#shit that she has to be told every god damn day by both me and our mom. i’m so fucking stressed out over every fucking thing in existence

[flippedorbit]

my mom’s about to be the reason i off myself exactly a week before graduation if she keeps bitching about every little thing

[roosterforme]

Sugar and Lace | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Summary: Bradley had a hot wife. He went wild for you in your work clothes and his worn out shirts. You didn't need any bells and whistles to look sexy, and you never would. But now that he knew what you looked like in a little lace, he needed to have that version of you, too.

Warnings: Fluff, adult language, drinking

Length: 3000 words

Pairing: Beer Boy and Sugar! Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader (former fuckboy college student Bradley)

This is a one-shot to accompany my fics Old Habits Die Hard and Right Girl, Wrong Time but it can be read on its own! Check out my masterlist

Bradley looked at Jake over his beer, and Jake looked right back at him. The Hard Deck was virtually empty this early on a Saturday in the middle of the blazing summer heatwave, leaving the two of them very much alone together with their drinks.

"So..." Bradley said, tracing a line through the condensation on his half empty bottle. It wasn't that he disliked Jake. Not really. But he didn't know how many times he could be coerced into hanging out with him for the sake of you having a 'girls day'. It wasn't like he could complain about work to the person who annoyed the shit out of him at work yesterday.

"So..." Jake replied, picking up his drink and chugging it before signaling to Penny for two more. When he turned back, he had a smug little smile on his face that let Bradley know he was about to get annoyed again. "I'm assuming by the way your wife looks and how fucking pussy whipped you are that she has good taste in lingerie?"

Bradley sputtered, almost knocking his bottle off the high top. "Jesus fucking Christ, Hangman. What the hell kind of question is that?" He could feel heat rising in his cheeks at the memory of you prancing around the bedroom last weekend in a lacy tie dye bra and matching boy shorts. Everything you wore was sexy.

"That's obviously what they are out shopping for," Jake drawled, handing the empties to Penny as she dropped off fresh beers. Bradley waved two fingers in a half-hearted salute and then glared at Jake as he added, "Jessica specifically asked your wife to go with her. She told me she's picking out some things for the honeymoon, and you and I both know what that means. They are trying on lingerie." His smirk was back. "Together."

Bradley swallowed hard, digging his fist into his thigh. His teeth were clenched as he said, "Stop picturing my wife in lingerie."

All he got was a jovial laugh in response. "Tell me right now to my face that you're not picturing both of them wearing something tight, cropped and lacy, and I'll stop."

Bradley raked his fingers through his hair, squeezing his eyes shut against the mental image of you and Jessica in a cute little fitting room, laughing together. "God damn it, Hangman!"

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

You and Jessica were crammed into a fitting room together, trying not to laugh at the enormous stacks of cute things to try on. Your pile was on the left side of the decorative bench, and hers was on the right. You knew that Jessica Reed happened to collect lingerie in every color imaginable, but she was on a quest to find some unique things to take on her honeymoon. And you were on a quest to wow your husband with something more than a bra and boy shorts for once. 

Not that he complained. Not that he ever complained. Bradley went absolutely feral for you in your damn work clothes and loafers. He about lost his mind when you wore his ratty, old tie dye tee shirt to bed. He often sounded like he was going to need CPR when you put on his bathrobe and nothing else. It was hard to contain your smile when you just knew that something in this fitting room was going to blow his mind to the point that he would be rendered speechless.

"Try something on," Jessica suggested gently, and you took a step closer to your pile. "Then you'll get a better idea of what you like." 

There was red, green, black, white and pink fabric. There were nightgowns, thongs, bralettes and stockings. When you reached your hand out, you hesitated, confidence wavering. This seemed a lot more challenging than solving a linear algebra matrix.

Jessica whispered, "You'll look beautiful in anything, Advanced Calculus. I can promise you that." When you kind of shrugged in response, she said, "Do you want me to wait in line for my own fitting room so you can have more privacy?"

The two of you already agreed to help each other make selections, and the last thing you wanted was to keep opening the door so everyone else could see you wearing this stuff. "No. It's not that. I just... don't really own anything like this. I mean, I have a few things, but some of this is elaborate." You glanced at her over your shoulder and winced. "And this was supposed to be a shopping trip for you! For your honeymoon! Not for me."

She shushed you and then reached into your pile and pulled out a fairly innocuous looking nightie in a soft champagne color. "Start with this. Then you'll see how hot you look, and it'll be a gateway drug to you starting your own collection that will rival mine."

"I've seen your closet," you muttered, taking the hanger from her and holding the garment up in front of your body. It was pretty. The color even complimented your hair. It was a far cry from what you usually wore to bed, but you'd give it a shot.

When you started to undress, Jessica turned around and played with her phone, which you did appreciate. All of your bumps and lumps would be on display soon enough anyway, but at least you'd have a minute to straighten yourself out. The fabric was cool and slick against your skin, and you shivered as it settled high on your thighs. When you looked in the mirror and turned, you were pleasantly surprised with the result.

"It's not bad," you said, and she looked up and gasped, green eyes wide.

"It's perfect!"

"I wouldn't go that far," you muttered, smoothing your hands along your sides.

"Well, I would. And I'm sure Bradley would, too. Do you want me to take a picture on your phone?" she asked, and you nodded while she posed you with one hand on your hip. "Like I said, perfect," she muttered as she took the photo and then set your phone down again. "Try on something else."

"Okay," you whispered, reaching blindly into your pile and pulling out a black lace corset top.

Jessica jumped up and down and clapped her hands. "I love that one. I picked one up to try it on, too."

"I don't know about this," you said, holding it up in front of the nightie. "Not sure how Beer Boy is going to like it."

"You won't know until you try it on."

With those words of wisdom, you changed from the nightie to the corset, and your immediate thought was how cute this would look under your sweaters and tweed when you were at work. And it would feel amazing. It was snug and sexy, and somehow you felt like you could kick even more ass at work if you were wearing this thing.

"What the hell?" you whispered, and Jessica turned to look at you, clapping her hands once again. "I feel like I have super powers."

"Because you do! Look at you! Please let me take another picture of you to send to Bradley."

This time you posed yourself and turned so your tattoos were visible through the lace cutout on the side. Then you stood there and admired yourself before saying, "I'm definitely buying this. Catch me wearing it to work under my cardigans in the fall."

Jessica started digging into her own pile now as you changed from the corset into a bodysuit, but when she met your eyes in the mirror, she looked like she was going to freak out.

"What?" you asked. "The bodysuit looks that bad?"

She shook her head, and pressed her lips together before almost shouting, "When were you going to tell me you have a math tattoo?"

"Oh," you replied, not sure you'd ever heard her voice reach that octave before. "Euler's Identity? I've had it since I was nineteen."

"I love how you embrace your inner nerd," she said as if she was in awe of you, and you started laughing which made her laugh. "Now send those pictures to your husband and let that man worship you."

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

Bradley had just buried his face in his hands while Jake laughed when his phone went off. You hadn't even bothered to inform him that your little 'girls day outing' was a quest to make sure Jake enjoyed his honeymoon with Jessica. Honestly, Bradley kind of hoped the other man was correct in his assessment that you'd be shopping for something for yourself, too. Not that you needed it. Holy shit, you still looked like the girl he fell in love with over a decade ago whenever you wore his old Grateful Dead shirt or his robe around the house.

But now he wanted something special, too. Why should Jake get to have all the fun when it came to having his partner all wrapped up in a pretty package that was specifically meant to be removed?

"Sugar," he grunted when he saw that you'd texted him. Jake was rambling about something across the table, but Bradley couldn't hear him. He could no longer hear anything. He couldn't process thoughts or form words. All he could do was stare at the two photos you'd sent to him. "Oh, fuck."

In the first one, you were wearing a shimmery light gold colored thing that looked soft. Like maybe almost as soft as your skin. His heart hammered up into his ears as he examined every inch of it on your curves. Your nipples were pebbled against the fabric, and he could practically feel them between his lips. When he swiped to look at the second one, he abruptly stood from his stool with his phone gripped tight in his hand, eyes bugging out.

"Let me guess... your wife sent you photos?" Jake asked, clearly amused.

Instead of verbally responding, Bradley made sure his phone was tipped away from Jake as he zoomed in for a closer look. Holy hell. Your tits were being pushed up in the sexiest black lace he had ever seen. It was sinful, and now he was imagining you wearing it under one of your tweed blazers while giving a lecture. He swallowed hard, realizing he could see the tiniest bit of your tattoos through the little cutout on the side, and he actually whimpered.

"Yeah... she definitely sent you photos," Jake murmured as his own phone chimed. "Oh, Jess just sent me five."

"How did you get five?" Bradley complained, swiping back and forth, desperately looking for more. "I only got two!" 

It was then that he noticed you texted him after you sent the pictures.

What do you think, Beer Boy?

Bradley laughed a bit maniacally. What did he think about the lingerie? Ha! He could barely think at all! He paced back and forth a bit, sweating as he wrote back.

You look fucking hot as hell, Sugar. If you don't bring that black top home, I think you'll break my heart.

Bradley cringed, because now Jake was the one who was whimpering. "They're sharing a fitting room," he whispered, and Bradley's eyes went wide with the realization that Jessica must have taken the photos for you. Then his eyes narrowed as he reached for Jake's phone.

"You better not be able to see Sugar in any of the pictures!"

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

You and Jessica were wearing matching fluffy robes and sorting through everything you'd already tried on.

"You have to get that thing," you told her, pointing to the garters and stockings. "It fits you like a glove."

She nodded and added it to her 'yes' pile. "And you have to get the thong and bustier," she replied.

"I'm already buying four things," you reminded her. The bustier was nice, and your breasts looked good in it, but you didn't love the color very much. Besides, there was one last thing you hadn't tried on for fear of looking or feeling ridiculous, but there was a part of your brain that just knew your husband would love it.

"Missed one!" Jessica said, pulling on the bright pink fabric like she could read your mind. Always the best cheerleader, she held it up in front of your body and nodded. "It's bold, but I think you can pull it off."

You took it from her, but looked at yourself skeptically in the mirror. "I don't know... it's going to look bad. Like I'm trying too hard. I don't know why I even picked it up."

But you did know. Bradley was attracted to you in that dumb tie dye shirt like you were some sort of exotic bird whenever you put it on. All of the bright colors swirled into something that just lured him right to you. Part of it was nostalgia, sure, but you felt like there was something more as well.

"Actually, I do know why I picked it up," you told Jessica, holding the chemise closer to yourself. "Bradley really likes it when I wear his old shirt that I kind of held hostage for ten years. It's vibrant and bright, and I think this is the sort of thing he might enjoy?" You pursed your lips and sighed. "But, maybe I'm wrong, because he also just seems to like me how I am. No frills, you know? He's always been that way."

Jessica smiled. "Yes, I understand. And I hope you realize that you just described a man who is desperately in love with you, not just how you look. Sounds like the kind of man you should spoil a little bit." She tugged gently on the chemise and added, "This is a far cry from a tee shirt, but you won't know how you feel about it until you try it on."

"You're right."

Once you were out of the robe, you pulled the stretchy lace over your body, and gaped at the deep neckline as Jessica tied the satin ribbons around the back of your neck. You hadn't noticed before, but there were some yellow and orange threads woven in, making delicate swirls in the fabric. Almost like a different kind of tie dye. It actually looked stunning on you, and as you turned from side to side, you already knew you had to have it.

"I'm obsessed," Jessica said, bouncing excitedly as she clapped her hands together. "Should I take one last round of photos for you to send to Bradley?"

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

Bradley was lightheaded. He sweat through his shirt, and he had his forehead cradled in his hand as he opened three photos of you wearing something so bright and pink and sexy, he wanted to lick it off of you. Everything was covered up, but barely. In the one shot, he could almost see your ass. In another, he could definitely see your pert nipples. In the other one, he could make out part of your titty tattoos.

It was a good thing Jake was staring at his own phone in amazement, because Bradley was pretty sure he was drooling and incapable of formulating a sentence. He had already written back to you, begging you to buy the pink thing. Telling you he needed it. Letting you know he wanted to peel is slowly off of your body in bed later. In fact, the last thing he sent was 'Buy everything in that whole fucking store, money is no object'. And he meant every word. 

Bradley had been crazy about you for so long, and most of the appeal came from how smart you are and the fact that you weren't fussy. You let him dote on you in your work outfits. You wore his clothing around the house. You didn't need all the bells and whistles to be sexy, and you never would.

But now that he knew exactly what you looked like in black satin and colorful lace, he needed to have that version of you, too. He needed it.

"Since when does your wife have tattoos?"

Those words snapped Bradley out of his lust filled stupor, and his brown eyes bore into Jake's green ones. How did he know about your titty tattoos? When his gaze drifted back to his phone, he turned the screen toward Bradley with a grin. Apparently you had taken a photo of Jessica, in which your reflection was visible in the fitting room mirror. You were wearing a bra, and you were as covered up as you would be for a beach day, but Bradley loathed the idea of Jake having any sort of access to those tattoos.

"Hey!" Jake complained as Bradley snatched the phone and deleted the photo. "What the fuck, Bradshaw? I wanted that picture of Jessica! You could have just cropped it."

"Hey, boys!"

Bradley turned in time to toss Jake's phone aside as Jessica headed through the nearly empty bar with you following behind her. There were two enormous shopping bags in your hands, and you had a smile on your face as you asked, "Ready to go home, Beer Boy?"

"Hell yes," he murmured, closing the distance to your lips and kissing you hard. "Did you buy that pink thing? And the black one?"

His hands wound around your waist possessively, and he got even more excited as you tucked the bags behind your back and whispered, "There's only one way to find out."

Bradley started guiding you to the door. "Yeah. We're going home. Right now." He ran his nose along your cheek and gave you one more sweet kiss before shouting over his shoulder, "Thanks for the beers, Bagman. Oh, and Jessica, I need you to crop your photos better next time you take my wife shopping."

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

I love Beer Boy for making Sugar feel so good about herself every day. She's a badass, and he knows it. I wrote this as a little wedding treat for @je-suis-prest-rachel Congratulations, Rachel! And thanks to @beyondthesefourwalls

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[mothandpidgeon]

Making Out to Pablo Honey (virgin!Dieter Bravo x f!reader)

Moth's Masterlist // follow @mothandpidgeon-updates and turn on notifications to stay updated with my fics!

pairing: virgin!Dieter Bravo x f!reader

rating: E MDNI

summary: Dieter’s always tried to be cool. The thing about being cool, though, the more he tries, the less it works. You, on the other hand, you’re cool.

contents: virgin!Dieter, young!Dieter, lots of 90s references, cannabis, mentions of masturbation, fingering, premature ejaculating, one ferris bueller reference, reader is able bodied and not described physically moth never uses y/n.

This fic is about horny teens doing horny teen things. It's not too late to not read this if that's not ok with you.

wc: 2.5k

a/n: I'm thinking of this as a Dieter origin story. I really enjoyed thinking about him before he was the DIETER BRAVO. Anyway, this was kind of healing I wish I knew him back when I was in high school. Thanks @moonlitbirdie and @whocaresstillthelouvre for betaing and cheering me on!

“Sweet or salty?” you ask. Your head is buried in one of the kitchen cabinets, rummaging through a selection of snacks. 

Dieter sits on the counter opposite, watching you with a lazy smile. 

“Sweet,” he says. “No, wait. Salty.”

You look at him over your shoulder, your eyes bloodshot under heavy lids. 

“You’re so stoned,” you giggle. 

Dieter blushes. Despite the fact that he coughs after every hit, getting high with you after school has become his favorite past time. You never tease him for it, just put the joint between your lips while Dieter wonders if you can feel the warmth from his there. You’re both well and truly blazed at this point after smoking up in the dugout of the school's baseball field.

Dieter gazes over your body as you stand on tip toe, reaching for the top shelf. It’s like he can’t control his eyes from wandering to you when he’s like this. Sometimes you notice. 

“What?” you’ll say. “You’re staring at me.”

