#make sure you live your life the way you want it

[pucked-bunnie]

menace ⎜l.hughes

pairings: luke hughes x reader ⎜ ft matt rempe prompt: "back the fuck off" genre: fluff ⎜established relationship ⎜ warnings: matt rempe being a menace as per usual ⎜angry luke ⎜protective bf luke ⎜mentions of fighting ⎜insults towards reader and luke ⎜ synopsis: you never realised your boyfriend could get so fired up by a simple little comment. word count: 3.6k authors note:  this was requested a while ago and was the clear winner of the poll I put up so I hope you all enjoy. also don't pay too much attention to the timeline it is less than accurate.

(UNEDITED)

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Luke doesn’t know a lot about many things. 

But he does know a lot about hockey. 

His life has always been about hockey - sleep, eat, hockey, repeat - so when he met you it was refreshing to not have to live for hockey. 

It was refreshing to live for him. 

The first time the two of you had met, you were sitting at the only table with a free seat in the library - Lukes textbook for his sports management classes in his arms as he looks around for any other possibilities, not wanting to disturb the brunette girl with her nose in her own textbooks. 

“You can sit down, you know.” Your voice was quiet, and at first he was sure he had imagined it and continued glancing around for other seats. “I’m not going to bite.” You added as you pushed your headphones off your head, glancing away from your books at the lost boy. 

Lukes eyes shoot to yours, his head nodding quickly as he shuffles over to the seat, his shoulders rising in a cringe as his textbooks drop on the table - the bang resonating through the library, a few heads turning his way as he quickly slides into the chair. You watch him as he opens his text book staring at the page for a few moments before pulling his bottom lip between his teeth. 

“You good there, curly?” Luke's eyes raise to meet yours, your head tilted in amusement as you glance down at his books and then back up at him. 

“This class was supposed to be easy.” He admits slowly, sighing as a smile blooms on your face - your hand flicking closed your textbook, the front cover matching his. 

“Super easy.” You admit, as you close your laptop, your headphones are still around your neck as you scoot your chair around the round table to look down at his notebook. “You’re a bit behind on the lessons?” You question, noting his notes are from a class over two weeks ago. 

“I get caught up with sports sometimes.” He can’t help the goosebumps that rise as your arm brushes over his - reaching to flick his textbook back a few chapters. 

“You do know that the student comes first in the name student athlete?” Your words are sharp but the smile on your face lessens the blow, his head nodding quickly again - and he’s sure there’s a dumb glazed look in his eyes. 

“I can help you out if you want.” Lukes never agreed to something quicker in his life - his hand shooting out to shake yours as he almost yells his name in introduction - he repeats your name under his breath a few times after you return his introduction not wanting to forget anything about you. 

Months passed quickly - the two of you meeting up at least once a week to go over the material you had learnt in class, making sure Luke was understanding everything - even going as far as to FaceTime when the team was on road trips. 

It was a Thursday afternoon - the two of you sitting on Luke's small bed in his dorm room, textbooks splayed on the bed though neither of you were paying much attention to them. Luke's attention was focused on the hockey game on his laptop, and your attention was focused on him. 

“Hey, Luke?” You call quietly, his eyes never leaving the screen as he hums in response - his body tensing every time one of the players in red get close to the goal. “When are you going to ask me on a date?” Luke doesn’t look at you, but you can tell his attention is no longer on the hockey game in front of him - the goal horn blaring as he sits frozen on his bed. 

“You’d want that?” He finally asks, his voice cracking as his head lifts to slowly close his computer, his hands gripping the cold metal as he waits for your response. 

“I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t want it.” Luke can feel his heart burst in his chest, your hand reaching out, a gentle finger on his chin turning his head towards you - “ask me.” You say firmly, his eyes locked with yours as you wait for his brain to reboot. 

“Would you like to go on a date with me?” He asks, the words falling out of his mouth before his brain can catch up. 

“I would love to go on a date with you, Luke.” 

+

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It’s funny how true the silly little saying your parents teach you as a kid can be so true. 

Time really does fly when you’re having fun. 

It also flies when your boyfriend gets called up into the professional hockey league and has to leave you behind. 

“Did you watch the game today?” Luke asks through your phone, his small face on your phone propped up beside you on your desk, his hair wet from his shower post game, a soft glow on his skin as he smiles at you when you’re not looking. 

“Of course.” You say, jotting something in your notebook before closing it softly, “I also watched when you almost got your back broken by being hit into the bench.” You huff, a frown on your face as you glance over your boyfriend. Luke's smile drops a little, as he sits up in his bed, watching as you wipe at your face roughly. 

“I just worry about you, Luke.” You say quietly, your eyes teary - Luke can feel his heart stop as he looks around his room in panic, for what no one knows. Luke feels his chest tighten as you let a small sniffle escape before wiping at your face again. 

“When are you going to ask me to be with you?” Luke never knows what to do when you ask questions like this - his response typically falling under a freeze response, his brain moving slower than normal when you catch him by surprise. 

“You’d want that?” He asks, the deja vu settling in his bones as he adds, “What about school?” 

“I’m doing a degree in business management, Luke - I can do that online if I wanted to.”  Luke feels like he’s going to have long term effects if you keep making his heart stop and start like this - the deja vu hitting again as you add, “I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t want it.” 

Luke feels like he’s going to explode as he yanks his laptop from where it is charging, looking up flights and hotels as quickly as possible. 

Luke doesn’t know a lot about many things. 

But he knows he would pay whatever he had to, to have you here with him - to be able to entwine his two favorite things in his life together. 

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The last six months have been a crash course in ice hockey - after the play off season had ended with an unfortunate loss Luke had dragged you to Michigan for the summer, wasting no time in introducing you to his whole family and everyone around who would listen. 

His two older brothers had put in the work to sit you down every night after dinner. A game from the previous season loaded onto the T.V a notebook in your lap as Luke slipped onto the couch behind you - his hand fiddling with whatever they could latch onto. 

“Okay so what is it called if one player insults another player?” Jack quizzes, the video paused on his captain's mouth open mid yell. 

“Chirping?” You say Jack giving a strong nod and a smile, resuming the video. 

“And what do we do when someone chirps us?” Jack asks, his smile mischievous as he waits for you to respond. 

“Chirp back?” You assume, Jack clapping his hands together in joy as Luke shakes his head behind you - leaning forwards to pull your short hair out of its bun. 

“No, we ignore it.” Luke corrects, his fingers gentle on your scalp as he detangles the knots left in your hair from the day on the boat. 

“That’s not fun, Lukey.” Jack huffs, looking over to his older brother for back up, Quinn just throwing his hands up with a shrug. 

“I think ignoring it is a better answer.” Quinn says softly, his attention solely on his phone. 

“Alright let’s watch something else - I think she knows everything she can.” Luke says pulling the remote from Jack's hand as he exits off the hockey game, pulling up Netflix to scroll through. His arm banded around your waist as he pulls you to lie back against him, a blanket thrown over the two of you as his brother argues over what to watch. 

“The post is blowing up, Luke.” You say quietly, showing him the notifications on your phone - Luke had posted an instagram story early, undeniably hard launching the relationship into the public - both of you had expected some attention but this had been more than anything you would imagine. 

“It’ll settle down eventually - you’re lucky Jack hasn’t posted anything, that would probably make your phone crash.” You let out a small chuckle, leaning into Luke further as you scroll through your notifications trying to clear your inbox as much as possible. 

“Hold up, who’s that?” Luke asks as you stop scrolling through your inbox, clicking on the message he pointed at. “Matt Rempe? Why does that sound so familiar?” Luke questions as you click on his profile scrolling through the photos in confusion. 

“You mean the giant kid who was just signed to the rangers?” Jack asks, his attention momentarily leaving the movie trailer Quinn was showing on his phone to respond to Luke. 

“How do you know that?” Luke asks, his brother just shrugging in response. “What did he say?” Luke asks as you swipe back to the message reading over the words with a frown. 

“Hey, how’s heaven handling things now that you’ve left?” You read aloud, Quinn letting out a loud snort and Jack's mouth falling open in surprise. “Oh dear god, that’s bad.” You sigh, moving to delete the message before Luke’s hand stops you, his hand swiping the phone from your hand as his fingers tap on the screen. 

“Luke, what are you doing?” You hiss, watching as he types out a message before deleting it and starting again “What happened to ignoring it?” 

“This is off the ice - you don’t hit on other players' girlfriends.”  Luke types again before hitting send on the one sentence message. 

‘She has a boyfriend.’ You roll your eyes before snatching your phone back, the device dinging as you place it back in your lap. Luke looks at you expectantly as you pick up your phone again showing him the response. 

‘We’ll see about that.’ 

“He’s messing with you Luke, just leave it.” You say, blocking the players profile before turning off your phone and tucking it under the blanket before he can type out more messages to his fellow rookie player. 

The message echoes around Lukes head for the rest of the night - the man shocked by his fellow players' audacity. 

Luke doesn’t know a lot about many things. 

But he knows about hockey - and you don’t go after another player's girlfriend. 

+

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The season started off tense - with most of New Jersey’s star players out with injuries the team was scraping by on wins - only just managing to pull ahead towards the end of each game. 

The most anticipated game of the season slowly sneaking up behind every one - the New Jersey Devils against the New York Rangers - normally a big rivalry but this year everything seemed more tense - especially with the rising enforcer of the New York Rangers making his presence and dislike for the New Jersey Devils team known. 

“Everything will be fine.” You reassure Luke for the hundredth time, squeezing his hand once more before releasing it to fall back to his side, his face falling as he stares down at his empty palm. “I’ll meet you in the locker room after you take the arrival photos.” You say softly, before leaning up to press a soft kiss to his cheek, smoothing out his unruly curls before giving him one last smile. 

He watches as you walk away, greeting some of the staff you pass as you move to where the other family members were gathering to wish their player good luck before the game. You lean against the wall as you scroll absentmindedly on your phone, occasionally adding something to the conversation going on around you, each of the wags splitting off towards their players as they make their way to the locker room. 

“Excuse me?” A deep voice says from behind you, a large hand tapping on your shoulder. You turn slowly your head lifting as you glance up at the abnormally large man, his face immediately flagging recognition in your memory. “Are you a keyboard?” He asks quickly - your brows pulling together as you frown. 

“What?” You respond. 

“Are you a keyboard?” He tries again, waiting for a few moments before adding, “because I think you’re just my type.” You can’t help the scoff that comes out of you, physically cringing at the pick up line. 

“Wait, I have more.” He exclaims quickly, a soft smile on your face as you shake your head. 

“I’m aware - I’m pretty sure heaven is fairing pretty well without me.”  Your retort seems to strike something in the man's memory, his mouth falling open in surprise before a slow grin grows back in its place. “You’ve really lived up to your name as hockey’s new menace.” You add, glancing over your shoulder to see Luke making his way up to the locker room. 

“Ah so you’ve been watching me?” Matt’s confidence in himself is jarring, your frown deepening as you shake your head. 

“Unfortunately for me, you seem to pop up in a lot of conversations about my boyfriend.” You say quietly, “Maybe it was due to your blatant disrespect for your fellow rookie players in this league.” Matt hesitates for a second, his eyes grazing over your face for any sign that you were joking. 

“You’re not my type, and frankly I was hoping you got the message when I blocked you, but clearly your thick head isn’t good for anything other than fighting.” You add, and you know you shouldn’t be adding fuel to the fire but you just can’t help it. 

“Everything okay over here?” Luke's voice is like dousing fire with water, his hand smoothing over your back to sit against your hip as he slides up beside you.

“You should keep your girl on a tighter leash.” Matt speaks before you can reassure your boyfriend, “Seems like she’d jump ship to anyone offering her a good time.” You can feel Luke tense beside you, a few of his team mates pausing in their movement, watching their rookie player glare up at the intruder. 

While Luke has always been considered in the group of larger hockey players - Matt was on a whole other level. 

“What did you just say about her?” 

“You heard what I said - your girlfriend is a whore.” You flinch at the words, your arm looping around Luke’s back to grab hold of his suit jacket hoping he was smart enough not to engage with the larger man. 

“What are you gonna do about it?” Matt continues his taunting, your gaze flicking over your shoulder hoping to catch the attention of another person. 

Luke takes in a deep breath, rolling his eyes before stepping away from you a little, his hands moving you behind him slightly as he moves toe to toe with the fighter. “Look, back the fuck off dude. She said she wasn't interested and I’m not interested in paying a fine for bothering with someone like you.” 

You let out a sigh of relief as one of the older players steps up besides you, pulling you a step further away from the pair, his own glare set on the two boys. 

“This can be dealt with on the ice.” Kurtis says roughly, tugging on Luke’s arm to break contact, the rookie quickly following the wordless instructions of his veteran teammate. “Forget what you said about her…” Kurtis pauses, waiting for Luke to object before adding, “Why don’t you fight someone your own size?” You can see the anger rolling off the two rookies as they finally nod at each other in understanding, Matt glaring at the three of you before turning towards the away team locker room. 

“Leave him for me, Kid.” Kurtis says quickly as Luke turns towards him, adding “You’re not a fighter, Luke. We need you to be able to play.” Luke nods hesitantly, the two of you watching as Kurtis kisses his wife quickly before moving into the locker room, your gaze turning up to your boyfriend. 

“He’s right, you know.” You say. 

“I know.” Luke agrees, leaning down to give you a chaste kiss on your cheek before following after his team mate. 

“Play safe.” The words falter as Kurtis’s wife thread her arm through yours - reassuring you everything will be okay. 

“Kurtis will sort that kid out.” She says quickly, the cheeky gleam in her eyes.

The pre game warm ups move quickly - both teams seemingly tense on the ice, neither making much contact with each other, Luke goes through his normal motions, his body seeming no looser than before as he exits the ice to walk back into the locker room. 

“Why do I have a feeling this is going to be bad?” You ask the wives and girlfriends besides you - all of them agreeing with your gut feeling, all of you tense in your seats as you watch the teams take the ice again - a strange mix of players starting for New Jersey - Luke steaming from the bench as he watching the referee talk to the players at center ice. 

It’s not clear who starts it from where you’re sitting - but as soon as the puck hits the ice, chaos breaks out - each of the ten players on the ice matching up a five on five brawl sprawling across the ice. Most of the fights end quickly, each player slowly making their way to the penalty box as they get pulled apart by the officials, but one match up continues. 

Matt and Kurtis go head to head for over five minutes - both teams cheering them on the pounding of sticks on the boards echoing through the arena. Finally the two get pulled apart and to everyone's joy Kurtis comes away relatively unharmed - the other team's rookie seeming to have gotten the worst of the hits in the fight. 

You watch Luke yell something across the ice as Matt is dragged from the ice the two of them yelling at each other back and forth until Luke’s captain pats his shoulder gently, motioning for him to calm down.  

The game continues tensely - the ejected players cleaning themselves up before joining your group in the family area, Kurtis patting your shoulder gently as you thank him for stepping in. 

“The kid needing a proper welcome to the NHL - I’m glad I was the one to give it to him.” Kurtis says quietly, before adding, “Luke’s pretty fired up, try to get him home in one piece.” 

The game finishes with a loss for the Devils, everyone disappointed but unable to wipe the smiles off their faces as they reminisce on the earlier fight - everyone wanting to share their point of view. Luke pushes his way out of the locker room, his face set in a deep frown as he reaches his hand out for yours, his shoulder dropping a little as you squeeze your hand in his. 

“You need to relax and try not to crash on the way home.” You comment as you both get into the car. Luke lets out a long groan before flopping against the driver's seat.  

“I feel like such a wimp.” Luke’s words surprise you, your boyfriend had never had much interest in fighting before definitely being a lover and not a fighter. 

“Why?” 

“Because I let another player fight my battle.” You let out a snort of a laugh. 

“That’s his job, Luke.” Your boyfriend flicks his faze over to you, “He’s supposed to give and take the hits to keep the best players on the ice, I think Kurtis had more fun than anyone else that player today.” You continue, reaching over to pull on one of the curls sitting on his forehead. 

“It’s not a bad thing to know when to fight and when you’re outmatched - Matt is a fighter and knows what he’s doing and you’d be stupid to think you could take him on.” Your words are harsh, just like they were when you had first met - but the blow is softened as you smile softly as the man sitting next to you. 

“I’m proud of you for choosing the high road - he’s a meat head hockey player who’s got more brawn than skill - but you have talent and it would’ve been a shame to see you waste it all for one stupid fight.” Luke nods slowly at your words, turning his head to press a kiss against your palm before turning back to the front of the car. 

“Okay, I think it’s safe to drive now.” He jokes, his posture far more relaxed than it was before. 

Luke doesn’t know a lot about many things. 

But he knows that he would do anything for you. Even get in a stupid fight.

[moonstruckme]

Hii! I love your fics so much and I was wonder if you could do a emt marauders fix where the reader gets a concussion? I just got another one and it’s really taken a toll on me. (Again, I love your work SO MUCH!! It’s so comforting!!)

Hi my sweetheart! I'm so sorry, I swear I highlighted emt marauders when I was writing this request but somehow along the way I seemed to forget that it was supposed to be the au, I hope this is still alright (I'm very down to do another for emt specifically if you would like)! And I really hope you're doing okay!! Concussions are so rough, I hope your recovery is going well <3

cw: concussion

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.1k words

Sirius wakes to shushing sounds from down the hall. Bright sunlight has snuck in through the cracks in the blinds, laying itself down in slats across the bed. He’s laying nearly sideways with no one else to shove him away, one of his feet dangling off the side of the mattress and his head on the opposite pillow. 

He gets up though his body doesn’t want to, following hushed voices into the living room. The curtains are drawn closed here, too, though it’s light enough for Sirius to make you both out clearly, you sitting on the couch and Remus with your hands in his, speaking to you in a hushed voice while slow tears dribble off your chin. 

“Hey.” Sirius’ voice betrays his lethargy, but you don’t seem to notice. You look up with shiny eyes as he steps into the room. “What’s the matter, sweetheart?” 

The answer takes time to come to you. Sirius isn’t sure if you’re searching for the words or if your thoughts are just evading you as they have been since you got hurt, but his heart twinges when your brows bunch in concentration. 

Remus only looks at you steadily. He’s been the most patient with you; Sirius and James both have the urge to guess at the ends to your sentences when you get stuck, but Remus only waits, letting you parse it out in your own time. 

“I’m sad. Frustrated,” you decide, though you look more glum than angry. You sniff. “I want to be better already.” 

Sirius nods in both understanding and sympathy, going to sit behind you on the couch. He knows Remus isn’t the most tactile, but it kills him to see you with your shoulders shaking and no arms wrapped around them. He’s quick to remedy this.

“We were playing cards,” Remus explains in his quiet way (a way Sirius has been trying to mimic to accommodate your sound sensitivity, though it doesn’t come easily to him), “and she just got a bit upset when she didn’t remember whether aces were high or low.” 

Sirius tsks, nosing at your cheek. “That’s common enough, darling. It can go either way.” 

“That’s what I said,” Remus tells him. His thumbs carve twin paths up the sides of your palms. “It hardly matters, I’m happy to play with them high or low.” 

“I just wish I knew like usual,” you say, though you already seem to be calming. Your voice has taken on that distant quality again. It still sounds like you, just a tad dazed, like when you first wake up in the mornings. 

Sirius rubs up and down your shoulder, pressing his lips to the side of your chin. He can’t imagine it’s comfortable, feeling so unlike yourself. Worse to know it’s not changing soon. You hit your head a few days ago, and it’ll probably be some time until you feel completely normal again. 

Sirius has been told he can be dramatic, but when you’d fallen he honestly thought for a second that you were dead, you were so still. In the pandemonium of sirens and doctors and waiting rooms that had followed, James and Remus had each taken a bit of time to process things, get their emotions in order, but Sirius has never been able to cry in public. When they finally got to take you home, he’d gotten in the shower and cried so hard he thought he’d throw up. He’s honestly not sure if he’s ever been so terrified in his life. After you got into bed that night he’d hugged you so hard you’d called him James, and your boyfriends had all laughed before they realized you weren’t joking. 

He and Remus hold you in silence for some time. None of you seem to mind. Sirius is still too sleepy to get bored, you’re presumably too concussed, and Remus is still Remus. He can look at the two of you all day and never need a diversion. 

The room seems to come alive when James gets home, not only because of his sparkling personality but also because he lets in a bunch of sunlight and a cacophony of street noise with him. 

“Hello, my loves,” he says, adjusting his volume halfway through the sentence. He shuts the door behind him with care, dropping his rugby bag onto the floor with far less. “How are we doing?” 

“I’m doing horrible,” Sirius says, though it’s obvious he was really only asking about you. “I haven’t had anything to eat yet today.” 

“You have just woken up,” Remus points out with a droll look, but James indulges him. 

He sets a big hand on Sirius’ head and kisses between his own fingers. He smells like dirt and sweat, gross on anyone else but hot when it’s him. James gives you the same treatment next, palm stroking down the back of your head protectively. 

“You alright, lovie?” he murmurs. 

You hum. “Why?” 

“Nothing.” His eyes slide to Sirius, a question in them. “You look as though you might’ve had a cry, that’s all.” 

“Water under the bridge,” Sirius assures him, giving you a firm squeeze. “We’re all good now, just very hungry and in need of someone to make sandwiches for lunch. Right, baby?” 

You nod amenably, but Remus fixes you with a curious look. 

“Are you hungry, dove?” he asks. 

You take some time to mull this over. Sirius bites the inside of his lip to restrain himself, and he can see James doing the same to his cheek. It’s a good thing that you’re taking such a thorough inventory of yourself, he supposes, but it’s agonizing to watch how much effort it takes you. After a while, you say, “I think so.” 

Remus nods. “Alright. We had a snack a bit ago, but if you’re hungry you should eat. I can make sandwiches,” he shoots Sirius a teasing look as he starts to stand, “since I’m not in the habit of taking advantage of those who’ve just got home from training.” 

“No, sit.” James urges Remus back down with a hand on his shoulder, squeezing fondly. “I’ve got it, I’m on an adrenaline roll right now anyway. Egg and cress all around?” 

“Yes, please,” Remus says. You echo a moment later. 

Sirius can’t seem to detach himself from you, which isn’t unusual but has been worse since your injury. He dots kisses along the edge of your jaw to amuse himself. 

“Are you feeling tired?” Remus asks you. “You haven’t had a nap yet today.” 

Sirius waits for the inevitable joke about your nursing home schedule, but it doesn’t come. You must not be feeling up to it. 

You shrug, mumbling, “I’m okay.” 

“Have a nap with me after lunch,” Sirius says. “I’m knackered, and I could use a cuddle buddy.” 

You make a confused humming sound. “Were you just asleep?” 

“I was,” he admits readily. “And it’ll be even better the second time around, with you there.” 

[brodieland]

Heyyyy, so idk if you do this or notttt but could you write a nonevil!Luke AU where he moves in with Y/N after he gets too old for camp and after a few months they “adopt” Annabeth (she just stays w them during the school year) if not that’s ok! 🩵🩵

.˚ 𓈒 ���.𝝑𝝔 New York New Home !! ´ˎ˗

Luke Castellan x Fem!Aphrodite!Reader Synopsis: moving in with Luke, with a little Annabeth by your sides!! Tag(s): BLURB, cursing, nun to much Word Count: 842 A/N: ugh why are they such cutiesss

You sighed as you plopped your self onto the cold island in your brand new kitchen. When you and your boyfriend Luke turned 20, you both thought it was finally time to leave camp, make a life for yourself and move in together. It was the end of summer, beginning of August to be exact, but the heat still ripped through the apartment as if it were June.

"Yeah yeah, just sit there and look pretty," Luke grunted as he placed another box in the living room. "No need to help!"

You smiled and rolled over to your stomach, this kitchen was huge!! You rested your head on your hands as your feet swung in the air as you admired your sweaty boyfriend. The way his muscles were flexing as he lifted something heavy and his shirt sticking to him from his sweat made him look so yummy!!!

Luke just laughed as he walked over to you and leaned over you on the counter, "Pictures last longer y'know."

"Why take a picture when I can have the real thing," you gloated. He leaned down and slowly kissed you. He had one hand on your cheek while your cherry flavored chapstick drove him crazy.

"Yuck," Annabeth fake gagged as she walked through the door, with her book bag slung on her shoulders and duffel in hand. The two of you decided it would be best to take Annabeth with you and give her a home during the school year. You and Luke pulled away and looked toward the 13 year old girl who was sending disgusted looks towards the two of you. "Do I have to stay here, is this what I'm in for?"

"Oh come on, don't be like that," Luke chuckled as he ruffled her hair.

"Yeah Annie, we want you here," you said as you hopped off the counter, pulling down your lifted shirt. "You can even go to school now, you know how much you have to learn to be an architect?"

She sighed and smiled as she agreed, "guess your right."

"Ooh! Let's show you your room," you clapped as you held her hand and dragged her to an empty room. "Ta-Da!!"

You held out your hands as you showed off Annabeth's new room. You pointed toward the big window that looked over Times Square. Being a model with a boyfriend who can be a really good klepto whenever he wants can really rack up the cash. Luke just stayed back, leaning on the door way while the both of you geeked over the view.

Annabeth pulled her small digital camera from her bag and handed it to you, "Here, here, take my picture." She smiled and posed with a proud face as if she herself were the one who built the buildings.

"Perfect," you handed back the camera. "Sending it to someone?"

"Oh yeah, I wanted to show Percy the new house, especially the view."

"I'm pretty sure he knows little more about Time Square than you do," Luke joked, causing her to just roll her eyes, and grunt out a whatever. What a teenager in the making.

"You should invite him over and hang out before school starts. And you know we got you a trundle bed, if you wanted to have a sleepover or something."

"You'd let Percy sleepover?"

"We were thinking more like Thalia, now that she's back on her feet," Luke said.

"Yeah, your right," she chuckled.

"We'll let you get settled in," you smiled as you walked out with Luke trailing in behind you. You stared out into the empty living room, smiling while thinking about how you and Luke live together. He walked up behind you, hugging you by the waist. "We should really get some furniture."

"Why, I mean I don't mind sleeping on the floor. Childhood memories," he joked. You softly smacked his arm.

"Not funny."

"Your smiling."

"C'mere," you grabbed his hand, this time going to your room across the apartment. "This one's ours."

Your room was just as empty, but had the same view as Annabeth, just about an apartment length to the left. You walked back up to the window, place your hands on the glass. "So many people down there, we definitely need some curtains. Can't let someone catch me changing."

Luke came from behind you again, placing his hands next to yours, caging you in. "I don't know, don't you think they'd enjoy the free show?"

"You're such an ass," you smiled, turning around and placing your hands on his face. You pulled him down, and kissed him once more. Luke moved his hands from the glass down to your hips, pressing you on the glass behind you.

"Guys do you know how - AGAIN," Annabeth groaned at the sight of you two for the second time today. She just turned around and slammed the two shut while you and Luke exchanged looks. The two of you bursted out in laughter while Annabeth slowly creeped the door open again, "I still need help with something."

[whenlilyfallsinlove]

not anymore.

luke castellan x reader - college au, only one bed, enemies to lovers.

im back!! sorry for being afk, ive had lots of exams!

"oh, you have got to be fucking kidding me." you hear luke say as you drag your suitcase into the room.

you rolled your eyes at the sound of his voice, already mad as it was. this was supposed to be a fun weekend: your college has organised a trip for students to go to new york, which you had been excited for.

the trip was off to a great start - you and your friend clarisse had explored the city where you had eaten the best bagel in your entire life.

your happiness, however, was short-lived.

"I'M SHARING WITH WHO?!" your voice echoed through the hotel lobby, causing clarisse to nudge you.

"luke. apparently." clarisse says, almost amused.

"that can't be right. how is this even allowed?" you frown.

"well you're adults, so you're probably trusted-" she starts but you cut her off.

"i can not share a room with him clarisse, i fucking despise him." you groan. you had hated luke since kindergaten and he hated you. that was the way it had always been.

"it's only two nights." she tries to comfort you.

