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rambling-at-midnight · 18 days ago

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The Midnight Subway

Pairing: Five Hargreeves x GN!Reader

Deranged Five my beloved ❤️ They massacred your character

(this is not canon compliant in the slightest; prepare for gross misinterpretation of Five's new powers)

Summary: You are the only passenger on the timeline subway. You've met many iterations of the same traveler, but he never comes back. Until he does, and he finally asks the right questions. He claims to know how to stop the apocalypse, and all he needs is your help, but is he worth leaving behind all you know?

Word count: 3.6k

(AN: Confession: I never watched season 4 because I saw what a trainwreck it turned out to be, so this is very VERY loosely based in canon. Also the relationship between Five and Lila doesn’t exist because Genuinely What The Fuck. Basically I saw the vague concept of a time subway and ran with it.)

He’s covered in blood again.

He is more often than not.

In the middle of wiping arterial spray off his face with a handkerchief, he notices you, and surprise and suspicion flit over his face. Not a version of him that’s met you before, then. You’ve met him… eleven times now? All different versions from different timelines. All tired. All old beyond their years.

They get off at the same stop every time and never get back on.

This one’s wearing his school uniform. You’ve never seen him dressed like that before. His hair is long like the rest of them, though, strands hanging over his narrowed eyes.

“Who the hell are you?”

You blink. He’s not usually so aggressive. “I’m just a passenger.”

“How did you get here?”

You shrug. “Stepped off the station platform, I think.” It was a long time ago, except it wasn’t. You’ve been riding this subway for a very long time, except you haven’t. Your mind is filled with a hundred thousand identical minutes of staring out the window at the blurred lights, but you look exactly the same as you did when you boarded. “Hey, what year is it for you?” Sometimes he says something truly outrageous.

He ignores your question in favor of trying to pull open the subway doors, but they don’t budge. He curls his hands into fists. Blue light crackles around them and he pushes, but nothing happens.

You clear your throat. “Unfortunately, that won’t work. You’ll just have to wait until we get to your stop.”

“What do you mean, my stop?”

“I don’t know. I think you just have to feel it.”

“Well, aren’t you cryptic.” He rolls his shoulders and angles his chin, a tell you’ve noticed he does just before attacking. Sure enough, out comes the gun from his pocket. He angles it square at your forehead and snaps, “Explain. Now.”

“I can’t.” You raise your chin, daring him to shoot. You’re not sure if people can die on the subway. You’re not sure if you can die. You’re not sure that you don’t want to. “Obviously I’ve never felt it.” You gesture pointedly at your seat. “I’ve been here a long time.”

“How long?”

“Time doesn’t really exist here.”

For a moment it’s obvious that he’s internally debating whether or not to shoot you. “Fuck.” He shoves the gun back into his pocket. “When’s the next stop, then? I need to get off, I need to save my family. There’s an apocalypse—”

“I know,” you say gently. He’s always worried about one apocalypse or the other, always running from a million different ways to end the world. “You might as well sit. There’s no way to stop the train. It’ll stop when it’s meant to.”

“No. No, I don’t have time for this.” He shakes his head. “I’m finding a way out. You can rot here for all I care.”

“I won’t,” you say serenely. Until the timelines implode, you’ll continue to ride the subway. And once they do, you probably still will. It exists outside of the continuum. All that will change, you think, is that there will be no more stops. It’ll just be one long subway ride for eternity. If not, then at least you’ll go out painlessly.

He sighs and looks around for anyone to commiserate, but there’s only you. Without so much as a goodbye, he’s stalking away in that little ramble that reminds you sometimes of an adolescent bear: a dangerous beast that thinks it’s as large as it will be, not as it is now.

He slams the door to the next compartment. You sigh and scratch the cheap paint on the pole to your right. Sometimes he stays longer, sits down in a seat across from you and asks questions meant to seem casual, but you always know they're an interrogation.

You'll see another him soon enough. There's no indication of time on the subway—if it was real, it would be in an underground tunnel, and the only light comes from the flickering fluorescents above and the occasional tunnel light through the window. Days don't pass with the indication of a sun and moon. You're not sure if you've ever even slept. So you're not sure how long it will be before another shows up. Once two showed up at the same time and tried to kill each other. At least the survivor was nice enough to drag the body away before he got off.

Some time later you feel the subway shudder. You tilt forward slightly as it starts to slow down and eventually stop. Both sides of the doors open to a nondescript subway station, and the train repeats its usual monotone monologue. Time for him to get off, then. Maybe there's a difference in the destinations depending on which side you choose, but probably not. You're pretty sure the subway knows what its riders need.

An hour, a day, or a year passes, and the door to the next compartment opens. He steps through again. This one is wearing the same schoolboy uniform, and he doesn't look surprised to see you.

In fact, he's strangely intent.

"There's no one else on this train," he says, and you realize this is the same boy you just saw.

He came back.

He's never come back before.

Something stirs inside of you, something you haven't felt in a long time. It's still trapped beneath the blanket of dull apathy you've nurtured for so long, but its shape starts to rise in your throat.

"So why are you here? How are you here? Who even are you?" He stands in front of you close enough that you can see blood on the side of his neck that he didn't wipe off.

"I told you before. I got on. Why didn't you get off at your stop?" He's never stayed on the train longer than he has to. He's never stayed.

"This isn't a subway you can just 'get on.'" He uses finger quotes. "Do you work for the Temps Commission?"

"No," you say slowly. "I don't know what that is."

Abruptly he sits down across from you, loosens his tie, and asks, "What day were you born?"

"What a strange question. I don't know."

"You don't know an awful lot."

"I was born sometime in the fall of 1989," you say. "Sometime in September, I think, or maybe early October. That's what they estimated at the orphanage, anyway."

He sits back and runs a hand through his long hair. "You don't know."

"What do I not know."

"Who you are." He looks at you curiously. "That's why you keep ignoring the question."

You snort. It's not even very funny, but you haven't had anything to find amusing ever since you stepped on the platform. What a relief to learn that you can still laugh. Of all the things the universe stole from you, laughter isn't one of them. "Of course I know who I am. I'm one of you."

"What?"

"Or I was supposed to be." He still looks confused, so you elaborate, "One of the umbrellas."

"How do you know about that?"

"I didn't grow up on the train. I got on when I was nineteen. I saw your team all over the news growing up." A familiar hurt pangs in your stomach. "Why was I the only one your father didn't adopt?"

He lets out a long breath, then says, "Jesus." He stands up, then sits back down. “Well, if it makes you feel better, you weren’t the only one. Reginald only needed seven. He made forty-three.”

“Oh.” You slouch a little in your seat. It’s comforting to know that your exclusion wasn’t personal. You and thirty-five other kids hadn’t been found. Had their parents kept them? They probably had families. And even though the Umbrella Academy’s families hadn’t kept them, at least they had each other.

It’s comfortable to sink back into self-pity.

“So what can you do? Do you have a name, at least?”

“Of course I have a name,” you say, and tell him what it is. “Funny you ask me that when you’re the one that doesn’t. Is this where you went when you died?”

“No.” A shadow crosses over his face. “I went somewhere much worse.”

“Sorry,” you say after a pause. It seems like the appropriate response. You haven’t had a real conversation in a while. Or maybe you had the last one yesterday, just before stepping onto the subway.

“So what can you do?”

“Change time.”

“Excuse me?”

“How do you think I made it here?”

Technically, time broke when you and Five were born, bunching into little pockets like the one you made your home. When he jumped through time, though, he started the branching of realities.

The only real difference between you two is that you can manipulate time, and he can get in and out of it. That's not to say that he doesn't have its own influence over it, though.

"I made this little pocket of time into a circle, and around and around we go.” You spin your finger in the air. “But it’s because of you that it looks like a train. Five, who do you think broke the timeline in the first place?”

He stares at you, speechless.

“I didn’t mean to,” you say defensively. “And you didn’t know what you were doing.”

“That’s—just so—how does that make any sense? People are still dying! My family will die!” Instead of the gun, this time he pulls out a switchblade and flips it open. The tip glints under the fluorescents.

This has never happened before. The Fives never come back. They’ve never asked the right questions. After all, you’re not hiding anything.

“You can’t kill me,” you say wearily.

“I can try,” he growls, and lunges.

Here, you exist constantly. It's a circle and it's one stationary point. The track is an ouroboros, and the train isn't even moving. Five lunges and he doesn’t, and your throat splits and it doesn’t, and blood spills all down your front and it doesn't. You choke as it rushes out, and—

There is no blood. No cut. Five is back in his chair holding the switchblade, and you’re still in yours.

“You can’t surprise me,” you say apologetically. “I’ve seen everything. Before you even try to kill me I’m stopping you.”

“I’ll figure out a way,” he growls.

The subway grinds to a halt. You look around, surprised, when the brakes squeal. That’s never happened before. The announcement over the speakers is so gravelly you can barely understand a word.

The doors open. Five looks between you and the exit several times, then makes his decision.

“I’ll be back,” he promises. Threatening, like that’s supposed to scare you. You’d be glad for the company, you think. You’ve been sitting in silence for so long.

He steps off the train and the doors whoosh closed.

The ride starts again, and you fall back into the comfortable lull of the engine’s rumbling.

Some time later, the subway stops again. Its words are still garbled through the speakers. Technically, no time exists here, but you're pretty sure these intervals are out of the ordinary. Are they affecting the subway?

It starts back up again, and the connecting compartment's door opens. In walks a new Five. He's wearing the same schoolboy uniform as the last—you think. Instead of a spray of blood on his face and collar, though, he's completely soaked in it, like he drained a hundred bodies and bathed in their entrails. His hair is soaked flat against his head, and his teeth are red when he bares them.

"I'm back," he growls.

It's the same Five.

He came back again. No one's ever come back for you even once, let alone twice.

"What did you do?" Your stomach twists. You're not squeamish, but this is... a lot.

"I went to a diner," he huffs and sprawls in the chair across from you. The gaudy faux-velvet seat drinks the blood up greedily. "Met a lot of alternate versions of me."

"Did you kill them all?" you ask, horrified. Some of them had been polite. Gentle, even, beneath their hard exteriors.

"They had given up," he snarls. "They wanted me to give up on saving my family. I haven't spent decades of my life fighting for them to do that." A manic light shines in his eyes. "One of them made brisket."

Your lips twitch. "You're not a fan of brisket?"

"I like brisket fine," he says, giving you an annoyed side eye. "What I didn't like was their attitude."

"So you killed them all."

"Yes."

Well, at least he remains secure in his decisions.

“So I broke the timelines?”

“We both did.”

“So we’re the only ones with a chance of mending them.”

“I don’t think that’s possible.”

“Why not?” he challenges. “You said you made a pocket of time—this pocket of time—a circle. Why can’t you fix it?”

“Because our birth was what broke it in the first place,” you say sharply. “I don’t want to die.”

“You’re so selfish you wouldn’t sacrifice yourself for the world?”

“The world’s never done anything for me,” you say. Cruel foster home after foster home, orphanage between them, minimum wage paychecks kept in a box beneath your bed because you couldn’t open a bank account without guardian permission as a minor, and an abrupt stint at being homeless the moment you aged out of the system. You couldn’t afford housing even on the highest-paying job that would hire you. You couldn’t afford a college degree to get a better job. No, the world never did a thing for you. That’s why you left in the first place. “It’s not my responsibility to save it. Besides, you’d have to die, too. Are you willing to make that sacrifice?”

“For my family, in a heartbeat,” he says immediately. “I’ve killed plenty of people to save them. What’s another two more?”

“It doesn’t matter anyway,” you sigh. “For as long as we exist here, the timelines stop branching.”

“What?”

“I already did the world a favor by leaving, but you kept breaking it by jumping through time.”

“If you won’t come willingly, I’ll force you.”

“You could certainly try.”

“I’m leaving.” He stands abruptly.

You sigh as he does, accompanied by the train's distorted, "Arriving now—doors clear at—see you—"

What a miracle that he visited you thrice. The company should tide you over for a long while yet.

You sit for a while, just looking at the blood stain he left on the chair across from you. Eventually it starts to stink, or maybe that’s just in your head. Either way, looking at it makes your stomach turn.

Ever since you got on the train and sat down, you’ve never switched seats. It’s almost a surprise that you can stand up. You clutch the pole close to you for balance when the floor vibrates underneath your feet just slightly with the force of the train’s engine.

You head across the compartment and sit in a seat facing away from the bloodstain, but the back of your neck prickles. It’s in the shape of Five’s body, and you can’t stop picturing it coming together as a facsimile of a person, a terrible lumbering blood-shadow creeping up on you.

You jump to your feet and whirl around, but it’s just a bloodstain.

You can’t stay here, but you don’t know what the next compartment looks like.

Will it be exactly the same? Will it be completely different?

It's the same, and for some reason you can't bring your feet to stop moving. You pass through that car, then the next. They're all the same, except none have the bloodstain that Five left on his seat. Would it still be there if you were to return? Can you even go back?

You can't stop opening the doors, but the train never slows. You want to get off. You want to explore more of this inbetween space.

You want to find the Five that came back for you.

You give up after a hundred compartments and stand in the middle of one, clutching the nearest pole for dear life, barely swaying with the train's gentle movement. The train was always an escape for you, but now it seems more like a trap. One that you sprung on yourself without knowing how to get out.

Do you even want to get out?

The air shifts, and you turn just in time to see the bag close over your head.

Five drags you away from the pole and slams you into a seat. Something poking out of it digs into your back. You can only see the faint light filtering through the bag, and that makes you hyperfocused on Five's hands on your shoulders.

"I figured it out," he snarls, the sound so close he must not be more than an inch from your face. "You and everyone else that gave up were wrong. There's a way to save the world and save my family, so you're going to get off this train now, or you get off the train in thirty minutes after I cut off each of your fingers and feed them to you and you beg me to stop you."

You suck in a breath. It's one of his more graphic threats for sure. Oddly enough, you can't see how this will play out. The bag over your head means you can't see where the blows will come from.

For the first time in a long time, you're scared.

Your mouth opens without knowing what to say. You're saved by a screech of static. The train announces, "Congratulations! All passengers—to a book club—third compartment in any direction—Ben will see you there."

The pressure of Five's hands disappears from your shoulders, and you hear hurried footsteps. He never tied the bag, so you rip it off in time to see him pass through the door to the next compartment.

Your pulse bounds in your throat. That announcement was new, and makes the train sound much more sentient than any train ought to. You're supposed to be the one in charge of this pocket dimension, but what if you're not? What if someone else has been calling the shots this whole time?

You chase after Five. At least with him, you know what he wants. You know how to appease him. He doesn't go out of his way to hurt people, at least, though he doesn't seem to think of himself as anything more than a killer.