“You’re paranoid,” he’ll lie. 

He wishes he was brave enough to tell you that he’s staring because he thinks you’re beautiful. 

It’s hard to believe that the two of you are actually friends now. He still remembers when you were assigned as his lab partner, a girl that he was equally drawn to and intimidated by.  

Now he’s in your house after school almost every day. 

“Honey?” your mother’s voice calls from the front door.

“Shit.” Dieter hops onto the floor before she enters the kitchen in a smart business outfit. 

“Oh, hi, Dieter,” she says, smoothing the bottom of her hair. 

“Hello, ma’am,” Dieter says. 

You stifle a laugh. 

“Dieter, you don’t have to call me ma’am,” your mother says.  

“Um okay,” he replies. He can’t remember her first name. She’s told him before. Does he seem stoned? Oh, god, he definitely does. 

She scrunches her nose.

“What’s that smell?” she asks.

Dieter’s stomach plummets. The two of you must reek of pot. He’s grown to like the scent– an earthy tang that now reminds him of you. He braces himself, trying to clear his foggy mind for a moment so he can’t act sober. 

“Somebody must’ve run over a skunk,” you say. “What’re you doing home so early?”

You change the subject so seamlessly. Of course. Nothing ever seems to scare you.

“I’ve got a meeting with the Vermont people but I left the damn file here,” she says, picking a folder up from the kitchen table. “I’ll be back late if we close the deal.”

“Good luck,” you say.

Dieter bursts with laughter as your mother goes out the front door. You join him, nearly doubling over with your giggles. 

“I was freaking out!” he tells you. “A skunk! I can’t believe she bought that.”

“I know, right? She’s clueless,” you chuckle. “Look.” 

You hold up your creation— a plate bursting with flavor and texture. It’s organized into little piles of treats— potato chips, Oreos, a handful of glistening strawberries. Chocolate covered pretzels rest beside dried cranberries and several ropes of licorice separate honey roasted peanuts from fun sized Kit Kats in glossy red wrappers. It’s a feast, every bite he could ever want just when he wants it the most. 

“Fuck,” he whispers as he takes in this offering. 

Maybe it’s the pot buzzing around in his head but he can feel himself falling head over heels for you. He wants to kiss you but what if you don’t want to be kissed? What if you reject him? He could play it off as a joke like the one he told in the biology lab that got you to notice him for the first time. Humiliation he can handle but he’s not sure he could take that heartbreak. 

The cookies are calling his name so he abandons any dreams of filling his mouth with your tongue in favor of a Nutter Butter. 

There’s a big, L shaped couch in the basement that Dieter sprawls out on while he munches on the fruit. They might be the best strawberries he’s ever eaten. Everything tastes so good when he’s high. He wonders what you taste like. 

“Do you like Radiohead?” you ask sorting through a pile of cassettes. 

“Yeah. I love them,” he says. He’s only heard one of their songs on the radio but if you like them, he wants to like them, too. 

Dieter’s always tried to be cool. He has a lot working against him— built like a string bean, a goofy personality. His own fucking name has betrayed him. He got the same haircut as Leonardo DiCaprio, he saved up to buy a pair of fancy sneakers, he spends hours in the mirror carefully choosing his outfits. The thing about being cool, though, the more he tries, the less it works. 

You, on the other hand, you’re cool. Effortlessly so in your black boots and chipped nail polish. It’s not just the music you listen to or the clothes you wear. There’s something in your attitude, an aloof confidence that he’s never been able to replicate. 

Despite his anxieties, you never make him feel judged. It seems like you enjoy introducing him to new things. You offered to make him a mixtape and it sent his heart fluttering. He’s shared a thing or two with you, too— leading you through the aisles of the local video store handing you his favorite obscure movies. Sometimes you laugh at his enthusiasm but it’s never mean spirited. 

You pop the tape in and climb up onto the sofa as rough guitar strums seep through the speakers. There’s something psychedelic in the music that has Dieter sinking deeper into his seat. 

Although there’s plenty of space, you sit alongside him, propping your feet up on the chaise beside his. Dieter’s pulse picks up. He’s so aware of you so close to him, each move of your muscles as you get comfortable. He can smell the pot tangled up in your hair and the fresh scent of cotton that always lingers on your clothes. 

“I like being high,” Dieter sighs. 

You laugh. He fucking loves the sound of it, wants to be a little clown to keep you giggling away.

“Give me a Kit Kat,” you say. 

The snack plate is balanced on Dieter’s lap so when you fish through it for the candy, he can feel the pressure of your touch right on his dick. He stifles a groan, trying to focus his attention on the crinkle of the wrapper in your hands. 

He’s touched himself to the thought of you more times than he’d like to admit. There was an incident when you unexpectedly brushed your ass against him at your locker and he popped a boner. He had to take care of it in the bathroom, one hand cupping the tip of his cock as he came so he didn’t make a mess. 

“Dieter,” you say. His name sounds so sweet when you say it softly like that. 

“Yeah,” he replies. 

Some time in the last fifteen minutes, his mind wandered away and he got lost in the haze of his high. He can’t remember what he was thinking about before you got his attention or how long he’s been out of it. There’s just a warm feeling in his head and every once in a while he remembers that you’re sitting right next to him and he smiles to himself and then he floats away again. 

“You’re staring at me,” you say. 

You’re close, laying on the same couch cushion, your face just inches from his own. You have pretty eyes. Maybe that’s what he’s been looking at. Or your hair. He likes your hair. 

“Yeah,” he says with a sigh. There’s no denying it this time. 

Your lips curl into a smile and your eyes dance over his features. He feels himself leaning towards you like his head is too heavy to fight your magnetic pull. 

Your noses brush, that’s when he realizes that you’re moving towards him, too. Both of you hesitate there, an acknowledgement of this point of no return— your friendship will never be the same. 

You kiss him. At first it’s a cautious meeting of lips and, suddenly, a crash of passion and excitement. It’s sloppy and unchoreographed but the two of you find a rhythm. He can taste the chocolate in your kiss. 

You climb onto his lap, sliding your hands beneath his shirt. Having all of you there, straddling him like he’s in his own wet dream, is overwhelming. Blood rushes to his cock. There’s so much of you to explore— soft places to touch and hold and taste. He wants all of you all at once and you seem just as eager. 

Your mouth roams his neck and teeth rake against his earlobe as you rock over the bulge in his jeans. He’s so sensitive from the weed, he can practically feel the hot drag of your pussy even through the layers between you. 

Dieter fumbles with the clasp of your bra and you knock his hands away to do it for him, then unbutton your pants and do the same for him. He keeps his mouth on yours as you pull off his shirt with eager kisses. 

He slips his fingers beneath the waistband of your panties. He’s met with the slick lips of your pussy giving him a delicious shiver. You gasp and sink your teeth into his bottom lip. 

Now your hand finds him, coating his length with precum and tugging. 

“Oh god,” he chokes. He wills himself not to finish right there in your hand. 

Dieter presses a finger into your entrance, slow and cautious, watching your expression for any signs of discomfort. You’re so tight, he can’t imagine the crush of it around him. The strokes on his cock stutter and slow as he thrusts deeper until eventually your limp hand simply holds him. He doesn’t care.  The feeling of you is addicting, all slippery and inviting. 

“Ow,” you complain. 

“Is this ok?” Dieter asks. 

“Don’t just finger me,” you complain. 

He blanches, unsure of how to correct himself. If you want more, he’s more than willing to give it to you but it has nerves churning in his belly. 

“I’ve never done it,” Dieter says. 

He immediately wishes he could take the words and swallow them back down. His neck burns with embarrassment. The coolest girl he’s ever met is letting him in her pants and he just spoiled it all by admitting he’s a virgin. 

You stare at him with big, round eyes, your lips swollen from kissing. Your adam’s apple bobs in your throat. 

“Me either,” you tell him. 

It’s Dieter’s turn to stare. He’s shocked. It seems like you’ve done everything already. At least, everything a high school senior would aspire to do. 

If you were embarrassed to tell him that, you don’t let it linger for long. “That wasn’t what I meant,” you say. “It just— I don't think I can come that way.”

Dieter nods in awe. This isn’t the first time he’s gone to third base but he hadn’t felt very sure of his technique during those few encounters. You look a little nervous, maybe for the first time ever, but he’s so impressed you’re confident enough to tell him what you want, to even know. He wants to give you exactly what you need. 

“Show me,” he says. “Show me what you like.”

Your pupils blow out and Dieter’s not sure which one of you is more aroused. Eventually you regain yourself, nodding quickly and climbing off of his lap so you can shimmy your pants all the way off. 

Dieter can’t help but stare at all the parts of you that are exposed. You’re so pretty he can hardly believe he gets to touch you. His cock throbs at the sight and he fists himself before realizing that he’d better stop if he wants to last more than half a minute. 

You lay back on the couch, parting your bent legs for Dieter. He sits up for a good view as you explain the secrets of the universe. You take his hand and guide his fingers to your pussy, carefully sliding them along the side of your clit. It’s velvety soft and warm and slick and you take in a sharp breath. His cock jumps. Again, a wet stroke over you. You set a pace, your hand around his as he makes you melt.

“Woah,” he whispers to himself as he watches your body respond. 

He’s not sure where to look; at the glistening lips of your pussy, a rare glimpse at the opposite sex in real life or at your face, eyes closed and brow knit as you float in ecstasy. It’s the sexiest thing he’s ever seen.

He forgets the throbbing between his own legs, entranced by your pleasure. Your grip around his hand slackens and Dieter experiments with slightly faster strokes, kissing your neck. Your pulse thrums under his lips, your whines vibrating. 

As he gathers more slick from your entrance, you grind your clit into the heel of his hand. Your hips lift from the wet patch that’s growing beneath you. Dieter keeps his hand planted on you, giving you all the friction you need. 

He tries to find a way to tell you to use him, to take what you need, but he’s speechless. Watching a girl get off on him, and not just any girl but you, feels like witnessing a miracle. 

Your muscles tighten, every single tendon in your body wrapped up like a rubber band about to snap. He can’t help himself. Dieter slides a finger inside of you. It feels even better than before, now that your walls are coated in that sweet release. 

That’s when it crashes over you. You lock up, your arms and thighs straining. He can feel your core tensing around him desperately and he thinks he might cum just from the sight of you like this. It’s not like he’s seen in porn. You’re quiet, focused, somewhere else and he wants to go there, wherever that planet of pleasure might be. 

He wants to kiss you, to taste your release and bury his face in your tits but he doesn’t dare move and ruin this exquisite moment for you. So he keeps moving with the same steady tempo as you flutter around him. 

You groan out his name, long and slow and it sounds like music. 

Dieter feels his hips jerk and, oh fuck, he’s cumming. He tears his hand away from you to squeeze it over his spasming cock. It’s too late and the wet press of you coated on his fingers doesn’t help. He paints his torso with his own warm, sticky spend. 

You stare, eyes wildly surveying the mess on his belly, still dazed as you come down. 

He should be mortified that he just blew his load all over himself the very first time he’s gotten physical with you but his veins are coursing with bliss. His head falls back, chest heaving as he catches his breath. 

“I really like you,” he says. 

Your face breaks out in a smile and you bashfully bite your lip. He feels your fingers intertwine with his own. 

“Yeah. I like you too,” you say. 

-

Thanks for reading! Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated and my asks are always open!

[bullet-prooflove]

Started talking and the line went dead

Tagging: @kmc1989

Judd worries about the job you do, the cases you take on, the shit you deal with. He knows the stats when it comes to women in law enforcement, they face higher rates of violence, sexual assault, abuse. That’s not including the misogynistic crap you take from your less enlightened male colleagues, the ones that call you sweetheart, that ask you to fetch their coffee. You’re fighting a war on two fronts, both in the precinct and on the front lines and every day he’s in awe of you.

Which is why he tries not to worry when the solar storm hits, when the phone cuts off when you’re in the middle of explaining how you stopped a woman from killing her neighbour today because she thought she was a lizard person.

“Did she even resemble a lizard?” He’d asked you as he cradled the phone against his ear, fiddling with the dials on the coffee machine.

“Not even in the slightest.” You’d told him as you slammed your locker shut. “Think more like Judge Judy.”

“COVID’s made everyone freaking nuts.” He mumbles as he gives up on the machine and instead begins to fill the kettle. “You heading home?”

“Yea.” You’d told him and he hears the zip of your coat in the background. “The first thing I’m going to do is sink into a nice hot bath.”

His mind drifts to this morning, to you undressing for him, that cotton robe slipping from your shoulders until you were standing there in nothing but God’s own glory.

“I wish I was there to run it for you…”

It’s then that it happens. There’s a blast of static in his ear and his phone starts glitching out like it’s something out of The Matrix.

He spends the rest of his shift trying to get back in touch with you in between calls but there’s nothing. Dispatch can’t get a location and every other single line of communication is down. Judd has no illusions about what you’re up to. You’re out in the field, the same way he is, helping folk because that’s the job you do, that’s your calling.

It’s twenty four hours later he finally lays eyes on you. You step into the firehouse looking like complete hell. There’s Lord knows what in your hair, your APD windbreaker is a little torn and there’s a little dust smeared across your cheek and you’re still the most beautiful damn thing on God’s green earth.

He drops everything to go to you. The equipment he’s holding it crashes to the floor and he’s in motion, gathering you up into his arms, kissing your nose, your mouth, your cheeks, everywhere he can reach.

“Oh baby, I was so worried.” He murmurs, burying his face into your hair. “I thought the lizard people got you.”

You laugh then and that sound, it just lights up his entire world.

“Not today Judd.” You smile as his forehead comes to rest on yours. “Not today.”

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[cloudyeventss]

I thought I try my hand at writing a little story about being 141's assistant. I'm not sure where I'm taking this or even if I should continue. Let me knoww but be sweet. This is literally my first attempt at writing anything

Warnings~ cussing, slightly anxious ? Idk

Y/n pov

He's staring right at me. Slouching slightly to his left, strands of blue dyed hair peeking out underneath his hat. He clearly hasn't been sleeping, I can see the dark circles under his eyes. I don't think I’ve seen him blink once. This is too much. Too fucking much I'm starting to fidget with the belt of my purse, shifting back n forth trying to ease my nerves. I'm overwhelmed and overestimated. This bus smells worse than a gas station bathroom, it doesn't help it’s hotter than the damn desert in here, my sweater is starting to itch and the constant sound of the buses bell going off is enough to make my head explode. GOD why did my car have to break down today? sweat is beading my forehead I feel nauseous. GOD DOES THIS MAN EVER BLINK?!? *ding* fuck finally my stop. I've never been more relieved in my life to leave somewhere... stepping outside I feel like I can breathe again not by much though, last night, laying in bed i got a call from my father's friend Laswell telling me to meet her at a Cafe not too far from my home. Usually, I wouldn't be so nervous to see her, being Laswell and my father worked together for the past 10 years. She’s been around quite a few times but this time She spoke about a potential job opportunity as an assistant overseas. I'm not even sure I heard her right, i was a bottle deep into Apothic red wine. Nothing special but drink enough it’ll knock you on your ass. I've been anxious ever since. After finishing my associates degree in mind and body psychology, I wasn't sure I wanted to continue with school. Maybe I just need a break, but I also need a job. I take one final deep breath to attempt to calm my nerves as I wipe my sweaty palms down my jeans. Okay now’s the time to be confident y/n don't freak out .....

There she is sitting with her back against the wall right in between both exits like always. I'd say she's paranoid but with the work she does it's more justifiable. Laswell stands to greet me "Y/n , it's great to see you!" She moves to sit, and I follow. " it's good to see you too Kate, it's been awhile" . Lunch goes by smoothly; it always was easy falling into conversation with her. A red headed waitress with long legs and black trim glasses drops us our check before walking off to tend to her other tables. My eyes follow her as she passes, she's one of those girls who are effortlessly beautiful. Laswell gains my attention again " so your father tells me you are looking for work"

" I am"

"I could use someone I trust"

"Tell me more"

.....