"ONLY TWO NIGHTS, THAT'S TWO NIGHTS TOO MANY." you despised him. he was the bane of your existence.

"you think I want to be sharing a room with someone as stupid as you?" a new voice came from behind you, you turned round to see luke stood, glaring at you. next to him was chris, who waved at clarisse.

"i'm way smarter than you. i have every right to complain." you glare back.

"oh, do you even hear yourself right now? you sound ridiculous." he replies.

"literally shut up, your opinion is irrelevant to me." you say.

"you're so fucking annoying oh my god." luke groans.

"i'm annoying?! you're the one who-"

you continued to bicker, completely forgetting your surroundings. chris and clarisse shared knowing looks with each other, the two of you claimed that you hated each other, sure. but the tension between the two of you was unmatched.

"hey.." clarisse says, dragging your attention from luke "at least there'll be two beds, you can just ignore each other."

this put a smile back on your face.

"thank fuck.." you say and the two of you begin to walk up to your respective rooms.

"what is it-" you were about to come out with some form of insult until you realised what his reaction was for.

there, in front of you, was your hotel room. with only one bed.

"are you taking the piss?" you let out an exasperated sigh.

"i think i'm going to die." luke groans.

"oh shut up, go see if we can change rooms." you remark.

"why can't you?" he responds.

"because i can't be bothered to come up all those stairs again" you respond, rolling your eyes like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"you're so lazy." he replies.

"are you gonna do it then or what?" you put your hands on your hips.

"fuck yes." luke replies, and leaves the room.

when he is gone, you let yourself fall onto the bed and groan. this could only ever happen to you. having to stay in a room with the boy you've hated since the age of 6 was one thing, but sharing a bed with him? even worse. you wish you had never come on this stupid trip. then you'd be at home, no luke, curled up in bed, watching the new season of bridgerton. was it too late to-

your thoughts were interrupted by the return of luke, who looked as if he was going to kill you for even breathing near him.

"well?!" you stand.

"there's no other rooms. this is the only one, we have to wait till tomorrow." he frowns.

"oh for the love of god." you say, putting your head in your hands.

"yeah. that's how i feel right now. stuck in a room with a freak." luke says.

"i hate you." you glare at him.

"the feeling is mutual." he glares back.

"you're such a dick."

"only because you are the most annoying person on earth."

"fuck this, i'm having a shower." you grab your pjamas and make your way too the bathroom.

"be quick. i want one." luke calls out.

"i want, doesn't get." you stick your tongue out at him.

"what are you.. eight?" he glares.

you flip him off and shut the door, locking it, and get in the shower.

the hot water calmed your anger, as you tried to take as long as possible. maybe you should try and drown yourself? i mean it would get you out of this situation. that was what you needed.

you continued to ponder the logistics with this until you realised your skin had gone a bit wrinkly from being in there for too long. you got out, dried yourself, and put your pjamas on. you regret how little you brought. the heat was stifling, so you had only brought some shorts and a small crop top. in your defence, you thought you'd be sharing with clarisse.

you opened the door, and walked out the bathroom, luke was layed on the bed, on his phone.

"fucking finally, are you done in the bathroom yet, you took-" he blinks, stopping once he sees what you are wearing.

"oh shut up. i'm done." you glare.

luke nods awkwardly - what the fuck was up with him? - his gaze lingering on your figure. he clears his throat.

"uh yeah. um good." he finally responds standing up.

"the fuck is up with you?" you give him a funny look.

"nothing weirdo." he snaps out of it, and makes his way to have a shower over his own.

you frown at his reaction - why was he being so weird. you shake your head, and get into bed, laying on the edge, and go on your phone.

after about fifteen minutes, luke responds and gets into the other side of the bed.

you lay in silence for about fifteen minutes, both not knowing what to say.

"you still awake?" luke asks you, turning over to look at you,

"why wouldn't i be?" you retort.

"it was just a question.. why are you always so hostile?!"

"because you annoy the living daylight out of me."

"you can't even look at me when you say that." he smirks.

he was right, your back was still turned. you roll your eyes but turn so you are facing him.

"yes i can. you annoy the living daylight out of me." you say looking into his eyes.

his eyes.. were they always this pretty? what was up with you? it was luke. LUKE.

"i know i do." he smirks, looking into your eyes.

you feel flustered. the two of you go quiet for a minute until luke breaks the silence.

"why do you even hate me anyway?" he asks.

"because you anger me." you respond.

"but why?"

"do you not remember when you pushed me off my bike when we were 6?"

"oh yeah. that was so funny." he smiles at the memory.

"no it wasn't." you retort.

"it was." he looks at you again.

the two of you go silent again. what was happening to you? was luke moving closer or was it just you? no he definitely was. was he leaning in-

"turn the light off. i'm tired." luke suddenly demands, catching you off guars. you immediately move away from him.

"um no? i'm not tired." you respond back. you weren't crazy.. you swear you had just had a moment with him.

"do i care?" he asks, avoiding eye contact with him

"i'm not doing it." you retort, rolling you eyes.

"fine. i'll do it." he gets up and turn the light off, leaving just the lamp on the corner on.

"oh you are so irritating." you glare, looking up at him.

"whatever, just go to sleep, we have to meet early tomorrow." he responds and gets into bed, turning his back away from you.

you mock him whilst his back is turned, and turn away yourself.

how were you supposed to get to sleep? you swear you were about to.. i don't know.. kiss luke. your mortal enemy.. except not really. you knew for sure he was right back to being the same old luke as before.

you frown and lay there for about ten minutes, trying to fall asleep.

"(y/n).. i'm.. sorry." you hear luke mutter, next to you. luke had NEVER apologised to you before. EVER. but you were still mad.

"go to sleep." you repeat what luke said to you. you were petty, what can you say?"

"i can't." he responds, making you roll your eyes.

"you can't?! you literally said you were tired." you say.

"how in the hell do you expect me to sleep when you're right there and i can't stop thinking about you?" he raises his voice, catching you off guard.

what. the. fuck. what did he mean. what.

you turn over, to see luke already staring at you.

"what.." you feel your breath hitching in your throat as you see luke already looking at you.

"you're the bane of my existence. i hate you. you get under my skin. but fuck.. why do you have to be so beautiful?" he says, looking into your eyes.

"luke.." you mutter.

"i can't hold back any longer, (y/n), i can't keep pretending i don't l-"

you interrupt him by crashing your lips onto him, kissing him hungrily. luke happily returns the kiss, wrapping his arm round your waist.

after about ten seconds, you pull away.

"i'm sorry, i shouldn't have-" you aplogise.

"don't be sorry. i liked it." he replies, making you smile.

well one thing was now certain for sure. you definitely didn't hate each other anymore.

[stylesispunk]

"I love you, it's ruining my life" | part iii.

Joel Miller x f!reader

previous chapter | part iv

Summary: Joel tried to win you back or where Joel goes all his way to find you but things are not as easy as he thought or that's what he thinks. w.c: 5,7k warnings: angst, FLUFF. Perhaps grammar mistakes cuz I didn't check the chapter, sorry. Not my best chapter, but some hearts are going to be happy a/n: As I promised, part 3 is here! Thank you so much for all the love you gave it to the first part, I'm really happy you loved it despite the messy writing. This one is not my best, but some hearts will be mended. This was a messy week for me and I was not completely focused on this, but I wanted to give it to you. AGAIN, this part will not be the end, so a fourth and last part is already in the works to end this mini-story since I split this chapter in two :) If you have a suggestion, question, or want to talk to me, you can come to my dms or asks! Happy reading 💌 dividers by @/saradika-graphics

Five years ago,

On your 25th birthday,.

Years were passing by; it was your 25th birthday, and your friends had decided to throw a grand party for you in a dowtown venue. Of course, Joel had told you he couldn’t make it; he couldn’t leave Sarah behind, and being a single father of a three-year-old at twenty-five held him back from dropping everything and just coming to your party.

You stood by the entrance, looking around at the lively scene, when you decided to give Joel a call. He had told you earlier that he couldn’t make it; being a single father of a three-year-old at twenty-five made it impossible for him to drop everything and come to your party.

“Are you sure you can’t make it?” you asked through the phone, your voice tinged with a hint of disappointment. The noise from the party buzzed in the background.

“Oh, sweetie, you know I would love to be there with you, but I’m having a party with my baby,” Joel replied. You could almost see his smile through the phone, picturing him sitting on the couch, trying to make Sarah fall asleep in his arms.

Though you understood, a part of you felt incomplete without him there, and you knew exactly why.

“Okay, then,” you replied, trying to keep your tone light and cheerful despite the sinking feeling in your chest.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, promise,” he said, his voice warm and sincere.

“Alright, Joel. Give Sarah a kiss for me,” you said before hanging up.

The party continued in full swing, but you found yourself increasingly detached from the celebration around you. The laughter and conversations felt distant, overshadowed by the thought of spending your birthday without Joel. Finally, unable to shake the feeling, you made your excuses and slipped away from the party, leaving the lively party behind.

Joel was exhausted. He had put Sarah to sleep and just sat on the couch to watch a movie, wanting to keep himself awake and make sure you would arrive home safe and sound. As the soft glow of the TV flickered in the dimly lit room, he couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt for not being able to celebrate your birthday with you.

Lost in his thoughts, Joel was startled by a soft knock at the door. Frowning, he glanced at the clock—it was late, and he wasn’t expecting anyone. He stood up, making his way to the door and opening it to find you standing there, a small, tired smile on your face.

He said your name, shocked.

“What are you doing here?” Joel asked, his eyes wide with surprise and concern. “Shouldn’t you be at your party?”

You shrugged, stepping inside and giving him a warm hug. “I was at the party,” you said, your voice soft and filled with emotion. “But I realized that there’s no place I’d rather be on my birthday than here with you,” you paused, “and Sarah, of course.”

Joel’s expression softened, a mix of relief and gratitude washing over him. “Sarah is sleeping, and you didn’t have to do that,” he said tenderly. “It’s your birthday. You should be out celebrating.”

You shook your head, your eyes meeting his with unwavering sincerity. “This is where I want to be,” you replied firmly. "Besides, I brought food,” you said, lifting bags in front of Joel's face.

Joel's smile was slow but genuine, a warmth spreading across his features as he pulled you into a tight embrace. “Happy birthday,” he whispered, his voice filled with affection.

As you both made your way to the kitchen, you unpacked the food you had brought. It was a simple spread—some of your favorite dishes from the party. You set the table, and the cozy atmosphere of Joel's home makes you feel more at ease.

Joel poured you both a drink, and you sat down to eat, sharing stories and laughter. The conversation flowed naturally, as it always did between the two of you. It was moments like these that reminded you why Joel was such an important part of your life.

After finishing the meal, you both moved to the living room. Joel put on a movie, and you settled onto the couch, comfortable in each other's presence. The noise of the TV filled the room, but it was the quiet, unspoken bond between you that brought the most comfort.

As the movie played, Sarah stirred from her sleep and toddled into the living room, rubbing her eyes. "Bubu?" she said, her voice sleepy and endearing.

You smiled, reaching out to her. "Hey there, birthday girl," you said softly, lifting her onto your lap. Sarah snuggled against you, her tiny arms wrapped around your neck.

Joel watched the two of you, a soft smile playing on his lips. "It looks like Sarah wanted to join the party," he said, his voice filled with warmth.

You laughed; the sound was light and happy. "The best party I could ask for," you replied, hugging Sarah close.

As the night went on, the three of you sat together, enjoying the simple pleasure of each other's company. The flickering light of the TV cast a warm glow over the room, and in that moment, everything felt perfect.

Joel glanced over at you, his eyes filled with gratitude and something deeper that he couldn't quite put into words. "You really made my night by coming here," he said softly, his voice thick with emotion.

"I couldn't imagine spending my birthday any other way," you replied, your heart full. "Thank you for being here for me, always."

Joel reached over and took your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. "We're always here for each other," he said, his voice a promise. "No matter what."

Joel didn’t know why his heart felt like it was exploding every time you were around.

A year had passed since you left, and Joel found himself constantly haunted by memories of you. The days had blurred together into a monotonous routine, and the nights were filled with restless thoughts of what might have been. Every corner of his house reminded him of you, from the empty chair at the dining table to the quiet, lonely evenings after Sarah had gone to bed.

Joel spent the year focusing on Sarah, trying to be the best father he could be while grappling with the void your absence had left. He poured his heart into his work, his family, and his responsibilities, but nothing could fill the emptiness that lingered in his heart.

As the months went by, Joel found himself yearning to see you again, to hear your voice, and to feel your presence. He knew you needed time and space to heal, but he couldn't shake the feeling that he needed to find you to see if there was any chance of rebuilding what they had lost.

And so, with trembling hands and a heart full of fear, Joel found himself standing in New York, pacing back and forth in front of your building. The bustling city seemed to move around him in a blur, the noise and energy contrasting sharply with the turmoil inside him. He had come all this way, but now, standing so close to you, he was paralyzed by doubt.

Had you thought about him the same way he had been thinking about you? He thought for himself while pacing back and forth over the cobblestones in front of the building you lived in.

Joel couldn’t make up his mind until the exact moment he took all this courage and flew all the way here to find you. It felt surreal to be in this city, so far from the familiar life he had known, all for the chance to see you again. The realization of how much he had missed you and how deeply he still cared had driven him to this point. Now, as he stood in front of your building, the weight of his decision pressed heavily on his shoulders.

His thoughts raced with questions and doubts. What if you had moved on? What if you were happy without him? What if seeing him only brought back painful memories you had worked so hard to move past? These fears churned in his mind, paralyzing him with indecision.

He looked up at the windows, imagining you inside, living your life. The city around him buzzed with activity, but Joel felt isolated, trapped in his own whirlwind of emotions. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself, but his hands still shook as he clenched and unclenched them.

Joel stood there, the city’s noises fading into the background as he lost himself in his thoughts. His mind drifted back to the moment he realized he was in love with you, a moment that had come so unexpectedly yet felt so right. It was a quiet evening, long before the chaos of the last year, when he saw you playing with Sarah in the backyard of his house. The way you laughed and the tenderness in your eyes as you helped Sarah with her tiny steps had struck him deeply.

It had always been you, he realized. Through all the ups and downs, the moments of joy and sorrow, you have been the constant in his life. Tess had been important, but she felt like a chapter in his life.

The night before he was supposed to get married, when you confessed your feelings, was etched in his memory. Your vulnerability and the raw honesty in your eyes had shaken him to his core. How he had kissed you then, driven by an overwhelming need to bridge the gap between what he had always felt and what he had denied for so long.

Now, standing in front of your building, the weight of that realization pressed heavily on his chest. He had almost married another woman, but it had always been you. His heart ached with the knowledge of the pain he had caused—the confusion and hurt that had driven you away.

Taking another deep breath, Joel forced himself to focus. He had come here to make amends, to lay bare his soul, and to hope that you could find it in your heart to forgive him. His hands still trembled, but the resolve in his heart was unwavering. He needed to see you to tell you that he loved you, that he had always loved you, and that he was willing to do whatever it took to rebuild what you both had lost.

Just as Joel mustered the last of his courage to cross the street and approach your building, he heard the sound of a car pulling up. He glanced over and saw you stepping out, laughing with a man beside you. His heart sank at the sight, a mixture of jealousy and heartbreak washing over him. The scene before him seemed to confirm his worst fears—that you had moved on and found happiness without him.

You looked radiant, your laughter lighting up the whole town, and he smiled at the sight of you.

He stood still, not knowing what to do, just asking himself, How could you be able to bear the burning feelings in your heart at the sight of him with another woman and still be so good to him? It hurt like he was feeling it now.

Joel stood there, his heart aching as he watched you, his mind racing with thoughts of the past and the overwhelming emotions he was experiencing in the present. He felt an immense sense of guilt and regret for the pain he had caused you, and now, seeing you with someone else, he couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy and sadness.

His thoughts were interrupted when you looked up and locked eyes with him. The shock on your face mirrored the turmoil inside him. For a moment, time seemed to stand still, the bustling city around you both fading into the background.

Your smile faltered, replaced by a look of surprise and confusion. You stopped in your tracks, the man beside you following your gaze to where Joel stood. Joel felt his breath catch in his throat, unsure of what to do or say. The reality of the situation hit him hard—he had come all this way, and now he was standing before you, unsure if he even had the right to ask you for a chance.

He was about to go when he heard your voice.

"Joel," you said, crossing the street, your voice barely above a whisper. "What are you doing here?"

Joel took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. "I came here to see you," he said, his voice gaining strength. I came here to tell you that I love you. I know I hurt you, and I know I have a lot to make up for, but I couldn't let another day go by without telling you how I feel. He thought.

"Joel," you began, your voice filled with a mix of emotions. "It's been a year.”

“I know. It’s just,” he paused for a second, “forget it.”

Your words hung in the air, heavy with unresolved emotions. Joel felt the weight of them pressing down on him, his heart sinking with each passing moment. He knew he had no right to expect forgiveness or to ask for another chance. But he couldn't bear the thought of walking away without at least trying to make things right.

As he turned to go, he felt a gentle hand on his arm, stopping him in his tracks. He looked back to see you standing there, your eyes filled with a mixture of sadness and uncertainty.

"Joel," you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "Please don't go."

He hesitated, torn between the desire to flee from the pain of rejection and the hope that maybe, just maybe, there was still a chance for redemption.

"There's a café around the corner," you continued, your voice steady despite the emotions swirling inside you. "Let's go there and talk."

He graced his lips with a tiny smile and nodded.

“Just wait here a second.”

To say you were fine would be a lie. Of course, you have been better since you were in pieces. You had thought about Joel every single night since the day you left. He was coming home to a woman who wasn't you, sleeping and waking up next to her, having a family. Perhaps on the possibility of Tess being pregnant, you were sitting across from him, the man who had once been your everything.

Joel looked older and more worn, but there was a softness in his eyes that you recognized. You could tell he was nervous, and it mirrored your own anxiety. The silence between you was thick with unspoken words and unresolved emotions.

"I didn't know if I'd ever see you again," you finally said, your voice barely audible over the hum of the café.

Joel nodded, his fingers wrapped tightly around his coffee cup. "I didn't know if you'd want to see me," he replied, his voice rough with emotion.

You looked down at your own cup, the steam rising in gentle tendrils, and took a deep breath. "How did you know my address?”

“Tommy.”

“That fucker,” you joked. 

Joel chuckled, "I know," he said, his voice breaking slightly. “But don’t blame him; I asked him.”

You glanced up, meeting his gaze. The intensity in his eyes was almost overwhelming, and you felt a flicker of hope ignite within you. "Why?”

“Why?”

“Yes. Why, after a whole year, Joel?” You questioned him, not calling him by tender names anymore. The way you called out his name felt strange and foreign.

Joel's smile faded slightly, replaced by a look of deep introspection. He took a moment before responding, his gaze dropping to his coffee cup. "Because you needed time, and I did, too,” he said softly.

You nodded, not uttering words. There was anything for you to say, or so you thought. “I-How… How is Sarah?”

Joel's smile faded slightly, replaced by a look of deep introspection. He took a moment before responding, his gaze dropping to his coffee cup. "Because you needed time, and I did, too," he said softly.

You nodded, not uttering words. There was nothing for you to say, or so you thought. “I—How… How is Sarah?”

“She misses you,” Joel replied, his voice thick with emotion. "She talks about you all the time and wonders when you’ll come back. I didn’t realize how much you meant to her until you were gone."

A lump formed in your throat as you thought of Sarah, her innocent face, and the bond you had shared. "I miss her too," you admitted, your voice breaking slightly. "She’s a big part of why I stayed away. I didn’t want to confuse her or make things harder for her."

“How could you? You were everything to her.”

“I bet Tess loves her that much too.”

Joel chuckled again. It felt almost insulting to you. “I didn’t marry Tess,” he confessed.

Your eyes widened in surprise at Joel's confession. “What?” you asked, barely able to believe what you had just heard.

Joel looked down, his fingers tracing the rim of his coffee cup. “I didn’t marry Tess,” he repeated, his voice quieter this time, laden with the weight of his decision.

“But why?” you asked, your voice a mix of shock and curiosity. “I thought...”

Joel sighed, lifting his gaze to meet yours, his eyes filled with a mixture of sadness and resolve. “I couldn’t go through with it. It wasn’t fair to her, to Sarah, or to myself. My heart was never fully in it because my heart has always been with you.”

You felt a rush of conflicting emotions—relief, confusion, and a lingering ache from the past year’s pain. “Joel, I...”

Your words got cut. You felt shame wash over you once again. Guilt, as if you committed treason and ruined another person's life. You thought about Tess.

Your words got cut short, replaced by a wave of overwhelming emotions. Shame washed over you, followed by a torrent of guilt. You thought about Tess and the life she might have imagined with Joel, a life you had inadvertently disrupted. The weight of it all felt suffocating.

Unable to sit still, you stood up abruptly, pushing your chair back with a screech that drew a few curious glances from the other patrons. Joel looked up at you, alarmed by your sudden movement.

“Wait, where are you going?” He asked, his voice laced with concern and a hint of desperation.

You took a step back, shaking your head as if trying to clear the whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. “I-I can’t do this, Joel,” you stammered, your voice trembling. “It’s too much. I feel like I’ve ruined everything.”

Joel stood up as well, reaching out to you. “You didn’t ruin anything,” he said softly, trying to reassure you. “I made my own choices. I couldn’t marry Tess because it wouldn’t have been fair to anyone. Especially not to you.”

Tears welled up in your eyes as you looked at him, the pain and confusion evident in your expression. “How can I live with myself knowing I caused her so much hurt?”

Joel took a step closer, his hands gently reaching out but stopping just short of touching you, respecting your space. His eyes were filled with a mix of determination and tenderness as he spoke, his voice steady but earnest. “Tess and I have talked,” he said. “She deserves someone who can love her fully, and I realized that person wasn’t me. It was a hard decision, but it was the right one for both of us. She’s moved on, and she’s happy.”

You searched his eyes, seeing the sincerity and deep affection that had always been there. But the weight of guilt and the fear of causing more pain were too overwhelming. You couldn’t shake the feeling that you were to blame for the hurt Tess had gone through. “I don’t know if I can do this,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

You shook your head, the tears spilling over as you took another step back. “I can’t, Joel. I just can’t,” you said, your voice breaking. Turning away, you started to walk towards the exit, your heart pounding in your chest.

Joel’s voice rang out, louder and more desperate, stopping you in your tracks. “Will you run away from me again?! It seems like a habit of yours!

His words stung, and you spun around, your eyes blazing with a mix of anger and hurt. “A habit? You think running away is a habit?” You shot back, your voice trembling with emotion. “Do you have any idea how hard it was for me to leave? How much did it tear me apart?”

Joel took a step closer, his face etched with frustration and pain. “I know it was hard. It was hard for me, too. But you can’t keep running every time things get tough. We need to face this together.”

“Us? There’s no us, Joel!” You echoed, incredulous. “You were about to marry someone else, Joel! How was I supposed to face that?”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair, his eyes filled with regret. “I wish you had never told me about your feelings; I wouldn't have lost you.”

“'You would, though.” You whispered.

“You're the coward here.” He cried out.

“Did you want me to spend a whole fucking year of my life waiting for you? You were supposed to be married; you never saw me the way I saw you, and I wasn’t going to stay there to watch.” You paused. “I waited for you to call me to show me I was important, but... Listen, I don't blame you. How could I? You didn't know.” You tried to say, hoping to change the tone this conversation was taking, but for Joel, everything you said didn’t matter anymore.

“The man you were with...”

“We’re dating,” you replied, not meeting his gaze.

Joel’s expression hardened at your admission; the pain was evident in his eyes. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself, but the anger and frustration bubbled just beneath the surface. “You’re dating someone else,” he repeated, his voice strained. “And you didn’t think I deserved to know? You didn’t think I had the right to fight for you?”

“What was there to fight for, Joel?” You shot back, your own anger rising. “You were getting married to someone else. How could I believe there was anything left for us?”

Joel ran a hand through his hair again, his movements agitated. “Fuck this,” he said, his voice breaking. He turned and started to walk past you, his shoulders tense with unresolved emotion.

You watched him go, a part of you wanting to reach out and stop him, but the pain and confusion held you back. “Joel, wait,” you called after him, but he didn’t slow down.

The weight of the past year’s emotions, the regrets, and the missed opportunities pressed down on you as you watched him walk away. You wanted to scream, to cry, to do something to make it all better, but the words wouldn’t come.

Joel pushed open the door to the café and stepped outside, the sound of the city flooding in. He paused for a moment, his back to you, as if he were wrestling with the decision to leave or stay. The seconds stretched into an eternity, the distance between you feeling insurmountable.

“Joel, please,” you said, your voice breaking. “I don’t want to lose you again.”

He turned around slowly, his eyes filled with a mixture of anger, hurt, and something deeper—hope. “I came here to see if you were good,” he said simply, his voice raw with emotion. “I don't want to accept that losing you is our fate, but if you’re happy the way you are now, I have nothing else to do here.

"Joel,” you called out his name again, but he disappeared into the crowd. Tears welled up in your eyes as you watched him walk away, a sense of loss washing over you. You wanted to run after him, to tell him that you weren't happy and that you still loved him, but the words caught in your throat.

Joel had come all this way to find you, to see if there was still a chance for the two of you, but now he was walking away, and you didn't know if you would ever see him again.

Feeling lost and adrift, you sank into a nearby chair, the weight of your emotions threatening to overwhelm you. The café buzzed with activity around you, but you felt completely alone, the absence of Joel's presence like a gaping hole in your heart.

As you sat there, grappling with the pain and regret, you realized that you had to make a choice. You couldn't continue living in the past, holding onto what might have been. If you wanted a chance at happiness, you had to let go of your fears and take a leap of faith.

You wanted him to forgive you for not waiting for him, but a year after radio silence was the answer you got. Not fighting, not callbacks asking you to come back. The love you had for him felt childish, with promises made but never to keep, and maybe you had just closed the door to him.

Back in your apartment, the weight of the recent events bore down on you like a heavy burden. Tears streamed down your cheeks as you sat on the edge of your bed, clutching your cell phone tightly in your hand. The breakup with the guy you had been dating had been inevitable, with your feelings for Joel still lingering beneath the surface, stronger than ever.

With trembling fingers, you scrolled through your contacts until you found Joel's name. Taking a shaky breath, you pressed the call button and waited, your heart pounding in your chest.

After what felt like an eternity, Joel's voice came through the line, filled with warmth and concern. "Baby?" he said, his voice sending a shiver down your spine.

Tears welled up in your eyes again at the sound of his voice, the flood of emotions threatening to overwhelm you. "Why did you have to come back to do this?" you whispered, your voice raw with pain and longing.

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the line, as if Joel was trying to find the right words to say.

“I could prove to myself that my life could continue without you, but you had to come back and fuck up everything, Joel?

The words spilled out of you—a mix of anger, frustration, and hurt. You wanted to push him away, to shield yourself from the pain he had brought back into your life, but at the same time, you couldn't deny the love you still felt for him, pulsing beneath the surface like a live wire.

Joel's response was barely a whisper, his voice heavy with remorse. "I'm sorry," he said, the words hanging in the air between you like a weight. "I never meant to hurt you."

The tears flowed freely down your cheeks now, your heart torn between conflicting emotions. "But you did," you choked out, the pain of the past year crashing over you in waves. "You hurt me so much."

There was another pause, and then Joel spoke again, his voice thick with emotion. "Tell me how to fix it," he said softly. "And I'll spend the rest of my life trying to make it right."

His words hung in the air—a promise and a plea all at once. You knew that forgiving him wouldn't be easy and that rebuilding what you had lost would take time and effort, but deep down, you couldn't shake the feeling that maybe, just maybe, there was still hope for the two of you.

"I just wanted for you to love me the way I love you," you whispered, your voice barely above a breath. The admission hung heavy in the air, the raw vulnerability of your words laying bare the depth of your feelings.

Joel's response was immediate; his voice was filled with regret and longing. "I do love you," he said, his words laced with sincerity. "I was just too blind to see it before, too scared to admit it to myself."

