#GOOD MORNING I NEED HER IN MY BRAIN FOREVER | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused · 30 days

Note

could u pls write a fic about a plus sized reader noticing Spencer doesnt look at her alot so one morning she wears lingerie and a see through robe and she teases him until he just takes her on the couch?

༉‧₊˚. 𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐥 || 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

— pairing: spencer reid x plus size!reader

— summary: listen, it wasn't that you didn't love the domestic life with spencer, but god, you just really missed being touched (and penelope has a solution).

— warnings: uhh this is almost 3k of pwp firstly, penelope being the best wingwoman to ever exist, lingerie, teasing, unprotected sex, couch sex, vaginal sex, sub!spencer reid, dom!reader, kind of switch spencer and reader at the end, riding, heavy petting, subspace if you squint, mentions of oral sex (m and f rec), the reader is lowkey a freak (and penelope instigates it), clothed sex, the reader is dressed and spencer isn't, i held myself back from including a mommy kink, but that's the best you're getting from me, a lack of foreplay (be considerate folks), consent kink, praise kink.

— wc: 2817

⋆ a/n: HEY SO i really let this get away from me in the sense of this was meant to kind of be dom!spencer but i blinked and all of a 2k was written of sub!spencer so yikes!! but i really enjoyed writing this, it's been literally forever since i've written pwp so... here ya go!! i'm trying to be more organized with uploading because i really want to clear out my drafts before starting any new projects.

masterlist | AO3

“Pen, have you ever seen those TikToks where it’s like ‘he has a whole woman in his bed yet he’s playing World of Warcraft’ or some shit like that?” You ask the phone that’s tucked under your chin.

You’re in the middle of putting up laundry, but a feeling of unrest bubbled beneath your skin.

Penelope laughs, “And let me guess, that’s how you feel right now?”

You sigh, looking down at the shirt that refuses to turn inside out. You throw it back in the hamper with a huff before grabbing a pair of – Spencer’s – jeans.

“I just – I’m not with Spencer for just sex, you know that, but it’s been like… forever since I’ve gotten any.” You can’t even listen to yourself talk.

“We’ve been in this like… domestic bliss stage, and while I love waking up to breakfast in bed and giggly showers, I’m horny and every time he does something so normal – something that shouldn’t even be considered sexy – I have to hold myself back from jumping his bones.”

Penelope lets out a rather unattractive chortle, but she continues. “Listen sister, while I love the Boy Genius as much as the next person, he’s kinda dense. With all those brains, he’s rather hard-headed when it comes to romance.”

“I know, I know, and those are one of the reasons why I love him! The denseness is cute, but I’m starting to think I sabotaged myself.” You look down longingly at the MIT t-shirt. Spencer was away at the office right now, so that means whatever conversation you were having with the colorful woman on the other end was completely inappropriate.

“You know what I think?” She starts. “Oh God.” You sigh fondly. “Oh, hush! Don’t even act like my ideas aren’t good! Anyway… If there’s one thing I’ve learned from being quite the seductress myself, is that at the end of the day a man is a man, and they can be reduced down to their most primal instincts.”

“What are you saying?” You inquire curiously with furrowed eyebrows. “I’m saying that you gotta work with what ya mama gave ya! Men are dumb, they see a tit or a nice ass and they lose all cognitive function. So what I’m saying is to put on some lingerie and act like a little minx! Guys love it when you tease them and act like you don’t know what you’re doing! It’s about the chase, my fellow curvaceous protege.”

“So you’re saying to… seduce him?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying – Oh! Good morning sir! Yes, sorry, I’ll call you back when I’ve got the answer to what you need… yes okay bye-bye!” And with that, you’re left listening to the silence.

You laugh, shaking your head in exasperation before taking a seat on the bed.

Seduce him, huh? The notion almost seems ridiculous, but it really isn’t that far fetched. You’ve had sex with Spencer before, you know how his brain works, what gets him needy and what parts of you turn him on. Maybe it’s not such a bad idea.

You don’t really own any lingerie, because for one, the material that’s supposedly the back of your underwear gets swallowed by your ass, and two, Spencer’s never complained about your granny panties. But hey, it doesn’t hurt to look right?

Okay, seduce Spencer Reid is a go.

Taking one last scrutinizing look in the bathroom mirror, you leave quietly, walking into the kitchen and pouring yourself a glass of coffee. Liquid courage as they say.

The light pink sheer robe hangs off of your ample form, the fuzz on the edge of your sleeves getting in your way and irritating you. God, if this doesn’t work, a woman by the name of Penelope Garcia is going to find herself six feet underground.

Spencer sat on the couch slipping his feet into a pair of mismatched socks – you’ve stopped trying to organize them a while ago – tucking them into his converse. He’s off today, probably having plans with the bookstore and the park before offering to make the both of you dinner. It’s endearing to say the least, but food is not something you're hungry for.

“So, what’s on the agenda for today?” You ask before taking a sip of your coffee. He hasn’t looked up, but you’re facing him now, your scantily clad body exposed by the thin satin of your white bra and underwear. A devil in disguise (you hope).

“Hmm, I was thinking about playing chess in the park for an hour or two before going to the bookstore. A new novel about quantum physics just came out, and even though it’ll probably be about stuff I already know, I’m always willing to look at it from a different perspec…” Spencer finally looked up, his sentence slurring a bit. “...tive.”

“Ah! That sounds exciting! I’ll text you what I want for dinner later if that’s okay? Or would you rather I go shopping with you?”

He blinks, his mouth hanging open intelligently, as though he’s still trying to process exactly what he’s seeing. “Yes. I mean no - I mean… I… what are you wearing?”

You spare a lazy look down, as though you had forgotten you even had the thing on.

“Oh this? It’s just really hot in the apartment today. So make sure you bring some sunscreen and a fan, yeah? Don’t want you getting a sunburn or having a heat stroke.”

“I - I’ve never seen that set before, is it new?” He stammers. You click your tongue as if you genuinely had to date the outfit back, when in reality the tags to the set itself sits pretty in the bathroom trash can. “I have no idea honestly, it looked comfortable though, so I just slipped it on. You don’t mind, right?”

“I… no. I don’t.”

You beam at him, “Perfect. Oh! Let me make you some coffee before you go, I know how hard it is for you to start your day without it.”

You turn back around, and you could hear Spencer fruitlessly swallow a gasp. The back of your underwear might as well have been a piece of string, because your ass cheeks were basically eating the material. It was uncomfortable, but oh well, beauty is pain.

You smirk in victory, pulling out a medium sized thermos and pouring the rest of the liquid in it.

You didn’t hear him move, let alone walk behind you, but two large hands placed themselves respectively on your hips, the man tucking his face in the side of your neck. You shiver at the hot blow of air that escapes through his nose, and his grip on your skin turns a little tighter.

“What are you doing?” The question is mumbled, but you don’t miss it. “What does it look like? I’m making you coffee, silly.” He huffs. “No. I mean what are you doing to me?”

He presses forward, pushing his half hard cock between your cheeks. It was your turn to gasp, and you couldn’t help but put down the pot of coffee, pushing the now full thermos away to avoid any future hazards.

You hold on to the edge of the counter, tilting your head further to the side to give the needy man more access. He takes the hint, peppering sweet, heated kisses on the sensitive skin of your throat. You shiver once more, sighing out a smile.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You know lying is useless, especially with the way your voice sounded so breathless. “You know you’re a terrible liar.” It was a playful dig, and his palms had begun to move, pushing on your full stomach to put more of your weight on him.

“Hm, but you don’t know every single thing I have in the closet, now do you?” You remark, yelping when he nipped at your earlobe. “Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong and you know it.” You do. “Do I?”

“This is terrible foreplay.” He jokes and you giggle. “I’d say I’m doing a pretty good job, don’t you think?” You push your hips back and add a bit of friction onto his cock. He groans and you feel your pussy pulse.

“You always do a good job.” Spencer murmurs.

You’re turned around so you can face him, and you wish you could take a picture to savor the look on his face. He’s beet red, cheeks and ears flushed a beautiful hue that leaves a twinge of pride pooling in your stomach.

He cups your face, drawing you in for a long awaited kiss.

You sigh into him, hands twisting at the sleeves of his cardigan to pull him closer. He lets you in exchange of pushing you against the counter until your lower back is digging uncomfortably into the marble.

“Where do you wanna go?” He finally breathes. You stare at him as if you were in a daze before processing his question with a blink. “Couch?” You ask. “Whatever you want.” He says before joining your lips together once more.

He walks the both of you backwards slowly, and he takes advantage of when your mouth parts in a moan as he flicks his tongue against the top of your lip. He tastes like toothpaste and you might be a little crazy to think that it makes him way sexier than it should.

Your eyes flutter open and you push him away with hands on his chest gently.

“Do you trust me?” You gasp.

“Of course.”

“Good.” You say with a smirk.

You make sure he’s close enough to the edge of the couch when you push him on it, quickly clambering onto his lap and settling your hands on his shoulders; his fall naturally to your waist and you grin.

“Hi.” You whisper quietly. “Hey.” He responds back just as hushed. “You can grab my ass, you know.” You tease and his eyes widen just slightly. “I…” You guide his palms to hold the meat of your ass and he grips.

“God.” It tumbles from his lips in a whimper and you fucking melt.

“Sorry I’ve been such a tease today, Spencie.” You say sweetly with a fake pout. “I just needed you so bad and you’ve been so, so sweet to me, my sweet boy. I didn’t want to ruin it by asking you to fuck me stupid.”

“You wouldn’t have ruined it.” He corrects with a whine. You had begun to grind down on him and he gripped you tightly, helping you rut against him. “No?” You question. He shakes his head quickly, his hair bouncing along with the swings.

“No. ‘Would’ve done anything you asked.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.”

“So, if I asked you to let me suck your dick until I’ve sucked the soul out of you, would you have let me? How about if I asked you to eat my pussy for breakfast, huh? Would you have done it?”

“Yes, yes, God yes! I want to… I wanna do all those things so badly.” He groans, all but pawing at you now.

“I bet you do,” You coo. “I guess I haven’t been the only one pent up. But that’s okay, because I’ve got you, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

You smile, leaning in to give him a kiss before traveling downwards to his belt and wrangling it open. You popped open the buttons of his jeans, sliding back so you can tug them down his legs.

“Up.” You command softly and he obliges.

You’re faced with his hardened cock bulging from under his black underwear.

“Oh… is this for me?” You know you’re being mean when you drag your fingertips over the spot where precum has begun to pool, only putting slight pressure on it just to hear that sweet sound of his breath hitching.

“Yes – it’s all for you.” Spencer whines and throws his head back against the couch. “All for me? My goodness…” You trail off as you drag his underwear down his thighs. His cock springs up and bobbles against his clothed stomach.

“Can I –” He licks his lips, “Can I take my shirt off?”

“Of course, my love.” You were just about to ask him anyway.

As he rids himself of his top you get up for a split second to take his pants and underwear off fully. As you go to undress yourself, he stops you.

“W— wait… keep it on please.”

“Oh? You wanna be nasty and pull my panties to the side, huh? Dirty dirty boy.” You tisk, but in reality you feel like you’re about to explode. “Is that okay?” You smile at his question. “More than okay.”

You climb back on top of him, doing exactly what you said and pulling the white satin to the side before gripping his dick, lining it up to your entrance. He holds you steady looking up at you with those big brown puppy dog eyes as you sink down.

The stretch stings because of the lack of foreplay, but you can’t find it within yourself to care as the pain shoots up your lower back and is already fraying at your pleasure filled nerves.

“So… so good. God.” Spencer chokes.

Your lips are rolled between your teeth, eyebrows furrowed in concentration. You heave out a breath when he sinks down to the hilt, and he just rubs soothing circles on your hips. The feeling helps to guide you as you loosen up, and when you do, you give him an experimental clench.

He groans of course and you smirk lazily.

“‘Gonna ride you now, ‘kay?” You murmur as you lift your hips up before slamming down. Spencer practically shouts when he re-enters you. “Fuck, fuck, fuck…” He’s a whimpering, cursing mess. “That feels good, baby?” You ask as you bounce. Spencer nods and fondness twists in your chest.

“You’re so tight. I think ‘m gonna pass out.” He says dramatically. You laugh, grabbing his hands and slipping them under your bra so they can cover your breasts. “Well, don’t pass out until we’ve cum, alright?”

He gives your breasts a reassuring squeeze. “Of course.” He huffs and you giggle again. The giggles die out though when you shift and his tip prods just right.

“Oh shit.” You curse but remain in the same place.

You ride him in abandon, the sound of skin meeting skin radiating out into the early morning air of the apartment. The sound is nasty and wet and it causes your head to swim. The buzz of mind numbing pleasure swims around in your gut, and you can almost grasp it.

“Spence I – I need more, can you…?” You moan out, your head tilting back. “Yeah, yeah, I got you, sweetheart.”

One hand leaves to rub furiously at your clit and your hips cant forward, sending you landing on his naked, sweat slicked chest. Your thighs burn and you rest for a moment, but Spencer doesn’t seem to match the same sentiment, because the other hand holds you by your hip in a grip that’s almost bruising.

The fat is spilling through his fingers but he uses it as leverage as he now fucks up into you. You squeal, throwing your arms around his neck and tucking his face into yours. You mark him mindlessly, body trembling as you near your orgasm.

You can feel him twitch inside of you when he sets a pace, bringing you up and down in a way that indicates he’s nearing an end of his own.

“Together, okay?” You cry out, “‘Wanna cum together.”

“Okay, honey, okay.”

He sets his feet on the floor and rubs harder at your sensitive bud, and the arousal that implodes inside of you is so blinding that you white out for a minute. Every one of your senses are overwhelmed, and you can hear him mewling into your ear before warmth paints your womb.

It’s silent in the apartment for a moment before you speak.

“I have to tell you a secret.” You whisper mindlessly, laying your cheek on a bony shoulder. “And what’s that?” He runs his fingers up and down your spine.

“This set is new.”

“I know honey, I saw the charge on my card.”

“What?!” You exclaim, pulling away from his body to search his hazy eyes with your wide ones.

“You forget I can see the bank statements.” Spencer says with a smile. “No, no. I – I didn’t mean to use your card.”

“You didn’t have to… I may have uh… may have slipped one into your wallet when you weren’t looking.” He admits sheepishly. You stare at a moment and then smile incredulously. “Did you… secretly sugar daddy me?”

“Oh God, please don’t call it that.” He says with a groan, leaning forward to bury his face in your chest.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever sugar daddy.” You tease, running your fingers through his sweaty locks.

ೃ⁀➷ my lovely taglist!: @alina02 @louderfortheback @minervadashwood @their-love @fandomsarelifee @theendofthe70s @nomajdetective @mgg-theprettiestboy @phoenixblack89 @celtic-crossbow @hallecarey1 @bunnybabe-babydoll @dixonzzgirl @violettavirus @khxna

684 notes · View notes

stevieschrodinger · 2 months

Text

Part One Two Three four

Steve’s eating a bowl of cereal, squinting in the morning light. He’s barefoot, wearing nothing but sleep shorts, and is considering going back to bed. He shouldn’t though; he has to be on time today.

Since the mall burned down, Scoops Ahoy is, annoyingly, no more. Robin thinks she has something though, some guy at Family Video who probably has the hots for her or something. Doesn’t matter though, Steve doesn’t really care what this Keith guys motivation is as long as it results in gainful employment for the both of them.

He really should shower.

Steve can see the pool from here, so he’s in a prime position to watch as Eddie pulls himself out of the water and makes his way to the back door.

This is the second time Eddie has come into the house, if you don’t count the emergency temporary over nighter in the bath tub. Well, it’s the second time Eddie has brought himself into the house, at least.

He waits patiently at the back door, like a cat waiting to be let in, and Steve opens the door for him, cereal bowl still balanced in the other hand.

He holds himself in that same way, flat of his tail curled up beneath him, giving him a little height, and he sits himself uncertainly in the middle of the kitchen floor, “hi Eddie.”

“Stee. Buddidy”

Steve gets him some celery from the bottom of the fridge and gives him the whole thing. They stand, and sit, together in comfortable silence, crunching their way through their respective breakfasts.

Steve watches as Eddie cautiously makes his way to the fridge once he’s done, looking to Steve with his his hand on the door, a question on his face, Steve nods, “yeah.”

Eddie opens the door, and Steve watches as he explores, carefully moving jars and condiments and stuff around, glass clinking quietly, before he opens the drawer at the bottom and pulls out a pear, carefully closing the drawer and door again after. He eats the whole thing, stalk, core, seeds, everything.

Steve washes up his dish, checking the time, “want to watch some TV?”

Eddie cocks his head, but follows Steve into the lounge. He sits, looking around, feeling the carpet under his hands, running his nails carefully through the pile until the TV catches his attention.

He moves closer. And then closer again, making Steve laugh when he taps a nail on the curved glass of the screen.

“I’m going to go shower, you shouldn't sit so close, it’s bad for your eyes.”

Robin does her make up in the car on the way over to Family Video, “how’s Eddie?”

“I’m fine, thanks for asking, it really means a lot to me, how much you care about my well being.”

She sighs through her nose and rolls her eyes, and Steve tuts at her.

“He came in the house this morning, I left him watching TV.”

“Huh. I mean normally I would say it’ll rot his brain but, something for him to do would be good, right?”

“Yeah. And if I’m getting a job, we should try and teach him to use the walkie’s at least. In case there’s like an emergency or something.”

“A fruit and veg related emergency.”

“Yeah, kind of. We really need to figure out what to do with him, he can’t just sit in my pool forever.”

She hums in agreement.

It’s just starting to rain when Steve gets home, the first break in the nearly two weeks of sunny weather they’ve been having.

Probably won’t be sharing a beer with Eddie tonight then. Well, Steve hasn’t really been sharing, he’s been letting Eddie steal the last third of a bottle, which isn’t really the same thing.

Eddie’s actually sitting on on the couch when Steve gets in, which surprises him momentarily. There’s an empty container on the cushion next to him, Steve figures he found the grapes.

“Hey.”

Eddie turns to see him, smiling, clearly pleased to see him, which is a nice change of pace. Sure he knows Robin loves him, but she’s never actually openly really happy to see him unless she’s, like, drunk or high. And the kids. Steve knows they must at least kind of like him, but they’re all just little shits. Having someone to come home to who is genuinely pleased to see him is a really nice change of pace.

“It just started raining.”

“Raiiniing.”

“Yeah,” Steve points at the window, “uhm, wet. Uhm. Sky wet.”

“Et.”

“Yeah.”

Eddie’s eyes widen suddenly, scrabbling off the couch in clear panic, “Et! Et!”

“Yeah Buddy, what’s wrong-”

Eddie’s frantically slithering across the lounge carpet with what is a truly amazing turn of speed considering his anatomy, “et inied! Book! NO! NO!”

“Oh, shit! Your book,” Steve hops over Eddie’s tail, making it to the door and then sprinting across the grass, grabbing the book and bringing it back.

Eddie’s sitting in the door way, hands clasped together, watching anxiously, “it’s not so bad, just a little damp.” Steve holds the book out to show him where drops of rain have speckled the pages, “it’s not bad.”

“Not bad. Good,” but he’s still frowning, clearly concerned where the paper is discolored by the water.

“Wait,” Eddie does as he’s told as Steve runs upstairs for the hair dryer, plugging it in in the lounge and sitting on the floor, Eddie joining him with the book. “Here, feel,” he turns it on, pointing it Eddie’s way.

Eddie sticks his fingers towards it, and then pulls the back, startled. Then he does it again before watching Steve dry the pages of the book, “dry. Et inied.”

“That’s right buddy.”

“Stee Edidie budidy.”

“That’s right. Yeah.”

Eddie sits next to Steve watching nervously as Steve gets the final pages dried off, and Steve hands the book back.

Eddie grins, “thanks Birdidie,” and then darts forward to press his lips to Steve’s cheek. It's just a press, not a real kiss.

