#the thing of him coming through the window | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

pedgito · 1 day

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𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 | Joel Miller x reader

summary | a series of nights spent with a neighbor you find an unlikely connection with, sharing a similar interest to pass the time, it forms into something much more intense and suddenly, neither of you can deny it anymore.

content warning | no outbreak!joel, f!reader that is mentioned to have hair that can be pushed back but no exact length, descriptions of outfits, lots of w*ed smoking/consuming ed*bles, a quick mention of a burn, joel being a good neighbor, he's still the biggest girl dad, age gap implied but readers isn't specified, joel's not afraid to go for what he wants, most of the interactions happen while they're high so please keep that in mind when reading, lotsa boob worship, fingering, oral (m receiving), unprotected p in v, mentions of joel being sterile, strangers to friends to lovers. this was written over the course of a weekend don't look at me

word count — 8k

The first and only time you see him is when you’re moving in next door, trudging in the moving boxes on your own as he seems to ready up his own truck full of boxes, followed by two younger women who seem to be bickering at him and he bypasses them with a smug smile on his face—he’s older, so you came to your own assumption that it was probably his daughters.

That’s all you know about him.

Outside of the fact he drives a truck, works long hours, and that his name is Joel.

The girl with the begrudging smile and worn out converse called his name while you were throwing away your trash and trying to not seem like the nosey neighbor.

He comes, he goes. The roar of his truck is all you hear and you never really see him outside of an occasional swish of his curtains through your own windows, but occasionally you leave your trash can out by the curb longer than necessary and it magically appears at the beginning of your driveway.

Now, you don’t want to point fingers—but the only ones tucked away are his and your own, leaving the other neighbors to fend for themselves.

It’s a simple gesture, kind.

You want to thank him but you never get the chance.

You’re curious if he’s a night owl—lights staying on even into the early hours of the morning, shadows crossing around his living room that you can see from your bedroom window, tossing and turning most nights as you struggle and struggle to fall asleep.

You’ve learned methods to help, plenty—if you ever remember to charge your vibrator it was usually your first choice, a quick release of some of the built up tension over the day and you could eventually find it easier to fall asleep. But, your tried and true method was weed.

That was it. Sometimes you didn’t even need much—an edible to curb the anxiety that filled you, a puff or two at the pen you had stashed away in your bedside drawer, but most of the time it was occupying your mind with the work of rolling the joint before smoking it out your bedroom window that helped the best.

However, tonight was different.

You toss and turn and fling the blankets away that stick to your skin, the broken ceiling fan doing nothing to quell that muggy heat that was permeating in your house from earlier in the day—it just sat frozen, menacing and taunting at you. You search through the drawer at your bedside for the small tin case covered in stickers of various interests and things you enjoyed, kicking the sliding backdoor with your foot as you traveled through the living room to your kitchen and stepping out onto your back deck.

It’s still hot, but the breeze allows a noticeable difference.

You work quietly, hunched slightly over the railing and using the faint glow of the light hanging beside your backdoor, just finishing up rolling the joint as you bring it to your tongue and the distinct creak from the house next to you grabs your attention—the sliding door mimicking your own.

Your heart races and you don’t know why. It could be one of the girls, still strangers but somehow you find it easier to look that way if it was them—Joel was intimidating, the aura he carried within just a few seconds of a glance.

It is him, unfortunately—and suddenly you feel the need to hide your stash, tossing the tin box in the cheap plastic chair you bought when you first moved in. Tucking yourself away as you light the joint and bring it to your lips.

He’s being surprisingly noisy, chair scuffing the deck as he moves it around and you look at him curiously from across the way, a fence and several feet of grass dividing you both. You can see the mug clutched in his right hand and his left hand filled with a few various things. A phone, for sure—lighting up in his hand before he lays it on the table beside him, lifting a leg over the lounge chair in a straddle-like motion before he sits down.

And he does seem like a smoker, not that you have proof or theory—it was just the vibe, but as he lights the item in his hand and takes a slow drag you quickly realize there's not an ounce of nicotine in sight. It’s clear when he catches your gaze and his brow furrows slightly, noting the similar item tucked between your own fingers and you can’t help but laugh to yourself.

You don’t say a word. Neither does he. But, he does offer a weak smile when you grab the tin box from the chair, nodding in acknowledgement. Your entire body flutters to life for some weird reason that you will absolutely blame on the THC obscuring rational thought.

Thankfully, sleep comes easy after that.

–

But, it doesn’t stay that way.

Most of the time you stay tucked inside, especially on the days and nights when the heat wasn’t as ablaze as usual, but there is usually a day or two out of the week where you find yourself outside—sometimes you lounge, or pace, but it never fails that the moment you step foot outside your backdoor, Joel does too.

Once a week, rarely twice—though it does happen, both of you find yourself in quiet submission as you smoke and enjoy the peace, even with the constant click of crickets and lighting bugs that seem attracted to both of your houses, flying around your backyard in a small swarm.

And you wanted to keep your distance, not wanting to impose on his space but your two months into these unspoken nightly meetings when your cheap lighter finally decides to shit itself, offering nothing but dull sparks against your overworked thumb, trying and failing to light the end of the joint.

Joel had been watching, an amused smile growing on his face as you cursed and tossed the lighter into your yard out of frustration—you’d grab it later, whatever. Eventually you sigh, giving up on it for the night and turning to pack away your stuff before Joel is calling over to you from his side of the fence, heart dropping into your stomach at the sound of his voice.

“I got a light,” He offers, “if you’re interested?”

It’s definitely a question. A proposition. An offering.

You scratch at your brow and hesitate for a millisecond, not giving yourself enough time to debate your answer before you’re mumbling “Fuck it,” and taking the path down the steps and to the gate that separated your yards, watching as he stepped toward you all in the same breath, feeling so much more intimidating this close—the smell of him, musky and sweet. His hair was wet, too.

He took a shower, got dressed, and immediately decided to step back out into the humid heat of Texas summer.

You pluck the lighter from his grip with a soft tug, flicking open the top. It was a good lighter, not the crappy three-pack you bought at the gas station down the road—it was chrome, engraved with a JM, and soft to the touch. You admire it for half a second before you attempt to light the end of your joint, still tucked between your lips.

But, as fate would have it, you make a fool of yourself. It wasn’t that you couldn’t get it lit, but that the wind was being your worst enemy in a situation where you just wanted to smoke the goddamn joint and go to bed.

Joel puffs at the joint between his lips and breathes out the smoke through his nose before he huffs out a low laugh and nods in your direction, reaching his arms over the fence and beckoning with his fingers for you to hand the lighter back over. You nearly go cross-eyed as his hands come toward your face—much larger than your own and far better at keeping the flame strong, he peeks around his cupped palm and waits for the end to turn a bright orange before he pulls away and you eagerly pull the smoke into your lungs.

“Thank you,” You tell him, rubbing your bare feet into the grass beneath you, patchy and poorly cut from your own mow job, but you were working the best with what you had—even if it was an ancient lawn mower you snagged at a garage sale that only worked half of the time.

You didn’t like to ask for help, hated it. But, here you were, taking help from a stranger.

Well, neighbor.

It didn’t feel fair to call him a stranger anymore, even if you’ve only spoken a little under ten words to him.

“No problem, sugar,” Joel responds and your cheeks burn with heat, that distinct nervousness spreading throughout your body that couldn’t be mistaken with anything else, “curious, though—you ain’t ever thought about investin' in a good lighter?”

You shrug, tapping away the ash gently with your fingertip and taking another puff, “Why? My neighbor’s got a perfectly good one himself?”

Joel raises his brows in unison and smiles slightly, he laughs. It’s more of a lazy chuckle.

“I… have more. I just lose them a lot. Besides, they’re only like ten bucks a pack.”

You’re waiting for him to cut the conversation short and walk back to his chair, but he finds himself leaning, arms tucked and crossed over the fence, oblivious to how daunting this felt to you—the man you’ve been so helplessly curious about for months suddenly standing in front of you and interested, unbothered…not at all what you expected from him.

“Thanks for constantly moving my trash bins,” You tell him randomly, blowing the smoke out through your lips as you tilt your chin up, “I always forget.”

Joel makes a face, wordlessly offering an “I know,” with his eyes and you roll yours in return, following it with a laugh as you pop a hip out slightly, leaning most of your weight onto one leg and crossing your arms over your chest, suddenly remembering how bare you were under your thin top, assuming you’ve probably already given him quite the show already.

Though, Joel seems like the type of man to be nice enough not to point it out.

You perk up suddenly, asking the first thing that comes to mind.

"Can I ask a question?"

Joel nods.

“What’s the JM stand for? On your lighter.”

“Sweetheart,” The laugh shakes his entire chest, “come on now.”

From sugar to sweetheart—you were clearly making quite the impression on him.

When you don’t respond he answers your question.

“Joel. Miller. I figured that was obvious,” He says, stubbing out the end of his joint into the wood on his side of the fence.

“Oh.”

“It’s on the mailbox.”

Curious, you leave him for a brief moment to slip through the side gate of your yard and….yeah, sure enough.

“I swear I’m not always like this,” You tell him as you make your way back over, forcing away the smile that was creeping its way onto your face.

“Too bad,” He responds, carding fingers through his still slightly damp hair before running his open palm over his beard, scratching at his chin, “s’pretty entertaining.”

“O-kay,” You answer, sarcasm smothering your tone, “I think it’s my bedtime, Joel Miller.”

“Goodnight then,” He bows his head slightly, “neighbor.”

The tone of it makes you snort with a soft laugh, flipping him off as you depart.

Suddenly, Joel Miller doesn’t seem all that scary.

–

The next week is suspiciously quiet, to your surprise. You’ve opted out of keeping yourself inside now that you had a friend to keep you company, but when he doesn’t show up after a few minutes, you can’t explain why you feel disappointed.

Next week is the same, his house suspiciously dark.

You can’t pass judgment—he could be busy, tired, or there could be no reason at all.

But, the need in you is there—for what, you’re not even sure.

By the third week you’re ready with a peace offering, a truce.

That night his lights are on and he’s even moving around, somewhere in his kitchen you’re assuming, but instead of sneaking out into the backyard you’re crossing over your front lawn and into his, seemingly fresh mowed and smelling of wet grass, having been under mostly rain showers all night and you knock at his door.

You don’t realize you’re holding your breath until the door opens and you smile at the sight of him, sleep pants hanging low on his hips and his shirt slightly raised by his stomach. He looks exhausted, eyes puffy with sleep as he rubs at them with his knuckles, but he doesn’t look displeased at the sight of you—in fact, he almost smiles in response.

One rolled joint in your left hand, a second in your right. It’s a wordless gesture that makes Joel scoff in amusement and nod you inside of his home. His home. That you’ve never seen until now. You were in his house and it was the most casual thing in the world. You don’t linger for long, following him toward the sliding door to his backyard but the place feels…homey. Lived in. So much unlike your own and disorganized in a way that showed years of age and memories, pictures scattered along the walls and years of personal crafts that you couldn’t examine for as long as you wished.

“Sorry I disappeared,” He acknowledges the unasked question, even though it lingered on your tongue, “—got a huge job at work, getting the site ready has been a pain in my ass.”

You share the lounge chair, taking a seat against the part of the chair that was propped up while Joel opts for the end, giving you a comfortable amount of space to stretch out if you wanted but also, and maybe instinctively, trying not to pressure you into feeling like you had to share space with him.

“Can I ask?”

Like a goddamn broken record, Joel chuckles at that. Full and genuine as he lights the end of the joint and wordlessly helps you, the same cupping motion of his hands that you welcome this time, almost eagerly.

“Ya gotta stop askin’ that,” Joel says, “especially when you’re just gonna ask anyways.”

Well.

“I’m a carpenter. Long hours, got a bad sleep schedule ‘cause of it. Pays good, though.”

“Oh, that’s…”

“Not interesting at all, I know.”

“No—no, I mean. I don’t know what I was expecting you to say. That sounds…fun?”

“If you think busted knuckles and an achy back is fun—but I’m old, can’t really escape that.”

You laugh under your breath and inhale the joint between your lips, blowing it out as you speak.

“You are not old, Joel. Come on.”

“I’ve got two fully grown daughters in college and a 401k callin’ my name in about a decade.”

“So, what? Fifty five? Fifty six? You can do better than that.”

“You’re a little shit, you know that?”

You shrug at him, a satisfied smirk stretching over your face.

It’s a back and forth game you play for a while—nights spent at his house where you bicker back and forth, offering snacks and occasionally getting the royal treatment of dinner or a late-night breakfast if Joel was feeling too antsy to sleep.

He never flirts, really. Despite how you don’t cover up around him for his own sake, always showing up in your sleep clothes that barely allowed for any modesty or the summer clothes that clung to your body and hugged your curves, allowing his eyes to trace and outline all over your figure as much as he wanted to—and sometimes he did, catching his gaze on you for a brief moment before it fades.

But, the first crack in his hard facade comes over a late night meal of pancakes and bacon, grabbing the blueberries from his fridge as he fries the meat on the stove, his elbow bumping the fridge door and knocking the small plastic box of blueberries out of your hand and to the floor, a surprised yelp coming from your throat as you scramble to catch them all.

“Shit, shit—I’m sorry, that was my fault.” You apologize, picking at the blueberries that didn’t make it, shoveling them into your hand and Joel leans down slowly, kneeling as he scoops the tainted blueberries into his own hand and dumps them in the trash.

“My bad, baby—that was on me,” It flows off his tongue with ease and if he realizes he’s said it, he doesn’t acknowledge it, “damn grease popped at me—go on, sit down. I’ll clean the rest up and we can use up what’s left.”

You both enjoy your meal without a blip, not daring to address the slip-up—he peppers you with sugars and sweethearts and the occasional honey when you get a little too combative over a topic, but never baby.

The second time is less surprising and more of a comfort, if you’re being honest with yourself.

Again, struggling with his lighter—this time your hand is holding one of those sparklers you haven’t touched since you were a child—leftovers from the bunch that Sarah and Ellie, his two daughters had brought home over the holiday. You never came over, despite his insisting invitation and running into his brother Tommy on the way home the night prior to the Fourth of July. He'd insisted too.

It just won’t light—and Joel had made the mistake of getting a few of them wet when he’d cleaned off his deck that night and suddenly you’re wondering it’s just a dud.

You hover the flame, mind drifting as you watch the flame grow and you don’t realize you’re burning yourself until Joel is pulling the items from your hands, dropping you back down into reality as you feel the sting, the sudden burn to your thumb as Joel says something that you don’t quite hear at first.

“Sweetheart, you gotta pay attention—“

You look up at him meekly and he pulls you inside with a nod of his, turning on the cold water and pulling your hand under the stream.

“Where’d you go?”

You raise your eyebrows in question, the lingering high drifting off from earlier in the night.

“Oh—just, kinda spaced out, I guess?”

Joel rubs his thumb over yours gingerly and turns off the water, grabbing you a clean washcloth stuffed with a couple pieces of ice to soothe the burn for the time being.

“Baby, you really gotta be more careful.”

Your head snaps over to him as he threw a damp paper towel into the trash and watches the sudden realization cross your face—looking for uneasiness, fear, worry; but in an instant, your body relaxes and you shake your head.

“I promise. It won’t happen again.”

You see the way his lips part slightly, almost as if he’s gearing to add a, “Me too,” for a different reason, but it never comes.

Near the end of summer, you find yourself there again.

But, things feel different.

“So, I’ve got a surprise.”

Joel leans up at your words, arm resting over his knees as you plop the bag down on the table beside the chair—Joel looks slightly worried, eyes flicking toward you and back at the bag.

“Don’t tell me you’ve never tried edibles.”

“It’s not really my thing, sugar—”

“Joel, you’ve been smoking longer than I’ve been alive.”

“Now, you know that don’t mean a damn thing.”

You shake your head in fake dismay, slipping your hand into the bag to grab a few pieces.

One for him…a couple for you.

“Aren’t those supposed to be pretty strong?”

You shrug, “I think it depends. Person to person. I’ve never tried these before, but I’ve never had a bad trip, so…”

Joel’s eyes linger, finger poking at the small, cube gummy in your hand like a child discovering a new toy.

“Hey, we’re doing this together,” You offer as a half-assed comfort, “so if it sucks, it’ll suck for both of us.”

Joel doesn’t seem to need much convincing, though. He plucks the gummy from your palm and places it on his tongue, watching as you do the same and you chew, settling back on your palms at the end of the chair, feet outstretched and crossed in front of you as you stare up at the sky.

It was a Waxing Gibbous moon, not quite full but nearly there—it hovered over Joel’s house, just enough light to illuminate the space between you two. And you wait in comfortable silence aside from the low hum of music playing inside Joel’s house, dark inside now that he had turned off all the lights as you had followed him outside.

He always spent more time out here with you than he intended nowadays.

By a half hour, you find the idle conversation quickly divulges into things more obscure, your gaze lingering on the sky longer than you realize and Joel speaks to you softly, your heart pounding slowly in your ears.

“It ain’t going nowhere.”

You turn to him slightly, blinking a few times before you realize what he’s referring to.

“Oh. Well, obviously. It’s just pretty. I could stare at it all night.”

“Can’t blame you,” Joel responds, but his eyes are nowhere near the sky.

Oblivious, your gaze lingers upwards still, leaning back so far on your hands you feel yourself slip and yelp, only caught by Joel’s hands nearly a second short of a serious head injury.

“Come here,” Joel beckons, fingers wrapping around your bicep as he pulls you forward until your back is against his chest and he allows you to lean into him, feeling him clear his throat behind you as he keeps his hands a respectable distance despite how easily he’d move you into this position to begin with.

Commendable? Sure. Frustrating? Absolutely.

If you couldn’t feel the hard, solid line of his body at your backside it wouldn’t bother you so much. And the heat of his body, scolding to the touch like a furnace. He ran hot, that much you already knew just by a few faint touches before but this—it overwhelms your senses.

You try to distract yourself, noticing the carved out wooden statue of a cowboy riding a horse while it was rearing back, you squint your eyes before perking up with a sudden question.

“Where’d you get that?”

“Get what?”

You giggle slightly, tapping at his arm to grab his attention before you point in the direction of the statue placed by the stairs, “That thing.”

“Oh, that—I…made it.” He looks away with a sudden embarrassment as you quickly twist your head up to look at him in complete and utter shock—he scrunches his face up and dares to take a peek at you from his peripheral and his face heats up when he sees you looking so rapt.

“Joel, that is insanely fucking good.”

“Sweetheart—”

“Don’t sweetheart me,” You mock his tone, “how long did that take to make?”

Joel tries to think—it’s been years now. Sarah was barely out of grade school and he had just adopted Ellie, it was all a blur anymore with both of the girls in college now.

“A month, on and off between jobs. It’s just a piece of junk, really.”

“Joel, shut up.”

Joel can’t hold back the even bigger laugh that escapes him at your bluntness.

“It’s just a hobby.”

“A hobby you seem to be really fuckin’ good at.”

Joel shrugs and you decide to leave it be, relaxing back into his chest more comfortably, though his arm lingers more closely to your body, fingertips resting against your bicep that slowly start to move on their own, whether by Joel’s own conscious movements or just by nature of seeking touch. It’s a gentle trace, it tickles and you shrug your arm slightly to which he responds with a gentle squeeze.

By the hour mark you find that Joel hates when you ask about his statues or some of the homemade structures in his backyard—littered throughout along with an old playhouse that you can only assume belonged to his daughters, much outgrown and covered in vines and weeds, intertwined through cracks in the wood.

He hates it so much he actually tries to distract you with something else. Anything.

Unfortunately, nothing really works. So, he changes gears completely.

“What’s with the sundress tonight?” Joel asks suddenly, the playful lilt to his voice hidden behind a sudden need for authority over the situation. “Gettin’ all dolled up in the middle of the night.”

“It’s new,” You say with an eagerness, rubbing your finger over the silk fabric of the dress, “do you like it?”

“You really askin’ my opinion?”

Of course. I bought it for you.

“Do you have one?” You say instead.

“It’s nice,” He runs his pointer finger and thumb over the strap on your left shoulder that slips down, lingering against your skin as his palm covers the expanse of it.

His touch feels far away but so intense, head swirling with thoughts you can’t follow—there’s a primal need there, though. And you can’t tell if he feels it too. If it’s just the weed in your system or if it’s weeks and weeks of built up tension boiling over the edge.

This is the closest Joel has allowed you to be—he’s relaxed, his barriers are down and the hand lingering on your elbow is careful but explorative, his fingers trailing to the middle of your chest, flipping the small silver necklace around your neck under his fingertips, feeling so delicate. More importantly, he feels your heart, stretching the palm out wide and over your skin.

“Y‘alright?”

You nod and shuffle your feet, planting them on the end of the chair as you pull your knees up, the dress falling just at the apex of your thighs, barely allowing any modesty and if you spread your thighs even a half inch—

Joel breaks his eyes away, watching the slow rise and fall of your chest despite your rapidly beating heart.

“That heart of yours is racin’, sugar. Are you sure?”

Again, you nod. But, the subtle shift against him forces his fingers lower as you adjust yourself higher, ass pressed right against his groin and it does no favor for Joel, who’s fingers dip just below the fabric of your dress in the process, grazing down the center of your chest.

“You nervous or something?”

Nervous, no. Joel didn’t make you nervous anymore. The heat between your legs told you otherwise, and the need for touch was impossible to ignore and maybe just for a moment—just a second, you could let him. It would solve this ridiculous ache that had grown between your legs.

Joel seems so in tune with you and he sees the way your eyes are locked on his hand, unmoving but the half of his fingers tucked under the top of your dress.

“You don’t make me nervous, Joel.”

That wasn’t necessarily the question—and suddenly, you realize your misstep, looking up at him suddenly to catch the intense look on his face, almost like he was anticipating your gaze. His bottom lip is slightly parted from his top, face flush from the summer heat but his eyes are dark, follow the path of your face until it lands on his hand and then he speaks.

“What is it then?”

The way you press your thighs together at the sound of his voice, low and heated, spoken behind a gaze that made you feel small but admired.

Touch me. Make it better.

You don’t say it, it’s only a thought.

But, Joel is a mind reader. He never leaves your sight, but his hand moves on its own accord and squeezes your breast gently. His rough and calloused palm is a stark contrast over soft skin and if you would have made any sign of not wanting this, he would’ve pulled away.

Instead, your chest cants under his touch and your head nods without an answer to his question, because he already knew.

“Lemme see ‘em, sweetheart,” It takes little effort to pull the straps down your shoulders, his other hand pushing the fabric just below your breasts, allowing them free and Joel makes a soft, low noise behind you as he covers your chest with both hands, thumbs grazing over your nipples as they pebble under his touch, “that feel better?”

Not good. Not alright. Better—was he helping you? Was he soothing that ache he’d created?

“Y-Yeah, yes.”

He’s just as curious, squeezing the flesh in hands and occasionally letting his finger trace down your abdomen as your dress shifts and shifts until it’s barely a means to keeping your modesty over your lap, hands pressed down at the space beside Joel’s hips as you push yourself up until your head is nearly level with his, his hands squeezing your tits together as you sigh. He hooks his chin over you shoulder and watches, your eyes falling shut as you lean your head back.

“You need more?” He asks, “Tell me, baby—I’m right here.”

The baby rings through your head like a warning bell.

Once was an accident, twice a coincidence, three times…

Stop it. Stop it now and you won’t have to face the awkwardness after your high wore off and you both had a night to sleep and think and regret—but you find yourself nodding anyway.

Why was Joel any different from a random hookup? Other than being your neighbor, slowly coming to what you consider to be a friend, crumbling apart before you as he hikes your dress up over your hips and grips it tight.

You nod to his question.

“Take those off,” He speaks over your shoulder and you don’t need persuading, fingers hooking into the underwear clinging to your hips and down, over your ankles as you kick them away and almost instantly Joel’s hands are on your knees, spreading you wide, his palms squeezing at the inside of your thigh, “shit, look at that—“

He dips a finger down the center of your pussy, through the slick pool of accumulated pleasure and pulls away, shiny and glistening against his fingertips as he breathes against the shell of your ear, “All that just from me touchin’ you?”

You could answer—keep dragging out this game of cat and mouse that had started between you but instead you reach for his hand, placing it against your cunt as he cups it with his palm, dragging the two middle most fingers up and down the seam, circling over your clit briefly before they’re plunging inside of you with ease, aided by just how wet you were—your pussy throbs around his fingers.

Words are few and far between outside of the soft, mewling noises you make into the side of his face as your arm comes up and wraps around the back of his neck, yanking at the short hair at his nape and dragging your mouth along his cheek as you breath out in short huffs, his other hand coming down to circle at your clit with no preamble—straight for the kill and eager without saying it.

His grip is heavy, forceful as his fingers pump in and out of you pussy with little care, the soft squelch of your arousal around his fingers forcing the heat to climb to your face and you feel his jeans rutting into the backside, desperate for relief just as much as you but too selfless to speak up about it.

And you feel the crest in your chest, eyes squeezing shut as your pussy flutters around his fingers, a shout that is quickly muffled by Joel’s hand as it covers your mouth, the fingers still buried inside of you and working you through the aftershocks as he shushes you gently. Your body feels like it’s vibrating, legs shaking slightly as he removes his fingers and squeezes tenderly at the inside of your thigh, feeling the dampness from his fingers spread over your skin before they’re climbing their way up your body, along your skin until he’s bringing them to his mouth silently and cleaning them up like he’d made a mess of his meal, your eyes widen at the sight and you feel overtaken, flooded with desire that you can’t sit and suffer with any longer.

“Knew I was right in callin’ you sugar,” He teases, catching your face in between his fingers as you turn to kneel between his legs, “so damn sweet.”

His fingers tap at his thighs, rough denim under his fingertips to match his overworked, weathered hands and you can’t help but admire, knowing they had been buried inside of you a few moments ago and you bow your head, popping the button of Joel’s jeans as he casually reaches for your hips, kneading the muscle of your thighs as he watches, helping you situate his jeans far enough down his own thighs that you can slip your hands past his boxers, straining against the weight of his cock, hard and aching as it reached up toward his stomach.

“Sweetheart, you don’t have to,” He tells you, but you scoff slightly in amusement, not wanting to know how frazzled you look, half-lidded and bloodshot eyes under the moonlight, bare aside from the newly bought dress at your waist and Joel is most definitely still staring at your tits, his eyes dragging up to your face a few seconds too late, “I’m guessin’ we should of talked through this first but I just wanted to make you feel good—”

“You think I feel obligated?” Your eyebrow raises up slightly before you’re pulling his boxer down just enough that his cock springs out, bobbing away from his stomach slightly and you only allow yourself half a second to react.

He’s big, from root to tip you know it is the biggest you’ve ever had and you’re waiting for the cocky remark, the begging for compliments and thoughts that you hear so often during these halfway thought out hook-ups but this wasn’t that. It was weeks of build up, the tension line snapping under the weight of your unspoken desire for each other.

“Joel—”

“Don’t go boostin’ my ego,” He chuckles, “—not you, baby.”

You laugh softly and dip your head, feeling his hand curve over and through your hair, down your neck before it settles against the middle of your back and he brushes the stray hair from your face, allows his finger to rest behind your ear as you tilt your head and lick a long stripe up his cock, flicking your eyes up briefly to catch him staring, mouth closed and unnaturally stoic for a moment, like he’s holding his breath.

“Show me,” You plead with him, “whaddya like?”

You move down slightly to roll your tongue along his balls, the weight of it in your mouth as you suckle and feel his fingertips scrape gently along your skin, allowing a few moments of your own exploration before he’s wrapping his hand around his shaft and using the other to grip your chin and rubbing the tip against your half-open mouth, forcing a dribble of spit between your lips and letting it trail down the tip before he feeds his cock into your mouth, tongue spreading flat over the underside and keeping him in your eye-line before it’s nearly impossible, feeling him guide you down until his cock nudges the back of your throat with a slight sting, eyes watering.

“Look at that,” His voice is low, gruff as it rumbles in his chest, “makin’ it all fit in that pretty little moutha’ yours.”

You quickly realize that Joel enjoys watching you feel consumed by him, choking on his cock as your head bobs up and down with fervor, a gentle guiding hand against the back of your head as you breathe through your nose, feeling him nudge the back of your throat over and over and over until you find yourself fighting for air and oblivious to the symphony of curses Joel was spewing above you as his neck was tight, straining as he tipped his own head back against the chair.

And he looks too fucking good to pass up on. You rise, pulling at the collar of his shirt to grab his attention and his eyes open wide, his pupils blown out and dilated as he watches you move, biting at your bottom lip as you shuffled your legs over his hips to straddle him.

“Can you fuck me?”

“Can I—sweetheart, you sure?”

You give him a look of flippant disregard, too impatient to pace through the steps of sureness. But, Joel is focused suddenly, pulling your attention to him as his palm finds your face, cradling your cheek and rubbing his thumb over the shape of your lips.

“Don’t give me that look,” He tells you.

“Yes, Joel.” You answer him impatiently, “I just—I mean I don’t have anything, but…”

“You ain’t gotta worry about that,” Joel chuckles, “been out of commission for a while, sugar.”

You can’t help to release the giggle that bubbles in your chest at that.

He’d had kids, a family at some point—but that wasn’t his life now. He was a renewed bachelor, experiencing all the things he’d put on the back-burner to be a good and proper father. While this hadn’t been at the top of his list, or even anywhere on it really, you can see the happy satisfaction on his face with how comfortable he’s grown in the time you’ve gotten to know one another.

“Can’t tell,” You comment slyly as you lift up on your knees, allowing Joel to shift his jeans further down until they’re bunched sloppily at his ankles.

Joel rolls his eyes fondly, “Go on, baby.”