"I don't want to hear it on the phone, Joel," you said softly, your heart pounding in your chest. The thought of facing him again, of seeing the pain and longing in his eyes, was both terrifying and exhilarating.

There was a pause on the other end of the line, as if Joel were considering his response. Then, finally, he spoke, his voice filled with determination. "Then open your door," he said simply.

Your breath caught in your throat at his words, the weight of the decision pressing down on you like a heavy burden. You walked over to the door and turned the handle, pulling it open slowly. There, standing on the other side, was Joel, his gaze filled with a mixture of hope and uncertainty.

For a moment, neither of you spoke; the weight of everything left unsaid was hanging heavy in the air. Then, finally, Joel stepped forward, closing the distance between you.

You held each other's gaze for a long moment, the silence between you speaking volumes. Then, without a word, Joel reached out. Without a word, Joel reached out and gently cupped your face in his hands, his touch sending shivers down your spine. His gaze locked with yours, filled with an intensity that made your heart race.

And then, slowly, almost hesitantly, he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours in a tender kiss. In that moment, the world seemed to fall away, leaving only the two of you suspended in time.

The kiss was soft at first and tentative, as if both of you were afraid to fully give in to the overwhelming emotions swirling between you. But then, as the warmth of his lips met yours, something shifted, and the kiss deepened, becoming more urgent and more passionate.

It was as if all the longing and desire that had been building between you for so long finally found release in that single moment of connection. You melted into his embrace, your arms wrapping around him as you kissed him back with equal fervor.

As your lips parted, Joel looked into your eyes with a depth of emotion that took your breath away. His voice was filled with sincerity as he spoke, and his words were a heartfelt confession of his love for you.

"I love you," he said, his voice barely above a whisper but resonating with a depth of feeling that echoed through the room. "I have always loved you, from the moment you opened the door. You've been in my thoughts every day, in every moment. I can’t just pretend I want a life without you in it.”

Tears welled up in your eyes at his words, the weight of his confession washing over you like a wave of emotion. All the doubts and uncertainties melted away in the warmth of his love, leaving only the undeniable truth of your connection.

"I'm sorry it took me so long to realize it," Joel continued, his voice filled with regret. "I was scared of losing you and of facing my own feelings. But now, I know that I can't live without you. You're the missing piece of my heart, the one I've been searching for all along."

You wrapped your arms tightly around Joel, pulling him close and burying your face in the crook of his neck. His warmth enveloped you, comforting and familiar, as if you were finally coming home after a long journey.

Tears of relief and joy streamed down your cheeks, mingling with the scent of his cologne. In his arms, you felt safe, loved, and understood in a way you had never experienced before.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I never meant to hurt you like I did," he sobbed, not letting you go from his hold. "I felt I stabbed myself in the heart that day. God, when I read that letter...

"Do you remember the night we met? When you went to-“ You began.

"Your house with Sarah, yes. Of course I do," he continued for you.

"I lied to you that night."

His eyebrows furrowed at the words. 

"I said I had you come back home, but in fact I was going on a date with my boyfriend.”

"Did you have a

"Yes, he was a sweetheart, and I stood him up for my neighbor that night.”

"Why did you love me back then?"

You didn't reply; no words were enough for that.

"This whole time without you, God has been... miserable," he said.  "I'm sorry," he repeated, his voice choked with emotion. "I'm so sorry. I never meant to hurt you like I did."

You reached up, gently brushing away the tears that streaked his cheeks. "I forgive you, Joel," you whispered, your voice filled with love and understanding. "I forgive you because I know that your heart was always in the right place, even if your actions didn't always reflect that."

He leaned into your touch, his eyes searching for yours for reassurance. "I love you," he said softly, his voice trembling with sincerity. "I've loved you from the moment I met you, and I'll love you for the rest of my days."

Tears welled up in your own eyes as you felt the weight of his words sink in. "I love you too, Joel," you replied, your voice filled with conviction. "More than words can express."

Joel leaned in and gently pressed his lips against yours. It was a tender and passionate kiss, filled with years of longing and unspoken love.

Wrapped up in each other's arms, you felt a sense of completeness that you hadn't experienced in a long time. Every touch and every caress was a silent affirmation of the love that had endured despite the trials and tribulations you had faced.

As you deepened the kiss, your hearts beat as one, a symphony of love and passion that echoed through the room. It was a moment of pure bliss, a reminder that no matter what challenges lay ahead, as long as you had each other, you could overcome anything.

taglist 💌: @immywonderdefender @sarahhxx03 @powellssaturn @ifall4dilfs @harriedandharassed @skysmiller @missladym1981 @brittmb115 @guelyury @heartpascalispunk @ashleyfilm @loveisacowboyyy @southernbe @pedroloml

[dead-girl-tells-stories]

Not Blue, Black

Everyone always assumes that Danny's eyes are blue. He’s shown pictures of his family before and his dad’s eyes are blue, and so are his twin brother’s and his daughter’s, and his big sister’s. So his must be too! Well, his mom seemed to have this weird purple thing going on so no one was too sure. And no one seemed to care either way, especially not Danny. Besides, why would anyone care about eye color when they had such an amazing young man working alongside them?

Danny was the perfect intern. He’s always on time, never giving trouble, always giving helpful suggestions, and good at not only his job but everyone else’s too, making it handy to have him around the office. He was also the workplace hottie, with many guys and girls hovering around him, desperately trying to make him theirs despite him announcing himself happily married the first day he got here. (Everyone knew who his husband and wife were since he couldn’t help but show them off every chance he got. Everyone knows they’ve got no chance, but one can dream.)

He also seems to light up just about whatever room he happens to be in. Just his presence alone made even their shittiest days in the office seem like just tiny inconveniences in the eyes of the universe. Unless he himself was pissed, which didn’t happen too often. But when he was, everyone felt it and knew to avoid him like the plague. But, other than that, Danny was an all-around good guy and was for sure going to get the job after he graduated from Gotham U. 

You, on the other hand, weren’t too sure about your position in the company, as you were Danny’s antithesis, everything he was not. You were always late for reasons no one cared to understand. Just about every issue in the office was pinned on you whether you were involved or not. You couldn’t ever think about helpful suggestions and just rode off the backs of others. And compared to everyone else's good looks, you were the workplace monster. 

You had a scar on your face and body you got as a kid. You got it in an accident and it deformed your right side quite a bit. It was challenging to adjust to yes, but over time you learned to live with and accept it. Others not so much. The stares you got almost daily, from everyone in the office to school, even random strangers on the street. All of them made you feel scared and sick. Like you wanted to dig off your skin and rip off your flesh and replace it all with something newer, better, more normal. But you couldn’t and had to live like this for the rest of your life. You had to live with the stares for the rest of your life.

Your only saving grace was this job, the one you were assigned to when you first got the internship. You were awful at it at first, resulting in many scoldings from the manager. But throughout the year you were here at this company, you dedicated your time and effort to be good at at least this one thing. And now you were proud to say that you were damn good at it. The best even! So good in fact that everyone decided that they would drop their workload onto you and let you handle it even if it meant extremely late nights at the office.

And that’s how you got to be here, on the company roof at 1 a.m., debating whether or not going home to actually sleep and eat would be worth the scolding you would get from the manager when you arrive to work ‘late’ again..., among other things.

You know having these kinds of thoughts was bad for your mental health (your therapist grilled it into you every time you even mentioned them to her), but it was freeing in a sick sort of way every time you thought of each scenario that could play out if you just-

“Hey!”

Jumping back to your senses, you turned around and saw none other than Danny Fenton standing right behind you. You two were never all that close in proximity before now so you only knew that he was big. You weren’t expecting the absolute unit that was standing behind you. You knew you were short but having to crane your neck to look at his face only put shit into perspective.

“Another late night?”

You only nod dumbly as he moves from behind to stand next to you, looking down at the bustling city below. A deep sigh came from him as he pulled a candy from his back pocket and popped it into his mouth. He was always eating candy. Did he have low blood sugar or just a sweet tooth?

“Same. It’s like we can never go home, huh?”

You couldn’t help but laugh at Mr. Perfect’s suffering just a bit until you realized what he meant. You scoffed and rolled your eyes. 

“Come on Fenton, just because you’ve done a few late nights doesn’t mean you ‘never get to go home’.”

You settled next to him, also looking down on the city as well. He was on his phone now, the blue light illuminating his features.

“She really never sleeps does she?”  He says laughing to himself.

You were kinda pissed off now. Who was he, Mr. Perfect Intern, Daniel Fenton, to compare his suffering to yours? You practically lived at this job now, once you weren’t busy with school or something else! You even bet that after this he’s gonna go home to his nice apartment and be met by a wrapped-up dinner on the table made by either his husband or wife. (HE HAS A FREAKING HUSBAND AND WIFE FOR FUCKS SAKE!) He was probably talking about his little girl just now, and how she’s up waiting for him. Maybe she was half asleep on the couch with the TV on since she was so determined to see her Dad come home. It’s Friday after all of course she’d get to stay up way past her bedtime. He’s gonna get a hot bath and wash off dirt and grim of work, and-

Danny’s laugh was low and deep, rumbling through the air, sending chills down your spine. He turned to you and smiled his pearly whites glimmer-  Wait were those fangs?

“Dude you know you mumble out loud… right?”

There was silence between you two until a bright red crept up your neck, and ever so slowly engulfed your face. Shame flooded your entire being as you cradled your face in your hands. You sighed, feeling like more air wanted to come out but your very human lungs were empty and in need of oxygen. So sucking in a breath, you looked him in the face (why can't you see his eyes?). He was still smiling, his fangs (he has freaking fangs how had you never noticed before!) poking his bottom lips making little dimples.

“I’m so sorry, I’ve been stuck here for three days doing everyone else's work. I haven’t slept or eaten or taken a shower. I-”

“I know, I know. You’ve been busting your ass for a while now so of course you’d be grumpy.”

You don’t think grumpy is the word you’d use but it was close enough. 

“So how long have you been here Fenton?”

“A week.” He replied cooly, popping yet another sweet in his mouth. (Okay he needed to stop, at this rate, diabetes would be the next one to put a ring on his finger) But you were surprised nonetheless.

You’re sure you would’ve noticed if he was here for the entire week. He must have been playing games with you.

“Am not.”

Okay, you needed to stop thinking out loud.

“Look, just trust and believe that if I didn’t want you to notice me, you wouldn’t have. But I did so…” He shrugged and looked off into the distance once more.

You think that what he said is impossible, everyone notices Danny Fenton. But the office was pretty small compared to bigger companies. And if he really was there for the entire week you should have noticed him at some point of the three days you were here. You didn’t hear him coming up behind you a few moments ago either. So maybe there is some merit to his words.

“What’s got you here for so long anyways Fenton?”

He sighed, his face looking more tired than before. 

“You know the project that my group has, the one we got two months ago?” You nod and he continues, 

“Well, it was fine at first. Everyone was pulling their weight, excited to get it done. But then it started, again, with ‘Hey Danny, I’ve got something important to do this afternoon, can you finish this for me?’. Then, ‘Danny I'm not coming in today, do this for me? Thanks!’. And ‘Hey, Danny’s good at this let him do it!’. ‘Danny I need help! Wait no…, I actually meant that I want you to do this for me.’ 

Danny’ll do this, Danny can do that, don’t worry Danny’s on it! Danny, you’ll finish the project… right?

That along with the other workloads that are trusted upon me by the managers and other employees, ON TOP OF MY OWN ASSINGED WORK!”

By the time he was done, you had already recognized that voice all too well. Danny was struggling, right on the edge of his line, using the shirt on his back the make just a little more. Danny was breaking and just barely holding it together, just like you were. You never realized it before, but you notice now that, Danny’s fucking tired. Just like you.

A wet laugh broke your train of thought. His face was a bit wet, his eyes (?) red from held-back tears.

“People think that I’ve got no flaws-” A pang of guilt shoots through you as you were one of those people, “- but I do. Metric shit ton in fact. One of them is that I can’t help but to help people, even if it’s detrimental to myself. And if my sister finds out about this she’s gonna slap me upside and force me to stay home for a month!”

Another laugh rang through the air, sounding just a bit too crazy for your liking. Even so, you couldn’t help but wonder, you just needed to ask-

“Why are you telling me this?”

His laughter stopped and he turned to look at you. Like really look at you. You realize that Danny’s eyes weren’t blue like you and everyone else were assuming. His eyes were black. So black. Blacker than the night sky and deeper than any ocean. And within those oceans swam thousands of bright lights, each burning 10x brighter than the earth’s own sun! Yet they could never shine through that great abyss. It was beautiful. Danny’s eyes were so beautiful. 

“Because I’m gonna quit.”

“What?” Well, you weren’t expecting that.

“Yeah, I’m going to quit. And as your good friend-” Good friend? Since when!? “-I’m going to advise you to quit as well! I predict that this shabby ass company is gonna collapse in a few months and I DO NOT want to be there for that shit show, doubt you want to be there either.”

You feel conflicted. This is the first time that you and Danny Fenton have actually spoken to each other and after basically trauma dumping on you he tells you to quit! This has to be a prank! Some sick twisted joke!

“It’s not.”

CURSE YOUR BLOODY LIPS!

Danny smiled. He looked noticeably less human now that you could see fangs and eyes, and were his ears always pointy? Dear lord is he a part of the Fae!?

“Close but not quite.” 

At this point, you were pretty sure you weren’t speaking out loud and he was just straight-up reading your mind. He handed you a piece of paper and clasped his hand over yours.

“Just think about it ok? The first one is my number, so just call when you need a friend to talk to. The second is my brother’s, he thinks you’re cute.”

“What?” You look up only to see him gone as if he was never there. Looking back down you expect to see the paper gone too. But it was still there, the flirtatious message next to the second number making the tips of your ears turn red. Once again you remember that, Danny if a fucking giant, one who was now gone without a trace…

“What have I gotten myself into?”

You decided to quit the next day.

Three months later the company ends up in a scandal so bad, that even the bats are investigating it.

You decide to give Danny a call.

All I wanted to do was write a prompt about Danny's eyes... The fuck!?!?!?

[juleswritesstuff]

Am I the only one who thinks most of the Marauders and the Slytherin Skittles would have the biggest praise kink in history ?

warnings: smut

I feel like it would be more prominent while he is intimate with you. He is mostly afraid of not living up to the expectation he thinks you have of him. So you make sure he knows that he makes you literally touch the sky.

Just a little thought I had today. Let me know if you want a part two with the reader and the boys' roles reversed, I'll be more than happy to comply 😉

Enjoy💗

James would have one because of his constant need to be perfect, to be what he thinks the others need him to be: the perfect son, the perfect friend, the perfect student. But he always has doubts ‘am I enough ?’, ‘am I doing enough ?', ‘will they like me ’, ‘what if they don’t ? what if they hate me ?’ He needs to be reassured that he is. He is enough, he is more than enough. 

‘That was the best match i’ve ever watched ! Merlin, you were brilliant on that broom James’ after Gryffindor wins the last match of the year.

‘What do you mean ‘stupid’ ? They’re your glasses baby, they help you see. And you look really hot wearing them in my opinion’ after he overhears someone talking about another person and saying they look stupid with that specific pair of glasses.

‘Like that, baby. You’re doing so good’ while he is covering your neck with kisses and gentle bites.

‘Yes, yes, fuck, right there Jamie’ after a particularly deep and strong thrust leaves you breathless.

‘You look so good between my legs, love’ while he is eating you out messily and hungrily and so, so perfectly.

‘No one feels as good as you. No one could ever make me feel the way you do, James’ while he is still inside of you, catching his breath and looking at you with devotion.

‘Are you sure it was ok ?’

‘James, it was more than ok. My legs are shaking baby, that's a sign that it pretty damn amazing’

‘Are you serious ?’

‘Apart from the very lame joke I am sure you’re thinking about, yes, I am. Actually, why don’t I show how serious I really am ?’

‘What do you mean, baby?’

‘I mean that you’re gonna fuck me again and i’ll show you how much I always crave your lips, then a third time and i’ll make sure the entire castle hears how you can make me cry with just your tongue, then a fourth because that perfect dick of yours needs to be fucking worshipped, and, finally, a fifth to show you that you fuck me so good that not a single coherent thought processes in my head when you're taking me apart on your cock, Jamie’ 

Remus would have one because he has hated himself his whole life. He feels like a monster, like he doesn’t deserve all the love he is surrounded by, like all the good things people say about him are just lies. And he knows the truth, he knows he is nothing but an horrid creature and that he doesn’t deserve to be loved. Except that it isn’t the truth, and you tell him everyday.

With him I feel like it would be more out of the bedroom, and outside of sex, but not exclusively.

‘You’re really good at that spell Remus, mind showing me how it’s done ?’ after he gets a rather difficult charm right at the first try.

‘You look very hot today, Rem. Well, you look hot everyday actually’ which makes him blush from head to toes.

‘You’re the best, you know ? You really are’ after he explains a difficult concept that nobody else got, but him.

‘Holy hell, right there Remus. You feel way too good’ while he eases in and out of you with a steady rhythm, knocking the air out of your lungs.

‘You take such good care of me’ while he is going down on you, slowly, sensually and with a glint of hunger in his eyes, knowing exactly what to do to make you fall apart.

‘I love you, you know that right ?’

‘Yes, darling. You tell me everyday’ 

‘Well, that’s not enough. From now on, I'll tell you twice a day’

‘But why ?’

‘Because it’s true' and then you give him the sweetest kiss.

Sirius would have one because he has been told his whole life that he wasn’t enough. That he needed to be better, to do better, to be a better heir for the Noble House of Black, to be a better son, to be a better brother. He was told that he was worthless, that his parents had no use in having a son like him. He was a disappointment, a shame to the family. For them he didn’t exist anymore.

But for you he was the most perfect person to ever walk on earth. Your brightest star.

He would love it both inside and outside the bedroom. I feel like he would also ask you to tell him something that makes him feel good, especially when he is having a bad day. He has no problem being praised in public, but he becomes especially vulnerable when you’re intimate because he can finally let go.

‘Tell me what did I do to have the best boyfriend ever ?’ After he brings you flowers one day because he told you they reminded them of you.

‘It’s ok Sirius, you’ll get it eventually. You’re one of the best students, you just need a bit more time which is totally fine’ after the tenth time he tries to get one of the most difficult spells right, only for it to go wrong.

‘You’re worth it Sirius. You’re worth every single good thing that happens to you, never doubt that’ after he breaks down reading one of his mothers older letters, full of foul words directed at him.

‘You’re such a good boy, aren’t you ?’ after he listens to you so well, kissing every inch of your body.

‘Fuck, you should see yourself baby. You look so good, so perfect for me’ while you’re on his lap, riding him slowly to savor that sultry fucked out expression on his face that makes you go feral.

‘You’re so sweet, Sirius, do you know that ? So fucking sweet’ after you bob your head on his length, swirling your tongue around his head to suck gently as his taste coats your mouth.

‘Was I good ?’

‘You’re always good, Sirius. More than’

‘Are you sure ?’

‘Do you want me to describe in detail how good you are at splitting me open in every position known to man ? Because I can do that if you want. Might take three whole days though, a week if you want me to talk about that sinful tongue of yours, too’

‘I think we have enough time’ and then you both start laughing.

Regulus would have one because he’s been second his whole life. Second for his brother, second for his parents before Sirius left , sometimes he feels second even for his friends. He thinks no one cares deeply about him, he’s just there as a rebound. He’s never been anyone’s first choice, and he thinks he never will be.

You make sure he knows that not only he would be your first choice in every lifetime, but that he would also be the only choice for you, no one else would or could ever compare. He is the center of your universe after all.

I feel like he would blush like crazy and pretend he is annoyed by your words when you’re in public and you praise him even for the simplest thing, but his eyes would also warm up a little, just for a second, before going back to his blank and rather stoic expression. He would be a mess in the bedroom though, when he can finally let go and he allows himself to feel good about the sweet words that leave your lips.

‘You have the prettiest eyes I have ever seen’ after he catches you staring at him for a moment too long.

‘Your poems are literally art, Regulus. I can’t believe you can write like this, you know this is pure talent, right ?’ after he shows you his poems for the first time and you nearly cry because more than half of them are dedicated to you.

‘You were so good up there, Reggie. And the way you caught the Snitch ? Fucking incredible. You are incredible’ after Slytherin wins one of the biggest matches of the season thanks to Regulus catching the Snitch one minute from the end.

‘You feel so good, love. Stretching me out so well’ after his cock slides inside of you perfectly, filling you up so nicely.

‘Eyes on me, Regulus. They’re so gorgeous, I want them focused me while I make you cum, ok ? Be good and keep them open’ as you stroke his length up and down, feeling the velvety soft skin on your palm as you give his head a gentle suck, tasting him on your tongue.

‘You’re so pretty when you’re all fucked out, Reggie. You feel so good taking me like this’ while you’re riding him and he looks at you with hazy eyes, lust and pure bliss fogging his brain’

‘I’m yours Regulus. I’m undoubtedly, irrevocably and utterly yours’

‘Promise me’

‘I promise, I’m not going anywhere. I’m afraid you’re stuck with me forever, actually’

‘Mmh, it’s gonna be hard, but I’ll survive I guess’ while you’re still joined, one body and one soul as you kiss him slowly and sweetly, his tone sarcastic but betrayed by the smile that's progressively growing on his lips.

Barty would have one because his father never gave him his attention. He was never enough for him, never a good son, never a good student, never good. He was constantly ignored, and the few times his father acknowledged him was to tell him that he was a lost cause, a disgrace, a shame. He was just a stupid boy, too reckless, too careless, too unhinged, too much, and, at the same time, never enough. But it wasn’t like that. He was a bit impulsive, and sometimes he went a little bonkers, but he was a good person, and there were people who cared about him and his well being. You always made sure he knew that. He was your priority.

I have a feeling that he would be completely unashamed of being praised in public exactly like he is praised in the bedroom. Probably not in front of the whole school, but he wouldn't really care if people eavesdropped, his crooked grin widening when he notices their horrified faces. It is  their fault, they could mind their own damn business.

‘Yes, Barty, you’ve been a good boy’ after he asks you if he has been good after getting an O in Potions.

‘Baby, we’re in public, I can’t just scream about how good you fuck me. There are people eating, for Merlin’s sake’ after he sees a guy talking to you before sitting at the table in the Great Hall. He asks you if you could tell him that he is the only one who could make you come with just his skilled fingers.

‘Don’t think like that ever again, Barty. You are not a lost cause, you aren't. You deserve good things, you deserve the best things, sweetie. You deserve to be loved, and I do. I love you so much Barty, don’t ever think you are not important to me because you are. You mean the world to me’ after he receives a letter from his father asking how a cretin like him was able to find someone who could love him. If he hadn’t begged you to stop after calming down a little you would’ve been in Azkaban with a murder charge by now.

‘Fuck, I love when you do that. Feels amazing, baby’ after he trails a path of kisses down your chest only to focus on the tender flesh of your nipple as he sucks gently, and grazes it with his teeth, teasing you.

‘Harder, baby. I know you like it like this’ while his thrusts become more erratic, stronger and deeper and you can hardly think.

‘You’re cock is perfect, Barty. Fills my mouth so nicely’ while you’re sucking him off, his tip hits your throat and you swallow as the loudest moan leaves his mouth.

‘I told Mulciber that no one can make you scream as loud as I do’

‘You did what ?! Barty !’

‘What ? Is it not true ?’

‘I- of course it’s true, but why did you have to tell him ?’

‘He was being rather cocky about the fact that he could make you scream like, and I quote ‘a bitch’. Then he started using other very disrespectful words to describe you baby, and at that point I had to punch him right in the face, because no one has to even dare to talk about you like that. He is actually lucky my Sectumsempra is not perfect yet, or he would’ve ended way worse. And then I added that little detail. I probably shouldn’t have done it, but I was furious. Do you want me to obliviate him ? I can do that if you want’

‘It’s fine, he needs some salt rubbed on his wounds’

‘Are you sure ?’

‘Yes, baby. And it’s nothing new, I'm sure the entire dorm hears me when you’re fucking me, I can't help it. Now come on my knight in bloody knuckles, let’s go to Madame Pomfrey to get those bruises checked’ you kiss him lightly before heading to the infirmary.

[cindylcuwho]

“ sweetheart ★ ”

— ꒰ 💌 ꒱ drug dealer! matt x baker! reader

— ꒰ 🍒 ꒱ after a deal almost went sideways, matt decides to pay a quick visit to his sweet girl.

— ꒰ 🐁 ꒱ fluff ! making out.. tbh nothing really lol (but the ending😦). 1726 words.

— ꒰ ☁️ ꒱ erm i think this is my most boring fic ever 😜

what was only supposed to be a fast and easy twenty minute meetup turned into an hour long negotiation. matt had his jacket-covered back against a wall, hunched over as he coughed out strings of spit.

one of the guys he was supposed to meet was on the floor, a broken nose the was leaking deep red blood. his bottom lip quivered, closing against the upper one once the blood tried to make its way in his mouth.

matt watched intensely, eyes flickering up every now and then to make sure the other few men that let the sudden fight didn’t try anything. they held smirks on their faces, arms crossed as they stood tall.

“are you done?” the one on the far left rhetorically asked. matt glanced back to the guy on the floor before nodding, standing as straight as he could with his sore ribs.

his face crumpled into a snarl, “what the fuck was that?” he questioned, referring to what just happened. “we just wanted to test you.” one of them answered. “test me?” matt scoffed, “i could’ve killed him.”

“we know, but you didn’t.” the middle one shrugged, “you don’t live up to the family name, matthew.” before matt could respond, he continued, “we heard you were fearsome, someone that makes people shudder in fear at the mention.. and here you are letting a man that dared to take you on live.”

“thought he was one of your men, didn’t want to start anything neither of us could finish.” matt defended. “or.. you’ve gone soft.” the one on the right smiled, “word on the street is you’re wrapped around a girls finger, that true?”

matt immediately shook his head, holding a disgusted look, “i don’t know where you got that from but it’s a fuckin’ lie.”

“unless its straight from me dont believe shit.” the three guys gave matt a pointed look, but decided to not push it. “leave the package where you are and leave.” they commanded.

matt held out his hand for his payment before. the middle man rolled his eyes, stepping forward to place a wad of hundreds in his hand. he looked at the papers, doing quick mental math before leaning down and sliding the small box of goods to where he was standing.

“oh, and matt.. if we find out you lied, there will be a target on your lover.” one of them threatened, shooing him off as even more men walked in the room to pick up the bruised body that was still on the floor.

matt sucked in a breath, turning away and walking out the door. he contemplated in the car, he was well aware of how dangerous the life style he was living was, simply showing you were interested in him would have your life at risk and he just couldn’t do that to anybody.

but there was just something about you. he couldn’t stay away no matter how much he knows he should. you originally met when he had to hide from somebody and random the first building he saw; a small pink bakery building that he didn’t realize was in the process of cleaning for closing.

matt has never been told off in his life, but that night you scolded him for twenty minutes on how rude it was. the next morning he came by to buy a donut that seemed awfully delicious, and offered to take you to dinner as an apology.. who were you two refuse free food?

now what seemed like every night matt would swing by around the same time, almost every time half helping clean up and and half munching on the desserts that weren’t bought.

not breaking routine, even after the prominent threat, instead of making a left to drive to his well sized mansion, he made a right and quickly the familiar building was in his vision.

matt parked his car down the street, choosing to walk the rest of the way incase anybody was tracking the vehicle. he caught a glimpse of his reflection in the bakerys window, licking over the cut on his lip before treading inside and being hit with the overbearing smell of dough.

you were in the back, humming along to the taylor swift song playing as you washed the dirty pans, putting them on their respective drying wrack.

he watched from the doorframe, taking in the sight of how simple and innocent you looked. he would hate to be the one to ruin that part of you, you didn’t even know what his job was- but he wasn’t gonna let you know from the hands of higher class men he had to deal with.

matt walked forward, wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his head into the crook of your neck, breathing in deeply to take in your scent.