It'd been two weeks since I met with Laswell, and I accepted the job offer. She explained it mainly consist of filing paperwork and doing whatever task ask of me, running errands, and so on. Kate didn't really give me any details of who I'd work for, just that it was four men she trusted with her life and assured me I'd be in good hands. Today's the day I get on a plane and uproot my whole life. I spent every bit of yesterday taking care of last-minute arrangements. I sold my piece of shit Honda to some high school kid . I almost felt bad for taking his money, but I told him of its issues. In a way I'ma miss Johnny. I named my car after a porn star, Johnny Sins. Ha. It still makes me chuckle . My honda wasn't much, but it always got me where I needed to be hints the name. After taking care of my car I went to see my father. He graciously agreed to look after my apartment for me while I was gone. We spent the rest of the evening watching old westerns on TV and saying our goodbyes.

.....

It's only four hours into the flight, and I'm already regretting my decision. I've spent most of the time in the bathroom emptying my stomach while avoiding angry knocks on the door. The taste of bile in my mouth makes me a little less caring about the people outside. Deciding I can't spend the rest of the flight in the bathroom, I pick myself off the floor and do my best to rinse my mouth. Flying has never sat right with me. I like my feet on the ground instead of tempting God. Regardless, I have to tough it out, its not like I can get them to land now. I walk out the restroom, mumbling hushed, apologizes, and take my seat. Just six more hours.. you got this y/n.

[tryingmybestpls]

Let The Light In

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader

Summary: Glimpses into a life alongside Joel Miller.

Rating: R

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: Canon violence, mentions of sex, graphic depictions of violence and death, depressing themes, mentions of miscarriage, mentions of loss

She knew they weren't meant to last.

She had told herself this every time she snuck out of his bed in the early morning, gathering her clothes as quietly as she could as the sun slowly starts to rise over the QZ. There wasn't supposed to be any feelings attached to this, to these nights that they have together and she repeats that over and over as he snores softly. It's just an even exchange, that's all. A way to let off some steam, a way to get their needs met.

They weren't supposed to be that close. They weren't friends-there wasn't really friends anymore. Her and Joel-well, they were really more like coworkers.

Coworkers that fucked, but coworkers nonetheless.

I mean, it was normal, wasn't it? Before all of this carnage, before the world fell apart, coworkers fucked each other. It was completely normal.

Again, that's what she also told herself.

She'd slip out of his apartment and would see him later on, when their paths would cross during whatever jobs they'd be doing that day. They would acknowledge each other in the moment, but they'd keep it at that. She had tried her best to just keep it at that-at the nights they shared together.  She wouldn't get hurt if all they had together were those nights. Those few hours in his tiny little bed.

But life couldn't be that simple. She knew better than that.

"What was your favorite TV show?" He asks one night, moonlight steaming in through the dirt and grime on the windows of his apartment. The question is out of character for him and they both know it. They don't talk about before, but either way, she gives in. She can't help it, this small tiny slice of domesticity. She's greedy and she knows it.

"Law and Order: SVU. I liked that the bad guy always got caught." She replies, turning onto her side so she can look at him, "However, my mom made me watch Dateline and 48 Hours with her. She wanted to make sure I was never taken, y'know...normal shit."

He can see a shift in her eyes as she remembers those memories. He gets that glimpse into her family, into how she was raised. All that he knew about her family was that they're were long gone, their bodies scattering the United States from California to Connecticut. Now he knew that her mom was paranoid, terrified that something bad was going to happen to her kids. Just like he had been with Sarah.

They'd both been right.

But he doesn't say this, he keeps this observation to himself. He knows he can't stay silent for long, because the longer the silence the more she's thinking about everything that has happened. So he just nods, his arm tucked behind his head. He looks like he's seriously thinking about his answer, wanting to give her the God's honest truth.

"The Sopranos-Tommy and I used to watch it. I paid a little every month for that damn show." He shakes his head at the thought of it, as if he is still annoyed. She smiles, trying her best to stop the almost girlish giggle that almost escapes her mouth. He catches the sound almost immediately, raising an eyebrow at her as the corners of his mouth turn upwards ever so slightly, "You laughin' at me, girl?"

Oh, she was so fucked.

-

Sometimes she'll dream of him.

She knows it's a bad sign-a dangerous one, even- but she can't control her subconscious. And she surely can't control those dreams she has of him and her, a farm somewhere out west, and two little mini-me's that have his hair and her eyes. And she can't control the ache she gets in her chest when she awakes, grieving something that isn't real, something that she can never have.

On the days that follow those dreams, the world is a little colder and Y/N is a little quieter. Joel isn't much of a talker, but he notices. He doesn't pry, of course-it's not his place and he knows it. They carry on with their day and she think about whether or not they should end things, if it was all going too far. Surely it had to be-he was lodged deep inside of her self conscious, he was something she just couldn't shake.

And then the next day, she'd be face down in his bed, his hands gripping her hips, the cycle only continuing. She's in too deep and she knows it, but she just can't stop. She's addicted to him and she just can't get enough.

-

When Ellie enters the the picture, their situation changes.

Gone are their nights together. Now all they get is glances at each other-knowing looks behind the kid's back-and quiet talks when they know she's asleep. He'll hold her when the nights get too cold and she starts to limit her food intake so there is a little more food for both him and Ellie. If he notices, he doesn't say a word.

Their relationship changes after Bill and Frank's, after that letter Bill had penned to Joel. They try to ignore it, ignore the questions that Ellie fires their way after she reads it. Y/N's cheeks burn as she snatches the letter from Ellie, telling her to run upstairs and shower. The teen rolls her eyes at the two of them, muttering how two of them just want to get rid of her so they can suck each other faces. As soon as she is upstairs, Joel grabs Y/N and slams his lips against hers, kissing her like it's the last thing he might do. Her cheeks are wet, but neither of them acknowledge it.

His hand is on her thigh all the way to Kansas City.

Kansas City is where Y/N's motherly instincts-as Joel outs it- seemingly kick in. She's constantly asking if Ellie is okay, and when Sam and Henry join them, she does the same with them. Joel teases her about it, tells her to stop being such a mother hen. She tells him that she'll only stop when he does. He rolls his eyes in response.

She starts to think how different it could be-the five of them, all together. She hadn't thought about life turning into something like...this. To a sort of family. She wonders if it's possible for them to take care of the three of them

When things go belly-up in the motel room, she immediately wraps her arms around Ellie, tears springing in both of their of eyes. She tells the kid over and over to not look, even though they both are. Joel is frozen in place, his eyes going from the two bodies on the ground and to the two women holding each other.

-

The snow is starting to stick to the ground when they reach Wyoming.

A part of her longs for a life in Jackson. Everything seems so...normal. Kids runnin' around in the street without a care in the world, there's even a Christmas tree in the town center.  Joel sees the way she looks away, looking down at the ground and he wonders when the last time she celebrated anything was.

She watches him embrace his brother and she's happy for him, she truly is-but she can't ignore the way her throat starts to tighten. She looks away, finding something to focus on in the distance, her nails digging into her palm. If Ellie notices, she keeps it to herself.

She's surrounded by families, with big happy smiles stretched across their faces. Maria and Tommy are talking, explaining everything about their safe haven, but Y/N doesn't hear a word of it. She just follows them, her hands shoved into the pockets of her coat. She doesn't even realize Maria is taking to her until Ellie nudges her.

"Sorry-What was that?" She asks, looking up at her. Maria offers her a smile, clasping her hands together.

"I was saying that I'm going to show you guys where you're going to be staying while Tommy and Joel go catch up. Is that okay?" Maria tells her and Y/N smiles back, nodding. She stays quiet as Maria gives them a tour of the house. She doesn't know how to quite respond to this whole situation, how to think about it all, how to react. Y/N manages to sneak away from the conversation, hiding in the bathroom under the guise of showering. She turns on the knob and sits on the edge of the tub. Y/N buries her face into a towel and starts sobbing. She doesn't even know what she's crying about, all she knows is that she doesn't stop until Joel comes in and wraps her in his arms.

Her and Joel get into a fight when he tells her that he isn't going to take Ellie to the Fireflies, that he just couldn't do it. It's a true, honest to God fight. She calls him an asshole, he calls her a dumb kid who doesn't know what she's talking about. He tells her that he's scared of how close he's getting with Ellie, of how close he's getting with her. Y/N tells him that just 'cause he's abandoning Ellie that doesn't mean she will. Y/N says that she'll go with Tommy, that she'll make sure she's safe. She tells him not to bother with waiting for her to come back-especially since he's so worried about how close they're getting.

The next day when her, Tommy, and Ellie arrive at the stables, Joel is there waiting for them and the three of them leave on two horses.

That night when they stop, Joel waits for Ellie to fall asleep before he apologizes to Y/N for what he said, for how he acted. She accepts it and when Ellie wakes up in the morning, she finds them fast asleep, curled up next to each other.

On their way to the college, Joel teaches Ellie how to shoot with the rifle. Y/N tells her about how it was before-at least as much of it as she remembers. Joel teaches her about sports, Y/N talks about how different Boston is from where she lived in California with her family. Joel tries to convince Ellie that Texas was far better than California, but the teen isn't convinced. Ellie reads them jokes from her book, making the two adults laugh and groan. Her and Ellie tease Joel the whole time about his dreams of sheep ranches and singing. It's sweet and it gets Y/N's mind off of all the things she was thinking about back in Jackson.

When Joel falls off the horse, Y/N jumps off of hers. His shirt is drenched in crimson and her hands immediately fly to the wound, putting pressure on it. She had known as soon as he had yanked that wood out of him that he was going to bleed out but she-she had just thought that it wasn't going to happen somehow. That somehow, God-willing, this was just going to all workout.

"Joel? Shit..." Ellie is suddenly right behind her, her eyes on the where Y/N's bloodstained hands are putting pressure. The older woman quickly takes her knit cap, pressing it on the wound.

"Don't do this to me, Joel-You can't do this to me." She tells him over and over, tears rolling down her cheeks. Ellie is still calling his name, begging him to get up as Y/N keeps murmuring, "God damn it, don't do this to me, baby."

-

"You need to sleep."

She lays in between Ellie and Joel in that cold little basement. Her eyes watching the fall rise of his chest, making sure he's still there.

"I'm alright, Ellie-Just get some rest." She replies, turning her head for a moment, looking at the kid. She can barely make out her face in the darkness, but Y/N can feel her eyes on her. There's silence for a moment and Y/N hopes that Ellie had finally fallen asleep-

"Did-Did you have kids too?" Ellie questions, her voice quiet as if she doesn't want to wake Joel. Y/N turns her head to look at the ceiling, her hands resting on the blanket covered ground. Her index finger taps against the cold concrete.

"Not when it first happened-I was around your age when it all went to shit." Y/N replies, just as quietly, "There was-I was...once."

"Was it-Was it-?" Ellie doesn't know how to quite say the words as Y/N blinks away any tears that threaten to fall. She doesn't know why she's saying any of this-doesn't know why she doesn't tell Ellie to drop it and go to bed. Joel is so much better at not talking about things, about keeping secrets.

"Yeah. He-I never told him." Y/N voice is just as soft, barely loud enough for Ellie to hear. The words hang heavy in between them and she knows they Ellie is still processing the news when she adds, "Please-Please don't tell him. It'd break his heart."

That night she dreams about what never was-she dreams of Ellie chasing after a little boy that looks just like his father.

-

Her mind is racing when they get captured by David and his people.

Before all this, before Ellie entered her life, she would've done anything to escape-would've fought tooth and nail just to get scot-free, but things have changed. Now she can't do just anything- no, now she has to have a plan, one in which all three of them are okay. So she starts planning-trying to think of what she could possibly do so that Ellie can be safe, so that Joel will safe.

They try to pick the locks, try to unscrew any bolts that might be loose. The window is jammed. Their weapons are gone.

When David starts saying shit with disgusting undertones, Y/N lashes out. She spits and yells at him, calling him every name in the book. She gets beat-her blood splattering on the floor and walls. One of her eyes swells shit after the beating, her lip split. Her chest aches-it hurts when she breathes, making her think that they must've cracked a rib or three. Even then, she makes sure she's in front of Ellie.

And then they see the human ear laying on the floor.

David brings them stew and they both refuse to eat it. Ellie kicks the bowls away and

Y/N tries to rise to her feet, wanting to-needing to protect Ellie, but she can't. The conversation once again takes a turn for the worse, which makes Y/N stomach twist, even more than the cannibalism had.

When Ellie breaks David's finger after his suggestion, Y/N smiles and says quietly, just loud enough for Ellie to hear, "That's my girl."

Yet the pride soon disappears when David and three of his men reappear and once again, Y/N moves to guard Ellie. David opens the cage, shoving the older woman aside in order to pull Ellie away. Y/N quickly gets up, pushing through the pain, yelling at the men to stop, to leave the kid alone, to take her instead. The two slam Y/N into the chain link fence, forcing her to watch as David and the other man force Ellie down onto the butcher's block. The older woman tries to fight back, yelling and screaming, the chain link tearing into her skin.

When Ellie swings the cleaver the man with the beard's neck, Y/N swings her head back, connecting the back of her skull with a man's nose. He cries out in pain as David shoots at Ellie as she escapes. Y/N manages to grab a knife from the injured man, quickly bring it up into his chest before the other man can stop her. One man falls while the other charges at her, slamming her into the wall, making the knife fall from her hands.

But she fights like she's never fought before because she knows that Ellie needs her. She claws at her captors eyes, making him scream out in pain. Then his arm is against her windpipe, cutting off her breathing. She reaches blindly, trying to grab something, anything.

She can smell smoke just as her hand wraps around the blade of the knife. The man puts more of his weight on her neck, spots starting to dot her vision. She grips the knife, the blade digging into her palm as she brings it up and forcing it into the man's head. It makes a sickening sound, an unnerving crunch.

She shoves the body off of her as she gasps for air. She uses the chain link to pull herself up before she limps out of the room.

By the time she leaves the area they were being held in, David is dead and the place is up in flames. Y/N pulls Ellie up and into her arms, hugging her for a second, before telling her they have to go. Their arms are wrapped around each other as they make their way out of the back of the restaurant. The only noise being the sound of their harsh breathing and the fire crackling behind them as it devours the building.

And then suddenly, Joel's there, holding both of them. He presses his lips against Y/N's temple, telling them over and over that he's got them, that they're safe. He calls Ellie babygirl and he calls Y/N sweetheart. Y/N holds onto him and Ellie tightly, never wanting to let go, tears streaming down her cheeks.

-

She's killed for him before, and he's killed for her. It was just apart of their lives, it just happens. If you want to survive, you have to get dirty. But now? Now, there's something behind each kill.

It's so much more feral.

She wears the blood with honor, with a sense of pride. I protected you both, I'm protecting my own. It's the same for him. He mows through people for her, for Ellie, for whatever this little group is. They both do it without a second thought, without any hesitation.

And they destroy that hospital in Salt Lake City together, hunting down every son of a bitch that wanted to hurt their girl. Joel carries Ellie out in his arms, Y/N follows right beside him, her finger not leaving the trigger of her gun until Marlene is dead and both of them get in the car with their girl.

Once again, his hand is on her thigh the whole time.

They lie through the teeth to Ellie. They agree that what she doesn't know, won't hurt her. She's alive, she's with them-that's all that matters. The three of them are still together and that's all that matters.

"You don't have to stay with me, y'know that right?" Joel murmurs to her as they stand next to each other, their eyes on Jackson in the distance. She turns her head to look at him and he meets her gaze.

"What, you tryin' to get rid of me, Joel?" She asks, a small smile appearing on her face. He can't stop the way the corners of his mouth turn upward.

"I would never, darlin'." He replies, smiling back at her. Y/N grins, just as Ellie starts yelling at them to get a room.

In the back of her mind, a little voice tells her that this-their little family, their little life together-that it won't last. She ignores it, shoving it aside as her hand wraps around his, her lips pressing against his scruffy cheek as Ellie makes gagging noises.

