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findmeinforks · 10 months ago

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Stay - Paul Lahote X Fem!Reader

Happy 2024! I honestly didn't know what to call this, but I just kept writing and now I'll probably need a part 2 🙃 enjoy 💕 2.8K words

"You have no idea how excited I am. I mean just how long have I been begging you to come live with me?" Emily grinned into the phone that was tucked between her shoulder and ear. She paced the kitchen while whisking a bowl of brownie mix, mindlessly chatting away.

"I must warn you though that the house does get chaotic. But the boys are pretty good about keeping up after themselves," she said while swatting away Embry's hand that almost made a dip in the bowl. He put his hands up in self defense as she rolled her eyes.

"Sounds great. Sam will pick you up at the airport tomorrow at noon. Let me know if you need anything else, and have a safe flight. I love you!" She she set the bowl on the counter, hanging up the phone.

"Was that Y/N? She's moving in tomorrow?" Quil questioned from the table with a mouth full of chips.

"Yes, and I trust that you boys will be on your best behavior in welcoming her..." Emily raised her eyebrow as she pointed a dripping whisk of batter at all the men now surrounding the kitchen.

"Depends, is she hot?" Embry snickered as he sat down.

"Oh....she is." Quil emphasized with wide eyes.

"Get it Embry!" Paul snorted as he clapped him on the back, reaching over into Quil's bag of chips.

"They WILL be on their best behavior. And no one will be 'getting' shit." The booming voice of Sam emerged behind Emily, wrapping his arms around her torso.

He reached his head over her shoulder as she let him lick what was left on the whisk, earning a disgusted "Seriously?" from Quil.

"Hey, but what if she's my imprint??" Embry held his up his finger to argue.

"You know that would be a different story...but we know already she isn't Quil's" Sam smirked at the youngest pack members now disappointed face.

"You guys are kidding right? I've seen pictures. Shes insanely out of all your leagues." Jacob quipped as he strolled to the living room.

"Anything is better than my crushes newborn infant..." Embry muttered under his breath, making all the boys cower in laughter.

"Oh yeah? You wanna say that again?" Jacob challenged.

Sam walked around in between them, looking from side to side at them both.

"THIS is what Emily is talking about. Keep the fights outside boys. I mean it. Just because Y/N knows about the pack doesn't mean she won't get scared if you clowns nearly phase in the kitchen. Are we clear?"

The two reluctantly nodded, Jacob sulking away to the living room.

"But come on, that was kinda funny.." Embry whispered, making the other boys giggle.

Paul shook his head with a smile at his little brother, leaving the room to shower before dinner.

There was something about the conversation that stuck with Paul throughout the night. Since Sam had met Emily, all of his brothers wanted imprints. They all saw what it was like to have one up close, and craved it desperately. He grimaced at the thought. The idea of a "soulmate" sounded ridiculous to Paul.

The problem wasn't that he didn't believe in it. Anybody could see the intense love that imprints had for one another, their bond growing with them until old age.

But Paul was not familiar with the term love. He never did get to see the love between his father and mother. She had been his imprint, but passed long before Paul could remember much about her. He watched his father struggle emotionally, never being able to get through the grief of her loss. Sure, he raised Paul as best he could, but deep down it was his mother that would have filled the void in their quiet house.

Things did get a little brighter when Paul joined the pack. For the first time he truly felt like he was part of a real family. He came home to hot meals, genuine laughter, and lively conversation. Not only had he gained a group of brothers, but ones with unwavering loyalty. None of them ever strayed away when Paul lost control of his temper, and were the first ones to help him learn to control it.

Maybe that was the reason he never looked for anything serious when it came to women. What was the point? One little outburst and they were out the door quicker than they had come in. He didn't allow himself to feel anything for them, because they'd end up leaving, and he was saving himself the heart break anyways.

Paul lay awake that night certain about one thing, he didn't need an imprint.

You inhaled the crisp fall air. Smiling wide as you looked up the steps to the new home awaiting you, the patio adorned in different flowers and cutesy outdoor decor.

"Oh Em it's just how I remember. You always make it look so cozy," you said as you squeezed the arm of your cousin beside you.

She returned your same smile.

"You're too sweet. I just can't believe you're really here. Come on, I'll introduce you to the boys."

You followed her up the steps, walking through the door to the warm smell of baked goods, no doubt that Emily had been up all night. You chuckled to yourself as you remember how she would go overboard on food whenever she was excited about something and couldn't sleep.

What you weren't used to, however, was being greeted by the several shirtless men. All incredibly in shape with tattoos on their arms, you might have been intimidated if it weren't for their cheesy smiles.

Emily gestured to each of them,

"You remember Quil, and that's Embry, Jacob, Seth, andddd well," she looked around puzzled for a moment. "I guess I'll introduce you to Paul whenever he comes around."

You waved at Quil and shook the other's hands.

There must have been some sort of inside joke, because as you finished with introductions you saw Sam laugh while they collectively let out a small sigh.

You don't think you were meant to hear it, but you caught Sam whisper at Embry,

"Better luck next time kid."

Emily didn't make a big deal of whatever it was, guiding you to your room.

After you got settled in, you found yourself strolling the hallway, looking over all the framed pictures on the wall. You had been over the moon when Emily had found Sam. You've never seen her so happy before, and you could tell he looked at her in the exact same way.

Not paying attention when the bathroom door opened, you collided with a large bare chest that stepped into the hall.

You gasped as two strong arms to match caught you before you fell, luckily, and you embarrassingly faced the one man you of course had no former introduction with.

"I am so, so sorry. I-"

"No no it's fine, are you-"

Both of you started and stopped mid sentence. Your attention had been captured when you two locked eyes. It was like you had been anchored to the floor by them. This warm, fuzzy energy had your entire body buzzing. It was so silent that you could hear your own blood flow in your ears. You furrowed your eyebrows in the haze. What the hell...

"ARE YOU SHITTING ME??"

A loud voice cut through the trance and you flinched at the abrupt sound. The man held you slightly tighter for a moment, as if he was about to protect you from whatever had interrupted you both in this hypnotic state.

Turning around so you both could see that the voice had been Embry, the man looked back and quickly dropped his arms, as if he just realized he had been holding you that whole time.

An unfamiliar emptiness lingered when he let go. He quickly averted his gaze, mumbling another apology before brushing past you, into a room, shutting the door.

His imprint. Right there. In the hallway of his own home.

Paul couldn't breathe.

He sat on the edge of his bed, nervously running his hands through his hair in a panic.

You were beautiful.

Breathtaking.

Your smell was intoxicating and your skin was so, so very soft. Your voice sounded like an angel. Your hair-

No.

No, he couldn't let himself think like this. He didn't need an imprint. Didn't even want one in the first place.

Was this some kind of sick joke the universe was playing on him? This girl could have anyone she wants. Why him?

Emily's call for dinner had him taking deep breaths. He could do this. They could live amongst eachother and not have to talk. There's ton of people in this house, it would be rare that the two of them would ever be alone. Right? Right. He could do this.

He walked into the bathroom, splashing cold water on his face. Wake up. It's just some girl. No different than the many that he had been with. Hell, if he could have sex with someone and never think of them again, he could do it. They had barely exchanged a sentence. Barely touched. He would be fine.

You sat down at the table, trying to behave as normal as possible. What happened in the hall was nothing. Whiplash. Yes, it was probably the whiplash from running into him. The poor guy seemed shy, and he was most likely just as shook up as you. It was a small accident and nothing more. He certainly didn't seem angry or upset, just caught off guard.

But wow....was he handsome. Certainly more attractive than any lousy guy you'd ever been with. He had this aroma of sandalwood and forest that was enchanting.

Okay, slow down Y/N. Let's not walk in on the first day and jump on some guy. After all, you two are going to be living together. Maybe don't make him uncomfortable in his own home. You shook your head to yourself. Just forget about the whole thing and it will be fine.

Luckily, Emily had started conversations around the table, easily able to take your mind elsewhere.

That was, until he came in the room. There was a beat of silence when he entered, the other boys seeming to look at him like they were anticipating something. When he didn't make a sound or even look up to anyone, slumping at the table and taking a plate, the conversations arose again.

Dinner was excellent as usual for Emily's cooking, and besides your beating heart constantly begging you to look at the man near the end of the table, it was almost normal.

It was when Emily put delicious brownies on the table, that it took a turn for the worse.

"I'M NOT GOING TO TELL YOU AGAIN. SHUT THE FUCK ALONE ABOUT IT" Everyone's head turned to the angry voice. It was him. He was so visibly upset that he was shaking, staring daggers at Embry beside him. Slamming his fists on the table as he stood up, you let an audible gasp slip.

That's when he looked at you for the second time that night. It was a far reach, but somehow you saw his eyes soften. The crinkles of anger in his eyebrows vanished, and he swallowed, before bolting out the door. Sam immediately followed, and Emily sighed, reaching out to touch your arm.

"I'm sorry about Paul. He's very.....expressive sometimes."

Paul.

"Leave me alone Sam."

Paul sighed through the mind link, his large wolf racing through the trees.

He didn't mean it. He never means it. But Embry would simply not stop talking. First it was meaningless. He asked what imprinting felt like. Paul had shrugged it off as nothing crazy, hoping he'd drop it there. Then, he had asked him if he planned on pursuing the imprint. Of course he told him he wasn't. He didn't need a soulmate. No matter what his instincts told him. But then, Embry had smiled and thanked him, telling him that you were now "fair game".

That had been when he lost it.

He stopped on the edge of a cliff, breathing in the fresh water air. Sam slowly approached his side.

"Embry only said that to get a rise out of you, you know."

Paul scoffed.

"He can do whatever he wants. I don't care about her."

"Oh you don't?" Sam didn't sound so convinced.

"Even if I did, she wouldn't want me. Did you....did you see the look on her face when I yelled?" Paul replayed it over and over. You had looked absolutely frightened.

"There is a reason she was chosen to be your imprint Paul. You don't know Y/N. She is patient, and most of all understanding. If you talked to her-"

"I don't need to talk to her. I am perfectly fine alone. I don't need a woman, and I definitely don't need an imprint."

Sam sighed.

"Paul. You can do what you want. I'm not the type of alpha to force you to love someone. But believe me when I say that I had a dark past. I was also comfortable with being alone. Emily is the best thing that could have ever happened to me. Having a conversation with her doesn't mean there will be wedding bells tomorrow. All I'm saying is you don't know unless you try."

Paul nodded, and Sam left him with his thoughts.

You stared at the numbers on your phone screen. 2:00am. You huffed in frustration. Your mind had been a constant replay of the events today, your mind spiraling. You had settled on the fact things around here were weird, when you had visited Emily and accidentally caught sight of Sam in wolf form. But this energy couldn't have anything to do with that. Could it?

You decided to make yourself some tea to try and relax. Knowing Emily you knew there had to be some in the kitchen. You tip toed in the dark, your body stiffening as you recognized a familiar muscular back that sat at the kitchen table in a dim light.

You were ready to retreat back to your room when he turned his head around to look at you.

Damn, wolves must have good hearing.

"I was just....going to make some tea.." you pointed to the cabinet awkwardly.

He nodded, looking back down at what appeared to be a cup of coffee.

He couldn't sleep either?

You mindlessly tapped your fingers against the counter as you awaited the kettle, praying that if you stared at it long enough, it would speed up the process.

Fuck, was this torture. You were like a goddess, standing there in your pajamas, hair astray and up in a haphazard bun. He imagined walking up behind you, wrapping his arms around you, soaking in your warmth while he pressed gentle kisses on your neck. He wondered what it sounded like to hear you laugh...

STOP STARING. Say something. Anything. Just. Try.

He cleared his throat. It must have startled you because you quickly turned to face him.

"I'm...sorry. About what you saw earlier. That's not like me. I-Embry, he can get under my skin sometimes," he rubbed the back of his head.

"But that's no excuse. I'm-um, Im Paul, by the way."

He lifted his hand up in an almost wave. Why was he so awkward? He was never this way with women.

You giggled, and suddenly, he felt like he was in heaven.

"Y/N. And no worries at all, Emily said you can be....'expressive' sometimes."

He chuckled.

"That's one word for it. But I just don't want to scare you off..."

"Well. I think if knowing that you can all turn into a large creatures who can rip me apart and that doesn't scare me away, I think you were okay." You smiled. He could look at that smile forever.

He was actually talking to you. Man, was his laugh so perfect. You could talk with him forever.

The kettle screeched, and you reluctantly made your tea.

"Well....I guess I'll see you around, Paul." You took your mug and headed for your room.

His name on her tongue. He wanted her to say it again.

"You can stay. If-if you want. I, uh, I don't...know much about you."

You smiled.

"I'd like that."

To be continued......

#paul lahote #sam uley #twilight #bella swan #edward cullen #embry call #imagine #jacob black #new moon #quil ateara #eclipse #seth clearwater #emily young #breaking dawn #fanfiction #paul lahote x you #paul lahote x reader #paul x reader #fiction

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almostempty · 3 months ago

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Kick and Scream

Self Esteem Part 3

Pairing: fuckboy!Joel x f!reader

Summary: Joel catches you on a date and communicates how he feels about it (the only way he knows how).

Warnings: fuckboy!Joel, dub con, smut, pwp, unprotected piv sex, fingering, creampie, dirty talk, public sex, blow job, reader is still sippin' on some dumb bitch juice for Joel (me), jealous!joel, possessive!joel, emotionally manipulative but sexually proficient Joel, toxic breadcrumbing Joel fucks, smash and dash, no use of y/n, AU no outbreak, special guest appearance by date night dave, OOC Dave bc I don’t know that man so I made him single, rich, hot, and pervy idc idc idc, more i might be forgetting rn,

Notes: please leave feedback! open to constructive criticism or delusional inspiration

Thanks: to EVERYONE who read part 1 and 2, but ESPECIALLY @auteurdelabre for inspiring, I hope you enjoy it bb. I'll try to tag those who specifically asked for more brb, and @strangergraphics

WC: 9.3K (idk it got long and horny heheh)

AO3: HERE | Masterlist: Here

Part 1: Self Esteem

Part 2: Want You Bad

Part 4: The more you suffer

You stare down at the hand that just landed on your thigh, cocking your head in assessment. You can feel the scowl tugging at the corners of your mouth. As you work out what expression you should paste onto your face instead, the man sitting next to you seems unbothered. Maybe even encouraged? He continues his lecture about the benefits of indoor rock climbing. You sigh, staring across the park as he continues without pausing to breathe.

You watch the couples milling around the park, wondering if that’s what you look like with this guy's hand on your leg. You stare back down at it, his long fingers shifting slightly as he continues his animated speech. Sweat beads at the back of your neck, and you feel fidgety. Trapped under the weight of his limp hand. He doesn’t seem to notice when you squirm and readjust. He’s circled back to his earlier lecture about how you just have to learn to play an instrument. If he’d let you get a word in, you could verify that you already do, but he seems to prefer the sound of his own voice.

