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pintobug · 23 days ago

Text

maintenance

dbf! joel miller x female reader

chapter 3: take what you need

rating: 18+ MDNI

masterlist

summary: big ol’ storm comes rolling through. through the rolling thunder you hear three familiar knocks. :o

word count: 9.8k (!)

tags: no outbreak!joel x fem!reader, age gap (reader~24 joel is ~45), pining, female pronouns, internal conflict, kissing, dbf!joel miller, maintenance man!joel miller, pussy pronouns, dirty talk, dry humping, grinding, dom/sub undertones if u squint, praise kink, joel talks her through it :3

a/n: hello!! getting feedback on these makes me so happy. even with the few comments i’ve already gotten, it makes my heart swell and i’ve honestly teared up at them. i used to write one direction and voltron fics when i was younger & i’m so happy to be finding writing again. every note, every reblog and every single word of feedback you guys offer means so much. tell me if you love it, tell me if you hate it, pick it apart. i wanna hear all of it!! thank you. ♥️

Your Dad keeps talking but your brain is running a marathon. He doesn't know. Neither does Joel, you think. But now that name-

Joel Miller.

That connection, it has a shape.

It has history. Memories. Drunken nights and secrets with your Dad.

Your fingers hurt with how hard you're pushing them into the countertop. You look at your Dad, still rambling. The whooshing of blood between your ears builds and you try to silence it by focusing on his lips. They curved around his next words so innocent and unknowing. It makes you want to spill your guts onto the counter.

“Yeah, kid! Joel Miller. Known him for years- he's good people. Used to work with him every day when I did that big commercial project a few years ago. Did some tile work there, even brought his brother along with him the days we needed some extra hands. Hell, he’s been on a few jobs with me since then. Bring him on specifically if I know it’ll be a big one,”

“Do you still talk to him?” It doesn't even sound like your voice when it leaves your lips.

It's muted and pathetic. You feel dizzy. Not the dizzy Joel made you feel. In a way that you're sure you're losing the color in your face.

Do you tell him?

Do you tell Joel?

“Every now and then, yeah. He keeps to himself. Quiet. Solid worker though. Don't know what the hell he's doing in maintenance, but that's Joel. Likes laying low. He’ll die standin’ up, he’s hard headed like that. One of those guys who always says less than he knows, but when he says something? You listen.”

You swallow hard.

You’ve been aching to learn more about Joel since he closed the door behind him. The last thing you wanted was your Dad being the one to fill you in.

“I can see that.”

He doesn't notice your stunned silence. He continues to walk around, even sits with you on your couch for a while and tells you about work. You nod and hum, smile when it's needed. You're not paying attention though.

He's your Dads friend. He has no idea who you are.

Did he lie? Does he know who you are?

“Alright, kid. I'll get outta your hair.” He says, clasping a hand on your shoulder and giving it a squeeze.

You both stand. You follow him to the door with a forced smile.

“Hey, if you see Joel again, tell him I say hey. Maybe I’ll catch him sometime.”

He's so blissfully unaware of the bomb he just dropped.

You nod your head and thank him, giving him a hug.

You're standing in silence by your door again. This time for a very different reason. Your heart is in your throat, fingers numb. You let him in, you touched him. He touched you. He is your dads friend. Your dad.

He can't know. He would've said something. He wouldn't have touched me if he did.

Would you have touched him if you knew?

You start pacing in your living room, hand over your mouth. You need to see him. You need to ask if he knows. No- you can't ask. If you ask, it ruins the chance of it happening again. Will it happen again after you tell him? But what if he finds out?

You need to see Joel. The desire is physical. Your skin aches and your chest is tight.

He has to know now. He has to. And if he didn't before, he will soon.

But then what?

Late that night you sat at your desk, his Facebook profile on your laptop, mouse hovering over the ‘Add Friend’ button for at least an hour. The skin around your nails picked raw. You can't friend him on here, that's insane. He's going to think you're crazy, and then you're gonna drop an insane bomb on him and it will scare him away. You take a deep breath. You need to think this over, you need to be careful.

You feel physically ill. The feeling has been sitting heavy in your chest since your dad left days ago. It's been almost a week since Joel kissed you in your room. It doesn't help that you're alone. You're doing what you can to distract yourself. Applying to jobs, taking walks, reading and bingeing some old horror movies. But no matter what you're doing you catch yourself imagining Joel doing them with you. You imagine he's laid into the couch with you, big hands skating up and down your legs. Or he's walking beside you under the shady trees.

It's wrong to think like that now, he's your dads friend, you have to keep reminding yourself. Joel hasn't contacted you. You don't even think he has a way.

You’re grateful when Ellie calls you, breaking the internal back and forth you've had going on for the past few days. She facetimes you.

“Heyyyyy.” Ellie's voice rings through the living room for the first time in over a week.

You smile widely when you see her face. Her freckles are prominent. This is probably the longest she's spent in the sun in some time.

“Hey! How is it there?” You say, holding your phone up so she can see your face.

“It's great, honestly. Wait- lemme show you this.” She grunts while getting up, you assume.

The camera is shaky and Ellie is cropped pretty much fully out of the screen. You can see the sky, it's a beautiful shade of blue and there are no clouds in the frame.

The opposite of here, you think. There has been a dark, angry cloud hanging since you woke up this morning. It even smelled like it was going to rain.

“Dina!” You hear Ellie shout.

“Wait a second I’m gonna get Dina to show you.” Ellie peers down to her phone briefly, cueing you into what's going on in Montana.

You laugh and nod your head even though she's not looking.

Suddenly Dina’s face comes into frame.

“I can't believe you’re alive after the other night.” Dina laughs and you laugh with her.

“Me either, to be honest, it was bad.”

Ellie shifts the phone so you're looking at her now, her brows are furrowed and eyes squinted, the bright sun warming her face.

“Ready to see this? Fuckin’ nuts.” Ellie raises her eyebrows.

“Yesss. I’m ready.” You say.

Ellie flips the camera and your jaw drops.

There's sheep.

A lot of them.

Standing and grazing, strolling and some were walking around, overlapped bleatings spilling out of your phones speaker.

“What the fuck?” You say, in awe.

You hear Dina and Ellie laugh on the other end.

“I knew her family had a farm but this is fucking nuts, right?!” Ellie shouts, out of view.

Ellie walks around, sheep around her hips, Dina coming into frame every now and then as Ellie shows off the farm life.

“Dina, how did you not tell me this before?” You gawk.

There has to be a hundred of them if not more.

“Don’t know. This is what I grew up with, just slips my mind that people find it so fascinating sometimes.” She says lightly and chuckles.

Ellie flips the camera back to her face and angles the camera high, holding it sideways. She squints one eye and looks into the camera with a wide smile.

“Sick, right? Got me a cowgirl.” Ellie muses and you see Dina’s hand push her shoulder in the corner of the frame.

You laugh.

It is beautiful.

You are beyond happy for Ellie. She met Dina in the start of sophomore year and they have been inseparable ever since. Dina is a good contrast to Ellie. Keeps her in line and focused on the important shit that Ellie sometimes lets slip through the cracks.

“Aw, fuck. Am I frozen? Can you hear me?” Ellie mutters while pulling the camera close to her face, her brows drawn together in concentration.

You shake your head.

“I can hear you, sorry.” You smile at her pinched up face.

“Oh okay. What have you been up to? Has the dryer been fine since that guy came to fix it?” Ellie asks, you can hear hay crunching under her feet, the creaking of a porch door and suddenly she's inside.

That guy.

You let out a soft sigh, stomach twisting at the thought of Joel, your Dads friend. Clearly you don’t hide your emotions well because Ellie doesn’t let you respond.

“Aw, fuck. What happened?” She sighs, propping her phone up as she bops around the kitchen.

“No- nothing. Nothing happened. The dryer is fine. I told you about the light bulb, he came and replaced it last week. Everything has been good.” That's a lie.

Nothing has been good. Your mind is constantly racing, your chest is heavy and your stomach is queasy. You want to unload everything onto Ellie, but you hesitate.

Are you in the wrong?

You made out with your Dads friend and didn’t tell either of them.

You didn’t know at that point though. It feels wrong because you want to do more than that.

Would Ellie think it's gross?

Is it gross that you find him attractive?

No.

You don’t want to think like that. Gross is the last word that comes to your mind when you think of Joel. Joel is handsome. You don’t think you’ve seen a man quite as handsome as him. He’d look good in anything.

Ellie pauses and looks at you through the phone for a moment before shrugging her shoulders.

“Well. Whatever it is, you’re not hiding it well. I’ll be home in no time. Maybe I can sneak one of these sheep on the plane. We can keep it.” Ellie gets close to the camera and smiles widely.

You and Ellie continue to facetime for sometime. She tells you about handling the farm and finally meeting Dina’s extended family. Her parents have come to visit a few times and would come around. They were kind, gentle people. You know where Dina gets it from. Ellie tells you about the barn cat that lives there, how Dina’s sister begs it to come in the house every night, and it refuses- won’t even pass the threshold of the porch. You’d much rather have the life of a barn cat right now. Coming and going as you please, prancing through tall grass and pestering sheep as the days pass by. Having someone beg you to come be safe and warm in their hold.

The sky is dark by the time Ellie says her goodbye. The dark lingering cloud from earlier has spread, soaking up every inch of blue that tried to peek through. You walked a loop around the house, making sure all of the windows are shut and locked. Last thing you need is rainwater seeping in.

When it comes, it comes fast. Fat, heavy droplets hit the cement, soaking it through. You stand by the large bay window, curtains drawn back to watch. Puddles forming in the streets and in the patches of grass by the sidewalk. You see lightning in the distance and a low thunder rumbles a few seconds later. Wind blows the trees and its leaves scatter, twisting through the air to smack wetly into whatever surface it's being thrown into.

You leave the curtain open and settle yourself on the couch, curling up with a blanket. You snatch up the remote and search through movies on streaming apps until you settle on Pet Sematary. You love this movie and its perfect vibes for stormy nights. A comfort movie. That's what you needed after the week of inner rambling.

The lightning gets more frequent, thunder gets louder. This is bliss. Your head is empty for the first time in a week. Quiet, despite the shattering thunder and heavy rain outside. No sweating over job applications and their lack of responses. You’re pushing your internal struggle to the side to enjoy some movies in the comfy atmosphere.

Enjoying it is an understatement. You are lulled to sleep by the thud of rain against the outside of the house, the occasional flicker of lightning filling the room for a split second and illuminating all that is inside. A particularly loud pang of thunder jolts you out of your sleep state. You gasp and clutch a fist to your heaving chest. It takes a moment for you to regain your bearings. You rub your tired eyes and stretch out of the couch.

An earth shattering boom steals all the breath in your lungs. A mechanical whir sounds before every light in your living room clicks off.

“Fucking-” The bright ball of orange barely visible over the top of the building outside your window catches your attention.

TV is off, overhead lights, the fan in the living room. All of it is off. Transformer blown. Great. You whine softly and pull your phone from your hoodie pocket and click the flashlight on, sighing in relief that you have a decent amount of battery left. You go around and turn all of the lightswitches that were on, off. Something your Dad always told you to do, and it stuck. While you do that you gather all of the candles you see, silently thanking Ellie for keeping so many from her dorm room. You’ve collected nearly ten of them, scattered them around the living room. On the TV stand, the coffee table, windowsill and the rest were scattered on the floor. The room was glowing in flickering orangey, red light. It felt cozy.

You settle yourself back into the corner of the couch once you're content with the ample lighting from the candles. All of the smells mix together to make something comforting even though you can't put your finger on it. You tuck your bare legs inside your hoodie, balling up and tugging the throw blanket over yourself. You keep the curtains drawn on the bay window and you shuffle to face them, heavy lidded eyes boring out into the monsoon.

The thunder roared closer and closer together, each time it jolted your eyes open in surprise. The vibration of your phone catching you off guard. It was just a photo from Ellie. A picture of her and Dina with the beautiful blue sky you saw earlier on her facetime call. You quickly snap a picture of your current situation, the stark contrast in the skies alone was comical. Before you can press send three consecutive bangs make your heart jump. You’re sitting up straight, eyes wide. That wasn’t thunder. You’ve heard that before but theres no fucking way. You quickly stand, bare feet padding on the hardwood floor. You’re aware of the chill in the air when your bare legs are exposed from their warm spot under your hoodie and the blanket not long ago. You approach the door and crack it. The red emergency light is casting shadows onto the figure in front of you while you swallow the lump in your throat.

Joel?

The past two times he's been here the sun has been illuminating his golden features. You open the door widen, your lips parted in awe, or disbelief, you can't tell which one right now as you take him in.

Joel Miller.

At your door right now, dripping and sputtering rain water off of his beautiful lips when he speaks up.

“M’truck stalled ‘bout a block out. My wipers were losin’ the fight anyways. Couldn’t see a damn thing. Didn’t know where else to go to wait it out.” He projects his voice over the loud rainfall and rumbles in the sky.

“You’re soaked.” Is all you can spit out.

He nods his head, the rain soaking his hair a darker color and plastering thick strands of curls to his face. Common sense smacks you in the face as you stand there dry and he’s continuously getting beat on by rain.

“Come in.” You blurt out and back up, allowing him space to walk into the entryway.

“Y’don’t mind?” He says while ducking in looking sheepish.

“Y-You can come in. It's not like I have electricity to offer but-”

“Dark and dry is better than soaked n’ blind on the road.”

You close the door behind him, the wind chilling you to the bone. You shiver as you lock it up. You take a step back and take him in. Standing in your entryway, his dark t-shirt soaked even darker and clinging to his skin. You’re jealous of it. Fat drops of rain slide down the curves of his curls and drip down the sides of his face. They roll from his temple and down his strong jaw, getting muddled in his beard hairs. Roll from the curls tucked behind his ear, down the thick vein in his neck and pool at his collar before slowly being absorbed into the fabric. You swallow hard to prevent yourself from drooling.

Joel stands there in silence, soaked through. His eyes adjust to the warmth of the candle light, adoring the way it flickers across your soft features. You look comfortable, big hoodie hanging from your frame, bare legs on display again. He takes an extra second to let his eyes linger at the curve of your thighs, where his hand was merely a week ago. He remembers how soft, plush and warm they were. He’s getting carried away, he needs to stop. He pulls his attention away from the exposed skin and settles them onto your face again. Your eyes look tired, a pang of guilt hits deep in his chest, did he wake you? His brows start to saddle together before you yip quietly. He’s been dripping onto the tile, a decent sized puddle forming around him, the cold water spreading and finally making contact with your foot. It pulled you both out of the trance you seemed to be in. He looks down to see just that.

“I’m sorry-”

“I’m gonna get you a towel.”

You both speak over each other. You don't acknowledge his apology, there's nothing for him to apologize for, it should be you. You can't imagine how cold he must be if you got goosebumps from that one gust of wind. Joel is soaked to the bone.

You make quick work of the stairs, grabbing a handful of towels, making sure there's enough for him, and enough to soak up the puddle on the floor. Just as quick as you went up, you came back down, shoving the fluffy bath towels to his chest. His wet fingers brush yours and the way your body jolts doesn't go unnoticed by Joel. You seem twitchy and guarded. He feels shameful, is it because he almost laid you down on your bed before getting up and practically running out of there? Or was it because he did that and then had zero contact with you since then. The latter. No shit, Joel.

“Thank you.”

Joel kicks off his boots and peels off his soggy socks, drying himself with the towels you so generously provided. You stand in the living room and watch, practically gawking. He tosses the towel over his head and brings his hands up to scruff up his hair underneath. He pulls the towel off and runs his thick hands through his wet, messy hair.

Fuck, it looks beautiful. Is this what he looks like after a shower? Beautiful curls slicked back from a push of his hand, coiling at the back of his neck. Smaller curls falling around his temples as they broke loose from larger chunks. He holds that towel over his forearm, stepping back as you take the other to sop up the puddle between the two of you. You fold it and leave it next to the door, picking up his boots carefully and setting them on top of the folded towel. You stand up straight and brush your hands on your hoodie.