He watches, eyes following your hand as you grip his cock at the base, rubbing it along the center of your cunt, gliding through messy arousal and finding some excitement in the way he squeezes at your thighs a little too hard, fingers curling around the back of your knee as the head of his cock catches against your clit, again, again, barely allowing him to press inside of you until finally, a few harsh pleas balancing on his tongue that quickly dissipate as you sink down onto him inch by suffocating inch.

You breathe out slowly, watching Joel as he watches you, his eyes locked on the sight of his cock as it settles inside of you, only allowing the slow, gentle rock of your hips as you adjust.

His stomach flexes under your touch, fisting your hands into his shirt and lifting it out of the way before Joel gets the hint and strips himself completely, kicking his jeans off weakly as you sigh, squeezing gently as his shoulders and feeling his hands grip at your backside, into the soft flesh of your cheeks and you strip the wrinkled fabric over your head, tossing it somewhere behind Joel’s head as you fingers grip along the edge the bar of the chair above his head, lifting your hips in time with his movements as he keeps a firm hand on you, allowing soft puffs of groans to fall from his lips as your tits bounce with the frantic movement and Joel leans forward, capturing the side of your breast between his teeth, a gentle bite that causes you to squeak.

It’s quickly soothed by his tongue before he flicks it over your nipple, circling the peaked and pebbled nub before he’s sucking it between his teeth, eyes locking on yours from the depraved angle it allows you, still able to spot the few shining grays of his hair in this light. You card your fingers through his hair and arch your chest into his mouth, “J-Joel, maybe we should move this inside.”

He shakes his head, mouth still stuffed full with you as you moan out loudly when he smacks your ass in one gentle but solid swing and you want to blame his boldness on the dwindling drug in your system, but somehow you come to the conclusion that it was just Joel, unbridled and wanting. Of you.

“Not a chance in hell, sweetheart,” Joel disagrees as he pulls back, “no one gives a damn ‘round here, anyways.”

“Says you,” You laugh weakly, whimpering softly as he snaps his hips into you with sudden force, his hand reaching for the back of your neck to urge you forward, forgoing your body for your lips and it’s more intense than anything else going on around you—his cock stuffed inside of you, the fingers on your skin, it didn’t matter for that brief second of a first touch, kissing you sloppily as you moan into each other’s shared space.

“Well, I do—got this one neighbor,” He jokes, “nosey as shit but damn is she a good fuckin’ time.”

You gasp as he pulls you close, free arm wrapping around your back as he slips his tongue past your lips, using the opportunity as your lips part to devour you in an instant and you pull at the stands of his hair in turn, kissing him back with a harsh pressure that begs for more.

“M’not nosey,” You defend lamely, “just—fuck, curious, ya know?”

“Thank god for that,” Joel sighs, and your pussy flutters before squeezing around him, “oh, fuck baby—do that... do that again.”

You do, teasingly, watching as Joel curses under his breath and leans back, watching you move against him without shame, a hand pressing against your stomach to guide you to lean back slightly, “Look at that, sweetheart—makin’ a goddamn mess on me.”

The short, coarse hair at his groin is wet and sure enough, covered in the messy slick of you and mixed with the thin sheen of sweat that had covered both of your bodies in this sticky heat.

“You like the idea of gettin’ high and letting me fuck you?” Joel questions amongst the pound of your heart in your ears, the heat of his gaze quickly driving you toward the edge again. He chuckles, “Dirty—dirty girl. Was that what you’ve been plannin’ since the beginning?”

“Would’ve let you fuck me either way,” You admit, only a half-truth. You weren’t sure if you’d ever pluck up the courage had Joel not made the first move, but you’re damn sure glad he did anyways, “and with a cock like that, god—”

“Easy,” Joel warns, “givin’ me a complex the way you were looking at it.”

“It’s big, Joel.” You admit, pushing the stray hair that had fallen down over his forehead away and back into this messily quaffed hair, “You like knowing I can barely fit it all in my mouth, don’t—don’t act coy about it.”

He’s not—he’d been more than willing to allow you to choke on the girth of him until you begged for mercy, but given his normally gentle nature with you, he wasn’t going to take it that far.

Your brow drags up in a pinch, moaning as his thumb presses against your clit and circles, presses down gently, just the right amount of everything to drive you to near insanity. Your thighs squeeze against his own where he has you spread out, hands balled up into fists that punch gently at his chest.

“You’re right there, baby—gotcha, I gotcha.” He murmurs, watching you intently as you grip at the arm wrapped around your back to keep you upright, fingers digging into his bicep as you tip over the edge, legs shaking through the second orgasm he’s given you that night, squeezing your eyes shut so hard you start to see the flurry of stars in your darkened vision.

Your limbs give out shortly after, falling against his chest as he snaps his hips, just near the edge himself as he groans, grunts, breathing hotly into the curve of your neck and you rub at the little spot behind his ear that makes him chuckle, “Want it all inside,” You tell him through a cloud haze of need and pure desire, “can you do that, Joel?”

“Fill you up, sugar?” He asks, sounding a little taken aback, “If that’s—if that’s somethin’ you’re comfortable with.”

You nod eagerly and he loosens the reins completely, lifting one of your legs until you can plant a foot near his hip and he pounds into you, pulling back when he feels the impending orgasm grow in his gut, hot and intense. He watches as he comes inside of you with a few slow snaps of his hips.

“Shit,” He curses after a drawn-out silence, helping you move off of him and into a more comfortable position between his legs as he grabs lazily for his shirt, cleaning up the mess of your wet arousal against his skin and letting the spoiled shirt rest over his groin for modesty, breathing in slow, full breaths.

It’s been too long for him and he knows it.

Joel reaches for the dress that caught on the edge of the chair by his head and hands it over, watching as you slipped it over your head, legs still spread out over his own and he can’t help but draw his eyes to the sight of his come dripping out between your legs and he grins subtly, motioning you forward with a tired finger that you look at curiously before scooting forward an inch, thinking he may wipe something of your face, arrange a piece of hair back into place, but instead he’s slipping his ring finger inside of you and it forces a surprised gasp from your chest.

You laugh airily and swat his hand away, “Stop that,” You tell him.

“Just makin’ sure you don’t waste any of it, sweetheart.”

You snort, flipping him off half-heartedly as you reach for your underwear, standing up to pull it back up your hips and under your dress, swaying slightly on your feet after having been sat for so long.

You sigh, pushing your hair back with your hands, suddenly feeling sticky and gross in the aftermath and Joel seems to notice, slowly redressing himself as he stands.

“Why don’t you shower?” Joel suggests, leaving his jeans unbutton but pulled back up his hips. Shirt balled up in his hand.

You look geared to say no, but Joel sweetens the deal.

He looks at his watch, nearing two in the morning.

“I’ll make us an early breakfast,” He offers, shrugging with a lazy smile, “I mean—early early, because I know you’re probably starvin’. I know I am.”

“Only if you’ll make the blueberry pancakes.”

Of course that was the ultimatum.

“Deal, sugar—go get your ass in the shower.” He nods toward the house and you laugh, running away from the hand that pushes at your back.

So, maybe Joel wasn’t the scary neighbor you assumed him to be. But, you couldn’t deny the bursting affection that was growing in your chest for him and that was even more terrifying.

And when he serves up the pancakes to you, hair damp and dripping down your back and onto the shirt he’d lent you, a small square of pancake balanced on a fork that he feeds into your mouth, you feel it.

He's still shirtless, barefoot against his kitchen floor.

“We can—we can do this again, right?”

Joel smiles, looking down at the plate as he cuts off another piece.

“I’ve been waitin’ an entire summer to get the courage to do that, or even ask you on a proper date—we can do whatever you want, sugar.”

“Dates are overrated,” You shrug, “I like this better.”

“Good,” Joel grins, “least now I can mow that lawn of yours without feelin’ bad for asking.”

“Excuse you—I do just fine on my own,” You gasp with mock offense.

You’re lying—that mower was a piece of shit and Joel could see the way your face quickly melts into embarrassment, laughing quietly behind his fist.

“I like helpin’ out,” He tells you with a shrug, beginning to list off a few things he could help work on around your house, eyes drifting off as he went through the mental list, oblivious to the sudden closeness as you leaned over the counter and capture his lips, closed mouth with both of your cheeks puffed full of pancakes.

“You ramble when you’re high,” You tease him, “it’s adorable.”

Joel grimaces at the word but relents when he sees you smile, wide and spreading out across your entire face, snatching the fork from his hand while he’s distracted.

“So, same time next week?”

“Deal, sweetheart.”

Joel doesn’t care that you show up empty-handed the following week.

And frankly, neither do you.

divider creds: @saradika-graphics

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller smut #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #pedro pasca #pedro pascal characters #my writing #um i have no reason other than pure horknee-ness

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bluesidez · 2 days

Text

Dad!Miguel drabble for Father's Day!!

content warning: curvy!reader, fem!reader, fluff, a little suggestive so MINORS BEWARE

word count: 697, not proofread (I can write less than 9k...contrary to popular belief)

other dad content ➺ DadBod!Miguel | Dad!Miguel Drabble | DadGymRat!Miguel Drabble | Dad'sBestFriend!Miguel

This can be in the same universe as the Dad Bod fic because I kept the kiddos' names the same, but I didn't describe Mig's body here, so you can imagine it how you would like! :D

Only Miguel would have to come into work on Father's Day of all days.

He woke up with his face snug against your chest and a whisper of the holiday greeting on your lips. It was way too hot to be grasping at each other so early, but that didn't stop him from grinning against your mouth as he held one of your thighs over his body.

A blissful morning of kisses and sweet nothings before the kids woke up was interrupted by the shrill of his work phone that he stupidly forgot to put on silent.

So here he was running back home after fixing a multitude of electric billboards across the city that read "Happy Farter's Day" instead of "Happy Father's Day." Of all of the staff in the company, Miguel wasn't sure why he was chosen to fix it. Maybe he was a father that wanted to have a nice, unbothered farting day.

It was itching close to the afternoon which meant almost a day gone without staring in your face and laughing with his babies. Almost a day gone without hearing the people closest to his heart.

Miguel nearly flew down the highway just to get back home. He wanted to be near his family.

He's never driven into a garage so fast.

"Honey? Mija? Mijo?"

Miguel's lanyard tapped against his button-up as he called out for the three of you. The house was quiet minus the ceiling fans humming in the window-lit rooms.

Had the three of you gone out without him?

Miguel walked through the house listening and looking for any clues as to where you all might be. Right when he was about to call you in a panic, he heard a giggle come from the deck.

Sliding the curtain open, he watched as his babies were running through the backyard, Raul barely keeping up with Gabriella's speed.

"You're back!" Miguel could hear you to the left of him. His breath hitched taking in your figure.

A blue flowy dress frames your curves, thin straps hug your shoulders, and the cut of the neckline accentuates the place where he held his head this morning.

You walk up to him and reach up for a kiss that he happily reciprocates, "Welcome home, baby."

You call the kids to come up and eat. Their little feet scatter to reach Miguel.

He bends down to take them into his arms, a hearty laugh leaving him as he picks them both up in the air. He plants their faces with raspberry kisses, Gabriella squealing while Raul asks for him to do it again and again.

You smile at them, watching as Miguel spun around with the kids holding on tight. The grumpiness that filled Miguel up this morning after that dreaded call poured out of him and was replaced with warmth and happiness.

This is the moment that Miguel was yearning to experience all morning. A day for him and his family.

"C'mon. Go get changed so we can head over to Gabriel's. He said something about a grill and a splash pad?" you slid your hand over his lower back, fingers sliding through the belt loops of his pants.

As you took a tug at one loop, Miguel leaned over and gave your lips a peck, "Gabriel only knows how to work one of those things."

"I guess we have to take a gamble with today's lunch then," you chuckle, taking Raul from Miguel as he sat Gabriella down. "Dinner will be perfect for sure."

"Yeah?" Miguel raised an eyebrow you. Your eyes were full of mirth and something else Miguel couldn't quite place yet. "I can't wait, then."

When Miguel was up in the bedroom, he began to see why that playful glint painted your face.

A small gift back was placed on the bed with a new silk tie and the tag for what he could assume was a pair of panties.

"A matching set for you and I. I wonder what can be done with this tie?

When the mood is right, we'll find out tonight.

A fun way to end your lovely Father's Day."

Dinner would definitely exceed lunch.

As always, like, reblog, and COMMENT! I love to see what you guys have to say! <3

a/n: I hope everyone who deserves it has a Happy Father's Day! I'm talking older siblings who raised their siblings, kids who grew up too fast, single mothers, single fathers, good fathers, and fictional men who will stop the world for their kids! You're doing great. Tomato to deadbeat fathers. You deserve nothing.

taglist: @questionable-behaviour @babygotl01292003 @slushycoookie @calig0sto @ghost-lantern

@tatatida @haveclayeveryday @corpsenightmarebride @samjinxx @earth2fae

@maiyart @Feegrh32 @darkstalight82 @ladysimp @vmpz8sauceee

@Leonsbimbogf @unwrittenletter @maxlinpetersen @madeofstar-dust @leoeloo

@just-simpins-blog @poisamm @thequeenreaders @aly29a2001 @mimi-sanisanidiot

@tojishugetiddies @pigeonmama @av3da @darkstalight82 @prettygirleli

@koikohib @jaykookies

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harrysgal · 2 days

Text

I DIG YOUR CINEMA (6)

harry styles x yn aspiring filmmaker — social media AU

About the smau: yn starts posting videos on youtube and is trying to build a career as a filmmaker. Things are going pretty well for her and she starts getting more attention when she creates content about shows she goes to. She’s also a fan of Harry’s music and some of his fans start getting suspicious when his team starts interacting with her.

Disclaimer: The story it’s set in 2021 and it will follow their relationship through the LOT leg in the US. Since this is nothing but fiction, I will be following some of the real timeline but also adding my own stuff. On top of that, I won’t be basing myself on Harry’s actual posts.

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PART 5 // MASTERLIST

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I DIG YOUR CINEMA (PART 6)

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liked by bestfriend, lookitsnyoh, mollyjane_x and 74,215 others

yourinstagram sorry guys, had to visit my parents really quick to meet the new addition to the family. i also went over to my best friend just so she could tell me ‘i told you so’, did some thinking while staring through the window, and had some quality time catching up with my niblings. everything went great and it got me all excited for what’s coming next :D i honestly cant believe how lucky i am to have all these great people around me.

now im back to duty and ready to spread all my love around, so… who wants some?

view all 11,401 comments

user7 YESSSSSSS HIIIIII THERE YOU ARE!!! user13 omg did your parents get a puppy??? 🥹 harryfan3 when i got to the end of the caption tho !!!!!

↳ harryfan11 right?! so SASSY omg i love this woman

anthonypham 🙋‍♂️

↳ lookitsnyoh 🙋🏼‍♀️ ↳ paulithepsm 🙋🏿‍♂️ ↳ pillowpersonpp 🙋‍♀️ ↳ mitchrowland 🙋‍♂️ ↳ _basselin 🙋‍♀️ ↳ glenne_azoff 🙋‍♀️ ↳ jefezoff 🙋‍♂️ ↳ harryfan5 STOP THEY’RE ALL HERE TO SUPPORT HER 😭 ↳ harryfan64 Harry isnt tho ↳ user9 they alllllll want some love lmao i love it ↳ harryfan64 not Harry tho. bc he didn’t comment ↳ harryfan27 ＠harryfan64 for the love of God just stop you’re embarrassing our fandom

user1 im glad to see you here. hope you’re feeling our support 🥰❤️ harryfan YOU’RE SOOOOOO loveynrry this is why we haven’t seen her around with harry then :’) bc she took some days off

↳ user13 no bc the fact that he probably gave her some days off after what happened is so sweet :’) ↳ harryfan80 or maybe he just didn’t want to be linked to her anymore so he sent her away ↳ loveynrry ＠harryfan80 fuck off from my comment

user5 yn really said “fuck you for posting that shit” and that’s why she’s so awesome bestfriend miss you already <3 bestfriend we’re the lucky ones btw bestfriend also ily

↳ user4 you two are the coolest i want to be friends with you too ↳ harryfan17 okay but what were you right about tho 👀

harryfan18 This is so childish 🙄 you could just address the rumors instead of adding more to them yknow

↳ harryfan25 how is she adding more to the rumors? just curious ↳ harryfan18 When she makes jokes about it but doesn’t say things aren’t true she’s allowing them to keep the narrative going ↳ harryfan25 she never allowed them to “start” with this narrative, tho ↳ harryfan18 Maybe not. But now she’s clearly aware of what’s happening and what they’re saying so she could put a stop to it instead of making jokes about it ↳ harryfan25 honestly I don’t think she would be able to stop them but ok ↳ harryfan74 She clearly wants the attention so of course she won’t stop the rumors

harryfan26 very funny but do you have a bf or not???? user15 WE LOVE YOU ❤️

Sep 15, 2021. •

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liked by harryfan18, harryfan22 and 217 others

harryupdates Harry out in Philadelphia with some friends!

view all 81 comments

harryfan31 awwww he’s so happy harryfan35 yasssss my love <3 can’t wait to see you tomorrow!!! harryfan18 no yn around FINALLY

↳ harryfan56 good. she should stay with that bf of hers and away from him ↳ harryfan48 I knew Harry would put a stop to that whole fiasco after the truth came out ↳ harryfan52 yep. and I’m pretty sure we’ll slowly fully stop hearing about her

harryfan15 can people leave yn out of their mouths pls 🙄

Sep 16, 2021. •

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liked by annetwist, bestfriend, sisterinlaw and 61,917 others

yourinstagram what a crazy crazy busy day! didnt think i’d have time to walk around the city this time but turns out i did and omg!! im glad i was wrong bc philly you’re truly GORGEOUS <3

view all 9,347 comments

loveynrry can’t believe yn went to a museum and harry wasn’t there lol harryfan5 omg i’m going to the show in DC and I’M SO EXCITED harryfan5 would it be okay if I approached to say hello?? dont want to make you uncomfortable I just love your videos so much Id love to talk to you about it

↳ yourinstagram omg yesss that’d be totally okay! you’re so sweet for asking <3 see you at the show! ↳ harryfan5 omg???? STOPSJFNAK ↳ harryfan3 GIRL SHE REPLIED ↳ harryfan5 I know stop I’m losing my mind I DIDN’T EVEN THINK SHE’D SEE IT OMG

harryfan49 WHERE’S HARRY?!!

↳ harryfan66 living his own life bc he finally realized what a shitshow she is

user1 😍 so pretty! it must be amazing to get to know all these places

↳ yourinstagram it is! its been one of my favorite parts of this job for sure :)))

harryfan54 You’re not fooling anyone we all know Harry wasn’t with you

↳ user3 ??? she never said Harry was with her?? ↳ harryfan54 C’mon she keeps posting all these vague things just so people wonder about it ↳ user5 you should see a doctor. istg this can’t be healthy

harryfan72 isn’t it funny how after those headlines came out we didn’t see harry and yn together anymore ☠️ user5 can harrys fans leave this comment section? WE DON’T WANT YOU HERE SO GTFO

↳ harryfan3 i swear not all of us are like this :( ↳ user5 no omg i know that :( i’m sorry it’s just annoying to see these comments taking over her posts thats all ↳ user17 also the fact that she replied to some people shows she’s reading things :( ↳ user9 istg if yn stops interacting with us because of them… 😠 ↳ harryfan3 yeah i get it guys :( i wish there was a way to stop them ↳ harryfan19 I hope she at least knows how many of us really like her

Sep 16, 2021. •

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liked by harryfan18, harryfan22 and 357 others

harryupdates Harry and Yn out in DC this morning!

view all 81 comments

harryfan5 stopppppp user9 oh i love this! harryfan9 MY BABIES 😍 harryfan78 you can’t even see their faces so how do you know it’s really him?

↳ harryfan68 it’s not them lol ↳ harryupdates It’s 100% him. The fan who saw them also took a picture with Harry but asked us not to post it. ↳ harryfan78 right 👍 how convenient lmao

Sep 18, 2021. •

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liked by annetwist, bestfriend, jefezoff and 92,127 others

yourinstagram im supposed to fall asleep but im too excited so here’s a post with some glimpses of this long and marvelous day

view all 13,987 comments

iloveyn respectfully, those are legs for days 🫡 harryfan the way i just GASPED!! loveynrry i LIVE for the concept of pictures 1 and 3 being on the same photodump harryfan3 MOTHER bestfriend 🔥 bestfriend 👀 lookitsnyoh pls step on my face

↳ anthonypham pls step on my face ↳ bestfriend pls step on my face ↳ user3 pls step on my face ↳ harryfan19 pls step on my face ↳ user2 pls step on my face

harryfan29 idk why buy harry’s mom liking her posts is so funny to me lol harryfan62 This is so inappropriate harryfan80 ??? I can’t believe you just posted a picture of your legs along with pictures of your job

↳ harryfan25 wait, what? no offense but how old are you? lol ↳ harryfan80 old enough to know that’s highly unprofessional? ↳ harryfan25 unprofessional to whom? lmao she’s barely showing her legs whilst harry is fully naked on his cover album so i doubt he cares ↳ harryfan13 hahahahaha that’s so true omg ily ＠harryfan25

user15 ohhhh 😍 i love bold and confident yn harryfan91 so are you dating harry or not????

↳ harryfan76 she’s not. She’s just desperate for attention ↳ harryfan84 also, she has a boyfriend!

harryfan5 THANK YOU FOR BEING SO NICE TO ME I LOVED LOVED LOVED MEETING YOU

↳ harryfan5 THANK YOU AGAIN I MEAN IT YOU’RE THE BEST ↳ yourinstagram emmaaaa ❤️ thank YOU! you’re the sweetest and I loved talking to you :))) hope you had a great show!

Sep 18, 2021. •

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— — — — —

PART 7 (soon)

— — — — —

Tag list: @toldyouitwasamelodrama @gem1712 @metanoiablxxm @awatt31 @namelesssreaderrr @ameerakane20 @yessswhale89 @idkkkkkkk123lgb — PLEASE READ: I’ll only add to the next tag list those who interact with this post. I hope you understand, thank you for your excitement.

#harry styles fake ig #harry styles fake instagram #harry styles fake social media #harry styles smau #harry styles social media au #harry styles writing #harry styles #harry styles blurb #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fluff #harry styles fic #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry x reader

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see-arcane · 1 day

Note

The idea of one of the Weird Sisters being a romani girl or a slovak girl that was in the wrong place at the wrong time is horrible, and a great way to showcase the kind of power (both social, and supernatural) that Dracula forces upon the humans around him.

Wrong place, wrong time, wrong state of being, social, supernatural or otherwise. Dracula could have taken anyone from any station in Transylvania. Rich or poor, friend or foe. But I think none of the Weird Sisters were noblewomen while alive. They were, like Jonathan, sniffed out among the chattel. Dracula is their superior in every regard that way; and more, the servile classes do one thing better than any aristocrat.

It is their wont to make their ruler happy.

The eldest, a young fair girl, was a drop of sunshine and laughter in a threadbare village. Someone who uplifted and charmed whoever she crossed. Dracula, after some unknown breaking point in the mad red fog as he skulked up the mountains into his broken castle to wrestle with inhuman instincts and hold to something like a man's sanity, was alone. A monster made raw with slaughtering, with his people only fearing and fleeing around him. His halls are quiet. He crawls and lopes through them, snapping at himself, knowing he is reducing night by night into a Thing more than a man, let alone a conqueror.

So he goes hunting. He finds the fair girl who makes others happy and holds their hearts. He steals her. Wrings out months of playacting from her; in turn, he has reason to force himself into behaving like a man. The castle has no visitors in that era. When she cries and calls from her window, she hears only her own echoes as a pleading choir. And then it is back to making her monster happy. So happy that he loves her. She must stay.

The next girl was taken back when ties were first forged between the Count and the early generations of Slovaks he would come to entrust with his errands. There was trust on the human side too. Yes, he was a monster, but he was their monster. Their benefactor. He speaks to them like kin and pays a dragon's ransom for their work. They are allies! He calls them friends!

So it goes until his attention falls on one of the girls. A daughter. A sister. A new wife. She knows their Count, their kind monster. 'A friend of the family.' And perhaps she is not even afraid when he asks her, cordial as a lord, to aid him with something in the castle. A small matter, my dear, but something he would not trust the coarse handling of the men to do. She goes in. The door locks.

Does she go to that same room, that same window? Does she weep and call for her family? Does anyone try to come for her, to plead with their friend-master-owner, or to--ha--raise a weapon against him?

If so, it is a small matter. Quick. Bloody.

She charms him while alive. For she must. She thought, just as her new-ancient Sister thought, that she might find a way out. A chance to flee. But she makes him so happy. So happy that he loves her. She must stay.

And the Slovaks learn a lesson that is shared through centuries. They warn all those they work with in the future of the same. The locals, the nomads, the strangers. No women. No girls.

The third girl has no warning. She is Romani, but she has run from her people too. Or else she was trying to find them. Times have always been grim, but especially when the mania over witchcraft was at its height. She lost friends and family to...what? Sham trials and tortured deaths? A scattering to the winds as they fled the self-assigned hunters? Running further, higher, steeper. God's soldiers will not bother with their mission if it means galloping up the cliffs.

Up, up, up.

There are wolves. There is cold. She has no room in her to care.

And then, a fairy tale happening:

A man appears on the moonlit mountain. His eyes are fire. Are you lost, my dear?

She is. She thinks herself already dead or dreaming when he leads her into the castle. When there is food, warmth, and sympathy from this smiling noble perched in the crags of the Carpathians. And for one month, maybe two, even after she smells something worse than death on him, even after every liberty is plucked from her like petals from a rose, even after she has her first glimpse of her grinning Sisters, even after she sees strangers--Living people! Her own people among them! Look, look, I am trapped here! Please! Please, do not go, do not leave me with him...--she clings to charm. To smiles. She makes him happy.

So happy that he loves her. She must stay.

And now there is a young man. Such a winsome thing, young and strong. He makes their monster so happy.

His waiting Sisters think their monster may just love him.

And as they hear him shout from the hand-me-down window, they laugh along with the living in their coffins.

#Having Some Feelings Today Can You Tell? :))))))))))))))#the weird sisters #brides of dracula #jonathan harker #dracula #re: dracula #dracula daily

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alexiroflife · 3 days

Text

sukuna would kill for you….

just a thought, mentions of assault, violence, but also fluff if you squint

… and not just in the cutesy, romantic way that held no weight to the promise. no, sukuna will plot and execute someone’s death for you over and over again. as easy as it has been to kill for centuries, it only becomes easier when he’s killing for the sake of your protection

it doesn’t take much to get sukuna riled up on your behalf. he’s quick to jot down names and addresses when you approach him with tears in your lashes, upset over harsh, misogynistic words from your boss or frustrated over an acquaintance who constantly antagonizes you for no reason. it takes one look into your sad eyes and he’s off on a manhunt

you normally advise sukuna not to kill people who have done little things to push your buttons, but that doesn’t stop him from rousing them up a little bit for good measure. he’ll track a rude encounter down, corner them in a secluded area, and beat their ass to a pulp until they’re begging for mercy. only then, when they plead for their life, does sukuna decide he is done and returns home to you. though the fools are beaten so badly they can hardly see out of their swollen eyes by the time he is done, he hasn’t technically killed them so it’s fair game

there is a time, however, when sukuna ignores your wishes and acts on his own accord, and that is when any guy decides to hit on you and not take no for an answer

you’re fuming when you march into his room, face red and fists clenched tightly at your sides. sukuna looks at you with a cocked brow, asking what the hell happened to get you all worked up. you tell him that on your way to his place from work, a man stopped you in your path to ask for your number. you had politely declined, but when you tried to walk past you could feel his hand grope your backside. you were quick to spin on your heel and land a stinging slap to his face that sent his had snapping into the other direction, and then you ran off to sukuna

the king of curses stares ahead and says nothing for moments that feel like hours, then stands abruptly. “what did he look like?” “where was he going?” “where was he coming from?” you barely get the chance to detail his features and the area the interaction occurred in when he’s cutting you off and telling you that he will take care of it. you catch his arm, eyes glossy as you plead him to stay with you and not get himself caught up in too much trouble. he can only promise the former, as he lets you take him to bed for the night

the next day, sukuna finds your assaulter with uraume’s assistance within twenty minutes. your description of his face in addition to the location you saw him hanging around allowed him to discover his LinkedIn profile, which took him to his place of work. sukuna waits outside of the building all day in dark sweats until he sees the culprit leave. he follows silently from afar until he arrives at his nearby apartment. he watches from an alley as the man disappears into the building and minutes later a light flicks on in the third room to the right on the second floor. sukuna knows he’s got him when his face appears in the window to close the blinds

sukuna waits for him to leave his apartment again to go out to grab food, then seizes his opportunity. he scales the building and climbs silently into the home through the window, then waits for his return in the dark. when the front door swings open, it takes your assaulter moments of shifting through the darkness before he finds sukuna’s shadowy figure sitting in his chair, red eyes aglow. he yelps in fear, reaching frantically to flick on the light. sukuna’s teeth grind together, the sight of this scum before him making his skin crawl

“w-who are you?! what are you doing in my house?” sukuna stands and the man stumbles back, cowardice revealing itself. he presses himself against his now locked door as sukuna approaches with a blank face and dark eyes, glaring down at him over his nose. “please! is it money you want? you can have it all, just- just don’t hurt me!”

christ, how pathetic. sukuna watches him tremble, eyes wide and lips quivering as he shivers in the corner of his own home. sukuna clicks his teeth. “what I want is for you to keep your fucking hands to yourself.” he snatches the man’s wrist up in his tight grasp, claws sinking into his skin. the man writhes in horror upon seeing the blood drawn from sukuna’s fingers digging into him. “why don’t we start by getting rid of them, hm?”

sukuna leaves the now blood spattered apartment unit the same way he came, brushing a gunk of brain matter from his sweatshirt with gritted teeth. he wants to come home to you, annoyed with his day out

when he shows up at your door, he lets you wrap your arms tightly around him in relief. his cheek rests on your shoulder boredly as he 'tolerates' your affection. when you ask him where he has been all day, he shrugs and says: “out” and leaves it at that

sukuna would kill for you any day with no hesitation but bides by the one rule you have to keep his hands clean when it comes to insignificant matters. yet when it comes to someone threatening your safety, comfortability, and body all in one, sukuna thinks it’s only right for him to break his promise to you and slaughter the pathetic lowlifes who even so much as think about laying a finger on you

sukuna’s love language is violence. while he may be poor at refraining from making you mad or gaging when to give you verbal affection, he will put somebody in the ground for you in a heartbeat

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk fanfic #jjk x reader #anime #jjk #jjk fandom #jjk season 2 #jjk x you #ryomen sukuna x reader #jjk ryomen #sukuna ryomen #ryomen sukuna #sukuna ryoumen x you #sukuna x reader #sukuna x y/n #ryomen sukuna x you #sukuna smut #sukuna

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geekforhorror · 2 days

Note

Hey my could you please do Ani making you ride him and him talking you through it

guys my age

pairing: dilf!anakin skywalker x fem!reader

warnings: SMUT (DNI IF YOU'RE UNCOMFORTABLE WITH IT!), dom!anakin, sub!reader, riding, unprotected p in v sex, dirty talk, praise, age gap, modern!au, anakin is divorced!

a/n: yes i based this title off of this song 🙂‍↕️

"Fuck Anakin..." was all you could stammer out as you were constantly bouncing up and down on your employer's dick, feeling his cock brush against your sensitive folds.