“hi.” he sighed. you smiled, wiping your hand on your apron before bringing it up to toy with the front of his hair. “hey, you okay?” you whispered to him, as if it’d disturb anyone.

he began peppering kisses along your shoulder before bringing his mouth up to your cheek, “just had a long fuckin’ day, missed you too.” he mumbled against your skin.

you nodded, turning to face him. your smile turned into a frown, your thumb lightly tugging at the ripped skin his lips were, “what happened?” you met his gaze, waiting for answers.

matt pulled your hand away, holding it with both of his, “clumsy and fell on the way here, nothing to worry about.” he reassured.

you kept the eye contact with him. matt wasn’t a bad liar, but he made it obvious with how he tensed and untensed. you nodded again, sucking your teeth, “i should have a bandaid around here somewhere.” your hands dug in the pockets of your apron before pulling out a hello kitty designed bandaid.

matt internally cringed at the design. “uh, i don’t think that’s necessary-“ “shut up?” you cut him off, “you’re the one that got hurt, not me, you have no say.”

he rolled his eyes, grabbing your hips to sit you on the kitchens counter. you giggled at him, wrapping your legs around his waist to pull him closer.

matt winced, making you instantly unwrapping them, “whats wrong?” he shook his head, trying to keep a calm expression. your fingers gripped the end of his shirt, slowly dragging it up and revealing the overly reddened skin that was turning purple by the second.

you looked back up at him, suspicion even higher. “i fell, ‘member?” you scoffed, “i’ve fallen a million times i never once got bruised like that.”

he rolled his eyes again, “are you gonna put the stupid bandaid on or what?” you lightly smacked his shoulder, “don’t call hello kitty stupid, you’re stupid.”

matt just laughed, pouring out his bottom lip for the bandaid. his fingers traced small shapes on your hips as you unwrapped it, occasionally giving small squeezes.

“pretty stylish, no?” he joked, turning his head to the side, giving you the full view of the silly bandaid. you smiled, “of course it is, its mine.” you wrapped your hands around his neck, pecking his lips.

matt held your head in place, keeping you there as he continued the kiss. you tugged at the ends of his hair, “the bandaids gonna come off if you don’t stop.” you warned, matt shrugged, leaning in for another kiss.

his tongue pushed against your bottom lip, having you open your mouth wider so he could stick his tongue inside. your tongues met, fighting and tangling against each other as matts over took yours, deepening the kiss even further.

his hands trailed all around your body, wanting to touch every part he psychically could. you moaned softly into the kiss as his hands squeezed under your thighs, grabbing and squeezing your ass.

matt couldn’t pull away. you tasted like chocolate cookies, which wouldn’t be incorrect considering you were snacking on them whilst cleaning. he tasted like root beer and a cigarette you know he smoked before arriving, but it didn’t matter, wasn’t strong enough to make you pull away in disgust.

once you both finally pulled away, it was only to take a quick breathing break. your foreheads rested against each others, small smiles on both of your faces.

“you drive me insane, you know?” he laughed, but his eyes seemed to be full of pure love, “just such a sweetheart.” he whispered, moving the bottom of his head, pecking your lips.

you nodded with a huge smile. your thumb pressed the bandaid back on his lips, but it was barely sticking. you groaned, “see, i knew this would happen! that was my last one too!”

“i’ll buy you s’more then.“ he pecked your lips once more. “you better.. but i guess take it off for now, its weird with it on.” he complied, ripping it off before leaning over to put it in the trash.

matts ring-cladded hands clasped against your thighs, “cmon sweetheart, we gotta finish cleaning.” he unnecessary helped you down from the counter. “can you hurry and sweep out there?” before matt could whine about anything, “i may have left a slice of cake on the holder for you. gotta go clean be for you can eat it, though.”

he nodded, shrugging his jacket off before walking to the front and grabbing the broom. matt hurriedly swept across the floor, there wasn’t much crumbs or trash on the floor so it was easier than ever.

a noise from outside pulled matts attention. his eyebrows furrowed, stepping closer to the front door with the expectation of seeing just a random critter, but the street was empty.

a moment passed and matt leaned from the door. his eyes stayed trained on the outside before being able to make out a figure.

the figure slowly began creeping closer. once the streetlight hit them, matt could see who, or what it was. they were in all black, the ski masks logo they were wearing being the only thing with color.

his heart quickened. matt knew what logo it was. he looked back at the empty doorway leading to the kitchen before back to the person.

matt chewed his cheek, making the quick decision to go outside, hand already grasping the weapon in his pocket.

masterlist , taglist , TTPD masterlist .

— ꒰ 🖇️ ꒱ @freshloveee , @whicked-hazlatwhore , @55sturn , @lanas-doll , @chrissv4mp , @0strawberrysorbet0 , @imwetforyourmom .

[mysticheathenn]

What Are The Lies You Tell Yourself?

Hi, Hexlings!

This pick-a-card reading is about the many things you tell yourself to keep yourself small, stay in toxic relationships, make yourself feel bad, etc. Maybe even words of kindness to help dispel those lies.

This is a general reading, remember to take what resonates and leave what does not. This reading does not supplement your need to seek professional help. Tarot should be used as entertainment and not a for sure answer to your problems but as a guide, a sense of hope, and amusement.

Take your time when choosing your pile. Ask yourself the question and choose the picture that you can’t stop looking at. Listen to your intuition.

MasterList

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Next Reading: Patreon (unless spirit says otherwise)

Pile l:

What are the lies you tell yourself? Tarot: 4 Swords (reversed), 2 of Swords, Awakening, 9 of Wands, 7 of Swords (reversed)

Pile l you have two different messages so I will start off with the first message of those who like to self-sabotage their lives. You like to feed yourself the narrative that you are too busy and everything is hard because you are afraid of failure. You are afraid of the things that can come from actually doing the many things that you say you want and will do. This might be success, failure, or fear of losing those around you because you aren't sure if leveling up will cause a rift or if people will start asking for money but either way, you refuse to look at yourself with complete honesty and accountability when it comes to achieving your goals because you are always feeding yourself lies as to why you can't do them out of fear of the unknown and it's time you stop lying to yourself. This doesn't even have to be a fear of failure or success, etc this could just be you feeding into your imposter syndrome or for some of you feeding into your Lana Del Rey era where you fear if you aren't sad, stressed, or anxious you won't be loved, be a funny person anymore, whatever the reasoning is. You have to give yourself a chance to fly or else you will never know what you are truly capable of or even know if you can really fly.

The 2nd message is for those who identify with hyper-independence. You refuse to acknowledge the fact that the reason you do everything yourself is because you fear having the few people around you let you down like others have. So you continue to feed this narrative of "I like to do things myself." "I'm the only one who can do things right around here." While some of it may be true...you really deep down fear people letting you down again. You are prolonging the inevitable of letting people show you who they really are. Let others around you help you so you can have a break now and then, stop always trying to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders. If someone messes up or doesn't come through...so be it. You can't control everything in your life...you are going to have to release some of that control and go with the flow and allow things to come and go no matter how lonely or horrible the feeling may feel. Better will come when you stop trying to control everything.

Extra Messages: Tea Trea Oracle Deck: June, Slowly but surely getting ahead, dissatisfaction with life, An exciting life, waiting for news/ package/ or letter, Do not back down from the opposition show strength and fortitude, solid foundation success with effort, feeling tied down or frustrated.

Pile ll:

What are the lies you tell yourself? Tarot: 7 of Cups, The Star, Page of Cups, 8 of Swords, Queen of Pentacles.

Similar to how pile l has two messages so does this pile. The first message I would like to ask is who hurt you? Who hurt you enough to where it made you believe that you can't be loved, shouldn't be loved, nor seek love. You continuously keep yourself in a small corner...my own little corner from the Cinderella movie featuring Brandi is playing in my head (Link to Song). Long story short you feel small when you are around others like you have to change who you are in order to be and feel loved but when you are alone you are exactly who you want to be if not exactly who you want to be at least you have an idea or a sense that who you are currently is not who you want to be and it's sad love. I want to hug you and let you know that you should be around others who see you, for you. You are not hard to love and you deserve the best and purest love there is. Stop feeding into the narrative of others as your own, because it's not.

The second message is similar to the first message and a little bit of the first message of pile l. You like to tell yourself reasons why you don't deserve nice things or feed into the mindset that you will never amount to financial abundance. I feel some of this mindset has to deal with childhood/adolescent trauma others of you this may have developed because you kept feeling like every time you got a leg up life would knock you down a peg as to tell you, you aren't meant to have good things when in reality life was trying to redirect you or point you in a direction of something better. You were meant to shine and have many options of abundance in your life. This message is for a few of you but this also has to deal with your looks. You possibly feel that your looks are not up to par and that everyone you meet is always better looking than you. You may also have a fear that if you ever did decide to date that the person you are with would leave you for someone better looking or "better" in general.

Extra Messages: Tea Trea Oracle Deck: A path with money is waiting for you to find it, Getting together with friends, Take care or there will be a loss of material wealth, Opportunity of windfall, Stepping into a new experience, Work/success/achievement, Affairs with your family.

Pile lll:

What are the lies you tell yourself? Tarot: 5 of Wands, Justice, 6 of Cups, 10 of Wands

This doesn't feel like a lie per se that you tell yourself like the other piles but more so of the delusion you feed yourself. This feels more of a victim mentality mixed in with entitlement and before you say nope not me....*David Beckham's voice* Be Honest. How do you feel when you aren't getting your way or dealing with small inconveniences. Be Honest. If the answer is you complain about life not being fair and you go into victim mentality mode that everything always happens to you and not for you or you just feel for whatever delusional reason that life must always cater to you without any kind of effort is....quite bold...I will applaud you for that love. You have the confidence of a mediocre white man, haha. I love to see it. This per se again isn't all that bad but it kind of is as it stems from your childhood of you parents always handing you gold stars for just existing or putting in "at least they did it" energy. You like to believe that you are doing hard work or you are doing a lot when really you self-sabotage or you do one little thing and expect life or others to bend towards your will because you "tried". This message doesn't even feel like a message to help guide you but more so to act as a mirror because it has been a while since you have been completely honest with yourself and your behavior. Some of you might be sick of yourselves and need this while others of you don't smell your own shit.

Extra Messages: None. You don't really need extra messages as your reading was all the message that you needed for a shift and clarity on how things are. Stop lying to yourself. Look in the mirror and ask if you really love what you see? If you really love the kind of person you are? If you really love how you move in your life towards things you want.

Pile lV:

What are the lies you tell yourself? Tarot: The Tower, The Empress, The Sun, Queen of Cups

Three major arcana cards and one minor arcana say a lot about you, pile lV. At first because of the type of reading this is I thought maybe you might be afraid or lying to yourself about becoming successful or experiencing happiness but as I drew clarifiers for your pile it started to come together that you are not being authentic to who you are in your feminine energy. What I mean is that you are people-pleasing way too much to the point where when you want to say no, you say yes instead. This pile gives me the vibes that when a guy approaches you, you are on your "best lady-like behavior when politely declining the guy." Even when he keeps persisting and etc you refuse to act out of character and say listen my guy back the fuck up and fuck off. Take a hint. You can be in your feminine energy and still maintain boundaries, and say what you want to say without coming off as "hard, rough around the edges, etc. There was a YouTube short the other day that was from the Clock app where someone was making fun while also having a point when it comes to people pleasers. "Oh, you're such a people pleaser...how many people have you pleased?" So many people have stitched it not being able to answer this question because who have you pleased? Do you consider yourself a dog pleasing its owner for treats, shelter, and so forth. For some of you, this all stems from childhood because maybe you grew up in a transactional household where your parents or family didn't do anything for you without expecting something in return, or even romantic and friendships have done this. It's okay to say no from time to time. It's okay to not be this prime and prissy-like persona. Again you can be loving and kind while still painting boundaries and saying no to things you don't want to do.

Extra Messages: None like pile lll, you don't really need any extra messages as your message has everything that you need to hear.

Thank you for liking and reblogging my readings. I always appreciate you guys on here and on Patreon.

Stay safe and be blessed

Next Reading: Patreon (Unless spirit says otherwise)

[starryhutcherson]

━━ A NEW FAMILIAR

author's note: crawled out of my hole for this one guys. sorry for being so ghost mode im working on putting out more stuff, apologies if this isn't of the highest quality as i'm running on sugar free redbull and three hours of sleep ! love my life hahahahaAHHHH

'୧ ‧₊ pairing: best friend!mike schmidt x reader warnings: 18+ sexual content! oral sex (f!receiving), p in v, unprotected sex, dirty talk, swearing word count: 4600+ ⋆ ✩‧₊

Mike’s expression always glooms when you bring up the next date you’ve arranged. He knows how this story plays out; he knows the truth behind the men you’ve matched with on whatever sketchy website you’ve wasted your time on. They’ve molded themselves into the embodiment of perfection, through falsified photos and fabrications buried in their bios. His patience crumbles like fireplace ash as you skip around his living room and drone on about whatever dickhead you’ve set your poor, precious heart on.

He knows, always, the the outcome is running makeup and salty cheeks, sobbing on the floor of his living room in a creasing satin dress and his welcoming arms, a bitter exclamation of “you were right Mike” leaving your lips in the knowing silence and him gritting his jaw and pretending that it doesn’t bother him the the only habits you ever find yourself falling back into are the bad ones. 

It’s no different today. 

Mark or Matt or Mitch – you really were killing him, because it should be Mike. It should be him. Him that you’re getting ready for, him that you’re daydreaming about. And it’s an odd feeling, like a movie where your favorite character dies and then movie finishes and you have to accept that they aren’t coming back, no matter how long you sit glued to the reclinable chair, popcorn crunched beneath your sneakers and the credit-scene reflected in your shrinking pupils. 

Mike’s not the type to be happier with the hope – he’d let the truth swallow him up, sink into his creaking bones, he’d live with the loss. But he still has hope for you. He has hope that your eyes will open and you’ll seep into his brain and his breath and his bed. He hopes you’ll start seeing him instead of just looking. Maybe it's wishful thinking. Ignorant optimism.

It feels like it. 

It feels like it, right now, when he’s leaning against the doorframe of his bathroom and watching you get ready, your animated chatter reverberating around the small space between coats of mascara. He offered to give you a ride before you’d even asked, and he’ll tolerate the sting of watching you get out of the car looking all pretty for someone who isn’t him, just to make sure you get there safely. It’s the type of sacrifice he’ll make for you. 

“I can’t even feel my face, I’ve been smiling so hard all day!” You squeal, powdering your cheeks with more purposeless product – he thinks it’s all pointless. You’re radiant, even in the harsh lighting of his bathroom. 

He offers a low grunt. What is he supposed to say? He’s not happy. And he’s not gonna pretend he is. 

You either don’t notice or choose to ignore, continuing to doll yourself up to whatever standards you have for yourself. “I mean, he says he’s been skiing since he was 6. He’s practically an olympian.” 

Mike scoffs. 

“What?”

“Nothing,” he grumbles, shaking his head. “Can you hurry up?”

“Alright, grumpy. Calm down. I gotta do my lips and then I’m ready. Plus, nobody told you that you gotta stand here.” 

A fleeting flush of fuchsia permeates his cheeks, but he looks down at his worn shoes to hide it. It’s true. He didn’t have to stand here. But if an angel was populating your bathroom you’d want to take a peek, would you not? That’s how he thinks you look. Angelic. Glowing from your soul, a content smile knitted on your lips. You might as well have a halo and wings – that heaven-sent aura is reinforced when you douse yourself in lingering washes of that sweet perfume that’s branded itself to you. He’d recognise that floral aroma anywhere, the way a shark detects a drop of blood amongst saline scattered seas. 

“Okay, I’m ready. How do I look?”

Cruelest question of them all. “You look… fine. Good.”

A knot forms in your brow. “All this effort for that terrible answer?” Playful, but with a truthful undertone. Why do you value his opinion so much? He doesn’t want to assume anything. 

“Well I’m not the person you’re dressing up for.” I wish I was. He doesn’t say the other words, but he thinks them so hard he’s half convinced if you were listening in the right spot, or looking into his eyes for long enough that you’d hear it anyway. 

“Okay, okay, whatever. Let’s just get going, don’t wanna keep Mack waiting.” 

Two letters. That’s all it would take. That’s all he’d have to swap to make it him.

“Yeah, let’s go.”

✩‧₊˚

Even if you aren’t aware, even if he did offer, he drives begrudgingly. He focuses as much as he can, on the road ahead and not your glistening figure beside him in the passenger seat, the very definition of temptation. 

The mall parking lot is barren, a few gleaming cars scattered amongst the otherwise desolate area. He pulls into a space, sets the car in park, rakes in a greedy sigh of air. 

“If anything happens, call me.” 

You sneer teasingly. “Don’t be so pessimistic. It’s gonna be great, he could be my future husband, y’know.”

Yep. Mack, the 35 year old you've met online, who’s only notable talent seems to be skiing and his greatest life achievement to date is shooting a deer, whose head is mounted to the wall in his bedroom, typically visible in the background of his many instagram posts which involved his shirtless figure straining to flex his overly pronounced bulk. A match made in heaven. He wants to scream. 

And how can you even tell him to not be pessimistic? How can you look him in the eyes and act like this moment hasn’t happened time after time, the point of no return before an evening spent crying in his arms as he reassures you that your failed dates are never your fault, even though by now it seems like you must be seeking out the same genre of shitty man if you’re this good at getting your heart broken. He’s sick of picking up the fragile little pieces of his bathroom floor, cutting himself on the shards of a heart that’ll never be his. You deserve more than these half-baked, single night romances. He could show you that. 

“Yeah, sure,” he grits. “Future husband. Just call me, seriously.”

You roll your eyes. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll call you.” 

And with that, you’re off, disappearing into the gaping mouth of the mall’s entrance, and he watches with an alkaline feeling growing in his stomach. Your hair is caught up in the wind like clothing on a washline and he thinks his hope is all drained out. 

✩‧₊˚

Mike spends a good two hours back at his house. His movements feel vacuous, staring ahead at the screen, barely processing the raging garbage that masquerades as reality TV. The rain has picked up outside, licking at the window panes with a growing intensity. 

He’s not happy about the jean skirt and tiny little tank top you’d clad yourself in prior to leaving, you’re probably frigid by now in the cold. You did however reassure him that Mack was gonna drive you home, or even worse, take you back to his place, so his stupid fucking elk head trophie could watch with it’s empty eyes while the pair of you fuck on the bed that his mom still has to make for him because he never can quite manage those fitted sheets, can he? Fucking manchild. 

Shit. Mike’s feeling so so bitter. Maybe it’s because he’s finally realized that this is the dreaded pattern he’s going to have to endure with you until death. Or until he braves up and actually tells you that he’s been in love with you since the fifth day of second grade, when you mouthily confronted Jerry Murdoch and told him to give Mike his crayons back.  

With a weak sigh, he turns the TV off with a click of the remote still encaptured in the loose hold of his fist, and decides to see if he can melt into any form of sleep – but the knock on his door prevents him from doing so. 

He arises lethargically, not having much on his mind but the denial of his slumber as he shuffles over and turns the handle, but then, it’s you. 

Fluttery lashes melted to black smudges beneath your eyes, a mixture of rainwater and tears, completely drenched and dripping all over his doormat, your body is trembling and you’re wracked with tiny little cries and he’s feeling so many emotions he believes he might implode. 

He pulls you inside and into his arms, stroking your back in gentle, soothing motions, and it kills him that this has become routine. He’s angry. He’s sick of this. 

“What happened this time?” He grunts softly. 

“He didn’t even show up. He couldn’t even send a message as to why, Mike,” you sniffle into his warm chest, drunk off the even echo of his heartbeat. 

A moment’s silence rots like aged fruit. He draws a breath in, then out, then in again. 

“Why didn’t you call me?”

You crane your face upwards to meet him, instantly bathed in a nervous shiver when you see how serious he looks. 

“My phone was dead.” Is all you can manage to mumble. 

“What?” He’s pissed. “Why didn’t you charge it? You could have charged it there, they have outlets at the mall. Or you could’ve used someone else’s, so you didn’t have to walk home in the rain, because you’re drenched.” 

“I don’t–”

“Y’know how dangerous it is to walk around alone in this shitty neighborhood? Half the street lights don’t even work, and I don’t even know any of my neighbors, or what kinda people walk around here at night.” He grumbles. “I shouldn’t have to tell you all this, I’m sick of explaining all this to you.”

You roll your eyes irritably, releasing yourself from his arms and crossing your own across your dripping wet torso. “How was I supposed to know he was gonna stand me up? You’re telling me I should just expect it?”

He blinks like a deer in headlights, silence settles into his flesh.

“That’s not what I’m saying.”

You scoff. “It’s what you implied.” 

“It’s not what I—” He grumbles weakly under his breath, cutting himself off, deciding reasoning with you is somewhat of a useless attempt. “Why can’t you just listen to me?”

“What, charge my phone next time? Bring a raincoat? Yeah, great help, seriously, don’t know where I’d be without you,” your sarcasm hits like gunshot wounds to the teeth. 

“Or maybe you should try to meet actual people, instead of fake ones from some stupid website.” 

After a cold shiver bites up your spine, your expression deepens with defense. What is his fucking problem? “At least I try to get out of the house! At least I don’t spend every hour of every day moping around and feeling sorry for myself!” 

The pair of you fight, sure, every good relationship, friend or romance or family or whatever should, but nothing like this. This is stone-set, it’s been coming for a while, the wild gesticulations and the pacing and the raised voices. It shakes the bones of the weakened house. 

“Don’t,” Mike says with a furious edge, fists tightening and untightening like he’s about to take a swing at the wall, like this is going to end with bleeding knuckles nipped with shards of worn plaster. “Don’t throw that in my face, I do everything I can, for you and Abby. It’s not like I have a choice.”

“So what, you’re so fucking miserable in your own life that you have to try and control mine?”

“Control? You’re like my child! You don’t even know how to take care of yourself half the time, so yes, I try to help you not to make such shitty decisions!” 

You scowl. “You’re not obligated to do anything for me, y’know Mike. Why do you keep me around if I’m that much of a chore for you!”

He snaps, the tension in his fists bleeding up into his throat, his mouth, the words clot behind his gums and suddenly they tumble out in a fury-fueled shout. “Because you’ve got no one else!” 

You deflate, wilting like a flame without oxygen, and Mike deems the silence to be more cruel than anything else you’ve said to him tonight. He’s feeling everything and nothing all at once, the quiet crumbles around him like a burning building and he fears he’ll become rubble beneath the debris. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I just… god, just–” His eyes flick to you, and then retreat back down to the faded living room carpet. He can’t swallow his guilt this time. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have snapped like that.”

“It’s fine,” you say coldly, knuckling away an angry tear. The salt water is the trick of nostalgia, you’ve cried like this so many times. Your breakage of those promises to yourself. It’ll be different. And it never is. 

“No. It’s not – I’m a dick, I just… I hate watching other people ruin your life. You deserve better.”

Better. What is better? Some twisted fantasy that some people are indulged with and others are left longing for. That you’re left longing for. You know he’s tired of the same bullshit that you force yourself through, convincing yourself of change, painting yourself up to be fit for presentation, and hoping that whoever you’ve leeched onto likes what they see, so you don’t have to feel so alone anymore. You’re oblivious, painfully so. Because Mike could plaster together the cracks in your splintering psyche, if you’d just let him in. 

“Whatever, Mike. It’s true anyway.”

There’s a hole in his heart in the shape of your name. He begs you. Fill it. A part of him shatters at the defeat in your words — he’s crumbled you to the bone, to the marrow. He’ll build you back up. You deserve it. 

“No it isn't. No it isn’t. You have me. You’ll always have me.” 

A silence pervades; the look in his eyes is one of pleading, that you’ll stop and see what he’s offering you, that you’ll stop chasing your own tail, that you’ll stop the cycle. 

“Mike…”

“And Abby.”

You indulge him. 

“You have me. And you have Abby. And I know that’s… not much, but she loves you. So much. And I’m sorry, ‘cause I know I don’t say it enough, I don’t…. I don’t say how much you mean to me, but I just—”

“Mike.” 

He wallows in the waters of your rain kissed eyes, the way your pupils pulse and the words are falling before he can swallow them back down. 

“I love you.”

He gives you that stare. That stare that’s the color of black coffee, the look that you can feel, unearthing the graveyard of wilting feelings you’ve tried to bury, the heart that beats for him him him, lodged between the ivory bars of your ribcage. He maps you out with his eyes, he looks at you the way the sun hungers for daybreak. 

He’s waiting. He’d wait forever. 

“And… and seeing you with these… shitty people who don’t even care about you, it just…” He sighs exasperatedly, dragging a sweaty palm down his face. 

His sentences can’t seem to finish themselves. This is harder than it looks in the movies. Harder than when he’s practiced in the mirror, when Abby’s walked in and giggled at him and told him to just fess up. 

“You love me? Like…”

He looks up at you like a kicked puppy. “Yeah. I do.”

You’re beyond bewildered. He loves you. He loves you. 

“What– but… you—”

“You don’t have to… say anything. I just, I can’t… I can’t pretend anymore. I can’t do it.”

You reach for his hand. It’s a little clammy, a little trembly, but it’s a perfect fit. Just like you. 

“I love you too, Mike.”

What?

“You… do?”

He’s skeptical, but he’s also swooning. A stone man is slowly cracking. 

“I just didn’t… didn’t think I could have you. I mean, you’re so… you’re everything, y’know? You’re a good brother, and you work so hard, and you’re… I’m just… I don’t think I deserve you,” you whisper, confessing. With a newfound stroke of confidence, he approaches, one hand snaking around to the small of your back, another on your cheek. He’s gentle. In his eyes, you’re porcelain. Precious. Fragile. At least, at this moment. But you love him too and that’s all he needs. It’s all he’s ever needed. 

“You deserve everything.” He says it so quietly it’s barely audible. And then, nothing is audible because he’s carefully pulling your lips to his, linking you in every way, his hands tangle into your damp hair and he’s kissing you. 

His lips chase yours in messy, uncalculated movements. He’s starting small. It’s been a while. And he’s gonna take his time with you. He’s gonna show you what you deserve. Soft sounds squeak past his lips as they flutter against yours, and you’re closer and closer and closer still, impossibly so. 

Within moments he’s whisking you off to his bedroom, his hand tangled with yours, an interlace tight enough to cause ropeburn. His skin chafes with yours, and then he’s kissing you again atop his navy comforter. 

He’s gentle, respectful, but you understand what he’s trying to tell you, what he’s been trying to tell you. He speaks through silken drags of his tongue, through the hand that holds your cheek steady— he feels as though he’s gripping the very cusp of a constellation. You taste like stardust. You glow like the waning moon. 

He breathes heavily in the expanse of his throat, his pants have become tight and wet and filthy; he’s been subconsciously grinding down into your lap. You’re a little shaky and your pupils have darkened with lust and he is going to show you what you mean to him. What you’ve been missing. 

His hand falls lower, into the slope of torso that dips into your hips. His eyes travel back and forth, searching, hunting for the desire that he feels mirrored back at him. Do you want this, the way he does? Do you? His hardened stare doesn’t speak loud enough. He elaborates.

“Can I… uh… do you wanna…?”

Do you want to? You need to. 

“Shit, okay,” he croaks out, jaw tense and tight as he traces you beneath calloused fingers. You didn’t realize you said that out loud. 

He’s endearingly awkward – you know from languid late-night conversations that he hasn’t done this a lot. Maybe even at all. But he’s sweet, so sweet, like lapping up sugar and feeling it dissolve on your tongue, feeling him dissolve on your tongue, giving you comfort and cavities. 

“Can I take this off?” He asks nervously, fiddling with the hem of your camisole. A short nod, and he’s sliding it over your sweat-pricked figure, admiring your contours in the whisper of evening moonlight that bleeds through holes in his moth-eaten curtains. You’re perfect, and he knew you would be. 