You only catch a glimpse of his heel in the next compartment. You start to run. What if the doors lead you to separate cars, and you never see him again? The only person that ever came back for you, and he did it four times.

You're still running when you make it to the third compartment, and you run straight into Five's back. He doesn't even seem to notice it, apart from stumbling a bit. He's too busy staring openmouthed at the man sitting down. His hair is a little bit longer than it was when you saw him last.

The stranger has dark hair and glasses, and there's a book forgotten on his lap. He looks just as surprised to see Five as Five is to see him.

Five chokes out, "Ben?"

Oh. Ben Hargreeves. Number six of the Umbrella Academy. The Horror. He always seemed so gentle when you saw him on TV, at least when he wasn't covered in blood.

"Five." Ben puts the book to the side and stands. Five is already striding towards him, and they collide into a tight hug.

Seconds later, Five pulls away and demands, "What are you doing here?"

"I don't know." Ben shrugs. "I woke up on this subway a couple days ago with this book."

A muscle twitches in Five's jaw. "And instead of trying to find a way out, you started to read it?"

Ben says, "It seemed like the right thing to do." His eyes slide past his brother and land on you. "Who's this?"

You introduce yourself and Ben's eyes widen. "That's you?"

"What do you mean?"

"It's hard to explain. It's just... you exist in this subway." The way he says exist sounds like he means something bigger. Deeper. He just doesn't know the right words for it, because there might not be any. "I was waiting for you to find me."

"Why?"

"It felt right."

What on earth does that mean? If it felt right for him to wait for you, why didn't it feel right for you to seek him out? Why did it take you decades or minutes to chase after Five and bump into Ben? None of it makes sense.

Five grabs Ben's sleeve. "Hold on to me." He looks at you and says firmly, "You have to let go."

"Let go of what?"

"You know what. The reason you got on the train in the first place. Y/N, you have to let go."

Your lips tremble. "I don't want to."

"I know. But you have to." Five's hand takes yours. He squeezes it comfortingly. "I need you for this. Won't you come with me?"

You take a deep breath.

And you let go.

Five x Reader Taglist

@statsvitenskap @dare-the-punisher @thespian-anon @ask-veronica-sawyer-heathers @fivegallaghers @ggclarissa @akiyamakuro @featuringcone9 @badluckqueen @littleamoux

My requests are open! As always, let me know if there's anything you particularly want to read!

#five hargreeves x reader #reader x number five #number five x reader #five hargreeves #tua #reader x five #five x reader #the umbrella academy #number five

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unclewaynemunson · 1 year ago

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A soft knock on the door and a half-whispered "hey there" wake Eddie up from an uneasy sleep. A strip of light shines through the gap of the door, illuminating the figure of Steve standing in the doorway.

"I got some soup for you. Are you feeling any better?"

Eddie shuffles into an upright sitting position while Steve comes into the room and hands him a warm bowl filled with what's unmistakably his aunt's homemade creamed potato soup. Even with his blocked nose, Eddie can still tell that it smells exactly how he remembered it.

Before he knows it, tears start blurring his vision. It's the fucking soup that does it. The smell that brings back memories he tried so hard to leave behind when he suddenly had to leave what he once called his home more than ten years ago.

“Oh, honey,” says Steve in a voice that is so soft and caring that it makes Eddie want to cry even more. He sits down on the bed, right next to Eddie, and wraps both his arms around him, careful not to spill any of the soup. “This fucking sucks, right?”

“It does,” Eddie says quietly, and that's really all he needs to say. Steve will understand. Steve knows exactly how much Eddie was looking forward to this week, how excited he was to return to the mountains and to be reunited with his family and to show Steve all the places that hold so much meaning to him.

For ten years he hadn't been able to visit. He had missed the mountain air like a chopped-off limb and seen his cousins grow up only through grainy polaroid pictures. And now that he's finally here, his body decided to betray him and keep him chained to his bed with the worst fucking cold he’s ever had.

It's been so long since he has been home that it almost doesn't really feel like home anymore. He never wanted to leave in the first place, but the circumstances gave him no choice. When his dad got locked up Eddie had nowhere else to go but to his Uncle Wayne, who lived states away and who he had only met twice before in his life. He had to leave everyone he cared about behind: his grandma, who would've taken him in within a heartbeat if she hadn't been too old to take care of a ten-year-old kid; his mother, who had already slipped away too deep into her addictions to keep Eddie around in good conscience; his aunt and uncle, who had too many mouths to feed with too little money and couldn't afford the additional burden of another rapidly growing teenager; and his many cousins, of course, who grew up side-by-side with him and made the move feel like he was leaving an unmissable part of his soul behind.

Granted, moving in with Wayne soon turned out to be not by far as dramatic as Eddie had prepared himself for. It turned out that Wayne was actually a better parent to Eddie than his dad ever was. But no matter how much love and care Wayne gave him over the years, it could not be enough to replace home. Nothing was.

Ten years had passed since Eddie left. Most of the cousins moved out, either to find a better life for themselves or to follow the path that Eddie's father had taken. Some of them had kept in touch with Eddie, some of them hadn't. Some of them had gained a family of their own, with spouses and nephews and nieces who Eddie never got to meet.

And now he's back, and everything keeps going differently than how he envisioned it.

He blinks away his tears and tries to eat as much as he can stomach of his aunt's soup.

“Your cousin Jay called,” Steve tells him. “He insisted on visiting tomorrow, whether you're feeling better or not. He said he can’t wait to see you.”

“That's nice,” Eddie answers flatly. “D'you know he hasn't reached out to me in years?” He sighs. “It's so weird to be back here. I thought it would be different.”

“Different how?”

“More like coming home, I guess. But all the places have changed. I barely know some of those people anymore.”

He places the unfinished bowl of soup aside. Steve pulls him closer in his arms and presses a gentle kiss on his curls.

“I've felt so angry about Hawkins for so long,” Eddie admits to him, “but now it's like I don't belong here anymore either.”

“You do belong in Hawkins, you know,” Steve tells him.

Eddie huffs.

“No, I'm serious,” Steve insists. “Has Wayne ever told you that he thinks you coming to live with him was the best thing that ever happened to him?” He doesn't wait for an answer as he continues: “And your bandmates, the Hellfire Club, all those lost sheepies you've been looking out for over the years... Maybe Hawkins didn't exactly welcome you with open arms when you just came there, but you made a home there. You did that.”

“And where are you on that list, Stevie?” Eddie asks, a teasing edge returning to his voice despite how awful he’s still feeling.

It takes Steve a few seconds to answer, but when he does, he sounds surprisingly soft and genuine, almost shy.

“Wherever you want me to be.”

“Don't worry big boy,” Eddie tells him softly, nuzzling his face into Steve's chest, where it's warm and where the sound of Steve's heartbeat forms a comforting presence. “You're the most important part of what home means. Top of the list, whether we're in Hawkins or here in the south or on the other side of the world.”

Steve hums and kisses Eddie's temple.

“I do wish this week would've been more like how you wanted it to be,” he says. “But for what it's worth, it sounded like Jay was really excited about reconnecting with you. Let's see if you can sleep off this cold, and tomorrow will be a new day, alright?”

Steve starts to pull away to leave Eddie alone in the bed again, but Eddie clenches his fists around the fabric of his polo.

“Stay with me?”

Steve chuckles softly. “Of course.”

He sits back down on the bed with his back against the wall and gently manhandles Eddie until he's lying with his head in Steve's lap. And with Steve's fingers softly stroking through his hair, Eddie quickly drifts back to sleep again.

Tomorrow will be a new day. And even if being back is bittersweet, at least Steve is with him - and the sound of Steve's heartbeat will always be home.

This one's for my dear friend dae @strawberryspence because sometimes life sucks and while nothing can actually solve it, some warm soup and a loving hug can at least make things a little bit more bearable <3

#don't mind me rambling about stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #fruity ficlet

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jay7543 · 8 months ago

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okay so I absolutely LOVED your king!Konig x reader! I was wondering if you could do a Mechanic Konig and male reader? So reader has absolutely no idea how to fix his car and he goes to Konig’s shop for help, it can be fluffy or smutty

I love your posts and I can’t wait for the next update!!

Your hot new mechanic, könig

M4m

Sfw

Thank you so much! I’m so happy you liked it, I feel like there needs to be more gay/ bi man stuff so I am happy to provide. It’s a bit shorter than my other stuff, but I might make a part 2 that has more spicy stuff, so let me know if you want that too

Feel free to make requests!!! Doesn’t have to be cod

You have had your car for a pretty long time, by all accounts it’s an absolute piece of shit, but you love it. Lately you’ve been having so many problems with it, every fucking light is on and you just don’t know at all how to fix it, and honestly, you don’t care that much either, but your friend told you about a new mechanic nearby, and apparently he’s hot. You decide to call him

Reader-“hello? I’d like to bring my car in”

You say hesitantly, really not wanting to spend the money but also not sure about this supposedly very hot guy

König-“Ja, sure, come in when you can”

He immediately hangs up the phone, not even asking your name, well, if he’s as good as you’ve been told then who cares. You drive to his shop, not far from your house. When you get there he’s already waiting outside wearing partly ripped jeans and a white, sweat soaked t-shirt, almost as if he’s trying to show off, you guess he doesn’t have any other customers. You park near him and get out.

Reader-“hey uh, I talked to you on the phone?”

He looks you up and down, taking in you and your average looking self. You do the same to him, yet he looks a lot better, his hands covered in dried oil, his shirt soaked in sweat, his bright blue eyes staring at you, you can even see his abs through his shirt.

König-“I know, so, what’s wrong with it”

Reader-“uh, well, I don’t know much about cars, every light is on though”

You say with a nervous smile. He keeps his blank look and sticks out his hand, assumably for your keys, you hand them to him. He opens your door and pops your hood, doing…well you have no idea, you assume he’s doing what he’s supposed to, you hear him yell

König-“Was zum Teufel! When was the last time you changed you oil, or changed the damn battery”

You look around, debating whether or not you should talk

Reader-“well…I guess a few years”

He peeks out from the hood and glares at you

Reader-“I can pay whatever you need, i-I just don’t wanna get a new one. I don’t know a lot but I really like this one you know”

You say quietly, getting a bit embarrassed and sentimental about your shit box car. His gaze softens and he nods

König-“well, it won’t be easy, nor cheap, but i understand, and I’ll get it done”

He closes the hood and walks over to you, only a few inches away, you blush a bit as you start to smell whatever cologne he has on mixed with his sweat, it smells oddly good to you.

König-“you know, you’re a very pretty man, I’m not surprised you don’t know much about cars”

He chuckles. You blush even more, he called you pretty!

Reader-“I uh…well I guess you’re right. And thanks for the compliment, you look nice too”

He smiles at your obvious nervousness.

König-“let me go get something for you”

He walks away and comes back a few minutes later, he hands you a set of keys to a nearby car, an average car, nothing special but a car nonetheless.

König-“since you clearly can’t drive yours, use one of mine, I do expect It back however”

Your mouth hangs slightly agape, he’s letting you borrow his car till yours is fixed? This has to mean he likes you.

Reader-“well I-can I get your number? So we can call and text about my car. I don’t wanna have to call your shop”

He smiles and exudes an aura of confidence, as if he was waiting for you to ask. He grabs a piece of paper out of his pocket and a pen he had to write his number. He he takes your hand and places the paper in yours, keeping it held in his

König-“you know, feel free to call me, even if it’s not about your car, I know more than just cars.”

He kisses your hand and leans in to whisper in your ear

König-“I also think I could please you. No?”

He smiles and pulls away, letting go of your hand. You’re so shocked that you can’t even come up with words to respond, you just nod and stumble over to the car he’s letting you borrow. You’re definitely gonna call him

#cod x reader #m4m #bisexual #gay #smut #cod smut #konig x male reader #könig x you #könig x reader #konig x reader #könig fanfiction #könig smut #cod fanfic #cod fic #cod konig

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frogey-boi · 3 months ago

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Late nights

Wolverine (worst Logan) x reader

Kinda hurt/comfort

Word count: 558

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

For context you have been roommates with Wade and Logan for a few months now. Wade of course was super bubbly, especially after cocaine, he’d also some weird stuff at a random wall sometimes but nothing to crazy.

Logan however was distant but had his moments of weakness where he crack a smile or chuckle. However after every time you felt like you bonded with him he would distance himself for you and Wade the next day.

Now in present day you were sitting on your phone on the couch at about 2 in the morning. You knew you should be asleep but you used to staying up late without a reason, (except maybe reading some fan fiction ;D -Wade). As you’re sitting minding your business Wade comes into the apartment with a drunk Wolverine over his shoulder.

“Heya will you take this for me thanks” Wade said dumping Logan next to you on the couch.

“What the hell happened to him” you question

“Well danger tits over hear decided it would be fun to get hammered without me today then get kicked out of the bar for stabbing a guy, with the shard from a glass he through at someone” Wade explained while locking the door back.

“I’m fine you bloody tampon looking ass thing” Logan shouted in protest clearly intoxicated.

“See what I mean, anyways can you take him to his room while I take my suit off”Wade says taking his mask off.

“As long as this time you undress in your room and not the middle of the kitchen again” you say staring at him.

“…….UGHHHHHHHH, your no fun y’know that” Wade exclaimed walking away.

“For fucks sake, SHUT YOUR LOUD AS UP FOR GODS SAKE WILL YA” Logan shouted clearly having a headache. Whether it from a hangover or not it seemed bad.

You grabbed Logan under the shoulder and with little protest he started to walk with you. Despite a slight mumble he was relatively quiet. Once you sat him down on his bed you soon found out it was cause he was crying.

“The readers are gonna love this” you hear Wade shouting across the hall.

You were never really good with others emotions, let alone a mutant over 200 years old. Not knowing what to do you just sit down next to him. You grab his hand and just hold it. He eventually starts to lean on your shoulder.

“Oh god… I’m supposed to be strong, I have to be strong, I lost everything once, I don’t wanna lose it again” he says wiping his eyes with his free hand.

“Oh Logan” you say pulling him into a hug.

You both sat there in silence just letting Logan have a moment. After awhile you heard a light snore. You try to pull back out he’s still got you in a tight embrace. As you try to lay him down and get him off you he, dose move one of his hands off you, however it was just cause he was grabbing a blanket and throwing it over the both of you. You tried to shimmy your way out under but to no luck. (Or a lot if you see it like that ;] )

As Logan holds you, under his breath he says “I’m not losing anyone else, especially not you”.

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

#deadpool and wolverine #deadclaws #marvel fanfiction #fanfic #worst logan #worst wolverine #wade wilson #wolverine x reader #logan howlett #deadpool 3

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stargazing-imagines · 1 year ago

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The Grudge — Conrad Fisher x Fem!reader

Description: you and Conrad breakup the 2 summers before after him cheating on you, but what happens when you come back to cousins beach with another lover? Leaving him regretting what he did.