You had been a babysitter for his children for about a year and there had always been a strong sense of sexual tension whenever the two of you were in the same room together. Something in him must have snapped tonight that caused him to aggressively attack your lips with his. He was consuming your mouth as if it was his only source of oxygen, which only fueled the already passionate kiss. Before you knew it, your clothes had been ripped off of your body along with his. leaving the two of you bare on his bed.

"You like this, sweetie? You like being fucked by a man more than twice your age?" Anakin asks you lustfully.

"Mhm!" you yelp out as his lips latch onto your collarbone.

"Such a sweet girl for me...making me feel so good, baby," he praises into your ear like a mantra he could repeat all night long. He continues rocking into you sensually, his pelvis meeting yours.

Sure, you knew he was experienced, but the way he was making you feel was otherworldly. You knew one other thing for sure: his ex-wife was a damn fool for divorcing him.

"I knew you would be tight baby, but shit..." you hear Anakin say with a breathy groan. "Taking me 's well..."

All of a sudden, you feel him finally bottom out inside you, making you expel pornographic moans from your mouth. Anakin gently covers your mouth with one of his large hands.

"As much as I want to hear those pretty sounds pretty girl, we wouldn't want the kids to wake up now, would we?" he tuts, pausing his movements.

"N-No" you stammer.

"Atta girl...knows exactly how to make me proud," he coos.

He resumes his thrusting with those words and your only response is to grab onto his shoulder blades so you wouldn't lose balance. Sounds of skin slapping against skin filled your ears, along with the slick sounds of your arousal smeared all over his cock. All your thoughts were thrown out the window as you became more cock drunk on top of him. You could feel the hot coil start to form deep inside your tummy and knew what was coming. Anakin knew you were close from the way your tight cunt was fluttering around his fat cock.

"Please let me cum," you plead, a glassy look forming in your eyes due to how desperate you were for a release. Anything.

"Youve got it baby, you've got it," he says to you, only making your movements more erratic and hasty. "Just like that..." he continues.

Before you know it, you feel yourself finally unravel around him, throwing your head back as he fucks you through your orgasm. He feels the warmth of your cum splash around his aching dick, which makes Anakin continue to thrust animalistically into you like his life depends on it. Suddenly, he spills his hot, sticky seed into your spent pussy and you swear its the best thing you've ever felt in your entire life. He waits a while before finally pulling out of you and lays beside you on the now ruined sheets.

"Why didn't we do that sooner?" he asks with a look of amusement on his face.

"I have no idea," you reply with a giggle.

tag list: @zapernz @mortalheartache @myheartwillgoon2022 @camiemorgan8 @demieyesore @midnight--raine

#anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker smut #anakin smut #anakin skywalker x reader #star wars #hayden christensen #star wars fanfiction #star wars fandom #anakin imagine #anakin star wars #james kelly smut #james kelly x reader

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jarofstyles · 21 hours

Text

Lullaby

okay... so here we are with a new vamprry. pleaseee let me know what you guys think, I am a slut for vampy so I figured we needed some more of him in our life :)

Check out our Patreon for early access and 180+ exclusive writings!

WC- 3.1k

Warnings- mentions of blood, vampires, stalking (Edward Cullen has nothing on him), twilight slander, invasion of privacy, morally gray H, etc

-----

Harry hated that stupid movie.

It wasn’t at all what real vampires were. While he wished it was as lighthearted as the movie tried to portray, it was a bit more classy and a lot more hierarchical than the humans would truly ever know. They walked among them, yes, but in more plain sight than they could ever guess. Celebrities, politicians, even royalty were of vampiric life. It wasn’t as silly as this movie suggested, nor did they solely feed off of animal blood. It did taste a bit gamey, did in a pinch, but he wasn’t one who could stomach that sort of pseudo vegan lifestyle. Ever since that movie had erupted from whatever depths of hell it was created, it had caused him nothing but strife. Years later the vampire craze had seemed to slow, but lines were nearly burned into his ears after being subjected to the comfort movie of his unfortunate neighbor and object of his current affection.

He knew it was creepy and perhaps the one thing he shared with the Cullen fellow. Watching her as she slept.

It was dangerous, stupid even, for her to leave her windows unlocked and while part of him wanted to scold her for it, the other part was thankful. He didn’t have to form another guise to get into her house, he could enter directly where his little human laid her head at night and he could watch her breathe. Listen to her breaths and heartbeats underneath the television shows she left on to drown out any noises the old house may make. That’s what she said in her journal, anyway.

He sat in the chair across from her bed, listening to the comfort of her heartbeats as he flipped through the pages. It was an invasion of privacy, he knew it, and while sometimes he felt bad… it was his way of getting to know her. Morals had never quite been his thing anyway, let alone when it came to the girl snoozing in her bed like a pleased kitten in a sunbeam. Maybe he was deluding himself, but he swore that she calmed the fitful sleep when he entered his room. Like her body knew of his presence. Instead of being on edge, like any sensible human would be in direct contact with a predator, she possibly had a miswire of her brain.

For all of the things he knew about her, for his addiction to her scent and being near her, they didn’t talk much. Harry owned the house next to hers, which was originally a rental, but the moment he had caught her scent he knew he had to stay longer.

It was unnatural if you were a human, sure, but if you were a vampire you would understand. There were certain people, certain scents, that drove you insane. That weighed heavily on your brain and acted as an addiction. Y/N had captured his attention the moment he had pulled into the street, Harry immediately clocked that she had been the source of the scent that had caught his nose a few miles away. He’d been meaning to park at his place and go on foot in search of it, but as fate would have it; she was right next door.

To get an invitation into her house, it had been quite simple. Using his cat that didn’t exist as an excuse; he asked if he could come around and look for him in her yard. The little thing had gasped, nodding her head ecstatically and inviting him in without second thought, only with the promise of getting a pet in if he were to find the fictional cat. A good thing for him, but worrying for the future. Inviting people in, vampires in, was incredibly dangerous. He had wanted to scold her for it, to make her understand the danger she had put herself in, but it was much harder to do that when said woman had no idea that his kind could even be a threat to her.

From there it had been waving when he left and she sat on her porch with her book, feet tucked under her body as she rocked on her glider. A pitcher of cherry limeade next to her, sweetening her blood in ways that made his fangs prick his lips. The human did things she had next to no clue affected him so deeply. One particular day he had been desperate to hear her voice, going as far as stealing her mail so he could deliver it to her himself. Knocking at her door, he’d been anxious with anticipation hearing her walk up to the front of her house. Water had been on and there was the faint scent of lemon dish soap lingering in the air along with the slight clinking of dishes, cluing him into the fact she had definitely been doing her dishes. When his obsession did answer the door, his breath had caught in his throat as he looked down at her.

Something about that day had shifted his addiction to her into overdrive. Watching her eyes widen and the smile grow on her face, tendrils of hair falling out of her ponytail and her heartbeat picking up, he had found out that he wasn’t the only one with an interest. He’d handed over the mail, swallowing the lump in his throat as her smaller hand brushed his own. Warm, silky skin, lighting him up with the single touch. It had been a short interaction, mostly due to the burning in his throat as the wind picked up and washed him with her scent yet again. A muttered excuse had made even himself wince as he was mindful of his pace, walking back to his place and getting directly into his car. He’d needed a feed desperately if he was going to be around her.

Harry had done a plethora of ridiculous things in order to slowly wiggle himself into the little human’s life, but getting a pet cat was probably the most ridiculous. A fluffy black cat with golden eyes and a raspy meow had been his pick, letting it have the run of the house and the yard because what if Y/N asked about it? The plan was to get himself intertwined in her life, so he had to have some truths to it.

As oblivious as some humans could be, he knew his human was far more perceptive in terms of figuring out if people had things off with them. Her diary had said as much.

Tonight, he had been chomping at the bit for her to go to sleep. Waiting outside her house, watching her shut it down and go upstairs as he scaled the large tree next to her room for a view. He could tell she was tired, but she sat for twenty minutes scribbling away into her notebook with a smile on her face and the pace of her heart upticking a few times, making him wonder what she was writing about. Was it him? Her certainly hoped so.

It was pathetic. If anyone knew of his wistful sighs and his borderline obsessive routine of slipping into her room one she fell into dreamland, they’d surely remind him that getting involved with a human was surely a terrible idea. It wasn’t unheard of, no, but it ended in disaster some of the time. The vampire counterpart going too far during a feeding, accidentally hurting them during sex, the human getting sick and them perishing leaving the eternal to go insane after. Even still, the threat wasn’t enough to keep him away from her.

As he heard her breathing even out, he climbed slowly into her room and made sure to keep quiet as she hadn’t entered the deepest part of sleep yet. Usually he had some sort of control on his need to be around her but after their conversation in her backyard, he had been itching to get into her mind.

The journal was a deep brown, suede strings around it with a few charms on the worn material. It wrapped around to keep it closed, reminding him of his own journals back in his estate. She cherished each one of her journals, it seemed, and he found himself liking her even more because of it. Humans could be so wasteful, so unaware of the things they produced. His human, though, she was mindful of her footprint. A slight smile twitched at the corner of his lips as he looked down at her sleeping form. Looming over her wasn’t the brightest idea, but something in his restless soul had calmed with the vision of her safe and snug in the warm blankets.

His stomach was full from one of those dreaded blood packets. Nothing like the real thing, required heating, but he needed to ensure she was safe from him. With blood that made his mouth water, even with his strong restraint he wasn’t going to leave anything to chance. The idea of anything happening to her weighed heavily on him, twisting his stomach each and every time it came to light in his mine. “Gorgeous.” He murmured, brushing his knuckle against her cheek. The touch was a compulsion, unable to help it as he felt the warmth under his cool digit. Every time he limited himself to just a few fleeting touches, but he could feel it getting harder and harder staying away from her as the days went by.

Mentally prying himself from her form, he took the journal in his hand and padded over to the armchair in the corner. It gave a perfect view of her sleeping face, the soft lines making his chest squeeze before he opened up the leatherbound book to the newest entry.

‘I saw him again today. I haven’t spoken about him much in here but I think its time to.

He is ungodly handsome. I’m talking, how are you real, greek god, roman statue good looking.’

He had to stifle a laugh, running his finger over the inked words.

‘His name is Harry and we’ve met a few times, but today was the longest we spoke. I finally met his cat, Midnight, which is a less than original name for a black cat but I’ll let it slide. He was so gentle with him, picking him up and letting me hold him. He purred and was absolutely the cutest little thing ever, but I was distracted by his owner. Usually he doesn’t say much and originally I thought he didn’t like me or something, but I think he’s just shy.’

Another thing that made him have to seal his lips from reacting to. Harry wasn’t shy, he was cold. He kept to himself not because he was afraid, but because he wasn’t fond of communication. In her case, though, it was because he wasn’t sure he could keep from asking her to come over to his place and find a way to seduce her. To get her just as addicted to his presence as he was to hers. As morally gray as a creature could be, he didn’t want to force her affections.

‘ He has the nicest voice. It’s quiet but dark and deep and I felt bad for thinking about what else it could say later on, but it’s not like he’d ever know. There has never been another person to his house that I’ve seen that looks romantic, but maybe he just like fuckbuddies. Sucks that hes my neighbor and I get dreadfully emotionally attached, otherwise I’d suggest that sorta thing. Maybe. It’s unlike me to feel so curious about a man considering I’ve been doing my best to try and stay true to my no dating year, but it’s incredibly hard not to want to see more of him.’

Sitting up in his seat, he didn’t suppress the smirk on his face as he read what she wrote down. Maybe one day he’d feel guilt about reading her private thing, but right now? He was fucking thankful he did. There was confirmation of returned interest, interest in more nonetheless. Usually the idea of more than a night of sex would send the vampire running, but his little human had bewitched him. There would be no world in which he could have a single night with her and give her up. Being more in tune with the more primal parts of him, he had the knowledge that it was already finding himself tangled in her web. This mere human trapping his affections in steel threads.

‘I think I’m gonna try and feel him out a bit. Not in a creepy way or anything but, maybe take more initiative. The only problem with that is he is super intimidating and probably a bit out of my league, and I’ve got no damn clue if he’s single or even looking. At the risk of making a fool out of myself, I’m gonna try and see. Mama always did say you never got anything if you didn’t ask. I still can’t believe how many times i've quoted her in here. I wish she was around so I could ask her what to do.’

The smile on his face slipped as he was reminded of previous entries. His sweet little human was pretty alone in the world. She had some friends, was good with the other neighbors, but she had no family. She still had no clue it was him that left her the pie and stack of romance books outside her door on Christmas. He’d feel gutted at the idea of her spending it alone, especially after reading and knowing how badly she craved companionship. There was no true talk of what happened to her family other than there being an accident, but that was something he would let her tell him herself.

‘I hope I’m not just reading into things because I’m a little desperate for someone to want me, but I swore I could feel him checking me out. He gave me a cute little smile and the motherfucker had dimples. DIMPLES! How is it possible for a man as severely handsome as him to look adorable when he smiled? God does indeed have favorites.’

It was definitely a stroke to the ego to know how attractive she found him, but the next paragraph was what really moved him.

‘Above all of that, he seems pretty smart. Really intelligent, actually. He’s quite charming once he starts talking to you, and I felt like he was really giving me every bit of his attention. In a way it was a little overwhelming because I haven’t ever felt that way before from a man, but it was so nice to have someone give me their time without the distraction of phones or work or anything. We talked for probably about half an hour and I found myself getting closer to the fence, almost asking if he wanted to come in for a coffee or if he was down, cherry limeade. I didn’t want to seem desperate though, so I said bye first. Stupid on my part. He seems like the type of person who I could talk to for hours and not get bored. That's a rare type of person. Then again, maybe I am slightly delusional.’

If only she knew.

Harry closed the journal, diligently trying to replicate the way she had wrapped the suede around the leather before getting up and placing it back on her nightstand.

“If only you knew that you make me feel so insane that I’d risk stealing a star for you.” His words were delicate, hopefully entering her dreams. It was abundantly apparent to him that she wasn’t given the proper affection in her life and It would be his job to provide.A challenge he was up for. His fingers found her face again, delicately tracing the curve of her nose as he tried to commit each mark on her to memory. It was interrupted, though, when she let out a little whimper in her sleep, making him freeze and his eyes widen. He was fully prepared to have to wipe her memories, to have her eyes fluttering open and screams leaving her throat, but instead she did the opposite. Hands emerged from under the blankets, lightly grabbing onto his wrist and pulling his cool touch onto her hot cheek. Silky smooth skin, slightly damp from the light sweat in her sleep nuzzled into his palm. He watched as limbs stretched under her before she curled up again and held his hand to her face, urging the touch to stay put.

She was asleep and sought him out. The grip on his sleeve lessened as she fell back into the slumber he was jealous of, wishing he could be in her head and see the things she had running around up there. The sweetest hum left her throat in a final act of settling, Harry allowing the urges to win and ran his thumb over the curve of said cheek. It was astonishing to him, given that her body should be sensing the danger of having the monster who had dreamed of sinking his fangs into her throat, her wrist, her inner thigh, feasting on her blood- but maybe she could also sense that he wouldn’t want to hurt her. Just a taste. He could live with just a taste of her on his tongue. “Sweet little thing…” He swallowed, finding the urge more strong by the moment. All he craved was crawling into the bed with her, pulling her frame into his own and burying his face in the curve of her neck. He would take a little bite, just enough to get it on his tongue before he licked it closed. He wanted to feel her breathing against his hand and hear every shift she made at night, the rush of blood through her veins. It was surpassing the normal urges a vampire would have with his prey, but he had a feeling it had never been normal between them. He couldn’t change it overnight. His body softened as he leaned against the bed, a soft hum leaving his lips as he began to lightly sing the soft lullaby he had been coaxed into dreamland with as a child.

There was no moving him, not until the first hint of sunlight lit the sky azure. The best night of his life had been sitting on his knees by her bedside, allowed to have his cold skin warmed by her cheek as she had put it there herself. When he had to finally pull away, the warmth tingled in his palm as he pressed it to his own cheek and imagined how it would feel the day she let him warm himself from the source. However long that would take, he would wait along for her and let her cling to his unknowing hand to sing her the quietest lullabies to quell any fears she had.

#jarofstyles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfic #harry styles smut #harry writing #harry styles imagine #harry drabble #harry styles blurb #harry styles writing #vampire!harry styles #vampire harry styles #harry styles au #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst

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pickingupmymercedes · 3 days

Text

Small firsts - Lewis Hamilton

Lots of fluffs. 10 of them to warm our hearts this rainy weekend.

request: "'All these little things' made me think of the small moments that are milestones in a relationship but aren't celebrated as such. Maybe, you could do something like that?"

pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Reader!

wordcount: +4K

a/n: Writing these warmed my heart. Celebrate the small moments guys, they make the path worth it

Also there's +20 more fluffs just like these ones here - Ways to say I love you & Ways to say I love you pt. 2 - and here - All these little things & All these little things pt. 2 .

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

______________________________________________________________

The first time he played a personal song of his to you

Lewis's strumming sounds on his guitar drifted out onto the balcony, a melody muffled by the crash of the ocean on Monaco's shores. You sat on one of the plush chairs, bathed in the soft glow of the sunset, your laptop open and fingers flitting across the keyboard.

The sound had become a familiar soundtrack to evenings with him.

Lewis poured his emotions into his music, something he’d usually only share with those closest to him. You'd heard him play snippets so far, familiar tunes or warm-up riffs, but never a complete, original song, not yet.

Not until a melody caught your attention, something unfamiliar. It was softer, melancholic yet strangely hopeful, with a recurring guitar line that tugged at something.

You paused your work, peaking from the laptop you saw Lewis playing on the couch across the space, his face half colored by the remaining lights half in the dark shadows.

His eyes were closed, his brow furrowed in concentration as his fingers danced across the guitar strings. But as the song was about to reach what seemed to be a chorus, he glanced up, his gaze meeting yours, a soft smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

He stopped playing, the silence echoing for a moment before he spoke, his voice a low murmur. "Didn't know you were an audience."

"It's beautiful" you said, caught by surprise by the huskiness in your own voice.

Lewis's smile faltered slightly. He ran a hand through his shorts, a nervous gesture you rarely saw. "It's... something I wrote a while back."

He looked away, then back at you, as if wondering if he should share that with you, if he could anyway.

Without a word, you closed your laptop and stood up. Crossing the room, you settled on the couch next to him, still leaving a comfortable space between you.

Lewis watched you for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, a small smile played on his lips again. He lifted his hand and brushed a stray strand of hair from your face, a silent thank you for understanding.

He didn't need to say anything more. The music spoke for him, a tribute to someone he still loved or had loved dearly.

As the melody filled the room again, you leaned closer, resting your head against his shoulder.

This wasn't just music; it was a glimpse into Lewis, a gift he was choosing to share with you. A side of him he rarely showed the world.

The city lights had started to twinkle below, but all you could see was the gentle smile playing on Lewis's lips as his fingers strummed in the cords of that guitar.

The song ended softly; the silence afterwards filled with unspoken emotions for you both.

He squeezed your hand, a grateful glint in his eyes. "Thank you for listening."

The first time you do each other's laundry.

The crisp Colorado winter wind howled outside, rattling the windows of Lewis's house. Inside, Lewis's furrowed his brow at the pile of laundry that seemed to be multiplying on the floor.

“Why did I even let that much laundry pile up?!" he muttered to himself, sorting through a mountain of workout gear. He reached for a familiar worn-in sweatshirt, a smile forming on his lips. It was the one Y/n had practically adopted, leaving her scent as a constant reminder to him.

Beside his own clothes, a smaller pile of delicates caught his attention. Nestled amongst his t-shirts, lay a few lacy underwear, some of which he vaguely recalled seeing in her body, or peeking out from under her sweater.

But, practicality reared its head.

He stared at the lacy contraption, feeling a touch out of his depth. Sure, he could handle sweaty race suits and gym socks, but lingerie? That was uncharted territory. But he wanted to take care of her things too, to make sure they stayed as soft and delicate as they felt in her skin.

Just then, Y/n walked in, her cheeks and nose a touch flushed from the cold, a steaming pot tea in her hands. She stopped short, amused by the sight of clothes scattered on the floor and Lewis looking defeated.

"Laundry day already?" she asked, her voice laced with a hint of sarcasm.

"More like laundry mountain day" Lewis replied wryly, gesturing at the pile. "Thought I'd tackle it while the storm has us stuck inside."

He caught her eye flicker to the lacy item, a knowing smile playing on her lips.

"Oh” she teased, setting the mug down on nearer surface. "You’ve found my delicates…"

Lewis, ever so slightly flustered, held up one of his favorites pieces of hers. " About that" he stammered, "how exactly do you wash... them?"

Y/n burst into laughter, the sound warm and genuine. "Oh, Lew" she said, shaking her head as she walked towards him, taking the bralette from his hand as her fingers brushed against his in the process.

She explained the delicate cycle settings on his washing machine, her voice soft and patient. She showed him the difference between hand washing and machine washing, a playful glint in her eyes as she demonstrated with some of her more delicate pieces.

Lewis found himself completely entranced. Here he was, a world champion, only now learning the intricacies of lace washing. And somehow, it felt more nerve wrecking than any qualifying session.

"There you go" Y/n finally said, placing a folded lacy bra in a basket. "See, not so scary, is it?"

Lewis shook his head, a sheepish grin on his face. "Thanks" he mumbled, clearly still a bit embarrassed "Appreciate it, love."

"Thank you, for doing my laundry" she replied, leaning in and nuzzling her nose against his neck. "Besides," she whispered, her voice husky, "now you have more reasons to admire those pieces."

Lewis laughed, wrapping his arms around her. "That," he admitted, pulling her close, "might be the best part."

The first time it's not his friends, but ours.

The rain hammered against the London house's windows, a steady rhythm that masked the city's usual symphony of honking horns and sirens. You fumbled with your keys, finally unlocking the door and stepping inside, greeted by the warmth and distant sound of music.

Lewis's laughter cut through the melody, drawing you towards the source. There he was, surrounded by his friends, sprawled on the floor, instruments scattered around them, clearly in the midst of a brainstorming session.

Miles's head snapped up first, a wide grin splitting his face. "Y/n!" The room erupted in a chorus of greetings as they scrambled to their feet.

"Hey guys, how's the music coming along?" you asked, stepping into the chaos.

"Slow," Daniel admitted with a wink. " Your lover boy here is being particularly stubborn about this riff." He nudged Lewis playfully.

"It needs work" Lewis protested, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you closer.

"Been avoiding us, have you?" Daniel teased, opening his arms to engulf in a bear hug when you detached from Lewis.

You scoffed playfully. "Avoiding you? Never. Just swamped with work myself."

"Uh-huh," Daniel drawled, unconvinced.

You were about to retort when Lewis cut in. "Now she’s confirmed it, lay off you all." He said pulling you closer to leave a soft kiss to the back of your head.

The music resumed as you settled onto the couch, content to watch them work their magic.

Later that night, as you snuggled into bed with Lewis you couldn’t help but feel how lighter he always looked when he had time with his friends.

"You know," you said softly, "I had a really nice time tonight. Your friends are…"

"Amazing?" Lewis finished, a smile in his voice.

"Yeah" you agreed, chuckling. "I’ll let you gloat on this one, they really are amazing”

Lewis reached over and tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear. "And they're your friends too, you know." he said, his voice dropping to a low murmur.

You looked up at his eyes. "What do you mean?"

He chuckled softly. "They haven't called you 'Lewis' girl' for a while now. It's been only 'Y/n'. They like you."

A warmth bloomed in your chest. Your fingers circling his naked chest. "Really?"

"Hm" he confirmed, his gaze holding yours. "Don't think of them as just my friends. They’re ours."

The first time he refers to you as “mommy” to a pet

You peeked through the doorway, a silent observer in the warm glow of the late morning in the living room. Lewis was sprawled on the rug, a playful smile tugging at his lips as he wrestled with Roscoe.

Toys were scattered around them like colorful confetti, and Roscoe, tongue lolling out in pure joy, was putting up a valiant fight against Lewis.

"Alright, alright, rascal!" Lewis chuckled, giving Roscoe a back rub that sent the dog into a fit of happy wiggles. "Who's the bests boys in the whole wide world, huh?"

Roscoe barked in agreement, short and enthusiastic barks that vibrated his entire chunky body.

"That's right, yous ares" Lewis said, his voice dripping with mock seriousness. "The bestest boys. But you know what you need to be an even better boy?"

Roscoe tilted his head, his dark eyes gleaming with curiosity.

"You need to listen to Mommy," Lewis continued, his voice dropping a playful octave. You froze at the doorway, a blush creeping up your neck. Mommy?

Lewis reached out and scratched Roscoe behind the ear. "Yeah, Mommy said we should pick up all these toys before lunch times. What do yous says, champ? Wanna helps Mommys cleans ups?"

Roscoe whined and nudged Lewis's hand with his wet nose, tail thumping against the floor. Lewis ruffled the dog's fur.

"That's a good boys" he said, his gaze flickering towards the doorway for a brief moment. "Time to make Mommy proud."

He stood up, gathering a handful of stuffed animals, and your heart did a little flip-flop. The way he said it, so casual, so natural, you were not expecting that, at all.

You stepped into the room, a playful smile on your face. "Did someone say 'Mommy'?"

Lewis looked up, a surprised grin splitting his face. "Uh, yeah," he stammered, his hands scratching a hidden spot in his neck. "Just, uh, motivating Roscoe here."

Roscoe dropped a squeaky toy at your feet, tail wagging furiously. You knelt down and scratched him behind the ears, earning a happy snuffle.

"He seems pretty motivated already" you teased, glancing at the half-cleaned pile of toys.

Lewis cleared his throat. "Right, well, he just needs a little help from his favorite humans, right, Roscoe?"

The bulldog barked again, his excitement for playtime clearly evident. You couldn't help but laugh.

"Alright, alright," you said, picking up a plush bone.

Lewis's grin widened. "Knew you wouldn’t resist" he said, his voice warm and inviting.

The three of you spent the next twenty minutes engaged in a playful battle against the scattered toys. Roscoe snatching them back just as you were about to put them away.

Finally, as Roscoe settled in his lap as he sat on the floor in the kitchen you leaned against the counter, watching the peaceful scene. He glanced up, catching your gaze.

"So, 'Mommy', huh?" she said, a soft smile playing on her lips.

"Well," he shrugged, playfully mimicking her earlier tone "someone has to take care of us two."

She chuckled, the sound rich and warm. "Can't argue with that."

He reached out a hand, silently inviting you to join him. You crossed the room and slipped down into his embrace, the warmth of him surrounding you. Roscoe whined and shuffled closer, his large head now resting comfortably on your legs.

The first time you admit to someone else you love them.

The apartment was filled with the comforting hum of conversation and the clinking of wine glasses. Y/n sat cross-legged on the plush carpet, surrounded by her closest friends and the nearly empty bottle they were sharing.

“So, how’s everything going with Lewis?” asked Y/N/F, her eyes sparkling with curiosity.

Y/n smiled at the mention of his name alone “It’s going really well,” she replied, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I mean, it’s still early days, but things are… really well.”

Another woman leaned in; her interest showing. “What do you mean by that?”

Y/n took a sip of her wine, savoring the taste as she thought about how to explain it. “I don’t know. He’s just...he’s attentive and caring. Like, he remembers the little things, you know?! The things I never go without at home there’s always a stock at his place, he knows my schedule even if he doesn’t know his own…”

Her friends exchanged knowing looks, but Y/n was too lost in her thoughts to notice. “He just remembers things I say, things I need, without me having to remind him.”

“He sounds like a keeper” one of them said, her voice tinged with amusement. “What else?”

Y/n’s smile widened as she continued. “He’s introduced me to his family, and they’re all so wonderful. And he’s met mine, too. We’ve been taking these little steps, and it feels so natural. We’re not rushing, but we’re also not holding back.”

Some eyes narrowed playfully. “Lovely, you’re glowing just talking about him.”

Y/n chuckled embarrassed, ducking her head. “I guess, he makes me feel special.”

Y/N/F put her glass down and leaned forward, her expression serious. “Y/n, it sounds like you’re in love with him.”

Y/n blinked, the words hanging in the air between them. “What? No, it’s too soon for that” she protested weakly, no certainty whatsover.

