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marvel-snape-writes · 5 months ago

Note

hii i found your work recently and i love it so much!! would you be interested in continuing the storyline of the solo snape one-shot and writing one about him and the mirror of erised?

Infatuated Reflections Plagued By Self-loathing

Severus Snape x 🤫female character🤫/The Mirror of Erised

5.7k+ words

18+ solo smut 🤭

Thank you to the person who requested this! I hope you enjoy it, and I hope that the rollercoaster of emotions does your request the justice it deserves! 😊🫶

You’d have thought that for someone who was so often described as ‘an overgrown bat’ that nightfall would have been his favourite time of day, but not for Severus Snape. In reality, he hated when the day was over, the marking was done, and he had no other vices to drown out his own thoughts. The tossing and turning in his bed was often as a result of this. Though, albeit more often than he’d like to admit, he would sometimes think about how it must feel to spend the night with someone, rather than by himself. Not even necessarily for any fooling around, more for the company. Someone to hold, perhaps, or even someone to be held by. He knew he would be far too nervous, far too out of his depth, even, in order to hint at anything more. But just to have someone to carry him through the loneliness, that he couldn't deny he had wished for now and then.

Right now, he was sat at his desk and still trying to find different ways in which to procrastinate making the journey from his armchair to his bed. He couldn't put his finger on why, but tonight he felt a mixture of loneliness and a slight twinge of uneasiness in the pit of his stomach. Perhaps the company he was longing for tonight was something more along the lines of affection than just another body to lay to the side of in silence. His chin rested on the palm of his hand with his elbow bent on the table as he pondered into the gentle flicker of his desk candle how exactly could he get what he so craved whilst avoiding the embarrassment of speaking or bumping into a single person. He concluded only one answer: taking a visit to The Mirror of Erised.

‘Don’t be so absurd’, was the first internal voice of response. He stared down at the neatly stacked pieces of paper upon his desk and let out a deep sigh through his hooked nose. ‘You want company, you do not wish to be a burden, you do not wish for embarrassment. It is the only way’, a different voice then continued as his lip twitched, ‘Go’.

“Can I bring the mirror back to bed with me?” He asked out loud into the silence, his mind tampering with the slightly seducing reflections he may see in the mirror if it really did show the depths his desires would go on rare occasions.

There were few things he hated more than feeling like this. Very rarely he would let himself to give in to his own desires. Very rarely he would allow himself to even entertain the idea. On the rare occasion he did, it would be over in a flash; whether that be because of the self-loathed feeling of embarrassment he would bring upon himself for letting it come to that point where he had no choice except to chase his own release, or whether it was because the times between allowing pleasure into his life were so far apart that once he started, it only took a few minor strokes to reach his craved result; the hot, sticky blobs landing upon him almost as white as his own skin.

He could feel the frustration beginning to grow. It bubbled from the pit of his stomach and sent tingles down his thighs, clenching his fists a few times whilst swallowing hard. The times where he craved company that went further than just to have another person’s presence with him were what he’d fear the most. Not knowing how long it was going to last or how he would deal with it. Whether he would dare to allow himself to go through with the inevitable when it got too painful to even sleep. The feeling, the urges would come in waves. To him, they were more likened to waves of nausea — or should he say, they were about just as unwelcome as feeling nauseous. However, the way that one would ‘feel better’ after having thrown up after a long time of feeling sick, this was the same way he felt after he had given in to his own desires; not happy necessarily, certainly not proud, maybe a little relieved, but mostly just glad it was over.

Begrudgingly, he stood up from his armchair and brushed his hands down the front of his buttoned pyjama shirt. He pushed his chair back into his desk and glanced around the room to try and decide what would result in less speculation or questions if he were to be caught walking the corridors after hours. He was comfortable in his black bedclothes, but he definitely didn't have the confidence to be walking down the halls in them. His go-to solution was to grab his cloak and wrap it around his shoulders — and as much of his body as possible without looking completely ridiculous.

He stood by his chamber door for a few moments, one hand fixed on the handle and one pushing through his hair as he had a few last minute hesitations about going to find The Mirror of Erised. What would someone say if they saw him? What story would he make up? What if someone was in front of the mirror already? The thoughts took over his mind for several moments and he sighed deeply, taking one glance back at his empty bed before making the final decision to go ahead with the plan to at least attempt to fill his loneliness.

Thankfully, the corridors were quiet, or quiet enough at least to be able to hear if anyone else was coming in any other direction. Knowing exactly what to do and where to go in order to find The Mirror of Erised irritated him a little as he was hoping by the time it was in view, his desires may have calmed. They hadn’t.

As he saw the mirror in the distance, he pondered for a short while if this would be worth it at all. Would it make him feel even worse if he couldn't even converse with whatever would be standing in front of him? He stepped closer to it. What if he could cast a spell and make it talk? Or would that make it even worse?

He grumbled to himself as he approached the mirror and stood at the side of it, still in absolute disbelief that he had allowed himself to come this far. He pulled his cloak around him a little bit tighter as if for some sort of comfort — for the first time in a long time he actually felt a bit nervous. As he side stepped a little closer to the mirror, still not yet in front of it, he thought of all the possibilities that could be reflected; Which would it choose? Out of all the things in Severus Snape’s ‘ideal world’, which, in this exact moment in time, would The Mirror of Erised select as his most his desired?

He felt his heart race at the thought of the several possible outcomes and was unable to even move his feet, almost as if they had been glued to the floor. Often coming across as being so sure of himself and his actions, he was not familiar with this sudden anxiety surrounding the idea of standing in front of a mirror. He knew deep down it was because he was afraid of seeing for himself what it was that he really wanted, because if he could see it, then he knew it was real, and delving into his own thoughts and feelings and putting himself and his own desires first was something he hadn't done for years.

He took a deep breath and lifted one of his feet in order to step in front of the mirror before stopping himself in the process as he had a sudden thought; what if he were to cast the potential ‘talking’ spell on the mirror before standing in front of it? That way, if he didn't like what he saw, he could at least threaten whoever was on the other side with something if they didn't promise to keep tonight and his helplessness a secret.

He pulled his wand out of his pocket and gestured it toward the mirror, muttering the first thing that came into his head. He lowered his arm and placed his wand back into his pocket, waiting a few moments in complete silence. The breath he drew this time was even deeper than the one before, genuinely afraid of what he may discover next. His heart thumping in his chest and his hands growing sweaty, he took his first step in front of the mirror. Afraid to look at the image in front of him, his eyes instinctively closed once he was in line with it.

Just open them, Severus. Whatever you see, it is not real, he told himself, already embarrassed with how pathetic he felt. He calmed his breathing and swallowed hard, opening his eyes with a slight squint at first before opening them fully. To his surprise — or relief — there wasn't anything in the reflection of the mirror other than darkness. He couldn't even see himself. Not that he and his self-loathing was upset about it. He let out a shaky breath and stared directly at it, trying his best to focus on if there was anything he was missing. He arched a brow and sighed in defeat.

You can’t even stare into a mirror right, he grumbled inside his head, pulling his cloak around him tightly again and turning away from the mirror. He began to walk back to the door and pressed his lips together hard, unsure of if he was more angry or disappointed in himself. Even the mirror didn't have anything to offer him. Only seeing his own reflection? He knew there was a reason why he had never used the mirror for himself. What could a cold, reserved man possibly desire?

Already dreading who he would potentially bump into down the corridors back to his chamber, he placed his hand on the handle of the door to leave the room. The mirror was facing away from him now, his back toward the room, and he couldn't wait to pretend he had never even tried to communicate with it. He twisted the handle and began to pull it open, scowling to himself until he heard a voice from behind him speak into the empty room, “Severus, wait…”

The gentle voice shook him to his core, placing his free hand flat upon the wall at the side of the doorframe to try and steady himself. For a moment he convinced himself that he had imagined it, but the same gentle tone called for him again. His lips parted and he felt a shiver run down his spine, his fingertips now turning white from how hard they were pressed against the wall. His heart rate intensified wildly as he turned around and began walking back toward the mirror.

Once again, he approached the front of it with his eyes closed, still not fully convinced that his spell had worked. Had he made the mirror say what he craved most rather than showing him? Gradually, he opened his eyes again to find his answer. His head was dipped when his eyes opened fully, seeing only dainty feet. It was as his eyes trailed further up herbody that he felt himself dizzy with impossibility. Whether the reflection could speak to him or not, he found himself absolutely speechless. His eyes welled as he felt genuine emotion surge through his body for the first time in longer than he could even remember.

“I- It can’t be…” His voice trembled, bringing one of his hands to his mouth and speaking into it, “C-Can’t…”

His head shook as his eyes met the reflection in the mirror. Instead of seeing himself with what he apparently most desired, he only saw her alone. But that was enough. If he had seen himself with her after all these years, he was convinced he would've collapsed in an instant. She looked older, though she still had all the same familiarities he was so used to gazing upon in his youth. Still convinced that he was seeing things, he took a step closer. The slim figure in the mirror moved with him, shocking him to the point of stumbling backward a little and struggling to keep his balance. He desperately reached to a nearby table to try and stabilise himself, feeling himself growing more and more lightheaded by the second.

“Just take a breath,” She said, her eyes following him from the mirror, “Compose yourself,” The softness of her voice made him tingle, “Everything is going to be okay.”

“You’re not here,” He shook his head manically, covering his face with his hands as he leant back against the table, “You are not here.”

“Look at me and tell me I’m not, Severus.” She replied.

Severus slowly lowered his hands from his face again and tried not to act so startled this time when he was met with her reflection yet again. He swallowed hard and exhaled deeply. She was every bit of stunning that he remembered. Even more so, actually. Now she looked a similar age to him, he could begin to imagine what life would have been like — could have been like. But that thought made his eyes well even more.

“How are you, Severus?” She asked in a gentle tone.

“Oh, that used to be such a simple question to answer…” Severus laughed weakly, his hands trembling madly as he dared to look her reflection in the eyes again.

“Well, you’re here,” She shrugged, “Living, breathing—”

“Barely,” Severus swallowed the lump in his throat, “I’d say more just existing.”

“Oh, Severus…” It was only two words but the way she said it earned a singular tear to run down his cheek. The caring, tender tone made him feel as if she had reached out her hand caressed it. He looked up at her reflection helplessly, catching his lip between his teeth when it began to quiver.

“I can't…” He inhaled shakily, “B—Believe it…”

His chest physically pained from what was in front of him, still only half believing it was true.

“What is it?” She asked, narrowing her eyebrows empathetically and speaking again when Severus failed to do so, “I cannot leave if I am what you desire the most. That's the rules. The mirror can't lie.”

Severus nodded uneasily, mumbling under his breath, “I do not deserve to desire,” He shrugged simply, “Wherever you are, I just hope you’re happy,” He swallowed the growing lump in his throat, “Whatever that means.”

“You deserve more than anyone to desire, Severus,” She smiled softly, “A man who has prevented himself from such feelings for so long.”

Severus’ lip twitched, now staring at his feet.

“It is only natural to—”

“Be weak and give in to it?” Severus asked, arching a brow.

“Do not think of it as giving in, think more that you are allowing yourself to feel.” She smiled kindly.

Severus felt himself go strangely numb and electric at the same time. His breathing became jittery and he was struggling to try and figure out what exactly it was that she meant. It wasn't that he didn't feel anything, it was more that he felt everything all at once; shock, sadness, happiness, helpless, regret, heartbreak, loneliness, that so-called desire she spoke of, aroused, even, and when he raised his head to look at her again, justified for all of the above.

“I won't tell if you don't, Severus.” She whispered.

“I-I’m sorry?” Severus widened his eyes.

Before he knew it, his mouth was as wide as his eyes. He watched in awe as she began to undress in front of him in the mirror, half not thinking he was worthy to witness such beauty, half being in so much awe he was unable to bring his eyes away. She stopped once she got to her underwear and left those items of clothing on, looking back into his eyes now. Severus’ eyes quickly diverted, however, now shyly looking at the floor

“For heavens sake, just do what every fibre of your being is telling you to,” She stood now with her hand on her hip, “Take a look.”

Severus’ breathing grew heavier, afraid of what would become of him if he looked at her properly.

“For me?” She bit her lip.

He took a shaky breath and lifted his head, “I…” He swallowed hard.

“Deserve to stop putting off your own desires?” She finished for him.

“I haven't had single desire in my life since the day you...” He began to admit, though couldn't finish the sentence, so only exhaled a sad sigh.

“That is absurd, Severus.” She shook her head.

“I have been afraid to open myself and love again because I fear the loss of it,” He forced himself to look into her eyes, “Because of the loss I felt when I lost you.” His voice was shaky, unsure of whether he felt more or less pathetic admitting this to a reflection in a mirror rather than an actual human being.

“We cannot never love again in fear of loss, Severus,” She frowned, “Otherwise we would never love again.”

“That is the point.” His words were spoken with a slightly sharper tongue this time, “In reality, your death barely happens to you at all, it happens to your friends and family. They’re the ones who feel it. They're the ones who have to deal with it. Day in, day out. Nothing but pain and sadness, nothing but—”

“Severus, Severus!” She butted in, in an attempt to stop him digging himself a deeper hole, “I am here right now, aren't I? The one thing you desire the most? The one telling you that it is okay to have desires and lust. It is completely natural to have a burning want for something and go ahead and allow yourself to feel it,” Their eyes met in the mirror again, “Why is it yourself that you are so unforgiving?”

“Why do you insist on staying and breaking my heart?” He spoke with the most pained expression on his face.

“This is me telling you that it is okay. What is it that you want from me, permission to give in to what you crave the most?” She asked.

“Yes!” Severus practically pleaded, his eyes burning with threat of bursting into tears.

HERE

He watched as the image in the mirror reached behind, unclasping her bra and dropping it carelessly to the floor whilst not even breaking eye contact for a moment, “Is that enough?”

Severus’ body shivered from head to toe at the image before him. His eyes twitched. His lips twitched. His cock twitched. He swore he could even hear his heartbeat. Even though she wasn't real, even though she was just a reflection, the effect she was having upon him that once felt like a sin now felt so natural. It was as if her permission had allowed him to feel this way. As if that was all he ever needed in order to allow himself pleasure in anything after her death.

“Fuck…” He muttered under his breath as cock stirred in his underwear, unable to tear his eyes off the image in front of him. Hesitantly, he placed his hand over his crotch and inhaled sharply when he felt the obvious bump.

“Too scared to see the damage, Severus?” She taunted him through the mirror.

“You—”

“And don't even think about blaming me,” She snapped quickly, “This is all inside your head, not mine.”

Severus’ lips pressed together — he was far too aroused at this point to argue. Even if it would be arguing with a reflection in a mirror. He felt like he was having an out-of-body-experience. His palm brushed back and forth over the bump in the front of his pyjama bottoms and he swallowed hard, feeling the temperature in his body rise. The instinct to chase his arousal had hit him like a ton of bricks; he wanted it, needed it, and had been instructed to do so by the only person who could command him to do anything.

“Is this you giving in to your desires, Severus?” She asked, biting her lip from the view.

“Giving in to you,” He inhaled shakily, “Always giving in to you.”

“Show me.” She whispered.

Severus felt a shiver all the way down to the tip of his cock from her tone of voice and pushed his hand into the front of his pyjamas, then boxers. He could feel himself throb from the simple motion of just brushing his fingertips over the bare skin. For the first time in a long time, he showed barely any hesitation as he wrapped his hand around his cock completely, gently giving himself some slow strokes as his body adjusted to this rare form of pleasure.

“Y…” He squeaked as he watched her topless reflection, “You…”

“Feast upon the image to your hearts content, Severus,” She pressed her hands against the sides of her breasts and pushed them together, “If my permission is what it took to allow a little only natural pleasure into your life, it’s all yours.”

“All… mine…” He breathed out, the thought alone making his body ache with want. His wrist also ached from the restriction his clothing was giving him as he continued to stroke his length up and down.

“Do you like the thought of that?” She asked, tilting her head.

“Fuck, yes.” He nodded quickly.

“I told you to show me.” Her eyes gestured to his hand moving back and forth in the front of his pants.

Severus inhaled sharply, his eyes remaining completely fixated to hers as he pushed down the front of his pyjama pants and boxers. He moaned quietly at the new freedom of his wrist, but it still wasn't enough. He pushed the waistband of both items of clothing down so that they were set below his hips, allowing his pulsating length and aching balls to be completely free and on show. His mouth continued to gape as his hand wrapped around the base of his cock, squeezing himself gently before starting to stroke it up and down again, bringing himself even closer to the mirror.

“That’s it, Severus,” The reflection cooed, “Chase that feeling you've been denying yourself for all this time.”

He reached out a shaky hand and placed it against the boarder of the mirror, helping steady himself as he stood with parted legs. His fist slid up and down with ease, perhaps a little bit too much ease, but this situation was playing with his head in more ways than one. Usually, on the scarce occasions he found himself with his hand wrapped around his cock, his eyes would be closed in order to flood his head with images that would get him off the fastest, but now his eyes remained open. Those images were right in front of him. His eyes took their time in tracing every detail of her bare body, the only item left upon her being her bottom underwear. The fact that is was exactly how he had imagined her to be, exactly what he dreamed to have and hold each night he closed his eyes; beautifully aged, just how he always pictured she would be. His eyes settling upon her breasts earned a particular throb from his cock, urging him to speed his hand up. Her eyes followed his and he let out several soft whimpers, his lips still parted as precum leaked into his fist, making the movements even slicker. He was completely and utterly mesmerised by her reflection.

He wanted to reach out and touch her. Every inch of her, skin on skin. He craved it. He had never seen such beauty like this so close. Sure, he had dreamed of growing old with her and being able to hold her at every stage of aging life, but he never thought he would get this close. So close, but yet so far. So out of reach, but such a stunning reflection before him. It was like turning torture into art.

“Agh, shit…” He grunted when he purposely brushed his hand under the head of his cock with a little more pressure a couple of times. He rolled onto his tiptoes and felt his entire body shudder in pleasure.

“Are you sure you want to chase the ending that fast, Severus?” Asked the mirror.

“Wh-Wha…” His heavy gaze lifted to hers.

“You don't want it to be over so quickly, do you?” She spoke softly, “Not after how long you've just gone without it,” Her eyes glanced down to his pumping fist for a brief moment, “Savour it.”

One hand stayed against the boarder around the mirror and the other remained around his cock, breathing heavily as his movements slowed down. Instead, he tapped his fingertip against the tip of his length and inhaled shakily when he saw the string of precum attached between them. He whimpered manically as he spread the stickiness around the head of his cock and narrowed his eyebrows, pressing his lips firmly together to try and not make a sound. After a few moments, he wrapped his fist a little looser around himself and parted his legs slightly more. He let go and glanced down at his stubborn arousal, lightly tracing a sticky finger back and forth over the prominent vein bulging against his skin.

“Oh, oh, ohhh…” He hissed through clenched teeth, but he couldn't take it for long; before he knew it, his fist was back around him fully again, though loose enough still to allow swift movements.

“Are you going to fuck your hand and pretend it's mine?” The reflection asked, biting her lip as her eyes fell to his hand again, “Pretend it's me?”

His free hand now lay flat against the border of the mirror and he took a deep, shaky breath. His eyes met with hers and he began to slowly move his hips back and forth, thrusting into his open fist. He shuddered in pleasure and dared himself to tighten his fist and his mouth fell open, moaning “fuck” every few seconds. His hand moved from pressing against the border of the mirror to gripping onto it and grunting every time he bucked his hips, his fingertips now turning white and slightly painful from how desperately he was holding onto it.

“Mmmhh…” He groaned lowly, feeling himself pulsate madly in his grip.