“Oh,” and then Steve chuckles when he realizes what’s happened, the behavior that Eddie's seen and is now mimicking, “no. Uhm. Thank you Steve.”

Eddie cocks his head.

“Wait, wait,” Steve takes the hair dryer with him, heading up the stairs again, and this time coming back with a handful of Polaroids, he shuffles them into a neat stack, sitting next to Eddie on the floor. “Right, this is Robin. Birdie.”

“Thanks Birdidie.”

“Yeah, that’s right, that’s Birdie, now,” Steve shuffles through, “Max,” he says pointing, “and El.”

“El. Max.”

It’s thirty minutes and two pears later, but Eddie seems to be able to identify everyone reliably from their photographs, “no, Dustin.”

“Dust bin,” Eddie replies, confidently.

“You know what, sure, dust bin. Let’s go with that. Kind of suits him, actually.”

Steve’s drinking his evening beer. The weather much better again today, but the evenings are drawing in, and the sun set has almost taken Steve by surprise with how early it’s painting the sky pink. Summer’s coming to a close. Which brings some urgency to the question; what are they going to do with Eddie? The pool isn’t heated, and it usually gets drained and covered for the winter months. It’ll definitely freeze over at some point if they leave it open like this, and there’s no way Eddie could survive that, could he?

Steve doesn’t know. There’s just too much they don’t know about Eddie.

Steve’s got his first shift at Family Video tomorrow, a closing shift with the manager, Keith. Apparently he wants to show Steve the ropes when it comes to shutting down the store; Steve figures just from that that he’s going to be stuck with more than his fair share of late shifts.

He wonders if Eddie’s going to miss his evening beer. He really should teach Eddie to use a walkie. Tomorrow, he decides, will be as good a time as any. Tomorrow morning, and then Steve can leave one with Eddie and take one to work with him.

At least he knows Eddie can get into the house if he really has to, if he gets hungry or whatever. He really could do with some sort of cover out here though. Some where to leave his book in case of the rain. Maybe put a couple of towels in there, some food in the cool box when Steve’s out, the walkie, that sort of stuff.

Eddie swims over, pushing his floating toy bucket along ahead of him in the water. There are things in it tonight, which is a first. Eddie puts his bucket on the side of the pool before pulling himself out to sit beside Steve.

He pulls something out of his bucket to show to Steve, “oh, it’s a pine cone. Hold on.” Steve puts his beer down to grab the encyclopedia, and Eddie duly swipes it. Steve flicks through the book wile Eddie sips the beer, “look, this is a tree.”

“Tee.”

“Tree.”

“Trrreeee.”

“Yeah, it’s a seed for a tree,” Steve shows Eddie the series of pictures, how the seed underground grows a little shoot that grows, eventually, into a tree.

Eddie fetches something else from his bucket, showing Steve, “trree?”

“Leaf,” Steve points at the leaf in Eddie’s hand, then, “tree,” as he points to the tree line at the bottom edge of the yard.

Eddie’s frowning at the page in the book, but he does nod, so Steve doesn’t push it any further.

“Steve do you know how early it is.”

“I know, but I don’t care, do you still have that tent you were playing around with last summer?”

“Camping, Steve, I went camping with-what do you want it for, anyway?”

“It’s for Eddie.”

“Oh, yeah,” Dustin’s tone changes to immediately helpful, “yeah, do you want to come and get it? I’m pretty sure I still have it-MAAAAA! MAAAAAAA DO YOU KNOW-”

Steve pulls the receiver away from his head while Dustin's hollering at his poor mother.

“Yeah, we know where it is, you coming now?”

Eddie’s holding a piece of plastic tubing, looking concerned, and watching Steve struggle with the worlds smallest two man tent, “it’s okay, I got this.”

Eddie tilts his head one way and then the other, like a curious bird, as Steve struggles. It takes a couple of failed attempts, not helped by the fact that Dustin couldn’t find the instructions, but it doesn’t take that long before the tent is ready. Steve sets it on the grass, the doorway edge butted up against the tiles that surround the pool edge. Steve fixes the guy ropes using metal tent pegs driven into the lawn. It’s not hugely spacious inside, just big enough to accommodate two medium sized dudes when lying down, just as long as those two medium sized dudes are super comfortable with each other, then it’s fine.

Steve goes backward and forward, lining the bottom with a couple of sleeping mats he also borrowed from Dustin, and then putting in a couple of towels, Eddie’s book, and rescuing the Rubik's cube and slinkie from where they've lain, ignored, on the side of the pool, “there, what do you think?”

Eddie moves closer, cautiously looking inside before looking back to Steve, “yeah, good. Go in, it's okay,” Steve nods and smiles and generally tries to be encouraging.

Eddie goes inside before turning to look out, sitting on his tail.

Steve sits in the doorway, “it’ll keep your book dry.”

Eddie ponders that a moment, touching his book, before looking up. He carefully touches the inside of the tent roof, “et inied?”

“Yeah buddy, that’s right. Good.”

Part six

#eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #steddie #ficlet #ao3 author #pre steddie #mermeddie #mermaid eddie #upside down creature eddie #Fish Guy Eddie

703 notes · View notes

healmydesires · 1 year

Text

nasty (j.m)

pairing: joel miller x fem!reader

summary: On a hot summer morning, you wake up with Joel’s mouth between your thighs.

genre: smut with a bit of fluff. kinda pure filth… sorry (18+ mdni)

word count: 4,2k

tags/warnings: established relationship, age gap (reader is in her late 20’s, joel is in his early 50’s although it isn’t really mentioned), soft!joel, soft!dom joel, sub!reader, dom/sub dynamic, somnophilia (consented, but it isn’t mentioned), lots of pet names, reader is described as shorter than joel, unprotected sex, piv sex, vaginal fingering, oral (f!receiving), joel has high key an oral fixation, pleasure!dom joel, doggy, hairpulling, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, size kink, daddy kink, praise kink, creampie, heavy on the breeding kink, joel has a big dick.

a/n: the title is inspired by ariana grande’s song nasty. also in my brain this is in the same universe as “forever in your eyes”. this is truly… a huge fantasy of mine so, this is another super self indulgent piece. I hope you enjoy! <3

pls joel miller… one chance 🥺 [begs]

ao3

The sun is bright and warm on a summer morning, light slipping through the partially open blinds, warming up the bedroom. Your body slowly wakes up from its slumber, a moan falling from your lips as you register the feel of a wet tongue lapping at your slit.

Your cheeks heat up as you realise the position you’re in. You’re on your tummy, your hips are slightly tilted upwards as Joel’s tongue licks your pussy from behind like a man starved. You whimper loudly as your pussy clenches around nothing as you feel him circle the tip of his tongue around your tight wet hole. You still feel a bit sore from last night’s activities. As Joel was making you cum on his tongue for hours before he even made love to you.

“Ah, Joel!” You mewl pathetically.

“Good morning baby girl.” He groans against your heat.

You grip the bed sheets between your fingers as you slowly rut your hips against his mouth. Your core is beyond soaked, dripping underneath you onto his mouth and sheets. You were truly desperate and full of want, you needed some more relief.

“You’re dripping for me kitten,” Joel grunts as he slowly moves his fingers to your wetness, tracing your slit slowly with admiration as you try to buck your hips against his face and fingers, begging for more. “So needy for me.”

Your eyes slide shut and you whine, as he leans down to wrap his lips around your button at the same time he pushes two of his thick fingers inside your pussy.

A broken moan spills from your lips as he moves his fingers and tongue simultaneously.

This is heaven. You could literally die happily right now.

His tongue, moving slowly against your clit, as his fingers continue to fuck inside you. The wet squelching sounds makes Joel moan into your clit, causing vibrations that make your body tremble and shake. He curls his fingers against your most sensitive spot inside you, making you grind your hips against him once again.

Your walls hug every surface and ridge of his thick fingers, the sensation making your toes curl. Joel’s mouth lavishes your pussy with his tongue while he moans every now and then against you. Your hips continue to move against his face, picking up your pace gradually. Your head reels with pleasure once his tongue presses down on your needy aching clit.

“F-fuck, J-Joel, I’m so so so close. Pleeeaaaase.” You whimper begging for more.

Joel sucks at your clit while he curls his fingers into you. He eventually sucks harder on your clit, still occasionally swirling his tongue around your little button while moving his fingers inside you faster.

You’re a mess of his name, you chant Joel’s name over and over again. Eyes are squeezing shut to the point of tears, overwhelmed as he continues to pleasure you in one of the best ways he can.

You let out a moan more akin to a scream as he scissors his fingers inside your pussy at the same time he sucks your clit into his mouth. With the second hard suck on your throbbing clit, you cum with a loud moan. You feel your vision turning white as your whole body writhes beneath him.

He laps at your release happily, licking your pussy lips slowly until you’re whining from the overstimulation.

“I’ll never get tired of how sweet you taste baby,” he groans against you. “I could eat this little pussy for days.” You feel him press soft kisses to your trembling thighs, his beard tickling your skin.

“Please Joel… I need you.” You whine desperately.

“What do you need sweetheart?” He says as he presses another kiss to your skin.

“Fuck me, please. I need you to fuck me.” You wiggle your hips impatiently.

“Anythin’ for you princess.” He chuckles as he grips your hips to flip you over but you quickly swat his hands away with a whine. “Sweetheart?”

“I wanna try something else this morning…”

Every damn day, you’ve been begging for him to fuck you from behind. And every time he would find excuses not to do so. He keeps telling you that he doesn’t want to hurt you. You know how big his cock is, you’re more than aware of that. But you simply don’t care, you want him to fuck you in the most filthy way possible. To stretch your tiny hole, filling you up so deliciously. You’ve been dreaming of him fucking you from behind for so long, you need it so much.

“Baby, we talked about this. You need to be patient.” Joel whispers as he caresses your hips in a soothing manner.

“Joel… I’ve been patient.”

“Sweetheart—”

“I need you. Just, pleaseeee. Please, I need it so bad. I need to be filled with your thick cock. Need you to fuck me from behind so bad. I just crave it so much. I want you to breed this little hole you love so much… Please your kitten needs it so ba—” your begging gets cut off by a high pitched whimper leaving your lips as Joel’s mouth dives back between your thighs.

Licking a long stripe along your slit, coaxing a loud, broken moan out of you. Joel’s hands grip your hips, keeping you in place as he laps at you furiously. You writhe against his lips, whining and pleading for more.

He encircles your clit and sucks, pulling whimpering pleas from your mouth. It’s heavenly addicting, the way Joel’s tongue slips between your folds and dips into you, working you closer and closer to your release within each passing second.

His hands move to your ass, kneading the two cheeks as he lets you grind your hips back against his face. Sweet little noises of ecstasy leave your lips as he continues to lick and suck at your pussy.

You shudder as his lips wrap around your throbbing clit again, sucking lightly. You cry out as you feel yourself get closer to your second high of the morning. You squeeze your eyes shut as you pick up your pace, unable to handle the unbearable pleasure you’re experiencing as the coil in your stomach is about to snap.

You mewl loudly as Joel plunges his tongue inside your pussy. Massaging your inner walls, driving you insane. He sucks and licks with fervour.

“Joel, please, I’m close, fuck fuck fuck,” You stutter out a loud cry.

He increases his pace, tongue thrusting inside your pulsing hole rapidly. Your body’s temperature is rising as you move your hips, fucking his tongue.

“P-please.” You moan, your voice sounding so broken.

“Come for me kitten.” He groans against your pussy before plunging back his tongue inside you, bringing his thumb to your clit applying pressure. You come with a loud whine, your vision turning white and your ears ringing as your whole body racks with such intense pleasure, you almost thought it might make you pass out.

Gasping out his name, you grasp the sheets in your hands at the intense pleasure. Your pussy keeps clenching around his tongue as he continues to pleasure you. Your hips are stuttering until the final waves of aftershock have passed. Gently, he laps at your release until the overstimulation is getting too much.

His hands caress your ass fondly as he pulls his mouth away from your throbbing heat.

“You did so well angel, you’re always so good to me. Such a good girl. I can never get enough of how good you taste.” He murmurs.

You whimper at both the oversensitivity and his words. As you’re trembling and coming down from your high he moves to press wet kisses all the way up towards your neck. Your whimpers, whines and moans don’t stop as he spoils your body with his touch and his affection.

“I love you so much sweet girl.” Joel whispers as he nuzzles his head between your neck and your shoulder.

You feel yourself melting underneath him at his words, touch and kisses, “I love you too.” Joel presses open mouthed kisses against your neck, shoulders and jaw. Leaving you a whimpering mess. You’re wiggling your hips against him, situating his hard length between your ass cheeks. Joel’s hands come to grab your hips with a loud groan.

As you continue to squirm under him, his cock slides against your pussy. The action makes both of you moan and your body trembles with anticipation, hoping he would finally enter you from behind. You feel your inner walls clenching around nothing as you move your hips against his, grinding your wetness against his massive cock, the tip nudging your clit or entrance every now and then.

It turns slick as you keep grinding yourself against him, and he has no trouble gliding his hips against you and rutting his cock against your entrance. He groans as he moves his body against yours, leaving you breathless. You feel your pussy pulse and continue to squeeze around nothing, practically begging for his cock.

His body is covering your whole body with his own. Joel nuzzles your neck as he continues to litter your skin with his kisses. You writhe against him, wishing he was just pushing his cock in you already and filling you up in the best way.

Joel reaches down and grasps himself to line up between your lips and slide. He is rubbing the tip firmly over your swollen clit and your mind is all over the place.

“F-fuck, Joel please. I can’t do this anymore, I just need you so bad. My pussy needs you. It needs to be filled with your cock and cum. Please d-daddy. Fill this little hole up, breed this pussy. Daddy please—”

At your words Joel growls, grasps your hips and tilts them more and pushes your legs further apart. He moves to circle his tip around your entrance, pulling more desperate whines from your lips. You’re squirming, wiggling your hips, trying to push back against him but he has such a strong hold on you, making it hard for you to move too much.

“Be a good girl and be patient.” He groans against your ear.

“P-please Daddy—”

A broken gasp leaves your lips as he finally slides the tip inside you. You feel his body moving behind you, sitting up against you, and you know his eyes are on your pussy. He’s watching as your walls spread to begin to wrap around him. You whimper at the new angle as you try to accommodate his girth. He can barely get more of it in your tight walls at first, eventually using more force to open you up for him. It feels like you are being torn open, split in half.

“D-d-daddy…” you stutter and mewl.

“I know baby girl, I know.” Joel moans as he gradually slides more of his thickness inside you and you tremble more underneath him. Your pulsing walls are wrapped tightly around his cock, as your pussy pulls him in more. The pressure of his massive dick deep within your walls overwhelms you while you clutch the sheets below you in tight fists.

“Ah, daddy… you’re so big.” You whimper.

“You take me so well kitten. Doing so good for daddy.” He moans as he leans down to press a soft kiss against your cheek, as he keeps pushing more of his girth in you slowly. You feel so full already and you know he’s barely halfway in.

“So full…”

“I know my sweet girl, I know. You’re doing so well, soon you’ll be filled with all of daddy’s cock.”

The whines and whimpers and moans keep spilling from your lips as Joel continues to push deeper and deeper. Your hands continue to grip the sheets between your fingers as he penetrates your tight walls.

“Please daddy… more. I can take it.” You whine as you squirm underneath him.

He groans at your desperate whines, losing his composure momentarily as he thrusts the rest of his length all the way inside your heat. The head of his cock touching your cervix once he bottoms out. A scream leaves your mouth as you’re trembling underneath him, you try to adjust to his size while your pussy keeps clenching around his cock. You push your head into the pillows as pathetic whimpers keep falling from your lips.

“Fuck, so fuckin’ tight.” Joel hisses.

You moan and squeeze around his cock at his words, leaving him panting above you. Both of his hands move to grab at your ass cheeks, kneading them slowly and gently.

“Please d-daddy. I need more.”

“Fuck, baby girl, you look so beautiful like this, taking me all the way… like the good girl you are.” He can’t control the words that leave his lips as his hips move, quickly pulling himself almost all the way out of your pussy, making you whine at the empty feeling. “Such a needy pussy.” Joel groans before he thrusts himself all the way inside your cunt again.

“Ah ah fuck, daddy… oh my god—” you hiccup as he moves his hips slowly but hard against you. You cry out as he thrusts so deep inside you that it has your body slumping against the bed. Your pussy continues to pulse and squeeze around his thick cock, as it tries to adjust to its girth still.

You moan loudly, arching your back and pressing your ass up against him, and he grabs your asscheeks, keeping the angle perfect as he starts rolling his hips deeply into you. You feel his cock throbbing inside you as you tighten around him. He’s so deep, hitting your cervix repeatedly making your eyes roll back in your head.

“F-fuck baby, you’re so hot like this.” Joel slowly picks up his pace at the sight of you throwing your head back. “You’re all mine, isn’t that right baby girl?”

“Ah, y-yes yes yes, I’m all yours. P-Pleeaaase f-fuuuck, I need m-mo—” you’re begging and you’re unable to finish your sentence as he gives you a particular hard thrust.

You almost feel your arms giving out on you because of the force of his thrusts. Joel’s hands are clawing at the sides of your hips, guiding you with him, and he leans down again to place kisses on your upper back, his kisses travel down your spine, until he leans back up and just looks at you from behind.

Your mind goes blank as all you can do is focus on the feel of him stretching you, filling you up, so overwhelmed with bliss already. He thrusts deeper inside you, earning whines and moans as you continue to cry out his name. You try to tell him, breathlessly, about how good he is making you feel.

The sound of your pleasure fuels his desire to fuck you better, urging him to do more.

Joel picks up his pace, thrusting into you quicker, harder, hitting the spot that has your body going numb.

You claw at the sheets, burying your face into the pillow to muffle your screams. The air is all stuffy around you as his hips move faster, moaning you try to push back your hips against his to take more of his big cock. Your tiny pussy is so full of him, still trying to accommodate his thickness as it pulses and tightens around him. Joel moans at the sight, kneading your ass as he tries to bury himself more inside you, his tip hitting your cervix instantly. Your eyes roll back inside your head once again as you dig your fingers more into the bed, you mewl against the sheets at the overwhelming pleasure he’s giving you.

Hair is sticking at the nape of your neck and back, and Joel leans closer to brush it away but instead he grabs and tugs slightly on it, at the same time he thrusts harder and faster. You whine loudly as the angle makes him hit your sensitive spot inside you. You’re literally going insane, it feels so overwhelming and good.

Your noises become louder and higher pitched as he continues his assault on your pussy, indicating that you’re getting closer as well as the sounds of your pussy that keep meeting his cock over and over again. The sounds mix along with your desperate cries. “Your pussy is so tight and wet around me, begging me to fill you up in other ways… begging for my cum.” He groans as he thrusts harder.

“God, daddy-daddy please. Fuck I—”

You whine as your eyes roll back inside your head.

“What do you want, kitten?” He groans while one of his hands reach around you to slip against your clit making you writhe against him as he applies pressure. The pleasure has the tension tightening in the pit of your stomach, dying for your release.

“Oh, m-my goood… please J-j-d-daddy, h-harder, faster p-p-pleaaseee.” You squeak out in between moans. The wet noises of him easing into you over and over has your cheeks burning, realising just how wet and needy you are for him.

Joel buries his face in the crook of your neck, picking up his pace again, fucking you so fast and hard that you swore you never moaned so loud in your life. Suddenly, everything was becoming too much: the pressure against your clit, his grunts, the sticky, sweaty feeling, his scent, his warmth, the drilling of his cock inside you. Just everything. You try to catch your breath but from how Joel is thrusting inside you and the rubbing against your clit it feels almost impossible to do so.