Warning: Conrad being a jerk, bad writing.

Fandom: the summer I turned pretty

Requested: no

A/n: this song is based on the song the grudge by Olivia Rodrigo! Oh and this isn’t going to have a happy ending, but if you want a part two then let me know because this can definitely work with a part two!

It has been a few years since you have last seen Conrad, after the heartache of seeing him kiss belly was clear vision of why he was acting weird that one summer.

Here you were in the passenger seat of your fiancés car as you and him were driving to cousins beach for Susannah’s annual Fourth of July party. Everyone was going to be there, Laurel, Steven, Jeremiah, Belly, even Conrad.

You wanted to turn down the invitation, but Susannah pushed you into coming after she saw your Facebook pictures of your engagement to Anthony and wanting to meet him.

“How are you feeling, tell me honestly.” Said Anthony as he placed his hand on top of your shaking hands, you clutched you’re hands with his looking down

“Honestly… im nervous.” You said “from what Susannah said, everyone has changed,”

“What do you mean?” Asked Anthony as he looked at you then back at the road

“For starters, belly is grown up.” You said “Susannah even told me that she’s doing the debutante ball.”

“Didn’t you do it?” Asked Anthony as he kept his eyes on the road

“Yeah, the summer before I left…”

That was also the day that you and Conrad have broken up, he was your escort to the ball when all the sudden he kissed another girl

“Yeah, she even invited me to come watch her.”

“Are you going to?”

You scoffed before shaking your head

“And watch belly and Conrad together?” You said “nope.”

After you said that, he pulled into the driveway of the beach house, putting the car in park. He turned the car off before turning towards you.

“Remember… I’ll always be by your side.” Said Anthony as he gave your knuckles a kiss before stroking your cheek

“Guys she’s here!” You heard Susannah say as she rushed to your car door, opening it

“I missed you.” Said susannah as she gave you a gut squeezing hug before pulling away eyes lighting up at the sight of you’re fiancé. “you must be Anthony.”

“Yep.” Said Anthony as he gave Susannah a hug “it’s a pleasure to meet you, y/n has told me a lot of things about you and your family.”

“Good things I hope.” Said Susannah “Jeremiah, Steven! Help Y/n and Anthony get their stuff in the house!”

“So how did you two meet?” Asked belly

She was currently stood next to Gigi and the other debs as she was talking to you

“You mean me and Anthony?” You asked

“Yeah, when’s the wedding?” Asked gigi as she eyed your engagement ring

“Oh… next summer.” You said setting your stuff down

“Maybe you could have it at cousins!” Suggested belly “I could be your bridesmaid!”

You laughed at belly

“Bells you are already my bridesmaid whether I get married or not.”

You looked at Anthony who was talking to Jeremiah and Steven, he looked at you before smiling and waving at you, you waved back.

That was until you saw him.

Conrad fisher, giving the both of you death glares, you looked back at belly

“Is everything alright with Conrad?” You asked “he’s acting…”

“Strange?” Asked belly “yeah he’s been like that all summer.”

“Im going to talk to him.”

With that you sat your stuff down before following him inside the house

“Why don’t you go back outside with your lover boy?” Asked Conrad as he yelled at you “I don’t want you.”

“Why are you being like this?” You asked frustrated “you used to be so sweet and kind and gentlemanly… what happened?”

“You happened!” Said Conrad “the summer you left… I was devastated.”

“Look Conrad…”

“Please give us another chance.” Said Conrad “to make it right.”

“I can’t Conrad…” you said “I’m sorry…”

—

The summer I turned pretty masterlist

#the summer i turned pretty #tsitp imagine #conrad fisher imagine #conrad fisher x you #conrad fisher x reader #conrad x reader #tsitp conrad #tsitp #Spotify

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iichaeyj · 2 years ago

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YOU ARE IN LOVE

PAIRING: best friend!jake x f!reader GENRE: fluff, mutual pining WARNINGS: mentions of alcohol (both jake and the reader are overage!), not proof read WORD COUNT: 3.3k

A/N: inspired by "You Are In Love" by taylor swift !!

You look around the room filled with flashing lights and people dancing around each other in search for a familiar face. Turning your head side to side, you scan the room until your eyes land on a set of brown hair that you've known since you were in middle school. You smile immediately upon sighting Jake and you squeeze your way through the crowd of people to go to him.

"Jake!" you shout above the music as you wave your right hand fervently in the air as you get closer to him.

Hearing your voice, his eyes meet yours and instantly brings a smile to his face. "You ready to leave?" he shouts back.

As you approach your best friend, he grabs your outstretched hand and pulls you to him. His hand holds yours as he's done many times before, and you're lucky that the red lighting in the room hides the growing blush on your face.

In response to his question, you nod quickly. "I think I've had as much fun as I could have," you say as he leans in closer to hear.

Jake quickly finishes the red solo cup in his hand and sets it down next to the table, his left hand not letting go of yours. He nods his head towards the front door and leads you out of the party. The cold air relieves you after the hours of dancing with random strangers that left you feeling hot. The music begins to fade into the background and all you can hear is the owl of the night and your ever-growing heartbeat as you look down at the hand Jake still has hold of.

"Did you have fun?" you ask your best friend who has slowed down to match your pace.

He thinks for a moment, his eyes fixed on the night sky before looking back at you. "It was alright," he shrugs. "I think you enjoy these things more than I do."

You think back on the night you've just had. Ever since you two arrived, you've spent the night talking with your friends, playing games, and dancing with people you're probably never going to see again. However, Jake had spent his entire night standing behind you, drinking water in the corner of the room, or occasionally talking to Heeseung whenever he was nearby.

You frown at the realization that the night might've been less than exciting for Jake. "You didn't have to take me here, you know," you say. "I didn't want you to have a bad time."

"I never said I had a bad time," Jake retorts with a small shrug. "I got to see how bad you are at dancing."

You roll your eyes as you give him a small shove, earning a laugh from the boy next to you. "I'm a wonderful dancer, even Niki said so!" you argue.

"Well Niki has also once said that he doesn't believe in global warming, so I'm not sure you wanna take his word for it," he teases further with his signature grin on his face.

"Whether I'm a good dancer or not," you say, shooting him a glare, "you still shouldn't have come if you weren't gonna do anything! We could've stayed in and watched a movie or something."

"You wanted to go, though," he says in a soft tone, giving your hand a squeeze. "You know I'd go anywhere you want me to, as long as it's with you."

The cold air does nothing to help your burning face and you turn your face away from him to stare at the ground instead. As you make your way closer to his car, you think about the feelings you've been harboring for your best friend for over a year now. Having been by your side since the 6th grade, Jake knows every single little detail about you. From what kind of clothes you like to what each of your sighs mean, it seems impossible to keep things from him. However, the inevitable realization of how he's grown over the years and how he takes care of you, and seemingly only you, has made you keep a secret that you're too afraid to share.

You wake up with a pounding headache in a familiar room that's not yours. You instantly sit up after realizing you weren't in your house, quickly glancing around the room. However, the smell of cologne and the science textbooks laid on the desk next to the bed tells you enough and puts you at ease once again. You groan from the headache threatening to split your skull.

"Here, take this," you hear as the door opens with a loud creak. You look up to be met by Jake staring down at you with a hangover cure in one hand and a plate of eggs and bacon in the other.

You gratefully take the hangover cure, downing it in one go and muttering a "thanks" as you take the plate from his hands. Jake sits down in front of you in the bed, watching your every move as you eat the breakfast with the fork he had also provided.

"Are you feeling better?" Jake asks with a soft smile once you finish eating.

You nod slowly as you set the plate down on the desk next to you. "What happened?" you ask with a sheepish grin, your hands fumbling with the gray sheets of his bed.

"Well Jay drove you over here after you had too many drinks at a party, claiming that he didn't know where you lived and you refused to tell him your address, so he took you here," Jake says, then pointing at the plate he had made you, "and I just nursed you back to health."

You blush in embarrassment, looking down at the hoodie you had on over your clothes from last night.

Noticing your gaze, Jake comments, "And you also asked for all of my clothes, including undergarments, but considering I have to go to a lecture later today, I just gave you a hoodie in hopes that you'd be satisfied."

Jake smiles cheekily as you get more embarrassed, fragments of the night before now coming back to you. "I feel like I owe you dinner," you finally say with a sigh.

"You know I never decline free food, but you don't really 'owe' me anything," Jake replies.

You let out a loud groan as you hide your face with your hands. "This is so embarrassing, Jake!" you complain, face pink at the horrifying realization that you had asked your best friend for his underwear for no reason whatsoever.

Jake takes your hands off your face with his, smiling as he sees your flushed face. "It isn't that bad. Remember that time we had a lecture and the teacher heard you talking about how you wanted to shine his bald head?"

You give Jake a push as you're forced to relive your worst memories right in front of him, your face heating up again. However, Jake, on the other hand, seems to be enjoying your suffering. "Come on, it isn't that bad," he says with a softer voice when he sees your flushed cheeks. "It was just me."

"It's still so embarrassing, though," you complain.

"I've known you since you had that bowl cut in middle school," Jake says with a convincing smile, raising his hand to tuck your hair behind your ear. "Trust me when I say that nothing could ever make me see you in any way that's not endearing."

His words tickle your ear as you hear them, the gentle tone of his voice mixed with his hand that lingers by your face hitting you harder than it should've. You look up and see his face already looking at you, eyes big just as they always are, but somehow holding more meaning to them than they ever did before. You find yourself subconsciously memorizing the way his hands feel against your skin and the way his lips are coated in a smile whenever he talks to you. You knew that Jake was attractive, but this feeling was something that shouldn't be happening to you, not with your best friend.

You let out a small gasp and snap away from your trance, the realization of the thoughts you just had hitting you all at once. "I should get going, my roommate is probably wondering where I am," you say as you make your way to the door.

Jake nods as you grab your bag he had kept for you by the side of the bed. "I'll see you later then?" he asks.

"Yeah, of course," you reply with a faint smile as you leave. "Come over whenever you want."

"Alright," he says as he waves you off. "I'll make sure to buy you some men's underwear for the next visit!" he says as you leave, and you could hear the smile in his voice that left you feeling more vulnerable than it should've.

Ever since that morning, you've become increasingly aware of yourself around your best friend. Being affectionate since you two were kids, it wasn't abnormal for Jake to have his arm around your shoulders or his hand to be intertwined with yours. You've heard your friends joke about the romance that could spark between you two, but you didn't take it seriously until you came to the realization that he spoke words to you that you've never heard from anyone else.

Jake holds the door open for you as you near his car, the music from the party now barely being able to be heard. "After you, princess," Jake says, bowing slightly to which you feel the need to roll your eyes again. You let go of his hand to get in his passenger's seat and watch as Jake strides over to the driver's seat. Your eyes catch the way the moonlight hits his face and the way his hair moves slightly in the wind and you feel the same feeling you first had in his apartment that morning and have been feeling ever since.

"Can I ask you something?" Jake asks as he drives off, turning the radio on.

"Yeah, what is it?" you ask as the music begins to fill the quiet sound of the night.

"Did I do something wrong?"

Silence sets in. You couldn't think of anything he had done that remotely insulted or hurt you in any way. In fact, Jake being too kind to you was the only problem you had concerning him.

"I feel like you've been growing distant since last month," he says as he stops at the red light. He turns to look at you and the sheer sorrow in his eyes make you hold your breath. You've never seen him look so sad and it both pains and delights you in a strange way. You feel sorry for your best friend who's done nothing wrong, but seeing how you incite such emotion in him that you know no one else can makes you hopeful for a bigger role in his life.

Remembering last month, however, makes you dread the conversation you know you were bound to have.

You sit on the steps of a house hosting a frat party. You could hear people in the background whispering amongst themselves about things you had no idea about. You sit on the concrete and you barely get a chance alone until you hear footsteps come and halt in front of you.

"I was wondering where you went," Jake says as he sits down next to you. "I heard that your ex is here, too."

You let out a small sigh as you look down at the ground, the pebbles lining the ground garnering all your attention. The truth was that you've been over your ex ever since you realized your feelings for Jake. Seeing your ex didn't hurt, but seeing Jake talking to a pretty senior did.

You had to watch as a gorgeous brunette strutted over to Jake from across the room, smiling at him so brightly that Jake smiled back. Watching the two of them, even for a moment, as an outsider made you feel scared for the future you two held if your feelings continued. At the end of the day all you want is what's best for Jake, but the lump in your throat everytime he gets near you is becoming increasingly hard to ignore. And when Jake makes eye contact with you as he's talking to the girl, you suddenly couldn't handle the tension in the room.

"You know, he really isn't worth your time," Jake says in a gentle voice. "He looks much worse without you, and honestly, I think you could've done much better."

You nod and turn your head to give him a bitter smile. You didn't have the courage to tell him that he was the reason you had to leave.

"You deserve someone who takes care of you," Jake says. "Someone who knows you well and would never abandon you."

Hearing no response from you, Jake takes the initiative to move and crouch in front you, forcing you to meet his gaze. "Look at how lucky I am," Jake says with a smile, "to be able to be by your side like this. There's nothing more I could ask for and your ex is an idiot to think otherwise."

The blatant staring contest you two were having matched the same one you had in his room almost a year ago. Your breath still hitched the same way it had the first time, but this time you could focus on the way he looked back at you. His gaze never faltered as he looked into your eyes, almost as if he was searching for something inside your heart. The way he looked at you had never felt so different, but the familiarity of Jake told you that you were safe.

You never had the chance to tell Jake that you weren't jealous over your ex, but him instead. Ever since that night, you've grown increasingly worried about your growing feelings for him and the nagging uncertainty of whether he felt the same. Due to this, you've found yourself taking time away from Jake and going out more. If it weren't for Jake's insistence that he come tonight, you weren't sure when you'd feel able to see him again.

The silence becomes worse as Jake glances at you expectantly, waiting for an answer. However, the temptation to tell him how you truly feel about him is one that you don't wish to give into. The burden of putting your entire relationship with him was on the line and it could snap depending on how Jake felt. With three words, you could possibly end things with the one person you truly love and have loved since you were a kid.

"I wasn't upset because of my ex," you finally say after a decade of silence. "I've been over him for over a year now."

Jake drives in silence as he waits for you to continue, but the line between friendship and whatever would come next was being increasingly shaky.

"Do you have somebody you love?" you ask, your eyes never diverging from the empty road in front of you.

"I do," Jake says as he makes a turn and goes down your street.

"Do you know how it feels when you're constantly scared that the person you love might not love you back and that maybe they'll find love within someone else," you say, not so much as a question but a statement, as Jake pulls onto the sidewalk right in front of your house.

Jake pauses.

