms like Phil Collins’ Sussudio blasting over the boom box.

Seeing you so relaxed and carefree sent shock waves straight to Steve’s heart. And when you rushed over to grab his hands in yours to dance, his heart nearly stopped altogether. Your cheeks were rosy from laughing and the slight buzz of alcohol, yet Steve still found you gazing at him with the same softness that you always did, even while twirling him around to the beat.

Then abruptly, the upbeat song came to an end, switching to the ballad of Bryan Adam’s Heaven. Awkwardly, Steve released himself from your grasp as if the lyrics would reveal every feeling that he was too nervous to share on his own. A party like this just wasn’t the time.

Steve saw you glancing at him with a mixture of confusion and something that bordered on hurt as he slowly retreated backwards.

Before anything further could transpire, the sound of Robin’s slurred voice calling out Steve’s name caused both your heads to turn. She clearly had been sipping back a few more drinks than you had. You both went to her aid finding her contemplating whether or not she was going to throw up.

“Take her home,” you told Steve, sympathetically. “There’s nothing more humiliating than puking at another person’s party.”

Steve knew you were right. Even though the night was young, Robin’s inability to hold her liquor warranted her an early retirement.

“You wanna stay longer?” Steve asked you while propping Robin against his shoulder.

Steve watched as you turned to glance around the room. Some of your other classmates you actually liked were still here to chat with. He tried to hide his desire to steal you away for some quiet one-on-one time after dropping Robin off. Steve hated to admit to himself just how often he daydreamed of taking you out for late night milkshakes at the local diner.

“I think…” you began, shaking Steve out of his thoughts. “hmm…are you coming back?” you asked him, almost shyly.

“I uh, I can if you want me to. After all, I did drive you here.” Steve shifted to reposition a now sleepy and very slouched Robin while simultaneously trying his damnedest to avoid your eyes.

“Steve,” you beckoned him to look at you. “I didn’t invite you with us just to be our driver. I wanted you to have some fun too.”

Steve knew that. He knew that you actually cared about him and wanted him to be a part of your life. Yet, Steve wasn’t convinced that you’d want him to be part of your life in the same way he did.

“Yeah, sure then,” he replied simply. “I’ll come back later. Will you be okay here by yourself? I know you didn’t have as much to drink as this one,” he gave Robin a nudge causing her to groan. “But still. Parties can get weird nonetheless.”

His concern caused you to smile that gorgeous smile he loved so much. “Thanks, Steve. I’ll be okay though. Promise.”

And with that, Steve set off to haul Robin home. But it was as he was leaving the house that he heard the voice of Little Ralphie Baker enter the room.

~~“I went to the party and I left my pretty baby with Ralphie, baby, and now I’m alone.”~~

Steve returned about a half an hour later ready to laugh with you about how difficult Robin was to sneak into her house while wasted. She was all uncoordinated limbs, swapping between jaunty giggles and annoyed groans. Except as he entered through the living room’s front door, his ears were met with the sound of your melodic laughter. There you were, holding your solo cup and stood beside none other than Little Ralphie Baker. His now broad shoulders were squared to your petite frame, narrowed eyes gazing down upon what Steve could only imagine was your chest and, of course, smiling a devilish grin. And you – you were taking it all in! Just standing there chatting and laughing with the new king of Hawkins High.

Steve felt his stomach knot in jealousy while it seemed as though his heart fell right out of his chest. Sure, he could waltz over there and butt in. He knew exactly what Ralphie was doing; Steve used to pull the same shallow moves himself. But the fact of the matter was, despite how much Steve loved you, you were never really his to lose to begin with.

Steve wanted to run. He wanted to jump in his car, speed home and burry himself under his duvet. He hated how each and every time he felt something genuine for a girl, she never felt the same way. Steve had tried so hard to change and be a better person, yet he still couldn’t find anyone to love him for who he had become. He thought that person could have been you, but once again he had clearly been wrong.

~~“And now I'm feeling something and I know she's doing better, without me, baby guess I'll go home whether that's with or without you.”~~

The gravel crunched under his sneakers as Steve marched himself back to his car. He got in and slammed the door, hands slapping against the steering wheel. He slid one off, about to put keys in the ignition when he stopped. He had made you a promise. Even if he refused to witness the rest of the party, he would still wait here to drive you home when you were ready to leave.

With a sigh, Steve turned the key only slightly, allowing his radio to come to life. Like a curse, Heaven’s romantic notes filled the car, and Steve yanked the dial to the right until something more upbeat replaced it. He let his head bounce back against the headrest and closed his eyes, dreading the inevitably long wait until you were finished partying with Little Ralphie Baker.

Then suddenly, a soft rap sounded on the passenger’s side window of the burgundy bimmer. Steve jumped, peering through fallen locks of brown hair towards the sound. It was you.