Joel is watching you move. He realized within the past week he hadn’t taken enough time to study you the short times he was here. Or maybe the way you looked at him while kneeling on your bed was just so significant he couldn’t remember anything else while he’d touch himself in bed at night. His heart skips a beat at the thought.

Do you feel the same way? Are you lying in bed at night, hand between your thighs because you can’t get him out of your head? Or is he stuck in a fantasy world? Maybe he should just ask. But he doesn’t want to scare you away.

He has to give himself a reality check. The last words you spoke to him before he left last week was reassuring him that you wanted that, too. It didn't feel real to him. Too precious, careful and beautiful. The way your face is hidden behind your hair as you bend over, your delicate hand coming to tuck a lock behind your ear. So soft. He did that the last time he was here. The way you carefully pick up his boots and place them down without a noise. He flexes his fingers not realizing that he was making a fist so tight that his blunt nails left indents in the fleshy heel of his palm.

“You’re still all wet.” You speak up finally, frowning at him.

Fuck, theres that face again. That face makes his chest throb. He wants to cup your rosy cheeks in his big hands and plant his lips right on that pout.

Joel shrugs his shoulders. “S’okay. Better than before.”

He is proud of himself for keeping his cool as far as his exterior goes.

“Actually, our dryer works now, thanks to you. I can toss them in there if you’d like.” You offer, neither of you have moved yet.

Both of you standing still, a few feet apart. You feel like he’s holding something back. The tension is thick and you want to climb him like a tree right now but you need to remind yourself what this past week has been like for you. Making yourself so stressed over a simple make out because he knows your Dad. You need to hold yourself together at least until you tell him. He’s standing here- wet and real and quiet- and he doesn’t know you’re your fathers daughter.

He chuckles and nods his head once before realization settles over him.

“I don’t have nothin’ to change into. Don’t think your lil’ shirts would fit me. Also, don’t know if you remember, but the power is out. I’m good at fixin’ but not good enough that the dryer would start workin’ with no power, sweetheart.” He says and his lips twitch like he's holding back a smile.

His shoulders relax as he breathes out. Your stomach tightens at his comment. The lil’ shirt you wore for him last week. The too tight one that showed just a little bit of your tummy?

Joel is talking about that little black shirt and he doesn’t miss the look on your face when you piece that together. He has a feeling you put that on just for him the other day. It hugged your torso beautifully. But Joel's favorite part of that shirt wasn't the way it settled on your skin, but rather the places it didn't. The neck of it swooped to show off your cleavage- don’t get it twisted but that part that really does his knees in was the bit of your tummy that was showing. That sliver of skin was enough to keep him going this past week. He desperately wanted his hands there again, tracing aimlessly or sprawling his broad palms there.

You swallow down the lump in your throat, holding your hands together in front of you and squeezing the absolutely living shit out of them to keep yourself from reaching out and grabbing him.

“I’ve got something of Jesse’s. I’ll be back.” You were quick with your words and even quicker to run up the steps.

Jesse?

Who the fuck is Jesse?

He knows your roommate is Ellie, that's who placed the first work order. Wait, he's heard you mutter that name before, right before he carried your dresser upstairs. This Jesse told you he wouldn't be able to come and help you move the dresser until later, Joel didn't stop to ask the question then, he just wanted to help you. Wouldn't you stop him from kissing you if you had a boyfriend?

Woah now- Don’t jump to conclusions, he's nervous and getting himself all twisted over such a small detail. He unknits his brows when you come puttering down the steps again, holding your hand out with clothes. Joel swallows with enough force you can watch his Adam's apple bob. You show him a kind smile, gesturing the clothes towards him when he doesn't take them right away.

“Here, they should fit. If you wanna go to the bathroom and change, I can hang your wet stuff up. Is that okay?”

Joel hates how awkward he's being. But now he can't stop thinking about whose clothes he's taking. His eyes flicker from the clump of clothes to your face. You are bold, but certainly not bold enough to offer up your boyfriend's clothes to him to change into, right?

Joel gives a tight smile.

“Thank you.” His voice is hoarse as he grabs the clothes.

“Bathroom is at the top of the steps, it's the first door right there.” You say and point to it from the bottom of the steps.

Joel nods his head and makes his way up the steps as gracefully as he can in soaking wet jeans. The second the bathroom door closes you blow a fat breath through your lips. You’re so fucking tense right now. You are beyond conflicted and the coil in the pit of your belly grows taught the longer you look at him. Quickly, you give your living room a once over. No trash or anything extremely embarrassing lying around. You make quick work of his clothes, writing them out in the kitchen sink before laying them over the backs of your kitchen chairs, making your way back into the living room. You close your eyes and steady your breathing while you wait for him.

You hear heavy footsteps shortly after. Joel doesn't see you in the entryway anymore, he cranes his head around the archway into the living room and pulls his lips in a tight smile when he sees you. He takes a step forward, bringing his body past the threshold to stand in front of you, his wet clothes in hand. They’re dripping onto the hardwood floor. Soft pattering is a grave difference compared to the beating your windows are taking from the rain. You’re not even giving him the decency to look him in the face right now. The sweatpants look to be a decent fit, maybe a little tight around his thighs but you’re not arguing. What catches you off guard and knocks the wind from your lungs is the shirt. Your eyes are trained on his broad chest. You don't even know if he could take a deep breath in this thing, that's how tight it is. The outline of his soft belly makes your heart throb.

Okay, reel it in.

God, his arms. You think if he moved the right way they’d rip right through the fabric.

This is just as lewd as him in the wet t-shirt.

Joel clears his throat and you snap out of it. You snatch his wet clothes out of his hands, letting him know that you’ll be right back. When you disappear down to the basement Joel turns to look outside. It doesn't look like it has let up at all. He rolls his shoulders before crossing his arms over his chest. This shirt is fucking too small. Is it odd that this offers Joel some confidence? That if Jesse is your boyfriend, Joel is bigger than him. It strokes his ego. His head whips around when he hears your bare feet pad against the hardwood floor.

Holy shit, his arms are huge. You thought they were big before. While they are crossed over his chest in front of you, they look about double the size of your head, you think.

“How long has the power been out?” Joel breaks the heavy silence.

You nod your head and gesture to all of the candles around.

“Went out a little before you knocked. You didn’t hear the transformer? Grateful Ellie has a bunch of these or else we’d be sittin’ here in the pitch black.” You smile, walking over to the couch.

“You can sit, y’know.” You tell him while taking a seat in the corner of the couch.

Joel hums in appreciation before lowering his body onto the couch next to you. The couch isn't big. It can fit three people comfortably, four is everyones willing to be touching knees. But Joel is so big and broad, you don’t know if you could fit four people on here with him being one of them. You turn slightly to face him, hands nervously picking at a loose string on your sleeve.

“Are the clothes okay?”

Joel clears his throat and nods, thoughts of this Jesse lingering in the back of his mind. He wants to ask, but doesnt want to seem like he's jumping down your throat. It's a fine line he's walking.

“Lil’ tight up top.” He chuckles, leaning into the armrest of the couch, knees spreading apart from the other. “They’re fine. Thank you again. For all’a this. Dryin’ my clothes n’ letting me barge in like this.”

You laugh softly before your features soften to something more genuine.

“Yeah, of course.”

Pliant silence falls over the both of you. Illuminated by the orange flickering glow that licks over both of your features. It casts heavy shadows, emphasizing each curve. The storm is still rolling strong. Lightning paints the room white every few minutes and the thunder that follows after rattles the windows. The both of you pretend to look at everything else but each other. Stolen glances making your heart skip when he almost catches you.

“S’Jesse your boyfriend?” Joel finally breaks the silence.

His eyes widen at your expression. Your face pinched in confusion. You stuttered on your words a bit before choking out a light laugh and shaking your head. You held your hands up, palms towards him and shook them.

“No! Jesse? God- no. He’s friends with Ellie and I.” You toss your head back and laugh a little more.

Joel closes his eyes and sighs, relief visibly relaxing his frame. Your laugh radiates between his ears and he can’t help the smile spreading his lips, a low chuckle of his own rumbling from his chest. It was infectious. He much prefers this over the pouty face you put on earlier.

“Don’t you think your last visit would’ve gone a little differently if he was?” Your laugh settles and you turn your attention back to him.

You’re taking the opportunity to chop at the tension. If he’s gonna be here until the storm calms down, you don’t want to sit in heavy silence the whole time.

Joel's chest grows tight. You’re bringing it up. He can’t read the way you’re bringing that up. Is it laced with regret or want? You told him you wanted that, but that was a week ago. There has been zero communication from that point until now. He’d be lying if he said that week wasn’t spent waiting for another maintenance request to come in from you. He wouldn’t care if it was a lie. He wouldn’t care if it was as simple as changing another lightbulb. He wanted to see you. He thought showing up out of the blue was uncalled for and probably scary for you. But that's exactly what he did tonight. It felt different even if he was justifying it for his own selfish reasons.

Joel shrugs his shoulders, hesitant to meet your eyes, afraid of the distaste he might find in them. When he does meet them, there isn’t any. He narrows his eyes in concentration, maybe the lighting is hiding it. You give him an expectant look, waiting for his response. He doesn’t find any distaste. He sees soft and kind. Welcoming.

“It should’ve gone differently for ‘nother reason.” He swallows thickly, wiping his sweaty palms over his thighs before settling them in his lap.

That hits you like a ton of bricks. What could he mean by that? You want to question him but your Dad’s voice is bouncing around in your brain. They’re friends.

“This is normal, right? Casual stormy hangouts with my building’s maintenance man.” You laugh softly, trying to bring some reality back to the conversation mostly to remind yourself who he is and that you shouldn’t be feeling the way you do.

“Is that what I am?” He raises his eyebrows, shifting his body more towards you, his arm closest to you swinging up to rest on the back of the couch.

You freeze. Your mouth is so dry, it’s uncomfortable. No, you want to tell him. That's not all he is. That's all he knows he is. If I tell him the truth this ends. He’ll be angry or uncomfortable. He’ll walk out. You won’t see him again, not like this at least.

“You fixed the dryer.”

“I did.” He seems amused.

“And the lightbulb.”

His hand grips the cushion at the back of the couch, sighing softly while adjusting. He pushed his hips forward and slouched deeper into the couch.

“Want me to fix anythin’ else?”

There it is. That same syrupy draw he had in your bedroom last week. When he called you beautiful. Your body reacts immediately. Your breath catches and your thighs press together. Yes, you want to scream. You want to tell him to make all the racing thoughts go quiet but you can’t. You can’t speak. The silence is comfortable despite you feeling like you could jump out of your skin. You wonder if he feels the same.

Joel lets his question hang in the air. It’s thick. He likes watching you squirm in front of him. He slowly drags his palm along his thigh, resting it on his knee. His hand at the back of the couch hangs there. He’s inches from you and he’s fighting every urge to reach out and actually touch you. Feel the way your soft skin gives way under his grasp.

He can tell you hold a lot on your shoulders. You’re jittery and always huffing breaths. An anxious lil’ thing. He wants to make you forget about whatever it is you’re stressing about. He wants to quiet the non stop in your brain. Joel wants to make you feel good.

“Joel. There's something I need to-“

“Don’t say it.” His voice is low, rough like gravel soaked in honey.

You freeze. Fuck, does he know?

“If you’re about to tell me that kiss was a mistake- don’t.”

‘Because I’ve been telling myself not to think about it. Not to want it again. But I do. I want it like hell.’ Is what he wants to tell you. He’s afraid if he said that, you’d tell him it means nothing. He would have to believe you. And he doesn’t want to.

You open your mouth, lips shaped around the words to tell him about your Dad. Just say it. Say he knows your father. That he’s your dad’s friend. That you shouldn’t have kissed him, or liked it, or thought about it every hour since.

Just say it.

You don’t.

“Joel-“

‘Don’t tell me something that makes me stop. Let me have this. Let me give this to you. One goddamn thing that feels good again.’ Joel hopes his expression is conveying his emotions because they’re too big to tell you so soon.

“I keep thinking about the way you taste.” Joel settles on that.

Your eyes are wide. With one swift movement Joel is close to you on the couch. You don’t move just yet. If you let him kiss you, you can’t take it back. If you tell him who you are, this ends. But if you lie? If you lie, maybe you get to keep him for just a little longer.

Joel's thick fingers wrap around your wrist, pulling you closer. You lean into his touch, your shoulder brushing against his chest.

“You don’t have to say anything, darlin’. Just let me kiss you one more time.”

“Joel..” You say his name again in a whisper, eyes locked onto his lips.

You don’t stop him when he leans in closer, you lean in and kiss him. Joel's broad hands cup your cheeks. He kisses you hungrily, like he’s a man ten years starved. Just like the first time, you melt into his touch and twist your hands up in the fabric of his too tight shirt. You’re soft and pliable in Joel's hands. You’ve got him tied up in knots and you don’t even know it.

Joel angels the kiss downwards, shifting on the couch to crane over you. His broad shoulders shadow your frame as he pulls back from the kiss, his warm breath puffing over your face. Your eyes are blown black. Wide like saucers. Cheeks are flushed.

A second later Joel's hands are gone from your cheeks and he’s settled back into the cushion of the couch, his chest rising and falling quicker than before. You’re frozen. You feel like the worst person alive. But you want him so badly you’d lie to your fathers face to keep this. You’d be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t want this. Didn’t need this. You want to give into him.

You don’t know if it's because it’s been so long since you’ve been touched like this, or maybe it’s because no one has ever touched you like Joel does. There's been boys here or there making comments, Owen specifically being persistent but you didn’t feel like that with any of them. Joel is looking at you right now like he could eat you alive. It makes you feel good. Makes you feel wanted. You couldn’t name the last time someone has made you feel that way. You can’t wrap your head around anything further than kissing him, it’d feel too surreal. But you want it, badly.

Joel evens his breathing from the other side of the couch, his eyes still trained on you. Everywhere on you. Your face, your shaky hands, the curve of your thigh disappearing under your hoodie.

“C’mere.” He gruffs.

His voice almost startles you, too lost in your own head. You furrow your eyebrows and scoot a little closer on the couch.

Joel sucks his teeth and shakes his head, leaning into the back of the couch and spreading his thighs apart. His hands rest at his thighs.

“No. C’mere darlin’.” He draws, tapping his fingers on his lap.

Excitement jolts through your spine and curls around your belly. You bring yourself to your knees, shuffling closer before slinging your knee over his lap. Joel's thick fingers wrap around the side of your knee, guiding it over his lap and letting it sink into the cushion. You’re straddling him, hovering over his lap.

His other hand rests on the top of your opposite thigh, his calloused thumb rubbing small, lazy circles into your skin. Joel doesn’t ignore the way your breath hitches when he does that. A coy smirk plays at the corner of his lips while he relaxes into the cushions behind him.

You swallow thickly, eyes darting around his face frantically. The soft creases by the corners of his eyes. The way the grey in his hair seeps into his beard, speckling through the dark hairs. Your body jolts, nerves heightened, the earth cracking thunder rumbling through the house. Joel puts his hands at your hips, pressing his fingers into you through the fabric of your hoodie.

“Easy.. Relax.” He says smoothly, putting pressure on your hips to coax you to settle on his lap.

You gladly comply, his words twisting your belly. Letting your thighs relax, all of your weight settled in his lap with a quiet groan. The weight of his hands at your hips, the stretch of the inside of your thighs as they entrap the width of his hips. Hands are pressed against his shoulders, fingertips pressing into his muscle. You feel arousal pooling at your center.

“M’gonna make you feel good, yeah?” He nods his head, his low voice is breathless.

Your shoulders crumple, muscles in your tummy contracting, his words affecting you physically. With brows saddled together, you nodded your head. One of your hands ball his shirt in your fist.