[bookshelf-dust]

Hi! I love your writing 🥹

I was wondering if I could request a fic where it’s readers first time in after school detention, and it’s over something dumb like being tardy too much ‘cause she’s a good noodle, but Billy is there! And he’s all cool and flirty and shit.

Literally anything you write will be amazing! Thank youuu for sharing your work 🙏

pink slips and bland gum.

billy hargrove x fem!henderson!reader

word count: 2,229

warnings: swearing, reader has anxiety, mentions of smoking, innuendos, tension/kinda pining/both reader and billy are smartasses—this is kinda enemies to lovers OOP (also sorry i got carried away)

a/n: hi my love!! thank you so very much for your request. it makes me so happy that you enjoy my writing! thank you for reading. it is a pleasure to share my mess with you. i really like this idea! i had a similar experience in school, minus the billy or interaction with a pretty boy at all. anyhow, i hope you like this!! i decided to make it a henderson!reader as a reason for the tardiness. i hope that’s okay! *big big squeezy hug* <333

————

“God fucking dammit, Dustin!”

Your breath leaves a puffy cloud of air in front of you where you sit in your car. It’s not warm yet. You would’ve gotten up to start it earlier, but you’d overslept some, which meant Dustin overslept too.

You usually banged on his door after pulling yourself out of bed, but what with finals, you’d been up late studying and forgotten to set your clock.

The palms of your hands met the leather of the steering wheel again, one slamming into the horn, again. You couldn’t bare to give one tiny shit at this point if you woke anyone in the neighborhood up.

Dustin had always been a mess in regards to getting ready for school, but it seemed that now you drove him, he was determined to make you late as well. When your mother drove the both of you, he was ever punctual. Now, not even a little bit.

When he did finally get in the car, he realized that you were actually furious with him, not saying one word the entire trip. Not to mention you realized about halfway there that you were actually going to be late, again, a wreck diverting traffic the complete wrong way to school. A wreck you could’ve avoid if Dustin had gotten his ass outside on time.

It was safe to say that by the time you got parked and into the building, only for your first period teacher to hold up her hand at your entrance—not even bothering to look up at you—a pink slip of paper in her fingers, you were downright pissed.

You flopped down into your seat, wood cold through your jeans, and looked at the slip while simultaneously retrieving your book from your bag. It was “silent reading time,” after all.

It was a detention slip. A fucking detention slip.

Not only were you angry at yourself for oversleeping, but also because Dustin just could not bother to help you out in the mornings, not only today, but almost every damn day the past month, and now you were paying the price.

You knew Dustin would get away with it on his end though. His first period was Mr. Clarke, and he loved Dustin so much it wouldn’t matter if he set fire to the classroom.

“Afternoon Detention, 3:30pm,” it read, a blank with your name scrawled on it and a blank for your teachers signature as well.

You rolled your eyes, reaching for your wallet to check for coins, because now you needed to use the fucking pay phone and call your mother considering you wouldn’t be able to take Dustin home this afternoon anymore.

————

Claudia Henderson was less than pleased to hear that you’d gotten after school detention, but you weren’t taking any of her shit after the morning you’d had.

You may have used language that was going to get you lectured, but in the end you told her to deal with Dustin and hung up.

The rest of the day drug on and on, your leg continually bouncing throughout each class. You could feel your anxiety the whole time, a dull ache, a pain that wouldn’t go away until you got through this.

You’d never had detention before.

Never in your entire academic career.

Frankly, you didn’t see any reason to misbehave and have to stay in the hellhole that was Hawkins High School any longer than you had to. Which is why you always behaved.

And the reason for your detention sentence hadn’t even been your fault.

The last bell rang, and instead of making your way out to the parking lot with the rest of the school, you walked the other way, down the hall to Mrs. Click’s classroom.

You’d had her your junior year for English class, and though that was your best and favorite subject, she’d made it miserable, never thinking you had any talent in you whatsoever regarding writing. Which, by the way, fucking hurt.

You turned into the room, standing in the short line of other kids who had to stay just like you did.

You handed her your slip and she assessed you over the frames of her glasses, like she knew you’d end up here.

“Take a seat anywhere you’d like. You may complete any classwork you have. You may not listen to music or do anything recreational. You will be released at five pm. No sooner, no later.”

You shooed you away with a flick of her hand, and you moved to find a desk.

There really weren’t a lot of kids in the room, only five or six, and they were all spread out, clearly not wanting to be next to each other.

You went for the back row like you did in any classroom, hoping you’d find solace there.

Only when you sat down did you hear the sound of heavy boots on the floor behind you, and upon glancing up, you found the one and only Billy Hargrove sliding into the seat next to you, dropping his bag on the desktop.

You didn’t know the boy extremely well by any means, but of course you knew who he was. You had a few classes with him, some of which required working in pairs—so you’d talked to him, but you weren’t best friends forever or anything.

You tried not to roll your eyes at Billy’s apparent inability to pick a seat not so close to you, occupying yourself with pulling out your few homework assignments for the night.

“What are you in for?”

When you turned your head, Billy was already looking at you; his head propped up by his hand, blinking all slow, batting those stupid long eyelashes at you, a slow smirk ticking up the corners of his mouth. His voice gravelly, words spoken lazily, keeping his voice down for fear of Mrs. Click’s acknowledgment.

He was a dream to look at—there was no denying that.

“Apparently being tardy one too many times is not very well received.”

You flipped open a notebook, looking for the notes you’d taken earlier in the day. Billy’s hand though, covered the words.

He was holding a pack of gum, offering you a stick. You didn’t chew gum often, but you weren’t going to turn it down when he was offering it to you.

“Thank you.”

“Mhm,” Billy hummed. “Why’ve you been late so much that you got written up for it?”

You turned to face him, eyeing Mrs. Click, who was reading and half dozing in her chair, oblivious to the boy with his walkman tucked into his waistband, hair covering his headphones.

“My brother. Dustin seems to be determined to make my mornings a living hell every since I started driving the both of us. He can never get ready on time or gets distracted by something. But if it were him who needed to be somewhere and I was running late, the fucking world would end.”

Billy was watching you intently as you spoke, hanging onto your every word. This was the most you’d ever conversed, what with you always paying attention in class and everything, so he was pretty damn happy that you were paying him any attention.

He laughed lightly after you finished. “My sister, Max, is the opposite. I think she’s punctual so that she can get away from me quicker.”

“I think they’re friends, Max and Dustin,” you told him. “Maybe they’re out to get us.”

Billy let out a breath of a laugh, smiling lightly at you.

It was then that the silence ensued.

The boy was quiet for a good while, eventually digging out his own homework, what looked to be math. The math class you shared with him. The same homework you were trying to do.

“Are you any good at this stuff?” You asked him shyly, pointing to the paper on your desk as he made eye contact with you. He was really good at that. Unnervingly so.

“What, math?”

You nodded, trying not to look at his hands while he flipped a pencil around in between his fingers.

“Not always, but the stuff we’re on now I’ve got. Why, you need help?” He wasn’t mean when he asked. He wasn’t picking on you. He was genuinely offering.

“Well I got most of it done in class today, but there’s these two problems I can’t figure out. I’ve always been bad at math though, so.”

“Math is hard, okay? And it doesn’t help that O’Donnell is shit at explaining either. Which ones are buggin’ you?”

“Three and seven. I’ve got the first two steps down, but after that I get lost. I think I’m dividing wrong maybe?”

Billy read over the question on his sheet and then moved his chair out to be closer to you. The close contact was making you burn.

“May I?” He held out his hand for your paper. You picked it up and gave it to him. His eyes scanned your writing, fingers trying not to smudge the graphite from your pencil.

He scooted even closer to you. The burning continued. You tried not to think about how good he smelled, even if it was mostly of cigarettes.

“Okay, here,” he gestured with his pen, “it’s the third step where you kinda trip up. You’ve just forgotten the negative sign that goes with the parenthesis.”

You looked at your notes, realizing you had indeed forgotten that. “Huh. That makes sense. Thank you, Billy. I’m sorry for bothering you with this.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll help you anytime you need.” And then he winked. Billy Hargrove winked at you and then went back to working on his own homework.

The rest of the afternoon droned on, but eventually the hour and a half was up. Your sentence had ended.

Billy shouldered his bag, and you had the urge to grab hold of his arm and squeeze. Shit. You needed to chill.

You made sure to give Mrs. Click a glare on the way out for how she treated you, and Billy caught it.

“That was brave. I’m kind of scared of her.”

You laughed, falling into step with him on the way out of the building.

“She’s a bitch. Made my English class last year living hell. It’s easier to be brave when I know I won’t have to be in close quarters with her.”

Billy laughed then, and it was probably the sweetest sound you’d ever heard, lazy and sweet. You could’ve bottled it.

You fished your keys out halfway through the door, and when you looked up, you noticed Billy was still chewing his gum. You’d spit your piece out on the way out of detention.

“There’s no way that gum still has any flavor left.”

He turned to look at you. “Wanna find out?”

You practically choked, but he reveled in it, moving on. “Walk you to your car? It is getting dark out early this time of year, you know.”

“Sure, Billy.”

The walk was short, but he was right on you the whole time, a comforting presence. You almost squealed when he caught your bag as it slipped from your shoulder, his warm hand brushing your arm.

It was when you arrived at the driver’s side door of your car that the both of you looked up, the street lights coming on all at once, the sun having set just enough to set them off. There was some romantic joke in there, you were sure of it.

“You never asked me,” Billy said. You raised a brow, confused as to where he was going with this.

“What I was in for,” he continued. “I was gonna make a joke about you being a goody two shoes or something, but then you were all nice and gorgeous and shit, so, you know. Here I am.”

Billy leaned in, setting a gentle hand on the roof of the car, just beside your head. You were starting to think that smartass smirk of his was ever present.

“Sorry,” you started, still feeling a little brave. “You were too busy flirting up a storm.” He tossed his head back, laughing, and you tracked the movement of his Adam’s apple. “So what were you in for, Hargrove?”

“Apparently smoking in the school hallways is not very well received.”

You rolled your eyes. “Why were you smoking in the halls then?”

“Honestly? Because I was having a shit day and I needed to calm down, so I kinda couldn’t make it outside.” He shrugged his shoulders, finding it easy to talk to you for some reason.

You nodded, understanding the need to get away sometimes—more often than not. You wondered how much more of him you could understand, if he were to reveal it to you.

“Well, I’m sure we could figure out another way for you to calm down that doesn’t involve cancer sticks.”

“Yeah?” Billy grinned. “You’ll have to help me out then, huh?”

“I guess so.”

You watched as he pulled a pen out of his own bag, gesturing for you to give him your hand. When you did, the tip of the pen was cold against your palm.

“My number,” Billy told you. “For when you need help with math homework, or if you want gum or something.”

“Or something.”

He capped the pen. “Yeah. Or something.”

————

please let me know if you liked this! feedback is always appreciated!! comments and reblogs mean more than you know. <33

[lalachat]

"And there you were..."

Author's note: "Hey... how y'all doinnnnn?"

I am so sorry for my radio silence! Life just got so busy that I unfortunately lost motivation to write. I swear to you all I looked at Chapter 8 so many times, but had no inspo and got writer's block. However, I woke up on the right side of the bed today and the cauldron said to me, "get that shit done girl!" And I did! I DID THAT THANG! Wrote my first real smut ever! Please go easy on me, writing has been difficult, but I see all of your overwhelmingly positive comments and it just fills my heart❤️ I will try my best to keep updating this story, not to the extent I was when I first started, but I promise to try to get more out. Y'all finally get to see the autumn court rumor in motion, eheheh🔥

Summary: After an eventful day of emotional turmoil, you find Lucien waiting for you in your bedroom to talk things through, bestie to bestie. However, one thing leads to another and you are stuck in the bathroom with the autumn court male as he questions you about the all known rumor...

This is for all my Lucien girlies❤️

Warnings: profanity, potential grammatical errors, and last but not least SMUT, 18+ for this chapter, I warned you👀

Word Count: ≈ 4,809

Chapter 8:  Just Like the Old Days

Chapter 8: 

“So, who is buying us drinks?” Lucien asked. 

“Out of all the things to say to me right now, you chose that?” you crossed your arms in front of your chest. 

“We can't have him getting the wrong orders,” he smirked as he walked over to you by the door. You rolled your eyes at his response. 

“Only you could say something like that in this moment,” you paused waiting for a response from him. You hear him let out a strained breath. 

“Are you okay?” He asked. 

“Yes, no thanks to you,” you swat his bicep, but he grabs your hand before you manage to hit him. He looks at you inquisitively. You shouldn't have said that last part. It really was not his fault, but gods did it still pain you to see him and Elain. 

“Y/n look,” he looks at where your hands met, “Every bone in my body wanted me to run after you-” 

“Then why didn't you?!” Tears threatened to spill from your eyes, but you aren’t going to let them.  

“Because of our mate's y/n! Elain needed me for the first time in her life, and when you ran Azriel was quick to follow you... I saw two different pairs of mates needing the other! I thought it’d be best... I am sorry if I was wrong,” he said as he started to trace circles along the back of your hand. 

“Lucien you are the only being I'm so close with, I needed you!” you glanced at your hands and could feel his warmth seeping through your skin. 

“Well, I am here now.” He looked up into your eyes. They were full of promise and sincerity. This right here is why this male deserved the world. He has so much love for those that are important to him. Even through everything that has happened recently, he has found a way to help both you and Elain. 

You hum, “I can see that now.”  

“So, can I ask why you run?” He asked. You could feel yourself faltering... You could not tell him the real reason. You just wanted to back away into a corner instead of having this conversation.  

“I had to get away from Elain-” you half told the truth. He does not need to know that your mind and body craves his touch when he just got Elain into his life. He also does not need to know you and Azriel were cuddled up on the floor together.

Lucien sensed your hesitancy in not really wanting to talk about it yet, so he didn't push the matter any further.  

“How was Elain?” You figured you should at least ask him. 

“We had a suitable time, I think? You know, I really do not know! That woman is harder to talk to than Nesta! Her vocabulary is, “please, thank you, and if you wish,” THAT IS IT! Shes so damn polite it is almost nauseating.” He said as you giggled when he tried to mimic Elain’s voice. 

“Oh, you poor thing, having to act all gentlemanly. What did you two even do?” you smirked at him. 

“Wipe that smirk off your face! We did nothing, I was so scared my breathing would run her off. All we did was sit on the couch as I read her poems.” He explained. 

“Sounds riveting,” rolling your eyes playfully.

“I am unsure how I feel about it. She is so distant and proper with me, cozy and social with Azriel, and with you she is- what's the word I'm looking for?” He rubbed his temples.  

“I think the term you're looking for is heinous bitch?” you glanced up at him. 

“That works I guess,” he shrugged. “I really do not know what she was so upset about when she was kissing Azriel not too long ago. A little hypocritical, if you ask me.” 

“Does she know you know they kissed?” you asked.  

“I do not think so, it is for the best I keep to myself for now. I cannot go yelling at her for kissing him when you and I were up against the wall earlier.” He shrugged as you completely forgot you and him were one wrong decision away from fucking each other ruthlessly.  

You grew nervous. Azriel and Elain have been together longer than your current reunion with your friend. It is possible they could have a more serious relationship than just that kiss you two saw.  

“Do you think they have had sex?” you asked nervously. 

“You think they have?” Lucien’s eyes were darkening. Probably from jealousy but fuck- is that attractive. 

“I really cannot tell... It is always the quiet and innocent ones that are always doing things beyond belief,” you sighed. Could they really be having sex with each other? 

“We should spy on them and find out.”  

“You want to spy on them having sex? Y/n if you are a voyeur just say so,” he looked you over, “I always knew you had a hidden kinky side.” 

“Lucien, would you sit down! That is not what I meant! I meant we should get to know about their relationship more, figure out what we are both up against. Knowing how close they have gotten can be a gauge on how much hope is left for us.” you said. You figured if Azriel’s shadows had an attachment to you there was still a glimmer of hope! Besides, Lucien and Elain obviously have a small connection from what you saw in the library.  

