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joelscurls · 1 year

Text

to the ends of the earth

pt ii of feel it in your bones | epilogue

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

words: 12k

summary: You spend the week of Spring Break in Austin with your long-distance-boyfriend Joel. As you settle into a comfortable routine together, questions regarding your future arise.

warnings: 18+, minors dni, no outbreak, age gap (reader is in her late 20s, Joel is in his late 40s), fluff, angst (ik ik i’m sorry), smut, phone sex, masturbation (f, m), semi-public touching, unprotected p in v, squirting, creampie, soft dom!Joel, hair pulling, tiniest bit of nipple play, implied oral (f receiving), brief mention of shower sex, use of pet names (darlin’, baby, etc.)

a/n: i’m honestly so overwhelmed with all the positive feedback I got on part 1 - thank you all so much! there will be a part 3 in the form of a lil epilogue, so stay tuned for more of these two! as always, ty to @caffeinated-validation for giving this your eyes <3

Long distance sucks.

It’s been six months to the day since Homecoming Weekend, five since you and Joel put a label on things: “exclusive”. Not like you’d been talking to anyone else. Since Joel left Vermont that first time, he’d occupied your mind, made a home there, nestled deep between grooves of soft brain matter.

He’s been back a couple of times since. Quick weekend trips — much like the first one — just without the bad art and couch surfing. And each time he’s come and gone has been more painful than the last. More memories to reminisce on when you lay in bed alone. More words exchanged to drown in. You feel as if your heart has been ripped apart and stitched haphazardly back together every time he slips from your embrace.

The last time you’d seen him in person was New Year’s, when you’d rented a cabin in the Green Mountains, watched Joel react to his first snow, exchanged I love yous for the first time under falling flurries.

It feels now as if it were a lifetime ago.

It’s never enough — time, kisses, touches. It’s all so fleeting. You want, more than anything, to burrow into Joel’s chest and make a permanent residence there. To go with him where he goes, be with him where he is, always.

But you know you can’t — it’s not realistic. You have your life here, and Joel has his there. You remind yourself of this fact more times a day than you’d like to admit.

You will be with him again soon enough, though, and for the longest stint of time yet. An entire week in Texas, you and Joel.

The thought of it keeps you going in the leadup to spring break.

It’s the night before your flight, an early-morning departure from Burlington International Airport. You’ve waited until the last minute to pack, so here you are, hovering above your suitcase — which lays sprawled out on your bed — aimlessly throwing pairs of underwear and t-shirts into the main compartment.

Your phone buzzes on the nightstand. A much welcomed distraction.

And then you notice that it’s Joel calling.

Your heart skips a beat. You answer. Put it on speaker-phone.

“Hello?,” you purr, flopping down on the small empty space on the bed.

“Hi baby,” he drawls, his voice so sweet and saccharine it makes you melt. “All packed?”

“Yeah,” you lie. “I’m ready.”

“Me too,” he says. “So ready. I miss you.”

“I miss you,” you parrot. “How was your day?”

He sighs. “Fine, I guess. Had a bunch’a loose ends to tie up at this site before Tommy takes over for the week. A lot’a back and forth on the phone, orderin’ shit.”

“I’m sorry,” you say, “I hope you won’t be stressed all week thinking about it.”

He hums, so deep it vibrates through the phone. It goes straight to your core. “Impossible, babygirl. Once I have you here, ‘m not gonna be thinkin’ ‘bout anything else.”

Your face heats. An unignorable pang of desire swells in your chest.

“Joel,” you say, desperation already coloring your voice.

“Yeah?”

“I need you.”

Phone sex has become somewhat of a norm for you and Joel, that overwhelming need to be close to one another manifesting as desperate touches of your own fingers and half-coherent pleas through the speaker. It’s rare that a bedtime conversation between the two of you doesn’t end in panting down the line, telling each other goodnight through labored, satiated breaths.

Tonight, your need for him is bordering on carnal, carving into your skin like a sharp blade. You know you’ll have him tomorrow, and a number of days after that, but still, it feels so intangible, unreal. Like you can’t let yourself fully believe it until he’s in your arms.

And so you need him — right now — in any way you can have him.

“You wanna touch yourself?”

“Yes Joel — please.”

“Fuck babygirl,” he breathes. “Okay. Lemme take care’a you.”

You slip your fingers under the waistband of your sweatpants impatiently. You feel yourself through the thin fabric of your panties and, unsurprisingly, you’re soaked. It’s like you’ve been pavloved — like all you need is the sound of Joel’s voice, soft and deep like crushed velvet, and you’re gone — every single time.

“I’m so wet,” you mewl.

