#you guys are SUCH a snooze fest | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ddejavvu · 1 year

Note

Touch starved pilots of your choice cuddling their s/o headcanons

characters written: pete 'maverick' mitchell, nick 'goose' bradshaw, tom 'iceman' kazansky, ron 'slider' kerner, leonard 'wolfman' wolfe, rick 'hollywood' neven, beau 'cyclone' simpson, bradley 'rooster' bradshaw, jake 'hangman' seresin, natasha 'phoenix' trace, robert 'bob' floyd, javy 'coyote' machado, mickey 'fanboy' garcia, reuben 'payback' fitch

sfw, but cut for length. enjoy!

Pete 'Maverick' Mitchell:

depends on what age you're thinking!

if it's young!mav, he's probably just a liiiitle reluctant to let himself relax sometimes

he's sort of got his tough guy persona, and he's not used to dropping it, so when you get him alone he tries messing around at first

whether that's a few too many kisses, or a pinch to your side, he guards himself a bit before letting himself go

but when he does, oh, he's like a little kitten !

he lets you run your hands through his gelled hair (gross)

and it gets all misshapen and spiky

he probably just melts when you pet his hair like that, and he'll be snoozing on your chest in no time

now older!mav is definitely less of a tough nut to crack

he probably initiates the cuddling in the first place, he nudges you over to the bed and lays himself on top of you to crush you

you can push at his chest and splutter all you want, but he's made his choice on where he's going to lay, and it's on you

he likes holding you, but he wants to be face-to-face, so you can brush noses and bump foreheads

he probably tries sooo hard to stay awake so that he can soak in the time you're spending together but peepaw definitely crashes like 10 minutes in

Nick 'Goose' Bradshaw:

he also likes to be face to face!

buuut not for the same sweet reason as mav

he just wants to itch you with his mustache

he likes nipping at you too, he bites your nose to make you laugh

you won't be getting any sleep when you cuddle with goose, he just wants to talk and laugh and hold you the entire time

it's not a period of time to wind down, it's a big laugh-fest

and god FORBID you try to get up to pee

“Nick, I have to go.” / “Sorry, honey. I can’t let go. I think my hand’s stuck.” / “NICK!!”

Tom ‘Iceman’ Kazansky

he’s another one who probably has just a bit of trouble letting his guard down

he’ll cuddle with you no doubt, but he’ll probably always keep you in his lap or have some sort of upper hand in the embrace

it takes a while before he’s ready to be held himself

when he does finally give in it's so soft and sweet :')

he's had a really hard day and he comes home with his eyes drooping

you've planned a movie night but he doesn't even look like he could sit through an episode of a tv show

so you lead him to bed instead, and tell him you're sleepy, cause he won't 'ruin' the night by admitting that he is

you ask to play with his hair and he lets you, but he's not sure why 'cause you just said you were tired??

you basically have to trick him into being held but once his head is on your chest and your hands are in his hair he's gone.

he ends up mumbling something all sleepy and groggy like 'mm, that's nice' and his eyes are half shut and he's so endearingly tired :')

he wants you to do it all the time now, I'd say it's about 50/50 whether you fall asleep holding him or he falls asleep holding you

Ron 'Slider' Kerner:

slider's a big boy!!!!!!!

he's big and tall and muscly, the perfect cuddle buddy

he's probably more inclined to hold than be held

but he likes it when you face him so you can wrap your arms around his back :')

he probably likes it when he's able to bury his face in your neck/shoulder/against the top of your head

like he always wants his face snuggled in somewhere warm and nice smelling

and it just so happens his chest is an excellent place to get lost yourself

so you most of the time just nuzzle right into each other and get to snoozin'

i think he'd talk real soft, too, he'd murmur against your ear while you're drifting off, probably boring you to sleep with technical details of his flights but just before you crash for the night he slips in a little 'i love you, honey' and <33333

Leonard 'Wolfman' Wolfe:

he's a loser for his partner it has to be said

almost as teasing as nick is but not quite

he'll let you fall asleep he just wants to talk to you AllTheTime because he LovesYouSoMuch

he's a chatterbox and you'll be lucky if you get to sleep at a decent hour

he really likes it when you lay your head on his chest

'cause he likes playing with your hair and your face :]

sometimes he'll just use you as a little stress toy and squeeze your cheeks and pinch your nose and poke at your forehead

always making silly little jokes and telling you all about his day

down to, like, every comment one of his friends made...

'and then slider said he was gonna kill him but hollywood ran, so then they were just chasing each other around and iceman said-' / 'babe.. can we sleep? please?' / 'oh! right, sorry baby.'

Rick 'Hollywood' Neven

listen there's a reason he and wolfman get along so well

they're BOTH teases!!!

cuddling with hollywood is not really relaxing, because he's always pinching your sides or putting his nasty cold feet all over you, or pretending to knock you out by fake-punching you a bunch

you're just laying there and he's 'punching' your stomach, making fake punch sounds with his mouth, and if you push him away he'll pretend you've absolutely knocked him out, tumbling down onto the mattress with this dramatic thump and closing his eyes and sticking his tongue out of his mouth like he's a dead cartoon character 😭

he's like a dog you have to get his energy out before trying to rest with him or he just Won't Rest

when you DO get him sleepy, though, he's kinda incoherent when he's tired, so you'll be cuddled up together, maybe you're scratching his back, maybe he's playing with your hair, and he's just sort of mumbling nonsense until he finally drifts off to sleep

Beau 'Cyclone' Simpson:

will not be held

sorry! not happening

he's just so big and beefy and authoritative that he doesn't much enjoy being coddled

he loves cuddling with you though, he gets very relaxed just laying with you

he's a casual toucher, i think, so you can rest your head on his shoulder at the airport, you can hold his hand at restaurants, whether that be over or under the table, he lets you hang all over him however you want

he's not super into in-your-face PDA, though, so you'll have to be polite and considerate about it

actually in bed though, under the blankets at night?

he's so much more cuddly than you'd expect

he wraps his big strong arms around you and tugs you close and lets you melt all over him <33

your favorite place to lay your head is probably his chest 'cause it's so broad and firm and nice <3

he's a good back rubber so cuddles are always soft and cozy and sleepy

Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw:

lord he's a cuddler

he's just a touchy guy, because he's probably gone without it for a significant amount of time so now that he's got you he's gonna enjoy it

big big big on pda, doesn't really care who sees

so that means cuddling in public, too

perfectly content to sit by the beach with you in his lap all cuddled back into his chest he doesn't care if anyone teases him

but back in bed he's a sucker for head scratches

if you have long-ish nails, enough to scratch at his scalp, he'll literally melt over you like an ice cream cone

his limbs go all gooey and he flops his head down on your chest, groaning and grunting while you scratch through his hair

he really enjoys sleeping on top of you, whether that be fully chest-to-chest 'you're suffocating me' cuddling or just an arm thrown over your stomach while he lays on his own

he likes being held, too, but probably prefers to hold unless he's having a hard day

Jake 'Hangman' Seresin:

big boy!! surprisingly fond of being held for everything we know about him

that cocky demeanor does not last under the sheets

he adores holding you, of course, he'll wrap his big arms around you and cradle your head to his chest

he probably plays with your hair, looooves it when you tangle your legs up with his own

he prefers if you talk to him rather than him talk to you if you're cuddling

cause he likes the sound of your voice and he loves hearing about your day

he tries to listen so attentively to what you're saying, but if you're taking a little too long telling him about that batty old customer that had visited the shop you work at today, his eyes are going to slowly start to droop and he's gonna let out a big ol yawn that means it's time for him to close his eyes

you always cut yourself off like 'sorry, jake. g'head, go to sleep'

and he insists you continue like 'nooo darlin' i wanna hear! keep going :]' except within two minutes he's dozing against the pillow while you talk about the old lady again

he's a simple man just talk soft and slow to him while snuggled up in his arms and he's gonna sleep no matter what you're telling him

Natasha 'Phoenix' Trace:

she really likes laying face-to-face with you!!

she's a fan of spooning, of course, she likes either burying her face in your back or letting you snuggle into hers

but she loves the intimacy that comes from being pretty much nose-to-nose with you

the type to lay there and chat with you mere inches away so that you're leaning in to kiss her all giggly and bashful every four seconds

she uses your cuddle time to tell you all about her teammates, what stupid shit jake said today, how bob almost tripped down the stairs, that fanboy's got a new girlfriend who wants to meet you, etc etc etc

but that means when you see them next you know all of the hot gossip about everyone and you giggle every time jake says something dumb and he's like WHAT.. WHAT IS IT.. WHAT DO YOU WANT WITH ME.. and you give nat this little ;) 'cause you'll definitely be talking shit about him later

she does this thing where she cradles the back of your head in her hand if you're face to face and she throws her leg over your waist and it gives you such intense butterflies that you need to close your eyes sometimes <3333

Robert 'Bob' Floyd:

cuddlebug <3

he loooves cuddling but if you do it face-to-face he's gonna need to be super close to you because he can't see without his glasses 😭

i'm taking like nose-to-nose so close that you have to cross your eyes to see him

otherwise he's pretty chill in what positions he likes

you love it when he reads to you

i think he might not be the most confident reader out loud but he does it anyways 'cause it puts you to sleep

he gets really sleepy really easily so sometimes it's best to refrain from cuddling in public

like you're out on the beach by a firepit and you're all snuggled up together but oops he can't enjoy his smores because he's sleeping on your shoulder

he loves it when you lay your head on his shoulder sm :'))

he wraps his arm around you and tugs you closer <3

Javy 'Coyote' Machado:

prefers holding to being held

probably a little less talkative than the rest, but that doesn't mean you never chat

he just has this insane ability to fall asleep anywhere, i'm talking slumped against the bus window, leaning against the wall, sitting on the ground, piloting his aircraft sorry

he likes staring at you, though, while he falls asleep :')

if you're talking to him he'll listen and nod and hum along and agree when he should, he's a very good listener

but slowly he'll start to fade a bit, and he'll sling his hand over your waist, smush his face into the pillow, and keep listening for as long as he can

slooooowly you start getting less responses from him, he's not reacting as much, but his eyes are always locked onto your face and he's got this lazy little smile on his face while he drifts off to sleep 'cause he gets to look at you the whole time :')

loverboy!!

Mickey 'Fanboy' Garcia:

the most talkative in the whole wide world

cuddling with him is barely even cuddling, it's watching him act out his entire day

'and then payback went like this and- BAM! shot it down.'

and he's up on his knees in the middle of the bed with his arms out demonstrating exactly how they'd worked through their training exercises that day

and he is loud and energetic and you're half-asleep like 'that sounds awesome, babe.'

he isn't one to stay in one place really, he likes tossing and turning a bit before he falls asleep which means that you are also going to be tossed and turned

he's a really shifty sleeper too so you'll wake up with your face in his armpit

if you're really sleepy though, he'll settle down, he'll pull you into his chest and let you fall asleep there

but he'll probably be on his phone for a bit, he strikes me as a crazy night owl

Reuben 'Payback' Fitch:

out in two seconds

there is no conscious cuddling with him

why?

because the second his head hits the pillow he's snoring

you can cuddle up to him but if he's cuddling up to you he's doing it in his sleep

you're actually so jealous of him bc you lay down for the night and he tucks his chin over your head or he snuggles his face into your neck and that's it.

he's out.

he's a clingy sleeper, though, so if you wanna read for a bit or use your phone it might be kind of hard

honestly it really helps your sleep schedule to sleep with him 'cause sometimes he's entirely wrapped around you and you can't move

so there's nothing to do but sleep yourself

he's like a living furnace i KNOW that man runs hot

you probably wake up sweating a bunch if you're all snuggly with him

blanket stealer. he somehow manages to tear them off of the end of the bed where they're tucked in and cocoon himself

and then you wake up freezing cold

when i said he snores i mean it he snores loud

it's sort of comforting eventually? like at first it drives u insane

but over time you come to rely on it as white noise and you can't sleep unless he's all over you snoring right in your ear and drooling on your shoulder

2K notes · View notes

graceslcver · 2 months

Text

all da ladies love leo valdez ! leo x daughter of poseidon!reader

｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅ in which, leo has a crush on yet another girl that’s beyond his league, percy’s sister … and his friends flame him for not being able to confess his feelings!

— this is set in like… university ?? obviously jason doesn’t die…hope u enjoy my first ever fic on here!! might be ooc, soz🫐 also jeyna is a thing…. sorry not sorry!! 🤓😂 (it’s actually not even relevant to this story, but i thought i’d let u know…)

IMSG, “THE LOST HOES 🫤” July 4th, 2024

beauty queen

do yall ever wonder how it’s impossible to not pull hoes

like it sounds like a real SKILL issue

superman

who are you talking about, pipes?

beauty queen

who do u think I’m talking about???

the only mfo who doesn’t have a gf???

do NOT play dumb jason grace

latino elf

oh wow

talking shit in the gc is crazzyyy

superman

i wasn’t!

she was.

beauty queen

do not make me pull up our private messages

latino elf

i see how it is…..

😔 it’s always the bitches u think u can trust…

superman

beauty queen

why is he the driest man alive

this why we didn’t last ong😭

latino elf

or maybe because ur lebanese ???

superman

she’s cherokee huh

wait is that supposed to say lesbian?

latino elf

isn’t that what it says…

beauty queen

💀💀

ok… anyway can we talk about the fact that leo has

been madly in love with y/n since like… forever???

latino elf

no thanks

didn’t ask

not true

lying on my name

superman

yeah yeah whatever helps you sleep at night

beauty queen

he’s down bad shhh

latino elf

OHHH GODDD 😭😭😔😔😔

ok so what if i like her shes so fine

and so nice and sooo mermaid 🧜‍♀️

beauty queen

she is very fine and very nice

and yes she’s very mermaid

superman

we all know he isn’t going to say

anything to her, though, right??

latino elf

hahaha 😂 wdym 😂

i’d tell her if percy weren’t her brother

superman

that didn’t stop you from trying to

flirt with MY sister though???????

latino elf

yeah that’s different tho

she COULDNT go out with me

beauty queen

not like she wanted to anyway

latino elf

gtfo

anyway i don’t plan on telling her that

i have any slight interest in her! 😎

superman

you should though

bet she likes you too

beauty queen

don’t feed into his delusions

superman

gosh pipes, pipe it down a notch

latino elf

fr listen to my bro ‼️

how would i even tell her dawggg

WHAT IF she rejects me 🤨 BOOM FRIENDSHIP GONE

superman

yeah i guess so

but yolo ???

latino elf

yolo my ass bro😒

superman

ok sorry for trying to help

beauty queen

this why she dont want u

latino elf

yeah nd thats why yo relationship was a LIE 🤣

superman

😐

beauty queen

🖕🏼

latino elf

lol ur mad

ok bye u guys are a snooze fest 😴

beauty queen

go talk to ur gf

latino elf

i will, beauty queen 🫡

IMSG, “Y/N 🦈” July 4th, 2024

leo 🛠️

hey hey mermaid

y/n 🦈

hi leo !

whats up :)

leo 🛠️

the sky duh

nothing much tho, just chilling in my dorm

u should totally pull up

y/n 🦈

we’ll see 🧐

i’m in the library rn

leo 🛠️

nerd alert ‼️

y/n 🦈

ok but when u fail our exams dont come crying

leo 🛠️

if it were math/science i would be resting peacefully

but no fr i did study, trust 🙏🏼

y/n 🦈

not that u needed it though

you’re smart enough

leo 🛠️

wowie thanks mermaid

da ladies wish they had my smarts

y/n 🦈

🤨🤨

leo 🛠️

sorry that came out SO wrong 😭

y/n 🦈

ok ok well pull up to the library

perhaps i need ur smarts

leo 🛠️

si señora

will be there in a few 😎

shark_girl • 2h

send message ♡ ➣

pipermstealer replied to your story

omg he wants uuu 😳😳🤣😂

shark_girl

why are u insane

😅😅😅

pipermstealer

i am not insane he wants u

what boy willingly wants to study w a girl

shark_girl

one that’s my friend???

pipermstealer

friend my ass bro

he wanna kiss u so bad…

matching usernames??? THE MAAAN WANTS UU 😭

shark_girl

be fr we’ve had them since we were

like fifteen 🙄🙄

pipermstealer

bro get out I’m actually DONE

u have to wake up queen 😭🙏🏼

IMESSAGE, PIPER & JASON July 5th, 2024

pipes 🌸

i am so SO DONE with yn

jason ⚡️

why

pipes 🌸

bc she’s convinced that leo don’t want her

jason ⚡️

i think its very obvious

do you think yn wants leo thats the real question

pipes 🌸

ABSOLUTELY ?????

she has extreme heart eyes for him

but she’s better at hiding it

jason ⚡️

wait are you being serious

NO WAY

NO WAY??

a girl out of his league actually wants him 🤨

piper 🌸

wait I thought u knew???

jason ⚡️

uhm no

she must be good at hiding it

piper 🌸

or boys are just dense

jason ⚡️

ok well…….

we have to get them together

cause I’m so tired of hearing leo ramble abt her

piper 🌸

ok well i’m tired of yn too

how do we get them together

jason ⚡️

uh I don’t know?????

now why would you think I know

aren’t YOU the daughter of aphrodite

maybe YOU should know 😒

pipes 🌸

someone’s mad

but i don’t know?

one of them has to say something eventually….

jason ⚡️

no way, leo would never… not too sure about yn though.

leo cares too much about their friendship

and he is convinced she only sees him as a friend

and he’s deathly afraid to ruin their friendship

pipes 🌸

why do we have dumb friends

why can’t THEY SEEEE

jason ⚡️

yeah it’s very annoying

man, maybe we shouldn’t interfere?

let them figure it out themselves

pipes 🌸

unless u want leo to date the first girl

who gives him the opportunity to date her,

i think we SHOULD interfere! not a lot just a tiny bit 🤏🏼

jason ⚡️

well i guess you have a point… but how?

pipes 🌸

OK hear me out fr

u share a dorm with leo, yeah?

he always leaves his phone unattended

go into twt and make sure he isnt logged into his private account

jason ⚡️

where is this headed

pipes 🌸

ok shut up

OK but make sure hes on the main

since he always talks about her on his priv

so if yn sees a tweet about her then

SHES GOTTA KNOW

jason ⚡️

FIRST OF ALL thats an invasion of privacy

SECOND OF ALL what if she doesn’t see it before

leo realizes that wasn’t tweeted on his private account

pipes 🌸

no she like stalks his twitter so she’ll see!

and uhm so what if it’s an invasion of privacy

he’ll thank us once he gets the girl of his dreams 🙄

jason ⚡️

ok then….

i’ll do it

but if this backfires i was not apart of it

pipes 🌸

yeah yeah whatever

i’ll take the blame

FIVE DAYS LATER, TWITTER!

IMSG, “THE LOST HOES 🫤” July 10th, 2024

latino elf

HOLY SHIT

IM JUMPING OFF THE NEAREST CLIFF

it was so nice knowing u two

superman

don’t kys ur so sexy haha

what happened though

latino elf

i accidentally tweeted something

about yn.

on my main.

superman

hey man, maybe she didn’t see?

beauty queen

yeah she probably didn’t

latino elf

yeah u guys are RIGHT 😅

she DIDN’T SEE IT!!!

beauty queen

mhm

latino elf

you’re being oddly quiet…

beauty queen

sorry????? IM BUSY

latino elf

yeah huh

superman

you’re crazy

latino elf

oh my god i’m gonna throw up

my friend ship is over with her

she messaged meEEE

HELPPPP

superman

MESSAGE HER BACK???

GO GO GO GOOO BRO

latino elf

no i’m leaving her on delivered

beauty queen

i swear to gods if u don’t message her

jason and i WILL jump you 😭😭

superman

exactly!!

latino elf

it was so nice being her friend 🫤

beauty queen

BRO STFU AND READ HER MESSAGE???

latino elf

ok fine

bye…..

IMSG, “Y/N 🦈” July 10th, 2024

y/n 🦈

leo did u mean to tweet that?

leo 🛠️

tweet what 🤨

y/n 🦈

you know what I’m talking about

you’re not stupid

leo 🛠️

you’re crazy

i got hacked by

jason

y/n 🦈

you’re crazier for thinking I’d believe you

so… u did mean to?

leo 🛠️

i don’t want to ruin our friendship

please don’t let this ruin it

you’re my bestest friend

y/n 🦈

gosh let me talk

i thought you didn’t like me

so i never said anything…?

but i like you, leo. i really do

leo 🛠️

oh my god

are you serious

wait i’m going to your dorm

y/n 🦈

what??

Delivered

Leo looked at his phone for a good second and then left it on his bed, unattended. he ran to your residence hall— it didn’t matter to him that it was quite literally on the other side of campus. he needed to hear you say the words he had been waiting to hear since he was fifteen. he’d always had a slight crush on you, mostly off and on.

But during the summer, he had fallen for you even harder than he thought he could. he never thought that he could love someone as much as he loved you. anyway, he was practically dying as he ran to your dorm! his hair was disheveled, and he was panting a bit. he wasn’t sure if he was sweaty because he was nervous, or because he had just ran to get to your dorm.

He knocked on your door three times.

You jumped out of your bed. you felt like throwing up from how nervous you were. you quickly slid on your slippers, and looked in the mirror before you opened the door for him. (making the poor boy wait). you adjusted your hair, making sure it sat right.

You took a deep breath before opening the door. you almost didn’t, but a voice in your head was telling you that you’d be an idiot if you didn’t open the door. your hands gripped the doorknob, and then unlocked it. leo was practically dying because you were taking years to open the stupid door. you finally opened it, getting met by a disheveled-sweaty-flushed leo valdez.

“Hi.” he croaked out, his voice cracking slightly. he felt like he was on fire, literally. he wanted this to be over with! well, no, that’s a lie. he just wanted to be your boyfriend already.

“…Hi.” you answered, your voice was quiet. you had an awkward smile on your face. you were praying that you would just drown at this moment. you’d much rather enjoy that than this.

He cleared his throat, and finally spoke after a long minute of awkward silence. The two looked at each other “I really… really like you. I.. Uh.. You obviously know that already, but I wanna tell you in person?” he said, nodding along with his own words. his hands went to fumble with the hem of his shirt, anxiously waiting for your response.

“I really like you, too.” You replied. you didn’t feel as nervous as anymore when he started to talk. you felt your face getting hotter, and your smile getting bigger. he grinned at you like an idiot.

He thought that he was dreaming when you said you liked him. The start of something. “Really?” He asked, just wanting to hear you say it again. He couldn’t help but grin like an idiot. He thought never in a million years that you’d ever like him! You were totally out of his league. you were so awesome, so pretty, and so sweet.

You nodded again, rolling your eyes. “Yes, really.”

THREE MONTHS LATER… INSTAGRAM!

shark_girl

🎶 let the light in : lana del rey (feat. father john misty)

Liked by percysbeth, lava_boy, pipermstealer, and 122 others

shark_girl happy three million years with my boy!!! i love u so so so much leo 🫶🏼🫶🏼

tagged: lava_boy

View all 16 comments

lava_boy who is that sexy man in the 2nd slide

→ shark_girl idk i found him at the store……

lava_boy we’re literally like this 🤞🏼👩‍❤️‍💋‍👨

lava_boy te quiero !!

→ shark_girl 🤍🤍

lava_boy ugh why do we literally solo everyone in new rome

→ shark_girl ntm on percabeth !!!!

→ percysbeth 🫡🫡

pipermstealer yeah you’re welcome 🥱

→ supermantaylorsversion i did all the work

→ pipermstealer i gave u the idea

→ lava_boy thank u jason 😒 thank u piper 🙄

→ pipermstealer i hope she leaves u

→ shark_girl woah guys no need to say that

percysbeth i support 🤫 (pls cook for me leo)

→ lava_boy on it 😎

lava_boy

🎶 ivy : frank ocean

Liked by supermantaylorsversion, shark_girl, and 98 others

lava_boy I would like to thank poseidon for being a father to my wonderful girlfriend of THREE DECADES 😎

tagged: shark_girl

View all 19 comments

shark_girl I THOUGHT THAT I WAS DREAMIN’ WHEN U SAID U LOVEEEE MEEE 😭😭😭

→ lava_boy the start of nothin 🦈

shark_girl i’m taylor lautner

→ lava_boy FORREAL

shark_girl hi bf 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👨

→ lava_boy hello girlfriend.

→ shark_girl 😭😭😭

pipermstealer no because you guys are actually cute

→ lava_boy ACTUALLY cute 🤨

→ pipermstealer what do u want me to say yall are actually ugly

→ shark_girl pipe it down a notch 😔

supermantaylorsversion he’s a romantic now

→ lava_boy erm i’ve always been one get out 🤓

percysbeth no cause yn has actually dressed up as a shark

→ lava_boy send pics or it didn’t happen

→ percysbeth check imsg

→ shark_girl i thought that was PRIVATE

→ lava_boy LMFAOO U LOOKED SO GOOFY

→ shark_girl you’re done….

｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅ hello….. first smau done 😎 hopefully u really like this bc i died ten times whilst making it !!! uhmm pls lmk what you thought about it 🥲!!! i was sort of rushing at the end, so umm.. shhh 🤫…. @thelostheroo @amoosarte

also i will have a master list soon….???? (hopefully) and my requests are OPEN! so, plsplsplspls request…. con amor, mo!

#𐙚 graceslcver #₊˚ ⊹ my writings #leo valdez #leo valdez x reader #leo valdez x you #leo valdez x y/n #leo valdez x daughter of poseidon #heroes of olympus #heroes of olympus x reader #pjo x reader #jason grace #piper mclean #percy jackson #pjo fanfic #percy pjo

312 notes · View notes

macfrog · 9 months

Text

if i had a gun cowboy like me chapter 12.5 (joel's pov)

long-awaited, pain-packed, and sealed with a bow by yours truly. i love y'all. thank you for being so patient and kind with me on this one. this chapter is joel's experience of the end of illicit affairs and all of hits different. you might wanna check those chapters out before you indulge in the angst-fest that is this one. hope you enjoy 🧡

pairing: dbf!joel x fem!reader

summary: walk a mile in joel miller's shoes. see if you'd do anything different

warnings: more heartache, more angst, lois, alcohol + drug consumption, mention of reader being roofied, very brief mention of joel punching knox, age gap (reader is 23, joel is 48), cursing

word count: 9.8k

terrible news! there is no more taglist! make sure you're following @macfroglets w notifs on if you wanna be buzzed when i post 🤍

series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist

“Right. Sorry. It’s just…we kinda have a…situation, here.” It’s you. He fucking knows it’s you. His heart begins to hammer. He doesn’t give a fuck whether she puts two and two together or not when he asks – “Where is she?” “We’re still at Frank’s,” Anna says, sniffing. He can hear the booming bassline of music, muffled; the sharper chatter of voices. She’s on the street. In his head, he can see her shoulders hunched; her bare arms wrapped around her body for warmth. She goes to say it again. “We’re still at –” “’n where is she?” Joel cuts, and she finally cracks.

You’re still fast asleep when he lifts his head.

You’ve had this argument plenty before. I do not snore. Yes, baby, you do. I’ve heard you. I don’t! It’s alright, it’s okay that you do. It’s a cute snore. Joel, I don’t fucking –

Right now, he’s pretty certain you’re snoring. He just wishes you were awake to hear yourself.

He thinks about pulling his phone, taking a video so that once you’re up, you can hear the little bursts of air, the tiny rasps from your nostrils as you snooze. But if he ever did record anything like that – just like the Hillcrest pictures, until you’d found them last night – he’d keep it for himself. Wouldn’t offer it up so easily.

Just something for him to have, for all the time he spends without you.

Your hair’s still all over the place. Tangled in Joel’s right arm, still smelling of chlorine and sex. Your head rests softly on the crook of his elbow like it’s a pillow; your lips and eyes are puffy, tired. You have this ridiculously strong vice grip on his left arm; during the night he felt you wrap your wrists around it and pull it into your chest, tucking it gently under your chin until your entire upper half was drowned in his.

His chest snug against your back, his arms encasing you safely, and his hips…his hips lined with yours. His now semi-hard cock buried between your legs – he’d slept inside you last night, and it was like, after forty-eight years, someone finally took him by the shoulders and said: This is how you do it. This is how you rest.

He was out as soon as his head hit the pillow, soon as his eyes fell shut. He stirred only to feel you maneuvering his arm, and then fell straight back asleep.