“Ohhhh, now that makes a lot more sense,” he teased. “You do realize Elain and Azriel are also up against our strong relationship too?” 

“Yeah, but they are not in love with us. So, it is not as much of an issue for them as it is for us... Also, you forget Azriel does not even know about our bond yet.” 

“I really don’t understand that male at all,” Lucien grunted frustrated at him for not being smart enough to sense the bond between you two. He was the spymaster for gods sake! 

“Neither do I after tonight...” you said as you walked to your dresser to pull out a nightgown. You turned around and looked at Lucien who stared back at you, clearly not getting the message you wanted to change as he clicked his tongue. Your eyes following the movement.

“You never answered my question earlier...” he mused. 

“And what question was that?” you asked, confused as to what he was talking about. You walked to the bathroom attached to your room. You left the door slightly cracked so you could continue your conversation as you changed. 

“About needing a certain reminder?” He sat on your bed with his elbows resting on his knees.

“You are still on about that?” Fuck, this male is really testing your rationality. Why does he have to be so alluring? You slipped off your shirt and grabbed the hem of your pants as he responded. 

“Yes, I am. Sweet little Elain was curious about my ability to light the fireplace tonight.” You could hear him shuffling around slightly. You slipped out of your pants and popped your head out of the crack in the door. 

“First of all, I did not plant that rumor in her head! She simply overheard it,” you said matter of factly. As you looked Lucien up and down. He was now fully sprawled out on your bed, his hair tied up in a messy bun, with his arms arrogantly folded behind his head. Shit, can this male get any more attractive?  

“Uh huh, but that still does not answer the question y/n,” he quirks his head at your floating one in the doorway.  

You were standing there frozen in your underwear as you tried to come up with any kind of responsible thing to say. Something to end this conversation where it is before it gets too messy. However, the sight before you of Lucien in your bed has caused you to short circuit. Memories of you, in this very bathroom, fanaticizing about the male before you as you pleasured yourself came flooding back. The images of his hands all over you as he buried himself in you, and you and him in a heated kiss against the wall earlier, shitttttt. Your face instantly heated, Lucien looks at you concerned. 

“Are you okay?” He started to get up to come check on you.  

Fuck, fuck, fuck. You watch him draw closer to you in concern, but the closer he gets the more the scent of the air starts to change. He paused and you watched him take a sharp inhale from shock. You can’t be that turned on right now, right? 

His eyes darkened from it as he smirked at you, “So y/n, what do you say?” 

Like you said earlier in Lucien’s apartment, fuck it. You both needed this. You both deserved to be selfish for once. You decided to slowly open the door, as the smell of you grew stronger.  

“I don’t know Lu; do you think I need a reminder?” You propped yourself along the doorframe as you looked straight into his eyes as you said, “Or is it you who needs one because you forgot how to weild that power?” You tilted your head to the side as his mouth laid there agape seeing you in nothing but your skimpy choice of attire. 

“Fuckkkk-” he licked his lips as he stalked towards you.  

“Which one is it, Lu?” He stood right in before you and looked down upon your figure.  

“If you think that I forgot how to fuck you properly you must be insane.” 

 Gods you forgot how tall this male was. Respectfully, you wanted to climb this man like a damn tree, and you just might. 

“Then show me already,” you said. 

“Always so eager,” he said as he crashed his lips into yours in a bruising kiss. His hands grab your arms and threw them over his shoulders as he picks you up effortlessly, never breaking the kiss.

You met his kiss with just as much intensity as you jumped to wrap your legs around his waist. Your hands burying themselves at the bottom of soft silky hair that fell out his bun as Lucien sat you on the bathroom counter. He broke the kiss; you immediately missed contact. He only smirks at you. 

“Well, well, well... what do we have here?” he took another inhale, your scent was driving him crazy. This entire bathroom was covered in it. “Your arousal is everywhere in this bathroom, almost as if it is lingering from earlier?” He looked at you questioningly. Your face heated. Is he smelling you from your time in the bath? There is no way! The smell should’ve vanished by now, right? 

“What too embarrassed to confess love?” His hand cupped your face forcing you to look at him. “You touched yourself earlier, didn’t you?”

You nodded your head; Lucien placed his hands on the counter blocking you in. His knuckles were white as he tried to keep his composure.  

“You will answer when I ask you a question y/n, did you fuck yourself?” His voice was soft but authoritative. 

“Yes,” you squeaked, and he hummed. The sound vibrating through your body. 

“Was it in here?” He quipped. 

“Yes,” you admitted, unable to do anything. Your mind was hazy from being pinned in by him. He sucked in a breath. 

“And what did you think about?” His hands started tracing the curves of your hips as he glanced at your kissable lips. 

“Lucien!” you whisper yelled. This made your heart flutter, having to admit something so vulnerable out loud to him.  

“That’s my name doll,” as he looked at you, “Now what did you think about?” His hands started growing hot on your hips from anticipation. You sighed at the feeling. 

“I-, I thought about you-” you quickly admitted. Lucien’s hands tightened on your hips as they soon became scolding hot, but you didn’t care. 

“Fuck me-” he rested his forehead against yours, “What exactly did you think about?” as his right hand moved to put pressure against your clothed center. You moaned at the slight touch. 

“I-,” you took a shaky breath, “I thought about what it would be like to have you touch me,” you bit your lip as you placed your hands on top his shoulders. 

“Like this?” He started circling his fingers against your clothed clit, head still rested against yours watching your reaction.  

“Mhmn,” was all you could muster. Fuck he wasn’t even really touching you yet and you were already about to give yourself into a release.  

“Or was it like this?” He asked as his left hand left your hip to pull your underwear to the side as his other slid up and down your center. 

“Gods,” you head fell back from the feeling until he ripped his hand away, you glared at him. “What the hell?!” 

“You are going to answer my questions,” He glared at you as if he was just as upset to not be touching you.  

You sighed, “Yes, it was just like that.” 

“Good girl,” he mused as he kissed you softly, “And what else did I do to you?” His left hand cupping your cheek as his right hand teasingly slid up your folds. You hissed. 

“You-” the feeling of his fingers against you was utter bliss, “fuck- I imagined your fingers inside me,” you mouth falling agape at Lucien’s teasing fingers waiting for a command on what to do. 

“How many? One?” He slid his index finger inside you, you gasped as you gripped his shoulders from the pleasure. Your nails slightly digging into him. 

“Two?” He added his middle finger next as a breathy moan escaped your lips. The sound going straight to his cock.  

“Fuck-” you threw your head back, “s’good!” Lucien hummed in satisfaction. 

“Was it three?” He added his ring finger stretching you out. His fingers are much larger than your own, making this feeling more pleasing.

“I- I don’t know how many, I just wanted them.” You said breathlessly. 

“Well, you have them,” he mused back as you glanced at his lips as his words left his mouth. Your hands grabbing a fistful of his shirt to bring him into a kiss. Catching him by surprise from your neediness to have his mouth back on yours, he let out a low grown. You smirked into the kiss hearing his response to you. Your desire growing more impatient. 

“Lucien, please-” you broke the kiss in need for stimulation. His hot fingers inside you made you impatient as you tried to move yourself against him. 

“Please what? Use your words doll,” he said teasingly. 

“Stop with the teasing and just fuck me already!” You huffed a hair that had fallen onto your face. 

“Such a desperate little thing,” he said, and he fully removed his fingers before pumping them back inside you. 

“Yes!” you cried out from finally getting the stimulation you wanted. No, NEEDED.

“S’good for me, fuck you feel so good baby,” Lucien mused as his fingers kept working in and out of you. His cock was begging him to be where his fingers were.  

“More,” you begged. 

“More what doll?” as you scratched along his back trying to get a grip of reality.  

“Need you so bad,” you cried out as he kept at his pace. 

“Not until you are coming undone on my fingers.” 

His left hand found your bra clip and unhooked it. His fingers light as a feather but as hot as hellfire itself as he slowly slid it off your shoulders. The cold breeze instantly hardened your nipples as he tossed your bra to the floor. 

“You are ethereal,” he kissed your neck as his left hand found home on one of your breasts, pinching your nipple slightly. 

You traced your hands down, down, down his back. You can feel Lucien’s muscles tense at every touch. You reached the hem of his pants and slipped a pinky finger inside the elastic of his underwear and slowly traced it around to his lower abdomen. The slight tease of your finger had his eagerly hitting your soft spot effortlessly. You were writhing beneath him.

“Shit- right there Lu!” you breathed as your hands took hold of his hips bound to leave bruises. 

“Fuck you are so gorgeous,” as he took your other nipple into his mouth and moaned. Your head hit the wall behind you as you were starting to reach your climax. 

“Lucien,” you said breathlessly. 

“I know baby, I know. Doing s’good for me,” as he nipped at your ear. 

“I’m gonna-” you tried to tell him you were about to finish but your sentence fell short as you felt your release seconds away from washing over you. Lucien’s left hand found your chin and forced it down to his gaze. 

 “I want to watch that pretty face of yours as you cum on my fingers, yeah?” he gave you a chaste kiss. You somehow managed to nod your head despite how good Lucien was fingering you, and you locked eyes. His pupils were full blown, the beautiful russet-colored eyes you loved was gone. He looked utterly primal, and it turned you on even more than you already were. His hand hot inside your core, only adding more pleasure before you were gripping the base of his hair and clenching around him. 

“That’s it, cum for me y/n,” his eyes never left yours as you came undone on his fingers. “Gods you are so fucking beautiful.”

Moans were slipping and falling from your mouth as he worked you through your high. You swore you saw stars from how hard you came around him. 

As you regained your stability, you looked down to see Lucien’s hand glistening in the light peeking into the room. You smiled at him through your lashes as you pulled him back down into a kiss, but Lucien broke away. 

“You have made such a mess,” he teased. 

And sure enough, you looked back down to see that his pants were covered in you. Only proof of how good he finger fucked you. Your fantasy had just come to life before you. All you could do was smirk at him as you gently grabbed his wrist and sucked his fingers clean. You hummed at the taste of yourself on his fingers and Lucien watched every move you made.  

You wrapped your arms around his neck as you kissed him once more, letting him get a taste for himself. His tongue gliding along your bottom lip before he took it into his mouth and released it with a pop. 

“Better?” You asked and he hummed. 

“So sweet,” he said as he licked his lips as you unbuttoned his pants. 

“Now what can we do about these?” You asked as your hands slid into the hem of his underwear and slightly tugged down. Lucien looked at you playfully as he took a step back and threw his hands up in an “I don't know” kind of way. You giggled as you slipped off the counter to help him out his pants. Your hands slowly pull them down his waist before you kneeled to pull them the rest of the way. All you can see is his pants and underwear at his ankles, you tap his ankle as a way of telling him to lift it and he does. You do the same to the other and toss them across the floor. 

You slowly trail your gaze up his muscular legs to his hard cock standing proud against his lower stomach. Your mouth watered at the sight of his needy swollen cock dripping with precum. Fuck, you had forgotten how big he was. If Lucien had wings, he sure as hell would have a large wingspan. 

You slowly looked up at him, batting your lashes, as you grazed your fingers up, up, up his legs as you started to stand. Your hands took a slight detour to slightly touch his aching member and Lucien let out a hiss as his head fell back. 

“Fucking tease,” he groaned as your fingers collected some of his pre cum and licked it off, standing back up.  

“Do you want to know what else I thought about?” You said as your hands played with the bottom of his shirt. 

“What else did you think about?” He cocked his head to the side completely captivated by you. 

“I thought about what it would be like to have your dick inside me again,” you bit your lip seductively from the thought of it. 

“Yeah?”  

“Yeah,” you said as he let you pull his shirt over his head. Your eyes roaming his gods sculptured body. You had forgotten how built he was, lean muscle everywhere from all his training with swords.  

“How did I fuck you y/n?” He placed his hands on your hips guiding you back to the counter and you smirked. 

“Ruthlessly,” you said breathlessly, and Lucien only smirked. 

“Then turn the fuck around,” he snapped as his hands spun you to face the counter. You were now staring at your reflections through the mirror above the countertop as Lucien’s hands slid your soaked underwear off you. 

“Bend over,” he commanded as he popped a soft slap on your ass. You yelped in surprise as you bent over the counter.  

“Always such a good girl for me,” as he softly rubbed the now pink handprint on your ass. He bent his body over yours, as he kissed your cheek. You could feel his cock pressed up against you as you slowly started to grind onto him. He pushed harder against you in response. 

Lucien grabbed your chin as he said, “You remember our safe word, correct?” Placing soft kisses all over your neck. 

“Yes,” you sighed into his touch, “Do you?”  

“Yes, I do.” He smiled at you, as he grabbed his cock and drug his tip through your core. Fuck it felt like you were on fire. 

“Lu please, I need you so bad.”  

“Alright baby, you asked for it,” he smirked at you as he gave you no time before he rammed his dick straight into you. You screamed his name as both pain and pleasure ran through you from how deep he was. 

“Oh my gods, you're so deep,” you moaned as he slid himself all the way out and right back in.  

“You are so tight,” as his hands gripped your waist. All you could do was watch him through the mirror as he fucked you. His brows furrowed in pleasure and mouth slightly hanging open.  

“Lucien faster,” you begged. 

“You are going to take what I give you! Now, put your hands together on the countertop.” His dominance over you had your core clenching against him as you did as you were told. 

“Fuck, you like that don't you?” Another soft smack landed on your ass, causing you to bite your lip to stop from moaning. “You like being told what to do?” you nodded. 

“What did I say about using your words y/n?” he growled.  

“Yes, I like it when you tell me what to do. Now please fuck me already?!” You were starting to grow impatient and were about to start rocking back onto his cock. 

“Little girls who play with fire are bound to get their fingers burned,” he said as you felt a tingling sensation around your wrists. You looked down to see swirling bands of fire holding them together. Your eyes lit up in response. Lucien watched as you looked at him in utter awe. 

“You can do that?” 

“I can do anything you want doll, now, grab ahold of the counter.” 

The fire bands were still binding your wrists together, sending warm sensations throughout your arms as you managed your best grip onto the countertop.  

“Do not let go, you hear me?”  

“Yes sir,” you smirked at him.  

At that phrase, all restraint he had dissipated. He began thrusting into you like there was no tomorrow. Your walls clenching around him from the sensation of having both fire restraints and his burning cock inside you. 

“You are scorching,” you moaned out in pleasure. 

“Such a slut for my heat, aren’t you baby?” he grunted out as he pounded into you from behind.  

“Fuck- yes,” your knuckles grew white from gripping the counter so hard to even out Lucien’s thrusts as you looked back at him. You could see his cock going in and out of you. The sight of it had your walls fluttering around him.  

Lucien moaned feeling you flutter around him, “This cunt is mine.” One of his hands left your hip as he played with your clit. 

“It has always been yours. Since the day I first met you, it has been yours,” you moaned head slumping to your shoulder. 

“Fuck- Y/n, I-” his finger circling your clit moved faster as his thrusts grew harder at each stroke. 

“You feel s’good Lu,” you looked back into the mirror. His hair fell out of his bun and is now clinging to the sweat on his forehead. He has never looked more handsome than right now. His hair framing his face and his eyes burned into yours. You felt your core tightening around him.  

“So do you sweetheart,” he moaned as his feet spread yours apart, his thrusts now hitting deeper than before. 

“Oh mother, right there Lucien!” You screamed as Lucien removed his hand from your clit and grabbed a fistful of your hair craning your neck. 

“You look so perfect right now,” his cock jetting ruthlessly into you. 

“I’m close-” you breathed. 

“Yeah? You gonna cum all over my cock just like you did my fingers?”

“Yeah, I’m gonna- OH FUCK!” Your release had come burning through you, the bonds on your wrists tightening and growing hotter, as you looked at you and Lucien’s bodies meeting through the mirror.

“Shit- y/n you feel so fucking good,” he growled as he kept fucking you through your high. All you could do was watch Lucien with a handful of your hair coaxing you through it. Your entire body felt like it was on fire as Lucien’s thrusts grew sloppy, a sign he was close. 