You could hear the gears turning in his head. He thinks about the party from a month ago, the way his gaze fluttered from the senior girl to you. He thinks about the moments you two had shared eye contact that never seemed to truly break. He thinks about the times you two sat in silence with nothing being said between you two, but the simple feeling of being in your presence being enough for him. He thinks about you in the way you finally want him to, and the way he's been thinking about you for years now.

"I do," he says in a whisper.

He looks at you and you look back. He knew every detail about you and he understood what your words meant.

"You're my best friend," Jake says, this time barely above a whisper.

His words don't confuse you. Though many may misinterpret his words to be a way of rejecting you, you know that he doesn't feel that way. You could feel it in the way his hand inches closer to you and the way his eyes fall on every detail of your face.

Being someone's best friend meant that they were your home. You two have been each other's safe place since you two first met many years ago. Being best friends didn't mean to Jake Sim that he wanted to keep it that way. Being best friends meant that he was reassuring you that nothing you could say would change how he felt about you and that you felt safe enough for him to finally admit what he wants.

His hand finally reaches you, giving your hand a small squeeze before he reaches up to touch the side of your face. The air is warm and the song from the radio still plays as he looks at you in a way that finally offers an answer.

You knew what it meant.

You knew what it was.

He is in love.

He looks at you again and you give him a small nod. He leans in the same time you do and you share the kiss you've been dreaming about. His hand cups your face and your hand reaches out to hold his. His lips are soft and kiss you gently in a way that tells you that you're safe and that he's been waiting for this moment just as much as you have. His eyes flutter open as you two pull away, his hand still cupping your face and looking at you no differently than how he previously had.

Nothing had changed. Although you two were now classified as something more than just friends, the title of being best friends still remain. You would still see him during class and you were bound to embarrass yourself many more times in front of him, but now you two could share a kiss after every moment and share hugs that meant more than just friendship.

"I'll see you tomorrow?" you say quietly, not wanting to break the atmosphere between you two.

"Yeah, I'll pick you up at 8 AM for class," Jake says, his tone matching yours.

The walk back into your house carries the moment you just had. From the moment you unbuckled your seatbelt to you leaving the car to entering your place, the feeling of Jake Sim didn't leave. The kiss left you breathless even after you had placed your bag on the floor and thrown your jacket onto your couch, and it almost left you from hearing the knocking on the door.

You open the door slightly to find Jake standing there. You stare at him and he doesn't answer.

"I thought you were picking me up tomorrow." you say.

"I can't just leave like this," Jake mutters as he steps forward and closes the gap between you two, cupping your face as he pulls you closer for another kiss.

The feeling of his denim jacket hitting your skin and the ecstasy of his hands on your face hits you with the same feeling again. You felt light on your feet and he left you breathless once again. The feeling of Jake Sim being yours and standing in your front door gave you reassurance of what everything was.

You are in love.

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#iichaeyj #iichaeyj writes #enhypen #enhypen x reader #enhypen imagines #enhypen fluff #enhypen headcanons #enhypen reactions #enhypen scenarios #enhypen drabbles #jake #jake x reader #jake headcanons #jake reactions #jake fluff #jake scenarios #jake drabbles #jake enhypen

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adventuringblind · 1 year ago

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Butterflies on You Skin

Oscar Piastri x Reader

Genre: angst and hurt/comfort

Request: No, this is entirely self indulgent

Summary: Sometimes, the coping mechanisms we create aren't the ones we need...

Warnings: graphic images if SH

Notes: I do not in any way condone SH. I used to read fics like this when I was going through it and it helped. Like somehow reading about fictional me doing it and then getting help allowed he to have those same sensations. My point being that I am struggling at the time I'm writing this and I'm determined to stay clean (almost two years!). This helps me and I hope it helps someone else out there too. Remeber you're not alone ❤️

Masterlist

People don't understand that pain can become addicting. When you've been through so much of it, all of it not by choice, choosing the pain feels like a release.

She knows it's wrong. She knows there are better ways of dealing with things. But she can't see to stop herself.

It's her way of reminding herself she has power and control. She picks where the knife goes and how deep it cuts into her skin. She chooses when and where it happens.

It was something she needed and relied on for so long. Until she met Oscar.

They were teenagers when they met. Some birthday party for a mutual friend. Both of them left feeling out of place, so they gravitated towards each other.

Phone numbers were exchanged.

They spent far too much time talking to each other. She felt that he kept her down to earth. That no matter the bad things that happened, he would be there. Even replacing the knife occasionally.

He found her intriguing. Her perspectives on life and her dreams for the future. Her head had a tendency to get stuck in the clouds, but he didn't mind. He likes listening to her talk.

When they both graduate, he invites her to his races. Watching him felt fulfilling in a way, and she likes the traveling.

Yet when she's alone. Her head is sending her to places she can't come back from. When she needs the sting she's come to crave, she's spending the night with her knife.

When Oscar finishes his f2 career and becomes the third driver for Alpine, he ends up confessing his feelings for her. Something she's been wanting to do for years but never could.

A week later, he's kissing her. Her heads find the clouds easily after that. Something about his presence and how he is so genuine clears away the hurricane that is her thoughts.

Being a third driver means Oscar does have a bit more free time. He gets to go home to see her more often. Something she's not used to.

The Australian gets home late one night. He comes in quietly since he figures she's already asleep.

Oh, how terribly wrong he is.

She'd had a fight with her family earlier that day. Her parents have never been good at communication, and they still claim they gave her a better life than what they had. Which is true, she thinks.

She has no reason to be sad.

Another reason to draw the sharp edge across her skin. Another thin red line to add to the ever growing tally.

Oscar sees the bathroom door closed and the light turned on. He hears the clatter next. He presses his ear to the door. Debating whether to make his presence known or if that would scare her more than if he waited.

The hiss of pain is what gets him. "Love? Are you alright?" All movement on the other side stops. Then the clatter again.

She hates when she gets sloppy. She knows she's gone too far, and Kscar wasn't supposed to be home until tomorrow.

She stares down at the crimson colored lines. The contents of the wounds coat her skin at dripping to the floor.

"Love? Please answer."

But she can't answer. what is she supposed to say? That her unhealthy coping mechanism is finally becoming her undoing. The she's tried to stop but the sensation is something she's learned to crave?

Oscar tried the handle. Received to find it unlocked. He opens just a small crack. He's never been one to invade her privacy.

The look of pain in his eyes makes her sob. He dosent move when he sees her. His mind trying to register what he's seeing.

How had he never noticed until now?

He can tell she’s panicking. He gently moves himself to the floor, grabbing a towel as he goes. He doesn’t say anything, just gently start to clean her up.

When he’s successfully disinfected the wounds and has bandages them up, he lead her into their room.

“I know it’s hard, but we have to talk about it.”

She just shakes her head in response. He deserves an explanation. Really, he deserves someone better.

She just tells him everything. Basks in the gentleness of his voice and warmth of his touch as she does so.

She was expecting him to leave. Her mind convinced she was unlovable in her state. After all, who could fall in love with someone who crave the sting of a knife?

But she was wrong.

Oscar was somehow filled with a new sense of purpose and they found themselves working together to help her pull through to the other side. A reminder that she is far from alone.

He’s quick to find a way to help her and when he does it feels almost magical.

The butterfly project. The goal is to not kill the butterflies.

They start small. She puts the butterfly on her hand. Just a simple doodle.

It doesn’t last long and she’s crying over the fact she killed it.

The next time around there are two butterflies. One on her and one in Oscar. His drawing take much more time. His deliberate design giving her more motivation to not ruin it.

It’s gone in two weeks and she relapses that day. Yet the fact she made it that far was an accomplishment.

Soon the butterflies are everywhere. Both their arms covered.

It became something she did when she was bored. Her hands drawing the bugs in every open surface.

It was difficult and she slipped but she was getting better.

Oscar was so incredibly proud of her. He got asked frequently about the creatures that littered his skin. He just said he liked them and so does his girlfriend.

When Oscar started with McLaren, Lando noticed them immediately. “If you ever need to talk I’m here if you want.” Oscar shoots him a confused look before remembering the lovely blue butterfly colored in with Sharpie placed in the middle of his forearm.

So she's made it to a year. Sure, she's slipped here and there, but it's nothing like it used to be. It's something to celebrate.

Oscar spends the entire day with her. Praising her acomplishment and reminding her how proud he is if her and how proud she should be of herself.

She is proud. It's something she never thought she could do. Not on her own, at least.

It's Oscar that helped her through and the butterflies in her skin.

Now she's has a permanent one. A reminder she came through to the other side. A reminder that she is not alone. Most importantly, a reminder she's loved.

Remember you're not alone.

This was somewhat based on a true story. Here's my reminder to myself every day that I'm not done yet, and neither are you. Keep fighting loves ❤️

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spacecaravan · 1 year ago

Text

Birthday Candles

pairing: pre-outbreak joel miller x reader word count: 5.5k 🎂🎈

The sounds of little girls' laughter, music over the stereo and the telltale slashing of a Slip ‘N Slide were all you could hear from inside the Miller’s kitchen.

July in Austin was brutal but, when Sarah asked if she could have friends over for a birthday party Joel couldn’t say no.

How do you say no to a little girl about to turn 11? The answer is, you don’t.

The inability to say no, specifically to Joel Miller, is how you ended up meticulously placing 11 birthday candles on a cake you’d made the day before. A simple two-tiered confection frosted a pretty lilac color that took you too long to get perfect, not that you would ever admit that out loud.

“You didn’t have to go to all this trouble,”

Joel wasn’t looking at you when he said it, he was too busy eyeing the cake on the counter. He didn't believe you when you told him you’d made it yourself, and stared at you with his jaw practically on the floor when you walked through his front door with it. When he called you to help with Sarah’s party, he’d assumed you'd pick up a simple sheet cake from the grocery store, he never expected you to bring something like this.

“Joel,” you said mixed with a laugh, “for the hundredth time, I really don’t mind,”

You turned to see Joel, his hair a bit damp from helping the girls with the Slip ‘N Slide, white t-shirt the slightest bit translucent thanks to the mischief only young girls can get away with on their birthdays.

“How’s it going out there?” You inquired while peeking around Joel to catch a quick glimpse at the party unfolding in the backyard.

“Good,” he quipped, “thanks to you. I don’t know what I would have done if-“

“Joel, please. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be right now,” You interrupted him midsentence, already highly aware of what’s coming next. It’s like Joel had been playing on a loop since he initially called to ask you to help with Sarah's birthday party.

The phone call you received three weeks ago was laced with the panic of a man who was acutely aware that he wouldn’t know what to do with twelve 6th-grade girls running around his home. His anxiety was palpable as he babbled on and on about cakes, balloons and birthday outfits.

“She said she wants a special birthday outfit? What does that even mean? Can it be something she already has or does it mean she wants something new?”

You couldn’t help but laugh over the receiver at his plight, this is what would take down Joel Miller, his sweet daughter asking for her first birthday party with friends. On that call you assured him everything would be okay, telling him firmly, “I was born for this task, Miller”

Joel and you had met years prior, a chance run-in at the grocery store where he and Sarah happened to be pushing a cart along in the same aisle as you.

“I really like your hair,” Sarah boldly said to you in the middle of the aisle. Sarah was young then, the type of young that made it possible to complement complete strangers in the grocery store.

You couldn’t help but admire her curly head of hair and sweet demeanor — you also couldn’t help but notice her father, Joel Miller. Whether he knew it or not, he always possessed the ability to take your breath away, even under the harsh fluorescent lighting of the canned goods aisle.

“Thank you,” you responded with a smile, “I really like yours too.” You took a moment to glance over at Joel with a smile gracing your features. “You too, Dad. Nice do.”

The first time you spoke to Joel it was with a wink and a smile that he swore made his heart drop somewhere between the canned soup and the black beans. Clean up on aisle four.

“Could you teach me to do mine like yours?” Sarah continued, running her small hands over her loose locks as she gazed up at your braided hair.

“Sarah, we don’t-“ Joel had started to interject, a bright red flush already beginning to work its way up his neck and onto his cheeks.

“Sure,” you started, “but only if it’s okay with your dad,” You took your eyes off Sarah for a moment to glance over at Joel, silently letting him know you were genuinely okay with this.

Your agreeing to Sarah’s request took him by surprise. “Uh,” he mumbled while reaching up to scratch the back of his neck.

The hesitancy was warranted, regardless of how pretty Joel thought you were, you were still a stranger in the grocery store.

“Here’s an idea,” you began while reaching into the bag you had resting in your cart, fishing around in the opening for something before pulling out a pen and a scrap of paper.

“Here’s my name and number,” you said while you scribbled down the series of letters and numbers, “Sarah,” you parroted the name you heard her Dad speak before, “you take this, and if you still want to learn how to braid, ask your Daddy here to give me a ring, okay?”

Daddy. Joel would be lying if he said he didn’t like the sound of it rolling off your tongue.

“That okay with you, Dad?”

“It’s Joel,” the response was terse, almost choked out because he was still focused on the way you calling him daddy made his skin tingle and his mouth water.

“Alright,” you said as the corners of your lips lifted into a grin, “how does that sound, Joel?”

Sarah stared up at her father expectantly, eyes shining up at him in a way you could tell was practiced, this girl knew how to get what she wanted. “Alright, I’ll call—Sarah’ll call you,”

And that’s how it all started years ago, a chance encounter, a little girl wanting to learn how to braid her hair and her handsome Daddy agreeing to it all.

Before Joel had a chance to respond, Sarah burst through the back door. Her face flushed from the summer heat, with her now-soaked hair secured in two French braids that you had done up for her earlier in the day.

She looked over at the cake behind you with a beaming smile. “Is it time for cake yet?”

“Almost, honey,” you replied. “You havin’ fun?”

She nodded with vigor, little droplets of water splashing down on the floor underneath her as she addressed you. “Uh-huh! Thank you for bringing the Slip ‘N Slide,”

She was too damn sweet.

Making your way over to her you saw one of her braids coming a bit loose at the end. “Only for you, sweet girl.” you began. “You want me to fix this braid for you before you go back out?”

She nodded again before turning her back to you to let you begin your work on her hair.

Joel watched you do this in complete silence, his heart lodged directly in his windpipe as you doted on his girl. It had been like this ever since the first time Sarah called you on the phone. You were immediately sweet on her and Joel couldn’t deny that having a woman on call to help Sarah do things like, braid and buy birthday outfits was more than welcome.

And in return, you got closer to him too, closer than any woman had gotten in years. There was a hole in Joel's heart that you slotted into perfectly.

“Are you ever gonna ask her out? Or are you gonna wait for some other guy ‘round town to do it?”

Tommy asked Joel that months ago, actually, for almost a year now Tommy had been pestering Joel about you. Tommy didn’t understand why in gods name a pretty thing like you was hanging around Joel and his daughter. But he mostly didn’t understand why his hard-headed older brother couldn’t pluck up the courage to tell you how he felt.