“You’re being so good to yourself, Severus,” Her reflection purred, “Does it feel nice to allow yourself to give in to your desires?”

Severus couldn't even fathom a verbal response. His jerking wrist was now working in time with his hips, his lips pressed firmly together to try and not allow any louder moans to pass through them. His fist twisted and moved in perfect rhythm, and for the first time in as long as he could remember, he was doing it without guilt. His eyes which would usually be squeezed shut to try and block out the shame were — albeit heavy — wide open and burning into hers. There wasn't a thing that could stop him at this point, not even the fact that he hadn't locked the door. He was so focused on chasing his release at this point, he couldn't even spare himself a moment to reach for his wand and cast a spell to lock it, either.

“Ugh, fuck, I…” He inhaled sharply, “I-I’m so close…” His breathing became even more jittery, “S…”

“Are you going to cum, Severus?” Her reflection asked, biting her lip.

“Y—Yes… yes!” He whined helplessly, his fist firing relentlessly up and down his entire length.

“Are you going to cum for me, Severus?” Her voice was the most seductive thing he had ever heard.

His thighs tensed and the flickering sparks in the pit of his stomach grew into embers and began to rise higher and higher, earning a jolt of his hips into his hand. He quickly removed his hand from the mirror and placed it just beneath the tip of his length, his jaw tensing and toes curled, suddenly feeling the pleasure of a thousand summer days spent with her hit him all at once in some form of sticky euphoria as his climax began to land upon his cupped hand. He felt dizzy with pleasure and had no choice other than to place his hand back against the border of the mirror again to steady himself whilst his other hand was far too busy pumping up and down his length — the orgasm of which was now spraying against the mirror itself.

“Oh, g—good, god!” Severus’ voice was practically strangled, the veins in his neck almost popping out as his head swung back in ecstasy, “Fuck! Mmmh!” His fist continued to pump recklessly up and down his length and his eyes rolled back, string after string of its effect continuing to land upon the mirror. His wrist ached but the movements continued, grunting breathlessly as he refused to stop.

“Severus, Severus,” She whispered softly as his head remained tilted back, “Say my name…” She spoke in a firm but gentle voice.

Severus regained the strength to lift his head again and opened his eyes, twitching cock still in hand and feeling his heart skip a beat once their eyes met again. He swallowed hard and panted heavily, paying no mind to the mess he had made upon the mirror now trailing down the surface of it. The relief he felt was like something he had barely ever experienced. Euphoric, guilt free relief.

“Say it.” She whispered again, smiling sweetly.

Severus licked his lips shakily, his eyes flickering to the reflection of her lips in the mirror and leaned forward. He pursed his lips and allowed his eyes to fall shut as they pressed upon the mirror itself whilst whispering, “Lilly.”

He placed his hand flat upon the mirror at the side of his head in some hope of being able to feel her. His lips remained pressed against the mirror in some hope he would be able to taste her. He couldn't. It was just cold. Numb. And when he pulled back to gaze upon Lilly’s reflection in the mirror once more, so was his heart. She was gone.

He felt like his heart had been completely torn out of his chest. His eyes welled with tears; frustration, heartbreak, shock and sadness all mixed into one. His hand pressed against the mirror again as if hers would be there to touch it on the other side. Still nothing.

“N—No… no.” His lip quivered, desperately trying to think of any way to bring her back to him again, “Tell me it wasn't real…” He inhaled shakily, “Tell me I just imagined it…” His burning, tear filled eyes stared back at only his own reflection, “No, no, no!” His self-loathing surging through his veins like never before, “My heart is already breaking, why don't you just twist the fucking knife?!”

He felt beyond overwhelmed with emotion, as if he was about to hyperventilate as he panted. In a moment of both weakness and madness, his fist pounded against the mirror a couple of times, though only for want to hurt himself rather than the reflection of her that once stood there. The room was silent despite his sobs. He forced his red eyes open and parted his trembling lips, shaking his head as he stared helplessly into the mirror whilst whimpering.

“I just…” He inhaled deeply, pleading loud in his voice now, “I just cannot face myself alone again.”

He turned himself around and leant back against the mirror, sliding down it with the hope of landing and sleeping in herembrace at last. He buried his face in his hands and continued to bawl, tears now seeping through his fingers and trailing down his wrists. Anyone who walked past the room would think that something was dying inside, but to Severus it felt as if something already had; a wound that had already been far from healed ripped wide open again and stinging him all the more this time in the process. He felt what it was like to have her there with him and then lose her right in front of him all over again.

‘Why had she gone? This wasn't how the mirror worked.’, were the words whizzing around his head. He hated that he had come to this conclusion, but he saw no other way; deep down, he would never want her to see him like this; miserable, embarrassed, alone. His desire was for her to tell him that giving in to what he desired most was okay, and she did that. She saw him with his lustful, loyal eyes. She saw him allowing himself to feel pleasure after all these years of avoiding it, feeling unworthy. He didn't desire for her to see how he really felt now that she was gone and the years since. She really only ever got the better version of him, and even subconsciously he made sure of that.

He had never really known love until it came to him in the form of her, and he felt as if his heart was no longer needed ever since she was no longer here. He knew even if he did allow himself to feel for someone who wasn't her, she would always be the constant in his life — regardless of whether she was living, a reflection, or not here at all. She lived so deeply in his heart she was almost like a dagger; if removed, he would die. The promise he made because of her kept him alive. Though far gone from this world, she kept him alive.

“Lilly…” He finally removed his hands and rubbed his puffy eyes, sniffling, “Oh, my sweet Lilly,” He swallowed the lump in his throat, wiping under his eyes, “Don't leave me in charge of my own heart. It only knows you.”

He heard the rain hit against the window and took a deep breath. Even the sky was crying, mourning with him all over again. He was exhausted, both physically and emotionally. The infatuated reflections plagued by self-loathing, the once guilt-free pleasure that he felt only a few moments ago was gone, just like her, and only left him wondering how it was possible for something so beautiful to cause him such pain.

---

Thank you so much for reading! Please let me know your thoughts 🫢😁♥️

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maymaylyn · 2 months ago

Text

Frank Woods x Reader

Husdon takes it too far, but maybe everything will work out??

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Warnings

Huson being an ass. Fighting done offsceen. Make out on screen. No gender placed on reader.

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The door slammed shut, making Woods chuckle. He rests his arms on the table and cleans his pistol with an old rag. Watching you intently, he could see the tension in your body language and smirked in your direction. “What’s with the attitude?”

“What attitude?” you say, not looking up at him. Usually, you get along and enjoy spending time with the Woods. But did he have to be here right now? Throwing the box of case files down on the table. Already annoyed with what you just, gracefully, walked away from. Huffing at the tone, he wasn't used to having a pissed-off tone from you directed at him.

Setting down his pistol and making his way around the table. Pushing the files away, he knocked his fist into your shoulder, forcing you to face him with unintentional strength. “The one that’s telling me you’re pissed off.”

He reserved these moments for you, the soft ones that called for secrecy and no prying eyes to judge him for letting you in. You both knew what line of work you were in and what you wanted; what was plain to see, even when trying to be hidden, only got you hurt more. After all, you couldn't trust anyone.

Frank and you had been tiptoeing along the unspoken boundary like the ground was liters with landmines. Still not looking up at him, you said quietly, “It’s nothing, Woods.”

The tone told him to back off, but come on, has he ever backed down? Coming up behind you now. Trying a different approach, he leaned down so his mouth was next to your ear. You could feel the roughness of his beard lightly brushing against your skin. “Don’t give me that bullshit, sweetheart. I know when somethings bothering you.”

Even though touch this light was foreign to the hardened soldier. It felt good, comforting not only to him but to you, which brought your mind straight back to the issue that was bothering you. You had feelings for him, and it was starting to get noticed by people around you. One person who was causing the biggest problem in this situation was Jason Hudson.

He was surprised when you stepped away from him. Looking down at you with a concerned gaze. Having you pull away from him hurt more than he’d like to admit. “Hey… hey, what’s going on? Why are you crying?”

Not even noticing the tears roll down. Shaking your head slightly to get the tears to stop only helped them fall faster. “Hudson just needs to learn how to shut his mouth.”

Wood’s hardened his gaze on hearing that name, “Tell me something I don’t know. What did he say this time?”

You didn’t want to tell Wood’s what Hudson would NEVER have the balls to say to Wood’s face. A snide comment that didn't register until he had slammed the door in your face. The very few times Woods and Hudson cross paths, it always ends in a fight, and up until today, Hudson has never harmed you.

Woods scowled, anger filling his bones at the Hudson speaking to you in a way to make you this upset. He must have crossed a line, “No, tell me what he said. I want to know.”

“It's fine Frank… I- I don't know-“

Frank and you weren't together, but everyone knew you two were close. Everyone also made their own assumptions. Some of them were right, most of them were wrong. Then again… Hudson’s actions also warranted him to get clocked, so maybe-

“He said that if you don't fuck the bitch out of me, he would.”

Silence.

Turning to look at him finally showed you exactly what he was thinking. Red. Red. Red. His blood was boiling. He was absolutely livid, and it took everything to keep it together. Watching you look up at him with big teary eyes, nervous about his reaction. Taking a step towards you, filling the gap, he practically pressed himself against you. Successfully trapping you against the table, not planning on letting you escape. Wood’s clenched his fists tight and visibly held his breath in his chest. The thought of Hudson making such a crude comment about you set him on fire.

“I- I just asked him about these fucking files. I swear I wasn’t doing anything-“ Covering your eyes to try to hide from Wood's stare, trying to shield some tears from his view. Feeling a hand firmly take your arm down, another comes up to the back of your neck. Holding you steady against him, his touch shot down your spine. Wood’s leaned down and placed a rigid kiss against your forehead. “I’ll be back.”

The heat from the anger coming off his skin burned. You’ve seen Frank angry, yelling, this… this was different. An angry Frank was scary, but a calm Frank Wood’s? Suddenly, you were scared for Hudson.

Hardly getting out a ‘wait’ before Frank is out the door. Footsteps echo down the hall; he was on a mission.

——————————————————

Overhearing one of the medics talk about a fight in the hall wasn't surprising. It also wasn't a surprise to hear that one of them is in medical with stitches and a broken nose. While the other is suspended pending corrective action. Shocking.

It wasn’t until later that night that you decided to seek out your knight. You went to the private barracks on base, where Woods was staying when the team was grounded. Knocking on the door took more courage than it ever had in the past. Listening for anything past the wooden door gave you the answer you needed, running water. It wasn’t loud enough to be a shower, probably just his sink. You tried the door handle to find that it was unlocked.

It wasn’t like Frank to leave a door unlocked. Carefully and slowly, opening it slightly. Before entering, you looked both ways down the hall and stepped in, seeing you were alone. The last thing you need today is more comments about the nature of your relationship or lack of with Frank.

Like calling the devil when the door clicked shut, the water turned off, and Frank came out of the small bathroom. He paused momentarily, looking at you, taking in your silhouette against the dark of his room. Leaning against the messy desk behind him, pushing several papers back without much care, he was far more focused on what was right in front of him. The question on your tongue dissolved as soon as his eyes met yours, but he answered your question regardless, “I figured you’d come by.”

Nodding in acknowledgment was the only answer you gave, unable to look away. Taking in his appearance, an old t-shirt, worn-out cargo pants, and bruised knuckles that made you hold your breath. Nothing could change this man.

We stood in front of each other, silently waiting for someone to move. He didn't do this because he thought you needed protection, and certainly not for you to say ‘thank you.’ So, doing what felt right under the watchful eye of a man who can’t be killed, you put one foot in front of the other. Every step sealed your fate as the eyes of a predator stalked your every move.

The heels of your boots clicked lightly on the floor. Getting dangerously close to him, you took his briused hand into your, and looked down at the bruised skin. Woods watched you silently, taking you in; it wasn’t every day you were this close.

Frank held his breath in his chest, unable to move from the overwhelming emotion in your eyes. Clenching his jaw slightly as he watched you examining his bruised and bloody knuckles, a mixture of pain and satisfaction coursing through him.

Looking up and locking on to worn blue eyes, not before giving his lips a once over. It took a split second of leaning into him to press your lips against his. Bring your hands up, rubbing them over his chest to cup his bearded face in your hands

Woods let out a low rumble as he felt your soft lips aggressively push against his in a sinful way. He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to him and returning the kiss wholeheartedly.

His body was still tense from the adrenaline of the fight, but as your hands came down to his chest once more, getting closer to him, wanting to feel more, the tense muscles couldn't help but relax into you. Moving his hands down to your hips, holding onto your firmly as he deepened the kiss.

This was a first. Kissing was a new playing field for you two to concur on. The heat coming off of you from unspoken conversations and desires was finally pouring out. Wood’s hand came up, tangling in your hair. He tilted your head to the side, pulling you deeper into him as he practically devoured your mouth, not letting either of you breathe. He didn't need air. He needed you.

Spinning around and pushing you up on the desk made you gasp, letting the air rush into your lungs, making a lightheaded fuzzing feeling come up your spine. He didn't give you much more than a second before he was back on you, all teeth and tongue like a wild animal out of its cage. He was out for blood, looking at you with a hungry expression, his chest heaving against your own as he tried to catch his breath in between kisses.

Pulling away from your lips only to make a trail down your jaw to your neck. You felt a smirk against your sensitive skin before he dove into you once more. Sucking and nipping onto skin he had never touched before. He wanted to make damn sure he claimed it as his making you moan out into the cold air of the room.

Hearing the sweet wimpers come from your mouth sent shivers down his spine, making his grip on you tighten. His body pressed against yours in a possessive manner, making sure you couldn’t run from him. As if you ever would.

“Frank!” Pulling him off in a rough jerk after his teeth grazed your neck particularly hard. You take a minute to look each other over and share the same breath. He reluctantly pulled away from you, smiling a little too wide for a man who had just put another man in the infirmary. With swollen lips and his eyes dark with desire, he looked at you, panting, trapped by him. He still held you against the old desk, willing to give out at any point. “What is it, sweetheart?”

Letting out a small laugh of disbelief. Running your hands over Wood’s beard, wiping away saliva he smeared on himself. Biting your lips, taking in his appearance, his face flushed, and his eyes blown out. Now, this was a sight you could get used to. Bending over you with gruff huffs and an expression that told you exactly what he wanted, you kissed again. Sweetly, this time before pulling away and smiling up at him.

Wood’s couldn’t help but chuckle softly as you delicately ran your hands over his beard, a signature smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. He didn’t hide the groan that came out as you pulled away from him, his eyes watching you intently. His body is now back to being tense, only now with desire as he looked you up and down. In a rough, low voice, he asked, “What was that for?”

“For this,” You take his hands in your own once more and bring them to your lips, giving each of them a soft kiss. You could feel his breath hitch in his chest. No one handled Frank Woods with care. “…A thank you..”

His expression softened slightly; he wasn't used to being treated like this. Like he mattered to someone, especially when he just got out of a physical fight. His heart clenched at the sight of you delicately caring for him.

Woods pulled you closer, wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his face in the crook of your neck. He held you tightly against him, his body relaxing as he inhaled your scent. Warmth was festering in his chest; he didn't think feelings this intense were supposed to exist. He knew that things would be different between you from now on, and for once, he wasn’t afraid of it. This was the start of something new for both of you. The softness and the warmth that you both deserved.

————————————-

I really tried on this so dont make fun of me. Also who tf knows how to kiss? I dont.

#Frank woods #united states of frank woods #frank woods x reader #frank woods black ops #frank woods black ops cold war #frank woods is blueprint daddy #frank woods cold war #before panama #black ops #cod black ops cold war #black ops cold war

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fungusgnat444 · 6 months ago

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Random König headcanons

SFW and NSFW also (don’t worry if you just want SFW everything is labeled), mentions of anxiety/poor self worth, autistic coded König, nerd könig, angst if you squint, mentions of size difference, mentions of a gun kink(nothing too fucked up I promise), könig wears a buttplug lol, Slight breeding kink, mentions of creampie, assumed unprotected sex (wrap it up tho fr), König being a lil freak in general honestly, kinda sub König in some parts but also some dom, afab femme reader, descriptions of anatomy(mostly him but a little about reader too),reader works with könig, I think that’s it

Real name: Jacob Schröder

Age:26 (born September 30th because I said so)

home town: Badgastein (it’s so pretty and snowy☺️)

appearance: 6”10, deep auburn curly hair, very pale with freckles, large, aquailine nose, super thick eyelashes and eyebrows, blue/green eyes (like mostly blue but with a little green)

SFW

Although he love physical touch his favourite love language is quality time and I can not be convinced otherwise. At first you thought it was a little creepy how he would just silently sit with you basically doing nothing but he genuinely likes just spending time with you. Sees you alone in the mess hall? Even if he’s already eaten he’ll just sit and watch you eat in silence. Reading a book? He’ll sit you in his lap and read over your shoulder (secretly thinks most of the books you read are garbage but he doesn’t really care). He honestly just likes that you’re there, you don’t even have to do anything lol. Likes physical affection too but in a more subtle way usually. Sometimes cuddling and making out or whatever overwhelms him and makes him feel claustrophobic. Most of the time he just likes holding your hand or having his hand resting on your thigh or playing with your hair while you have your head in his lap. Loves it when you play with his hair too, usually puts him to sleep.

speaking of which this man can and will sleep anywhere. On days he’s not working he’ll probably have to have at least one nap or he’ll get all grumpy. As much as you feel bad for him when he’s tired you have to admit he always looks so cute. All puffy eyed and pouty. Often forces you to nap with him even if you tell him you’re not tired. If you just wait for him to fall asleep and try to leave he’s immediately awake and holding you so tight you almost feel like you’ll pass out. He could sleep through an air raid but if you try to leave he’s on high alert. Also I fear because he’s broken his nose so many times, this man’s snoring will make your house shake.

I can’t explain why but I feel like he’s a massive nerd. Like has a protective glass case filled with warhammer 40k figurines, probably spent his entire live savings on a pc, camps out at stores when a new game is getting released, rants at you about the Halo lore type of nerd. also he’s definitely forced you to watch Star Trek and hates that the next generation is your favourites. Is definitely a dungeon master So if you show even the slightest interest in dnd our boy is stuttering, blushing, trying to get you to join his dnd group. Bitte schatz, I came up with a whole new campaign just for you🥺 you’ll like it I swear.

Although it might be a little toxic I definitely think he can be overly protective/possessive of you. Honestly you kind of like it but you know he only acts this way because he’s insecure. Making you sit in his lap when he has friends over so they know not to look at you to much, making you wear his jacket if you get too much attention in public and glaring at any man who walks past. You always know he’s feeling jealous when his pupils are like pin pricks and he’s breathing like a bull with his fists clenched. He’s gotten into fights a few times so you usually have to calm him down. He’s always super embarrassed and apologetic after. Buying you some expensive pretty thing so you don’t hate him. Even if you don’t care or kinda like it he always feels guilty. He feels guilty a lot in general with you. That such a pretty sweet girl is stuck with him. As such he doesn’t take compliments very well. Usually clenching his jaw and furrowing his thick brows while he mutters something passive aggressive to himself, “Scheiß lügner…”. Although if you keep saying the compliment and giving him attention he’ll eventually start believing you. Blushing and struggling to look at you.