“I-it feels s-soo— F-fuck, I-I, daddyyyy—”

“Does that feel good, sweet girl?” He asks as he leans down his body closer to yours making him hit your cervix repeatedly. You whimper and tremble underneath him as you nod, he moans against your ear as he whispers close to you. “Does it feel good? That I’m fucking you like this? Just the way you wanted it.”

“Yes! I-it feels sooooo gooood, Joeeel—” you whine as he continues to hit your sensitive spots inside you. Joel’s fingers continue to press down on your little nub making you squirm. The tension continues to build up as the pleasure is becoming too overwhelming.

Joel snaps his hips into you again and again, thrusting deep, causing you to see stars from knowing just how to pleasure you. Feeling like your head is swimming once again, you whine. “I’m sooo so close, p-please…” you beg desperately. You only need one more little push, a little bit more attention to reach your peak.

You are crying out for him, your moans almost sounding like his name, and he moves his head down again and presses kisses down your neck.

“Come for me kitten…” he whispers against your ear.

“Ah—”

His hips never slow down as he massages your clit. And then the coil in your lower tummy snaps, your eyes rolling back into your head while you arch your back as your world dissolves into pure ecstasy. You can’t stop yourself from shaking as you come against him. You almost black out because of the intensity of your orgasm, trembling like crazy. You whimper as the overstimulation is getting to you.

“Daddy wants to fill you up, baby girl.” He groans as his pace is becoming erratic, with less finesse as he charges towards his own finish line. “Going to fuck a my cum into you, kitten. Get you nice and full…”

Your walls pulse and become tighter around him as he continues to hit your cervix. He groans as his movements become more sloppy. Loud mewls leave your lips as he finally spills his seed inside you, coating each inch of you with a warmth that pools deep inside you.

“Ah...” you whimper underneath him as your body continues to shake.

Joel exhales deeply as he feels himself come down from his high. He gently pulls out of your tiny spent hole, making you whimper at the loss and you feel his eyes on you, knowing that he’s watching his seed drool out of you. Your pussy continues to clench repeatedly around nothing and he feels himself harden again at the sight.

You’re still trying to catch your breath as you whine every now and then. He moves off the bed, making his way to the bathroom to get a warm, wet cloth and returns to your legs to clean you carefully. Once he’s done he comes back into bed, wrapping his arms around you instantly.

You feel his face nuzzling in the crook of your neck. You tighten the hold you have around him, holding him close, pressing a soft kiss on the top of his head.

“That was truly amazing Joel… thank you.” You whisper against his hair before you hear him chuckle, his body shaking as he laughs softly.

“Any time baby. You know I’d do anythin’ for ya.” He says before bringing his head towards yours, leaning down once again to capture your lips in a soft kiss.

“I love you.” You whisper as you pull away to look at him tenderly while your fingers trace his face, his beard fondly.

“I love you too, sweetheart. So much.” He whispers back as he leans down to kiss your lips. The kiss is like velvet against yours, and there’s no hurry when he tilts his head a millimetre to fit against you better. His lips are so soft, swollen from all the kisses you’ve shared. His mouth moves, delicate and slow. He kisses you like he has all the time in the world.

His mouth moves slowly from your lips to the rest of your face, littering your skin full with them. “You did so well for me, such a good girl for me,” he whispers as he places soft kisses against your temples. Your cheeks burn at his sweet words. He leans down to capture your lips in another kiss. Kissing each other languidly for a while before you feel him trace your thighs with his fingers. You pull away and you raise your eyebrows at him.

“What?” He chuckles, playing coy and tries not to laugh as you shake your head with mock annoyance.

“I know what you are thinking.” You squint your eyes at him suspiciously.

“And what am I thinking?” He asks playfully, staring you down as he tries to stifle a grin.

“Well, I don’t even have to say what you’re thinking, I already feel you getting hard again mister.” You say with a playful smile as you poke his chest. He quickly grabs your hand, bringing it up to his lips, kissing your knuckles softly. Butterflies erupt in your stomach at the action.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He whispers against your hand, his eyes glinting with mischief.

“Right… of course you don’t.” You roll your eyes at him playfully.

You yelp as you feel him pinch your ass. “Don’t be a brat.” He grabs your ass in his hands, bringing you closer against him as you whimper, making him chuckle at your reaction. “You know that I’ll always want you.”

Heat rises to your cheeks at his words. “Me too.” You whisper as you bite your lips with a smile.

His eyes twinkle deviously as he squeezes your cheeks in his hands. “I could wear you out even more than I did last night.” Joel says cheekily, winking as a smirk plays on his lips.

“Joel!” You give him a playful push as your cheeks heat up at his words. Joel laughs before wrapping his arms around you, puckering his lips while making kissy noises and littering your face with kisses which makes you giggle and squirm against him. Joel’s grip tightens around you as he continues to kiss you all over your face playfully.

“I know you love it baby girl, don’t try to deny it.” He whispers before leaning his head down to kiss your neck, you squeak and continue to squirm against him.

“What if I say I don’t?” You taunt teasingly, cocking your head to the side.

“Then you’re a terrible liar.” He says looking all smug before his lips nip at your jawline.

Your giggles turn to breathy whimpers the more he kisses and licks your neck. You feel yourself lose easily in his kisses and touches, your body turning to mush instantly.

“I’ve been very nice, very good to you… Maybe you’d love to cum around me again?” He smiles as he looks down at you deviously as you gasp, giving him a playful push again.

“Joel!!” You squeal before he holds your body close to his, swallowing your noises as he kisses you deeply. Both of your laughs turn into breathy moans as you both continue to touch each other.

The morning continues like this, your fingers wandering all over each other, giving each other kisses all over as the pleasure between you two doesn’t stop. The day is filled with love and desire for one another, you will never get tired of loving that man.

He’s your heaven.

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fic #joel miller x female reader #tlou x reader #tlou x you #tlou fanfiction #joel miller fanfiction #my writing

3K notes · View notes

llovedletters · 1 month

Text

𝜗𝜚 birthday boy .ᐟ

currently playing ❛ stargazing ❜ in which: ❛ percy's typically home this time of year, leaving you to celebrate his birthday in your own cabin with one single iris message update at the end of the day. but, for whatever reason, the gods were in your favour because you got to celebrate your boyfriends birthday with him. ❜

─────────────────────

pairing: ❛ percy jackson x fem!reader ❜ warnings: ❛ use of y/n (😔), cursing ❜

─────────────────────

when you first heard from percy that'd his school year was starting up later than usual and that he'd be able to stay at camp a week longer, you thought to yourself wow, maybe those offerings do work.

it was a blessing and a curse that percy took forever to wake up in the morning, giving you just enough time to sneak out of his bed and spend the few minutes you had blowing up balloons you'd gotten the stoll twins get for you along with everything else you needed.

for gods sake you even contacted his mother a few days earlier just to ask her what he normally did on his birthday so you could make his day perfect.

the balloons flooded the floor and the overwhelming scent of latex and frosting from the singular cupcake you had mixed with the smell that always wafted through percy's cabin.

eventually, the son of posiden would come to realize that this whole time no one had been laying next to him. worry would shoot through his body as he shifted to reach for you. his hands lifted to rub his eyes before sitting up.

"y/n?" his eyes met yours almost instantly, the furrow of his eyebrowns loosening. "gods you scared the shit out of me."

once he finally got a good look around, a smile lifted. the little indents next to the corner of his mouth becoming more prominent. "what's all this?"

"it's for your birthday!"

percy never understood how he got so lucky with you. he watched in admiration as the flame flickered on the freshly lit candle. the blue wax slowing dripping down it's frame.

"it is your birthday right? august 18th?"

percy kicked the covers off. "yeah - yeah it is. when did you do all this?"

"while you were absolutely knocked out like 20 minutes ago. come blow out your candle before it gets in the frosting."

percy's feet hit the ground almost too quickly. he sits down next to you and presses a quick kiss to your forehead. he looks to you, then the candle, and closes his eyes before blowing out the flame.

"i wished for us by the way."

"you can't say that now it won't come true." he gently takes the cupcake from your hands, the warmth of them together waking you up a second time.

"yes it will." percy began, his mouth full of the bite he just took. "you think i'm gonna let my totally perfect girlfriend do all this and not marry her? you're kidding yourself, y/n/n."

you scoff before wiping the frosting off his lip. "happy birthday seaweed brain."

─────────────────────

. . .

A LETTER FROM LAY! is this lay? actually posting?! everyone clap!

"happy birthday seaweed brain!" we all chant in unison with our fists in the air

#lay's love letter 𝜗𝜚 #percy jackson x reader #pjo #happy birthday perseus #hes such a messy eater i KNOW it #percy jackson fluff #percy jackson x y/n #percy jackson x you #Spotify

387 notes · View notes

hope-you-brought-kneepads-bitch · 4 months

Text

Stormy Nights

Summary: You couldn’t sleep and while Wanda said it was okay to bother her you still felt bad

Warnings: Just fluff and cuteness no bad warnings mommy Wanda cuteness

Words: 1000

A/n: this is another draft that’s been here forever so I think it’s best to be shown, it’s just a small mommy Wanda Drabble

You felt silly, it was definitely silly, you a 25 year old holding your seal teddy standing outside Wanda's door contemplating whether to knock on the door or not.

She did say you could earlier this evening when it was thundering and lighting that if you were scared you could go to her room but it was still weird and you were nervous that if you barged in she'd just kick you out.

While you were wracking your brain about everything the bedroom door opened to a sleepy Wanda in her pyjamas looking at you "dorogoy? Are you okay?"

You couldn't speak just held your teddy closer to your chest and she seemingly understood and gave you a wide grin "honey are you scared of the weather?"

You just nodded refusing to look her in the eye "did you want to come into my room for safety?"

You gave another nod and Wanda held her hand out which you took gingerly and she dragged you into her room, the soft light slightly illuminating the room with a cozy feel "thank you" you whispered and Wanda kissed you on the top of your head "your welcome moya lyubov'"

She sat herself on the bed patting the other side for you to lay down on "it's very comfy baby"

You smiled coming to the bed and getting under the covers letting out a happy moan at the softness and instant comfort you felt

"That good?" She chuckled and you blushed pulling the cover over your head "don't hide from me pretty girl" she pulled the cover from you "do you want to cuddle until the storm stops?"

You didn't need to say anything instead you shuffled closer to the woman and let her envelop you into a hug with her head atop of yours and your face in her neck breathing in her lavender scent "thank you" you whispered and Wanda kissed your head

"Go to sleep princess, I'll be right here when you wake up"

Your eyes closed and your body relaxed in Wanda’s hold “you’re so precious” we’re the last words you heard before drifting off into a deep sleep

*******************************************************

Your eyes fluttered open adjusting to the sudden bright light of the sun through the window, sun? Where you asleep that long?

“Good morning sunshine” Wanda appeared from her bathroom seeing you look around “I hope my shower didn’t wake you”

“No it’s okay, thanks for letting me sleep here” you rushed out slightly embarrassed about you seeing her in her robe which she noticed "no need to be embarrassed princess, I told you I wanted you to come and tell me if you were scared and you did, I'm so proud of you!"

She motioned for you to stand up bringing you into a hug resting her head on your shoulder, you relaxed in her hold until she placed a kiss under your ear making you go stiff

"You're so cute princess, I need to be honest do you know why I told your dad you could stay while they went away?"

You shook your head no and she smiled "because I like having you around, I love the way you light up any room you go into, I want to keep you by my side when I'm feeling sad because I know you'll make me feel so much better, will you stay with me?"

You couldn't speak, Wanda likes you? Like a friend? or more? It sounded like more, you guessed she was always happy to see you and be close to you-

"Honey you're shaking, are you okay?" Your thoughts were stopped and you pulled away suddenly "I-i don't know what to say..."

She understood, it was definitely a lot to take in, but she needed to say it, she decided to let you go but you pulled her back into a hug "don't let me go...please" she smiled completely letting herself relax into the hug

"We can go slow Y/n but I want to be with you, okay detka?"

You nodded and kissed her cheek "okay Wanda”

Wanda smiled “how about you call me mommy Y/n, since you’re my precious little girl now” the thought of calling Wanda mommy made your whole body warm and you liked it so you did

“Okay mommy”

Wanda kissed your lips lightly, just a small peck to show you how much you mean to her “pretty girl” she whispered and you blushed “I keep feeling like a tomato with all the times you’re making me blush” you giggled

“I plan on making you blush all the time from now on, you deserve happiness”

“I’m already so happy”

#marvel #wanda maximoff #mcu #wanda maximov #wanda maximoff x reader #marvel au #marvel imagine #marvel drabble

426 notes · View notes

wosoamazing · 7 months

Text

Interrupted

Summary: You accidentally walk in on Leah and Lia, and it's safe to say your traumatised.

Warnings: Suggestive (Mentions of what R saw when they walked in)

A/N: Thank you for all your requests, I have started writing them, and continue to work on other fics (for both requests and non-requests). Also this is only short but I hope you like it.

You walked down the hallway, heading for Leah’s room, more specifically her bathroom. Your period was meant to start today so you wanted to put a tampon in, however you had none in your bathroom as you took them all with you when you moved to Spain and completely forgot to pack any, so you were planning on using one of hers. To say opening that door was the biggest regret of your life is an understatement, your eyes were only opened for half a second if that, yet the image of the scene in front of you managed to ingrain itself into your brain. The view of your sister’s head in Lia’s lap at 8 am was disturbing to say the least. You quickly ran, well more like speed walked due to the fact you had a moon boot on, to your room, grabbing your bag and heading out the door, calling Viv immediately.

“Viv, Beth, please pick me up, I’m walking in the direction of your house from ours, I will explain later, I just can’t see Leah right now or maybe never,” you said in a voice laced with shock and horror.

“What happened?” Viv asked as the look of complete horror was still plastered on your face. Beth smirked, as she looked at her phone, clearly just receiving a message from Leah.

“Why don’t you tell Viv here, Y/N/N” she said, as she continued to smirk.

“I-I-I walked in on them, her-her-her head was, no please don’t remind me,” you shuddered, “also can we go to the store? I need tampons, that’s why I um, yeah” you said quickly.

“Sure, then we’ll go back to ours and have breakfast before we head to training,” you nodded your head, Barça had allowed to go back to London for a week, more specifically Arsenal as your recovery was going well, the only condition was that you continued your rehab at Arsenal, which you were doing. Surprisingly being at Arsenal didn’t make you sad that you had left, but instead was making you miss Barca, you enjoyed being at Arsenal but it was no longer your home and so it felt slightly different.

____

“Where’s your sister and Lia?” Katie asked smirking, “Don’t tease her like that,” Steph said walking in.

“Wait how do you all know,” “Leah messaged the group chat, saying she thinks she just traumatised you and you left, asking if any of us knew where you were. Beth then replied and said maybe next time lock the door."

“Good Morning Bug,” Leah said as she walked into the locker room going in for a hug, you quickly swerved and ducked under her arm.

“Nope, not good morning” you said as you looked at the ground, briefly glancing up to see Lia’s face bright red.

“It is partly your fault, you know, you’re the one who opened the door.”

“It’s my fault? I’m not the ones who were being disturbingly quiet, with an unlocked door,” everyone's heads tilted to the side as they looked at the two women who couldn’t find any words to speak.

____

“Alexia, please promise me that you will forever lock the door when you’re doing something I shouldn’t walk in on,” you cried out as you walked through the door of the house, not realising that the rest of the team was also there.

“So it is true then,” Alexia smirked, and all the others laughed.

“Actually that goes for all of you." You stop and point at all of them around the room. "Lock. The. Doors." You look at them, not quite sure they all let the message sink in "Doors = Locked. Do you understand?” They all nodded in amusement.

#woso #woso community #woso fanfics #woso x reader #woso imagine #arsenal wfc #awfc #awfc x reader #barca femeni x reader

737 notes · View notes

fuctacles · 28 days

Text

Part 2 of the series that can't be named (it's the cat lady steph)

😺 | 😺😺😺

Eddie doesn't think more about Steph until there's a knock on the door on Saturday morning. He sighs, knowing it's his duty to open since his uncle would take forever on his crutch. And because he's a good nephew and wouldn't make him do that, of course.

He doesn't bother with the peephole, his sleepy brain basically forgetting of its existence. It's only when he opens the door and finds Steph with a duffel bag on the other side, that he realizes he went to open the door in nothing but his old Iron Man pajama bottoms.

"Good morning!" Steph greets him with a bright smile that falters a bit when her gaze drops to his tattooed chest. Eddie couldn't imagine a sight of zombie and spider tattoos giving him any credit in her pretty, middle-aged eyes. She quickly looks back up to meet his gaze. "Did I wake you up?" she asks, looking apologetic.

Eddie shakes his head, hoping it would send his hair over his shoulders, and cover him up a bit.

"I did!" Wayne pipes up from the kitchen. He sounds way too happy about running into a cupboard on his way out of the bathroom.

"Good morning, Mr. Wayne!" she calls out, making Eddie roll his eyes.

"You can just come in, no need to yell through the whole place."

"Right, sorry," she steps inside tentatively, her hand clutching the strap of her bag. She's wearing a colorful windbreaker and her hair is tied up, showing off the soft line of her jaw and the beauty marks on her neck. She heads to the kitchen, seemingly already knowing her way around, and Eddie closes the door behind her. He quickly runs off to his bedroom (/guest room, now that he's on campus most of the time) and grabs a t-shirt to cover his nipples, tattoos, and overall unattractiveness.

"Visiting Robin for the weekend?" He catches his uncle's question when he steps back in.

It rubs him the wrong way, not knowing who Robin is. Is he Steph's boyfriend? Maybe they're doing long-distance? He returns to the ancient coffee maker he had abandoned to open the door.

"Yeah. I haven't seen Rob since last month. Our days off finally aligned."

"Can't you stay there longer? I'm sure Eddie wouldn't mind taking care of your cats for a day or two more."

"Hey!" Eddie whips around to glare at his uncle. The coffee maker splutters behind him. "Don't just offer my services like that," he scoffs. Then, he turns to Steph. "I wouldn't, though."

She chuckles and he grins, simply happy to make her smile.

"Try dealing with them alone first, and then we'll talk. But, you really wouldn't mind? If I stayed a day longer?"

He shakes his head.

"Not at all." He still has Wayne's words fresh in his mind. That people weren't kind to her, that she doesn't have many friends to rely on. "I'm assuming Robin is someone important to you?" he half-asks, leaning against the counter all casually.

Just the thought of Robin makes Steph glow.

"She's my best friend. We met at our first job serving ice cream."

Eddie's a bit embarrassed at the relief of knowing Robin is a girl. Still, a best friend is higher in ranks than your friendly neighbour's nephew.

"What's it been? Twenty years?" Wayne asks. Steph nods, making him whistle. "I couldn't stand any of my coworkers for longer than a shift."

"Maybe you're bad at making friends," Eddie butts in. "I've known Gareth since high school and we're still going strong."

"You guys are band buddies, that's different," Wayne scoffs.

"You play in a band?" Steph picks up, her eyes shining with interest that Eddie squirms under.

"Yeah, we play metal though. Probably not your stuff."

She shakes her head.

"Any music can be good when you put your heart into it. My friends listen to all kinds of weird stuff, I've heard everything from classical to experimental techno." She rolls her eyes. "I'd love to hear your music if you have anything recorded. Or you could give me a heads up if you're playing somewhere."

All Eddie can do is stare at her, dumbfounded.

"Uh-huh."

Wayne, bless his sometimes useful soul, saves his ass by changing the subject.

"Coffee?" he asks the stunning woman at their table. She's just sitting there, in the Munson abode at their kitchen table while they're still in pajamas like it's normal. Eddie wants it to be normal. Wants to sit in her lap and listen to her laugh.

She looks at her watch. It's white, she must be cleaning it often.

"I only have fifteen more minutes before I really have to go."

"Half a coffee then," Eddie decides for her, grabbing the mugs. She chuckles.

"Fine." She rolls her eyes.