This guy should get a podcast. The kind where a guy with a microphone talks to himself for three hours about whatever he wants. He’d crush it. You laugh to yourself, unintentionally encouraging him with your smile. He’s not not good-looking. But you’d prefer someone interested in asking you at least one question.

You stifle a laugh at the intrusive thought of taking him home and stripping his clothes off while he prattles on about amateur bird-watching, sorry–birding, or unicycling.

Eventually, you extricate yourself from the disappointing date, accept an awkward hug, and turn down dinner. You haven’t left the parking lot yet when your phone buzzes.

Unsaved number: had a great time with u

Unsaved number: would love to see u again :)

It’s not that your skin crawls, but it is a full-body no.

You: thanks, I’m glad I got to know you more

It’s not technically a lie. You’re glad you learned he’s not a fit for you. You feel okay about leaving it at that for now. You watch the sunset from your parking spot. The park is filled with couples laying on blankets being romantic. You roll your eyes at them and then at yourself for being bitter. Your phone buzzes again, and you wince, hoping it’s not your long-winded date again. It’s not.

Joel: what you doing?

Fucking Miller. You scoff aloud in the private space of your front seat. By now, he should be on your blocked list, but the quick hit of euphoria that floods through your bloodstream, warming your cheeks, keeps you hooked. He’s a filthy drug that blinds you from logic or survival instincts. Your eyes dart to the pedestrians in the parking lot. Worried. As if the milling strangers know what you’re up to and are about to shame you. A little voice reminds you that if you feel guilty about something, you shouldn’t be doing it. You ignore that voice. Nobody in the parking lot catches on, coast clear, and you let yourself grin wide as a fool when you type your response.

Later that night, you’re grinning again. Sprawled across your couch, sweaty skin plastered to the faux leather cushions. Sated. Bought and sold on your own lie, you tell the little voice that you didn’t want Joel to stay anyway. You convince yourself some form of compromise is happening, however twisted, when he shows up and leaves you wrecked. He comes to you. You don’t have to get to know each other to make each other feel good. Whatever puts you at ease.

Sometimes it works. Some days, you feel hollow and anxious. Obsessively tapping your phone to see if he’s responded when you reach out first. Pacing around your home, stressing over whether you should stay up just in case and even in bed, you can’t help but stay alert for a knock at the door.

The cycle leaves you with dark circles under your eyes most days. But, on the mornings after Joel shows up, you have a bright twinkle in your eyes and a knowing smirk that greets you in the bathroom mirror. Katie noticed the smirk one day and called you out. She demanded an explanation for the mystery dick fairy.

You wouldn’t admit his identity to her, afraid of getting too involved with someone in her boyfriend's network. But you did admit to the toxic cycle, and your friend was not as amused as you when you tried to pass it off as a joke. She tried to convince you to look for someone to date, but you argued that wasn’t what you wanted anyway. She suggested at least someone who could commit to a plan or send a text back. You knew it didn’t sound great out loud.

As the days of summer crawl along, you wonder if she’s right. At least, it was worth considering. It’s a feeble attempt to smother your spiraling thoughts about Joel. Still, when you start getting messages from the dating app Katie chose for you, it gives you something to interrupt your racing thoughts. At first. Somehow, it starts to feel even worse. Ignoring the sinking feeling you get when it isn’t Joel’s name in your notifications gets more challenging.

You had accepted that it was a lost cause to plan anything with him, but you still can’t find the self-respect to turn him away when he shows up at your door. Sometimes, he sends you a grammatically inconsiderate text. You wonder if he somehow has a cell phone plan that still charges him by the message with the way he uses as few words as possible.

He never stays. Never invites you to his. He evades any predictable behavior. Maybe he’s worried someone ordered a hit on him. Maybe that’s all it is, you muse. Not a contracted kill. The unpredictability. Chaos. That’s what makes him addictive. The brightness of the highs makes you temporarily forget the darkest lows exist. That, and the dirty little thoughts that pour from his mouth and drip into your psyche. That stupid, sexy voice burning into your memory, yeah, that’s definitely addictive. You snort at that. I am unwell, you think. As you pick up your phone again, you see a message from someone new.

\\\///

Heat radiates off your face as you fling another shirt across the room. You’ve tried on the same three outfits over and over again. Ripping them over your head and tossing them into the pile of laundry purgatory. Maybe sweating and mouth-breathing is a turn-on for your date; if so, you’re gonna nail the first impression. You sigh and commit to option two: the little black dress. A classic, right?

“Shit,” you curse at yourself when you stumble while attempting to pull your shoes on as you walk down the hall. This is what you get for agreeing to a late evening date on a weeknight; you feel like a mess. Scrambling to play it cool and classy, you pause to recalibrate before opening the door. What was his name? You can’t remember. He didn’t look like your usual type, but Katie had convinced you to branch out a little. More specifically, she told you it was a green flag already if he wasn’t your type.

You swing the door open, hoping he introduces himself first. He looks expensive. The dark-washed denim, the boots, the jacket, and the watch. Like he walked out of an ad campaign for a brand out of your budget. Dave. He does introduce himself, thankfully. He’s more clean-cut than your usual type, but he speaks confidently and gives off an air of put-togetherness that intrigues you. His voice definitely stirs the butterflies in your stomach.

Oh. You realize you’ve definitely been busy staring at him and have no idea what he actually said with his sultry bedroom voice. Your eyes widen a little. You don’t wanna fuck this up and embarrass yourself. Luckily, he seems unbothered. He tilts his head with a seductive half-smile. He’s enjoying the way you assess him. That definitely does it for you. Stupid, smug men making you weak in the knees.

“You ready?” he asks, voice all smoky for no good reason.

“Yeah,” you manage to say as you recall how to speak and act human. Until you see his luxury car waiting for you. He clocks your beat of hesitance.

“Good.”

His authoritative voice flips the right switch in you, and you let him lead. When he opens the door for you, it’s like the final component of his spell. You are bewitched. Under a thick veil, you didn’t even notice the truck that rolled by as you sank into the leather seat. You didn’t notice when the truck pulled over up the block, idling noisily on the quiet street. No, you were busy, focused on manually breathing and taking in what you’d describe as the interior of a spaceship.

The good news is that Dave is charming. He is easy to talk to as he drives. Flirty and quick-witted. He asks you questions and pauses to consider your responses. You aren’t sure you have much in common, but you like his self-assured demeanor.

When you walk into the club he’s brought you to, you hesitate once again, feeling underdressed. The club is split with a lounge on one side of the bar–full of intimate booths and plush chairs surrounding tiny tables and trendy mood lighting. Kind of like a swanky hotel lobby, you decide. On the other side of the bar is a dance floor, dimly lit with loud music blasting. Women in bodycon dresses and heels fill the room. You feel plain in comparison.

“I didn’t know there was a dress code,” you mutter.

“There isn’t,” Dave asserts, “besides, you look good in this.” He accentuates his statement by running his hand down your spine. It settles some of your nerves and lights up others. He ushers you, hand on your lower back, towards a small booth. And as you settle in, he’s undeniably charismatic. Dave doesn’t reveal much about himself but keeps you laughing and seems genuinely interested in you.

Despite the loud music and people noise, it’s easy to feel like the room is only for you and him. You sip your drink and warm up to his affection. You’re quick to smile, and despite how serious he seems, he has a playful edge that has you on your toes.

You can taste the chemistry between you, bright and sparkling. He spurs your confidence with his dark eyes when he not so subtly lets his gaze linger on your body. You stop shying away from attention and try to bask in it instead. It boosts your ego and stirs up your desire.

When you let yourself look, really look, you decide Dave is handsome. His strong features, broad shoulders, and impeccable grooming work for him. He seems meticulous but not too uptight to have fun. A dark sense of humor flirts behind his twinkling dark eyes. You decide to let him know that you’ve determined he is a handsome man. He gives you a look. Like he already knew you thought that. Your cheeks warm slightly at that. Were you obvious?

It’s not until he peels away from you to refill your drinks that you notice how close you have been sitting. You mourn the loss of his body heat as he walks away. You had low expectations after your last few dates, but tonight, this feels different. Your eyes trail along his path to the bar, and you lazily rest your chin in your palm before your breath hitches, and you freeze.

You feel like you’ve swallowed a bowling ball. It’s lodged in your throat first, then constricting your chest, until finally, it sinks. A heavy, solid weight flipping your stomach. You’re locked on a different set of dark eyes. They’re glowering at you through lowered brows from across the room. Seated at the same bar where Dave ordered your drinks.

Joel stares at you over his drink. He downs the glass without taking his eyes off of you. One quirked brow, asking really?

Really what? Is he judging you? For what, being on a date?

Another glass replaces his empty tumbler, but he doesn’t acknowledge the bartender or the rest of the world.

This fucking guy.

The bowling ball in your gut mutates into something fiery. But, you have nothing to be guilty about. It’s not your fault he’s alone, bitter, and drinking at a bar full of people having more fun than him. In fact, you could say it’s his fault that you’re both here.

A scowl forms on Joel’s face when Dave slides back into the booth beside you. Good. You hope he suffers. You hope he sees how easy it is for someone to treat you well. And how happy you look.

You don’t hesitate to lean your body against Dave, giving in to your urges. You squeeze his arm when he makes you laugh, and your touch lingers. He preens under your admiration when you comment on his firm biceps. He is quick to match your advances. Finding excuses to brush your hair behind your ear and settling a heavy palm on your knee. His hand creeps a little higher up your thigh but doesn’t graze the hem of your dress. Respectful. That’s different.

You don’t need to look again to feel Joel’s eyes burning into you. It incites you that he has the audacity. The gall to make faces at you for showing up on a date. You decide you’ll give Joel something to scowl about, feeling emboldened by your date’s touch.

You slide Dave’s hand further up your leg, letting go when he gets the idea. You reach for your drink, feigning nonchalance, but your breath catches, and your hand trembles when he traces his fingertips around the crease of your thigh. He skirts beneath the hem of your underwear, drawing lines over your hip and back towards your center.

The soft touch tickles deliciously, and you feel the anticipation building in your core. He watches your expression, hawklike, noting the tiniest details in the features of your face. He notes when your breath stutters or your eyelids flutter softly.

“This what you wanted?” he husks, still watching intently. Yes, yes, yes!

“Almost,” you toy. Something about having both men’s eyes on you has your skin itching with desire and your blood running hot.

Dave scoffs softly, repeating your word choice and shaking his head. Almost.

“You looking for more?” he taunts as he wedges his large hand fully between your legs to cup and tease your cunt.

You can’t help the breathlessness of the yes that slips out of you. You roll into his palm, and your mouth parts at the friction and his boldness. He smiles wolfishly, flashing his teeth, when he feels you twist and rock against him. His look encourages you. And you tilt your hips and shift your legs to give him better access.

“Dirty little thing, aren’t you?” he asks, still locked on your face. You swell at this. His eyes lower to your glossy lips before he sips casually from his drink, so composed.

Your cheeks warm at his words, but he has his answer when he slips a finger beneath the damp lace between your legs and drags it through the pool of arousal gathering at your entrance. Your lips part at the contact, chest heaving, and you give him a nod and coy smile in response to his question. You’ll be his dirty little thing tonight.

“That’s good,” he declares, pressing a kiss just below your ear before adding, “I’d like to do dirty things to you.”

His husky voice and declaration stir an urgent need to be touched within you. He continues to agitate your nerves as his hand massages over your swollen sex. Your skin feels tight and prickly, tensing, ready to feel more. You’re unconcerned with the debased nature of being fingered in public.

When your eyes are instinctually drawn back towards Joel, you shudder. You can feel the twitching of your clit as your cunt floods over Dave’s fingers. The depravity that another man’s glare eases the slip of your date’s teasing touch is not lost on you. Instead, it turns you on even more. Joel’s homicidal stare has you squirming. You’ve seen darkness in his eyes before, but not like this. There’s no twinkle of mocking, and it’s not cruel in a hot way. If looks could kill, then this room would look like the club scene from Blade.

Dave murmurs something filthy in your ear that makes you gasp. Your hand flies to his thigh, gripping tightly to keep you from melting onto the floor.

“Don’t be shy, dirty girl,” he croons darkly, “you can touch.”

“Fuck,” you groan under your breath when you move your hand to find his hard cock straining against his well-fitted jeans.

He chuckles lowly at the way your eyes widen in response before he plunges two fingers inside of you, and you stifle a throaty sound. Your mind still wanders to Joel, and you wonder if he can see your perverse display below the table. Judging by his clenched fists on the bar, you’d say whatever he can see is enough to fill in the blanks. The sick part of you that feels more turned on by his agony expands within you.

“Oh god,” you whisper as you suck in air.

Dave works his fingers lazily into you. You feel intoxicated by the attention of both men. A concern flashes through you that someone else in the club could catch on or see more than you’d like to show. But a feeling in your gut tells you that it doesn’t matter. Dave seems strikingly confident with a lethal attention to detail. And the ferocity on Joel’s face only eggs you on.

When you think of humbling Joel, a sinister smile pulls at the corners of your mouth. He’s the one that unleashed the horny, risk-taking monster within you and then disappeared. Fuck moping about him. You’re getting yours, you decide.

You shoot Joel a wink. Pouring gasoline on the fire, hoping it pisses him off.

You lean into the salaciously tempting energy radiating off of Dave. Reaching to hold his jaw as your lips lock and you let him control your mouth. Kissing him riles you up more. You palm at his erection over his jeans, delighting in the noises that roil deep in his chest. You hold back whimpers as the pressure of his fingers curling inside of you finds the perfect spot.

He pulls back from your kiss and looks down to watch your hand groping at him. You like watching him watch you.

“You gonna take it out?” Oh. Fuck, you want to. It feels like more of a risk than you’ve taken so far.

“Here?” you ask him softly.

A wrinkle appears between your brows. Dave watches your swollen lips again just as your pink tongue darts out to wet them. He raises a brow at you, eyes dropping to where his arm disappears under your dress.

“Oh, are you feeling bashful now?” he goads. His fingers curl against that sensitive spot inside of you as his palm presses firmly into your swollen clit. He makes it hard for you to answer. You try to pout at him, but the reflexive rise in your brows at the pleasure betrays you. He chuckles again. “No? Just distracted, hm?”

“Fuck,” is all you can mouth. It is distracting. Not the fingers inside you, well, not completely, but the urge. The craving to leverage your lewd new lover’s lack of regard for appropriate behavior into emotional revenge. The thought of Joel growing mad with jealousy as he watches you come overtakes your critical thinking.

Eat your heart out, Joel Miller! You dare him across the room, letting your jaw fall slack and your brows knit in obvious pleasure.

“Are you going to come for me?” Dave asks, “Here in this booth? Where anyone could see?” he tuts like he’s disappointed, and it works. The danger of it all does something to heighten your senses. It’s blinding. The bass from the music blaring from the dance floor rattling in your ribs, Dave’s designer cologne filling your nose, the sheen of sweat collecting on your chest, and the daggers in Joel’s eyes when you glance to confirm he’s still watching. All the sensations clash and shove you towards your release.