Probably takes him quite a while to feel comfortable showing you his full face or even telling you his real name. Even once you’ve already seen it sometimes he still hides his face on days he’s feeling particularly insecure. Once before you’d seen his face you asked one of his friends, horangi, about it. He said they’d known each other almost a decade and he’d only seen his face a few times, most of which were accidental. König had a pretty miserable time as a teenager. He only really bulked out when he was about 17, right before he joined the military. Believe it or not he was pretty scrawny for most of his life. Once he said he used to be built like a lamppost. Before the military he was generally quite quiet and timid. He still is almost always very quiet. This in combination with his more nerdy interests and the fact that talking to a pretty girl for too long gave him a nosebleed made him a pretty easy target for bullies. He was always shy about his appearance but in the early days of his military career his self esteem plummeted when he got a face full of shrapnel during a mission. Luckily they got him to a medic fast but there’s only so much they could do. He hates the scars. Hates the attention. You’re the only person who’s ever made him feel better about it. Kissing every scar, cooing at him while he cries into your chest after another shitty day. Tell him you’re proud of him and how handsome he is. Even if he doesn’t believe it, he at least feels better knowing you believe it at least.

NSFW

He has barely any experience but he fucks with such desperation that it never ceases to make your legs shake. Loves folding you into whatever position he wants and just spearing you like a fish in a barrel, unable to move or escape. Can get a little too rough sometimes when he’s lost in the moment but the moment he sees any form of discomfort from you he whispering soft apologies in your ear and slowing his pace till he’s balls deep just gently grinding against you while he kisses away your tears. As much as he loves treating you like a rag doll. Deep down all he wants is to satisfy you. Sometimes he won’t even fuck you he’ll just eat you out for a few hours like he’s digging for gold. Love tasting you more than anything else. Especially when you’re overstimulated and clutching his empty head between your soft thighs like you’re trying to crush him.

this man is hung like a god. It’s almost too big. Every time it’s a struggle for you to take it all. The struggle only makes it hotter for him. Loves it when you look up at him all teary eyed, pouting because you’re disappointed you can’t fit anymore in. He loves making a mess of you and he’s so fucking good at it. But he’s just as much a mess for you too. Whimpering and panting like a dog with your hands around his neck. Begging you to let him fill you up with yet another load.

I feel like he probably has a few kinks that are a little obscure. Like he loves eating you out through a pair of tights, hearing them rip loudly in his tight grip right before he impales you. Wearing a buttplug while he’s fucking you makes his brain turn to sawdust. Sloppily plunging into you in doggy and drooling on your sweaty back from above. Letting you ride him, telling him he’s not allowed to move while you hold the barrel of one of his handguns against his forehead or stuffed in his mouth (it’s unloaded of course, he’s not actually insane). If you surprise him by pulling the trigger, that little clicking noise will have him gasping shakily and his eyes rolling back. The noises he makes are absolutely whorish. So desperate and loud and involuntary.

he loves aftercare both giving and receiving. After sex he’s just as fragile as you are. Usually shaking and panting for a good while as he peppers you in thousands of kisses. Loves having a bath with you after. You laying on his chest while he washes your hair for you. Always asks you if he did a good job. He’s like a puppy after he’ll do anything you ask.

German translations: “bitte schatz” please sweetheart. “Scheiß Lügner” fucking liar

#konig #cod konig #konig call of duty #konig headcanons #konig imagine #konig x you #cod mw2 #konig cod #konig fanfiction #konig mw2

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neo-nomatrix · 2 years ago

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Give you the world

Joel Miller x reader

summary: You love Joel more than you can explain, you just can’t figure out if he feels the same

warnings: age gap, angst ig

my last joel fic

a/n: could be read as a part two of my last Joel fic but it can be read as a stand alone

You haven’t seen Joel truly happy in a while, the closest it’s come to is now. You’re standing with Ellie when Joel runs up to his brother, Tommy, who you’ve heard little about. You swear you hear him sniffling as he walks back to you.

The gates of Jackson are unbelievable. It’s somehow so incredibly warm despite the thick layer of snow below your feet. Everyone is beyond inviting and kind, it reminds you of before the outbreak.

“It’s amazing here,” you tell Tommy and Maria as you, Joel, and Ellie eat the plates of food in front of you.

“I’m glad you all like it,” Maria responds, smiling,

“It’s safe here,” Joel mumbles while leaning over his plate.

You can tell he’s thinking about something, whether it’s a good thing or not, you don’t know.

Maria leads you and Ellie to your home for the next day? week? month? You’re still not sure how long you’ll spend here. You secretly hope it’s a long time but you can tell it won’t last.

Since you’ve arrived you haven’t seen Joel in at least three hours.

“Hey, El, do you know where Joel is?” you ask the girl, slightly concerned.

“No, are you going out looking for him?” she asks.

“Probably, don’t know where I should start though,” You respond.

Something drew you to the carpenter's shed when you were searching for Joel. You peer into the window and as you suspected you saw him sitting there. Toying with new boots you assumed Tommy had given him. As you open the door Joel didn’t look up like you had expected.

“Joel,” You say quietly.

“Joel,” you say again, this time tapping his shoulder and using a firmer voice.

He slightly jolted back like he was shocked.

“Oh, hey,” he said reluctantly.

“Is something the matter? You seem upset,” You ask worried.

“How’d you like it if you stayed here for a while?”

“This sounds like a trick,” you tell him.

“I’ve asked Tommy to take Ellie the rest of the way. I’m gonna leave too, and you’re gonna stay here,” He said, his eyes not meeting yours.

“What?” you say, as if you didn’t hear him the first time.

He still wasn’t looking at you.

“And what makes you think you can just decide that for us?”

“It’s the best option for you and Ellie,” he said.

He still wasn’t looking at you.

“Like hell it is! Joel, you are the only person I trust right now, and as far as I'm concerned you are the only person who can take care of me. You promised me you’d protect me, you fucking promised!” You’re both standing now, in a fit of rage you start lightly hitting his chest with your fists.

“Hey, hey I know what I said. You can call me a liar all you want. Just please, stay here. Where you’re safe. This is how i’m protecting you,” He says, you don’t miss the way his voice breaks.

“Joel, don't do this! I’ll never fucking forgive you. I’m gonna hate you if you do this,” You sob into his chest as he holds your clenched hands.

“I’m sorry, I'm so sorry. I just- I just can’t take care of you. I’m worthless to you now,” At this point his eyes are threatening tears too.

“You can’t! You can’t leave me too. No, no, no, I won't let you.”

“Doll, you have to trust me. I’d give up everything for you if I could. But you’re young, you have so much more life to live. If I take you with me I'm endangering that. And I'd rather die than see you hurt,” he admits as he picks up his boots and leaves you to settle with your own pain.

Ellie had told you about her own fight with Joel only a few hours after your own. Part of you still can’t believe he would just let go of the two of you so easily.

You’re walking beside Ellie and Tommy to the stables. You’re still processing the fact that this is “the end.”

“So what? This is it? Everything we did all for just this,” Ellie asks you.

“Maybe not,” you nod towards Joel who’s standing by one of the horses.

“Are you here to say goodbye?” You ask Joel, walking up to him.

“Look, I still think you’d be safer here and Ellie would be better off with Tommy. But you both deserve a choice. You can-” Joel gets cut off by Ellie throwing her bag at him.

“Let’s just go already,” she tells the both of you.

“You have every right to hate me, doll. I don’t blame you if you want to stay here now. But I need you to know how much you mean to me, okay?” Joel says, his hands cup your face.

You sure as hell don’t miss the way his eyes finally meet yours.

#joel miller x you #joel miller angst #pedro pascal #joel the last of us x reader #joel the last of us #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x y/n #joel miller x reader #joel miller x y/n #TLOU #tlou x reader

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steveshairychest · 2 years ago

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Steve and Robin have been working at the plant nursery for months. It was the only job that would hire them both, and it's honestly been the best job they've had.

Steve loves taking care of the plants, loves the way the outdoor plants wave at him in the wind and sparkle in the sunlight after he's watered them. No one gives him weird looks when he talks to the plants because everyone that comes in understands, they're all plant people too, they know talking to plants is hard to resist. Steve loves that they are very good listeners, especially the ferns in the back corner of the nursery. They brush their long arms against Steve's cheek and make him feel so much better after he's finished dumping all his problems on the poor plant.

And then they get a new employee, a guy with long curly hair and too many tattoos and piercings for Steve to count. His name is Eddie. And he does not have a green thumb. Not at all.

Steve can't understand why the nursery hired this guy! He's hopeless!

Steve watches in horror from behind his beloved ferns as Eddie accidentally chops the head off one of the gorgeous rose blooms while pruning and then tries to hide the evidence. He walks away from the rose bush with the poor chopped off bloom clenched tightly in his fist and then he dumps it in the compost bin.

Steve spends the rest of the afternoon glaring at the new guy while talking to the poor rose bush. Eddie flushes a shade of red similar to the rose he murdered any time Steve looks at him, and Steve hates how pretty he looks, hates that it causes a small smile to pull at his lips.

And then Eddie drops a watering can on a peace lily, a peace lily that Steve spent weeks nurturing back to life and the spell Eddie put on him with his flushed cheeks and big, brown eyes is broken.

Robin pities the poor new guy, she can see he's struggling, so she just makes him do all the heavy lifting with her. She doesn't want him anywhere near Steve's precious plants. She saw Steve reach for his giant pruning shears a few days ago when Eddie went near his ferns.

"You know he's terrified of you." Robin says to Steve on their joint lunch break. They're sitting on a stack of soil bags watching Eddie potter around and show people the plants they're looking for. Steve will give him that, he's good with people. Really good.

"Why? I'm nice." Steve takes a bite of his sandwich and avoids Robin's stare. He knows she's giving him the 'don't bullshit me' stare and if he looks, he'll crumble and do something ridiculous like admit he has been kinda mean to the new guy and that he should have just helped him out from the start instead of threatening to chop his fingers off every time he touched Steve's plants.

Steve sighs. "OK, fine. I've been a dick." Robin nods and steals the last bite of Steve's sandwich.

"Now, make it right and play nice with the pretty boy."

"He's not pretty."

"That's not what you said to your precious ferns yesterday. I think you said –" Steve walks off before she can finish and ignores her laughter as he stalks over to where Eddie is crouched in front of the baby succulents.

Steve clears his throat to get his attention and the poor guy jumps in fright and nearly smacks a succulent off the stand. "Steve! Hi! I was just talking to them. I promise."

Steve stifles a laugh and sits down on the floor in front of the low plant stand. He gently pulls a dead leaf off one plant before offering Eddie a smile, a truce. "That's good. They like it when you talk to them. I actually sing to them when I'm here alone." His sudden gentleness must spook Eddie because he just blinks at Steve, his mouth open slightly as he stares in disbelief that Steve actually just spoke to him.

"You can sing?" Eddie sits down next to him and mirrors Steve's actions; gently pulling dead leaves off and checking the soil.

"No, I can't." He laughs. "But the plants don't seem to mind."

They sit in silence for a minute before Steve gathers up his small pile of dead leaves and stands up, Eddie follows suit. "I'm sorry I've been such a dick." Steve rushes out before he loses the courage to admit it. "It's just... you're awful with plants."

Eddie laughs, the sound catches Steve off guard and echoes around the nursery, and Steve realises in that moment that he's never heard Eddie laugh before. It's loud and beautiful and Steve wants to hear it again. Every day.

"I know. I don't have a green thumb at all, but this is the only job that would take me. I think the plants want me to quit."

Steve wanted him to quit. He'd grumbled to Robin about it nearly every day. Eddie knew that and he still stayed. He smiles at Steve in a way that says he doesn't mind, he's just teasing.

But Steve still feels like a total asshole.

"I could teach you how to look after them properly." Steve offers. "I should have offered to help weeks ago." He adds on quietly as they walk through the rows and rows of plants. Steve touches all of them gently, he grazes his fingers along their leaves in a friendly greeting.

"I'd like that. I'd like that a lot." Eddie says with a smile so bright it could rival the sun and cause all of the flowers to bloom.

They spend nearly every day at work together after that. Steve helps Eddie learn all the plants' names, their technical names and the secret names Steve's given them all. Steve shows him how to prune and shape the baby hedges and tries not to blush when their fingers touch while passing over the shears. Eddie is a fast learner. He absorbs everything Steve says and then executes it perfectly. He looks over at Steve and smiles excitedly after he successfully prunes the rose bush without chopping a single bloom off.

The more time they spend together, the more Steve becomes aware of the feeling blooming in his chest. It tickles his ribs and causes him to blush and bump shoulders with Eddie more often, causes him to tuck a stray piece of hair behind Eddie's ear and brush his hand along Eddie’s back whenever he passes him.

The new bloom in his heart causes him to kiss Eddie in the back corner of the nursery behind the ferns.

Turns out Eddie has a green thumb after all because there is something so beautiful blooming between them, and so far only the ferns know about it.

#DID ANYONE SAY OVERPROTECTIVE PLANT DAD STEVE?!!!#steddie #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #st4 vol2 #steveddie #stranger things s4 #robin buckley #I DIDN'T PROOF READ THIS I'M SORRY IN ADVANCE

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wreckedandpolemic · 4 months ago

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screaming and fighting and kissing in the rain - matty healy

(mdni) in which your jealousy gets the better of you. part of the regret me universe and promptober75 2024. 3725 words.

warnings: mean dom reader, pegging, sub!matty, mommy kink, slight feminisation, orgasm denial, idk they're real mean to each other

“I cannot fucking believe you, Healy,” you scowl, the thudding pulse of the club fading into the background as you storm after him.

Matty doesn’t turn, but you can still hear his smirk. “For a girl who’s so insistent she doesn’t give a shit whether I live or die, you’re really fucking worried about who I spend my time with.”

You clench a fist, twitching like you’re itching to punch him in the face. “I wish you’d fucking die. It’d save me a fuckload of headaches.” At that, he does turn, thunder rumbling ominously in the same moment.

“Oh, that’s fucking rich. D’you know how much easier my life would be if I’d never fucking met you?” he snaps. You don’t want to examine why you suddenly feel like you’ve been punched in the gut. “Could be getting off with any one of those girls right now, ‘cept I’ve got this jealous little cockblock following me around ‘cause she knows she has to cling to me to stay relevant.”

You stagger backwards like you’ve been shot, all your bravado crumpled at the confirmation of your fears. Fat droplets of rain splatter against the pavement, and you all but scream. “So go back in there, then! Find some desperate whore who’s dumb enough to fuck you for her fifteen minutes of fame, right? Really stroke that fucking ego of yours.” The rain is coming thick and fast, the tears prickling in your eyes concealed by water pouring down your face. “But we both know you’re gonna be thinking of me when you cum.”

You’ve barely noticed Matty edging closer as you yell until he’s grabbing you by the wrists and pulling you in. “You’re poison. You’re fucking— I don’t know what’s wrong with me to need you like this. I can’t—” You cut him off, crashing your lips together as the rain pounds around you.

“Just fucking shut up,” you breathe, half-laughing. “You’re so fucking— mmm— insufferable.”

Chest heaving, Matty scowls down at you. “You can’t just fucking snog me ‘cause you don’t like what I have to say. If you’d shut your fucking trap for two seconds and—”

You cut him off again. “Watch me. You’re right, I don’t give a fuck what you have to say, or how you rationalise whatever this is to yourself.” You gesture vaguely to the space between you. “I’m not interested in your mouth at all unless it’s between my legs, actually.” You’re soaked to the bone, lying through your teeth and holding back a shiver.

“Why’s it so hard for you to admit you want me?” Matty needles. “Could’ve left well enough alone in there, but you had to stake some kind of claim on me, right? Followed me all the way out just to tell me you don’t care. Nah. I think you do. I think you need me like I need you. I think you don’t know who you are without me, and you hate it.”

His ability to peel back your skin, lean in, pluck your thoughts straight from your mind is unsettling, a shiver that’s nothing to do with the cold running through you. “You’re so full of shit. Can’t fathom a world where everyone on the planet isn’t obsessed with you. Gotta make yourself feel important, ‘cause you’re so empty inside, right? Can’t deal with the fact I only fuck around with you ‘cause you’re easy and you can find the clit.” Your breathing is ragged, your heart a lead weight in your chest. Matty clearly doesn’t believe a fucking word of it, either; you’re fighting a losing battle, but the flames of arousal sparking between you are starting to drown out the rest of the world.

“You’re such a fucking liar,” he breathes against your lips, cupping your jaw almost tenderly. “Lucky for you, I think you’re pretty when you lie to me.”

You scoff. “You think I’m pretty all the time.”

“I do.” Your confidence falters again, and you break eye contact. “What the fuck are we doing here?” Matty laughs. “Screamin’ at each other in the street in the pissing rain. We both know how this ends. Why don’t we just skip to the part where we’re fucking each other’s brains out, yeah?”

At that, you laugh openly. “You’re fucking in for it, Healy. Come on.” You stumble through the rain-soaked streets, slipping on wet cobblestone and tumbling into Matty’s arms. You hate how safe you feel there. His flat is as familiar as your own when he lets you in, smelling of cigarettes and weed and the obnoxiously sweet-scented candles he lights to cover up the weed smell.

Matty practically throws you onto the bed, barely out of your sopping wet clothes as he collapses on top of you and grinds down through your underwear. “M’still fucked off at you,” you mutter between desperate kisses.

“Mhmm, whatever you say. Y’still in my bed, though,” Matty smirks down at you, and you scowl, raising your hand threateningly. He only tilts his head, almost an invitation, so you follow through. The crack of your palm meeting his cheek is oh-so satisfying, the sound spilling over you as his cheek reddens. “You can do better than that,” he scoffs.

“I could,” you say. “But if I get the knife out, I’ll probably cut your dick off. And that’s no fun for either of us. S’all you’re good for,” you say, shrugging as best you can pinned as you are to the mattress.

Matty tilts your head up, presses a gentle kiss to your lips. “I’d probably let you,” he admits.

You grin. “Oh, he’s learning. You ready to be a good boy for me?” He doesn’t want to surrender, you can tell. But he wants fucked, and he knows that’s the only way to get what he wants. “Just gotta say sorry, baby. Then you can have as much cock as you can take, yeah?”

Matty just glowers down at you. “Could just fuck myself,” he mutters petulantly. “Don’t need you.”

Smiling sweetly, you ease yourself out from under him. “Go on, then. Fuck yourself and pretend it’s even half as good as me. Some entertainment for the neighbours,” you say, swallowing a grimace as you struggle into your still-soaked clothes. “Have the night you deserve, Matthew.”

His eyes are wide, almost forlorn, as you turn to leave, but you don’t even make it halfway to the kitchen before he’s scrambling after you. He knows you’re not bluffing; this is a trick you’ve pulled before, and the first couple of times he was stubborn enough to let you leave. But last time, you hooked up with another guy after you left, sent him a picture of your cum-covered chest and sort-of lied about how hard you came. Matty grabs you by the arm, spins you around to face him, panting slightly. “Fuck, darling, please don’t go. M’sorry, okay?”

You raise an eyebrow. “You’re not very convincing. C’mon, where’s the theatrics? You love those,” you scoff, digging red, pointed nails into his jaw hard enough to leave marks. “Get on your knees and beg for my dick. Tell me how much you need me. Convince me that you deserve it.”

Matty thuds to his knees without question, desire pooling between your hips at the sight. “Shit, c’mon, darling. I’m sorry.” He grips your thighs needily, fingers shaking as he slides them up to your zipper. “I need you, need you to fuck me, only one who can. I’ll be good, promise. Just need you to fuck me dumb, please,” he whines, and you thumb softly across his cheek.

He’s so pretty when he pleads like this, desperate and so needy he’s straining against his boxers. “What are you sorry for, Matty?” you murmur, sliding your thumb into his mouth and stroking his tongue.

You trail your thumb down his neck, still wet with his spit as he starts to tug your jeans down your legs. “Was bein’ a little bitch,” he sighs. “I need you, darling. Y’the only one who can fuck me how I need it.” It’s not exactly penance, but it’s probably the best you’re going to get.