He caresses your skin gently, drunk on the mellow feeling of your bare stomach beneath his fingertips. Your bra is black, a little lace peering along the straps, your breasts spilling into the fabric. He reaches around your back, fumbling at the clasp. When the garment drops, his hands are replacing it before you can even blink. 

“Beautiful,” he manages to get out, thumbing over your nipples. 

“Mngh, Mike—”

“Sh. Just let me… just let me. Let me make you feel good. Please?” He grunts out under his breathless voice, and how could you deny such a request?

The moment you agree, he’s grabbing you by the thighs and tugging you towards him slightly, so your back is nearly flat against his mattress and he’s settling himself in the gap that you create for him. 

Your skirt comes off first. Your panties are undeniably soused, his fingers trace the big wet spot that’s dripping all for him, teasing you through torturously thin cotton. 

“Mike,” you mewl gently, fingers settling in his nest of chocolate curls that are damp with sweat. A firm tweak and he’s groaning, his voice melting away into nothing like hot tar. 

“You’re so wet,” he mumbles to himself, like he’s never seen anything like it. Probably not in a while. His finger hooks beneath the waistband, pulls it out gently, and lets it go. It slaps against your hip bone and another fresh sound seeps from your lips.  

“Mike, shit, please just do something—”

“Okay,” he whispers, more to himself than you, carefully sliding your panties from your waist, down past your ankles, and he’s tossing them to join the pile of clothes that has begun to collect on his bedroom floor. 

You’re here, before him. The girl he waited for. Your soft flesh is glistening, clenching painfully around nothing, and he’s salivating at the sight of you. He pries your legs out further with his warm hands, leaving them to linger on your bare flesh for a few drawn out moments, before he claims what’s rightfully his. 

He presses a trialing kiss to your clit, and your back curves delicately, fingers tightening their grasp in his hair. He moans into you at this action, and you, in turn, moan as well. Confidence creates itself in him with each little whimper that he gets you to release, and he’s answering back, hearing your cries, your calls of his name with his own unabashed exclamations of pleasure. This is just as good for him, as it is for you. 

“Mike,” you whine gently, and he’s mumbling weak praise right into your cunt. 

“Fuck, you’re so pretty. Wanted this for so long.”

It’s barely audible between his languid sucks; he’s lapping at your drooling entrance, fingers subtly creeping closer, up and along your thighs and settling right above your throbbing clit. He presses his thumb against it, tracing sinful circles against your bud— once, twice, and then you’re far too close to the edge. 

“Oh, Mike I’m gonna come,” you choke out between gasps. 

“Do it. Please.”

He’s begging you. 

And you oblige. With a trembling sob, your thighs tense around his head, keeping him locked in place, capturing him and making sure he finishes the job, and oh does he plan to. When you soar, he’s still holding you in place, soothing the electric sparks pulsating throughout your body. 

He savors your sounds, and when they stop coming, he presses a lingering peck on your inner thigh, stubble scraping at the sensitive dermis. He then raises his face to your level, the light coruscating off the filthy souvenir etched all over his face, your glittering arousal that he wears so proudly. 

He steals a proper kiss from you, rubbing your side as a gentle comfort. He’s completely hard now, tenting his sweats, leaking against the fabric. You gingerly reach out, tracing what you assume to be the head of his cock, and he sags, boneless, against your touch. 

“Fuck, baby I—”

“Baby?” You chuckle softly, still hazed from the candy-coated afterglow of your orgasm. The first of many, he hopes. 

“Mngh— g… got a problem?” He grumbles softly, almost quivering as you begin to palm him with purpose.

“It’s out of character,” you tell him gently. 

“Shit, can I be inside you?” He asks you, voice ripped raw. 

And once again, Mike Schmidt leaves you breathless. 

“Yeah. I need it. I need you.”

He groans, slipping off his pants and boxers without so much as another word from your swollen lips. He’s hard, angrily so, his cock pulses violently and a little whimper escapes through the crack in his bitten lips when it slaps against his stomach. 

He’s stroking himself slowly, base to tip and then back again, collecting the pearls of precum that dribble from his slit. He’s never been so ready for something. For you. It’s all for you. 

He’s holding you, thumbing your hip bones and gently nudging himself into your hole, cooing at every cry that crawls from the crevices of your throat. When he bottoms out, finally, it’s safe to say that he gets a little dumb. “Oh, shit, I’m not— not gonna last long, you’re so tight, shit…” He’s rambling a little. It’s cute. 

A few wandering kisses land on you the way dandelion spores decorate a skyline – your cheek and your chin and your jaw, as he waits for you to let him move. You’re squeezing him for all he’s got and he’s three seconds away from spilling before he’s even so much as thrusted. You do this to him. 

All those days, staring into your eyes and wondering if you’d ever see him the way you do, all those nights, stroking your hair and softening your saddened sobs after failed date after failed date. They’re all worth it. 

You’re clamping down on him, warm and wet and wavering, and you’re exhaling softly through your nose and telling him to move, begging him to move, to make you feel good, and it’s what he does. 

He pumps into you with passion, magnetized to your every movement. He’s satisfying a decade worth of insatiable craving, he’s chasing your hips with his. You end where he begins. 

The headboard creaks and slams against thin plastered walls, one hand grips onto it with alabaster knuckles and the other one holds your hips for better leverage. He doesn’t need to say it, but each knocked kiss of his pelvis to yours is a silent I love you I love you I love you. 

“Oh my god Mike,” you sob, and he slides himself deeper, hitting everywhere he wants to reach. Everywhere to make you quiver beneath him.

“You d—don’t know how long I’ve wanted this,” he moans lowly. “How many times I’ve imagined you like— like this.”

He’s blabbering, every stray thought that passes through his head is already blossoming on his tongue and out into the air before he can even think twice. Admittedly, you’re too blissed out in your own mind to really respond, but it’s arousing all the same. 

“You’re so… so beautiful,” he’s flushed and he’s faltering, and you know he’s close before he even announces it. 

“Shit, baby, I can’t— can’t last much longer,” he stammers, his bruising pace beginning to shake. 

“Do it in me, Mike, please, please,” shit, are you trying to kill him? Your word is the only law he knows, and he’s wrapping his arms around your torso and diving his head in the elegant slope of your collarbone, biting down into the skin and spasming somewhere deep in your welcoming walls. 

He tries to keep himself quiet, but it’s really a futile effort. His hips jut sporadically as he empties himself inside you, and the sudden flood of subtle heat is all it takes for you to topple over as well. 

Bliss teeters back into reality after a seemingly ceaseless moment. He peels his head from its previous position to admire you, to stroke a stray lock of hair from your forehead and nervously greet it with a kiss.

He doesn’t let go of you. Not now, not ever, he thinks to himself. His arms snake around you tighter, and somehow it’s even more intimate after the fact. His bare chest collides with your back, his nose rests comfortably against the crown of your head. The pair of you follow each other into a dreamless sleep, safe in the sanctuary of a warm bed and an even warmer embrace. 

He’s found his new familiar. 

masterlist

✩‧₊

[g0dlyunsub]

hey!!! Ugh I just love your account! I have a request for Spencer Reid x fem reader!! Can you do one where he is always working and it makes the reader upset bc he is cancelling dates and coming home late and kinda neglects her feelings and doesn't really notice how much it affects her and how sad she gets and then he misses their anniversary dinner and she breaks and tells him that it makes her upset when he's gone all the time and he just feels so awful bc he's so in love with her and never wants her to feel that way because of him and apologizes and reassures her and makes sure she feels loved!!

ty for the request and i loved the idea for this one!

wishful thinking.

pairing :: spencer x fem!reader

warnings :: angst with a fluffy ending; very mild makeout session at the end :3

word count :: 2.4k

author’s note :: i kind of giggled at the ending as i was writing it, but i’m pretty proud of how this one turned out!

accompanying song :: neverthere by xander

spencer’s phone is quite literally the bane of your existence.

you know what to expect whenever it rings, so you hate when it actually does – its earthquaking vibrations and trilled beeps tear the happiness straight out of you.

it’s the second date in a row that he’s had to pass, and you wonder if you should just stop trying so hard. was it selfish to want to have him all to yourself, to have him seated right across from you, sharing your laughter as you pass him his plated pasta? were you expecting too much, imagining a serene life with him ten years down the road, perhaps with kids or pets of your own? was it unfair to think that you could craft a lie, telling him your stomach hurt really bad, so bad that you would have to curl up on the floor and pray he’d stay by your side just this once to comfort you?

all you ever wanted was spencer. more specifically, you wanted spencer during your first three dates, when he’d silence all of his phone calls, and wave them off like nothing even though you insisted he take them. maybe if you didn’t bring up the importance of taking work calls, none of this would have ever happened. maybe it was all coming back to bite you for your non-confrontational nature, since you could never plead him to actually stay.

but he’s your boyfriend… and that’s all that matters, right? after all, he has lives to save – people whose names are called out during prayers day and night by their loved ones as they cling on to the sliver of hope that your boyfriend and his team promise during the darkest hours. granted, spencer would drop everything if you were in a similar situation, but none of your problems have actually been life-threatening. but a girl can dream, can’t she? your first anniversary date was when spencer promised to make amends, a formal compensation for all of the past dates that he missed and left you feeling empty on your shared bed, stains of mascara chalked up on your dry cheeks.

“i’m so sorry, honey, i’ve just been… called in for work,” spencer stands, dusting the napkin that was folded nicely on his lap. you watch as he takes a sip of his glass of water, then walks over to you to plant a kiss on your forehead.

he runs his fingers along the velvety texture of the sleeves of your dress, and you offer him a weak smile.

“it’s okay, duty calls, right?” you feel the tears surfacing and you have to fight yourself to not blink. it’s too early to cry.

“i-it’s a really bad one this time, and i hate to do this on such an important day-” spencer begins to apologize frantically, and his face marks an expression of genuine concern with his brows furrowing and lips twitching.

“it’s okay. you need to go, i understand.” you state plainly, and you immediately feel shameful – your words are too assertive and snarly for how you normally respond.

spencer pauses briefly, fidgeting with his fingers, before he gives a slight nod in your direction. he then walks over to the couch, grabs a book, and tightens the clasps on his bag. 

“i’ll be back as fast as i can,” spencer utters quietly and walks out of the door. when the apartment door locks with a click, you break down immediately.

at first, the tears fall one by one. but then, a salty stream evident of pure emotional wreckage makes its way into the slight gap of your lips, and it’s an unstoppable domino effect. your shoulders shudder and heave as you struggle to catch breaths in between, and you splutter cries of your boyfriend’s name. 

maybe it would’ve been better to just stay as conversational partners, to exchange updates once in a while when he’d actually commit to a time. it was your fault for getting your hopes up high, and all of this – fanciful dinner and dressing your best for the occasion – was wishful thinking. you just didn’t want to admit it.

“y/n?” 

you look up to see spencer in front of the doorway, and his bag that was barely holding on to his shoulder drops to the floor with a thud.

you quickly look away, brushing the tears away with one arm and sniffle before choking out a response.

“i thought you left already, why are you here?” again, your words come out icier than you had hoped and hit you with a sharp pang of guilt.

spencer narrows his eyes ever so slightly as if he’s scrutinizing you, observing your body language. it doesn’t take a genius to know that you’re upset.

“i was going to. realized i forgot-,”

he clears his throat when you raise your eyebrows and proceeds, "i misplaced my wallet."

he slips out of his loafers, shoving aside his pair of converses that lie adjacent to your pretty pair of heels. he walks over to you, and you realize that you’re still seated at the dining table. you must look so stupid right now, waiting as if he’d just be returning from a bathroom break.

“i need to head out, but i promise… i promise we’ll talk about this really soon. we’ll have the anniversary dinner and-”

“did you even try?” you blurt out, and you look up at him with your puffy eyes glazed with tears.

a deathly silence clouds over the entire apartment, and you’re thinking of two options: leave the apartment and go run to a friend’s place, or confront him and see whether making amends – again, wishful thinking – would be possible.

“y/n. please believe me when i say that i’ve tried to, i’ve tried-”

you slam a hand to the table before standing up, your face twisting into an expression of outrage.

“no, because then you would’ve silenced it. you would’ve cut the call, just like you used to.” you fire your words at him as your hair sticks to the drying tears on your cheeks, and you begrudgingly wipe at your face. 

a slow sigh escapes from spencer’s lips, and he looks at you with those eyes – the eyes that seemingly warn you, saying you don’t want to go there. not right now.

but you double down on him, the rage fueling your words as you lash out. 

“it was just this one time. i only wanted you to stay for dinner just this one time.” you helplessly drop your hands to your sides, the tears landing on the floor with soft plops.

“i know. and i’m terribly sorry.” spencer bites his bottom lip and takes a step toward you. but you take a step back, and maybe that pulls a string between the two of you, because you can see how his shoulders tense up.

“look, can we talk about this when i get back? i’ll make it up to you, i swear.” he combs through his hair, the stress almost palpable as it leaks from his shaking fingers.

while you know he has to head out again, the way he so easily brushes off the conversation like it’s something he doesn’t even want to think about feeds into your disbelief. soon, however, your anger subsides into a tired frown. 

“i don’t know, you might come home late… when i’m asleep or something.” you look at the wall where a photo of the two of you is framed, and you weakly smile at how happy you seemed then. 

“i’ll give you a call, is that okay?” he searches your face for any signs of approval, but you’re zoned out thinking about the past, of how everything used to be.

“whatever, just go.” you wave him off and walk to the couch, where you lie down and turn against him to face the plush fabric.

spencer sighs, and his hand looms over your head momentarily before he grabs his wallet from the table. you hear a faint sorry trail from behind as he leaves the room, and your nails claw at the arms of the couch before the darkness cradles you once again.

it’s 10:30 pm, and you hear the doorknob click again. you had just cleaned up the dishes after eating dinner alone and left his portion in the fridge. you were now changed into your pajamas and getting ready for your night routine.

you peep out of your bedroom door to see spencer, his suit all wet. he looks at you as he takes off his shoes, and a sullen expression paints his face. did it start raining after he left? you realize that you were mostly cooped up in the bedroom since his departure, so you wouldn’t have known.

bravely looking up at him in the eye, you state: “you came back early.” you hate how unwelcoming you sound in his own home.

he pauses before he sets his wet bag on the floor and removes his blazer jacket to throw over a chair. 

he approaches you, hands in his pockets and hair twisted in matted curls. 

“hm.” he grabs a towel from the closet and makes his way to the shower, brushing past your shoulder. you feel an icy shudder spread through your spine after he closes the bathroom door.

was he giving you the silent treatment right now? 

you hear the water start from the bathroom and you sink into your bed while turning to twist the lamp lights on.

after all that torturous waiting you went through, he was giving you the silent treatment?

fifteen minutes later, a knock reverberates from the other side of the bedroom door, and even though you don’t respond, spencer steps in. he’s changed into a t-shirt and black pajama pants, and he drops next to you on the bed.

“i’m taking the week off.” 

the sentence startles you, and it’s something so unexpected you choke on your own saliva.

“what, what do you mean you’re taking the week off?” you ask him, finally turning to face him in the eyes. his brown irises blaze into your own.

“i’ve been pushing off everything you wanted to do with me — things that I wanted to do with you — and i’ve just been…” he turns away to play with the wrinkles on his pants as he speaks, picking out the dust that lies embedded between the folds.

he pinches the bridge of his nose and lets out a deep sigh. he continues, “i don’t know if it’s all worth it.”

silence casts a blanket over the two of you.

“spence,” you say after a while, and hesitantly lay a hand on his thigh.

“nothing’s more important in the world to me than you. you and your happiness. i know you love this job and i know you love helping people. you’re such a kind hearted man, and it’s why i fell in love with you in the first place.”

when spencer gives you no response, you confess: “spence, i get jealous sometimes.”

this time his eyes widen, and he looks at you.

“you do?” he asks softly, peering into your eyes and you cave instantly. 

“of course i do. it’s… everybody wants you, spencer. we all need you, whether we realize it or not.”

he scoffs.

“but i only want you.”

his voice is raspy yet mellow at the same time, the smoothest stream of sweetness seeping through your eardrums. god. you can never stay mad at this gorgeous man, the same man that made you cry on numerous occasions just counting the past week.

“you need to do more than that, if you… you know.” you quietly murmur as you fidget with the hem of your nightgown.

“i know,” he speaks with a hushed tone. “i told hotch, and i told him it was going to happen whether he liked it or not. the demands of this job are… tough, but i don’t want to miss out on all the things we planned together. i won’t.”

you start bawling right when he delivers the last word, and all the tears that you were holding back spill over your flushed cheeks. your boyfriend immediately leans in to console you, pulling you into a tight embrace as his chin rests on top of your head. 

it’s okay, he murmurs reassuringly. you ease into his touch, and you realize how much you missed this. how much you missed spending time with him.

his left hand tugs lightly at your soft hair while his right rubs your back in smooth circles. 

“i missed you,” you speak with a hushed voice, looking up into his eyes as a glassy coat of tears blur your vision. 

he cups your face with his hands before whispering, “i missed you too.”

you continue to blabber words of love-stained anguish but he cuts you off short, pulling you in for a short kiss on your lips, which are now tainted with your tears.

“you taste… salty,” he whispers, giving you a slight smile as he brushes off the rest of your tears that weigh down on your eyelashes.

“it’s because of you, silly,” you drawl as you taste the salty residue of your tears.

yeah, spencer responds hesitantly. but he’s wearing a small smile, tilting his head to one side as his eyes emit a glint of tranquilizing peace.

he reaches into his pajama pocket and takes out a piece of candy. you curiously watch as his fingers quickly remove the wrapper, revealing a glazed cherry-flavored sphere. 

“may i?” he asks, and his faint voice is a gravitational force that you can’t resist.

you briefly respond with a lazy hm? before he plops the candy into your mouth and kisses you again. the sweetness explodes like fireworks with his warm breath, and the sticky layer of sugar melts like acid on your intertwined tongues. you let out a satisfied hum when you pull back, and it’s undeniably attractive the way spencer licks the corner of his lips.

a tear falls from your eye again, and this time, it’s not out of sorrow.

[alrightieaphroditie]

wipe my tears away | j.m.

*:·ﾟ✧ series masterlist | previous part!

pairing *:·ﾟ afab!reader x joel miller wc *:·ﾟ6.6k  warnings *:·ﾟ18+! minors please do not interact!! talk of period pain, hormonal emotions, crying, kissing, some manhandling (if you squint), sad attempt at dirty talk, period play (lightly), fingering, maybe some degradation (not really sure), clit stimulation, overstimulation, multiple orgasms (f receiving), squirting/messy cum, p in v penetration (not protected, do better!), one mention of blood… please let me know if i’m missing any major ones!  an *:·ﾟthis is for the girlies who get over emotional during their periods (they are me, i am them). this is a bit longer than intended, but once i got in the zone i literally couldn’t stop, so i hope y’all will enjoy it! kind of unedited, so if anything major jumps out feel free to comment lol. i also wrote this with correct capitalization, where all my previous fics were lowercase bc i couldn’t be bothered to turn on auto caps, so let me know if y’all prefer this format!  check the series masterlist for the series tags!

synopsis *:·ﾟ joel comes home to find you laying in bed, crying because of period pain. he may not be a full gentleman, but he wouldn’t let you suffer when he has a trick up his sleeve to help sooth the cramps. 

The pain that begins in your lower abdomen, the feeling that radiates throughout the rest of your lower body with enough force to make you wince, isn’t entirely new. It’s a monthly occurrence, actually. One that you feel like you should be used to by now, considering it’s plagued you for more than half your life. 

But the outbreak had already happened when you first got your period as a teen, and for a while, your body wasn’t receiving the nutrients it needed to sustain that kind of function. It was a double-edged sword, the way you were appreciative that you haven’t had it this bad your entire life, while ruminating on the losses that occurred due to the infection. 

Because it was a different story, now. 

Now, you were eating more than you could ever remember before. Jackson was a thriving community, after all. And you were beyond blessed that you were one of the lucky ones who got to reside within its gates. Now, your body was properly fed and being taken care of for the first time in years, and that double-edged sword reared in your mind again; thankful for the safe space you’ve landed upon, but God, at what cost? Your period pain took you out for days each month, making you feel like a burden even though you physically couldn’t help it. 

Your toe stubbed against a chair in your living room as another cramp worked its way through your body, causing you to cry out for more than one reason. Tears filled your waterline, and a heavy sigh escaped past your lips. The rough material of your jeans was digging into your waistline, your hair felt heavy against your neck and each strand that brushed against your cheek made you want to cut it off, and you just felt so useless. Some logical part of your brain realized this wasn’t really you feeling this way, it was just the hormonal shift, but that didn’t provide any sense of comfort as the tears continued to glide down your face. 

In some ways, you were lucky, as today had been your day off from helping around Jackson. Otherwise, that sense of being a burden to everyone would’ve increased tenfold. You couldn't stop feeling like a burden to yourself, though. You had made a perfectly organized to-do list that was hanging on your fridge of things you wanted to tackle today. 

Your sheets needed to be washed. The floors needed to be swept and mopped, especially after the rain, as Joel and Ellie continued to trek mud through your house by accident. Maria had given you some of the spices that grew in abundance, and you wanted to make one of those simmer pots on the stove that she kept mentioning. 

But doing those chores was the last thing on your mind right now, as another cramp racked its way through your body. Now, you just wanted to go lay in bed wearing nothing but Joel's shirt that you had thrown on earlier and cry while hugging a pillow.

 And so, that’s what you did. 

Your vision was watery as your fingers swiftly worked to unbutton your pants, your feet carrying you out of the living room and into your bedroom before you really even realized what you were doing. Once you hit your bedside, you tugged the jeans down your legs, letting them pool at your feet and leaving them on the ground as you crawl into bed, feeling about as pathetic as you probably looked. Curling up on your side, you reach out blindly and grab onto Joel's pillow, tucking it against your body and letting it provide you a false sense of comfort. After that, the tears start flowing freely. 

You didn’t know how long you laid there, didn’t know how long the sound of your sniffles had filled the room or how long you pressed the pillow against your abdomen. The cramps were still relentless, and it wasn’t like you even had any medicine you could take; expired Tylenol did absolutely nothing anymore. You wish you were more used to this feeling, this pain. But it seemed like the longer you were at Jackson, the worse the symptoms became each month. You had yet to figure out the remedies that were foolproof for this feeling. 

Continuous tears turned into lonely, stray droplets as you held onto the pillow. The room was silent except for the occasional sniff. You had zeroed in on an undone thread on the pillowcase, not paying attention to your surroundings, so you didn’t hear the sound of the front door being pushed open, or the sound of Joel's work boots stomping across the wooden floors. In the corners of your mind, you recognized the voice that was muttering to himself outside your room, but your eyes stayed focused on that singular thread. 

The thought of it being lonely, being apart from the other threads holding the fabric together, made your eyes water again. You could put yourself in its position, the ever present fear of being alone daunting you even now, and that was enough to send the tears over your waterline, racing down your cheeks and onto the pillow once again. The hiccup that came from your inhale was the noise that had the footfalls move towards your room, and through your blurry vision you saw the outline of Joel standing in the doorway. 

“What's wrong?” Through your sniffles, you could sense his urgency, his rough voice filled with nothing but concern, and maybe a little worry. His gaze swept over your body, checking for any possible injury. This was the first time he’d seen you break down to this level, and the sight of you curled into a fetal position, tears streaming down your face with his pillow in your grasp… he prayed to God that another person wasn’t involved with making you feel this way.

It would be a shame to lose his good reputation amongst Jackson because he had to beat some fucker up. 

Your gaze swung up to his face, and you made yourself blink harshly to expel the lingering tears. His face came into focus, the worry lines on his forehead becoming more clear to compliment the frown on his full lips. He had a spot of dirt streaking across his forehead, and his clothes were dirty from spending the day working outside. For whatever reason, the fact that Joel had been out working in the heat for most of the day while you couldn’t even manage to get up and wash your bedsheets made your emotions spiral even more. What is wrong with me? you wondered, hugging the pillow tighter to your body. 

The sound of his work bag hitting the floor echoed through the room, soon followed by the shuffle of his boots being kicked off his feet. His hands were gently pulling the pillow away before you could even register that he was in front of you now, but you felt the bed dip under his weight as he perched himself at the edge. His broad hand rested on your elbow before sliding up your arm, gently caressing your skin until he reached the side of your face. The calluses on his thumb scratched against your skin as he swiped the digit under your eye, wiping away the tears that had pooled. 

“Baby, what’s wrong?” his voice was softer this time, comforting you in a way that had you feeling alright for the first time today. You leaned up on your elbows, and Joel helped guide you into a sitting position across from him, your hands holding on to one of his while his other cupped your face, thumb swiping against skin. The action of sitting up had your cramps rearing their ugly heads again, and your wince was subtle but extremely obvious to Joel, evident by the furrowing of his eyebrows. 

“My uterus is what’s wrong,” the scratchiness of your throat had you coughing slightly, and you worked to clear it before trying again, voice nearly as weak as you felt. “I'm on my period.” Joel's eyes widened in surprise at your admission, but he quickly schooled his features.

This wasn’t his first rodeo; he’d been with you for awhile now, but noticed that each month your symptoms were different. Sometimes, your sudden anger at everything gave away the fact that it was that time of the month. Other times, it was your sweet tooth and your cravings that gave it away. Rarely was it your tears, though, and his heart lurched at this new response. 

When your hands went to wrap around your stomach, applying pressure lightly to help ease the throbbing, his free hand came up to the other side of your face. “‘m sorry, darlin. Know that ain’t the best feeling in the world,” his thumbs were doing a stand up job at wiping away the tears on your cheeks, and soon the only sign that you had been crying was the red glaze surrounding your pupils. 

And the occasional sniffle. 

You leaned into his touch, eyes closing at the surprising amount of comfort that you felt from a pair of hands. You always felt at peace with Joel, though, so you weren’t surprised that his hands had this effect on you. You focused on the rough pads of his skin against the smooth texture of your own, taking in big breaths of air through your nose as your crying spell passed through you. Now you were thinking a little more clearly and felt a little embarrassed by the fact that Joel had walked in on you crying over a thread on a pillow case. Not that he’d ever know that’s what you were crying about. 

“It's okay. I'm sorry if i scared you or anything,” you started, opening your eyes to meet Joel's dark gaze. You offered him a small smile. “I really just need to learn how to deal with these cramps without them taking over my day. They seem to be getting worse and worse each month.” Your hands trailed up to grip his forearms, squeezing them affectionately as a wave of exhaustion flitted through your body. 

Joel's eyes squinted slightly. “Cramps, huh?” he mused, the corner of his mouth quirking up ever so slightly. In the far corner of his mind, he recalled a younger Tommy swearing by a foolproof activity that helped one of his girlfriends with her cramps when medicine didn’t cut it. He wasn’t sure he believed Tommy then, or even now, for that matter. But he knew how much you struggled with the pain, and he’d feel like a real jerk if he didn’t at least give this a go. 

“Think I know somethin’ that could help with that.” He pulled your head forward, pressing a chaste kiss on top of your forehead before dropping his hands and pushing off of the bed. You were slightly dazed, partly at the display of affection but also at the quickness in which Joel was walking to the bathroom. When he came back into the room with an old towel, you couldn’t help but look at him suspiciously. 

“Joel…”

“Do you trust me?” He asked, tossing the towel on the bed and leaning down to look at you, eye to eye. His demeanor was calm, but his eyes shined with a hint of mischievousness, and the smirk on his mouth was nothing but trouble. It made him look younger, almost. Like the gray in his beard and around the temples of his hair was there prematurely. You wondered if he was like that more before the outbreak, and you reveled in this glimpse of his past self that he was allowing you to see. 

“Of course I do.” Your answer was absolute, eyes showing no signs of distrust or wariness as you maintained contact with Joel’s. He reveled in the sureness of your answer, in the fact that it didn’t even take you more than a second to respond to his question. The smirk became a full blown grin, and you couldn’t help but mirror it on your own face as you wondered what the heck this man was thinking. 