She reached out, placing a hand on Y/n’s arm. “It’s not about time, it’s about how he makes you feel. And from what you’re saying, it sounds like love to me.”

Y/n’s mind raced as she replayed her words, the moments she had shared with Lewis, the way her heart felt safe every time she saw him. She bit her lip, a shy smile forming. “Maybe” she admitted softly.

The first time they make you cry.

The argument had started over something small. A casual comment about how Lewis seemed to be running himself ragged with his schedule. But somehow it spiraled into something much more intense.

“You’re pushing yourself too hard, Lewis,” Y/n said, her voice tinged with frustration. “You need to take a break and focus on your mental health. You can’t keep going like this.”

Lewis sighed, rubbing his temples. “I’ve been living like this for years, Y/n. I’m fine. I don’t need you to take care of me.”

Her heart ached at his words. “But I’m here to help. That’s what being in a relationship is supposed to be, us taking care of each other.”

“I’ve managed just fine on my own” he snapped, his eyes flashing with anger. “I don’t need fixing.”

Y/n felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes. “Who said anything about fixing you, Lewis. It’s about being there for you. Supporting you. Why can’t you see that?”

He turned away, his shoulders tense. “Because I don’t need it. I’m not like that.”

The tears spilled over, and she wiped them away angrily. “Do you not trust me? Because this is about trust too.”

Lewis whirled around, his expression softening as he saw her tears. “It’s not that. At all. It’s just… I’ve always handled things on my own.”

She took a deep, shaky breath. “I’m not asking you to change who you are. I’m asking you to let me in. In the good and the bad.”

His anger melted away, his features softening. “Please don’t cry” he said quietly, stepping closer and reaching for her hand.

Y/n shook her head, trying to hold back more tears. “I’m crying because I care about you, so damn much, and it hurts to see you struggling and not letting me at least try and help.”

Lewis pulled her into his arms. She buried her face in his chest, the warmth of his embrace a welcome contrast to the cold distance of their argument. “I’m sorry,” he whispered into her hair. “I didn’t mean to push you away.”

She clung to him, her fingers gripping his shirt. “I just want to be there for you. To share the load.”

He sighed, holding her tighter. “I know. I’m just not used to it. But I’ll try. Promise, okay?!”

Y/n pulled back slightly, looking at him to find sincerity in his eyes. “That’s all I’m asking.”

He cupped her face, his thumb brushing away her tears. “I do trust you. It’s just hard to let go of old habits.”

The first time you share a hangover so painful you actually think you might die.

The throbbing in her head felt like a techno beat gone rogue. Every breath felt like knives torturing each cell, from her temples straight down to her toes. And to top it off she was pretty sure she'd swallowed a swarm of angry bees, that were now very, very unhappy residing in her skull.

"Ugh," Y/n groaned, pulling the covers further over her head.

A faint chirp from the doorway alerted to Lewis's presence. He peeked in; concern etched on his face.

"Hey," he said softly. "How's it going?"

"I think I’m dying" she mumbled from the depths of the covers. "Or at least the feeling is just like I imagine dying to be like."

Lewis chuckled, a sound that surprisingly didn't send her brain into a protest. "Sounds rough."

"Rough is putting it mildly" Y/n croaked. "I think I might have made a deal with the devil for another tequila. And apparently, he holds a grudge."

He approached the bed holding a tray that looked like it had come straight from a health spa – a steaming mug, a glass of water, and a plate of suspiciously green fruit salad.

"Is that… kale?" she peeked at the salad with suspicion.

"Don't knock it till you try it, babe," he said, setting the tray down on the nightstand. "It's packed with just what your body needs right now."

Y/n grimaced. The thought of kale was about as appealing as a root canal right now. But she appreciated the effort.

"Fine" she mumbled, reaching for the glass of water. "No promises though."

Lewis helped her sit up, propping pillows behind her back. He handed her the mug first, the smell of ginger and honey filling your senses.

"It'll help with the nausea." he said, his voice gentle and reassuring.

Y/n took a tentative sip. It wasn't bad at all. Dare she say, it was kind of good?!

As she finished the drink, Lewis picked up the spoon and started feeding her the fruit salad.

"Hm, Lew” she whined, swatting playfully at his hand. "Do I look like a baby bird?"

"Not really," he grinned, dodging her hand. "But you do look like a very cuddly koala who needs help."

And cuddly she was. Deprived of her usual snark and fueled solely by the desire for her pain to end, she found herself clinging to Lewis for the rest of the day.

Y/n buried her face in his shoulder, nuzzling it like a giant human teddy bear. "See?" Lewis said, wrapping his arms around her. "Much better now, salad and all."

She mumbled something incoherent but contented against his chest. The warmth of his embrace, the gentle pressure of his hand rubbing circles on her back, it all felt strangely soothing.

After a while, the pain in her head seemed to dull a little. Maybe it was the tea, maybe it was Lewis's cuddling skills, but she started to drift off to sleep.

"Feeling better?" Lewis whispered, his voice barely a murmur.

"Just don't let me do any more tequila. Ever.” Y/n mumbled back, sleep almost pulling her under until she turned into his chest to look at him with a smirk “Unless is Almave”.

The first time you realize you have a side to the bed.

The crisp morning air snuck through the thin hotel curtains, hitting in stripe like figures across Lewis's face. He stirred; the warmth of Y/n pressed against his back a comforting weight. He instinctively reached out, his fingers trailing along the curve of her arm, a silent morning greeting.

A muffled groan escaped Y/n's lips; her face buried in the crook of his neck. Lewis chuckled softly, already familiar with her morning routine. He was an early riser, Y/n, however, reveled in sleeping in whenever possible.

"Morning sunshine" he whispered, his voice husky with sleep.

A sleepy mumbled response was all he got before peace settled again. Lewis smiled, content to simply lie with her, enjoying the quiet moments with her in his arms. He was about to drift back to sleep when a small wrinkle appeared on Y/n's forehead.

With a sigh that spoke volumes about her reluctance, Y/n began to roll over. But before she could fully turn into the sunny spots, Lewis's arm instinctively tightened around her, gently but firmly stopping her movement.

"Wrong side," he murmured, his voice still laced with sleep.

Y/n blinked, momentarily disoriented.

Sun. It was way too early for sun.

She squinted towards the window, the golden light streaming in directly at her.

"Oh," she mumbled, her confusion finally dissipating.

"See" Lewis chuckled, a hint of amusement in his voice. "This side's better for you. Less light in the mornings."

She connected the dots. All this time, she'd assumed it was a coincidence that she always ended up on the darker side of the bed. But Lewis, bless his soul, had evidently been making sure of it.

"You knew?" she asked, a playful smile tugging at the corner of her still sleepy features.

"Always," he confirmed, his warm breath tickling her ear.

"You never said anything."

"Didn't have to" he replied smugly. "Seemed to be working just fine."

She snuggled closer. It was a small thing, but it spoke volumes about his attentiveness, about the way he already knew her preferences.

"Thank you, my savior” she teased, rolling onto her back and gazing up at him.

He met her gaze, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Just making sure you get your beauty sleep."

"Oh, so that's it?" she challenged, a playful glint in her eyes. "Not just protecting your own slumber?"

"Maybe a little bit of both," he admitted with a disarming grin. He leaned down, his lips brushing against hers in a tender kiss.

"Well," she murmured, as he pulled back, "thanks for looking after me, even when I'm clueless."

Lewis brushed a stray strand of loose hair. "Always," he promised, his voice a low rumble.

The first time you have to suck it up and say sorry.

The fluorescent lights of the medical center buzzed overhead, nothing like the snowy wonderland you were just minutes before in the Colorado snow winter.

A throbbing ache pulsed behind her forehead, a constant reminder of her spectacular faceplant earlier on the slopes. She’d tried to impress Lewis and his friends with a daring jump, ending up in a tangled heap of limbs and snow.

"You okay?" Lewis had appeared at her side in a flash, his face etched with worry.

"Yeah, just a little tumble," She'd mumbled, brushing snow off her jacket. The truth was, the world had tilted a bit when she hit the ground, but she hated feeling like a damsel in distress. Especially not on a trip Lewis had been planning for months.

A few hours later, the world wasn't just tilting; it was doing a full-on waltz. Nausea churned in her stomach, making it hard to even think straight.

She excused myself from the group, claiming a bathroom break, her head swimming with every step.

At the medical center, a stern-faced doctor delivered the news – a possible concussion, observation for a few hours. Finally, frustration giving way to helplessness, she finally dialed Lewis's number.

He answered with a clipped greeting, his voice laced with tension. "Y/n, where are you?"

"Uh, hey Lewis," she started, voice small. "I'm, uh, at the medical center."

A beat of stunned silence followed, then a torrent of words. "Medical center? What happened? Are you okay? It’s about that fall, isn’t it?!"

She winced at his sharp tone, but knew it came from a place of concern. "I… I just didn't want to ruin the day," she mumbled, guilt twisting in my gut.

"Ruin the day?" There was a pause, then a sigh. "Babe. You're more important than any ski trip."

Shame burned in her face. "I know, I just…" she trailed off, unable to articulate the stubborn independence that had gotten her into this mess.

"Just… just stay put," Lewis finally said, the anger replaced with a tired resignation. "I'm on my way."

The wait felt like an eternity. Finally, the door burst open, revealing a furious and concerned Lewis. His face softened when he saw her, the anger replaced with a wave of relief so palpable she could almost touch it.

He rushed to her side. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I did a faceplant off a mountain," she admitted, a weak smile tugging at her lips hoping to lighten the mood.

He chuckled, a low, warm sound. "That sounds about right." Then, a softer note entered his voice. "Why didn't you tell me you weren't feeling good?"

She took a deep breath before answering. "I'm sorry, Lew" she apologized meeting his gaze. "I just… didn't want to hold you back. I know how much you were looking forward to this trip."

He cupped her face in his hand, his touch surprisingly gentle. "You're never going to hold me back," he said, his voice low and serious. "Promise me you'll tell me next time."

The first time you look at them and think of forever

Snow fell around the cozy cabin, a relentless drumming that created a comforting rhythm.

Inside, curled up on the oversized couch with a mug of hot cocoa clutched in her hands, Y/n watched Lewis.

He wasn't doing anything particularly extraordinary, simply mending a tear in a pair of his skying pants, his brow furrowed in concentration as he threaded the needle. He didn't even notice her watching, his full attention focused on the task at hand.

And yet, in that ordinary moment, a warmth flooded her chest, stealing her breath away. Here he was, a man who commanded the attention of millions, bent over a sewing kit with a needle as delicate as a butterfly's wing.

She'd seen him conquer podiums and defy physics, but the sight of him patiently mending a simple tear, a frown adorably creasing his forehead… that was something different, entirely.

A glimpse into a side of him rarely seen, a quiet vulnerability of a man who wasn't afraid to solve things, to mend not just clothes, but maybe something broken in other places too.

A shy smile spread across her face as the realization hit her. This, this right here, the Lewis who faced his fears on the track and mended his own clothes, was the man she was falling for. He wasn't just the celebrity, he was real, flawed, and utterly endearing.

"You're staring," Lewis finally said, catching her eye. He looked up, a playful smile on his lips. His cheeks flushed slightly, a hint of self-consciousness creeping in.

"Just admiring your skills" she teased, taking a sip of her cocoa.

"Didn't know you were a fan, sewing skills are highly underrated" he replied, raising a questioning eyebrow.

"Maybe I am" she confessed; her voice soft. "Maybe I am a fan of everything you do."

He put down the needle and thread, the unfinished pant left in his lap. He leaned in, his gaze holding hers captive. "Everything?" he murmured, his voice husky.

She held his gaze, feeling heat creep up her neck. "Even the mundane stuff. Specially those, actually." she whispered back, winking before closing in.

A slow smile spread across his face. He leaned in further, the space between their lips connecting with a gentle warm touch; a quiet understanding that went beyond words.

As they pulled away, his thumb brushed away a stray strand of hair from her face. "Forever might be a crazy promise, Y/N," he said, his voice a low rumble. "But if I were to make it, it would be with you."

______________________________________________________________

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lnfours · 2 days

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I NEED spiderman! Lando. I cannot stress how much he fits as spiderman.

oooooh anon… u know my brands. you know them so well.

also kind of inspired by that iconic scene in the amazing spiderman where peter climbs into gwen’s room from her window. you know i had to 🫠

the sun had freshly set over the city of new york, the lights in the city and the glow of the lamp on your desk softly illuminating your room through the bedroom window. you sat in the chair, chin resting against your knee as you read over the pages of notes in front of you, trying to make the things your professor covered in the lecture make sense.

you tapped the screen of your phone, the time shining back at you as it read 9:45pm. with a soft sigh, you checked the notifications briefly. nothing from lando.

he was supposed to be here 45 minutes ago. it wasn’t unusual for him to run late, but without a text? you were slowly growing worried. scared that something might’ve happened.

until there was a soft tap at your window, making you turn around. your eyes were met with a familiar mask. you smiled softly, leaning over and opening the window for him. the cool night breeze making its way in as he spoke, “i’m sorry, i know i’m late-“

“i was worried something happened,” you said, sitting back in the desk chair as he climbed through the window. he tugged the nylon mask over his head, sweaty curls stuck to his forehead. your eyes took in the small cuts on his cheeks, dried blood a signal as to why he was running behind.

“i’m fine,” he smiled softly, noticing your eyes tracing his face, “i should’ve texted. i’m sorry i worried you.”

it was the last thing on your mind now as you got up from the chair, making your way over to him and taking his face into your hands gently. he swallowed thickly, eyes scanning over your face as you assessed his injuries.

“‘ve got a first aid kit,” you said, “i know you don’t necessarily need it, but it might help with the healing process.”

he nodded, letting you walk away. you made a pitstop to the closet, grabbing the change of clothes and tossing it to him. he thanked you before you made your way into the bathroom, grabbing the first aid kit from under the sink and opening it.

you came back into the bedroom to see him on the bed, clad in pajama pants and an old hoodie. the red and blue nylon suit he had once worn now sitting on the floor. you sat down in front of him, taking his face back into your hands.

you grabbed the tube of neosporin from the kit, along with a few bandaids. he let you put the ointment on, watching how delicately you worked on helping him heal his small wounds.

“what happened?”

“robbery at the jewelry store on 9th street,” he chuckled softly, “you should see the other guys.”

you smiled, letting out a soft laugh, “i’m sure you got them good.”

you stuck the small bandaids on his cheeks and his forehead, sitting back and moving the kit to sit on top of the suit on the floor. he grabbed your arms, pulling you on top of him. you laid between his legs, head on his chest as he twirled a strand of hair around his finger.

“sorry i kept you worried,” he mumbled another apology, lips pressed against the top of your head, “i should’ve texted.”

you shook your head, “it’s okay, just glad you’re okay. and that you’re here now.”

“missed me?” he smirked down at you.

“don’t flatter yourself.”

he chuckled, fingers tracing shapes into your skin. a habit he had picked up on a while ago. his silent way of comfort, a sign that he was here. that as long as you were waiting for him, he’d always come back to you.

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tlou-reid · 1 day

Text

The Summertime & Butterflies ✿ Spencer Reid

from the river to the sea, palestine will be free 🇵🇸 READ: this account stands with palestine, and so— i require everyone who interacts to educate themselves, and support/donate. READ THESE; 1 and 2, HELP HERE, BOYCOTT. silence is complicity, do not scroll past this.

♡ SUMMARY: a local florist helps spencer make a peony arrangement for a friend.

♡ WARNINGS: florist!reader, cheesy flower shop names, not edited, that's it really

𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘.𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘.𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘.𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘

“And these ones,” You gestured to the white chrysanthemum arrangement you made that morning, “represent loyalty, which is also necessary when proposing.” You practically floated through the little corner store filled with flowers, very obviously fitting in. This was your element, basically your home. You spent more time here, at ‘Cherry Bloom Barn’, than anywhere else in the world. Coincidentally, you were also the happiest here. Not many people could say that about their job, you were extremely fortunate in this way.

“Okay, I think I’ll take those,” the woman you were currently touring around gestured to an arrangement you had shown her earlier, “and those,” she pointed at the chrysanthemum arrangement, “and maybe we could do something with those sunflowers? Those are her favorite.” You hummed in agreement, already brainstorming the different ways you could incorporate them.

You had been working with Eloise for a few hours now, ensuring she had everything she needed to propose to her girlfriend. She had described her vision in detail, and you were sure you could make it a reality. It would take some time, and definitely a lot of work, but there was nothing more motivating than helping someone who was very clearly in love.

The only thing you enjoyed more than gardening and flower arranging, was helping people in love. Being able to bring someone’s vision for their partner to life, and knowing you will, in a bit of a roundabout way, be a permanent mark in their love story, was more fulfilling than any other career you could imagine.

You brought Eloise back to the small desk you kept in the corner of your store. There were vines sprawling across it, but it felt homey nonetheless. You wrote down your notes, finalized the arrangements and delivery, and had Eloise sign the agreement. You knew you were discounting your prices a tad when you handed her the receipt, but no one had to know that.

“See you in a few days!” You smiled at her, and she waved on her way out. With a sigh, you began to neaten up your space. The time you’ve dubbed the ‘in-between’ was the best part of your day. No one to greet, no sales pitch to make, just you and your flowers. What more could a girl want?

Your ‘in-between’ lasted almost an hour and a half, before the bell in front of your door chimed, signaling a new arrival. You were in the back, turning on the plant-safe light you used when there was a lack of sunlight coming in through your large shop windows. With the summer setting, it was a need. “Be right there!” You hollered from your hidden nook, fighting with the old light switch. It took a few seconds, but after a bit of flickering, the lights came on.

As quickly as you could without breaking any pots, you shuffled your way out to the front of the shop. You straightened your apron and wiped your sweaty hands along your thighs. Once you looked up, you were met with the most beautiful eyes, on the most beautiful man, you’d ever seen. “Welcome!” You said, cheerfully. You chose to ignore the butterflies swirling in your stomach.

He gave a tight-lipped smile, holding on to the satchel that was draped across his broad chest. “Looking for anything in particular?” You questioned, offering him a wide smile. “Yes, actually,” he said, suddenly very comfortable, “I need peonies.” He declared. It wasn’t very often a man came in and knew what flowers to request. You were stunned for a minute, before ushering him over the the ‘Peony Point’. There was a wooden sign hung above the corner, with little paintings of peonies decorating it.

This section of the store was covered in different colors and arrangements of its namesake flower. You were especially proud of the red ones, knowing how prestigious the meaning of them can be. You let him look around for a second, noticing how drawn he was to the yellow ones. After a few seconds, you approached him again, “The yellow ones represent,” you started, but were quickly cut off. “Joy and good fortune. I think these will be perfect.”

Your mouth ran dry at the way he cut you off. You weren’t sure if it was some kind of intimidation tactic, maybe he was looking for the cheapest flowers, or if it was excitement from some life event he was about to celebrate.

“Awesome,” You forced out, a bit more timid than you usually would be with your customers. “Are you looking for an arrangement with other flowers, a plain bouquet, or some kind of planter?” The man took a look around as if he was weighing his options. “Could you do an arrangement? I need it by tomorrow, but I am willing to pay extra.” You glanced around, brain already conjuring up flowers that would match in color or size.

You nodded, “I think I could make that happen, depending on the size.” He turned back to you, with a much brighter smile than the one he’d given you earlier, “Thank you. I would prefer things with meaning, like prosperity, long-lasting love, and purity, if you could.” You once again nodded, “I think I can do that.” You assured, waving him over to your desk. You chuckled at the way he perched himself up on the stool you had for customers. It definitely was not made for people of his height.

“A medium size will do, with a white vase?” He questioned. “Let me double-check my inventory, give me one second.” He nodded in response, smiling at the way you rushed away. He could tell this environment made you happy, even front the brief amount of time he’d spent here. Your customer service skills were excellent, and your work even better. You were clearly made for this.

“I have two different medium white vases,” You emerged from an overgrown closet, holding two vases. “This one,” you raised your left hand, “Has a handle and is significantly more round, but this one,” you lowered your left hand and raised your right, “is my favorite! It has this more asymmetrical design and sharper edges.” The man smiled, recognizing that you were describing them even though he could clearly see them.

“If you say it’s your favorite, I think I have to go with that one.” You couldn’t tell if his tone was more flirtatious, or if he was just giving your enthusiasm a subtle compliment. Regardless, you could feel those butterflies again. “Awesome,” You sighed a bit nervously. “Let me get this all written up.”

You learned his name was Spencer when you swiped his card. You got another good look at his hazel eyes as you went over costs. He offered an express fee and handed it to you anyway when you declined. In return, you left your personal phone number on his receipt, just in case he wanted to get in contact about his order in a faster manner. He smiled, his face turning a bit red.

By the time you were done with Spencer, it was time to close shop. You would’ve stayed later to work on it, but you knew Casper, your three-legged white cat, would throw a fit if you were late for dinner.

You got to work earlier than normal the next day, knowing you had to get Spencer’s order done. You made sure Casper had everything she needed, before hustling out the door. Your outfit was made of pastels, allowing you to almost blend into the flowers covering your shelves. You were deeply immersed in putting together Spencer’s arrangement by the time your phone alarm went off, signaling it was time to open.

You were content with the progress you’d made, taking a step back and marveling at the start of your project. You reached for your phone to turn off your alarm, and took a moment to check your notifications. A message from an unsaved number caught your interest:

Hello, It’s Spencer. I wanted to make sure it was okay if I picked up the arrangement during my lunch break. I would like to deliver them to her after work if that is possible. Thank you for your hard work and for making time for me.

You smiled at the formal tone of his text, as it was perfectly him. However, that smile quickly fell when you realized he was delivering the flowers to a female. Obviously. Why else would a man know what kind of flowers he wanted? Why else would he worry about the meaning of them? He was in love.

And you flirted with him. You flirted with him and gave him your personal number, and he has a girlfriend. A girlfriend he is in love with.

The only thing you can think to do to hide your embarrassment is to start opening the store. You did some minimal cleanup, knowing you were going to return to your project until a customer came in. You laid out your books, which showcased your extra options that may not be on display in your store. Then, you propped open your door and flipped the open sign on.

You were determined to make this the best arrangement you’d ever made. Spencer was a man who was doing his best to impress his lady. He knew her favorite flowers, the meaning behind them, and the color of the vase he wanted to match. This was a man who cared about his girlfriend, and you were going to make sure the arrangement he took home was perfect. No minuscule attraction to him was going to get in the way of that.

You breezed through the arrangement, due to this newfound inspiration. It took maybe another hour or two before you were completely done, moved the arrangement into the vase, and were gathering all the essentials to send Spencer home with; care instructions, plant food, and even a few different cards, just in case he wanted to leave a note.

You texted Spencer back, sending a picture of your arrangement with a caption: It’s all done! You are free to pick up whenever! I hope you love it!. He replied with a thumbs-up emoji.

You busied yourself with taking care of your plants and then working on Eloise’s order. You drew up some ideas for different bouquets and vases of flowers, as well as cut some stems to use to show her the different mixes and matches you could make with the flowers she’d picked. You’d almost forgotten about Spencer’s pick-up by the time he arrived.

“Hello,” Spencer greeted, breaking you out of your hyperfocus. “Spencer!” You cheered, rubbing your hands on a towel, before moving to shake his. “Oh,” he hesitated, “I don’t really shake hands.” You nodded in response, before waving him over to the table where his order was.

His face lit up as soon as he laid eyes on it, “It’s beautiful!” He marveled. Those butterflies in your tummy started to flutter again, against your will. “Thank you,” you mumbled shyly, not used to the attention. “I’m sure your girlfriend will love it.” You promised, moving to bag everything up for him. You were quite proud of the sustainable bags with the logo you had made.

“What?” Spencer questions, face scrunching up. That embarrassment from earlier started to bubble up in your stomach, killing the butterflies. “I was just saying,” You hesitated, “This arrangement is beautiful, you did an excellent job selecting flowers. The receiver is very lucky.” Smooth recovery.

Spencer’s face relaxed, “I hope so. My best friend just had a baby. I couldn’t show up empty-handed, you know?” You smiled at his words. Butterflies revived.

You and Spencer wrapped up. He paid his final dues and you educated him on the use of plant food. “I will let you know how she likes it!” He promises as he disappears out the door, awkwardly shuffling out. You chuckled at him, and a sense of relief washed over your body.

Casper was content next to you on the couch. You were surprised at how calm he was, despite the opened bag of popcorn on your lap. You were completely serene, engrossed in the newest episode of your show. Nothing could disturb you at the moment.

Except for your phone buzzing on the coffee table in front of you, lighting up with ‘Spencer’ written across the top. You smiled, paused the episode, and waited a few seconds before swiping on the call, answering it with a cheerful, “Hello!”

“She loved it! She absolutely loved it!” Spencer cheered, too excited to allow himself to question why he was calling you. It was like a gut reaction from him. After leaving JJ’s hospital room, he immediately reached for his phone, feeling a need to let you know. He was glad you’d given him your personal number.

“I’m glad, Spencer!” You responded. He could hear your smile from over the phone. “She asked me to be the godfather!” Spencer informed. His rambly, awkward self was completely gone, overcome with glee. “How can I thank you?”

You laughed at his question. He didn’t need to thank you, he paid for his order. Overpaid, in fact. “Spencer, there is absolutely no need. I’m glad everything worked out for you, and I’m glad she loved it.” Behind the phone, Spencer shook his head. He was alone in the train station, allowing him to be completely himself. “Let me take you out.” Spencer surprised himself with his proposal.

Of course, he’d been attracted to you the second he walked into the Cherry Bloom Barn, and his attraction was starting to turn into a crush the more time he spent around the shop. He didn’t know you yet, but he was very much interested in getting there.

Still, he was shocked at the words that came out of his mouth. He was on a metaphorical high. Adrenaline was running through him from his amazing time with JJ and the team. His long limbs were almost shaking, and yet he wasn’t nervous. He was comfortable talking to you, and that meant a lot in his world.

“I’d like that,” You stuttered out, “but, it doesn’t have to be a thanks. Take me out because you want to take me out, not because I did a service for you.” You clarified, wanting to make sure you were on the same page. “Of course!” Spencer’s voice cracked as he stepped onto his train. “I do want to take you out. I’d be honored to.”

“It’s a date.” You declared with a smile. “Alright, awesome, I’ll get back to you with a time and stuff.” Spencer couldn't believe his mind was being reduced to words like “awesome” and “stuff”, but between his excitement from being Henry’s godfather and your agreeing to go on a date with him, he was basically a puddle in his train seat.

“Okay, I’ll talk to you then.” You said, before moving into goodbyes. Casper’s relaxed state quickly dissipated as you squealed, letting the butterflies in your stomach win for a second.

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lamentationsofalonelypotato · 2 days

Text

You Call It Madness But I Call It Love

Chapter 18: First Impressions Are Often Correct

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV

Summary: When the reader left Payback 40 years ago after a falling out with her childhood best friend she never looked back, but when two men show up to her apartment and start asking her questions about the past, the reader begins to think those things can’t stay hidden and starts to question what’s real and what’s fantasy. This is a re-telling of The Boys Season 3, where the reader is a supe who's known Soldier Boy since 1927. The chapters will fluctuate between past and present. This is chapter eighteen of my "You Call It Madness But I Call It Love" series. (I'm so bad at summaries please forgive me!)

Word Count: 11.6K

Warnings: I'm going to rate this one 18+ just to be on the safe side. :) References to sex, Cursing, Angst, Mentions of Death, Blood, Gore, Possessive Soldier Boy, Protective Soldier Boy, Soft Soldier Boy, Soldier Boy might be, is, really, absolutely, completely a little OOC. Soldier Boy is really all you need as a warning.

Note: This is told from the Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. Reader is described as "curvy" occasionally. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal Monologue is in first person and is in italics

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

A/N: I'm so sorry, I know this has been a long time coming. I work hard, but writer's block works harder tbh.

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

It had to be herogasm. You think to yourself with an audible groan looking up at the mid-century house from your position in the tree-line while watching the couples on the back porch writhe against one another.

The three hour drive from your apartment to Vermont had been uneventful and quiet. Every once in a while Ben would whisper something to you and you would half answer, but only because your mind was somewhere else or rather on someone else.

It was on Rosemary. She had stopped trying to text you or call you, and the silence was worse. You had no idea what she was going to do or what she was thinking. It was a miracle that she hadn’t shown up to your apartment and kicked down the front door before you left. You knew she was angry about the whole situation. And the sooner you dealt with the twins the sooner you could go see her.

Of course you still had no idea how you were going to bring up the conversation with Ben and you knew that there was no way he would let you just leave with no explanation to go talk to her.

This is why I hate texting. I should have just gone to see her, I shouldn’t have told her that Ben was back in a text, if anything that's a three drink minimum. Hell, she's probably half way through a second bottle of wine by now. Something that you also had considered several times today. Guess sobriety is going out the window. Shocker.

Ben kept asking you what was wrong, sensing your discomfort on the drive and held your hand tightly between the two of you, but you only shook your head whenever he asked. He thought that you were having second thoughts of going after the twins, but that was the one thing you were sure of. They deserved to pay for what they did, all of your team did. Anger rises beneath your skin like a roaring crowd when you think of all the years Ben spent alone in Russia being tortured and experimented on. Years that you could have stopped if only you'd known, years that he could never get back, memories that wouldn't fade in the next decade or two, and memories that you hoped you could replace by making him feel loved, by holding him close, and allowing yourself to forget the memories that still plagued you when you thought about the past.

But you still didn't know how the hell you were going to tell him about Rosemary. Every moment it felt like the words were going to vomit out of your mouth, but you clamped your jaw shut. You didn’t want to talk about Rosemary in front of Butcher and Hughie, didn’t want to tell Ben like that. What you needed to say about Rosemary and Lou didn’t deserve to be shouted at him or said in haste, you wanted to sit Ben down and tell him, give him time to adjust to the idea. Because you had no idea how he was going to react to the news that he was a dad and a grandfather.