“Yes,” you hiss quietly, “yes.” Your eyes slam shut as you try to remain composed while riding his fingers under the table. You flicker in and out of reality as your climax rolls through you. You’re drunk on the reversal of power when your eyes peel open, and you see the hardened expression on Joel’s face glowering at you. You wonder if his dick is just as hard in his pants, and the thought has you contracting again around Dave’s fingers.

“That’s a good girl.” Dave’s voice is somehow even deeper. It sends another ripple of pleasure to swirl low in your abdomen. You’d like to hear that again.

With a touch more clarity after the violent edge of your arousal is dulled, your hand works at his belt, desperate to feel the heat of his cock in your palm. He assists, lifting his hips when you unbuckle his belt and pop the button on his pants so you can slide your hand beneath his underwear. His tension and urgency further stoke your power trip, and you feel overcome with the need to know how badly he wants you. When you wrap your fingers around him, hear the groan he makes, and feel the mindless buck of his hips, you have a more than good enough answer. He’s yours.

Dave watches the way your eyes glaze over when your thumb smears the precome dripping from his head down his length. His hand stills distractedly between your legs, and his chin drops as he watches where your hand disappears under his dark boxer briefs. You’re constricted by the elastic waistband, but your grip is tight. Almost as tight as when he fucks his own fist. He’s mesmerized by the way you jerk his cock just right.

You feel yourself salivating with the need to taste him. You’re getting frustrated with the limited space and want to see him in your hand. You sigh, wishing you could, until you realize you can, and grin.

You pull your hand back out of his pants, and he snaps out of his stupor. Before he can comment, you cut him off.

“Keep your pants on and take me to the bathroom so I can suck your cock right.”

Your voice comes out lower than you thought it would. His eyes flare before he matches your devious look and obeys, spewing filthy thoughts you can’t make out under his breath as he does. He’s ushering you down the hall in seconds, and then you’re locking the door and dropping to your knees. Dave doesn’t wait a second longer, wrenching his belt open and dropping his jeans just enough for his cock to spring free.

You don’t tease or start slow. He admires how you waste no time like you’re desperate to taste him. And you are. Only pausing for a moment to admire the way he looks, stiff and leaking for you, before you eagerly wrap your lips around him. You slide your tongue everywhere and bob up and down with vigor. Salty and vaguely sweet, precome teases your palette. You want more. The best you can do to express that is swallow around him and suck until he’s moaning and cursing above you.

You let your saliva pool and spill from your lips so you can slide your hand down the rest of his length while you revel at the weight of him on your tongue. You find the moves that have his fists clenching and thighs straining and repeat them. You hum around him as pride blooms in your chest over how his composure cracks.

You wonder if Joel has smashed through the bar with his fists yet. At least he didn’t break down the bathroom door before you could get on your knees. Would he strangle Dave first if he saw the two of you? Or would he drag you home and gag you on his angry cock instead? You moan obscenely as your imagination runs wild. You look up at Dave. He watches you with fierce eyes. You wouldn’t mind if they shared you, you consider, but that would take a miracle.

You continue messily and enthusiastically until your knees ache, and you decide he has to come for you. You try to beg for it while he’s still in your mouth before you have the brains to pull off of him and tell him what you want. He’s endeared by your unrefined hedonism.

He grips your jaw in his palm when you get the words out.

“You want to swallow my come?” he asks.

“Yes,” you plead impatiently on your knees with a hoarse voice. You’re a pornographic sight on the tile floor with your wet lashes, swollen lips, and saliva glistening on your chin. You open your mouth for him and hold out your tongue.

“Oh,” he strokes his thumb along your cheek, smiling down at you, “that’s a good girl.”

Your eyes close at that, feeling the praise warm your skin before he slides back into your wet mouth.

Guiding you faster and a little rougher, Dave doesn’t take long to come. Spilling onto your tongue as you groan around him until he stops pulsing in your mouth. You swallow, glowing for him with glassy eyes. He helps you to stand before tucking his softening cock back into his jeans and fastening his belt. You’re adjusting your dress and reaching for your bag on the counter.

“What do you need?” He asks a little softer than you expected, causing you to pause.

“Take me home,” you smile at him dopily before pausing and wincing at yourself in the mirror. You look like a freshly face-fucked mess.

“Uh, actually, give me a few minutes to freshen up first, and I’ll meet you out front?”

He nods, “I’ll pull the car up.”

“I’d like that.” You reply and lock the door behind him after he slips out.

Once you feel more presentable, you pull your phone from your bag and tap the screen to check the time before opening the door.

Seeing Joel’s name makes your stomach flip. You open the text.

Joel: Miss me?

It snaps something in you. Something that enrages you. He has to be certifiably insane, you think. It came through a little while ago, but you aren’t sure how long you’ve been in the bathroom. You begin to spiral, debating if you should march to the bar and throw a drink in his face or pretend like he doesn’t even exist. You feel your face burning hot, and the bathroom is suddenly suffocating. You need some air before you get into the car with Dave. Just long enough to breathe normally and look less like you want to break something.

Leaving the bathroom you find an employee exit further down the hall. A faded sign on the door warns that an alarm will sound, but the rock wedged in the door jam holding it open a crack begs to differ, and you slip into the dark.

A lanky, pale kid in a black apron sits atop a picnic table in the alley.

“Oh, sorry,” you feel a little guilty interrupting his break, “just wanted some air.”

“All good,” he responds before sliding off the makeshift seating. “Last call for the kitchen anyway. Have my seat,” he waves at the table like he’s offering a throne. You accept. Exceedingly grateful to have the air and the privacy to regulate. Just some slow, deep breaths. Then, you can walk out the front door and let Dave take you home.

The door swings open again, and you tense, ready to hop off the table and find another space.

“Sorry,” you start your apology, but it’s cut off.

“You should be,” Joel accuses harshly. He’s in your space with two of his long strides. Rushing at you like you’re caught in a snare trap, and he’s starving. You briefly look the part with your eyes wide in the moonlight, shocked by his sudden appearance, until your barely dampened rage rips from your throat.

“Joel, what the fuck?” you spit out in disbelief, but he interrupts you–

“I thought I already told you what happens if you’re gonna be a filthy tease?” his voice lowers as he ignores your question and paces in front of you with a dark, wicked stare.

“What are you doing here?” you press, ignoring his threat.

“What are you doing here?” he demands. Like he has some certificate of entitlement to your whereabouts. He towers over you. Your eyes narrow to slits. If you could shoot lasers out of them, you’d do it now.

You laugh. Loudly. You’re still laughing when he grabs you and pivots your frame so your legs dangle off of the end of the table towards him. Closer. He gets even closer, standing between your knees. You tilt your face to look up at him.

“You on a date?” it’s a growl carved from stone. You choose to remain ignorant to the shiver it sends through you that has nothing to do with the temperature. How dare he charge up on you like a territorial werewolf in the night? And how dare he look so fucking good with that snarly expression? No. You laugh again. Wild-eyed. Words start coming up before you even hear yourself.

“What is wrong with you, Joel? Why were you watching me? You looking for a show?” you jab. Gnashing at him with your words. He snorts dismissively at you, and a barbaric smile creeps onto his face. Like he’s in on some joke you don’t know about. He irks you so bad your skin crawls.

“S’that what you call it?” he asks, “A show?” Continuing to ignore your other questions. He is so close to you that it burns your skin.

“No, Joel. You were right the first time. I am on a date. A real date. You know what that is, right? Like, he asked me out, picked me up on time, bought me a drink,” you’re tallying on your fingers, “answered my–”

“And then what, you fuck him in the bathroom and hide out here? Alone in the alley?”

It clicks. He knows exactly why you’re flustered. The asshole must’ve sent his text for his own slimy experiment. Trying to rattle you. What fucking game is he playing? Is he trying to win you? Like you’re Dave’s possession to lose?

You scoff at his interjection, “No, Joel, I’m not alone. You followed me out here to make sure of it, right?”

“Right,” he rumbles. His dark eyes glint even in the shadows of the alley. He leans lower and closer to you until you tip back, palms on the table behind you, then elbows. Exposing your cleavage to the moonlight. He pauses, eyes raking down your face, neck, and chest. How does he make you feel raw and vulnerable even when fully dressed?

“You haven’t answered me,” you huff. Irritated and arched beneath him.

“I asked you first,” he argues. A childish rebuttal for a grown man. You’re pretty sure you’ve asked why he’s here a hundred times, but of course, that doesn’t matter. He’s insufferable with his attitude and inability to communicate. Everything about you is taut, and you feel frayed.

Joel dips his head and his lips brush your ear, tickling you, before he rasps, “I asked if you miss me, baby, and you haven’t answered.”

A tremor runs through your body.

It’s criminal. Your mind converts his voice directly into a hot coil of arousal. The throbbing between your legs causes you to wriggle beneath him.

“I need to know,” he croons, begging you to give in.

His arm slides under your back, lowering you onto the table. Your restraint collapses terribly quickly for him. His voice. His touch. He knows all of your buttons.

Laid on your back, your legs instinctively wrap around him as he bends to meet you.

Soft puffs of air shakily flow between your lips as you struggle to concentrate. On what? You aren’t sure. Not good. You squeeze your eyes shut like maybe he’ll disappear.

“I mean it, baby,” he continues purring with a sharp edge, “you tell me when you miss me.”

You know it wouldn’t matter even if you did. If you texted him. If you called. It wouldn’t matter. It would probably make you feel worse. But when he says it, you feel your heart doing flips anyway.

He slides his hands over your body, and you feel the last of your logic escaping as you tug him towards you. You’re grinding against him stupidly without a single thought. Just having him this close to you had you feeling desperate and needy. You could come again right now just by dry-humping like horny teenagers.

The craving for him is so intense that you’ll surely die if he doesn’t keep moving. You lose any shred of composure that you were still clinging to and let out a needy whine for him. And when your fingers twist and tug at his shirt, it’s like a green light to Joel.

He closes any and all gaps between you. His hand skates roughly under your dress, bunching up the fabric. He presses open-mouthed kisses against your neck and grazes his teeth enticingly along your jaw.

Groping, grinding, grunting. All his movements dance a line between deliberate and frantic.

You have tunnel vision, lost from time and space. When his low moan vibrates through you, your hand shoots to his belt. He rasps into your ear again, “That’s it, baby, I’m right here if you miss me, don’t need some jerkoff tryin’ to waste your time.” Your fingers fumble. What– “Oh, shit!” a voice yells. You freeze. “Don’t mind me!” The drunk guy slurs as he stumbles out the backdoor and sways down the alley towards the street.

Your situation hits you like a bucket of cold water. Joel seems unfazed, still curled over you. You push at him and sit up.

“What did you just say, Joel?”

“Hmm?” he murmurs at you.

“Joel, I’m serious. What the fuck?”

He’s not listening. His hands are still searching your body. The scent of his faded deodorant is so familiar in your nose. The words are coming up again. Before he casts his trance on you.

“No. I said I’m serious,” you repeat, “I’m not playing your games. Done with your weird shit.” Your body feels rigid, and your mind is clearing through the fog of lust. “Just because I have no self-esteem and I fuck you anytime you show up on my doorstep doesn’t mean you have any claim to me.”

He blinks at you, finally registering your tone, expression shifting. “I actually tried, you know? I wanted to get to know you. You just bail. I keep suffering for it. Like an idiot. I keep thinking it would show I care.”

“Baby–”

“And now what? You see me on a date and decide it would be fun to ruin it? Ruin a chance at something better than waiting around wondering if you’ll show up looking to score?” You’re on your feet now. Livid. Ablaze in the dark. “No, you don’t even care enough to think about that,” you realize aloud.

His features harden. Your head shakes slowly, exasperated with your burgeoning understanding. All you can hear is the white noise buzzing in your skull. Your next words are quieter and lower, forcing him to pay close attention.

“You just wanted to prove something, right? Thought you’d fuck me on this table and run like you always do? For what, to prove you could?”

His nostrils flare, and you don’t miss how he grits his teeth.

You don’t falter; he doesn’t scare you. You press on with your accusations prickly on your tongue. You back him against the wall next to the door as you continue.

“You don’t like hearing it?” you cock your head at him, amused with his discomfort. “Were you going to leave me here in the alley full of your come like I’m some pathetic whore for you? Would you walk me back to my date after that? Was that your plan?”

Joel snaps, manhandling you in a split second. Pinned against the brick wall, you can hear your heart pounding. It’s a paper-thin line between anger and lust, and you can’t tell which has your blood pumping. You can’t tell if he’s about to yell at you or fuck you. You hate that you can’t tell which you’d prefer.

His eyes are locked onto yours. Not revealing anything. You shift, uncomfortable with the scrutiny. He doesn’t keep you waiting. Joel shoves his hand into your panties, fingers slipping immediately into the fresh pool of arousal between your thighs. A shaky exhale comes out of you, but he doesn’t seem to need to blink or breathe anymore.

He brings his glossy fingers to your mouth. Silent. He taps at your lip until you open and suck, tasting yourself. His mask slips a little. One brow twitches as he studies the scene of your lips wrapped around both of his fingers. But his eyes flick to yours when he pulls them out of your mouth and drags them down your bottom lip, smearing spit against your chin.

“Tell me,” he says in a whisper that scrapes across your skin, “does it taste like you miss me?”

You swallow tightly. A lump forms in your throat now, about as large as a civilization-ending asteroid.

You can hear your phone buzzing. Forgotten on the table. Panic streaks over your eyes as you wonder how long you’ve been out here. You duck under his arm, dashing for your phone. You don’t look at him. You can’t. As you sprint down the hallway, you swing the door open, kicking the rock in the door jam, hopefully locking Joel outside. Cursing at yourself for almost letting Joel fuck you in the alley across from a dumpster.

Dave sits in his car, idling along the curb near the front of the club. You’re surprised he didn’t leave. You hope it hasn’t been long. You don’t dare check your phone. Maybe it was only a few minutes, or it could have been an hour. You don’t think time functions normally when you’re around Joel.

Dave is frighteningly observant, slinking out of his car to open the door for you before you get close enough to reach for the handle.

“I was just starting to wonder if you’d snuck out the back door,” he chides.

You feel the blood rushing to the surface of your skin. Hot with embarrassment over your behavior and his on-the-nose word choice.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, “I did step out for some air. Wanted to cool down.”

“Don’t be sorry,” he assures you, tilting your chin towards his face with his thumb and forefinger. Your eyes dart around his face, wondering what he sees on yours. “Was it too much, dirty girl?” he coos.

“What, this?” you lilt mockingly as you palm over his bulge, “I don’t think so.”

“Good,” he snorts softly. ��Get in the car.” He adds as he opens the door for you.

He pauses before pulling away from the curb once seated in the driver’s side.

“Is your boyfriend going to be following us home?”

“My what?” you feel the blood drain from your face.

“The one from the bar,” he continues, measured and eerily calm, “the one who followed us here?” Your head starts spinning at that, but Dave carries on, unbothered. “I assumed he likes to watch. You should’ve told me. It would’ve been easier than wondering if he’s a deranged stalker or–”

“No.” You cut him off and struggle to continue for multiple reasons. “It’s not like that. I thought it was a coincidence,” you feel a confusing mix of emotions.