“Good. In that case, I'm gonna go clean myself up,” his lips pressed against yours in a swift kiss before he backed away, fingers stretching to the hem of his t-shirt. “You’re gonna strip out of those panties, spread that towel out underneath you, and wait for me to come back. Okay?” One of his eyebrows notched up, awaiting your response. 

“Sir, yes, sir,” you teased, sending him off with a mocking salute. It earned you an eye roll, something he had been picking up more and more from Ellie's influence, no doubt. The sound of your giggle followed him into the bathroom, where he quickly worked to discard his dirty clothes and rinse off. The thought of you laying in bed with just his t-shirt on had him adjusting himself underneath the water stream. 

Meanwhile, you were working at a slower pace. 

You gingerly took the threadbare towel between your hands, kneeling up on your knees to place it where you thought would work best. You were starting to get an idea of what Joel was planning, and while you’ve never done anything like this before, you weren’t absolutely hating it. After you had smoothed the fabric out, you climbed back against the pillows, hooking your thumbs under the waistband of your panties and sliding them down. The pad on the inside showed slight signs of blood, so at least you weren’t bleeding too heavily right now. Usually that came after a day or two of the cramps. 

You were combing your fingers through your hair when Joel walked back into the room, pausing at the threshold while you both took each other in. His hair was damp, droplets of water occasionally dripping on his forehead, brushed back at the edges and the tops to keep it out of his face. He had been growing it out a little longer, though you knew when summer fully came around, it’d be time to clip it. 

He’d changed out of a plain, gray t-shirt into another plain, gray t-shirt - clearly a staple in his wardrobe - and you had to admire the way he was filling it out. The sleeves hugged the middle of his biceps, straining against the pure muscle that had been building up. The shirt fit loose around his chest, but you could see the way it was snug around his tummy area, the small pouch of his stomach highlighted by the thin material. 

You weren’t the only one who had been eating better since arriving at Jackson; Joel was starting to bulk up and you were loving it. 

Having ended his workday earlier, and foreseeing spending the rest of the day in bed with you, he had pulled on a pair of flannel pajama pants that clung to his thighs and offered very little to the imagination when it came to the thick imprint between his legs. The sight of him had your thighs clenching together automatically, heat racing through your body like a fever. 

And he knew it, too. You could tell by the smirk on his lips, the way his gaze strayed from your eyes to your legs. He loved having that affect on you, loved seeing how needy you became by just the thought of being with him. 

He walked to the other side of the bed, his eyes focused solely on you in his red shirt, the way your legs were crossed at the bottom, giving him just the smallest peak of bare skin underneath. You listen to him so well, he couldn’t help but admire. You gave him your trust so easily, and that was one of the few things that Joel considered to be precious in this world. He'd never make you regret that choice. 

Leaning up on your elbows, your body naturally turned towards him when he finally settled himself on his side next to you. One of his arms slipped behind your head, tucking you into his body as the other came up to guide your face to his. His lips were soft against your own, and all the tension you had felt from crying earlier completely disappeared. 

Your hands clung to his arm as he kissed you, a soft sigh escaping through your lips. Joel took the opening to deepen the kiss, sliding his tongue against your bottom lip before dipping it into your mouth. Your mind was growing fuzzy, and you simply let Joel manipulate you how he wanted, eagerly offering yourself to him. 

His mouth stayed on yours, your noses brushing against each other with every tilt of the head, but his hand strayed from your cheek. It paved a path to the collar of the t-shirt, where he fisted the material and tugged it towards himself, halfway pulling you on top of him with the movement. Your hands flung out to his chest to stop yourself from completely crashing into him, and a groan sounded against your mouth as Joel felt the tips of your fingers dig into the skin. 

He soon abandoned the collar, letting his palm slide down the expanse of your torso and bunching the shirt up a little before settling it right over your lower abdomen, fingers splayed out wide against your bare skin. The heat radiating from his palm on your skin was like your own personal heating pad; the soreness that ebbed from your cramps seemed to dissipate the longer his hand rested against your skin, the action making your head spin as you focused on breathing through your nose as Joel’s tongue traced along yours. 

Joel’s mouth trailed from your lips down to your jaw, down to your neck. The stubble growing on his face scratched at your skin when he nuzzled himself in the crook of your neck, causing a combination of a laugh and a moan to flutter past your lips. You could feel him smile against your skin before nipping at it gently, using his lips and tongue to ebb the slight pain away. You could feel him sucking at your skin, and you knew in the morning you’d regret the red and purple marks that would litter your skin, but right now, the feeling was absolute heaven. 

“Spread those legs for me, baby.” The words were whispered against your skin, accompanied by a quick tap to your thighs. You didn’t hesitate to obey; your left leg fell to the side while you rested your right leg on top of Joel's. His hand slipped from your stomach to your upper thigh, gripping the fleshy inside as he helped adjust it higher on his body. 

The cool air from the fan had you shivering as it made contact with your bare skin, emphasizing the wet slick that had formed between your legs. Joel's mouth found itself back on yours, his kiss turning punishing, almost, as his hand slowly moved down your inner thigh; his teeth were biting and pulling at your lower lip, his fingers were digging into your skin as he kneaded and gripped your thigh. 

“Joel,” you mewled, stretching up slightly to angle your hips closer to his hand. You were settled in the crook of his elbow, and his arm came up to bare against your throat ever so slightly. He essentially had you in a headlock, and you were helpless to anything he administered. Goosebumps prickled along your skin, and you whined once more when his fingers brushed against the crease of your leg. 

“Shh, s’okay, baby. Let me take care of you,” his words were soothing, soft. A complete contrast to the way he was handling your body, and it was all you could do but nod in response, eyes wide and trusting as they held contact with him. His pupils were so dilated that you could barely see the rim of brown, even this close. 

Another sharp tap to your inner thigh had you gasping, and Joel's mouth formed into a smirk as his calloused fingers eased the spot. You’d like to blame the hormones fluttering around your body for the desperation you were feeling for Joel, but part of you knew that he simply just had this affect on you. You always grew so needy for his attention, for his touch. Being with him was the only time your brain truly shut off and allowed you to feel safe, relaxed. 

His fingertips were stroking the inside of your thigh like it was the strings on one of his guitars, a slow but firm sensation that had you humming; he was playing a different kind of instrument with you. You could feel yourself growing slicker, the bubble in your chest expanding as he teased you, touched you. 

“Joel, please…” you trailed off, turning your head to the side and bumping the edge of his jaw with your nose. His gaze had slipped to where his fingers were caressing your skin, basking in the suppleness of your skin that so vastly compared to the roughness of his. You felt like a dream. 

“Such pretty manners,.” he mocked, grinning to himself before meeting your eyes once more. “Since you asked nicely, though…” The kiss he pressed on your nose was soft, but your focus was on how his fingers were finally crossing over the crease in your thigh, finally trailing down to your core. 

The first swipe of his fingers through your folds had a small moan emit from your mouth, and a curse came from Joel’s as he felt how wet you were already. “Shit, baby,” he muttered to himself more than anything, watching his fingers as he lifted them up into the light to see the shine. Chest heaving, you watched as he brought his fingers up to his mouth, watched as he placed them on his tongue before closing his lips around the digits and sucking on them while he pulled them out. 

His fingers were now wet with his spit, evident by the thin strand of saliva still connecting his mouth to his fingers. The sight alone had your toes curling against the mattress, your mouth open slightly as you watched him bring his hand back down to your pussy. Your breath left you as his second swipe was firmer, the tips of his fingers passing along your clit for a brief moment before moving back down. 

His forearm flexed slightly against your neck, his free hand moving down to brush against the top of your chest. One of your hands moved to grip his arm, nails digging into skin ever so slightly as Joel’s fingers brushed your entrance, swirling around slightly to gather the wetness that had formed. A soft sigh left his mouth as he felt you, and the next moment, two of his fingers were swiftly pushing inside of you. 

“Joel!” You gasped out, back arching into his touch as he pumped his fingers into you once, twice, three times before pulling them out. Joel huffed out a laugh at your whine from the loss of contact, glancing down at you to see your reaction to him circling your clit with the pad of his thumb. He was rewarded with the softest of sighs, and the sight of your eyes rolling shut while your mouth parted open. 

He didn’t hesitate to capture your lips with his, his mouth against yours as firm as his thumb on your clit. The kiss was quick, and Joel’s nose brushed against yours as he pulled back ever so slightly. “Such a pretty girl, achin’ for me to fill you up. My fingers feel real nice against your pussy now, don't they, baby?” 

A short and snappy nod was your form of a response, as you were solely focused on the way Joel’s middle finger was circling your clit now. Your hips bucked up as waves of pleasure wracked your body, Joel’s expert fingers bringing you relief you so desperately needed. The action had Joel smirking above you, had his hips grinding slightly against your thigh in a sad attempt at getting some friction for his now hard cock. 

Joel pulled back from his admissions on your clit, sliding his middle finger through the center of you before slowly inserting it back inside you. The gasp that left your mouth was music to his ears, and he began moving it in and out, curling it up once it was fully inside your wet pussy. Head falling back against Joel’s arm, your legs widening even further as Joel picked up a steady rhythm with his one finger. 

“So good, Joel,” you rasped, voice breathless as Joel’s finger curled against the spongy part inside of you that had your body jerking in response. Licking your lips, you pulled the bottom lip into your mouth, teeth sinking in as the pleasure continued to build up in your body. Your right hand moved to rest on his wrist, while the other stayed gripping his left forearm. 

Basking in your praise, Joel withdrew his middle finger and, when he pumped it back inside, added his ring finger. The addition had you groaning, feeling his two fingers stretch you out slowly as he pushed them inside and pulled them out. You felt Joel’s lips press against your forehead as he worked to pick up the pace, and soon all that could be heard in the room was the wet sound of your pussy being fucked by his fingers. 

“God, I could listen to you all night,” he mumbled, curling his fingers in a “come here” motion inside you and marveling at how drenched you sounded. “So fuckin’ wet for me, sweetheart. Haven’t even taken my cock yet, either, you needy thing.” 

His words only sparked the fire inside your chest even more, and soon you were moaning his name over and over again in some kind of sick prayer as he filled you with his fingers. Your mouth dropped open as his thumb moved to glide against your clit, pleasure radiating throughout your body. 

Your fingers dug half-moon indentions in Joel’s tanned skin as the waves of pleasure finally crested. 

Your body went rigid in his hold as your orgasm peaked, his fingers never ceasing in motion as your hips began to shake against his hand. He muttered soft praises as you came, moving his arm from across your chest and intertwining your fingers with his. You gasped for air as you came down, thighs twitching ever so slightly as you soon became putty against Joel’s body. 

Only then did he pull his fingers out from inside of you. He kissed your forehead once more, cupping your drenched pussy with the palm of his hand. Your chest was heaving still from the orgasm, body feeling tired once more but for a completely different reason. Resting your head back on Joel’s arm, you glance up at him, expecting him to move his hand away and maybe help you clean up. 

Instead, Joel’s dark gaze was solely focused on your pussy again. Instead of moving his hand away, he slowly moved it up your center, stopping only when his middle finger brushed against your clit. He moved his hand to the side slightly, letting the tips of his other fingers brush against the sensitive nub, before sliding it the other way. His action was slow, methodical even. 

“Joel,” you ventured, squeezing his hand that rested in yours. His jaw twitched, but that was the only response you got. He leaned up on his elbow, your hand moving up along the mattress as he did so. Now, your interlaced hands rested above you, on the pillow, as Joel’s upper body hovered on top of yours. 

Ever so slowly, Joel resumed the movement of his hand, sliding to one side before moving it to the other. His fingers all brushed against your clit, and the overstimulation you felt had your thighs closing together. 

“Keep ‘em open, baby.” Joel admonished, his grip on your hand tightening slightly. His free hand pushed away your left leg before returning back to your clit, and you swore you could feel the wetness lingering on your skin from him doing so. The roughness of the towel underneath you prickled at your skin as your hips twitched from the continued pleasure. 

“Joel,” you ventured again, this time more of a plea than anything. Tears formed on your waterline when he picked up the pace, his hand firmly rubbing against your clit each time he moved it. That bubble of pleasure formed more quickly in your chest, the feeling fiery and almost suffocating as Joel’s movements were relentless. 

“Give me one more,” his voice was rough, distant. “Just one more.” His hand dipped to cup your pussy once more, gliding up through your folds and moving the wetness from there up to your clit. The added lubrication and friction as Joel increased his pace had you crying out, body arching forward at the onslaught of pleasure. 

Your orgasm approached much faster this time, and you could feel your slick dripping down your skin onto the towel. “Oh my God,” you whimpered, your hand painfully holding onto Joel’s while the other, which had moved to rest on his hip, gripped his t-shirt. “Oh, God.” 

This time, when you came, the bubble dropped from your chest and to your stomach and your body went limp as soon as your orgasm tore through you. Your mind was a haze of euphoria, and if you were more cognizant you would have been embarrassed at the feeling of your wetness squirting out from you, would have felt heated at the way Joel praised your body. Instead, you were blissfully gone, basking in the sensation that only Joel’s fingers knew how to bring you. 

Joel’s hand slipped from yours as he pulled his arm up from underneath you, and before you were even aware of the shift, he was up on his knees, moving in between your legs and tugging his flannel pants down. “Gotta fuck you, baby. Jesus Christ, you came so good for me.” His hands bracketed your head as he leaned up against your body, the head of his leaking cock pressed against your wet slit. 

You hummed at his praise, wrapping your weak arms around his neck as you shifted your thighs a little wider to accommodate for his hips. You weren’t entirely sure you could handle another orgasm, but you knew you were desperate to have him inside of you. His head ducked down to yours, and you enthusiastically pressed your lips against his, enveloping his hips with your legs in consent. 

With a nip at your bottom lip, he slowly pressed the tip of his cock in between your folds, gathering the wetness that had accumulated near your entrance before moving his hips even further. The head of his cock pushed into your pussy, stretching you out even more than his fingers did previously. Joel groaned into your mouth as he pumped his hips slightly, pulling out of you before sinking just the tip inside you again.  

“Fuck, sweetheart. My fingers didn’t stretch out your pussy enough, huh? S’fuckin’ tight as hell around my cock.” One of his hands came to brush aside your hair, cupping the side of your face gently while his hips snapped into yours. You cried out against his mouth, the feeling of being filled so suddenly causing you to wince slightly. You welcomed this pain, however, as it quickly gave way to pleasure the more Joel rocked his hips against yours. 

Joel rested his hips against yours for a moment, his head falling down to your chest as he reveled in the tightness surrounding his cock. His breaths came out in short pants, the hand laying next to your head turning into a fist against the mattress. Your hips move up slightly, seeking out the pleasure even after coming twice before, and it brings Joel in further, causing you both to curse. 

“So desperate for me to fuck you,” Joel’s words are accented by short, quick thrusts up inside of you. He pushed up off of you, your arms falling to the bed beside you while your legs fall open as they untangle from his waist. His hands grip the inside of your thighs, and he leans his weight forward a little, pinning your legs to the bed. 

“I am, Joel. P-please fuck me,” you beg, gripping the sheets between your fingers as your hips meet his thrusts. Joel starts off slowly, implanting you fully on his cock before slowly pulling back until just the tip presses against your pussy. His bruising grip on your thighs holds your legs open while he works himself in and out of you, eyes cast on how your slick coats his cock, the occasional red streak coloring his flesh. 

A stray curl of hair falls from his previously brushed back hair, and you itch to swipe it back into place, but his pace quickens and your hold on the bed keeps you from banging against the bed frame. The sound of his cock entering your wet pussy fills the room, the indecency of it causing your skin to flush with heat. Joel’s groans start to find time with your whimpers, and soon the noises of sex are emitting throughout the bedroom, throughout the house. 

Joel’s hands move away from your thighs, traveling up your stomach and pushing up his red t-shirt to see your boobs bouncing with each thrust. He admires the peaks of your nipples, the way goosebumps arise on your flesh as it’s exposed to the cool air, before bringing both hands to grip onto them. His thumbs and forefingers pinch at your nipples, the pain mixing in with the pleasure seamlessly. 

Your eyes fall shut on a moan, body arching into his touch as you clench around Joel, causing him to curse. The familiar sensation of heat fills your body, that third orgasm floating slightly out of reach. You move one of your hands down to your pussy, resting it on your mound. Your fingertips brush against Joel’s cock every time he withdraws, and you moan at how slick he feels before bringing your fingers to your clit. 

“That’s it, baby. Make yourself come on my cock,” Joel encourages, gaze focused on the way your fingers nimbly play with your throbbing clit. His hands squeeze your breasts roughly one last time before he leans up, gripping your ankles and bringing your legs to rest on top of his shoulders. Your thighs press against his cock as he fucks you, adding in another level of pleasure for him as he fights back his orgasm. 

“Just like that, Joel. Just like that…oh!” Your cries fill the room as he pounds into you, your fingers increasing the pace against your clit. Your movements are shaky, not precise in the slightest, but you’re still sensitive and wound up from your previous orgasms that it doesn’t take much to get your third one going. With a few clumsy swipes of your middle finger against your clit, and Joel’s cock ruthlessly hammering in and out of you, your final orgasm floods through your body. 

Joel curses as he feels your pussy clench around him, making his movements stagger with how tight you become. He gives a few more deep thrusts, his own movements becoming shaky and less precise, and he soon slips out of you, rubbing the length of his cock along your pussy lips as you gush with your orgasm. With a grunt, he follows soon, his own cum spurting out of his red cockhead and on to your lower stomach. 

Your legs fall meekly to the bed again, and Joel’s body sags forward a little before he props himself back up with his hands. The sound of you both panting is all that can be heard as you both come down from your orgasms; you, eyes closed and mouth open. Joel, eyes open and mouth closed, nostrils flaring slightly as he regulates himself. 

It takes a moment before you both get back to yourselves, but when you do, you become increasingly aware of the wet feeling underneath your lower body, which causes you to giggle. “Guess it’s a good thing I didn’t get around to cleaning my sheets today, huh?” 

A snort comes out of Joel, his head shaking slightly as he moves to brush back his hair. He takes in the sight of you, freshly fucked and thouroughly spent, and can’t help but grin. He might be older, but he relishes the fact that he can still please you like this. That you actually want him to do so. Makes him feel like a god among men. 

He sees the tears around your lash line from your last two orgasms, and he leans forward slightly to wipe them away with his thumb, triggering in his mind the conversation you both had before this all started. “Feelin’ alright?” His gaze moves around your body, checking to see if he hurt you in any way. He notes the red marks against the side of your neck, the cum on your lower stomach and the beginnings of many small bruises along the inside of your thigh from where he gripped them to keep them open. 

He’d be more worried about those if he didn’t know how much you loved having him mark you up. 

“Just peachy,” you grinned at him, propping yourself up on your elbows to take in the mess below you. Joel leaned in to meet you, his kiss soft and soothing as his lips slid against yours. After a moment, he pulls away again, awkwardly shuffling to the edge of the bed before standing up. Hiking up his pants, he moves to the bathroom to get a washcloth to start cleaning you up. 

After wiping away his cum and your wetness, he gently helps you off the bed, holding your arm as your legs fumble when your feet hit the ground. His pride grows then, and you smack his arm playfully when you catch sight of his grin. “Sorry,” he mutters, pressing a kiss against the side of your head before moving to gather up the dirty towel from the bed. He tosses it into the hamper before leading you to the bathroom. 

There, he draws you a hot bath, guiding you in the tub and before pulling his clothes off and joining you. It’s a cramped space, the bathtub not technically suitable for two, but you make it work. You lean your head against Joel’s shoulders, sinking into his body as his arms wrap around your middle. You know you should do something with your bedding soon, should make sure you have the guest room set up so the two of you can sleep somewhere remotely comfortable tonight, but for now, you bask in his presence. 

“Thank you for taking care of me, Joel.” You say softly, closing your eyes and letting the hot water ease away any lingering soreness your body has. His arms tighten around you as you trace mindless shapes against his thighs. He tilts his head to the side, kissing your forehead before resting his on top of yours. 

“Anytime, baby.” His breathing evens out with yours, stubble rubbing against your forehead as he speaks. “I’ll always be here to wipe your tears away.” 

taglist *:·ﾟ @hiroikegawa

[mrsmarinara]

Can you write for Quinn with the “Can I sleep with you?” Prompt pls

Oliver The Orca || Quinn Hughes

Part of The Hockey Babies AU

Prompt: 29. “Can I sleep with you?”

Warnings: anxiety, fear of the future

WC: 6.8k

A/N: This was meant to be short and sweet jfc lol. I decided because it’s so long that I’d make this the origin for them in my Hockey Babies Au.

Summary: Since moving to Michigan as a child, you’ve been annoyed by the eldest child that lived next door. Neither of your parents care and insist on a camping trip before every school year.

Camping trips were not for you. You were meant for the city or at least a relatively mid-sized town. Not trees, bugs, and a tent that you had to put together yourself. Well, that last part was only somewhat true because after failing to put your tent together three times and watching it collapse Quinn had come over to help you. By help, it meant that you stood back and made sure not to touch anything, per his request. 

It happens every year. With your parents being friends with Ellen and Jim Hughes there was always a Summer camping trip before school started. When you asked your mother why she insisted that you go she simply told you that as you grow up life moves by fast and that close friends you once had growing up may not be around when you get older. Hence, the camping trip. 

You didn’t know much about your mom before your family moved to Michigan. In your defense, how much was a six-year-old supposed to know about their parents? 

Even when you were young, your mom liked to talk about her childhood and the one thing and person that was always a constant in her stories was a woman named Ellen. According to your mom, she and Ellen had gone to high school and college together. When they parted ways after graduation their communication slowly died out that was until you moved into your brand new house in Michigan. 

As your dad drove the van down the suburban streets filled with large houses, you couldn’t help but think that Michigan didn’t seem all that much different from anywhere else you had lived in your short six years. Your younger brother was excited enough for both of you. You weren’t easily annoyed by your brother but his nonsensical 4-year-old ramblings about everything he saw made you roll your eyes. He didn’t get it. He wasn’t leaving behind any friends or starting at a new school. If your family stayed here this is all he would ever remember, not the home or neighborhood you lived in before. 

Your dad seemed to notice your sour mood and tried to point things out that would usually catch your attention. He talked about how there would be more room for you to play, and that there was a lake nearby where you could swim in the summer. Your mom even suggested that you could learn how to ice skate during the winter when the lake froze over. None of it interested you until your dad told you that you would finally have your own bedroom. 

That made you perk up. At some point, you were sure that you had to have had your own bedroom at some point. You didn’t remember it because for as long as you could remember you shared a bedroom with your brother. For the rest of the drive, you sat back in your booster seat, thinking about how you would decorate it and if you could somehow convince your parents to let you have your own television. When you started school you could have sleepovers whenever you wanted!

That sounded nice. You’ve been trying to tell them since the few months since your birthday that you were a big girl now and six-year-olds are too old to share a bedroom with their brothers, especially a snot-nosed tattle tale like your brother.

The rest of your family chatted merrily, talking about all the great things living in this neighborhood would have, and how your dad’s new job would be great for the family because he’d be around a lot more. Your parents didn’t try to pull you back into the conversation, knowing that a neutral mood from you would be better than a grumpy one. 

Finally, when you pulled up to what was to be your new house, you couldn’t help but let out a gasp. It was large and white and there was even a porch. It was like one of those houses you saw in movies or on the covers of the magazines your mom read while waiting in line to buy her groceries. 

You refused to let yourself feel too excited about it, though. Your parents had to know that you didn’t approve of this move and that you were still upset about leaving your friends behind and your old home, and the fact that you had to get rid of half of your stuffed animals to make room in the van for a move you didn’t even want! 

You flinched when suddenly you heard your mother shriek and nearly jump out of the car, even though your dad had yet to put it into park. You watched in confusion as your mother waved her arms about to get some other woman’s attention. It seemed to work because the other woman turned away from what you presumed were her three sons, who had to be around the same age as you and your brother and embraced your mother in a tight hug. 

Finally pulling into the driveway slowly and parking the car, your dad went over to unbuckle your brother from his seat and just like your mother he scrambled out of the car to meet the children who were standing behind the woman mom was talking animatedly to. You watch from your seat as your mom introduces your brother to this strange new woman - you wonder if it’s Ellen, the one whom your mom has pictures of from when they were young. She looks similar, taller than your mom, leaner, and with the build of an athlete, and her blonde hair is a stark contrast to your own mom’s darker shade.

Even her smile is the same. You were told you were moving to be closer to your dad’s new job but now you can’t help but wonder if your mom knew that she would somehow be neighbors with her old friend. 

When your dad comes around to help unbuckle your booster seat, you sit back and let him, now eyeing the three boys in roller skates and hockey sticks. It’s the middle one you think that your brother is mainly talking to. Mainly because the youngest, either still a toddler or just a little bit older is holding onto his mom’s leg as he takes in the new people. The other one has to be the oldest, you think, with the way his face is set into a serious mask, and is the only one that has seemed to notice you. 

You don’t like that he’s watching you. You don’t know him but at that same time, that’s why you don’t put up resistance to being unbuckled, where normally you would have. You didn’t want to seem like a loser so quickly after moving here. You haven’t even stepped foot into your new house yet. 

When your dad helps you clamber out of the car, you make sure to grab your favorite stuffed animal that you were allowed to bring on the trip. When your parents had brought you to Build-a-Bear, they probably thought you’d get a regular bear or an expensive dog but instead, you picked an orca. An orca that you named Oliver who never once left your side. 

“Do I have to meet them?” you pulled on your dad’s shirt so that you could be face-to-face with him. You could see that he was trying to hold back a laugh but a light smile still found its way onto his lips. He wasn’t fooling you, though. With as much seriousness as you could muster on your small round face, you continued, “Can’t we see the house first and see these people tomorrow?”

Your dad sighed and replied, “Your mom and brother are already over there. Your mom is catching up with an old friend and your brother, it looks like is making a new friend himself.”

You grumbled something under your breath but your dad ignored it.

“We won’t stay out here for long and it’s nice to get to know you’re neighbors.” He added. “If you get too nervous or you want to leave squeeze your stuffed animal or hand him to me and I’ll get the message that it’s time to go.”

“Oliver,” you muttered. “His name is Oliver.”

He patted down your hair which had gotten more messy as the day went on and hummed apologetically, “I’m sorry, will you tell Oliver that?”

You nodded and with Oliver tucked under one arm, you grabbed your dad’s hand with the other and walked over to the others. You dropped his hand but remained close by, even when he moved closer to your mom and threw his arm around her.

When your mom finally noticed you she introduced you to everyone, “This is my daughter,” your mom announced. 

After telling them all your names, the other woman laughed. It was bright and kind. “You always did say if you had a daughter one day, that’s what you would name her.”

They shared one more laugh before your mom continued, “Darling, this is Luke,” he was still holding onto his mom’s leg and you noticed his hair was the brightest. Up close you realized that your original guess of four was wrong. He was barely three years old. You waved shyly at the younger boy and smiled, “This is Jack, he claims to like hockey more than his brothers,” which made the tallest one huff a breathy laugh. “He’s the same age as your brother, isn’t that nice?”

You weren’t sure what to say to that so you just nodded.

“This one, right here,” your mom said with a smile and a twinkle in her eyes that you couldn’t decipher, “is Quinn. He’s the oldest and just so happens to be around your age.”

You took him all in now that you were only standing a few feet away. His hair was much darker and his complexion was pale, you couldn’t help but wonder what he looked like in the winter. He didn’t smile but his eyes weren’t unkind. 

He broke the silence well by holding up his hand for you to shake.

“It’s nice to meet you,” he politely said. You replied, saying the same thing and holding Oliver closer to you. 

You wouldn’t consider yourself a shy child but it was the way that everyone was so engrossed in the conversation the adults were having while Quinn kept his eyes on you the whole time. You couldn’t pinpoint how it made you feel. You were annoyed that you were singled out but at the same time, a warm buzzing feeling hummed through you as you were the sole focus of someone’s attention. 