“There’s my good boy,” you grin. “On your knees beggin’ for me like a little whore, s’cute,” you add, kicking out at his cock where it drools into his boxers. You jerk your head towards the bedroom, and Matty catches the hint, stumbling in his haste to obey. Wandering after him, just slow enough to make him sweat a little, you lean against the doorframe to watch him slick up his fingers.

Your cunt throbs as he circles his hole, legs spread wide and chest already heaving. “Please…” he whines, thin and reedy, his cock drooling against his stomach.

You sit on the end of the bed, leaning back on your hands in just your bra and panties. “Please, what, princess? I’m watching the show,” you tease, slowly rubbing over your clit through your underwear. Matty whimpers, adds another finger, gasps your name in a shaky, breathy voice that almost makes your resolve crumble.

And then, he murmurs two words that get him whatever he fucking wants. “Please, Mommy.” The title is still new, rare enough that just hearing it drip from his spit-slick lips makes your cunt throb, sets your rational brain spinning dizzily away from your consciousness.

“Fuck, y’killing me, princess,” you moan, crawling up Matty’s body as his legs tremble and he whines loudly from brushing that perfect little spot inside him. “Mommy’s here, baby, tell me what you need,” you coo, trailing your fingers down his cheek adoringly; all your anger is practically forgotten in favour of wanting — no, needing — to reduce him to a whimpering mess of pleasure, crying and begging for his Mommy.

His face contorts in pleasure, muscles tensing and flexing as he fingers himself. Your entire body goes hot just looking at him, and you tilt his head up to press a kiss against his lips. “Please fuck me,” he begs. “Please. I’ll be so good for you, Mommy.”

Your gaze is hard, impassive even as you trail your fingers down his chest to trace over his tattoo. “I want you to remember this,” you say, soft but cool; there’s no way he could mistake your calm for tenderness. “Remember lying on your back, remember begging for your Mommy to fuck you drooling, and next time you want to pretend I’m nothing to you, that I’m just another one of the girls who throw themselves at you for attention, I want you to think about this moment.”

Matty looks gorgeous, plush lower lip sucked between his teeth and eyes brimming with desperate tears, and your emotions are spinning out of control faster than you can even think. You want to rip him apart, dig your nails into his ribcage, claw out his heart and feel it beating in your hands. Don’t you see me? you’d beg, holding it against your lips. Don’t you know I’d ruin myself for you? Can’t you see what’s right fucking infront of you? You realise your hand is pressing against Matty’s throat, his eyes rolled back in pleasure as he gasps for air.

He whimpers your name, and please, and Mommy, arching his back as the wet, glossy sounds of his fingers fill the room. “Y’right,” he gasps as soon as you lift your hand from his neck. “I need you. I can’t— can’t live without you, baby. I just— please,” he begs, low and broken, desperation layered so thick in his voice that you can almost taste it.

“Needy fucking boy,” you coo, climbing off him to fix a harness to your hips. Matty’s eyes fall greedily to the silicone hanging between your legs, his hand speeding as a low moan spills from his lips. “You like it? S’new,” you grin, coating your fingers in lube and slicking up the toy. “Bit bigger than you’re used to, princess. You think you can still take it?”

“I’ll take whatever you tell me to,” he breathes, his free hand tracing reverently down your neck to play with your nipple through your bra.

You gasp, reaching down to pump his drooling cock in reward. “M’serious, baby. Are you sure you can take it? I don’t wanna hurt you.” Matty snorts. “Fine, I don’t wanna hurt you like this.”

Matty grins against your mouth, slipping his hand into your hair and kissing you sloppily, pent-up desire flooding between your mouths. “I can take it. Need you to fuck me, Mommy, please,” he whines.

“Such a little slut,” you mutter, disgust colouring the edges of your words. “You think any of those fucking girls from the club could give it to you like this?” you snap, cunt clenching with every tremble of his lip and hitch in his breath. Shaking his head, Matty claws at your hips, tries to guide you into his hole. “Not so fast. Hands and knees, yeah? Sick of looking at you,” you snap. It’s half-true. You hate the way he looks at you on nights like these, with dazed half-moon eyes and pure adoration; it’s nauseating to know you’ll only ever see it behind a locked door.

Obediently, Matty goes to his knees, his hole slick and dripping and fluttering obscenely. You tease him with just the tip, trailing your fingers over the curve of his ass. You push into him slowly, his begging little moan sliding sweetly over your brain. “F-fuck, yes!” he gasps, back arching and chest heaving. “Shit, harder, please,” he whines.

You slap the side of his ass. “Oh, you’re giving orders now?” you scoff, snapping your hips hard against Matty’s. “I don’t fucking think so. Shut up and take it like a good boy, okay?” you order. Still, you oblige him, fucking into him quick and deep, moaning like you can really feel him tight around you.

“Oh, fuck, you feel so good, Mommy,” Matty groans, collapsing onto his elbows and dripping moans into the sheets.

You reach down to stroke Matty’s drooling cock as you fuck him in rhythmic strokes. “Such a little cockwhore, shit,” you mutter, scraping your nail over the faintly raised scar in the shape of a heart on his asscheek. The reminder of your physical mark on him is grounding, lucidity cutting through stupor. “Say it,” you add, tugging sharply on his hair as he lets out a sound that’s half-gasp, half-moan.

“M’your little cockwhore, Mommy,” Matty whines. “Thank you,” he adds dazedly, his entire body flushed red. “Shit, there, right there, fuck, yes!” he almost wails, entire body convulsing under your attentions. You slam into him over and over, his every whine as you hit his g-spot fucking delicious.

“God, got you so dumb. You love this, don’t you? Taking Mommy’s dick like a good little girl?” The moan he lets out is pure, unfiltered lust, shame painting his cheeks red as arousal drips from his cock. “You’re so wet,” you breathe, reaching around him and letting him drool precum against your fingers. Never mind that your own panties are fucking soaked through. Lifting your fingers to Matty’s lips, you don’t even have to instruct him before he’s cleaning them off obediently, moaning softly at his own taste.

Matty rocks his hips back against yours, trying to force you deeper. You slap his ass when you pull back, the message clear: behave yourself. “M’close,” he warns, spit leaking from the corners of his mouth and his entire body twitching from it.

His whine when you pull out is obscene, and you click your tongue. “You didn’t really think I was gonna let you cum after the shit you pulled today, did you?” you sigh, deliberately condescending. “If you wanted to cum that bad, you should have gone and fucked one of those girls who was gagging for you at the club.” You discard the harness, flip him over as his chest heaves. “But you didn’t, did you? You wanted me. So you’re gonna take what I give you and be fucking grateful, okay?” Matty nods weakly. “Say it. Say I’m sorry, Mommy. Thank you for not letting me cum.”

You’re being cruel, now. But you can’t deny how good it feels to be in power for a change; Matty holds all the cards between you, and he fucking well knows it. You’ll never hear the words you really want, the confession you lie awake torturing yourself imagining, that haunts your dreams of him. So you settle for torturing him, and, in turn, yourself. “M’sorry, Mommy,” Matty moans into the air between you. “Thank you for not letting me cum,” he repeats dutifully, and you break into a callous little grin.

“There you are,” you coo, and he looks so beautiful, so desperate and broken with longing, that it’s a fight not to relent, to give him whatever he fucking wants. “Good boys get rewarded, yeah? You can make me cum however you like, okay, princess?”

You take his hand, slip it into your panties, rough fingers sliding through the wetness pooled there and finding your clit on instinct. “Fuck,” he whines. “Wanna fuck you. Please. On your— on your back,” he pleads. Rolling over, you spread your legs so Matty can kneel between them, kissing the inside of your knee as he pulls your panties off. He kisses your clit, licks a broad, flat stripe across your cunt like he can’t resist, and moans at your taste. A bolt of pleasure leaps up your spine; you hadn’t realised how neglected your cunt was while you fucked him.

Matty takes hold of your ankles, lifts your legs and practically bends you in half. The aching stretch feels so good, and you’d be worried about your control slipping in this position if it weren’t for the needy, desperate-to-please look in his eye. He doesn’t bother teasing, doesn’t waste time playing with you, stretching you out; just slides into you and buries his head in your tits with a moan. Sliding your hand into Matty’s hair, you drag his head until he wraps his lips around your nipple. “Good boy,” you murmur, pleasure seeping into every muscle in your body. “You love ‘em, don’t you? You wanna suck Mommy’s tits, make me feel good?”

Hips jerking, Matty moans around your boob, sucking softly and circling your clit in the same moment. You sigh out his name, content to let him set a slow, indulgent pace as pleasure throbs heavily everywhere his skin meets yours. His teeth graze your nipple, and you whine, your cunt clenching needily. The noise seems to spur him on, and he bites down harder, tongue flicking soothingly over the sensitive skin as you cry out in pain and press your body up against his. Matty’s fingers are frantic at your clit, pressure already mounting between your thighs and threatening to spin out of control.

After what feels like an achingly, deliciously long time, Matty moves his mouth, sucks and bites at the soft flesh of your tit until you can feel a bruise forming. His hips and hand never falter from their pace, dragging you ever closer to a peak you can already tell will be explosive, bone-shattering, mind-erasing. “Y’feel so good, Mommy,” he gasps, laving his tongue against your other nipple and fucking into you faster and faster.

“Talk to me, princess,” you say. Matty pulls off you and looks up with dazed, lust-blown eyes. “Aw, baby. I know it’s hard when you’re all dumb like this, but I want you to tell me exactly what feels good, how close you are, everything going on in that pretty, stupid head of yours,” you breathe, broken up by desperate moans and needy whines.

Matty’s trembling, muscles tense with the effort of holding back his orgasm. “Cunt feels so good,” he murmurs, carefully enunciating every word as they trace down your skin. “You look so pretty, Mommy, so fucking beautiful. Thank you for— for lettin’ me— fuck, I can’t— I need you s’bad, always know what I need, please,” he babbles, helplessly desperate as his head falls to kiss at your collarbones. “Need to make you cum, Mommy, please, I wanna feel it. M’so fuckin’ close,” he pants, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes.

“Hold it,” you order, gasping as Matty pinches your clit harshly. Pleasure-pain spirals in your chest, shattering at the base of your skull and sending you flying. You scream his name, clenching tight around him as your hands fist in the sheets. Sheer ecstasy pools in your veins, burns you up from the inside out, Matty stilling on top of you as he watches pleasure paint itself across your face.

You can feel his cock twitching desperately, every second he’s inside you torturous. “Can I cum? Please let me cum, I— God, fuck! Mommy, please. It hurts,” he whines, desperate and pathetic and pleading.

His begging is desperately, disgustingly hot, every word tracing over your skin like a caress. It isn’t going to work, though. “I told you I wasn’t going to let you cum. Don’t be greedy,” you scoff, rolling your eyes when he whines. “Let me get you cleaned up, and if you’re good, I’ll think about it in the morning, okay?” You suddenly realise you don’t know if you can stay; it’s always been implicit when you land in each others’ beds, but as much as you hate to admit it, things are different for him now.

Silence hangs in the air between you, seconds stretching agonisingly long before Matty sighs, stretches, pouts down at you and lets you unfold your legs. “Why are you so mean?” he complains, still buried inside you.

“You love it,” you say, but you lift your legs to cross your ankles behind his back. “We can stay like this for a bit, if you want,” you relent, Matty’s body slumping against yours the second you say the words. Lifting your hand, you pet his hair soothingly, letting him bury his head into your neck and kiss the tender skin there. “That’s my good boy. You know I’ll take care of you.” The rain is still beating down against the windows, but in here, with Matty cradled in your arms and as close as you could possibly be, you don’t even remember the cold.

#these fucking emotionally unavailable assholes i hate them #i dont i love them dearly i fear #matty healy x reader #matty healy smut #matty healy imagine #the 1975 smut #the 1975 fanfic #writing #smut #regret me #promptober75

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kayewrite · 5 months ago

Text

How can i move on?

minho x reader x jisung!! han jisung x fem.reader x minho!! fluff and angst! word count: 3.5k

summary: How do you move on from your ex who hurt you? Jisung knows, but it seems you have another way.

an: this just enters my imaginary senses that i have to write it. enjoy btw. this is oneshot guys

“How are you?

Are you getting what you deserve?

You deserve love…

Love that will break you

Like how you broke mine!

You piece of—"

Your hands shook as you stared at the angry words on the screen of your computer, your heart pounding in your chest. The unfinished message to your ex-boyfriend, Minho, burned into your eyes. It felt good to type it, to imagine how he would react if he read it. But deep down, you knew you wouldn’t send it. You couldn’t.

Because even after all that he did… you still loved him.

“Ugh! You’re such an idiot!” you groaned, slamming your head down on your desk. How could you still have feelings for him, after everything he put you through?

But you had to get over it. You were determined to move on.

That is… until you found out Minho was now working in the same office as you.

Of all the places, why here? Why in your carefully built world, the one you’d managed to keep free from the wreckage of your relationship?

You clenched your fists, staring across the room as Minho moved effortlessly through the office, chatting with a couple of coworkers. His smile—that damn smile—was still the same, as if nothing had changed. As if your heart hadn’t shattered.

How could he look so unaffected? Did he not feel anything?

You quickly averted your gaze when his eyes met yours, the familiar smirk spreading across his face. It made your blood boil. You hated him, hated the way he made you feel so small and foolish. And the worst part? You hated how much you still cared.

You were done. Done with his games, his charm, his casual disregard for the pain he caused.

Done.

“Ready to leave already?” a voice interrupted your spiraling thoughts. You blinked and turned, realizing your coworker Jisung was standing beside your desk, his eyes twinkling with curiosity.

You hadn’t even noticed that you had started packing your things.

“No,” you lied, dropping your bag and sitting back down. “Just… organizing.”

“Uh-huh,” Jisung said, his tone playful but knowing. He had been working next to you for a year, long enough to recognize when you were hiding something. “So, what’s the deal with you and the new guy?”

You stiffened, your eyes instinctively darting back to Minho, who was now stirring his coffee at the pantry. His eyes flickered toward you again, and that damn smirk appeared, as if he could sense the tension building inside you.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you muttered, returning your attention to your computer screen.

“Sure.” Jisung laughed softly, but it wasn’t a mocking laugh. He could see right through you. “You always glare at people like that, right?”

Your cheeks heated as you turned to face him. “What do you mean by that?”

Jisung chuckled again, but his tone softened. “I’m just saying… If looks could kill, Minho would be in the hospital by now.”

Your lips twitched, but you fought back the smile. Jisung had always known how to defuse your temper, but you didn’t want to admit that he was right.

“You’re imagining things,” you muttered.

“Mhm,” he said, clearly unconvinced but too kind to press further. “Well, whatever it is… you should probably be careful. The last thing you need is for him to know he’s getting to you.”

You glanced at Jisung, surprised at his perceptiveness. He was right, of course. But it was easier said than done.

Minho had been your boyfriend for three years. Three long years where you thought you’d spend the rest of your life together. You had plans. You’d graduate, find your dream jobs, buy a place together, maybe get married one day… have kids, one girl who looks like you and one boy who looks also like you because that's what he wanted. It was everything you wanted and promised.

And then… he broke your heart. One stupid mistake, and everything you’d built came crumbling down. You couldn’t forgive him. Not after the betrayal.

Yet, here you were, still trying to make sense of the emotions swirling inside you as you watched him now—calm, collected, and completely unfazed.

As if on cue, Minho approached your desk, holding a piece of paper. You felt a jolt of something deep inside—anger, hurt, and maybe a twinge of something more—something you hated yourself for feeling.

“Ms. Kim wanted you to do this,” Minho said casually, placing the paper on your desk. His voice was smooth, professional, but there was something in the way he looked at you. Like he was testing the waters, seeing how much he could push you.

You didn’t bother looking at him, simply nodding as you picked up the paper. “Okay.”

You kept your eyes on your computer, focusing on the task in front of you. But you could feel him still standing there, lingering. Waiting for… what? A reaction? An acknowledgment?

You refused to give him that satisfaction.

“Have you eaten yet?” he asked suddenly, his voice softer now.

Your stomach twisted. He had asked you that so many times before, back when things were… different. When he cared.

Or when you thought he cared.

You didn’t answer, hoping he’d just walk away. But he stayed, his presence hovering over you like a storm cloud.

“Hey, you should eat this,” Jisung’s voice broke through the tension like a ray of sunshine. He appeared out of nowhere, placing a lunch box in front of you with a proud smile. “I know you haven’t eaten yet.”

“Thanks,” you said, forcing a smile. Relief washed over you as you took the box from him, grateful for the distraction.

Jisung turned to Minho, his smile widening. “Oh, hey! I didn’t realize you were here.” He extended his hand toward him. “I’m Jisung, by the way.”

Minho hesitated for a split second before shaking his hand. His expression was unreadable as he nodded but offered no introduction in return.

Jisung didn’t seem to mind. He flashed Minho a friendly smile before turning his attention back to you. “Enjoy your lunch.”

Minho stood there for another moment, his eyes flicking between you and Jisung before he finally turned and walked away.

The second he was gone, you let out a long breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

Jisung shook his head and sat down next to you. “What did he do to you?”

“Nothing,” you muttered, still feeling the weight of Minho’s presence lingering in the air. “He just asked if I’d eaten.”

Jisung raised an eyebrow. “And you didn’t answer?”

“Of course not,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Good.” Jisung patted your head affectionately. “You need to stay strong. Don’t let him get to you. If you ever need help moving on, you know I’ve got your back.”

You stared at Jisung for a moment, his offer unexpectedly lifting your spirits. “How?”

Jisung smirked, leaning in closer. “Oh, I’ve got my ways.”

It was another day for lunch break, and you were sitting in the cafeteria with Jisung, absentmindedly picking at your food. Your mind was elsewhere, swirling with thoughts of Minho. Ever since the news that he’d be attending tonight's team celebration, you hadn’t been able to focus.

“You look like you’re about to throw up,” Jisung commented, shoving a spoonful of rice into his mouth as he watched your expression closely. “You sure you’re okay?”

You sighed heavily, dropping your fork onto your plate. “It’s just… Minho,” you admitted, voice tinged with frustration. “I don’t know if I can handle seeing him tonight.”

Jisung’s brow furrowed, his chopsticks pausing mid-air. “You knew he’d be there. This isn’t new information."

“I know, I know,” you said quickly, “but every time I think about facing him, I just—” Your voice cracked, betraying your emotions. You hated how easily the mere thought of Minho affected you.

Jisung rolled his eyes, putting his chopsticks down with a soft clink. “Listen to me,” he said, leaning forward, his voice serious. “You need to show him that you’ve moved on. No more pining, no more sad looks. You need to act like you’re perfectly fine, like he doesn’t even exist in your world anymore.”

You scoffed, crossing your arms. “Easier said than done.”

“I’m serious, " Jisung insisted, his gaze unwavering. “If you let him see that he still has an effect on you, you’ll never be able to move forward. You’ve got to play it cool. Laugh, smile, act normal. Show him you’re better off now.”

You bit your lip, the knot in your stomach tightening. Jisung made it sound so simple, but the thought of pretending like everything was fine when you were still hurting seemed impossible.

“I don’t know if I can do that,” you admitted, your voice small.

Jisung sighed, but his expression softened. “I know it’s hard, but trust me. If you show him that you’ve moved on, it’ll hurt him more than any words you could say.”

You glanced up at him, doubt lingering in your eyes. “And what if I haven’t moved on?”

There was a pause, the weight of your words settling between you both.

Jisung looked away for a moment, his lips pressing into a thin line. When he looked back at you, there was a flicker of pain in his eyes, but he covered it quickly with a reassuring smile. “Then fake it till you make it. Eventually, you’ll get there.”