He felt comfortable. He felt safe. Big, old, tough guy Joel Miller. Never let anybody in since Sarah’s mom left. Alone for almost seventeen years, and fine with it. His cheeks heat at the idea of needing – of wanting to feel that. Safe. But then you came along, and he realized he’d been waiting his whole life to feel it. Didn’t even notice he’d been missing it.

That’s how these things go, right? Can’t miss what you don’t have, and all that.

But now he has it. Now he has you.

And you make him feel things he’s never felt before, or if he has, it was so fucking long ago that he’s forgotten. You drive him fucking insane. Keep him up at night, wondering what the hell he’s gotten himself into. Make him do stuff that his reflection glares at him over. Are you being serious right now? Make him…different. New.

The night before last, when he’d picked you up from Frank’s after rodeo night, he promised to make you a big breakfast in the morning. Compensation for not swinging by McDonald’s on the way home. But then your dad called, and you had to take off before Joel had even properly woken up.

When he eventually rose from the bed, he went straight to the store. Stocked up on eggs, flour, sugar, bananas. He’d printed a recipe from his computer while you were gone. Marked the items off as he meandered through the store. Stood for ten minutes deliberating over which gluten-free flour would be best, before an assistant asked if he needed any help.

I’m good, he muttered, and then, as the kid wandered off, cleared his throat and said, Actually –

Greg – the kid assistant in question – had suggested the red bag. Said it’s corn flour, instead of wheat. Joel can’t pronounce the brand name. He just knows it’s tucked behind a box of cereal in the cupboard downstairs – he hid it there so you wouldn’t find it and snuff out his plan.

His plan, which he now has to put into action. Without waking you. He’d lie here forever just staring at you, if he hadn’t sworn to himself to make good on his promise and cook you some damn pancakes.

So he slowly pulls his left hand from between yours, loosening your death grip, and steals it back across your waist. He does the same for his right arm – more careful, though, so he doesn’t tug on your hair. Like some kind of wild cat creeping through the jungle, every moment calculated and careful.

He bunches the comforter up a little at your back, so that if you do stir, it might feel like he’s still there. Still a weight, curving around you. He takes a good five minutes just to travel the length of the room – the lightest he’s ever walked, dodging the spots on the carpet that he knows make the floorboards squeal.

When the door gently clicks back into place, he heads downstairs. Cracks out his frying pan – non-stick, obviously – and all his ingredients, pulls the printed recipe from its hiding place between two cookbooks and lays it out on the counter, flattening the creases and unfolding the corners. And gets to it.

His first egg cracks messily over the lip of the bowl. The yolk runs down the outside, and he curses before swiping it back up with his index finger. The second egg empties fully inside the bowl, but drags with it tiny fragments of shell. Joel spends five minutes focusing on picking every single piece out of the mixture. He crouches to make sure he’s poured the exact amount of milk, eyes level with the top of the liquid, and he double checks every step before he follows it.

This has to be perfect. Has to be. For you.

The entire time, all he can think about is you asking to sleep with his body inside yours. Wanting him closer than you’d ever wanted him before, as close as he could physically be. Your sleepy voice circles between his ears on loop – want somethin’ else. That safe feeling creeps up on him all over again.

He knows he shouldn’t. He can’t. He’s spent the last month purposefully pushing those feelings down, dampening them anytime they rose to the surface. Only allowing himself to feel them, to acknowledge them, when you’re around. Because he can’t fucking help but acknowledge them when you’re here – they stare him straight in the face.

So he’d been making peace with letting the floodgates open just a little bit at a time – one quick rush whenever you’d give him one of your meaningful glances, when your hot skin would brush against his, when your mouth would fall open at the feeling of his first deep thrust inside you.

And then he’d bolt them back up.

Except that, now…he’s not sure the dam can hold much longer. There are cracks he’s not repairing quickly enough. Unintended consequences hammering against the other side of the stone in the form of angry white waves.

He’s staring at the beige circle of batter in the pan, swept off with the waves into someplace far from his kitchen, when the sound of your voice draws him back.

“Joel? You down there?”

The floorboards at the top of his stairs creak. You’re leaning over the banister.

“Yeah, darlin’, I’m here.” He slips halfway out of the kitchen door, closing it over his body in hopes you won’t smell the pancakes. You ask what he’s doing, and he says, “Just makin’ a coffee. You want anything brought up?”

“I’m good,” you reply. “’m gonna take a shower.”

“Alright, baby. There’s probably some stuff in Sarah’s bathroom you can use.”

He listens closely as your footsteps recede, waiting to hear the hum of his shower before he relaxes again, flipping the pancake over. It sizzles away as he runs one thick finger along the inside of the bowl and tastes his handiwork. Pretty damn good, he thinks. He’s sucking his finger clean when his cell goes.

Joel swipes to answer, and before he can utter a Hello?, your dad’s voice is screaming down the line to him.

“Mornin’, pal! You in? You up?”

He figures this is the infamous speakerphone you rambled for ten minutes about last night. Like a fucking foghorn, man. I’m deaf in this ear now.

He doesn’t wait for Joel to respond. “I was just passin’ by, remembered you got that leakin’ pipe, or whatever it is. Under your sink, right? You good for me to drop in ‘n take a look?”

“Uh – uh, I’m –” Joel stammers his way through a sentence he doesn’t know the ending of, slotting the phone between his cheek and his shoulder and giving the pan a rattle against the stovetop. He slips the spatula under the mixture, and when he flips it over, the pancake is charcoal black. “Fuck.”

“What’s that?” you dad roars, deafening in Joel’s ear. Fuckin’ speakerphone.

“Nothin’, it’s…” He sighs, accepting his new-found position: backed into a fucking corner. What’s new these days?

“Yeah, I’m up. See you in a bit.”

He hangs up the phone midway through an Alright, buddy from your dad, and whacks the chargrilled pancake on top of the pile. His phone surfs across the counter in a blur of blind panic, before Joel’s taking the stairs two at a time to get to you.

The door’s ajar. He can hear you quietly singing to yourself. Same song you’re always fucking singing, always trying to coax Joel into singing along with you. You’re humming the guitar solo when he whips the door open.

“Hey, hey,” he’s panting, taking your towel in one hand and reaching for the shower door with the other, a blur of movement before his eyes like he’s not in control of his own body. “Out.”

“Huh?” you reply, blinded by the soap suds running down your forehead and into your eyes.

“Baby,” Joel whispers, desperate, “you gotta get out. He’s here. Your damn dad’s here.”

He drags you over to the first place he spots: his closet. He knows it’s no fucking good, but he can hear your dad’s car squealing to a halt in his drive, and he’s in a blink panic wondering what artefacts, what evidence of your being here lie dotted around his house. Your bikini’s hanging up out back, there’s probably a hoodie still strewn over the back of his couch.

He doesn’t have time to think, though, because in the midst of his mental scan of every room whilst explaining to you what’s going on, your dad’s heavy boots just thudded onto his doormat.

“Miller?” he calls up the stairs. And Joel closes the closet over.

----------

He stands by the front door watching your dad’s car purr off down the street, waiting until it turns left and disappears behind the Dawsons’ back fence to shut the door. When he turns back into his hallway, the house is uncomfortably silent. You’re still up in his room.

The weight of your phone pulls at the waistband of his jeans. He slips his hand into his back pocket, fishes it out, and takes one step toward the stairs. The screen lights in his palm.

There’s a cluster of notifications from some film class group chat, a couple Snapchats from Sarah. A reminder to take your birth control from some pink-icon app, and then –

I’m heading over to Joel’s to check something out for him. Wanna meet me there?

He stares at it until the text burns into his eyes. Blinks, and it’s seared into his lids. His breath leaves his chest in a heavy, burdened sigh. It trembles as it pushes from his lungs. He feels something burning under his skin. All over.

He’s angry. And he’s trying to keep it contained.

Keep it where it lies, keep it beneath the surface. Stop it from pooling right behind his lips, collecting in the light of his eyes. Keep it from revealing itself. But when his foot lifts to the first step, it’s like a deadweight in the air.

He’s angry. But he’s fucking exhausted.

The bedroom is empty when Joel pushes the door open. You’re still hidden in the closet. You don’t look up at him when he pulls on the shuttered door, letting light flood across your hands, still covering your face. There are flicks of dripping wet hair peeking out from under the towel on your head.

He wants to put his arms around you. Wants to kiss you all over. Tell you, It’s okay, it’s alright. He didn’t see nothin’.

But he can’t. Because neither of those things are true.

Your dad saw the cowgirl hat. Hell of a lot like a hat my daughter has. It sent a sharpened bolt of panic through Joel’s body the second the words came tumbling out. He might’ve seen your bag lying at the bottom of the stairs. Might’ve passed your car on his drive here. There are so many loose fucking ends.

And more than that – harder to accept: maybe this isn’t okay anymore. Maybe it hasn’t been the entire time. And maybe, despite all his good efforts and the fucking way you make him feel, despite it being weeks now of tiptoeing and lying and covering your tracks – maybe you finally crossed a line.

He can’t look at you a second longer. His heart’s in his throat. If he opens his mouth to speak, he’ll probably choke. Break down. So he walks away.

You follow him downstairs a few minutes later, fully dressed and silent. Your touch sweeps across his shoulder blades, and it takes everything in him not to turn to you then and there. Come here, kiss me. Pretend none of it’s happening, just for a moment.

He sets your plate down in front of you. He’s taken the burnt pancake. He follows a pattern: cuts into the food, glances out to the backyard, and back to the plate. It’s the only thing keeping the words from rolling out onto the table in front of him. The only thing stopping him from –

You kick his leg. So gently, he barely feels it.

“You gonna eat?” he asks in response, chewing on the smoky flavor of burnt batter. Your hands hesitate, and he feels his own flinch as if to take them, rub them, squeeze them. And then he watches as you drag your knife through your own breakfast.

He wants you to yell at him. He wants to give meaning to the guilt he feels. He knows what’s coming, and he isn’t so sure that you do.

This is…impossible. It has been, from the start. Always sneaking off, coming up with excuses. So many fucking excuses, he can’t even keep them straight in his head anymore. She’s here, droppin’ my flannel off. Now we’re upstairs, I’m showin’ her my guitar. Need her to help with decorations. Your TV’s broken, did you know that? Don’t mind us, just sat in this private corner of my backyard, out of view of fucking everyone. I’ll pick her up from her rodeo night, take her home. She’s at Anna’s all day today, right?

And your dad – kind and naïve, or maybe just so fucking gullible that every single one lands like the flour did in the egg mixture. Just gracefully floats down into his brain, absorbs itself and folds perfectly into place.

So, yell at him. Get mad. Make him feel like the fucking asshole he knows he is. Leading you on, and letting you get close to him, and then when it gets too hard – pushing you away. Doesn’t matter if that’s what he did or not; doesn’t matter whether he did or didn’t mean it. He wants you to be mad at him. To justify what he’s about to do.

He slides you your phone. Motions for you to read it.

“Fuck…” you whisper, and then he thinks you get it.

But then you say, “…he didn’t see me, though. Right?” and his heart sinks.

No. He didn’t see you. But he saw so many little pieces of you, that Joel finds it impossible to consider that he isn’t already seeing the entire picture. He’s picturing your dad at home in the living room, one hand on his hip, the other running through his hair, adding two and two and two and two and –

You’re bickering. Actually arguing. He doesn’t know how to navigate it, save for letting the frustration take the wheel and drive the point home: you came too close to being caught.

You’re smarter than this, he knows you are. He knows that you can see plain as day, everything that he can. The bag, the hat, the fucking home-cooked breakfast sat on his kitchen counter. He’s watching you argue your point, hands dancing in the air animatedly, eyebrows lifting, eyes widening. Hear me out. Listen to me. Hear me out.

“I didn’t fucking mean to let him see the b–”

“That’s not the point,” Joel says, before he has time to stop himself.

“Then what’s your point?”

He feels his voice carry off into the air with the images racing around his head. Hank’s shadow under the door. The roar of voices downstairs as you climaxed. Your body pinned under Joel’s on your couch. The way the morning light screamed into the house as your front door burst open.

He doesn’t sound like he has much of a point, even to himself. He’s in it just as much as you are. He’s lied and he’s hidden just as much as you have, and made mistakes that are…worse, as far as he’s concerned.

And the worst one of all sits directly opposite him. Head low, eyes boring into the wood of his kitchen table. He can see the tears swelling across your waterline. Can feel the heat from here as it spreads across your face. Anger thrums through his chest again, and his teeth grit.

He murmurs, pushing himself up from the table and away from you. Tells you there’s some stuff he needs to see to. You’re mad about it, like he knew you would be. Like you should be. He promises he’ll be back in a couple hours; promises you’ll talk when he gets home.

And then he leaves.

----------

Clark’s is on the other side of town. It takes him nearly forty minutes to get there, and more than half of that time is spent staring at the tail lights of a Honda in front of him. Some accident up ahead. His eyes bore into the burning red strip of brake light until it’s singed into them, a blur of blue when he finally rips his glare away and stares up at the white sky.

He thinks about calling you. Saying, Hey, I’m stuck in traffic, talk to me, but he doesn’t. He just…doesn’t.

Instead, he wonders what you’re doing. Whether or not you’re still at his place. He wouldn’t blame you if you weren’t. But if you are – and he hopes you are – what are you doing?

He thinks: She’s on the couch. Bundled in blankets. Grey’s is on TV. She’s rewatchin’ her favorite episodes.

Least, that’s what he wants you to be doing. Wants you to be making yourself feel better, because he knows he was a complete ass earlier. You didn’t deserve any of it. Nothing that he didn’t deserve himself, just as much, anyway.

He thinks about coming home, and you hitting pause, pushing yourself off the couch and sauntering around to him. Wrapping him in the blanket until your bodies are pressed together under the woven red, and kissing him. Kiss me kiss me kiss me.

And the thought of you, standing on your tiptoes to press your soft lips to his, your fingers sifting through his hair, is like a cold pack on a searing wound. Dulls his anger, even if it’s just for a second.

His wide tires crawl silently across the smooth lot of the plant hire, parking right in front of the wire fence. The truck door slams shut when he gets out. He doesn’t mean it. Maybe he does. But he does it without thinking, and with a hot head, a temper sharper than nails, he strides over to the glass-paneled door and swings it open.

She’s sat behind the desk, same as always. Dark, deep auburn hair, groomed and set to perfection so that when she looks up, it doesn’t move an inch. Curls around the sweetheart shape of her face, smooth and shining. Her blue eyes twinkle in the glaring light from outside, and she stands.

She tugs lightly on the hem of her white blouse. You’d probably elbow him and say, That’s cream, not white. She smiles at him and it doesn’t look a thing like your smile. He doesn’t remember the last time he saw your smile. Fuck, he thinks, when did I last make her smile?

And he’s still wondering, when Lois says, “Hey, stranger,” and puts a gentle, pale, red-nailed hand down on the desk. “Long time, no see.”

“Yeah,” Joel grumbles, clearing his throat and glancing at the man in a pair of thick, steel-toe boots, sat in a waiting area to his left. He thinks it’s probably polite to ask how she is. It’s been seven weeks since he blew off her hint for a date.

“Good, thanks,” she replies, cheeks swelling even more. They’re lightly shaded crimson, a soft shimmer to them against her snowy skin, dappled with light freckles. “You?”

He nods once. “Good,” he echoes, not sure what else to say. He’s lying, and she doesn’t seem to figure him out the way you would.

No. Instead, Lois steps back, straightens up, and twirls the pen in her fingers. “What can I do ya for?”

“Got some equipment I’m after,” he mutters, hand slipping into his back pocket for his phone. Lois’s eyes flit up and down his body as he taps his passcode in with his thumb.

She asks him something, but it sounds like she’s speaking through a closed door. He’s elsewhere.

The phone unlocks, screen lifting to reveal the last open app: his camera roll. His thumbs hover over the screen, tracing where yours would’ve tapped last night.

The video’s muted, she won’t hear it even if he let it play, but he swipes away the second he recognizes the tangled mess of your hair, his fist locked tight in it. His own hair, salt and pepper buried deep in the crook of your neck.

Something in his chest aches. Pulls tight, hurts his heart. He takes a deep breath and scares the feeling away. He’s staring at his camera roll. Staring at twelve little square thumbnails – couple of them work stuff, couple of them lists of supplies he has to remember to pick up – and then. Then.

You. At the Hillcrest. Dimples in your cheeks. That’s what made him take his phone out. The soft dips in your skin that appear anytime you smile, laugh, sometimes even just when you talk. He’d first noticed them when you had a mouth full of pizza, chatting animatedly about Meredith and Derek, and he’s noticed them every time since.

He’d seen them, as you posed with Sarah for a selfie at lunch. And his hand had slipped into his pocket before his brain even had the chance to finish the thought.

His quiet way of marking how he felt in that moment. How his chest seemed to fill as if with air, or something thicker. Sweeter. Like it was trying to push words up, a comment to tell you how beautiful you looked. Trying to make him move, run his thumb light as air across that tiny valley in your cheek and look at you with eyes that translated the words hammering behind his eyes.

But you had company. And all he managed to do was take two fucking photos.

Lois talks again, and this time, there’s no closed door.

“Huh?” Joel’s head snaps up, takes a few seconds to focus on the red hair in front of him. “Sorry, Lois, sorry.”

“’s alright. You okay?” She’s smiling so warmly, so sincerely. And there are no dimples in her cheeks.

“Yeah,” he clears his throat, “just checkin’ for the address.”

She holds out a pad, a stack of hire agreement forms hovering between her body and his, but he’s not looking. He’s still scrolling through his phone, thumbs searching your dad’s text thread for the information. Lois lowers the pad to the counter, places the pen on top. Fiddles with it until it’s lined up with the top of the form perfectly.

Then Joel looks up, and she smiles again.

“Not for you, then?” she asks.

He shakes his head. “Just the messenger.”

“Got it. Well, you know what you’re doing. Let me know if you need anything.”

Lois takes a step back, eyes still on Joel, who smiles politely, then swipes the form from the desk and takes a seat between Steel-Toe Boots and some tall, leafy plant that he has to bat away when he sits down. He’s copying the site address, phone resting on his thigh, when the receptionist speaks again.

“How’s Sarah doin’? She home yet?”

“Yeah,” Joel replies, “been home a couple weeks now. She’s been in Nashville this weekend.”

Lois lifts her head, blinking slowly. “Nashville. Nice. So, you’ve had a weekend to yourself.”

He scoffs. “Yeah,” he croaks.

“And what does Joel Miller get up to when he has an empty house for a few days?”

His fingers squeeze around the pen, pushing deeper into the paper. His expression hardens. “Nothing excitin’ enough to share. Sat by the pool yesterday. Was nice out.”

She agrees. “Sure was. You have company?”

Joel shakes his head once. Blinks the image of you and your red bikini from his vision. Focuses on dragging the pen one digit at a time across the line labeled Phone Number. If he cared enough, he’d give the obvious hint a couple seconds’ consideration, even just to protect Lois’s pride a little.

But he doesn’t care. And right now, he ain’t interested in protecting anyone but you.

“Nope. Just me ‘n a few beers.”

“Better off that way,” a hoarse, forty-cigs-a-day voice rasps from his right. “Less fuckin’ problems.”

Joel’s jaw rotates a degree towards the work boots; notices the folds of dry, leathery skin piled atop the raised gray eyebrows of their owner, and then turns back silently.

Lois clears her throat awkwardly. “Well, I spent the day with my book. I’m readin’ a Colleen Hoover. Adam’s at camp, so – quiet house for me, too.”

Joel finds himself nodding. Autopilot. He’s pretending he’s listening.

You’re still in his sight, wandering over from the sliding kitchen doors, a bottle in each hand. He can hardly see you when he looks up, the sun’s so bright. You hold a beer out, condensation dripping down your fingers towards Joel’s when he takes it, and then you slump down in the sun lounger next to his.

His arm reaches across, and your small fingers wrap and then unwrap around his, running across his knuckles, nails lightly scratching his worked hands. And he’s smiling, and he doesn’t even notice it until his eyes meet yours and you laugh, and he asks, What? through a chuckle, and you say, Nothin’, you just look happy.

Your dimpled blush blurs back into checkboxes and scrawled handwriting. You’re gone again. He’s in a white office, and the gentle lapping of the water on the pool’s edge fades into the headache noise of a fan humming, and he feels the warmth of your gaze on his skin turn into the cold, harsh spotlight glare of Lois’s eyes on him.

He looks up. She’s still smiling. At this point, he finds it fucking unnerving.

He rises from his chair, swings a wandering leaf from that ugly green plant out of his way and paces back over to the desk, sliding the pad back across to her. Their hands brush as she takes it from his grip, and he pulls his wrist close to his body. Lois doesn’t seem to notice.

She’s running the pen down the form, checking everything he’s filled in. Her tongue moves around the inside of her cheek, sucking on a hard candy. “Delivery on Friday?” she double checks, and Joel nods. “Alright,” she says, tearing away his copy, “we’ll call ya.”

“’ppreciate it,” he mumbles, folding the paper into his back pocket.

She turns, reaching to slip the form into a blue tray, and Joel pauses. Thinks to say something – he hopes Adam has a fun time at camp, or that Lois enjoys the rest of her quiet week. But then he sees you sat opposite him, staring fixedly at the plate before you, tears threatening to spill down your cheeks. He feels your hand laced in his, hears your laugh still ringing in his ears.

He misses you. He should never have left you. You matter more to him than some equipment for a site. Matter more to him than anything. He should’ve never fucking left.

Joel nods. Reaches for the handle of the door. Glances back to Lois. “There a florist anywhere near here?”

----------

He pulls the truck in alongside the florist. Teal window frames, a little pink door. He can hear you now. How fucking cute is that store? Give me your phone, I gotta get a picture. Mine’s is in my bag in the back. Look, the traffic’s movin’, Joel, give me your phone – quick!

His fingers hook around the silver door handle. He pats his jeans once – wallet’s right there – and goes to pull, when his cell vibrates from the center console. He can see himself in the glass screen, your dad’s name written across the reflection of his forehead.

He bites down on his lip. Hard. Glances up to the road ahead. Blinks. And decides to answer.

“Joel,” your dad chirps down the line. “Sorry, buddy, you’ll be sick a’ the sight ‘n sound of me today.”

Joel manages a convincing laugh. “What’s up?”

“Just makin’ sure you’re rememberin’ to put Friday’s date down for delivery on that order. We’re gonna need the stuff over the weekend, so.”

“Yep. Just been to do it right now. Friday’s date, Harvey’s site, your card details ‘n everything.”

“’attaboy. Good job. You’re all grown up.”

“Funny.”

“Thanks, pal. I appreciate it. There wasn’t no chance I was gettin’ time to do it myself,” he lowers his voice, “I’m still stuck here with Kelman.”

Joel’s fingers trace around his steering wheel. “Oh, yeah? He keepin’ you busy?”

“You bet. Had to haggle with ‘im just to get a lunch break. Speakin’ of – I swung by the house and that daughter of mine wasn’t home. Haven’t seen or heard from her since yesterday mornin’. I’m just checkin’ she ain’t stop by to see Sarah or som’?”

His fingers lock tight around the leather. “Sarah’s still in Nashville, she gets in tonight. Couldn’t tell you where yours is. I’m not home yet, so.”

It’s a half-truth. He could wager a pretty good guess, but he can’t be certain, can he?

Your dad chuckles down the line. “She spent the night at Anna’s. My house must be like prison to her – she’s never around anymore. I’ll hear from her soon, I’m sure. Alright. Thanks, again, Joel.”

He drops the phone back into the cupholder with a sigh, leaning back against the headrest to stare at the roof of the truck. He’s still picturing you in his living room, head turning to the street at every sound of a car door, or tires rolling by. And then the image is marred by your dad, peering in the window back at you, catching you wrapped up in a situation you shouldn’t be in.

He doesn’t want your dad to find out. For obvious reasons. Because it would mean the collapse of their friendship, the collapse of the world they built between them – for you, for Sarah, for themselves. Comfortability, and normalcy, and routine and order all thrown to the wind on account of some month-long fling.

But more important than all of that: it would mean dragging you into all of that, too. Fucking up your relationship with your dad. Making things weird between you and Sarah. Ruining whatever’s left of what you and Joel had, before you both took it too far.

And if he doesn’t want all that – if he doesn’t want your dad finding out – then something has to change. Something’s gotta stop.

His fingers wrap tight around the key and turn, and the truck jumps to life. He turns away from the teal-colored florist as he pulls off.

----------

You take it about as well as he reckoned you might. About as well as you should, given the circumstances. He isn’t surprised, and he doesn’t blame you. He’s probably on your side, when you argue back with him.

“You’re not serious, right? Joel. You’re not –”

“Kid, I…”

“No. What? Because of a fucking bag?”

He lifts his gaze and pleads with you. “Because of the lying.”

You’re right, with your response: it’s never been an issue until now. He’s been more than fucking happy to sneak off, take you as his own, and then return with a satisfied grin and a mouth full of excuses to feed your company. He almost agrees.

It’s just: this time, your dad’s at your heels like a bloodhound. A little less sharp, maybe. Blind as a fucking bat, sure. But he can smell something’s up. And he’s circling it, nose to the ground, drawing nearer and nearer to the pair of you with each step.

You ask if he wants to tell the truth. That thought scares him just as much. Knocks him back a few steps. No, he doesn’t want to come clean.

The words fly back and forth like a tennis match. Too fast for him to keep control of what he’s saying and how you’re hearing it. He wants to break it off – is there anything to break off? – but he doesn’t want to lose you – how can you lose something you never had? – and then: did he ever have you in the first place?

You’re standing over him, between his knees. “End it,” you tell him. “I’ll go.”

There’s a casualness in the loose shrug of your shoulders that scares him more than the prospect of you actually leaving. How easy it looks like it could be, for you to just wander out. Sling your bag over your shoulder and revert back to the start of the summer, when he was just a ride home after a rainy day at work.

Forget how to touch him the way he’s certain only you can, forget the secret language between you, forget every stolen glance and whispered word and every thought that ever translated from your brain to his as easy as they would pass between your lips.

“You don’t mean nothin’ to me? That what you think?” He’s laughing. Disbelief, fear, shock. Whichever one it is, it pulls across his cheeks painfully. Somehow, you’ve ended up at the foot of his bed.

“Well, what else am I supposed to take from this, asshole? That you’re fuckin’ in love with me?”

It’s cold water over an already-dying fire. The words smother into ash on his tongue. No more come to the front. He just stares at you. His phone starts to chitter out into the silence between you.

You take a step forward. Your voice is low. “You don’t get to do this, you know. You don’t get to pull me in and then drop me…once you’re done with me.”

“Don’t.”

It’s not much, but it soars from the pit of his stomach, through his throat and past his lips like a final arrow. All he can muster up.

“Don’t.”

There’s a weight where the words originate from. Something deep in his gut, an ache pulling its way upward, swelling across his chest. His ears are screaming.

Of all the things you might think – he’s an asshole, he’s a liar, he doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing – the worst one would be that he spent this entire time leading you on. Making you feel special. Making you think you were something to him.

You are something to him. You’re – you’re fucking everything to him. It’s why he’s doing this, right? Going against every instinct, every gut feeling. To protect you. To do what’s right by you. He’s not fucking done with you. He wonders if he’ll ever go another day in his life without thinking about you.

“I can’t read your mind anymore…” you whisper, and his lungs steal a breath. His lack of response flattens your expression.

Joel might not be done, but you are.

He can feel you slipping from his grasp like sand through his knuckles. Each grain rocking itself loose, choosing to throw itself to the depths below rather than spend another second wrapped in his clutch.

He’s trying so desperately to hold onto you. Listen to me, he thinks, and he knows you can’t hear him anymore. Because now you’re really going – you’re tripping out of his room. Your heel catches on the threshold, like one last-ditch attempt from fate to pull you back into him, but you stop yourself and spin, fleeing down the hallway.

He takes a loose grasp of your wrist, fingers barely meeting on the other side of your skin before you tear it away from him like he’s scalded you. The look on your face makes him think for a moment that he might actually have done it – burned you. Pained you. Raised the skin below your gentle palm in a furious, red glow.

He’s swapping words out like they’re tools, each one immediately breaking and being flung back into the box. He’s trying any combination, any useless, futile order of words to make you stop in your tracks. You know how much I care about you, ‘s why I’m doin’ it, baby, come back, we can talk about this.

And he opens his mouth to give voice to the only words he knows would stop you – the reason why he’s doing it in the first place, the only thought he’s had anytime he’s looked at you for the last couple weeks. He opens his mouth to say it, or say something like it, when the machine silences the ringtone and the pair of you, too.