How Joel felt was, complicated. You're good for Sarah in a way that he didn’t want to mess up by getting into a relationship. It would break her heart if something were to happen that would keep you away from her. So that’s why Joel kept a tight lip and his feelings locked away to the best of his abilities.

But you made it hard, making it nearly impossible not to kiss you when you would sit around his kitchen table chattering away with Sarah after school. Made it hard as hell not to confess every feeling he had for you when you would sit her in front of you on his couch and style her hair on Sunday nights.

Even now, watching you run your fingers gently through her damp hair to re-assemble the style she had requested specifically for her special party made him weak in the knees.

"All good birthday girl," you chirped, playfully tugging at the end of the fresh braid.

Sarah gave you a quick and enthusiastic thank you before running back out the door, a chorus of giggles erupted the moment she rejoined her friends. It was precious, and it was everything a little girl like Sarah Miller deserved.

"Thank you," Joel said softly, his mind caught up in the vision you presented to him right now, skin and hair bathed in perfect afternoon sunlight in his mess of a kitchen. "You keep sayin' it's nothin' but, it means a lot to—" Joel paused briefly, some sentiment trying to crawl its way out. "It means a lot to me. More than you know."

You know a little. Know that Sarah's mom left and that Joel works tirelessly to provide for them and his younger brother. You're aware of the privilege it is to be a part of Sarah and Joel's life, to be let into their little corner of the world.

You smiled softly at him. If only he knew you would do anything for the two of them—would move mountains if Joel and Sarah asked you to. A kid's birthday party, making a cake and bringing your old Slip ‘N Slide was nothing in comparison to that, and you would do it over and over again, all they needed to do was ask.

"Of course, Joel," you replied, sincerity lacing your tone as you gazed at him in the empty kitchen. "Like I've said before, I'd truly do anything for her. For you too, Joel, you know that."

Joel huffed in response, bringing his hand up to run his fingers through his still-damp hair. You could see some spark of a thought running through his mind, those expressive brown eyes were a dead giveaway every time.

Before Joel got the chance to speak further, the pair of you turned your heads after hearing the front door fly open and promptly slam shut. The door closing was followed by the sound of heavy work boots stomping through the empty house.

"Hey sweetheart," Tommy greeted you first with a quick kiss to your cheek as he made his way through the kitchen. "How's the birthday party, bro? Have the 11 years olds taken over yet?"

Joel grunted something unintelligible in response as he watched Tommy slide up to you easily, there was no hesitation in the younger Miller's actions as he reached towards the cake on the counter only to have his hand slapped away by you.

"Tommy!" you yelled. He just shrugged with a smile as he backed away with his hands held up in mock defense. "You were not just about to put your dirty fingers on this birthday cake were you?"

Joel had watched numerous scenes like this play out over the years. Tommy and you were close in age, only a year apart with you being the elder of the pair. Your rapport was easy, it was playful and fun in a way that made Joel's inside twinge with jealousy. He knew Tommy meant no harm by it, but it didn't stop his ears from ringing anytime Tommy would touch you in the ways he wish he had the courage to. Sometimes he wanted to ask his younger brother what your skin felt like on his lips, or what it was like to make you laugh in a way only Tommy could.

"Come on," Tommy started, "can you blame me? Look at that thing, it's a masterpiece. Ain't it Joel?"

Joel's nostrils flared slightly at his younger brother goading, this was another thing Joel was used to. Tommy doing everything in his power — including incessant teasing — to push him to confess his feelings for you.

Joel took the bait happily this time. "It is darlin'. It's perfect."

Your spine prickled at the pet name, nothing set your nervous system on fire like having Joel Miller call you sweet names like darlin'.

"Alright, fellas," you said with a smile, a hand planted firmly on your hip as you stared down the Miller brothers. "I'm gonna go wrangle up the girls and get them ready for cake. Joel, can you please make sure your heathen of a brother doesn't try any funny business in here?"

"Yes ma'am," Joel replied, his eyes following your every move as you walked out the back door and into the belly of the beast.

"You're a moron," Tommy deadpanned.

Joel whipped around to stare at Tommy, jaw slack and eyes ablaze. "Come again?"

Tommy cleared his throat comically before repeating himself. "You're a fucking moron," he said with a smirk. "Just tell her already, Joel."

"Tommy, I swear to god not this again," Joel sighed.

"Yes, this again," Tommy said smugly. "Do you know what it's like to watch the two of you dance around each other like a couple of high schoolers?"

Joel opened his mouth to counter, but Tommy beat him to it. "She likes you, Joel, it's clear as damn day that she likes you."

"She's doin' all this for Sarah, not me," Joel mumbled half-heartedly, the words had no conviction behind them.

"You don't believe that and you know it." Tommy was quick to reply. "She does this for you, for both of you, and you owe it to her to tell her how you feel."

"It doesn't fuckin' matter, Tommy," Joel said to his brother in a biting tone. "Sarah needs her. Sarah needs her in a way that I can't risk messing up because of what, a crush?"

Joel felt like he was choking on the words coming out of his mouth. It didn't feel right to say out loud, it seemed wrong to call whatever he felt for you a crush. But he hoped and prayed that the longer he kept you at a distance the easier it would get.

This had been Joel's plan of action for a long time, keep you at arm's length to protect Sarah, to protect himself, to keep his girl happy. And for a while, it worked. For a few months, it was enough for him just to see how happy you made Sarah — to watch her learn from you.

It worked until it didn't. It worked until Joel would come home and see you curled up on the couch with Sarah, and all he wanted to do was kiss you awake. The plan was solid until he caught the two of you standing in front of the bathroom mirror one day, her hands mirroring your own as you weaved pieces of your hair together. Joel could read Sarah like a book, she loved you, admired you even, and Joel wouldn't risk taking that away from her.

"Joel," Tommy said with a frown. "Please, you deserve this. You and Sarah deserve her. Let yourself have this. Let that beautiful woman outside who loves you and your daughter so damn much have this."

You could tell there was a strange tension in the air when you poked your head back into the kitchen. "Hey boys," you said hesitantly, glancing back and forth between the two of them. "Joel, you mind lightin' those candles? I got them all settled out there and if they don't get cake ASAP I can't be held responsible for what they do."

"Course," Joel sent one final look towards Tommy before he made his way over to the cake, a scowl planted firmly on his features as he mouthed drop it at his brother.

Tommy did nothing but smile slyly in Joel's direction. He had settled with his tailbone pressed against the counter, leaning casually next to Joel as his older brother rummaged around in the drawers for a lighter.

Tommy couldn’t help but stir the pot, making Joel a little uncomfortable was his brotherly duty and he wouldn't dare slack off.

"What have you been up to lately besides helpin' my brother plan birthday parties, sweetheart?" Tommy inquired.

It was an innocent query, one that could have led to any number of answers from you. What Joel didn't expect to hear as he was lighting candle number four was what came from your lips.

"Well," you started sheepishly, "I did go on a date the other weekend. It was horrible though, like, considering celibacy levels of horrible."

You didn't date often. Finding a man worth your time in Austin had never proven to be an easy task. Sure, there were plenty of dateable, attractive men available. But none of them lit you up quite like Joel Miller, so you found it easier to turn most down politely. Occasionally a charming enough guy could spark your interest, and that's exactly what happened two weeks ago.

"Oh really?"

Even though Joel wasn't facing Tommy he knew the idiot was grinning ear to ear.

"Yeah," you were laughing now, "the man's ego was bigger than the whole damn state of Texas. I've never in my life heard a man talk about himself so much."

Tommy couldn't help but push the conversation further, making his older brother squirm was hardwired into the man's brain. "Okay, so he was a talker — what happened after?"

If you hadn't been the one to make the cake Joel was currently standing over, he would have smashed the confection square into Tommy's smug little face.

"After?" you could hear your tone go the slightest bit shrill at the mere thought of taking your failed date home. "There was no after, Tommy. We had drinks, he talked my ear off and I went home. After, was me cleaning the dirty dishes in my sink once I got home."

Tommy just tutted, sucking his teeth at his failed attempt to crack Joel. What Tommy didn't know, was that Joel didn't like hearing the story no matter the outcome of your date. Did it make it better knowing that you had no connection with the guy? Yes. Did the thought of you going out on dates with men that weren't him make Joel's stomach turn? Also yes.

You glanced over at Joel as he worked to light candle number 11, his strong hands working delicately to ensure that no excess wax from the candles dripped onto the frosting. You could watch him do mundane things for hours, and you had. Countless summer afternoons with you and Sarah on the porch, watching Joel mow the lawn while you taught his daughter how to weave together friendship bracelets. Lazy Saturday evenings filled with laughter, takeout pizza and movie rentals. Joel, you can't not like The Princess Bride, it's a classic. A classic that he now had to rent from the video store almost weekly since you first showed the movie to Sarah in his living room.

Watching Joel be a Father was your favorite though — to see him do something as simple as light 11 perfectly placed candles on his daughter's birthday cake was enough to make your heart speed up.

"Looks like we're all ready. You boys ready to do some singin'?"

»»————-¤————-««

It was a few hours later: the cake was long gone, presents had been opened and the backyard returned to its normal state of affairs. Sarah had gone to spend the night at a friend's house after begging Joel to let her. Again, how do you say no to a little girl on her 11th birthday?

"You wanna drink?" Joel swallowed back the nerves rising in his throat as he asked you to stay longer. "Think you deserve one after all of that."

"I'll take one," you replied, finally settling down into Joel's worn couch, your bare feet instantly kicking out in front of you to rest on his coffee table. "Just give me whatever you're having."

Moments later, Joel entered the dimly lit living room with two lowball glasses half full of amber liquid, one with and one without ice. Joel was still in the same outfit as earlier, a grass-stained white shirt and tight-fitting denim. You wondered if he could smell the scent of summer on you as strongly as you could from him. Joel was all wet concrete, warm skin and humid air.

Joel settled down next to you, clearing his throat as he handed you your glass and held his own up to you.

"Cheers," he said quietly, lightly clinking his glass against yours before you both took tandem sips of your whiskeys. "You were really somethin' today, you know that? There's no way I'm gonna be able to top that birthday party."

"Was I?" you teased, "Was it the Slip ‘N Slide that pushed it over the edge? Or was it the expert little girl wrangling?"

Honesty pushed past Joel's lips before he could will himself to hold it back, "It was just you, darlin', always is. You're good with Sarah, have been since the day you met her."

That earnest reply made your heart jump straight into your throat, it sent a thrilling tingle from the top of your head to the very tips of your bare toes.

"She's easy to be good for, Joel. You know that better than anyone."

You saw Joel getting ready to respond to your statement, some self-deprecating comment on the tip of his tongue, so you cut him off before he even got the chance. "You're easy to be good for too, Joel. I don't do any of this just for Sarah. I do it for you too."

You were echoing Tommy's words from earlier and it made Joel's head spin. Hearing it from his younger brother was one thing, hearing it directly from you made him feel like he'd already drained his entire glass of whiskey.

"Why?"

You released a small sigh, removing your feet from the coffee table to tuck your knees close to your chest, angling your body in Joel's direction. You could still feel the tingling sensation from earlier but now it was paired with the feeling of honesty bubbling up to the surface.

"Because I like to, Joel," you said simply, moving to place your glass on the coffee table. "Because I like doing things for you, I like being around you."

Joel’s heart was beating impossibly loud at that moment, the sound of it in his ears enough to deafen him and have him worried that you could somehow hear his artery working overtime.

“Joel,” you started, taking a deep breath in through your nose to quell the feeling of anxiety brewing in your stomach. “you have to know how much I care about you, right?”

You weren’t even touching him, yet he could feel you all over, your confession planted itself directly into his brain — deep into the parts he kept locked away. The parts where he kept thoughts of you and him together, thoughts he only indulged in when he was fast asleep and dreaming of you looking at him the way you were at that very moment.

“Sugar,“ the endearment slipped past his lips before he could even process it. “I don’t want Sarah to get hurt.”

Another confession, this time the one Joel had been terrified to admit to you. So afraid that he thought he’d be okay admiring you from afar for the rest of his life if he had to.

“She won't get hurt,” you whispered to him, gently placing your hand on his denim-covered knee as you leaned in closer to him.

Joel swallowed hard, and his lips subconsciously parted as he stared at the earnest expression painted all over your face.

“How do you know?”

You didn’t hesitate to answer.

“Because I know you wouldn’t let that happen. Not to her, and not to me. You couldn’t hurt us if you tried, Joel.”

Joel gripped your hand resting on his knee, pressing his warm palm into yours as he pulled you in closer. The pair of you were sharing the same breath now, the sharp notes of whiskey mixed with sugary sweet frosting lingered in the space between your mouths.

“Mm,” Joel hummed as he brought his other hand up to rest his thumb on the highest part of your cheek. The same cheek Tommy had kissed earlier that day, the exact cheek he had imagined himself kissing so many times before as he stared on in envy.

“Can I kiss you, sugar?”

So many things happened in your body at once, but the immediate flooding in your panties and the butterflies in your lower belly trumped them all.

“Please, Joel.”

The moment Joel pressed his lips to yours a moan rose from the deepest parts of his chest. An unconscious release as he indulged in an action he thought was only a foolish daydream until a moment ago.

Kissing you was bliss. At that moment you both knew exactly where Nirvana was, it was locked away, hidden in the kisses you and Joel shared.

Tongues explored mouths, teeth playfully nipped at spit-soaked bottom lips and Joel couldn’t keep his hands to himself. He was quickly wrapping you up in his arms and pulling you onto his welcoming lap.

You were just as swift to act. Adjusting your positioning so you were straddling Joel’s thick thighs, reveling in the feeling of the heat from his body soaking into the bare skin of your legs.

You wasted no time sinking your full weight onto Joel’s lap. The desperation in you was mounting, and the need to relieve the pressure building in your core had goosebumps rising all over your skin.

Joel released another groan as he felt your core press into his growing erection—and the sweet moan you let out as he bucked his hips upward had his head spinning.

“Will you let me make you feel good, Joel?” you murmured as you stared directly into his deep brown eyes.

Joel tipped his head back as he soaked in your words. That was just like you, a nurturer to the core. And he couldn’t deny you what you wanted.

“Course, sweetheart.”

With that, you were pulling your shirt over your head to reveal the simple bra underneath. Your nipples had been hard since the moment he asked if he could kiss you, and Joel was drawn to them like a moth to flame.

Before you could even make your move Joel was latching his warm mouth to your covered breasts. His teeth immediately began teasing, biting and pulling, doing whatever he could to elicit a chorus of moans from you.

“Joel, I said-“

“I know what you said, sugar.”