Each of them gets their coffee, and Eddie notes Steph takes her with just a splash of milk. Before he can ask anything, to push their small morning gathering further into a friendly small talk, she reaches into her pocket to fish out her house key.

"I came over to drop the keys," she says, pushing them towards Eddie. "And if you have something to write on, I'll give you Robin's house number in case of emergencies."

"Sure, yeah." He nods, standing up immediately to look for the notepad they plan the grocery list in. In his haste, he catches Wayne's amused stare. He sends him a frown, but the man is already looking away, which only further agitates him.

#The crazy cat lady au #steddie #stevie harrington #mine #stranger things #steddie fanfiction #steve harrington #eddie munson #transfem steve harrington #transfeminine steve harrington #Stevierything #crazy cat lady stevie

285 notes · View notes

macfrog · 9 months

Text

the sweetest con cowboy like me chapter fifteen

well. this is it. we made it, kids. thank you so, so much for reading for all this time. for all your patience, and kindness, and loyalty. i will carry this pair, their story, and all of your love for them with me forever. love you guys. xx

pairing: dbf!joel miller x fem!reader

summary: every cowboy deserves his ride off into the sunset.

warnings: age gap (reader is 23, joel is 48), lotsa guilt from reader, dreamy love sequence & mention of unprotected piv/creampie, more greys anatomy spoilers, reader's dad is either Bald or has a Receding Hairline (you choose), more sex - this time reader and joel sixty-nine, face sitting, oral (f and m receiving), more (inferred) unprotected piv, making dirty, hot love ALLAT, cursing, a little smut n a lotta fluff n a droplet of angst at the end

word count: 10.8k

series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist | follow @macfroglets w notifs on to be the first to hear when i post 🧡

“How the fuck did this take you three minutes? Three?”

“I’m telling you. I’m a genius.”

You snort. “Shut up. You only passed Math ‘cause you were fooling around with that nerd – Thomas? Was it Thomas?”

“Timothy. And you don’t need math to do a sudoku puzzle, loser. You just need brains. Logic.” Anna taps two fingers against her temple, tilting her head.

“Logic,” you murmur, shaking your head.

Sal’s is quiet today. He’s out of town for his father-in-law’s funeral and made the genius decision to leave the two of you in charge. Since opening at nine, you’ve had four customers. The to-do list left for you was completed by ten, and since then, you’ve been hunched over your phone at the cash register, messing around on some puzzle app Anna made you download.

It's a Wednesday. Nothing exciting ever happens on Wednesdays.

Anna’s behind you, tearing apart and flattening the cardboard boxes you spent all morning emptying. “That level,” she clicks her chewing gum wetly between her teeth, scent of mint over your shoulder, “that ain’t even the hardest one. Ooh, no, babe. Three goes –”

“Shh!” You bat her arm away, curving your hand over your phone screen. She snorts and wanders off through the back, wad of cardboard under her arm.

Anna wasn’t your closest friend in high school, and you sure didn’t stay much in touch past the odd Facebook post update when you left. But working with her, and her dad being your dad’s buddy – she’s sort of become one of those people you just can’t shake.

Like a stray puppy. Or…an annoying hangnail.

She’s nice enough – talks a lot of crap sometimes, but she cares for you. You’d go as far as saying you two have grown pretty close since you came home. Still, the acidic sting of resentment sits on your tongue, anytime you think of her involvement in the unravelling of your little lie. Think of your dad calling hers, Hank asking her where you were.

Think of the fact that, if she hadn’t been honest with him – I don’t know where she is, Dad – nothing would’ve gone wrong.

That’s not fair. If you’d never touched Joel in the first place, nothing would’ve gone wrong.

It’s just – she had a hand in pushing the first domino.

The bell above the door jingles and you lift your eyes from tiny numbers and blank squares to meet a familiar pair of hazel. An Alanis Morissette T-shirt under a denim jacket. She tucks her thick, soft hair behind her ears and smiles, then skips around the counter and links her hands at your tummy; her ear flat against the nape of your neck.

“Why so clingy?” you ask, and Sarah straightens up.

“Just excited to spend some time with my favorite person. That allowed?”

Your eyes scan her up and down as she leans against the counter, stealing a gummy from a jar beside the register. “Been staying with you for nearly three weeks now, you ain’t sick of me yet?”

She shakes her head, jaw chewing, cheeks swollen with a grin. “Are you done yet? I wanna make sure we get good seats.”

“We will,” you assure her. “It’s only, like, three p.m.”

“But it’s Barbie,” she says, “and I wanna get some snacks before we head in.” She holds the decapitated gummy worm up, eyebrows high, before pulling it between her teeth until it snaps. She drags the withered red tail over her tongue.

“That thing you just mauled,” you gesture to the masticated shape in her fingers, “candy. Snacks. Just take some of that.”

“You won’t even buy your date movie theater candy? Damn. Mom’s a cheapskate. Wish I could say my dad’s a lucky guy.”

You shove her off, disguising your laugh with a shake of your head. “You are on thin ice, I’m not even kidding.”

Sarah’s laughing, reaching for another worm. “You know what that sounds like?”

“Hm?”

“What you just said.”

“What’s it sound like, Sarah Miller?”

“Something a mom would say.”

“Alright,” you stand, “get out. Get outta my store.”

The door opens when you point to it, Texan heat sweeping in to swarm the one rickety fan you have in here. The brass bell trembles, and beneath it, a man in a tucked shirt and jeans, glum face and tired eyes.

You blink at him and he blinks back, and no words are spoken between you, but your dad understands to move, to keep walking – and you understand to let him.

“Shoot,” Sarah whispers, twisting her gummy around her finger. “That was awkward.”

Three weeks of staying with them – Sarah and Joel – also means three weeks of zero contact with your dad. The most you’ve heard from – or, rather, about him is that, last week, Joel bumped into Hank at the gas station, and the old man mentioned that he and your dad had grabbed a beer the night before.

What’d he say? you asked Joel, dragging a dish towel around the rim of a glass.

He shrugged, flicking his hands dry over the sink. Said the Rangers aren’t doin’ too good. I said, Yeah, that’s cause a’ –

No, Joel. What did he say about me ‘n my dad?

He waited a second to let the offense of your interruption soak in. Took the towel from your hand, replaced the glass on the draining board. Nothing, he said, I don’t think he knows.

It sat with you the entire night. The three of you watched a movie, occupying either side of Joel’s couch, though you’re sure you don’t remember a word of it. The image of him sat center-stage in your mind until you pulled yourself against Joel’s body in bed that night. Sat in his recliner, flicking through TV channels, the only sounds in the house that of Ice Road Truckers, the ticking of the kitchen clock, and his own fucking breathing.

Alone. Not even Hank to talk to about – well.

You’ve done your best not to think about him. And it works, most days, when you’re with Joel. Helps to go do stuff: ride shotgun while he picks up supplies for work or grabs groceries. Helps to play pretend like his house is yours, too. Tidying when he’s not home, lighting candles and sinking into a bubble bath for him to find you in when he finishes. Helps to be at Sal’s, with Anna. Sudoku and her fucking Tinder account to keep you both occupied.

Most days, you forget to consider the lonely shape of your dad at all – but that seems to hurt all the more. Like forgetting to tend to an open wound; instead, letting the infection blister and bubble so that, when you do bump it again, the pain feels sharper. Hissing at you, poison seeping from flesh.

His showing up, waltzing straight into the store – feels less like a bump, and more like a pair of hands diving straight into the gash, tearing it wide open again. Blood and poison gushing all over the checkered floor.

Anna materializes between two aisles, hands on her hips when she stands behind you. “Y’all still not really talkin’?” she asks.

You and Sarah shake your heads. The three of you watch the shape of your dad’s skull over the shelves, bobbing from bay to bay. Door hinges to fence paint. He painted the fence last summer. He doesn’t need fucking fence paint.

“Nope,” you reply. “’s been, what, two and a half weeks now?”

“Yeah,” Anna mutters, the slope of sympathy in her voice. “My dad’s been talkin’ to him about it. They’ve spoken, like, almost every night on the phone.”

“Oh, fuck,” you hiss, head falling into your hands. “Are you serious?”

“Not about you and Joel. Just about the fight.”

Your jaw slowly slackens, eyes thinning as your gaze slides over to your friend, a saddened expression on her face.

Sarah nods, like an accessory sat on the dash of a car. Bobbing bobbing bobbing, until her brows drop and she turns to you, finally realizing. “Wait, what?”

Anna blinks between the two of you. “What?” she asks, lips pressing together.

“You know?” Sarah asks, glaring at her.

Anna snorts. Neither of you break. She quickly quietens and clears her throat, bending to stuff more cardboard under her arm. “Well…” She sucks in a deep breath. “At rodeo night, when you left your phone on the table, me ‘n Kara wanted to leave a bunch of selfies for you to find later. But when I went to grab your phone, you had a text from him. Joel. Something about someone winning you over like he did, or something. I can’t remember. But that was the first thing.”

Sarah’s face sours at the mention of her dad’s flirty text, scoffing as she swipes another gummy from the jar. “Real fuckin’ subtle, Dad,” she murmurs.

You sharpen your gaze at Anna, blurring the brown curls and low brows from your peripheral. “Uhuh…?”

“Then, there was the lying to your dad about where you were. That Monday – you said you were at mine. You weren’t. Your dad called my dad to ask, ‘n my dad asked me why the hell you’d lie. I figured, What a weird coincidence, right?”

You slip off your stool, legs feeling more liquid than bone. “Oh, Jesus…”

“But then…then, I saw how you were when he called on the way to Frank’s. In the car. You were…fucking weird. And then Joel punched that dude – that basically confirmed it. I don’t think either of your dads would do that for me. It felt…it felt personal. He took your hand ‘n dragged you outta there, and it felt like…somethin’ else.”

You’re leaning against the counter, head in your hands. Struggling to even listen to her piece it all together. Were you this fucking obvious, the whole time?

Anna answers for you. “Yeah,” she says, nodding, “I didn’t catch two fucking boyfriends cheating on me, and not pick up some detective skills, babe.”

You stand straight, composure slowly building over shame. “And your dad doesn’t know? My –” you flick your head across the store, lowering your voice, “– my dad hasn’t told him?”

A laugh spurts from somewhere deep in her chest. “Hell, no. Are you tryna give him a second heart attack? No. He just thinks you were somewhere you didn’t want your dad to know – a boy’s or something. Which – well, I guess you were.”

You nod, half-appreciation, half-resignation. Alright. Now shut up about it, would you?

“But listen,” Anna says, apparently not as good at mindreading as she is at secret-revealing, “y’all gotta work on being sneaky. You’re, like, really bad at it.”

“Yeah,” you sniff, “thanks, Anna.”

You grip the edge of the counter and try to draw your eye away from your dad; a little angry that he’s here, and yet, a little more thankful that you’ve had at least a tiny glimpse of him. Desperate for him to come over, to acknowledge your mutual existence in the same room, and yet – petrified that he does.

He keeps his back to you, though you notice him turning every so often, looking at you from his peripheral. Nope – your black shirt and blue jeans are still behind the counter. He turns back to the shelf.

“Hi, sweetie.” A woman in a pink blouse approaches the counter. She lays down a couple pairs of plyers and you ring her up, asking if she found everything okay. Choking a little when you inhale the scent of her perfume.

“Beautiful day for you to be in here workin’, huh?” Her rosy cheeks fill as she hands you the cash.

Oh, yeah. It’s a beautiful day to be stuck selling plyers to pink women in pink blouses smelling of pink perfume, while my dad – still reeling from the revelation that I’ve been sleeping with his best friend, by the way – pretends to peruse the store.

“I’m almost done,” you reply, blunt enough to deflate her expression only a little, sliding the paper bag stamped Sal’s back across the counter.

She nods in thanks and slinks off, suffocating aroma following her. And like a magician, when she disappears off to the side, your dad stands in her wake. A few feet from you, keeping his distance, watching carefully before he dares to move. Waiting for your go-ahead.

When you lift your chin, beckoning him forward, Anna takes Sarah’s arm and yanks her away, shoving some shredded boxes into her arms. “You wanna help me?” she asks the nosy Miller, tossing something of an alarmed glance back at you and your dad.

There’s a funny feeling behind your eyes when he steps up, empty hand resting hesitantly on the counter. “She coverin’ up the smell of a dead body or som’?” he asks.

The air pushes from your lungs, a laugh barreling with it. Your hands clasp on the surface opposite his. A scorch of white heat at the nape of your neck. “Very vibrant, huh?”

“Very.” He clears his throat, shakes his head a little, and takes a deep breath. “I figured this might be as good a place as any to find you. I didn’t want you to think I was…cornering you, or anything, if I showed up at Joel’s.”

“I wouldn’t – I mean, maybe. But, y’know…this is fine.” Your arms cross defensively, the baggy material of Joel’s shirt wrapping snug around you.

Your dad seems to know. Evidence being that it’s you, in a shirt all too big – a shirt he’d likely see his best friend in, too. It forces your arms tighter, sucking in the scent of Joel to combat the dizzying feeling of nerves.

“I’m glad to see you’re alright,” he says eventually, fingers drumming awkwardly. “I just wanted to know you were fine.”

“I am fine. I promise. Just – working a lot.”

He nods, looking down to his feet. Twists the toe of his boot into the linoleum.

“I’m glad to see you’re alright, too,” you offer, the words fluid and spilling from one to the next – something forceful in their nature.

Your dad’s eyes lift at the same time that his cheeks do. Relief. “Thanks, kiddo. I actually – I was hopin’ that maybe we could talk. If you’re free. I don’t know what time you get off today.”

“I finish in ten minutes,” you say, and hope seems to paint across his face – washing away instantly when you add, “but I’m going to the movies with Sarah.”

He’s nodding again, eyes fixed back on his boots. “Right, right.”

“…But maybe once we’re done I can swing by?”

“Oh, well – I’m workin’ late again. I’ll be out by the time…Yeah. Sorry, hon.”

“That’s okay.”

“Late one again tonight.”

“This, uh – what’s his name again? Kel–?”

“Kelman, yeah. Yeah. How ‘bout I call you tomorrow ‘n we can work somethin’ out? You and Sarah, you enjoy your night.”

You lean back from the counter, slowly more confident in your ability to hold yourself upright. “Yeah. Okay. Thanks, Dad.”

His lips press together in a flat attempt at a smile. “I’ll leave you to it. You mind if I…give you a hug?”

And then you’re the one awkwardly, forcedly smiling. Your teeth gritting behind taut lips. “Not at all,” you whisper, and wander carefully around the counter to where he stands.

He opens his arms and pulls you against his chest, your head tilting to rest your ear on his shoulder. You hook your arms under his, feeling his wrists crossing at your spine. Like two statues, two figures of stone fixing their crumbling bodies in an embrace, suddenly disjointed and ill-fitting. Your heart hurts beneath layers of rock, swelling in attempt to reach for his, shrinking back crestfallen when he feels too far.

He kisses the side of your head, pulls away, and taps your cheek once. “You know,” he says, letting you withdraw from his grasp, “I really miss you.”

You nod. “Miss you, too.”

“Let’s talk soon, alright?”

“Yeah.”

And then he’s leaving, drifting back out into the summer sun, rock disintegrating as the light catches him again. More human, less monster-under-your-bed. He’s just your dad again, just that swaying, bumbling man who used to sprinkle rainbow flakes over your ice cream and double-knot your laces.

The shadows of Sarah and Anna appear at your elbows, the three of you watching your dad sink into his car. You still feel made of rock, splitting somewhere down the middle as you stare at his figure.

“Well?” Sarah asks.

He turns right out of the parking lot, disappears behind a hedgerow.

“Yeah,” you reply, turning in a daze. “We’re gonna…gonna talk.”

“That’s good, right? That sounds…promising.”

You shrug. “I guess.”

Sarah places a gentle hand on your arm, drawing your attention to her kind eyes and infectious smile. “We should probably get goin’,” she says, and you agree.

“What movie are you seeing?” Anna asks, filling your spot behind the counter as you turn, making for the back of the store.

“Barbie,” Sarah tells her.

“Nice. She paying?”

“Obviously. Mom duties.”

You kick the door closed on their giggles.

Two days pass without a word from your dad. No text, no call, no visit to Sal’s when you’re on shift the following day. By Monday, you’ve convinced yourself that the entire thing was a dream, a hallucination conjured up by your imagination in attempt to rid you of some of the guilt still chewing at your heart. Bat it out of your brain, like swatting the rear end of a wild animal let loose indoors.

Guilt which is only remedied, only soothed by Joel. By the feeling which overcomes your chest when you look at him – lungs faltering, heart leaping. The peace of falling asleep in his safe embrace, the heat from his body enough to keep you comfortable all night, and then waking up tangled in his sheets – the smell of bacon and eggs twirling through the house, the distant sound of his humming drawing you downstairs to his side.

Late nights on the porch, watching the sun bleed heavily into the sky. Your ankles in his lap, a guitar over his thigh. Thumb gentle on the strings, soft timbre of song lulling you to some place far from reality: the same rosy, dreamlike state you’ve mostly occupied since he dragged you through his front door, kicked your shoes and all of your worries to the side, and made you forget that anything bad had ever happened.

The most comfortable you’ve ever felt in your life, the most loved – a world where your every word is heard and weighed, rolling around Joel’s palms and slotting carefully into his back pocket. A world where his lips on your neck as you make dinner, where the crook of his arm catching you as you pass by, is all normal. Where I love you and I love you, too become the last words your sleepy ears hear at night, right before you sink into a shared sleep.

All of it becoming as natural as the pale moon switching for her golden sister at dawn. As instinctive as breathing.

“Have you ever made love to anyone?” you ask him one night, the aftershock of an orgasm still soaking into your skin.

Joel pauses, hips slowing between yours. “Yeah,” after a couple beats, “sure.”

“What’s it feel like?” you ask, honestly. Combing his dark hair through your fingers. “I’ve never…No one’s ever…”

“Baby,” he says. “We’ve done it. I’ve done it to you.”

Your body tenses and then melts around him. One blink and suddenly the world softens, seems to bow into the background – the only sharp object Joel, the twinkle in his eye piercing through the haze like blinking white stars in thick, dark clouds.

You whisper, “Can you do it again? So I can feel what it’s like?”

He pushes himself up, one elbow planted by your ear, the other hand lifting your thigh. Hooking it over his waist, lowering his arm again to cage you under his body. He nudges your chin with his nose, lifting it to line your lips with his, hold every part of your body as close to his as he can.

Deeper, in every sense of the word. Slow, hard. Eyes on you the entire time, watching the way your face contorts and your jaw slackens, holding the shape of your head in his hands, swallowing his own moans and grunts to make space between you for yours.

“Look at me, baby, eyes on me,” he says, and by instinct, your eyes roll forward, focusing or half-focusing on the slick hair at his forehead, the red flush climbing his neck, seeping into the skin under his beard. “You feel it? Feel where I’m goin’?”

And yeah, you whine, you do feel it. Feel him dragging you further away from this world and into the next – somewhere a plain away, somewhere new and different to anything you’ve ever known before. Where physicality is a language, a fluid conversation between the melding of his body and yours; where there are a million words swirling around his pupils, hypnotizing and entrancing and drawing you in until you’re tumbling headfirst into the inky pools.

Where I love you sounds like the groan Joel can’t hold back, feels like the pulsing flood as he snaps between your legs. Where making love is as simple as the squeeze of his hand around yours; the shove of his plate over the kitchen table, offering you the last bite of grilled cheese or simply admitting that it was yours before he’d even taken the first. That addictive laugh of his when you stall the fucking truck for the fifth time: You asked me to teach you, baby, I’m tryna teach you. Foot on the gas, c’mon. You got it. That’s it – now, slow. Slower. Try to feel it. No, really feel it.

Feel it. Really, try to feel it. Can you feel it? Do you know the difference yet? The difference between everyone who was before, and the one who is now? Do you finally get it?