“Lemme hear you, baby.” Joel growls.

“Y-Yeah. Yes. Please.” You huff out, nodding again.

“Good girl.”

Joel swallows your whimper, not giving you a second before planting his lips on yours. His lips are soft and warm against yours. He wastes no time to drag his tongue along your lower lip. You part your lips willingly, tongue meeting his and moving rhythmically. Joel's hands push your hips, grinding you down into his lap. His cock is hard beneath the sweatpants, throbbing against your clothed core as you respond to the coax of his hands. You slowly dragged your hips back and forth, rolling them against his lap and whining quietly against his lips.

Joel pressed his teeth into the flesh of your lower lip, tilting his head back before letting it snap back into place and pressing a wet kiss there to soothe it. The whine that drew from you hit him deep in his stomach.

“God, listen to you.” He muses with a lazy smirk on his lips. “Soundin’ real pretty.”

Fuck, you didn’t know you have a praise kink until now. Your face pinches up when the pang of pleasure is sent through your core, settling low and adding to the slick between your legs. Lightning illuminates the room for a split second before it returns to its orangey, flickering hue.

Joel's hands slide under the fabric of your hoodie.

“Keep movin’.” He encourages you as your hips sputter when his hands leave.

“O-okay.” You breathe out.

Your fist tightens, tugging at his shirt. Warm, rough hands meet the bare skin of your torso and your breath hitches. A low groan rumbles from Joel's chest. You’re melting against him and he’s barely touched you yet. He wants to see you unravel from his doing. Joel doesn’t mind being greedy in this setting. He wants to take everything you’ll give to him. He gets off on seeing you lose yourself in pleasure, grinding into his lap.

His hands slip farther up your skin, fingers wrapping at the spot under your ribs, thumbs rubbing in small circles on your exposed skin. His grip tightens as he bucks his hips into yours. A broken moan is ripped from your chest, the pressure against your soaked cunt sending stars across your eyes. Thunder cracks and the padding of rain hiding your uneven breaths.

“Make yourself feel good.” He commands, voice softening.

Your hips stutter, his request making you nervous. Make yourself feel good, using him? Red creeps up your neck and spreads over your cheeks. Lightning lights up the room.

“Don’t get all shy on me now, baby. Go on n’ take what you need.” He rasps, pulling your torso into his.

His lips ghost the shell of your ear, heaving chests just inches apart.

“Let me hear you.” He coaxes for your words again.

The only response you could muster was a whine of his name and, fuck, Joel grips your ribs harder, restraining himself from fucking up into you again. He meant it when he said he wanted you to take what you need. He wanted to watch you pant, whine and chase after your high. He wasn’t worried about his own physical pleasure right now. Watching you repeatedly circle your hips into his was pleasure enough for him. It makes his chest tighten, throat dry up and his cock pulse.

Joel slips one of his hands over your clothed breast, pressing his finger pads into the fleshy bit that spills out of the top of your sports bra.

“Fuck- Joel.” You whimper, your hand that isn’t gripping his t-shirt moves quickly to lace itself in his damp hair.

“That feel good, pretty girl?”

He’s throwing new pet names your way and if you were standing they’d make your knees buckle.

“Feels. R-Really. Really good.” You stutter out, jaw falling slack.

“That's it, baby.” He praises, letting his head rest against the back of the couch to take you in.

He kneads his hand into your tit, palm rubbing against your hardened nipple beneath the fabric. You arch your back, pushing your chest further into his hand. Your hips buck into his hard on as pressure builds in your core. The room is filled with wanton moans and the soft squelch of wet fabric sticking to your slick cunt. Joel's eyes never leave you. They linger at your mouth to make sure he doesn’t miss any of the noises that spill out. The constant thud of rain fading from his brain as he focuses everything he has on you.

Babbled words spill from your plump, glossy lips. Joel's fingers curl around the cup of your sports bra and tugs down, letting your boob spill out of the restraining fabric. His palm immediately goes back to work on your bare breast, kneading and pushing his palm into the soft flesh.

“Speak up.” He tells you.

“Joel-“

“Yes, baby?”

“Please.” You beg quietly.

Not for anything specific. The coil in the pit of your stomach has been tightening, it's threatening to snap and you need to feel him. He’s cool and collected from what you can tell and the imbalance turns you on even more. How can he be so put together and grounding when he’s unwinding you thread by thread? Making you a glassy eyed, whimpering mess on his lap.

“Tell me what you need. Wanna hear you.” He gruffs.

“Touch me.” You blurt out breathlessly.

Joel tuts and shakes his head.

“Be more specific.” He commands.

You crane your head into your shoulder and whine in frustration, hips sputtering against his. Your slick has soaked through your panties, sleep shorts and it's begun bleeding into the crotch of Joel's sweatpants. He can feel how warm you are even through all the layers.

“Fuck. You’re soaked, hm?”

You nod your head in a hurry. His thumb brushes over your nipple and you whine.

“Been thinkin’ ‘bout you all week.” He whispers and leans in, pressing a hot kiss to your temple.

You collapse into him, your full weight on him.

“Can’t tell you how many times I’ve touched myself to the thought of you this past week,” Your name leaves his lips effortlessly.

His words beat into your core. The thought of Joel touching himself in his bed to the thought of you drives you crazy. When you’re able to form coherent thoughts you’ll tell him you’ve done the same. But none of that felt half as good as this does.

“T-Touch-“ Was all you were able to get out again.

Joel's lips press hot, open mouth kisses to your jaw and just below it, nipping there before dragging the flat of his tongue over it. His thick forefinger and thumb rolling your nipple slowly before tugging.

“Alright, baby. I got you.” You mutter against your damp skin, his breath fanning over the wet spot sent a shiver down your spine.

While one of his hands stays kneading your breast, the other travels from your ribs and smoothes over the curve of your ass, gripping it tightly. It doesn’t stay there long as it slips down your thigh, raking his dull nails against your sensitive skin and back up, his large hand sprawling against your lower stomach, thumb pushing between your folds. You cry out a moan, your forehead falling onto his broad, warm shoulder. Joel cranes his thumb, pressing into the soaked fabric and making contact with your clit. You sink your teeth into your lower lip, fighting the noises that threaten to fall past it. You hand curls into his hair and tugs, eliciting a moan from him.

Joel's hand palms your breast, pulling your bra down once more to give him more freedom, gripping it roughly before returning to teasing and rolling your hardened nipple

“Joel- I’m c-close, please. I’m gon-“ You whine your heavy breaths fanning out over his neck.

“Give it to me.” He says slowly, your ‘please’ making him feel dizzy.

Your hips buck forward and fall out of rhythm as you grow closer.

“Atta girl. Doin’ so good for me.”

His praises push you closer to the edge.

“Go ‘head n’ cum for me, pretty girl.” He rasps.

That's all it takes.

Your eyes screw shut, white streaks flooding the back of your lids. You cum, hard. Stomach is hot, muscles twitch and tighten under your skin. A slew of moans and his name leave your lips, muffled by you pressing your face into his shoulder. He releases your breast, that hand settles on your hip, takes over for you and he grinds you into him to ride out your high. Your breath hitches as his thumb adds more pressure. The feeling of fresh arousal seeping quickly through the already soaked fabric. He continues to work your hips, slowing them down as he feels your thighs twitch and torso quiver.

“You did so good.” He whispers into your hair, pressing a soft kiss there.

You whine in response and again when he pulls his glistening thumb away. He wipes it at the inside of your thigh before wrapping both of his strong arms around your shaking frame. The whooshing between your ears making everything sound far away, the rain, low rumble of thunder at the storm moves farther, his deep, syrupy voice.

“I gotcha, baby. Relax.”

You do. Deep inhale and exhale causes you to fold deeper into him.

“Thank you.” Is all you can muster.

Your body rises and falls with Joel's chest that shakes with a low chuckle. The two of you sit there like that for a moment, chests swelling and falling opposite the other. Fitting together nicely. You shift on his lap, thighs burning from the stretch and you feel him still hard under you. You whine quietly at the feeling, still sensitive from your high. You shift farther back onto his thighs, drawing distance between you, your hands smoothing over his shoulders and onto his chest. Joel lifts his head and furrows his eyebrows, watching you carefully.

Your hands skate lower, down his torso and pressed into the soft of his belly.

“What’re you gettin’ up to?” He questions.

“Wanna make you feel good, too.” You respond in a quiet voice.

Joel smiles warmly but shakes his head.

“Uh-uh. Don’t worry about me, darlin’. Watchin’ you made me feel plenty good.”

Your face pinches in confusion. He doesn’t want you to touch him? Your body fills with an anxious driven pit.

“Did I do something wrong?” You ask. Pulling your hands back from his torso and wrapping them around your own to comfort yourself.

Joel quickly shakes his head and reaches out to grab your hands, placing them on your thighs, and his hands over yours.

“Not at all. You did good, told you just that.” He murmurs, leaning forward to press a kiss to your kiss. “Y’looked like a hurt puppy earlier, wanted to make whatevers goin’ on in that busy lil’ mind a’ yours quiet for a while.” He presses another kiss there before leaning back into the cushion.

Your eyes soften. He just wanted to make you feel good with nothing in return? Your expression is clear to Joel.

“You’re breakin’ my heart, baby.” He brings a hand up to cup your warmed cheek. “These lil’ college boys always expect somethin’ in return, hm?”

You nod your head into his palm slowly.

“Don’t worry your pretty lil’ head ‘bout me. Just relax.” His voice is slow and sweet.

You try to. Your tired body does, but your mind is still racing. He said you looked like a hurt puppy earlier. Are you really worrying over your Dad that loudly in your expression? Enough for him to notice in this flickering candle light? His hand runs smoothly over your back, quieting your rambling thoughts. Your body is heavy and it feels like there's weights wrapped around your wrists and ankles. So with a deep breath in and out you close your eyes and relax. You’re allowing yourself to have this and enjoy it, too.

You don’t remember when you fell asleep. You don’t remember walking up the steps and getting under your covers. But when you wake up that's where you are. Tucked under the covers in your bed still in your hoodie and shorts. You rub the sleep from your eyes and sit up, squinting. The sun is rising.

It takes a minute for your brain to wake up and its first thought is; Joel.

You throw the blanket off of your legs and hop out of bed on wobbly legs. You make it down the steps in record time and stand in the entryway, eyes blinking rapidly.

All of the candles are blown out and sitting on your coffee table. You take a few more steps, his clothes are no longer hanging on the back of your dining room chairs. A few more steps. The clock on the oven is blinking: 12:00. Powers back on.

“Joel?” You call out quietly.

You’re upset to not see him here. Even more upset that you fell asleep so easily on top of him, crumpled into his chest. There's an uneasy feeling trickling over your shoulders and settling at the top of your stomach like reality just hit you. Your lips still feel swollen from last night. You didn’t tell him last night.You actually made it so much worse for the both of you. The only difference is that Joel is blissfully unaware of it right now.

All you can smell is him. Rainwater and Joel soaked into your clothing. You need to get it off or else there's no way you’ll be able to do anything productive today. You trudge back up the stairs and into the bathroom, quickly shedding your clothing and turning the water on. Once warm you hop in and draw the curtain closed. It drips down your torso and over the source muscles of your thighs. You sigh quietly at the pull in them, running your hand over your skin.

You finish washing your hair and body. Strawberry scented body wash. No longer smelling like Joel. It makes you frown.

Hours later you sat at your desk, scrolling through your email at your computer monitor. Your eyes have been bored into this screen for what seems like hours. Responding to email threads, practically one step away from begging these companies to spare you a fucking internship.

You express your frustrations to Ellie when she calls you on the phone after hearing about the big storm in your town last night.

“Did water get in anywhere?” She asks and you hear rustling over the phone line.

“Nope. Lost power but it came back sometime when I was asleep. Everything seems fine.” You tell her, leaving out the details of a certain visitor you had.

“Not too bad then. Hate to rub it in your face but all I’ve seen is clear skies since I got here.” She chuckles.

You roll your eyes playfully.

“It wasn’t too bad, really. Today isn’t as sticky hot now that that's over. That's a Plus.”

She tells you about Dina’s family and the farm. Tells you that she's never had a better scrambled egg in her entire life, Dina’s Mom is a pro apparently. She asks you about the internships and you tell her you’re fighting for your fucking life.

“It’s not even required hours, who cares.” She says, your name falling from her lips in a tut.

“I care. I just need something. Money and to keep my mind occupied.”

“If you need something then why not go back to Riverside?” Ellie suggests.

You groan at the thought.

Riverside Diner was the job you scored when you first came to school in Austin. Local diner, decent size, gets a good amount of foot traffic and a ton of regular customers. When you say a ton, you mean it. During your first summer after your freshman year, you picked up more hours. Working five, sometimes six days a week when tourists would flood the city, rather than the one or two shifts a week. Everyday the same man would sit at the counter and order a coffee and a slice of pie. There was a woman who’d come in every Sunday afternoon with three younger girls. A boy around your age that you recognized from campus would come and get pancakes multiple times a week. You didn’t really notice all of the regulars when you were working part time during the school year. It felt like its own little town.

“Don’t groan at me.” Ellie sucks her teeth.

“I think I was just hell bent on getting an internship like everyone else this summer. It’s not a bad idea though.”

“It’s not at all. Frank always loved having you there anyway. He’d probably give you a shift the next day if you asked for it.”

“You’re right. When are you coming back? This house is too quiet with just me.” You neglect the fact that it was anything but quiet last night.

Despite the rain and the thunder, Joel had you a mess in minutes. You don’t tell her you let your dad’s friend touch you. And that it felt safe. And hot. Perfect.

“‘Bout ten days.”

You hear Dina’s voice on the other side of the line calling Ellie. With a small sigh Ellie says her goodbyes. She lets you know that she will text you later.

With that you’re sitting in silence at your desk again, mulling over the last 24 hours. You replay it like a movie, over and over again. His reassuring, coaxing words of praise. God, you could feel your panties dampen at the thought.

Joel Miller is gonna get you in trouble.

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sacr1ficialang3l · 3 months ago

Text

walking to a house, not a home. (but my home is you)✧.*

SAM WINCHESTER X READER

SUMMARY: She's so used to hiding her pain, but Sam and Dean show her that she doesn't have to anymore. 2.0k

WARNINGS: mentions of self-harm (scratching). allusions to an unhealthy home environment. a little angsty but with a fluffy end. fem!reader.

NOTES: I had an awful day yesterday and I wrote this with puffy eyes and a headache at three am. pretty shorter than what I usually write but anyways. English is not my first language! Enjoy<3

Your body shakes with every sob that vibrates through your chest as you curl up in a little ball, laying down on the floor in the corner of the empty motel room.

Even though your chest burns like it is being torn apart and your throat aches with all the pain you are swallowing down, not a sound leaves your mouth. You had learned from a very young age how to cry in silence. You had perfected the right way to breathe —first through your nose and then through your mouth so there's no sniffing— the correct way to reduce your sobs and sometimes wails to only a throbbing rumble down on your ribs, not even letting them reach your throat. You had found out that if you dug your nails into your thighs, even dragging them down your leg until you drew blood, it kept even the worst of noises away.

And old habits die hard, you guess. Because now, years after you had left the home house you grew up in, when you could cry and weep and scream all you wanted and no one would say anything, your mouth stays sealed tightly.

You tremble like a leaf in the wind, arms pathetically wrapped around your knees like the grip will somehow keep you together. When the pressure on your chest starts to feel a little too strong, like someone has a hand around your heart and is trying to rip it out, your fingernails finally puncture the tender skin of your thighs.

The pain offers a momentary but also addictive relief. Your throat untightens a bit and your brain shuts up for a second. It won’t last long and it isn’t healthy, but it is the only way you know how to not lose yourself to the voices in your head.