“Followed us?” you’re curious.

“When I picked you up. In the truck?”

“Oh god. No. He’s,” you pause, searching for the right words.

“An ex?”

“Not even that. Jesus Christ, I can’t believe he’d follow me.”

“So he is dangerous?”

“No.” Only to my self-respect.

“You want me to take care of him?”

“No.” You reply before putting any thought behind what that means. “No. He’s just an asshole with a staring problem.”

You withdraw. You hadn’t thought about why Joel was here. How ridiculous it sounds to imagine Joel voluntarily sitting at the bar in a club like this alone. You feel the blood rushing to your ears. Stupid little butterflies flap their wings in your stomach before they’re reduced to ashes, and you begin to see red again tonight. How is Joel ruining your night without saying a word this time?

“Take me home,” you say firmly.

He does. Dave walks you to your door. You invite him in, but he’s observant, noticing the clouds in your expression. He declines your invite but assures you he would be very interested in seeing you again. He gives you a chaste kiss that makes you laugh, considering how bold you both have been tonight. It lightens your mood.

He lingers for a moment before he pulls out his wallet.

“It was on the house this time,” you snark. Curious about what he’s doing.

He hands you a sleek business card. A business card? Is this guy Patrick Bateman?

Your face wrinkles in confusion.

“I already have your number,” you flip the card over in case you’re missing something. It doesn’t say anything, just has a phone number.

“I meant what I said, that I’d be interested in seeing you again for pleasure,” he smirks, “but if you change your mind, at least keep this.”

You don’t understand why you’d need his work phone number but try to play it cool and nod.

“If your stalker becomes a problem, you call me.”

You’re still confused about what that means when he drives away. As you shut your door, you realize you have no idea what he does.

You’re still in the middle of composing a text to Katie about how her green flag date included a bathroom blowjob and a business card when you hear a knock at your door. You swing it open, assuming foolishly that it would be Dave.

Before you can blink, Joel kicks the door shut and backs you down the hallway. He looks like a man possessed as he hurtles towards you. It sends a chill down your spine that you think would trigger your fight or flight response, but yours seems to be reprogrammed to fight or fuck. Staggering backward, you yelp when the backs of your knees hit your mattress.

“Can I fucking help you?” you snap at him as you realign with reality. “Jesus Christ, Joel, were you waiting outside the window or something?”

You glare into his eyes, but a toxic part of you only wants to focus on his lips. And how close they are to yours. You also can’t deny the even more debauched part of you that flutters at the possessive look in Joel’s eyes.

He laughs darkly, “Nah baby, I knew you’d send him on his way.”

You roll your eyes at that. Cocky bastard.

And he is. He emits a frenzied energy as he takes you in. Looking you up and down like a prize. Like he’s considering where to write his name on your skin.

You roll your shoulders. Trying to shake off the idea that you’d like to be possessed by him, but it thrums persistently inside of you.

“You didn’t know shit, Miller,” you accuse sardonically.

Joel reaches for you. You think he’s going to tell you off. But his hands glide over the tops of your shoulders and up the column of your neck until he’s cupping your jaw in both hands. It feels jarring and vulnerable to be held by him this way. To feel like he just wants to look at you and to know you can’t look away. You wonder what’s going on behind his dark eyes. What he sees when he looks at you What he thinks.

The longer he looks at you, the more the tension builds (of course, because it’s Joel). You start to itch, fingers twitching with the need to grab him and pull his full weight on top of you. Despite your building desire, he’s still quietly reading your face. Joel Miller, the enigma, you muse.

Before you can flip him any shit, his mouth is on yours, and his hands drop to your hips to hold you firmly against his body. You want him to keep holding you there, but closer. You need him even closer.

He groans into your mouth, and you kiss him back hungrily. Your bodies slot together in a twisted fate. You couldn’t care less about the date you just had at this moment. You can hear Joel’s words from previous encounters that have burrowed into your consciousness, and you’re starving for more.

A selfish and greedy satisfaction warms in your chest at him being in your bedroom. He pulls your lower lip between his teeth before breaking away to tease bites along your neck and shoulder. You shiver. Your fingers dig into his shirt, pulling him closer and closer until your knees buckle, and fall into the bed with him on top of you. He doesn’t stop trying to taste you everywhere, trying to feel every part of you. You breathe out single-syllable praise as your thoughts become hazy.

You still feel needy. You writhe and strain as you attempt to work his shirt up his broad frame. You’re insistent on feeling the blistering heat of his skin against yours. He leans back up, out of your grip, causing you to sigh in exasperation. Of course, it couldn’t be this easy. What does he have to say now?

“You want me to leave?”

“What? Why?” you growl out. He is not about to body slam you into a bed and then walk away.

“Thought you were done with my ‘weird shit’ or whatever you called it,” he taunts.

“I am,” you huff.

“Tell me to stop.” You can’t.

“Take your clothes off,” you answer instead.

He does. Then, he’s pulling your clothes off and climbing over you. You aren’t sure you’ve ever both been fully naked like this. Definitely not while in a bed, at least. It’s more intimate than your relationship calls for. It makes time feel syrupy, but your other senses feel sharply tuned. Joel’s breath fans hot over your ear as he tucks his face into the corner of your neck and shoulder.

“So,” he sucks at your delicate skin before continuing in his smoky tone, “your date couldn’t satisfy you?”

“Shut up,” you snarl at him, uninterested in playing games. You’re too lost in the intensity of his physical presence. You need him inside of you, and you tug at his body, trying to pull him closer. It’s useless. His strong arms are braced like two stone pillars on either side of you.

He’s such a pest. His mouth quirks, and he looks all too pleased with himself. You roll your eyes again. You know what he’s getting at. What he wants to hear you say. But, you’re reluctant to stroke his ego. He’s going to be unbearable if. The thorn of it that hurts the most, though, is that it’s not a lie. It’s an admission. A confirmation.

He makes you feel so good in ways nobody else ever could, but the pain of knowing he’ll never be yours eats at you. It feels like exposing your beating heart in your chest to confess you want him so badly. You ache to hear him tell you he only wants you again. Even if it’s not real, you lie to yourself, you just need to hear it.

While you wrestle with finding the words, he begins to torment you. The heat and arousal weigh heavily between your naked bodies. He lowers closer and closer to where you need him most but refuses to alleviate your painful want. Wickedly, he exploits your neediness. Teasing at your skin with his tongue, teeth, and breath.

“Tell me, baby. Just let me hear it,” he says. But you can’t.

When he blows air over your strained nipples, and you arch under him seeking contact, he darts down to kiss at your stomach and inner thighs instead. When he gets closer and closer to the apex of your thighs, grazing his nose over your mound, you could snap.

You reach to dig your fingers into his hair and direct his mouth to your throbbing clit, but he’s stronger than you. Devilish man. He crawls back up to hover over your face. You know he’s enjoying it. Wondering how quickly you’ll break. It makes you want to kick and scream.

“Tell me it’s not true then,” it’s a challenge directed at you, but it feels like he’s also challenging himself.

He drags the head of his cock over the slick lips of your cunt without precision or direction. You are so convinced he’s torturing you, but he looks like he’s in pain from restraining himself as well. It makes you crazy. You try to reach down to line him up with your entrance yourself, but he’s faster. He grabs your hand and pins it above your head.

“Fine,” you grit out. Frustrated. You aim to smother your fear with sarcasm and puff your chest, hoping it works.

“You’re right, Joel. It’s true.” He doesn’t move, waiting to hear more.

“I missed your filthy mouth and your big fat cock.” You mock with an exaggerated whine. You keep going before you lose courage. “And my date couldn’t satisfy me.” You pause, steeling yourself. The corner of his mouth twitches.

“Because even when I had his cock down my throat,” you force yourself to look in his eyes, “all I could think about was you.”

You tried to keep the snarky, biting tone in that last part, but your voice betrayed you when you met his eyes. It came out sounding as vulnerable as it felt to say. His expression flickers. You feel too honest. You should take it back. You want to curl up. He grins above you.

“I know, baby,” he coos. You hold your breath. Of course he’s going to be a condescending ass about it, you start to bemoan internally–but when he finally sinks into you, it shuts off your inner monologue and slows down time. “All I can fuckin’ think about,” he says as he fills you as deeply as possible, letting a satisfied sigh fall from his lips.

All I can fuckin’ think about.

The words rattle around in your mind. Joel begins to rock into you, deliberately grinding his pelvis against you. All he can think about is you, too? Or fucking you? Or how he’s ruined you for other men?

All I can fuckin’ think about.

It echoes in your head as he picks up his pace, splitting you open with heavy, mind-altering thrusts. Suffocatingly intimate. Face to face. Skin to skin. Soul to soul. His voice isn’t just echoing in your mind; he’s also running his mouth about something. Muttering about how he knew you’d be waiting for him, how he’s going to fuck you until you forget your date's name, how nobody else can satisfy your needy cunt.

Oh.

He’s not wrong. You want to hear more.

“Yes,” You can stoke this fire. You don’t mind finding out what happens if you rile him up while he’s inside you. “Only you,” you pant, “nobody else fucks me like you do.”

He makes a throaty noise in agreement and shifts. Large hands wrap around the back of your knees and press them towards your chest, tilting your hips up. You choke and sputter as he slams into you with force. The new angle creates a blissful intensity.

“That’s right,” he says, “nobody else.”

He pounds into you like he could fuck you through the mattress, maybe even through the floor. The lewd sound of his thighs slapping against your ass fill the room. You tuck your chin to your chest to watch the way each thrust makes your breasts bounce. You notice that he’s mesmerized by the same sight, and you take the opportunity to shift your gaze, studying the look on his face.

It’s more sensual than anything you’ve done together before. You can see the sweat beading on his chest from exertion. You’re nearly folded in half and unable to stop your soft cries and moans. It’s raw, sticky, and vulnerable. You feel warmed at the thought but also fragile. Breakable. Hypersensitive emotionally and physically. It’s all too bright and hot.

You let his voice push you over the edge, and your climax rips fiercely through your body. You faintly hear him groan as your tight walls contract around him, but his voice is drowned out by the pleasure. Your legs tremble, still balanced over his shoulders.

Your core muscles spasm as he keeps sawing into you until your hips are jerking at the sensitivity of your come down. He slows, breathing heavily over you. You can see the animalistic edge in his eyes. You have to push it. Play it out.

“Make me yours,” you incite.

You definitely just meant to imply, ‘fuck me hard and come inside me, please,’ but you worry he’s interpreted it differently when he drops your legs. Wrong. He turns you over, laying you flat on your stomach, pulling your arms behind your back, and pinning you to the bed. He straddles your closed legs. Your shoulders strain a little as he leans into you. His heavy body compresses your prone form, and his cock weighs heavy against the curve of your ass; it feels right. A perverted comfort blanket, stealing your breath.

“Repeat it,” he tells the back of your neck.

“Make me yours.” You turn your head to the side. You can’t see his face, but you can hear the string of curses he chants when he lines up and wedges himself into you. The added constriction of your position unravels you both.

“Mine,” he grunts. You muffle your own noises into the sheets, along for the ride. He doesn’t last much longer before you feel him still overtop of you. You close your eyes, focusing on the sensation of the pulsing and throbbing of his cock inside you as he fills you up. Breathing deep, your back rises against his chest before he slides off of you.

You roll onto your side. Facing each other, you still at the sight of him. Another breath shared between you, chests expanding towards each other. For the briefest moment, you think he might stay. You can see the soft edge of relaxation in his features. Your hand drifts toward him, an instinct based on nothing rational, just wanting to feel him. You feel the stupid, dreamy expression settling on your face. Before you can speak or figure out what you were reaching for, he’s snapped out of the bubble of tranquility. His walls are up.

He’s dressed and leaving, walking towards the door as you can only sigh into your dirty sheets.

He doesn’t even leave with a snide last word. Just the door closing.

if you'd like to be on a taglist please let me know !

#joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #fanfic #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #fuckboy joel #dave york #the last of us fanfiction #joel tlou smut #pedro pascal smut

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actual-changeling · 1 year ago

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This post is going to show you the EXACT moment that tear forms with indisputable evidence that consists of several screencaps, detail shots, and slowed down video proof, which will be at the very end.

The tear and I are getting married, her name is Trina and I love her.

Let's get right into it. Be prepared for uh. Very painful facial expressions! And tears (at the end).

We're going to look through the final fifteen chronologically with pit stops at important emotional points that I think would make sense to cause a tear.

As you can see, we go into this argument with mostly dry eyes, a little glistening here and there but those are NOT tears. Probably just the contacts plus the lack of blinking making his eyes a bit more moist than your usual pair. The tear will be obvious.

Obvious disbelief when Aziraphale tells him about the Metatron's bullshit, yes, but Crowley soldiers on through.

Now a scene that I personally thought would be most likely to cause tears - "tell me you said no". However - his eyes stay dry! Both before and after Aziraphale's non-answer. No tears.

The best spot to look at is his waterline, and as you can see it's free of any sad tears.

We have reached the "go off together" stage, Crowley is yelling, they're both emotionally perturbed, a very good foundation for tears. Yet when you look at his eyes during and right after, they're still dry!

We are now right before Crowley says "you can't leave this bookshop" and when he does BOOM the tear is suddenly there!

This is what our tear looks like, and we have a very narrow time frame during which it can appear. So it is time for the grand reveal because by now you're probably yelling at me "okay but WHEN does it show up??"

I will tell you. Or rather, I will show you first and then tell you what Aziraphale said right before that triggered it. Ready?

There it is. Left - no tear. Right - tear. (no i will not make the trivago joke again i want to but i wont.)

Come with me! To heaven! I'll run it, -> no tear yet. It appears after the next part.

you can be my second in command THAT is what causes the tear to finally show up. Right as Aziraphale finishes his sentence you can watch as it appears.

As promised, here is the video evidence, slowed down by half and zoomed in on Crowley's face at the end.

Alright, have you seen enough tears? Good! Let's look at the emotional reason. Because your question is probably what is so special about that sentence that it tips Crowley over the edge?

That one sentence, that one "promise" Aziraphale makes him, destroys everything. All of it in one go.

It is not just about Aziraphale choosing heaven over him, it's not about him saying no to running away (Crowley probably saw that coming anyway). What Aziraphale does is he takes them, their us and eliminates it.

Not just is he telling Crowley that he's an evil demon tm who needs to be an angel to be worthy of staying in Aziraphale's life, but "second in command" takes that even further.

Not "ruling together" or "ruling side by side" or any variation of those. No, Aziraphale is telling him that they are not equal and never have been. That Crowley has always been inferior to him and always WILL BE even if he stops being a demon and does what Aziraphale wants.

This is why Crowley no longer things of them as an us after all of that. Aziraphale took every single meaning it had and inverted it, crushed it up, and then threw it away.

Yeah.

Crowley is telling him he is gay and in gay love with him. Aziraphale takes that and says "you can be my employee at gay conversion therapy which i will run #straight besties".