Would he pull away again? Would he run? Would he leave me? Those thoughts kept swirling around your mind like a mixtape. You were scared that by telling him about her would make him go cold like he did the moment you told him you loved him. You remembered the distant look that replaced his smile as soon as you had uttered those three little words.

Little but not simple. Three little words that launched ships and started a hundred wars. Three little words with the power to create and the power to destroy. Three words that Ben had said to you more times than you could count since he came back to you, and three words you wished you never stopped hearing him say, the three words you always wanted him to say to you.

If Ben pushed you away now, you knew that you wouldn't survive it this time, knew that there was no going back. Which made you more fearful about Rosemary's reaction to Ben coming back into your life.

You were afraid that Rosemary would give you an ultimatum and make you choose between her and Lou or Ben. You really hoped that it didn’t come to that. You had just gotten Ben back and you didn’t want to have to pick between him and your family.

Because Ben is family too. You knew that deep down in your bones, even after everything that happened, Ben was your family. He was the only person who knew you inside and out, the only man you’d ever loved and the only person who understood you. You couldn’t turn your back on him and you didn’t want to shut him out. Not when you loved him more than life itself.

Your frown deepens as you continue to watch the people on the back porch while your supe hearing picks up the moans and sounds of the couples inside and the subtle thump of music, new pop songs that you didn't understand and didn't try. You were up with the times, but it didn't mean you had to like what was happening or the new music being produced no matter how hard Rosemary tried to get you to listen to it.

You sigh again, trying to drown out the sounds by focusing on the wind moving through the trees and the birds flitting through the branches overhead, but it wasn’t working. The beautiful day was already ruined by the loud and messy sounds from the inside of the house.

“Always wanted to bring you to one of these Sweetheart.” Ben glances over at you with a cheeky grin, lowering the binoculars from his eyes, but then he notes your frown. “Then again-“ His hand comes around your waist to pull you into him. “That means I would have had to share you with someone else, and I’d much rather have you all to myself.”

You can feel his smirk against your ear, but it does little ease your anxiety about Rosemary and the looming conversation you were going to have with Ben when this was over.

Hughie had disappeared a few moments ago to scout out the inside and to find the twins, while Butcher was doing a walk of the perimeter, leaving you and Ben to wait for the all clear. A welcome break, because every few minutes Hughie would play with a Geiger counter and the high pitched creak-like squeak was giving you a headache. Not to mention annoying you. You'd only been able to have a few sips of your coffee this morning after Butcher and Hughie burst into you apartment, but at least your anxiety was picking up the slack.

Because of course it was.

The house in front of you looked innocent enough on the outside, big windows light wood, but now that you were here, you really didn’t want to go inside. Despite wanting to face the twins, you didn’t want to go inside and be reminded of the one reason why you stayed away from Herogasm.

At least today we aren’t attending it as much as crashing it.

“Why do you think I hated going to Herogasm?” You murmur, frown deepening at you continue to stare at the house. The memories of the past had an ugly way of crashing down on you and despite not wanting to make Ben feel guilty, keeping them to yourself made you feel worse. Plus you figured he knew when you were lying, because Ben was basically a human lie detector when it came to you.

Ben sighs, his warm breath washing over the side of your face as his arm tightens around your waist to secure you to him. “Sweetheart please look at me.” His voice is comforting, filled with emotion, but you still don't look at him.

“What?” You whisper, mind still a million miles away.

His fingertips come under your chin to turn your face to his. Ben’s green eyes lock with yours, soft and apologetic, familiar in the best way and weird given the fact that he was wearing his uniform. You’d never seen him look so sorry when he was dressed up as Soldier Boy.

“I would have killed any man who tried to touch you, especially after the night we shared together. When Vogelbaum danced with you I wanted to rip his arms off.” His eyes darken.

You remembered the way he watched Vogelbaum and you dance together at the premiere with the cameras flashing in your eyes, but then the image of Countess plastered to his hip arises. The way she ran her hands up his chest, the way he turned his gaze away from you to stare at her.

“Yes, but see I never killed any woman that touched you-“

Double standard much?

“Well-“

“Countess doesn’t count.” You snap.

Ben’s thumb strokes along your jaw, before his expression softens again. “I’m sorry.”

“You’ve apologized-“ You sigh, suddenly guilty. You hadn't meant to snap at him like that, you were on edge because of Rosemary, not because of what Ben did in the past. You were already starting to forgive him for what he did.

“Not for this.” He takes in a deep breath before he pulls you closer to him. “I’m sorry that I made you think I didn’t want you. Because I do. I don't want anyone else, haven't ever wanted anyone else like I want you. I was so stupid. I fucked those other women because I couldn’t handle how I felt about you and I didn’t think that you would ever want me even a fraction of how much I want you-“

“More.” You whisper before you can stop yourself, laying your hand against the front of his suit.

“That is impossible.” Ben smiles faintly.

You toy with the material, plucking it between your fingers. “It’s okay. I understand why you did it. But it was hard to watch you with them.” You try to fight the image of him and Countess again, that is quickly followed by the memories of the many women over the years you’d see Ben with in public and of course the memory of the first and only Herogasm you ever went to, the one you left early because you couldn’t bear to see Ben with anyone else. The same one that you swore you saw Ben watching you just as closely when Noir tried to reach out for you and you walked away.

It’s different now. You think to yourself. Ben said that he’s wanted me this whole time and I believe him. I don’t think he would lie about something like that, not to mention he’s been more open about what he’s feeling.

“I know.” Ben continues to stroke along your jaw. “But I promise it won’t happen ever again.”

“I believe you.” You lock your arms around the back of his neck to hold him closer to you, loving the way his body felt wrapped around you, like he was molded just for you.

“Good.” He leans his forehead against yours for a moment. "Can I kiss you yet?" Ben's words are quiet, barely above a whisper, so low that you know if you didn't have super hearing you'd have missed them.

"You've never been a patient man. In all the years I've known you." You breathe with a smile.

"Maybe I've just never met someone worth waiting for." Ben's nose nudges into the space between you faces, waiting for you to tell him it's okay and you want to. "But you are Sweetheart."

"You've waited forty years."

"You waited longer."

His words make a ball of emotion lodge in the back of your throat, because it meant Ben listened. He heard everything you said to him and he wasn't going to forget, he was going to make this up to you.

It was hard to say no to him, not when he was smiling at you and gazing at you the way you'd always wished him to.

"We both know I'm a bit more patient than you."

"Maybe."

"You know, maybe we should be focusing on something else right now." You smirk, still keeping your lips just as hairsbreadth away from his.

“It's hard to focus on anything else, not when you’re wearing something like that.” Ben purrs, thumbs brushing against you hips in a way that makes your chest tight.

Your smirk deepens “Oh this old thing?”

At the last minute you had chosen to wear the outfit you had picked when you thought you were going to be going to Russia to get Ben, rather than your old supe suit. You didn’t want to be connected with the person you were then, and despite Ben’s want to hold on to Soldier Boy, you were more than happy to let Indigo go.

The outfit was working better than you thought. The tight black tactical pants, combat boots, black leather jacket, and long sleeved leather corseted blouse that was sinched at your waist all perfectly accentuated the curves that your mother tried to hide. When you had walked out of your closet wearing it, Ben’s entire body had gone rigid.

“What?” You’d asked him with an innocent smile standing just a few steps outside your closet, while watching the tension in his shoulders.

“Damn it sweetheart you’re making this hard.” He had responded, clenching his hands into fists at his sides to hold himself back from crossing your bedroom to touch you. It made you smile wider to understand that he was trying to respect the boundaries you made between the two of you.

“What is it that I’m making hard Benjamin?”

“Fuck. Don’t tease me. Nobody likes a tease.”

You’d smirked at him. “Sorry babe you walked right into that one.”

“It’s not fair-“ Ben had growled.

“What’s not fair?”

“You wearing that, biting your fucking lip like that-“

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He’d stalked towards you, eyes dark, causing you to back up until your back hit your pale bedroom wall. His hand had landed next to your head, the other wound around your hip so you could feel the heat of his skin through your clothes.

“You know, two can play at that game Sweetheart.” Ben had murmured, easing his face so close to yours that you could feel his breath against your lips.

“And what game is that?” You’d said it trying to keep your composure, but the dark look in his eyes and the smell of his shampoo was everywhere. Your heart beat had given you away, thudding violently in your chest as if it wanted to break free. It was hard to ignore how much you still wanted him after all these years.

"You know exactly what game." Ben had held your gaze, raising an eyebrow as a confident smirk pulled at his lips. He could hear your heartbeat too, probably could smell how much you wanted him. “But you’re so fucking beautiful I'll let it slide.”

“Huh?” It had been the last thing you thought he was going to say. If anything you’d thought he was going to tease you.

The hand that had been previously on the wall near your head dropped onto your face to gently trace the arch of your brow and the dip of your bottom lip.

“You always have been. I thought I remembered wrong but-" His expression shifted from the seductive smirk into something softer. "Fuck I missed you." Ben had leaned his forehead against yours. "So tease me all you want. I'll wait, because you're worth every second."

Remembering what he said earlier still filled you with an incredible amount of love and made you want to kiss him all the more now. Knowing that he was willing to wait for you to be okay with whatever came next made you fall harder for him. But now you knew that you needed to focus on what you were about to do. And standing here in front of the house, listening to what was going on inside made you sober up, just a little bit…. But not completely.

"Then again I thought those overalls were pretty sexy too." Ben states, staring down at you with a wide smile as the mid-afternoon sun turned his hair into a light brown and found the flecks of gold in his eyes. He looked every bit as handsome as you were accustomed to, so much in fact that it made your heart ache.

"Sure." You roll your eyes. "I think you're the first person in history to say that." Your fingers lightly curl into the strands at the back of his head.

"Maybe. Or maybe you're just the sexiest woman in history."

"Shut up."

Ben's gaze darkens. "Make me, Sweetheart."

Every viable thought except the thought of crashing your lips to his vanishes.

I wonder if they're as soft as I remember. If he still makes that sound when I-

"You two ready?" Butcher interrupts appearing just over Ben's shoulder, but smirking when he sees how close the two of you are. "Or do you love birds need a little alone time?"

You roll your eyes and let go of Ben's hair, as he loosens his grip on your hips. Stepping back away from him was like having a bucket of cold water drop over you, you missed him and yet he was standing a full sixteen inches away from you.

This is really not good.

"You have the worst fucking timing." Ben moves to pick up his shield, but the playful smirk he'd had a few seconds ago has been replaced with a frown.

You wondered if he was as disappointed as you were.

The wind shifts and you can smell the Temp V in Butcher's veins, hear the steady beat of his heart as it pumps blood through his body, strengthening him, making him feel indestructible. When Butcher and Hughie had injected it at the back of Butcher's car, you couldn't help but be reminded of the day you took V. You had been afraid and when they injected it, you remember the pain, the unspeakable pain that made you scream so loud that Ben heard you from the room he was being kept in, and he broke through the wall to get to you. It was how the scientists learned that Ben had super strength, because he had smashed through solid rock to make sure you were okay.

Butcher shrugs and begins to walk through the trees towards the side door of the house, leaving you and Ben alone.

"You didn't answer my question." He hefts his shield up with a smirk.

He didn't have to explain, you knew he was asking about the kiss. "I'll take a raincheck."

"Hmm." Ben takes a few steps towards the house, before he stops to look back at you. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Huh?"

"In the car, even now. You're kinda quiet." He shrugs.

"I-" You were going to say that you were fine, but you knew that he would clock the lie. "We need to talk about something, but it can wait. This is important too."

Ben's frown deepens, but then he finally sighs. "Alright. Come on you’re lagging behind doll."

"Guess you changed your mind about wanting me here." You snort as you catch up to him.

Ben puts his hand on your wrist, turning you to look at him. "I always want you with me." His hand trails up your arm to finally rest under your chin. Ben smiles, leaning down towards you, but before you can arch up into him, he presses a kiss to your forehead. "I love you." He murmurs into the top of your head.

"I love you too."

And with that, you both follow Butcher into the house hosting the worst event in all of history.

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

I should have brought ear plugs. You cringe as you follow behind Ben and Butcher, weaving through the lower levels of the house. Maybe someone will let me borrow their blindfold. Hopefully there are nose plugs somewhere… well there have been other kinds of plugs but those are a bit big for my nose.

You walk down the staircase after Ben and Butcher who pulled ahead a few moments ago and as you do the sharp sour smell of a chemical wafts in your face, different than the other odors in the house.

What is that?

You round the corner and see Ben up ahead, shrouded in smoke, staring down an attractive muscular black man who for some reason has decided to raise his fists to challenge Ben. Your eyes trace the man's face, recognition pulling at your heart. You knew who he was. The first time you'd seen him he'd only been a boy, made eye contact with you at a funeral you couldn't help but go to, after Ben made a mistake. You'd offered the boy an encouraging smile and left the boy's family an envelope of cash in their mailbox because you couldn't think of anything else to do for them. You knew it couldn't replace who they lost, but you didn't know what else to do. Ben had been upset with himself after, he always was when he lost control. He showed up on your doorstep like he always did, drunk, high, smelling like stale perfume, and fell asleep in your bed after you reassured him the same way you always did.

Now that little boy was grown up and standing in front of you. You see recognition flash in his eyes as he sees you. Of course it does. You didn't look any different and you hadn't worn your supe suit when you went to the funeral.

"Not him." Butcher says to Ben, but Ben doesn't look away from the man.

"Ben." You whisper, reaching out to touch his arm gently.

Ben's eyes flick to yours. The look in Ben's eyes is familiar, predatory, unwilling to back down from a fight. Soldier Boy. You'd seen it countless times before, talked him out of killing people in the past. You hated how quickly you had to slip into your old job, the one that made you feel like a babysitter, but you shake it off.

"He doesn't know what he's doing. Come on. The Twins are upstairs, I can hear them arguing." It was true, you could, but you didn't want this to turn ugly so quickly. Not when the real reason why you were here were currently arguing about toilet cameras.

His jaw tightens, eyes sliding to the man standing at the other end of the room, before he nods once and motions for you to go ahead of him.

As you continue to move through the house, you fight the shudder that threatens to travel down your spine when you think of how Ben looked moments ago. It was the first time you had seen Soldier Boy since Ben showed up again, and it was the same way you remembered it. You just hoped deep down that Ben really did want to change and that he was adopting the façade of Soldier Boy to get through what came next. You knew that you were going to have to adopt one as well.

"Here." You stop just before the two of you round the corner where the Twins were in the other room. "Let me go first. They might not try to run if I go in before you."

Ben frowns. "I don't want you to-"

"I know, but it'll be better this way."

"Fine."

You walk around the wall and towards the circular room where the Twins are fighting, ignoring the couples on the outskirts that are grinding against one another.

Like Countess, the Twins didn't look good, both were considerably older, rounder, grayer, and more wrinkly than the last time you'd seen them, but they were still the same. Still arguing and still just as annoying as they had been forty years ago.

"I never want to see you again!" Tommy spits at his sister, adjusting the golden robe slung over his shoulders that flaps around him like a cape.

"Oh sure!" Tessa sniffs while puffing on a joint. "Our Westfield mall appearance is next week and nobody is going to come see you without me!"

That must suck to have your powers depend on someone else.

"Wow, mall appearances? Aren't we all getting a bit old for that?" You flash a winning smile as you step down into the room, locking eyes with Tessa.

Both of the twins visibly pale, their hearts speeding up to work overtime, as the stench of adrenaline begins to waft through the air between you. It's almost comical how identical their reactions are to Countess' at seeing you for the first time in forty years. Then again you hoped that you looked better than they did.

Why didn't I try to find out more after Ben "died?" If our entire team had this reaction to seeing me then I would have known the truth and Ben wouldn't have been in a fucking Russian Lab all these years!

Their plan to ensure you not being in Nicaragua had paid off, because not only were you not there, you didn't want anything to do with any of them. And you wished that you had confronted them all those years ago. You knew that you'd live with that guilt for a long time, but now you allowed your anger at what they all did to Ben, overpower it.

"Y/n-" Tessa stutters.

It was weird to see her at a loss for words. You and all of Payback had listened to her nag Tommy since the moment they joined the team. Judging by what you had walked into, you figured that she hadn't changed at all.

"Hey long time no see!" Tommy fakes enthusiasm while licking his lips nervously, eyes darting to the open doors behind you. You could practically see the escape plan forming in his mind.

"You know, when I found out you guys were living in Vermont I was surprised. I would have thought that you moved down South. They’re probably more accepting of your relationship.” You make air quotes around the word relationship, before shifting your smile into an worried frown. “Oh sorry, are the two of you still pretending that you’re not fucking?”

Tessa’s gaze turns stone cold. “What the fuck do you want?”

“I was in the neighborhood, thought I’d check in.” You look around the room. “You guys have a nice house. Must have budgeted better than Countess did. Her tailer, now that was a shit hole. Must not have done as many mall appearances.”

Tommy’s heart skips a beat at the mention of Countess’s name. “Look y/n-“

“Please. We didn’t have anything against you. We didn’t come after you. Even after all these years we left you alone.” Fear seeps into Tessa’s voice with her plea, eyes wide with worry.

They had reason to be worried, you’d all but admitted to killing Countess.

“Oh sweetie.” You with false sweetness in your tone. “It’s cute that you think you can beg for mercy. That you're deserving of it.” The room begins to shake with the force of your anger as your eyes shift to bright purple. Cracks like thin spiderwebs stretch through the wide windows behind them and through the thick drywall as you lose control, the composure you always held on to drowning in the flood of emotion you feel when you look at the two of them. “Ben told me exactly what happened that day-“

“He lied to you!” Tommy exclaims. “He went crazy! You know how he gets, how he loses control!”

“He lost control and we had to protect ourselves y/n-“ Tessa adds, another lie.

Ben steps into the room beside you, his eyes are focused on the Twins, and if you thought they looked afraid when you showed up, they look near dead when Ben appears.

"You were saying?" You raise an eyebrow.

"Ben! Hey Buddy!." Tommy forces another smile but pales when he realizes Ben just heard him and Tessa try to lie to you. "How are you? Long time. We were just talking to y/n about-“

Ben's eyes narrow, stopping whatever Tommy was going to say about you.

"Nicaragua wasn't our fault!" Tommy says to recover. "Neither was the premiere." His eyes dart to yours, cowering under the purple light that pulses from your irises.

Wow. Just. Wow.

"We swear." Tessa adds.

"Why should we believe you?" You spit.

"Please-"

"Then whose fault was it?" Ben's frown deepens, hand tightening on the shield.

None of the other couples have stopped what they are doing, too enthralled in one another to notice what was going to unfold between the four of you.

"It was Noir!" Tommy shouts desperately, his eyes flitting from Ben to you as if trying to see which one of you will believe him. "He gave Ben to the Russians."

It's almost pathetic watching his mad scramble to protect himself. Apart of you hates that you don't feel guilty for any of this, at least with Countess at the beginning you felt some guilt for hurting her, but with them there was nothing. Not even the prick of remorse, there was only anger.

Ben chuckles under his breath. "We all know that Noir didn't even take a shit without Vought's say so."

"Not to mention his head was so far up Stan's ass it's a wonder that he could breathe." You narrow your eyes at the two of them waiting for them to make a move. They might be cowards, but if you knew the Twins well enough, you knew that they weren't above throwing a bolt of lighting in your direction. And you knew for a fact that electrocution wasn't fun.

"It's the truth!" Tessa shouts above the moans and wet squelch of the people around you. “Please y/n we have children.”

“You're really the worst liar hon. Always have been." You snap, listening to her heartbeat jolt in her chest as she attempts to save herself.

"Please talk Ben out of this, just like you did for Noir-“ Tommy's plea falls on deaf ears, but you knew what he was talking about. The day that you saved Noir's life because he started a fight with Ben over a stupid role in a movie. But this was different, no part of you wanted to save them from this, to save them from what they deserved.

“Noir will get what’s coming to him.” You don't recognize your own voice. "You brought this on yourselves."

But then something shifts in the air, call it a feeling, or an energy current, but something feels wrong.

The music coming from the radio has changed to a Russian pop song, why it's playing you have no idea, all you know is that it does something to Ben.

The sound of his shield hitting the ground rings in your ears and you turn to look at him. His entire body is tensed beneath his suit, sweat dotting along his hairline, red beginning to creep into his cheeks. His eyes are squeezed shut and he shakes his head as if he's trying to clear it.

"Ben? Are you okay?" Your hold on the room vanishes, eyes fading back to their normal color as your worry turns to Ben.

His fists are clenched tightly together as he brings them up to the sides of his head, chest beginning to glow with his new power, the one you'd never seen before, the one that Ben said practically vaporized whatever was in it's path.

Shit.

"Ben. Stay with me, listen to my voice." You touch the sides of his face, begging him to listen to your plea. As much as you wanted the Twins to pay, Ben wasn't just losing control of his powers, this was different. It was almost like he was being dragged somewhere else, somewhere you couldn't follow.

"Everything's okay. I'm here, I'm right here." You soothe, but he continues to glow brighter and brighter and you're directly in the line of fire.

Shit.

Ben's eyes flash open, no longer bright green but an orange-gold that makes fear snag in your ribs like a fishing hook. His hand makes contact with your chest shoving you to the side, out of the way of the beam, but unfortunately through the solid rock wall.

You don't really know what happens next. The world goes black for a few minutes, not like when you die, but just black as everything burns around you when Ben explodes. You're not sure how long you're under, could be minutes, could be hours, all you know is that when you wake up everything hurts.

It's how you know that you didn't officially die. Whenever you woke up after death, it was different, you felt powerful, reborn, but right now you felt like a train ran over you. A headache throbs at your temples as you begin to come to, blinking your eyes against the darkness that doesn't go away. Your ears are ringing, filled with the screams of those who survived and the smell of burned flesh and blood surrounds you like a cloud.

A mountain of rubble and roofing covers you, leaving you in the darkness to get your bearings, but nothing feels broken.

At least the brick fireplace broke my fall. You think to yourself with a groan as you begin to push off the planks of wood and pieces of the roof that cover your body, so you can sit up. As soon as you do, your head spins and you fight the unpleasant urge to throw up.

Great. Might have a concussion.

You might be as strong as Ben, but your ability to die meant that you were just a little bit less equipped to handle a hit like that.

Ben. Worry and fear war in your heart as you look around the broken room that lays in tatters around you.

The house isn’t recognizable anymore. Singed carpet floats in tufts with ash around your face like a swarm of flies while fires burn in clumps all over the ruined room. Chunks of drywall and planks of blackened wood litter the floor and the back half of the house is gone, burned to a crisp in the blast from Ben.

What the fuck did they put in his chest? Ben had tried to describe it to you, tried to explain it, but standing here in the rubble you understood just how bad it was. The ruins in Mid-town you had seen the coverage of on the news, but it was a completely different thing to experience it in person.

People are going to think that he did this on purpose. That he's a bad person, that he's some kind of terrorist. The thought is immediately followed by the fear that Vought and the government would come to take him away. Your jaw tightens. I'd like to see them try.

The bodies of Tommy and Tessa are burned beyond recognition, still holding hands, but now are just blacked lumps of flesh and bone that lay where they tried to make their final stand. But you feel no remorse.

It’s what we came here to do, to make them pay. You bite the inside of your cheek listening to the screams of those who survived. I just didn't think that so many others would get hurt.

You continue to look around the room, worry rising in your chest as you think of Ben and remember the look on his face. He had been scared of what was about to happen even if he didn’t want to admit it. He lost control. In the past when he lost control the worst thing he could do was rip someone in half or smash their face into a pulp, but now if Ben ever lost control he'd level a building.

I see a lot of yoga in his future. Or maybe anger management classes.

Although the thought makes you smile, as soon as you see Ben everything else fades from your mind. Ben is on his knees in the center of the room, head slumped forward on his chest, hands laying limply by his sides, as he takes in shaky breaths. You could hear the frantic pound of his heart, beating hard against his rib cage as if begging to be released. Seeing him like that almost sends you into overdrive. You’d never seen him look so defeated, so small, so tired, so… lost.

“Ben?” You fall to your knees next to him, reaching out to touch his face, to bring his attention to you.

His body tenses as you do so, eyes narrowing when he meets yours like he doesn’t know you. His eyes miles away.

But where?

“Hey, it’s me.” You say gently, cupping his face with your hands to rub your thumbs across his cheeks while fear grips your heart as you try to bring him back to you. “It’s me, I’m here. It’s okay.”

Ben inhales sharply as if suddenly remembering, the look in his eyes clearing for a moment, rising through the fog. "Y/n?" He whispers.

"Yeah. I'm here." You repeat, smiling at him even though the urge to cry builds in the back of your throat. It broke your heart to see him like this. You push his hair back from his face, brushing the ash from the mahogany strands.

“Are you okay? Did I-“ Worry etches itself across his handsome face.

“I’m fine. Shhh.” You soothe, pulling him against you so your can rub his back softly and lock him in your embrace. But the truth was you were afraid. You didn’t understand what happened and couldn’t explain the look in his eyes when he went under, when he started to lose himself in his newfound powers. Ben crumbles into you, leaning his head against your shoulder as if needing it to strengthen him.

“It’s okay. Everything’s okay.” You weren’t sure the effects the blast had on him, just that he seemed unsure as to how the hell he did it.

Where did he go in those moments?

“The twins?” Ben mumbles.

“They’re dead.” You could hear the approaching ambulances and police cars, hear the anxious chatter of the survivors outside.

We’ve got to get out of here.

“Come on. Let’s go.” You say softly rising to your feet and helping him up. Ben stumbles a step, shaking his head like he can’t catch his bearings and the worry comes roaring back. You catch him and tilt his body so he can lean on you. “Ben are you okay?” Your fingers dance against the sides of his face trying to bring his focus back to you, because you were afraid he might lose himself to whatever the hell happened before.

“I will be in a minute.” Ben takes in a shaky breath, leaning on your shoulder. "I don't know what happened."

"It's okay." His shield rises telekinetically from the rubble and into your outstretched hand that glows a brilliant purple in the dusty light. Smoke billows up from the room around you obscuring the sunlight that filters through the ruined front of the house, but you can still see the front drive already becoming swarmed with people and news crews.

Because that's exactly what Rosemary needs to see, me and Ben on the 5'oclock news. Fuck.

"Come on." You lead him back the way you can, toting his shield in your free hand, down the stairs.

When you spot Butcher, Ben straightens finally catching his bearings and takes the shield from you. Butcher looks from Ben to you, eyebrows raised.

"Sorted?"

"Yeah." Ben frowns.

You could tell that he was still a little shaky, but you knew he wasn't going to admit that to anyone, especially not to Butcher. Your gaze falls on the man from before laying on the ground, the man that Butcher had told Ben to leave.

Why did he want Ben to spare his life if Butcher was only going to beat him down?

But just as you take a step towards the man to check him for injuries, a long shadow falls on the floor at your feet.

Your eyes jolt upwards and focus on Homelander. The smell of hairspray, hair dye, and cheap cologne waft through the air at Homelander's appearance. He's shorter than you expected him to be, not overtly muscular, but he didn't need to be. Supes with superstrength didn't need to look like body builders, and you suspected that the only reason why Homelander even had any kind of muscle was for his image as America's Hero. Then again, you never complained about Ben's muscular physique.

I don’t think anybody should complain about that and- Nope. Nope. Not thinking about that right now.

But as you stare at him there's something wrong, something that you can't place, something that tugs at the back of your mind when you look at him, almost as if you've forgotten something important.

Seeing him in person is surreal. You'd only ever seen him on the news or on billboards or on those stupid energy drinks that were sold at the bodega on the corner where you get coffee filters sometimes, but the look in his eyes is the same. It's cold, unfeeling, and reminds you of those ridiculous shark documentaries that Rosemary is obsessed with. The only time she could watch shark week was after Lou went to bed. She said that watching it made her feel better about her job and you didn't complain.

Homelander looks around the room forcing a smile, a predatory glare in his eyes.

"William Butcher and Soldier Boy. Of course you are behind this. It really is all about me." Homelander's smile widens.

Narcissistic much? This guy's like a walking red flag.

He takes a step closer to the three of you, and Ben steps in front of you to shield you from Homelander's view. Homelander clocks the movement, but then tsks his finger at Butcher.

"William we made a deal to fight to the death, you and me." Homelander's eyes begin to glow. "You cheated, deals off."

The red flash of the laser-vision illuminates Ben's face in sharp contrast as the beam hits Butcher full in the chest propelling him back into the wall. His body falls to the ground and lies still.

Well. That's not good.

Honestly you didn't like Butcher all that much, but you couldn't help but feel a little bit bad.

You glance up from Butcher's body to gaze at Homelander again. Fighting him hadn't been on the agenda today, but it was starting to look that way. You knew what his powers were, knew that Vought probably told him his entire life that he was a god and that no one could compare to him. And you knew that the man standing next to you hadn't changed enough to walk away from the fight, no matter how bad his odds were.

And deep down you knew that you weren't going to let Ben take that beating, which of course meant that you were going to fight Homelander. Not that you were afraid of him. One look at him might have sent everyone else heading for the hills, but he didn't intimidate you.

"I watched all your movies, hundreds of times. You were the only one that was nearly as strong as me." The look on Homelander's face is one of respect almost wonder.

And you can imagine a smaller version of Homelander being fed all the same propaganda that Ben and you were fed all those years ago, imagine Homelander growing up hearing that he was stronger, greater, faster than Soldier Boy, and imagine Vogelbaum working hard to make sure to mold Homelander into the hero that America wanted. Not to mention all the shit he probably heard when he was with Stormfront. You were very happy that you didn't have to see her again, though now you had a fun story to tell Ben about one of his exes.

“Buddy you’re wearing a cape, do you think you look strong?” Ben frowns at Homelander.