“I feel it,” you cry out, and his frame holds yours together as you fall apart.

It feels like – you.

How did I ever know anything before I knew you?

“That one’s nice,” Joel says, his voice jumping the short distance between his lips and your ear.

You tilt your head, body moving with his when he lifts his hand to swipe through some more of the images. The spacious living room, newly refurbed kitchen, the view of downtown Los Angeles.

He adjusts the blanket draped over your legs. “Washer dryer, walk-in closet,” and then, leaning in closer, whispers, “a balcony. That’s cool.”

“Hm,” you turn to face him, your body shelled by his in the corner of his couch, “I bet you like the balcony, cowboy.”

He smiles plainly in response, squeezing your nose between two knuckles. Yeah. Lots you can do with a balcony.

A sharp gasp from across the room pierces the sweet moment. You and Joel turn in its direction, its owner wide-eyed and blinking at the TV.

“Wait a second,” Sarah yelps. “George is the John Doe?” She gasps again when Meredith announces the same news to her friends onscreen. “Shut – the fuck – up!”

“Language,” Joel clips, chest rumbling between your shoulder blades.

“Oh, like you didn’t have the exact same reaction. George is the…Oh, that sucks. Are you kidding me?” She fishes her phone from the waves of blanket surrounding her, thumbs rapidly typing, eyes shooting from screen to screen.

You snort, turning back to your own phone in your hand, when a text appears at the top of the screen.

Dad: Hey kiddo. Sorry to keep you waiting, work been hectic. Off the rest of today if you’re free to come over.

Your thumb latches onto the message, holding it for Joel to read, too, before letting it disappear off into your notifications.

He tightens his hold on you, burying his nose into the cotton of his own hoodie over your shoulders. His breath pushes heavy and thoughtful across the material. “Still seems as calm as the other day.”

“Too calm,” you admit, “it’s freaking me out.”

“What can he do, you know? You’re here, he’s there. Your dad ain’t an idiot, baby. He knows stayin’ angry about it’s only gonna push you further away.”

“Sure made ‘im feel like an idiot…”

Joel catches the comment and pockets it before it gathers enough weight to bruise. “Well,” he clears his throat, “it’s up to you. I ain’t letting you do anything you’re not comfortable with.”

“Mhm,” you reply, and wait for more words to fall to your tongue. An answer, a response. A decision that you know you don’t feel equipped or even rightful to make.

“Do you want to go talk to him?” Joel asks.

“I…I want to make things right. I wanna fix it.”

“Okay. And will talking to him do that?”

You turn to face him, frowning. “I don’t fucking know,” you mutter. “Will it?”

He smiles sympathetically. “Wish I knew, darlin’. Would it help if I came? Sat outside in the truck, waited for you? It gets too much, you decide you wanna leave – we leave.”

“You ain’t scared to be near him again?”

He gulps back a laugh, Adam’s apple bobbing awkwardly before he allows himself to answer. “Only thing scary about your dad is the sunlight reflectin’ off his damn head. No, I ain’t scared.”

You study him a minute longer, eyes roaming from the lips you could sketch every score of from memory, the beard you’re sure has forever altered your prints from the number of times you’ve run your fingers over the bristles. The eyes which know every secret, every whisper, every thought behind your own.

You sigh, smiling dumbly as he wraps his arms tighter around you. “Fine. Let’s go.”

Joel pulls up by the curb, parking politely at the end of your driveway rather than alongside your dad’s car, like he usually would. Like he used to.

You crane your head, looking past the shape of him to survey the unassuming house. Quiet, still. No sign of hurricane or earthquake, no tremors of rage or words like rocks raining down on the truck roof. Your thumb plunges into the buckle of your seatbelt, the webbing whipping over your shoulder.

“Sure you’re okay?” Joel asks, watching your fingers lift to the door handle.

“Mhm,” you reply, distant. “’s just my dad, right? What’s the worst that could happen?”

His eyebrows lift, agreeing. He takes your hand in his and holds it to his lips. “Whatever it is,” he mumbles into your fingers, “if it happens, you come straight back out here, you hear? I ain’t moving.”

The urge to stay exactly where you are and let him carry you off back to his place overwhelms you for a brief second. To stay in the safety of the truck cabin, stay within touching distance of Joel. And as quickly as it’s there, it’s gone. Overcome by the memory of that stony hug in Sal’s, the vacant, lonely eyes boring into late-night TV.

A sharp chap over your shoulder shocks you back to life. You twist in your seat, looking down at a face wrinkled by curiosity and wisdom, sheen of lipstick curved in a mischievous grin. You roll the window down, mirroring her smile.

“Joel Miller,” Rita calls, lowering her ring-adorned fist and pointing over to her car. “Help me with these groceries.”

“Afternoon to you, too, Rita,” he calls back, and she raises two thin, penciled eyebrows. His sigh trickles into a chuckle as he snaps the door open, leaning into you. “I ain’t moving,” he mutters, swinging out of the truck.

“Sure looks like you’re movin’,” you call back, letting Rita pull on your door to let you out.

“How are you, darlin’?” she asks. “Haven’t seen you around in a while.”

You hop down beside her, helping her tug the shawl around her arms back over her shoulders. “Yeah, I’ve, uh…I’ve been busy.”

She nods, and then her eyes drift to somewhere behind you. “They go in the kitchen, son.” She points to her house. “I’ll come help you unpack ‘em.”

Joel’s face twists, eyes wide, hands outstretched. You swallow back a laugh when he looks to you, an almost teenage expression which asks, You seein’ this? as he turns back to the Nissan.

“I better go,” Rita says then, giving your arms one last squeeze. “You take care, now. Tell your dad I’m askin’ after ‘im.”

“I will, Rita.” You turn on your heel and saunter around Joel’s truck, giving him one last twirl as he hoists two bags under his muscled arms, rolling his eyes as you spin.

You pull the weight of yourself up your drive, passing past versions of yourself as you near the front door. She’s stumbling towards her dad’s car, a bucket of soapy water sloshing around between her knees. She’s sat on the curb, waiting for Joel’s truck to roll up, praying she never hears another Marty Robbins song again.

She’s naïve, still. Knows no better, knows no worse. Chasing a high, chasing the thrill of being caught and the thrill of nobody ever knowing. A relationship built entirely on lies and deceit. A love woven with dark threads of shame and anger, a tattered mess in one corner where the edges fray and loosen.

And you think: you’ve never felt more jealous of anybody your whole life.

The front door clicks open easily, like the building welcomes you home with a relieved sigh. You follow sunlight into the hallway, feeling it easier to walk through than before – less dense, less suffocating. Less guilty. An honest thief, back to return the bleeding heart she dragged out the door with her.

Secrets like shards of broken glass on the floor, debris from that day. And as if he hears the crunch of your footsteps, your dad appears at the bottom of the hall.

“Hi, hon.”

Eyes wide with a misplaced shock, you say, “Hey.”

“You okay?”

“’m good.”

“Good. Come in, come through.” He beckons you forward, a smile only half-forced on his lips. “You want a drink or anything?”

You follow him into the kitchen, politely accepting a glass of water when he offers it.

He turns with two steady palms on the island, watching as you drag a chair free and sit at the table. “How’s Joel?” he asks, swallowing roughly.

The words come delayed, your open mouth lying in wait. Your body selfishly trying to hoard the information, protective the second the image of that six-foot, two-hundred-pound man crosses your mind. “He’s fine. He’s out front.”

It sounds like a warning, though you don’t mean for it to. Just conversation. He’s helping Rita with her groceries. She’s asking after you, by the way. But your dad seems to sense the natural amber tone of it – the sparking of a flame, daring to catch. He’s waiting for this to go south.

He nods, accepting the fact of it. His own failed attempt to separate the two of you only drove you closer together. Only made you want Joel more.

But then he’s nearing you again, pulling out the chair opposite yours. “I’m glad you’re here,” he says, settling with a sigh. “Glad we’re…we’re talkin’ again, at least.”

Your head angles. “Are we?”

His body jerks, flinching from the sting of the question. “Well,” his head wobbles, jowls quivering, “I sure hope so. I was takin’ it as a good sign that you’re here.”

“I’m here,” you repeat, “but that doesn’t mean I’m staying.”

“No, I know. I know. Joel’s out front, ‘n all that.” He looks down at his hands, clasped in his lap. Holds his tongue behind his front teeth, waiting for the next turn of conversation.

You lean forward, elbows on the table, softening your voice. “Dad?” you say, and he looks up. “This whole entire thing – I think…I think we oughta try and understand each other, a little better. Hear each other out.”

“I am tryin’, hon. I’m really tryin’. You dealt me an awful lot to hear out ‘n understand.”

You rock back, sinking against the hard chair. Tracing the wood grains in the table, nails digging between. Shame coiling like a snake beneath your tongue, taking up too much space in your mouth. Its venom dripping between your teeth, acrid and sour; tendons in your neck jumping with the bitterness of your dad’s tone.

He sighs. “Be honest with me a second.”

“Huh?”

He waits a beat, watching you carefully. Opens his mouth, pauses, and then speaks. “Who instigated it?”

Your finger pushes harder into the surface. Digging new divots. “Um…kinda both of us. Was sort of a two-way thing from the get-go.”

His lips twist, almost imperceptible. He looks behind you to the patio outside. You can’t read what’s in his eyes. It makes you say more, say things you reckon you’ll regret later – but something to fill the silence between you. Something to let him sink his teeth into.

“There was flirting. Lotta flirting. And then it…it just sort of snowballed.”

“Snowballed.” He looks uncomfortable, lifting his hands to cup over his face. “I just didn’t take him as the type,” he says, muffled into his palms.

“As what type?”

He drops his hands, hitting his thighs with a slap, and looks you dead in the eye. Sad, almost. “Arthur Kennedy type.”

“He’s not.”

You say it instinctively. Your ears hear it at the same time your dad does. He looks at you blankly.

“He’s not,” you repeat, a little looser. Less hasty. “Look,” you sigh, “I know it’s not what you want to hear, but…everything that we ever did, I wanted to do. I already told you. There ain’t nothing we did that I didn’t ask him to. I swear to you.”

You think back to the cookout, how angry Joel was at the thought of Arthur Kennedy hanging over you. How pissed he’d be, hearing your dad line him up against that old leather boot of a man. Comparing, contrasting. Here’s how you measure up, son. How much of a phantom Arthur Kennedy has been, your whole life, and how much of a sanctuary Joel is in comparison.

Your stomach twists at the thought. A tight knot, wound by a desperation to clear the name of a man whose worst offense was doing exactly what your dad would’ve told him to: leave.

“This whole thing,” you go on, “it’s a mess, alright? It’s – totally fucked. And we shouldn’t’ve lied, shouldn’t’ve been keeping things from you, but then…what did you expect?”

Your dad cuts in like a bullet: “I expect the two of you not to do what you were doin’.”

“No, I know that. But we did it, right? It’s done now. I meant, did you really want us to sit you down in the living room ‘n say, Hey, Dad – guess what?”

He grimaces at the thought.

“Didn’t think so. We didn’t even know what it was. We had no idea what it’d turn into. But you gotta hear me out: it wasn’t just…some fling, or whatever you’re thinkin’. I swear, Dad, it wasn’t.”

He still doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t lift his stare from the table. You feel like a little kid, desperate to make him love you again. Desperate to make him listen. The space between you fills with the bored tick tick tick of the kitchen clock. Each second hurting a little more than the last.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. “I’m sorry that I hurt you. I’m sorry I let you down, but…I’m not sorry that I did it. If I could go back, knowing everything I know – I’d do it all over again.”

The words roll across the table to him like billiards. You lean back again, watching them as they rattle from his side to yours – your sentence delivered back into your ears. You nod, a sure thought in your mind.

I’d do it all over again. All the covering, all the hiding. The aching, the wishing and wanting. Staring at Joel’s empty hand, dying to slot yours into it. Dying to put any part of yourself near him; your head under his chin, your arms linked around his waist. Knowing you two would feel, knowing everyone else would see, just how perfectly you fit together.

The chasing your own tails: Did you lie well enough? Do they suspect anything? Did we leave any evidence? Disturbed sheets, a collar still upturned. Can they hear us? Have they noticed we’re missing? We’re always fucking missing.

You’d do it all over again. You know what it cost, now, sat directly opposite the price. His polite smiles like veneers over rotten teeth. The tremble in his lip when he opens his mouth to speak.

And it was worth it. Joel. He was worth it all, in the end.

All over again.

“Do you know that every time I look at you, there are…probably four versions that I see?”

You frown. Did he hear what you just said? All ov–? “What?”

Your dad laughs to himself. “When you walk outta that door, I see a little pink backpack over your shoulders. Gym bag in your hand, maybe. I see missin’ front teeth, I see those little clip-on earrings you used to love so much.

“And – and when you’re mad at me, when we fight, I see you at fourteen. Growing pains, y’know? I still remember you slamming your bedroom door in my face, all ‘cause I wouldn’t let you go to that girl Molly’s birthday party.” He looks up, smiling at your perplexed expression.

“I don’t even…remember that, hardly.”

“Long time ago now. My point is,” he continues, “you’re twenty-three. You’re grown. And I just can’t figure out how to make those other versions…grow with you. You still feel like my kid. Still that little girl with the pink backpack.”

“But,” you clear your throat, trying to swipe her from your own memory, “I’m not. I’m not her anymore, Dad. And I think maybe you gotta give me the space to be someone different, now.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose, nodding. “I know, I know. I just didn’t think this new version of you would…y’know. Be with Joel, ‘n all. That is something I did not see comin’.”

“You think I did?” You spit a laugh. “If you told me when I came home that this is what was waiting for me…that I was gonna fall…”

Your teeth close around the sentence, dropping your dad’s eye. But it’s too late.

He stares back at you like the sun. “…Fall in love with ‘im?”

And you cower. You wince, almost. The last secret. The last thing he doesn’t know. “I don’t…I don’t know, I –”

“You love him. You do, don’t you?”

Your thumbs run circles around one another, fingers locking until your knuckles hurt. “I don’t know,” you mumble, wishing for the tenth time since you sat down that Joel was beside you, in front of you, around you.

“’s what Anna seems to reckon.”

Your eyes flit up. “Anna?”

He hums. “She is her father’s daughter. A damn meddler. She called here, last night.”

“Oh, Jesus,” you groan, head falling into your hands. “Ignore her, please. Ignore all of it. She doesn’t –”

He holds a palm up. “Now, hold on. You don’t even know what it was she said.”

You huff a sigh, twisting your hand in the air. Go on.

“She reckons you do love him. Reckons he loves you back. More, if that’s even possible, she said. Told me all about the way he stepped in front a’ that boy at Frank’s. About your face when he picked you up from rodeo night, how ecstatic you were. The difference she sees in you.”

“Difference,” you scoff, glancing out to the backyard. “What difference?”

“Same difference I see, probably. Same difference Bill said he saw, too: you’re happier. Even I can’t deny it, hon. It’s damn hard – you never make nothin’ easy on your old man – but…but I am willing to try.”

The hurt begins to slowly fizzle away. Cooling, washing from your skin like foamy waves. Curiosity left to shine through.

“You may not understand this ‘til you have kids of your own – if you have kids of your own – but there ain’t a thing in this world that I love more than I love you. And when you love somethin’ that much, you’ll do anything to stop it from getting hurt. Anything. That’s all I want you to know.”

A silence falls between you, thoughtful and waiting. The clock’s ticking grows sharper again. It seems to consider the same as you: there should be more to this. More to be said, to be convinced. More yelling, even.

But you arrive at the same conclusion, at near enough the same time: there is nothing more. Cards flat on the table, eyes pouring all over them. To question it, to second-guess any of it, would be to tempt fate.

“Anyway,” your dad sits forward, clasping his hands on the table, “tell me what’s goin’ on. What’s been happening in your world?”

You shrug. A little, shy thing. “Work. Been hanging with Sarah a lot. And I, uh, I had a job interview last week.”

“Oh, yeah? Where?”

You shift awkwardly in your chair. “For, uh…that one in LA. They called to offer it a couple days ago.”

A smile pulls across his lips. Growing, growing, growing until he’s grinning back at you. Pride, little bit of surprise. Whole lot of amusement and joy. “You take it?” he asks, figuring he knows the answer already.

“Not yet,” you reply. “Think I’m going to, though. ‘s too good to say no.”

He lifts his eyebrows in agreement, looking down at his hands. Shoulders lurch some under the weight of your news. “There goes that little backpack,” he mutters to himself, and you smirk.

“Can’t hold her back forever.”

“I never had a hold on her in the first place. You were walkin’ on outta that door the minute you found your own two feet.”

You snort. “Good! Good for me. Let me go out into the big ol’ world; let me go fuck it all up ‘n come home for dinner once I’m done.”

“I intend to,” your dad says, nodding along to every passionate word you say. And then he asks, “How’s Joel feelin’ about it all? About LA?”

Your shoulder jerks in a half-shrug. “He’s fine, I guess. Says he’ll miss me, but then – we haven’t exactly had the most typical relationship up until now. Survived a lot I reckon would break any normal couple…”

It’s the first time you think you’ve ever said it. Couple. You’ve thought of it – flicked through the words you might use to describe him. Your boyfriend, your partner. None of them seem to fit exactly who he is to you. None of them strong enough to carry the weight of what’s shared between you. He’s Joel. He’s your Joel. Nothing will ever come close.

Your dad hears it, too. The newness of it. The crisp shape of the word, not yet thawed to this new world. Your tongue still learning how to pronounce it, how to pair it with the image of Joel.

“Guess he can fly out ‘n visit whenever, right?”

“Yeah,” you swallow, “and I’ll be back here, too. Christmas ‘n all.”

Your dad smiles. Relieved, assured. Light slowly returning to his eyes.

“We’ll be fine,” your chest swells, “so Joel says. I trust ‘im.”

You both quieten, sitting back in your chairs. What once felt like a room ablaze, flames tearing the skin from your body as you dragged your heels through it – now feels like a gentle warmth. Waves wrought with enough power and force to destroy you, now seeping off with the change of the tide. Bumps on the horizon.

“Speaking of,” you say, making to stand, “I should probably get goin’.”

“Yeah. Yeah, hon.” Your dad follows, arm on your shoulder as he walks you down the hall.

The sun intrudes, tosses herself into your arms as you pull the front door open. In her golden-rayed wake sits that dark truck, same as always. The same dark tee, the same dark-speckled-gray hair. Arms folded, stood against the body, waiting. Eyes on the house, on your figure as you step down onto the doormat. Joel straightens when your dad follows you out, chest sucking in a ragged breath.

They look at one another, and that’s about it. Something of a nod from Joel – not quite returned by your dad. You figure that might take some time to come back around. And that’s okay. You can make peace with it.

You turn back. Your dad’s looking down at you, hand over his eyes to shield them from the sun.

“You know,” you take a deep breath, “the only times he’s ever hurt me, are the times he’s left. The times I haven’t had him around.”

And then you step back, the magnet in your chest telling you it’s time to return to its partner.

In high school, your English teacher tasked the class with writing a short story. Any genre you wanted, any word count up to two thousand. The boys mostly dicked around, wrote action-packed, blood-and-guts garbage. One girl wrote something you’re sure you’d seen in a Hallmark movie before.

But you – you spent two weeks straight, writing. Awake until all hours of the night, hunched over your laptop, sunbathing in the blue hue of an open document. Fingers hammering rapidly into your keyboard.

A man and a woman meet in Central Park. She – hair the color of rust, spilling down her shoulders and lifting at the ends, twisting around the fingers of the blustery wind. A red glow around her third finger where gold once lived. Sat on a bench, alone. Hiding, perhaps. And he – sharp suit and tie, clean-shaven, a steel-blue gaze that might cut glass. Missing the city traffic by taking a walk through the park on his way home. Fleeing, perhaps.