Crowley hears "second in command" and it is the last puzzle piece falling into place. It's the final straw and that is when we get the tear. Before that he was saying we can be together, be an us, just the two of us, you and me. He was referring to them as free equals who don't need heaven or hell, who are happy with everything the way it is. An Aziraphale who loves Crowley no matter what his former occupation might have been.

We could have been us. (I wanted us to be an us)

And Aziraphale's answer to that is there has never been an us and we never will be. i don't love you the way you love me.

Anyway, see y'all on my next angst post or in the tags. Have another devastating screencap to wrap this all up nicely 💚

#alex talks good omens #good omens #ineffable husbands #crowley #aziraphale #good omens season 2 #go2 #aziracrow #crowley x aziraphale #ineffable divorce #the final fifteen #good omens meta #good omens 2

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muchanmocha · 19 days ago

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Oh I'm going to have so much fun excavating this

Difference between Round 5 and Round 7 encounters

The reason for Luka's reaction

Breakdown of what Hyuna's existence means to Luka

How that influences their potential face-off

Luka and Hyuna’s reunion scene. In times past, they shared a bond like no other, but now they’ve gotten used to the years without each other.”

— Round 5 Commentary, Artbook [Translation by @/alnstENG]

The eye contact Luka and Hyuna make in Round 5 marks their first reunion after a long period of time.

Hyuna calmly looks over her shoulder at him, still sporting bruises and blood from the beating Mizi gave him.

Luka doesn't even bother to fully get up, merely staring up at her with his default blank expression as she leaves with his opponent's unconscious body.

Overall, an unusually calm reunion considering the emotionally-charged history between them.

Then we have Round 7.

In sharp contrast to their previous composed demeanor, this time they're both wide-eyed upon seeing each other, visibly affected by the encounter.

Makes sense for Hyuna, an extremely expressive character now standing face-to-face with the source of her biggest trauma.

But Luka? So far he's only shown us 3 types of expressions: blank, smirking, and gleeful. "In shock" is an unexpected addition, especially for someone who prides himself in being trained to anticipate anything that could go wrong on stage beforehand in order to maintain his constant heart rate. This is the most raw emotion we have ever seen from him outside of the strange, flushed smiles he's shown.

Why is he so shocked?

The simplest answer is that he didn't expect to see Hyuna here and now, yet the same reasoning should have applied even more so for the unexpected reunion in Round 5 which presumably took place years after they last saw each other. Hyuna has already crashed his performance once. Could he really not have anticipated her reappearance in the realm of possibilities he considered?

No, I think the key here isn't that he didn't expect Hyuna to be there.

It was the state she's in that prompted his reaction.

A core facet of Hyuna's character is her strength. We've seen that aspect of her reinforced again and again throughout her appearances in every piece of content we're given.

Remembering her trauma from whatever went down with Luka and Hyun Woo is the only time we ever see her weakness, but even then she bounces back with grit, determination, and cheer in All In.

"Every obstacle in my way"

"I've crushed them all"

"Step all over me but I'll rise again"

Luka and Hyun Woo are her only weaknesses. Short of that, she feels almost untouchable, infallible with the momentum she carries with every move.

This is the Hyuna we know, and the Hyuna Luka remembers.

But both we and Luka were wrong.

Hyuna now stands before him drenched in sweat, unable to even stand up straight, hair messed up and all over her face, dark bags under her eyes, and most hard-hitting of all — a gaping, bleeding wound in her side.

How does it feel to have the strongest person in his life, and in the series, stand before him in this condition? Reduced to this before they even faced each other?

His expression says it all.

But wait it's only going to get worse from here.

They're going to force him to face her now.

(The good news is, if they have a special round with their special guests, Hyuna would at least be given first aid and be out of immediate danger.)

A charismatic vocalist with a powerful voice and performance. If she had remained on Alien Stage, she might have become Luka's only rival...

— Hyuna's Profile, Artbook

Hyuna is simultaneously three types of existences for Luka, some potentially more canon or prominent than others.

1) Hyuna is the only person who can give Luka a sense of crisis.

Up until now, Luka hasn't taken any of his opponents seriously, including Mizi (Artbook Commentary) and Till (Patreon).

But Hyuna has been established as Luka's rival since early on and their stats certainly reflect that. She's the one person who has a chance of beating Luka, thereby also being the one threat he could ever face or treat seriously.

The fact that his greatest opppnent is injured now gives him an edge and in terms of survival, it's something he should take advantage of.

However—

2) Hyuna is also the "worthy opponent" he's been looking for this whole time.

Luka chose to compete again on Alien Stage for Season 50. Heperu could have been the real decision-maker here, but even if that were the case, I don't think Luka was unwilling. The stage is the only place he has full control of his life, so returning to it is like giving an alcoholic alcohol after leaving him dry for a spell.

In addition to the regular stages, he's looking forward to facing a "worthy opponent" in the finals (Magazine Interview).

If anyone could construct the perfect performance with him, if anyone could allow him to experience the most brilliant moments on stage, if anyone could be the worthy opponent he seeks... it'll be Hyuna.

The fact that she's not in top condition would certainly put a damper on that.

3) Hyuna is likely the only existence Luka has ever cared about.

Hyuna is the only person from beginning to end that Luka has shown to care about in any way whatsoever, to the extent that he wants to protect her. Of course, with the caveat that she submits.

Luka -> Hyuna [Intimacy 70%, #1]

No. You're just avoiding the current situation. If you were in my arms, your safety would be guaranteed....

Yet circumstances won't allow for that option anymore even in the unlikely situation where she was willing.

We can all see the upcoming death match implied in "Special Guests" — a showdown between the only two contestants to have ever successfully run away from Alien Stage, and the effective two-time reigning champion.

What kind of mental state is he going to go into this match with?

Does he steel himself and place survival above Hyuna regardless of what his past intentions have been? Take advantage of her weakened state for survival?

Does he falter, feet swept out from under him by the one situation he didn't anticipate?

Will he be conflicted for once in his life regarding whether he wants to win? Weighing survival and the safety of the one person he wanted to keep alive? For his victory means her certain death?

Or perhaps the most interesting choice of all.

He remorselessly goes through with it, chasing victory because that's all that defined him up until now, and while Hyuna is important to him — the only person important to him — she, at 70% intimacy, is not more important to him than his most primal instinct to survive. He who looks down on Season 50's competitors for getting caught up in their emotions (Patreon Q&A).

Or so he thinks.

Luka wins. He proves himself no better than his past opponents, losing himself to the basic desire to survive. This realization won't be pleasant.

He also proves himself wrong; it turns out Hyuna did matter to him more than he can reason, more than he thought.

Because despite his rationalization, she is the sole anchor he has in a world where he's made no human connections other than the hollow, baseless ones constructed in the five minutes on stage before his opponents are sent to their deaths. He'll need to continue to live without his remaining anchor in a world where he otherwise exists 24/7 in a micromanaged cage under the watch of Guardian Heperu, a certified control freak.

Thus he crumples before Mizi in their revenge match. Not because of Mizi especially, but because he is now living with the consequences of his own choices.

#if you told me i was already going to start making predictions about the next vid #alnst #alien stage #alnst luka #alnst hyuna #alien stage luka #alien stage hyuna #luka alnst #luka alien stage #hyuna alnst #hyuna alien stage #alien stage round 7 #alien stage round 5 #alnst spoilers

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piggycyberwarrior · 3 months ago

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Ekko SWF-Alphabet

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

!not proof read!

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Ekko is the type of boyfriend that would constantely pepper your face with kisses. He knows how easily people can die- can be killed- so he tries to shower you with affection.

He likes to show you how much he loves you, because he is kinda confused with words. He is a warrior- a leader, not a big talker? he tries tho.

I would say he is pretty affectionate but mostly behind closed doors. As i said- he's a leader, he shouldn't be smooching his girl next to the firelights... he thinks its inappropriate. But in a calmer, more softer setting- boii he's all over you!!

B = Bribe (Can you bribe him?)

Yes and No.

Ekko is loyal as fuck. He would never EVERR betray the ones dear to his heart. But small and unnecessary things like

"Okay.. would you come with me if i give you one- no TWO kisses?"

Yeah. nope he would immediately jump off the couch and sprint towards you. He doesn't play there..

He kinda sees it as a payment...

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

I PERSONALLY think that Ekko likes Hugs way more than cuddles. I'll explain:

You know that one hug that hits so good? Nose burried in their neck- inhaling their scent- arms tight around the person after you saw them finally- FINALLY again and all these emotions are put in that hug.

^ He loves that so much when he comes home, tired from a mission

That doesn't mean he does not like Cuddles. I think Ekko loves to lay his head onto your Chest/boobies all the time. crushing you under his weight and laughing when you grumble because of his stupid antics

or being the big spoon (like almost never the little spoon- only when he needs comfort). he loves it that he can make you feel safe in his arms

He likes to nap while cuddling but i think he doesn't really like to sleep at NIGHT when cuddling. That! man! needs! his! space!! (Napping while cuddling is okay idk why??)

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Yes he really wants to settle down with you somewhere safe and sound- a place that doesn't exist now, unfortunately. Thats why he works so hard. maybe he can give you that home you deserve someday.

That man is a COOK. Full ass GORDON RAMSAY like its not even normal??? He even enjoys it- apron on, humming a little melody while making breakfast for the two of you.

he loves to help you at home even tho he barely has time between eating , sleeping and his duties. But you don't mind. he asks some of his people to help you out if you really need help with the chores.

is kinda shitty at cleaning- kinda never learned to do it... i mean he grew up in Zaun.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

I'm sorry but like i said he is kinda shitty with words so he tries to rip the bandaid off real quick by breaking up through text/letters...

He doesn't really feel good about it too- feels like an asshole to be honest but he can't help it :(

if they wanted to talk about it though- he tries

he is okay with the fact that you hate him because of his break-up-style

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Ekko is a little bit scared? of commitment. He kinda doesn't wanna be "caged"- he feels as if his freedom has been pushed into a box, but in reality he just needed to find the right person.

I think Ekko needs some time to really REALLY settle with the fact that he loves his s/o and that can take some time.

But oh boi when it happens- he wants to marry you immediately!! Like mentioned he knows that life is short- so he tries to marry you as quick as possible.

But he understands it if you need time to think about it or aren't ready yet.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Ekko's kinda rough around the edges as he grew up in a rough atmosphere. Sometimes his grip is too strong- his attempts to tickle you can hurt a bit and his hands are calloused as well.

But in the end he never wants to hurt you and is extremely gentle towards you as much as he can

he is so much gentler to you than to anyone else. always makes sure you aren't stressed or anything like that.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Yes.Yes.Yes!! he loves hugs like mentioned earlier. It just fits better into his lifestyle as he can quickly but passionately hug you before or after a mission and can also do that in public. he cannot cuddle you outside on the street :/

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

Not that fast. Boi has some serious trust issues and you probably have to initiate the big ol' L-Word. When he finally says it- he will never stop saying it.

He willl always shower you with 'I love you's' and expects you to also say it back. he's just a sucker for that simple sentence even tho he was kinda wary of the concept of love

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Doesn't get jealous. Just doesn't, he trusts you completely. Period.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you?)

His kisses are like him. Sweet but passionate, as well as a sprrrinkle of roughness.

he loves the traditional way of kissing you. on the lips. he is addicted to the taste of them on his and can kiss you till dawn. (he doesn't mind that you call him a simp)

He also loves to give you small pecks on your face but mostly the side of your head when you did something cute or stupid.

Always has his hands on you when you kiss- either on your throat, back or waist.

Also grins into kisses like ahhhrgcvszdc PLEASE

L = Little ones (Would he like to have Children?)

Loves children- I mean he keeps them save in the HQ too like what did you expect...

Would also love to have children when he's older.. kinda a dream of his. Probably 3 kids. Is still okay with it if you don‘t like to have kids- respects it!

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

i kind of have the feeling that dis man is such a morning grouch :/ soooorry

like he always wants to sleep more (in other words- has a fucked up sleep schedule)

Still he loves it when you kiss him awake- and he would always and i mean ALWAYS!! roll on top of you and squish you under him with a laugh before pressing kisses on your face and getting up.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

OHH THAT BITCH IS A NIGHT OWL. He is always so much goofier at nighttime (you know that weird 3am energy?? Exactly)

He likes it when you are sitting on his lap at night though, while he is fiddling at some prototype. Your fingers lazily playing with his dreads while he nuzzled himself onto your shoulder while working

Its a mix of both energy’s- late snack runs or slow evenings.

ALSO LOVES TO SLOW DANCE WITH YOU IN THE KITCHEN AT NIGHT!!!!

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

As i said, he takes his time to fully trust you. If you grew up together- he would‘ve probably told you a lot of things already. If you didn‘t- he is kinda hesitant to tell you at first. I think he would start revealing things about himself after a good few months of dating. He takes his time with those things

still he will always listen when you have something to tell him.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

It depends. When he is frustrated- his patience is very thin- but when he is in his normal mood- it’s out of gold

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

REMEMBERS EVERYTHING. It is truly getting creepy. He knows everything???

birthday, likes, dislikes, all the family gossip you told him one day- even remembering all of your family member’s names, favorite book, favorite hyperfixation at the moment, favorite place- everything you mentioned to him once.

lol he laughs everytime you think he forgot something and he proves you wrong- you‘re just like:🧍‍♀️

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

that one hot ass summer night were you were both almost naked (nothing seggsual) - sweating like a pig- window wide open- not able to sleep and just talking bout shit. -> leading to you telling him you love him.

He didn‘t mind the humid heat in the end. Just feeling so happy.

always remembers that moment and feels giddy when there is a hot summer night…

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they like to be protected?)

He loves it when you defend him verbally. He can fight- and doesn‘t want you to hurt yourself in the process- but seeing you argue with someone for him is making his heart race.. <3

like i said he doesn‘t get jealous but is neverthless protective. He knows that Zaun is fucking dangerous- also knows that you can protect yourself but he wants to keep any harm from you..

always being your guard dog and even fighting people that bitch at you.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts?)

I think he always gets you something when he‘s in Piltover- books or small things that you like..

He likes to have dates in the privacy of your home- nothing extraordinary…. I am SO SORRY BUT THIS MAN ISN‘T A FAN OF ANNIVERSARIES!! He just doesn‘t get the point?? For him everyday is an anniversary.

He still plans the home dates (puts a lot of effort in the planning part)- and everytime you do something new fun!!

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

Nail Biting, Workaholic, Insomnia, such a gossip girl 😭 its funny tho.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

That Man is proud!!! He worked so much, trained so much did everything to become the person he is- loves his muscles and is kinda concerned how he looks

(Have you seen that man? Face paint on the spot- dreads styled like that and always revealing that yummy bicep..)