Joel had heard you. But you were making him feel good. The feel of you grinding yourself on top of him as he played with your tits had him rock hard already. If you could make him feel like this from a heavy make-out session he could only imagine that everything else would be damn near euphoric.

“Can you take these off, baby?” Joel asked as he tugged at the hem of your shorts.

You nodded wordlessly and stood to your full height in front of him. Using the small space between his knees and the coffee table to slip your shorts down your legs and leave them forgotten on the rug beneath you.

“Those pretty panties too, sugar. Let me see you.”

This was a Joel you had never seen before. A man starved. A man who wanted nothing more than to leave you dreaming of him after he was done.

“Why don’t you take ‘em off for me, cowboy?”

All you saw was a smirk ghosting over Joel’s lips before he gripped your hips and turned you to face away from him. One large palm came to rest on your lower back, pressing on the area in a silent command for you to bend forward for him.

And of course, you did. You presented your ass fully to him as he worked to slowly slip your underwear over the swell of your bottom and down your legs.

Joel’s other hand was preoccupied as he opened up the fly on his jeans and freed his cock from the confines of the rigid denim. Before turning you back to face him, Joel reached up to deftly unclasp your bra, leaving you bare and buzzing with adrenaline before him as you both took in one another fully.

“Aren’t you just the prettiest fucking thing I’ve ever seen?”

“You’re not too bad yourself, Miller.”

You both smiled at that. Smiled because, beneath all of the sexually charged energy in the room, it was you and him. It was everything.

“Come and take a ride, sugar.”

You knew you were more than wet enough, and the anticipation of sinking onto his hard length had salvia pooling underneath your tongue as you straddled Joel for the second time this evening.

The feeling of Joel’s smooth head prodding against your entrance made you gasp. If his hands weren’t gripping your hips and keeping you hovered over his length you would have sunk down immediately.

Before you could fill yourself, Joel let his thumb wander toward your swollen clit. His own desire clouded his thoughts as he rubbed the sensitive area in small circles and sent waves of pleasure through your entire nervous system.

“Joel, please, no teasing. Not tonight, I need to feel you inside me.”

Always the giver, he obliged. Joel relaxed the grip on your hips and finally allowed you to feel him completely.

A long, drawn-out moan escaped you as you felt Joel filling you up for the first time. Your position on his lap made it feel like he was deeper inside your pussy than anyone had ever been before. And your body responded immediately, your hips began moving almost on their own as you began to chase your pleasure.

“Oh fuck, fuck, fuck Joel.” You whined.

“Take what you need, sweet thing.” Joel gritted out.

Joel inhaled sharply through his nose as he basked in the feeling of your warm pussy gripping him tight.

Joel let you have the reins for a bit, letting you rock yourself up and down on his cock while he pinched at your bouncing nipples and playfully teased your clit. He only let his eyes close for a moment or two, wanting to commit the sight of you like this to memory. Something sweet to call up when he was alone in his bed and his mind was wandering.

But then enough was enough, Joel felt his own orgasm building swiftly and wanted more than anything to feel you soak his cock before he came.

His hands were back on your hips, palms wide and touch firm as he planted his feet and began to thrust up into you. Before long you were bent over Joel's body, resting your full weight on him as he brought you closer and closer to the edge.

"Can you touch yourself, baby?" Joel practically begged. "Play with your clit for me, sugar."

Ever since you met Joel you'd never been able to say no to him. Not when it came to little girl's birthday parties, and especially not when it came to the orgasm you could feel building up through your entire body. So you did, you reached down between your bodies to sloppily rub at your clit as Joel chased his orgasm alongside yours.

You came undone quicker than you anticipated. A thick, guttural moan escaped you as pleasure raced through your veins. Joel, still attentive, still watching you, was coming closer to his own end. His senses were filled with the sight, sound and feel of you coming undone on top of him.

Joel's breathing was shallow and heavy as he came deep inside you, his sensitive cock aching for more, more, more as he pumped in and out of you, finally coming to a slow stop as he allowed both of you to catch your breath.

For a while, neither of you said a word, the only movement came from Joel softly running the tips of his fingers up and down your spine. In the rush of it all, you'd barely noticed that Joel had not removed a single article of clothing—the two of you were beautifully juxtaposed against the other as you settled into the afterglow and what this meant for the two of you moving forward.

Joel pressed a gentle kiss into your hair, pulling you close to him. "I need you, Sugar."

"You've had me since the day you met me, Joel."

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sixhours · 8 months ago

Text

Meteor

She remembers the space he’d carved around himself, and the moment she realized the distance was too great to cross.

Rating: PG Word count: 1k

Notes: X-Files revival era fic.

Originally posted at ao3 01/19/2016

~*~

She makes her way up the long drive, the old farmhouse looming like a specter from her past. There are no lights in the windows, just a cold, hulking shadow against a darkening sky; an apt metaphor if she thinks about it too much, which she won’t.

“Where are you, Mulder?” Scully whispers to herself. His car is parked next to the porch. It’s evening, too early for sleep.

The air is damp as she leaves the warmth of the car, carrying a folder of papers. Spring has turned the ground to mud beneath her feet, and she, in her most expensive pair of heels, frowns. Her good boots are at the bottom of a box at the back of her closet along with the rest of the things she never unpacked.

The porch creaks in the same places, the screen door still protests on its hinge. She knocks once before trying the handle, finding it open.

“Mulder?”

The house is dusty and silent. She curses under her breath, gooseflesh rising along the back of her neck, wishing she had her holster. Three months on the job after so long away and she’s still not used to carrying.

She’s debating whether to check upstairs or leave the file on the kitchen table when a voice calls her name from outside.

“Scully?”

She steps onto the porch, squinting into the darkness. “Mulder? Is that you?”

“I’m out back,” he calls. “Watch your step.”

She turns on her phone’s flashlight and makes her way to the back yard. A shadow sits on the frame of the old pickup they haven’t used in years.

“I’d have left the porch light on if I’d known you were coming,” it says.

She points the phone in that direction, eliciting a wince from her partner as the beam hits his eyes.

“Ow, Scully.”

“Sorry,” she mutters, shutting off the light. “What are you doing out here, Mulder?”

There’s the distinct sound of liquid sloshing, the kiss of a bottle at his lips.

“Just sittin’ and thinkin’.”

“In the dark? It’s chilly,” she says, rubbing her shoulders for emphasis.

His face resolves as her eyes slowly adjust. He’s sitting on the tailgate, legs dangling off the end, a beer nestled between his thighs.

“I thought you’d be working.”

“Guy can’t take a break once in a while?”

She smirks. “Who are you and what have you done with my partner?”

“Hah-hah, funny. Have a seat, Scully.”

She does after a pause, easing herself onto the tailgate to join him.

“This’ll warm you up,” he says, offering her a beer.

“How many of these have you had?” she asks, accepting the bottle with a raised eyebrow.

“Just the one, doc. Don’t worry,” he says. “It’s not that kind of party.”

The cap twists off; the taste of malt fizzes on her tongue, goes down smooth.

“I take it you’re here for business and not pleasure,” he says, nodding to the folder in her lap.

“Mm. It’s the autopsy results for Lisa Baylor. Scrapings from her fingernails revealed traces of skin; they’re processing the DNA and I asked the lab to run it through NICS. We’ll have the full results in the morning, but I thought you’d want to get an early start.”

“You ever heard of email, Scully?”

“You mean the thing that keeps you tethered to your computer at all hours? Yeah, I’ve heard of it,” she mutters.

He offers a wry smile. “You didn’t have to drive all the way out here for that.”

“Maybe I wanted to talk about the case in person.”

His voice grows soft. “You don’t need an excuse to visit, you know. You always have a place here.”

“I wasn’t looking for an excuse.”

“Checking up on me, huh?”

“Mulder,” she sighs. “Don’t start.”

A cricket chirps in the grass at their feet, filling the stillness that hovers like a black mist. She remembers the space he’d carved around himself, and the moment she realized the distance was too great to cross.

“You’re right. I’m sorry,” he says finally, nudging her shoulder in apology. “Been a rough year. Sometimes I forget we’re on the same side now.”

“I’ve always been on your side, Mulder,” she murmurs, feeling their history like a lead weight in her chest. “I’ve only ever wanted what was best for you.”

“I know,” he nods, then holds out his bottle. “Truce?”

“Truce,” she agrees, letting the glass clink softly. For a moment, the silence is comfortable, familiar, and she closes her eyes.

When she opens them, she’s looking at his profile in the dusky light. With his beard shaved and his hair trimmed, she can almost see the man she met twenty odd years ago. Without thinking, she reaches out to touch his cheek, the stubble rough against her fingers.

He looks over, bemused, and she pulls her hand away, still feeling the ghost of his skin against her palm.

“You clean up good, G-man,” she says.

He chuckles, his gaze turned upward. “Hey, it’s starting.”

He points to the sky and her eyes follow, trying to see what he sees. A pinprick of light flicks across the sky, followed by another, and then another; the beginnings of a meteor shower.

Mulder reaches behind them and pulls out two rolled sleeping bags, settling back against one in the bed of the truck. She doesn’t ask why he brought two instead of one, for the same reason she knows the extra beer in her hand was never intended for him.

She pulls the rolled blanket behind her and lies back to watch the show. Her eyes flit from one corner of the heavens to the other as more of the blue-white streaks make their way across the night, and she marvels at how the stars can still stun her with their beauty, how the universe in all its endless mystery can be so breathtaking, even after bringing such grief.

His voice is rich and vulnerable, spoken to the open air. “It wasn’t all bad, was it, Scully?”

She doesn’t have to think. Her response is as immediate and as involuntary as a heartbeat. “No…it wasn’t.”

She finds his hand without trying and listens to the sound of their mingled breathing as the sky falls around them.

cc @today-in-fic

#the x-files #mulder x scully #fanfic #x-files revival

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tia-amorosa · 27 days ago

Text

Sunset Died - Wolff/Sekemoto

First Day of School & Mental Pressure (Longer Part)

It was a conscious decision on Sam's part to go to school. Because he had promised his grandmother that he would always be diligent. In all things. And of course he also remembered what she said about kindness. At the moment, he was still a little caught up in himself. But maybe it wouldn't be a bad thing to have at least ONE good friend.

They say the first day at school is always the hardest. While the other children are already familiar with everyday school life, it's a new challenge for Sam. His grandmother has already taught him a lot: a little reading, speaking, how to treat others nicely. Whether he can put all this into practice remains to be seen.

After Sam had introduced himself to Detlef Landgraf and he in turn had introduced him to the pupils in the classroom, Sam was allowed to look around. When a new pupil joined the class, the first lesson was used to get to know them. Ethan showed him the rooms. First the large classroom and then the next room. … “Hey, Malcolm, look who's new here”.

Malcolm was busy with a thick book when he heard Ethan's voice and looked towards the door. And he recognized the face he had seen a long time ago. “Hm? You're… Sam, aren't you? When was your birthday?"/ "mhm…a few days ago…"’/ "woah, I didn't know that."/ "Can you explain him a bit about the rules and the rest here?’/ "yeah, O.K.’"

Sam remembered that he had been in kindergarten with Malcolm a few years ago. That's why he recognized him straight away. “We've got the encyclopaedia at home too"/ ”Yes, lots of people have it, it's got lots of great things in it. Hey, how's your grandma?”. A question Sam had been expecting. “Good… She's fine. Can we draw here too?”

“Yes, but only during the lesson break. Or when we have drawing lessons. Sometimes we also make music here. But the most important subjects are math, German, geography and history"/ ‘foreign languages too?’/ ”English and French, but the older ones do that. Actually, we also do sports, but it's too cold for that now.°.

Just as Sam was beginning to find the conversation pleasant, Malcolm suddenly had to go to the toilet. But he wasn't the only kid here to socialize with. At the chess table, he watched Darleen and Mortimer trying to play a game. But he quickly realized that it was actually just a contrived back and forth of pieces.

The room filled up with more and more children. And each of them greeted Sam with a smile. It was unusual for him to have so many people around him. But when Holly started playing music, a small smile crossed his lips too. He said to himself that he would like to give the school a chance.

While Sam tries to make a few new contacts, Morgana has decided to drop by the hospital. Every time she does, she regrets the circumstances, especially now in this cold weather. “Jamie? You should stay at home"/ ‘I'm terribly bored at home, besides, I can do light things as long as I don't come into contact with other bodily fluids’.

Morgana didn't just go to the hospital to look after one patient or another, no, she also needed a little distraction after the previous day had been anything but nice. No one had asked about Yumi yet, but she knew that the time would come at some point.

Shortly after Morgana had disappeared inside the house, Jamie followed her and quickly closed the door behind her. “O.K., what's going on?"/ ‘hm, what… What's going on?’/ ”Hey, how long have we been working together? I can tell by your eyes when something's wrong”. Morgana only had a tired smile ready. “It's… It's all right, really"/ ‘Sure?’. Morgana knew her colleague wouldn't back down until she got a proper answer.

Morgana almost always managed to remain steadfast in many situations, but her mind was so sensitive and her psychological pressure too great for her to hold anything back… “Jamie, you won't believe what happened… And I don't know how to explain it to the others"/ ‘what do you mean?’/ ‘hh, o.k…. Yumi, she… She died yesterday’/ ‘oh no…’. Then Morgana could no longer hold back her tears.

Jamie realized that she seemed to be very upset. “Hey, it's okay. “/ “We knew it would happen eventually, but… We were hoping she might make it to spring. “ Morgana sobbed on her shoulder. “Wasn't she quite old anyway? And then there was her dementia"/ ”She was perfectly lucid at the end. You… you should have seen it"/ ‘how she dies?’.

“N-no. yes, …oh god, it's…it's hard to put it into words without someone saying i'm crazy. Not only did she die, Jamie, but…Leighton, his ghost was in the cemetery and took her away"/ ‘Morgana…’/ ‘I know it sounds completely crazy, but you can ask Sam, he was there too’.

“You know, I'm not really a fan of supernatural phenomena, but… You say that with such conviction…"/ ”Because it's true, Jamie, it really happened. He took her and did… something to keep her body from falling into a state of decay… he literally had her soul in his arms.” Morgana whimpered and gestured wildly with her hands. “Hey, I believe you, okay? but…”.

“No, Jamie, no 'but'. Her body is no longer there. But how am I supposed to explain it to the others when they ask where she is? I…"/ ”Hey, calm down now, you're completely upset. OK, let's think about it calmly, shall we? Come by tomorrow, unfortunately I have to go now, Christopher is at home with a bad case of flu"/ ”OK then, I'll come by tomorrow. Preferably with extra medicine for him”.

A few seconds later, Morgana was standing alone in the room again. “I know the whole thing seems unimaginable to someone who doesn't believe in such things. But I… I saw it with my own eyes and Sam, only… Who would they believe more? Him or me?”. Morgana asked herself this question for the rest of the time she worked that day.