You let out a heavy sigh, staring down at your untouched food. Jisung’s words rang true, but pretending to be unaffected by Minho felt like lying to yourself. Still, he was right. You couldn’t keep letting Minho control your emotions.

“Fine,” you muttered, pushing your plate away. “I’ll act normal. But if this goes wrong, I’m blaming you.”

Jisung grinned, his playful side coming through as he nudged your shoulder. “Don’t worry, I’ve got your back.”

Tonight was a team celebration.

The department head insisted on treating everyone to drinks. Normally, you would have declined, but when Jisung nudged you with a reassuring smile, saying he’d take care of you, it was impossible to say no. Your friends chimed in, encouraging you to join. You didn’t really have a choice.

As the night wore on, you found yourself getting drunk—drunker than you anticipated. The alcohol wasn’t strong enough to numb the ache you felt after seeing Minho again, though. Each glance in his direction reminded you of the past.

Jisung, who sat beside you, silently observed the way your expression shifted whenever Minho laughed or cracked a joke with your other female co-workers. You told yourself not to care, but it stung anyway, the memories too fresh. You couldn’t let him see that he still affected you, that you were still tethered to him by emotions you wished you could bury.

But as the alcohol coursed through your veins, your emotions began building up, dangerously close to overflowing. You fought the tears stinging your eyes.

Before a tear could slip, Jisung was on his feet. “I think it’s time for us to head out,” he announced to the group, his hand resting protectively on your shoulder.

You wanted to protest, but the words didn’t come. Jisung’s arm wrapped around you firmly as he led you outside, and once you were away from the loud chatter and clinking glasses, he finally let go.

The silence between you both was heavy. Without a word, he let you cry.

“I still love him,” you confessed, your voice trembling.

Jisung inhaled deeply, his gaze soft but filled with pain as he let you spill your heart out.

“Even after everything he’s done… I still love him,” you cried louder, your knees threatening to buckle under the weight of it all.

Jisung guided you to his car, gently supporting you while you vented, calling Minho a jerk, but then confessing how you still remembered the way he loved you—the way you loved each other.

“You know…” you said between sobs, “there was this one time, he rented out my favorite park for our anniversary. There were flowers everywhere, and in the center… there was this table. It was one of the most memorable moments of my life…”

Your voice trailed off, the memory twisting the knife deeper into your heart.

“I thought… I thought he was the one. I thought we’d get married, that we’d be together forever,” you said, and the fresh wave of tears spilled over as Jisung opened the passenger door for you. He guided you into the seat, gently fastening your seatbelt.

Before he could move away, you reached up, cupping his cheeks, holding him in place. His eyes widened in shock, unsure of what you were about to do.

“I wish… I wish I had fallen in love with you,” you whispered, voice raw with regret.

For a moment, you both just stared at each other. The world around you seemed to slow down, the weight of your words hanging in the air.

Jisung whispers your name, his voice cracking slightly.

Before he could finish, you closed the distance between you and kissed him. It was soft, hesitant at first, but the pain in your heart surged forward, and you kissed him harder, trying to drown out the lingering feelings for Minho.

Jisung froze for a split second, caught off guard by your actions. Then, he closed his eyes, kissing you back, but there was a hesitation in the way his lips moved against yours. His hands hovered near your shoulders, unsure whether to hold you or push you away.

It had become a pattern—getting drunk, crying over Minho, and kissing Jisung in the process, that end up you making out in his car. Jisung knew about Minho -- from the start, he

knew how much he still haunted you, and now, after seeing Minho in person, a deep fear settled within him.

When you finally pulled back, both of you were breathless. His eyes, still wide, searched yours for an explanation, for something to hold onto.

“Every time…” Jisung whispered, his voice trembling. “Every time you kiss me… I know it’s not really me you’re thinking about.”

The honesty in his words stung.

“I’m sorry, Jisung,” you whispered, tears brimming in your eyes again. “I wish it was you…”

“I know,” he replied softly, his thumb brushing away the tears on your cheek. “But it’s not. And it never will be, will it?”

You didn’t have the heart to answer him, so you simply leaned your head against the car seat, eyes closing in exhaustion. The drive back was silent, the tension between you and Jisung suffocating.

The next morning came, and you were running late to work. The events of the previous night flooded your mind—crying over Minho, kissing Jisung. Shame twisted in your chest, but you tried to brush it off. Being late once wouldn’t hurt.

You hurried towards the elevator when suddenly, a hand grabbed your wrist and yanked you back.

“Let’s talk,” Minho’s deep voice commanded, sending chills down your spine.

“Let me go,” you protested, trying to pull away, but he was too strong. He dragged you to the emergency exit, closing the door behind you. The sudden isolation made your heart race.

Now you were alone with him—again.

“We don’t need to talk,” you snapped, trying to walk towards the door, but Minho’s arm slammed against the wall beside you, blocking your path.

“We. Need. To.” His voice was calm but forceful, his eyes dark as they bore into yours.

“Minho…” Your voice wavered, all the anger you wanted to hurl at him caught in your throat. You weren’t ready for this.

But Minho wasn’t going to let you escape.

“Do you still love me?” he asked bluntly, his eyes never leaving yours.

You stared at him, your lips trembling. You wanted to say no. You wanted to lie, to tell him he meant nothing to you anymore. But the truth was lodged in your throat, refusing to let you speak.

Minho’s gaze softened, a hint of sadness slipping through his cold exterior. “I know you still love me,” he whispered. “I can feel it. I still have an impact on you.”

His words snapped you out of your trance, anger bubbling up. The audacity.

You laughed bitterly. “How can you say that after everything you’ve done to me? After leaving me in the dark, after breaking me?”

Minho flinched but didn’t move. “Because I know you. And I know you can’t forget me.”

Your laugh turned hollow. “And if it’s true? What then, Minho?” you spat. “What does it matter?”

“If it’s true,” Minho stepped closer, his breath fanning your face, “then we should get back together.”

You stared at him in disbelief, laughter spilling out as tears blurred your vision. “Just like that? After everything?”

“I…” Minho faltered, his confidence wavering. “I didn’t cheat on you.”

“Liar!” You pushed him back, fury spilling out. “I saw you with her. You kissed my best friend.”

“I was drunk,” he muttered, his voice low with shame.

“Being drunk doesn’t excuse it!” you screamed, your voice cracking. “You still knew what you were doing.”

“I didn’t know… I didn’t realize it,” Minho insisted, his hands gripping your shoulders, eyes pleading. “I didn't know it would happen.”

“You’re lying, Minho. If it wasn’t true, you should’ve explained it then. But you didn’t. You just left.”

Minho’s eyes dropped, unable to meet your gaze anymore. “I…” His words failed him. Minho has a lot to tell but then he was now the one who can't talk.

“I wish I never saw you again,” you whispered, tears falling freely now. With that, you pushed past him and left the stairwell, slamming the door behind you.

Instead of going to your office, you headed straight for the exit. You couldn’t stay here. Not anymore. Not after this.

As you stepped outside, a familiar figure approached you—Jisung. He didn’t need to ask what happened. One look at your face told him everything.

Wordlessly, he guided you to his car, letting you cry in the passenger seat. The only sound in the car was your quiet sobs.

“I can’t do this anymore, Jisung,” you whispered after a long stretch of silence. “I can’t stay here. I need to leave. I need peace.”

Jisung’s heart clenched at your words, but he simply nodded, his voice soft. “I’ll come with you.”

You shook your head, tears slipping down your cheeks. “No. I can’t drag you into this. I can’t keep hurting you.”

“You’re not a burden to me,” Jisung said, his voice raw with emotion. “I love you. I would do anything for you.”

You already knew he loved you, but hearing it still took you by surprise.

“If my heart was ready… I would choose you,” you whispered. “But right now… it’s too tired. It’s too hurt. I can’t just forget Minho and love you. I wish I could, but…”

Jisung nodded, understanding the weight of your words. “I’ll wait,” he whispered. “For as long as you need.”

You stood in the middle of the bustling airport, your suitcase by your side and your heart heavy with the weight of everything you were leaving behind. The noise of travelers passing by, announcements over the intercom, and the occasional laughter from nearby families faded into the background as your thoughts consumed you.

The sunglasses you wore hid the emotions you were trying so hard to suppress. You glanced around the busy terminal, trying to remind yourself why you were here, why you made this decision. You needed peace. You needed to be far away from Minho, from the memories, from everything that hurt. This was your chance to start over, somewhere no one knew your name or your past.

You took a deep breath, your hands tightening around the handle of your suitcase. You could do this. You had to. For your own sanity, for your heart. It was the best way to move on.

an: sdjahdj

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alittlegiraffe · 6 days ago

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Title: No More Running (Part 4)

The first few days back with Marshall had been perfect.

He kept you close, always touching—fingers grazing your back when you passed by, arms wrapping around you when you sat next to him, pulling you into bed at night like he was afraid you’d disappear if he let go.

But something shifted.

At first, it was subtle—his jaw tensing when you left the room, his grip tightening when you tried to pull away. Then it became obvious.

Marshall was pissed.

And tonight, he wasn’t hiding it.

You sat on the couch, curled up with a blanket, when he stormed into the room, standing in front of you with his arms crossed. His expression was unreadable, but the storm in his blue eyes told you everything.

You sighed. "What’s wrong, Marshall?"

He scoffed. "What’s wrong?" He ran a hand over his face before locking eyes with you. "Are you fucking serious?"

You swallowed, sitting up straighter. "I… thought we were okay."

Marshall let out a bitter laugh. "Yeah, I thought so too. But the more I sit with it, the more I realize I’m not okay."

Your stomach twisted. "Marshall—"

"You fucking left me, [Y/N]," he interrupted, voice sharp. "And I let it slide because I was so fucking glad you came back. But now? Now, I can’t stop thinking about it. You just left."

Your breath hitched, guilt creeping in. "I thought—"

"I don’t care what you thought," he snapped, his voice raw. "You made that decision without me. You decided what was best for me like I didn’t get a fucking say in it."

Tears burned in your eyes. "I was scared."

"So am I," he admitted, his voice dropping to something more vulnerable. "I’m scared you’ll do it again. That one day I’ll wake up, and you’ll just… be gone."

You shook your head. "I wouldn’t—"

"How the fuck do I know that?" His jaw clenched. "You thought you were doing the right thing last time. Who’s to say you won’t think that again?"

You had no answer.

Marshall exhaled harshly, stepping closer, his hands balling into fists at his sides.

"I can’t live like this," he said, voice low. "Waiting for the next time you decide I’m better off without you. So I need you to prove you’re staying."

Your heart pounded. "What do you mean?"

He reached into his pocket, pulling out a small box and flipping it open.

Your breath caught in your throat.

A ring.

A beautiful, simple ring—nothing flashy, just perfect.

Your eyes shot back to his, wide with shock. "Marshall—"

"Marry me," he said, no hesitation. "Or leave."

Your stomach flipped. "What?"

"You heard me," he said, his voice firm but laced with something desperate. "I’m not doing this halfway shit anymore. Either you’re in this completely, or we’re done. I need to know you’re not running again."

Your hands shook as you stared at him. "That’s an ultimatum."

"Damn right it is." His blue eyes burned into yours. "I’m not playing games, [Y/N]. I love you. But I won’t spend my life waiting for you to decide I’m not enough."

Tears welled in your eyes. "You are enough."

"Then prove it," he murmured, taking your hand and pressing the box into your palm. "Say yes."

Your breath shuddered. "Marshall…"

He didn’t speak. He just waited.

And suddenly, you knew—there was no other answer. No hesitation, no fear.

You loved him.

You didn’t want to run.

You wanted him.

Your fingers curled around the box, and you looked up at him, blinking back tears.

"Yes."

His breath hitched. "Yeah?"

You nodded, exhaling a shaky laugh. "Yeah."

Before you could blink, his lips were on yours, hands gripping your waist, pulling you against him in a kiss so deep it stole the air from your lungs.

When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breathing unsteady.

"You’re mine now," he murmured. "No more fucking running."

You smiled, fingers threading through his hair. "No more running."

And you meant it.

#eminem #eminem x reader #marshall mathers #marshall mathers x reader

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queuestarter · 1 year ago

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static

(finnick odair x reader)

cw: explicit language, mentions of prostitution, angst

link to the request → reader and finnick get into an argument

open to submissions/asks !!

You watch the television with blood shot eyes. You’ve been staring blankly at the screen since President Snow announced the Quarter Quell.

You’re not sure how long it’s been- maybe six hours? All you know is that Caesar isn’t on the screen anymore, which is a shame.

You kind of like Caesar.

“Can you acknowledge me now? Or do you need to stare at the screen some more?” You hear Finnick ask you from where he stands in the doorway.

You didn’t realize he had come back home.

Your eyes snap away from the television to him. He looks disheveled. His hair is a mess and his eyes are red but not from overuse like yours are. You can see the lines going down his cheeks from where tears have dried.

“I didn’t realize you were going to come back so soon. Thought you would want to spend the rest of the day with Annie.” The words come out snarky, which you don’t intend for. You’re just stressed out and it seems that now is the perfect time for all of your pent up frustrations to make their way out.

“Oh, of course, bring her up,” he scoffs. “At least she can admit that she needs me around.”

You clench your fists in your lap, true anger forming. “And what does that mean?”

He lets out a deep breath through his nose. “I’m just saying that maybe my time today was better spent comforting someone who actually needed it.”

“I didn’t need your comfort?” You scream, standing to your feet. “I didn’t need you when my entire life just got turned upside down again? You know, Finnick, sometimes it would be nice to have my own boyfriend here!”

“What was I supposed to do for you when you get in your own head and refuse to speak to me? Sit there and stare at Caesar fucking Flickerman smiling on the television for the entire day like you want to do? No- I’m going to go comfort my best friend when she needs me!”

It’s your turn to scoff. “Have you ever considered the fact that maybe the reason why I don’t ask for comfort from you is because I’ve learned not to expect it? You spend all your time in the Capitol, these days. Forgive me for leaning on myself.”

Finnick stalks closer towards you but you refuse to back down. This fight has clearly been a long time coming and you want to hash it out, now, before the tensions get any worse.

“You can’t blame me for being in the Capitol. You know why I’m there,” he hisses, poison lacing each word.

You laugh. You actually laugh at that. “I’m not blaming you, Finnick, I’m just sick of this. In case you forgot, I also experience the same shit that you do. But at least I actually come home at the end of the day.”

He doesn’t say anything for a long moment. “So what does this mean for us?”

You blink. Your fists unclench. “I don’t know. I really don’t know. Part of me feels like maybe this relationship has run its course but I still love you more than words can describe.”

He reaches out and grabs your hands, running his fingers over your knuckles. “I love you too.”

“We need to get our shit together,” you laugh without any amusement, tears suddenly welling up in your eyes. You’re not really angry anymore, just upset.

“We do,” he agrees.

“I don’t want to go into the Quell with this looming over me, I just want us back,” you continue on.

His grip on your fingers tightens. “You’re not going into the Quell.”

You can’t help but laugh in his face. “Don’t be stupid, Finn. It’s either Annie, Mags, or me and you have to know neither of them would have any chance of making it.”

“Don’t say that. You’re not going back in. What if I get reaped, too? I can’t watch you die,” his voice breaks.

“There’s so many other men here who have a chance to get picked,” you whisper, gripping his hand back just as tightly. “Besides, Annie’s gonna need someone to keep her sane.”

“Oh, fuck off,” he whispers back, fresh tears pooling under his eyes.

“We’ll get through it. Let’s just… let’s just promise to never let things get this bad again.”

He kisses your forehead before smothering you in a hug. “I promise.”

#finnick odair #finnick request #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair x you #finnick imagine #finnick odair x y/n #finnick x reader #hunger games #thg finnick #lane's writing

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agirlnamedelia · 5 months ago

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Late night Explosions

genre: angst to fluff

The fight had been inevitable, given Bakugou’s fiery temper and your own stubbornness. It wasn’t the first time you’d butted heads, but this one felt different—deeper, somehow. You had been arguing over something trivial at first, something about his intense training schedule and how it left little time for the two of you. But like a spark in a dry forest, it quickly escalated into a full-blown argument.

“You’re always pushing yourself too hard, Katsuki!” you had yelled, frustration bubbling over. “I get that you want to be the best, but you’re not a machine! You need to rest, to take a break once in a while.”

Bakugou had glared at you, his eyes narrowed and his fists clenched. “I don’t need you telling me what to do, Y/n. I know my limits. I don’t need a damn babysitter.”

“I’m not trying to babysit you!” you shot back, your voice rising in pitch. “I’m worried about you! You’re so focused on being the best that you’re burning yourself out, and it’s affecting us. We hardly spend any time together anymore!”

He scoffed, his expression hardening. “Oh, so this is about you now, huh? You think I’m neglecting you or some shit? I’ve got a lot on my plate, Y/n. I can’t drop everything just because you’re feeling lonely.”

His words stung, cutting deeper than you cared to admit. “It’s not about me being lonely, Katsuki. It’s about you pushing everyone away, including me. You can’t do this alone, no matter how strong you are. You’re going to drive yourself into the ground if you keep this up.”

Bakugou’s eyes flashed with anger, his voice low and dangerous. “I don’t need anyone’s help. I’ve got this under control. If you can’t handle that, maybe you’re the one who’s not strong enough.”

The argument had ended abruptly after that, with you storming out of the room, your heart heavy with hurt and frustration.

Now, as the night wore on, Bakugou found himself pacing the length of the living room, his mind racing with thoughts of what he had said to you. He hated the way the fight had gone, hated the way he had lashed out at you. He knew he had crossed a line, but admitting that out loud was something he struggled with.

When he finally saw you, curled up on the sofa with your arms wrapped tightly around yourself, his heart clenched. You looked so small, so vulnerable, and the sight made his chest tighten with guilt.

“Y/n…” His voice was quieter than usual as he approached, his footsteps heavy against the floor. He stood beside the sofa, looking down at you with an unreadable expression. “Hey… wake up.”

You stirred, blinking groggily as you registered his voice. “Katsuki…?”

“Yeah, it’s me,” he replied, his tone softer than you were used to. “We need to talk.”

You sat up slowly, still feeling the lingering sting of his words from earlier. “What is there to talk about? You made it pretty clear how you feel.”

Bakugou frowned, his gaze dropping to the floor. “I didn’t mean what I said earlier. I was pissed off and I… I said some things I shouldn’t have.”

You looked at him, searching his face for sincerity. “So what? You think saying sorry is going to fix everything?”

He winced slightly, knowing that his usual bluntness wouldn’t help here. “No, I don’t think it’s going to fix everything. But I do think we need to talk about this. I don’t like leaving shit unresolved.”

You sighed, leaning back against the sofa. “Fine. Talk.”

Bakugou hesitated, struggling to find the right words. Apologizing wasn’t something he was used to, and it felt foreign on his tongue. But he cared about you more than his pride, and that was what pushed him to speak.

“Look, I know I’ve been pushing myself hard. But it’s not because I don’t care about you,” he began, his voice firm but tinged with a rare vulnerability. “It’s because I want to be strong enough to protect you, to protect everyone. I’m scared that if I don’t give it my all, something bad’s gonna happen, and I won’t be able to stop it.”

You softened slightly at his words, hearing the honesty in his voice. “Katsuki… you’re already strong. You don’t have to prove that to anyone, least of all to me. I know how amazing you are. I just want you to take care of yourself too.”

Bakugou’s jaw tightened, and he nodded. “I get that. I do. But it’s hard for me to slow down, you know? I’ve been fighting to be the best for so long, it’s like I don’t know how to stop.”

You reached out, gently taking his hand in yours. “You don’t have to stop, Katsuki. But you don’t have to do it alone either. I’m here for you, but you need to let me in. You don’t have to carry all of this on your shoulders.”