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

yes- next question

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

100% a cat person. He loves them but will never admit it. When he first saw one as a kid- he begged Benzo to let him adopt it. Still visits it‘s grave. Kinda has a fur allergy but he doesn‘t care 💀

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

hates hates HATES it when his partner is rude or disrespectful for no reason. (Sure, its a different story when you are getting shit on) but he just finds it so bad when you insult someone for no reason (and mean it)

has no problem when you playfully call someone (him) an idiot tho…

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

He is a kicker. Like bitch, stop kicking me in the ribs while sleeping 😭. Also wakes up with his head at your feet- turns around a lot. Just an active sleeper here…

you on the other hand get many bruises from his kicking…. I am so sorry

#fyp #arcane imagines #arcane imagine #arcane headcanons #arcane ekko #arcane writing #arcane ekko x reader fluff #ekko x reader fluff #arcane ekko x reader #swf alphabet #Arcane swf alphabet #Arcane fluff #arcane ekko fluff #Ekko fluff

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riacte · 6 months ago

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some thoughts about some ren ships:

ren/martyn: it's fine and it's cool until springtime comes and there's a melancholy in the tepid, humid air that clings to your skin and clogs up your lungs. and it's really fine until you start planting carrots again in the way he did and you realise all the small moments in your life have been defined by those few months you spent with him. there's a before and an after. his influence has melted so casually in your daily life that you don't realise it. it takes years for the intensity and absence to sink in even though it's always been there. and you finally understand. what you felt on those carrot fields was love. (note the past tense. note that you're a liar.)

ren/doc: words cannot describe what happened in that damned van. they're not husbands, they're FREAKS. they almost wish they did romantic shit like stargazing and going on dates but it's just a lot of being cooped up in the tiny van and the intimacy of repairing each other's prosthetics and lying in the same bed and staring at each other for hours while listening to nothing but the hum of the air conditioner and each other's breathing. because they're "bros".

ren/cleo: they practice "on and off platonic smooching". whatever that even means. physically affectionate to the point of being disgusting. they can stop and start back again at any time but somehow it's healthy. despite all the intense pda and cuddling and shit, no one emerges emotionally devastated. their dms are just spamming heart emojis.

ren/false: he's been lowkey crushing on her for so long he's genuinely forgotten about it. from her point of view, he's been acting this way around her since forever so she's also forgotten about it. they exist in this miraculous and meticulous limbo in which no one crosses a line because they don't think about it. they have the keys to each other's bases and water each other's flowers. one day they wake up and make each other breakfast and look out at their beautiful mess of a shared garden because it's their sixtieth day of accidental cohabitation and go "how did we get here again".

ren/iskall: i know it's long gone and the magic's not here no more and we can't go back to who we were. maybe i'll joke about "wrong person, right time" but that feels like stabbing myself in the chest with a dull knife. i look at you and from the bottom of my heart, i feel love. regardless of what kind of love it is. when i see you smile, i can still feel it against my lips. so maybe we still wear each other's clothes. so maybe you still drink from that ugly mug i got as a gag anniversary gift. so maybe you still consider sending me a love letter as a joke. best friends to lovers to neighbours. jokes and casual flirtation and even more casual declarations of love. i love you and you love me but we both know it's not the same anymore. still, it was good. for a while, we were good.

#ria.txt #hermitshipping #trafficshipping #ok to be honest. i was just coming up with an excuse to post renskall but the treebark section accidentally got long and uh. it spiralled #late stage hc10 renskall hits crazy to me idk why. the casual but domineering declarations of love. it's like time never passed. but it did #renskall #treebark #rendoc #what are the other names. exploding #zombiedog #falseren #eagledog #renskall is criminally unpopular for the content we get. like guys they were the ones with an actual podcast

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slut4celebs · 1 month ago

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Two Superstars in a Room... They Might Kiss

Reneé Rapp x Reader

Word Count: 1,087 words

Trigger Warnings: oblivious Reneé Rapp, but that's not much of a trigger.

Request/Synopsis: Combining this request: "can you do something like actress!reader x reneé" with this request: "Renee x reader where they’re friends and Renee is convinced reader is straight because reader never really makes a big deal out of her sexuality, so Renee keeps thinking her crush is unrequited even though reader keeps flirting with her" because I thought they fit well together.

Requests are: open.

Reneé was starting to believe that she was going insane. (Y/n), her longtime crush and best friend, had just invited her to a movie premier. She was starring in a movie alongside Timothée Chalamet, who happens to be her Sex Lives of College Girls co-star's younger brother. Reneé's problem wasn't with him or the premier, but it was the fact that (Y/n) asked her in the flirtiest way possible. First, she did it like some kind of promposal. She held up a sign asking her if she would like to be her date, then she kissed Reneé directly on the cheek. What was she supposed to do with that? Her cheeks had turned a deep shade of red at both, the way she asked and the kiss. She didn't know how to handle it, and it turned into a two hour conversation with Aliyah. Aliyah claimed (Y/n) was flirting, but Reneé kept denying the fact. (Y/n) had to be one hundred percent straight.

When the day came, the two met up, both already adorned in their dresses and their make-up professionally done. "Wow, Reneé…" (Y/n) said as she took in the way the girl in front of her looked. The way (Y/n)'s eyes travelled her body made her blush, again. The deep shade of red decorating her cheeks despite the heavy foundation and pink blush already put there. She shook away the thoughts that were circulating her head, reminding herself that (Y/n) was, in fact, straight. She probably had a thing for Timothée. A deep sigh threatened to leave her lips, but she instead thanked her and gave her a quick hug before they got in the vehicle that would be taking the, to the premier.

Upon arriving, it was a whirlwind of dating questions between (Y/n) and both Reneé and Timothée as reporters tried to figure out who (Y/n) was into. "You guys are very nosy, huh?" She asked with a playful raise of her brow, making the press knew she was joking and to be played off as coy. One wrong step with reporters and they will tell the world you are rude and you could be seen as someone who doesn't want to work with other. This problem has been especially big for women, take Chappell Roan at the VMA's, for example. "I'll tell you that someone does peak my interest. That's all you get tonight. Now, take some pictures of me and my beautiful date." She winked at the people before posing with Reneé. Reneé tried not to focus on the fact that (Y/n) confessed that someone peaked her interest. Especially when she was so sure it was Timothée or some other guy she probably met on set.

Reneé was starting to feel like she had enough, she didn't understand how (Y/n) could flirt with her so consistently while having a crush on someone else. Though, to be fair, this was something Reneé did, too. She has confessed on multiple occasions that she loves to flirt and to be flirted with. Could that be why (Y/n) is doing this? She felt like maybe she should tell her how she felt in order to create a boundary, but at the same time she was incredibly scared to lose her best friend. This would be so much easier if Reneé knew (Y/n)'s sexuality, but the girl never discussed it at all, never making a big deal of it. "Let's just say, I'm confident in my feelings." Was always (Y/n)'s answer, and it made Reneé feel like she could both fight and kiss (Y/n) for the very vague but emotionally mature answer.

As the two approached her castmates, which consisted of Timothée Chalamet, Rachel Sennott, and Lola Tung (the main cast), they all cheered at (Y/n)'s entrance before wrapping Reneé up in hugs quickly. "So, this is the girl who (Y/n) never shuts up about." Rachel grinned, winking over at (Y/n) who playfully flipped her off. Of course, Reneé had already met Timothée due to Pauline and Lola had already been friends with her (Reneé even sang 'One Less Lonely Girl to Lola before), so she needed no introduction there. She was still pretty excited to meet Rachel, though, due to her acting in Bottoms, which Reneé and (Y/n) swore would be a cult classic after watching it.

"Do not say I talk about her all the time. She doesn't need to know how in love with her I am." (Y/n) raised a brow towards Rachel. In a way, this confused Reneé as she recognized this look as when (Y/n) was like 'Oh my God, if you don't shut up.' Could that mean there was some truth in her comment. A weird fluttering filled Reneé's chest as (Y/n) took her hand and led her to her seats. It was a feeling synonymous to feeling hopeful. She gave (Y/n)'s hand a testing squeeze, only to earn a broad grin being sent her way from the girl in front of her. And things slowly began to click for Reneé. "Okay, so these are our seats… Should we get snacks?"

Reneé stared at their seats for a moment, taking in the barely inhabited theater. Everyone was still taking in the festivities outside with the pictures and interviews. "What if I wanted to kiss you? Right here, right now. I want to kiss you. Would you kiss me back?" Reneé questioned boldly. She was used to being bold in every situation, but this one was making her feel an extreme bundle of nerves build in the pit of her stomach. She would feel mortified if (Y/n) rejected her then and there in front of the couple of people there, whose attention she did pull.

(Y/n) was shocked at first, not caring about the few people in the room with her. Her heart was racing at Reneé's words as she bit her bottom lip to contain her grin, even just a bit. "I'd say to do it. That I want you to kiss me. That I was planning on doing it after the film because I was too nervous to do it before or the day I asked you to come here." (Y/n) admitted softly. At the end of her admission, her senses were taken by the blonde, who allowed their lips to crash in to each other's. She quickly kissed back, bringing Reneé in by the waist as the blonde held her cheeks. More people were pooling in and Reneé pulled away reluctantly.

"So, you were saying..? About the snacks?"

#renee rapp x reader #renee rapp

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hoe4hotchner · 4 days ago

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Bit of a fic idea (not necessarily a request). But what about a friends to lovers with Aaron Hotchner? Like they've been friends since childhood, she's a few years younger though. She was in the drama club with Hayley and is the reason the 2 met and she was the best woman at the wedding. But she's had a crush on Aaron for the longest time,t though always dismissed it as she valued the friendship more. She's Jack's godmother and is there for Aaron whenever he needs. She is a Sargent in the Marines, so gets the long hours Aaron does. She was deployed when she got the news about Hayley being killed by Foyet and rushed back as soon as possible. She didn't take another mission for a while after to be there for Aaron. Further down the line she considers maybe telling him her feelings but he starts dating Beth so she doesn't. Eventually she starts dating a guy in the army and Aaron is jealous though is in denial about why. It is only after Beth and him break up and he hears that readers bf might propose that he fully snaps out of his denial and confesses his feelings

That's such a good idea!!!! 💕 I don't know if I'll write the full thing one day but here's 1/2 and essay worth of thoughts I have about the concept!!

I imagine it would be even more heartbreaking and kind of a slow burn if you and Hotch knew each other before the drama club meeting with Haley. Like maybe you lived on the same street as kids and played together every day. And without realizing it back then, you were always meant to be together, because you just completed each other.

You would be a little jealous about Hotch starting to date Haley and eventually marrying her, as you had thought it would be the two of you one day. But since you value the friendship so much, you don’t mention it to him, just wanting him to be happy in the end.

The wedding especially hurt to be part of for you, but you pull through, keeping a smile on your lips as you attend, give your toast, and do everything you can to help. Hotch is so thankful for your support during the wedding.

You’re ecstatic when you learn about baby Hotchner, and when Jack comes into the world, you’re the first person he calls, seeing you as more like family than his blood relatives. And it might be the best day of your life (at the time) when Haley mentions they’ve been talking about godparents and then asks if you want to be Jack’s godmother.

When you start realizing that you’ll never be truly happy as long as you’re around Hotch almost every day, you decide to join the Marines, throwing yourself into the work and quickly moving up the ranks. And when Haley dies, you’re, of course, sad for Hotch, but somehow you feel kind of desensitized to death and don’t know what to say. Still, you drop everything and rush back to Quantico to be there for him—not so much emotionally, but at least to help him around the house and such.

Life eventually finds its rhythm again, and even though neither of you ever speaks about that time, you can feel something shift in him. But then Beth enters the picture. You see how his face softens when he talks about her, how he starts looking ahead instead of behind, and you can’t bring yourself to disturb that happiness. You tell yourself this is what you want—that his happiness matters more than yours.

You didn’t expect to meet someone else, but that’s how life works. You didn’t think much of it at first, but there’s a comfort in his company. Aaron notices. He doesn’t say anything, of course, but you feel the shift in the way his gaze lingers when you mention your boyfriend.

And when he hears rumors of an upcoming proposal, he can’t ignore it any longer. He shows up at your door one night. For a moment, you think he’s come with good news, but he only stands there, jaw clenched, his fists tight. “I don’t want you to marry him,” he says, and then, “I—God, I should have said this a long time ago. You’re more than just my friend. You’ve always been more,” he admits.

And then you kiss, and it’s really passionate.

#💌 - you've got mail #anon <3 #hoe4hotchner answers #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #aaron hotchner x reader #hotch #hotch thoughts #criminal minds x reader #hotch x you #hotchner

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teddyseong · 7 months ago

Text

༊*·˚ you're my crush!

how the enha hyung line reacts to your posts made specifically for him! (spoiler: they're down bad for you...)

₊˚ପ⊹ before you read! : tried to use a variety of skin tones again! (was a little hard since i had to find specific types of photos), next post i'll try to make more inclusive for different body types <3, made with idol!enha in mind but i think you can read it as non-idol!enha ₊˚ପ⊹cw : food mention, jay calls hee "down bad", y/n is referenced to play sports/basketball (other cws will be listed before other posts!)

ׂׂૢ heeseung !

rest under the cut!

ׂׂૢ jay !

₊˚ପ⊹cw : jay is a little in denial, food mention, death mention (boys joke about jay dying over how much he likes you)

ׂׂૢ jake !

₊˚ପ⊹cw : jake threatens to chew his arm off, jake refers to himself as a dog, jake is referred to as pathetic (but you're into that), jake "passes" out after seeing a post

ׂׂૢ sunghoon !

₊˚ପ⊹cw : y/n is implied to ice skate and work out, hee calls hoon "down bad", hoon falls (physically and emotionally), hoon likes to disregard his work for you, hoon scares away others (but you're into that)

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halfbloodfics · 2 months ago

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Hi! Since requests are open, here’s a prompt I’ve been fiddling for a while. I crafted this for my OC but I’d love to see how you’d portray it.

This is where reader is either interning or becomes Pomfrey’s assistant. Either his Snakes or Harry (Severitus) decide that Snape needs more friends and orchestrate a plan to get Snape and reader alone. Little did they know that they had been inadvertently playing matchmaker.

The original idea is multiple meetings over the course of a school year, but Snape or reader could very well hit it off the first meeting. That’s up to you :)

Thanks!

im a sucker for a good shy snape has a crush on y/n. absolutely.

warnings: none :) brief mention of broken bones, takes place during Harry's 4th year, but no voldemort bc im too emotionally weak for that

PART ONE: Meddling Snakes

(I''m going to divide this into two parts, so it can be a little longer xx)

October 1st. 1994.

The leaves were turning colours. Outside the window, in the courtyard, a mirage of orange and yellow painted the sky and ground. With a particularly strong gust of wind, several more leaves fell from the trees and joined the others on the grass. Fall was here at last.

A voice from behind drew you out of your daydreams.

"Madam Y/L/N." Pomfrey's voice cut out from the silence. You turned around to see her looking at you with a soft expression.

You shook your head gently. "My apologies. What is it you were saying?" You spoke.

A small smile graced her lips. "No need to apologize, dear. I just need you to run a quick errand for me, if that's no trouble."

"Of course." You nodded, eager to help.

She extended her hand to you, revealing a small jar with a stone-like mass inside. She shook it, gently rattling the object.

"This is a bezoar." She said. "I'm sure you already know what it is."