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

@greenplumbboblover ⭐

Note: I hope you know what the word kindergarten means? I think it even exists in English. But you can also call it a daycare center. Sorry, I should have guessed that.^^

#sims3 #screenshots #simsstories #sims3 story #ts3 story #ts3 gameplay #ts3 simblr #sunset died #post apocalyptic #morgana wolff #sam sekemoto #malcolm landgraab #jamie jolina

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themoonlitsojourner · 9 days ago

Text

The door closes them into utter silence and Dick lets out a sigh. It fills the small space. Tara heads straight for the fridge and he keeps standing there, taking a minute to...

To something.

Cool grey light from the windows washes over the old furniture. The middle of the afternoon. They'd spent all night at the biggest, most important library in Europe, Dick's fingers gliding longingly over ancient spines, even more ancient titles, and he hadn't read more than a paragraph. Breathlessly. Hidden in the corner, knowing every second he wasn't keeping watch was a second they were in danger. He couldn't tell you a thing about it now. The paragraph he'd read. The book title.

He just remembers the ten year old euphoria of getting lost in a place you just belong.

His throat burns and Dick coughs. Gripping the left side of his ribcage, he steps into the bathroom and spits blood in the sink.

The sink cold and unyielding beneath his grasping fingers.

Tara wraps her arms around him and presses her forehead to his back. "Don't get blood in our sink," she murmurs.

Dick swallows. "I won't." Her grip is too tight, fingers digging into his bruises, but when he reaches for her hands, she is gone.

Footsteps into the next room.

He drops his hand back to the edge of the sink and sighs again. The sound of his forehead against the mirror reverberates gently across his skull.

"It's fine. It's just a little bit. I'm fine," Dick announces to the apartment when he steps back out.

Tara barely nods. Fingers curled around a bundle of curtain.

Dick holds his breath, heart beating in time to his own footsteps, as he crosses the room to join her.

There is nothing to see outside. Nothing, besides quaint, old-fashioned downtown streets. Kids running around and parents patiently, or not so patiently, shopping. He can almost hear the Jingle Bells blaring. Christmas. As seen from three stories away.

He lets out his breath and it fogs the window. "Do you remember when we were fourteen?" (When she was fourteen. When he was sixteen. When she almost brought down a cliff killing a massive scorpion that was hunting her. When they first met.)

"We never were." Tara's eyes flicker across the scene from a dream. Because it is. A dream. A movie. They're spectators. "That was someone else."

"Yeah..." Before, before everything. Before impossible choices and an endless parade of death. Before he broke Batman's solitary rule. Before falling and hitting the ground so hard he broke every bone in his body. Before his body, faced with no other option but stubborn life, healed into one he didn't recognize.

Before he ever would have thought to touch her.

"We grew up, broken, together," he wants to say to her, sometimes. "I think the threads of you are laced into me now. Like vines up a house." He'd never say it. He dreams about it over and over. Those exact words.

"Do you regret it?"

It wouldn't have taken him by surprise, three years ago. Two. It does now.

"I... No. Yes." Dick swallows a mouthful of blood. "I don't know."

This is what being laced together means. Knowing the exact pattern, the way her shoulders and chest move as she breathes. You are supposed to use your diaphragm, down in your stomach, not your other muscles. That's what natural, relaxed breathing is. He could name the muscles she uses when she's scared. When she's angry. When... when it's now. When it's... he doesn't know what to call this.

His ribs ache and Dick grasps the windowsill. Leans into it, closing his eyes into the pressure up his shoulders. He is here. He is here.

The sun is not shining and they are not arguing about whether they should decorate a palm tree or a plastic evergreen. Or maybe they are. But he isn't. They aren't here.

He is.

Dick inhales and straightens. He slips his fingers into Tara's hair, hand resting on her cheek. "Hey. Come on."

An hour ago, he watched her slit a man's throat. One arm trapping him against her chest in a chokehold, one hand gripping the blade. Dick helped her get rid of the body. They got down on their knees and scrubbed the floor, shoulder to shoulder. Not a single patron heard. Not a one knew. He watched her hit a concrete wall. The second time that day blood ran down her wrists. He wiped them clean with his wet shirt in the bathroom because she wasn't going to.

She tears her gaze, slowly, from the window to stare at him like he's crazy.

"Tara?" Voice quieter, almost pleading. His hand is cold and her skin is warm. He can never get the thermostat high enough, can never keep his bones from filling up with ice. He could. Technically, he could crank it up. He could say to hell with it, and knock the temperature up to seventy-five.

But He would know. Somehow, He would know.

That's the part that Dick hates. The knowledge that's it's not the cold. It's not living in basements and cabins and constant winter. He could be in Miami.

...He could be in L.A., and he still wouldn't be warm.

Tara closes her eyes and lets out a breath, harsh in the silent space, and she is here again. For a little while, she is here again.

"Hey." Dick can feel himself smiling. "Hey," whispering into her hair.

She shakes her head and presses against him. Leaning forward, so she doesn't have to step closer.

Please be here, he tries to make his hands say. I want you here. I want you.

"Come on," Dick asks one more time. There's a great big chair in the room, not a recliner, but some old fashioned swivel rocker, with an old fashioned pattern. He laces his fingers through hers and tugs them toward it. There's reluctance in her step, like waking up from slumber.

Dick lets go, sinking into the deep chair, something small and childlike in his chest flaring to life in joy, simple amusement at a simple comfort. There was a chair like this in Alfred's study. He would spin, and spin, and spin for hours.

Tara hovers, one hand on the arm of the chair like she's trying to figure out what it is. Her shadowed eyes find Dick's.

He's smiling again. Like he just can't help it. "Tara."

And it's exactly true, what she said. That they were never fourteen, never sixteen, that those were two different people, because Terra and Robin are not the same as Dick and Tara.

She sinks into him and he wraps her up as best he can, covers her in as much warmth as someone freezing to death alongside her possibly could.

Robin never would have held her. He never would have stood at the window with her and looked out at a world they didn't belong in, and understood. He never would have understood. Robin would have smiled the winning smile he gave every girl and told her she was great to have on the team.

And Terra would have believed him, for twenty minutes. And she never would have wanted to kiss him.

"Don't leave me," and it's a plea. She's begging.

"I couldn't," and it's honesty. "I don't even know how."

Robin would never know how this felt, and more than that, he wouldn't get it. He wouldn't see the importance. He wouldn't even see the appeal. He knew what he wanted, and it was right there in front of him, a path he was sprinting down in full confidence that it would take him exactly where he wanted to be.

It wouldn't. He'd never get that, either.

Dick loops his arm behind her shoulders and kisses Tara. Their lips are both chapped, but hers are peeled white and red, from an entire night, week, existence of picking at them, stripping the skin off as fast as it returns. 'I love this, too,' he wants his mouth to say. 'Even this. Especially this.' He can't tell if the tang of blood is his pain or hers.

But they are laced together. Vines up a house. There was one wall, and they had to climb it, and if they were going to climb it they needed two threads, not one. They needed...

He could leave, and he'd still need her. That's the horror, that's the beauty, that's the fear. He could leave and he would be halved. He isn't whole alone, not anymore. Leaving wouldn't be cutting off his arms, his legs, it'd be cutting off his skin.

He's crying now. Things are getting out of hand, he's crying now, a mess of salt on his face, on hers, on her hands and her mouth, and this is where things get hard to understand. Because he is too much. He cares too much, and she doesn't know what to do with that. He doesn't know what to do.

He isn't Dick alone. There is no Dick alone, there is just Dick and Tara. Vines up a house, so tangled and snarled as to be inseparable, if you took her it would kill him.

It would kill him.

Something would live on. Survive. Transform, again, become someone else. But Dick would be dead. And he's grown to really like Dick.

He doesn't want to die.

Robin was fine being alone but Robin had a choice. Robin didn't... Robin has no idea what he's been through. Not a clue.

He can't be that close. No one can be that close. They can share beds, and share lives, and share bodies, but he will never be allowed into her pain. She keeps them separate. His hurt here, in this box. Hers there, in that box. The boxes are made out of the same wood, at least in parts, they sit right next to each other on the shelf, nearly touching. But they stay latched and locked. If his fingers brush the box on the right, if he dares to OPEN his box on the left...

He can't. He just can't.

Tara plants her hands on his chest and pushes him away. Her feet hit the floor with a thud and she walks out.

Down the hall. Out. The apartment door slams under its own weight behind her.

Dick sits in the chair in the silence. The dark had already begun falling, sunlight giving in and giving up so early, but he... he hadn't noticed, until now.

It's always there, nowadays. Always on the tip of his tongue, and he thinks she knows. He thinks she might know.

It's the only time they're separated, really. They go to work together, go to bed together, operate around each other in the same space like two satellites in orbit. Until they get too close to touching. Because to Tara, it's a collision. It's a thundering crash, the smell of smoke and fire and wreckage and the dust of something that used to be but isn't anymore. It's a death sentence.

I love you.

He keeps almost saying it.

She keeps leaving.

They keep waking up looking each other in the eyes.

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surfinminho · 1 year ago

Text

GLASSY

choreographer!reader x idol!felix

Warning: walking in, implied switch felix and reader, talk of exhibitionism, unprotected sex

Word count: 2.2k

requested by: @ihrtlix

you were scared. Why wouldn't you be?

You never usually went over to Felix's place. You never minded him over at your place, and you never hung out with him in public.

You two were really popular, if that's what you want to call it. People with cameras crowding you when you even step foot in public. People at airports surrounding felix when he's simply trying to get from point A to point B.

So when you are cleaning your house. Blasting whatever playlist you clicked on. And you get a text which reads

Felix 💕 : come over

You freak out. You always thought it was "risky" if anyone at the dorms found out about you guys years back. So you never went. Since the dorms are split in 2 now you think you have a better chance at not getting caught.

It was sad, funny, but also sad how you guys had to sneak around to see eachother. You had boyfriends in the past and the media never seemed to mind. Felix on the other hand, the media never got to know whether or not he ever had a girlfriend.

It leaves you to think, what's the harm in being exposed? It was going to happen anyway. Your managers have been talking about releasing the news about your relationship. You've always delayed it though. Not for any particular reason. Maybe you weren't ready, just not yet.

you text felix back to let him know that you were in fact going. You didn't decide to ask why he invited you over, knowing the chances of getting caught is higher then it ever will be.

Opting to take a shower before you go, changing into clean clothes before going on your way.

When you get into your car, you were still a little bit skeptical of going over there. Would It be bad for you to just ask him to come over instead?

You ignore all those thoughts and start driving. The dorms aren't that far from you. So you reach there practically in 10 minutes.

You hesitate when you reach to the door. Wondering if you should just call him and let him know you are here.

You open your phone to call him, but before you can even open the app someone opens the door.

"Hi princess" you almost jumped at the sound of the door. Sighing of relief when you see it's felix.

He tells you to come in. Locking the door behind him.

Taking off your shoes you go into the living room while he says he has to finish up some things in the kitchen.

As you sit down you try to listen closely to see if you hear anybody in the dorms. It's not like you didn't know stray kids per se- you helped choreograph some of their dances. But it doesn't mean you guys are necessarily close.

Simply scrolling on your phone, you feel felix come up behind the couch and wrap his arms around you.

"You're hovering"

"I am not hovering" flashing a smile before adjusting to sit next to you.

"You're nervous, hm?" grabbing your leg, motioning for you to sit on his lap.

"Felix, you—" pausing to resituate yourself."—we both know that they can come back at anytime. What if th-"

You were fidgeting, moving around side to side in his lap before you cut yourself off.

“if you stare any harder I think you’ll bore holes into my skull” you laughed trying to get back to your original point.

“sorry, you kept movi- what do you expect? You look pretty right now ”

"What?" Confusion laced your voice. You were wearing basic clothes. And some lipgloss, nothing that would make you look elegant.

His lips meets yours in a delicate manner. A slow but firm kiss. His hands travel down to grab your hips, pulling you a little bit closer.

You pull away first, looking straight at felix."You still didn't answer my question"

"That was the answer" he leans back in for another kiss.

It was different. This is different.

The familiar movement of his lips is gone. The Original gentle and feathery kisses he gave you, your lips moving softly against his. Light touches here and there. This? This is the complete opposite. The kisses he's giving you now fast paced and impatient. His hands moving around trying to grab onto the hem of your shirt.

You're surprised. The messy and aggressive kiss is nothing compared to the way he's groping you.

His hands let go of your shirt, slowly moving his hands up and down the sides of your body before he stops. Stopping at the feeling of your ass against his hands. Squeezing it as if he's never going to again.

Your hands try and find something to grasp. Leaning forward to deepen the kiss while meticulously trying to unzip his pants.

Its not like you didn't feel him getting a hard-on when you were moving around in his lap. You simply decided to ignore it.

You almost get the zipper down before you hear someone clear their throat.

"Felix, __?" A young man spoke, they spoke with confusion lining their voice. You didn't bother do look up. You already knew who it was.

"Minho" Felix replied same tone that the man had before.

You peeked your head up to see who was there but quickly put it back down when you saw seungmin as well as jeongin standing in the hallway

"I hate you right now" whispering into his ear before lightly slapping his arm.

"You guys are dating? I assume?" minho asked, trying not to laugh.

The idea of the rest of the boys finding out was already terrifying, but them finding out like this? Made you want to disappear.

Felix hummed before tapping your leg, hinting for you to get up.

Everyone goes back to their business, you and felix at his door when you hear another voice.

"You guys weren't about to fuck on our couch right..." jeongin questioned, putting his coat and bag down.

"We weren't? yea we weren't." opening the door you tug felix in there, closing the door with your back.

You felt like your heart was in your throat. You were anxious. But something deep inside you is making you feel as if the people outside didn't matter. Or you'd let them watch.

You look down slightly to see his boner threatening to pop out.

"did that turn you on?”

“shut the fuck up” he muttered, capturing your lips in another sloppy kiss. That nervous feeling dissappears into a eager feeling. Desperate to feel his touch on you. You say you want anything he gives you, but you know you're lying. You want him. You want him to touch you and feel you up infront of other people. Make them know how good he makes you feel.

You snap out of your trance from felix removing his lips from yours, trailing them down your neck softly biting the skin there.

"What are you thinking about?"

"Its nothing" trying to not let your dirty or borderline filthy fantasy out.

"Are you sure?" he quirks his eyebrow before harshly biting the are that seemingly connects your neck to your collarbone.

"a-ah yea I'm good" You yourself don't even think you were convincing. The slight waver in your voice mad you cringe. Cringe at how you suck at hiding things.

He looks up at you before continuing his next sentence"So maybe I should bring minho to watch me fuck that 'nothing' right out right? I'm sure you'd like that." He tries to act all nonchalant, but you can hear how hard he's breathing and feel his cock that's pressing against your thigh.