You are so distracted by the pain, both physical and emotional, that you don’t notice when Sam and Dean walk through the door. You had assumed they would spend all night at the bar you left them in, where you gave them a plastic smile you had also perfected long ago and claimed to be too sleepy to stay up with them, making sure to keep your voice steady, your eyes bright and your fists unclenched. It had always worked with everyone else.

You should have known by now that the Winchester brothers weren’t everyone else.

You nearly break Sam’s nose when he suddenly kneels in front of you and takes one of your hands off your thigh. He dodges the punch with the reflexes of someone who’s been in fight-or-flight mode since the moment he became aware of his existence, but his expression remains gentle.

You try to wipe away your tears with your other hand, but Sam quickly grabs it too. There is blood under your nails this time, and Sam studies it for a moment. You open your mouth, trying to justify yourself. Anything, say anything. You watched a sad movie, you hit your toe really hard against the leg of the bed, it was that time of the month. Anything but reality.

Before you can even start to mumble and stumble through half-assed excuses, Sam looks into your eyes with the softest look you had ever seen on him.

“You can actually cry now, you know?” You look at him with wide, startled eyes.

“Yeah, we promise not to make too much fun of you.” Dean adds, his always present teasing tone still there but lighter. You look up at him where he was sitting on the bed, and his expression changes to a more serious one when he takes in how red your cheeks are from rubbing your face and how raw your lips are from biting them. “You are safe now.”

“You can let go.” Sam leans in a little closer, just enough so that it makes your breath hitch, your throat contracting and your eyes glossing over again. “You don’t have to keep quiet here. We got you, so let go of all of it. Just let go.”

You try shaking your head. No, your pain has always been such an imposition. You are a reverse Midas, every single thing you touch becomes sick with sadness. Everything around you turns gray and burns down into ashes when you let go. You couldn’t let that happen to this. To them. To your boys.

They are the life ring you had found when you were so close to drowning, and now you are about to destroy them too.

“I don’t—”

But it is too late. The brothers’ words echo in your head and your face scrunches up against your will. The first sound that leaves your mouth is choked and rusty, and then you can’t stop. You bury your face back in between your knees, but now each of your sobs resound through the small room. You don’t even recognize the noises that rip themselves out of your throat. Every single whimper, hiccup, and gasp escapes you violently, leaving a scorching sensation inside. It’s as if they’d been subjugated for so long, they were desperate to make their way to freedom.

The boys don’t say anything else, just stay there in silence. You thought that crying in front of them would make you feel even more pathetic than you already do, but it actually doesn’t. It is liberating, letting it all out while they are with you. It makes you feel less alone, less scared. Like you won’t be consumed by the ghosts of your past, because you have someone to pull you out. You are showing them the ugliest, most disgusting part of you, and they still stay.

You try to pull your hands back from Sam’s grasp. You didn’t even feel like hurting yourself anymore, but you need the reassurance that even if you did, he wouldn’t let you. And he doesn’t. He keeps his hands wrapped around yours tightly, not letting you move even an inch.

“No, pretty girl. Let’s not do that.”

The nickname only makes you sob harder. You are sure you look anything but pretty right now, face wet and dirty with mascara running down your cheeks, eyes red and puffy, snot smeared on the edge of your shirt. But Sam doesn’t seem to care, he still calls you pretty. When the shaky gasps get a little quicker, a little more consecutive, a little too close to hyperventilating, Sam moves again.

But this time he pulls you against his chest. You are so surprised that you stop bawling for a second. He drags you into his lap and moves until his back is resting against the wall you were previously leaning against. He wraps a hand around the back of your neck and guides your face to his neck, not minding the fact that you will inevitably soak his shirt with tears. His other hand remains around both your wrists, solid and safe.

“Breath with me, baby. Follow my lead.”

Baby, your mind registers between all of the pain. He called you baby.

There are more pressing matters at the moment, like the fact that your breath is getting more and more ragged, so you decide to deal with that later.

You press your chest to Sam’s, focusing on the rise and fall of his exaggeratedly deep breaths. You try to inhale when he does, exhale when he does. Your attention on the way your chests move in unison, the touch of his fingertips on your nape, the way his voice sounded when he called you pretty and baby.

You don’t know for how long you two stay like that, but by the time you drag your face away from the crook of Sam’s neck and force yourself to face him, your breath is back to normal and you have stopped crying.

You’re still sniffling when you meet his eyes, shivers running down your spine from the exhaustion and the slight breeze coming from the open door. But at least you’re not tearing up anymore.

Apparently, Dean left at some point to buy some food, and he is just now coming back. That means that you had spent a long time sitting there on Sam’s lap. You are sure that will haunt you once you can actually process what it means. But right now, you are just exhausted and ready to eat something before going to sleep and forgetting this ever happened.

But Sam insisted on cleaning up the scratches on your thighs, even though most of them aren’t even deep enough to actually need cleaning. There are three angry red lines with dried blood around them in one of your legs, though, so you begrudgingly let Sam play nurse.

It is only once you are sitting on one of the beds, with a blanket around your shuddering frame and a whole box of four chocolate donuts with sprinkles on your lap —“You need to replenish your sugar after all that, princess. Eat.”— that the shame finally washes over you.

You bite down on your lip harshly, already dreading the whole situation. You want to apologize, convince them to forget the whole thing even happened, maybe cry some more. You prepare to hide, run away and bury yourself somewhere dark until you feel you’ve pulled yourself together again. But Sam and Dean, always ready to save the day, come to the rescue before your brain can get too cruel.

Dean clicks his tongue and shakes his head, while Sam, who had already finished patching up your barely-there wounds and had taken a seat next to you on the bed, uses his thumb to free your lower lip from your teeth.

They don’t say anything, don’t try to contradict the voices in your head that they know are louder than anything they could say. Instead, Sam pulls you into his arms on the small motel bed and Dean puts on some cheesy rom-com on the tv. Both brothers make silly jokes throughout the film, loudly criticizing the characters and groaning at every cliché. They don’t force you to talk, but they manage to keep the voices at bay.

By the second donut eaten and the fourth time the main characters in the movie almost kiss before being interrupted, you start giggling along. Sam’s arms are firmly wrapped around you, keeping you pressed to his chest long after you stop trembling. You turn slightly and offer him a bite of the donut, both of you laughing when Dean starts grumbling as a musical number begins.

“You gotta be fucking kidding me, man.”

You sigh in contentment, snuggling closer to the comforting warmth of Sam’s body while you start to defend the honor of musicals. Sam presses a kiss to the top of your head then, and it is a lot more intimate than what you usually do. Physical displays of affection between you two usually don’t go further than a slap on the shoulder after a teasing joke or patching each other up after a hunt.

You don’t question it, though. You had craved this for years, even before you had met the brothers. You think your body had been yearning for Sam Winchester from the moment you were put on this earth, an ache rooted deep in your bones that only his touch could soothe. So you don’t move, don’t ask, you just let it happen.

Because maybe you would feel ashamed again tomorrow, and maybe you would wake up with the worst headache the next morning and jeopardize the case, and maybe you weren’t sure what all of this meant for your relationship with Sam, if you were overthinking things or if your feelings were actually reciprocated.

But there is one thing you do know: you had finally broken free from all your restraints. You’ve released the beast you’d kept caged inside for so long, and the Winchesters had welcomed it with open arms. You won’t scare them away, your unrelenting sadness won’t break them, they are too strong for that. You could let go now, you don’t have to hide your pain anymore, because they will be there to catch you.

Here, cradled in Sam’s arms as you bicker with Dean, you are finally home.

NOTES: thank you taylor swift for writing the bridge of dear reader and ruining my life.

TAGS: @littlesoulshine @mostlymarvelgirl @pink-ghost666 @h8aaz @otteropera @xoswiftieprincess @tinas111 <3

If you wanna be tagged in future works, let me know!!

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librarycards · 1 year ago

Note

pls ignore this is its too weird or too much labor, but i was wondering if you maybe had any tips or resources for ppl who have creative desires like writing but brain fog and fatigue tends to get in the way?

i do! it may not work for you bc people have very random/unexpected ways of dealing with this, but it's *very* common and there is hope :) [i think a lot of this is applicable across form, but i'm using "writing" here because it's what i'm familiar with]

one way is to be strategic about timing: this includes thinking about when you're least foggy/have the most energy, and/or the most "downtime" where there isn't anything in particular you need to do. many people wake up early so that they have alone time before their responsibilities. some people stay up late to write. i tend to do my daily writing (which I elucidate on below) in the evenings, around 7-10pm. whatever works, works!

relatedly: scheduling/routine is, for me, critical. i think it is for a lot of creative ppl. I write every day, in multiple ways: i keep a journal - i've done this since i was like 12, so it's as ingrained as brushing my teeth and i don't really think about it - and also work on some aspect of my current longest project [so, for the last 4 years, it's been the aforementioned second novel; for the 4ish years before that, it was Failure to Comply. i write other stuff during the daytime, of course, because writing is also my job(s). but if you're looking to establish a consistent creative practice, you don't need to be aiming for a certain hour or word count.

Instead: Aim for consistency and progress. Not perfection, not a "muse," not magic. There is no shame in making something that doesn't seem good, or that you end up deleting. in this particular instance, "perfect is the enemy of good" is 10000% true, and i think especially applicable to people who already experience external + internalized ableist ideologies on a daily basis. your art, regardless of what it is, should be a space where you get to make mistakes, change your mind, and learn new things. it should be something you can come to when you're tired, unsure, confused, scared, etc, even if it means just keysmashing and then closing your notes app for the day.

for me, having a daily practice, regardless of anything, means embracing the days where i write only one word and then despair, as well as the days i write pages. when i feel most depressed, in a very clinicized sense, i try to move from "everything i make now is going to be shitty :(" to "everything i make now is going to be shitty :)", not because i'm happy about it, but because....that's simply part of creating. everything is a bodily function. if you're not feeling good, maybe your poop will look weird. so too with writing. but you still do it. it can be mechanical. but it'll happen, and by doing it consistently, you give yourself the *opportunity* to locate insight hitherto buried, to have an idea creep up on your tiredself.

i guess in sum I'd say that the healthiest thing i ever did for my writing is something tantamount to body neutrality, which has also been an immensely positive addition to my set of frameworks for physical embodimindment. creative neutrality, i guess. this doesn't mean i don't tie my ego and personhood to work/productivity/quality. i mean, i totally do, and it sucks, but there we are. but it also means that i place that in a corner that does not touch my desire to chip away at something big, regularly. i make time every day to summon the urgency of whatever i'm working on, not because i'm proud of it at that moment, but because i want to give it another opportunity to give me something cool.

tl:dr: give yourself the gift of consistency and time, and don't be scared of making stuff that isn't good, or gets deleted, or doesn't make sense. write from wherever you want, physically, mentally, spiritually. give it the opportunity & even the expectation to happen and then work from there.

#routine is EVERYTHING !! it's hard to start but inertia works in good ways too.#i believe in you.#ask #anonymous #writing

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reverie-starlight · 1 year ago

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{airport pickup - michael kaiser }

I saw this vid and immediately knew I had to write something inspired by it.

fem!reader, no physical descriptions, lots of fluffy fluff, I’m extremely down bad for one (1) Michael Kaiser and it shows in this fic. reader speaks a bit of german. if he’s extremely out of character to a horrifying degree, just know that I haven’t actually read the manga, he just takes up 90% of my brain. I’m working on it I promise 🥹

dividers by @/cafekitsune

kaiser isn’t used to being on this side of an airport pickup.

normally the roles would be reversed- he’d be coming home after a round of away games, tired and sore after pushing himself, and you’d be waiting past the gates with a smile and open arms looking like the epitome of home.

but today it’s him who is nervously glancing at his phone every few minutes, checking the time, waiting for a notification from you to see if you’ve landed or not.

you've been away for work, a conference of some sort that you had been handpicked for. he’s very proud of you, of course, but now he’s had a taste of what you must feel while he’s away and it makes his heart hurt. at least when he's overseas with his team he has constant distractions and he's often too tired to fully register the loneliness that comes with not sleeping beside you at night.

but now that he's on the off-season, training doesn't take up as much of his time and he's forced to confront a house that doesn't quite feel like a home without you.

all he wants is for you to be in his arms again. to hear your laughter, your slightly off-key singing while you’re doing chores around the house.

he’d wonder if this is really how you feel when he goes away, but he’s confident enough in your feelings to know that it is. and it pains him.

next time he travels he’ll insist on bringing you with him. he doesn’t want you to suffer through it anymore.

kaiser waits another ten agonizing minutes before your text notification goes off and he’s fumbling with his phone, trying to unlock it as fast as possible. he curses under his breath when he almost drops it and clings to it with both hands for extra security.

he’s glad he chose to go with the makeshift disguise, because he’s not sure if he’d ever live it down from you or his team if someone were to catch him in this state of desperation and post it.

(although you’ll probably laugh and call him a dork regardless of a post when you realize just how excited he is to see you. he’s counting on it, actually.)

plane landed, heading to baggage now :))

he breathes a sigh of relief and quickly lets you know where he's waiting.

how many times has he been to this airport? it must be somewhere in the thousands by now. how pathetic is it that he can't go find you without risking getting lost? he makes another mental note about learning the general layout in case this ever happens again.

knowing that you're safe and in the same building fills him with more unbearable anticipation. just as he's decided he's had enough and gets up to look at the signs that will lead him to you, he catches sight of your familiar figure and bright luggage.

your eyes meet his and you both break into wide smiles, but as you examine him and walk over, faux confusion takes over your features. he narrows his eyes suspiciously, knowing you're up to something.

"excuse me, sir," you say. "could you help me find someone?"

kaiser sighs, playing along with your antics. "no promis-"

"he's tall, has blonde hair with blue dyed tips," you cut him off, mischievous intentions clear as day to him. "kind of handsome?"

he rolls his eyes affectionately. "sorry, I don't thi- kind of handsome?"

you burst into laughter at his incredulous expression, unable to keep the act up.

"liebling, I think you mean extremely handsome, hm?"

you shake your head. "nah, not really."

he glares at you and squishes your cheeks together between his palms. "nimm das zurück!" his tone is playful, so you feel confident enough to stick your tongue out at him.

you pry his hands away from your face and happily let him wrap them around your waist. "du bist so leicht zu necken, michael," you card your fingers through his hair and he hums.

"missed you," he admits, finally feeling at peace.

"I missed you too, schatz. can we go home now? I'm jetlagged and in need of affection I don't feel comfortable displaying in an airport."

he nuzzles his nose against your hairline and presses a quick kiss there before resting his cheek on your head. "I'm already home, süße."

he doesn't see the tears welling in your eyes, but he knows you're touched by his words from the way you pull him closer and hold him tighter.

turns out you’re already home too.

translations:

nimm das zurück! - take that back!

du bist so leicht zu necken, michael - you're so easy to tease, michael.

süße - sweetness/sweet thing

liebling, schatz - dear, treasure

thank you @dira333 for checking the translations over for me <3

considering I haven't fully read the manga, it goes without saying that if he seems slightly out of character, that's why lol

hope you enjoyed!!

#michael kaiser x reader #kaiser x reader fluff #kaiser x reader #blue lock x reader #blue lock x reader fluff

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gremlin-girly · 3 months ago

Text

An Open Invitation

Whisk & Whimsy Part 2

Dividers by: @/bernardsbendystraws | Banner by me, made in canva, images from canva and Pinterest (credit to the original creators)

Tags/warnings: Mild intimidation, threats, petnames (doll, sweetheart)

Not beta'd. I do not give permission for my work to be reposted, copied, translated or put through an AI machine.

Pairing: Biker! Bucky x f!Cafe Owner! Reader

Chapter summary: Sick of your defiant antics, Bucky invites you to the club.

Word count: 4.6k

Series Masterlist | Bucky Masterlist | Navigation

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

You'd learned that the two bikers positioned outside Whisk & Whimsy were Steve and Sam.