It all felt like too much, though, and eventually, you handed your stuffed animal to your dad. He was a man of his word and in less than five minutes your mom was wrapping up her conversation with Ellen.

You thought the interaction was over but as you had turned to walk away Ellen shouted one last thing that made your mom’s ears perk up. She turned around and Ellen said, “Every summer before school begins we go on a camping trip. We go for about three days. We leave in a week, I’d love it if you could all come.”  

Without looking at your brother or you, or your father for that matter, your mother agreed happily. You know that meant that before you were even unpacked she would drag everyone to the store to buy camping gear. 

This time you truly thought you were done because now your parents had started to walk out of earshot and Ellen had started to help Luke take off his roller skates. 

However, loud enough for you to hear but quiet enough for everyone else not to, you heard Quinn utter the words, “Don’t forget to bring your orca on the trip.”

You didn’t stop, exactly. You tripped on an uneven part of the sidewalk and managed to catch yourself before falling flat on your face. You looked back at the oldest Hughes and saw that he was gone. 

You weren’t a drama queen, no matter how many relatives tried to tell you you were. You were picky and you knew what you liked but you never expected others to understand, that would have been rude. However, how had Quinn known that Oliver was an Orca? Nobody knew, especially children your age. You only knew because one day your dad fell asleep watching a documentary about sea life. Every time someone would guess what your stuffed animal was they often guess a whale, which was a common misconception. One time you heard someone call it a narwhal. You were offended on Oliver’s behalf but secretly found it a little funny. 

You stopped letting it bother you but the surprise and shock you felt when someone knew what Oliver was made you radiate happiness. It probably seemed ridiculous to most people but Oliver was important to you. All the grumpiness in the car from earlier had disappeared. That didn’t mean you actually liked the eldest of the three brothers. He was quiet and seemed sort of grumpy and acted like he wanted nothing to do with you. 

Your first family camping trip was filled with highs and lows. Jim Hughes taught you how to fish, and you soon realized that you hated it but he seemed to enjoy it so you went along with it. You taught Luke how to make a flower crown. Your mom and Ellen gossiped about their time in school and all the time in between that they missed. 

Quinn on the other hand, barely spoke to you. It wasn’t subtle either, everyone was aware and thought the two of you would work it out by the end of the trip. It’s not like you were avoiding him. Maybe a little but not as much as he was trying to avoid you. 

All of it made any little spark inside you that wanted to be his friend die. So you vowed for the rest of the trip to ignore him. It felt better to be the one doing the ignoring and not the one being ignored. 

When school started you were put into different classes so thankfully the only time you had to see Quinn was lunch time and even then the two of you would sit across the cafeteria to sit with your friends.

For years it had worked. You were cordial as neighbors and put on pleasant smiles for your parents when they decided to have a dinner night with both families. At school you didn’t talk, sometimes you would catch him glancing over at you but you never brought it up. If he had a staring problem that would have to be something he would have to deal with on his own.

The camping trips usually went smoothly. At least up until this last year. There was always so much to do that it was easy to shrug off any attempts anyone made for you to hang out with Quinn. You were nineteen and he was turning the same age in a month. 

This could very well be the last camping trip you spent with everyone and sometimes, late at night, the feeling of not seeing Quinn again hurt but then you remembered his judgemental stares and how pretty, skinny, blonde girls would fawn over him once he became a hockey player in the NHL.

Your own thoughts startle you. What do you care if a bunch of girls threw themselves at Quinn while you were away? You especially didn’t care if he took an interest in any of them. He already went to and played hockey at the University of Michigan. You couldn’t think of one instance where he didn’t have several different options for who he spent the night with. When he goes to play for the NHL, nothing will have changed. 

(Other than everything. In Michigan, you knew you would see him again. When he moved he wouldn’t be there when you came to visit.)

This was one of the reasons you couldn’t stand Quinn most of the time. He jumbled up your thoughts and you didn’t know what to do with them. With Jack and Luke, it was different,

they had become like a second set of brothers with how often they were over at your house. Quinn, even though the offer was extended to him by every one of your family members, he still never came over. 

From the get-go, it was clear that ignoring Quinn for the entire trip wasn’t going to happen.

On the first night, you followed the routine that you had developed over the several years of camping. There was one problem, though, and that was since your first camping trip to now, you had never gotten the hang of putting your tent together. You tried! But someone would always have to help you in the end. You looked around for your brother or your dad but when you turned back to the pile of what was meant to be your tent on the ground, Quinn had come over and silently helped to put it together.

Few words were exchanged, such as, “Can you stand over there?”“Don’t touch that.” and “Hold onto that for a second.”

When your tent was all propped up and ready for you, you went to say ‘thank you’ but Quinn was already walking off to help your dad unload bags from his car. 

By the time you had everything all laid out, your sleeping bag, an extra blanket, a flashlight, and of course Oliver the Orca, the sun had begun to set. Jim called for everyone to come gather around the campfire. You pulled a hoodie over your t-shirt and claimed a spot on the log near the fire. You weren’t the last to arrive, as you waited for Jack, your brother, and Quinn to arrive you stared into the crackling campfire. 

The camping trip had been pushed back this year so now it was late September and there was a little chill in the air and the warmth from the fire was enough to warm you up. 

Luckily for you, in a week you would be heading back to school for your second year at the University of Oregon. It wasn’t your first choice and you knew it would get cold there too, but when you toured the school before your first year, you fell in love with the area. It was lush and green and had everything you wanted. 

Quinn gave you what had to have been a sarcastic smile when he finally plopped down on the log on the other side of the fire. You made a show of rolling your eyes at him in return. The little grin that wanted to come up was swallowed back down when you realized that you would miss this. The playfulness that snuck in between both of your two soured your mood.

Looking at Quinn brought back another thought that you’ve recently been thinking about. It was something that would nag at you as you packed up your room and took late-night walks around the neighborhood. You were afraid of getting homesick. You got homesick the first year you went away to college but you were expecting that. It was different, though, you were aching for some type of freedom. You loved your friends and family, and for the first time in your life, you would be free to do whatever you wanted without someone hovering over you. 

This year felt different. Your friends from home had started to settle in the cities and towns that they chose to move to. Your little brother was looking at colleges on the East Coast and even Jack was going into the NHL draft this year. With Quinn going to Vancouver to play for the Canucks, he would be the one that you would be the closest to but Vancouver was still a distance from Eugene, Oregon. There was no chance that you would ever just accidentally cross paths with him. 

For a second, you felt of pang of sadness. You’ve known Quinn since you were six and it won’t be like last year when you left for school and you would FaceTime or Skype your friends and family and Quinn would be in the background. Quinn was such a fixture in your life and now he was going to be gone too. Quinn loved Michigan, so you would probably see him in the Summers but what if after you graduate you get a job somewhere else? Somewhere where you know no one. 

You're jolted out of your spiraling emotions when Jack and your brother plop down on the log next to you, fighting over a bag of unopened marshmallows. You could thank the heavens for their timing because it feels like you’ve been having more and more thoughts about Quinn, your future, and Quinn being a part of your future.

The bag that Jack and your brother were fighting over tears in half, just like anyone could have predicted. The marshmallows go flying everywhere. Some land in the fire and melt quickly but mostly they land amongst the forest floor.

What you weren’t expecting was Jack jumping up from the log and hopping around screaming in a pitch that could rival a little girl’s. 

“Oh shit! Oh shit! OH SHI-!”

No one can hold back their laughter as they watch him frantically move about. Your brother nearly falls off of his log in a fit of laughter and you think you hear Quinn snort. 

“Jack Rowden Hughes!” Ellen scolds but when you look at her you can see the laughter she was trying her hardest to suppress. 

“Sorry, mom,” Jack mumbles but still doesn’t stop hopping around looking for the marshmallows.

“What the hell are you even doing?” Quinn asks, and unlike his mother, he’s not trying to hide his amusement. 

When he laughs you feel your chest get tight. You look briefly at him when he speaks and see that he’s already looking at you. He’s not smirking or glaring. No, he’s just smiling at you. There doesn’t seem to be any hidden meaning or mocking in his eyes. He’s happy and you’re the one he’s showing it to unabashedly. 

“Don’t you read?” Jack snaps, his hands overflowing with the marshmallows he’s grabbed from the floor, your mom kindly hands him a bag of garbage for him to throw away the dirt-covered sticky treat.  “Bears love Marshmallows!”

“Wasn’t that a SpongeBob episode?” You inquire with a laugh, shortly followed by Luke and Quinn. 

“Dear, we’ve been camping here for thirteen years.” Your mom tries to soothe Jack but everyone, including her, knows it’s futile. “No one has ever seen a bear around here.”

“That doesn’t mean they aren’t lurking around waiting to pounce,” Jack argues but he slowly calms down. Well, as calm as Jack can manage. 

“What does “waiting to pounce” even mean? Do you think Winnie The Pooh is hiding behind that tree over there?”

“Shut up, Quinn,” Jack grumbles and is shoved down to sit back on the log by his dad.

After everyone is calmed or close enough to calm your dad pulls out another bag of marshmallows and chocolate from a bag while Ellen grabs graham crackers. Jim finds the sticks for you all to toast the s’mores with all while your mom sits back in her chair, drinking out of a thermal cup, and by her lazy smile and pink cheeks, you’re starting to think that perhaps it’s not coffee or hot chocolate. 

Everyone quickly falls into the easy chatter that only forms after years of knowing one another. You hold your s’more over the fire as you sit quietly, listening to all the conversations happening around you. 

You're pretty sure that whatever is in your mom’s mug she shared with Ellen because the two of them are quietly giggling after every other word. Jim and your dad are talking to Jack about his future and what the draft might be like when it comes around soon. You feel bad for the kid. You’ve heard almost every adult close to Jack give him the same speech. It’s not like he won’t have a future. You’ve seen him play hockey, both for fun and for competition, and know that he’s better than good. Every team is looking at him right now and with his charisma and the way he moves on the ice, he’s guaranteed to become a star almost immediately after being drafted. 

Luke and your brother have given up on eating the s’mores altogether and are taking turns throwing marshmallows back and forth to see who can catch the most with only their mouths. After a minute of watching, you can safely say they’re both terrible and that ‘the bear’ coming out to eat the marshmallows is more likely than one of them catching one of them in their mouths.

You stayed quiet, not feeling like participating in any of the conversations. It wouldn’t raise any suspicions, since this annual trip began you were always worn out by the end of the day. Not talking to anyone, eating whatever your dad decides to barbecue, and falling asleep on your mom’s lap. So no one questioned you as you tried to not set your campfire snack on fire and thought about how everything was about to change after you all left the camping grounds and how you weren’t ready for it. 

You were so wrapped up in your thoughts that you hadn’t even noticed that Quinn was quiet himself. Not staring down his burnt marshmallow like you put sneaking curious glances your way and silently hoping you would catch him. 

With a loud slap on his knee and a groan that only fathers seemed to know how to make your dad stood from his lawn chair. 

“It’s been a long day, I think I’ll try to get some sleep so I can wake up early to catch some fish.”

Jim nodded enthusiastically at the prospect of fishing in the morning and stood up as well. Both of the men helped their wives up from their seats, you smiled as they made it difficult for their husbands to walk them to their tents. The swaying a giggling never died down, even when they were inside and the tent was zipped. 

You were never one for fishing and why people liked to do it so early in the day perplexed you. You had attempted fishing twice in your life, once with your dad and brother which resulted in you being pushed into the lake by your brother and the other time was on a camping trip where Jim was convinced he could change your mind about fishing. It didn’t work. So now your plans for tomorrow are to lay down a beach blanket near the water and read one of the books you brought with you. 

The next ones to stray towards their tents for the night were Luke and your brother. You knew they were going to be next. They enjoyed fishing and spending time with their respective dads. 

“Maybe I’ll even catch dinner for us tomorrow!” your brother exclaimed. 

You wanted to gag at the idea but you saw the excited look on his face and decided against it. Instead, you gave him a thumbs up and mustered up a, “I’ll wish you luck!”

Jack didn’t say goodnight to anyone but you all saw him run behind one of the trees to vomit all of the sugar he consumed. By now he was most likely in his tent groaning or trying to get a signal on his phone. Probably both. 

It didn’t take long for Quinn to stand and bid you goodnight after the other boys left. Your eyes followed him as he walked with his head down to his tent. He had no real reason for leaving. You had watched him sporadically throughout the night and he didn’t seem tired. Perhaps he just didn’t want to stay out here alone with you. You murmur a quiet goodnight back, not sure if he heard it or not but not wanting to say it again. 

You weren’t ready for sleep yet. Your mind was still racing and when your thoughts came back to coming home for the holidays and everyone not being there a knot formed in your throat. You had made friends in Oregon and this upcoming year you would likely start networking, which meant meeting new people, and even though you haven’t met them yet, you knew they weren’t going to be better than the people sleeping in the tents less than ten feet away from you. 

If it hadn’t been for the chilly early September breeze you probably wouldn’t have noticed the tears on your cheeks. You wiped them away quickly. Everyone had already gone to sleep so you could cry as much as you wanted to and no one would know. No one but you, and you didn’t want to deal with all of those emotions right now. You were only feeling like this because it had been a long day and what you needed was a good night's rest. 

You watched the fire die down and when it was only embers left you sprinkled some sand on it to make sure it wouldn’t set the forest ablaze as you all slept. When you were done with that you crawled into your tent and tried to get comfortable in your sleeping bag. 

It was futile. The extra blanket didn’t warm you up and the sleeping bag was old and had small holes in it that you didn’t notice when you had packed it. Not even pulling Oliver close to your chest made you feel better. 

The tent was cold and hard and despite the rustling leaves and wind outside, it felt silent. You weren’t built to be alone and with your recurring thoughts of everyone leaving and not coming back once school starts up again, you couldn’t find it in yourself to stay in your tent tonight. 

You grabbed your extra blanket and Oliver and paused when you were outside. Who could you share a tent with without them making a big deal of it? Your brother and Jack were immediately scratched off that list. They had the biggest mouths known to man. You could seek out the comfort of your parents, similar to when you were little and afraid and you would crawl into their much bigger bed and cuddle between the two of them. They would worry if you did that now and you didn’t want to worry them on the first night of the trip they had come to love.

There was nothing wrong with going to Luke but your body itched to turn the other way and go to Quinn’s tent. He wouldn’t tell anyone and even if he wasn’t sharing the same thoughts out loud, perhaps he was thinking them silently, after all, he was in the same predicament.

Before you could stop yourself you tapped gently on the tent and whispered his name. 

Nothing happened, so you continued just a little louder and perhaps with a slight whine. “Quinn! Quinn, open your tent. Quinn, are you asleep?”

Finally, the zipper was tugged down and a disheveled Quinn appeared. Despite his look of annoyance, you could tell that he wasn’t really upset with you. If he was he would have told you to go away by now or never opened the tent.

“What’s wrong?” His words slurred from sleep but his tone was serious. 

With a weak smile, you replied, “I think there’s a bear outside my tent that thinks I’m a marshmallow. Can I sleep with you?”

To your surprise, Quinn shuffled to the side of his sleeping bag to make room for you. When you continued to look at him dumbstruck he sighed and waved at the tent flap and said, “Can you come in here already? Also make sure you zip that up. I’m pretty sure that any bear with a sweet tooth will be dissuaded by a zipper.” 

You did as he asked and once you did you climbed into the sleeping bag with him. He grunted when you accidentally elbowed him in the stomach and when you kept trying to readjust in the small sleeping area that was only really meant for one Quinn grabbed your waist and rolled you so that your back was against his front. You felt breathless being so close to Quinn, no that wasn’t it, being held so close to him. The two of you grew up together so it didn’t feel strange to sleep in the same area. Sometimes you had to share a bed because your brother and Jack wanted to share one instead. One time when you were sharing an air mattress, it popped and you both had to sleep on the floor after that. You still held firm that the popping was Quinn’s fault. 

This was different, though. Out of all the times you had to sleep near Quinn, he never seemed like a cuddler and yet, here you were with his arm slung tightly around you, with his forehead pressed against your neck. Slowly and without saying anything you grabbed his hand that was on your waist, holding you to him, and intertwined your fingers. It felt grounding. How could you spiral when he was so solidly here? 

“So are you sticking with the bear story or are you actually going to tell me why you're in my tent?” Quinn said into the quiet darkness. 

You didn’t want to answer his question. You wanted to lay here and be held and take up all of his warmth and fall asleep. You also knew that if you didn’t vocalize your fears they would only get bigger and bigger until one day you would simply combust and find yourself living in a cardboard box outside of your childhood home.

You squeezed Oliver with the hand that wasn’t holding Quinn’s and whispered shyly, “I’m afraid of what happens after this. I’m afraid that once I go back to school everything will change and I’ll come home and nothing will be how it was.”

You let out a breath of relief. Even though you couldn’t help but still fret over everything it still felt nice to get all of that off of your chest. 

Quinn had remained quiet the whole time and for a moment you thought he was falling asleep until he squeezed your hand and moved his arm under your head to grab Oliver. Quinn wasn’t taking him from you but he held him gently. Almost stroking the worn fuzz on the stuffed orca.

“Things are gonna change,” he finally said. “All of our parents will still be in Michigan and so will your brother and when he goes to college I’m sure he’ll call to annoy you every day.”

You smiled sadly, it was true. Your little brother was like you. He aches for space but needs to know that the people he loves will still be there. 

“Doesn’t it scare you?” It’s a whisper, you can barely hear yourself over the pounding of your heart and the blood rushing in your ears. 

You didn’t know why you felt scared right now, this was Quinn, the same boy you’ve known nearly all your life. On the other side, though, this is Quinn, the same guy that annoys you more often than not. Who on most days you think he might hate you and you might hate him. Your thumb rubs circles on the hand that’s holding yours. What was it that your mom always said? There’s a thin line between love and hate.

It takes a minute and then two before you think he might not answer. Had his lips not been so close to your neck you wouldn’t have heard him. His words would have been lost with the wind outside. 

“Of course I’m scared.” He finally says and before you can cut in he continues. “I’m scared that I won’t be as good as people are hoping I will be when I finally get to play. I’m afraid to be so far away from my family.” He paused again but kept quiet, there was a tension in the air and you knew he wanted to say more. “I know my family will always be there, though. I also know that my friends will be too. I just don’t know about you.”

You went to turn around so that you could see his face and hear his words when he says them. His arms around your waist stop you, though.

“Whether or not I like it, you know everything about me.” You reply, the next part you look at your stuffed Orca so it feels like you're talking to it rather than him. “I think you might be the only person who knows everything about me. You’re always paying attention.”

“Of course, I’ve been paying attention.” 

You don’t hesitate and you don’t let yourself think before saying what you want to.

“Why?”

Quinn sighs your name and it sounds like a prayer. It sounds like he’s begging you to just know. Quinn is a man of few words and you want him to say it. 

“When I was six a stubborn girl with a stuffed Orca moved in next door to me. You watched me, you saw me, first before you finally looked at my family. For as long as I can remember I’ve been an afterthought to everybody.” Quinn says and his words make you hurt. “I did things to annoy you just so you would notice me because I wanted /your/ attention.”

“That’s very playground of you.” You say lightly, trying to ease the suffocating air in the tent. 

Quinn laughs lightly and it tickles your neck. “Then, and here’s the kicker, I get drafted to the Vancouver Canucks, and team far away from everything I know and then I remember that this girl that I’ve been annoying on purpose for years has what can only be described as an emotional support Orca. People have stuffed bears, ducks, or literally anything else. I’ve never seen someone with an Orca and for the first time everything I had and everything I’ve ever wanted became so clear.”

“And what is it that you want?” 

He lets go of your hand and sits up on his elbows just so he can look at you when says, “You. Since you got out of that car gripping that stuffed animal in one hand and your dad’s hand in the other all while giving the meanest glare I think I’ve ever seen from a kindergartner.”

“I thought you hated me.”  

“I thought you hated me.”

A small smile tugs at the side of your lip, “I thought I did too. If I’m being honest, though, I don’t think I could ever actually hate you.”

The kiss is a surprise. It’s not on your lips or your neck, Quinn simply leans down and places his lips to your forehead. After that, he lays back down behind you and wraps his arm around your torso. You waste no time grabbing his hand and sinking into his embrace. 

He’s solid and warm and for the first time in months, your mind doesn’t feel like it’s running a mile a minute. 

“Do you believe in fate?” 

The question catches you off guard. Fate? Quinn was so practical it seemed like a weird thing for him to ask. Did you believe in it though? If you were asked ten years ago, you would have said yes. If you were asked four years ago you would have said no, but lying in Quinn’s tent and in his arms, you can’t but wonder if maybe you do?

“I don’t know.” You say honestly. “Do you?” 

Quinn is quick to answer, “Oh yeah, how else can I explain that the girl I fell for at six would have a favorite stuffed animal that is an Orca, while I’m about to play for Vancouver whose mascot is an orca?” 

You smile at that. It did seem rather fate-like if you thought about it like that. 

“Well, when you put it like that,” you laugh, as does Quinn. “When you’re off being a hotshot hockey player in Canada you have to promise me something.”

“Hmm, depends on what it is that I have to promise.”

You bit your lip and let your eyes slide down to Oliver. You hoped that Quinn would hear the true meaning of your words when you said them because you doubted you could say them out loud yet. “Just remember that Oliver is your favorite Orca when you’re out there.”

You waited with bated breath. Quinn’s breathing had slowed and for a moment you wondered if he had fallen asleep. 

That was until he pulled you closer to himnand said directly in your ear, “Oliver will always be my favorite no matter where I go.”

[hhughes]

♯ 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐊 ◞ 𝑸𝑯⁴³

✰ pairing ⤫ fem!reader x quinn hughes

✰ synopsis ⤫ in which you and quinn are fighting but he can’t leave without letting you know he loves you

✰ content ⤫ a little angst I guess, the angst isn’t really present in the fic, it’s more about the resolving of the angst. cuteness. quinn putting up with his girl’s stubborn ass. overuse of baby, I’m sorry 😭

✰ 💭 ⤫ I love writing for quinn so much. . . as always I’d love to hear what you think! <3

you make a pointed effort not to look in quinn's direction as he enters the kitchen, keeping your glare firmly planted on your cup that coffee was slowly pouring into.

quinn knew you had seen him enter the kitchen, your shoulders had tensed the moment he walked into the room, but your eyes didn't flicker to his like they normally would, and he was fine with that. he was sure that if you did direct you attention towards him it would only be to start yelling at him. again.

he follows his normal morning routine, taking out the toaster and the bagels but hesitates after putting one in. he's unsure if he should be toasting yours, not because he's being petty over the fact that you weren't making him coffee like you normally would, simply because he's never met a more stubborn person in his life, and he wasn't sure if you'd eat it if he did toast it for you.

quinn allows the silence to drag on for a few minutes before breaking it. "you're coming to the game tonight right?” he asks

“probably,” you answer softly and quinn sighs, dropping another bagel in the toaster

quinn moves to the spot next to you, making his breakfast bagel on the counter and you resist the urge to kiss his cheek and cuddle into him like you normally would. he was even wearing his blue hoodie today, the one he knew was your favourite.

you make your way to the living room table, taking a seat on a chair and pretending to read the paper that was laying on the table. your mind was way too busy to actually focus on the words on the page but it was better than looking like you were contemplating what happened earlier that morning.

it was a stupid fight really, stemming from the fact that quinn left his dishes in the sink when you’ve repeatedly told him to just put it in the dishwasher, like how hard can it be? from there on some petty insults were exchanged as a result of exhaustion and frustration building up from the long week.

there’s a few minutes of silence again, the only sounds coming from the kitchen where Quinn was making your bagel. it’s not unusual for there to be silence in the morning, neither you or quinn were morning people. but that’s usually peaceful silence, this was tension-filled silence.

you see quinn approaching in your peripheral and a few seconds later he placed your bagel in front of you. “eat that,” he says, more like orders. and hesitates for a few seconds. he wasn’t sure if you wanted him to sit with you, or if you’d rather just be left alone.

your heart clenches a little when after a few seconds of hovering he decides to move towards the living room and plops down on the couch, eating his breakfast alone.

you were so in your head you didn’t realize the time had passed so quickly and before you knew it, quinn was getting ready to leave, putting on his shoes and grabbing his keys.

letting out a heavy sigh he makes his way towards you, gently cupping your cheek and pressing a kiss to your head and your cheek.

“Have a good day baby, I’ll see you tonight. I love you,” he says before turning to leave but you grab his hand before he gets the chance to

“I’m sorry-“ you start to apologize but he cuts you off

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for, you’re right you’re not my mother and I’m a grown man, I can clean up after myself,” he says a little teasingly, recalling your words from earlier.

“Well yes, but you also apologized for it and I blew it way out of proportion. I’ve had a horrible week and I took my frustrations out on you and I’m sorry,” you say and his gaze softens, pulling your hand to tug you out of the chair and into his chest

“It’s okay baby. I know you’ve had a stressful week, we all have those. God knows I have them and I take it out on you way more than you do to me. I’ll argue with you about dishes in the sink if that’s what you need to let off some steam, as long as we can make up again before one of us has to leave. I don’t like being away from you knowing you’re pissed at me. At least when I’m home I get to see how sexy you look when you glare at me from across the room,” Quinn says, placing a kiss just below your ear and you shiver a little when his beard scratches the skin there.

“Well there’s other ways we can blow off steam rather than arguing,” you suggest and Quinn lets out a soft laugh against your neck

“You wanna show me?” he mumbles, hands falling to your ass and you laugh pushing him away

“Maybe tonight, you’re gonna be late,” you say, walking to the kitchen and grabbing the lunch you packed for Quinn before he even came downstairs

“You sure it’s safe to eat?” Quinn teases, knowing you made it when you were still mad

“Your sandwich may be a little spicier than usual, but you’ll live,” you say, patting his chest and he laughs, giving you a quick peck before he’s out the door.

not even his plate and coffee mug from breakfast sitting in the sink was enough to remove the smile on your face after that.

[rainylana]

“It’s just a cut.” Part three!

Eddie Munson x fem!reader

warnings: physical abuse, mentions of injuries and wounds, emotional turmoil, angst and lots of tears, readers mother is in jail, language, hospitals, reader and eddie are at heavy odds, mentions of betrayal and broken trust. let me know if i missed anything! original request by @h-ness1944

note: i hope everyone is doing okay! enjoy this new instillation of the series, and let me know what you thought about it! this particular series seems to take a toll, so please share your thoughts! it means the world to me!!:) as of right now, this is the final chapter. the ending isn’t necessarily a cliffhanger, but it’s not exactly a solid ending, either! hope you enjoy!

You had shut the world out and everyone in it, refusing to speak or comply with anyone. You were throwing a tantrum, you knew that, but you were too heartbroken to care. Eddie had betrayed you, the one person you loved most in the world had done what you had asked not to do. You wouldn’t talk to the cops. You begged Eddie not to, begged him to keep his silence, but it was clear his feelings hadn’t changed. He couldn’t do it. 

He told the cops everything. From every bruise and wound he had tended, to the aches and cracks in your heart from harsh words. Of course, the police wanted to hear it from you, but from the extent of your injuries, they knew Eddie wouldn’t have been making it up.

The tried to talk to you multiple times, so did the nurses and your surgeon. Wayne tried, Eddie begged. The kids came in, so did Robin and Steve, but it was to no avail. It felt as if the whole world knew your secret. You felt nothing but shame and embarrassment, and the worst of all, betrayed and alone.

Your dad had been notified and was on the way, but the last thing you wanted was for family drama. You wanted to rot in that bed, and if you had it your way, you surely would. It had been almost two days since you last spoke to anyone. They’d given up, but not Eddie. He was determined to make you understand. He couldn’t loose you. A life without you in was one he didn’t want to have to live.

And as far as your mom went, you felt cold and empty. You didn’t know why. You didn’t care about your injuries, you’d been hurt before. You didn’t care about the mean things she had said before she pushed you down the stairs. You simply just didn’t care anymore. You didn’t want to see her, but you wished everything could go back to the way it was, as sick as it seemed. You were too hurt, too betrayed to feel anything else. All you felt was grief, and a horrible ache in your stomach.