His grip on your hand tightened slightly, as if grounding himself in your touch. “I’m not used to relying on anyone, Y/n. But… I don’t want to push you away either. I know I’ve been a shitty boyfriend lately, and I’m sorry for that.”

You gave him a small, reassuring smile. “You’re not a shitty boyfriend, Katsuki. You’re just… you. Stubborn, fierce, and always ready for a fight. But you’re also caring, even if you don’t show it in the usual ways. I just need you to let me in a little more, okay?”

Bakugou nodded, a rare softness in his eyes as he looked at you. “I’ll try, Y/n. I don’t want to lose you.”

“You won’t,” you replied, squeezing his hand gently. “We’ll figure this out together. Just promise me you’ll try to take it easy once in a while?”

He smirked, his usual confidence returning. “No promises. But I’ll try.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled back, feeling the tension between you both ease. “That’s all I ask.”

Bakugou leaned down, pressing a firm, lingering kiss to your forehead. “Get some rest, dumbass. We’ll talk more in the morning.”

You chuckled softly, feeling the warmth of his kiss. “Yeah, okay. Goodnight, Katsuki.”

He gave you one last, lingering look before turning to leave the room. But as he reached the doorway, he paused, glancing back at you with a determined expression.

“And Y/n… thanks for sticking with me. I don’t say it enough, but… I’m glad you’re here.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and you smiled warmly at him. “I’m glad too, Katsuki. Now go get some sleep. We’ve got this.”

-`♡´- Tip Jar || Youtube || M.List -`♡´-

#bakugou katsuki #bnha bakugou #boku no hero academia #bnha #mha bakugou #katsuki bakugo mha #mha

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cherry-muses · 10 months ago

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tom riddle x gn! reader: oneshot

tags: mentions of a difficult childhood, orphanage, bullying, hurt/comfort, fluff

He was sat across you, writing his History of Magic essay with his ever-so-neat handwriting. The only sounds you could hear were those of his quill scratching the parchment and of you turning the pages of your Potions textbook.

As Riddle wrote, his other free hand rested on the table, and you couldn’t help but appreciate the fact that he had really pretty hands. Your eyes subtly scanned them and eventually landed on the sleeve of his robes… which seemed to be a little torn and frayed at the edges.

You smiled to yourself, knowing the exact spell required to make the sleeve good as new… secretly hoping that Riddle would give you one of his rare smiles when you did. Perhaps it’d make the boring study session slightly more entertaining, and the rather bleak winter evening more colourful.

You tentatively reached your hand to gently hold his wrist, and gave him a soft smile. “I could fix that… may I?” You asked, gesturing to the torn sleeve.

To your surprise, Tom did not give you even the smallest smile. In fact, he flinched and harshly pulled his hand away, giving you an accusatory glare at the same time. “I’d much appreciate if you wouldn’t disturb me when I’m trying to work. And I know perfectly well to take care of my own clothing, thank you.”, he snapped. “I think I’d much rather spend my evening with someone who isn’t so dull and irritating to the core.”

“I didn’t mean-”, but you were rudely cut off mid-sentence by Riddle slamming his textbook shut, stuffing it into his satchel and storming off, out of the library.

You were left sitting alone in the library, feeling an odd mixture of guilt, anger, and confusion, holding back tears.

It was the next evening, when you were approached by the dark-haired prefect again. You had been reading by the fireplace in the Slytherin common room when he came up to you, fists clenched at his sides in nervousness. “What do you want, Riddle?”, you spoke, rather harshly, as you sat up straight to face him.

“I am… sorry.”, he replied, voice strained as if it was taking him a great deal of effort to get the words out.

You slammed your book shut, tossing it aside on the couch in annoyance. “I am sorry too.”, you replied, not a hint of emotion in your voice.

“You’re sorry?”, he asked, frowning in confusion.

“For assuming we're friends.”

For a split second a look of hurt flashed across his sharp features, until, ever the Slytherin, Riddle schooled his expression to appear vaguely sad.

“I should not have spoken in that way to you.”, he begins.

“No, you shouldn’t have.”, you retort.

You are both silent for a few moments, and the air has a sort of charged tension which makes you feel like either one of you would be storming off at any moment.

It comes as a bit of a surprise, then, when he instead chooses to sit close to you on the black couch, the water from the Great Lake casting a greenish glow upon the two of you.

“I really am sorry. I must admit, out of sheer habit I had assumed the worst intentions out of you.”

Those deep brown irises of his conveyed a kind of sincerity you had never before seen in him. You hoped to Merlin it was genuine.

“It is no excuse but I’d like to…er, explain why I behaved in such a way. Not justify, just explain.”, he said, a request for you to kindly hear him out implicit in his words. You somehow found yourself nodding, silently urging him to continue.

“You know where I grew up. I much prefer to hide it, but somehow your… constant affection has gently coerced me into entrusting to you the things I wish I could hide even from myself. ” He pauses, sighing and staring outside the dungeon windows, into the depths of the Great Lake.

“As would be expected, the orphanage wasn’t made of money. They could hardly feed us twice a day.” He was practically avoiding your eyes now. “My wardrobe essentially consisted of the worn clothes people donated. And, well.” A pause. “My first time on the Hogwarts express, a group of Ravenclaws found it a good enough excuse to remind me of my inferiority… and throw a couple of assorted hexes my way.”

Realization dawned on you, and at once you took his hand in yours, gently caressing his skin with your thumb. “Oh…”

“Well, since then I’ve managed to handle such issues with reparation spells, but I suppose I missed my robe’s sleeve. Which caught your attention yesterday. And… and when you tried to fix it, I just...”

You could bear it no more, and without any warning he was engulfed in a hug. “Tom, I’m so so sorry. I should’ve known.”

“No, it is my fault, for comparing you to someone who was been cruel to me, when you’ve always shown me nothing but the complete opposite.”, he breathed out softly.

There was a look of steely determination on your face now. “Promise me one thing, Riddle.”

“Hmm?”, he inquired, far too occupied with staring into your eyes to bother with actual words.

“Next time you feel like that, please… please just talk to me.”, you request. “I hate when we hurt each other in such a way.”

“Anything you ask.”, he says. You beam at him and gently kiss his forehead

The rest of the evening was spent cuddling on that couch, whispering sweet nothings to one another and watching the fish swim by in the lake.

#tom riddle #tom riddle x reader #slytherin #slytherin boys #tom marvolo riddle #tom riddle x you #tom riddle x oc #harry potter fandom #wizarding world

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queenshelby · 1 year ago

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Forbidden Desire (Part 21)

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Reader (Female/Incestuous)

Warnings: Incest, Smut

Please comment and engage xx 😘

The following day, when you woke up, exhausted from tending to a crying child all night, it was Frances who brought you some breakfast to your room.

"Good Morning Miss Shelby," she said as, ever so gently, she laid out the food before you.

She seemed especially sensitive today, attuned to the tensions that permeated throughout the house. As she handed you a cup of tea, she offered, “If you need anything at all, please don't hesitate.”

"Thank you, Frances," you smiled without needing to take up her offer for assistance before enquiring about the whereabouts of your fiancé. "Do you know where Robert might be?" you wondered, seeing that he had risen early that day.

"I believe that he has gone hunting with Mr Shelby," Frances informed you, causing your chin to drop.

"He's gone hunting with my father?" you asked, but Frances shook her head.

"No, miss. He has gone hunting with your uncle, Thomas Shelby," she said apologetically and, immediately, you froze, stunned by the news.

"Has anyone else gone with them?" you wondered, seeing that, not only had Robert never held a rifle before, nor did you consider it wise for him to spend time alone with Tommy while Tommy was in possession of a weapon of such kind.

"No, they have left the house on their own. I believe that I heard Mr Shelby say that he wanted to get to know him a bit better now that he was marrying you," Frances elaborated, her sympathetic demeanor evident.

Feeling concerned for Robert's safety, you could feel anger rising within you. How dare Tommy take advantage of Robert's naïveté, you thought, but, before you could interrogate Frances further, there came a knock at the door.

Opening it, you discovered your father, Arthur, standing on the other side, an amused smile playing upon his lips.

"Fucking Hell, Love," he drawled, raising an eyebrow teasingly. "You cannot seriously marry this man," he laughed before shaking his head disapprovingly.

"Excuse me?" you murmured, taken aback by his demure.

"Your Uncle has gone out to the woods with him to shoot a stag and he threw up all over his own fucking suit," Arthur chuckled, referring to the fact that Robert felt somewhat sickened by the act of the hunt. "And I thought he is a fucking doctor," he then added, laughing even more.

"He is a doctor yes and, unlike you and the rest of my family, he may not enjoy the act of killing," you retorted defiantly, feeling slightly irritated by your father's mockery, just as Robert barged into the room as well.

His face pale and sweaty, he looked almost ill and, just as he approached you, you could smell the vomit on his clothes.

"Frances will have these cleaned for you," you assured him kindly, gesturing for him to sit down. Ignoring your suggestion, Robert went straight for the mirror in your suite, studying his reflection intently. Seeing his discomfort, you decided to intervene.

"Perhaps hunting isn't for you darling, and I don't blame you," you remarked carefully, but Robert was evidently upset and offended.

"Just shut up, Y/N! Please!" he snapped, his hands clenching into tight fists as if daring them to betray his fragile state. His expression clouded over with frustration and shame.

"Did you just tell me to shut up?" you demanded incredulously, surprised by his uncharacteristically harsh response.

Robert visibly crumbled under your gaze, looking genuinely repentant.

"I…I didn't mean it like that, alright? Sorry. But, Jesus Christ, Y/N. I don't belong here. I shouldn't have come here," he admitted miserably, clearly regretting his outburst. "And neither should you. You don't belong here either," he then lectured you sternly, unable to conceal his disappointment and frustration. "This place isn't suited for people like us – we aren't killers, murderers, criminals," Robert told you without knowing that you, too, had killed a man before, albeit in self-defense.

"Last night, I saw two body bags being carried out of the yards. Your uncle and father were watching on as some gypsy picked them up. You were fast asleep finally, so I did not mention it at the time. I knew you needed the rest," Robert continued, choosing his words carefully. His vulnerability was touching, making you want to reach out and comfort him. However, unsure how to approach him after his earlier outburst, you remained silent until he asked a very relevant question.

"You aren't involved in any criminal activities back in Boston, are you?" Robert prodded cautiously, attempting to reconcile the disparity between the life he knew of you and the reality of living amongst the Shelby Family.

Looking away briefly, you struggled to find the right words. While you couldn't deny that you weren't entirely innocent, it wasn't something you wished to discuss with him.

Instead, you decided to provide him with an answer which would suffice for the moment.

"My line of work is complicated," you began diplomatically, causing Robert to sigh with frustration.

"Is it alcohol or is it drugs you are bringing into Boston?" he wanted to know earnestly, his brow furrowed in concern.

Suddenly aware of the depth of trust he was seeking from you, you took a deep breath before answering honestly.

"It's only alcohol and I promise you that I will not get involved in the import of anything else. No drugs. No weapons. No prostitutes," you replied firmly, determined to give him an account that wouldn't put you in immediate danger upon returning home and, after several moments of silence, Robert cleared his throat awkwardly, changing the subject.

"When we get back to Boston, we will plan our wedding. I want you to leave this life behind. You can stay home and look after Edward. You can be a housewife, be looked after and cared for by me. I am a good man Y/N and you deserve a good man," Robert insisted passionately, his green eyes burning brightly with determination.

"We shall see, Robert," you told him just as Edward began to cry once again. You had no intention of becoming a stay-at-home mother and knew that, a life like this, as a doctor's wife, would not satisfy you.

The idea of giving up the excitement and thrill you derived from working alongside the menacing figures around you made you uneasy, yet simultaneously, you craved stability.

***

As you went on with your day at Arrow House, you and Edward spent time in the gardens before tending to the horses while Robert took solace in Tommy's vast library and Lizzie went for yet another dress fitting for her wedding.

Along with the maids and two Blinders he had employed for security, Tommy was the only other person at home and, with Robert having indulged himself in some books, this gave him the perfect opportunity to bond with his six-month old son without raising suspicions.

"May I hold him?" Tommy thus asked as you met him in the stables to show Edward the horses. There was a certain tenderness about him, an empathy that seemed completely misplaced among those present. And yet, his gentleness and compassion struck you as oddly familiar. Something stirred deep within your heart, echoing through forgotten memories, resonating beneath your skin.

"Of course. Just watch out for the horses," you cautioned lightly, handing over your son to Tommy.

Though it appeared effortless when holding Edward, the way he cradled the baby showed immense care and attention.

There was a palpable air of trepidation surrounding Tommy when he was near his son, a hint of fear mixed with uncertainty lingering within his heart.

"He is perfect," Tommy whispered reverentially, staring deeply into Edwards’ wide round eyes and tiny fingers. It was as though he was trying to memorize every aspect of his son before you would return to the US. This unspoken need reflected a level of desperation Tommy tried hard to hide, but you could sense it.

"Perhaps you could visit us in Boston one day?" you suggested tentatively, hoping to ease some of the tension building around you and, though this notion was not unappealing to you, you also recognized the potential risks associated with crossing paths with Tommy again, especially considering the circumstances that led to your departure from Birmingham in the first place.

"Yes... perhaps," Tommy agreed reluctantly, avoiding eye contact. As much as he desired a connection with his child, he feared what reuniting with you might bring.

"I should take him back inside. He needs a sleep," you eventually said softly, breaking the tension between you and Tommy.

Handing Edward back gingerly, you noted how Tommy tenderly held onto the baby, savouring every last second before parting ways.

"Good luck," he chuckled, seeing that Edward was a terrible sleeper, just like his father.

"Thank you," you smiled warmly, turning to make your way back into the house, leaving Tommy alone with the horses. Although there was still an underlying tension between you both, the fleeting interaction left you with a strange mix of emotions - sadness, nostalgia, desire. Intrigued by the unexpected affection you shared for Tommy, now more than ever, your curiosity peaked further.

Back inside, you proceeded toward the guest room in which you were staying and, just after Edward finally went down for his sleep, you sought out Frances to locate some writing paper, wanting to write to your mother who had since located to Belfast.

"Usually there is some paper inside the reading-room, on the cabinet to the left,"

she informed you helpfully, leading you to where you thought you may find what you were searching for.

When you arrived, however, you discovered that Robert had fallen asleep there and neither of you wanted to disturb him.

"Mr Shelby should have some in his office," she added tactfully, indicating that you should seek him out instead and, since you knew where he usually kept his writing supplies, you entered his office unannounced, knowing full well that he was still inside the stables.

Entering the opulent space, adorned with luxurious leather furniture and expensive Persian carpets, you approached his large mahogany desk and began rifling through its contents, finding exactly what you were looking for.

However, when you picked up a pile of elegant writing paper from one of the draws, buried beneath it you found several letters that were addressed to you.

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eldritch-spouse · 1 year ago

Note

Bro that whole fucking thing where Admin got stuck in a wall and fucked by the staff was POGGERS!!!!!

Can we get vice versa? As in TCE staff getting wall fucked??

TW: Noncon.

In reference to this post.

You know who loves this, don't you? Santi. It's not his first time "getting stuck" in a wall, and it won't be his last. He'll readily perk up upon being touched and you can probably hear him moaning and begging from the other side. Whether you choose to stuff his ass or suck him off, Santi's having a great time and he hopes someone shows up to fuck his face too. He wants you to call others, wants to be taken advantage of viciously.

Morell is dying. Like actually dying inside. The way he tenses as soon as you feather a hand over his ass, cursing obscenities through the wall, banging on it with his fists. Oh, there'll be trouble. You may get him to quiet down and hear him moan quietly if you only choose to touch his cock, but put even just a finger up his ass and this man will try to buck you off like a rabid bull. Make sure he cums from it so Morell is forced to admit anal isn't all that bad.

Gallon can't really get stuck in a wall. What could happen is that he'll take a small eternity to wedge himself out of a tight spot. In that span of time, he can easily angle his body to avoid penetration in certain spots, but he's still likely to get fondled in general and shudder about it.

Grimbly is also another one you should be careful with. Even if he looks small and helpless, Grimbly has sharp and fast legs, you'll get something punctured if he doesn't like where things are headed. Fortunately, so long as you're moderately gentle, Grimbly's happy to mewl and lean into what's being done to him, cock leaking between his clenched legs.

Patches is hard in very little time. He shudders and gasps at the first touch, though might very quickly turn to begging and rasped cries. Part of him hopes he's absolutely torn apart, that you'll crush his balls and slash his skin, carve little messages there. Of course, you should punish him for finishing when things barely get started too.

Nebul will despise this day for the rest of his unlife. Because lots of people want to put him in his place, most of all you probably. You'll be able to hear his threats and feel the wall rumble with the intensity of his voice, but he's helpless. The only way Nebul can resist is by keeping as quiet as possible. And he clings to that viciously.

Vinnel is deathly afraid that somehow, someway, someone might succeed in ripping his suit- Which is unlikely. People will hump and try to free his cock, but he won't let them, spending the whole time berating whoever touches him for being gross little things who would pathetically grind on him. It's the only line of defense he has while he desperately tries to keep his erection from showing too much.

Belo is panicking so hard. Everytime he's touched, he puffs up and booms threats at whoever's there. And honestly, you'd need a sturdy fucking wall to keep him in place. He squawks and tries to lean away from touches to his slit and cock, trembles when his ass is spread and hopelessly goes limp at some point, asking for forgiveness from Krulu when he starts to take pleasure from his own assault.

Fank-e can honestly just demolish most walls. But. He might not, for some reason or another, maybe to prevent anything from falling onto his visor. He can and will take most of whatever's done to him giggling, enjoying it even. Until someone figures out how to remove Fank-e's cock/robussy and runs off with it. Then he'll get mad.

Sybastian is another one who's panicking, mostly because he hates the sensation of feeling trapped. He's going to try to shift into different things you'll have difficulty fucking, but if you assure him it's just you and you're not going to do something wild, Sybastian will actually spread his legs so you can touch him better. Do get him the fuck out of here though.

There's absolutely no wall that can keep Krulu contained. And even if you could, are you ready to seal yourself into a fate worse than death?

#Morell oc #Santi oc #Patches oc #Belo oc #Gallon oc #Nebul oc #Fank-e oc #Sybastian oc #Grimbly oc #Krulu oc

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followyourfleart · 20 days ago

Text

𝑸𝒖𝒊𝒆𝒕 𝑮𝒖𝒊𝒅𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒆

Chapter 3 -

With a mind-bending Monday, the school and its overbearing presence still manage to put a dent into your week. But when unexpected threats come your way, your gruff neighbor is there to keep you safe.

Word Count - 8.3 k

Previous/Next

"You stole my pencil! I know it was you!”

“Shut the fuck up!”

“Finn!” The name escapes your lips in a near-shriek. “Language!”

Finn whirls around to face you, his long blonde hair falling messily over his face. He jabs an accusatory finger at Calder, who crosses his arms defiantly. The other boy’s hair, a similar shade of blonde but neatly trimmed, only highlights their stark differences. “I didn’t steal his pencil!” Finn protests, his voice cracking slightly as if to underline his innocence.

You turn to Calder, who is red in the face. That pair was two of the three youngest kids in your class, but they were only a part of the largest class in this school. You taught the kids who were 10 to 15, meaning you got to deal with basically Molly’s young kids and Mrs. MacGregor’s future teens. Everyone in between was awkward and a little bit too loud.

“We’re not doing this today! You two, up!” The sharpness in your tone is enough to make the two boys groan in exaggerated defeat. They drag themselves off to a corner of the classroom, each movement slow and deliberately dramatic. “For the rest of you, continue your papers. I want them done before free time.”