Joel groans on the other end. He sounds almost pained, like not being there to feel you, to taste you, is physically hurting him. If it is though, he covers it up well, snapping his attention back to you like a reflex.

“You still got your pants on?,” he asks.

“Yes.”

“Take ‘em off for me. And your panties.”

You do as he says, pulling your sweatpants and underwear down in one tug, letting them bunch at your ankles.

“They’re off,” you say.

“Good. Now touch yourself baby, go ahead.”

You shallowly dip two fingers into the pool of arousal that’s formed between your thighs. Then you glide slick digits over your aching clit, back and forth, a quiet whimper slipping from your mouth.

“‘ts it, darlin’,” he coos, “rub that pretty pussy for me.”

You pretend your fingers are his — bigger, rougher — as you increase the pressure you’re applying and begin to rub tight circles against your clit. The thought of your touches being his, instead, leaves you failing to swallow back a moan.

“Joel – ngh – it feels good.”

“‘Good, baby,” he says. “Doin’ so good for me.”

You keep going, your breaths becoming increasingly uneven, your hips inadvertently canting off the bed in an attempt to create more friction. You can sense that you’re dripping onto the duvet below you, staining it with your arousal. You’re way past caring at this point — you just need to cum.

You bring your other hand between your thighs, teasing your entrance. You sigh when you find how much wetter you’ve gotten in just a few minutes. You’re sure Joel must be able to hear the lewd slickslickslick of your fingers swirling against your sopping cunt — which he confirms when he curses under his breath.

“Fuck; that all for me, darlin’?”

“Mhm,” you moan.

“Gonna fuck yourself with your fingers for me? Cum all over ‘em, imaginin’ it’s my cock, instead?”

“Yes,” you cry. “Please, Joel, need your cock so bad.”

“I know babygirl, I know.”

You push two fingers inside as deep as you can get them, crooking them against your walls until you find that spongy spot. You fuck yourself in time with the fingers rubbing your clit, your pace reflexively increasing when you start to feel that familiar warmth growing in your abdomen.

You feel it build, up up up — and then it falls, fading completely.

“Fuck,” you murmur.

You don’t relent. But again and again, even with the perfect amount of pressure applied to your clit and the fingers in your pussy curved just right, you find your orgasm just out of reach. You let out a frustrated whine, your movements stalling completely. You can’t get there, not like this, not alone.

“Joel,” you punch out, “need you to touch yourself. Need you to cum with me.”

He inhales a sharp breath through his teeth. “Fuck, sweetheart — okay.”

You hear a faint clink of his belt on the other side of the phone, followed by the telltale whir of a zipper. There’s rustling over the line. When you hear him sigh, you know his cock is in his hand. And then there’s a shift in his breathing, subtle, but enough that you pick up on it. Evidence that he’s started stroking himself.

“Shit,” he hisses. “Miss that perfect little cunt so bad, baby. Can’t wait to fuck you again. Gonna ruin you.”

You love when he talks to you like this — when he loses himself in it and his tongue works faster than his brain. You’d never imagined when you first met him, reserved, quiet Joel, that he could be so filthy.

“Tell me —“ you plead — “tell me how you’re gonna fuck me, Joel.”

“Fuck, gonna get you in my bed, burry my face between your legs until you’re beggin’ me to stop…”

“Shit,” you gasp, your fingers stuttering at his words.

“‘N then ’m gonna fill you up with this cock, make you go dumb on it, fuck you so good your eyes roll back in your head.”

You whimper. You know he’s not just all talk from experience, and the thought of him fulfilling all these promises so soon has you plummeting toward the brink. As long as he keeps going, keeps talking, you’re not going to last another minute.

“Gonna make you soak it, make you cum all over my fuckin’ cock. Fuck — swear ’m gonna make you feel so good, baby.”

You feel your orgasm approaching again. But it’s not waning, not this time. You chase it, letting Joel’s words run on a loop in your head: gonna fill you up with this cock, gonna make you feel so good, bury my face between your legs until you’re beggin’, gonna make you go dumb on it, gonna make you feel so good, so good, so good…

“So close Joel,” you breathe. “So fucking close.”

“‘ts it, darlin’”, he says, his voice strained. “‘m right behind you — shit — let me hear you cum. Wanna — ahh — wanna hear you.”

That’s all it takes, just his encouragement, and you’re cumming so hard the room spins.

You can faintly register Joel talking you through it, able to make out a string of good girls through ringing ears. When you finally start to come down, you can tell he’s nearing his own climax, panting down the line as your own breaths begin to even.

“Please Joel,” you beg. “Please cum for me.”

He lets out a low growl, and then your name is spilling from the tip of his tongue, over and over again, in between strangled moans.

The line is quiet for a moment, apart from you and Joel’s shallow breathing.