You nodded. Your first month at Hogwarts as Pomfreys assistant had gone quickly, and you had already become accostomed to how often the students here seemed to end up in the medical wing. Surprisingly, you hadn't needed to use a bezoar yet, but your previous education was enough to understand how rare and effective they were.

She nodded approvingly, reaching out and placing the jar gently in your hands. "Take this to Professor Snape, in the dungeons. He's needing it for one of his lessons."

You looked down at the jar, at the odd, lumpy object inside, your hands tracing the glass. "Of course. I'll be right back."

The dungeons were always the most freezing part of the castle. The first of October and already the temperature was dropping, not that it made much of a difference down here anyways.

You crossed your arms against your chest as you walked through the freezer of Hogwarts, the jar with the bezoar in your apron.

Footsteps echoing throughout the silent corridors, you made your way to the potions classroom.

As the door was already open, you stood in the doorway and knocked gently.

A tall man in a long black cape and black robes stood at the front of the class. At your knock, the man turned to face you, looking you over with an almost suspicious glance. His dark eyes narrowed, his expression unreadable.

"Excuse me, Professor." You started, looking around the classroom at the group of fourth year Slytherin and Gryffindor students. "Madam Pomfrey sent me to give you this."

You reached into your apron, pulling out the jar with the Bezoar. His eyes flicked down to it before he gestured over to the desk where he stood.

You approached, placed the jar carefully in front of him. He did not look at you again, continuing his lesson without so much as a thank you.

As soon as you left, a group of Slytherin boys began to exhange knowing looks. Among them, a blonde-haired boy named Draco Malfoy leaned in. "That's Pomfrey's new assistant." He murmered.

The other boys looked at him. "Is she?" One of them asked.

Another one nodded. "Remember when I fell of my broom two weeks ago? Yea, she's the one that mended it. Humbling moment on my end, if I must say so." He added.

Malfoy leaned in closer, the lot of em leaning in around him. "She isn't too bad looking..."

One of the boys scoffed. "Yea right Malfoy, cause you got a chance."

"Not for me you dim-wit!" He hissed, pausing as Professor Snape shot them a warning glare to shut up and pay attention.

Draco dropped his voice to a whisper, slowly flicking his gaze between the boys. "For Snape."

All their heads jerked back to face him now, their expressions a mix of confusion and amusement.

"Snape?" One of them whispered.

He nodded, looking rather smug as he leaned back in his chair. "Do him some good. Maybe he'll loosen up, finally relax a little more. Merlin knows he needs it. Give us a break from these bloody papers he always making us write..."

The others looked amongst themselves, realising he was serious.

One of them spoke: "What are you planning exactly..."

The Malfoy boy only shrugged, a small smirk on his lips as he looked up at the unknowing professor. "I got a couple ideas."

November 1st. 1994.

You sat in the medical ward beside the bed of a Slytherin boy who had, for the second time this year, managed to break his right arm playing qudditch.

You'd learned from Pomfrey how to mend bones. It was significantly easier than regrowing bones, as she'd thouroughly explained, and so once again you found the task rather simple.

"This might hurt for a moment... But afterwards, you should feel fine. As long as you're gentle with it." You said softly, your fingertips lightly holding the wounded arm so as to not put pressure on it.

The boy winced at your touch, but he nodded, giving you the okay to go through with it. With your wand out, you casted the spell, the sounds of cracking bones filling the otherwise empty medical ward. He cried out, briefly, before the cracking stopped and his arm was back in one shape.

"Hurt that much, Blaise?" Came a voice from behind.

You turned to see the boy you recognized as Draco Malfoy, standing in front of Professor Snape, who was watching the Slytherin on the bed with a blank expression, his gaze flicking over to you, only momentarily.

The boy, Blaise, made a sort of dismissive grunt. In the corner of your eye, you noticed him raise his mended arm weakly.

"All better, thanks to Madam Y/L/N." He said.

You smiled slightly at him before directing your attention back to Malfoy and Snape.

As if noticing the unspoken question in your mind, Malfoy opened his mouth: "Well, Professor Snape was just wondering how our Chaser is doing, if he'll still be alright to beat Gryffindor at tomorrows match."

Snape blinked, turning his gaze to Malfoy, his expression a mix of confusion and suspicion.

The feeling overcame you that he also didn't fully understand why he was here.

You opened your mouth to speak, but before you could Zabini rose to his feet and grabbed his robes, giving you a small smile and more or less speed-walking over to join Malfoy.

"Thank you, Madam Y/L/N!" He called, as the two of them left rather quickly, opening the doors and rushing out the infarmary.

The echo of the door slamming filled the room. It was now only you and Professor Snape in the ward. The both of you looking at each other with a confused expression.

You cleared your throat, attempting to shake off the confusion. "He should be alright to play tomorrow, Professor. But that is the second time this term that he has broken that arm. He should more careful." You spoke, your voice soft.

Professor Snape looked at you, his eyes on yours. After a seemingly long moment, he spoke: "I'll see to it that he is more... Attentive to his mortality."

The sarcastic comment drew a laugh out of you before you could surpress it. It was amusing to you, how this intimidating, stoic man who you'd never had a proper conversation with, somehow had a sense of humour. A quite dry one, but a sense of humour none the less.

His left eyebrow twitched up. You shut up.

"Apologies, professor." You started. "Is it insulting to say I didn't expect you to be humorus?

A small, almost unnoticable smirk flashed across his face. "I've heard worse." He said bluntly.

You bit your lip to surpress another laugh. You weren't sure what it is about him saying the simplest, unfunny phrases. Perhaps it was your nerves, your anxieties of being new here and having no one else to talk to aside from Pomfrey driving you to the point of desperation for some form of friendly interaction.

You looked at him again, taking in the way he was standing in front of the closed door, his hands clasped together in front of him. It was the first time you had taken a proper look at him and you were just noticing the depth of his eyes, his height, the way his hair fell against his shoulders...

No.

You blinked, cleared your throat again.

"Anyways. Yes, Zabini should be fine to play tomorrow." You said at last.

Snape stared at you with a blank, unreadable expression, the trace of his smirk gone again. He nodded, briefly, before turning and reaching for the door.

"Wait." You said, gently.

He paused, turned to face you.

"I don't know if you have any... But considering you're the potions master I'm assuming you.. Might I borrow some books sometime? On potions?" The words came out soft upon your tongue. "I was hoping to learn how to brew remedies and antidotes myself."

Severus blinked, continuing to stare at you with that same blank expression before he nodded shortly. "I will bring them to you when time allows." He said.

A soft smile graced your lips.

"But," He spoke again. "You are new here. I won't have you wasting my ingredients because you don't know what you are doing. If you've found a specific potion you wish to brew.. Please visit me first."

The thought of spending time alone, with him watching you brew made your stomach flip. You were always decent at potions and your training had left you well educated, but this was a man who was more or less a genuis at them. Not to mention the fact that being in his presence terrified you.

Nodding, your hair fell slightly in front of your face. "Very well. Thank you, Professor."

He nodded curtly, before turning and opening the doors to the infirmary, leaving you alone with your anxieties.

You had some serious reading to do.

i'm going to make a part two to this soon, i just really wanted to be able to focus on drawing this out so that its as good as it can be cause im a sucker for a good: forced proximity, she fell first he fell harder, kinda slow burn xx.

thank u for the request!! <3

#professor snape #severus x reader #severus snape #snape x y/n #snape fic #severus #pro snape #snape fandom #snape x oc #pro severus #hp #hp fanfic #snape fanfiction #snape #snapedom #pro severus snape #severus snape fluff #snape fluff #snape community

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mythicalninjas · 2 months ago

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Hi! Idk if you’re requests are still open but!

Could you do a Donnie getting mad/having a bad day and he kinda explodes (with no reason/gratuitamente) with reader (she)? And they stay away from the lair for a while, and happy ending! (Just want heart-crushing angst with happy ending hsuahs)

(Tbh the prompt I actually thought was “Donnie was stressed and tired of being different, reader who’s autistic says they relate, so he explodes saying they don’t, how could they?” But idk if you’re ok with writing that, so I simplified it! ~I’m autistic, that’s why I thought of that~)

If my ask is to complicated or didn’t inspire you that’s tots ok! I understand! (Sorry this ask was so big too!)

Have a good day/ night! ☺️

It's okay, your prompt is amazing ☺️ Sorry for keeping you waiting for too long... I had to deal with college in the past several months.

I hope I did write the way you asked. Enjoy 💜

It was a quiet night in the lair, but that didn't reflect Donatello's internal state. The laboratory was plunged into darkness, save for the dim light of the monitors that cast dancing shadows on the walls. The frantic sound of the keyboard echoed, the only sound apart from the hum of the machines at work. Donnie was exhausted, physically and emotionally. His brain was burning with data overload, with formulas and calculations that didn't fit together as they should. It had been days of incessant research, of failed experiments, of trying to find solutions to problems that seemed to multiply.

Every mistake, every failure, was a nagging reminder that he needed to be better. He had to be better. There was no room for weakness. His brothers depended on him, the world depended on him. And the constant pressure to deliver results was starting to implode inside. Exhaustion weighed heavily on his shoulders, but he kept pushing, ignoring the body that was crying out for rest, ignoring the accumulated stress.

She entered the laboratory, as she had done so many times before. Her steps were soft, as if she were trying not to interrupt, but her presence always brought a sense of comfort that Donnie appreciated, even if he never admitted it out loud. He was so focused that he barely noticed her coming until he felt the soft touch of her fingers on his shoulder.

"Hey, Donnie..." Her voice was soft, a gentle touch to his swirling mind. "Are you all right?"

Donatello barely lifted his eyes from the monitors, trying to recalculate a complicated sequence. "I'm busy now," he muttered, his fingers still running across the keyboard.

She waited for a moment, watching the tiredness on his face. She knew that he threw himself into his work when he was frustrated or anxious, and she had learned to give him space when necessary. But now, there was something different in the air. He seemed more tense than usual, more closed off.

She let out a little sigh, hesitating before speaking again. "I know you're busy, but... maybe it's time to take a break? You've been at it for hours..."

Her touch should have been a comfort, but at that moment, something in Donnie snapped. The pressure, the frustration, the accumulated tiredness - it all blended together in an explosion of emotions that he could no longer control.

“I said I'm busy!” His voice echoed louder than he had intended. He stood up abruptly from his chair, his eyes blazing with anger, anger that wasn't hers, but which ended up being directed at her. “Don't you understand? I can't stop! If I stop, I'll fail. If I fail, everything falls apart! And you here, distracting me with… with your unimportant things!

She took a step back, shocked. The impact of his words had hit her like a punch in the gut. Never, in all the time she had known him, had he spoken to her like that. Always so calm, so controlled… but now, he seemed on the verge of collapse. Her eyes filled with tears before she could control herself, but she refused to let them fall. She didn't want to show how much it had hurt her.

“I'm sorry for… bothering you.” Her voice was low, broken, almost inaudible.

She turned quickly and left the lab before he could say anything else, before the tears flowed. Donnie stood there, his heart racing, the echo of his words still hanging in the air. For a few seconds, he remained motionless, trying to process what had just happened. Then the guilt began to set in, slow and corrosive.

He had hurt someone who had never been anything but kind to him. He had hurt her.

She walked aimlessly through the streets of New York, the cold of the night beginning to bother her, but nothing compared to the tightness in her chest. The emotional pain was much stronger than any physical discomfort. She couldn't stop thinking about his words, the tone of his voice. It was as if the Donnie she knew, the one who always cared, who listened and understood, had disappeared, replaced by someone she barely recognized.

She walked for hours, wandering around the city, trying to find some clarity amidst the confusion of feelings. Part of her wanted to understand why he had exploded like that. He was overwhelmed, that was obvious. But did that justify what he'd said? The sharp words still echoed in her mind, and she wondered if he really thought that.

While she was lost in thought, Donnie was back in the lab, but his focus had completely disappeared. The screens flashed in front of him, but he could barely see what was written. Guilt was consuming him from the inside out. He knew he had made a mistake, that he had said horrible things. The frustration he felt wasn't her fault, and yet he had taken it out on the person who least deserved it.

Finally, he got up from his chair and left the lair. He needed to find her, he needed to correct the mistake he had made. He didn't know exactly what he would say, but he knew he had to apologize, he had to make amends.

After some time, he found her. She was sitting on top of a building, her gaze lost in the horizon. The evening breeze swayed her hair, and Donnie felt his heart squeeze at seeing her so far away, so hurt. He hesitated for a moment before approaching. Each step seemed heavy, weighed down by guilt and regret.

“Hey,” he called, his voice softer than before, almost fearful.

She didn't turn around immediately, but he knew she had heard. Donnie sat down next to her, keeping a respectful distance. The silence between them was thick, full of unspoken words, but he knew he needed to speak, needed to break through that wall he himself had erected.

“I'm sorry,” he began, his voice low, sincere. “I… I shouldn't have spoken to you like that. You didn't deserve that. None of it was your fault.”

She remained silent for a few moments, and he almost thought she wouldn't answer. But then she sighed, her eyes still fixed on the city.

“Why did you do it, Donnie?” her voice was broken, and he realized how much his words had really hurt her. “I just… I just wanted to help you. And you pushed me away.”

Donnie closed his eyes for a moment, feeling the weight of his own failings. “I know. I know you were only trying to help. And I… I was an idiot. I was frustrated, tired, and lost control. But that's no excuse for what I did.”

She finally turned her face to look at him. Her eyes were watery, but the anger had given way to a deep sadness. “You didn't have to hurt me like that, Donnie. I'm always here for you, you know that. And yet… you blew up at me, as if I was part of the problem.”

Her words dug deep into Donnie's heart. He had been the cause of her pain, and now he could clearly see the impact his actions had had. It wasn't just the momentary explosion, but what came after - the insecurity, the doubt. He needed to fix that.

Donnie swallowed, feeling small in the face of what he had caused. “I never meant to hurt you,” he said, his voice full of regret. “You're… the last person in the world I wanted to be cruel to. I was just so overwhelmed, with all the pressure of being the brains, of having to sort everything out for my brothers… And I ended up taking it out on you.”

She sighed, looking at the horizon again. “I understand that you have this responsibility, Donnie. I know how much you carry. But I was also there, trying to share that weight with you. And you pushed me away, as if I wasn't important.”

Her words pierced his heart harder than any physical attack could. She was right. He had spent so long concentrating on his own burden that he didn't realize how much she was trying to help, how much she wanted to be there for him.

“I was wrong,” he said, with more conviction this time. “I was wrong about everything. I know I can be controlling and stubborn, but I need you. I… want you by my side. You're important to me. More than I can express.”

She remained silent, absorbing his words. He moved a little closer, reaching out hesitantly and placing his hand gently on hers.

“I promise,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “I promise I'll try to be better. I'll work on myself, on how I handle things, so that this doesn't happen again.”

She looked at him, her eyes finally meeting his, assessing the sincerity she saw there. And she realized that, although he had made a mistake, he was willing to do whatever it took to make it right. It was a long road, but she knew Donnie was committed to walking it.

“I want to believe that, Donnie,” she murmured, her voice still tinged with a slight pain. “I just… need some time.”