The mention of free time sparks immediate excitement among the rest of the students. Chatter picks up as they scribble away, already planning how they’ll spend their coveted moments of freedom. Meanwhile, Calder and Finn continue their bickering, though now it’s reduced to heated whispers rather than loud accusations.

“I do not want this behavior in my class.” The firmness in your voice cuts through their whispers. It’s not quite a snap—after all, they’re only 10, still young enough to be forgiven for moments like these—but there’s no mistaking the authority in your tone.

You address Calder first, his fists clenched tightly at his sides. “Calder, did you see Finn take your pencil? Was he acting strange?”

His face twists further, his frustration threatening to spill over. “Well… I can’t find it,” he admits, his voice small and unsure. But I know he took it because he’s taken my stuff before!”

“Lair!” Finn roared back.

So this wasn’t going anywhere. Calder was getting more and more frustrated, his face threatening to spill fat rolls of tears. Finn on the other became more impatient, crossing his arms. You swore you could see smoke billowing out of his ears.

“Finn.” Your tone shifts slightly as you turn your focus to him. His head snaps up, eyes narrowing beneath his shaggy eyebrows, ready to mount a loud defense.

You hold up a hand, cutting him off before he can speak. “I’m not accusing you of anything. I’m just asking you to be truthful—did you take Calder’s pencil?”

The tension in his shoulders loosens just a bit, and he shakes his head firmly. No.

Part of you hoped he’d say yes. It would’ve been a perfect opportunity to teach them both a valuable lesson about honesty and respect. But now, you’re left with the more challenging task of diffusing their tempers while hunting down the pencil yourself.

“Let’s compromise.” You crouch down to their eye level, a smile spreading across your face. “How about this—you two go back to your desks and work on your papers, and I’ll find the pencil. When I do, you both owe each other an apology—and a hug.”

Their expressions twist in immediate horror, as though you’d suggested they walk barefoot in the snow. The mere idea of hugging each other is almost too much to bear. But your voice leaves no room for argument, and they both know it. After a moment of silent, begrudging agreement, they shuffle back to their desks with heavy feet and even heavier sighs.

As Calder takes his seat, you reach out to stop Finn before he can follow. “Oh, and Finn?”

His eyes widen slightly, already sensing what’s coming.

“I’ll be having a talk with your parents about the cursing,” you say matter-of-factly, “and move your clip to the red.”

His mouth opens, a protest forming on his lips, but he snaps it shut with an audible click. Instead, he glares at you, clearly fighting the urge to say something he’ll regret. His frustration lingers in the air as he marches over to the behavior chart. The clip with his name, already hovering in the orange, slides into red territory—joining only three others.

You know Finn will grumble about it later and probably complain that Calder deserves the same punishment. He does, and his clip will meet the same fate—but that’s a conversation for after class. For now, you glance back at Finn, who’s slumped in his chair, already scribbling furiously on his paper, his indignation keeping his pencil moving.

The system is one you’d inherited from Molly’s class. While you usually find it overly simplistic for older kids, it’s familiar to the younger ones and still carries enough weight to make an impact. Moments like these remind you why you’ve kept it around.

The noises of the school eerily remind you of the city. It had been loud there, a constant hum of life that wrapped around you like a blanket, even in the loneliest moments. Out here in rural Wyoming, though, the silence was almost oppressive. At night, there was no hum—only the moans of the wind, scratching against the walls, reminding you just how far you were from the world you once knew.

Outside, you catch a glimpse of Mrs. MacGregor’s class huddled around her, their breath fogging in the chill air. She’d brought someone in, likely assigning tasks for the decorating. Even through the door, you swear you can hear her thick accent carrying over the chatter of her students, sharp and unmistakable. It makes you smile faintly despite yourself.

During this time, Molly’s class was on their daily walk, their little boots no doubt crunching against the frosted ground outside. You remember guiding them last time when Molly came down with that awful cold. That day, her kids had clung to your sides like ducklings, their excitement spilling over in an endless stream of questions. It had been exhausting—and oddly comforting.

Time ticked by, and the restless energy in the room grew louder. You’d collected most of the papers for their assignment—dreams of what they wanted to be when they grew up. The older kids, with their grounded practicality, had penned ambitions like helping their families expand the stables, becoming tailors, or taking up the steady work of farming. Their answers were rooted in the reality of Jackson’s needs, their futures mapped out in careful, pragmatic strokes.

The younger kids, however, painted their dreams with brighter, bolder colors. Most of them wrote about becoming patrol members, swaggering across the page with declarations of how they’d be the best fighters Jackson had ever seen. You couldn’t help but smile as you skimmed their work—lopsided letters and earnest scribbles boasting about keeping the town safe, riding horses, and wielding weapons like heroes in the stories you sometimes read to them.

Of course, there were a few outliers. One girl wanted to be “the person who grows the best carrots ever,” while a boy solemnly declared his goal to “fix the water system forever.” You chuckled at that one, making a mental note to tell Tommy about his newfound competition.

You kept your gaze fixed on the clock, watching as the minutes slowly tickled by—30 minutes behind, just like always. When it finally hit 11:45, which was really 12:15 by the proper time, you gave the go-ahead. "Alright, you're all free to do what you want," you announced.

The younger kids wasted no time, their excitement practically vibrating the floor as they bolted for the play section, diving into the toy pile and quickly setting up mini-clinics. The squeals of excitement echoed through the room as they played doctor, bandaging up plush animals and pretending to heal all manner of injuries. It was a familiar scene, the chaos and joy of their imaginations running wild.

The older kids, however, seemed more subdued as they bundled up in coats and scarves, their focus now shifting toward the cold. They filed out one by one into the snow, eager for a break from the classroom to stretch their legs and take in the crisp winter air. Mrs. MacGregor’s class had already disappeared, no doubt busy with their own plans, leaving just you and the remaining kids in the building.

The building was now filled with the loud echo of squealing and laughter from the younger kids, and you couldn't help but smile, even as it became almost deafening. You glanced at the time again, still waiting. Joel and Ellie should be around soon.

Ting-ting.

Ellie was the first one in. The first thing you notice is how small she is. She's maybe 14, but she carries herself with a weariness you would expect from someone much older. Her movements are sharp and deliberate—there’s a grace in her caution, like someone who's learned how to be aware of everything around them. Her dark hair is messy, falling into her face in a way that makes her seem a little rebellious, a little too careless for her age. It's the type of hair that speaks of long travels and not enough time to worry about the details.

She wears a worn-out red hoodie, the sleeves too long, tucked into a pair of faded jeans. The clothing is loose as if they’ve been traded or scavenged over time. The edges are frayed, and the fabric is obviously not meant to be fashionable but functional. Her backpack hangs low, the straps loose, showing the signs of constant use. There’s a certain defiance in how she wears it, a subtle statement that she doesn’t care much for appearances.

But it's her eyes that catch you. They’re intense, and sharp, like they’ve seen too much, too soon. They dart around, always assessing, scanning the room as if she's already planning for the next thing. There’s a guardedness to them, a quiet wariness as if she’s not sure if this place—this school—is something to trust. Yet, beneath that cautious exterior, there’s something else—a hint of curiosity, maybe even hope, that she’s trying to suppress.

She stands next to Joel, who’s just as imposing as you remembered him, though Ellie doesn’t seem to lean on him. There’s an unspoken bond between them, something that doesn’t need words. Joel’s there, steady, but Ellie’s presence is loud in a quiet way. She doesn’t need to be the center of attention, but you feel drawn to her. You sense the weight she carries and wonder how much of it she’ll let show.

“Ellie Miller,” you say her name in greeting. “How are you?”

Her face perks up at the sound of her name. She gives you a quick once-over, her eyes scanning you with a calculated curiosity. "It’s actually Williams, and I’m fine. You’re the one who brought me cookies, right?"

Your eyebrows quickly furrowed in confusion, but undid themselves when you smiled, relieved by the lightly easy exchange. She’s definitely more approachable than Joel. “I was. Did you enjoy them? I didn’t know what kind you liked, so I just made the most basic one.”

Ellie shrugs, the hint of a smirk tugging at the corners of her lips. "They were alright, I guess. Not bad for the basics." She eyes the group of kids playing in the corner, her expression shifting as she takes in the scene.

Her attention flicks back to you, but it’s clear she’s still distracted, the world just a bit too loud for her to settle completely. You look over to her backpack which she is sliding off her shoulder. You hold out your hand towards her backpack.

“I can take that from you, the older kids are in the back playing in the snow. You can join them.”

Ellie glances at your hand, a wary flicker in her eyes, as if she’s expecting you to pull something on her at any second. Instead, she hands you the strap to her backpack with a nonchalant grunt, her movements sharp and calculated. Without waiting for much more, she turns and walks toward the door leading to the fenced area behind the school.

The younger kids, who had been lost in their own world, all turned their heads at the new presence. The moment their eyes meet hers, the atmosphere shifts, a subtle tension rising as Ellie shoots them a look—sharp, challenging, daring them to make a move. Her gaze is as cold as it is uninviting, the kind of look that says, Try me, I dare you. The kids instinctively shrink back, unsure of what to make of the small but fierce newcomer, and the silence in the room hangs for a moment longer before they go back to their playing.

“She’s going to be something, that one.” You say, glancing over at Joel. He watches Ellie until she disappears through the door, his eyes lingering on her with an unreadable expression.

You walk over to one of the chairs, and place Ellie’s backpack on it. Joel doesn’t answer at first, his attention still fixed on where Ellie vanished, as if he’s making sure she’s out of trouble’s way. When he finally speaks, it’s a low murmur, more to himself than anyone else.

“Yeah. She’s got a lot of fight in her.”

You gesture toward one of the taller chairs, inviting Joel to sit. He hesitates for a moment, then walks over and lowers himself into it. His legs stretch out awkwardly, and the chair makes him look comically large against its small frame. You suppress a smile, noting how out of place he seems in this setting.

Reaching for a piece of paper with the week’s schedule, you hand it to him. “I’m sure Tommy’s given you the rundown of how the school works, but let me put it in simpler terms—from someone who’s actually here every day.”

Joel takes the paper, his eyes scanning the words. One hand holds the schedule steady, while the other cups his chin, brushing over the stubble on his jaw. His focus is sharp, his expression unreadable as he takes in the details.

“We open around 7:30 for all the kids,” you begin, leaning back slightly as you cross your arms. “My class meets in front of the chalkboard.” you glance toward the board, currently covered in yesterday’s math equations.

“During that time, they can turn in their homework. Nothing major—just some English and math exercises to keep them busy. They have until 8:00 to get here before we start.”

Joel gives a small nod but doesn’t speak, his eyes flicking back to the schedule.

“After that, it’s History and English first thing, then free time,” you continue, gesturing toward the play area where the kids are buzzing around “That’s usually followed by Science, which is… always an adventure,” you say with a wry smile, “and then lunch. After lunch, it’s Math. Finally, they wrap up their day working on homework until their parents come to pick them up—at least the younger ones. The older kids just head out when it’s announced.”

Joel’s attention shifts from the schedule to the play area, where some of the younger kids are laughing as they stack blocks into a precariously tall tower. He tilts his head slightly as if taking mental notes about how this will all work for Ellie.

“She’ll adjust fine,” you add, your tone reassuring. “The kids here are good about making new people feel welcome. And if she’s got questions—or if you do—just let me know.”

Joel nods, the gesture more for himself than for you—it’s hard to tell. “I’ll pick her up after school,” he says, his voice steady but carrying that slight undercurrent of uncertainty.

Ellie struck you as fiercely independent, someone who wouldn’t hesitate to walk herself home if needed. But Joel continues, his tone shifting just enough to betray his cautiousness.

“I’m gonna be joinin’ Tommy on patrols,” he explains. “Sorta like me workin’ a job. But that might mean I’ll end up pickin’ her up a bit later sometimes.”

You make a mental note of that, filing it away alongside everything else you’ve been juggling today. “That’s fine,” you reply with an understanding nod. “We’ve got plenty of space for her to wait if she needs to stick around a little longer. She won’t be the only one—some of the kids hang out until their parents are done working.

“And I never leave until all the kids are gone, so she’ll be in good hands.”

Joel’s lips twitch into the faintest hint of a smile, gone almost as soon as it appears. “Thanks,” he mutters, his eyes drifting back to the paper in his hand.

You sit quietly, giving Joel space to mull over everything. After a pause, you decide to add another question.

“Will she be joining us today for the rest of the day? She might get a little lost at first, but it could help her see how things work before her first full day.”

Joel considers it, the lines on his face deepening as he thinks. Finally, he shrugs. “I can do that. She’ll just have to stay longer today.”

You offer him a reassuring smile. “That sounds like a good idea. It’ll give her a chance to get a feel for the place.”

Inwardly, you let out a small sigh of relief. You’d been worried this might be a more tense conversation, full of tricky questions or unspoken doubts. Having a new kid join the school was uncharted territory for you, and you’d been anxious about leaving the wrong impression on Joel.

But as much as you promise to help Ellie adjust to life in Jackson, a small knot of concern lingers in your chest.

All the kids at the school had grown up together. They were used to the same faces, and the same routines. A new adult now and then didn’t shake them much, but another kid? That was different. You could already imagine how they might test her, measuring how well she’d fit into their group. It wasn’t an uplifting thought, but it was an honest one.

Your eyes flick to the broken clock on the wall, its hands on 12:10—or rather, 12:40—letting you know you have about five minutes to get everything and everyone ready for science. Rising from your seat, you return the chair to its spot against the wall.

“Well, Joel, that’s about all I have to tell you,” you say with a note of finality, meeting his gaze. “Ellie is going to be an amazing fit here. I think she’ll pick up some good things.”

Joel stands too, giving you a small nod. “Guess we’ll see,” he replies, his voice low but not unkind. He glances toward the door, where Ellie had disappeared moments ago.

You continue tidying up after the kids, your thoughts drifting back to Joel and Ellie. Despite their differences, something about them felt oddly similar; both carried an air of deep mistrust.

Ellie, from your brief interaction, seemed genuinely engaged in conversation yet remained completely on guard, her responses carefully measured. Joel, on the other hand, lacked even that surface-level openness. Conversations with him felt like pushing against a brick wall—unyielding and exhausting. He clearly kept people at arm’s length, likely out of habit as much as intent.

Still, the way they talked to each other caught your attention. As the kids began filtering back inside or packing up the toys, you couldn’t help but notice the rigid dynamic between Joel and Ellie. It wasn’t the easygoing rapport of a typical father-daughter relationship. Joel’s words to her seemed more like commands than conversations, with no room for negotiation.

Maybe that was just how he operated now, after losing his first daughter. Perhaps grief had reshaped his protectiveness into something sharper, less forgiving. Yet...

Something about their connection didn’t sit in the neat box your mind wanted to put it in. It wasn’t your business, of course, but the mystery lingered. There was a depth there you couldn’t quite name, something heavy and unspoken in the space between them.

As Joel made his way to the door, he raised a hand in a quiet goodbye. You returned the gesture, your polite smile masking the curiosity still itching at the back of your mind.

But you had a job to do, and the allure of their mystery had to wait for another day. You put on your best teacher smile and wave your hand for Ellie to stand.

“I hope everyone had some great free time. Now, I’m sure most have you seen her around today, so let me formally introduce Ellie Williams!”

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

The school felt unusually quiet with only a handful of kids still lingering, the hum of activity reduced to a faint buzz. Most students had already gone home, their chatter and footsteps fading into the afternoon. Now, only the few whose parents were out on patrol remained.

Ellie sat at her desk, chin propped on her hand, her finger lazily tracing the swirling faux wood pattern. She didn’t seem bored, just caught in her own world, her sharp eyes occasionally darting around the room before settling back on the desk.

A moment later, a mother walked in, looking for her son, Calder. You spotted the little boy busy playing with the edge of his sleeve and gently tapped his shoulder.

"Hey, Calder," you said, holding up a half-bitten pencil with the faint scratching of “Cal” etched into the side. "I think this belongs to you."

His eyes lit up with recognition as he snatched the pencil from your hand, immediately showing it off to his mom like a prized treasure.

"That’s great, honey," she said warmly, ruffling his messy hair with a smile that mirrored his excitement.

You knelt down to his level and gave him a little nudge. "Why don’t you go talk to Finn? He’s looking a little lonely over there."

Calder’s smile faltered, replaced by an exaggerated grimace. He groaned theatrically but dragged his feet over to Finn, who was engrossed in scribbling something on a piece of paper.

While the boys hesitantly started talking, you turned your attention to Calder’s mom. Her friendly demeanor shifted slightly when you started explaining the minor spat between Calder and Finn earlier in the day.

"I apologize if Cal gave you any trouble," she said, brushing a loose strand of red hair from her face, her expression now firm and resolute. "I’ll have a word with him when we get home."

You waved her off lightly. "No need for a big scolding or anything," you said, gesturing toward the boys, now laughing at something Finn had drawn. "It was just a misunderstanding that got a little heated. They’re fine now, I think. Just remind him to think things through before jumping to conclusions."

She nodded, her strict expression softening as she considered your words. "Alright, I’ll try. Though I can’t guarantee his Grandma will take the same approach," she added with a knowing grin.

Her joke earned a laugh from you just as Calder came bounding back, his face flushed from what was clearly a reluctant hug shared with Finn. He tried to hide his embarrassment by tugging on his mom’s coat, signaling he was ready to leave.

You waved goodbye as they stepped into the snow, Calder ducking away from his mom’s playful attempts to ruffle his hair once more. The door clicked shut, leaving the school quieter than ever.

"Seems like you’re really good at that, Miss," Ellie called over, her tone laced with genuine curiosity.

You glanced her way and smiled, walking over to her desk. With hands on your hips, you looked down at her. "It’s part of the job—diffusing situations before they spiral. Could’ve been a lot worse if I’d focused on just the bad stuff."

Ellie tilted her head, her curiosity evident. "What even happened?"

Keeping it simple, you explained the incident in a way that wouldn’t embarrass the boys. As you finished, Ellie rolled her eyes dramatically, her expression teetering between amused and unimpressed.

"That’s it?" she said, dragging out the words. "You made it sound like they fought or started throwing chairs at each other."

You laughed at her bluntness, enjoying her casual way of breaking tension. "What do you mean, ‘That’s it?’ They’re kids! They shouldn’t be swearing at each other and throwing out accusations without a shred of proof."

Ellie shrugged, leaning back in her chair like it was no big deal. "I say curse words all the time. Joel doesn’t care. Well, not that much."

The way she put passion into the topic made you chuckle even more. "Well, whatever system you and your dad have going at home, that’s none of my business. But it doesn’t belong in school. And I’m pretty sure you’re smart enough to know that, Ellie."

Ellie nodded slightly, her sharp eyes flicking to yours as she seemed to mull it over. "Fair enough," she admitted, her lips quivering in what might’ve been the start of a grin.

"Good." You gave her desk a light tap before straightening up. "I’d hate to have to diffuse a situation involving you."

Ellie smirked, her tone playful. "Oh, don’t worry. I’ll just keep the swearing under my breath."

The easy banter between you and Ellie left a warm feeling in your chest. You weren’t accustomed to this kind of lighthearted exchange with your other students—they were often polite but somewhat stiff, keeping the line between teacher and student firmly in place. While you appreciated respect, there was something refreshing about this kind of mutual give-and-take. It felt... human.

Returning to the cleaning area, you spotted Molly bustling about, gathering supplies. She couldn’t help but gush over how adorable the younger kids were, comparing them to baby animals with their chubby cheeks and clumsy antics. You nodded along in agreement, though you couldn’t help but feel a twinge of exhaustion at hearing the same sentiment for the hundredth time. Cute or not, the energy it took to wrangle those “puppies and kittens” was no joke.