You had learned that because you continued to go and hand them lunches and made a point to make polite conversation and learn about their preferred sandwiches, coffee and pastries.

Your continued exchanges with them meant that the townsfolk of Briarridge believed you and Bucky were even; which meant that you were getting more and more customers by the day. Much to the annoyance of the bikers out front, and most likely Bucky too.

That thought made your smile brighter as you handed Steve and Sam their take out bags. It had been almost a month since Bucky had paid your small café a visit and you'd tried wracking your brain to come up with an idea that would keep him and his little gang from destroying what you'd so painstakingly created.

"You know," Steve began a day before Bucky's supposed return, munching around the croissant you'd packed him. Flaky bits of pastry nestled into the creases of his shirt that traced his muscles and you were too polite to tell him he was making a mess. "Bucky has been thinking of inviting you to the club."

You raise your eyebrows. So. Another intimidation tactic, huh? You'd wondered how long it would take for him to snap at your peaceful act of defiance. Apparently, to your surprise, Bucky was a patient man. Despite the open invitation, and knowing it's meant to try and terrify you into submission, you can't ignore the fact it's a great opportunity to both simultaneously gain favour and infuriate Bucky further.

"Really?" You ask looking between the two bikers. Sam sips at his coffee before answering you, eyeing you with a small smirk.

"You're being so kind to us, Bucky wants to return the favour." He explains, trying to catch a drop in your friendly demeanour but when it doesn't happen, he shrugs. "He wants you to come tomorrow night."

"Can't," you say with a sweet smile and both men straighten their shoulders. "Health inspector visit."

You should be afraid; both men are over six foot at least and are well-built. It's a courtesy you haven't been hurt or had your life threatened. However, they hadn't made one move towards you the entire week and eventually relaxed around you. You can only guess that they're more shocked that you would directly disobey an order from Bucky. And you were about to press your luck even further.

"I could maybe swing by on the weekend? I don't know, I'm pretty busy this week. Bucky is supposed to stop by tomorrow anyway, we can arrange it then."

Steve and Sam both balk at your suggestion, shifting in their seats with unease. However, you needed a few extra days to prepare, mentally and physically, but you also wanted to push the limits of how much you could get away with. If Bucky was as tough and scary as he seemed, you were probably putting your life on the line by poking the bear. Or wolf.

Steve growls a wary "hrm" but tugs his phone from his jeans pocket and taps away before speaking again.

"Bucky's coming to collect payment tomorrow." Steve says slowly, blues eyes scanning your face like Sam, still waiting on that drop.

"He's not. He's coming for lunch and to arrange a time for me to visit." You keep your smile still as you reply coolly. "Speaking of lunch, I haven't eaten since six a.m.. Sorry boys, gotta go."

You give them a wave goodbye and re-enter the café, wiping your sweaty palms on your apron, taking a breath. It's only for a moment. A brief suspension in time where you allow the anxiety of your situation claw at your chest before you grin and go back to serving your customers like your livlihood isn't in danger.

The following morning, Steve and Sam aren't posted in their usual spot as you unlock the doors to Whisk & Whimsy. That's off-putting.

You'd already done the prep for the day the night before, sacrificing your down time and sleep just in case Bucky forced you to the club today, even going so far as to gather what little money you had gathered in savings and hiding it in the hole in your living room and putting both a rug and the newly acquired second-hand sofa over it.

You sigh heavily into a flat white, hoping it would wake you up as the thrum of your Kitchen-Aid creamed sugar and butter together. You refused to let your anxiety be your conquerer today; there was too much to lose. Waiting on Bucky’s arrival would be excruciating, you may as well be productive while you wait.

The bell jingles and heavy footfalls of thick-soled bike boots alert you to Bucky’s arrival. You look up from your cup, switching the mixer off, and offer up a warm smile.

"Doll," Bucky drawls, smirking back at you as he approaches. "Good morning."

It's annoying how good he looks. His long hair has been pushed back, a cigarette nestled on his left ear, and in place of the red Henley it's a tight white t-shirt that leaves little to the imagination. The dark outlines of his tattoos were visible under his shirt, trailing from his shoulder all the way to his wrist. He's still wearing his rings and the clack against the counter as he folds his arms onto it, and you can see a bicep the size of your head bulge.

"Morning." You reply. "Black coffee?"

Bucky grins. "Yeah. And one of those chocolate croissants Steve keeps going on about. Thanks."

The air is thick with tension as you set up the coffee and grab a fresh pain au chocolat from the pastry display. You were expecting guns blazing, figuratively and literally, not a shark's grin and polite interaction. You don't offer to heat up the pain au chocolat and you place it on a plate in front of him followed by his coffee.

"On the house." You say curtly, even though Bucky doesn't even reach for his wallet.

"Aw, doll, that's too kind." Bucky takes a bite out of the pastry and makes a face of bliss, licking away the pastry flakes. "Shit. These are good."

You want to curse yourself for getting distracted by him but shake it off. He's just another asshole. You're golden. You just need to keep buttering him up.

"Steve said you invited me to the club," you say casually, leaning into the counter. "That was... kind of you."

Bucky raises an eyebrow at you as he takes a sip of coffee, clearly wary of your intentions but shrugs. "You've been good to Steve and Sam this week and I've been getting an earful of of it. I can only return the favour."

That was a relief to hear. Your hard work of being a decent human being had paid off, even it was an excuse to try and intimidate money out of you.

"Oh, well that's-"

"But imagine my surprise when you say I'm coming by so we can discuss a day and a time." He interrupts with a smirk, his eyes boring into yours to try and make you wither and apologise. "I think you mistook my invitation as my asking you out."

You try not letting the comment get to you, forcing the blush to stay back off your face. He's just being aggravating. Pushing your buttons.

He's smarter than he looks.

"You said last week you'd stop by." You say with a small shrug, stretching your arms up and away from the counter and begin to potter with your Kitchen-Aid. "Sorry, I just thought it would be best to discuss in person rather than back-and -forthing through the boys."

Bucky's blue eyes narrow but his smirk remains. He holds your gaze for a few seconds more before chuckling. "I didn't come by for you and you know damn well I didn't."

"Didn't you?" You ask innocently, enjoying having him on the backfoot instead. "So, everyone has been invited to the club?"

Bucky looks at little taken aback but as he opens his mouth, you talk over him.

"I'm free Saturday night, though." You scrape the edges of the bowl before adding two eggs. "I checked my calendar yesterday."

Bucky huffs incredulously but his smirk widens into a grin. "You're gonna be a pain in my ass, doll. I know it."

"Dont know what you mean, Bucky." You say sweetly, turning the mixer on low. The hum of the motor fills the café again. "Give me a time and the address and I'll see you then."

For some reason you thought the club would be miles out of town, not in the middle of a street. The bikes were in a lot around the back, and the music was so loud the beat could be felt on the ground outside the bar. A red neon sign flickered above the bar; The Den.

Two terrifyingly imposing men stood at the door and you felt extremely underdressed in your spring floral dress and flats. You gripped your cupcake carrier tight in your hands as you approached and smiled brightly.

The taller of the two, easily beating Steve in height, had a thick brown and grey beard and dark brown eyes. He wore a leather waistcoat with a white shirt vest underneath, which allowed his huge, tattooed arms to be on display. The other was blond, with a strong nose and a somehow meaner looking face, arms crossed firmly across his chest.

"Hi." You say brightly. "Bucky invited me."

Both men exchange a glance and their eyes narrow and you gulp nervously. The bigger one squints for a moment before breaking into a grin.

"Ah! You must be the baking lady!" His Russian accent is thick and the sudden shift in demeanour makes his imposing nature melt away into something akin to a buff, Russian Santa Claus. "I am Alexei. This is Walker."

You nod at Walker, who still doesn't seem convinced by you. Alexei waves a hand at him. "Go get Bucky." He says before leaning down to you, taking your heavy cupcake carrier from your hand. "Pretty ladies should never carry heavy things."

You thank him shyly and follow behind Walker inside the club. It's louder inside and far more... sparse than you'd expected. There's a small bar with a redhead manning it, a short-haired blonde woman with a nose piercing tapping away at her phone on a barstool, and other than Sam and Steve only a handful of faces you don't recognise.

Some are chatting together, some are playing pool and some are playing darts. It just looks like a normal bar; dim lights, music that's clearly old school rock playing from a speaker somewhere, and a questionable amount of dark stains in the worn into the carpet. You didn't need to guess what those stains were.

"Pretty nice eh?" Alexei says proudly. "Since Bucky opened this chapter, we've had quite a few new members!"

"It's lovely." You say sweetly, and Walker casts a glance backwards at you, unimpressed.

"You two wait here, I'll go get him."

Alexei leads you to the bar and sets down your carrier on top of it as Walker vanishes through a door in the back.

"Ignore Walker," he murmurs as you take a seat. "He's got bees in his briefs."

You smile, genuinely, but try to figure out the saying when the redheaded barkeep appears.

"You mean a bee in his bonnet, dad." She gives you a cunning smile, green eyes roving over your dress. "You must be the one Bucky's got a bee in his bonnet about."

"Bee in briefs sounds better." Alexei huffs quietly. "It make more sense. I would be panicked if there was a bee in my-"

"Please shut up, dad." The short haired blonde groans from the other side of the bar. She also had a Russian accent but was younger than Natasha. Sensing your confusion, Natsha explains.

"We're his adopted daughters." She says, popping the cap of a beer on the edge of the bar with her palm and placing the bottle in front of his dad. "I moved to America a few years ago, so my accent has dwindled. Drink?"

You nod in understanding but feel a blush creep up your neck when you struggle to think of an acceptable non-alcoholic drink. "Just... um... a lemonade will do, please."

Natasha raises an eyebrow and snorts, shaking her head slightly but pours your lemonade as requested. When it's placed in front of you, you take a tentative sip, scrunching your nose as carbonated bubbles tickle your nostrils. It's watered down but bordering on room temperature, just a hint of lemon and artifical sweetness that makes you happy it's not just water. Alexei comments that they'll get you on something stronger soon enough.

"Hey now, I'm working tomorrow." You say playfully, not wanting to give the impression that you're intentionally not drinking any alcohol around them. You actually want the other members to like you, bizarrely enough. If they liked you, they may try to convince Bucky to be at least a little bit more lenient on you.

"So am I," Alexei chortles, swigging his beer.

Natasha snorts, her features softening slightly, leaning her arms on the bar. "Just don't offer to try his vodka."

"Hey!" Alexei protests with a pout and opens his arms defensively. "It's good vodka. Strong."

"Paint stripper." Yelena pipes up from the corner, not looking up from here phone.

"Secret recipe." Alexei counters before jumping to his feet when the heavy footfalls of one Bucky Barnes sound from behind the door Walker disappeared behind.

You don't rise but cradle your glass in your hand and watch as Bucky emerges. He still looks as good as the other day, which is infuriating, but now over his white t-shirt is a ragged, well-loved leather jacket with the White Wolf insignia and a few other patches stitched onto it.

Your eyes wander to the other members. Everyone, including Yelena, have stopped what they're doing to look up at Bucky.

"You came." Bucky addresses you with a grin, coming up beside you to lean on the bar. He seems slightly surprised you hadn't chickened out last minute even though you'd been tempted. You didn't know what they'd do to you but you knew you'd gain more respect by showing up.

"You invited me." You say simply. "It'd be rude not to accept such a generous invitation."

You barely manage to keep the sarcasm from your voice and give Bucky a toothy smile as Natasha places a beer in front of him without prompt. His blue eyes narrow in that way where he knows you aren't being entirely genuine but can't call you out on it and he sips at the bottle.

"Yeah." He says absently, before turning to the rest of the men, and few women, that stood behind him. "Everyone! This is the owner of the new bakery in town. The one whose been handing out freebies to Sam, Steve and myself."

Everyone remains silent and unmoving. You suddenly, and ironically, feel like a rabbit that's been thrown to the wolves. They are all waiting on Bucky.

Unease creeps up your spine. Maybe you'd bitten off more than you could chew. Bucky tells the club your name and tells them to treat you as a respected guest.

"Oh," you add, taking a sip of lemonade. "And I brought cupcakes."

"Cupcakes?" Bucky's smug expression falters. He's almost aghast. You'd done the unthinkable. The unimaginable.

You had been nice.

Bucky frowns. You're being too nice. Why are you being nice?

You smack the top of the box with unhindered delight; pleased that Bucky was at a loss for words and clearly struggling to keep his composure, wracking his brain to uncover your ploy. But you were as stubborn as he was aggravating.

"I wasn't sure how many of you were here." You say honestly, opening up the box compartments. "So, I made twenty-four in total."

"I... don't know what to say." Bucky says blankly staring into the box, revealing twenty-four beautifully decorated cupcakes of vanilla and chocolate.

"Thank you would be a start." Sam sneers and bursts into laughter. Bucky glares at him but there's no malice in it, only fondness, and his lips twitch upwards.

And you don't like how it made your stomach twist.

"Thank you, doll." Bucky nods graciously at you before waving a hand. "Alright have at them boys and gals."

You move out of the way as the bikers all move towards you and your seat at the bar, unintentionally moving towards Bucky, who'd plucked up a chocolate cupcake. His blue eyes are laser focused onto you and you see that sneer creep onto his lips as he bites down into the soft and fluffy treat.

"I'll introduce you to everyone, doll." He says, licking his lips free of chocolate. Unlike the pain au chocolat, the buttercream frosting was stickier and denser, forcing Bucky to run his tongue over his rose-pink plump lips. God, you hated him. "You already know Steve and Sam. And now you've met Walker, Nat, Alexei and 'Lena."

You nod along, eyes flickering to each member mentioned. Everyone is humming at the taste, Steve being in a total state with vanilla frosting and salted caramel sauce smeared all over him. You find yourself smiling at the sight of this rag-tag bunch of ruffians before you; one big family if you ever did see one.

You miss the look Bucky gives you, completely swept up in the excited compliments and Alexei practically begging you to bring more as he attempts to sneakily eat a second cupcake, ruined by Natasha's flicking of his ear with a soft chide.

"Told you ish good," Steve says around a mouthful of cake before nodding frantically with approval. "These are so good."

Bucky folds his arms and you can hear the leather creak behind you, humming thoughtfully, but ultimately saying nothing. Once everyone has finished eating, they go back to their places or games, which is when Bucky practically brings you around each and every member for a formal introduction.

There's Piertro; a silver haired boy racer who, according to Bucky, is a speedster.

"Likes the rush of going fast." Bucky rolled his eyes playfully.

Piertro shrugged in a cute fashion, flashing Bucky and you a grin. "What can I say? The ladies love it and I love the ladies."

He raises his eyebrows suggestively at you and goes to open his mouth before Bucky silences him by holding up a tattooed hand. "Dont even think about it, pal."

That earns Bucky a surprised giggle from you and a guffaw from the other young man next to him. He introduces himself as Joaquin and shakes your hand.

"Ignore him," He says, ignoring Piertro's gasp of mock-outrage. "We're the two youngest apart from Wanda and Yelena. It can get boring hanging about here sometimes."

"Does it?" Bucky queries with a cocked brow and Joaquin grins sheepishly at him, almost batting his eyelashes innocently.

"You know what I mean, Boss." He corrects softly. "Just, you know, gotta... go fast? To enjoy life?"

He looks hopeful but Bucky shakes his head with a smile. "You've been spending too much time with Sam."

Bucky takes you around to a few more equally scary bikers with a variety of nicknames, one of the more worrying ones being Punisher, but everyone seems to be okay that you're there. Well, okay that Bucky is okay with you being here. The only members you haven't met yet are Wanda, Piertro's twin sister who worked nights at one of the diners in town, and Lemar - Walker's best friend - who was busy with his family.