He notices her trench coat first. Bright red, a poppy swaying in the breeze. A little hopeless, a solemn wilt to it. The quickly dampening fire of her hair in the rain, the opaque sheen of polish chipping from her nails. And he thinks he recognizes the constellation of freckles painted across her cheeks. Thinks he might’ve mapped them, once, in some kind of past-life.

She looks up and realizes she recognizes the cut of his gaze. Piercing through her, splitting her in two. Thinks she might’ve felt it before, the opening of her soul to someone who looked just like him – a little more baby-faced, a little more spirited. In some kind of past-life, too.

She stands, and he slows, and they meet somewhere in the middle. Words exchanged; body heat transferred through hugs. Is that really you? You look so different. It’s been years. He doesn’t ask about the lack of jewelry on her third finger. She doesn’t ask about the gray circles beneath his eyes. Just, You wanna grab a coffee? and, Yeah. Yeah, I do.

They sit at the window, watch the yellow taxis and the black umbrellas and the trembling traffic lights. They talk about life then, life now, and silently agree to forget about the part in the middle. They look at each other the same way they must have before they lost one another, before life and love and everything else got between them.

They agree to meet again in a week. They swear that they will not fall back in love.

They know as well as each other that they’re really promising to do just that.

Love – twisted and turned over and over, until it’s a different shape altogether. We started as one thing, and we watched it shift into something completely different. Clay in the potter’s hands. Didn’t you think it might fall apart? There was a moment I thought the heat of the kiln might break us. I’m glad it didn’t. I’m glad we’re made of tough stuff.

I’m glad I found you again, in that park. The pissing rain and the wind so strong I felt it lifting the sense from my mind. In that hardware store, in that bar filled with weed and bad intentions. I’m glad you split me open, glad you could see the good that was still inside. I thought I’d lost her for a minute. Thought she’d forgotten her way home.

Let’s go get a coffee. Let’s pretend it’s always been this way.

Let’s fall in love. The rest will take care of itself.

It takes three weeks in total to properly pack up your things. Two days after you accepted the job, you bought boxes and tape, and began to dismantle the identity you’d spent twenty-three years creating for yourself, a little bit at a time. Taking apart the pink-walled museum of your life, artefact by artefact.

Joel has helped as much as you’ve let him. Laid back on your bed when you’ve dismissed him one too many times, raised his eyebrows and laughed with you whenever you come across some old, forgotten piece of memorabilia. Something ceremonial to it, something innocent and fun. Like a little graduation for all the parts of yourself.

Soon, as the last of the summer sun dampens outside, your room lies vacant. Empty of any real evidence of your being here. Bedsheets and pillows folded, packed away; framed photos and posters unpinned from the wall and wrapped up safely. Drawers and closets barren, left with a selection of your less-loved, less-worn clothes. A wardrobe built from stuff you’ll only ever wear when you come back home to visit, if even then.

Joel’s sat on the bare mattress, looking around your room. You’re stood opposite, leaning against your half-empty dresser. The sun filters feebly through your turned shades, averting her eyes.

You look over at him. Golden, like the sunlight outside. Warm, like the breeze through the trees. Yours. Yours yours yours.

“What?” Joel asks, his eyes having finally found their way back to you. He smiles at your focused expression.

“Nothing. I don’t know. Just…”

“Talk to me. Tell me.”

“You are – this is…” You sigh. “This is good. I think it’s good. Not just all the stuff we did. But you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you tell him. “You’re good for me.” You grip the wooden lip tighter, swaying nervously when you add, “But I think it was always gonna go this way, wasn’t it?”

He sniffs. Shoulders jerk in a weak shrug. “Yeah, I think so, baby.”

Your eyelashes flutter, soothing the prickling feeling of tears forming. “I don’t – I don’t know if I want it to.”

“Yeah,” Joel says through a groan, pushing himself up, “you do.”

You shake your head as he approaches, and his hands cup your cheeks.

“Hey,” he whispers, pulling your body tight against his. Your face buries in his chest; your tears wet on his shirt. He shushes you, rocks you gently back and forth with a hand on the back of your head. “Listen to me.”

“Joel –”

“Listen to me.” He pulls you back, swipes the tears from your cheeks as quickly as they fall. “We’re fine. We are going to be fine.”

“I don’t want to leave you –”

“I know, I know. But you want to go do this. And that’s okay. Both of ‘em, at once.”

Your head shakes again. Like an instinctive reaction to the thought of being separated from him.

Joel smiles softly. “I am going to miss you like hell. You got no idea. But,” he pulls your head back to face his, tucks your hair behind your ear, “I want you to go. You gotta go after this. Right?”

“I know,” you whisper, lungs lurching for breath. “I just – wish it didn’t mean leavin’ you.”

“Darlin’…” Joel coos, pulling you in again. “You know how much I love you? What do I keep tellin’ you? We’ll be alright. It’s you ‘n me, right?”

You nod, salty tears slipping between your lips onto your tongue. When you look up, you notice the same expression on Joel’s face. He blinks his own away before they fall.

“’s you ‘n me,” you repeat, and he pulls your lips together.

You roll your tongue onto his, letting him taste you – all of you. Your mouth, and your thoughts, and your tears, and your pain. You let him take it all, let him hold it for this moment as you breathe him in, let his body fill yours in every way.

Your hands are in his hair, your chest pressed against his; he’s every thought on your mind and every beat in your heart. He’s the blood thrumming through your veins, he’s the oxygen filling your lungs; he’s the words between your teeth and the flesh around your bones.

And he pulls you, and you follow, his shirt in your fist, over to the bed where he lays you gently and falls on top.

“When’s he get back?” he asks, taking your bottom lip between his teeth.

“Later,” you mumble, your fingers picking at the hem of his shirt.

He pushes back, letting you tug it up up up over his shoulders at the same rate he peels your tee from yours, both tossing each other’s clothes to somewhere else in the room. Jeans undone, shorts dragged from your hips, underwear discarded until you’re naked under him, and he’s naked over you, and there’s nothing and no one between.

Joel cradles you, holds you close as he presses a palm roughly against the underside of your thigh, opening your body to him in a way only he’s mastered. In a way you only would, for him.

His hand cups your sex, fingers nudging between your folds, pushing in when your jaw slackens and a wanton moan echoes from your throat across Joel’s tongue.

“Yeah,” he coos, wrist jacking between your legs, “’s my girl. Gotta get you warmed up, huh? Get you nice ‘n wet.”

Your back arches, arms linking around his neck to pull him closer, pull him deeper. Hold him tight enough to you that your bodies feel one, feel connected at the meeting of Joel’s hand and the most intimate part of you; the meeting of your tongues between teeth.

And you gasp, the nudging of his fingers against the deepest part of your body, the messy circles of his thumb on your clit. The shape of him, solid and warm against the seam of your thigh.

You reach down for him, wrapping your fingers around his cock, and his breath hitches. Teeth bump into yours. You’re fucking irresistible to him.

“Darlin’,” his voice is low, daring you to keep going, “you wanna cut this short ‘fore we’re even started?”

You breathe a laugh into his jaw, hot and needy. “You get to play with me,” you whine, “I wanna play with you, too.”

Joel growls, seizing his movements, leaning back in what you take as him granting full access to his body. But then he says, “Turn around,” in a strict voice you’ve come to know as meaning one thing, and you pause.

You peel your eyes from his dick to blink up at him. “Turn –?”

“– around, now.” He takes your waist, hoisting you up until you’re straddling him, holding you inches above his body. “Turn.”

“What the fuck are you –?”

“Many times do I gotta tell you? You said you wanted to play.” He twists your waist until you follow his movements, swinging one leg over the other. He grabs your hips, tugging you back towards his face. “So, play,” he mutters, lowering your cunt down to his lips.

You gasp, falling forward and hitting the mattress between his legs. “J– fuck me. Are you s-serious?” You moan, hips rocking against the feeling of his bearded chin at your clit. “You’re like – a fucking – horny teenager. Oh, fuck.”

Your head falls forward, hands splaying out over his thighs, before your eyes refocus and you notice the hardened shape of him, tip oozing precome all over the hair-spattered plain of his groin. Your hand lifts, shakily taking hold of him again, and you lean down.

Elbows hooked over his thighs, you bring his tip to your lips, letting a thick bead of saliva fall and drip down the length of him, meeting your closed fist to be dragged up and down.

Joel’s hips almost buck. He holds it, manages to catch it, but you spot it. You’ve done this too many fucking times not to notice the reaction you draw from him.

“’s good,” you whisper, circling your hips on his face, tongue slipping across his cherry-red tip. “Feels so good.”

He responds in the form of a deep groan, rattling from his chest through your clit, shocking like lightning up your spine until the very same noise is thrown from your lips. You push down, tongue molding around every vein and the slow curve of his cock until your lips meet the thick brush of hair at his base, his tip kissing the very back of your throat.

Your throat which jumps, jolts at the feeling of something intruding – before you’re retreating again, pulling him from your body, warm, wet spit linking the two of you when you come up for air. And then you sink back down, head moving up down up down up down as his stomach tenses beneath your chest.

Joel’s palms keep a heavy hold on your ass, his tongue lapping between your folds like they’re the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted – like he might die if he doesn’t get his fix of you. And you think, they are, and he might, as your cheeks hollow and you bow down over him again.

You establish a rhythm, two waves swirling between one another: your hips rocking, Joel’s lifting ever so slightly as you suckle on one another. Your hand fisting the parts of him you can’t quite reach, not without choking; Joel holding you fixed to his jaw, letting the tip of his tongue hook around your swollen clit, then dragging it down until he’s letting you ride the wet muscle.

The approach of your first orgasm, a tiny spark catching to life in the pit of your belly, incites you with a need to open up further for him. Your throat taking more of him, your thighs slackening as you drive your cunt harder against his mouth.

“’m so close,” you whimper, lips curving around his cock. “So – fucking – ah, keep doin’ that. Right th-there.”

His hands hook around your thighs, tongue darting across your clit. His nose nudges somewhere between your folds, quickly becoming coated in the slick you’re leaking all over him.

“Joel,” you say, fists pumping his cock. Your voice a warning: it’s coming. You’re gonna – Fuck, you’re gonna come.

His voice is looser, more of a shrug of the shoulders when he pulls away from you. He inserts two fingers, curls them like before, like he knows drives you fucking insane. “Let go, babygirl,” he murmurs, lips immediately returning to position. And then, muffled and rough: “Come all over me.”

“Fuckfuckfuck,” you pant, hands squeezing around his cock, feeling that same spark ignite into flame, your entire body bursting with heat.

Your high rips through you, battering through each vein in your system, each nerve electrified. You collapse between his legs, his rough pubic hair sticking to the sweat on your chest, hips rutting wildly against the sharp cut of his jaw.

The mattress absorbs most of the desperate moan which streaks across your tongue, nails digging hard into the flesh of Joel’s thighs. And you hear the deep sound of his voice, the thud thud thud of a chuckle against your clit: the cocky fucker laughing to himself as he unravels you for what feels like the thousandth time.

“Alright,” Joel says, more to himself than to the fucked-out shape of you between his legs. He sits up and shifts you carefully down the bed, settling you face-down on the mattress and lifting your ass to meet his hips. “Okay?” he asks, kneeling behind you.

You feel his tip between your legs, slotting happily somewhere in your opening. Waiting for your response. A response you don’t feel able to give, as much as you’d like to; your lips puffy and confused, words jumbling behind them in a tangle of bliss and love.

“Baby,” Joel says, hand slinking down your back, pressing gentle circles into the nape of your neck. “You okay?”

Your head lifts, glancing over your shoulder to see his hairy torso, his thick arms caging over you. He lifts your chin with two fingers, cranes your neck up until you’re looking into his eyes, heavy lids blinking dumbly.

“Just fuck me,” you whisper, and Joel slips his tongue into your mouth.

You used to dream of coming back home. A few years away, doing whatever you wanted, wherever you wanted. Dreaming things up and then chasing them until they happened. Tiring yourself out, lungs gasping for breath and eyes always searching, always looking for a new target to pin up. But always coming back.

Austin, Texas. Its jagged skyline, the streets lined with a vibrant glow and star-spangled bunting. The river like a silver-bellied snake slithering through. Home.

You dreamt of living out your days here, once your blood had slowed and your mind settled. A quiet life in the country, a big wooden house with a wraparound porch. Two little rocking chairs, so you and whoever your husband turned out to be could sit and watch the sky fade from red into orange into white and then dull gray into deep blue.

Breeze kissing your cheek, his lips kissing your knuckles.

Joel.

Home.

You tell him, and he smirks. “That so?” he asks, wrapping his arms a little tighter around your naked body.

You nuzzle your cheek into the palm of his hand, breathing in the sweet scent of sweat and sex sitting in the air. “Mhm. You could play guitar until the stars come out.”

He hums in agreement. “Sounds like a pretty good dream. Tell you what: you go to LA, do what you gotta do. By the time you come back, there’ll be a big ol’ farmhouse, wraparound porch, rollin’ fields for the dogs. Coffee ‘n sunsets. How’s that sound?”

“And you’ll be there?”

He smiles. Scoops you in one arm and rolls you onto your front, chest to chest with him. His fingers ghost down the curve of your shoulder. “Baby,” he whispers, “I built the damn thing.”

It forces a laugh from your chest, something you’ve gotten used to by now. Joel and his ability to steal a giggle from you, the dumbest moments seeming the funniest. “You’re gonna build me a damn house?” you ask, chin resting between his pecs.

“That what you want?”

Your head rocks left to right, considering. “I just want you. That’s all.”

“Then you got me. I’m all yours.”

In his hazel eyes lives every moment you’ve ever shared. Every conversation, every kiss, every fight. Every minute he’s spent looking for you or at you, every minute you’ve spent looking back at him. It’s all in there. You see it like a movie reel, frame by frame.

It lands like a slot machine on that first night. Cleaning up after pizza. Shoulder to shoulder by your kitchen sink. You wish you’d just kissed him. Even with your dad right there. Wish you’d lifted your heels and put your lips on his, just for the fucking hell of it. Just to condense all of it, every second of longing and hurt and pain into one fleeting moment.

Wish you’d pulled him into you, against you, the weight of his body like an old friend. Welcomed it with open arms, like you’d spent your entire life missing it, waiting for it to come back to you. Let yourself feel your own heart, peeling between the cage of your ribs, reaching out for his. Always reaching for him.

Wish you’d looked him in the eye, tears softening the tufts of graying hair, vignetting the smirk only you can tell is there. Looked at him in that knowing way, that language only you two know; the glint in your eyes translating a thousand messy words into three. Just three – the simplest, lightest words you’ve ever known.

I love you. Let’s skip to the good part.

#welp i didn't cry when i hit post. me? no. no way #joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #the last of us #tlou #tlou fic #dbf!joel miller #dbf!joel #joel miller smut #fic: cowboy like me

925 notes · View notes

morganski-19 · 5 months

Text

part 1, part 2

Dustin visits the next day, sitting next to Wayne with the same book he’s had for the past few days. Turning to the page that was dog-eared, reading. Voices and all. Just like Eddie does when he’s practicing for one of those campaigns. Claiming that it’s better to get it down with someone else’s words so he can improvise. So he doesn’t have to memorize some script and can be in the moment. Let his mind do the workings along with the players.

It’s one of the many parts of Eddie that Wayne sees in this kid. The dramatics, the drive. The snobbiness about certain things that don’t really matter to the rest of the world. But it matters to them, so it matters to the people who care about them too.

If Eddie were awake, he might yell at the kid for turning the corner of a page instead of using a bookmark. Even though all the books he gets are second-hand and already torn and bent in all sorts of ways. But it’s about keeping the art pristine. The author put their heart and soul into this work, it’s not meant to be sullied. Wayne saw Eddie bend the corner of a page a million times over though, he just likes making a big stink about nothing. Just to get a rise out of people, make them laugh. Wayne can imagine that Eddie liked to make Dustin laugh a lot.

“Have the doctors said anything new?” Dustin asks after finishing the chapter.

Wayne shakes his head. “Same old, same old. Don’t worry about it too much though, he wouldn’t want you to.”

“He wouldn’t want a lot of the things that happened over the past week. So he’ll have to deal with it.” After a pause, he asks, “How are you doing?”

That makes Wayne laugh. “You don’t have to go worryin’ about me either. You’re just a kid.”

“And you’re just a man waiting for your kid to wake up. The same way I’m waiting for my friend to wake up. At the end of the day, we’re all still people. That sometimes need a break. So, how are you doing?”

It’s scary how much Wayne sees Eddie in this kid. “It’s hard comin’ here to hear the same thing every day.” That’s all Wayne’s willing to say to a kid.

Hard is definitely a word most people would use to describe his situation. Difficult, disheartening. Maybe even hopeless. But there’s still some hope in this old heart that keeps Wayne coming back day in and day out. Keeps him moving while only getting a few hours of sleep a day. Cause as soon as the night comes around, it’s right back to the plant. Making the money to pay for the care his boy needs to keep living. To pay for the roof over his own head enough so he’ll live to see it happen.

Truth is, Wayne’s dying here. From the fatigue. From the endless waiting. From the slowly draining pool of hope. Nothing seems to change. Nothing gets better. Six days in a medically induced coma with no hopes of ever waking up. Wayne’s not dumb enough to think that the chances increase the more days pass without him showing any signs of improvement.

Part of him says that this is the state Eddie will be in for the rest of his life. Wonders if it’s worth all of this just to keep him alive. If he’s really suffering in there and would be better off resting forever. But then the heart monitor keeps beeping and his brain is still active. Wayne’s boy is still in there, he’ll come back soon.

“Yeah, I bet that’s hard. I still have hope though, I was there when he came in. He looks a lot better now.”

There’s a knock on the door that keeps Wayne from responding. It’s the Harrington boy, in normal clothes this time. Discharged.

“Sorry to interrupt but your mom said it’s time to go home.”

Dustin dramatically rolls his eyes. “Which one, my actual mother or you?”

“Your actual mother, but I happen to agree with her. Come on, you got school in the morning.” Harrington crosses his arms, looking like he’s ready to start a standoff.

But instead of fighting Dustin stands. “Have a good night Mr. Munson. I’ll still try to visit as much as I can even though school’s starting back up again.”

“Thanks, kid, I’ll try.”

Harrington ruffles Dustin’s hair as he walks out the doorway. Standing there for a beat before turning back to Wayne. “We’ve never officially met, I’m Steve.”

Steve holds out his hand, waiting for Wayne to shake it. Wayne debates whether that’s a good idea or not. Apparently, it takes too long as Steve returns his hand to his side.

“I wanted to apologize for the scene I made the other day, you didn’t deserve that. I was just so shocked that they actually cuffed him to the bed. Still have him cuffed to the bed.” Steve looks at Eddie with a guilt that Wayne doesn’t understand. Like he’s the reason Eddie’s strapped to the bed.

Wayne continues to say nothing, not quite sure what would be appropriate. Tell him that it’s ok, that it didn’t bother him. Or thank him for believing that Wayne knew was true. That his boy was innocent.

There was more to this story than he knew. Something to do with the kid being there and the rich boy standing in the doorway looking like this is all his fault. When Wayne knows the same scars mark Steve just as much as they do Eddie. Steve made sure that everyone knew that. Using it as proof that Steve was there, and that Eddie was innocent.

Steve was ready to offer himself up as a witness for a man that the town hates. Wayne should be grateful for that, but it doesn’t seem right. They were part of different worlds. Different status, interests. It didn’t make sense for them to be in the same place at all. Yet here they are supposedly having gone through the same vicious attack.

“Let me know if you need anything,” Steve continues when Wayne stays silent. “I’m more than happy to help out. Eddie was kind of a new friend and I hate seeing him like this as much as you do.”

“I seriously doubt that,” Wayne snaps. He hates charity, especially from this kid. For some reason he doesn’t really understand why.

Steve is taken aback. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend.”