“It is pretty stupid.” You agree examining Homelander’s supe suit. “Honestly I thought you had it bad with that dorky looking helmet-“ You glance at Ben out of the corner of your eye.

“Really? You’re gonna do this now?” Ben glowers turning his attention to you.

“I’m just being honest it was pretty bad and I’m glad you decided not to wear it today. But his cape is definitely worse.”

“Do you want me to bring up that ridiculous hood you had?”

“You can, but I won’t believe you, because that hood was fabulous and I looked fantastic in it.”

Homelander clears his throat to catch your attention. “Um hello?”

“Hi.” You force a smile. “Oh sorry did we interrupt your little monologue?”

Homelander's gaze turns icy as you continue. “Because we can take this from the top. What was the line again? Something about power or watching his films? I was only half listening. Did you want me to record it for you so you can post it on your socials?”

“What the f-“ Homelander begins to say, but you interrupt him.

“I mean. That is why you practiced it in the mirror for so long right? And why you did your hair and makeup?" You scrunch up your nose. "I'd skip that last mist of hairspray if I were you. You want it to look smooth, not look like you stuck your finger in an electrical socket.”

You could tell that Ben was trying to maintain his composure, but his mouth was twitching in a smile. “Oh wait does your suit have a body cam? I guess that makes things easier, because it probably doesn't have pockets. Not to mention if you dropped your phone while you were flying around-"

"Who the fuck are you?" Homelander spits interrupting you.

"No one important."

“Is he really what passes for a hero these days?” Ben cocks an eyebrow. “He’s just a cheap fucking knock off of me.”

“No.” Homelander snarls, eyes beginning to glow bright red. “I’m the upgrade.”

The laser cuts through the air in slow motion, but you’re already moving.

"Ben!" His name rips from your throat as you lunge forward and shove him as hard as you can out of the way of the beam. You feel the laser tear through your body, the force throwing you backward through one of the wood paneled walls and then the darkness swallows you whole.

If someone were to ask you what it was like to die, you wouldn’t know how to answer. To exist in those thirteen seconds sometimes feels like a dream, like you're floating, but it's always silent. And the silence scares you. How quickly it comes to drag you under and how it seems to replace everything you know or remember about the real world until you come back to life. You understood why Ben didn't like being alone, because you didn't either. It reminded you too much of those moments you were gone, wishing for it to stop. There was never a bright light, there was only the darkness and the silence that fell when your heart stopped beating.

When you take your first breath in thirteen seconds it's full of dust and ash, swirling into your mouth as you inhale sharply to jumpstart your lungs. But at the same time everything is different. The colors in the room are brighter, the sounds more acute, the smells just a fraction stronger, and you feel different. Power floods through your limbs, swirling through flesh and bone, pouring through your veins, electrifying through each nerve ending and setting you on fire, more than any other power ever has. You'd never felt power like this before. Even with Countess and the others that had killed you, no other power you'd ever gotten had felt this strong.

You stand up from the rubble you landed in, covered in a layer of dust and blood. The hole in your new outfit where the laser struck is just under your left breast, the mark left behind already a pink scar. And you knew that Ben would probably kill you for it later, for taking the laser for him, but you didn't care.

Homelander is floating in the center of the room, holding Ben by the throat, smiling cruelly at him.

"Hey asshole." You snarl, spitting out a glob of blood onto the ruined carpet. "We're not done."

Homelander turns his head towards you amused, while Ben grabs at the front of his suit, trying to get his attention, but Homelander is focused on you.

"So that's it? That's your big trick? Laser vision? Forgive me for not cowering in fear." Your hands clench into fists at your sides.

He eyes you for a moment. "You're Indigo aren't you?"

"I used to be. Now I'm just disappointed. I expected more from Vought's big hero, but now I see that you're just another asshole who thinks he's a god." Your eyes drift to Ben for a moment, worry clawing at your heart when you meet his gaze. "So drop him. Before I drop you."

"You’re very confident for someone who was dead a few seconds ago. I don't really see how that ability is going to help you-"

"Before I didn’t want to kill you."

"And you think you can?" He laughs.

"No." You smirk. "I know I can."

"Who do you think you’re talking to?"

"I’m not talking to much." Your eyes narrow. "But I'll be nice, and I'll give you a chance to leave. To tuck your tail between your fucking legs and fly away. We didn't come here for you and you and I don't have to do this."

"And if I don't leave?"

"Then I'll kill you."

"I'd like to see you try." Homelander throws Ben as hard as he can through the brick fireplace, causing rock and mortar to rain down on top of him, but Homelander's eyes don't leave yours. “Well why don’t you give me your best sho-“

He doesn’t have time to finish his sentence, your body ploughs into his tackling him through the solid outer wall and onto the back lawn.

Truthfully you hadn’t meant to go through the wall, you’d only meant to pin him to it, but flying was proving just a little more difficult than you expected. Your hand closes on Homelander’s wrist bringing him down against the ground so hard that the earth quakes, before you throw him as far away from you as you can.

His body spins awkwardly in the air, before he ploughs into one of the thick oak trees head on, at the edge of the backyard. The loud snap of the tree compensating for Homelander’s body fills the air.

He stumbles to his feet, eyes narrowed in pure hatred, lip curled back in a snarl, and his blonde hair flopping forward into his face.

“You chose wrong.” You spit, rolling your shoulders, preparing for what came next.

Homelander lets out a roar and flies towards you, arms outstretched for you, but you’re ready for him.

You catch his fist before it lands against your face and tighten your other hand around his throat. Your bodies are floating two feet off the ground, but it doesn’t faze you.

When Homelander’s gaze meets yours you see just a flicker of fear, a spark, quickly masked by his shock. He struggles to pull away to push you away with his free hand, but all you do is tighten your grip.

"You've never felt real pain before have you?" You force your face into a sympathetic frown, before your eyes harden. "Allow me to enlighten you." You throw him to the ground again, watching his body spin and screech against the grass and dirt.

Given the screams and smell of blood in the air, any witnesses from the massacre inside were at the front of the house waiting for the police, leaving you and Homelander on the backside of the house alone.

Worry for Ben rose in your chest like the peak of a wave, you hadn't seen him since Homelander threw him through the fireplace, but you funnel that worry into all encompassing rage.

"They told you that you were a god right? That you were the most powerful supe that ever lived. They were wrong. There's only one supe more powerful than you, and you just fucking pissed her off." You shout beginning to float towards him.

Homelander growls rising to his feet, eyes glowing bright red as he fires a laser at you, but you’re ready.

Your own beam catches his mid air between you, the high pitched sizzle and smell of ozone floats across your face, but you don't back down. If anything, it just makes you more angry.

And then something slams into you from the side, breaking the connection between your beam and Homelander's.

"What-" You shout, looking up at the body above yours, preparing to blast them off, but you realize it's Ben. "Ben what-"

"Stay here." He growls, eyes black. Ben looks pissed, whether it’s because you pushed Ben out of the way before or if it’s because he’s annoyed that Homelander punched him you’re not sure.

"What?" You look beyond him, to see Hughie and Butcher tackle Homelander to the ground.

They're going to try to turn him human.

"I can hold him down-" You say. “Let me help.”

"No." Ben snarls as he stalks towards Homelander, his chest beginning to glow.

“Ben-“

“Stay the fuck there.” Ben shouts still looking at Homelander.

Your eyes flit to the leader of the Seven. Watching him struggle against Hughie and Butcher, who yell at one another, but you don’t hear them. You wait for the remorse to crash over you, the guilt, but it never comes.

I gave him a choice. He could have run. He didn’t. He chose this.

And just when you think it’s all over, Homelander breaks away from them, surging up into the air to freedom. You feel your feet leave the ground to follow him, someone’s hand tightens on your ankle and drags you back down to earth.

“No.” Ben’s voice is more of a growl than anything else.

He’s angry, that much you can tell from the look on his face and from the way his eyes have hardened into two solid chunks of emerald as he locks eyes with you.

But why? Angry because Homelander got away or angry because I pushed him out of the way?

“Ben I can get him. Let me go.” You kick your ankle but Ben holds on.

“No.” Ben snarls. “You’re not about to go after that sick fuck by yourself.”

“Ben-“

“No. If I have to chain you to the ground I will.” Ben pulls you down further and releases your ankle to fasten his hand around you waist to hold you tighter against the ground. “You’re not going after him.”

“Fine.” You snap pulling yourself from his grasp, your own temper flaring.

You hated when Ben did that, when he acted like you weren’t just as capable as him of doing this. It reminded you of your childhood, when you were treated like you were made of glass, a pretty doll that was made to be looked at but never touched.

And you knew it came from Ben’s want to protect you, knew that it came from his fear of losing you, but that didn’t make it any less annoying.

You didn’t pout when Ben went out to face someone, didn’t try to act like he couldn’t do it.

“I know that maybe I’m a little behind but… WHAT THE FUCK JUST HAPPENED?” Hughie shouts. “You have laser vision and you can fly and you can move things with your mind!?” He looks frantically from you to Ben.

You don’t answer, your eyes are still on Ben who looks ready to throw Butcher’s car into space. You could practically see the waves of anger rolling off of him like a comic strip.

“You didn’t before, did you?” Butcher’s eyes trace your body as things begin to click into place. “You didn’t before he killed you.”

“Hold on.” Hughie holds up his hand. “Are you telling me that you die and you come back to life WITH THE POWERS OF THE SUPE THAT KILLED YOU?”

“It wasn’t in the files.” Butcher’s eyes still haven’t left you. “Vought didn’t know did they?”

You don’t like the way he’s looking at you, don’t like the glimmer in his eyes as if you’d just solved all his problems. It was the exact look that was in the eyes of the scientists the day you took the serum for the first time. To them that’s all Ben and you were, lab rats, people who were stupid enough to listen to the wild ideas of glory and a better world they spouted.

“We should go.” You murmur, listening to the sounds of the ambulances and the police coming up the driveway. “It’s about to be a circus here and I'd rather not make my big social media debut covered in rubble and blood."

Ben’s mouth is clamped together, green eyes blazing at your mention of blood. You knew that he was focused on the bloody hole left behind in the corset where Homelander's laser had ripped through your body.

Another scar, another fun story to tell my daughter when I see her… great.

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

The car ride to Legend’s is dead silent. Ben doesn’t look at you, doesn’t try to hold your hand, and doesn’t try to touch you in any way. Instead his hands are curled into fists, sitting on the tops of his thighs while his anger heats the inside of the car like a furnace. You knew it was only a matter until he exploded, but now you had bigger things on your mind.

You had just exposed yourself to Homelander, showed your face to him, not to mention you admitted to being Indigo. It would be easy for him to find your real name in the Vought archives find your file and the same name that linked you to Rosemary. She’d gone back to her maiden name when her husband died, which meant the two of you had the same last name and it wouldn’t be difficult for Homelander to find her.

Which meant you needed to get to her first.

You had tried to text her, tried to tell her to have a bag ready and that you were going to pick her up, but she was refusing to do so and you didn’t exactly want to text “Homelander is a fucking psychopath and he’s going to come after you” to her phone. Plus you couldn’t exactly call her, not in this cramped car.

Legend is waiting on the front porch of his country home when Butcher pulls his car into the end of the long driveway, somewhere that you’d been to many times in the past. He's smoking a joint and scrolling through his phone, wearing the same outfit you had seen him in a few days ago.

"Kitten!" He smiles wide at you when he sees you and pulls you into a hug. “I was worried when I heard about that mess with Countess. You never called.” Legend frowns at you, blowing out a lungful of smoke. "Guess you guys had a talk."

"Something like that." You frown. "It got complicated really fast."

“I told you so.” His eyes shift to where Ben is glowering a foot behind you. "I see he found you. I didn't tell him-"

"I know you didn't. Thank you for keeping your promise." You smile tightly, squeezing Legend's hand. He really was a good friend. One of the oldest ones you had besides Ben.

"Figured if I did, you'd keep him from ripping my head off."

“Haven’t decided if I’m not going to yet.” Ben snarls and Legend's eyes widen in fear.

But you knew that he was just redirecting his anger. Ben was angry because you put yourself in harms way to protect him and the sooner you had it out, the sooner you could go get Rosemary and Lou.

"Ben we both know that you're not mad at Legend, you're mad at me. So you might as well spit it out, because we've got bigger problems than your hissy fit-" You begin to say. You were sick of him pouting, refusing to look at you, refusing to touch you.

"What the FUCK were you thinking?!" Ben roars towering over you, eyes flashing. "Getting between me and him like that!"

Legend backs away, afraid that he's going to get caught in the cross-fire.

"Calm down." You sigh, gritting your teeth together. You were trying your best not to lose it either, because the last thing this situation needed was you losing control.

"DON’T TELL ME TO CALM DOWN." Ben's hands are clenched tightly into fists, his suit beginning to glow bright.

"You're going to have to calm down or you're going to blast me to kingdom come!" You snap back.

Ben grits his teeth together and closes his eyes tightly while his chest begins to fade back to normal and when it does, he opens his eyes to glare at you. "Why did you do that? I had him handled-"

"You didn't."

"Yes I did. You didn't give me a chance to-"

"No what I did was I didn't give that psychopath a chance to punch a hole through your chest with his fucking laser vision." You poke him in the chest. "Of the two of us, I have a greater chance of surviving that!”

By then Butcher and Hughie had moved to give the two of you a wide berth, standing where Legend was watching the two of you looking bored. They were probably hoping that you didn’t cut one of them in half with your new powers.

"Are they always like this?" You hear Butcher ask Legend from where they stand a safe distance away.

"Pretty much." Legend answers, blowing out a puff of the fowl smelling smoke.

"Do you ever get used to it?" Hughie mutters.

"Nope."

“Is there an off button?” Butcher sighs.

“Nope.” Legend puffs his joint.

"You don't know that!" Ben spits back at you. "I could have!"

"I wasn't willing to take that chance damnit!"

How can I make him understand this? How can he finally understand what it would be like for me to lose him all over again, just when I got him back?

"Do you really think that I'm willing to play Russian Roulette with your life?" Ben snarls, grabbing you by the shoulders so tightly you're sure they'll be bruises but all you can do is look into his quickly darkening eyes. "Do you have any idea what it did to me to see you die AGAIN? To see him TOUCH YOU? To know that he HURT you?"

"We've already had this conversation Ben-"

"And we're going to fucking have it again!" His grip tightens. "I told you to stay behind me!"

The last time he'd touched you like this was the night of the premiere, when he told you that he didn't care about you, that he could never love you. The memory of that night lodges itself in the back of your throat, but you keep it down.

"And I told you that I wasn't going to do that!"

"Damn it y/n you can't-"

You pull yourself away from him. "No Ben. You can't tell me what to do. You don't get to control me. People have tried to control me all my damn life and when I first came with you I thought I was giving that up. But no, I just moved on and Vought took over. When I decided to live my own life, to stop being a supe, I was free! Finally! After forty years of bullshit I was finally free!"

Ben’s jaw is so tightly locked together you think you hear the grinding of his teeth. “So what are you saying? Are you saying that when you’re with me you feel trapped? Like I’m holding you fucking hostage?!”

“No.” You exhale heavily. "I understand that you love me. I understand that you want to protect me. But you need to understand that I love you too. That just as you're willing to lay down your life for me, I am willing to lay down my life for you. And if you want this to work between us, you need to understand that you don't control me. You're not my dad or my owner, you're the man I love. And until you realize that I am just as capable of protecting you as you are protecting me-"

"I know that." Ben seethes.

"What?"

"Do you really think that I don't see how strong you are?” You watch something flash in his eyes that isn't anger, the vulnerable look is back for a fleeting moment and it rocks you to your core. "I don’t want to control you! I’m not trying to. Have you thought that maybe after all this time I just wanted you to need me like I need you?"

His confession makes your heart stop. Does he really think that I don’t need him? That after all these years there’s no one else that I’ve needed more in my entire life?

“Ben.” You sigh while stretching out your hand to lay against his arm, but he flinches away. “ I do need you. You have no idea how much I need you, no idea what it did to me when I lost you even after everything that happened. I just don’t want you to treat me like I’m made of glass.”

“I don’t treat you like you’re-“ He begins to say.

“Yes. You do. And there’s nothing wrong with wanting to protect me, but you have to understand that I want to protect you too.”

He huffs out a breath, shoulders tensed, arms crossed over his muscular chest. “I do understand that. I just hate it when you do that, that you push me out of the way. I hate when you get hurt.”

“And I hate when you get hurt." You bite the inside of your cheek. "You say that you were angry that Homelander hurt me, but did you stop to consider what it did to me to see him try to hurt you? Do you know what it did to me to see him touch you?”

Ben stands there for a minute glaring down at you, before his gaze begins to soften. “No.” He grumbles.

“Exactly.”

You both stand there for a minute eyeing one another, daring the other to break the silence.

This is ridiculous.

Finally Ben, sighs out a breath and jerks you forward against his chest. The hug would be bone crushing for anyone else, but not to you.

“You’re so fucking annoying.” He mutters into the top of your head, while his body curves around yours.

“I love you too asshole.” You huff, hugging him back just as tight.

“See they always work it out.” Legend shrugs at Butcher. “Takes them a while to get there. They made my job so much harder in the 70’s. Though I will say it’s a relief that they’re finally admitting they love each other. Way too much sexual tension before, gave me anxiety.”

Ben pulls back to look at your face with another loud sigh. He still looks a little angry, but not angry enough to start shouting again. His thumb strokes against your cheek. “Are you okay?”

You nod once leaning into his touch. “Are you?” You brush back some of his dark hair out of his face, looking for bruises but you don’t see any.

“Yeah.” He nods.

“If the two of you are done, we have bigger things to worry about-“ Butcher begins to say.

“We are and we do.” You interrupt looking away from Ben to stare at Butcher. “I need to borrow your car.”

“Why?”

“I need to go back to the city.”

“What?” Ben sputters releasing you from his grasp.

“And I think it would be better if I went alone-“ You continue slowly.

Honestly you did think that it would be better if you went alone, but you didn’t want to. You wanted Ben to come with you, the problem was Rosemary.

“Like hell I’m letting you go alone with that son of a bitch flying around!” Ben shouts, temper flaring again.

“Which is why I have to go.” You try to say it diplomatically, try to have him understand without having to explain it. But there’s really no way around it, around any of this.

“No.”

“Ben please c-"

“Don’t tell me to calm down again! I’m not being crazy. You’re not going after him!” His eyes blaze a brilliant green, as he crosses his hands over his chest.

“Ben-“

“Why can’t you listen to me for once?”

“BEN!” You shout, grabbing his face and holding his cheeks between your palms to catch his attention.

“What?” Ben’s eyes lock with yours.

“I’m not going to the city to go after Homelander.”

He pauses confused. “Then why are you-“

And you just can’t take it anymore. You can’t hold it in any longer, can’t think of a way to tell him without just ripping the bandaid off. Your eyes meet his, apologetic, determined, and just a little bit fearful.

“I’m going back into the city to get our daughter.”

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

A/N: I know I know, it's been a while and honestly I didn't mean to get hit by writer's block this bad 😂😭

But it kinda works out, because what better way to celebrate Father's Day than to tell Soldier Boy that he's a dad?

As always thank you so much for reading! There are big things coming! And thank so much for the love and support! If you'd like to be added to the taglist please let me know :)

Taglist: @roseblue373 @anundyingfidelity @cheynovak @cassiecasluciluce @muhahaha303 @deans-spinster-witch @kayleighmeister @demodemo909 @fruitfacess @bobbobbobinogs @bughill126 @simplyfixated @sleepjam @tiredstrangerr @freefallthoughts @onlyangel-444 @lov3vivian @mxltifxnd0m @mayafatimakhan @marvel-mistress @my-obsession-spn @lifeonawhim @soldirboy @liuope @brynanna @carpenterswife @xxannyxx @babyinatrench-coat1 @the-gentle-spirit @valryomen @cassieriddle713 @shaggzthatsnottheworm @lil-soup @ej13928 @topstory21 @boywivlove @mrsjenniferwinchester @vivre-dans-la-nuit @megara0224 @daisy-the-quake @thesilmarillionblog @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @libby99hb @peachhiz @tinydancer40

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bangchansdirty-slut · 18 hours

Note

Hi are you taking requests rn?

If so could i request a domtop yandere soobin x sub bttm male reader where the reader is a junior at a prestiges university and soobin is the senior above him that has a habbit of stalking and breaking into the readers apartment.

For kinks can soobin have a breeding kink and the reader can thete be degradation and some feminization

Can I Come In?

•───⋅⋆⁺‧₊☽⛦☾₊‧⁺⋆⋅───•

Paring: domtop yandere soobin x sub bttm male reader

Genre: Smut

Requested

More: Masterlist

A/n: Requests are open

•───⋅⋆⁺‧₊☽⛦☾₊‧⁺⋆⋅───•

It was a chilly Tuesday evening, and M/n was curled up on the worn-out sofa in his dorm, lost in the pages of his favorite book. He was a junior at a prestigious university, majoring in literature, and he lived alone in a modest studio apartment. The walls were adorned with posters of his favorite groups, creating a cozy and familiar atmosphere. As he read, he couldn't shake off the feeling that someone was watching him. He glanced around, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. Maybe it was just his overactive imagination.

He heard a faint creak coming from the window and froze. His heart began to race as he slowly turned his head toward the sound. Peering through the sheer curtains, he saw a figure crouched on the ledge outside. His breath hitched in his throat as he realized it was Soobin, the senior above him who had a habit of stalking and breaking into his apartment.

Soobin grinned devilishly at him, his pale, delicate features illuminated by the soft moonlight. He wore a black hoodie that barely covered his lithe, muscular frame, and his short, messy hair framed his face. His dark brown eyes sparkled with mischief as he slowly climbed through the window, deftly avoiding the creaky hinges.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't my favorite Junior. How nice of you to wait up for me," Soobin purred, stepping inside and closing the window behind him. M/n swallowed hard, his heart still racing in his chest. Soobin locked the window and turned around, regarding him with those dark, intense eyes. "I guess you were wondering why I broke into your apartment again tonight, hmm?"

He walked slowly towards M/n, who couldn't help but retreat further into the couch. Soobin's movements were almost hypnotic, his every step deliberate and calculated. When he was close enough, he knelt down in front of M/n, their faces only inches apart. "I wanted to see you, M/n. You're so precious, and I just can't get enough of you."

His breath was warm against M/n's cheek, sending shivers down his spine. "I-I don't understand. Why do you keep doing this?" he managed to stammer. Soobin smiled softly, running a finger down M/n's cheek. "Oh, M/n, it's because I care for you. I want to make sure that no one else has you but me."

M/n swallowed hard, unable to meet Soobin's gaze. He knew that Soobin was dangerous, but the older man's words and touch sent a shiver of desire through him nonetheless. "So… what do you want me to do?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Soobin's smile widened, and he leaned in closer, his lips brushing against M/n's ear. "Oh, I don't know, M/n. Why don't you show me what you've been thinking about? The things you've been doing when you think I'm not watching?"

M/n felt a hot flush creep up his neck. He knew exactly what Soobin meant. In the days leading up to this, he had caught himself touching himself more often, fantasizing about Soobin's touch. He couldn't deny the desire burning inside him. But he also couldn't shake off the fear of what Soobin might do if he refused.

Slowly, tentatively, he reached up and brushed a lock of hair away from Soobin's face. The older man's features were beautiful, ethereal even. So close, his breath mingling with M/n's. M/n's heart pounded in his chest as he leaned in closer, feeling a sudden rush of courage wash over him. He closed his eyes and pressed a gentle kiss to Soobin's lips.

The older man's response was immediate and powerful. His hands gripped M/n's shoulders, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss with a passion that M/n had never experienced before. His tongue danced with M/n's, exploring every inch of his mouth, sending shivers down his spine. Soon, M/n found himself lost in the sensation, returning the kiss with an equal fervor.

As their tongues tangled, Soobin reached up and began unbuttoning M/n's shirt, revealing more and more of his chest. The older man growled appreciatively as he ran his hands over the smooth, warm skin. M/n arched into the touch, his own hands fumbling with the buttons of Soobin's shirt. The older man helped him, pushing the fabric aside to reveal his chest, pale and smooth in the dim light.

They broke the kiss, gasping for air. M/n's eyes drank in the sight of Soobin's bare chest, his muscles taut and defined. Soobin reached down and tugged at M/n's pants, and M/n willingly helped, shimmying out of them. He kicked off his boxers as well, revealing his aroused length. Soobin smiled wickedly and crawled forward on his knees, taking M/n's cock in his hand.

"You're so beautiful, M/n," he murmured, stroking him gently. M/n arched into the touch, moaning softly. Soobin leaned in, kissing and licking his way down M/n's body, teasing his nipples with his teeth before taking them into his mouth, sucking gently. M/n writhed beneath him, his hips bucking helplessly.

Soobin looked up at M/n, their eyes meeting in the dim light. He smiled, running his tongue along M/n's stomach before moving lower, flicking his tongue over the sensitive skin behind M/n's balls. M/n cried out, his back arching off the couch. Soobin chuckled, his voice deep and husky.

His lips and tongue danced over M/n's sensitive flesh, teasing and taunting. He sucked on his perineum, then moved up to lick the head of M/n's cock. M/n's hips bucked wildly, seeking release, but Soobin kept him just on the edge. He took M/n's cock into his mouth, sucking hard as he ran his tongue around the sensitive underside.

M/n cried out, his hands tangled in Soobin's hair, urging him on. He arched his back, offering deeper access as Soobin sucked him expertly. The older man growled around him, the vibrations sending shivers down his spine. He reached down, fondling M/n's balls, rolling them gently in his palm.

"You're such a dirty boy," Soobin whispered, his lips brushing against M/n's hip. "You know you belong to me now, don't you?"

M/n moaned, arching his back as he felt Soobin's hot breath against his skin. He was still panting from the intensity of the pleasure that had just consumed him. He couldn't help but feel a renewed sense of desire building inside of him as Soobin's words washed over him.

Soobin's hands gripped M/n's hips tightly, guiding him into position on all fours. He leaned forward, his body pressing against M/n's back, their cocks still slick with each other's cum. M/n felt Soobin's erection pressing against his entrance, and he let out a soft whimper.

"You're such a good little fucktoy," Soobin purred, his voice low and rough. "Just like your pretty virgin pussy." He thrust forward, pushing inside M/n's ass. M/n arched his back, letting out a gasp as the familiar yet foreign sensation of being penetrated filled him. "You belong to me now, M/n," Soobin continued, his hips moving faster. "I'm going to breed you. I'm going to fill you with my cum, and you're going to carry my babies."

The older man's thrusts were forceful but controlled, each one driving deeper into M/n's body. Soobin's hands gripped M/n's hips tightly, guiding him in time with his movements. "That's it," he whispered, his breath hot against M/n's ear. "Just take it. Take my cock."

M/n moaned, arching his back as Soobin's thickness stretched him wider. He could feel the other man's control beginning to slip, his thrusts becoming more erratic. It was almost painful, but M/n knew it was only because Soobin was so overwhelmed with desire. He wanted M/n to feel wanted, to make him lose control.

"That's it, baby," Soobin groaned, his hips slamming into M/n's ass. "You feel so good. So tight. You're taking every inch of me."

M/n moaned, arching his back as Soobin's thickness stretched him wider. He felt so full, so owned. The way Soobin was thrusting into him, claiming him, made him feel like a possession. Like something precious that belonged only to the older man.

"You're pussy so tight," Soobin groaned, his hips slamming into M/n's ass. The older man's thrusts were forceful, but M/n could feel the care behind each one, as if Soobin were trying to be gentle despite the urgency of his desire. "It's like you were made just for me."

M/n let out a moan, arching his back as Soobin's thickness stretched him wider. The familiar sensation of being penetrated mixed with the new, unfamiliar feel of being filled by something other than a cock. It was overwhelming and exhilarating all at once. "I-I'm yours, S-oobin," he whispered, his voice breathless. "I'll always be yours."

Soobin thrust deeper into M/n's ass, his hands gripping M/n's hips tightly. "That's it, baby," he groaned, his breath hot against M/n's ear. "Just take it. Take my cock." His thrusts grew faster, harder, each one pushing deeper inside M/n's body. M/n could feel Soobin's control beginning to slip, the older man surrendering to the force of his desire.

Their skin was slick with sweat, their bodies moving together in perfect harmony. Soobin's hips slammed into M/n's ass, his cock stretching him wider, filling every inch of him. M/n arched his back, moaning loudly as he felt the familiar tightness in his chest, the telltale signs of his own climax.

Soobin's hands gripped M/n's hips tightly, guiding him in time with his movements. Heat pooled low in M/n's abdomen, spreading outward in a wave of pleasure that threatened to overwhelm him. "Oh god, Soobin," he gasped, his voice hoarse with desire. "I'm close."

The older man's thrusts grew faster, harder, his body tensing as he neared the brink as well. M/n felt Soobin's cock twitch inside him, a warning of what was to come. With a final, powerful thrust, they both let go, their bodies arching in unison as they found release. Soobin's hot seed spilled into M/n's ass, filling him up and making him feel so full, so wanted.

M/n let out a long moan as the sensation washed over him, his body shuddering with the force of his orgasm. He could feel every stroke of Soobin's cock inside him, each thrust sending a wave of pleasure through him. As they came down from their high, Soobin gently lowered M/n's legs, allowing them to rest on the couch beside him. He held M/n close, their bodies still connected as he continued to move slowly inside him.

Soobin's hands roamed over M/n's chest, teasing his nipples with his fingers. He kissed M/n's neck, his lips hot and soft against his skin. "You feel so good," he murmured, his voice husky with desire. "I could lose myself in you." He shifted his weight, moving M/n's legs up so that he was now straddling his lap with his ass resting on the couch. His cock slid in and out of M/n's body, filling him in a new and intimate way. "Is this okay?" he asked, nibbling on M/n's earlobe.