Two hours fly by. At some point, Sam hands you another lemonade, and you find yourself easily chatting and laughing with the notorious gang and you almost forget the whole reason you came. Bucky takes a back seat, strangely, watching you interact with everyone and occasionally chipping in with a smart-ass comment or a tease. You can feel his eyes on you with every movement you make, every joke you quip, every story you tell. Even when he and Steve exchange whispers, you catch him looking at you.

You had to admit, he's managed to make you feel a strange sense of unease. There's something exhilarating about the entire situation; you didn't think you'd get this far without having something burned, being injured or worse. You don't know what it is about Bucky and his mind games that gets you so riled but you're enjoying the fact that you're riling him up just as much.

You learn so much about the different people in the bar, save from Bucky, Walker and Punisher - who you now know is named Frank - who keep to themselves. It's oddly wholesome and sweet, the way these bikers, feared by the town, seem to have taken to you. All because you brought them cupcakes.

So your plan had worked. In a way.

At around midnight, you decide to call it quits, much to Joaquin and Alexei's disappointment as they were trying to convince you to play a game of darts with them.

"Sorry, boys. Up early for work." You try to sound more apologetic than tired, and stifle a yawn for effect. "If Bucky invites me back, I'll owe you a game."

Theres a brief moment of silence as everyone looks to Bucky; Joaquín and Alexei looking hopeful with puppy-dog eyes. Bucky, who's now standing and rolling a cigarette, sighs.

"It was an open invitation, doll. You're welcome here." He says, placing the butt of the cigarette between his lips. So distracting. "Come on, I'll walk you out."

You smile and thank him, a bucket of triumph washing over you. You knew it wasn't over - not by a long shot - but taking the White Wolves down from the inside, maybe even striking a deal with Bucky so you could keep your hard earned money, was a new prospect that you'd managed to earn for yourself and your business. And you were damn happy about that.

You said goodbye to everyone and, intimidation tactics aside, you really enjoyed yourself tonight. You told Bucky as much as you stepped out of the bar, shuddering at the cold breeze that travelled down the street.

"Thanks for the invite." You say, looking into the parking lot opposite your car to where the bikes all sat in neat rows.

"Which one is yours?" You ask politely, looking over the array of bikes. You don't know brands, you wouldn't be able to tell a Harley from a Yamaha, but you can see that they're all in excellent condition and well cared for.

"Guess." Bucky responds, lighting the cigarette and taking a drag. You want to roll your eyes but your night had been good so far, and you didn't want to spoil it now. Not when you'd made so much progress.

Your eyes trail the bikes. Plenty of variety in colour and size and make but there's one that sticks out the most; a mid-sized bike with a beautiful cherry red fuel tank and matching fuel guard with handlebars wide enough for a set of broad shoulders. You can immediately envisage Bucky on it, slouching in the low leather seat, ringed, tattooed hand on the throttle revving the engine. You can feel your skin prickle at the image and convince yourself it's because of the cool midnight air.

"That one," you point at the red bike.

Bucky laughs. "How did you know?"

"Wild guess." You half-lie with a shrug, clicking the unlock button on your car keys.

"We should go for a ride sometime." Bucky says casually, walking lazily behind you. He leans on the roof while you open the door, setting your sidebag behind your seat before getting in. Curls of smoke rise from the cigarette between his fingers, and you just know you'll be smelling tobacco all the way home.

"Hrm... maybe." You say, pretending to mull it over as you put your keys in the ignition. You pull your door shut and open the window, Bucky’s face immediately appearing beside yours.

"I think you'd look cute on the back of my ride," he says lowly, his eyes not leaving yours, daring you to look away first. "Arms wrapped around me tight, wind in your hair..."

"Neck snapping at one hundred miles and hour when I fall off." You shiver, hands gripping the steering wheel. "No thanks."

"Aw, come on doll," he persists giving you that charming sneer/smile that you couldn't tell if he was intentionally pushing your buttons or being a flirt. "It'd be fun. Tell you what, you do that, I'll let your payment for this month and next slide."

That piques your interest.

You look at him then to the road, grinding your teeth and hope Bucky mistakes it for a smile. Of course he'd say that. How could you refuse? Bastard.

"Oh... alright." You say, pretending to have some inner turmoil as your car engine stutters to life. "Just let me know when in case I need to close the café."

Bucky waves you off as you pull away from the pavement, and you watch him grow smaller in your rear view mirror. You heave a sigh and curse. You didn't want to be on his bike, or any bike for that matter. Your heart raced as did your brain imagining holding onto him as he sped along one of the long stretches of road and you bang your head against your steering wheel when you get to a red light.

You needed to figure out a way to get out of getting on Bucky’s bike. And soon.

It's 3am when you park your car two miles up the road from the bar a week later. You're ride with Bucky and the gang is supposed to be the next day, and in a last ditch attempt to give yourself an extra day to compose yourself, you'd hatched a plan. Arguably stupid but a plan nonetheless.

The night air has a slight chill but the moon is bright, illuminating the road to the parking lot where the White Wolves' bikes are kept.

You feel like a criminal. Hell, you would be a criminal after going through with this. However, points need to be made and if you're lucky it couldn't be officially linked back to you.

Dressed in all black, wishing you felt more like James Bond rather than a fool, you begin your trek to The Den, tugging a balaclava over your head when you get close to the lights of the parking lot.

All of the lights inside the building are out, on schedule. You couldn't believe you'd staked them out the last few nights. You were turning into a crazy person.

You are a crazy person.

When Bucky had shown you around, you'd made note of where all the cameras that had been placed, and realised they were dummies. Which of course they were; bar fights, ominous stains and other illegal activites that you'd heard were prevalent with biker gangs meant that they wouldnt want to incriminate themselves. You were glad you didn't have to worry about cutting any electricity but still, if you got caught and there were no cameras.... You shake your head and steel yourself; you had a job to do. A life to live. A ride to avoid.

You eye up Bucky's bike as you approach. Beautiful red petrol tank, thick tyres, low leather seat.

You smile against the wool of your balaclava; you'd buy yourself at least a few more days without having to see him. You plunge a thin nail through the first tyre, removing it slowly with your pliers. You listen closely as the tyre sighs in defeat and pathetically withers under the nail. You're triumphant. Now, you just have to get back to the car.

You - Two.

White wolves - Nil.

Chapter 2 - End

A/N: Happy Friday! And so it begins! I actually cut this chapter in half because I didn't want it getting too long. Plus I wanted to work a little on the ending

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thesensteawitch · 6 months ago

Text

The High Priestess Wants You To Know This

(Pile 1→ Pile 2→ Pile 3)

Hello beautiful souls!

This is a collective reading so take what resonates and leave what doesn't.

If you wish to book a reading with me then checkout my:

Rate Card • Booking Form

Ps: You can also DM me in case of any queries. 🌈💛

Sending you love and light ✨🕯️

*******

Here is your reading!

Pile 1

Tarot Cards- Temperance, Two of Cups, Six of Wands, King of Swords, Nine of Swords, The Emperor.

The High Priestess wants you to know that people around you see your efforts and are grateful for your generosity. But what you skip to notice is that you do so much mental and physical work that you forget to relax. You are very patient with the results of your work, but your feminine side needs to be activated now. You can activate it by resting and eating well. Try slow dancing or yoga. Sagittarius, Libra, Cancer, and Leo can be significant. If you're a feminine reading this, then the high priestess wants you to know that you've been very patient when it comes to finding the one. You've never had a masculine support, due to which you sometimes overexert yourself by tapping too much into your masculinity. But I do hear that God is your masculine. While shuffling the deck, I saw in my third eye, “Luck is on your side”—New Moon in Sagittarius, and guess what? The exact card flipped out of the deck! What are the odds? You're divinely protected. Balance will be restored in any situation where masculines have hurt you or you couldn't rely on them. You'll receive the love of your life; just avoid falling into the trap of past people/manipulators. Remember your lessons because the high priestess is warning you that someone from the past may show up again or old wounds of masculinity may come up again. It's going to be a test, so make sure you act according to the lessons you've been made to learn. If you doubt yourself or are afraid that maybe you're the one who is wrong, then that's not true. I see stubborn, too-logical, and aggressive masculine energy around you. I do feel that you have even adopted these qualities or have absorbed these energies unknowingly as you were only focused on surviving. You can let that go now. You've come a long way. Please remember your strength. You're stronger and wiser than you give yourself credit for. This is the last battle with your survival self. Thank it for how it has supported you till now, but don't let it win. You don't need to worry about a thing, so just stay calm. You'll win in LOVE. You'll have that one person who gets you like no one. You've been wronged, so stop giving people the benefit of the doubt. You deserve someone who sees your soul, not someone who falls for superficiality. You've been around people who were full of themselves, and that is why their energies kept lingering around you, forcing you to think about THEM! You may have felt guilty or pressured or doubt your own actions. You may even have ended up gaslighting yourself. I really don't like this energy around you. The High Priestess wants you to consciously focus on yourself and bring your energy back to yourself. Your focus should only be on you. That's all. That's it.

Pile 2

Tarot Cards- Death, Two of Wands, Two of Pentacles, King of Cups, Four of Swords

The High Priestess wants you to know that you cannot avoid the change that is meant to happen. You can delay it but cannot deny it. You still think you've another option or another way while you're on the boat to a different reality. You cannot keep asking the questions regarding a closed door. It won't open. Accept where you are. Just let go of the past. You cannot go back for one last look. Wake up and deal with your emotions. For a while you do not need to do so much. Just take care of your inner world. You may be having weird dreams lately. Your dreams are pointing towards the new reality you're meant to enter. It's a way of your brain to help you release the past. You may even be having dreams about someone who has a lot to say to you, but they cannot decide or make a move. This person may also be confused. Someone here needs to step out of their comfort zone, and the comfort zone is avoiding making the necessary decision. You may be moving back and forth wondering what to do and what not to do. Just don't do what you've been doing all along. Maybe you need to take action toward someone or something, but you're so afraid to take it that now that thing/person is appearing in your dream. Some of you may be afraid to follow your purpose, as it may be the first time you're being given a chance to do what you want to do or what you feel called to do. But the wounds are stopping you or making you guess. The cards ask you to focus on healing yourself and prepare yourself for your purpose/calling. What you've left behind may have been good for a while, but for your further journey, it couldn't assist you. Accept the truth; accept the reality. Don't keep reopening the closed doors; don't make the same choices every day wishing your reality to change.

Pile 3

Tarot Cards- 6 of Cups, 10 of Cups, 7 of Swords, 4 of Cups, The High Priestess

Someone's waiting for you and your message. There's an age gap here, and they are manifesting you consciously or unconsciously. The High Priestess is being very clear about what's happening behind the scenes. Someone's sabotaged their friendship/connection with you. Someone may even drunk text you. What? Someone thinks about you a lot and the way they lied to you or behaved as if they didn't care. The truth is you overwhelm someone. They don't know how to behave in front of you. This can be a past life connection. This can be a secret admirer. They have a lot to say to you. This person can have strong earth sign placements. If there's anything missing in their life, then it's you. I also see that money matters to them a lot, and they are also very stubborn. You have multiple admirers! I feel divine is protecting you from someone so that you can meet the person you're meant to be with. Communication will come your way while you're working or doing your own thing. You and your future person are going to be on the same frequency. You'll be a perfect match. Okay, this stubborn person may even think that you're not receiving enough compared to the efforts you put into your work. This person is very materialistic, and they think they are the king, but in reality they are a page (naive). There's something very mysterious about this person. This stubborn person has never shown you their true side and their goals or about their financial situation. I confirmed with the cards who you're meant to be with, so you're not supposed to give this stubborn person a chance because there's manipulation or sabotage here. What you offer isn't enough for them, and they are always going to see you from their distorted lens. It's another person that the universe wants you to meet and be with. You'll meet them soon. If you were drawn to pile 1, then do check it out (I feel a connection). The stubborn person has made you cry oceans! You're about to receive whatever you expected this stubborn person to be for you or give you. You'll be receiving more than you have asked for because of how kind you've been to the old person. I also heard that the stubborn person's kindness was also calculated. I don't know; this person needs to do some healing. They may even be taking tarot readings on your connection. You, on the other hand, can look forward to a new journey in love and life. The cards are sooo clear in the end! They say it's time to release negativity, and nothing will come of this situation (no matter how much you try to make it work with the stubborn one). At the bottom it says, “A new romantic cycle begins!” Yayyy!

#pick a pile reading #pick a pile #pick a card #tarot card reading #message for the collective #angel message #tarot cards #tarotblr #pac reading #tarot #message from spirit

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taintedcigs · 2 years ago

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emmy my sweet sweet angel gf 💖

could i get a blurby about cuffing eddie to your bed frame and he’s being all whiny because he can’t touch you?? 🤭

MAR MAR MAR. MY SWEET SWEET RIAH. IM KISSING U FOR THIS. THIS IDEA JUST DOES THINGS TO MY BRAIN DJKFHKJH. i had to write this twice bc tumblr delete my draft bUT I HOPE YOU LIKE IT HONEY ILYY <33

warnings: SMUT SMUT minors dni or ill bite. fem!msturbation, switch!eddie, slight dom and sub!eddie, slight dom!reader, vv light sub/dom dynamics, praises, degrading, nicknames (sweetheart, honey, slut, etc.) cursing. thats all i think.

“What're you doin', sweetheart?” he grumbles, already whiny as you tightened his handcuffs.

“Shush,” you warn, and his eyes widen, pupils dilated, mouth almost hanging open with how quickly you became all mean. It's not like he wasn't enjoying it.

His bulge was pressing harder against his boxers, itching to be attended to. “You promised, you'd let me be in charge this time, but I knew you'd try to take over if I didn't restrain those grabby hands, so behave,” you cooed, enjoying the way he struggled against the tight cuffs, huffing, yet patiently awaiting your next move.

You lay down next to him, just slightly out of his reach. “Such a shame,” you hummed, hands playing with the hem of your panties, all teasing, and Eddie physically gulped.

You wouldn't fucking dare.

“Sweetheart...” He tries, tries to get you to look at him, to see how desperate he is already, but your eyes are squeezed shut, a mewl falling from your lips.

Your fingers dipped down your panties, and you actually whined at your slickness, Eddie could hear all of it, his brain going numb as he watched with hungry eyes. “P—please,” he stuttered, aching to touch you, his cock weeping at the sight in front of him.

With a tut, you ignore him, inserting a finger inside of your walls, exaggeratedly humming, as your panties hide the sight of your glistening pussy.

And Eddie groans, actually groans, feeling helpless, cuffs tightening around him the more struggles. “If you'd just learned to behave...” You mutter as you keep your gaze on him, fingers quickly working in and out of you.

“It might have been your fingers, curling inside'a me…” You tutted.

He’s desperate, tugging at the bedpost, cooing, whining, so fucking pathetic. “Baby, please… jus’ let me touch you for a bit,” He whines, but you pay no attention to it.

Your fingers curl inside of you, “Mmmmph, shit!” you mewl, dragging it out, eyes mirroring his, dangerous, filthy, and all the more fucking reason for Eddie’s cock to twitch violently, begging to be attended, weeping.

You slowly remove your fingers with a slick sound, and Eddie groans at it, wanting nothing more than to be able to feel how wet you are, how fucking dirty you are for him. “Look how wet you made me, Eds,” you coo, a pout stretching on your lips, holding two of your fingers in front of him, all slicked with your juices, and he can’t help the ungodly moans that leave his lips.

“You want a taste, Munson?” You are mocking him, but he’s too depraved to care, it’s fun, and it makes your stomach stir with excitement, this is the first time you have gotten this far teasing him with no repercussions, and you are relishing in it.

“Suck,” You order, eyes glowing with a darkness that has Eddie gulping, your two index fingers held in front of him. He doesn't hesitate to wrap his lips around it, groaning at the sweet taste of you.

Licking your fingers clean, cock leaking with his pre-cum, thighs shaking with how depraved he is, pupils blown out, and face scrunched to the point of pain. “See what happens when you're good t'me Eds?” You mocked, again. A dangerous move, because with how desperate he was being, you were sure he was going to snap soon.