“I’m sure you didn’t, but you did. I know my boy and I know how my boy thinks about people like you. So don’t go ‘round gaining sympathy points from the real people who are suffering.”

“I, I wasn’t,” Steve stammers. “I would never.”

“Steve,” Dustin yells. “Get your ass moving, we’re your ride too.”

Steve sighs. “Coming, Jesus. I’m sorry for offending you. I won’t bother you again.”

Wayne shakes his head when Steve leaves, letting out a deep sigh. Maybe he was too harsh, maybe he wasn’t harsh enough. He’s not sure.

He’s not sure about a lot of things anymore.

part 4

tag list, let me know if you want to be added or removed: @the-they-who-nerded, @insteviewetrust, @croatoan-like-its-hot, @jettestar, @tinyplanet95, @steddie-as-they-go, @slv-333, @littlecelestialmoth, @thatonebadideapanda, @fandomsanddeath, @marismorar, @wonderland-girl143-blog, @glass-bottle03, @gutterflower77, @here4thetrama, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @jaytriesstuff, @cryptid-system, @manda-panda-monium, @resident-gay-bitch, @anaibis, @xxsutherlandxx, @forevermineliv, @mugloversonly, @gregre369, @n0-1-important, @different-tale-student, @spectrum-spectre, @tartarusknight, @devondepresso, @swimmingbirdrunningrock, @cheertain, @anti-ozzie, @autumncrocusandladybug, @greeniebean911, @cr0w-culture, @stillfullofshit, @connected-dots, @daisynotquake, @morgannotlefay, @a-little-unsteddie, @dolphincliffs,

#stranger things #stranger things fanfic #post season 4 #wayne munson #dustin henderson #steve harrington #pre steddie #eddie munson #eddie in a coma #everyone lives/nobody dies #fanfic #wayne pov #chills right to the marrow fic

309 notes · View notes

graybby · 3 months

Text

PR nightmare

Lando Norris x Russell!reader

The F1 drivers twitch streamer sister series !

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 here 2285 words

sorry for the wait ! hopefully it's worth it <3

This isn’t good.

Pacing back and forth around her hotel room wasn’t how Y/N planned to start her morning but the constant dinging of her phone had rudely awoken her from her slumber at 5AM. She felt reluctant to check it at first, anxiety swirling through her brain as she racked it for a reason why this was happening, nothing preparing her for what she was about to see. Hundreds of tweets and pictures of her and Lando from the grand prix the day prior - luckily none had captured the dispute between him and her brother, which came as a momentary relief to the drama that presented itself in front of her. The focus was only on the two individuals as they had been papped in the time it took him to find her in that heat stroked state and walk away from the bathrooms, which led to a multitude of both Lando’s and her own fans to start conspiring. Those who watched Y/N and had knowledge of her most recent stream - in which Lando had made his presence known - were already losing their minds, believing that this wasn’t just a coincidence and that she had specifically attended the race as his guest, some of these comments being a lot meaner than others - accusing the smaller streamer of being an ‘attention whore’ and ‘just using him for likes and followers’ however there were a few that sounded excited at the possibility of a blossoming romance between the two. Y/N laughed to herself that people were making assumptions about the two, trying to block out how much some of the hate comments stabbed into her mind but subconsciously agreeing with those that were finding it stupid that others believed Lando would even go for her let alone be dating her.

She opened her chat with Lando to try and warn him about the social media mess but halted when she realised she was still left on read from the night before, pushing aside the feeling it gave her she began typing.

I think we’ve got a situation..

The brown haired boy rolled over his plush hotel bed and groggily rubbed the sleep from his eyes. Tired from the race and night he had which left him to return back to his designated hotel room in the early hours of the morning. He didn’t remember too much, only that he had been in a sour mood about something and decided to dull the internal noise with a shit ton of alcohol and crowds of people. His phone began blaring and Lando shot up to accept the call before he registered who it even was.

“What do you think you’re playing at Lando?” a voice bellowed down the line. “Zak please it’s too early to be screamed at, what did I do now?” rubbing his temples, a hangover beginning to set in.

“we said no more girl trouble Lando. It’s bad for our publicity right now, we really need a clean slate at the moment to boost our sponsorships. With all your recent antics the tabloids are making you out to be a party obsessed playboy and the current sponsors don’t like it”

“But I haven’t even been spotted with anyone recently it’s a joke- you can’t just expect me to stay put in my room like a good little dog all the time man-” “Hey hey stop, I know how shitty it is but yesterday you got spotted just talking to some youtube or influencer girl and the internet won’t shut up about it, you’ve been trending on twitter for hours and not for much of a good reason”.

“What the fuck Zak- that’s such bullshit, shes just a friend and we only just met properly the moment it was photographed. It’s not fair”.

“I know it is, look i’m really sorry Lando but we just need you to keep a low profile for a while- not forever, just until this ‘persona’ everyone is making you out to be is not tabloid front pages”.

“Fine Zak I get it, I'll try to be a ‘good little boy’ just for you” sarcasm dripping off his tongue as he spoke.

“Whatever you say Lando, just don’t blow this. I’ll talk to you later”

“Yeah bye Zak”

What a fucking headache

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

“Y/N are you alright?” George asked approaching his sister carefully, taking in her disgruntled appearance. He had found her sat on the edge of the hotel sofa - head in hands which tightly wrapped around her hair in frustration.

“No” she groaned, slightly peeking out between her hands to meet her brother's worried expression.

“I hate twitter” she cried out as George cradled her in his arms. “It's so stupid George, everyone’s going crazy at these images of me and Lando someone took of us talking yesterday. Now everyone’s jumping to conclusions and making up rumours I- WE JUST MET”, “I’m sorry- I don’t know why this is getting to me so much… I think deep down I’m just scared that someone’s gonna find out that we’re related”.

“Well just remember it’s not the end of the world if they do” George remarks, trying to hide the hurt he feels at the idea of his sister being this adamant on hiding their relation.

“Yeah for you it’s not but the whole life I’ve been trying to build all by myself will just be over, I’ll just be ‘George Russell’s sister’ and who I actually am will come second”.

“I’m sorry that's how I’ve made you feel” George pulls away from his baby sister in haste, barely looking at her as he rushes to leave the room clearly harbouring offence at her words, which she realises quickly after - attempting to follow him.

“No George, sorry I didn’t mean it like that- wait!” the door slams shut in front of her before she can continue.

Crumpling back on the sofa her tears continue to free fall, this time at a quicker pace as her heart tugs against her chest - guilt tearing through her.

She reaches for her phone just to see that once again Lando planned on leaving her on read. Anger bubbling over the heartache she already felt towards her brother made her snap, hurling her phone against the wall on the other side of the room in a heartbeat as her vision clouds over, sobs racking her frame.

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

Clambering out of his room, Lando made his way down the hotel hallways, his throbbing head demanding a remedy which he decided would be a late breakfast. Passing along each door, stopping when he hears a loud bang against the wall he was outside of, followed by loud sobbing coming from a voice he swore he knew. Without even realising his hand was already knocking on the door.

A moment passed before it cracked open revealing a distraught looking Y/N, her tired eyes made redder by the stream pouring from them. He was taken back by the sight, the shock not lasting long though as she attempted to slam the door in his face. Clearly underestimating the reaction time of an F1 driver as he swiftly wedges his foot between the door, stopping her from closing it as he barges past into her room.

“I don’t want to talk to you Lando- why are you even here? You clearly don’t want to talk to me so just go..”

“Wha- what gave you that impression?”

Y/N turns to look at him - straight faced, a scoff passing her lips.

“You’re joking right?! You ignore every message I’ve sent you and you ask me why I think you don’t want to talk to me??”

He stiffens as he realises his mistake this morning, too caught up in his own problems that he glossed over hers, he knew that her message would be about the pictures after his call from Zak but he didn’t know what to say to her - the way that Zak spoke to him earlier made Lando feel the need to distance himself from Y/N and the whole situation, something he thought he could manage until he heard her gut wrenching sobs and all his rational thoughts went out the window.

His face softened as he reached out to her. “Y/N look I’m so sorry about that, I didn’t mean to upset you- I’ve just been caught up in a PR nightmare this morning and everything’s slipped my mind” she sniffles, eyes meeting his “it’s my fault isn’t it, the PR nightmare? Its cause you spoke to me” Lando notices her eyes welling up again as she spoke, he steps forward, his hand wrapping around her smaller one giving it a gentle squeeze - his other hand rising to cup her cheek (too close to the way the stood just the day before when everything began to go wrong).

“Y/N no it's not your fault. This happens- way too often for my liking but no way is it because of you. It's the fault of nosy journalists and gossip pages that want to tear apart every aspect of my life and I'm sorry you got caught up in it. I can imagine some of the things you’ve seen people say about you today and I want you to ignore it for me okay- it’s just jealous, horrible people with nothing better to do okay? Don’t believe a word of it”. Lando stared at her, still holding her hand so gently as if he applied the slightest pressure that she might break. She nodded her head softly in response to what he said, a small smile breaking through the pained expression she wore since he walked in. He beamed at the change in mood, wrapping his arms around her in a warm hug. He had felt such guilt after ignoring her last night - he was so wound up by her brothers outburst towards him and being so close to his first win that he had given her the cold shoulder, choosing to drown his sorrows in alcohol and loud music instead of responding to her attempts at checking in on him.

Y/N melted into the hug, she hated the way that Lando made her feel so warm in the short time she had spent with him, especially after how cold he had made her feel only the night before, she felt she owed him in a way to hear him out, knowing how messy it can be living in the public eye. She was so glad she did as she stood there basking in the warmth his touch gave her - she felt embarrassed that he had this big of an effect on her, brushing it off and blaming it on how emotional she’s been all day making her overly thankful for his comfort.

“Feeling better love?” he pulled back from the hug, hands still holding either side of her shoulders - that cheeky smile he always wore gracing his face as he gazed into her eyes. She giggled lightly at the sight before it became a full fledged laugh as he giggled back, smile stretching wider. They stayed like that for a moment just laughing as they held each other. Once they both quieted they sat down together on the sofa just enjoying each other's company.

“I’m sorry about yesterday by the way, I don’t like arguing with people, George just set me off I guess- but it didn’t give me a right to take it out on you, thank you for checking up on me Y/N” sincerity oozing from every word that passed his lips.

“Don’t worry about it Lando, but hey guess we’re both in George's bad books right now” she spoke solemnly, fiddling with her hands in her lap. Lando took her hands into his own as he noticed her anxiety bubbling.

“What happened?” he was honestly quite shocked at her words not believing that her and George could have a full blown fight.

“I hurt his feelings pretty bad- I was going on about how scared I was that someone might do too much digging now that the attentions on me and find out that we’re related, I guess it sounded like I resented being his sister and he stormed off slamming the door on me before I could properly apologise, he just can’t understand that I’m scared it will just make all my hard work amount to being an ‘F1 drivers sister’ and not be recognised for my own achievements” she sighed, squeezing his hand softly as she spoke.

“I understand Y/N and I think he will with time, I personally hope that he’ll get over us talking- especially after yesterday, he’s never been that pissed at me before” he chuckled lowly, thumb rubbing the back of her hand.

“He’ll get over it, he just doesn’t know how to react to me talking to anyone of the other gender without freaking out” she rolled her eyes as she recalled every time George had interrupted a conversation of hers, pulling her away from whatever guy she speaking to at the time before giving her a classic older brother lecture.

“Good to know- guess I’ll have to start sneaking around and seeing you in private ey?” winking at her jokingly but catching the way her face flushed in response. Cute

“It’s honestly not a bad idea though, that way we avoid any more media upset, you don’t have to worry about your identity and I don’t have to face the rath of your brother for simply just talking to you” Lando laughs nudging her shoulder as she giggled at his words.

“I like the sound of that Lando”

“So do I”

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

thanks for reading <3

taglist : @bicchaan @lauralarsen @drunkinthemiddleoftheday @ssararuffoni @cherry-piee @eviethetheatrefreak @2pagenumb

#f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 x reader #george russel x reader #lando norris #lando norris x y/n #lando x reader #charles leclerc x reader #lando norris x reader

198 notes · View notes

hockybish · 4 months

Text

I Didn't Want This Either

l Luke Hughes l masterlist l part 1 l * warning: death *

"Can we talk?" Jack knocked on the window of Luke's car. He didn't like what he was going to ask Luke, but he needed to get the conversation over with.

"What's up?" Luke watched as Jack fiddled with the sleeve of his jacket.

Jack took a deep breath in, counted to five, before let out the inhaled air.

"I know this is never probably going to happen, but I just want to be prepared just in case. because you never know what could happen. and Addie agrees with me, for once, I know it's crazy.

"Jack spit it out."

"Now that I have two kids. I've been thinking more about what happens to them if something happens to us. And I think I want you to raise them if we can't." The older brother asked of the younger one.

"Jack, I don't know." Luke contemplated what he was being asked, which was really nothing, but he knew. "Isn't there anyone better for the job? Mom? Quinn?"

"No, Luke. Quinn and Liv have enough going on and Mom and Dad don't need to raising two little kids after the raised us." Jack explained. "Plus you're great with them and they love you so much. Please Lukey."

"Fine"

"Great! I'll add you to daycare pick up." Jack reached over to give his brother an awkward hug before they went on with their separate ways.

"You're pretty." Jack chanced a glanced over at his beautiful wife. They had just dropped the kids off at daycare and were on their way to the rock.

"You're not too bad yourself Mr. Hughes" Addie said scrunching her nose at the man next to her.

"I'll talk to Luke or Nico today, maybe one of them can take the kids and we can have tonight." He kept looking back and forth from the road to his wife.

"Jack watch the road please." She clenched her jaw. There was traffic all around them, making her feel a bit nervous.

"What Ads? It's fine." Jack's eyes left the road again to look at his wife.

"Jack!"

Jack never saw the car until it was too late.

"Shit. Shit. Shit." Luke jumped out of bed. He scrambled to get ready for practice when the brain fog cleared and he saw it was after 10 am already.

He was so late. His alarms must not have gone off or something, because he was never late for practice. And here he was going to be late for the first time in forever.

Luke chose to forgo his usual morning routine and caffeinated beverage, thinking it might give a chance to get to the practice facility faster.

He was almost there when the traffic started to picked up. There must have been an accident. All sorts of emergency vehicles were surrounding the area.

As Luke got closer to the heart of the situation he noticed a two crumpled up cars. A silver one and a very familiar looking green one.

Luke got a good long look at the wreck as he passed it. Two white sheets littered the ground, the car accident must have been that bad that people died.

That's why there was so much commotion.

He felt bad for the family that was going learn the news that they lost people they loved. Little did he know his phone was blowing up at the moment, messages and phone calls from his parents and brother, family members, teammates, and close friends with that specific news.

The now super late hockey player got to his destination only an hour later than he was supposed to be there. He thought it was a bit odd how the normally packed parking garage was near empty. Where was everyone?

"Luke what are you doing here?" Nico frowned at the defensemen who was trying to get ice ready as fast as he could.

"I know I'm late. I didn't set my alarm and then there was some big accident. I'll do extra of whatever you want. I'm sorry." Luke finishing up lacing his skates up. If he had been looking at Nico eye's went wide at the mention of the accident.

"Practice was cancelled a couple of hours ago."

"Why would they do that we have a game tomorrow?"

"The league is thinking of postponing it"

"Why?" he stopped what he was doing to look up at his captain. There was a feeling in the room, there was something seriously wrong.

Luke finally glanced around the empty locker room, it held the same odd feeling that the lot had.

"Um. Have you looked at your phone lately?" The older man scratched the back of his head nervously.

Luke furrowed his brows at the question. No, he hadn't looked at his phone, he had been a little busy trying to get there as quickly as he could, the action didn't feel necessary at the time.

But now a bad sinking feeling was telling him that maybe he should.

He had a total of 19 missed calls from him Mom, Dad, and Quinn alone. Not to mention the other various voicemails that completely filled the digital voicemail box was completely filled. On top of that there were over a hundred txt messages from a variety of people.

There was even a message from Jack, a simple heart emoji followed by an 'i luv ya bro,' that was timestamped hours before everything else.

"Nico, what's going on?" His voice hitched after he read a txt from Trevor that read 'i just heard about j. i'm so sorry.' When Luke looked up from the device he took note that Nico was now accompanied by their new coach and a few devils' personal.

"Luke you should call your parents back" The captain picked at the skin around his fingers.

"No just tell me. What's going on?" He thumbed through his device trying to decipher the

"Let's take this somewhere a little more private. Yeah?" The group of higher ups attempted to usher then to a different room a little more quiet and appropriate to have this conversation. Luke shook them off, wanting them to just spit it out.

"Say it Nico" Luke shook them off. He wanted Nico to just spit it out. He was tired of this go around and the hesitation

Nico sighed heavily. He didn't want to be the one to tell his friend the news, it would be better if it were coming from a family member, but they were all on there way to New Jersey at moment. So he had to do his best.

"There was an accident" Nico began to say. Luke felt his heart beat faster, and a pit forming in his stomach as he realized what Nico was telling him. Maybe this would have been better coming from his mom or dad, hell even Quinn.

"Jack and Addie were in the car-" Nico continued. That green car that look familiar. Jack had a green car.

"No no no no no no no." He covered his ears in an attempted to block out what Nico was telling him. This wasn't happening.

"they didn't make it." Nico finished. He put his hand on Luke's shoulder in an attempt to comfort him. The kind gesture didn't help anyeay as Luke grabbed the nearest garbage pail and emptied the contents of his stomach in it.

It was true. It couldn't be true. Jack wasn't dead. This was all just some sort of prank, a sick joke. Jack was going to walk around the corner and say sike.

He need to get out of there. Anywhere but there. He had this pain in chest, and it was hard to breath anytime he thought of his brother.

He got in his car and drove without a destination in mind. He drove and drove until he found himself in a deserted mall parking lot, not another car or person in sight.

Luke sat in his perfectly fine car and screamed. There wasn't anyone around, so no one would be able to judge him. Not that he cared. He needed to get his emotions out.

Why Jack? Why couldn't have been him? If only he had been on time today, maybe it would have been him in that accident and Jack would still be alive.

He had been receiving texts all day. Luke ignored all of them. A few people called, he ignored those too. Ellen had been calling him at least once every hour, but he still refused to talk to her.

There was one number that had been persistently calling him, even more than his mother had. Maybe she had gotten a hold of another phone and was calling from that. He didn't know, but he finally decided to answer the call.

"Hey Luke, this is Y/N calling this Happy Times Nursery, how are you?" The very peppy and friendly lady ask.

"I'm um, I could be better. What is this pertaining to?" He mumbled his reply confirming it was him.

"I'm sorry to hear that. Well we've been trying to reach Jack and Addie for a couple of hours now seeing that it is well past pick up time for Lucy and Felix. We were just wondering if someone was on their way to retrieve them. They are our last kids for the night and we would like to go home."

Shit, the kids

Let me know what you guys think!

#luke hughes #jack hughes #luke hughes imagine #jack hughes imagine #luke hughes fic #nhl imagine #nhl blurb #nhl fic #Luke Hughes x reader

183 notes · View notes

sexualtensiongrowing21 · 4 months

Text

Prompt: “Can I kiss you?”

Isaac Lahey X Reader Pt. 2

TW; None?

Word Count: 1341

Part One

AN: I decided to finally write part 2! I cant say its the most favorite thing I have written but I no longer hate everything about it! Enjoy!

That night you asked Isaac for his jersey so you could wear it to school. All the players' girlfriends wear their away jerseys to school the day of the game. This caught him off guard but he obliged with a wide smile on his face. He didn't want to admit it, but he has been dreaming of seeing you wearing his jersey since he joined the team.