"what- what are you talking about?" letting out a slight laugh attempting to redirect the way thus conversation is going.

"We both know what I'm talking about. Besides—" he cuts himself off to move closer. Closer to your ear and whispers the last part of his sentence. "I'd like to see them watch me while I fuck you real good.he gives you a peck on your ear lobe, simultaneously moving to his bed.

"Come on baby tell me what you want."

"I— I don't know I.." you could've used whatever self control you have left, turn this around and milk him of everything he's got. But you choose otherwise.

While Putting two fingers on your tongue. He asks a simple question.

"You want me right here?" Moving his fingers back until you start gagging. You try and say something but it came.out incomprehensible.

"What was that? Cant understand."

"No I, not there please"

He travels his hand down towards your breast lightly cupping it.

"How about here? You want me to touch you here?" he caresses the skin softly waiting for you to give an answer. But when you don't he pinches your nipple through the shirt.

"I asked you a question. You should answer it."

"yes— I mean no, not there." Your words are coming out of your mouth faster than you'd like it to.

Grabbing the band of your pants, he started pulling it down to your ankles then officially off.

He brings his hands right above where you need him most.

"If you're not gonna tell me, you show me where you want me." His voice is always deep, yes. But this time it's raspy. Like if he had just woken up for work in the morning.

You slowly take his hand in yours and drag in downwards.

"Here, please lix I need it." You whined into your other hand that was attempting to cover your face.

His fingers are tracing all over your cunt. Drawing figure 8s over your panties.

"I suppose I can make this work" he shoots you a soft smile, telling you to take your shirt off.

He stands up to do the same thing, sliding off his pants aswell.

He sits back down against the headboard patting his thigh for you to come sit.

"You think I'm gonna do all the work? Come on baby" Rubbing your sides, every once in a while going lower and Grabbing your ass.

"Lix they are outside still. I mean what if they hear us." You still try to get him to believe you. Believe you wouldn't care if they saw.Even though you wouldn't mind them hearing you. Or maybe watching you from a crack in the door.

"You’re such a whore for me, I like it.” he pulled your panties to the side, sliding his finger through your folds.

"Shit, baby you could've just told me you wanted them to watch. I would've obliged" he does that stupid smile again. The one where he knows he's right. Where he knows he's getting to you.

Sliding you back,he pulls his underwear down slightly to free his cock.

You didn't mean to stare, you just kinda zoned out. He gave it a slight squeeze, shivering when a bead of pre-cum leaked out.

"we don't have all day" he leans back in for another kiss while he taps your thigh telling you to lift yourself up.

He nudges the tip against your clit, rubbing it up and down. Head catching the hole sometimes before he pushes in.

You start moving, slowly getting use to the length inside of you. Holding onto his shoulders trying to get a grip on anything around you.

"Good job baby. You can go faster hm?" His voice wobbly while he tries to maintain a straight face. Staring into your eyes unbothered like he isn't twitching inside of you. You know he's turned on. The fact that the boys caught him in the act makes him swell. In reality he wouldn't have an issue if one wanted to peek into his room while you ruin him aswell.

You try to go faster, do a good job but you cant. Your thighs start shaking. Tears welling your eyes before you fall back into his lap.

"Im s-sorry I can't" you whine, head in his neck. Gently suckling on it.

“what? You want me to go deeper? Or go harder?”

Silence. It was suddenly quiet in here, besides the sounds of your panting. You didn't want to admit he got to you. That them watching you could turn you on so much.

"Ah I see" he brings you off his cock onto your back before sliding back in.

"s-shit" the lewd sounds of his balls slapping your thighs along with his low, rough grunts are almost enough to push you over the edge.

Almost.

You felt drunk. Everything around you was blurry. Your senses were heightened. You try to close your legs. So close, the pleasure getting to your brain.

"open your legs pretty." You didn't listen. Looking up at him with a glassy look in your eye silently telling him what you need.

He forces your legs open, jaw going slack when he fucks back into you.

"I know you wanna cum, do it. Nobody's stopping you."

The way he's touching you and thrusting into you. Makes you want more.

You don't give a warning when you cum. Your mouth setting a hard line trying to not let any noise out.

"Good girl" he rubs your clit. Bringing you through your orgasm as he continues fucking you.

It doesn't take long for him to cum either. 2,3 more thrusts before he settles in you. Hips meeting as he leans down to bite your neck, silencing his moans.

He pulls out, telling you he's gonna get a wet cloth and he'd be right back.

He puts on his pants before opening the door seeing seungmin sitting on the couch.

"I'm so telling chan"

"I figured."

#stray kids #surfinminho #skz x reader #skz x you #stray kids smut #dom!lee felix

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smutwritersstuff · 2 years ago

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disclaimer! everyone in this series is of age and yes the cannon events are a tad bit off, I don't feel comfortable writing about such strong subjects with minors. thank you for understanding. this series DOES contain heavy themes of emotional abuse, mentioning of anxiety disorder, mentioning of eating disorders, drug use, and a bunch of other really heavy topics... please DO NOT read if sensitive to these issues.

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⤷ 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫

S1, E1: "Pretend you love me."

y/n comes home after spending the summer with her mom in France, away from her brothers but Voldemort has some news for her… whether she likes it or not.

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The daughter of Voldemort was finally coming home after 3 months away from home. She had stayed with her mom in France, exploring the country from deep cities to forests and greenery... of course, nothing lasts forever.

Here she is, sitting in the car that her father had ordered for her to pick her up from the airport, questioning "What if I hadn't come back?"

"Almost there, Ms. Y/N." The driver peaked in the rearview mirror, glancing at her numb expression.

She replied with a simple "Thank you."

It did feel nice to get away from magical London for a bit... but magical France? That was a dream. She'd give anything to go back right now, anything to not face her father.

When she first told her father about the plan to go stay with her mother all through the summer, he got angry. Of course, he was angry... his only daughter trying to broaden her horizons to see that this isn't the only life she could lead... harming muggle-borns, exterminating muggles?

When she was young, y/n definitely would've said "Yeah, muggles are terrible." but now that she grew up, and interacted with a few muggles, she understood that people shouldn't be judged based on their blood status. Of course, she'd never admit any of this... she couldn't defile the family name as "blood-traitors" when her father was the Dark Lord, and her brothers were next in line to take over the Death Eaters...

The car had pulled into the driveway of the house, and the driver set the car in park. "We're here, Ms. Y/N."

Again, a simple and concise "Thank you." escaped her lips as she had gotten out of the car.

“Ah! Y/N! Welcome home.” your oldest brother, Tom, came to greet you at the door. He must’ve seen the car pulling up in the driveway and rushed to get you. “How was your mom’s?”

“It was beautiful, really…” she replied, holding her arms out in a hug which he quickly reciprocated. “Where’s dad?”

“He’s with Tom, they went to talk to the Malfoys.” Mattheo said, dropping the hug. “Do you need help with your bags?”

The driver was unloading the trunk of the car, the suitcases were being pulled out… and then all of the feelings she tried to escape sunk back into her head and body.

“That’d be great, thank you.” she said, looking down at the graveled driveway and then up to the large, dark house.

“Go on up to your room, I’ll take care of it.”

▃▃▃▃▃ !— Her room —! ▃▃▃▃▃

You turned on the light switch, only to find your room was exactly the same as you left it, ink and an unfinished letter sitting on your desk. The black bedsheets with matching pillows and blankets, along with a stuffed animal you had gotten at your first year at Hogwarts. The clothes that haven’t been traveled with still in your wardrobe. Your private bathroom still as glamorous as you had left it, the curtains were tied back with a silver rope.

You were back home and that meant only one thing… school was starting soon.

The feelings all set in again, the expectations that your father has of you is too much. He expects you to step up and lead the army of Death Eaters when he becomes unable to… meaning if the boy who lived defeated him… to be honest, that’s what you wanted. As cruel as it is to say, you wish Harry would’ve just killed him already… your life would be much easier.

Barely even an hour home and you already want to go back to France, you missed your mom. From everything you’ve heard about her from your father, you expected her to be a vile, evil, self centered woman with a wicked heart… but she was nothing like he described.

You closed your eyes and laid down on your bed, bundling yourself up in the comfort of your blankets that still had remnants of your perfume. Feeling like a hopeless child, you muffled your sobs into the plush fabric of the blankets, tears hitting your pillowcase.

The life you were born into has all been planned for you… no one had ever asked you what you wanted. You wanted to be different but now it seems like you’re stuck in this predicament… stuck in the hell that your father trapped you in and your brothers were stuck right there with you.

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THANK YOU SM FOR READING!!! 🩶🩶 i kinda ditched this series for a bit bcs i’ve been in my dr so much trying to get everything I can and put it into a series! I love u all sm and please please please reblog & follow bcs i’m gonna start posting more regularly <33

msg me to be on the tag list!!

#draco lucius malfoy #authors #harry potter #draco #draco malfoy #mattheo riddle #draco x y/n #y/n y/l/n #tom riddle #matt riddle #tom marvolo riddle #draco x reader #draco malfoy x reader #hogwarts shifting #voldemort #lord voldemort #daughter of voldemort

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hyukassubi · 2 months ago

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🪡 17 | The ‘S’ In ‘Seamstress’ Stands For ‘Soulmate’

♡𓂃 Pairing -> (Former) Knight! Huening Kai x Seamstress! Reader

♡𓂃 Synopsis -> Growing up, you never believed in purpose, nor destiny. Simply following the path of life, becoming a royal seamstress didn't at all seem like a bad idea. Only thing is, it wasn't your idea.

Your best friend who just so happens to be the crowned prince knows what it's like to grow up having limited choices, and Prince Kang Taehyun doesn't want the same happening to you. The commander knight, in turn, has other plans for the future. After Huening Kai closes a profound chapter of his life, he seeks refuge from the chaos of his past, opting for a cozier lifestyle instead.

... And it just so seems that those plans wouldn't be fulfilled without you.

♡𓂃 Wc -> 944

Newsreading over espresso on an early autumn morning while ignoring the helpless screeching of crows wasn’t how Taehyun pictured his career to go, yet he’s doing exactly that over his bedroom balcony, Beomgyu next to him mixing up a slimy concoction with plastic utensils.

Above here, with this view, Taehyun often times sits here in silence, villain-face on, seething.

At least that’s what it looks like.

“How long did you say the dye will last? A few years?” Taehyun flips the pages of the newspaper, a brief run down of all the other princes of neighbouring kingdoms having achieved something. Something ‘great’, starting generational movements, so to speak.

Taehyun, unironically, did not care.

Beomgyu whisked away the slime, “As long as you’d like it to last!... Hopefully.” and then whispers to himself as quietly as he can, which isn’t at all quiet. “… needs more pink… needs more glitter…”

Taehyun snapped his eyes back at Beomgyu, “You are not adding glitter into the dye.”

“Oh yes I am!”

“…”

”… Please?”

”…”

“…FIne—”

“A pinch, and no more.” Taehyun said in all seriousness, pointer finger to the sky sliding from left to right. “I want my hair looking like strawberry froyo, not the Milky Way galaxy.”

Beomgyu continues stirring until a thick grime of pink bubbles up inside of the bowl, knowing all too well everything after this will go smoothly.

Everything will be okay.

Dying the prince’s hair pink was the last thing you expected to do today.

There, at your door stood Crowned Prince Taehyun eighteen and inching… so subtly… over you. Like, you actually had to tilt your head backwards to look at his face, which, in the trajectory of your whole friendship, you’ve never done before?

All you could do was blink, wondering for a second why that mattered as much as it did now…

“I’m sorry, me? Dying your hair?” A featherpen and yellowing-paper sits at your desk, Taehyun had noticed, not the usual sets of fabrics and needle plushes and boards hung up full of rough design drafts.

Even the sight of that alone was refreshing for him. “Yes queen, you’re the chosen one.”

You could’ve asked him, ‘Me?’

‘…Why?’

’Why me?’

‘There’s a whole lot of hairstylists out there so why me?’

The next couple of words that came out of your mouth went a little something like this:

“Hm, I guess I’ll give it a shot.”

It’s been a while, hasn’t it?

You and Taehyun, Taehyun and you. Together. Nearing the pond over a picnic blanket, watching as its miniscule waves brush by the grass.

Taehyun, in all his princeliness, allowing the warm sun to kiss his skin given that spring has arrived just days ago.

You, his seamstress, pick apart at his hair, clipping random uneven bunches up using neon heart-hair clips.

You can’t help but ask. “Pink? Of all colours, you chose pink?”

“That sounds kinda sexist, the way you’re wording it.”

“No, I just thought… well, since you’re unofficially the prince of sass, maybe… purple would suit you better?”

“Purple?”

“I dunno, any colour that screams ‘I mean serious business, don’t even try me’.”

Taehyun smiled and… it was the first time in a long time you saw the prince light up the way he did, still unsure whether it was real or out of habit but… was that a bad thing?

“I guess that would fit me… but no.” Taehyun stares blankly into the pond, “I wanted to go for something… softer. Something different. Because people change, don’t they?”

“So… you’re dethroning yourself from that Prince of Sass position?”

“As if. No one will ever replace me but… there’s so much more you haven’t… we haven’t…”

There it was, in his eyes lied a certain emptiness that never quite sat there before:

Yearning.

The mixing of the pink sludge in the plastic bowl came to an excruciatingly long stop, or at least it felt that way. The way realization hit you, that, the more time went by, the more focused you were on your career, the more the people who once brought meaning into your life seemed to have grown, too.

And you weren’t there to watch it.

Taehyun didn’t drastically change, he was the same old prince from before… was he?

"…We haven't really talked in a really long time." You mindlessly mention. "I can't remember the last time we..." talked.

When Huening Kai left, when was it really, the last time you even saw the prince?

And instead of hating you for it, instead of belittling you or shaming you for being such a blind-sighted ‘friend’, he says slowly, "It isn't your fault. None of it is. I'm looking forward to spending more time in the future with you." you're all I have, the only special thing I have, he didn't mention.

Somehow, you can feel those words unspoken.

The rest of the afternoon was spent painting strands of hair pink and choking down silent tears.

Yeonjun came into the tent in a white tank and cropped joggers half-eaten by the dragon on their previous joint slay, toothbrush in hand, toothpaste foaming in his mouth. “Commander cutie patootie Kaiiii, we’re ordering drinks right now do you wan— Oh my—” Yeonjun’s toothbrush fell out of his hand and santa beard smothered his chin.

On a hammock (Yeonjun bought solely for his Commander), Huening Kai laid there buried in at least ten thousand sheets of paper and five plushies on his bedside.

“Can’t talk right now.” He flips to read another letter Yeonjun has never seen in his life. “I’m doing hot boy things.”

Yeonjun zipped the front of the tent shut.

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