He nods, silent, all obedient, that is until you dip your fingers back again, adding a third one, the sounds that leave your lips are so lewd that Eddie bits on his lip, drawing blood, trying so hard not to fucking break. But you're making it impossible.

“Look at you, baby, c’mon, let me out of here, please.” The dam is about to break, you can hear it in the slight growl in his voice, and it only makes you fuck your fingers harder in and out of you.

“You really think your pathetic fingers can compare to mine?” He barks, almost. And you try to hide your grin. There he fucking is.

"You can’t even make yourself cum, look at how frustrated you look you little slut. You need me. You need my thick fingers, fillin’ you to the brim, sliding in and out of your walls, giving you exactly what you need. You need my tongue, you need me to fill your pathetic holes," He growls, it's inhumane, and you can't help the smirk on your face, the narrowed gaze.

He's so fucking desperate it makes him look stupid.

But he's also telling the truth, while you could get the job done, it would never compare to his ringed, thick digits, slipping in and out of you easily, padded thumb circling around your clit, all while he grinned at you, adding the flick of his tongue just for fun. Just because he enjoyed the way you squirmed under him.

“If you behave like this you’re never gonna touch me,” you shrugged, still appearing to be unfazed, and that's when you realized the switch, his desperate gaze darkening in a matter of seconds. Plushy lips spitting pure venom.

“Yeah?” He hums, all bold and cocky.

“Mhmm.”

“Once I get out of these cuffs, I’m gonna ruin you completely, gonna ruin you to your fuckin’ core, angel.” He speaks like you're the one in the cuffs, like he has you caged. It makes your tummy pool with excitement, your brain fuzzy and sweet.

With his hands still in those uncomfortable cuffs, he inches his face closer to you, not flinching. “I’m gonna fill all of your holes to the brim, make you desperate and whiny, make you go all dumb on my cock, just so you can scream out my name, know who fuckin owns you. Gonna play with you till you beg me to let you cum, sweetheart.” He barks out a laugh, it's evil, a warning, you can feel his heavy breath against your skin.

Fuck, he has you now.

And he knows he has you.

His smirk stretches wider once he notices the way you rub your thighs together with need, and your fingers stop their movement. You need him, you need him to make you cum.

“Then I’m gonna fuck all of your pathetic little holes, mark you as mine, fill you up real nice, you think you can get away with your stupid little games?” He almost barks, making your thighs shake, considering his helpless position, he’s still just as cocky, just as dominant.

“Is that a threat?”

“No, it’s a fuckin’ promise, honey.”

#em’s mail💌#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson drabbles #eddie munson blurbs #eddie munson drabble

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achilles-rage · 1 year ago

Text

SFW Alphabet

word count: 3.1k

A/N: i'm so sorry his took a while to write, i got really into bridgeton and binged the whole thing so my mind was on that. also, i felt like lady whistledown while finishing this LOL. anyway, enjoy<3

warnings: none, no use of y/n, fem!reader, plus size!reader, race inclusive!reader

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

He likes some PDA, but will tone it down most of the time, opting to have his arm around you or steal quick kisses when attention isn't on you. At home, however, he is ON YOU, as touch is the easiest way for him to show affection. He wants to have you as close to him as possible, with his hands all over you. I think words of affirmation are also important for him to receive, so he loves hearing you tell him how much you love and appreciate him.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

He can become friends with anyone at any time. He is a yapper. And with all his random facts in the back of his brain I think he can find common ground with just about anyone. If on the odd chance he doesn't, he's more than happy to listen and learn. As a friend, there is nothing he wouldn't do to keep you safe and happy. He would make sure to check in all the time and would be happy to do favours, anytime you need. I think in a best friend he needs someone to have serious conversations with, but also have fun with. He loves to have a friend he can truly open up to about his childhood or anything he's feeling, and of course will listen to you in return.

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

CUDDLER ALERT!!! BIG MAN BABY ALERT!!!!! He loves physical touch, so cuddling is one of his favourite ways of showing affection. He would cuddle with you in any place and any position but there's something about being little spoon that hits so hard, especially after a long day at work. He also loves laying on his back with your head on his chest and vice versa so he can lay on your tits<3

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

This man owns a fucking APRON!! He is in his element in a domestic little scenario. He wants nothing more than to start a loving family and create a safe place with his partner. He definitely likes cooking more than cleaning, but he's fair, and will divide cooking and household chores pretty evenly.

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

He's been to therapy, and we've all seen how his other relationships have ended. He now knows the importance of communication, so I think there would be a lead up to a break up. He wants nothing more than to work it out with you, trying to talk out the issues, but if there was no plausible solution, he would sit you down and have an honest, but respectful conversation about it.

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

He wants to be married so bad!!! He can't wait to find the right person to settle down with. He loves seeing all the happy couples he works with, and he can't wait to add someone to the 118 fam. I think the timeline could go two ways, he's pretty impulsive, so I could definitely see him proposing within a year of dating (if everything is going exceptionally smoothly). The other way it could go is him waiting like, a weirdly long time. He's a bit nervous about you saying no, so he holds off (even though he imagines you with a ring on your finger very often), but one day just kinda blurts it out. Maybe you're laying in bed, talking and giggling and he's just filled with an uncontrollable joy, and he just has to speak his mind. After he says it he kinda freezes, looking at you nervously before you of course say yes and he's basically jumping for joy, hugging you and kissing all over your face and pulling the ring out of his closet that he bought but was too nervous to present to you in the traditional way lol.

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

He's pretty gentle overall, both physically and emotionally. He's seen how he who shall not be named has affected Maddie and would never do anything to make someone afraid of him in that way (either a partner or a friend). He loves giving you soft touches, loving how you shiver as his fingers trail down your arms, your chest, your soft stomach, your plush thighs. He's also a man who has been to therapy, so he might be a little impulsive, but he has a lot of emotional intelligence, and always tries to ground himself and be as gentle as possible in any situation when it comes to people he cares about.

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

King of hugs, truly. He LOVES them. It's a nice way for him to show how much he cares, and how much he loves you, so expect them often. If you're not one for physical touch, he understands, but sometimes he just can't help himself. Sometimes he needs a good hug to calm him down, or during the odd time that he has no words, he tries to put all his emotions into a hug. He's a bear hugger, he loves feeling your arms around him, your chest and soft belly pressing against him. He wraps his arms around your shoulders, pulling you in as close as you can possibly get, resting his cheek on the top of your head. When he's really happy, his arms are going around your waist, lifting you up off the ground as you protest, fighting out a "put me down" through giggles, but still hugging him back. He will hear none of your protests, of course. Have you seen his arms? He works out. "Of course I can lift you, pretty girl"

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

I think he waits a while to say it. He's been in his fair share of relationships and is a little weary of people leaving, so I think saying I love you could be something that he's a little hesitant to say early. Once he does, however, it's coming out of his mouth about 30 more times before the day ends. Before he says it, there's plenty of other ways he says it without actually saying the words. "Text me when you get home." "Did you eat today?" "Here, let me help you with that." That sort of thing. To him, words of affirmation are important, he likes to hear how things are going, so him saying I love you is just his way of ensuring that he's in it all the way.

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

Ok, I know what you're going to say, "but what about 7x04???" I know, but I think those were slightly different circumstances. I think before he gets into a relationship, and he knows that you only want him, he can get very jealous. If he sees someone getting a little too close to you, it takes everything in him not to physically get in between you and the person you're talking to (even though he sometimes will discreetly, brushing it off as him wanting to tell you something or show you something). He's scared that you'll choose someone else instead and leave him. He'll hang out with you more, asking more and more about this new person in your life, making sure that they don't have a better chance to get with you than he does.

If you are dating, however, I think he really tones it down on the jealousy. Instead of worrying about other people, he shows you how much he cares about you. If he really feels jealous, I think he may bring it up to you, as he's learned the importance of communication, and will try to come up with a fair way to solve this problem. He doesn't expect you to not talk to this person anymore, he more just needs to hear that you want him, not the other person, and that you are happy in your relationship.

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

I could actually write 100,000 words about this I think, but I'll keep it short(ish). This man THRIVES on kisses, if you think he loves hugging, good lord you're in for it. He puts so much emotion into his kisses, if it's not just a peck, and you're not expecting it, it'll leave your head spinning. He'll give you quick pecks all the time, but sometimes he can't help but wrap his arms around you and give you a long passionate kiss. Once he pulls away he'll kiss your face all over, loving how you laugh softly. He also loves giving you kisses on the top of your head when he hugs you, just letting you know that he's there and he loves you. His favourite, however, are neck and jaw kisses, both giving and receiving. He loves how you tilt your head back, sighing softly as he kisses you, melting against his touch. He also loves feeling your lips on him, squeezing your waist tighter as you kiss him, feeling so loved and cared for in that moment. Be warned though, if you kiss that man's jaw, he has no choice but to jump on you.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

Dear god he loves kids so much, we've all seen how he is with Jee, the baby from episode one, and that little girl stuck in the claw machine. He's full of energy anyway, so he loves running around with them, colouring with them, watching their silly little shows and singing with them. I also believe this man is a girl dad, and you WILL catch him wearing a tutu and a little princess crown on his head, looking comically large with a little teacup in his hand (with freshly painted bright pink nails, his pinky out, obviously) and sitting uncomfortably at his daughters teeny little table.

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

If neither of you work, you take the opportunity to spend some extra time in bed, slowly waking up together as Buck has practically wrapped himself around you. When you finally drag yourselves out of bed, you go downstairs to make some coffee. If you're feeling fancy you'll make some waffles with strawberries and blueberries, but most of the time it's eggs or frozen waffles lol. You spend the morning quietly, just enjoying each other's company before getting on with your day, using it as a time of relaxing and being close to each other.

On days where one or both of you works, you'll still stay in bed for a few minutes, happily pressed against each other before you finally have to get ready for the day. You'll mostly spend your time separately as you get ready, whoever has more time that morning will brew the coffee and bring up that and something quick for breakfast to the other, with a soft kiss as a thank you. While you spend your mornings doing your own things to get ready, they're still full of touching and kissing as either of you pass each other, still wanting to spend some time together before you leave for the day.

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

Buck loves cooking, so on nights where you both are home he'll cook a nice meal for you, sometimes letting you help. After dinner you'll both get into your comfy clothes, ready to spend the night winding down. We all know Buck loves learning new things, and has an unending amount of fun facts up his sleeve, so he loves to curl up on the couch with you and watch shows about his current hyper fixation.

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

I think he'll reveal things slowly to you. He's not necessarily hiding it, he just brings it up as it comes up naturally in conversation. I think he also tends to reveal the more traumatic things about himself randomly, leaving you looking at him with your jaw dropped, unsure of what to say. He looks at you sheepishly, shrugging softly as you regain your composure, pulling him in for a hug/kiss before you let him explain, if he wishes to.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

I think with you he has a lot of patience, but it also depends on what exactly it's about. If it's about your wellbeing he would definitely get upset quickly if you were brushing off your wellbeing in favour of work/other people/etc, but I think a lot of the time he tries not to get too worked up. Communication is very important to him, so rather than getting upset over small things, he chooses to have an in depth conversation about anything you may disagree about.

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

He remembers a lot about you. It's like memorizing the silly topics he researches. He wants to know everything there is to know about you. He remembers a lot of little things, like your favourite flowers, or how you hate when people chew with their mouth open. He also knows you though, so a lot of the time, if he can't really remember something, he knows you well enough to take a guess and be mostly right. Your favourite snack slips his mind when he's getting groceries? He knows if you usually reach for sweet or salty, and he knows generally what you like, so if he had to guess, it would be one of your favourite snacks, at least.

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

His favourite memory is the first time you spent the night at his place. When you woke up in his arms you looked so happy, eyes still full of sleep and hair a bit of a mess, but he thought you looked so pretty. You stayed in bed for a while, content in just being close to each other, exchanging soft kisses and giggles, before you got up. He wanted to show off his cooking skills, so he made your favourite breakfast, and you looked so happy at his kitchen table, like you belonged. He also noticed how you were a little bit surprised by his actions, not used to this treatment from other men from your past, and he vowed that he was gonna treat you so well that you would forget all about the way you've been treated by your exes.

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

He is extremely protective of everyone in his life. If he had to choose to put himself into a dangerous situation versus you, he would choose himself in a heartbeat. I think in situations that are less life or death, he'd still be very protective, not wanting anything to happen to you. I don't think he'd be protective in an overbearing way, but he would want to make sure that you weren't in any kind of danger that he could've prevented.

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

He puts in SO MUCH EFFORT!!! I don't think he puts in a ton of effort for every single date, sometimes just opting for a nice night in or something more lowkey, but if he wants to, he will do anything to make you feel special. I think he puts in a lot of effort into most aspects of a relationship: gift giving, communication, etc.

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

Sometimes, when he's trying to get one of Bobby's recipes right, and he's feeling a little frustrated about it, he'll flop down on the couch instead of cleaning up the kitchen. You walk into the house, eyes falling on the dishes and food all over the counters, looking over at Buck, who smiles innocently. He comes over to you, wrapping his arms around you as he kisses you softly, which works in trying to get your mind off of it. He knows the disastrous kitchen drives you crazy, and he will get to it eventually, but sometimes he doesn't wanna get to it right away.

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

He puts in a fair amount of effort. He clearly works out, and enjoys being in as good a shape as he can be, but he also takes the time to look put together when he's in public. At home he cares less about looking perfect, but he still cares.

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

This man YEARNS for a partner that he can experience life with. I think when he meets the right person he will definitely feel like a weight is lifted off his shoulders, realizing how good sharing a life with you is. While he does think it's important for you two to have lives outside of the relationship (your own friends and hobbies), he loves to have someone to come home to at the end of the day and know that he has someone rooting for him and vice versa. While he doesn’t necessarily feel incomplete without a relationship, he definitely thinks you bring out a side of him that he likes.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

HEAR ME OUT!

This man LOVES to be pampered!!! If you ever wanna have a little spa night with him, he is agreeing so fast. He'll let you wash his hair while you take a shower, he'll sit there while you put a face mask on him, and then he'll lay there while you massage his back, and he'll of course return the favour. He eats up all the attention you give him, and he loves how refreshed he feels after your little spa night. He'll feel so relaxed and would have the best sleep of his life with you wrapped in his arms after.

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

I feel like he hates it when people are late. The odd time, fine. He can’t blame you if you lose track of time or run into traffic. But if someone is consistently late, he can’t help but get that feeling that it’s because they don’t wanna be there, or that they don’t care about him. In his words, he is always the one that watches others leave, and being late makes him feel a little bit like someone leaving him.

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

We all know this man SNORES, which you were surprised about at first. How can this peaceful looking little guy be so goddamn loud?? It takes a while to get used to, but after a while, it becomes a little comforting. On nights that he's not sleeping beside you, it feels a little too quiet. He's also a big cuddle bug, he loves feeling you pressed up against him when he goes to sleep, knowing you're so close to him. If he woke up in the middle of the night and had somehow gotten out of his grip he'd be moving over beside you, draping an arm over your soft tummy before passing back out again.

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twistedwonderlandshenanigans · 1 year ago

Text

TWST Cast - Fidgets/Stims/Self-Regulation

I needed something simple to write to feel like I'm. we're not actually gonna get into that, anyways, enjoy.

TW: Some of these are NOT healthy/borderline SH, but there's nothing graphic, it's just some folks don't know What's Wrong and only know how to make themselves focus via some sort of (minor) physical pain.

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Heartslaybul

Riddle - had to mask around his mother, said his stims (bouncing his leg, and kinda just. shaking his pen? you know what I mean, like between two fingers and you just let it bounce?) made him look mentally unwell (🙄), unruly and undisciplined. Totally not projecting At All So he rarely stims in public when he's trying to focus, though during testing periods and in the safety of his own room he tends to let himself (subconsciously) stim. He also chews on his bottom lip a lot, but not enough that it was ever noticed by his mother. (Floyd gifts him a fidget ring sometime in the future and he's surprised at how well it works for him) He also loves compression but has yet to discover it.