Her voice is like ice down the back of his shirt. He stares at the machine, red light blinking like a rag to a bull. He could walk over to it and smash the ever-loving fuck out of it with his fists until it’s dust on his coffee table. Until it shuts the fuck up, stops interfering with his fucking business.

And then he thinks about Lois, and her cream blouse, and her red nails, and her big, blue eyes, and her soft drawl and everything about her that is so entirely opposite to everything about you.

And how much – despite how nice and friendly, or funny and good-natured she is – how much he hates her right now, and how much he fucking loves you.

But you’re gone, now. Washed away by the tide. No more sand in Joel’s palm.

He tries to stop it. Tries to wind back a little, tries to make the sea cough up what it just stole from him. Give her back, you fuck. His eyes are stinging like salt water. Why are they stinging? There’s a roaring in his ears – the waves laughing in his face. Sickly and deafening.

He’s doing his best to keep a hold on his trembling voice. He knows he sounds pathetic. But yours is louder, stronger, steadier. And when you talk, it’s with an air of finality. Like you’re turning over the horizon. The last time he’ll ever see you again.

“I’ll see you ‘round, Joel.”

----------

He doesn’t call or text you that night. He doesn’t know what he’d say. Doesn’t even know where he’d begin. You’re mad, and Joel figures you got every right to be. This entire thing – today, this weekend, the whole month you’ve been together – is one big fucking mess.

He spends the afternoon hunched over his kitchen table, trying to distract himself with work. Twirling a pencil between his fingers, reading three, four, sometimes five times over the same building plans before deciding that the words and numbers won’t fucking sink in. He leaves them strewn across the table, wanders aimlessly upstairs and takes a cold shower.

Sarah’s flight gets in at 8PM. Joel’s sat curbside, truck engine humming, scanning every single figure that walks out of the airport building. When he spots the gray hoodie, the brown hair tied back with a pink scrunchie, the much-too-big-for-four-days-away suitcase rolling at her heels, he gets out.

She hugs her friends, they nod in passing greeting to him, and she skips over.

“Hey,” he breathes as she wraps her arms around his waist. “How was your flight? Saw you comin’ in.”

She shrugs in response. “I’m hungry. Wanna go get McDonald’s?”

Joel grumbles, slotting her case in the back of the truck. “You don’t wanna get home? Take a shower first? You smell like plane.”

“Ha! No.”

She opens the passenger side door and hoists her foot up on the seat, retying her sneaker. Joel’s already in and buckled up, hands on the wheel, watching her blue nails loop the laces.

“There’s one, like, ten minutes away.”

He’s shaking his head. “We got food in the house.”

Her gaze lifts. Her foot drops. “Oh, c’mon, it’s on the way home. We’ll be, like, five minutes. I just got off a two-hour flight, dude, right through dinner. I’m starving, I –”

“Would you just get in the damn truck, Sarah?”

It’s shorter, snappier, angrier than he meant. But he’s parked in the middle of the packed pick-up area, and the rattling of suitcase wheels and the whistling of cab drivers and the fucking roaring of planes overhead are making the headache behind his eyes worse.

Sarah freezes, one arm still leaning on the doorframe. “Jesus. What the fuck?”

“Sorry,” Joel mutters, shaking his head. “Sorry. Just – get in.”

“No need to be an asshole about it,” she murmurs, pulling herself up into the passenger seat.

Joel’s face is in his hands, elbows atop the steering wheel. “I’m not tryna be an asshole,” he says into his palms.

His daughter looks at him. Concerned. “Somethin’ happen? While I was gone?”

He shakes his head again.

Nothing happened.

He’s quiet the rest of the night. The rest of the week. Sarah notices, he knows she does, because she pries. In her own way. She’s smarter than he is. Less obvious.

She’s already up and in the kitchen when he rises on Tuesday morning. Spins around at the toaster, tells him the machine’s ready for his coffee. Asks if he wants her to make it. Asks if he wants any breakfast.

Thanks, kiddo. No, I’ll get it. No, you’re good, thanks.

They sit opposite one another in silence, save for the crunching of Sarah’s toast. He can feel her eyes on him, same way he felt Lois’s. Trying to burrow deep inside, take a look at his brain. Catch a glimpse of the words he’s thinking over and over and over.

There ain’t no words, though. It’s just images. Video replay of your back as you strode down his driveway, the way the wind caught your hair and brushed your cheek, the way your hand came up to wipe your tears. And the way he stood there, like a fucking idiot, and did nothing.

His chest hurts any time he thinks about you. Pulls in, knits itself together in knots. He’s good at pushing feelings down, good at turning them away from the sunlight like faded pebbles. But this is different. It’s a different kind of hurt.

It’s unresolved, it’s an open wound. It’s you. And it’s every time he hears REO Speedwagon, every time he pulls a flannel over his shoulders and catches the scent of your perfume on it, every time he’s flicking through the TV and catches a flash of a hospital setting, it’s a pair of hands deep inside the wound, pulling it a little wider.

It aches. It stings and it aches and it winds.

And then he turns the pebbles around. Back to the shade. Over and over and fucking over.

On Wednesday night, he caves. Asks Sarah if she’s spoken to you.

She’s chewing on a slice of pizza; licks the grease from her fingertips before she answers. “Not really. She’s been quieter than usual. Why?”

“She’s been quieter than usual?” he repeats, playing off the way his head shot up by looking straight back down at the pizza box.

Sarah narrows her eyes. “Yeah. I figure she’s working a lot.”

“Right. Right.”

“She gets tired of being in the house all the time, I think. Getting treated like a kid still. So I guess the more time she can spend outta there, the better.”

Joel nods slowly. He already knows that much.

Sarah studies him. Watches his hands as he dabs a pizza crust into the dip. When he tosses it in his mouth, he looks back up at her.

“What?”

“Nothing,” she says. “You want the last slice?”

“You take it,” he mutters, sitting back and wiping his hands on a napkin. “I’m stuffed.”

She hums, reaching forward. “Whatever it is,” she says, pulling the dough apart, “that’s got you this down –”

“Ain’t nothin’ got me down, kiddo.”

“– whatever it is,” she continues, “I bet it works itself out.”

Sarah stands up, taking her water with her, and wanders out of the kitchen.

----------

Joel struggles through another sleepless night, Thursday through Friday. His eyes don’t close over once. He hauls himself out of bed early in the morning, forces a black coffee down his throat, and heads off to work.

He’s up at some new client in Waco. Andrew Curtis – or, well, Andrew Curtis’s father, but Joel’s been dealing primarily with the son, and the guy’s a fucking imbecile. Doesn’t know his head from his ass, probably. And he has a voice like nails on a damn chalkboard, and his shirt’s untucked around the back, but Joel ain’t got a tone kind enough, or half the wordsmanship, or an ounce of energy to tell him.

Anyway – he spends all day at this dusty site, trying to work and instead, thinking about whatever the fuck you’re doing. Wherever you are, whoever you’re with. It’s almost seven by the time he’s leaving, packing up his truck and watching Andrew Curtis across the yard. He’s spotted his own shadow; he’s twisting around to reach the ducktail poking out from above his belt loops.

Joel thinks to call you about it on the way home. Tell you all about the guy: his dry conversation, his flannel, the fact he kept calling Joel Joe all day. He figures it would make you laugh, least the way he’d tell it, and he reckons that’s exactly what you need right now. That’s exactly what he needs, right now.

When Clark’s call him, he dials your dad. Has his ear blown half to hell by the speakerphone. Learns midway through the conversation that you’re right there in the car, too, and bites back a stream of incoherent, senseless words. Settles for a quiet reminder: he’s right here if you need him.

He doesn’t expect you to take him up on it. Knows you got better things to do than deal with some asshole who’d rather break your heart than have a few difficult conversations. You’re probably having fun, probably finally feeling good again. You’re probably fine.

But still. He doesn’t sleep that night, either.

It’s just gone two when Anna calls. He’s lying in bed, some shopping network on loop on the TV. His tired eyes bore into the screen, defocusing over the pixels, not watching nor listening and barely fucking breathing until he picks up the phone. Her voice is panicked, shrill, and shaking so much he wonders if his own phone is trembling with it.

“Mr. Miller?” she asks, and Joel sits up. “Got your number from Yelp. ‘m sorry it’s so late, it’s…oh, fuck – it’s, like, 2AM.”

“Anna,” Joel says hoarsely. Get to the fuckin’ point.

“Right. Sorry. It’s just…we kinda have a…situation, here.”

It’s you. He fucking knows it’s you. His heart begins to hammer. He doesn’t give a fuck whether she puts two and two together or not when he asks –

“Where is she?”

“We’re still at Frank’s,” Anna says, sniffing. He can hear the booming bassline of music, muffled; the sharper chatter of voices. She’s on the street. In his head, he can see her shoulders hunched; her bare arms wrapped around her body for warmth. She goes to say it again. “We’re still at –”

“’n where is she?” Joel cuts, and she finally cracks.

In one long, drawn breath, she spills. “She was fucked from the second we walked in here; she drank too much too quick, Mr. Miller – Joel,” she says when he corrects her, “and then she just – I dunno, she just – fucking disappeared with these guys, me ‘n Kara never saw ‘em in our lives – and they went upstairs we think, and she came back smelling like weed, and then this guy – he just, like, scooped her off, Mr. M– I mean Joel, like, totally dragged her away, and then –”

“Who–? Anna – Anna, wait,” Joel says, shushing her between her rambling, trying to rein in what she’s saying. When she finally shuts up, he speaks slowly and calmly. “Who dragged her away?”

“We don’t fuckin’ know!” she almost shrieks down the line. It cuts out for a second and Joel’s heart stops dead.“– so we don’t know,” she says when her voice filters back through into his ear, “but Sam said he saw the dude drop something in her bottle when he turned away. A pill or something.”

Joel’s body tenses. Freezes solid, with the blood in his veins. His eyes fix on one spot on his dresser: the loose handle that sits a little squint. He stares at it until his peripheral starts to blur.

“He – say that again?”

“He roofied her, we think. But we can’t fucking find them. Sam and Kara are in there just now looking. The guy pulled her away, that’s what I’m tryna say!”

“Right,” whispers Joel, nodding. He drags a heavy hand over his eyes, tries to push the image of you in danger out of his head for one second so he can figure out what to do.

Anna doesn’t hear him. She keeps talking. “…and then Sam said she told him not to call her dad, but I had to call someone, y’know? You’re the only person I think she wouldn’t – I think she wouldn’t mind me callin’. Please.”

He’s already halfway down the stairs, arms pushing through the sleeves of his shirt. He keeps the phone against his cheek when he bends to reach for his boots, ties them loose and grabs his keys.

“You call me as soon as you find her, you hear? I’m on my way,” he tells Anna, and hangs up.

He’s panicking. Fear, transferred between her cell and his, creeping over his shoulders, wrapping long, cold fingers around his throat. He’s panicking. He’s panicking. He never panics. Where the fuck are you? Who the fuck are you with?

There’s barely any traffic on the road, but the drive takes for-fucking-ever. The lights at the side of the road blur into long, thin streaks of orange. His hands are tight around the steering wheel, his jaw clenched. Your name lies loose on his lips.

He pulls up right outside the bar. There are small clusters of people, congregated tight together under the streetlights; cigarettes hanging from lips, bottles loose in hands. He shoves by them on his way to the door. Some guy shuffles out of his way, looking up to cuss Joel out and quickly dipping his head again when he locks eyes with the grizzly expression.

He shoves the door open with his shoulder, and spots you instantly.

----------

His knuckles are throbbing. Skin stretching anytime he moves his hand, searing hot and sharply stinging across the bone. Your touch is the only thing soothing them right now.

He got two good punches in. Just two. Burst the guy’s nose. He would’ve kept going, had he not been in a bar full of people – people who knew who he was – and had you not been stood behind him, body liquid-like from how much you were swaying.

But he has you home now. Up in your room, settled in bed. You’re safe. You’re with him.

You’re fucking wasted. Like, can barely lift a glass of water to your lips unaided wasted. He spent the entire drive watching over you, stealing glances when your head turned or your eyes lulled closed, checking you were still awake, still talking, still fucking breathing.

Whatever that asshole gave you, you don’t seem to have had enough for it to do too much damage. The alcohol is the real culprit. Though you were cognitive enough to yell at him over Lois in the kitchen, which relieved him for a second before it fucking crushed him. He’s lying awake right now – listening to the sound of your snoring – replaying the argument in his head. Over and over.

You’re an asshole and a liar. Just stringing me along this whole time.

He’s some awful cocktail of angry and terrified and fucking heartbroken. You’re lying inches from him, your hand resting softly on top of his, and yet – you’re miles away. The space between you both – fragmented, treacherous.

In a perfect world, he’d have wrapped his arms around your shoulders. He’d have pulled you against his weight, against his strong, steady form. And he’d have walked you, as slow as you needed, out of the bar and to his truck. Maybe laughing. Maybe singing.

He’d have told you everything was fine, told you he loved you, told you he was gonna get you home, make you feel better. He’d hold you until the sun came up, and then hold you until it went back down.

He’d love you. And you’d let him.

Maybe that world doesn’t exist, Joel thinks. And maybe that’s for the better.

It fucking hurts, though. Stings like a hot blade through his chest. All this time, messing around, pretending there was nothing more to it. Letting his feelings through like water in a fucking dam. It was bound to break eventually.

And maybe he really thought, even just for a fleeting moment, there could be something here. Something worth holding onto. More than two idiots messing around, more than sex and secrecy.

He didn’t even realize. Didn’t notice the shift. When did he start feeling…more? When did it cross that line?

He’s staring at the end of your bed. Thinking about you under him, gripping onto his shirt, his hand between your legs. The very first time. And every other fucking time since then. Which one was the threshold? Who pushed who?

His ringtone bursts through the silence, making him jump. His arm swings to fish it from the nightstand, swiping to answer before he’s even read who’s calling, just to shut the thing up.

“Hello?” he murmurs.

“Hey, Joe? Uh, I mean, Joel? It’s Andrew Curtis here.”

He rolls his eyes. For fuck’s sake. “Mornin’, Andrew.”

“Hi. Sorry, I know it’s super early. I’m just checkin’ we’re still good to go. I got my guys ready, we’re rarin’ to get goin’ whenever you are.”

Joel clears his throat, pushing slowly off the plush mattress, resting your hand on the sheets. “Yeah, uh…” He slips out of your room, hopping over to the bathroom and closing the door over. “…I had a, uh…a family emergency durin’ the night. I’m gonna be a little late, but I’ll be there.”

“Oh, gee, I hope everything’s alright?”

He phrases it like he wants Joel to clue him in. He considers for a second actually saying, Yeah, my best friend’s daughter – who I’ve been sleeping with for the last month – got plastered at a bar – Frank’s, local place, you heard of it? – because I broke things off with her – but I didn’t want to, I was just tryna be fuckin’ noble – and I went and picked her up, punched a guy who was tryna hurt her, because guess what, Andrew – I’m in fuckin’ love with her.

He sums it up with: “Yeah. Everything’s fine now. Thanks.”

“Alright, well, great news! Call me when you’re twenty minutes out, I’ll have the guys here for you arrivin’. Safe journey, Joe!”

Joel breathes an Uhuh and hangs up, holding the bridge of his nose. He has a headache, like he’s the one who’s been drinking. It’s only going to get worse, too, heading off to go spend his Saturday with Andrew fucking Curtis and his loose flannel.

The sun’s rising slowly, lighting the hall in a warm glow. Joel pads quietly into your room and pulls the cover back over his side of the mattress. You stir; your head jerks only to move some hair from your face, and then you sigh, sleep pulling you back into its arms.

He watches you for a second. Wishes he could run a light hand down your cheek, kiss your head. Whisper a goodbye, the same way you did to him almost a week ago.

He shakes the thought, collecting his boots from the floor. His hand hovers over his shirt for a moment. And then he lifts it by the collar, lays it neatly on the pillow by your head, and leaves. You can keep it, trash it, burn it. But it’s yours. Everything about him is yours.

In the kitchen, he stands by the sink, nursing a cup of coffee. It’s a quarter to six. This early on a Saturday, he figures he’ll be in Waco by seven, seven-thirty latest. His eyes fix on the spot you two stood last night, yelling back and forth about Lois. She seems so far away, now. He can barely remember the shape of her face, the sound of her voice.

His grip tightens around the mug. He places it in the sink, and grabs his keys. As he passes the stairs, he pauses. Leans on one foot, head tilted to listen out for any sound of life. Any fucking sound – the creak of a floorboard, the squeak of a door handle. Anything to keep him here. Anything.

Nothing comes. No sound, no movement, no you.

He closes the front door gently on his way out.

----------

taglist: @yvonneeeee @subconsciouscollapse @leahlovestwd @peqchsoup @whorror-s @k1ttybean @whichwitchwanda @abuttoncalledsmalls @anner--nanner @jpbplvr @laysmt @ankhmutes @bookishhella @cannolighost @luvrking @mellymbee @yourwinchesterbros @nostalxgic @scottstotts @daiseygriffithx @letsgroovetonighttt @huffle-punk @unbotheredbeeeee @iluvurfather @wildcat116 @godisawomansblog @55vvaa55 @koshkaj-blog @initforthebooks @theywhowriteandknowthings @thatgirljayy@sasakipsposts @casa-boiardi @milla-frenchy @aim-formyheart @taeslarityy @lxstbxyscave23 @joelmillerxapologist @capt-rex @giixo @capricorngf @feministfanboi @fifia-writes @darleneslane @theplumsoldier @sharp-cheekbones-locked @suzmagine @endlessthxxghts @ivebeenflagged @blognametakenn @jessahmewren @nobodycanseeinsidemysoul @ranahx @pedropascalsbbg @dindjarinsbeskarbunny @cartoon-garbage04 @caatheeriinee07 @kngslayr @dissentientss @hopplessilse @annagraceevanss @lucyeyelesbarrow @faceache111 @vickywallace @lelifesaver

@slvbl @regalwhovianbrowncoat774 @casa-boiardi @msjarvis @acornacreacure @totallynotastanacc @alejaa-a @aphterthoughtt @pedroluver @earthtogrogu @sexygaypalpatine @cool-iguana @serenaxpedro @lizzyervs @bitchwitch1981 @brittmb115 @stormseyer @scarletthefierce @patti7dc @pattwtf @atticrissfinch @pascalpvnk @lizzyervs @jediknightjana @jessie8605 @iknowisoundcrazy @caitispunk @vickie5446 @mrsquill @uncassettodiricordi @gracieispunk @hellishjoel

(psst! after this weekend my taglist is no more! follow @macfroglets + turn on notifs if you wanna be in the know when i post!)

#joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #the last of us #tlou #tlou fic #dbf!joel miller #dbf!joel #dad's best friend #joel miller smut #joel miller fluff #joel miller angst #pedro pascal #pedro pascal joel miller #cowboy like me #smut #fluff #angst

699 notes · View notes

mysteryshoptls · 8 months

Text

SR Leona Kingscholar - Playful Dress Voice Lines

Summon Line: Huh, so this is the amusement park I've heard so much about. Alright then, you all go and enjoy yourselves. Meet back at the pavilion once it gets dark.

Groooovy!!: Hey, you better get up on stage, too. What, you think you're the only one allowed to stay in the audience?

Home: Sure hope we can actually enjoy ourselves.

Swap Looks: Well, ain't this just tasteful.

Home Idle 1: Fellow is a typical omnivore. He'll wag his tail at both the carnivores and herbivores, just to swipe the tastiest morsels he can.

Home Idle 2: An interactive story ride? Not interested, go ride it yourself. I'm the type who'd rather read a nice long book.

Home Idle 3: That guy Sebek says that he couldn't possibly skip classes, as he's striving to be a retainer worthy of his liege. Heh, he takes things way too seriously.

Home Idle - Login: What kind of amusement park has some shady-lookin' fox mascot greeting you at the front? Can't wait to see what else we're in store here.

Home Idle - Groovy: This attraction's not too terrible. It's a snooze-fest, but there's basically no line, so I like it.

Home Tap 1: Never thought I'd ever find myself wearin' something as festive as this... And what's with this purposefully prepared lion motif on my outfit?

Home Tap 2: They got bone-in meat to eat right there, and you still order the salad. And that's why you're a herbivore.

Home Tap 3: If you're lookin' for someone to escort you 'round the amusement park, ask Trey, not me. I bet he'd be happy to take the lead.

Home Tap 4: I'm gettin' on that carriage over there. Ain't no way I'm gonna walk all over this huge park.

Home Tap 5: You don't have to call my name over and over again, I hear you. I'm just staying silent so I don't ruin all your amusement park excitement.

Home Tap - Groovy: A horror attraction? Sure, I'll tag along with you for that, 'cause I bet I'll get to hear some good screams from you herbivores.

Requested by Anonymous.

#twisted wonderland #twst #leona kingscholar #twst leona #twst translation #twst playful land #mention: sebek #mention: trey #mention: fellow

660 notes · View notes

linopls · 7 months

Text

kinktober day twenty-seven

sexting felix x fem!reader

warnings: SMUT MINORS DNI, mentions of unprotected sex

1.1k words

routine company meetings were a wide known snooze-fest. it felt like a competition for who could talk the longest and about the most boring aspects of the company. you never understood why you had to be here. you were just a marketing student intern who was helping run stray kids’ social media accounts, it's not like the finances made any sense to you.

unlike your contract had stated, you started to form a liking to one of the members: felix. the two of you quickly became acquainted when you both had to explain a tiktok trend to your supervisor that felix wanted to post. your supervisor never ended up understanding it but felix thanked you for your attempted support by buying you lunch that afternoon.

eventually it became lunch every time felix was in the building. the two of you would rant to each other about working for different sides of the company and all the struggles you faced. it was just two friends hanging out until the day he called you pretty.

it came out so casually. you weren’t dressed any different but he said your hair looked pretty. it took you back for a second before you smiled and said thank you. that day he payed like usual, he insisted every time, but then suggested you guys got lunch somewhere other than the cafeteria, or maybe dinner.

it never became official, and it never could, until the company removed its employee dating restrictions. you two went on dates like boyfriend and girlfriend, texted like boyfriend and girlfriend, and had amazing sex like boyfriend and girlfriend. he was incredible in bed, he claimed he didn’t have that much experience, but he was brilliant.

he even drove you crazy even when his dick wasn’t inside of you. when you were at dinner, all it took was one glance in your direction and if there weren’t so many people in the restaurant, you would let him take you right there. he had such a way with words as well, and he used that to his advantage.

you see your phone screen light up on the table in front of you. the way the conference room was set up was four rows of tables set in a U-shape. you and your team always sat in the last row to the far left and the stray kids members say in the last row on the far right. this meant when you did not want to pay attention to the current speaker you could look at felix across the room.

you look at the contact photo and name and see that felix sent you a message. you slowly grab your phone and open the message.

felix: you look good in red ❤️

you’re wearing a red pantsuit today, his favorite color. you smile and look up to him, he’s already looking at you and smiling. he looks back down to his phone and types for a second before looking back up to you. your phone lights up again.

felix: you looked really good in that red dress last night

you blush and try to discreetly cover your face with one of your hands. felix had taken you out to dinner the night prior and you wore a new dress, a similar shade of red to the pantsuit you wore today. when he first picked you up he stared at you, mouth agape. before telling you red was his favorite color.

felix: you also looked really good in the red matching set you wore in bed

his reaction when you slid your dress down your legs to reveal your matching red bra and panty set was a sight you’ll never get out of your head. his eyes glossed over with lust and a very obvious tent formed in his pants.

you: never knew you had such a sexual attraction for the color red… 😏

you look up to see felix subtly roll his eyes before beginning to type a response. you watch changbin look over his shoulder and giggle and felix pulls his phone to his chest. you thank god for your privacy screen protector and the fact you’re sat on the end and the person next to you is also so uninterested in the meeting that they are online shopping.

felix: just for you, in red specifically

felix: i think it's your color~

you: thank you baby🤭

you: i think i’ll wear another red set tonight ;)

you glance up from your phone to his felix’s reaction. his mouth forms a thin line before he bites down on his lips slightly.

felix: yeah?

felix: do you have a picture?

you: horny bastard. 🖕

felix: just want a spoiler 🥺

you: you’ll have to wait and see~~

felix rolls his eyes and sets his phone face down on the table and focuses back on the speaker. you begin to aimlessly scroll through your socials. before long another text from felix pops up and you eagerly click on it.

felix: i want to bend you over one of these tables and fuck you so badly

you: i’m doing great thanks for asking 😐

felix: i don’t even care who watches

felix: i just want you to cum on my cock over and over again

you: lix…

felix: you look so good from behind

felix: and i love that i can see your face in the mirror in my room

felix: the way tears stream down your face when i make you cum for a third or fourth time 😖

you: you’re so good at what you do

you: i’m already soaked just thinking about it 🫣

you adjust yourself awkwardly in your chair. feeling your panties sticking to your folds as felix stares you down from across the room.

felix: i just want to stuff you full of my cum

felix: over and over again

felix: go to the bathroom 😏

you notice he has his legs crossed and his bottom lip is caught between his teeth.

felix: wanna fill you with my cum and watch you sit through this meeting knowing who you belong to

you: it's too obvious if we leave within a couple minutes of each other :(

you: we’ll get a break soon and i’ll meet you in the bathroom on the floor above 😚

felix: my dick is throbbing thinking about being buried in your sweet pussy

you: we won’t need to waste any time, i’m already dripping for you

“alright everyone,” the speaker claps his hands together. “let’s take a lunch break and come back in an hour?”

as everyone begins to gather their things and leave the room, you quickly throw everything in your bag and streamline to the door. felix is holding the door waiting for you.

“come on, ms. l/n,” felix smiles. “lunch shall we?”

felix probably has mad sexting game

@rockstrhanji @hyunjinhoexxx @mixtape-racha @euphoric-univers @haruharu-egypt @shit-why-what @twiggoblin @kookiesbunny @virgohannie @nataliee10 @ihrtlix @aaasia111 @lolli4me @lilcutieana @changbinsrightboob @hanjisunglover @chansducky10 @elissasimp @boi-bi-ahaha @lilquokka04 @anglerfishiey @sirenscall1031 @might-be-a-rat @jihyun2monster @kpflyn @samsmitty @imwithurmother @meilix @summer3sworld @mysweethannie @kittykattime @linoots @yaorzu-blog @sofiaeli

@alemi-i @cupidsmoons @yoongles2025 @vixensss @chlooooop @lemontried @idkluvutellme @superiorbrownskinn @ana-stasssiaaa @amayaaseees @ilikecatsanddoritos @alnex05 @esairevmp @greysweaters-blog @sanzusfavgf @jutannies @faraonatojishady @hanniemylovelyquokka @chloeskzboomboom @quinnluvsmoney @burningupp-replies @aisha-md @jo-dinner @jeannie-beannie @httpsimmy @hazneezs @cuffier

@dvbkie099 @il0v3skz @chrishak@quokkaaah @bex90997 @sheeshhhhfelixsworld @leeknowyah @tumadreposts @hyunniebunni @cipher-ipher @alice630 @jinnies-princess @bangtancultsposts @evrythinghqppened @rebellescauses-blog @juicypebbless @fawnpeaks @the-life-of-stella @lakoya @compersian @seung-mine @mal-lunar-28

936 notes · View notes

lis-likes-fics · 1 month

Text

Love Letters

Pairings: Aaron Hotchner x Reader Word Count: 8.1k words Warnings: Murder, torture, depictions of mental illness, typical Criminal Minds content... A/N: Collabed with a couple friends about the serial killer. Guys, this was hard. Spent sooo much time building this character and then didn't even end up using all of the stuff we came up with. But it was fun and I enjoyed this and I hope you do too! Special thanks to the ones who helped me plan, @the-nerdy-goddess and @thecreature-bug and my beta reader @killerqueen-ofwillowgreen!

A knock on your classroom door has you turning your head, and you smile at the sight of the math teacher one door down.

You know why she's here, sneaking a “meeting” before all the kids get here for homeroom. You roll your eyes, scooting back in your rolling chair and crossing your arms.

“So how was the date Saturday?” Esther asks, raising a teasing brow as she walks further into the room, taking a seat right on the side of your desk. “You get lucky?”

You scoff. “I wish. The guy was boring. It was a total snooze fest.” You pick up a paper from your grading stack, marking another consecutive one hundred on little Amelia's test. “I told him I was a teacher and he told me how he had a crush on his teacher from the eighth grade.”