M/n moaned, arching his back to meet Soobin's thrusts. "More," he whispered. "Please." Soobin's touch was electrifying, making every nerve ending in M/n's body tingle with anticipation. The older man's fingers danced over M/n's chest, teasing and taunting, before moving lower, caressing his stomach and hip. M/n's muscles tightened as Soobin's cock found a new angle, filling him completely.

He leaned forward, resting his weight on his arms as Soobin continued to thrust, their hips moving in perfect synchrony. The older man's lips brushed against M/n's neck, his hot breath sending shivers down his spine. "You're so beautiful," Soobin murmured, his voice husky with desire. "I never want this feeling to end."

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sweetimpurity · 2 days

Text

c.w.: very smutty, ice cream and sex

The hot sun beats down on your hometown. It’s finally summer and you’re ready for the beach, freedom and romance. You and Miguel have been together since you were both 15. Growing up together, going to school, falling in love and staying in it until now. 18 years old, the two of you. You can’t wait to spend every day with him this summer, and you really can’t wait for those hot summer nights.

The only thing that gets in the way is summer jobs. If only you two were 10 again and you could spend every minute wasting the day away in the kiddie pool. But now at 18, there are other, better things you two can get up to.

This summer you’re working at your Dad’s store in town and Miguel is logging in his 3rd consecutive year at Sunny Scoops ice cream. A cute little place by the boardwalk with really good waffle cones and the cutest boy in town behind the register!

There, Miguel works all day, sweating and smiling, handing out ice cream to little kids, the elderly, families, anyone who’s having a beach day. And any girls who ask for his number, he just tells them to text you and ask for it. That usually prevents them from ever asking again.

He’s grown muscle over the past three years and ultimately you just had to help him cut the sleeves off his work t-shirt. Complaining about the ‘fit not being right’ on the bigger sizes.

The uniform he used to wear when he was 15 was pretty horrendous. Pink and blue striped and that goofy ice cream cone hat. Then he turned 16… 17… now 18 and wowza. You’ve watched him grow into a man. Now his arms are showing, his muscles from scooping rock solid ice cream all day long. Toned and extra tan from the summer sun. A bandana wrapped messily in his dark curls to keep the sweat off his forehead. Sometimes you’ll sit there with ice cream melting down your hand and between your fingers because you’re just staring at him moving around behind the little counter and through the little shop. Smiling handsomely to customers, his muscles flexing when he’s scooping the frozen treat, catching his eye and his smile when he sees you watching him. Flustered and flushed pink when he comes back over to talk to you, licking the drips off your knuckles.

“Your ice cream is melting, baby…” He would coo. Licking his lips of the sweet chocolate melt. “You’re really hot.” You’d sigh, completely in a daze.

You’re finally done with work now, letting your Dad know you’re leaving for the night. A plan in mind. A need for something sweet. Not just ice cream tonight. Leaving your Dad’s store at 9:30pm and Sunny Scoops closes at 10. You get in your car, letting the summer night breeze blow in through the windows. The cool down finally here as the sun is set. The night is still warm and sticky but not as blazingly hot as before.

…

“Here you go… have a good night.” You hear his voice as you’re walking up to the window. Watching a little boy and his mother walking away happily with huge ice cream cones in hand. And would you look at that… you’re next in line.

“Hey, gorgeous…” He smiles seeing you, leaning his elbows on the counter and watching you approach the window. “Hey!” You chirp, smiling up at him. “Busy day?” You ask, admiring his tip jar full to the brim. “Yeah, busy but good.” He nods, grabbing a waffle cone and moving around behind the counter. You peer over the edge to look inside. Watching him at the soft serve machine. He knows you so well of course. “Chocolate vanilla twist for the pretty lady…” He announces and hands you a tall swirl of ice cream.

“Come around back, I’m just closing up.” He nods and you take your ice cream, moving to the back of the teeny building to the back door. Walking inside. Like you do most days you come to see him. Miguel slides the window closed, locking it and pulling the wooden panel over to block the window. Locking the place up.

You hop up to sit on top of the big box freezer, licking the swirl of ice cream in your hand and watching him move some stuff around and close up.

“You wanna go to the beach tomorrow?” You ask, looking over at him with those eyes that make him weak. His eyes watching your pink tongue lick up your ice cream. “Sure.” He answers just softly. Focusing on doing his job before he loses all control. Not just yet. You smile and kick your legs softly. He walks past with a box, grabbing your ankle as you kick your foot up, giving you a look and letting his fingers run up your calf, bringing a smile to your lips, walking away as he finishes clearing the place up, taking the box to the shelves in the back. Coming back after a minute or two.

“Hey.” He hums, stopping in front of you, a sly sort of smirk on his face. “Hey.” You respond, just as softly, your ice cream only beginning to melt. “You’re so pretty…” He hums as if he hasn’t told you a million times before, making you smile and he steps closer, between your knees. His fingers teasing the sides of your thighs. “Preciosa chica…” He whispers, looking in your eyes and licking the drips off the back of your ice cream cone. Like he always does. Licking all the way to the top of the swirl and then his lips are on yours. His lips moving against yours, his tongue parting your lips. His tongue tasting of chocolate swirl and his lips sugary slippery sweet. His tongue delves into your mouth, his hand going to cup the back of your head, ice cream smashed and mixed between your two tongues. So sweet. Until he’s pulling back, both of you with a slurp.

You giggle softly, feeling sticky sugar all over your lips. “You want more?” You laugh, raising a brow at him and he grins. You tilt the cone towards his lips. “It’s yours, baby… I wanna see you eat it.” He replies.

His hands move up under your shirt, tickling your sides as he pulls you closer, sliding you across the freezer top. You smile, bringing the swirl to your lips and licking the melting ice cream, sucking gently and enjoying it, all while staring in his eyes. His hands move under the fabric, fingers moving up your ribcage, your diaphragm, to your breasts.

“No bra, mami?” He laughs, fingers exploring and kneading the plush of your tits. Staring in your eyes as he does it. “Took it off in the car…” You smile so innocently. He grows harder at the thought. That you took off your bra on the way over here. Like you wanted this to happen, you wanted him. Watching you gasp among the ice cream in your mouth, his thumbs rubbing over your nipples, rolling them gently between his thumb and index fingers. Massaging gently under your shirt. He leans forward, placing three deep kisses to your throat before pulling back again, his fingers grasping the hem of your t-shirt.

“Can I take this off?” He asks and you nod, mouth full of ice cream. He pushes your shirt up and off, the neon lights of the shop reflecting off your skin, off your breasts, making his mouth water. His arm anchors around your lower back, lips latching onto your breast, licking and sucking and squeezing the other in his hand. “Mmm- miguel…” You sigh, sensitized from his caress. He slurps and smooches your soft skin, the naughty noises filling the small space. The hum of the many fridges and freezers a soothing harmony with your soft moans and the sticky sucking of his lips.

He pulls back, kissing you a few times, tasting that sweetness on your lips. Keeping one arm around your back and your eyes widened in surprise watching him dip his fingers into the mountain of ice cream in your hand. Picking up dollaps of cold chocolate swirl on his fingers and smearing it over your nipples. Eliciting a sharp gasp from your throat as he does it. Looking down at your chest. He does the same with both sides. “You like that?” Grinning the whole time, holding you tight as you squirm. Freezing coldness hardening the buds until his warm lips come back down to suck the ice cream off. A shuddering and trembling moan leaving you at the feeling. Your free hand going to his hair, tangling in the dark curls. Pulling the bandana off of his head and watching his summer curls bounce free. “Ohhh- Miguel- '' You moan sweetly and he groans against your chest, your sticky sugary nipples sucked and kissed over and over until it's all gone.

“So sweet baby…” He pants, pulling his shirt off, coming back up to kiss your lips and holding your flushed cheeks in his hands. “Mmm..” You whine, kissing him back hungrily, deeper, your free hand running up his toned abdomen to his chest, a map of his body already ingrained in your brain after all these years, then wrapping your arms around the back of his neck, the ice cream dripping down your knuckles and onto his bare back, making goosebumps on his skin, his big hands running down your back and to your waist. “I don’t have a condom, baby…” He pants against your lips, his fingers in your hair; the words making your tummy flip in butterflies, knowing he wants you; he’s going to be inside. He pulls back for air, desperate to have you as he’s had you many times before.

“I do.” You pant for air, reaching blindly in your back pocket for the one condom you brought. “You really came here just to get fucked, didn’t you?” He laughs and smiles, taking the small foil packet into his sticky fingers. “I came here to see my love…” You hum, tilting your head at him. Not very convincing. His brow cocks in suspicion. “Fine. I came here to get fucked by my love.” You finally admit and the two of you can’t help the giggles.

Outside the small ice cream shop, cars drive by, peepers peep and crickets chirp. The temperatures go down as the night goes on, but inside the little parlor, things are heating up.

“Tell me where baby… tell me…” He whispers in your ear, knuckles deep in your heat and you’re barely able to hang onto him. One hand still occupied by the dripping melting ice cream cone. “Right there! Oh right th-there!” You squeal, his thumb moving expertly on your clit and his fingers flicking and curling deep inside. “Oh my god…” You whine, back arching and leaning back so far you almost fall back off the freezer. “Hey… hey… there you go…” He coos, holding you and helping you lay on your back. Limited on space but you make do. His fingers pumping generously into your needy pussy.

His bottoms are long gone but he takes the condom foil between his teeth, ripping it open carefully. “C’mon baby…” He pants. Taking your free hand and pulling it down to his dick. Guiding you to roll the condom onto his length. Shuddering and groaning feeling the lubed rubber and your soft warm hand pushing it down on him. All while his fingers still curl up against your g spot and you’re on the cusp of coming already. For a few moments, he thrusts into your hand around him. Relishing that pleasure until it’s not enough.

“Ready, sweet girl?” He steps forward, pulling your hips down to meet him at the edge of the freezer. “Mi corazón…” He whispers, a hand running flat over your tummy. “Mmm… yes please…” You whisper. And when he gets that confirmation, there’s no stopping his gummy tip from kissing your clit, pushing through your slick before slipping down and inside. Like the two of you were made for this. He was made to be with you in this way. You were created to be in love.

“Haahh…. Baby…” He sighs and shudders, easing himself in with small pulsing thrusts to stretch you out nicely for him. He doesn’t want to hurt his precious girl. Soon he’s pressed to the hilt and your back is arching from that alone. Your trembling legs latching around his waist as he starts his rhythm. Skin slapping skin in the sickly slip of sticky slick.

Moaning loud and free, the both of you, at the feeling. The feeling of being so full, so filled to the brim. Of love. Of him. The ice cream cone nearly falls out of your hand, your brain unable to think of anything but the pleasure between your legs. One leg wrapped around his hip and the other held in his arm, your knee draped over and his big hand wrapped around your thigh. Keeping you open for him; spread. Pumping into you steady and deep. His heavy eyes watching your face to see how much you love it. His hand on your thigh finds your free hand, lacing his fingers with yours. Panting and focusing. On getting you there. On making you feel the best he possibly can.

You’re delirious, hazy, a mess of moans and a buzzing burning ache for him.

“Baby baby-” He grabs your wrist when the ice cream almost slips entirely, holding your wrist and making it stay upright so he doesn’t have to mop the floors. Smiling when he sees your fucked out face. Easing the cone out of your hand so he can hold it. So that it doesn’t splatter on the floor. Letting your hand fall, fingers gripping and clenching around nothing. His thrusts are so deep, so giving, and he’s hitting every little spot that has you melting.

“That’s it, baby…” He encourages you, trying to bring you that sweet release. “So good Mig…so so sooo…” You whine, on the very edge of bliss. Miguel watches, breathing so fast and heavy. His eyes trail down your face to your soft, marked neck, to your shoulders, your tits, sternum, stomach. Until it’s almost involuntary, he dumps the cold, melting, dripping ice cream cone on your soft tummy. Pulling a high pitched squeal and gasp from your lips, the cold like the spark in a chain reaction, back arching as he drags the freezing smushed chocolate swirl up to your sternum. Your orgasm hits you before another second can think to pass. Your skin shining in melty vanilla and chocolate swirl. The cold making you clench around him.

Screaming in ecstasy and squeezing him so tight he's doubling over and groaning at the pressure. Thrusts become impossible and all he can do is spurt deep and hot. Filling the condom with a groan and feeling you fluttering around him. He licks a stripe up your sternum, slurping ice cream from your skin. Pressing messy kisses to your chest and his face just drips with the melted sugary substance. Drops and dribbles rolling down your sides as you gush on his dick. Trembling, shaking, coming down from what might be the strongest climax you’ve ever experienced.

“Oh baby… hah… that was amazing…” He pants, his voice wavering, leaning over you, kissing your cheeks, your neck, your lips. “I love, love you… hah…” He huffs, looking over your face to make sure you’re okay. “Mmm… I love you” You sigh, a blissed out smile on your face. He smiles seeing you’re happy and you’re feeling good; because that’s all he’s ever wanted. And all he’ll ever want.

a/n: this is part 1 of a nearly 10 part summer job series! Let me know if you’d like to be tagged! 💕

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darkwolf989 · 2 days

Note

Hi, I'm a huge fan of your writing. I was wondering if I could request a one-shot of valentino's teenage daughter running away from home because she's feeling neglected with how busy the vee's always are and how they keep missing important events of hers for work. Thanks.

OMG thank you so so so much! I can't express how much I appreciate that you are a fan of my writing! It astounds me every time I get a like or a compliment that another human actually LIKES my work! It means the world to me!

The editing continues! What a weekend! Enjoy <3

I'm REALLY looking forward to not working tomorrow- happy summer y'all!

I slammed the last of my absolute favorite clothes into my duffle bag. Another game had passed, another three hours of scanning frantically through the crowds for any sign of my father- or even my Aunt Velvette or my Uncle Vox. Another night of watching, waiting for them post game, only to be met with Derek, my Dad’s favorite limo driver.

“Your family sends their regrets,” he told me as he opened the door. “And your dad personally asked me to congratulate you on your win.”

“Thanks,” I replied glumly as I climbed in the back.

I laid my head against the window and wondered what could be so important that they had to miss one of the last water polo games of the year. As the miles passed, I could feel the anger growing, festering pent up emotions. Uncle Vox? His meeting was really so important he couldn’t even jump through the camera to say hi? Aunt Velvette- was her fashion show such a big deal that she couldn’t have come for even a few seconds?

And my father…whatever it was he was so wrapped up in. I still wasn’t exactly sure what my father did for work, but I knew it involved privacy and dirty movies. And at eleven years old, I was sick of the secrecy, sick of being ignored.

So I stalked into our empty flat and began to pack a bag. I wouldn’t need anything more than the basics. I left the gold credit card my father had given me on my night stand. I had enough cash on hand and my own personal debit card. I didn’t need his money. I didn’t need any of them.

I shoved my watch and my cell phone under the mattress of my bed and swung open the window of my room. All the movies talked about scaling down the wall, sneaking out into the darkness of the night. But as I looked down from the very top of the V tower, I decided it was a better idea to take the elevator down.

It was a sense of freedom as soon as I stepped outside the main entrance. The fact that no one saw me meant Vox was too busy with whatever to be watching the cameras. Far too busy to care about me. My anger continued to fester as I wandered the dark streets. The more time passed, the more unease settled over me. Without my phone, I couldn’t access my VoxQuest GPS. Even more so than I did after the game, I felt alone.

I turned down a side street and stepped in front of the building brightly lit up with the numbers 666. Outside, a tall shark demon in a well pressed suit leered at me.

“Pretty thing. Need a job? We’re hiring.”

I felt his hand on my shoulder and my heart almost stopped. A job. I would need one of those but this? What was this?

“What…kind of work are you offering?” I asked timidly.

He laughed, “oh sweetheart, you’ll be perfect. Just come inside. The boss is here, and I’m sure he’ll be thrilled with my…er…you.”

Against my better judgment, I followed him inside. Bright lights flashed, loud music blared and I cringed. Around me, scantily clad women rushed drinks around to demons dressed in suits. Waitressing. If that was the job, I could do it.

“Just smile pretty, and the boss will eat it right up. Soon as he approves, we’ll get you out there with the rest of the girls. Don’t worry- we’ll give you everything you could ever need,” he said as he led me over to a table where a mix of practically naked demons surrounded one tall demon. I watched as his face buried itself into the demon directly next to him, either not noticing my approach or not caring. I opened my mouth to introduce myself but then I noticed it.

The red jacket.

I felt my stomach drop. No. It couldn’t be. Involuntarily, I took a step back as the demon shoved me forward.

“Hey boss, what do you think of this pretty little prospect? Innocent, young, but we’ve had a demand for that,” he said loudly, his fingers pressing hard into my shoulder.

“D-daddy?” I practically whispered.

“Heh, you do learn quick dontcha?” The shark demon chuckled. “See? I found a good one.”

The demon turned away from his make out session and I could feel myself pale. His expression changed instantly from annoyance to horror.

“Reader! What the fuck are you doing here?” Valentino hollered as he stood up, pushing aside the table and the surrounding girls. “All of you, out! NOW!.”

He grabbed my arm and yanked me towards the back of the club. Lights flashed and a steady stream of people moved quickly, exiting the building faster than I had ever seen anyone move. Behind us, the room went dark.

I heard the door slam and I could feel myself shaking as I watched my father pace the room, screaming into his phone at who I assumed was Uncle Vox. Finally, he turned to me.

“How are you here? Why are you here?” He snarled, fury in his eyes. “You’re supposed to be at home, doing homework or…or…”

I could feel the fury rise, “or what, Dad?” I stepped closer to him and balled my fists. “Is this why you couldn’t come to my game tonight? You were too busy making out…making out with…” I could feel the tears of anger and frustration start to well up in the corners of my eyes. He really didn’t give a shit about me.

I watched his expression change from anger to something I couldn’t name.

“That was tonight.” He said slowly. “Your game was tonight.”

It wasn’t a question.

“Yeah, it was tonight! And you promised, you fucking promised me you would be there and you didn’t, Dad! And neither did Aunt Velvette or Uncle Vox, none of you could make time in your busy schedules. If I’m so much of a burden to you I’ll just, I’ll just leave!” Unable to hold back anymore, I dropped my duffle bag and burst into sobbing tears.

“That’s why you were here, you were running away,” he said as he walked towards me. “Ninita, I…”

“Your point is made, Dad!” I yelled through the tears. “I don’t fucking matter!”

He pulled me to him and I buried my face into the white fluff of his jacket as I choked on each sob that escaped.

“You do matter, you are my world bebita,” he said quietly as he held me. “I…I never meant, I never thought we…I…” He swallowed and tightened his grasp around me. “Let’s get you home.”

“Why? So you can say you’re sorry and then do this all over again next week?” I choked out as I pushed away from him.

He looked pained. “No. So we can figure out how to make sure this never happens again.” He lifted up my duffle bag and put his arms around me, guiding me out the back door to an awaiting limo.

Too upset to care, I let him.

In the limo he kept his arm around me and I laid my head on his shoulder as I tried desperately to stop crying. Part of me wanted to keep screaming, to keep yelling, to demand to know why he chose to do what he did tonight. But the other part of me, the bigger part of me, basked in every drop of the attention he was giving me.

“Shussh, cariño, you’re going to give yourself the hiccups,” he said gently as he rubbed my back. “Slow, deep breaths. Shush. Listen to Daddy, okay? We’ll fix this. This will never happen again.”

His words sent me into another spiraling round of tears. He kept the steady pressure on my back as I cried into him. Exhaustion swept over me, and eventually I closed my eyes. My entire face felt puffy and swollen. After what felt like forever, the limo stopped.

“Come on little girl, Daddy’s got you,” he muttered as he lifted me into his arms.

Too tired to care, I let him snuggle me to his chest and I buried my face against him, I felt him carry me inside, and listened to the sound of the elevator ping. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. And finally…seven.

“Is she okay?” Vox’s voice was full of panic.

“She isn’t hurt, is she?” Velvette’s voice, equally as frantic.

My father ignored them both and instead, carefully set me down on the couch.

“That’s a girl, keep breathing. Keep calm. Daddy’s here. Velvette, would you be a dear and get a warm washcloth? And Vox…if you would put the tracker back on her wrist.”

“I’m fine,” I said as I pushed myself up. “I’m…”

He pressed his lips to my forehead. “No. You’re not. And you shouldn’t be. We fucked up- I fucked up. Big time.” He turned and took the washcloth from Velvette’s hand and gently pressed it against my face.

I closed my eyes and let him fuss over me as he dabbed at my cheeks. I felt Vox slip the tracker back on my wrist, his fingers pausing just at the pulse point. After a few minutes, he released me and I blinked my eyes open and sat up.

“Daddy, I’m fine, I’m not hurt…”

“Not physically, but we did hurt you,” Vox said quietly.

“We fucked up,” Velvette added as she sat down next to me. “We really fucked up.”

“We let work get in the way of our family,” Valentino said as he sat on the other side of me.

I could feel the anger start to rise as I remembered the scene I had walked in on. “Work? You call being out at a bar making out with someone work?”

Both Velvette and Vox looked at Valentino with a mix of horror and disgust. Vox sighed and gave them both a glare.

“Only that part, Valentino. Got it?” Vox grumbled. “And only because she doesn’t need that image burned into her brain. The rest is on us.” He turned his head to me. “Reader…you saw what now?”

I felt my fathers fingers under my chin as he tilted my head towards Vox. My gaze met his and his eye began to swirl.

“That’s right. Good.” Vox continued, “Reader, keep looking at me. What did you see?”

Instant calm washed over me and I leaned my head against my father’s shoulder.

“I…I saw my Dad…”

“Yeah, you did see your Dad…you saw your Dad working in his office, right? At one of his clubs?”

I swallowed as the calm sank deeper. My memory felt soft, almost fuzzy. An image of my Dad, wrapped up in his red jacket, sitting behind a desk. The feel of the bouncers hand, guiding me into his back office. His anger, and the beginning of our fight.

“Baby? What did you see?” Vox asked again.

I blinked, a sick feeling sinking over my stomach. “I…I ran away. I got pulled into a club, and the guy took me to my Dad’s office. He was at his desk and…and we fought…”

“Ah, babygirl,” Valentino muttered as he put his arm around me. “We didn’t fight so much as you…put me in my place. I’m sorry, cariño.” He kissed my forehead. “I promise I personally will never miss one of your games again. I love you, reader. You are my world.”

“Our world. And we never meant to make you feel like anything else,” Velvette added quietly.

“Next time we fuck up, come barging into our office and yell, okay?” Vox pleaded as he moved himself closer. “The streets of hell are dangerous. I’m just glad you’re safe.”

“Yell, scream, but please don’t run away again,” Valentino muttered. “It won’t happen again. We promise.”

I buried my face in my fathers shoulder and took a deep breath as I nodded. The sense of calm that washed over me lingered as exhaustion washed over me.

“Promise? Like really promise? I just want your…I want you,” I mumbled.

“You have us,” Valentino said soothingly. “Always.” He kissed my forehead. “Let’s get you to bed, we can talk in the morning about how we can make this up to you.”

“Play a practice round with me?” I asked as my father once again lifted me into his arms. “Go to the pool the three of us?”

“If that’s what you want, sure. We’ll do it tomorrow.” Valentino promised with a glance at the other two.

“Tomorrow we are all yours,” Velvette added.

“Totally yours,” Vox chimed in. “Goodnight, reader.”

I fell asleep the moment my father tucked me under the covers. Tomorrow, tomorrow we would have a family day.

#the vees #hazbin hotel #valentino x reader #valentino x you #valentino #the vees x reader #vox x reader #hazbin fluff #valentino hazbin hotel #voxval #hazbin hotel valentino #hazbin hotel velvette #hazbin velvette #hazbinhotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin #hazbin vox #hazbin valentino #hazbin vees

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auteurdelabre · 3 hours

Text

So Much to Lose Part 13 : Family Dinner

words: 7.5k

story rating: 18+

tags: emotional, sexual tension, idiots in love

a/n: two days ahead of schedule! I had to add another chapter in before 'coffee flavored kisses' chapter so it makes dramaturgically (please get that reference). I hope you enjoy, its one of my favorite scenes I've written for this story.

masterlist

Chapter 13: Family Dinner

"Are you even listening to me?"

You glance over your shoulder to where Jennifer leans against your counter. She's wearing a purple sweater dress today, her own creation. She's holding a coffee and giving you a small smirk.

"Sorry, what?"

"You're distracted today," Jennifer muses.

The two of you are in your kitchen this morning, the early morning sun shining through your windows. It melted a lot of the snow, allowing bits of green to poke through.

Jennifer saw you returning from the market with all the baking supplies you'd need. She'd commented that she wished she could bake as well as you and so of course you'd offered to teach her.

She is so willing to spend her time teaching you to shoot, to take care of you, of course you wanted to pay her back in some small way. But ever since she crossed the threshold this morning with two coffees in hand chattering away about the town meeting you've felt this deep pit in your stomach.

Why did he do that? Why did you let him? Why did you want him to do more? You certainly hadn’t shied from his touch; you’d begged him to make you come right there. Your cheeks flame at the memory, thinking back to that evening.

You’d given Jennifer some bullshit excuse about a headache after she found you moments after you staggered out of the closet. Then you’d jogged home, your heart racing as quickly as your mind.

"Just haven't made a cake in a long time," you lie, turning away from her as you mix the batter. "Guess I'm just super focused on it."

The truth is you're completely distracted today. You have been ever since the town meeting with Joel's hand down your pants and his voice in your ear commanding you to come. You're ashamed to admit that since that night you've been bringing yourself off to the memory.

Are you actually attracted to asshole? Or is it just that he makes the world feel safe? That he can make your brain turn off and make it all go quiet?

There's also a humiliation there. "You think I didn't hear you on patrols?"

You force the thought from your mind. You don't need to think about that right now. You turn your attention back to your friend who is mixing her own chocolate batter.

"I was asking why you're making a cake of all things?" Jennifer says, frowning at the lumpy contents of her bowl. "You making it for Luke?"

She says it in a singsong voice, grinning toothily at you.

"No," you say with a smirk. "Just making it for practice."

Luke is another fly in the ointment as it were. While Joel's personality is abrasive at best, Luke is tender and sweet and patient. When he talks to you he really seems like he cares to know your opinion. Unlike a certain Mister Miller.

"Maybe I'll give this one to Joel," Jennifer muses, as if reading your thoughts. "They say the way to a man's heart is through his stomach after all."

You give her a weak smile.

While you're ashamed that Joel's treatment of you is turning you on more than you want to admit, you're more ashamed that the woman in front of you is supposed to be your friend, your best friend, and you're keeping this all from her.

It wouldn't matter as much if she didn't like Joel. You could excuse your lack of sharing on being a private person. But you know that Jennifer likes Joel and keeping this from her is dishonest. But you're also a coward because you can't find the words to tell her.

"How was shooting practice with Luke?"

"Good," you tell her honestly, feeling a blush overtake your cheeks. "I shot four cans from a pretty fair distance."

"That's amazing!" Jennifer wraps you in a hug from behind. "See I knew you just needed a little practice!"

You grin shyly, feeling pleased and pretty damn proud of yourself.

"So did you like being with Luke alone?" Jennifer says casually as you set the temperature on the stove. There's something about the way she says it that gives you pause.

When you look up she's grinning into her bowl, a sneaky little grin just for herself. The answer is there before you even ask the question.

"You planned that?"

You stare at her open-mouthed. Jennifer shrugs at you, as if she is not the most devious person in the room.

"I mean I did need to help with textiles but I didn't need to miss practice." She winks at you. "And I may just get called away at the last minute next week too."

"Jennifer!"

The two of you dissolve into laughter, the rest of the morning bathed in shades of pink. Jennifer has that uncanny ability to bring color into every room.

A short while later you remove the dual cakes from the oven, praising Jennifer on hers. With your coaching her cake is going to be edible (which is more than you can say for her past baking ventures).

"Okay these need to cool before we ice them."

"Good, its lunch let's go get something."

You follow her out your front door, both of you pulling on your jackets as Jennifer chats on about how the textile group has needed her for the occasional shift.

"I don't mind though," she says tossing her blonde locks over her shoulder. "I love seeing all the fabric."

You wish that you could listen to Jennifer, to give all of your attention to her. But it's just not possible at this point, your mind is elsewhere.

It's back in that room with Joel.

Tommy and Maria are eating when you and Jennifer arrive to the dining hall. They wave you over with a smile and the two of you bring your trays to their table, joining them.

Maria is wearing Douglas across her chest and he is milk drunk, passed out and grunting slightly in his sleep.

"Hi you two."

Maria looks exhausted with dark hollows under her eyes. But she smiles anyway, kissing Douglas's forehead and turning to you.

"How have you been?"

"Good how about you?"

"Tired," she smiles weakly. "Oh, I meant to ask if there was any chance you'd be willing to make some more flowers for us? I don't mean to be selfish but I'd just love Douglas to have some bright yellow ones in his room."

"Of course!" You're delighted that you can do something to help your friend. "I'd love to, I'll work on it this weekend."

Maria gives your upper arm a gentle squeeze of thanks, whispering to Douglas that the nice lady was going to make his room beautiful.

"Seems we're all gonna be working hard this weekend," Tommy muses over his coffee. "Gotta start getting some of the holiday stuff out of storage at our place."

You wrinkle your nose in surprise.

"Christmas isn't for over a month."

"Yeah but it takes a lot to put on a holiday party for the town," Tommy says through a bite of salad as if you should know this already.

"Tommy this'll be her first one," Maria reminds him.

"Oh shit that's right," Tommy nods just as Jennifer retakes her place across from you. Tommy motions to her with his fork.

"Jenny knows all about it."

"What do I know all about?"

"The yearly holiday party."

Jennifer immediately grins enthusiastically.

"My favorite event of the year. The whole town comes out, everyone brings food, there's a band, dancing, booze, presents... It's always so much fun and goes until the next morning usually."