You were to be on bedrest for the next three weeks so your wounds could heal properly, and you couldn’t wait to get the bandage off your nose so you could breath again. You looked terrible. As the days sat in your bruises began to change shape and color, your face decorated with marks of angry purple and red shades.

The only thing that could be heard in the room was the ticking of the clock, which happened to be running five minutes slow. You could barely move, only laying flat on your back with your head turned toward the window. There were so many damn flowers everyone you felt as if you were living in a greenhouse. 

Eddie had resorted to sitting outside your room. You’d made it very clear you didn’t want to see him, but he refused to leave you completely. He’d come in every now and then, asking if you needed anything, tearing up with another I’m sorry. He never got a response.

If he loved you like he said he would, he wouldn’t have betrayed you. He wouldn’t have broken your trust like he did. He wouldn’t have turned your entire world upside down and ripped out your heart. You wondered if you’d ever be able to look at him the same again.

•

“Ed, don’t you think you should go home and rest?” Wayne stood behind Eddie, watching him as he stared at stuffed animals in the gift shop of the hospital.

“I’m fine.” His voice was gruff and cold, almost matching yours the last time you spoke to him.

He was indeed, not fine, not in the slightest. He was completely pale and malnourished, hadn’t eaten in days or taken a shower. He hadn’t slept in almost five days, not properly, anyways. The heart in his chest that kept him alive was breaking second by second, and he wondered if it would completely shatter inside of him.

“Don’t start that with me.” Wayne comes up to the side of his nephew, glancing down at the teddy bear in his hands. “You’re not fine. You need sleep. I’ll stay with y/n. You go home and rest.”

“Wayne.” Eddie stressed, placing down the teddy bear, twirling around toward the exit of the shop. “Stop. Leave me alone.” He walked as quickly as he could out of the store, ignoring the have a good day from the check out lady. He walked with angry, heavy steps, so quickly that his hair bounced with each step of his boots. He could hear his uncle trailing behind him.

“I can’t leave her, Wayne.” He stopped in front of the elevator, pushing the button with a ringed finger. “If you want to go home go ahead, but I’m staying put.” The elevator opened and he was walking inside, leaning against the metal wall with crossed arms. “Are you coming or not?”

Of course, Wayne followed, not ready to give up on his son.

“You’re just as stubborn as she is, you know?” The old man said gruffly, the hot temperature of the elevator making him sweat. “You’re no good to her like that. You’re dead on your feet, boy.”

Eddie stared at the floor and ignored every word, at least tried to, and thought about you staring at the wall, the same spot that you had for the last two days. Would you ever speak to him again? Was any of this worth it? Would the two of you ever be the same? He knew the answer already, whether the two of you were together or not, nothing would be the same in your relationship. That was inevitable.

•

Your nose killed you, your face aching with the weight of your tears that had your bones throbbing with pain. Your shoulders shook with the weight of your sobs, your mouth clamped shut as to not alert anyone that you were awake. It was almost four in the morning and you’d awaken up from another bad dream. You couldn’t sleep no matter how hard you tried.

You were just so sad. You missed your mom, you’d come to that conclusion. You missed her and wanted to be home. You wanted to see your dad. You wanted to be in your own bed. But most of all, you wanted Eddie to hold you in his arms, wanted him to tell you that everything would be okay and that he loved you. You craved him more than anything.

But where did you both stand? The last thing you told him was that you’d never speak to him again, you’d threatened to break up with him. Yet he had stayed. He hadn’t left at all. Or had he? You hadn’t seen him almost all day. The thought made you sob, hoping to god that he was still outside your room.

You looked to the door, flexing your leg. You were barely able to stand with help from the nurses, you surely wouldn’t make it out there on your own. You whimpered and fell back into the bed, covering your face with your good arm, the other now in a cast, and cried brokenly.

“Y/n?”

You jumped and uncovered your face, eyes widening at the familiar face. “Wayne.” You cried, holding out your arm. You broke down into heavy tears at the sight of him as he shut the door, quickly hurrying over to you.

“Hey, hey, shh.” He sat on the bed and scooted to sit beside you, wrapping his arm around your shoulder, pulling you carefully into his side. “I got ya, kid. You’re okay.”

You bawled into his shirt, the comforting smell of cheap cologne and cigarette smoke brining a sense of calm over you. Your body shook in his arms, and you cried for everything in that moment, like you were mourning for the entire world.

“It’s okay, darlin. You’re okay.” His face watched etched with concern, have debating whether or not he should go get Eddie from the chapel, but he knew he’d be sound asleep. He shouldn’t leave you, he decided, holding you closer and letting you cry out everything you needed to.

“I don’t know-” Your breath hitched, fingers fisting at his shirt. “what to do.”

The weight of your sobs made it difficult to understand you completely. He kissed the top of your head, shushing you gently.

“I’m so..s-scared.” You whimpered, face burning with a broken ache. You were becoming inconsolable, hysterical with your broken heart, you didn’t even hear the door open up.

“Wayne?” Eddie’s eyes were wide at the sight of your distress, freezing him in his spot. Wayne looked from you to Eddie, knowing that it was his nephew that you really needed. He nodded him over, gently trading him spots as Eddie quickly and carefully swapped spots to hold you close.

“Shh, shh, baby, baby.” He coos, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you to his chest. You’re not cold or distant, you relish the scent of him, bawling into his chest like a lost little girl. “I’m here. I’m here.”

He was so relieved to hold you, so happy that you were allowing him to comfort you. You’d probably hate him again in the morning, refuse to speak to him probably, but this, this was a step forward. He heard the click of the door shut and he was left alone with you, kissing the shell of your ear. “I’m here, baby.”

•

You were left with hiccups and an awkward silence that neither of you knew how to fill. He continued to hold you, almost two hours later. The sun was beginning to rise and you knew the nurses would be making their rounds to your room soon. You weren’t as relaxed into him as you were, now tense and unsure where to keep your arm.

He felt the same way. He rubbed his hand up your arm, trying to keep connected with you, but the awkwardness in the room continued to grow heavy, your tears having long since stopped. He didn’t know what to say and neither did you.

You couldn’t help but groan, your head killed you from your breakdown.

“What’s wrong?” He looked down at your face. “Did I hurt you?”

“No.” You said hoarsely, bringing your shaky hand up to your nose. “Just my nose. My head is killing me.”

He sat up, examining the darker shades of your face. “Do you want me to get a nurse?”

You shook your head quickly. “No, I’m okay.” You we’re tired of them pestering you every five minutes with medicine in little plastic cups, trying to get you to use your legs, despite the fact the doctor wanted you on bedrest.

You held your face and he watched you, swallowing dryly as he tried to find words. There was so many things he wanted to say, but would you listen? He got up and walked to the window, peeking out the blinds at the sun that was beginning to rise. He stretched awkwardly, a crick in his neck that made his own head hurt, too.

You looked at his back, trying your hardest not to cry. You had the urge to apologize, but did you have anything to apologize for? Was this your fault? Eddie was clearly suffering, but so were you.

“I’m sorry.” You blurted out. Sorry for what exactly, you didn’t know. You couldn’t forgive him, could you? Could you forgive him for the way everyone was looking at you now? Could you forgive the fact that your mom was in jail?

He twirled around, eyes narrowing in confusion at your words. “For what?”

You gulped, not able to meet his eyes. “I don’t know.” I’m sorry you’re in pain. You could be sorry for that. You still loved him, after all, despite everything that happened.

“Do you hate me?” He asked, looking toward your bed. “For telling?”

It felt so back and forth. You were so sure of your feelings one minute, then completely changed the next. “I don’t hate you.” You answer honestly, voice dry and cracked. “But It’s hard to look at you.”

He nodded once briefly. He understood the feeling. It was your turn then, to look at him, finally taking in just how rough he looked. His hair was matted and greasy, desperate to be washed. He was exhausted completely. “Have you went home at all?” You ask, halfway sat up in your bed, good hand at your stitched side.

He gulped, shaking his head.

You frowned. “Eddie,” You began. “You should go home. I’m okay.”

He finally turned away from the window, standing their awkwardly in the middle of the floor. “Do you want me to go?”

No. No, you didn’t. But it wasn’t fair to make him stay just for your sake. He looked like he was going to pass out any second. He needed food and rest. “I want you to take care of yourself.” You answer. “You don’t have to stay here on my account.”

He gave you a look then. I want you to take care of yourself. He wanted the same for you, yet he was the bad guy. He furrowed his brows, licking his fry lips. “Okay.”

He made it halfway across the room before you stopped him again. “I’m sorry, Eddie.” You say, closing your eyes.

He sighs that time, becoming irritated himself. “Why, y/n? Why are you sorry? There’s nothing for you to be sorry for.”

You shake your head, nose throbbing. “I don’t- I don’t know. I just feel like I should say it, so I am.”

His hand was on the doorknob, and he rested his forehead against the door. “You don’t know what this has been like for me. I had to tell them, y/n. I understand you’re mad, but you don’t need to apologize. You have no reason to.”

Your eyes start to tear up, and you can feel the damp feeling of your bandage against your nose. “You didn’t have to.” You look to the wall again. Your safe spot. “But I know you felt like you did.”

He scoffed without humor, looking back at you like you were crazy. His eyes were matching yours with tears. “I didn’t have to? Is that some sort of joke? Do you not realize the situation you’re in? You could have died, y/n. You almost died.”

You cringed at his words and clamped a hand over your mouth. “But mom is in jail now. She’s going to go to prison.”

“Good riddance!” He couldn’t help but raise his voice, an angry tear spilling over his face. “Fuck her! I hope she rots in there! I don’t care how upset that makes you, y/n, it’s true. She’s a shit mom and deserves what she got!”

You sobbed with each word that spat, glaring at him over your fingers with a look that could kill. “That’s not true! She’s my mom, Eddie! I’m okay!”

“No, you’re not!” He marched over and pointed his finger at you. “You flew through a fuckin’ window and tore your stomach to shreds!” He took a deep breath, that soon had him releasing a sob. “Do you know how scared I was waiting for you to come out of surgery? The doctors didn’t know if you’d pull through, y/n. Do you have any idea how fucking messed up in the head I am now?” He was weeping freely, pacing across the room.

“Don’t you dare say you’re okay.” He said sternly. “Do you really care that little for yourself? Do you hate yourself so much that you don’t care for your own safety? Do you want to die that badly? Well, I won’t watch it. I won’t sit here and watch you wilt away. I can’t, baby.”

You were blubbering and carrying on, saying things that couldn’t understand. “I’m sorry.” He managed to hear through your broken sobs. “I’m so sorry, Eddie!”

You looked up at him with a bloodied nose, hot tears and snot pooling at your cupid’s bow. “I’m sorry that I’ve hurt you so bad, Eddie. Please, please don’t leave me!”

“Y/n,” He crumbled, going to you. “Stop apologizing, you silly girl.” No matter the fight, he would always go to you. “Aren’t you listening to me? You haven’t done anything. It’s your mother. She’s the one who’s hurt you, hurt us.”

He held your face and wiped the blood from your nose. “Please, forgive me, baby. I’m sorry. I promise, I won’t ever let you get hurt again. I’ll protect you if you let me, please let me.”

He’s kissing your hands, moving up your good arm and to your cheek. “God, I missed you, baby.”

“I love you.” You cried, gripping at his shoulder. “I’ll forgive you if you forgive me.”

I love you. He sobbed at the words. You still loved him. He said it back lovingly, muttering the words he forgave you as you said the same. Neither of you realized just how hard it would be to move forward, but that was the thing about love, it conquered above all else.

Over time, you’d come to terms about your mom. Your dad would move down to Hawkins until you graduated, where eventually you and Eddie would have your own place. The abuse you had endured would be something that would always stick with you, but Eddie was your rock at the end of the day, and he’s the one that got you through it. Love always conquered all.

[gigabyte-flare]

The Devil is Real (Part 2)

Part 1

Summary: You sense there's something not right about Los Iluminados and you're determined to get to the bottom of it.

Word Count: 3.5k

Pairing: plagas!Leon Kennedy x fem!reader (afab)

Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction. Actions depicted in this story are not condoned in real life. You are responsible for your own content consumption. If any of the following warnings trigger you, please read at your own risk. Minors do not interact, this story is 18+ only.

Warnings: drug abuse mention, abusive household mention, religious cult, religious trauma, body horror, noncon, dubcon, unprotected p in v, creampie, oral (m and f receiving), masturbation, kidnapping, yandere tendencies, somno, extreme violence and gore, human sacrifice, murder, blood play/kink, breeding kink, pregnancy, pet names, stockholm syndrome, DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT [More warnings may be added in future parts]

Your eyes slowly open to find the sun pouring into the window over by the head of the stairs. You let out a loud yawn as you sit up, stretching your arms over your head before swinging your feet over the side of the bed. Heading downstairs, you find Vince already up and making breakfast. You walk up and stand next to him.

“Anything I can help with?” you ask, leaning in to see what he’s making.

“Nah I’m good,” he replies, playfully shoving you away, “you must have been exhausted. You were already asleep when I got back to the house.”

“The jet lag finally caught up to me as soon as my head hit the pillow,” you explain as you sit at the table, “you spoke to Father Méndez I take it?”

“I did. Hopefully it helps. I don’t want you to feel unwelcome here. I know Leon is just doing his job but… you’re my sister. Making sure you’re comfortable here is my top priority.”

Vince finishes making breakfast, once again bringing two plates to the table before sitting across from me. 

You speak up once more while you’re eating, “so, what’s on the agenda today?”

“I have to help out on the farm, that’s usually what I do most days. You’re more than welcome to join me, but if you don’t, I understand.”

You nod, thinking back to your time spent living with your grandparents. They had lived on a large farm and your grandfather made the two of you do almost all the upkeep. Your brother would take care of the livestock and farm maintenance while you would tend to the garden, it was brutal work for children. Regardless of the unpleasant memories, you weren’t about to sit back and let your brother do all the work.

“Sure, I’ll help out, just let me know what needs to be done.”

Within the hour, the two of you had made your way to the farm. It is a ways away from the village, requiring another short hike to get there. Once getting there, Vince is tasked with repairing some of the farm equipment while you helped feed and groom some of the livestock. You’re in the middle of wrangling up the pigs to feed them when out of the corner of your eye, you see someone approach your brother. You recognize the cargo pants and the tight fitting black athletic t-shirt immediately and that can only mean one thing:

It’s Leon.

You avert your eyes, bringing your focus back to pouring the feed into the trough, however, you steal quick glances at Leon and your brother as they speak to each other. Leon has short blonde hair and obviously takes very good care of himself; even you could see the way the sleeve of his t-shirt forms over his biceps.

“Hey Sis, come ‘ere!” Vince calls, beckoning you to join him with a motion of his hand.

You put down the bag of feed, silently cursing to yourself before walking over, standing close to your brother when you approach. Now that Leon isn’t wearing that black cloak he had on yesterday, you’re able to get a better look at him and, holy hell, were you not prepared. Leon is incredibly handsome, easily the most handsome man you have ever laid eyes on. You found yourself unconsciously squeezing your thighs together as your eyes rake over him; taking in the way the straps of his gun harness and various belts hug his thighs, how his pectoral muscles strain against that tight shirt. And, of course, those gorgeous blue eyes.

Oh no… you think to yourself, he’s hot…

“I apologize if I made you uncomfortable yesterday,” Leon begins as he holds out his gloved hand; you don’t hesitate to shake it, “I’m Leon Kennedy; I’m in charge of making sure the community is a safe place for everyone.”

His voice is as smooth as whiskey, causing your heart to race in your chest as you tell him your name, “it’s very nice to meet you Leon.”

Leon gives you a half smile which makes your heart swoon; this man is way too attractive for his own good. He must realize it because he gives you a playful wink which, thankfully, your brother missed. 

“Likewise,” Leon continues, giving your hand one more squeeze before letting go and looking to your brother “I also came over because Manuel just came in with a haul of fish from the lake, he needs help unloading the boat.”

“Of course, I’ll be right over,” Vince replies, setting down his tools.

“Is it alright if I come along?” you ask, shoving your hands in your pockets as you shift on your feet.

“Yeah of course,” Vince replies, “the dock isn’t far from here; I’d love for you to come see the lake.”

Just as your brother walks away to go to the dock, Leon gives you a pat on the side of your shoulder, giving you another playful wink as he whispers, “I’ll see you around, little bird.”

Your breath hitches in your throat as you watch Leon walk away. The nickname he had given you goes straight to your core, causing you to clench your hands as your fingers tingle.

“Sis, are you coming or not?” Vince calls out to you some ways away from the archway leading out of the farm.

“Sorry Vince! I’m coming!” you shout as you jog over to your brother, joining him as you both make your way to the lake.

By the time you two get to the dock, several other men from the village are also there helping Manuel unload the haul from his fishing trip. Vince quickly joins them as you stand at the head of the dock. As your eyes scan over the vast lake, the sights, sounds and smells once again take you back to your childhood. To the times when you and your brother would go down to a small pond that was on your grandparents’ property to have some semblance of fun. The sound of a door opening behind you causes you to draw your attention away from the lake. 

You watch two men come out of what you can only assume is Manuel’s house carrying what appears to be a very large sack. Your gaze tracks them as they walk across the property, stopping at a cave opening that’s blocked off by a large gate. They stop at the gate as one of them goes to unlock the gate. You quickly realize that the large sack is moving violently. Once they get the gate open, they carry the sack inside, shutting and locking it behind them before disappearing into the darkness of the cave. You swallow hard as you draw your attention back to the lake, an uneasy feeling settling in your stomach.

Something is very wrong about this place and you feel whatever it is, it’s behind that gate.

“Will you be ok here at the house tonight?” Vince asks over dinner.

“Yeah, why?” you ask as you take a bite out of your meal.

“We have a community gathering tonight. It will likely go well into the night. I just want to make sure you’ll be ok here by yourself.”

You look up at Vince, raising an eyebrow, “I can’t come with you?”

Vince shakes his head, “not this time. This is for members of the Los Iluminados community only.”

This only serves to unsettle you even more, especially after seeing that large sack get brought into that cave earlier that day. Not wanting to upset your brother, however, you simply swallow hard and shrug it off.

“No problem, I’ll be fine, Vince.”

“Good, thank you Sis.”

Your brother leaves the house after cleaning up, leaving you alone in the house. You take that opportunity to go up to the bedroom, settling yourself onto the bed. As you lay there, your mind wanders back to Leon and you find yourself quickly becoming hot and bothered. Taking off your jeans so that you’re just in your shirt and underwear, your hand slips under the hem of your panties, your fingers gently rubbing your clit as you lay your head back against the pillow, closing your eyes. You picture Leon perfectly, imagining it is his fingers rubbing your clit, imagining his hot breath on your ear as he leans over you.

“That’s it, little bird. Doesn’t that feel good?”

A soft whimper escapes your lips as you hear the words your mind has conjured; who would have thought a silly nickname would get you so riled up. You pick up the pace of your fingers, your hips bucking up into your hand as you chase your release. You softly moan his name over and over as your pussy walls clench around nothing, secretly wishing he was buried inside you. You then move your fingers in a circular motion rapidly and within minutes you come undone, practically screaming Leon’s name as your body convulses. In the heat of the moment, your elbow crashes into the small bedside table, causing it to tip over, causing the contents of a small drawer to spill all over the floor.

The abrupt crash immediately snaps you out of your fantasy. You sit up in the bed and stand up, picking up the items that had fallen out of the bedside table. A crudely made leather bound book catches your attention; you sit down onto the side of the bed and open it. The text inside is handwritten and you quickly realize once you start reading it that it’s your brother’s journal. You know you shouldn’t be reading it, but a part of you is hoping that it reveals what exactly is going on in this community. 

March? 2006

I’ve completely lost track of time since Josh and I were brought here. I found this notebook inside the building they brought us in, so I figured I’d use it to chronicle what’s been going on in case someone else finds it. It was Josh’s idea to go backpacking across Europe. I regret not telling my sister where I was going; she must be worried sick! 

This group, called Los Iluminados, promised us a paradise on Earth. A place for us to disconnect from the world and detox and it doesn’t take a genius to know I definitely need that. They didn’t seem very bothered by the fact that Josh is my boyfriend despite being a religious group, so that was refreshing.

You stop reading for a moment, absorbing the information you just learned. Your brother is gay. It came as a complete shock to you, however upon looking back, it’s a wonder you hadn’t realized it sooner. It certainly explains why your grandfather was especially hard on Vince. Why didn’t he tell you? You can’t help but feel hurt by the fact your brother wasn’t comfortable enough telling you. You set aside these emotions for the time being and continue to read.

They injected both of us with something, said it would help us with the detox process. And then they brought us into the basement of one of the houses. It’s almost pitch black down here, the only indication of time passing is from the faint streaks of light coming down from the floorboards. It’s a miracle I can even see what I’m writing. I feel ok, but Josh on the other hand isn’t looking good at all. He’s broken out into a rash and he won’t stop sweating. He keeps saying everything hurts. What the fuck did they inject us with?

March… Maybe April? 2006

It’s been a few days since they first locked us into this basement. I keep coughing up blood and having weird dreams, but otherwise I don’t feel too bad. Josh on the other hand isn’t doing well at all, he’s been violently convulsing and hacking up way more blood than I have. I don’t think he’s going to make it.

April 2006

They came down into the basement and took Josh, he had gotten worse from when I had written earlier. They came back later and examined my eyes, saying my blood had accepted the gift, whatever that means. They led me out of the basement and gave me one of the houses. They say I’m part of the community now. I don’t know what happened to Josh.

There are no new entries in the journal after that. You’re completely overwhelmed with emotions, both from what you learned about your brother and the implications of what happened to his boyfriend Josh. All of this just further cemented the fact that you had to find out what lies beyond that gate you saw them bring that sack into.

After picking up the mess and tucking the journal safely back inside the bedside table, you go to bed where your mind enters the realm of dreams which have been invaded by thoughts of Leon.

The next morning, your brother informs you that the two of you will be going over to Father Méndez’s house to have dinner. The house itself is grandiose, we’re immediately greeted with the large dining room table already laid out with food and drinks. The dinner itself is largely uneventful, Father Méndez asks you a lot of questions about living in the United States and how you’re liking your stay with the community. As the dinner wears on, you realize that this is a golden opportunity to try to find some answers. 

You abruptly stand up, “sorry I need to excuse myself for a moment. Where’s the bathroom, Father?”

Father Méndez motions to the archway over to the left, “through there, sweetheart.”

You smile at him and nod in acknowledgement, “thank you Father, if you excuse me…”

You walk through the archway, finding a set of stairs going up to the second floor of the house. You look over at the dinner table, waiting until Father Méndez is completely focused on your brother before silently ascending the stairs. At the top is another hallway. You carefully walk to the end of it, finding what you guess is the master bedroom, a large four poster bed immediately to your right, a dresser to the left and a small desk next to the window ahead of you.

You slowly walk up to the desk, which is covered in various papers that have words written in Spanish on them. You then open up one of the drawers and you suck in a breath at what you find. It’s an ornate key, embellished with the same weird cross symbol that you saw back at the church and, now that you think about it, the gate by the dock also had this same symbol. This key has to go to that gate, you’re sure of it. You softly close the drawer, tucking the key into your pocket.

“What are you doing in here?” you hear Father Méndez ask.

You jump as you turn around, placing your hand over your racing heart, “Father I’m so sorry! I got lost looking for the bathroom.”

He raises an eyebrow at you, but then smiles at you warmly, “that’s quite alright, I wasn’t clear in my direction. It’s downstairs, the door on the right just before the back door, follow me and I can show you.”

You allow Father Méndez to lead you to the bathroom, which is quite literally a hole in a raised part of the floor. The smell coming out of it almost knocks you out. Despite this, you spend a couple minutes in there to make it convincing before you return to the dinner table, all the while fiddling with the key in your pocket.

You and your brother finish up dinner with Father Méndez, getting back home just before it gets dark. You excuse yourself and go to bed early, claiming to be exhausted from socializing. You sit on the side of the bed, twirling the key you found in your fingers as you examine it as you listen for confirmation that your brother is asleep. It takes a couple hours, but you hear the telltale signs of your brother’s snoring. Getting up from the bed, you walk over to the window over by the stairs, carefully opening it and climbing out. It leads you outside on some crude scaffolding, you quickly find a ladder to climb down. 

The waxing moon casts a gentle glow throughout the village, which you use to your advantage as you make your way to the dock area. You walk crouched, trying to use the environment to mask your movements, hoping to not draw anyone’s attention. You eventually make it to the gate, looking around before digging the key out of your pocket, putting it into the keyhole and turning. As you suspected, the key unlocks the gate with ease and you push on it gently, the gate letting out a soft squeak as it swings open. You shut the gate behind you, making your way inside the cave. 

Once you get to the back of the cave, you come across another gate, pushing it open to find a furnished room filled with various root vegetables and supplies. Upon stepping in, you’re overwhelmed by the smell of decay, bringing your shirt up over your nose to mask the smell. It doesn’t take long for you to find the source. To your right, there is a person on their knees, held up by their wrists on a rope. You hesitantly approach, finding that it’s a young woman, her skin pitch black in decay and that weird cross symbol painted on her face with blood. You fight back the bile building up in your mouth.

“I fucking knew it,” you say to yourself, “this is a fucking cult.”

You take another look around, spotting a ladder leading upwards through the floor in the back. You hesitantly approach it and begin climbing up. As you ascend to the top, you are greeted by another horror; an altar with another young woman laid onto it, her blood completely covering it. You see her hands are tied behind her back. You walk around the altar to face her. She has that same symbol painted onto her face. Her skin still has color to it, suggesting that she hasn’t been dead for very long. You begin to suspect that this woman was in that sack that you saw carried into the cave. 

“You shouldn’t be here,” you hear Father Méndez’s voice boom from behind you.

You spin around and face him, he’s standing straight with his hands neatly folded in front of him.

“What the hell kind of operation do you have here?!” you shout, balling your fists, “I knew something wasn’t right about this place. I’m taking my brother, we’re leaving and reporting you to the authorities!”

A low chuckle comes out of Father Méndez, “her blood did not accept the gift. You, however, may have better luck.”

Méndez brings one hand up, snapping his fingers. Suddenly, two men that had been standing behind you grab you by your arms, twisting them behind your back as you struggle as hard as you can. You watch as Father Méndez reaches into his coat pocket, producing a large hypodermic needle. As you struggle, Father Méndez begins to approach you. Your gaze shifts to the figure standing just behind him, seeing that Leon is standing there, watching, back to wearing that large black cloak, the hood mostly obscuring his face. All you can see is a menacing smirk that is on his lips. 

“Sis calm down, it’s going to be ok!” you hear your brother, quickly realizing he is one of the men that is restraining you, “my blood accepted the gift, I’m certain yours will, too.”

“Vince!” you cry out, turning to him, “do you hear yourself? This is insane!”

Father Méndez looms in front of you, grabbing the side of your head and pushing it to expose your neck, wasting no time inserting the needle into your skin, injecting the strange liquid into your body. Whatever it is, it burns. You feel it spread across your neck as you continue to struggle, tears now flowing down your face. 

“Bring her to the holding area,” Father Méndez commands.

Without any hesitation, your brother and the man helping to restrain you bring you back down through the hole you had come up out of, carrying you out of the cave as you kick and scream. They bring you to Manuel’s house, carrying you inside. In the back of the house, there is a trap door. The other man retraining you kicks the trap door open before he and your brother gently lower you inside. Once on the ground, you scramble to your feet and stare up at the opening, seeing your brother stare down at you, only, there’s something very off about him. Black veins cover his skin and his eyes are glowing red.

“Vince, you can’t do this! You need to get me out of here!”

“I’m sorry, Sis,” he says softly before slamming the trap door shut. 

You stand there in utter shock as you hear the door being locked, trapping you in the pitch black darkness.