“Blergh,” she groans, making a face. “Was he a gentleman, at least?”

“I wish, part two. He didn't pull a chair, he didn't open a door.”

She shakes her head in disappointment and pats your back. “Your gentleman is coming to you soon. You deserve it.” She reaches over, picking up your necklace and running her thumb over the F before dropping it back down. “And I like that necklace.”

You laugh sarcastically at her, jutting your chin out toward the mirroring E around her own neck. All the fifth grade teachers wear one, a gift from Sarah’s—the science teacher’s—birthday party. “I like yours.”

She brushes the golden charm on her dark chest with a smile. She scoots off your desk. “Hey, if you're looking for another date, I might have a guy.” She winks at you, and you almost throw a pencil at her.

“Don't you have a class to teach?”

“Eventually,” she shrugs. “Small accident a few blocks away, traffic’s backed up. Buses are late–”

“–and most of your class rides the bus.” You nod, “Yeah.”

She walks to the door, patting the frame twice. “But I'll leave you be. I have copies to print.”

You shoo her away. “Goodbye.”

She winks at you again, clicking her tongue. “See you.”

The elevator doors close as David steps in next to Aaron. After a quick once-over, he smiles. “You look tired. Jack?”

Aaron shakes his head as he glances at his shoes, “No. Jack's fine.”

“Oh,” Dave raises his brows. “Did Aaron Hotchner have a date?”

He chuckles, amused by the assumption. “Me?”

He shrugs. “Good to have a little hope.”

Another rare chuckle passes his lips as he shakes his head again. His voice is low and soft with his amusement. “Yeah, I had a date. With a wrench and a kitchen sink.”

He hums, tilting his head from side to side as if weighing the options. “A date is a date. At least you can fix the sink.”

“Alright,” he mumbles lightheartedly.

Dave pushes the doors open as they enter the round table room, watching as the rest of the team slowly makes their way. When everyone is present and accounted for, he begins.

“What have we got, Garcia?”

Penelope sets her coffee cup down, making a face. “Oh, my little ducklings, nothing good.” The screen turns on and presents a round of crime scene photos, multiple women covered in uniform cuts all matching the other perfectly, besides the differences in the letters adorning their chests. It's graphic and strange.

Garcia avoids looking with everything she has. “Some hikers at the New River Gorge Bridge in West Virginia were going about their business when they found five perfectly marked graves lined up in a row.” The presses a button and said graves are shown before and after they were dug up. When Garcia says perfect, she means perfect. The graves are perfect rectangles, all the same size and depth and almost as though someone used a ruler to make sure the lines were straight.

“The bodies found were Madeline Johnsons, Beatrice Cabrera, Clara Warner, Dakota Platt,” one more press reveals a woman with dark skin now pale with death, “and our latest victim, Esther Cooke.”

The team flips through the files they were given, analyzing the information as it comes. “All were found covered in multiple incisions all over the body, and letters carved on their chests.” She makes a face. “I don't know how much you guys gate papercuts, but I know that if I got as many as our victims here, I'd be forever emotionally ruined.”

Reid's analytical eyes take in the sight of the bodies. “It's almost reminiscent of Lingchi, translated to ‘slow slicing’ or ‘death by a thousand cuts’. It was a form of torture and execution used in China around the 10th century until the early 20th century.” He talks a mile a minute, squinting his eyes at the photos as he does.

Prentiss shrugs, “Well, one papercut is bad enough, I could never do a thousand.”

JJ brings her drink to her lips. “I couldn't do ten.” They chuckle to each other.

Morgan juts his neck toward his files. “How did they die? The wounds are made for bloodletting.”

Garcia groans lightly. “So not glad you asked. Their throats were slashed, two incisions made at each side of the neck to cut the jugulars.” She adjusts her glasses, glancing at her tablet. “Autopsy reports say very slowly and with a very sharp knife. Like the unsub was trying very hard to keep steady. They also found traces of chemicals used in disinfectant in the wounds.”

Prentiss' brows knit together. “Why not just cut it clean across?”

“Well, look, there are 26 cuts in total on all the bodies, including the one at the neck,” Reid points out. “The incisions were very specific.”

“‘Course it was, look at that pattern,” Morgan says.

Each limb has a total of six equal cuts along the top of them, with the last two finishing off at the neck. It's too specific.

“All of the letters on their chests match the beginning of their names, except for Madeline. She has an A,” Garcia explains. “Madeline's family said she went by Addy.”

“Then the letters carved into them match the first letter of their names,” JJ says. “Maybe he's trying to go through the alphabet.”

“Matches the cuts,” Rossi shrugs. “There are 26 cuts, 26 letters of the alphabet.”

“Who died first and who was last?” Hotch asks, not looking up from his screen.

“They were killed and buried in alphabetical order, sir.”

A few members of the team nod, their theory supported. Reid clasps his hands. “Paired with the perfection of the graves, the specificity of the incisions, the disinfectant, we could be dealing with someone struggling with high level obsessive compulsive disorder.”

They agree.

“But how is he targeting his victims, other than by their names?” Prentiss wonders, “I mean, how does he figure out what their names are in the first place?”

Rossi sighs, “I guess that's what we have to find out.”

Hotch looks up at his team, his stern gaze glancing among them. “Based on the timeline of these kills, we hopefully have about a week before he strikes again. Let's not give him time. Wheels up in thirty.”

You look up at the gentle knock on your door interrupting your silent lunch break. You clear your throat, dropping your hand from your necklace as you lay eyes on Principal Luis.

“Hey,” she greets softly. “You doing okay?”

You nod, offering a half-hearted grin. You've had to smile at your kids all day today, despite the grief, and you were really depending on your break to wind down from it. “Considering.”

“You think you could talk? There are some FBI agents here with a few questions about Esther.”

You sniff, furrowing your brows. “FBI?” For you? You supposed that makes sense. You were close enough…

Two agents walk into the room, their professional blacks offset by the colorful parade that is your classroom. It looks strange, almost silly. You stand to greet them.

The woman offers a smile, a kind face to ease any worries you may have. The man is a little more stern, but there's a gentleness you admire hidden beneath.

“Hello, Ms. Hughes,” he greets. “I'm Agent Aaron Hotchner, this is Agent Jennifer Jareau. We're with the FBI.”

“You can call me JJ,” she says as she reaches a hand out toward you. You take it. “We're here with a few questions about Esther Cooke.”

You try not to look too miserable.

Agent Hotchner’s voice is soft as he speaks to you. “The principal said you and Ms. Cooke were close?”

You nod, crossing your arms. The classrooms are always cold. It's felt a little colder lately.

“She worked right next door,” you try not to stutter. “We were the closest in our department. I'm holding conferences tomorrow with parents about taking some of her kids into my homeroom until we find a…a replacement.”

Noticing your disquiet, JJ speaks up. “Was there anything going on in Ms. Cooke’s life? Anything out of the ordinary?”

Thinking, you shake your head. “Not really.” You shrug, “It was school, home, and not much else. The occasional night out with me, we are–” you clear your throat, “we were both single.”

Agent Hotchner adds in, “We're there any strange absences or even a trip she was going on?”

Again, you think. But nothing really comes up until– “She mentioned that she went on this tour thing with her parents last weekend, local. Some sort of…hiking thing? It's usually for tourists but they won free tickets.” Then you back track, “Is that the kind of thing you're looking for?”

JJ glances at Agent Hotchner. You're not sure what that means. “It could be.”

“When was the last time you saw her?” he asks.

You shrug. “Monday…before she went home. She didn't show up Tuesday or Wednesday, I figured she just got sick or something…forgot to tell me.” You rub your cheek with your sleeve. “I thought it was weird ‘cause she didn't call in or anything. I had to request a sub for her.”

Agent Hotchner nods. “Thank you for your help.”

“Of course. Anything.”

He dug in the inside pocket of his suit. “Call us if you have anything else. Here's my card.”

You reach out to take it, your fingers brushing. It was a comforting feeling. “Thank you.” The words are gentle as they leave you. You shake out of your slight daze, “Uh, here's mine if you have any other questions for me.”

You go behind your desk, grabbing a sticky note shaped like a koala and the first pen you see (which ends up being the brightest green marker you own)... The kids love the colors.

When Agent Hotchner takes it, he almost grins. You recognize the hidden amusement in some of the kids you teach. The ones that are harder to get to open up, even at this age. It's a little sad. Those kids happen to be some of the sweetest you know.

The sight of him in a sophisticated suit with all his professionalism, holding a cutesy koala sticky note is almost comical. He nods his thanks, and then turns to JJ.

They both begin to make their exit when you stop them. “Hey.” They turn. “Did anyone find her necklace?”

“Necklace?” JJ furrows her brow.

You nod. “All the fifth grade teachers have necklaces with our letters on them. Just like this.” You pick up the little charm around your neck for them to examine. “Except she had an E.” You let it drop, scratch the back of your neck as you hum. “Her parents said they never found it when they…”

The thought of saying “dug her up” out loud was haunting, and you already felt that shrinking feeling in your gut.

JJ redirects. “Would she normally take it off?”

You shake your head quickly. “Not Esther. She loves–” you sigh, annoyed now that you keep making the mistake of present tense. As an English teacher, it hurts more somehow. “She loved that necklace. We all do. We wear it nearly every day. Especially now.”

Agent Hotchner nods again, a really gentle movement that you honestly appreciate. “We'll keep an eye out,” he says. “Thank you for your time.”

You nod back at him, offering what smile you can. “Thanks.”

They leave and you check the time. You'd have to get your kids from lunch soon.

“Did she have anything?” Morgan wonders as Hotch and JJ return.

JJ’s teasing brows bounce. “Other than Hotch’s number? A bit.”

Rossi smirks, leaning across the table. “Did you find something special with our Ms. Hughes?” He puts emphasis on the title so Hotch is fully aware of her marital status.

“Let's focus, please.”

Hotch doesn't seem particularly annoyed, but there is a case at hand and he wants it solved as fast as possible.

Besides, it would be unprofessional to call her like this…asking her on a date after questioning her about her recently deceased.

The team giggles quietly amongst themselves. Children. But they do focus in as Morgan's phone rings as a signal to their resident oracle.

“Talk to me, babygirl.”

“I ran those credit card records like Hotch asked,” she starts. “All of which come up with very different results with no special link but one: three of the five all purchased hiking tickets for a guided trail a few days before they went missing. But they're very popular trails, tourists and families go all the time.”

“Hiking trail?”

“Is that significant?”

JJ looks around at the group. “Ms. Hughes said Esther Cooke’s parents won free tickets. They just went last weekend.”

“That would explain why it doesn't show up on the credit card records,” she says. The clack of her keyboard fills the space before she's speaking again. “Oh, yes, I see. The reservation is written in her mother's name.”

Reid looks up from the board where he worked on his geographical profile. “Clara loved out of state,” he says, “she was visiting. That could be how he found out about her.”

Rossi agrees. “So he's choosing most of his victims at the trail. Maybe he's a guide?”

JJ shrugs, “But how is he picking his victims?” She walks over to the pictures of all the victims hung up, their differences glaring as she shakes her head. “He's compulsive, he can't do it at random.”

“I don't think it is,” Hotch says. Eyes fall on him, urging clarification. “Ms. Hughes said something that stuck out to me. Esther Cooke always wore a necklace with the first letter of her name on it, but it was missing from the crime scene.”

The wheels turn in Reid’s head as he breaks away from his map. He picks up the crime scene photos, sorting through them to compare them to the headshots of the victims lining another board. “We might have something,” he mumbles. He picks up the first victim’s pictures. “Here, you can see Madeline wore a necklace with her nickname, Addy, on it. But at the burial site, it's missing.”

Prentiss catches on, picking another. A quick examination has her nodding along. “And look here. Clara had one, too. Hers is just a C.”

Rossi’s heavy brows furrow. “So you think he's targeting these women based on their necklaces?”

Reid words fly from his mouth as he speaks. “If he's killing them, burying them, and carving their letters all in alphabetical order, that could be his trigger—seeing the letters already in place and feeling the need to make it permanent, perfect.”

Morgan picks up Esther's picture, nodding. “We ready to give the profile?”

“I think so. Garcia,” her attention is lightning quick at the sound of her name, just like her wit, “get me a list of everyone who went on those trails and every guide who has led the ones our victims participated in.”

“That list is going to be longer than the Nile, but like Neith, I shall be victorious,” she declares.

Prentiss adds in. “Go ahead and narrow that down to white males who live in the area.”

“That helps.”

“Thank you, babygirl.”

“Happy to help, my salacious little snack.” She smacks the “ck”. He can hear the smirk in her voice. “I'll have that list in a jiffy.” Morgan chuckles as the call ends.

You plaster a grin on your face as you welcome in the next pair. It's been a long day already. The children have been a little fussy, others just sad, about the changes going on during class. The parents you've seen already have been awkward, annoyed, or (on the better occasion) nice, and you're ready to go home.

Just a few more meetings, then you can go home.

“Hello,” you greet. “Thank you for coming in.”

Ms. Tucker smiles gently, doing her best to be kind. She's one of the more patient parents. Her husband on the other hand… You've never been able to describe him as patient.

“Could we make this quick?” Mr. Tucker asks, checking his watch. He blinks harshly once, twice, three times, before looking back up at you. “I've got an appointment in an hour and…thirteen minutes.”

“Don't be rude, Larry,” his ex-wife insists, rolling her eyes as they take a seat in the chairs set in front of your desk. You sit as well, mentally bracing yourself for his meeting.

“Well, she's bringing us in here to tell us our kid isn't doing well in school. How do you want me to behave?” Another tight blink follows as he whispers under his breath, “Behave, behave.”

Ideally, these meetings should take no more than maybe five minutes. But parents make that difficult sometimes.

“Maybe if you spent more time with Peter, he wouldn't be having trouble,” she insists.

The animosity coming off the two of them is creating an environment that makes you want to kick them out of your room and do what you want. But you can't.

He scoffs. “Spend more ti–”

“Actually…”

They turn back to you then, remembering you're there as they close their mouths and listen. “We're not here to talk about his behavior. Peter has been wonderful in class.”

You grab Peter's file. It's just a stack of papers with Esther's old notes for him and his grades. You clear your throat quietly. “As you may know, the teacher next door to me just passed, and we are rearranging her classes until we can find a suitable replacement because we are short staffed.”

You hate saying “replacement”. These meetings have been hard enough simply because she's gone, but being the one of the people already working to replace her has been mentally taxing.

You pull your necklace from inside your shirt, sighing as you look up at them, toying with the charm.

You don't catch it. The movement is so slight and the whisper is so gentle that the moment goes completely over your head as Mr. Tucker's eyes lock on your charm. Under his breath falls a small, “F…F, F.”

“This conference was just to ask about whether or not it would be alright to transfer Peter into my class,” you continue, grasping the top pages out of the file. “Otherwise, his behavior has been fine. He's a smart boy with good grades. Ms. Cooke’s notes do say that he has a bit of trouble mixing with classes though, and he can be a little distracted. Another reason he would switch, he needs the extra social help.”

Ms. Tucker leans in slightly. “You said he has trouble mixing in?”

You nod, tilting your head as you remember Peter's behavior during your classes. “He's a little lonely.”

Mr. Tucker murmurs under his breath, holding onto the words. “Lonely.” His brows twitch. “Lonely…lonely.” You know they're tics, so you try not to make it obvious that you've caught it.

“He got along well with the teachers, but he's closed off to the other students. She saw that a couple of other kids picked on him, but they were little things that we were able to solve fairly quickly.” You sigh, thinking for a moment. You have to choose the right words, or this will end in an argument. “I would recommend trying to get him into things outside of school. A sport or a club, just something to get him to interact with more kids.”

Ms. Tucker is all ears as you speak, taking in what she can as she contemplates a solution. Her ex-husband seems a little out of focus, however. He watches you, his eyes taking you in, in a way that makes you uncomfortable.

“It also helps when the parents are on the same page,” you push through, ignoring the crawling in your skin and focusing on this child and his needs. “I realize you went through a divorce recently, which can be tough on your son. I know it's not my business to manage your relationship, but for the sake of your son, it's important not to be hostile in front of him. It could force him into thinking he has to choose a side, which can lead to negative effects on his mental health.”

She nods, soaking it in. “We can talk about it. You have our permission to take him in.”

“Yes.” Mr. Tucker nods. You watch his head dip three times. “Yes, yes.”

You sigh internally, glad the meeting is coming to a close. “Thank you,” you smile. “Did you have any questions for me?”

He replies, smiling as well. “No. Thank you.”

“Alright,” you close Peter's file, “then we should be good.”

“Thank you,” Ms. Tucker says. She reaches a hand out to shake your hand, and you take it. Her ex-husband does the same, though he lingers a little longer than you appreciate.

“Of course.”

They leave. You take a moment to breathe before you welcome in the next parents. And two meetings later, you've wrapped everything up. After clearing your desk, you snatch your things and head straight for the door.

You're happy to know it's not too late when you step out of the building. The sun is still up, but the moon is beginning to show with the coming evening. As you make your way to your car in the relatively lonely parking lot, it blinks when you unlock the doors.

You open the back door to throw your things inside, slamming it shut and opening the front in one movement.

You don't hear the footsteps behind you over the sound of your relief about the end of your day. So when something comes down hard at the back of your head, your pain and surprise is interrupted by the sudden darkness that overcomes you.

“You're on speaker.”

Garcia’s voice arises from Morgan's voice like the oracle she is. “Then I shall speak my prophecy for all to hear. I narrowed that list down significantly to the tour guides that lead the trails all of the victims went on—except the one who didn't. Speaking of, it turns out that our odd one out, Dakota Platt, put in an application to work as a guide but was denied. Anyway, I came up with three matches.”

Rossi hums. “Narrow the list to anyone recently going through a major change. A divorce, potential job loss, something like that.”

The sound of Garcia’s keyboard is heard over the phone, her voice coming a second later. “That takes one out. There's Perry Williams, he's just suffered a loss in the family—his mother died of lung cancer four months ago, around when the killings started. Then there's one other, Laurence Tucker, who just went through a divorce around a year ago. He's fighting a custody battle with his wife, started a couple weeks before the estimated time of the first murder.”

“Can you take a look at their medical histories?” Prentiss requests.

“Tucker has diagnosed OCD. He stopped taking his meds at the same time as the divorce.”

JJ is already on her feet as she slips her phone in her pocket. “That's our guy.” The rest of the team follow suit.

“I've just sent his home address to your phones.”

Hotch is packing his things as he speaks. “Garcia, go through his history. There may be something to suggest where he may be taking his victims to torture them. He can't be taking them home.”

Morgan raises the phone to his mouth. “Thanks, hot stuff.”

“Anything for you. Garcia out.”

“Clear.”

At the sound of the last check, Hotch lowers his gun as he sighs. “Hotch.” He looks over to see Reid peeking his head out of a room down the hall. He follows him, walking inside and following his gaze down to Reid’s hand, where he's holding a necklace he's pulled from a dark box on the dresser.

There are four necklaces neatly arranged within it, the fifth in Reid’s hand. An E for Esther.

His phone rings. “Yes, Garcia?”

She speaks quickly. “Our guy grew up in the area and attended a schoolhouse when he was little that was shut down years ago for unusual practices with the students. Reports found that the teachers there used to discipline ‘bad kids’—and by bad, I'm not talking just behavior, these are kids with diagnosed Autism, ADHD, OCD, the whole alphabet. Oh…maybe that wasn't the best word.”

“How were they disciplined?” Reid asks, pulling her back on track.

“Oh, right! The teachers used to slap hands with rulers and spank these children, sometimes with paddles. Sometimes kids would come home with big red letters drawn on their chests or clothes when they received failing grades as a way to shame them into passing.” She hums, “I'm guessing that's where the signature comes from.”

Reid sets the necklace down, “Is the building still up?”

“Like I said, it was shut down years ago. It was marked for demolition, but they never got around to it. The building still very much exists, and it's covered in wooden boards and caution tape.”

Hotch nods. “Send us the address. This could be where he's killing them.”

“Already done,” she says. “Also, fun fact. I learned that Tucker's son attends the school Esther Cooke taught at. Apparently, he was one of her students.”

A chill ran down Hotch’s spine as he thought about that. Scrambling in his jacket, he pulls out the koala sticky note in the inside pocket. “Garcia, I need you to give me another address.”

Reid’s brow furrows at his sudden haste. “What's wrong?”

“Ms. Hughes held conferences today for the parents of children Esther Cooke taught.”

Reid walks after him as Garcia retrieves the address. “So?”

“She wears an F.”

Your bleary eyes are so dazed and heavy. Mixed with the pain, it was hard to keep your head up and your eyes open. The letters lining the top of the walls, the alphabet which wraps around the room, fly around your head. It mixes with the chairs and desks, arranged so neatly around the room, lining the walls like the letters do. There's chalk and pencils and paper, all old and run down but set so neatly. The chaos and the tidiness is maddening.

It really hurts. Your arms and legs are covered in cuts, slow and methodical and painful. Your limbs shake with exhaustion, sweat sticks to your forehead and you feel heavy and sick. He'd removed your necklace. It's sitting on the desk where he keeps the rest of his supplies. You want it back.

His disorder is evident, and it bleeds over you with a glaring taunt. Every time he cuts you, he measures it with a ruler, and then you're thrown through the added torture of him disinfecting the wound each time. He counts it each time. He chants under his breath every time he cuts you, every time you talk, every time he blinks.

You just want to go home.

“Mr. Tucker, please,” you beg for the hundredth time, your plea falling on deaf ears.

He shakes his head, his ruler in the middle of your thigh. You want to move it. If he can't make a precise cut, he won't cut. But you don't have the strength. It's taking a lot to keep your head up.

“Hush,” he urges absentmindedly. “Hush, hush.” He adjusts the glasses on the bridge of his nose, careful not to use his hands.

“Why are you doing this?”

His attention is razor sharp as he measures. “I have to.”

It’s the most answer he's given you so far. Maybe if you just keep him talking, you'll be able to talk him out of it. You keep your voice gentle, trying not to sound as pained as you are. “Why?” you ask, though your voice wavers. “What did I do? What did Esther do?”

The name seems to spark something as he nods three times. “E, E, E.”

Your brow furrows. “Is this because of our necklaces?”

He shakes his head this time. Three times. “You won't understand.”

You sigh heavily. “Then help me understand.”

“You won't, you won't.” He picks up the knife, and you flinch away from him. “You won't.”

You keep trying. “You just have to talk to me,” you give him the best smile you can. “You can talk to me, Larry.” If you say his name, maybe you'll appeal to him. You can make it personal. You have to try something.

He mutters under his breath, as though he's thinking. “Talk, talk…talk.”

You nod, speaking slowly. “Yes. Just put the knife down, and we can talk.”

A scream tears through your throat as he drags the sharp blade across your thigh. It burns and it sears and tears stream down your cheeks at the feeling.

“19, 19, 19.”

You don't know what number he's going to, but you're scared for what he'll do when he finishes counting.

You struggle around the lump in your throat to speak, forcing out a breath to try and level yourself. “Is this about your OCD?” He glances up at you, but he doesn't give it too much thought. “I recognize it. Peter has early signs.”

“Peter,” he mumbles, finally taking pause to think. He hums and blinks.

“Yes, Peter,” you urge. “Your son. If you keep going, you could hurt him.” It's hard to see past your tears, but you keep going anyway. “When you get caught, and you will get caught, Peter will be taken away from you forever. He'd never forgive you.”

“Forgive me,” he huffs, shaking his head and rubbing his face. He grips his ruler in one hand. “Forgive me, forgive me.” He presses the ruler to the other leg, “Stop talking.”

You try to squirm, “Larry– Ah!” You purse your lips to stifle your shout, squeezing your eyes shut and clenching your fists.

“20, 20, 20.”

A round of sobs rack through you. You can't hide the pain anymore. It's so evident, and it's so intense. You can't breathe. You hiss as the disinfectant stings.

“Please,” you cry. “Please, just tell me why.”

He shakes his head. He's upset now, you can see it in the crease of his brow, in the excessive head shakes, in the way he rubs his face so roughly. “They said I have to.”

“Who?”

“My teachers.” He looks around the room, and his eyes fall on the alphabet lining the walls.

You follow his gaze. The schoolhouse actually makes sense now. You thought he'd chosen it because it was abandoned…

“I can't do the alphabet. I have to do the alphabet, alphabet.” He says it like he's reciting something, like he's punishing himself.

Your breath is heavy, you blink rapidly, trying to see past your tear-filled eyes. “Your teachers made you do this?”

God, sometimes you hate teachers.

He rubs at his eyes, sighing heavily. “A, A, A,” he begins, speaking quickly and almost like he's struggling to speak. It reminds you of memorization methods. Sometimes you suggest it to students who have trouble remembering vocab—write it down over and over until you remember. Maybe that's why he's doing it? “B, B, B. C, C, C. D, D, D. E, E, E. F.”

He opens his eyes and points his knife at you. “F. F.”

The fear flares within you again. You try not to turn to a blubbering mess. You can't communicate with him if you can't speak properly. “Is that what you're doing?”

He moves to your arm. You try to pull at the duct tape he's got wrapped securely around your hands. You've been trapped here so long, your hands are numb, your wrists are bruising.

“Have to get to Z, Z, Z.”

You almost shout it when he presses the ruler to your arm. “Listen, listen, listen!” you say it in a rush, so, so scared. He actually stops. “Okay, they said to say it three times, right? You have to write it three times?”

The number triggers his tic. “Three, Three, three.” It's honestly becoming annoying. It's insistent and repetitive and it feels almost invasive. But you have to be patient or he'll just kill you faster.

“You don't have to do this.” Your face is itchy from the tears drying and re-wetting, but you can't scratch. “You're gonna be okay.”

He's not listening anymore. “Behave,” he warns, holding the knife to your face. “Behave.” He shakes his head. “Behave.”

He's stopped listening. Despite your screams, he measures and cuts and cleans and measures and cuts and cleans, repeating each number as he comes to it with calculated method.

You clench your fists as the knife digs into your thigh again. You're surprised you can get your broken cries out as you struggle to breathe.

He stands up, taking large steps back to look at his work. You suppose he's almost done, and that terrifies you.

You think about your students, the little kids in your classroom who have already lost one teacher and are now going to lose a second. All those good kids are going through so much already. They all loved Esther. You know they all loved you. You have a wall of art, holiday cards, and plenty of hugged legs to show for it.

You don't want to lose them. You don't want them to lose you.

In a last ditch effort to dissuade him from his pursuits, you shake your head and sigh heavily. “Please.”

He comes closer to you, squinting his eyes to try to ease you. “Shh, shh, shh,” he says. “Just close your eyes. It'll be over soon, soon, soon.”

He presses the ruler to your neck, and you don't have the strength to fight it. It inspires more tears as you shake your head weakly. “Please, please, please.” You chant it, closing your eyes shut. You brace for the end…

Both of you jump when the loudest crash resonates within the room. Wood splinters and heavy boots stomp against the floor. Startled, he staggers back. You open your eyes, lights flashing as the room crowds with armoured people.

“Laurence Tucker, drop the knife.”

You know that voice. You recognize it. It's hard to see past the lights and the tears in your eyes. You know him.

“Can't! Can't. Can't, I have to finish. I have to finish. I have to finish.”

He's panicking. Too many things happening at once, everything out of order, everything out of control. He grips the knife tighter, looking between you and the cops in the room.

Someone else, their voice louder and less patient, shouts. “Drop the knife now!”

“Behave, behave. Behave!”

Someone else's voice, softer and somehow understanding, speaks. Though the voices are beginning to blur. “We know what your teachers did to you,” he bids. “We know how they hurt you.”

They hurt him.

He shakes his alphabet, losing it over the chaos. His frustration is palpable. Every time they speak, he gets more and more angry. “Can't do the alphabet. I have to do the alphabet. I'm supposed to do the alphabet!”

“Larry,” you speak, your voice hoarse from overuse. You catch your breath, keeping your voice level. Like you're talking to one of your students. He's scared, he's angry. He needs patience. “Larry, look at me.”

You can practically feel the concern of the agents rolling off of them. They don't want you misspeaking and making him more upset than he already is.

But he looks at you, and he seems to respond to the softness because his furrowed brows shift very slightly, his anger turns to some semblance of fear.

Although it hurts, you try to smile. It's taking so much to lift your head, even more to get the words out without the heaviness of your rising fear and exhaustion.