"We decorate the big barn by the stables," Tommy continues and you see the genuine joy in his eyes, like thirty years have been stripped away and he's just a sweet, boy on Christmas morning. "It's a big job, but with enough volunteers it goes pretty smooth."

"We'll help you," Jennifer says out of nowhere before looking at you. "Right?"

The thing you love most about Jennifer is also the thing that drives you the most insane. She's always wanting to help people, and that would be fine if she didn't try to rope you in with her.

Even if you didn't want to volunteer there's no possible way that you can say no now. Tommy is glancing over at you with an expectant raise of his eyebrows, Maria matching him.

"Yeah of course. What do you need done?"

"Well we got music, set up and tear down taken care of, that's usually the hard stuff," Tommy says, rubbing his beard absently as he looks off in the middle distance. Then he snaps, remembering. "How about decorations?"

"Sure," Jennifer nods. "I love decorating, plus I worked in textiles so I have access to fabric and stuff."

"Great," Tommy says looking overjoyed. "Joel'll be happy to have the help."

"Joel?""

Both you and Jennifer blurt the name out at the same time, though for very different reasons.

"Yeah Joel is in charge of cutting down and decorating the tree this year. Guy who normally does it broke his leg last week."

"Decorating a tree doesn't really sound like a three person job," you reason, pushing your carrot stick around your plate.

"You haven't seen how big the tree is," Tommy grins. "Joel's gonna get a big one, at least twelve feet. Plus there's hanging the lights around the barn and all that stuff."

"Leave it to us, Tommy."

Jennifer is fucking beaming as she goes back to her lunch, Maria and Tommy are exchanging smiles, but all you can do is hold in the nerves that begin in your stomach.

Tommy and Maria depart shortly thereafter with the latter giving you a squeeze to your shoulder before she leaves.

"I can't believe it, more chances to be alone with Joel," Jennifer giggles.

"I'll be sure to give you two a lot of alone time," you snark. "Take a page from your book."

The last thing you want is to be witness to more of them flirting, especially when thoughts of Joel have you feeling so churned up.

Jennifer laughs, about to reply to you when you both hear her name being called. An older woman with spiky grey hair is standing by the entrance to the hall and signalling for Jennifer to come over. Jennifer groans, muttering under her breath so only you can hear.

"I know that look. She needs help with something at the shop,” Jennifer rolls her eyes as she stands. "Any chance you could ice my cake? I'll pick it up later if that's okay?"

"Uh, I might be out for a walk," you say hurriedly. "How about I just bring it over to you later?"

"You don't mind?"

"Not at all."

"You're a peach!" Jennifer gives your hand a squeeze before excusing herself to join the woman standing expectantly at the dining room doors.

You watch after your friend, musing that it’s so like Jennifer to want to help everyone. But now that you know why she keeps her days so busy your heart aches for her. How can you think of being attracted to Joel when you know your friend likes him? A friend that's done so much for you.

Joel Miller isn't worth this anxiety or stress. It's not like he even enjoys your company. You're fairly certain he just gets off on ordering you around. You need to push him from your mind.

You'll go to dinner tonight, you'll do patrols with him, but you'll keep it professional. You are going to help Jennifer get with Joel. The decision is made. It's the least you can do for a woman who has been through so much.

Your name is called, breaking you from your thoughts. You glance over your shoulder to see Arthur and Penny headed in your direction with trays.

"I thought that was you," Arthur says with a grin. "Mind if we join you?"

"Please do."

The two of them sit shoulder to shoulder across from you. They fold their hands, muttering a quiet prayer for grace and then start digging in. You watch them, amused at how mis-matched a pair they are.

"So whaddya you do around here sweet pea?" Penny asks through a bite of toast. Up this close you notice her front left tooth is cracked.

"I do patrols," you say. She curls her lip at you, perplexed.

"Whassat?"

"It's when groups of us that take turns going outside the walls to make sure infected and Raiders don't get in or do damage to the dam." You pause hoping you've explained it decently. "

Penny gives a low whistle. "Dayum, that seems like an awful job. I'd rather clean up garbage any day."

“It's pretty much just been carrying a gun and riding a horse so far for me."

And mutual pleasure from my nemesis.

"I don't envy ya," Penny says shaking her head and dropping back to her lunch.

You don't know what to say to that. You watch them eat for a moment, intending on leaving them to it when Arthur starts talking.

"I wanted to ask you, when did you want to get together for the portrait? I'd love to get back into it and I know I promised you, so I've set up my table by the window and Maria's given me some paper and pencils."

"She did? That's great."

You haven't been by to see Maria since the meeting and her anxious looking face keeps floating back into your mind. You know that she must be feeling overwhelmed with everything on top of Douglas.

"She's a sweet lady," Penny observes. "Gotta bad case a' baby blues though."

You stiffen.

"Why do you say that?"

"Could see it the second I met her," Penny says absently drinking her tea. Her large eyes scan the room, obviously still nervous at the crowds. "Mothers know these things."

"You have children?"

You don't miss the look of anguish that touches both their features. Before she speaks you know what she'll say.

"Used to."

Arthur is somber when Penny goes quiet, as if behind his pale eyes, his mind is concocting images of the face of the nameless child. Feeling guilty and uncomfortable you want to change the topic, your brain clinging the first thing that comes to your mind. Which happens to be the previous topic.

"Arthur, I know I asked you about portraits, but I'm actually wondering if I could trade in that favor for a different one."

Arthur shoots you a watery grin.

"Lay it on me."

///

You take a look at yourself in the mirror over your dresser that evening. It's faded, warped from age and damp. But it does the job and it reflects your tired eyes and your simple clothing.

You blink at yourself before pulling on a new crimson-colored sweater, one of several that Jennifer gave you a few weeks ago claiming they would go wonderfully with your skin tone.

You don't know why you're so nervous as you head to Rancher Street with the cake in your hands. You've been invited for dinner, it's sure to be a pleasant night. The cake wobbles in your nervous grip, the frosting gleaming in the fading sunlight.

When the house comes into view you see Joel sail by in the window, going from one end to the other, reading something. His gaze is fixed, his head tilted to the page. From here you see his strong profile, the curve of his nose, and the pout of his lips.

Fuck. Don't think about his lips.

You swallow nervously as you make your way up the creaking porch steps. You take a full moment to stare at the door, looking at the chipped paint and the swept porch deck.

It's just a dinner. Ellie will be there. I'll be fine.

You knock gingerly with your free hand, shifting from one foot to the next as you hear footsteps approach.

Joel opens the door sharply, brows furrowed before he realizes it's you. His dark eyes widen slightly, scanning you and the cake. Immediately your heart begins to pound in your chest, your cheeks heating the longer his eyes linger on your face.

He's dressed as he always is, flannel and jeans. His hair is tousled, as if he's been running his fingers through it. You look at Joel's wool socks, strangely fascinated. They're a deep grey, worn and thick, they're so human. He stares at you, looking confused and a little surprised.

"Can I help you?"

His voice comes rumbling from his chest, deep and measured. You can't stop looking at his neck, noticing the sharp of his jaw, the fullness of his mouth. It has you feeling strangely distracted.

You lick your lips nervously, inhaling quietly when his gaze drops to your mouth and then back again.

"Uh... I'm here for dinner," you say breathlessly. "I brought the cake."

He peers at you, confusion clear in his expression.

"Dinner?"

"Uh, yeah..." Your neck is starting to heat because Joel is crossing his arms over his chest, tilting slightly against the door frame and he doesn't look like he has any idea of what you're talking about.

"Didn't you invite me to dinner tonight?"

He shakes his head slowly.

"But Ellie sa-" you start before slamming your lips together as realization belatedly dawns in your features.

Ellie wanted you for dinner. Ellie realized that you'd never stay if you thought Joel didn't expressly invite you.

Ellie played you.

"I'm sorry, I think there's been a misunderstanding," you say, feeling humiliated as Joel continues to stand there staring at you.

You thrust the cake towards him, your eyes on the ground.

"I made this for Ellie," you tell his socks. "Could you just give it to her?"

Joel takes the cake from you, his fingertips trailing over yours as he does. You swallow again, feeling the little bolts of lightning that start at his touch. You watch as Joel quietly prepares to close the door, his eyes now on the ground.

You hear the twist of the knob and can only make a little scoffing noise in the back of your throat. What had you been thinking? Had you really been so stupid as to think Joel Miller invited you over for dinner when he can barely stand you?

"Hey," he begins, but you're already starting to move down the porch, humiliation coming off of you in waves.

You both hear your name and your head jerks up to see Ellie coming up the walkway to the house, her arms laden down with bags. She sees you at the door and smiles broadly before she sees you heading away from the porch.

"Where are you going?"

"Ellie, I don't really know why I'm here."

Ellie's immediately deflates, her good spirits dimmed.

"I wanted you to have dinner with us."

It's impossibly sweet of Ellie to want to spend time with you, but is Joel a necessary part of the equation?

"Why did you tell me Joel invited me to join you both for dinner?"

"Because I knew if I didn't you wouldn't come."

Ellie's gaze sails away from you and over to Joel who stands with his shoulder against the doorway, arms crossed and brow raised. He looks unimpressed with the pair of you. Ellie gives a grunt, heading towards him with a frown.

"I invited her for dinner."

"Without askin' me first."

"Last time I checked it's my house too." Ellie shifts the bags in her hands. "I brought dinner and she brought dessert."

"Fine by me. I'll give you two some space."

Joel goes to retrieve his jacket from the hook by the door but Ellie makes a disapproving noise.

"No, you have to stay too."

Joel gives an exasperated roll of his eyes.

"Ellie what is this?"

Ellie looks like she's halfway between a cry and a shout. She doesn't answer until he reaches for his jacket again.

"It's my fucking birthday, okay?"

Joel goes still, his large eyes looking at her with confusion. A quiet moment passes between the two of them.

"Your birthday?"

"Yes."

There's a lot of confusion now on your end. The way they act you'd assumed they must have known each other for most of Ellie's life. But that can't be the case if her birthday is such a shock to him.

"I didn't know."

"Obviously. Now will you stop being a grumpy asshole so my friend can have dinner with us?"

Joel looks appropriately admonished, a hand sliding to the back of his pinking neck. He's about to speak but you cut in.

"Ellie this is a family thing," you try to appeal. "Here, take the cake and you two enjoy."

You go to hand her the cake but she shakes her head resolutely as she moves around Joel.

"Both of you."

With that she disappears inside leaving you and Joel on the porch in tense silence. He sighs quietly before shifting his eyes to your face.

"C'mon in then, I guess."

You follow the two of them into the kitchen, citing that you need to put the cake in the fridge just in case. It's been a long time since you made butter cream icing and you don't want it melting.

You set it amongst the array of vegetables and water bottles inside the ice box. Ellie grabs some plates and utensils while Joel stands watching you both.

"Grab the lemonade man," Ellie calls over her shoulder at him. You follow her into the other room, watching as she sets the table and indicates for you to take the nearest chair.

“Joel look what they're serving tonight!" Ellie laughs, holding up the huge plate full of ravioli from the dining hall. Joel gives a droll chuckle.

"My favorite."

Joel and Ellie exchange a secret smile, but not one that feels exclusionary. More just sweet to witness. Ellie scoops the pasta onto the plates and Joel fills up the glasses and the three of you take your seats and start eating.

You focus all your attention on the ravioli on your plate, taking small nibbles as your stomach is roiling.

You feel eyes on the side of your face and glance over to see Joel's eyes skimming back to his plate. He looks so sullen, his jaw clenching with every bite. Your eyes drift to the other side of the table to see Ellie. She's eating her pasta with gusto but you can see the defeated look in her face.

Some birthday dinner this turned out to be.

Joel sits on one end of the table looking uncomfortable, Ellie sits on the other end totally oblivious and you're in the middle of both with your eyes stuck on your dinner. You need to break this silence.

"So how old are you turning?"

"Fifteen," Ellie replies through a mouthful of ravioli.

"Same age I was when everything happened," you muse.

"Really?"

"Yeah," you nod. "Maybe that's why we get along so well. I haven't matured past fifteen."

You think you hear a small huff of amusement from Joel's direction but that might just be wishful thinking. The three of you eat your pasta in comfortable silence before Ellie turns her attention on you.

"Were you shooting yesterday? I thought I saw you and that tall guy."

Joel's attention drifts to you; you can feel it boring into the side of your face.

"Yeah," you answer quietly. "Our friend Je-“ you catch yourself, "our other friend had to work. Normally it’s the three of us.”

“Are you any good?”

“I’m better than when I started,” you smile, motioning to Joel with your fork. “But you can ask Joel, that’s not saying much.”

You dart a glance to see Joel smirking into his dinner. Ellie laughs through a mouthful of ravioli, before she shines her attention over your way.

“Did you hear about that party next month? Tommy was talking about it today.”

Who could forget the holiday party? The continued forced proximity with a man you just can’t quite figure out.

“My friend volunteered us for decorating,” you say, ignoring the way Joel’s motions still out the corner of your eye. “So I guess we better show up. Plus I’ve never been to one before so I’m curious.”

“We never had shit back like this in the QZ,” Ellie tilts back in her chair. “Closest we got is a pair of socks wrapped up with a bow. Fucking pathetic.”

“Language.”

Ellie rolls her eyes at Joel before looking back at you. “I hope this one is better than that.”

“You might need a dress if you go.”

The two of you glance over at Joel gulping back some of his lemonade. When he sees your dual questioning looks he raises his eyebrows, silently asking what?

Ellie stares at Joel as if she's been struck across the face. "The fuck would I wear a dress for?"

"In the south women dressed up for everything," Joel tells Ellie as he passes her the salad. "Just how things were done. My grammie wore a dress and pearls to go shoppin' in."

You can't help but discreetly glance down at your worn jeans and oversized sweater, suddenly seeing the snags and uneven loops in material. Not exactly dressed up. But you don't own nice, pretty clothes me up of soft feminine fabric. You have denim and leather and wool. Hard, fierce materials for the elements.

"I hate dresses," Ellie frowns. "And things have changed since your day old man."

"You little shit."

You smile into your pasta. The silence is back over the table and you feel the need to fill it, despite it being a comfortable one. Emboldened by the relaxed mood in all people at the table you shift your question to Joel.

"Are you going?" You ask casually, your attention on your meal. You hate how the flutter has begun in your chest.

"I better. I volunteered to help with it."

"I figured you might have just been doing it for Tommy," you shrug. "Can't say I picture you at some big event with dinner and dancing."

"Joel dancing?" Ellie sputters a laugh into her glass of water.

Joel arches a dark brow at Ellie.

"Just can't picture it," she says giggling.

"You know I wasn't born an old man," Joel says amused, turning his attention back to his dinner. "Did plenty of dancin’ in my day."

"Really?"

"S'half the reason Sarah was born," he says with a small smirk before he realizes what he's said.

The table grows quiet as his smile vanishes. Ellie notes the tension, shovelling pasta into her mouth. You feel a lurch in your stomach at Joel's queasy expression. As if you'd dug a blade down his sternum and exposed his still beating heart to the world.

It makes you speak without thinking, desperate to show him he's safe to share that side to him. Desperate to let him know he's not alone.

"My sister loved to dance," you offer up, feeling the dual gazes of the people at the table.

"My sister was in ballet but she'd uh, she'd do this stupid dance called the Macarena." You laugh a bit to yourself as you recall it. "It was really popular, was on the radio all the time and my dad hated it. I think that's why she kept doing it. He'd act all irritated but he'd always end up laughing." You smile at the memory. "She could always make people laugh."

Ellie is smiling broadly, fascinated by your stories of this time before and there’s something so comforting, so normal in talking about your sister like this. Like the world isn’t ended and ugly, like she could come walking through the front door right now.

"One time my dad waited until we were in the backyard and then he turned the hose on her when she started singing and doing it,” you say, laughing bubbling forth from you. Ellie joins in, amusement painted in her expression.

Joel is listening with a gentle curl of his mouth. Ellie turns her attention over to him.

"You ever do the Macaroni dance, Joel?"

"Macarena," Joel corrects. "And fuck no, I didn't."

His horrified expression and just hearing the term Macarena in his husky drawl has you laughing loudly, a bright, noisy thing that bursts from you. It brings Ellie along with it, giggling and snorting as Joel rolls his eyes, his mouth twitching as if he's unable to keep the smirk from spreading over his features.

The laughter ebbs comfortably and you shoot Joel a grateful look.

"It's nice to remember the good times."

The smile he gives you in return is soft and sweet.

"Yeah. It is."

His gentleness makes your chest ache in a way you don't quite understand. It makes you feel compelled to change the topic. You shift your attention over to Ellie who is watching you both with a small curve of the corner of her mouth.

"Uh, so, I didn't know it was your birthday but I guess I actually got you a gift,” you tell her. “If you want it and Joel's okay with it."

Joel looks on edge, brow raised in confusion. Ellie wears a twin expression, but more relaxed.

"Really?"

She looks around you for a box or wrapped item.

"I, uh, found someone to do your tattoo to cover up your scar."

Immediately the room is silent and Ellie’s hand unconsciously places itself on her forearm, hidden under her striped sleeve. Your eyes ping pong between the two of them, concerned you’ve done something wrong. Joel is quiet, his dark eyes surveying your face as if he doesn't know what to make of you.

"If you wanted it," you amend.

"Are you serious?" Ellie is wide-eyed.

"Yeah it's this new guy, Arthur. He just came to town with his wife. He does stick and poke tattoos and he owes me one so..." You trail off before forcing yourself to finish. "If you wanna see his work I'll introduce you to his wife. She's covered in them and they're gorgeous."

Joel is still quiet and you're not sure what to make of the silence. You frown over at him, grimacing slightly.

"Is that okay, Joel?"

Joel tilts back, one forearm lying casually on the table, the other resting on the back of his chair.

"I'll wanna meet this guy. Make sure he's trustworthy."

"Of course."

"If he is... Well, it's not my body not my choice. But if you want my opinion Ellie, I'd say it's a damn fine idea."

Relief blooms in your face as Ellie gives a squeak of delight. Joel is still looking at you though, face relaxed.

Ellie is still staring at you a beat before whipping her gaze to Joel. The two of them share a private grin before Ellie turns round to look back at you.

"Can we go tonight?"

You laugh. "No, but I can see if there's room in his schedule later this week. If you come to lunch in the dining hall tomorrow his wife might be there."

"Awesome!"

You smile back at her, feeling a familiar tug under your ribs every time you're happy. A measure of guilt mixed with joy. It makes your eyes wet and you push back from the table needing a moment to breathe.

"I'll go grab your cake," you mutter, striding from the room. You hear the two of them chatting quietly behind you as you pull the cake from the fridge.

You search the drawers for three plates and a knife, sniffling slightly. All you can think of is this bubbling joy and how she's not here to see it, to feel it, to live it too.

You take a moment to stare at the pale pink cake. The icing on it is lumpier than you would have liked, but you'd been rushed for time. You look at the sliced strawberries and delicate whirls and you frown.

This cake couldn't be less Ellie. Ellie is dark berries and bittersweet chocolate. She's not strawberries and pale pink icing. You idly wonder why you made this specific one for her today.

You know why.

You cut into the cake to shut up the voice, noting how dense it ended up being with each pass of the blade. You cut it into several pieces, wiping at your eyes with the back of your sleeve with each slice.

You feel a presence behind you; footsteps slow as they make their way next to you. Joel deposits the empty dinner dishes into the sink with a light clatter. You inhale his clean laundry and wood shavings scent, feeling dizzy. You wait for him to leave, but he’s standing there beside you, his frame sturdy. You drag your eyes up his chest to his face.

"That was kind of you, doin' that for Ellie."

"Oh, I'm not doing anything," you say with a shy lift of one shoulder. "Just the organizer."

Joel nods, tongue lodged in the side of his cheek as he stares at you thoughtfully. You let your hair fall in front of your face, worried he'll see the sheen to your eyes. It effectively blocks him out as you plate one of the cake pieces.

"She's a good kid," you offer, knife gliding over the dish. "She deserves good things."

"She does."

"Arthur is really nice," you tell him, hoping that if you continue to distract yourself by talking that your tears won't spill down your cheeks. "And I know he'd be discreet."

"S'good."

"So if you want to-"

You break off when you feel Joel's fingers sliding through your hair, moving it over your left shoulder so he can peer into your face. His fingers slip down your shoulder blade before leaving your body. You track each movement, body tingling.

"You okay?

You blink quickly, pulse jumping. His eyes hold nothing but concern in their depths, confusing you.

"Yep. I'm fine."

He cocks his head slightly, one hand braced against the counter.

"And the truth?"

You swallow, plating the remaining slices of cake.

"Do you ever feel guilty that you're alive and others aren't? Like... Every time I feel a little bit happy it's like its wrong."

Joel nods but he doesn't offer more than that. You're thankful because you're not sure any words could have brought a modicum of comfort anyway.

You scrub at your eyes with the back of your sleeve before taking a page from Jennifer’s book; forcing a wobbly smile onto your face and motioning to the cake.

“So are we singing Happy Birthday?”

“Not a fuckin’ chance.”

You grin at him, handing him his slice of cake and following him back into the dining room. Ellie there, looking excitedly to you as you slide her cake in front of her. She plucks the strawberry off the top, popping it into her mouth.

You take your lemonade glass and raise it.

"To Ellie on her birthday," you say with a grin. "May your coming year be full of adventure."

Ellie smiles with a shy tilt of her face into her shoulder. You're surprised when you see Joel raise his own glass.

"And less joke books."

Ellie sputters a laugh at this, head back her shoulders shaking. Joel chuckles at her and once again you feel like you're witnessing something sweet without being left out. Like they're letting you peek into their secret selves.

“So was this an okay birthday dinner?” you ask.

“My first real one,” Ellie shrugs. “So it’s a good one for me. Plus I don’t actually know my birthday. I just decided I liked November so…”

She shrugs trailing off, her eyes stuck on the cake like she’s ashamed. You dart a look at Joel to see him similarly surprised at this admission. How could he not know? You glance back at Ellie who looks somber.

“I love that idea,” you enthuse. “I never liked my birthday. I think I’ll move mine to the summer so it’s always sunny when I celebrate. I guess you’ll have to make me a cake for mine, Ellie, so you better start practicing.”

Ellie grins over at you as you stick a fork into your piece of cake, the tension broken. The three of you are quiet as you savor the burst of flavor on your tongues.

“This is so good,” Ellie enthuses. “Way better than anything in the dining hall.”

You smile into your cake, flushing at the praise.

“So aside from a tattoo what would you want for your birthday?” Joel asks Ellie, his soulful eyes sincere. In moments like this you can see so clearly that he is a father, and a dedicated one at that. If Ellie asked for the moon you have no doubt he’d manage it.

“I wanna see a dinosaur,” Ellie replies seriously. “Or see space like in those books you got me.”

"Time travel," Joel nods, grinning. “I’ll see what I can do.”

The three of you chat casually about things in town, about Ellie and school until your plates are empty and Ellie is announcing she’s full after her third piece.

Before you can start helping with the dishes she has your wrist in your grasp and is announcing to Joel that you and her are going to do girl stuff so he needs to leave you both alone. Joel hides the amusement in his features, nodding as you’re dragged away.

She pulls you into her bedroom, closing the door and motioning for you to follow her. You smile at her, feeling a bit of that sisterly affection flow through you as you watch her pace around her room, looking for something. She moves things on her shelves as she talks to you over her shoulder.

"Are you going to the party with that guy you're always with?"

"Luke?"

"Yeah that sounds right. Is he your boyfriend?"

Your eyes fly wide before you give an awkward chuckle.

"No. Not my boyfriend."

"But you want him to be?"

"I don't really know," you answer honestly, fingers trailing along the edge of her desk. “Jennifer keeps trying to get us alone together.”

Ellie makes a face at this, halfway between exasperation and disgust as she throws back the pillows she moved. It makes you giggle but then feel guilty because Jennifer is truly one of the best people you know.

"Why do you dislike her so much?"

"I dunno," Ellie shrugs her left shoulder. "Just think she's phony is all. Just like Diana."

"I used to think that too," you tell her honestly. "Jennifer suprised me though. I think you'd like her if you gave her a chance, Diana too."

Ellie just shrugs again, hands in the pocket of her jeans in a way that is all Joel. So much of her is, from her scowl to the way she sticks her lower lip out in thought. She looks over at her dresser, eyes brightening.

“That’s where I left it.”

You watch as she pulls out a dark blue ribbon holding it in front of her.

"I never pictured you as a ribbons in your hair kind of person," you tell her honestly.

"I'm not." She hands the ribbon to you. “It’s for you. It’ll look nice in your hair.”

You’re touched by this, taking the ribbon, fingers dancing along the frayed edges. It’s a midnight blue, the deep of an ocean. You smile at her gratefully before pocketing it.

“Thanks Ellie, but it’s your birthday you’re the one that should be getting presents.”

“I got enough tonight,” Ellie says, looking away from you shyly. She strides over to the bookshelf, bringing out a book you didn't see during your last visit here. She holds it up to you as you approach.

"Did you ever read this one? Joel says it's a good one."

Charlotte's Web.

You feel your stomach churning the longer you look at the title. The pale watercolor girl and pig.

"Yeah," you say in a quiet voice. "It's a good one."

Ellie nods, looking back at it before tossing it onto her bed, obviously her evening reading. She's quiet for a few moments, contemplating something before gazing over at you.

"Don't tell Joel I'm thinking of going to the party. He'll just make a big deal about it."

You smile, touched by her trust in you.

"Our secret."

///

When the moon hangs low in the sky and the world feels quiet you find yourself under the big window in your bedroom sitting under a knitted blanket, eyes wide. Your pupils look like little moons themselves, eclipsed when the reflection is shifted as you tilt your head.

You've always loved looking at the moon. Unlike the sun that can be harsh and unforgiving, the moon is calm solemnity. It's quiet and forgiving. It bathes you in a soft glow and your neighborhood in a quiet still.

You realize that being with Joel is like being exposed in the sun. Often harsh, unforgiving rays that burn your skin, but when it's warm and gentle attention is on you it's so enticing you want to bask in it. It's not as if you actually enjoy his company. He's fucking insufferable. It's because he withholds so much that when he finally relents and allows a bit of softness to trickle through it's like a stream you want to drown in.

You were always been the one who wanted to befriend the feral cat, to earn their affection, to let them know you could be trusted. You suppose that must translate into this life now, a desire to tame the wild.

And now you sit in the night, gazing at darkness, lost in thought. Tonight is one of those nights, the kind where your mind won’t quiet and the world seems more confusing than normal.

Sometimes on these nights under the moon you watch people wander up and down the streets. The night owls that aren't bidden by a clock like the rest of the town. But it’s almost three in the morning and the streets are empty.

It leaves you with nothing but your increasingly frenzied thoughts because if you focus you can still feel the sensation of Joel’s wide fingers buried in your cunt, the rasp of his warm breath on your neck, the husky urging of his rumbling voice telling you to come for him.

I know what you feel like when you're close. Don’t fight it.

Be a good girl and do it.

Give it to me. S’mine

You could write it off as nothing but lust but then dinner with Ellie? It had been a softening, a sweetness you peeked through the cracks of his hard planes. You’d seen love in his eyes for her, compassion for you. And above all you’d felt safety there in his home, a brief flash of it before your past memories caught up with you, nipping at your heels. Then the sensation of his hands moving your hair over your shoulder, the touch all tender and asking nothing in return but your honesty.

Joel Miller confuses you.

And then like some phantom you see him.

He’s there amongst the dreary wet snow, walking – well, stumbling slowly towards your home. He must have been at the Bison – he has the look of a man who’s had one too many, something you’ve never truly witnessed in him before.

You tense up, watching him in your window, knowing he can’t see you in the darkness but still paranoid he’ll sense you. With the moon high in the sky you can see him perfectly, the blue-black shape of his broad body and soft curls. You see when he comes to stand in the center of the street and you inhale softly when his eyes fix on your bedroom window.

He stands there for several minutes just staring, sort of wobbling from foot to foot. For some reason his presence compels you into pulling on a robe and rushing downstairs. Your blood is roaring in your ears and you know your pulse is doing its own little tap dance but it doesn’t stop you from jerking open the door.

"Joel?"

Joel is standing on your porch now with his dark eyes squinting against the light from your home shining out behind you.

"Joel, it's three am."

Joel just stares at you, a long lingering thing. Something about the intensity of it makes any further remarks die on your tongue. Why did you come down here? Why did you open the door? Why did you invite this awkward moment into your life?

Joel stands there with glassy eyes fixed on your face. His hands are shoved deep in his pockets and for a moment you worry something might actually be wrong. You pull your robe tighter around you before you take a step towards him.

"Joel are you-"

You go silent when he holds up a hand in front of him, palm facing you, silently asking you to stop talking.

"Just ..." he trails off, voice thick with sleep and alcohol.

He makes no move to come closer, no attempt to touch you. He just stares at you a few more minutes and then with a satisfied little nod to himself he walks off your porch and into the night. You watch him trail down your steps and then his long legs carry him in the direction of Rancher Street.

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@olafsmiles2020

@survivingandenduring

@sofiparallel

@bitchesuntitled

@r4vens-cl4ws

@deninoe

@harriedandharassed

@honestly-really-magnificent

@joelmillersblog

@alma-rt1

@fancyyoouu

@whataboutcloneclub

@cuteanimalmama

@locaparapedrito

@kateg88

@noisynightmarepoetry

@r3dheadedwitch

@hjzghi-blog

@ladyofmidlo72

@glitterymanboy

@cumberpegg

@part2joelmiller

@nandan11

@anon221420

@scubacat

@swankyorange

@deansimpalagirl

@locaparapedrito

@marisemonteiroo

@cuteanimalmama

@caitlynsixxx

@macaroni676

@dreamtofus

@copperhalfcent

@yesjazzywazzylove-blog

@ashhlsstuff

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