You gave a small wave and smile as he reached over to unlock the door and let you in. Confusion was etched across his entire face. “What are you doing here?” he stammered.

You gazed at him with your own hint of bewilderment. “Uh, getting in your car?” you reflected the question back at him as you buckled your belt.

“Why?” he said a little too coldly. “The party isn’t over yet.” Steve couldn’t bare to look at you any longer. He didn’t want to show you just how stupidly jealous seeing you with someone else had made him.

“What the heck has gotten into you, Steve?” you fired back, angling yourself towards him in the velvety seat.

Steve paused. This was not the can of worms he wanted to open right now. You still had alcohol in your system and Steve was high on his feelings for you. It could never end well, he thought. “Nothing,” he dismissed, once again reaching for the ignition.

“Steve,” you spoke smoothly. Then your hand reached for his forearm. Steve swore your touch would burn a hole in his sweater, but that voice, that sweet, calm, soothing voice...it compelled him stop and turn.

“What’s wrong?” you asked when he finally met your gaze.

Those big eyes of yours were so sincere and so sweet. How could he not tell you the truth? “I just,” he began, voice low in the small space of the car. “I just thought you’d want to stay longer. I walked in earlier and saw you with Ralphie Baker. Seemed like you two were getting along well.”

“Ralphie Baker?” you scoffed. “Ralphie Baker?! I couldn’t get that creep away from me fast enough!” you exclaimed. “He wouldn’t stop staring at my boobs! I didn’t want to make a scene or else I would have given him a slap.”

With your words, the vice around Steve’s chest suddenly released. His eyebrows unknitted and those dark eyes lit up in the dim light. “Really?” he spoke meekly. Shaking himself out of it, he continued, “Sorry, I should have stepped in to help…”

“Nah, it’s fine,” you assured him. “You came back and that’s all that matters.” Steve found himself captivated by the smile you give him. Maybe he was imagining things, but he was fairly certain that this very smile was one reserved only for him.

Your hand still rested on his forearm, thumb now rubbing lightly over the material of his shirt. The little gesture caused Steve to return a heart-felt grin. Maybe now wasn’t such a horrible time to lay it all on the line. It’s a huge leap, but the pounding of his heart was never going to stop if he didn’t say something.

“I,” Steve inhaled deeply. “I promised that I would come back, and I care too much about you to ever go back on my word.” That was a start. Just come out and say it, Steve. He examined your features closely for any signs of discomfort. Instead, all he found was intrigue. “I,” he began again. It was hard to hear his own thoughts over the sound of his pulse in his ears.

But before he could finish, Steve witnessed you leaning across the center console, hand using his forearm for leverage. And the next thing he knew, your lips were brushing softly against his. The kiss was better than he could have ever imagined. A million butterflies exploded inside his tummy and he found his free hand making its way to cup your cheek of its own accord.

As the pair of you leaned back, Steve’s face was plastered with a dopey grin. Yours was in much the same state. “I’ve been trying to figure you out all summer, Harrington,” you whispered. “I just never knew if I was reading the signals clearly.”

Steve’s eyebrows shot towards the roof. “Really?” he spoke gently.

“You were jealous about Ralphie, weren’t you?” you quipped. Steve opened his mouth to deny but you quickly added, “It wasn’t my intention, just so you know, but seeing you out here moping at least gave me the confirmation I needed.”

A warmth spread throughout Steve’s chest. “I guess I’m not so good at hiding my feelings, huh?”

You shook your head at him affectionately.

He smirked. “What am I feeling right now, then?” 

“Hmm,” you pretended to contemplate. “I think you wanna take me out for a late-night milkshake, but only after you kiss me again here first.”

The twinkle in your eye made Steve’s heart melt. “You really can read me like a book,” he grinned before leaning into your lips once more.

~~“And when I see something I like you know that I gotta pounce. All the things that you say, say, say, I can trust every ounce.”~~

Thank you for reading and feedback is loved!

[beansnsoup]

“I love you.” “I know.”

Eric Forman x gn!reader

Summary- Halloween is right around the corner, and this year it’s Erics turn to pick costumes.

Warnings- fluff, cheesy romance, fem reader

You sat in the Forman’s basement flipping through the style catalog that Jackie brought over for you to borrow.  You always tried to at least look decent, Jackie would always gripe about your and Donna’s style, but you brushed it off because you knew whatever you wore she would have some kind of opinion on it, you still loved her though.

It was quiet until a scream came from Jackie then a bunch of laughter following after, “Michael!”  You look over towards her to find Kelso taking off a cheap Halloween store mask, Hyde with Elvis shades on with the sideburns attached, and Eric holding a bag with two costumes in it.

“What’s that?” You ask him, nodding your head to the bag, he smirked, “Ours Halloween costumes.”  Oh god, you totally forgot he was in charge of costume planning this year, you did not trust him at all, last year you forced him to be Tommy while you were Carrie.  He pulled the costumes out of the bag and showed you a Han Solo and a Princess Leia Costume, it wasn’t terrible.