Gradually, the number of kids dwindled as more parents arrived to collect them, offering waves or quick thanks on their way out. By the time the clock hit 5:00, only Finn and Ellie remained, leaving you waiting on Finn’s parents and Joel.

Ellie had shifted positions again, now sprawled in her chair with her legs stretched out, idly doodling on a scrap of paper. She seemed utterly unbothered by the wait, as if she had all the time in the world.

"Looks like Joel is going to be taking his sweet time," you said, glancing her way with a playful smirk.

Ellie grinned without looking up, twirling her pencil between her fingers. "Guess so. Hope I’m not cramping your style."

You chuckled, shaking your head. "Not at all. In fact, you’re probably the quietest one here today."

Ellie snorted. "Don’t get used to it."

“I don’t plan on it. I’m sure one day you’ll be the loudest kid I have,” you tease Ellie with a grin. “It’ll be a talk with Joel every day.”

Ellie smirks, leaning back in her chair. “Yeah, good luck with that.”

Before either of you can continue, the door opens with a soft ring, drawing both of your attention. Two blonde figures step into the room—Alyssa and Daniel, Finn’s parents. Their smiles are warm but weary as they wave over to their son.

You glance at Ellie with a wink, a playful signal that you’re about to showcase your “conflict resolution” skills once more. She raises an eyebrow, intrigued.

“Alyssa and Daniel! So happy to see you both,” you greet them warmly, your tone genuinely welcoming.

Finn’s face lights up as he spots his parents, bounding over to them with excitement. His words tumble out in a joyful ramble as he recounts all the day’s events. Alyssa crouches slightly, brushing a stray strand of hair off Finn’s face while her smile remains soft. But your practiced eyes notice something deeper in both parents—their eyes, though kind, carry a subtle heaviness. Something must have happened during their patrols.

You bend slightly to Finn’s level, your voice kind but direct. “Finn, why don’t you pack everything up while I have a quick chat with your parents, okay?”

Finn hesitates, looking at you with a hint of suspicion. “You’re not gonna say anything bad about me, right?”

You chuckle, giving him a knowing smile. “Of course not. Just grown-up stuff. And the stuff we mentioned before, right?”

Satisfied, Finn nods and heads back to his desk to gather his things, though he keeps glancing over his shoulder, clearly trying to eavesdrop on the conversation.

Using the time Finn is gone cleaning up whatever mess he made. You use that time to fill in Alyssa and Daniel in the time. Unlike Calder’s mom, their smiles become more and more strained as you talk more.

Alyssa’s eyes narrow slightly, though her smile never completely fades. “And I agree with you there, but kids are kids. You can’t expect them to always control every word that comes out of their mouths, especially when they’re upset. Finn was just defending himself.”

“I understand that frustration, really, I do,” you say, keeping your voice steady “But the cursing wasn’t just about defending himself. It’s about teaching them how to handle their emotions in a more constructive way.”

Daniel, quiet until now, shifts his weight slightly, clearly wanting to speak but hesitant. He finally clears his throat, his voice softer than Alyssa’s but with the same gruff undertones. “I get what you’re saying, but we’ve been in this world long enough to know that sometimes you gotta fight back, especially when you’ve been wronged.”

You nod slowly, understanding the weight of his words. The world they’ve lived in, the harsh realities of Jackson and beyond, have shaped their perspectives. “I’m not saying Finn shouldn’t stand up for himself. I’m saying that there are better ways to do it, especially in a setting like this where we’re trying to create a safe and respectful environment for all the kids. Cursing at someone only escalates things, it doesn’t solve the problem.”

“Instead of harking on my son, why don’t you focus on the kid who started it all? That Callum kid should learn where to look for his pencil instead of blaming my boy.” Alyssa’s face loses its smile, only her eye squinting at you in irritation.

“It’s Calder, and I’ve already had a talk with him and his mom.” You grit through your teeth “Like I said, both boys got frustrated, but also Calder had reason to believe that Finn took it.”

Daniel and Alyssa both looked at you with utter shock. You would even say that Finn could do something like that.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Daniel looked down at you, his eyes filing with a ‘I dare you to say it’ look in them.

You take the dare “I’m saying, that I have caught Finn multiple times stealing from Calder and other students, which is why-”

“There! She said it!” Alyssa laughed humorlessly “I knew that’s what you meant to say the entire damn time. You just want to find a situation to weasel through to really show what you think of my son. You’re calling him a thief.”

You hold your ground, keeping your tone firm but measured. “I’m not calling Finn a thief, Alyssa,” you say, meeting her eyes directly. “What I’m saying is that there have been instances where Finn has taken things that didn’t belong to him. That doesn’t make him a bad kid—it just means there’s a behavior we need to address together.”

Daniel’s expression darkens, his voice dropping to a dangerous calm. “So you’re saying our boy’s a liar and a thief now? That’s a hell of an accusation.”

“I’m not accusing Finn of anything more than what I’ve seen,” you respond, unflinching. “When I noticed those incidents, I spoke with him, and we worked through it. It wasn’t about punishment; it was about helping him understand why those actions aren’t okay. This isn’t about labeling him—it’s about guiding him.”

You can’t stop now, the bubbling frustration over everything you’ve noticed about Finn’s behavior coming to a breaking point. Your tone remains even, but your words sharpen.

“Cursing isn’t something kids just instinctively know. They pick it up from the people around them—their environment. And I trust the kids in our school to understand that there are boundaries, that certain language isn’t acceptable, especially when a teacher isn’t looking.”

Alyssa rubs her temple, her irritation escalating to outright fury. “So now you’re attacking our home life? You little bitch.”

Point proven.

You force your smile to stay in place, though the effort feels like stretching a rubber band that’s about to snap. “I’m not attacking your home life. I’m just suggesting that if you want to see changes in Finn’s behavior, it might help to model those changes at home. Maybe reducing how much he hears that kind of language, or cutting it out completely, would be a good start.”

Daniel steps forward, his towering presence adding weight to his voice, which now carries a low, warning tone. “You don’t get to tell us how to raise our son. You don’t get to sit there and call him a liar and a thief, and then on top of that, preach to us about how to run our home.”

“You know, if I’d known this school was so broken, I never would’ve even enrolled Finn here,” Alyssa snaps, stepping up beside her husband. “Maybe it’s better if we just homeschool him instead.”

The words hit a nerve you didn’t realize you had, their contempt burrowing deep. Something inside you ticks, a clock counting down to the point where your patience fully runs out. The years of effort you’ve poured into making this school a safe, nurturing space for kids—the constant push and pull of balancing education with community dynamics—all of it weighs on you, pressing against the edge of your composure.

“Then do it,” you say, your voice sharper than intended. The words hang in the air, colder than the snow outside.

Their expressions shift, a flicker of shock mingling with their anger. But you’re not done. “If you really think the best solution is to pull Finn out rather than working with me to help him grow, then fine. Homeschool him. The school in Jackson is completely voluntary, I even know a couple people who don’t put their kids here.”

The room feels heavy, the silence thick as your words settle. For a moment, even Alyssa seems at a loss, her mouth opening and closing without forming a retort. Daniel’s jaw tightens, but he doesn’t speak either.

You don’t stop. You can’t stop. Their silence is too satisfying, too rare an occurrence for parents like Alyssa and Daniel. You decide to push just a little further, the weight of their glares only fueling the fire inside you. “I can even get the papers for withdrawal right now,” you add, motioning as if you’re about to head up the stairs to fetch nonexistent documents. Parents don’t need to sign anything formal to remove their child from school, but the sight of them frozen, eyes brimming with a swirl of unintelligible emotions, is too good to pass up.

You step closer, your voice dropping low enough to ensure no one else can overhear. Leaning in, you level them both with a look that could cut glass, your next words deliberately quiet and precise.

“Don’t test my patience,” you begin, your tone steely, “which I have been incredibly generous with. Call me a bitch one more time, and I’ll make damn sure that little Finn—or either of you—doesn’t come within six feet of this school again.”

Alyssa’s lips part, her face flushing with a mixture of anger and disbelief. She finally manages to find her voice, though it’s barely above a whisper. “You’re threatening us?”

You don’t hesitate, the firmness in your words unwavering. “I am, actually.”

The weight of your admission settles between the three of you like a palpable force, heavy and unyielding. Alyssa blinks, her sharp retorts momentarily silenced. Daniel, who usually seems ready to step in with his booming presence, stands rooted to the spot, his brow furrowed but his words unspoken.

The silence stretches, your challenge hanging in the air, daring them to make their next move. When it becomes clear that neither of them has an immediate response, you straighten your posture, your voice softening just enough to give them an out.

“Now,” you say calmly, almost as though the previous exchange never happened, “if you’re truly committed to helping Finn thrive, I suggest we work together. Otherwise, you know where the door is.”

You don’t wait for a response this time. Instead, you turn your attention to Finn, who’s still seated at his desk, nervously fiddling with the straps of his backpack. “Finn,” you call over, your voice much gentler now. “Grab your things. Your parents are waiting.”

As Finn hops off his chair and scrambles to gather his belongings, you catch Alyssa and Daniel exchanging glances, their indignation tempered with uncertainty. Whether they stay or go, you don’t particularly care at this moment.

They walk out, but you don’t miss Alyssa glaring back at you over her shoulder, her eyes full of a promise you know isn’t good. You keep your smile in place, unfaltering, until they disappear around the corner. The moment they’re gone, you let it drop completely.

A heavy sigh escapes your lips as you pinch the bridge of your nose, trying to release the tension building in your chest. Alyssa had a reputation around the settlement for letting her temper get the best of her, sometimes even getting physical over the smallest grievances. You’d hoped that being her son’s teacher might exempt you from that particular side of her. Clearly, it didn’t.

“You’ve got great diffusing skills there,” Ellie pipes up from her seat, her voice dripping with sarcasm as she smirks at you.

You raise a finger in protest. “One time. And it was with the most difficult parents ever,” you argue, though the exasperation in your tone betrays you.

Heading toward the stairs, you pause, realizing Ellie still needs to get home. Leaving her unsupervised, even for a few minutes, doesn’t sit right with you.

“You want to come up?” you ask, nodding toward the stairs. It’s casual enough, but the truth is you’d feel better with her in your line of sight. Your hands are still shaking from the confrontation with Alyssa and Daniel, the worry that they might come back gnawing at the edges of your composure.

Ellie’s eyes widen slightly at the offer, but without a word, she springs from her chair, slinging her backpack over her shoulder. She bounds up the stairs with an energy that’s almost infectious, her sneakers hitting lightly against the wooden steps until she reaches the second-floor landing.

“This is it?” she asks, glancing around the small office space as though expecting more.

“This is it,” you echo, moving to your desk. You start gathering the items you need for the evening: a stack of papers to grade, your lunch container, and a few personal belongings. Each item is placed neatly into the bag slung over the back of your chair.

Ellie plops herself into one of the chairs by the desk, idly swinging her legs. “So, what’s the plan now? You're gonna give a speech about how I should never piss off my teachers?”

“One, I don’t have the energy to lecture. Two, I’m sure you’re smart enough to know when not to piss off your teachers,” you say with a weak smile, slumping into your chair. You begin tidying up your desk, preparing it for the next day.

Ellie watches you for a moment before pulling out a crumpled piece of paper and idly sketching on it. The clock in the lounge ticks steadily, showing 5:18. The minutes slip by as you and Ellie fall into an easy conversation. She keeps her cards close to her chest, only offering bits of her thoughts about the settlement and what she’d change if it were up to her. You admire her for that—her ability to hold her ground while still engaging with the world around her.

Then, the familiar sound of the door opening downstairs pulls your attention. The soft chime announces Joel’s arrival. You push yourself up from your chair and head toward the banister.

“Up here, Joel!” you call out, your voice carrying down the wooden stairwell.

A moment later, his heavy boots echo against the floorboards, the creak of the old wood following each step. His head comes into view first as he ascends, his face turning to meet yours. His expression is guarded, as usual, but there’s a faint softness in his eyes when he spots Ellie sitting comfortably in the chair behind you.

“Is she giving you any trouble?” Joel asks, his tone gruff, his gaze flicking between you and Ellie.

Ellie rolls her eyes dramatically. “Oh, please. I’ve been an angel.”

You snort, crossing your arms as you lean against the railing. “Define ‘angel.’ She’s been good, though. No complaints from me.”

Joel steps fully onto the landing, giving a small nod of acknowledgment. “Good. Means she’s learnin’ somethin’.”

Ellie groans. “Yeah, yeah, student of the year. Can we go now?”

You pick up your things and head down the stairs, Joel and Ellie following behind, caught up in their own conversation. Their words are a quiet hum, casual and familiar, as you step outside into the crisp air. The late afternoon sun breaks through the clouds in patches, casting a golden glow over the snow-covered ground.

You pause at the door, waiting for them to exit before turning back to lock up the building. The keys jingle softly in your hand before you drop them into your bag.

“Goodbye, Ellie,” you say with a small wave. “It was great seeing you today.”

Ellie gives you a look, her brows furrowed in confusion. “Thanks, but you know we’re going the same way, right?”

You blink, glancing in the direction she’s pointing. She’s right. Joel and Ellie live on the same street you do.

“Oh,” you say, a sheepish smile tugging at your lips. “I guess you’re right. Sorry, long teacher day.”

Ellie smirks, adjusting her bag over her shoulder. “Guess I’ll get two goodbyes today.”

You laugh, falling in step with Joel and Ellie as you all head toward Rancher Street. The town seems alive with activity, even as the cold seeps into the edges of the day. People are everywhere—selling goods, hauling supplies, or simply stopping to chat in the bustling streets. Every familiar face you can remember is out here, giving the place a warmth that defies the November chill.

Despite the buzz of activity, there’s a noticeable shift when Joel comes into view. Heads turn instinctively toward him, and then to you, curiosity evident in their expressions. Tommy’s long-lost brother returning to Jackson wasn’t exactly on the town’s winter agenda, and it’s clear Joel’s presence draws attention wherever he goes.

Ellie, oblivious to the stares—or maybe just used to them—launches into a recount of the argument between Finn and Calder, adding her own flair to the story. Joel listens, raising a brow at you when she gets to the part about the cursing and how you handled the situation.

“I swear it wasn’t as dramatic as she’s making it sound,” you say, cutting her off with a playful glance.

Ellie grins mischievously. “Oh, it was dramatic. You should’ve seen it. She told off those parents like a pro.”

You laugh softly, trying to keep the mood light. "I simply did my job. Nothing great about it."

As you and Ellie continue talking, Joel’s quiet presence starts to weigh on the conversation. He’s there, but not fully with you, his attention scanning the town with a quiet intensity. His silence is odd but comforting in a strange way. You can tell that, even in this peaceful moment, something has his mind occupied.

The topic shifts to Tommy’s Christmas Eve party, something you’d completely forgotten about until now. You chuckle, shaking your head. "Yes, it’s something I don’t really go to often. But this year, he’s been really persistent with me coming. Maybe because Joel is here," you joke, giving him a playful glance.

But Joel doesn’t seem to hear you. His eyes flicker back and forth, scanning the crowd and the buildings around him, taking in the familiar sights as if something has caught his attention.

Ellie seems to notice too. She shrugs and kicks a small stone out of her way, her expression unreadable but not concerned. You glance back at Joel, noticing the furrow in his brow as he continues to survey the street. It’s a strange contrast—Joel’s normally steady, confident demeanor, but now there’s a subtle edge to his attention. Something’s on his mind.

Passing by the marketplace, the thought of food you haven’t got back home comes into your mind. You start to take a step away from the group “I should get some groceries, my home is quite empty—”

Suddenly, Joel’s rough hand is gripping your bicep, pulling you back to him. It’s harsh, his fingers digging into your skin. You get pulled against your arm, and you snap your neck to look at him, the words dying on your tongue at his face.

Concentration, full concentration on you, but his eyes are dark and searching. He leans in closer, his breath grazing the shell of our ear.

“Keep walking.”

The command is sharp, quiet, but unmistakable. "Keep walking," Joel repeats, his voice low and intense.

You freeze for a moment, your heart skipping a beat at the sudden tension in his grip. His hand is firm on your bicep, the pressure a mix of urgency and something else you can’t quite place. His eyes are locked onto yours, deep, searching—almost like he's trying to read something in your expression.

You nod instinctively, swallowing the lump that forms in your throat, your initial confusion quickly turning into a cautious awareness. The thought of going to the market disappears at the sight of Joel’s demeanor shift. The look on his face makes your instincts flare up, a subtle, yet undeniable warning to stay alert.

His grip loosens just a fraction as you turn back towards the street, walking forward with a slight tension in your step. You glance at Ellie, who’s too caught up in her own thoughts to notice the sudden change in the air between you and Joel.

But you’re acutely aware now. Something’s off.

Joel doesn’t say another word, but you can feel his presence beside you, like an anchor. Every step you take feels measured as if Joel’s anticipating something, and you’re not sure what that something is.

“Joel,” you murmur, but he doesn’t respond. Instead, he keeps walking, his eyes scanning the street ahead of you both, more vigilant than before. You can tell he’s not just watching the crowd—he’s watching for something else, something specific.

When you reach Rancher Street, your breath finally slows, though your heart continues to hammer in your chest. What did Joel see that you couldn’t?

“Ellie, go inside.” His voice is firm, leaving no room for argument.

Ellie looks up at him, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. You half-expect her to push back, but instead, she lets out a huff and snatches the keys from his hand. She stomps up the steps without another word, disappearing into the house.

Joel doesn’t relax.

His hand still rests on your arm, and his sharp gaze remains fixed on the street behind you. His silence stretches, the tension thick enough to choke on. Finally, he speaks, his voice low and gravelly.

“When were you going to tell me someone was following you?”

Your heart drops into your stomach, and your mouth goes dry.

“What?!” you hiss, your voice sharp but barely above a whisper.

He nods. “A blonde lady I saw while on patrol.”

Your eyes widen. “Alyssa? Kinda short, mean look on her face?”

He shrugs. “If that’s her name, then yeah. She’d been followin’ ya ever since we left the school. Reckon she noticed me seein’ her, though, ’cause she took off not long after.”

You sigh, your stomach twisting. “I guess she’s not over what happened at the school?”

“The school?” Joel’s brow furrows. “Did something happen?”

“You know how Ellie was telling you about those kids, Finn and Calder?” You brush off Joel’s arm, rubbing at the sore spot where his grip had lingered. “Well, I talked with their parents. Calder’s mom was fine—easy, even—but Alyssa and Daniel? They were hell to deal with. I might’ve... told them off and underestimated just how angry she was.”

Joel takes it in, his expression darkening.

“You should be more careful. You didn’t even notice her following you, and if she’d come up to you—”

“Thank you, Joel, but if she’d come up, I could take care of myself.” Your tone is gentle, a soft reassurance to ease his concern. His attention to your safety warms your heart, and the appreciation shows in your smile.

Still, you press on. “I’m still going to need groceries, so if I run into her, at least most of the settlement will be around. She won’t try anything.”

Joel’s response is immediate, sharper than you expected. “She shouldn’t be hassling you at all. It ain’t right.”

“Which I know, but there’s not much I can do about it,” you explain to him “I’m not going to hole up in my house because she’s mad.”

“Then take me with you.”

What.

Thank you for your patience, everyone! A03 is the main place I will be updating this story, so if you want to read that story fresh every Sunday, then go over to Writers_Spins to check it out! However, the Tumblr version will be updated every Monday.

I will say, that this chapter was long as fuck. Happy Reading!!

#fanfic #joel miller #joel x reader #last of us #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #tlou joel #joel miller x y/n #pedro pascal #pedro pascal joel miller #the last of us #the last of us hbo

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