“They were bad teachers.” He rubs his face, but you press on, speaking slowly. “They weren't supposed to hurt you. Teachers are supposed to help. They were wrong.”

He closes his eyes. “They were wrong,” he whispers, like he's trying to convince himself. “They were wrong, wrong.”

The desperation seeps in. “Let me help you,” you whisper. “Let them help you.”

“Help me,” he mutters, his voice as quiet as yours. “Help me, help me.”

The first voice, the one you know, he speaks again, patient but still an order. “Drop the knife, and we can help you.”

“Help me,” he whispers. Slowly, he moves as he contemplates the words. “Help me.” They raise their guns in alarm, but he keeps crouching until he's finally kneeling on the floor. He grips the knife. “Help me.”

“Just breathe, Larry,” you huff. The spark of adrenaline you'd gotten from your rescue is wearing off again. You feel like you might pass out. “It'll be okay,” you mutter. “It's going to be okay, it'll be okay.”

He stares at the floor, thinking. “Okay…okay,” he drops the knife, and it clatters to the floor. “Okay.”

They make quick work of cuffing him, forcing his hands behind his back as the metal clinks against itself.

An agent immediately rushes to you, and you immediately recognize him, just as you had his voice. Agent Hotchner kneels before you, carefully removing the duct tape around your wrists and ankles. “Are you alright?” His voice is so soft and gentle. You lean into it as your eyelids become heavier and heavier.

“I think I'm gonna pass out.”

Your voice is scratchy when you speak. He looks you over, and his hand comes to press against your cheek. It's oddly intimate, though you know it's for comfort. You lean into the warmth. It's helping.

“No, you won't,” he says as he removes the tape wrapped around your middle. “I've got you.” He glances behind him, throwing his demand over his shoulder. “Get me a medic.”

He turns back to you. “Can you stand?”

You want to say yes, but you genuinely don't think so. You shake your head, “I don't know.”

“Do you want me to help you stand?”

You nod, the movement choppy. “Yeah.”

“Okay,” he says. He wraps his arm under yours, lifting you slowly, carefully, like you're fragile and precious. “Can you tell me your name?”

Your words are sticky and slow. You genuinely think you're going to pass out. “You know my name.”

“Yes, I do.” He nods, and when you glance up at him, he's giving you the gentlest smile, and you feel like everything is going to be okay. “Can you make sure I have it right?”

You hum. “Fawn Hughes.”

You're so discombobulated that you don't even give him your birth name, instead the one granted to you since you were little.

“Fawn,” he mutters. “Is that your nickname?”

You nod, slowly, and hum.

“It's nice.”

The both of you make your way as he helps you hobble out of the schoolhouse and into the evening air, past golden hour where pinks and purples coat the sky. It goes a little faster when the medic finally arrives. They help you onto a stretcher, and Agent Hotchner apologizes every time you whine at the pain.

When you're settled, he gives you a gentle nod. You grab his hand before he can turn to leave, hoping he doesn't notice the way you wince and knowing he does. “Thank you,” you mutter.

He sighs gently. “Don't thank me.”

“Thank you,” you say again, a little more insistent this time. You swallow thickly, the falling adrenaline increasing the solemnity as your exhaustion begins to crash down on you in waves. You're surprised when you feel a tear slip down the side of your face, disappearing into your hairline. You'd cried so much already, you weren't aware you still could. “He was going to kill me. If you hadn't come through, I'd be dead. So thank you.”

He looks down at you, nodding gently, the movement almost imperceptible. “You're welcome.” He glances at the medic, and then toward the ambulance waiting for you. “They'll take care of you.”

You didn't want to ask, but the need is too strong. You're so scared, and he's the only one here you truly trust. Besides the fact that he'd come to your rescue, you don't necessarily know why.

“Can you please stay?”

He thinks for a moment. Really, he should be here helping the rest of the team. But as he looks over, locking eyes with Rossi talking with Prentiss, he looks between the two of you and sends him a nod.

Agent Hotchner turns back to you and nods. “Yes.”

You want to thank him again, but you know he'll just tell you not to. As they load you into the ambulance, he holds your hand, and you lay back and answer the medics questions.

“Mom, I'm fine.”

You sigh, as your mother's worried voice rises from the other end of your phone. “You were kidnapped and tor—Shit!—tortured by a deranged serial killer. I have a right to be worried.”

“Well, you don't have to be. I'm okay. See?” You show her the bandages wrapped around your arms. “Patched up and healthy. Doctors say I should be out of here tomorrow morning.”

“We'll be there by then.”

“You don't have to come down.”

“Hush. We're coming down, and you can't stop us. I love you, and we'll see you in the morning.”

She hangs up before you can respond. You shake your head and sigh, setting your phone down. At least you know she was worried about you.

You glance up when you hear a knock at your door. “Come in.”

The door opens as Hotch steps inside. His face is gentle, though without a smile. You miss it in a way as you offer your own.

“How are you feeling?” he asks, his voice just as soft.

You take in a breath. “Okay,” you say. “Considering.” You motion to your phone on the bedside table. “Got off the phone with my mom, she's…already on her way from out of state.”

He closes the door gently behind him, sitting on the chair beside your bed. “She's worried about you.”

You nod. “Yeah, I know.” You sigh, glancing over at him. His eyes are on you. Your lip twitches, fighting a bigger smile. You clear your throat. “Doctor said I'll scar, but…the knife was so sharp and steady enough that they should scar fine… They're discharging me in the morning.”

“That's good.”

“Yeah.”

Honestly, the quiet is nice. You look at him, at the features of his face, the softness mixed with his professionalism looks good on him.

“We retrieved this from the schoolhouse,” he says, reaching into the inside pocket of his suit. He hands you a necklace, your necklace. You smile gently, reaching out for it as he places it in your palm.

You're going to have trouble wearing it for a while, but it's nice to have it back. You look up at him thankfully.

“We also found this at Tucker's house.”

He hands you a second necklace. It's identical to your own, except this one has an E…for Esther.

You swallow the rising lump in your throat. Your smile aches as you breathe through the tears threatening to well in your eyes. You look up at him, your smile trembling as you hold back tears you've already shed. “Thank you.” He nods, smiling very briefly. “I'll, uh…I'll get it back to her family.”

“I'm glad I could help.”

Another comfortable silence falls over you. You tilt your head as you look up at him, wrapping the necklace around your fingers as you think. Something's on his mind.

“What is it?” you mutter.

He contemplates for a moment before he speaks. “Can I ask you something?”

“Yeah.”

“How did you manage to talk him down so well? You seemed so…calm.”

You look down at Esther's necklace, thinking for a moment as you shrug. You speak slowly, clearing your throat as you rub the thumb of your free hand along the white bandage on your forearm.

“He told me his teachers made him do it.” You close your eyes and take a steadying breath, the events of the night before too fresh to ignore. “That agent…said his teachers hurt him, so I treated it like an abusive parent situation. He just needed someone to be on his side.”

You hate that it had to be you, but at least you understand why he did what he did. You almost hate that you understand. “He was hurt as a kid. That kid needs to know he's not alone.”

Hotch thinks about that, nodding gently. “You're a wonderful teacher.”

His words are genuine. It warms you and puts you back at ease. “Thanks.” You smile at him, his little one reflecting back at you. “I guess I'll just have to figure out what to do with myself until they let me go back to my kids.”

A tiny chuckle escapes him. It's a good sound for him. “I think the children will be fine.” You chuckle as well, the sound of his laugh a contagious thing that you can't help.

He glances over his shoulder, out of the open blinds of your room to see Rossi standing in the hall. Hotch’s smile simmers down as they make eye contact. He nods, standing to his feet with a sigh.

“I have to go,” he says, almost regretfully. “Get well soon.”

You turn your palm up as it rests in your lap, wanting to reach for him but not wanting to seem desperate. “Thank you.”

“You don't have to thank me, Ms. Hughes.”

After a moment, Hotch turns toward the door, placing his hand on the handle. “Agent Hotchner?” you call timidly, your heart thumping in your chest and your palms clammy. He pauses on his way to the door, turning back to you with a gentle look.

You clear your throat, dipping your head and trying not to seem as nervous as you feel. You almost died. If that didn't tell you how short life is, you don't know what will. Asking wouldn't hurt.

“I know you're probably busy and all, but…” you lick your bottom lip, summoning the courage to look him in the eyes as you smile nervously. “Would you like to go to dinner with me sometime?” You think for a moment, “I'll stop thanking you so much if you do.”

Since meeting this man, the smile he gives you is the largest you've seen on him. It summons your own beaming grin as he looks at you with cheeks you swear are tinted pink. He chuckles gently, taking a couple slow steps to you as he nods. “I would love to.” All the weight of your worries lift from your shoulders with a sigh. “Please, call me Aaron.”

Your cheeks warm at his gentle affection. You have to clear your throat to speak. “Okay, Aaron,” you say. “But only if you call me Fawn.”

Another tiny chuckle comes out of him. “Where did Fawn come from?”

It’s a genuine question, an innocent curiosity you're happy to sate. “I used to be obsessed with deer as a kid. The nickname stuck,” you say with a shrug. “Some people think it's stupid, though. You can call me by my–”

His interruption isn't rude. In fact, you have to fight the urge to hide your face away as he says next, “I'm looking forward to that dinner, Fawn.”

You smile. “I'll hold you to that.”

Aaron gives you one last smile, saying a soft goodbye as he leaves the room to join Rossi, who gives him the biggest smirk he's ever witnessed.

As David opens his mouth to say something, Aaron stops him immediately with a raised hand and an annoyed grin on his face. “Don't.”

David raises his hands in defense, walking silently next to Aaron to join the team.

Criminal Minds taglist: @queermaxwooo @mdanon027 @lilianhallee @hpstuff244444 @thegr8estpuff @niktwazny303 @bubbles2300

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #reader insert #female reader #fanfic #fanfiction #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner whump #whump fic

181 notes · View notes

megamindsecretlair · 2 months

Text

Foolish

*Heed warnings*

Pairing: Jatemme Manning x Bratty!Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. PWP, Filth, cursing, PIV, size kink, mentions of violence, gun use, drug use, brat reader. Reader does get turned on by violence, if this disturbs you click away. All consensual. Established relationship. Heavy use of n-word.

Summary: You are tired of being Jatemme's arm candy. Forever guarded and without 100% of his attention. As the race for Alderman heats up, you're at a fundraising event when you grow bored and decide to test Jatemme's devotion.

Word Count: 3,494k

A/N: I was a little unhinged writing this, so it was written in a bit of a daze. Please let me know what ya'll think about this one. I can't find the ask where people expressed interest so don't be mad at me if I didn't tag you! I'm sorry! I'm also not married to the moodboard, so it might change. Please, please consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers! And please put ages in bios! Or get blockt!

Taglist: @planetblaque @blowmymbackout @browngirldominion @sageispunk @harmshake @amethyst09 @ciaqui @we-outsiiiide @iv0rysoap @thecookiebratz @blackerthings

You were bored. Just because you told your man to leave you alone, didn’t mean you actually wanted him to do it. Why couldn’t niggas ever listen? What’s so hard to understand? “Leave you alone” obviously meant to give you attention?

You were at a fancy event for Jatemme’s brother, Jamal, who was running for Alderman. Snooze fest. Jatemme promised that you weren’t going to be here long. That you’d only have to sit like a doll for an hour tops, before he took you shopping and out to eat.

One hour turned to three and you were still sitting at Jamal’s table, surrounded by Jatemme’s crew while Jamal and Jatemme did business. You scanned the room for your man but didn’t find him.

You did see Jamal who was hard to miss. He was the type to walk into the room like he owned it and as if everyone owed him money for it. Jatemme was quieter, but deadlier. He instantly drew you in with his sleepy eyes, soft umber skin, and intense presence. His darkness called to something within you and never let go.

The relationship wasn’t without its up and downs. You liked to keep him on his toes. Get him to have a little fun. He always followed in Jamal’s shadow when it was Jatemme that did most of the work. Most of the planning. Most of the ideas.

You sighed, loudly once more, and turned briefly to your table to sip your nasty ass champagne. Fucking politicians. Pretending like they weren’t all into something dirty, getting over on the little guy. Namely Black folk.

Jatemme’s crew gave you funny looks. They knew better than to touch you or stare too hard. But you often caught them looking at your body and your too short dresses. They also hated your attitude. Jatemme made you swear to stop messing with them. It was hard to find good help when you were constantly flirting with them and he was constantly killing them over it.

Maybe that was Jatemme’s problem. Now that Jamal was running for Alderman, there was a public scrutiny on the family business. Jatemme doesn’t have free rein to do as he pleased now. Go wherever he wanted. Do whatever he wanted.

You sighed once more and checked your phone. You texted your best friends in your group chat, that you were bored and in desperate need of fun. Misty immediately texted you back and told you to meet them at a club not too far from there. That was exactly what you needed.

You looked over at the crew of four burly men and stood up. One of the them, Martin, stood up as well prepared to follow you. “No need, Marty, I’m just going to the little girl’s room,” you said and smiled sweetly.

Martin gave you a blank stare. He adjusted the suit jacket over his thick arms and put his hands in his pockets. “You know the rules,” he said.

You kept your sweet smile, knowing that your lips were glossed just so to catch the light overhead. That your champagne colored dress hugged your figure just right. The night was young and you were wasting it by being arm candy.

“You gonna follow me into the bathroom and hold my purse too? I don’t think Jay would like that,” you sang.

Martin looked towards the other men who looked everywhere but at him. They did not want that particular smoke. Decisions, decisions. Martin cleared his throat. “Come right back,” he said.

You smiled. “Of course. You all act like I’m not an angel,” you said. The men wisely didn’t comment. You turned and sashayed out of the room, already done with the entire night. You didn’t see your man and you didn’t care at the moment.

You waited until you left the hotel ballroom before pulling out your phone. You ordered an Uber on your way out to the front. People from the reception had spilled out into the hallway, discussing things that they didn’t want others overhearing, even by accident.

You passed by stick figure women in dark red, blue, or black dresses, pointy shoes, and stiff upper lips. You passed by men in their penguin suits, pretending to give a shit. The total wealth combined in the room could help everyone in the Ward but they held onto it like gremlins.

It made you sick.

You went outside, shivering slightly from the bite of cold. When your Uber arrived, you didn’t even look back towards the hotel. It was almost criminal how easy it was to slip your chains. Further proof that this shit was getting stale and you might be headed towards another break from Jatemme. Let him sit and stew over what he would miss before he came crawling back with gifts, kisses, and that big dick of his.

You grinned as you texted Misty that you were on your way. She texted back with plenty of emojis, some of them skulls, because she already knew that Jatemme was going to blow his lid. Let him.

It didn’t take long to reach the rougher areas of Chicago. Almost literally down the street from the glitterati, the houses weren’t as nice. The grass not so green. Fences and bars on the windows. Corner boys selling dope in baggy jeans and oversized T-shirts.

The club was set back from the street to allow for a little more parking. You got out and Misty met you outside. She hugged you with many squeals and jumping up and down. “Slipped the doom patrol?” She asked.

Misty was gorgeous, with deep, dark skin and microbraids twisted into two buns atop her head. She was a thick, curvy girl who was always quick with a laugh. She immediately ushered you inside. You turned off your phone. Make Jay sweat a little bit.

You spent the entire night dancing with your girls and getting drunk on your favorite drink. All of the songs were hitting, back to back. A mix of 2000s and 2010s music. The good shit that demanded you dance right this instant.

Plenty of dusty ass niggas tried to pull you into a dance and you pushed them all away. It cost to put hands on you. It cost to be in your presence. Ain’t nobody getting shit for free.

By the time the club called for last drinks, you were tapped out. You were not wearing the proper shoes for dancing in the club. You were shocked that you lasted as long as you did. And yeah, you missed your man. You were a little drink, a lot horny, and you just wanted to be fucked at this point and put to sleep.

You walked out, hanging onto your friends. One of them, Kiki, was the lightweight. She was dragged between two friends while she muttered something. You giggled and walked with them to their car.

Rounding the corner, there were a group of guys passing a joint between them. They wolf-whistled as you passed by. One of them sure was fine. Tall, bald, with a thick luscious beard that covered the lower half of his face. You wondered what he’d look like with your juices dripping from it.

You didn’t condone cheating. But if you were on a break…

You smiled at him as you passed, tossing your hair over your shoulders. “Gahh damn, lil mama, where you headed?” He asked.

You giggled and kept walking with your girls. It was nice to be wanted. You turned your phone on while your friends tried to get Kiki into the car and not entertaining the men by the building.

As it turned on, messages flew in with loud dings and flashes across your screen. You had…quite a lot of missed calls from Jatemme. Angry texts too. You appreciated that he never called you out of your name when he was angry, but he had plenty of other colorful ways to show his displeasure. Like calling you by your real name. Ew.

He was good and pissed that you left. That your phone was off. He promised hell, fire, and damnation when he finally caught up to you. You pictured him driving around fuming. His sleepy eyes narrowed even further. The cute way his nostrils would flare and the vein that pulsed in his neck.

You were getting wet just thinking about it. The sex would be immaculate tonight. You sighed dreamily as you went through his unhinged text messages.

“Bitch! Help? Hello?” Misty called out. You giggled and moved towards the car, pushing at Kiki’s big ass head to get into the car. Misty slammed the door in her face and sighed as if she’d been wrestling a bear.

She faced you with a small grin before her eyes darted behind you. The sexy bald headed man approached you, licking his lips and looking you up and down. He held out his hand when he was near enough.

“I had to come introduce myself,” he said.

“I appreciate that. But I’m too high-maintenance for you, boo,” you said. You flirted with the idea of being responsible for another man’s death, but he was too cute to sacrifice for your own dastardly enjoyment. There were so few, gorgeous Black men these days. The 90s had all the fine men. They were long gone now. God just wasn’t building them like that no more.

“I like a little high-maintenance,” he said.

You laughed. Said no man ever. “I’m the type to empty accounts,” you said and smiled.

“I got several. Pick one,” he said. He looked you in the eye as he said it and made you reevaluate him as a whole. He was dressed nice in dark plaid slacks, black polo, with a big watch on his wrist. Nothing too flashy, but enough that it convinced you he wasn’t another broke nigga.

You were considering his offer, wondering how you could prove that he was for real and not just trying to get into your panties. Squealing tires tore your gaze away from the man as you saw Jatemme’s truck flip a bitch into oncoming traffic and speed into the parking lot.

“Shit. You better run before my man catch you talking to me,” you said, though he probably already saw you.

“I ain’t scared,” the man said. Bless his little heart.

“Nigga, I’m trynna protect you. Leave, now,” you said, shooing him away from you and your girls. Maybe you could convince Jatemme that the man was trying to flirt with Misty. You turned behind you, but Misty held her hands up.

“I ain’t trynna die for your Black ass,” she said.

“Bitch!” You screamed, but you couldn’t stay serious for long. You grinned and shook your head. Before the truck had a chance to come to a full stop, Jatemme and crew hopped out, grabbing guns from their waistbands.

“They got guns!” Someone called out. The parking lot emptied with a speed only achieved in the hood. Too many people who knew the consequences of a stray bullet and weren’t trying to lose their lives over it. Some brave souls remained, peeking behind cars and around the building into the additional parking in the alleyway.

You couldn’t help it. Your thighs tingled. Your heart skipped a beat seeing Jatemme climb out of the driver’s seat with that slow, menacing gait of his. His eyes were glued on you as he walked towards you.

The cutie remained, like he would really stand in front of a bullet for you. You couldn’t give him any more warnings. You couldn’t save him from his own stupidity. Jatemme stopped a few feet in front of you.

His face was deceptively calm. He crossed his arms in front of him, Glock on display. His crew formed a formidable wall behind him. Martin sported a darkening bruise on his cheek and you only felt slightly bad for getting him into trouble. At least he was still alive. That was something.

You bit your lip and giggled nervously. “Hi, baby,” you said.

“Did he touch you?” Jatemme asked. His voice. God, you could listen to that voice recite the dictionary and you’d listen to every word.

You shifted your footing. “Nope. Never seen this man before,” you said.

“Aye, if you’re in trouble…” The man said. Martin, being the closest, lifted his gun into the man’s face. The gun was pressed to his temple and the man audibly gulped.

“Did he touch you?” Jatemme asked once more.

You looked him in the eye. “No.”

“Get the fuck out of here,” Jatemme said to the man. The man looked at you, but you knew better than to acknowledge his presence. You heard his friends calling for him, telling him not to be a hero, not to lose his life over some bitch.

The man backed away, keeping his eye on Martin and the shiny gun in his face. Jatemme jerked his head and you sighed, following behind him. If he was going to take you away, he was beyond angry. Maybe you actually worried him this time. That wasn’t your intention. You wanted to scare him a little, not worry him.

You waved goodbye to your friends. They shot you alarmed glances, but you told them that Jatemme never raised a hand to you. Never. He liked getting his revenge in other ways.

He opened the door for you and you climbed into the front seat. He got into the driver’s seat, peeling away from the club so fast, he probably sprayed everyone with rocks and gravel. He didn’t speak. He drove through the quiet streets, heading back towards the hotel you escaped from.

“Baby–”

Jatemme held up a hand like he didn’t want to hear it. You bit your lip. You really stepped in it now. Was it bad that you were turned on? Punishment shouldn’t be this exciting and yet, your mind raced through what he had planned. How he was going to show that he cared for you.

He pulled to the front of the hotel and tossed the valet his keys. The gun was tucked away into his jeans. Fancy events didn’t mean he had to be the one who dressed up. He did have a clean, sky blue shirt buttoned to the very top. He opened the door and let you out.

He didn’t speak while he pushed you inside, the event well and truly over by now. He didn’t speak as you rode the elevator in crushing silence and velvet flooring muffling your heels. He didn’t speak as he got out onto the twelfth floor, leading you to a suite you didn’t know he got for the night.

Once inside, you gasped. There was a bottle of wine chilling in a bucket. Low lighting made the room glow like looking through a piece of glass at twilight. “You did all this for me?” You asked.

“If you would have behaved yourself,” he said.

The suite was big enough to have a full living room with couches and armchairs, shiny mahogany coffee table, and a wide screen TV. Behind a set of double doors, there was a bed already turned down, waiting for you to climb in.

You pouted. Your man was so sweet sometimes, it made your heart ache. He didn’t always show this softer side. The side that liked snuggling up to trashy movies late at night, snacking in bed, and enjoying each other’s company.

“Do you have any idea how worried I was?” He asked. His voice was barely above a whisper. Enough to get his point across. You truly had worried him.

You turned to him with an apology on your lips but he was already invading your space. He grabbed your face and pulled you into a rough kiss, slanting his lips across yours as if he meant to stake a claim. Prove a point. You belonged to him. There was no way of getting out of it. No way of running.

You gripped onto him tightly. “I hate when you worry me like that,” he said.

“You promised,” you whined.

His lips returned to kissing you, looking for the zipper on your side to unzip you from the dress. When he couldn’t find it, he began to rip it with his bare hands. “Hey!”

“I’ll buy you more,” he said. His lips returned to kissing you. More like possessing you. He kissed you like he wanted to meld your bodies together to keep you by his side. This was what you needed. What you had been craving all night.

Your bra and panties went next, baring you completely to him. He wasn’t in it to admire your body right now though. You knew him. He had been worrying about you all night and needed to see you. Feel you. Make sure that you really were in front of him and not a figment of his imagination.

He turned you around and slapped your ass. You screamed out, jumping away from the sharp sting. He pushed you towards the deep gray couch and bent you over the back of it. It dug into your tummy but you were too turned on to notice the pain.

He unzipped his zipper and freed himself with a low groan, spreading your ass cheeks and rubbing his dick through your wet folds. Your hands feebly gripped onto the couch cushings, fingers digging into the linen.

Once his tip was good and wet, he stuffed you and you cried out from the burn of his girthy dick pushing into you. Your eyes crossed. He felt too good to contain to a single moan. You yelled out without abandon, not caring who heard you. If the neighbors complained, Jatemme would handle that too.

His strokes were bruising, punishing, near cruel as he slammed into you over and over. “You and this fucking attitude gon’ kill me,” he groaned. His fingers grabbed hold of your hips and slammed you back onto his dick. Like his strokes weren’t enough. Like you weren’t moving fast enough for him.

“Oh baby, oh fuck–I’m sorry!” You cried out.

“No, you not,” he said. No, you were not. You’d do everything all over again if he meant that his attention was back on you. That his hands were back on you. That his dick was inside you, spearing you, driving you to new pleasures each and every time.

Your feet were scrambling for purchase. He didn’t care. He fucked you like you were no more than a toy to stick his dick in. One hand reached behind you to push against his chest. His shirt slipped between you so he lifted it and brought his flesh flush with yours. Then, he grabbed your outstretched hand and pulled it behind you, resting on your back while he used the new position as a new anchor. His strokes grew deeper, more desperate.

“I catch you talking to another nigga and I’ma kill him,” Jatemme whispered harshly.

“Yes, baby,” you moaned. You’d seen him kill niggas for far less. For daring to turn their neck in your direction. He once told you that if he could blind the male population of Chicago, he would.

“Oh fuck!” You screamed out, crying through your punishing orgasm.

Jatemme grunted in satisfaction. “That’s your first one for the night. I hope you’re keeping count,” he said.

“Baby, wait…” You grunted between his deep thrusts.

“Like you made me wait tonight?” He asked. He yanked on your hair, forcing you to look back at him. You stared into his eyes while he filled you up with his cum. He came with a low, grumbling moan that shook your inner walls.

Your mouth dropped open as his dick pulsed and twitched. Your legs were jelly, kept standing by pure force by him. His will to keep you spread open for him ensured that you were a vessel for his dick. His own personal fucktoy.

He made you cum two more times while your neck was craned, looking back into his soulful eyes. You ran out of curse words to shout to the heavens. Your eyes ached from the way they rolled. Your essence mixed with his spend dripped down your legs in a slow river that tickled your legs.

He finally slipped out, giving you a bit of a break. You huffed, legs shaking, arms weak. He picked you up and carried you to the bed, spreading your legs open once more. He fisted his dick, jerking the length of it while he looked at your destroyed pussy leaking with his cum.

“Hope you didn’t plan on sleeping tonight,” he said with a small grin.

You panted with a nervous giggle. He proved throughout the rest of the night just how much he missed you and made you promise not to do it again. Well, at least not anytime soon.

The end.

There will be more! The Secret Jatemme Files

150 notes · View notes

seullovesme · 3 months

Text

slow dancing in the dark » bae irene

pairing ⥬ joohyun x reader

genre ⥬ angst (fluff + smut)

summary ⥬ on her date, joohyun comes to the realization that there's nobody that she wants other than you. hopefully, she's not too late.

warnings ⥬ dom reader, sub irene, oral (idol receiving)

WC ⥬ 5.5k

part 1 | part 2

joohyun watched junmyeon's lips move as he talked on and on about his business deals at work. she would say she was listening to him, but she knows better than to lie. to be completely honest, her mind was in a different place.

this date was way different than the first.

their first date had felt so much more easygoing and fun, but only now she could tell the romance was missing. it felt like he was only talking about himself. she adjusted her hair and her dress, feeling oddly uncomfortable. this is not the same sweet charming guy she talked over phone with, and she was starting to see through his facade.

she was thinking of inviting you to join them earlier, before she had left, but obviously she wasn't going to make you tag along on their date because she didn't want you to actually meet him until they were officially dating like she had done with her other relationships. seeking your approval was always her number one priority because you knew her more than she did herself, and you were a little protective. nevertheless, you always closely examined each guy she brought to you, making sure that they had good intentions, checking if she had misjudged their motives. you were like the shield to her warrior.

maybe that's why she felt a little more awkward, or uncomfortable. she knew your presence made her feel safer and she was starting to feel uneasy with the man, sensing that he was slowly getting cockier and more rude as time passed. you never made her feel like this, never made her feel so little or inferior. clearly, he was trying to do that by flaunting big business words and bringing up his famous clients.

she knows that if you were here, you would've set him straight and told him off for making her feel upset. she blushed as she thought about you defending her like you usually did, always being straightforward and scolding someone if they even dared to hurt her. you were always the one to protect her, so of course she would've wanted you here tonight. she also would've enjoyed the dinner more if she could hear you talk about something dumb rather than this snooze-fest of a topic.

she also thought about whether you did want to come and were just afraid to ask. she's brought you on dates before, usually when she meets up with someone she doesn't know well. though, those relationships never lasted, they always ended it because they "knew her heart belonged to someone else".. anyway, you usually did everything together so it wasn't that odd for that to be the case. you did look quite down when you left her place.