“I can work with that,” You turn to Jackie and point at her, “You, my very fashionable friend, will be doing my hair.”  She claps in excitement; you knew you wouldn’t be able to do your hair like Leias by yourself.  Eric jumps over the couch and throws an arm around you, “What are our plans for Halloween anyway?”  Donna asks, you guys obviously weren’t going Trick or Treating, you all knew for a fact the adult would turn you down for being “too old.”

“Dad was thinking about closing down Grooves for a Halloween party

 thing, he’s only letting a certain amount of people in.”  Hyde informed us, we all smiled at each other, now knowing what you all were going to do for Halloween.

-

You, Donna, and Jackie all say in a circle on Donna’s bedroom floor, “You’re not actually going to wear that costume, are you?” Jackie asked you, taking another puff from the join Donna handed to her.  You shrugged, “I actually think it’s really cute, Leia and Han are such a power couple.”  Jackie rolled her eyes in response to yours.  

“What are you and Kelso gonna do?” Donna asked her, she smiled like she was about to blow us away by her idea, “Daphne and Fred.”  You and Donna just looked at each other and laughed, “What’s so funny?”

“Well, they’re like super complicated, and Fred just kind of, I don’t know, is dumb and ignores her, kind of like you and Kelso.”  You tell her, causing Donna to burst out laughing again. Jackie huffed out and got up and walked to the bathroom, you turn to look at Donna who’s now rolling on the floor, “You should look for someone at the party on Halloween.”

She calms down and looks at you, “I don’t know, all of my relationships have been so bad.”  

“Yeah but, you won’t know unless you try, right?”  

-

You were in Erics bathroom, everyone was getting ready together before you all headed to Grooves.  Jackie had already stuck like 20 bobby pins in your hair just for the first bun, she was doing a really good job, better that you could’ve done, so you weren’t complaining.

Donna walked in dressed up as Wonder Woman, “Oh my God, Donna you look hot!” You compliment me her was she laughs, “Stop moving.” Jackie says, she has bobby pins held between her teeth so it’s hard to make out what she said.”

She sticks the last bobby pin in, “There! All done!” Jackie smiles at her work, “This looks awesome, Thanks Jackie.”  You get up from the stool and leave the bathroom as the girls follow behind, all the boys are down in the basement waiting for you guys.  Hyde was wearing the same thing he was wearing earlier in the week, a normal out fit with Elvis sideburn sunglasses.

“Are you guys ready or are we going to sit in the basement all night?”  Donna asks them, they all turn towards you guys while getting up, then everyone walks outside to the car to finally be getting on the way.

You’re all smooshed in the car; Hyde is flooring the gas so the limit of people doesn’t get before you guys.  He pulls in the parking lot of the record store, thankfully there aren’t a lot of cars parked just yet, everyone piles out of the car, Eric puts an arm around you and kisses your cheek, “You look awesome.”  You smile at him, “Thank you babe, just don’t ruin my hair.” You warn him.

He unwraps his arm and puts both of them up to “surrender.”  The store looks great, Angie did a great job, she’s in the corner of the store setting up drinks, she dressed up as Catwoman.  She noticed Hyde and the gang come in and walks up to greet you all, “So? What do think?”  

“It looks great!” You tell her, she smiles at you and kisses your cheek and walks off.  

-

You all got to this party at roughly 9:00, it was no 1 in the morning.  Hyde insisted on staying at the store to help out his siter in cleaning up for the workday, so everyone left without him.  You hopped in the front seat with Eric, sliding close to his side, he dropped everyone off at their places instead of taking them back to his place, you were the only one he took back home.

You both tried to hardest to be quiet when walking into the basement, not wake up his parents, scratch that, wake up Red.  He grabbed you hand once your feet hit the floor, dragging you to the couch, you guys had had a few drinks that night, not too many so Hydes dad wouldn’t go bazerk. 

Eric was still a little tipsy though, now that you thought about it, letting him drive everyone home wasn’t the best idea.  He glided his lips up to yours, bringing you in to a soft kiss, you obviously kissed back, he wasn’t terribly drunk.

After a few minutes of making out you both quietly headed upstairs to his bedroom, you told him no funny business, you were too tired to let anything escalate.  You sat down in front of a mirror you accidently left over at his house last week, taking out all the bunches of bobby pins Jackie put in your hair, it surprisingly stayed up all night.

He didn’t even try to get out of his Han costume, he instead walked over to you, you looked up at him and gave him a peck,

“I love you.”

Eric has alway been my go to for that 70s show boys, and he has like little to no fics, now that 90s show is pretty popular i decided to feed onto that, also how would yall feel about a Nate or Gwen Runck fic?

“I know.”