“I’m almost there y/n. You’re taking me so well,” all you could do was moan in response as Lucien filled your walls with his cum. Your core burning from it in a comforting way as he collapsed onto you. Both of you are out of breath and drenched in sweat. You felt the restraints on your wrists vanish as Lucien kissed you on the lips.  

“Gods I’ve missed you,” he mused. 

You kissed him back, “I missed you too.” 

You two just sat there smiling at each other like utter idiots, enjoying this nice moment before reality sets back in. You turned around and hugged Lucien. 

“How about you we clean up?” you asked as you peered up at him. 

“Yes, I will run us a bath,” he smiled at you as he kissed the top of your head, “but first we need to do something about your legs.” He bellowed. You looked down to see both yours and his cum dripping down your legs. Your face grew hot from embarrassment.  

As if he could read your mind he said, “Don't be embarrassed, it is rather sexy!” as he smirked at you in an all too knowing way. 

“I'll go clean myself up while you run the bath,” you said. 

“Alright, I will see you in a bit,” as he turned to run you both a cold bubble bath.  

You left and cleaned yourself up in your room before walking back to your bathroom to find Lucien sitting on the side of the tub waiting for you. 

As you walked in your nose scrunched up, “This bathroom reeks of sex now,” you laughed, and Lucien joined in at the sight of your face. 

“Just like old times, huh?” he laughed. 

You smiled, “Yes, just like that.” You truly did miss him all these years.

“Now how about a nice cold tubby to clean up?” he outstretched his hand to you to help you into the bath. 

“Did you just say tubby?” you asked as you took his hand and let him help you in. 

“Yes, do you have any issues with it,” he glared playfully. 

“Nope,” you said popping the p as he climbed in after you. 

“Good, now get over here and let me take care of you,” he smiled. 

“m’kay,” you said as you made your way over and laid against him as he washed your hair. Both of you savoring this moment while you could.

Since it has been a long time sine the last post, please let me know on this chapter if you’re interested in being on my taglist!

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[celestiaras]

Hi, can I do headcannons/one shot of alban knox with a hurt to comfort with us having mommy issues and going to alban? Thanks

ft. alban knox x gn! reader — noctyx, nijisanji en

╰₊✧ going to his place after a fight with your mother┊0.6k words

contains: hurt/comfort!! swearing, mentioned fights for vague reasons & mommy issues, could be read as romantic or platonic, sharing clothes

➤ author's note: not me writing this after fighting with my own mother

it doesn’t take a genius to figure out why you showed up at his doorstep, soaking wet and shivering from the cold rain, brushing past him without even asking him if it was okay to enter beforehand. you don’t need to ask when so many different scenarios of this exact situation have happened more times than either of you can count. you even have your own toiletries in his bathroom and clothing mixed with his laundry, he introduces you as his roommate at this point.

even so, alban doesn’t mind, his home is always open to you for any reason you could think of: you want to hang out, you need a place to crash at, you’re running from the cops, or in today’s case as is often, you got into a fight with your mom.

(surprised to hear the third reason? don’t be, you’re a thief just like alban, just not as good as he is. you argue that he has the advantage of being a “phantom catboy” or whatever. it’s how you both met, two kids who grew up in the urban slums that never slept, swiping anything that wasn’t nailed down to make a living or just for the fun of it.)

“do you… wanna talk about it?”

you let out an exasperated sigh, stripping off your drenched hoodie and flinging it in some corner to be forgotten then barging into his room to pick out a new outfit for your shower. “god forbid, i try to be a good child!” 

“you fought with your mom again?” there’s almost a teasing tone in his voice, like he was excited to hear the latest update of your rapidly declining bond with her. it’s okay though, you know he means well and is only trying to make light of everything going on. “what happened this time?”

he followed you into the bathroom and listened to you ranting over the pitter-patter of the steaming hot water, your voice being loud enough to echo off the walls and express your frustration. “i love her, i really do, but she makes it so damn difficult that i can’t help but hate her guts! it’s literally just the same shit, different day, i probably told you about this exact story a few months ago.” he’ll ask you if you want him to be supportive or realistic about the situation, making you groan because you know that he’ll lose the plot mid-conversation.

“no, it’s fine,” you sigh, exiting the shower and prompting him to leave for your privacy, “i turned off my phone, i’ll deal with whatever crazy-ass insults she sent tomorrow.”

“well… do you wanna play some games instead? i went shopping for snacks earlier so my pantry is stocked!”

“yeah… that sounds good…”

slipping on your underwear and one of his shirts, you join him on the couch and grab one of his controllers, stealing a chip from the bag he brought and preparing yourself for a long night of trying to forget about your misery. alban truly is the perfect person to be with during troubled moments like this, cheerful, funny, and energetic, after an hour or two you feel your stress melting away and being replaced with laughter instead.

“why don’t you just move here and live with me instead?”

“i wish, unfortunately, i’m still trying to fix this shit show of a relationship with my mom, a losing battle— every fight could be a kdrama episode at this point,” you said, rolling your eyes.

“well, the offer still stands if you ever change your mind! up for another round of smash?”

“you’re on!”

[insuke69]

/|MILES 42 HEADCANNONS P3 |\

My god, uh- part three but this is before y'all get together

DIFFERENT POVS AHSHDJ Warnings; Miles doin a little prowler stuff, Just description of someone who was beaten.

(So, there's gonna be if he asks you out/crushes on you first, we both know damn well you wouldn't do shit if you liked him and he were real.)

implied female reader :[

================================================

When Miles was crushing..:

-He'd draw you, like- during lunch if you're done eating and just laughing with friends he draws you sitting and with your smile

If you don't hang out with anyone during lunch then he'd draw you as you sat by yourself with a calm neutral expression while you did your own thing.

-Bold mf yet shy. He'd ask what you're doing and act all smug and confident but as soon as y'all stop interacting he'd over think his every line

did she actually like that joke? she looked upset, wait- was she? why didn't I ask what was wrong?

etc.

-He was always himself around you, yet toned it down when he didn't know exactly how you'd react to him.

-when y'all had your first date, this man is a gentlemen and picked you up in his motorcycle, (yes I declare he has a motorcycle.) He called you gorgeous in every way possible along with more flirty or bold lines

"Damn, If I knew you were this fine than I would've dressed up more myself."

"jealous of your belt, my hands would feel better on your hips."

he was always hella smooth with it too.

-he first asked for your number and he texted so politely for a good first impression. "Hey, so I wanted to ask if you wanted to go out to dinner with me sometime?"

"Alright, perfect. see you then 😗"

but a lil after y'all actually date he just ..is.

"When did yo say the daye was"

"?"

"Date*"

"You*"

he's a fast typer.

-Hated seeing you talk to other guys when he was just crushing on you, mostly pissed at himself for not growing a pair and asking you out though.

okay this is just a scenario I cannot stop thinking about once I said that:

you were freshly broken up with your cheating boyfriend- well, you were never labeled but he made you seriously think it was exclusive and that'd piss you off beyond belief, Miles was the perfect shoulder to cry on. Never once did he make a move on you during that time. "That prick said he didn't care for labels but got a public girlfriend after 4 months of being with me!" You mumble out with small tears of frustration pooling in your eyes, your vision was blurred a bit so you couldn't see Miles reaction. He was seething.

how could a guy just use and fuck with you like that? He doesn't deserve to even be treated as a man, much less a person.. But Miles simply comforted you in that moment and reminded you how it was to be cared for platonically, or at least that's how he showed it. The next day? your 'ex' was nowhere to be found, the day after that: he went to school battered and bruised, broken nose, black eye, limping and bandaged everywhere. He told everyone that he was just chilling out in an alleyway by his house and some rando with a purple dark mask and metal gauntlet kind-of-thing just attacked him. weird. Vague coincidence that Miles' knuckles are bruised and he visibly bites back a grin as he hears your ex talk about it. what helped most was that when you told his girlfriend about what your ex did to you, she dumped him and told everyone exactly why, which made him lose any pity he could have gotten.

-Was terrified to tell you he was prowler, never knew how you'd actually react. THATS IT OMFG IDK- DO I MAKE A P4?!

[dootznbootz]

Don't get me wrong, I hate the telegony with every FIBER of my being. HOWEVER!! I feel like there's so much yummy angst potential with Odypen.

Like?? Imagine Penelope holding Odysseus' dead body. And it reminds her so much of when he'd fall asleep in her arms, in their bed holding an infant Telemachus. Because little baby Telemachus wouldn't stop crying so he had to be held in his papa's arms :3

But he's still crying to this day,, crying in the background, sobbing, hugging his mother from behind as she's holding her dead husband. Her husband that she waited 20 YEARS for. Her husband that's literally been threw hell and BACK, yet who never gave up because he wanted to see HER and their SON!!

He could've stayed with Calypso, he could've stayed with Kirke, he could've. But he DIDN'T. And I know damn well the moment he came back, and she saw him, she SAW on his face he's been threw shit. And imagine that, imagine the pain of someone you love more than the Sun experiencing that. Imagine that, and they did all of that, to see you.

People undermine that Penelope loves Odysseus just as much as Odysseus loves Penelope. It's been 20 years. She had every right to assume he's gone or get remarried. But she didn't. She had faith the entire time.

And she waited so long, and he went threw so much, just for him to get killed by some borderline (Not fully) rapeling. That's so heart-wrenching.

And for Telemachus, who never even KNEW his father. To suddenly see him again, to see how happy his mother is, how happy he is. Just for some bastard he has to call his half-brother to kill him. Telemachus knew so little of his father, only the stories Penelope told him. And now, sadly, it'll stay that way.

Telemachus and Penelope would fucking despise Telegonus. They've been waiting so long for this man, and this man has waited and had to go threw so much. All three of them did not go threw all that just for Telegonus to kill him. I don't care if it was an 'accident'. It doesn't matter if the killer didn't want to do it, it matter's that the victim's family lost someone they FUCKING LOVED.

Penelope would NEVER marry Telegonus, and Telemachus would never marry Kirke.

But Odysseus death gives us some JUICY angst. I hate it. But good god it scratches that angst-loving part of my brain SO GOOD. 😼

Feel free not to answer since this is a rather long ask/ramble :'D And ye, take care Mad! <3

Oh, also, just so it's not ALL just angst, a few Penelope and Baby Telemachus headcanons/shenanigans? They mean the world to both Odysseus AND me 🥹

So, this is a really fun ask...But I don't think you're going to get the answer you'd like from me :')

As many folks know, I am a big lover of fluff and very soft stuff. I have angst but even then I would consider it more hurt/comfort in a way as I do plan for the "comfort" to be what's most important :) I also just think of "angst" as just the "something that makes sense storywise".

The Tele-GONE-y to me, is just blatent whump. Not really my cup of tea.

Also the Tele-GONE-y has the whole bullshit about Odysseus doing fuck all in random war, getting married and having children with a random af woman, before coming back to get killed. So that's just...ew. All of it is ew.

And I don't even like the idea of Telegonus existing in any form. At most, Telegonus would only exist in my mind as Polites' son. (not based on Epic at all. This Polites is my own special guy. He's my lil weird goober of my own design reeeeee) My dear friend thehelplessmortals is the only person who I feel explores it in a way that makes sense to me and seems canon.

As you put it into words:

"And she waited so long, and he went through so much, just for him to get killed by some borderline (Not fully) rapeling. That's so heart-wrenching."

And it's just TOO heartwrenching for me :') I can't do it. It's honestly such a horrifying scenario that I got nauseous the first time I heard about it. (that's not even getting into the gross out of character marriage circle and Odysseus fucking around away from his family)

For me, I cannot see Circe (my Circe definitely) as a mother regardless. She wasn't made for motherhood. Also Odysseus and her only have sex once in my writing in exchange for his men to be turned back into humans. (as it's only stated explicitly once in the Odyssey)

The Odyssey also says that Odysseus' line only has one son each. That's Telemachus. (OdyPen can have a daughter though! >:3 Girldad Odysseus is very tasty for me)

If you're just into the angst of Odysseus' death, I got a bit of that though :'D

Penelope being 75% Naiads will live a long life. And Odysseus, being her husband, gets the advantages of having a magic Water wifey and that affects him in how he will live a long life as well (Calypso also gave him ambrosia/nectar to keep him alive. as he was nearly dead when he washed up.)

BUT. He is mostly mortal. He lives way beyond what is normal for Mortals but still.

His hair now fully gray. His breathing raspy and slow. He's slow to move...

Penelope lives a bit afterward. Sleeping and taking comfort in their nest that cradles her as she sleeps. She feels him everywhere. She grieves him endlessly.

Their nest starts to wilt. Only when she goes too does it come alive again.

And for some random Penelope and Telemachus headcanons :P

Nereids have lined bioluminescence, while NAIADS have spots. Like the black spots on the beloved rainbow trout 🥹 (they don't have the black spots. they just have spots that glow in their own control lol)

Telemachus gets "spots" from both his mama (naiad scales/glowbit) and his papa (freckles) 🥹

It's what they use to communicate underwater. And it's nice because even if you're not full naiad and don't have as many scales, you can still communicate as it's about the flickers :3 (Odysseus can understand these to a degree)

Very rarely do they "just randomly glow" as you know, don't wanna give away your thoughts. But it's cute because Odysseus will occasionally have a lightshow when one of them is dreaming.

I know a lot of people have Penelope see Odysseus in Telemachus constantly, and while she does to a degree, she is actually one of the few people who really emphasizes that he's his own person. You don't have to be good at whittling, you make such beautiful pottery. You like green, not orange. You don't have to pick that color when it's not your favorite and because other people simply get excited about you being like your dad sometimes. That type of stuff.

You take care too, Dear Anon! :D

[joels6string]

dear santa,

i mean, dear kate* 🫣

can i wish a very spicy joel miller story? as if the ones you wrote weren’t spicy and perfect enough… BUT! maybe something like enemies to lovers?

i actually have no idea what i’m asking. you’re the mastermind here. anything joel related, i want it on my desk 😮‍💨🫶

Merry Angst-mas for this one. I swear the other prompts are very lighthearted and happy. Like, Joel ice skating, and modern AU snowstorm hero... don't give up on me 😂

Damned If I Do

Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: You hate him, he hates you. It's as simple as that, right?

Rating: E

Word Count: 3.1k

Content: Enemies to lovers. The two main food groups: Smut and Sad. Creator has chosen to not give content warnings, read at your own risk.

“You give a shit about me, Miller?” you asked, trying to taunt but only sounding as desperate as he did. Despite his words over the months you’d known him, his actions had certainly always told a different story, one he was trying to keep from pouring free right now. “Tryin’ not to.” “Why’s that?” “Lovin’ me’s a curse.”

The mood was somber, even more so than usual. It was December, the frigid winter air whipping through the Boston quarantine zone, the dilapidated building you were currently holed up in doing little to keep you from its stinging bite.

“You gonna be a god damn liability again this time?” The voice made your skin crawl.

“Merry Christmas to you too,” you grumbled under your breath, it was no use arguing with him.

Tess had gone ahead to negotiate the terms of your impending deal, leaving you and Joel to wait for the upcoming weapons haul pickup that had been looming over your head for days. You’d chosen Christmas Eve in hopes that the military personnel surrounding every wall of the zone would be scarce, on holiday leave, doing something other than their damn worthless jobs for once. Not that there was shit to celebrate anyway.

“I asked you a question,” he barked in response to your muttering, his face severe when you dared a peek at it.

“I don’t know, Miller,” you sneered, “Just let them take me out this time and put us both out of our fucking misery, huh?”

“I’d never hear the end of it.”

Tess would give him an earful. Sometimes you thought the threat of Tess’ wrath was the only thing keeping you alive, this was doing enough to prove that to be true. When the woman in question returned to you and him on opposite sides of the room facing your respective walls, she sternly reminded you both that lives were on the line. Now wasn’t the time for bickering and your heads belonged in the game, not your asses. You both begrudgingly agreed.