"joohyun? you okay?" startled, she was brought back into the moment when she heard him.

joohyun locked eyes with the man in front of her, "hm? yeah i'm fine, why do you ask?" she put on a forced smile, trying to pretend like she wasn't ignoring his rambles.

he inspected her face. "it didn't look like you were really listening." because she really wasn't. this entire time she had been trying to figure out why this date was just boring. she hated to admit it, but this was not what she expected the date to be like. she thought it would be like the movies where she'd come to the conclusion that she had finally found her soulmate.

she could tell that he wasn't anywhere near to having that title. she needed a way out of this, any second longer hearing about how his business clients tried to finesse him and she may go crazy. "junmyeon, you're a good person but i really can't sit here and waste your time." she sighed at his shocked face, his ego clearly damaged. "i don't think this is working out for me."

"what? wait hyun—"

"don't call me that, there's only one person who's allowed to call me that." she said sternly. his eyebrows shifted and he wore an upset expression, but she didn't care. that was the nickname you gave her, so she never allowed anyone but you to call her that. not even her parents. it ticked her that he did, she always made sure that the precious nickname was reserved for you.

"joohyun," he corrected himself, "can't you just give me a chance? for me, this date has been great and i think ending things here would be stupid! i'm really the perfect boyfriend for you." he pleaded before reaching for her hand, but she dodged it, scoffing at his childish behavior.

she begins gathering her belongings, trying so hard to not roll her eyes at him. "who are you to decide what the 'perfect boyfriend' is for me? maybe i'm not wasting your time but rather my own." she stood up, looking down on him like he was scum.

he clicked his tongue in annoyance. "should've known a girl like you was only good for her looks." he muttered under his breath and leaned back in his chair.

she's fuming. "don't call me or contact me, or else." joohyun took her bag off the chair and began to speed walk away.

"or else what? you're going to get your loyal puppy you call your best friend to come and fight me?" that made her pause and she could hear him getting closer as he followed. "she'd probably do whatever you command her to. after all, she clearly just wants to get in your pants just like the rest of us."

a slap echoes in the now silent restaurant.

everyone watched as joohyun struck junmyeon right across the face, the sound of her hyperventilating and a couple of murmurs the only audible noises to her. she was mad, livid even.

"it is not your business what y/n does, nor is it okay for you to judge her like you know anything about her. you must have some nerve to think everyone is as much of an asshole as you. i've known her for years. i've been her best friend for years, and i've seen every side of her. i'll decide what her intentions are with me." junmyeon held his hand right over the cheek she slapped, bewildered by how hard she hit and how defensive she was of you. she muttered some other insults under her breath as she collected herself.

she took a deep breath and looked around, realizing that everyone was looking at the two of them. she felt a little embarrassed, not about defending you, but because she was disturbing the innocent bystanders who were just enjoying their dinners. she gave a small bow to apologize for making a scene, and glared at the man who was still standing there not saying anything.

she needed to leave asap. she felt so angry that she wanted to cry, so upset that she got involved with someone like this. at times like this, your consolation was all she needed to make the anger dissipate. "once again, don't try to contact me." joohyun made clear before storming off.

the moment she reached home, she took off her heels, switching them with house slippers, and threw her purse onto her counter after she got her phone from inside of it. she called her only pinned contact and waited to hear your voice.

instead, she heard her own voice in the form of a custom voicemail, the same one she made for you when you both were still in high school. "hello! if you are trying to reach y/n, she can't pick up the phone probably because she's too lazy to... anyway leave a voicemail or call again later!" why was it sending her straight to voicemail? joohyun was confused because you would always wait for her call, especially if you knew she was going out with someone in case of an emergency. it wasn't like her calling you was out of the blue, it was a regular thing. she could even recall the days you stayed up all night, saying you couldn't sleep because she didn't call.

she called once more and ended up with the same outcome. at this point she was already extremely upset, mostly with what went down at the date, and she wanted your comfort. she grabbed her keys and decided she would just go to you. either way, she wanted your presence, no, she needed it. it was like an urge that she could just not brush off, she needed to talk to you. without changing into her shoes or even changing her outfit, she got into her car and drove off.

once she reached your street, the first thing she noticed was that your car wasn't in your driveway. when she typed in your passcode to your door, she also noticed your shoes were also missing. usually when she came over, she would scold you for leaving your shoes all over the place as she put them away.

but this time, there weren't any shoes for her to pick up.

where could you have possibly been at 9 pm? the fact that you were more of a homebody made it even more odd.

joohyun went to your bedroom to lay on your bed, planning on just waiting for you to return. minutes that felt like hours passed and she felt herself nodding off, your comforting scent on your pillow lulling her to sleep. she was out cold by 11, still in her red dress as she didn't bother changing because she thought you'd be back sooner. otherwise, she would've just slipped into one of your baggy tees.

but as the sun rose and shone through the window of your room, you were still nowhere to be found. she shot up in a daze, looking around to see any trace of your return. nothing. you were still missing and she was starting to get nervous.

joohyun opened her phone and tried your number again, the same outcome. she called your parents, thinking it was probably the only place you would have been overnight, but even they said they had no clue where you were and that you weren't answering their calls either. joohyun apologized for calling so early in the morning and it was probably nothing to worry about, hanging up. she didn't want to drag them in and make them worried too, ultimately deciding to search for you on her own.

she was out of ideas, she had no idea where you were and joohyun was sick to her stomach just thinking about what dangers you could be in. you could be lying dead on the floor for all she knew. she curled up in your sheets and snuggled close to your pillow again, seeking comfort in it by hugging it and smelling it, imagining it was you. praying you were safe, she took a nap despite having just woken up.

five days had passed and joohyun was still in your bed. she only ever got up to cook something to eat using what you had, which was mainly instant foods because you relied on joohyun as she loved to cook you your favorites. when she met your mom for the first time when you were younger and she learned about all of your favorite dishes, she promised that she'd make all of them for you even if you grew up and learned how to cook on your own.

great. now she was crying again, it's like she was reminiscing memories of someone dead. she hugged her knees to her chest and sobbed. her worries got the best of her and she was not only worried now but also scared. it had been almost a week and there was still no sign of you anywhere, on your socials, your dms, nowhere. she felt like she was dying not being able to do anything but wait in your home.

she already called the people she knew and they didn't know, called your favorite places to go and they couldn't recall you ever showing up, and she didn't know what to do other than wait. was she supposed to report you as a missing person? joohyun was so lost, not knowing what to do. she sniffled as her tear ducts were completely drained and a wave of sleepiness hit her like a truck. your pillow was decorated by her tear stains and she just hugged it closer, wishing you would just send her a message that you were okay.

she fell into a deep slumber as it felt like the only thing she knew how to do in this state of mind. not even the sound of the front door being opened woke her.

when you had returned, you spotted joohyun's car in your driveway almost instantly having seen it so many times. what was she doing at your place? why wasn't she out with her boyfriend?

you quietly entered through the main entrance. even if it was your house and you could've come in as loud as you wanted, you wanted to avoid startling your sensitive best friend, assuming she was somewhere in here. there, you were at it again, unconsciously caring for the girl who belonged to another. reality sucked and you felt embarrassed that you cared so much when she didn't reciprocate your feelings after all.

the house was dead silent so with soft footsteps, you walked around in search of joohyun. as you passed the hall leading to your bedroom, you noticed how the door was wide open when you remembered shutting it when you left. for a second, you thought about the possibility that she had brought him to your house, but she knew you rarely let people into your house, let alone a total stranger.

you peered through the open door and saw a joohyun sized lump in your bedsheets with one of your pillows missing. silently, you fought the urge to just jump on top of her and throw away the five days of your friend's "therapy sessions" (you just cried on their couch and explained everything in incoherent words). you were supposed to be working on moving on, but seeing her again made it feel impossible.

you approached her as quietly as possible as she was quite the light sleeper, sitting on the empty space beside her. you gently peeled the blanket from her face, praying you won't be stepping over any new boundaries. she was just as pretty as you thought she was, but her eyes were puffy and a little red and there were faint tear streaks on her cheeks. you found your missing pillow, but it was stained with tears as well. not only that, but joohyun was still wearing that red dress she looked so beautiful in. that was what she was wearing when you last saw her though..?

before you put the puzzle pieces together, joohyun began stir awake. she felt the bed had sunken into and turned around to see you sitting there with a confused look. she stared at you blankly for a moment. "hyun?" it took a second for her to process that you were finally home and when she did, she launched herself at you, wrapping her arms tightly around your torso. you were taken aback by the force of her tight embrace, but you melted in her arms, rubbing her back as she started to cry into your shirt.

"you're back.." she mumbled into the fabric, inhaling your natural scent mixed with the scent of fresh laundry.

in a sudden burst, she put both her hands on your chest and shoved you back, forcing you to get up off the bed and stand as her breathing got heavier. her sweet expression quickly switches to an angry one and you are so confused by the change in her demeanor. you try to get closer to her given the distance she made, but she moves farther away on your bed.

shit, you should've known you were getting too cozy when she's already taken. you've gone and made her uncomfortable. nice one, dummy.

"hyun, i'm.. i'm s–"

"how could you..?" joohyun asked, her voice quivering as her eyes brim with tears. you felt a tightening sensation in your chest at the sight of the distressed girl. and to even think that you had hurt her when you worked so hard to protect her heart from all pain.

"hyun, i'm sorry. i–i truly didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, i was just thinking about myself."

she furrowed her brows. "what?"

"there's obviously a line and i didn't mean to overstep it, nor did i mean to disrespect junmyeon. i was just so used to our usual skin-ship that i wasn't thinking about it" once you say that, joohyun begins seething.

"are you stupid?! that's not the problem!" she blows up. "the problem here is that you decided to leave out of nowhere without even calling me or messaging me once! i called everyone, even your parents!! and i felt so hopeless not knowing what to do."

she had it wrong, you didn't think it was going to be this hard on her. you just wanted to fix yourself and heal your broken heart. "hyun, i wasn't–"

"i was here panicking when you were probably frolicking around, partying with other people, enjoying yourself. you just disappeared and i was worried.. i was so worried." the tears spill over, and she's now a crying mess. the gears in your head went into overdrive trying to understand her. she thought you were out having a blast, being a party animal? you..?

now you're upset. "me? 'frolicking around'? what, you think i was out clubbing or going to bars, doing something fun?" you asked with a mad tone.

the switch in your vocal tone caught her off guard."yes.."

you scoff. "seriously? that's not even close to what i was doing, but okay, whatever you want to believe joohyun." you ran your hand through your hair, sighing deeply, trying not to get mad with the way she accused you of something stupid. she was clearly not okay and you weren't going to get upset at her. "i'm going to leave, call me when you want to talk."

she fist tightened, her nails digging into her palms. "of course you are, you're good at leaving." she felt a surge of emotion through her veins. anger, sadness, she felt it all when you said that and she gave up. you bit your lip, feeling like you were about to boil over. she read into your expression of disbelief, "you know how hurt i was?"

"you were hurt?!" you yelled. joohyun flinched at your volume, which you noticed, but you couldn't just bottle this up forever and act like you were okay just to protect her. "what about me? i was hurt too when you made me sit through that date, watching you flirt and laugh with some man you met a few days ago. i was hurt when i watched you talk to him over the phone when we were supposed to be hanging out. i was hurt that someone you spent so little time with managed to steal you away from me so easily, even though i've been by your side for years."

you quickly tried to wipe the streams coming from your eyes, but they just kept pouring. joohyun sat there so lost, perplexed by your shouts.

"what.. what are you–"

"for years, i've been in love with you, joohyun."

joohyun's eyes widen and her arm that was holding her up gave out for a split second. her puzzled face made you want to laugh in pain. you spun around and made your way out of the room, desperate to get out as quickly as possible.

you snatched your keys off your kitchen table and stuffed them into your pocket, slipping on your favorite pair of shoes that you left randomly placed at the front door.

before you could even put on the first one, joohyun slammed you into the wall, pinning you against it. if it were any normal day, you would have let her do her thing and just stood there flustered, but you were over it. "joohyun, move." you command, trying to gently pry her off of you.

"no!" she cried, doing her best to prevent you from slipping out of her grip. she was really afraid that you were going to leave her this time.

"joohyun."

"so stupid.." she mumbles and you furrow your eyebrows. soon, you were going to get wrinkles.

"me, stupid?"

"you are! you really think i want that bumbling idiot?" she growled.

"well, yes? i saw how bright your eyes sparkled when you talked to him. you love him, i can tell." you remembered how stoked she was after the first date, spending her days on her phone, talking to him.

obviously, that's not how she recalls it. "how are you going to tell how i feel?"

"i'm not stupid joohyun."

"well maybe you are because i'm in love with you too."

you both just gaze into each other's eyes, feeling the tension lingering in the air. your eyes slowly shifted down to her lips that were slightly apart, listening to her breathing pick up its pace. you wanted to kiss her so badly, her plump lips so tempting to taste. seeing that you weren't going to make the first move, joohyun placed both of her hands on your cheeks and inched forward, capturing your lips into a kiss.

the leisurely kiss slowly turned into a heated make out. the sounds of your wet kisses were deafening, the entire place dead silent otherwise. she was starting to pin you more by leaning her body onto yours, pressing you completely into the wall as her hands snaked around your neck. it was making you dizzy, feeling her body on yours. you tilted your head and bit her lip, allowing you to slip your tongue in to explore her mouth. joohyun let out a small moan in return, surprising you.

you broke the kiss, your lungs crying for air as you try to figure out if this was going the way you hoped it was. scared she did something wrong, joohyun looked down and frowned. you put a hand on her chin, lifting her head up so you could continue. "joohyun. do you really want this?" she nods eagerly, her excitement showing through how quick she responded. "i need you to say it out loud."

"yes, please, i want this." she pleaded. without wasting a second, you latched onto her neck, sucking and biting, leaving purple marks behind. she tried not to moan in fear of making you stop again, which she did not want at all. the pleasure was overwhelming for her, overwhelmingly good at least. you picked her up and she yelped as she wrapped her legs around your waist, your hands supporting her underneath her thighs. while you carried her to your room, she pushed back your hair and pressed kisses on a sensitive spot under your ear.

you opened your door with your foot and went straight to the bed, laying her down on her back. "turn over." she listens to you and flips onto her stomach. you go for the zipper of the dress and slowly pull it down, revealing her silky skin and pink laced bra. you hum in approval of her choice on undergarments, enjoying the view from behind. she whines, protesting your speed, urging you to hurry up.

she brings her hand to yours on her back to take over, but you slap it away. "don't rush me, joohyun." the authority in your voice makes her quiver, the heat between her legs intensifying. "i'll make sure you know how to be patient by the time we finish here." you say with smirk, loving how you can affect her so easily as she lets out a breathy sigh.

once the metal reached the end of the zipper, you placed your palm on the lower part of her back, making her flinch at the contact. you pulled down the sleeves of the dress and undressed her, revealing her pink lingerie set which amuses you. you toss the dress to a corner, careful not to ruin it as it was a cherished gift of yours. your eyes traced her fame, admiring how gorgeous her body was in pink.

"you wore this to your date with that douche? you got all prettied up for him?" you ask, a little mad just thinking about her wearing such a lewd thing for someone other than you. she nodded and pushed herself up with her elbows, shifting to face you, a little shy that you were seeing her in this. she puts her arms over her chest and groin. you grab her arms firmly and move them out of the way, allowing you to see her completely. "funny you think he deserved any of this."

you let go of her arms and grope her right breast, to which she lets out a squeak. "this," you give her a squeeze, making her moan out. "is mine. understood?" she just nods again, eyes closed as she focuses on the works of your hand. you move your hand around to her back and feel for the hook of her bra, undoing it with one hand. you tugged it off, the sight of a topless joohyun absolutely one of your favorites.

you forced her back until she was laid down flat, latching your lips around her perky nipple. the new sensation made her throw her head back, her nipples very sensitive. she felt your teeth gently bite on her nub and soothe it with a swipe of your tongue. at some point, she stopped caring about being loud or not, it was very obviously going to be impossible to be quiet when you knew how to pleasure her so well.

your lips left her chest and slowly worked its way down to her stomach, leaving a trail of kisses every inch of the way. you looked through your eyelashes and saw that she was just watching you so intensely, clearly waiting for you to relieve the ache that was only growing the farther down you went. just to tease a little more, you started to go the opposite way of where she wanted you to go.

joohyun whined for the nth time and pushed your shoulders back until you were face to face with her clothed pussy. there was already a wet spot forming on her underwear, the smell of her arousal intoxicating. with your pointer finger, you press onto the wet patch. her whole body seems to react as she tenses up, crying out, and you snicker at how sensitive her body was.

"stop teasing me, please." she begged.

"fine." you began rubbing her heated cunt through the fabric, and all the tension left her body. her small whimpers fueled you to get straight to the main course. you take her panties and rip them, tearing them off of her so you could have full access to her sopping pussy.

"hey!" she sits up halfway using her elbows, "do you know how much this set was?!" it was like steam was coming out of her ears. joohyun always valued everything and took care of her stuff with care so that they would last longer. you just laugh and look at her, the fact that you didn't give a shit was written all over your face.

you hold up her torn underwear with one finger, "baby. i can buy you as many as you want, but you are not keeping this." you take the pink laced set and tossed it to the side. "as if i would let you wear this lingerie after you bought it with the intention of having someone else take it off of you." you muttered.

your eyes take in the sight of her fully nude with her legs spread open, her wetness glistening in the light. once again, she felt shy under your gaze and forgot that she was even mad in the first place. she tried to close her legs, but you palmed her crotch, your hand getting covered in her juices. the pressure you apply makes her moan as she slowly begins moving her hips, grinding against your hand.

you let her do her own thing for a moment, taking the chance to get impossibly closer. you remove your hand and replace it with your tongue, giving small kitten licks to her bundle of nerves, each paired with a small whine. joohyun gasped as you sucked her clit and swirled your tongue around it.

"fuck! h-haah, why are you so good at this.." she asked between breathy sighs. you let go of her nub with a small pop before dragging your tongue down her slit. she was soaked. you slurped up her wet, slick juices and dipped your tongue into her, making her emit sounds at a pitch you didn't even know she could reach. you pick her thighs up and put them on your shoulders. as you devour her, you circled her clit with your thumb.

her mind is foggy, the unholy thoughts of having you ravish her all day, every day being the only thing she can think about. no one knew how to treat her like you do, how to pleasure her, how to make her feel good. comparing you to her past relationships and few one-night stands, there was really no one better than you.

you pausing made her perk up, unhappy with the loss of contact. "no one better than me, hm?" your teasing smirk infuriated her, realizing that she let her last thought slip out. she put her hand on your head and pushed you back down.

"shut up, i didn't say that." she lied.

you took it as a challenge, a taunt. "oh really? so you need me to prove that there will never be anyone to please you like i do? consider it done, bae joohyun." you stopped talking and dove in, clamping your lips around her engorged bud. without warning, you plunged two fingers into her sopping pussy. she screamed out in surprise by the complete 180, going from soft and gentle to rough in the blink of an eye. the mix of your fingers thrusting in and out of her with the biting and licking of her clit brought her closer to her climax within minutes.

"fuck-!!" she put both of her hands onto your head, raising her hips trying to press herself harder against your face. "gonna cum, i'm gonna cum!" she warns, but her higher pitched tone with her antsy movements gave it away already. you sped up and curled your fingers into the spongy flesh. you pressing onto her g-spot sent her over the edge, her back arching as she gasped.

she went silent before her body started shaking violently, her soft, warm thighs crushing your skull in order to keep you in place and she came. you removed your fingers, but continued to lap up her gushing juices, making sure not to let a single drop go to waste. coming back down from cloud 9, she loosened her hold on your head, scared she hurt you because she needed an outlet for the pleasure.

all worry was wiped clean as you came upon with the biggest smile on your face, looking like a kid on a sugar rush. around your mouth and on your chin were the remnants of her orgasm, the thin coat shining in the light. she hummed, "i think you got a little something on your face." she joked, pointing to you. you poke your tongue and cleaned your lips, wiping the spots you couldn't reach with the back of your hands.

"all gone?" you ask. she shakes her head no and leans in, licking a strip on your face.

"there, all gone." she says innocently as she bats her eyelashes at you. she was so close that you could feel her breath on your face. she was so clearly staring right at your lips so you close the gap, smashing your lips into hers, allowing your lust and love take over. when you broke it to prevent yourself from suffocating, you saw how she's surprised by your energy. "what?"

"you thought i was done with you, hyun? i still have years of daydreams and fantasies that i need to fulfill. unless you're too tired?"

her surprised face transitioned to a snarky one, her energy matching yours now. "i'm never too tired to make up for lost time." she shoots back before pouncing onto you like a hungry fox hunting its prey.

the whole night was dedicated to you showing joohyun just how much you needed her, wanted her, and she got your message. she felt it in every touch and in every whisper.

you finally got the chance to express your deep and unwavering love for her. no more slow dancing in the dark.

#seullovesme » posted!#irene x reader #joohyun x reader #bae joohyun x reader #red velvet x reader #red velvet #bae irene #irene bae #irene smut #irene imagines #red velvet irene #bae joohyun #irene fic #red velvet fic

188 notes · View notes

babybluebex · 2 years

Note

*claps hands together* okay SO. listen. even though i know some people dont like it, i am kind of a sucker for “tomboy character gets femmed up and male protagonist falls for them hard” cliche, and imagining that with a fem!reader (or just a kinda fem enby like myself) who’s one of eddies childhood friends SENDS me 😭 ofc no pressure!! your writing is wonderful as always and take all the time you need 🥰

𝐟𝐨𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐢𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you’re not exactly a girly-girl, but, after corroded coffin is booked to play prom, you decide to surprise your best friend with a dress and a confession. 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: eddie munson (stranger things) x fem!reader 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: tomboy!reader, a LOT of fluff, brief blood mention 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: eek thanks for sending in this request! i had such a good time writing it!

You didn’t usually give much thought to dances or school functions, or really school at all. All of the events, be it homecoming or the Snowflake Ball or that weird assembly about saying no to drugs, were a complete snooze fest. Even prom irked you. Who would actually want to hang around the gymnasium and drink flat punch for hours and listen to whatever crappy band was hired out for the night? The concept of it never struck any flame inside you, so you never cared about it.

Until this prom. Until Corroded Coffin.

“How the fuck,” you started, tossing a crumb at Eddie as he strutted proudly around the lunch table. “Did you manage to get Higgins to hire your sorry-ass band to play prom?”

“I can be persuasive!” Eddie returned quickly, dodging your crumb with a smile. “Anyway, I also told him that it would motivate me in my schoolwork.”

“How would that…” you began with a roll of your eyes. “Never mind, I don’t wanna know how you smooth-talked that away. So, you’ve got your Saturday booked up. What happened to renting Halloween, like we talked about?”

“We can still do that,” Eddie told you quickly. “Prom officially ends at 11, then I’ve got the rest of the night for my favorite girl.”

Your heart swept up into your throat as he passed behind you, his hand lightly trailing your shoulder. You and Eddie had been through thick and thin since meeting, way back in preschool, and he loved you like you were his sister. You, however, had something festering in your heart.

It had happened back years ago, despite the awful buzzed hairstyle that he had rocked all through junior high. Somewhere between seventh and eighth grade, you had developed a huge crush on your best friend, one that had consumed every second of every day. And now, your last year of high school (and Eddie’s third senior year), your crush had managed to dull down to less all-consuming and more… Loving.

You didn’t have a crush on your best friend, you loved him. And soon you would leave him for college. You worried if your friendship would survive the distance, but, the one time you had talked to Eddie about it, he had assured you that he would write and visit every chance he got. But, as the time drew nearer and nearer, it felt less likely to happen. He would get a job, you would move, and you’d never have time for each other, and, eventually, he would only be that guy you used to know.

Spending time with Eddie mattered to you, and you were only slightly hurt that Eddie would drop your plans to perform at the stupid fucking prom. He had never gone to prom, nor had you ever heard him express any interest in going, and you groaned at him. “Since when do you even wanna go to prom?” you asked.

“Since I decided that this is my last chance to,” Eddie said, and he finally settled down in his chair at the head of the lunch table. “I’m fuckin’ done with Hawkins High, and I’m gonna graduate and leave this place in my dust. I don’t have anything to lose. Anyway, it’s a gig. I’ll get paid. We can rent Halloween and buy some snacks. Sounds like a good deal to me.”

You crossed your arms over your chest. “I’m going,” you told him.

“Going where?” Eddie asked, and you coughed out a laugh.

“To prom, dork,” you returned. “I wanna see you guys perform.”

“Really?” Eddie asked with a furrow of his eyebrows. “Prom isn’t my scene, but it’s really not your scene. Don’t torture yourself just ‘cause you wanna spend time with little ole me.”

“What do you mean it’s ‘not my scene’?” you asked, and you stole a carrot off of Dustin’s lunch tray. The freshman gasped at you, and you jokingly mocked his gasp before giving him an exaggerated pout. “Prom can be my scene.”

“You just don’t…” Eddie started. “Getting all dressed up and everything, I know you hate that.”

“You’re right,” you sighed, slumping back in your chair. “But you never know, I might surprise you and show up. It’s just a Corroded Coffin gig, right?”

“We’re gonna be playing dumb covers,” Eddie grumbled. “We were given a very specific list of dos and don’ts. No heavy metal, nothing vulgar—”

“So, you’re a cover band for the night,” you giggled, and Eddie scrunched up his face in fake-annoyance before he tossed a pretzel in your direction. It hit your cheek and fell down into your lap, and you grinned as you plucked it up and ate it. “I know how you feel about musical integrity, Eds.”

“Yeah, well, integrity goes out the window when you get paid,” Dustin chuckled, and Eddie flashed him a dirty look. “Well, doesn’t it?”

“Whatever,” Eddie said. “Fuck you guys. If you wanna show up to prom, do it. See if I care.”

“I will,” you told him, and you stuck your tongue out at Eddie at the same time that he stuck his out at you. “And I’ll watch you care so much.”

Prom, unluckily for you, was only 3 days out. You hated the idea of dressing up for it, just as Eddie had predicted you would. You hated the whole glitz and glamour thing, and the thought of intentionally getting all dolled up with hair and makeup and some big dress and heels made you feel sick. But, you considered, it was for Eddie. You would do a lot for him, this included.

The problem came with the dress. Dresses were scarce in your closet, let alone something really nice, and you knew that no stores would have anything like what you wanted that was even remotely in your price range on such a short notice.

On the night, just hours short of prom, you chewed your lip as you held the phone to your chest, debating if you truly wanted to do this, and you rolled your eyes as you got over yourself. It was Eddie— you could show up in a potato sack and he’d still call you pretty.

You quickly dialed Mike Wheeler’s number, rotating the dial as you tried to remember it. You had only ever called him once before, getting on his ass for being late to Hellfire last semester, but it wasn’t the younger Wheeler that you wanted to talk to.

His mom answered the phone. “Hi, Mrs. Karen,” you said, hoping to sound sweet and charming. “Is Nancy around? I have a question for her.”

“Why’re you calling me?” Nancy asked as the phone was passed to her, and you sighed.

“You’re the only girl I remotely know,” you started. “And I need a dress.”

“A dress?” Nancy repeated. “Why? Are you going to prom tonight? Don’t you have a prom dress?”

“Well, no,” you started, curling the phone cord anxiously around your finger. “I, umm, wasn’t really planning on going to prom. But now I am, and, like I said, you’re, like, the only girl I even sorta halfway know. We were in Kaminsky’s class together sophomore year, and Mike’s in Hellfire, and I just… I need a dress. Anything! It could be a church dress, sundress, it could be anything. I just need help.”

“Right,” Nancy said slowly. “Umm… Come over, I guess. I’ll see what I can do for you.”

You had never even been over to Wheeler’s house before, and going to see specifically Nancy Wheeler felt odd. You especially felt weird walking into her pink-topia bedroom, wearing your ripped jeans and dirty Converse and flannel shirt that used to be Eddie’s but you had stolen off of him. To top it all off, of course, her only dress options were pink and/or glittery. But you weren’t going to be a choosing beggar, and you decided on one that was the least egregious. A strapless burst of light pink tulle that fell down to your calves hugged your frame, and you examined yourself from every angle in Nancy’s little white wicker mirror.

“How is that?” Nancy asked, stepping behind you into the reflection.