“Fuck,” he says when he’s recovered from his orgasm, “how many hours til you get here?

You laugh. “I don’t know — too many.”

“Yeah, too many,” he agrees.

There’s another lull. You yawn exasperatedly, only now realizing how exhausted you are. An earth shattering orgasm will do that to you, you guess.

Joel chuckles on the other end.

“Go to bed, baby. It’ll make the time go faster.”

You sigh. You don’t want to hang up. Don’t want to be without him again. But he’s right. He usually is — though you’d never admit it out loud.

“Yeah, okay,” you acquiesce after a moment.

“I love you,” he hums.

“I love you too, Joel.”

“Can’t wait to see you,” he adds.

You smile. You’re glad he can’t see you right now, can’t see how ridiculously giddy he makes you.

“Me either,” you say. “Goodnight.”

“Night, darlin’.”

You’re still grinning like an idiot when you hang up the phone. You lay there for a few minutes, just staring at the ceiling, willing time to move faster.

Eventually you peel yourself off the bed and finish packing. You throw in some lacy bras you know Joel will love — if you end up wearing any real clothes this week, that is. Then you zip your suitcase shut, toss it onto the floor somewhere, and slip under the covers.

You flick your bedside lamp off with a sigh, and begin your attempt to coax sleep. You are tired, but you’re more excited.

When you finally do drift off — at some ungodly hour of the morning — you dream of Joel, of his large arms wrapped around you, his honeyed voice in your ear. Tomorrow, he whispers, again and again. Tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow.

You wake up the next morning with butterflies the size of baseballs in your stomach. You get to the airport unnecessarily early, make it through security in record time, and plant yourself down at your gate with a coffee in hand two hours before your scheduled departure.

Your body is practically vibrating in your seat, only partially due to the caffeine. Joel will no doubt still be asleep at this hour, so you shoot him a text to wake up to:

at the airport, all checked in. can’t wait to see you, cowboy <3

And then you send one to Sarah, who you know will be awake, her study-abroad trip to Cambodia meaning she’s probably studying or eating dinner right now.

On my way to see your dad; miss you! Can’t wait to hear all about your studies sometime soon :)

She almost immediately responds:

Yay! Miss you both so much! Yes, talk soon pls - lots to catch you up on. The professors here want me to stay forever (I won’t, dw, need to be able to bother you and my dad on a more regular basis).

You laugh to yourself.

Sarah had been thrilled when she’d found out about your relationship. Had been way too proud of herself for setting you up. When you’d learned she’d faked sick the night you met Joel at the art exhibition, you’d found yourself unable to feign disapproval. How could you care, really, when you’d ended the night straddling him, kissing him?

Not that you’d told her that, of course. She didn’t need to know every detail of that weekend.

It had been…interesting, to say the least, navigating a long-distance-something with the father of one of your students. But Sarah hadn’t pried, even when you’d suspected she wanted to. She’d let it bloom into something more, something real, before beginning to pester you with the questions: isn’t he the worst cook? do you think you guys will get married? can I be your maid of honor if you do?

To which you’d responded: yes (affectionately), I don’t know, and of course you can.

You’ll miss her this week, but another part of you — a more selfish part — is thrilled to have a week alone with Joel, without any distractions.

So thrilled, you can barely steady your shaking hands enough to plug your phone into the outlet under your seat.

You scroll mindlessly on social media as it charges until it’s time to board. Then you’re shuffling single-file down the aisle of the plane to your row, hauling your suitcase into the overhead, and taking your seat next to the window.

It’s your first flight of two, separated by a three-hour layover. You make it to Philadelphia in just over an hour, halfway through the cheesy 2000s rom-com you’d selected on the inflight entertainment screen. You make a mental note to finish it on the next leg.

You get lunch once you’ve tracked down your new gate — pay seventeen bucks for a soggy airport sandwich and a bag of chips that, upon opening, is mostly air. When you sit down to eat, you notice that Joel texted you back.

Got one foot out the front door already. Can’t wait to see you babygirl.

You can’t help the embarrassing smile that pulls across your face.

You re-read the text no less than ten times before you board your next flight — then once more for good measure just before you put your phone on airplane-mode and shove it in your sweatshirt pocket.

This is it, you think as the wheels lift off the ground and the clouds come closer into view. No more countdown. It’s here.

You have to refrain from sprinting off of the plane as soon as it’s landed in Austin.

You grab your suitcase from the overhead with reckless abandon, nearly knocking another piece of luggage out of the compartment and onto a passing flight attendant.

“Shit, sorry,” you curse.

She glares at you, unamused.

“I’m just…I’m meeting someone here,” you ramble. “I guess I wasn’t paying attention. Too excited.”