Trey - He doesn't stim a whole lot, but even in game we know that he tends to touch/readjust his glasses when he feels awkward/about to join a conversation or make a point he's being a bit of a smart alec about. Usually when he's really stressed, (which takes quite a bit to get him there), he'll excessively wash his hands with cold water.

Cater - has a lot of caffeine, so for the most part, his impulses to stim aren't there. That being said, when anxiety comes to kick him in the butt, usually just listening to music and tapping out the rhythm of the guitar with his finger against his thigh is enough to help him out, usually while keeping the beat by tapping his foot or bobbing his head at the same time. (usually some soft rock or pop music) When he's REALLY like. needs to get emotions out but can't because he doesn't like being vulnerable he makes himself eat unbearably hot (spicy) food and insists that he likes it even as he is Crying and Sniffling because. then he can write it off to the spice and not the fact he's dying inside. (Don't do this please sdlkjfhlksdjf) Sometimes he also stims by making popping noises, but he doesn't even recognize that he does this, because usually it's just when it's him and Trey in the room, and Trey isn't bothered by it. "Like" and "Really" are both stim words for him too.

Deuce - He's still learning to self-regulate! He knows that shouting helps him get everything out, but in the moment he sometimes struggles. He's still trying out different techniques. As for stims/fidgets Deuce doesn't really have any? Well he does, but he doesn't act on them when he needs to focus since One Incident early on in life when he found out that his fidgets make noise (he's deaf as a part of my HC and didn't get hearing aids until he was like 5-6) and he hates to be a bother to anyone else. On top of that, I think he has a slight auditory processing disorder, so he has a tendency to repeat things back to people, just to make sure he's understood correctly once his brain has caught up to their words. He doesn't know it yet, but compression will help him Calm Down when needed.

Ace - Whistling/noise imitation in general, bouncing his leg, pen tapping, etc. this guy has ADHD but thank the Seven for his older brother who was patient and gentle with him when he was younger. When Ace struggles to focus, he tends to just shuffle a deck of cards, he likes the way they feel. In the rare occasion that he chooses to study, he usually does so while shuffling the cards/practicing a magic trick at the same time because the Physical task during the Mental task makes the Mental task more interesting. He also uses music as a means of self-regulation. (Usually classic rock).

Savannaclaw

Leona - His emotional regulation is out to lunch and the closest he gets to stimming is his tail flicking. It could be argued that the feeling of his blankets is Nice To Him but idk man. Catnip helps with regulation? Idk. Sure.

Ruggie - Idk are we counting his tail wagging as a stim? technically it could be considered one, right, it's a subconscious physical response to happiness? Ruggie also tends to chew on his lip when he's focusing, but his teeth are sharper than Riddle's so it often draws blood and he rarely notices. Sometimes he's kinda hit with just a Wave of what the fuck am I doing with my life? and just needs to rub something soft (Usually Leona's laundry bc it's more luxurious than anyone else's), a little bit to try and recenter himself. If that doesn't work he just tries to work himself to a point of exhaustion so he can ignore the Bad Feelings. This rarely works and he ends up calling his grandma by the end of it just to ask her to leave the phone on speaker so he can hear the chaos and rough and tumble of home. At the end of the phone call his grandma sings to him bc she knows full well what's going on and the sense of familiarity is enough to help Ruggie feel less restless. This boy also loves compression. Also, rolling with the idea that he got to keep the trumpet from the port fest event and started teaching it to himself, during the day/when he's bored he practices tonguing+breathing excercises/patterns (don't be weird about this I stg) or buzzing with or without his mouth piece. Also chews on his nails a lot. I feel like eventually someone gifts him one of those chew necklaces and he loves it but his bite force accidentally damages it much sooner than it should have been so then that same person gets one commissioned specifically to withstand a hyena's bite force and it's the best gift he'll have ever gotten (besides a wad of cash but yknow)

Jack - I mean besides his tail wagging...there isn't much else? For emotional regulation, he tends to just go running if he needs something to focus on. Music also helps sometimes, but it's specifically classical and he just sits in bed and listens to it in his comfiest clothes bc. unlike SOME people he will listen to his body and mind and rest when necessary.

Octavinelle

Azul - Him? Stim? Never. /J He masks a lot mostly because he knows that stimming can come off as anxious, and that's the last thing he wants when he's trying to be convincing to someone else, or really, in front of the twins. That being said, alone in his office he twirls his pen a lot, and late nights/Anxiety Times leads to him tugging on that strand of hair that's longer than the rest as a means of staying focused and in the moment. He thinks he can't be vulnerable in front of the twins but honestly they pick up on his anxiety so easily, they both know compression helps him out. Jade is generally touch repulsed, so usually Floyd takes it upon himself to Flop on Azul's back while he's working. Azul will sometimes imitate playing chords on the piano, on his desk for the same reason Ace plays with cards. He also finds himself stress eating sometimes which does nothing good for his self-esteem.

Jade - Also Masks A Lot. It would take someone he trusts even more than his own twin that would ever get to see him act on his impulses. Otherwise we would see Jade with the happy flappies (though I feel like he would keep his hands in fists instead). However, when things are Bad, Jade does one of two things, both of which are done in a locked bathroom. 1. Fill the sink with cold water and dunk his head in without switching to his mer form. 2. Rolls up his sleeves and bites himself. Just once is usually enough to get him out of it. He also finds the whole. Cleaning out the wound and wrapping himself pretty relaxing. He has not considered just using a tensor bandage yet to self regulate, eventually Floyd will find out wtf he's doing and suggest That instead. Jade will sometimes unmask just enough to rock slightly side to side or back and forth/up on his tiptoes and back down bc he can make it fit with his whole 'I'm innocent baby' kinda facade he pulls sometimes sdlkfjhslkdjf Also tends to need a completely silence space when he's overstimulated.

Floyd -WHOOOOOWEEE babes you already know he is STIM central WHOOT WHOOT he's got the happy flappies, he's got the leg bouncy, he's got the clicky pen, he's got the 'I gotta touch something squishy' need, etc. etc. HOWEVER sometimes he's got the Bad Stims, like he cannot focus on anything, nothing is being retained, he feels over and understimulated at the same time, nothing feels Good, he doesn't feel hungry, he wants Nothing to do with anyone, his leg is bouncing, he's kinda just stabbing his pencil repeatedly into the table and he KNOWS he should focus but just can't- and then Lilia introduces him to metal music and it's like Wow. Everything is better. It has to be blasting, but now Floyd has a means of dealing with That Feeling whenever it rolls around. Also it HAS to be over the ear headphones because of the compression and Friendly Squishy Texture of the parts that cover his ears. Makes him feel better in less than ten minutes, it's a win-win for everyone except he can never remember the name of the band, so he almost always tracks down Lilia to demand (ask) for a reminder and Lilia just almost always has his headphones and phone on hand so just Gives them to Floyd while he goes through Floyd's phone and curates a playlist for him and finds his exact headphones on the equivalent of Amazon so Floyd can order them. Floyd in general, when listening to music, tends to imitate whatever his favourite part of the song is, whether it's the bass line, guitar, drums, keyboard, lyrics, etc. and will switch between various parts as he sees fit. This also means it's not uncommon to hear Floyd essentially beatboxing as a stim method as well. Floyd also snaps his fingers a lot, he likes spinning things on his fingers (be it as innocent as a key chain or dangerous as scissors), and also imitates people a lot. He doesn't always intend to, but like. If he is talking to someone with an accent, he accidentally IMMEDIATELY takes on that accent and finds it funny because he literally can't stop himself. Idk if anyone else has this issue but dear god as someone more anxious than Floyd this has lead to a lot of awkward situations for me bc I have to CONSCIOUSLY not speak in whatever accent my brain is trying to make me take on.

Scarabia

Kalim - ALSO stim central, though his tend to be in response to happiness. He tends to parrot people a lot, beatboxes/makes noise, happy wiggles, snaps his fingers,lots of different kinds of taps, and has happy flappies. He has some. Not so good regulatory practices as well, but when he's overwhelmed he tends to rock back and forth, or ...like. Idk really how to describe it, but he taps his hand against his chest really fast, but it's like in a claw shape so after a few times it starts to hurt a little? because of his finger nails?? idk how else to describe it. He knows better than to do it in front of Jamil though. Music tends to overwhelm him when he's already overstimulated so he ends up putting headphones on just to try and block out the noise. White noise doesn't help, he just wants it to be as quiet as possible.

Jamil - Stims more than people realize, because his stims are naturally more subtle. When Kalim comes to 'bother' him in the kitchen, he keeps himself as focused and relaxed as possible by balancing on one foot at a time, to give himself something to think about besides the 'unwelcome' invasion. When he's studying, he flips his hood up and is constantly rubbing the fabric close to his face and has a bit of a leg bounce. He also uses music as a means of regulation, usually something with a lot of syncopation. Jamil also keeps his hand in a fist and bumps it against his side sometimes when he's trying to stay focused in a conversation.

Pomefiore

Vil - He doesn't really stim all that much, but on days he doesn't feel himself/bad anxiety/PTSD is getting to him, he washes his hands with burning hot water. He knows it's not good. And his hands are super sensitive afterwards. But it stops him from spiraling and that's all he needs. He takes care of them properly afterwards and will make sure to wear his gloves.

Rook - I kinda HC Rook with OCD. Most of his stims are his methods of coping with any sort of dirt or germs, perceived or otherwise. He hates not wearing his gloves, (of which he has different pairs for different Places), but in the event he can't have them on for whatever reason, or a task will be more efficiently done without them, he washes his hands until they're raw because then he can be sure that layer of skin that was in Contact isn't there. Rook regulates with scents a lot too, whether it be the perfume Neige/Vil uses or rooibos tea that his sister used to make for him.

Epel - Idk if gesticulation counts as stimming, but he does it a lot, just not in front of Vil dslkfjhksdjf. I feel like it's only really around Deuce that he feels comfortable doing his happy stomps, though for the hometown event he likely doesn't mask much so other people get to see it too. As much as Epel hates being called short, he likes the fact if he sits back far enough in his chair he can kick his feet without touching the floor sljdfhlksjd. He also tends to grind his teeth.

Ignihyde

Idia - He has SO MANY homemade fidgets but he gets tired of them really quickly so he ends up putting them in the scraps lab of Ignihyde. He likes clicking sounds a lot, (go figure /lh), and ASMR. In the (horrific) event he has to leave his room, usually he tries to keep his anxiety at bay via rubbing the ridges on his sweater, playing/rubbing at his hands/wrists in the pouch pocket of his sweater or rocking a bit, though he hates doing that bc it draws attention to him sometimes. If he does end up overstimulated in a Bad Way or anxious, he tends to pick at his lips/chew on his fingernails.

Ortho - Baby!! He tends to mimic other people's stims when they look fun! He does do happy trills/beeps now and then of his own volition and it's Adorable. He will also do them when he feels like cussing sldkfhlksjd Ortho also claps when he's happy, and if he has his boosters on might even do a little flip. As a treat. When he does need emotional regulation, he knows compression helps so he just asks big brother for a hug. 10/10.

Diasomnia

Malleus - Doesn't stim a whole lot...nor does he really emotionally regulate, though I feel like. For some reason he really likes (cloud) slime as a fidget. Like, he doesn't need it in order to regulate anything, but he finds the texture and sound pleasing. He does sometimes repeat other people to process information. I do think he would be more prone to stimming when he's more dragon than humanoid.

Lilia - Obviously uses music to regulate, bc he did it for Floyd, but he also uses his turning upside down and feeling all the blood rush to his head as a method of getting his brain out of a bad spot. Lilia does also have a chew necklace that he uses now and then, but other than that, he rarely gets overstimulated or needs a distraction. He just likes chewing sldjfhslkjdf he does help Sebek and Silver self regulate though

Silver - He doesn't stim a whole lot, but when he was younger he used to have a lot of nightmares. Usually Lilia would help him through it with breathing exercises, but if he was too panicked to focus on that he would get a few pieces of ice and wrap it in a cloth towel so as to protect him from it hurting. The cold would distract Silver enough to stop crying as hard, and then both Lilia and Silver would hold an ice cube in their hands until Silver didn't want to anymore and they could practice their breathing. Every now and then, Silver still goes to the freezer at night just to hold ice in both hands until he's calmed himself down from a particularly bad dream or anxiety just eating at him.

Sebek - Refuses to believe he stims. However, he acknowledges the ice trick does help him refocus when he finds that he isn't able to on his own. He doesn't realize he grinds his teeth or that staring at a fan actually helps him calm down. Also Lilia bought him a lava lamp and it also helps stop the overwhelming Feelings he has sometimes.

Others

Che'nya - picks at his skin a lot. He knows it's not good but he can't help it there are Textures There He Doesn't Want but also Feel Funny on his fingers. He tends to self-regulate simply by purring or scratching himself/getting someone else to scratch behind his ears. He also tends to put things in his mouth without much thought behind it. All his pencils have bite marks. He has probably eaten like 30 erasers by this point by accident. He also really likes smells, usually freshly baked bread to help regulate, which is why he sometimes comes to 'invade' Heartslaybul is just to chill in the kitchen while Trey bakes to help him tune out any bad feelings he has. Every once in a while, he'll use catnip to deal with anxiety, but Neige usually intervenes before then and like. Puts on one of those fish videos for cats. Che'nya loves them more than he would like to admit. He also carries a ball of yarn because he likes how soft it is and he can fidget with it when he needs to.

Jack T. - Almost the exact same stims as his little brother, but he masks a lot because he Had To when he was growing up. He's just glad that he was able to provide a space for Ace to be able to express himself the way he needed to.

Najma - She also stims in a fairly subtle way. She usually has a scarf on her that's a soft material that she rubs as a means of regulation, like some sort of silk, she likes the smooth texture. She has 10 hour versions of her favourite song, (whatever it may be) on her playlist. (Jamil does NOT understand this whatsoever, how Najma can stand to listen to something that long does not make sense to him sdlfhlkjsf) She also has a hand cream she carries with her everywhere because she likes the smell of it.

Neige - He has a lot of anxious bouts and PTSD that he can usually mask, but he's almost always rubbing his wrist gently, humming, singing or whistling. He kinda figures if he's always making a noise of some kind, nobody will pick up on what lies underneath. When he does have a full blown panic attack, he has breathing exercises he works through that work for him. He also journals a lot.

Extra

Vizzie - Rubs her wrist where her vambrace ends, tugs at her hair when she's borderline dissociative to help keep her in the present, and when she's really feeling. not great? She eats ice with salt on it. It's the burning sensation that helps her focus on Just That and nothing else. Once Cater introduces her to caffeine as a stimulant it does help with a lot of her ADHD-like tendencies, but listening to music with over the ear headphones helps too. When she doesn't want to. you know. punish herself with salted ice, she just has Ice but she has to let it sit until it's the Right Texture. And you might be like. Hey. This sounds like an amalgamation of A Lot of things from above. Guess what babyyyy most of those stims ^^^ are things I do too. And Vizzie is basically. An AU version of myself. Guess what I was doing that made me wanna write this post? slkdjfhslkjdf that's right doing a shitty job at self regulation but hey, writing it out made me Feel Better WOOOO yeah Later on in the Canon story she ends up being more comfortable showing happy stims. When she's listening to music, she often ends up doing the same thing as Cater with the rhythms of the guitar line being tapped out. (bc I gave him my stim wooo I'm taking it back for her lsdkjfhlksjdf)

Anyways. I'm surprised I finished this in one sitting. Must be the caffeine.

Taglist: (lmk if you wanna hop on)

@fluffle-writes @my-cursed-brain

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