“I feel like a princess,” you mumbled, turning again to look at your back.

“Is that good or bad?” Nancy asked, and you shrugged.

“It’s…” you started. The dress showed off your dirty shoes and scrunched socks, but you sorta liked the way it looked. You felt pretty. “I think it's good.”

“And if you let your hair down…” Nancy started softly, reaching out and shaking your hair out of the perpetual ponytail that it was in. Your hair was dented from the ponytail holder as it fell down, and you took a deep breath. “Maybe curled it… A little makeup… Is Eddie your date?”

“No,” you scoffed, but you looked away from the mirror all the same. “No, his band is performing, and I was gonna surprise him.”

Nancy suddenly got a smile on her face, like she knew something or understood you, and she said, “You’re trying to look nice for Eddie.”

“No, I’m not!” you said. “I… I don’t know. I just wanna… Look like I’m going to prom, I guess. It’ll shake him up, seeing me in a dress, it’s gonna be funny.”

“Honey,” Nancy said gently. “It’s okay to wanna look nice for the guy you like. I mean, any girl would want that.”

“I don’t like Eddie—” you tried to say, but Nancy shook her head, her permed curls bouncing around her face.

“Then why do you wanna look so nice?” Nancy asked. “You could’ve showed up in your jeans.”

You frowned, examining the dress once more, and you sighed. “Okay, fine,” you mumbled. “I just… I like Eddie, I really like him, and I just… Maybe I do wanna look nice for him, whatever. Don’t judge me.”

Nancy looked at your reflection for a few more quiet moments, and she finally said, “You can keep that dress. I never wear it.”

The band was already performing by the time you showed up. Given, you had shown up a little late, but you were sure that Eddie wouldn’t mind. You were sure that, even if you hadn’t showed up at all, he wouldn’t have minded.

That way, you would’ve missed seeing him in that dumb fucking suit.

Suit was not exactly what it was. It was a tuxedo, black, with a white shirt that had some frilly bullshit on the chest. You could tell that Eddie was despising the black bowtie around his neck and the cumberbund around his middle, and you also knew for a fact that he was hating every second of having his hair pulled back into a ponytail. You almost wanted to laugh at him. Your hand came up to cover your mouth to hide your laughter, as if he could see you from across the gym.

Eddie was standing very still as he played his guitar, some gentle-paced love song that couples all around the gym were slow dancing to. You had seen him play guitar before, and you knew that he usually played with all of the energy in his body, headbanging and jumping around. You had wiped blood off of his face before after he had rammed his head into the headstock of his guitar, even. He looked miserable, and you frowned. Poor Eddie.

You weaved through the dancing couples to make it up to the small stage, and Eddie’s dark eyes found you in an instant. You waved at him carefully, not wanting to draw his attention away from the song for too long, but that failed in an instant. He had already missed a cord and, as his hands floundered to get back on track, he struck a sour note.

You saw him mutter something that looked like “Fuck it”, and he pulled his guitar up and over his head before he said something in Jeff’s ear. Then, he jumped down from the stage and, smugly adjusting his bowtie, swaggered up to you.

“Alright, cut that shit out,” you laughed as he approached you. “I can tell you’re not having a good time.”

“Jesus Christ, am I that easy to figure out?” Eddie asked, dropping his hand from his tie. “I hate this fucking monkey suit.”

“You look like the kid from Back To The Future,” you giggled. “That tux is hideous, Eds.”

“Kinda felt like him too,” Eddie mumbled. “My hands stopped playing when I saw you. Holy shit, by the way! You look—”

“Hideous?” you repeated with a shrug. “I know.”

“Beautiful,” Eddie said breathlessly. His eyes were canvassing your whole body, from your curled hair to your pink-painted lips to your dress, and even down to your scuffed Converse and scrunched-up socks. “I didn’t know you had this in you.”

“Shut up,” you laughed, reaching out and punching Eddie’s shoulder. “If I look beautiful, then you’re downright handsome.”

“I’ll take it,” Eddie chuckled lightly, and the smile dropped off of his face. “You wanna… You wanna dance?”

“Seriously?” you asked. “Do you really wanna dance?”

“Kinda,” Eddie shrugged, and your heart jumped in your chest. “But not if you don’t want to.”

“Oh,” you said softly. “Well… Yeah. Sure.”

You watched Eddie swallow thickly as he took a step towards you, and your skin rippled as he put his hands on your waist. “Have you ever slow danced before?” you asked, and Eddie shook his head.

“No,” he said. He seemed nervous, and you were taken aback. Eddie, your high-strung best friend, never afraid and always loud, was nervous. Was he nervous to dance with you? Or was he really that insecure about the way he was dressed?

“You do look really nice,” you mumbled. “Really… Seriously handsome.”

“Thanks,” Eddie said as you circled your arms around his neck. “Umm, are my hands okay here?”

“Yeah,” you told him. After a moment of consideration, you added, “They can go lower, on my hips, if you want.”

“No,” Eddie said. “I like holding you here.”

You nodded, trying not to think about his words too hard. Sure, you had hugged Eddie before, loads of times, and he always threw his gangly arms around you and squeezed hard, and he never seemed anxious about it. Your heart was racing inside your chest as you moved even closer to Eddie and rested your chin on his shoulder, letting your cheek brush his neck. Your body fit against his like the most perfect puzzle piece, and you sighed lightly.

It was now or never. “Eds?” you whispered. His grip tightened on your waist at the gentle nickname, and you started to add, “I—”

Eddie cut you off, though, in the best way he could have. He turned his head and swiftly pressed his lips to yours, lingering for just a moment before pulling away, all too soon for your liking. “Sorry,” he said quickly. “I, umm… I’ve had the biggest crush on you for a long time. A-And you’re about to leave for college, and you look so fucking beautiful— not that you don’t look beautiful every day, I actually sorta prefer your jeans and everything— and I just, I can’t hold it back any more. I love you.”

“Eddie,” you sighed heavily, your voice trembling. “I mean… I don’t know what to say to you.”

“Tell me you love me,” Eddie whispered, and he pushed a lock of your hair behind your ear. “Tell me I didn’t just fuck everything up.”

You looked at him, entranced by his wide, dark eyes, and you leaned back in, pressing your lips to his again. His hands fluttered on your waist for a moment before he dragged you right up against him, his palms pressing flat to your back, and his lips moved gently against yours as he kissed you. Eddie was kissing you; it was your dream come true.

As you broke the kiss, you could feel Eddie’s heartbeat flush against your chest, and you giggled softly, looking down at your swaying feet. “I love you, you dork,” you told him.

“You still down for Halloween later?” Eddie asked hopefully, his eyebrows raising. “Watching a scary movie with your boyfriend?”

“Yes,” you told him with a smile. “Yes, I am so down for that. As long as you let me hide during the scary parts.”

“I’ll kiss it better,” Eddie said. “How does that sound?”

“Perfect.”

#bex's requests #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x reader fluff #joseph quinn #eddie munson fanfic #my writing

1K notes · View notes

anzulvr · 11 months

Note

Imagine Karma having a bad day and a smart af reader who can see through him instantly catches on and tries to do little things to make him feel better but doesn't do anything direct bc they know that Karma isn't so great with admitting he's upset and he eventually opens up and cuddles up to them and omGHW RKSIAJWWNAOQ

KARMA X READER WHO READS HIM LIKE AN OPEN BOOK

This took like 2 weeks I’m sorry there’s so many requests 😭

Karma has never been the best at hiding how he feels, it never even seems like he tries to as he’s very open and honest about what he thinks.

No one can really read him except for you.

He doesn’t know wether to think of that as a good thing or not. You understand him but is having someone like that something he wants?

He sits down next to you in the morning for first period. He came late and he has this grouchy look on his face, you ask him what’s wrong.

he brushes you off “It’s nothing, don’t worry about it.”

It was obviously something still you didn’t want to be pushy.

The rest of the day you could tell something was weighing on his mind so you made it your life’s (or days) mission to make him feel better.

You spent the rest of the day trying to cheer him up

passing him notes during class, (Korosensei sees you but doesn’t stop you from doing it when he sees Karma smiling while reading them)

Messing with him during your sparring session

“[Name] you sure you want to fight me? I’m not going easy on you.” (He totally will)

“You don’t have too! I’ve been practicing too.”

mid way the fight you realize you overestimated yourself, even with him letting you hit him it was somehow hurting you more.

“[Name] I’ve seen cats that hit harder than yo— PffttHAHAHA WHY DOES YOU TICKLING ME HURT MORE??”

you realize there was no beating him through sheer will but you did know he was ticklish and that’s a big enough weakness to exploit.

You were also just being extra corny all day just for the sake of it

“This (love) song reminds me of you.”

“[name] that’s so chessy it’s gross.” he says trying to hide the smile creeping up his face

You went to his house to hang out for a while

“Karma, let’s watch [insert really overrated action move]!”

“I thought you said you didn’t want to last time.”

“You like it right? I want to watch something you like.”

His heart exploded right then and there. How could someone be so sweet without realizing it

mid way through the movie his spirits seemed raised so you ask.

“Karma do you mind me asking why you were upset today?”

“t’s really nothing I’m surprised you could even tell. No one else said anything.”

“I just pay extra attention to you, they didn’t say anything cause you have resting bitch face”

“Obsessed much?”

“As if! seriously though, what happened?” You had to push further for him to admit anything actually happened

“I just got into a fight with some stupid guy”

“Really? That’s it? You get into fights like everyday.”

“It’s a long story. Him and his friends were talking about you and it really set me off because I’d already had a shitty morning— my parents called to tell me they already made plans to travel to New York after they told me they’d stay here for atleast a month?”

“Oh wow- I’m sorry Karma, I know they promised and everything.”

“Yeah. Uhm sorry— I didn’t mean to unload that much.”

(Sorry??? He says sorry??)

“Huh? You don’t have to apologize, I want to know these things cause I care.”

“Oh. Thanks [name], you’re the only person I’d ever tell these things too.”

“Whys that?”

“I trust you too much, who knows when you’ll blackmail me with this.”

“Blackmail is your thing not mine!”

“Mhm, that’s what a blackmailer would say. Anyways let’s finish the movie the best part is coming up!”

“I was hoping you forgot we were watching that snooze fest.”

“In what world is [super mega overrated action movie] a snooze fest??“

“Do you hear yourself right now..?”

“You don’t see me complaining when you make me watch those romance dramas you like.”

“What are you saying, you never shut up about how unrealistic the scenes are.”

“Cause they ARE— in what world do guys get in car crashes, stay in mid air for 5 minutes and look good while doing it??”

“…in what world does an antihero ninja go around fighting people to save humanity.”

“To be fair we’re trying to kill an alien octopus to save the world from exploding these days.”

“Yeah.. if you asked me a year ago which of these events were most likely to happen I wouldn’t have guessed alien octopus world explosion.”

“Right, to be honest the car accident in true beauty seems fairly realistic in comparis- [Name] LOOK THATS THE SCENE!”

in the end you fell asleep on the floor together when you woke up he complained about how you slept though it. (He fell asleep 5 minutes after you.)

#ansatsu kyoushitsu #karma akabane #akabane karma x reader #assassination classroom x reader #karma akabane headcannons #karma akabane x reader #karma x reader #assasination classroom #assassination classroom #assclass

312 notes · View notes

houseforwhores · 2 years

Text

7 minutes in heaven | stu macher x fem!reader

a/n: a little feedback would be appreciated! please feel free to comment!

part 2

scream masterlist

warnings : drinking, smut, p in v, light fingering, grinding, language, slight dub-con elements 18+ mentions of being a prude, very slight degradation, infidelity (?) breeding kink (?) unprotected sex.

word count: 3852

by clicking forward you agree that you are of age, and have read the warnings, i am not responsible for your media consumption!

randy and stu had planned a get together for the group. that consisting of themselves, billy, tatum, sidney, and of course you. it wasn't supposed to be anything crazy just a couple of beers and flicks. but as the alcohol coursed it's way through the groups systems- everyone began growing restless.

"c'mon man, i'm fucking bored. let's jazz up this snooze fest," stu said throwing his hand in the air annoyed at how things were currently going, everything was quiet and a bit awkward, the group of friends gawked around at the walls and decor as the ending credits to nightmare on elm street played on the tv.

"i got an idea," randy quipped before taking a fairly large swig of beer, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

"that's what i'm talking about lay it on me freak," stu said clapping his hands, before rubbing them together

"what about 7 minutes in heaven," randy said grinning as he shrugged, a cheeky look upon his face.

"the only ones single here are you and y/n dill weed," tatum said as she glared at randy with a disapproving look.

"i mean as long as everyone consents it could be some good fun," randy said raising his hands beside his shoulders as he shrugged.

"yeah i'm game," stu said with a sardonic grin etched on his face.

"i don't know guys..." sidney said sheepishly, biting at her lip. "what if someone gets jealous? is this really smart?"

"sid, we're all friends here loosen up," billy said nudging her teasingly. "plus no one would go too far. like randy said, as long as everyone consents."

"yeah, right. plus no one's gonna get down and dirty with the person they're dating in the other room. we'll keep it tv-14," randy stated placing his empty beer on the table.

"y/n what do you think?" tatum asked as she crossed her arms, putting you in the limelight, something you always dreaded.

"oh well, uh. i don't care really, i'm down if you and sid are," you said shrugging, you didn't want to seem so excited to feel up your friends' boyfriends while locked in a closet, but you also didn't want to be a prude. sidney and tatum exchanged looks before glancing at their grinning boyfriends. sid nodded her head shyly.

"what the hell i guess. let's play," tatum said before finishing her drink in hand.

"how are we gonna do this," billy asked, looking in randy's direction.

"well we'll spin the bottle, the person who spun, and the person it lands on get locked in the closet for 7 minutes. quite simple," randy said with a sly grin.

"sounds easy," sidney said as everyone began to shuffle around to even out the angles of which the bottle would spin. you were sitting between tatum and randy, across from sidney, billy, and stu.

"whose going first?" you asked, silently hoping it wasn't you, you weren't exactly ready to be shoved into a dark closet with one of your dear friends.

"i'll do it. just know, what happens in the closet, stays in the closet," randy said, practically pouncing at the chance to get one of you guys alone. he eagerly spun the bottle, you all eyed it in anticipation as it began to slow down, your heart rate started to pick up each time it neared you. but thankfully, it didn't land on you, it landed on tatum. you saw a disgruntled look flash across stu's face but it left as quickly as it appeared, replaced with an all too knowing grin. tatum rolled her eyes as she stood up and outstretched her hand to randy helping him up.

everyone at this point got up to watch tatum and randy be ushered in the closet. it wasn't too spacious and there were plenty of coats on the coat rack, and a few boxes on the shelf, your mind wandered to what would you could even do in there with that little space, but that wasn't for you to worry about right now. you were drawn out of your thoughts as you heard the lock turn on the closet door.

"have fun kids. don't do anything i wouldn't do," stu said speaking to the pair through the door.

"what are we gonna do while we wait?" sidney said as we all made our way back to the table.

"a little bit of truth or dare?" stu said in the form of a question as he set the timer down on the table. no one protested stu's idea, which seemed to inflate his ego as his face beamed with maniacal joy.

"okay, y/n truth or dare?" stu asked you as he eyed you up and down, you decided to try and play it safe and say truth, which you should've known was a mistake.

"truth," you said flashing him a small smile, sipping your beer.

"which one of us would you rather fuck?" stu asked so casually, causing you to do a spit take, choking on your beer.

"uh.. actually, dare," you said as you gathered your breath.

"tsk tsk tsk.. that isn't how it works y/n," stu said sucking his teeth, grinning at you, making your cheeks heat up.

"no it's fine, i have a dare for her," billy said smiling, his eyes not once leaving your face as his arm was strewn around sidney's shoulder.

"looks like you're off the hook this time." stu scoffed, before laughing briefly.

"i dare you to sit on stu's lap until the next round," billy said before his eyes skipped from you to stu's, it's as if they were communicating through glances.

"uhm. sid. help me." you mouthed to her, she shrugged causing you to glare at her. you wanted her to scold her boyfriend for putting you in that position.

"billy give her another dare. i'm sure tatum wouldn't appreciate having someone on her boyfriends lap," sidney said elbowing billy lightly

"c'mon don't be a prude, we're all friends here. we're just having fun. plus, i'm sure she's in there doing god knows what, probably getting finger blasted by randy- right now." billy shrugged

"i-" before you could even get your words out stu picked you up placing you in his lap, throwing a arm around your waist, almost possessively, but you didn't dare move, you were shocked to say the least.

"sidney, your turn to ask," stu said. you decided to try and get comfortable, you did have another 5 minutes till the next round. you tried to lift yourself a bit to adjust on his lap, but you were met with something prodding at your ass.

"uhm stu, can you move your flashlight, or whatever the hell that is," you whispered wiggling trying to make yourself comfortable.

"what flashlight?" he chuckled pulling you impossibly closer to him, making sure you felt it against you, and there was no doubt you were mistaken, that definitely wasn't a flashlight, you felt him throb against you, his sweats and your leggings not providing enough of a barrier between the two of you.

"i- i uh." you felt yourself growing hot, as your face grew flushed bashfully, you didn't know what to do with yourself, you felt arousal pooling at your core, you cursed yourself for feeling this way about him. you were dragged out of your self deprecation as stu shook you, the group staring at you.

"what-?" you asked as you looked at sidney.

"are you okay y/n? you look a little flustered." sidney asked looking you over

"yeah i'm fine why?" you asked hoping sidney was oblivious to the internal conflict you were dealing with.

"well you kinda dozed off, it's your turn to ask," sidney said shrugging

"oh, uhm okay. sid i dare you to take a shot of ever clear," you said with a smirk

"ever clear?! are you trying to kill me? that shits 190 proof," she said her eyes wide.

"you'll live," you said with a wink. "i'll pour it for you," you said attempting to excusing yourself, pushing off stu by his hips, but your attempt was futile.

"billy's got it," stu said with a chuckle, thrusting his hips up into you as he pulled you back against him, but no one seemed to pay it any mind. you felt his erection prodding at your core. you swallowed thickly as you suppressed your instincts to moan at the feeling of him pressed against you. you watched as billy ushered sidney out the room as he grinned at stu. you weren't sure what that was about, if was he aware of what stu's lewd shenanigans.

"i know you feel how bricked i am," stu said his hands gripping your hips holding you in place, your breathing hitched, you weren't quite sure how to respond, you felt like a slut for allowing this to go on as long as it has, your eyes drifted to the timer, three minutes still left on the clock.

"shit," you moaned out as stu began to slowly rock you back and forth against his length, it was all you could muster. the feeling of his cock pressing against your clit a bit too euphoric for it to be something so erroneous.

"this could all be yours if you want it," stu said, pressing you against him harder, using more pressure as he grinds against you, you could feel your arousal trickling through your folds, you prayed silently that it wouldn't leak through onto stu's grey sweats.

"mm, stu thi- this is wrong," you moaned out lowly, stu slid his right hand between your legs, fondling your folds trough the dampened fabric, your legs spreading a little wider, not by your own volition, it's as if stu had you in a lust induced trance

"your pussy seems to disagree, you're fucking soaked kitten," stu groaned into your ear. as his fingers pinched at your clit with just enough pressure to send you reeling. his other hand slipped under your shirt as he groped at your chest, still rutting himself against you with no restrain

"fucking hell," you moaned, reveling in the feeling of his cock pressing against you in all the places it mattered, stu rubbed slow pressure filled circles against your clit, teasing you as he continued to rock you against him. you heard him groan, clearly he was indulging in this just as much as you were if not even more. much to your dismay, stu pulled his hands away from your breast, and clit returning them to your hips, you sighed with a whimper as your back arched craving more of his touch. but stu stilled all movements and you were pulled from your pleasure drunk state as you heard sidney's giggles nearing the two of you. you did your best to pull yourself together, straightening your shirt and closing your legs.

"god y/n that was literally disgusting," sidney said as she plopped in the couch in front of you guys.

the timer began buzzing erratically, the alarm blaring you shot up from stu's lap. he grabbed a pillow cushion of the couch and pulled it over his lap, hiding his otherwise very noticeable erection.

"times up, we should go let them out. yeah? yeah," you said practically stumbling over your own two feet, making your way this the linen closet, unlocking the door, you opened it a bit too keenly. you saw randy fumbling with his belt.

tatum slipped past you out the closet, keeping her eyes low, making her way back to the group. you turned around leaving randy in the closet to finish straightening his belt. seeing them caught in the middle of whatever has transpired made you feel somewhat relieved, maybe you didn't need to feel so guilty for what took place between you and stu.

you made your way to the group, you saw tatum sitting what you found now to be annoyingly close to stu, you weren't sure why it bothered you so much now, after all, that is her boyfriend, not yours. something you shouldn't need to remind yourself. you found yourself sitting next to billy. you crossed your arms as you grimaced at the couple, however you did realize stu wasn't returning her affections, which you liked a bit more than you should have.

"trouble in paradise?" billy whispered in your ear slyly, as he leaned toward you eying the couple, it made you chuckle. a few moments later, randy had returned, the order had officially changed, it was now sidney billy, then you, across from randy tatum and stu.

"who's spinning next?" randy asked a jubilant grin on his face.

"i'll go." you spoke, volunteering all to quickly, which unbeknownst to you caught stu's attention. you reached for the bottle and spun it with a little oomph. you watched the bottle as it twirled and twirled, it began slowing down,

"oh my god guys! what's that?!" billy shouted pointing towards the window, everyone looked in the direction of the window, searching for any sign of what billy was referring too.

"damn, false alarm." he said chuckling, he pulled sidney closer to him laying a kiss atop of her forehead. you rolled your eyes at his stupid antics.

you looked back to the bottle and the neck of it was pointed to no one other than stu. you felt your cheeks heat up, you looked at billy he shrugged at you nonchalantly before giving you a subtle wink. which could only mean one thing- this was his doing.

"looks like it's me and you kitten," stu said as he stood up walking over to you, before you could protest- not that you were, he grabbed you by your waist before lifting you over his shoulder carrying you to the closet.

"stu i can walk you ass-hat," you said patting at his back to which he just chuckled setting you down once you reached the closet stu placed you back on your feet.

"what i can't carry you and be a gentleman," he asked, faux hurt crossing his face as he held his chest. there was a thickness in the air, maybe it was all in your imagination but it seemed like everyone sensed it maybe not randy, he was too enveloped in his excitement from whatever happened between him and tatum.

"that was more caveman style, but hey! can't blame you for getting confused." randy said shrugging before he leaned against the side table mainly used for decor.

"shut up ass-wipe." stu pinched randy's nose between his index and middle fingers.

you rolled your eyes at their banter as you opened the closet door, you looked at stu with a raised eyebrow.

"you coming?" you asked, your voice a little lower and richer than you intended

"tuh, fuck yeah," stu said under his breath, but it didn't seem to slip past tatum ears as she scoffed and turned on her hills back toward the living room.

you walked in the small linen closet stu right on your heels. soon as the door closed with a click, stu's lips were planted on yours as he began making quick work of your button up blouse.

"seven minutes isn't much, but we can make it work can't we?" stu said as he began pressing his lips to your neck kissing and sucking, it definitely seemed as if he were marking you, there would be dark maroon hickeys in a few moments.

his hand slipped into your panties as he chuckled feeling what a mess you made earlier while you were seated on his lap.

"what a little slut you are, look at how fucking wet you are for my cock, hmm?" stu said, slipping two fingers in causing you to moan, your head pressed against the wall as you bit your lip. he was curling his fingers in an attempt to open you up, but he didn't need to do much as his hand was flooded by a river of your arousal. "my dick isn't even in you yet and you're whimpering like a bitch in heat."

you opened your eyes once again when you felt him slip his hand out of your panties. he turned you around, the only noise heard was the click of his belt as he unbuckled it. you pulled down your panties and leggings all in one go, feeling a bit embarrassed at how eager you were.

"i don't have a condom." stu groaned, you chuckled a bit you never pegged him for the safe sex type, but that was a good thing.

"i'm on the pill, so as long as your clean-" you started before you were cutoff.

"fuck yeah i'm clean." stu grabbed your hip with one hand as he began teasing his dick through your folds with his other hand. you whimpered as he prodded at your core, he slid his tip in just a smidge before sliding back and doing it again, teasing you.

"i wanna hear you beg for my cock," he said lightly nibbling at your ear slightly,fisting his cock, making sure to spread the precum, you froze slightly, still unsure if you even wanted to give in.

"stu-" you began in an apathetic response, which wasn't what he wanted to hear.

his hand reached your hair pulling your head back a little bit so his mouth would be directly over your ear, before he whispered sharply.

"beg."

and that was all you needed to hear before you were begging like a puppy.

"fuck stu please just fuck me," you moaned, pushing back just enough for his tip to slip fully inside you.

"fuck, doll," stu groaned as he sank you back on him inch by inch, watching as his length slowly disappear into you. he began thrusting shallowly as he tried to find a rhythm that would please you both, he bit his lip from a combination of the pleasure and concentration.

"how much time do you think we have left babe?" stu asked grunting almost to him self as he thrusted into you, uttering a few fucks under his breath. he struggled to keep his breathing steady as he took in the feeling of your pussy gripping his cock. your walls were wet and warm as your pussy welcomed him deeper inside you.

"s'probably five minutes," you rasped out, closing your eyes as he found your spot, making you arch your back, your ass curving against him, pushing him into places you're not even sure have been reached before. his hands were on your hips as his grip progressively got tighter. your warm walls, enveloped his dick, pulsing around him, making him groan as he continued to split you open.

"so fucking tight for me huh doll?" stu questioned, continuing to drag you back and for on his length. it caused the most obscene noise, your pussy squelching as he drove his cock into you with vigor. your sopping wet cunt stretching around him. the feeling he gave you, like you'd seen a little slice of heaven. your eyes were shut tightly as your mouth hung agape.

stu's brutal pace kept your words locked in your throat from the pleasure you were receiving. you felt every vein as his cock passed through your velvet channel. a warmth started to build in your stomach, you felt slightly embarrassed that stu was able to elicit an approaching orgasam so fast.

"how we doin doll?" stu questioned, a soft pant leaving his mouth as he let his head fall back in pleasure. you hummed in response, too cock drunk to answer properly. stu paused before pulling out.

"stuu," you whined, not caring how needy you sounded, your pussy pulsed around nothing as it leaked your slick. you pushed your ass back, feeling his cock slip past your folds as you tried to entice him. his cock just barely caught on your entrance before you heard him in your ear.

"be a good cockslut and answer me when i'm talking to you," stu gritted as he snapped his hips forward, you were filled to the hilt as you felt him grind his strokes into you.

"fuck-! stu-" stu placed his hand over your mouth, silencing you as he drove his hips into you faster.

"shh you can't be too loud." he chuckled. "we wouldn't want them knowing what a little slut you are for me huh?"

you had one hand on top of stu's, the hand he was using to keep you quiet. your other hand on the wall to keep your balance as stu plowed into you from behind. you felt his cock twitch as it dragged past your walls. you were getting close, and stu could feel your walls contracting around him, his dick throbbing faster. it felt euphoric as you mewled into his hand.

"you gonna be a good girl and stay quiet if i move my hand?" stu asked, you hummed as you nodded "good."

"i'm gonna cum soon doll, tell me where you want it huh? want me to fill your cunt with my seed, hmm?" stu grunted as he slipped his hand between your thighs toying with your clit.

"fuck-! yess, stu yes!" you whisper-shouted, trying to remain quiet as he rearranged your whole thought process let alone your guts.

"want me to send you out there dripping my cum?" his fingers circling your clit faster causing you to gasp as you struggled to form a sentence. you settled for a nod, the only thing leaving your mouth were soft moans and whimper.

a final harsh thrust of stu's hips sent you reeling, your cum covering his cock as your walls rapidly squeezed around him, gripping his cock like a vice, stu spilled his seed into you. he held you flush against him as he grinded into you, doing his best to prolong the feeling of your highs. thick white ropes of his cum painted your walls, you could feel it as it started to seep out of your pussy, and down your legs.

the sound of the timer could be heard in the distance. stu took his time pulling out before he reached down and pulled your panties and leggings up, helping you stand up straight. the foot steps grew closer, to the door, but stu still hasn’t even tucked himself away yet.