When it came down to it, it was your turn to put a bullet between the eyes of someone that had Joel by the throat long enough to make his vision blacken at the fringe, the ice beneath his cheek brutal and sharp as he fell to the ground with a huff.

“You’re welcome,” you snapped, stepping over his gasping body without so much as a glance down, his furious snarl still audible over the winds.

It had been a setup, of course, hunters almost picking the three of you off when you got to the abandoned drop zone.

“Thought you negotiated this shit, Tess!?” Joel barked, throwing his bloodied baseball bat onto the ground with a heavy thud, “We come out here just for a quick shoot out and frostbite or you got somethin’ else up those sleeves of yours?”

“I thought it was sound!” she snapped back, guilt heavy in her voice as she accepted her error in ways Joel could never.

“Yeah, Merry fuckin’ Christmas–”

“Oh, shut the fuck up, Joel,” you interjected, exasperated, cold, and perturbed beyond a reasonable limit, “You wouldn’t have done any fucking better–”

“I would have made damn sure I wasn’t bringin’ either of you to a god damn ambush! That’s what I woulda done!”

“Well, you were a great help tonight–”

Your words were cut short by a hand clamping over your mouth, the frozen sharp tip of a knife knicking into the soft skin of your throat. The ice scattered throughout the cracked pavement made it impossible to get your footing as you were dragged backward, your heart pounding as you watched Joel’s eyes widen in panic, his revolver drawn and aimed, his gaze begging for a clear shot. Looks like he’d get his Christmas wish after all.

There was no use in fighting it, if anything having the warmth of a body pressed behind you would have you one less step from miserable as you took your last breaths. You hoped he made it quick, you weren’t in the damn mood for games or semantics. Joel wouldn’t trade a dirty sock for your life, but that look in his eyes before you were pulled from his sight had certainly been unexpected. 

He and Tess had probably run off, who knew who else was coming, this man couldn’t be alone. They were smart to do so. Ammo was running low, stamina even lower, and even at their best, they couldn’t take out another squadron of hunters. You’d made it 15 years in this God-forsaken world, it was a lot more than most could boast. Somehow dying at the filthy hands of this human felt worse than getting infected, at least those monsters didn’t know any better.

Even through the thick canvas of your jacket, you felt the burn of the pavement scraping your elbows, your hiss of discomfort pulling a sneering smile.

“Don’t move,” he ordered, and you curled your lip as your eyes rolled, Joel's voice echoing in your head, ‘Don’t gimme that sass.”

Had it been an hour? Maybe two? You couldn’t tell. The darkness was unforgiving and unwavering, the cold setting into your bones as you shivered knees to your chest in an attempt to preserve your body heat. You’d be dead by morning from hypothermia alone. Gunshots rang out, screams and cries, yelps, glass shattering. What the fuck? What kind of hell zone was this? Crawling to peer around the old metal shipping container you’d been stashed in, your curious gaze was met with the sight of Joel Miller bashing at your captor’s head with a brick, blood splattered across his face, eyes alight with rage. 

“Joel…” you gasped through numbed lips, you’d never been happier to see that sour face in your life, his expression softening as the man in his grasp fell to the ground in a gory heap.

“There you are,” you sighed, “Let’s go. Can you walk?”

His heavy coat he’d slipped over your shoulders swallowed you whole as you led you through the still hunter-infested maze. Ducking behind crates and in abandoned buildings, he had the exact route mapped to have you free and clear within minutes, the walls of Boston greeting you just as the feeling had returned to the tips of your toes. He was silent on the route back, his eyes flicking over his shoulder to ensure you were safely behind him periodically, the sphere emanating from your flashlight highlighting the silver hairs streaking through the black on the back of his head. 

“Stop,” he instructed, tanks driving by as a new congregation of troops gathered right outside the final building that led to safety, “Shit. This might be as far as we get til dawn.”

“Great,” you scoffed.

“Let’s go up, keep eyes on ‘em.”

With enemies so close, a fire was out of the question, your chattering teeth and tensed muscles hard to ignore as you stared at the hulking form staring out the shattered window.

“Joel…” you finally sounded, his head ticking towards you the only acknowledgment you received, “Why’d you come back?”

“If anyone’s gonna kill ya, it’s gonna be me,” he teased, a puff of breath glowing in the moonlight leaking in around him, “and now we’re even.”

“We’re even…”

Of course it was about evening the score. You’d saved his life, he’d saved yours, though you were almost positive you were still deep in his debt. It wasn’t often Joel needed a helping hand. He was as formidable as he was cold, that stony expression rarely breaking. Except it had, tonight. You hadn’t forgotten.

“Joel…” you called again, his body turning now to face you pathetically shivering in the corner. You hoped he didn’t make you ask, it was already mortifying insinuating it.

“I got you,” he cooed, leaving his post and gesturing for you to lean forward as he approached, nestling in behind you, legs on either side caging you in, his arms wrapping around your middle as you nestled back against him.

Even in nothing but a worn-out flannel, he was warm, your sigh of relief drawing a muted chuckle from his chest as you melted in his hold. Bygones could be bygones, the chill you swore would be permanent dissipating with each deep breath you were now able to take. It had been years since you’d been this close to another human in a non-threatening manner, the first time someone cradled you against them, allowing you a moment of solace and safety. You’d never expected to find that safety here, in these arms.

“You can sleep,” he permitted, your body immediately accepting the offer and drifting off, your head lolling beneath his chin as his thick beard caught on your hair.

Gray light filled the dingy room as your eyes fluttered open. You were sweating now, your neck straining beneath a heavy weight settled on your head, heavy breaths echoing in your ear. Joel. He was asleep behind you, his cheek resting on you from where you’d spent your night pressed into him, his arms still tightly wrapped around you even passed out cold. At the first twitch of your head, he was rousing, grunting as he became alert once again.

Shifting enough to peer up at him, you watched his hazel eyes wake in the eerie glow of dawn before they locked with yours, the stone chipped away just enough to reveal a glimmer of vulnerability.

“Why you lookin’ at me like that?” he asked softly, keeping the proximity you’d woken in instead of pulling away like you’d expected him to.

All you could muster was a shrug, his plush lips too close for you to concentrate.

“I can’t do this…” he whimpered, his tone stabbing you right in the chest, “Stop making me give a shit about you.”

“You give a shit about me, Miller?” you asked, trying to taunt but only sounding as desperate as he did. Despite his words over the months you’d known him, his actions had certainly always told a different story, one he was trying to keep from pouring free right now.

“Tryin’ not to.”

“Why’s that?”

“Lovin’ me’s a curse.”

That didn’t matter. You’d danced with the devil already, what was one more tango? His hair was softer than you thought it would be when your fingers weaved into the strands on the back of his head, pulling his lips to yours in a daring risk of affection. You weren’t sure what shocked you more, your bravery or the fact that he greedily accepted your kiss, one large palm splaying across your stomach that was currently churning with something you hadn’t felt in over a decade.

It was all teeth and pressure, tongues wrestling as you tugged him closer by the hold on his hair, his body turning to face yours and press you down onto the cold wood of the floor, one hand cupping the back of your head to save it from the splintering surface. Your hands started on his belt first, your mouths still devouring the other as months of pent-up tension and hidden desires spilled over, your lungs selfishly inhaling his carnal groan as you gripped his cock as it sprang free and dragged your fist along his impressive length. Control was forgotten as you leaned up and captured his bottom lip again, his mind unable to focus on both your mouth and your hand as you continued to tug, his reciprocating kiss always slightly too late as his hips began to rock into your hold.  

“Turn,” he commanded, his voice giving no room for objection, “S’too cold for any other way.”

As much as you wanted to argue, he was right. You obeyed, presenting yourself to him on all fours before your jeans were pulled just past the swell of your ass, his hands squeezing at your searing globes voraciously. You wished you could see his face. Slick fingers swiped over your pulsing hole, swirling spit around to ease his plunge into your waiting depths. You were quivering with anticipation, a stark contrast from last night as every inch of you burned now even in the subzero December temperatures. 

Even if you wanted to stop it, you wouldn’t have been able to contain the lewd cry that erupted as you stretched around him. The feeling of his shaft slowly slipping inside of you made you realize just how soaked you were, his path unhindered on its way into the deepest parts of your body. You knew he could feel it, too, his hands shaking where they held you in place around your waist, breaths audibly ragged as he bottomed out.

“Shush now, darlin’,” he soothed, once again stroking over the plushness of your hips, “I can’t kill a man in this state.”

If that was intended to calm you down, he’d failed. Your cunt clenched around him so tightly he chuckled gruffly, pulling out and snapping his hips back against your ass just hard enough to have you jerking forward and keening, your teeth sinking into the sleeve of his jacket still loosely hanging on your much smaller frame. It didn’t take long for his pace to regulate, hard and fast just as you expected him to be, your arousal leaking down your inner thighs as he pinpointed the velvety patch decorating your inner wall, his precision just as accurate as he was with a rifle.

The limitations were agonizing. You wanted more. You wanted to marvel at the way his lips were parted and the hazel of his eyes swallowed by blackened lust, grip his chest and his neck, swallow his muted whines, and whisper how fucking good he felt into the soft, scarred skin of his neck. Pressure was building immeasurably quick, his rough fingers now rubbing circles over your clit leaving you nothing but a boneless heap in his hands. He was holding you upright now, your body limp for him to use as he saw fit, but the only thing he chased was your release.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he urged, “just let it go for me.”

Who were you to deny him anything? You clamped down around him as the elastic band in your belly finally snapped, shockwaves electrifying every nerve from the tips of your toes to the top of your skull, your eyes rolling back in your head as you chanted his name like a prayer. He followed not long after, pulling out with a roar and emptying onto an old rag he’d grabbed from the floor, his chest heaving as he moaned in relief. You wanted to scramble over to him, kiss his cheek, temple, eye, forehead, anything you could reach as he finished in the absence of your warmth, but you were too spent, too delirious, too thoroughly fucked to move quickly enough.

“Joel…” you whimpered, searching for him in the still-dim space, your hand reaching up and waiting for his fingers to intertwine with, “Joel…”

“I’m right here,” he answered as he gave you what you were searching for, his lips pressing to the back of your palm as he pulled you back into his chest, “We need to go. Tess’ll be worried.”

When you returned, you didn’t need to tell Tess what had transpired, she could tell. But even with her deduced knowledge, she kept her lips sealed. Maybe she knew Joel would tuck and run the moment he was caught, or that he’d recognize what a liability this was in a world such as this. A liability he’d come to terms with faster than he would have liked.

Two months later as February began to slide into March, a hoard of infected was an unexpected addition to your supply run. It was just you and him, it was meant to be simple, and it was, or so he thought.

“Let’s go,” he panted, “More’ll come. We can go another day without.”

“Joel…” you mewled, tears welling in your eyes as he continued to scout the area, “Joel!”

“What? Sweetheart, we gotta go.”

“You gotta go.”

“What the hell are you talk–”

Part of you wished you’d never told him. That you’d run off into the woods and let the last image you had of him be with his revolver in one hand and a machete in the other, doing what he did best with his brute strength and unmatched finesse. Because now, now you’d die with the snapshot of his horror-stricken face staring down at your outstretched palm, frozen, in denial, and forlorn.

“The hell is that?” he asked as if you’d have another explanation.

“You know what it is,” you replied, swallowing your own sorrow, he needed you to be strong now. 

“No. No. No, that’s…that’s somethin’ else.”

“Stop–”

“Tell me it’s somethin’ else.”

“Joel, please!”

The way he muttered Jesus fucking Christ under his breath as he turned was the final swing on your shattering resolve, a hand dragging down his face as the other dropped to his hip, his blade plummeting to the pavement with a shrill clang as he let it fall from his grip. You stood still as a statue, watching him come to terms with those teeth marks pierced into the hand that had cupped his jaw so tenderly this morning as he’d kissed you awake. 

“I warned you,” he finally said, turning to reveal his soaked cheeks and reddening eyes, “I told you I was a curse.”

“That really what you want to talk about right now?” you pressed, your chest burning as you fought the sobs clawing to get free. 

“What do you want me to do?”

Your final wish. It wasn’t hard to decipher what he meant, one of you had to do it. 

“I can do it,” you assured, puffing your chest out in a masquerade of bravery and strength, he could see right through it, his brow furrowing as he shook his head.

“No you can’t,” he resigned after clearing his throat and repressing the rage and grief already surging through him, pulling his pistol from the back of his waistband, “Lay down, I can’t watch you fall.”

“Joel, I can–”

“Just…do it.”

The grass was cool against your cheek, its soft caresses weren’t the worst things to feel with your final breaths. Your tears decorated the blades like the dew drops not due for another few months, your heart thudding between your chest and the ground, Joel’s footsteps somehow in tune with every slam of it against your sternum. 

Where you expected the muzzle of a pistol, you felt his large palm stroking gently over the back of your head, his lips pressing to your hair one last time and lingering as the wound on your hand pulsed like a warning beacon. You knew you still had time, but the urgency had begun to eat you alive with every dragging second.

“Get on with it, Miller,” you pushed, refusing to give him your eyes, he’d hesitate. You knew that. “Waiting won’t make it any easier.”

“I’m sorry,” he breathed, he was crying again, “I’m sorry…” and that was the last thing you heard before the click of a trigger.

Joel Miller Masterlist

[melusinealarice]

in that case… could i request a member of his team reader and house fanfic abt house realising his attraction towards reader isn’t actually just sexual (they’ve been sleeping together for some time) but he’s actually in love with them. so he asks reader on a date, but they think he’s just joking and being an ass. so house has to go on a full on rant about how he developed feelings for reader and they just stand there in shock completely flustered (pls make reader say yes at the end tho 🙏💞) either gn!reader or fem!reader

this is totally ooc for him but whateva im a little delusional 🥰 in my head he’s my silly husband

Def delulu, but arent we all, anyways here ya go

Warnings: cursing, sexual themes,

Fem reader x dr house

You had been sleeping with dr. House for a few months now. It all started when you joined his team, while his rude comments usually repelled people, they attracted you. You found him hilarious as-well as insanely hot. Him being smart was a bonus as-well. He always made sexual comments towards you wich left you flustered more than anything. It all started one night when he was staying late and you came in to find him in a bottle of whiskey. It ended with you leaving his house before he could wake up. After that you both just would have casual sex, thats all it was. You never asked for anything more, even though you desperately wanted it, because you knew him, and he would surely mock you for it.

House’s POV:

I walk out of the on-call room, not even saying anything to y/n, this has just been our routine, she figured words would just make things complicated. I went straight to Wilson. “Wilson.” I said walking in, not bothering to knock. “What is it House?” He said looking up, “i think, I think Im attracted to y/n in more than just a sexual way.” i said, sitting on his couch, “what?” He asked stoping what he was doing. “I think, Im falling in love with her.”

Your POV:

Back to work, you just finished hooking up with House and now you had to go along your day, pretending you aren’t in live with him. No problem.

After the case you all were working on was solved you stayed back in the office while everyone else left. House was there, “so how about I buy you a drink, like a date?” He said, leaning against the door, pinning you to the wall. Shit, he knows, he knows you like him and he is making fun of you for it, who told him?? You scoffed trying to play it off, “ya know just because I like you being an ass doesn’t mean you have to make fun of me.” She said, trying to find away out of the situation. “Me? An ass? Never.” He taunted, you rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help how much harder you were breathing, “whatever,” you said, wiggling out of the position you were in. “Im serious.” He said, staring at you, “I thought it was just sexual, i did, and ive tried to pretend it was, but god, you are so much more than that. Ive been falling deeper in love with you every damn second, and I want you, all of you. You are so beautiful and smart, and funny. And I want commitment and I want to take you on a date.” He said, his face was straight, he wasn’t joking. You stood there flustered, “really?” You said still in shock, he walked up to you and took your hands in his, “really.” He said. “Okay, lets go get a drink.” You said smiling up at him.

The end

Ok its kinda short, but im not the best at writing fluff, and it was super hard to do it with House without totally betraying his character.

[cxhleel108]

LITG S8 Thots for this week: I love winning!