Walking into school you spot Matt walking towards you from the other end of the hall. Thankfully, you see Isaac standing at his locker talking to Scott and Stiles. ‘Perfect’ you think and walk up beside Isaac with a huge smile on your face. You lean up on your tiptoes giving him a kiss on the cheek. “Good morning.” You hum sweetly intertwining your fingers in with him and smile at the boys across from you.

Isaac is surprised as he stammers out “Uh- G-good morning.” His face is flushed and he's grateful you don't have werehearing as you would be able to hear the fast beat of his heart. You have always had this effect on him though.

“About time!” Stiles exclaims patting Isaac on the shoulder while walking away with a laugh, making you roll your eyes at the spastic boy. Matt pauses taking in the sight before him. You can barely make out the angry expression on his face, before he continues on down the hall.

You hangout listening to the boy talk about the next supernatural creature trying to kill us all. As the bell rings, you tell Isaac you will see him later and once again kissing his cheek and walking away to your first class.

Once you walk away your brain won't stop buzzing. Did you really just kiss Isaac? Why have you waited all this time to be this close to him?

“What the hell was that?” Scott asks Isaac, pulling him from his obvious stare of your ass, as you walk down the hall. Isaac furrows his brows. “W-what are you talking about? We--uh. We are dating.” Isaac explains unconvincingly, while scratching the back of his neck.

Scott laughs, dramatically wiping a fake tear from under his eye. “Right. You’re dating Y/N. Sure. You know I can tell when you're lying right?” Scott reminds him. With a heavy sigh, Isaac tells Scott the truth. That you needed his help to get Matt off of your back and that it was your idea.

“Dude, you're so screwed. You can't fake date Y/N. You're totally in love with her.” Annoyed with the truth in the words that his Alpha / best friend stated, he rolls his eyes. “I know. But she needed help. I can't say no to Y/N.” Isaac pauses, thinking about how good you looked in his jersey. “Plus, did you see how hot she looked in my jersey?” He adds with a sheepish smile.

Scott pats his back with a laugh, starting to walk to his next class. “You're hopeless.”

Isaac has to keep reminding himself of this favor. But he can't help that it is making him fall for you even more. When this is over he knows he will be forever ruined, as your touch will linger on his body forever.

The rest of the day went by in similar fashion. Every time you would spot Matt, you would immediately find Isaac and kiss his cheek, hug him, or even hold his hand. Anything to convince Matt you two are dating. Which in turn has convinced the whole school. Though, that wasn't hard as everyone either thought you two were already dating or waiting for you two to date.

You couldn't lie, everything about being this intimate with Isaac felt… Natural. Like this is something you two should have been doing for years.

The game starts soon and you go to your locker to put your books away. You see Matt walking towards you and you start frantically looking around the hall, then it hits you, Isaac is in the locker room getting ready.

Taking a deep breath you turn back to face Matt. “Oh. Hello Matt.” Matt smiles wide looking you up and down, sending a wave of nausea through you. Something about him has always given you the creeps. “Y/N! I've been trying to get you alone all day. It seems Isaac and you were attached at the hip today.”

“Well, yes. That makes sense since we are dating.” You laugh nervously, shutting your locker hoping you can get out of this conversation quickly. Matt's face drops a little “Well, that makes sense. I mean the way he looks at you--” You cut him off. “What do you mean? How does he look at me?”

He laughs “He has always looked at you like you're the only person in the world. It's obvious he's in love with you. I just thought you weren't interested in him.”

During the whole game you had to keep reminding yourself that this was just to get Matt off your back. But now that he knows, you two can stop… But did you actually want to stop?

There's only 4 seconds left on the clock and Scott passes to Isaac. Knowing that he can hear you with his werehearing, you stand up cheering loudly for your best friend boyfriend. He dodges the two players coming after him and throws the ball at the net. The buzzer goes off just as the ball is in the air. It's as if everything is in slow motion, then slap. The ball makes it in the net.

The crowd goes wild. Allison is cheering for Scott, Lydia for Stiles. And you. For Isaac. Before you can think about what you're doing, you're running to the field heading straight for Isaac. Sensing you're near he rips his helmet off and opens his arms wide with that big goofy grin that you love on his face.

His hair is covered in sweat sticking to his head but you can't seem to bring yourself to care. You wrap your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist as he catches you and spins you around. When you start to pull away you look into his ocean blue eyes. When he looks down at you, you see the love in his eyes. The way that he will do anything for you, and you him.

Ignoring the hammering of your heart, your hands snake up into his hair, pulling gently off the shorter strands on his neck. You swear you can hear him groan as you lean your head in and your lips meet his. The butterflies in your stomach expand, reaching every part of your body as you both move incense.

Isaac feels as if the world stops and it's as if you're the only two on the field. His hands move from around your back down to hold tightly onto your ass, keeping you flush against him. He doesn't know what brought on this show of affection, but who is he to deny the girl he loves.

Swallowing the anxiety bubbling within, you slowly lean your forehead down to Issacs. “Y/N, can I kiss you?” He whispers. His heart is beating faster than it ever has before. He is sure that Scott will give him shit for it later, but at this moment, he cant find himself to care. Being here, holding his best friend girlfriend, in his arms. This is the only place he would rather be.

Without thinking, you immediately smash your lips to his. You can barely make out the cheers from your friends around you. All that you are able to focus on is Isaac. The way his lips move perfectly against yours, his hands on your ass.

When you both finally pull away and he puts you down, you keep your hands around his neck. “So…. Are we not pretending anymore?” You ask breathlessly looking up into his bright blue eyes, trying your hardest not to get lost in them.

“I never was.” He breaths.

If you’re interested in being on my taglist, please let me know!

My requests are open!

Isaac Lahey Taglist ~ @folklorde24 @rachlovesactors

#isaac lahey x reader #isaac lahey imagine #isaac lahey #isaac lahey oneshot #teen wolf imagine #teenwolf #Isaac Lahey fluff #isaac lahey x y/n #isaac lahey x you #teenwolf oneshot #wanna be writer #writters on tumblr #writting prompt

255 notes · View notes

callsign-rogueone · 5 months

Text

deja vu - b.d.

Bodhi Durran x reader part of Bodhi and Darling's story 💗 words: 2.9k 🏷: set in the year before Fourth Wing (Bodhi’s first year). one tiny book spoiler but it’s not stated explicitly, hurt/comfort, anxiety, imagined character death (in a nightmare). mild dissociation, anxiety, nausea, fighting (challenge match), one very small injury, canon-typical peril and danger.

“I love you,” Bodhi rasps, closing his eyes. “I’m so… sorry…”

“No, no, hey, look at me,” you beg, hot tears slipping down your cheeks. “You’re gonna be okay, we’re getting you help, but you have to keep looking at me, okay?”

He doesn’t respond, doesn’t move or make any indication that he can hear you. He’s silent, perfectly still — he isn’t breathing.

“Bodhi,” you cry, “Bodhi, please don’t leave me. Wake up, please.”

His heart has stopped beating. The love of your life, the man who had sworn to protect you, who you had sworn to love in sickness and in health and through the test of time, until the end of your days, is dead.

You feel like the air has been squeezed from your lungs, your breaths coming in choked sobs.

“Wake, child,” someone interrupts — Sìoda. “It’s just a dream. It’s not real.”

You shake yourself awake, panting like you’d been running for miles. You look down at your palms, illuminated by the gentle moonlight filtering into the room -- they’re clean; not streaked with Bodhi’s blood. It was just a dream. Just a terrible dream, likely a product of the overactive imagination you’ve had your whole life, and your anxiety about the dragonkind exam you have tomorrow that you’re convinced you’re going to fail, despite spending all evening studying.

“Your mate, and all of your brothers and sisters are safe in their beds,” she soothes, “as are mine.”

Oh. You still aren’t any good at shielding, so she’s been getting all of your emotions through the bond — you’d likely woken her up with your distress.

“I’m sorry,” you say in a guilt-ridden whisper. “I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

“Don’t apologize, my child. Just breathe.”

You mop up your tears with the sleeve of your pajama shirt, and focus on deepening your breaths, trying to relax your racing heart.

“There are still a few hours until formation,” she says gently. “Get some rest. You’ll need it.”

You lay back down, gazing at the wall of gray stone beside you, counting the bricks and trying to find patterns in the texture until the exhaustion overtakes you, and you fall back asleep.

Thankfully, your subconscious doesn’t torment you with any more cruel sights. You wake up to gentle November sunlight warming your skin and birds chirping — last month, a pair of doves had made a nest in the tiny alcove by your window.

You get dressed quickly, sorting out your hair and straightening your uniform. You’re in the middle of lacing your boots when there’s a knock at your door, the familiar rhythm that you know can only be Bodhi; like clockwork, he comes down the hall to get you every morning so you can walk to breakfast together.

You unlock the door with your mind, something you’ve been able to do for the last week, breathing a sigh of relief when he walks into the room unharmed and smiling. You hug him extra tightly, tucking your head into his neck and holding him a moment longer than usual, comforted by the steadiness of his breathing.

“You okay, Darling?” he asks, sounding concerned.

You hum in contentment. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

You don’t mention the dream, because nobody wants to hear about their own death, and it would be silly to bother him with something you’ve already gotten over — though you know the image of Bodhi bleeding out in your arms on the floor of that empty classroom will likely be burned into your brain forever.

He gives you an easy smile, shouldering your bookbag and gesturing for you to head out the door.

You’re comforted by the normalcy of the day. It’s almost too easy, too smooth.

Everyone is present and accounted for at breakfast, in good spirits — as good as they can be, in your current situation. Battle brief passes quickly, with no reports of catastrophe, though you know that they likely aren’t giving you all the information they have. The dragonkind test you’d been so worried about is much easier than you’d expected, and you have the rest of the afternoon off until dinner.

You don’t object as your squadmates suggest you use one of the empty common rooms to study in — the same one you’d seen in your dream.

What would you even say? Sorry, guys, but can we pick somewhere else to be, because I had a nightmare last night that Bodhi died in this room?

You shake it off, repeating Sìodha’s words in your mind as you crack open your textbook: It’s just a dream. It’s not real.

But then every word of the conversation going on around you starts to sound very familiar, like you’ve heard it before — like they’re reciting lines for a stage play.

It’s just a dream. It’s not real.

But this can’t be a coincidence. There’s too many similarities for comfort; the location, the timing — the sun is just starting to set — the exact page that each boy’s book is open to… you remember that, remember Sawyer’s book being open to a page with that same illustration.

“Have you done number four yet? It doesn’t make any sense.”

“Let me see.”

You predict their replies with nearly perfect accuracy — because you’ve heard this exact conversation before.

What if it is real? What if you’re trapped in an endless loop like in one of the novels you’d read, where the leading lady has to live the worst day of her life over and over until she figures out how to change it?

You could hardly bear to watch the light leave Bodhi’s eyes in that dream, and so help you gods, you are not going to see it ever again; you’re going to do something about it.

You’d read some theory in a philosophy book once that the flap of a butterfly’s wings can set off a chain of events that cause a hurricane. Would it be safer to stop this exact moment as it happens, or to interrupt now? Or was that dream really just a dream, and today will just be a normal day, or Basgiath’s version of normal, and you’re worrying over nothing?

“I don’t think that’s it. I think that’s the answer to number five, though.”

Those are the words. You’d almost missed them, too concerned about what’s going to happen in the next five seconds, but you should have just enough time if you act now. Sìodha seems to think so too, sending you a flood of urgency and panic.

You tackle Bodhi to the ground, wrapping an arm around his waist and putting a hand behind his head to cushion his fall as you both hit the floor. Your knuckles split on the impact, pain ripping through your hand, but all you can focus on is Bodhi underneath you — his eyes wide with shock, but still blinking up at you, his lips parted in a gasp, but not slick with blood, his heart racing, but not stopping.

There’s a shout from beside you, the clatter of metal against stone, and the sounds of a brief struggle. Dain has the would-be assassin pinned in a matter of seconds, Sawyer helping him restrain her and haul her away, leaving you and Bodhi alone, still tangled up in one another on the floor, his eyes locked with yours.

He finally manages to form words, but not a complete sentence, still stunned. “What… How did you… What?”

“I saw this in a dream last night,” you answer, your voice wavering. “I saw you sitting right here with me, talking to Sawyer. You said that same sentence, and then there was a knife in your chest.”

You look to your right, where it lays on the floor a few feet away — the exact shape and length as the one you’d dreamed of. “That knife.”

Bodhi’s eyes widen even further as he puts it together. “I think that was your signet,” he breathes. “You’re a visionary.”

You finally let go of him, moving to sit by his side on the cold stone of the floor and staring blankly at the dagger. It had missed either of you by at least three feet, but had you acted a second later, or not at all… That doesn’t matter, you suppose. What matters is that Bodhi is alive; that you’d been able to save him, because you’d known what was going to happen and you altered course at the last second.

You should be proud of yourself, but all you can think about is his words to you, and the implications thereof. If this is truly your signet, then you’ll have to watch this kind of thing happen over and over, and likely not just to Bodhi, but to the rest of your friends, too. But what if you can’t stop it next time? What if you see something happen to the twins? They’re a two-hour flight away, and you can’t abandon your post just because you had a dream that something bad happened to them.

Will any of your dreams be just dreams anymore, or are you going to see all manner of terrible things every night for the rest of your life? How are you supposed to distinguish between dreams and reality, between the sleepy inventions of your subconscious, or the magic of your signet?

“I’m sorry, child. It is a powerful gift to have, but it can be quite cruel.”

You can hear Bodhi speaking, likely a thank you and some soft reassurances, but you don’t process the words. You don’t respond to either of them, still not fully convinced that this isn’t another dream.

The warmth of his hand on your arm starts to pull you out of that numbness. “Talk to me, darling.”

“I watched you die,” you whisper. “There was nothing I could do. I just had to hold you, until… I thought it was just a nightmare, but then it started happening in reality, and...”

You shake your head, eyes welling with tears that you try to blink away. You tell yourself that there’s no reason to be crying, no use when he’s standing in front of you, alive, breathing and talking and holding your hand, but you can’t stop the flood of emotion; confusion and relief and horror and several other things you can’t put a name to right now.

“Hey,” he coaxes, “look at me.”

You focus your gaze on him, on those soft brown eyes that still blink at you, the rise and fall of his chest.

“I’m okay,” he says softly, wrapping your hand around his wrist, mindful of your scraped knuckles. He positions your fingertips over his pulse, pressing them into the skin so you can feel the gentle beat of his heart. “I’m alive, because you saved me.”

You nod silently, warm tears slipping down your cheeks.

He gathers you into a warm embrace, rubbing your back in soft, soothing motions. “I’m so sorry you had to see that, my darling girl. But the next time something like that happens, you tell me, okay? I don’t care if you wake me up at three in the morning, I want to be there for you.”

“Okay,” you whisper, resting your head against his shoulder.

“Good.”

You stay like this for a moment, just sitting with him and finding comfort in the warmth of his touch and the steadiness of his breathing.

“Do you want to go to the healers for your hand, or do you want me to wrap it up for you?”

“Want you to do it,” you answer softly, still feeling a little fragile. You don’t want to be away from him, even for a moment; you might work up the courage to ask if you can sleep in his bed tonight.

“Okay.” He presses a kiss to your temple, getting up to pack your bags.

Dain and Sawyer haven’t returned, likely still in Varrish’s office with the unbonded girl. You scribble a quick note to thank them, and to say that you’re done studying for the afternoon, leaving it on top of Dain’s book.

Bodhi picks up your bag, shouldering it along with his own.

He stops to pick up the dagger, sheathing it at his side, and you blink at him, confused. “You’re keeping it?”

“Of course I’m keeping it. It’s a memento of my first assassination attempt.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Only you could be so proud about someone wanting to kill you.”

He pulls you in closer, tucking you under his arm. “Not nearly as proud as I am of you. You should have seen it. I’ve never seen you move that fast in my life.”

Your cheeks warm in embarrassment, suddenly shy. “I was worried I’d lose you,” you say softly.

“You won’t ever lose me,” he soothes. “We made each other a promise, and I intend to keep it.”

“So do I,” you say quietly. “So do I.” ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You don’t have any more terrible dreams -- visions -- for the rest of the week, just a generalized sense of anxiety and insomnia, waiting for the next one and wondering what it’ll be, what terrible fate may befall one of your friends.

Each day that passes simultaneously soothes your anxiety and stokes it. If you aren’t dreaming of any terrible things, then they won’t happen, but what if you don’t dream them? What if you can’t see harm coming to them in advance, and thus can’t prevent it?

As soon as you enter the gym for Emeterrio’s class, it hits you again; that incredibly strong sense that something very bad is going to happen, very soon.

Bodhi sees your posture change, your normal relaxed and graceful presence tightening uncomfortably, and puts it together immediately, looking at you with concern.

“I have that feeling again,” you manage, forcing down the acid rising in your throat. “But this time, I don’t know what’s going to happen.”

“It’ll be okay,” he soothes.

“You don’t know that,” you reply, still looking around, surveying the gym for anyone that could pose a threat to you or any of your friends, which happens to be every single person in the room.

He takes your hand, and the feeling stops; vanishes completely, as if it was never there. Bodhi’s presence and his gentle touch have always been a comfort to you, often the only comfort you have, but nothing like that has ever happened before, a relief so intense and sudden.

Your gaze snaps to him, eyes widening. “How did you…”

He lets go, and the anxiety and nausea comes back in a tidal wave that nearly knocks you over. He lays a hand on your back to steady you, worried you’ll collapse, and the feeling dissipates again in the blink of an eye. Definitely not a coincidence.

“I think you turned it off,” you whisper. “When you let go, it came back.”

He blinks at you for a few seconds, processing. “Do you think that’s…”

“Laurent and Daneel,” Emeterrio calls.

Oh. That’s what you’re supposed to be worried about.

“Deep breath,” Bodhi prompts.

You inhale as deeply as you can before he moves his hand off of your back, and you aren’t hit with another tidal wave, just a normal, manageable level of anxiety appropriate for someone about to start a challenge match.

But as you step onto the mat, the anxiety fades into… something new. Confidence, like nothing you’ve ever felt before -- like you know you’re going to win this fight, without question, like it’s already been written down in the professor’s gradebook, and carved into history.

Interesting.

You lower your head to your opponent in respectful acknowledgement, getting a snarl in response. Well, then. Maybe this will be harder than you’d thought -- but you still have that unshakeable feeling that you’re going to come out on top.

She makes the first move, a punch that you’re able to dodge easily. She tries again -- and you step to the side without thinking, avoiding the blow by a few inches.

You continue dodging and blocking, reacting naturally, almost subconsciously, not even thinking about your movements.

You feel the same strange feeling you’d felt during the conversation leading up to Bodhi’s would-be assassination; you’d known all the words, knew what was going to happen because you’d seen it in a dream -- only you don’t remember dreaming any of this at all. It had been a total surprise that your name would be called with hers, the intense anxiety you’d felt being the only indicator, and even then, you’d been worried that it would be one of your friends in danger, not yourself.

Very interesting.

A slow smile spreads across your face as you realize exactly what is happening -- this is your signet at work, that familiar hum of power through your veins as you move, keeping you a few seconds ahead of everyone else in the room.

“You’ve had your fun,” Sìoda nudges, sounding amused. “Now end this, and end it well.”

The girl agrees. “Come on, you filthy fucking traitor! Fight me already!”

There’s a collective intake of breath from the quadrant as they wait for you to respond -- every eye in the gym is watching you, even the other cadets that are supposed to be fighting across the room, but you don’t move, don’t react to the comment, preparing for what’s going to happen next.

She hurls a dagger at you, enraged by your lack of engagement in this fight -- and your hand flies up to catch it, your fingers wrapping around the hilt and stopping it in midair.

Silence. Absolute dead silence.

You examine it for a second before you tuck it into your belt, looking back up at her. “Let’s fight, then.”

#bodhi and darling #bodhi durran #bodhi durran x reader #fourth wing #fourth wing x reader #mine #fourth wing fanfic

158 notes · View notes