“stu!” you whisper-shouted, grabbing his dick and tucking it in his boxers quickly before rushing to get the belt through the buckle, zipping him up before the door flew open at the hands of a very gleeful randy. your face flushed as you felt you’d been caught in the act.

billy let out a cat-calling whistle before he clicked his tongue twice. abashedly you dropped your hands from stu’s zipper, walking out the closet, stu grabbed your hand before you could get two far from him, ducking down to whisper in your ear.

“next time you grab my dick like that, you better be doing more than tucking it away.”

#stu macher #reader insert #scream #stu macher x reader #billy loomis #reader x ghostface #sidney prescott #tatum riley #randy meeks #billy loomis x reader #billy loomis x reader x stu macher #billy loomis smut

2K notes · View notes

ashipiko · 5 months

Text

“A Hundred and More Memories with You”

SUMMARY: A story in which Ace reminisces upon the many memories of him and Ashi.

WORD COUNT: 5.8k

NOTES: <3 enjoy the rare Ashi writing

taglist: @taruruchi @deeva-arud @thelegendaryfluffypotato13 @midnightmah07 @cynthinesia

Ace would consider himself an Ashi expert. A lot of people would consider him one too, considering how often they hang out with each other.

And when he says it’s a lot, it’s a lot. Sure, of course, there’s Deuce and Grim too. They all go through their antics together, whether it be slaying in a singing and dancing competition or solving the latest issue Night Raven College has got to answer, which includes facing off against high school boys in life-risking duels, when they should really be in therapy. They all went through a lot together and somehow pulled through and survived all that nonsense too. Same class, same lunch table, same shenanigans for them all. And Ace would like to think of them as a dream quad, but here’s the thing.

Who got there just a little earlier than Juice did when Ashi was having trouble at Scarabia? Who did Ashi go to hug tightly when that happened? Who did Ashi stay behind with when VDC practice came by and everyone else left the room? Who turned out to feel so comfortable with him that she fell asleep on his shoulder? Who always bunks at Ramshackle and is always taken in by the prettiest girl at NRC?

That’s right. Not Grim, not Deuce, but Ace Trappola himself.

It might not be much, but Ace finds himself thinking that it’s those small things that no one else sees that places him a little higher than everyone else. With this, at least. He can confidently go up to anyone and go, “Hey! That’s my best friend you’re talking to, you know?” with a shit eating grin on his face, and no one would bat an eye. Because that’s just usual Ace behavior around Ashi.

Behind closed doors or not, he’s real committed to her.

…Maybe if you cut out their first meeting, actually. He thinks about it sometimes. How’d he fall for a goody two shoes like her?

Just some girl, straight out a coffin and fell onto the floor, during NRC’s opening ceremony. It was really funny! Doesn’t mean it made him think much about it. Like yeah, sure it's all-boys school, but it’s not anything crazy. What, none of you have seen a girl before? Do you guys not have moms?

Until Ace spots her again, her eyes crinkling in confusion at the sight of the Great Seven. Some dialogue is exchanged, and nothing is of note. She’s cute and pretty, sure, but it’s not like Ace came to NRC, an all-boy’s school might he reiterate, to get a girlfriend. After the last snooze fest he had? Pfft! Forget it! Not to mention she’s got no passion or fire within her. The little furball she’s got beside her is the one who carries that all for her, I guess.

“Maybe before you try gettin’ into the academy again, you should try a second crack at kindergarten? Hahaha!” That was the Ashi-Grim duo’s first taste of the iconic grin™.

“Grrrr… How dare you!”

“Anyway, I’ve gotta head to class~. Unlike these two janitor losers over here I’ve got places to be. I’ll leave you alone and let’cha get back to picking up some trash.”

Ace still remembers looking over at such a blank face. Just standing there like a statue, watching the situation play out. Nothing about this interaction would’ve hinted to what was in store for him.

“Hey, goody two shoes, maybe loosen up a little, how ‘bout it? You could benefit from some good old insults every once in a while. Take a page outta the weasel’s book here.” The redhead teases one last time before his departure, as he watches the brunette’s eyes lock with his.

“Hehe,” Ashi finally perks up, “I’ll think about it, Acey.” She chimes.

Ace is about to shoot something at her again, until a blaze of blue fire engulfs the area around them. All tension is lost and next thing he knows, he’s battling a literal animal and being sent to wash windows as punishment for the roughhousing. He didn’t sign up for this at all! But after some self reflection, the Ace now would roll his eyes and mutter, “Well, I GUESS it was kinda deserved.” But of course, that would only be because of Ashi. Despite how much of a “bad influence” he is on her, in her own way, his best friend had her own ways of helping Ace improve himself too. They balance eachother out well, and Ace smiles as he thinks this. To make himself feel better? Maybe.

Even still, in the beginning, Ace didn’t really think much about Ashi. He ditched the whole window cleaning ordeal for a reason, you know? And no matter how hard he tried, no amount of pushing her buttons resulted in any sort of snap back, no retorts at all. Bullying her more than Deuce didn’t work either— so he eventually gave up and changed targets. Which I guess was fine, since he had to focus on the stressful situation of the mines.

But at the end of the mage stone obtaining mission, when Ashi caught some time alone with him on the walk back as Deuce and Grim walked ahead, Ace figured that she just wanted a piece of him. He can’t blame her, honestly, so he decided to give her what she wanted and talked to her casually for a while. He thought one last time, adding some spice into the conversation, to joke around.

“You were reaaaally scared back in that dark and spooky house, weren’tcha?” Ace teases, giving Ashi that signature grin once again, “The cave too, to boot. What are you, actually scared of the dark or something?”

He catches Ashi’s attention, and she looks at him, offended, “Aaand? I totally did it still, you know! Give credit where credit’s due, Acey!”

“Still means you’re a baby.”

“Hmph.” Ashi huffs in response, pouting a little, “…At least I manned up and made a plan instead of arguing like an idiot with the others.”

An actual comeback? For real? Ace didn’t think she had it in her!

The ginger’s lips curl up into an even bigger grin as he pokes the bear a little more, “And who did the execution, huh? Without me, you wouldn’t have even gotten to go through with your plan!”

“I could say that about Deucey. He definitely deserves more credit than you do anyway.”

“Ha! As if. Juice over here barely did anything.”

“Either way, neither of you would’ve come out of this successfully without me,” Ashi sighs, fed up with Ace’s behavior, “What’s your brawn worth if you don’t think about how to use it?”

“Offense over defense, baby!”

“Exactly why you would’ve failed without me!” Ashi snaps at him, immediately realizing how much she’s allowed Ace to wind her up right after. She internally scolds herself for acting out, and before Ace can say anything else, she breaks eye contact and changes topics.

Noticing how her body stiffens and her words seem less… slangy than usual, Ace can’t help but ponder about this. This whole entire time, not a single complaint has come out of her lips. Her voice was constantly sing songy throughout the entire nerve-wracking situation, but the way that it climbed up and became more strict and stern at this moment was a complete curveball. A breaking point, perhaps? Not to mention, the sudden way her body closes up and acts like it resets? It’s like she’s being corrected. A light goes off in the instigator’s head.

Huh, Ace thinks. Maybe goody two shoes here isn’t exactly what she’s living up to be.

He barely knows how he got here himself. Something about Ace’s first taste of something outside of Ashi’s whole “peppy good girl” deal was enough of an incentive to pester her more, and more, and more and more and more, only in attempts to see more of that special side of her. And somehow, through some sort of divine intervention, he got closer than anyone could’ve imagined for the guy who’s known for pissing people off.

Closer than anyone else she’s met in Twisted Wonderland has gotten, and based on how she words it, closer than anyone in her home world, even. The fact makes Ace feel bad, but at the same time he can’t help but feel kind of proud. Hell, he doesn’t even understand how people don’t like the real her. The whole good girl act is polite and sweet, sure, but compared to how dynamic and fun the hidden side of her is… Why would you ever think that the shallow 2D side is better than the in-depth 3D side in this scenario?!

If he ever gets there, Ace pledges to beat the hell out of every person who made Ashi think this in her home world. You can count on it.

From there on out, he had to keep his curiosity at a minimum. Though he wanted to keep pushing, he cared for her so much that he didn’t wanna cross her boundaries too far. So he kept it as teases and banters for the time being, because that’s how you keep it light and fun. Such as having sleepovers, just the two of them at Ramshackle.

To say the least, Ace got a little too comfy.

At some point, Ashi would offer him an old sweatshirt she never wears, too oversized for her but perfectly fitting for Ace during the cold nights he would want to visit. At some point, Ace had a secret knock he used at her window after the incident where he had only scared her instead of delightfully surprising her. At some point, Ashi and Ace giggling the night away became the norm for them.

Simple? Yeah, Ace had to admit, it’s just talking the night away with a friend till you both pass out, but it has its charm. Just as they showcase it in movies, the two best friends always hang out under the covers, tell scary stories and laugh excessively due to being way too sleep deprived, having a special bond that no one else would understand, just because they understood each other that well.

Something so simple, and yet something Ashi never got a taste of before.

She never got that close.

So, Ace, being the great friend he is and being the bearer of knowing Ashi’s history of, well, not being too involved in the usual teen activities, he would take it upon himself to go and make a dream come true. His mind begins to wander off way back when, before any of these bestie advancements were a thing. When Ace wouldn’t come out of nowhere, instead making his way through the door, like a normal person. And what better place to propose the idea of Ashi’s very first sleepover than the cafeteria?

“You’re telling me you’ve never had a sleepover. Seriously, Ash? The heck kinda life did you live?” Ace jokes, giving her the most bewildered look as they eat their lunch.

“Eh…” Ashi mumbles about, thinking about it as she takes a bite of her sandwich, “Kinda just the way the cards played out? Dunno, my mom didn’t really get the whole dealio.” Shrugging as if it’s nothing, she looks over at Grim chowing down his food to end the current topic.

Ace looks at her as she finishes talking, and he feels like her smile’s lacking more than it usually does.

“Then why don’t you experience it while you’ve got the right cards?” He shoots back, pulling Ashi back into the conversation, “You know who’s not here? Your mom.” He chuckles a little at his little joke, “Seriously though, take this whole away-from-your-family situation to your advantage!”

“Ace has a point, actually,” Deuce joins the conversation, “For once we agree on something. You’re already in a magic world, what’s one more abnormal thing to experience?”

Ashi blinks a couple times at the pair, before putting her finger to her chin and letting out a hum, “I guess so… Who do I invite, though? Plus, there’s Grimmy I gotta worry about too. This guy’s a drama queen…”

“I need my beauty sleep!” Grim scowls, before getting right back to his tuna. Ace rolls his eyes before he leans across the table, towards Ashi.

“Invite me, duh! Who else is your bestie, Ash?”

She smiles at his attitude, “Mr. Trappola, huuuh?” The brunette takes a comedic amount of time to think about it, “All his complaining miiight keep me up at night… Me and Grim are in the same boat when it comes to the sleep department too~.”

Deuce chuckles, “He really doesn’t shut up. Actually, a sleepover with all of us would be fun, but I have studying to do…”

Grim adds on, “Well I don’t wanna see an ugly face when I wake up!”

Tired of the bashing from the rest of the group, Ace loudly groans, “Then why don’t you take your ugly mug to me and Juice’s dorm while me and Ashi have a sleepover! Problem solved!”

It takes one glance from Deuce for Ace to get the message, “You know, you just sound like you just wanna get alone time with Ashi.”

The redhead glares back, “As if! I just wanna have a sleepover!”

…Only to add a solemn “Back me up, would you?” to it. Deuce gets it and helps him out.

“It would help me actually, Ashi. Take him away from me so I don’t have to worry about getting off track. And Grim can’t be that bad of a roommate, right? He’s just a cat. If he slept the whole time, I think it’d be relaxing if anything.” Deuce adds on, slowly egging on Ashi to decide.

“If you feed me enough tuna!”

The prefect ponders for a second, as her fingers tap once, twice on her chin, “I mean I guess… It’s not like it’s the first time Acey’s stayed over.” Ace pumps his fist in the air, and the other two think he’s being a little too obvious.

“Win! This time, it’ll totally be a proper sleepover. Call me the sleepover master, even! Get ready to not get a wink of sleep tonight, Ash!”

Ashi giggles in response before the bell rings and everyone scatters once again.

Later that night, Ace appears at the door of Ramshackle once he gets word that Grim has taken his place as Deuce’s roommate. He knows that Ashi’s scared of being alone in the dark, so of course he rushes over as fast as he can. Not because he wants to. It’s just what a decent person would do. It’s nothing to give him a weird look about. Right?

A few knocks and he’s let inside, and it’s not like anything has changed much. The dorm is the same old dusty and dainty place it’s always been, except this time he’ll be spending his time in an actual bed. No, it’s not because he’s asked all those previous times that Ashi finally caved in and let him get what he wants. It’s because now they’re just close enough that it’s chill. There’s no other reasoning further than that. Right?

Because he and Ashi are just best friends. He’s not here because he wants to have alone time with her! Ace just wants to see his best friend happy, able to experience all the things she hasn’t. Because that’s what good friends do.

…Right?

Okay, maybe Ace did get a little sidetracked from his main mission now that he thinks about it. The whole idea of being alone with Ashi planted a seed in his head, he admits it, but how could you blame him, honestly? None of that means that he didn’t get what he originally wanted, though. Two birds with one stone! He wins either way!

Still, it’s a night filled to the brim with snarky comments and blissful laughter, and while certain housewardens wouldn’t allow staying up this late, Ace decides that the lack of sleep is worth it. A sleepy Ashi is always cute, cuter than usual, and it’s an evening of rare sights. They’re both laying down all across the bed, staring at the blank ceilings and watching the cobwebs the prefect hates sway with the breeze of the bedroom. It’s calm, and neither of them are thinking about what they’re saying. The norm for one and an uncommon occurrence for the other.

“So how’d your first sleepover go?” Ace mutters, tiredness hitting them both. It’s dim within the room, and it’s thanks to Ashi’s nightlight that they can even take in this atmosphere at all.

“It was pretty hypesies.” Ashi replies back, and it’s a simple exchange. ‘Till she speaks up again after a while, and Ace is surprised at her different tone of voice.

“…Thanks, Acey.”

“Eh? Sounded pretty serious there, Ash.”

“That’s ‘cause I am!”

Ace faintly laughs, “Yeah, yeah. No problem.”

“Really though. I’m pretty sure you’re not as dumb as you look, so you probably caught on already,” Ace’s eyebrows suddenly jump in surprise at the sudden change in character, and Ashi proceeds, “I’m not really used to being this buddy buddy with people, even chicks— And like, it just means a lot to me that you even volunteered to do this with me in the first place. It makes me real happies to call you my bestie, you know?

I like that you’re honest. It makes me feel comfies. I can kinda be more like myself, somethin’ like that? And…” her voice quiets down before she says anything else. Which is somehow both a good and bad thing for Ace.

They both soak in the moment, and Ace’s cheeks feel like they’re burning up just a little. This is probably the most genuine reaction he’s gotten out of her— But at the same time, it’s completely unfair how she’s simultaneously making this seem so casual and yet so impactful.

His train of thought quickly fades away as a small, weak laugh from Ashi breaks through, “Sorries, I got too serious there. You might as well call me Riddle or something at this point,” she murmurs, her voice not quite carrying the energy she intended, “Probs ‘cause it’s past my bedtime.”

Ace hears her sit up a little, and he still stares at the ceiling blankly as he hears the crinkles and turning of the blankets along the bed. His next words practically come out of thin air, cheeks still feeling warm.

“You really should talk more, Ashi.”

The noises he hears suddenly pause, and after a quaint moment of silence, he hears a relieved exhale from the other side of the bed.

“…Thanks, Acey.”

It’s then that Ace wonders if it’s not just his cheeks that are hotter than usual at that moment.

From there on out, Ace feels both better and worse about himself. Because, man, his chest begins to feel kinda weird when he sees her. He swears she’s gotten prettier somehow, but at the same time, he also feels proud that he’s Ashi’s special person— she basically said it herself, y’know? Part of him wonders if this is the farthest he’s gonna get. Both as a friend and, well, maybe more.

So he waits days on end, they have their sleepovers more and more often, and hell, they get to a point where they have sleepovers every day. Ah yeah, the VDC days, amirite?

In his head, Ace thinks that this “era” of “AshAce” (name made by him, proof is in his alchemy notebook) is an era in which their relationship deepened even further.

There’s multiple points and examples he could give, and he’d tell you about ‘em and brag all day if he could. But the most vivid memory for Ace, apart from the one he forcibly tried to forget out of embarrassment, has gotta be when he really saw Ashi speak her mind.

He remembers the rain pittering and pattering outside when he went to go and get a drink. It was a cool night, after everyone was done and exhausted from practice, so he figured the one who’s all “I need my beauty sleep!”, especially, was asleep. Well, until he saw a figure outside and flipped the freak out— Alas, it was just Ashi, but he found it to be pretty out of character for her. She’s notorious for being horrible at dressing herself for the cold, and he’s sure Vil would bark her head off if she got sick before their performance. Ace’s neck still aches in memory of all the times he’s been collared, and he knows that pain of being yelled at by a housewarden all too well. Knowing Ashi? She wouldn’t be able to handle that kind of discipline. So why’s she out there in the first place?

He makes his way outside to investigate, and knocks a couple times on the doorframe, same pattern as he would when stepping through her window. Ashi’s frame jumps in surprise, and she quickly turns around, body stiff and drops of rain across her skin.

“Oh, it’s just you, Acey.”

“You aren’t looking too hot. What’re you even doing out here?”

“Ah…” Her tone of voice trails off, and ends off with a sneeze. Not a good sign.

The boy lets out a somewhat disappointed sigh as he sits down next to her, aware of the sketchbook on the porch as she keeps to herself. Based on the way there’s endless scribbles and several notes floating around the halfway finished sketches, contrasting against the blissful, one-take doodles in class, Ace puts the pieces together and concludes that maybe he’ll stay quiet just this once, the best he can. To prevent himself from getting any more tuckered out, and to prevent Ashi clamming up again.

He doesn’t like oysters, and clams sure aren’t that different in this scenario.

Now that he’s got a better look at her though, Ashi doesn’t seem to be very warm. The rainy ambience gave everything a downer mood, and her lack of a dry jacket is concerning. Her cheeks are wet too; but Ace can’t tell if that’s a byproduct of the weather or her own emotions.

“You don’t wanna get sick, do you? Vil’s never gonna let you hear the end of it.” Ace mutters, as he takes his own NRC blazer and drapes it across Ashi’s shoulders. She gives a faint smile, one saying thanks, before it fades away once again.

“You know me~. Not good with cold weather.”

“You’re even worse with discipline.”

“Fairs.” Ashi sighs, her voice quavering a little. The vibes in the air aren’t it, as Ashi would usually say, and I guess that’s something to apologize for for her.

“Sorry,” she says. It’s a quick mutter, but Ace hears it. And he hears her act unravel further and further, feeling his own heart drop and drop.

Hesitant, she continues, “I’m— I think I’m too tired to keep anything up at this point. There’s been so many issues going on and with managing and performing in VDC and feeling homesick I can’t even look anyone in the face right now. I’m so worried that my smile doesn’t live up to what it usually does, and I’m worried that everyone’s gonna notice and it’s all gonna go to ruins and the whole process of learning the dance and song is gonna get so— so… I don’t know!

I wanna perform. I want to learn from the others, but I don’t want to show them an Ashi that they’ll be annoyed with or make them think she isn’t what she’s lived up to be. I just can’t muster up the courage to push the act, so I end up spiraling down and isolating myself which is so not it for a cooperative project like this. Even if I do show up, the heck are the odds that they’ll be satisfied with such a half-assed act. It’s so hard to keep up.”

And now I’m showing you all of this stuff that I don’t want you to see and it’s embarrassing. It’s… I’m sorry, Ace. I’m sorry.”

Her confession finally comes to an end, and Ashi falls into silence. Meanwhile, Ace’s response is said so quickly— It doesn’t even seem like he’s keeping up with his own words.

“Ashi, seriously, you know I really don’t care, right?”

“…Huh?”

“Actually. I don’t care at all. I can’t speak for everyone else, but I don’t give a care in the world if you’re crying on my shoulder or laughing and doodling on my paper in class,” a breathy laugh follows suit, “Great Seven, honestly, when are you gonna realize that?”

The way Ace’s words just fall out of his mouth make him feel like he’s being too honest and brash again, and he doesn’t want to hurt Ashi in any way. He stops himself for a second before looking at the brunette’s expression, delicate and yet invested. It’s not anything ordinary, and maybe someone would find it weird coming from her. But if anything, Ace is an honest man. Both of them know this.

“You… Man. You know how I said you should talk more? That still holds up. You should think less, if anything. You overthink all these things, and you’re so people pleaser about it. Like— C’mon! You know I’ve got your back. You don’t have to be so cautious and scared of things.”

Ashi can barely process his words.

“Just know that I…”

Ace pauses.

“I… care for you. A lot.”

The silence that follows after is awkward, sure. Two frozen figures under the thin overhead of Ramshackle dorm, and Ace feels like he’s fumbled his words. The one time he hesitates.

Yet, one more raindrop falls to the floor, breaking the silence. And after that, one, two, three follow pursuit.

She doesn’t say anything, and yet Ace hears so much. Offering her his shoulder, they spend just a while longer together, soaking in the moment. Ace doesn’t mind the tears soaking into his clothing. Because if it results in Ashi’s true, sunny smile shining his way, he doesn’t mind. He doesn’t mind at all.

Of course, not without some lighthearted teasing.

It’s a bittersweet memory, Ace notes as he reminisces. A memory of many, but definitely one of the highlights, he thinks. Like he said, a pretty core point in their relationship, and an eye opener as to how Ashi works.

…He could even say it helped soothe his own insecurities too.

Ace would consider himself brash, assertive, and I guess in some cases, insensitive of other’s feelings. Other people think that too. It’s part of who he is, the troublemaking prankster he is. It’s a double edged sword. Sometimes people complain about your attitude and think you’re a dick, or sometimes people actually think you’re doing something good on a rare occasion.

While this kind of attitude could totally get you out of sticky scenarios, sometimes Ace’s heart hurts at the way people climb up before him. He did it to himself, really— I mean, he’s gained a reputation and at an expense, he just so happened to lose the chance of hearing some praise. The troublemaker gets something done? At least he’s actually done something. The good guy does it? Everyone’s cheering him on.

It stings a little.

It’s just the way he is, he knows it. He tells himself this again and again. He’s proud of it, but it’s hard to feel like he’s really accomplished something when people treat him the way they do. When he feels like he’s falling behind, all he can do is give snarky remarks to the people above him. He doesn’t do anything. He doesn’t gain anything.

But the rainy clouds fade away when Ashi’s near him, able to put all her trust in his care and see him as something better than a guy who’ll mess things up. She sees him as her knight in shining armor, and Ace’s heart heals.

To be someone people want to be around, and to have people see you for your true self without berating you because of it.

It’s something they both want. Something they both have, now that they’re together. Ace doesn’t wanna let that go. Not for one second.

These memories and thoughts with the girl he really loves are what Ace has to repeat in his mind, over and over and over again in this moment. Because when he’s standing in their little Heartslabyul hideout, the mood perfect and warm just like those paintings Ashi gushes about, voice clear and his back straight, he needs all the evidence he has.

He’s ready to take a shot at making this last forever.

Though, despite how determined he is, it’s not like he’s acting like his palms aren’t insanely sweaty right now. It’s lowkey embarrassing at how riled up he is about this.

Even in his basketball matches, he isn’t this nervous. But maybe it’s ‘cause Ashi isn’t cheering him on now that he’s really feeling the pressure? His thoughts wander and wander… couldn’t she get here sooner?

Jeez, how do you talk to girls again?

Ace has had a girlfriend before. He knows how to treat girls, but this opportunity is so much more stressful. Ashi’s not just a shot at a possible girlfriend for fun. He’s surprised himself if he’s being real about it, that he’s even this serious about them.

He didn’t intend for it to end up this way. To be friends, to best friends, to falling for one another and now, risking it all away in attempts to, what, kiss her? I guess it would be worth it. Wait— maybe he shouldn’t get too cocky about it. But doesn’t Ashi love him because he’s cocky? Wait a minute! Who said she even liked him like that in the first place?!

The redhead groans a little as he throws his head back. His last get-a-girl operation compared to this is insane. From boring stupid love to serious I-love-you-for-real love? Did Ashi really impact him this badly? Did her hopeless romantic disease spread to him too?! At this point, Ace doesn’t know if the break they spent apart while Ashi was off fighting Idia helped him calm down his feelings or make them more prominent.

He wallows in his thoughts a little longer, the doubt slowly consuming him, before a small noise of footsteps make their way towards him, causing him to straighten up. A patch of leaves open up, and Ashi waves through, catching Ace with somewhat of a goofy smile on his face.

Gosh, she really is pretty.

The nervous boy stands and waits for her to make her way towards him, and Ashi looks around the garden. Someone spruced it up, for sure. Starting out as just a simple hideout for Ace when he tried stalling from getting collared by Riddle, and turning into a hangout space for the two of them, Ashi never would’ve thought she’d see it in its full glory like this. Some cute fairy lights, treats on the small table, and even considering her fear of the dark, something about the atmosphere here still makes her feel delighted. It’s nice, but it obviously gives the suspicion that something’s gonna happen.

While she’s stuck enjoying the scenery, Ace can’t help but feel his smile getting even goofier as he watches her. The smile that shines through as she looks over at him tells Ace that he’s gotten successful with the first part.

“Ahaha. Acey, everything’s so bedazzled. What’s happening?” Ashi jokes, her voice chiming through the nighttime breeze. The redhead chuckles a little, before stepping another step closer.

“Just got something to tell you. It’s not a bad joke this time, I swear,” Ace comments, trying to keep the mood light, “So I tried getting the vibes to translate through this and that. Artsy, right? You proud?” He gives a snarky smile, gaining a laugh from the brunette.

“Yeah yeah~. So what is it?” Ashi tilts her head, awaiting for the big reveal. Ace gulps, before going on ahead. Just like he planned.

“Listen, I know that we haven’t really gotten time to spend with eachother since the end of VDC, but the whole break while you were gone… It got me to think about some stuff.” He starts off, focusing on the way Ashi’s expression changes along the way, “It made me really think of all the stuff we’ve been through, together, and I couldn’t help but keep thinking about how close we’ve gotten since you got here.

And NRC is filled to the brim with guys. Heck, some of them even have crushes on you. But…” Ace exhales, his heartbeat quickening as he starts to forget his lines. But in proper Trappola fashion, he bounces back and decides to go with his gut.

Brows furrowed as he clasps Ashi’s hands in his and pulls it to his chest, he spills his heart out to her.

“But none of those guys, and I mean none of them deserve you! You deserve someone you can laugh and cry with. Someone who won’t hate on you for showing something a little weaker than a big grin. Like me.

No matter what, even if we ever butt heads, you know I’ll always set it straight. Heck— I don’t even know how much time you have left in Twisted Wonderland— and I don’t know how much time we have left together. But none of that matters.

Because, Ashi— I love you.

I love you and I want to spend every single second with you. As something more than friends. Something where I can give you all the love you deserve, and you don’t have to be scared.

So please, just answer me.

Will you let me?”

The stars shine in Ashi’s eyes as she processes Ace’s words, and he feels his heart beating out of his chest. The tension is insane, and he can’t do anything but watch her for any sign of a reaction.

Stars, dancing in her eyes as they tear up and shine, her cheeks being painted a rosy red, and her shining smile falling into a soft one.

“Ace…”

“I love you, Ash.”

She laughs as her face faces downwards, hair falling over her eyes, “You idiot…” she mutters, before looking Ace in the eyes once again.

“I love you too. A lot.” Ashi confesses back, voice choking up a little as she laughs again. Again and again. It’s music to Ace’s ears, and he can't help but find himself laughing along as he picks her up and hugs her like it was her last. The two simmer in their emotions for a while, tears and jolly laughter transforming the atmosphere into a lovely and bright scene.

This is another memory to mark down, Ace subconsciously thinks as he holds Ashi in his arms, one to look back on again and again.

And he can’t wait to make even more memories from here on out.

#THIS WAS SO FUN TO WRITE THO #and a big thank you to the tenkaku server for helping me out <3 #welcome to my ace characterization!!!!!!#hope it gives better insight on ashi’s chara too #ashace #ace trappola #twstshi #ashi tamadai #twst oc #twst oc x canon #twisted wonderland #twst #THAT SHOULD BE IT I THINK……#mini spoilers but <3 fun fact I referenced Ace’s ghost marriage proposal/speech in his confession #teehee

72 notes · View notes