He nodded, understanding. “I understand. And I'll give you as much time as you need.”

They sat in silence for a few more minutes, side by side, watching the city lights. The noise of life below continued, indifferent to the emotions that filled the top of that building. But there, between them, time seemed to have slowed down, making room for reconciliation, for forgiveness.

She leaned forward, resting her head on his shoulder, a small concession. He felt relief run down his spine, as if that simple gesture was proof that things would eventually be all right. He knew he was lucky - lucky that she was still there, by his side, even after everything.

Donnie wrapped his arm around her, gently pulling her closer, as if he were trying to protect her not only from the outside world, but also from himself. His heart was pounding, but this time, not out of guilt or anger, but out of gratitude. He knew he had a second chance, and he would do his best not to waste it.

They stayed there for a while longer, the silence now less heavy, more comforting. The cold night wind blew lightly, but Donnie felt the warmth of having her close again. She was still hurting, and he knew it would take time for everything to heal completely. But he was willing to wait, willing to do whatever it took to win back her trust.

Finally, she stood up slowly, and Donnie followed her. She gave him a small smile, still shy, but which warmed his heart. “Let's go home,” she said, and those words were all he needed to hear.

Together, they descended from the building and headed back to the lair. The walk back was silent, but the tension between them had eased. She didn't hold his hand, but she didn't push him away either. For Donnie, that was a start.

And he knew that, in time, they would find a way to heal - together.

*****

Reblog to support and let more people read my content 🫶

#tmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles #bayverse tmnt #tmnt 2016 #tmnt 2016 x reader #tmnt donnie x reader #tmnt donatello #tmnt donnie #tmnt 2014 #tmnt fanfiction #fanfic

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starandcloud · 2 months ago

Text

Birthday Cake

I'm feeling angsty right now, so have this lmao-

CW: Loss of mother, Bruce calling reader sweetheart as an affectionate fatherly nickname

TW: Reader almost has a panic attack

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You understood fully what it was like to lose a mother, and you remembered the agonizing months after losing her. How you'd cry until your throat hurt and how your eyes would burn the morning after, you'd remember how the survivors guilt would eat you alive for years. Every now and then you still get the feeling that it was your fault. That you could've prevented her death, despite being five and your mother having a stroke. You felt like you couldn't done something to save her. But now, at the ripe age of sixteen, you realized you couldn't have. You couldn't save her, and you were fine with that. You were fine with knowing you couldn't have prevented that, and you thought you had gotten over it. Even when your father killed himself and you were put into foster care before being adopted by Bruce, you were okay with it. You knew you couldn't have stopped either death, you were a kid. What could you have possibly done? You were damn certain you were over it all, that it was just something that happened at this point. It was over a decade ago, so why would it still bother you? You answer came in the form of a small boy, only eleven, who looked so... broken down, yet angry. He looked so angry, and you knew the look all too well. When your father called you down, you thought dinner was just early. Nothing could've prepared you for this, for the guilt of your parents to rise up your spine and make you physically sick. Your eyes stayed locked on the boy as he looked up at you with eyes that should've belonged to a fully grown adult. An adult who had a job, who had kids and a home. Not an eleven-year-old child. You could feel the bile rise up your throat and you crossed your arms over your stomach, as if to hold your lunch down as you and the boy stared at each other. As if having a silent, yet mutual, understanding of what had happened to him. What he had lost.

"This is Jason, be gentle with him sweetheart. He's a similar case to you..." Your father whispered to you as he gently put a hand on your back and suddenly your sweater felt like fire and your pants were squeezing your body to tight and your feet were both on fire yet freezing as you nodded slowly. Feeling sick to your stomach yet you slowly walked forward and put your hand on his shoulder. "Come on little one," you urged, "lets get you into a room alright? Get your bed set up how you'd like and then we'll have dinner alright..?"

You softly asked as you led him towards the stairs, one hand on his back and the other holding his hand. Which he had taken it upon himself to take, gripping it in a bone crushing grasp as he silently followed you. Even through his worn-out clothes, you could feel how tense he was as you led him towards the room across from yours. You could see how his other hand gripped something in his pocket and his eyes, as emotionally worn down and sad as they were, kept looking up at you. As if he was expecting you to do something to harm him, which only made the guilt in your stomach bubble again and you gripped his hand a bit tighter. As soon as you opened the door you gently let him go and turned on the light, smiling gently as the light flooded the room. Revealing a very basic bedroom. Just a bed, nightstand, and dresser. But it was also a guest room, so there obviously wasn't going to be much in there.

"I'll be right back kiddo, alright? Gonna go see if I have any old clothes in my room. Promise I won't put you in bubblegum pink and hello kitty."

You joked with a small laugh as you looked at Jason as he wandered into the room and just stared around at everything, like he had never seen something this grand. When you left him, he was standing in the middle of the room but when you returned, he had settled onto the floor. His back pressed against the wall and his eyes observantly watching the room around him, like he was expecting danger.

"Jason," you softly called out as you knocked on the door, "I brough you some clothes. I couldn't find much, I'm sorry bud, but I found a good pair of jeans and an old t-shirt if you want it buddy?" You offered gently as you slowly stepped in, taking note of how his eyes followed you and your movements. Almost like he was scared something was going to happen. You gently shut the door before, with careful and slow movements, sitting down in front of him. Crossing your legs as you smiled gently, pushing down your own tears and panic, before setting the clothes down on the floor beside you.

"Stupid question Jason but are... are you okay..? I know that look you gave me a bit ago, I know it all too well actually, if you want to talk I'm he-" "Shut up."

He cut you off, glaring at you with icy eyes as he gritted his teeth and pushed himself against the wall more. His reactions to your closeness made you frown gently as you slowly nodded and, stood up and headed towards your door. You turned your back to him, showing a silent trust, as you walked. Just as you were about to open the door you looked back at him. "I mean it kid, I'm here, just across the hall, alright? I'll see you at dinner? Alfred is making spaghetti tonight, a request, he's really nice. Dinner is at six, in an hour." You said quietly before heading out the door, gently clicking it shut behind you, before seeking out the butler. Knowing you needed to cry your eyes dry right now.

You wandered until you found him, diligently cooking in the kitchen, and you gently knocked on the door.

"Alfred," you called out; your voice shaking slightly, "can... can I talk to you..?"

You quietly asked, your tone making him stop cooking and looking at you. A concerned look in his eyes as he wiped his hands dry and stepped towards you.

"Of course," he reassured, "what's bothering you?"

He questioned with a soft tone as you shuffled towards him and wrapped your arms tight around him, burying your face from view as your shoulders started to shake and you started to cry.

"That kid! H-He had the same look I did! I-I-I-I don't even think he's thirteen Alfred!" You sobbed out as you clung to him tighter, making him slowly hug you and wrap his arms tight around you. Pulling you into, what would typically be, a bone crushing hug as he let you sob. You weren't sure how long you cried for, but you knew dinner was late and even as you sat at the table you still looked like you were on the verge of crying again. You gently pushed your food around, not really having an appetite before small footsteps made you look up. Jason stood at the end of the table, dressed in your old t-shirt and pants as his eyes anxiously flicked around from you, to Bruce, to Alfred, then back to you. Making you slowly pull the chair next to you out and smiling softly, a silent offer for him to sit next to you. Which he hesitantly took, letting himself sink into the chair and watched as you pushed your plate towards him.

"Eat," you whispered, "you look starving kiddo."

Even with your hushed tone, honest concern and warmth seeped into your voice as you smiled warmly before you gingerly ruffled his hair and put your cup in front of him. Making him look up at you with eyes of questions and confusion, which only made you slowly shake your head. Another silent understanding between the two of you, which Bruce didn't quite seem to understand but Alfred did. He understood every look you gave and every small movement you made with the little boy beside you. Taking on a role of support for the young boy, which you had needed so desperately when you first came. Alfred had taken it upon himself to be that role for you and was relatively proud of how well he had done.

After dinner you cleaned up, not being able to sit still any longer, and found that you had a little shadow. Not that you minded, knowing you had done the same to Alfred for years, so you just let Jason follow you as you washed, dried, and put the dishes away. You let him be your shadow until you headed towards your room. To which you stopped and turned to look at him.

"Do you want me to tuck you in buddy? I'll leave the lamp on and my door open, alright?"

You offered with a strange warmth in your voice, making Jason stare up at you with furrowed eyebrows before he nodded and just stood there as you offered your hand. A soft gesture Alfred had done to you many times when Bruce had first adopted you. The butler really had rubbed off you, hadn't he? You gently led Jason into the room across from yours and gently picked him up, making him jolt and tense up as your hands went under his armpits and didn't quite relax when you put him on the bed. He just... stared up at you, as if he was experiencing this for the first time, as you tucked him in before ruffling his hair and turning the lamp on the bedside table on the lowest setting before smiling.

"I'm right across the hall, alright little man? Just come over and wake me up if you need me. It won't be a bother."

You promised as you gently gave his hand a squeeze before heading towards the door and shutting the overhead light off before leaving. Making sure you leave his door open just enough you could hear him if he got up, maybe it was just your natural instinct to protect the little ones around you. But you felt like you needed to be the support beam in his life.

The next morning, you woke up to the sun assaulting your eyes. Making you groan and pull the blanket over your face. You laid there for about ten more minutes before you forced yourself up, changing out of the clothes you slept in and into a sweatshirt and jeans. Which was really all you wore anymore, not feeling confident enough to pull off the latest fashion. You spent your morning in the library, enjoying silence and solitude when you heard a crash. Making you jolt and get up, as quickly as your body would let you that early, and headed towards the reason of the crash. When you rounded the corner, you saw Jason the ground. Books scattered about him as he glared at the bookshelf, as if it had been the reason he had fallen. It took him a moment to notice you, but when he did his glare turned to you. A scowl on his lips and his brows furrowed.

"I fell..."

He muttered, making you slowly nod.

"I can see that buddy," you said gently and slowly made your way towards him, "are you hurt?"

You softly asked, making him scoff as his gaze fell to the floor where you knelt, "no," he murmured out as you gently ran your fingers over the back of his skull. Checking for a bump before pushing hair from his face, making sure there was no gash on his face. With every touch, he flinched away and almost jolted as you checked him for any wounds. With each flinch, your concern grew. What had his life been like before this? Was he beaten or something?

"Good news little dude, I can't find any battle wounds."

You said as you smiled warmly. Your words brought a snort from him as he tried to force back a smile as he looked away from you, trying to conceal his smile. Your smile only grew as you stood up, your knees popping as you did, before you grabbed a book down and held it out to him.

"Here," you gently spoke, "it's a good book and a quick read. I think you'll like it."

You said, a soft tone in your voice as he gently reached up before snatching the book from you. Making you jump slightly as his eyes danced over the cover, a flicker of familiarity in his eyes before he forced himself up and darted away from you. Into a different corner of the library, far away from you, before you rolled your eyes gently and bent down.

"Guess I'm picking this up then."

You said, a slight fondness for the boy in your voice as you collected the books before putting them back onto the shelves, all in the respective places before you slowly made your way back to your reading spot. You plucked your book up before gently settling back into your window bench, letting the sun warm your body as you read.

It took a long while, but Jason slowly opened up to you. Spending more and more time with you, out of his room, as he stuck close to you. It had been late at night, just as you were drifting off to sleep, when he walked in. Jason stood by your bed before reaching up with a shaking hand.

"He-ey... are... are you awa-ake..?"

His voice was shaky and his words were broken up, making it hard to ignore it. You sat up and turned your lamp on, the warm glow of the light illuminated the tears in his eyes as he looked down. As if he was ashamed for coming to you.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm awake buddy. What- What's the matter?"

You asked, panic clear in your voice as you looked at him and moved over in your bed. Gently patting your sheets, inviting him to climb into bed with you. Which he took without a second thought. Jason sat on the bed before thumping against you, he curled into you and gripped your sleep shirt tightly as a quiet sob left his lips. Making you hold him tight and press a tender kiss to his head.

"It's okay," you softly promised, "you can cry darling. You're safe here, you're safe with me..."

You whispered out, holding him a bit tighter as you gently rocked the both of you. A slight British accent laced your words, most likely from Alfred, as you gently placed your chin on his head and closed your eyes. Just letting him cry, you knew he needed it. So you didn't speak again, just held him tightly as he sobbed against you. His cries shattered your heart as you squeezed your eyes shut, remembering when you sounded like that. So, broken down and sad. It brought you years back and you just held him tighter as you kissed his head again as you tried not to cry yourself.

You weren't exactly sure how long he cried, but you just kept holding him tight and rocking gently until his cries dwindled down into whimpers and soft sniffles.

"Do... Do you think she even loved me..? Like... what would she even say right now..?"

Jason's question caught you off guard, and you just sat in a stunned silence before you pulled away and stood up as you headed towards your dresser. Looking for a sweatshirt for him in the dim light.

"Well," you started as you plucked a sweatshirt from your closet and headed back to him, "it's hard to say exactly. I'm not sure what she'd say..."

Your words trailed off as you gently slipped the sweatshirt onto him and settled back onto your bed, a bit away from him as you smiled gently and took his hand.

"I didn't know your mom, but I'll let you in on a little bit of advice someone told me once."

You spoke so gently as you held his smaller hand in yours and rubbed your thumb over his knuckles, preparing yourself to bring up something that Alfred had said years ago.

"An old friend told me that things will happen, sometimes we don't like it. Sometimes we hate it, or it makes us feel like we're drowning in our own body. Or like apart of us died with them," you said with a bittersweet tone as you glanced away from Jason, "but," you said softly as you looked back at him with a warm smile, "I think she'd want you to live like the worlds on fire, and love like your heart could never break, never look down on yourself when you're feeling like it's your fault. I don't think she'd want you to regret what you could or couldn't do, I think she'd want you to pretend she made it to thirty eight and made the birthday cake she promised... I want to think she didn't want you to think that you're the only one on your team, but I'll always be on your team Jason. I'll root for you no matter what, I will back you up if you're right or wrong. Because I will always, always, be here for you little man. Alright..?"

You gently asked, softly gripping his hand, as you accidentally let your own mother's death seep into your words as you leaned forward and kissed his forehead warmly. When he wasn't crying, he usually shoved you away when you kissed his head. But this time he leaned into you, curling into your chest and stomach as you held him tight and let your eyes close as you let him be a little kid. The two of you sat in silence for a long time, you wanted to say around ten or fifteen minutes, before Jason spoke up.

"I... I love you..."

His little confession made your body tense up and your head lift, making him look up at you with terrified eyes. As if he had just said something to push you away, but instead of pulling away like he expected. You smiled gently and let one of your hands ruffle his hair affectionately.

"I love you too buddy, I love you too."

#Jason Todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd x y/n #Jason Todd angst #jason todd imagine #Jason Todd x reader angst #Jason Todd x you angst #DC #dc universe #DC Jason Todd #DC Jason Todd angst #DC Jason Todd x reader #DC Jason Todd x you #DC Jason Todd x reader angst #DC Jason Todd x you angst #DC Angst #starandcloud

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