(Fusebox hasn’t proven me wrong often…damn near at all, but oh do I love when they do!)

• Ok but his body kinda tea I’ll give him that.

• Also do I spy a Libra tattoo??? LIBRA GANG STAND TF UP!!!♎️♎️♎️

• Luna really just want every man in here except her own like damn bitch just give Jin to me since you so open to change😭😭😭

• The spat being us disagreeing on one thing for maybe 30 seconds and then Oakley immediately apologizing to and worshipping me like ok girl, sure.

• Keep trying all y’all want I’m not turning on my man😑😑😑

• We not doing this again uh uh.

• But also…HOW DO WE GET OAKLEY IN THESE??? QUICKLY!

• The fact I was finna deny speaking to Hari and then he brings up that he has intel on my man ugh they know how weak I am help💔

• The intel in question being that he was gonna ask us to go exclusive. WOW! WHAT A SHOCKER!

• Theo what I have to say to you couldn’t take any more than 5 seconds. Stop wasting my time PLEASE!

• Oh yes I love when a man acts “playerfully”…

• It was so obvious that the letter was from our partner can we stop being fucking dumb?

• We didn’t emote enough after reading that letter. I needed my bitch to break out into tears while screaming or something!

• They are arguing over the letter omfggg the day that this villa knows peace, pigs will be flying.

• I busted out laughing at this cuz some of y’all were theorizing that Bea was his sister. Do you know how funny that would’ve been if she was😭

• Oh for christ’s sake can Luna shut the fuck UP? I’m so tired of her getting pressed at Jin being flirty with other bitches as if she don’t do the same exact shit. Ho mad cuz he says Bea might be hot but was just begging Hari to give her pussy a taper fade haircut, girl byeeeee!

• Theo finally manned up and admitted he wants me. Woohoo! Can we move on?

• Outfit time!

• Ngl I thought this was gonna look a whole lot more stupid but thankfully it doesn’t. Now as to why they made accompanying shoes that we couldn’t even put on is beyond me.

• Jin stfu😭😭😭

• IGNORE WHAT HARI AND I ARE DOING BAE IS BACK AAAAHHHHHH😝😝😝

• Yes use the good punani powers to distract him sis exactly!

• I’m seriously so glad I didn’t have to wait 20 episodes to see my bookie bear again like y’all don’t understandddd.

• He just got back and he already being messy helpskdmsmasnd.

• I know they ain’t actually shocked that I dropped the rope during tug of war…I already told y’all I am a one dick woman!

• Figures that Bea is the one that’s actually with my man, yet Luna is the one that’s making me wanna smack the shit outta her.

• Outfit time again!

• Say what you want but they are definitely killing the outfit game this season. Another bad bitch fit!

• The fact we can just tell Hari to shut the hell up so we can listen to the other date awww he really shoulda chose another girl to go after.

• Ok I fucks with you Bea! We love real bitches here💯💯💯

• And the fact Oakley recognizes that we would NEVER play those games oh when I tell you we fucking him real good tonight!

• God why am I so evil😭😭😭

• We actually get a private moment and they didn’t hoodwink us this time omg can we get fed like this more often?

• Oooooo wait clock his tea bae! Cuz that actually don’t make no fucking sense like how you out of practice for 2 years and suddenly you pulling out romantic ass stories just cuz you meet one bad bitch on Love Island?

• Oh lord someone duct tape Luna mouth shut before she start another yap fest.

• To clarify, when I say “you both” I’m referring to Oakley and his donk. Sorry Hari!

• Mind you the stuff that’s supposedly gonna change my mind about him is finna be some shit like “Instead of buying you a box of chocolates, he said he was gonna get you a giant teddy bear and a bouquet of roses and carnations.” Like can y’all cut this shit out it do not be gagging us anymore😕

• Because of course as soon as y’all bring me my baby daddy back you take him away again…

• Welp, loyal girlies I guess it’s time for us to suffer for another 2+ weeks!

[mia-does-nonsense]

Walkis Gang Headcanons - Charles Contini:

Warnings: None; Some slight manga spoilers

Being the only third year and the oldest out of the Walkis gang, Charles is the closest thing to a Responsible Adult™ this motley crew of madlads have. He has definitely looked at his juniors and thought, "Wow, thank god I'm the only normal person here" (No, Charles, no you're not).

Charles had probably one of the happiest childhoods out of the whole gang, because like I said before, most noble families (+ Innocent Zero) are shit at raising their kids. It wasn't 100% that great at first because Charles' father was a dick to Charles and his mom, until Mama Contini had enough and divorced her husband when Charles was still a little kid.

Honestly, shoutout to Mama Contini. One of the few good parents in the upper crust of magic society, and the one who introduced painting to Charles. Her only fault is that she coddles him a bit too much despite him being literally eighteen.

Mama Contini didn't raise no fool, though, because any household chore that needs to be done, Charles does it without being told to and without complaints. He finds it preposterous that there's guys his age and older who don't know shit about cooking, doing their own laundry, or cleaning up after themselves.

Whenever Charles visits his juniors in their dorms, 7 times out of 10 he gets an aneurysm because of how disorganized they are ("Do you make your mothers clean up after you at home, you pigs?!"), and kicks them out of their own rooms so that he can clean the place up from top to bottom. Galuf and Malcolm are the biggest offenders.

GREAT with kids. If anyone at Walkis needs someone to babysit their little siblings, Charles is their guy.

In terms of his magic ability, Charles is strong enough to have a Secondths. He just didn't get a chance to use it during the Tri-Magicathalon because 1) the rules of the Whack-a Mole room prevented him and Lance from directly attacking each other and 2) he underestimated Lance that badly. (I have no idea what his Secondths could be though 😭)

His personal magic, Vorp, currently has a distance limit. Charles can portal himself to anywhere in Walkis and is therefore never late to his classes, but he can't, for instance, create an effective portal connecting his dorm at Walkis to his mom's house. He's working on being able to travel longer distances via portals and is also trying to expand the size of his portals.

He has definitely jump-scared people by suddenly appearing behind them. Even though it's mostly by accident, almost the entire Walkis gang thinks he does it on purpose, and Charles at this point is too tired to correct them. The first time Charles accidentally portaled behind Galuf, Galuf let out a high-pitched scream, and no one has let him forget it since.

I have nothing to back this up, but Charles gives me dorm prefect vibes.

Charles is, in general, a pretty cheerful guy; you just can't tell at first though because his default expression makes him look bored to death at everyone and everything.

An absolute crybaby when he was in middle school at Walkis. It was his first time away from his mom, and the rabbiphone wasn't invented yet, so the homesickness hit him like a truck every damn day for like about a year.

The rest of the Walkis gang is pretty certain that Charles has some sort of pocket dimension in his, well, pockets because whenever someone needs something, Charles always comes in clutch with that exact thing. Galuf's dry eyes? Charles always has eyedrops at the ready. Levis, Lovie, and Domina's hair keeps getting in their way? Charles' got so many hair ties, it's ridiculous. Kenny's feeling more chilly than usual? Charles is already pulling out a handmade scarf. Anyone sneezed? Not to worry, Charles has spare handkerchiefs. And of course, there's his rabbiphone.

If there's anyone from Easton that Charles would actually get along with, it would be Margarette because they both have 'maternal instincts'. Listen, just imagine these two having brunch and gossiping about the shenanigans their rowdy kids juniors get into at their schools. Heck, they'd probably try to out-mother each other like it's some competition.

For the love of god, do NOT leave Charles alone in the same room with Lance ever. They will throw hands (wands?) at the slightest provocation. Charles is incapable of withholding snide remarks, Lance's Divine Visionary status be damned, and Lance won't hesitate to put him in his place. The siscon vs mama's boy beef is eternal.

[runningfrom2am]

the sea around us; chapter one

In which Rafe Cameron has to choose between his dad and a pogue who's changing his outlook on life more and more every day.

(rafe cameron x f!oc)

(eventual!jj maybank x f!oc)

warnings/tags: violence, drug/alcohol use, smoking, sexual content (if you squint), slowburn, older brother’s best friend, (these tags are obv not exhaustive but regardless it’s pretty PG13)

wc: 1.9k

my masterlist, series masterlist, requests

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

The Outer Banks. Paradise on earth. At least, that is what the giant sign on the bridge described it as, as we drove into the city that has been my home since eighth grade. I remember seeing it for the first time, I was so young, so sad to be leaving my home- and so damn tired after a two-week drive. Seriously, it was like my parents tried to get us as far as humanly possible away from Moose River BC as possible while staying on the same continent. My parents had told me we were moving to paradise, in hindsight I see that they wanted us to be less sad about uprooting our lives so they could get us out of the country without a fuss- because we somehow ended up on The Cut. To be fair, it does remind me of home every day. I missed my friends for a couple of years, but I made new ones and moved on. Never looked back.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

"Snowy- are you seeing this right now? That's like a three story drop." Pope says to me as I shield my eyes with my hand so I can look his way just as he gestures up to John B standing on the roof of the McMansion to be that were hanging out at this afternoon. I sit up slowly from where I'm laying along the railing of the deck, looking up at the curly brunette as he lifted one foot off the edge of the roof.

"Hey, John B, what if you like, didn't risk your life like this right now?" I say, leaning back on my hand that's steadying me. "How'd you even get up there?"

"They're gonna have Japanese toilets with towel warmers." Kie states, walking out of the unfinished patio door onto the porch with us before John B can respond.

"Of course they are, why wouldn't they?" JJ shrugs. Of course, any of us would have that if we could. I'm actually quite certain that Kie herself has heated bathroom floors at her parent's house in Figure Eight. Oh, the Kook life- I'm jealous.

"This used to be a turtle habitat, but who cares about the turtles, right?" Kie sighs just as John B looks like he's losing his balance. "Can you not kill yourself?" She adds, shielding her eyes as well as she looks up at the boy who she just noticed was standing on the edge of the roof.

"Don't drop that beer, I'm not giving you another one." JJ says, and right on cue, John B drops the can in question off the roof as he wobbles on one foot.

"Oh shit! Nooo.." He whined as it hit the ground. Everyone laughs as JJ kicks the can and John B is sulking about it.

Pope and I look over to the temporarily gravel driveway and see a small car pulling in. "Security." I state and Pope picks up his bag.

"Uh, yep let's wrap it up." Pope adds, and John B climbs down from the roof.

"Boys are early today."

I shrug a little at John B's statement as I throw my bag over my back. "Alright Humpty Dumpty, let's roll." JJ says, stepping down the exit ramp he was on with John B close behind.

"Let's go boys." Kie says, joining my side as we pick up a light jog through the construction site. We hear a man's voice behind us, who now seems to be chatting away with JJ like they're friends. If you asked JJ, he'd say that, anyway. "He's asking for it at this point." Kie says as we both glance over at him and giggle.

JJ grabs my hand and laughs as he responds, "Oh am I?" We all pick up the pace to a run through the empty house, down some concrete stairs to ground level. I slip a little on the last step, and JJ half falls with me as we hear the man's voice again just to our left.

"Hey! Stop!"

"Gary! Oh my god, you scared me!" I laugh as JJ pulls me just out of Gary's reach and we run the other way. He yells to the other security guard that we're heading toward him, and I step out of the way right as he reaches for us, and I drop JJ's hand as he gets a hold of him instead. "Not much of a hugger man." JJ says as he instantly slips right out of the man's grasp and runs after me.

I sprint out to the lawn and jump into the back of John B's van, the Twinkie, as he calls it, with Kie right as we see JJ and Pope coming and jumping in behind me. "Come on!" Kie and I shout at the boys, and John B guns it right as they get inside. We keep an eye out the door and back window, as Gary chases after us.

"Check out Gary running for a raise!" Pope laughs as JJ continues a one-sided conversation with the security guard running after us and throwing him a beer- because they couldn't possibly pay him enough.

"You little pricks!" Gary shouts after us as he gives up the chase and we speed away. I climb into the passenger seat next to John B and turn up the music coming from The Twinkie's old speakers.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

We're a glowing example of what everyone in Kildare county knows as the Pogues. Our mission? Have a good time, all the time. Right here, we're cruising Figure Eight- the rich side of the island. Home of the Kooks, where we obviously don't live. Rich folks with vacation homes in two different places, or, Kie put it best, heated towel warmers at the expense of only a few thousand turtle lives lost. The other, superior side of the island, The Cut, is what we call home. Pogues, pogies, the people of the working class, where our people bust their asses to make a living. Lowest members of the Kildare county food chain. So, a downside of being a pogue is that we're ignored and neglected. Upside? We're ignored and neglected, which means we can do whatever we want, whenever we want.

It's two tribes, one island.

Now, for the interesting part, my crew. The people that make my life go 'round. Firstly, there's JJ. Founding member of our club, and the life of every party, the only one who can beat me at a shotgun. It's never a dull moment with him around. He's got a mop of dirty blonde hair, sunkissed skin, and the most beautiful set of blue eyes I've ever seen. I would never live it down if he found out, though. He's about as local as they come- the latest in a long line of fishing, drinking, smuggling, vendetta-holding salt-lifers who make their living off the water. He's also the best surfer I know. Again, don't tell him I said that. Also a ~light~ kleptomaniac and future tax cheat. If we're including that stuff.

Then there's Kie. Kiara. My best girlfriend and platonic soulmate packed into one. She has the prettiest dark curly hair, and when she's not saving turtles, listening to Marley, or getting Dolphin tattoos, she hangs out with us. I don't know why she chose us, but she did and we're all the better for it. She's a rich kid, technically- a foot in both worlds. Her family owns The Wreck, this Outer Banks institution. Total cash cow with the tourists, and actually my first place of employment. Not sure how much her parents love us though, I kind of lost my touch with them after I threw a drink on a customer while I was clocked in. They didn't fire me though, I still work there occasionally when they need the help.

Next in line, there's Pope. Always the brains of the operation and our collective voice of reason. Taller than me by a mile, and a finalist for the Lucas T. Vanderhorst merit scholarship. Definitely the smartest person I know, but often loses his shot with girls when he brings up that he plans on being a coroner. Someone has to do it, I guess. His father's this legendary character, Heyward. Anything you want on the island, Heyward could get it for you. Now I'm not sure what Heyward knew what to make about his son and his friends, but it didn't matter. He's a pogue like us.

Lastly, John B. John Booker, if you want to be technical about it. He's the most loyal person I've ever met, and the other founding member of our club, a true golden retriever boy when you get to know him. You can always rely on JB in a pinch, which happens more often than any of us would care to admit. He's the temporary, not legal, owner of the chateau, our typical hangout and clubhouse. He's the name sake of his dad, and looks just like him. Big John, by now, has been missing at sea for around 9 months. The rest of us have lost hope that he will ever come back, but John B refuses to admit he's gone until his fathers body is found. I understand that. DCS is hot on John B's tail, considering his uncle, his current legal guardian, is quite literally in another state and has been for months.

Then, there's me. Snowy. Snowy Hansley. It's a nickname I never shook from when I first moved to the OBX, being from Canada and all. I'm one to be picked on for using Canadian slang, and an occasional "kick a ginger day" victim. I haven't cut my hair since I moved because my mom says hair holds memories and feelings, so I suppose I'm unintentionally the superstitious type. I was adopted by JJ and John B at a dance a few weeks after I moved to town- my parents wanted me to go and make friends. I held the door for them as they were stepping behind the building to go shotgun before going back in, and JJ asked me to come with them. I'd never drank before, but I supposed I learned to shotgun from the best. Then, the rest is history.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

A/N;

Hi to anyone who's reading this! I hope it's not too cringey, I'm trying to emulate the right vibe.

(EDIT: This first chapter is so shit- I swear it gets so much better so please don't give up on me just yet, I'm going to come back and rewrite this one when I get the chance)

Anyway, thank you for being here and give me your thoughts! I'm not going to give any spoilers but I've got a lot planned for this :).  That being said, please share your ideas and stuff you want to see here with me! Literally I am open to absolutely any suggestions.

Thank you for reading!! It'll get more exciting shortly- I promise. -R