She nods. Pops her gum. “Mhm. Have a good day, ma’am. Thanks for flying with us.”

You keep your head down as you disembark.

It’d been a packed flight, and so you find yourself weaving through the crowd that’s gathered at the gate as you exit, around parents who have stopped to tie their kids’ shoes and solo travelers pausing to book their ride shares.

You check your phone as you walk, unwilling to waste even a fraction of a second. Find the directions buried in the text thread between you and Joel detailing how to get from your terminal to the passenger pickup area.

You follow them, suitcase rolling behind you as you trudge along, down a couple escalators and through a corridor.

You round one last corner — and then you see him, standing with his back to a pillar, hands anxiously fiddling at his sides.

Now you are sprinting.

Your suitcase is abandoned somewhere behind you as you run toward Joel. He doesn’t see you at first. You make it a few feet, shoes squeaking on tile, before his head snaps up and his eyes catch yours. And then he’s bounding forward, meeting you in the middle, your bodies colliding, hard.

He throws both arms around you, squeezes you so tightly you think your blood vessels may burst. You accept your fate willingly, breathing him in, letting your hands rove along his broad back.

He smells like pine and worn leather and Joel.

He feels like home.

He bruises a kiss in your hair, whispering against your scalp in disbelief: baby, you’re here.

You stand wrapped up together for a long moment, Joel rocking you back and forth as you catch your breath. Then you pull apart to look at each other.

Only then does it begin to sink in — Joel is right in front of you, touching you — and you’re about to spend a whole week together.

“C’mere,” he drawls, grabbing both sides of your face and crashing his lips into yours. It’s a slow kiss, punctuated by gentle strokes of his fingertips along your jaw. Your tongue rolls against his and your fingers anchor into his shirt collar. It simultaneously feels like it lasts forever and not nearly long enough.

“C’mon,” he whispers against your lips when you part. “Let’s go home, darlin.”

You grab your forgotten suitcase and pull it behind you with one hand, the other in Joel’s as you walk to his truck. It’s parked just outside, at the curb, hazard lights blinking.

“Was supposed to wait here for you,” he explains as he opens the passenger door, helping you in. He takes your suitcase, throws it onto the backseat like it weighs nothing.

“I’m glad you didn’t,” you smile as he gets into the driver’s seat. “Felt like a rom-com — I liked it.”

“Yeah,” he says, turning his key in the ignition. His cheeks flush. “I liked it too.”

You stop for fast food on the way to Joel’s — Whataburger, naturally. They don’t have these in Vermont, so you try to savor your burger, but your long day of travel has you ravenous, so you wolf it down, ketchup smearing on the corners of your mouth between bites. Joel just laughs at you from the driver’s seat, piece of lettuce lodged between his front teeth.

You get it for him — fingernails prodding at his gums, but he lets you. Even sighs at the contact. When you flick the leaf off your fingertip, he pulls you in for a kiss, much softer than the one you shared in the airport, but dizzying, nonetheless. “Better?,” he whispers, and you’re not sure if he’s asking about his teeth or you, but both are true, so you hum affirmingly.

You sink back into your seat, adjusting your seatbelt where it’s tightened around your neck.

You feel full and drowsy as you throw your trash into the paper bag the food came in, tucking it by your feet.

You let your head rest against the window. The glass rattles against your skull as the truck begins to move, but you ignore it, too tired to care. And then you let your eyes shut — just to rest them — that’s all.

You don’t remember falling asleep.

You come to when you feel Joel at your side, trying to move you from the passenger seat.

“Baby,” you hear him say. Your eyes flutter open. He brings a hand up to your face, peeling stray strands of hair from where they’re stuck to your forehead and pushing them behind your ear.

“We’re home,” he drawls. “Let’s go inside, yeah?”

You nod groggily, still letting your eyes adjust to the daylight. You take in your surroundings: you’re parked in his driveway, his house right in front of you. Somehow, it’s just as you’d imagined it to be — big, sprawling porch at the front, meticulously kempt yard ornamented with a beautiful red oak tree. It’s so Texan, you think, so Joel.

He grabs your luggage from the truck. Then he helps you out, walks you with a large hand wrapped around your middle to the front door and into the house. Once inside, he sets your suitcase down.

And then he hugs you again, like he’s afraid to let you out of his embrace, lest you vaporize into thin air.

“Still tired? Wanna take a nap?,” he asks.

You yawn, right in his ear. He laughs; that’s enough of an answer.

“Alright,” he says. You follow him to his bedroom, too sleepy to argue. You pass through the kitchen and living room on the way. Through drooping eyes, you notice scattered pieces of Joel — the guitar leaning against its stand next to the couch, the pictures of him and Sarah lining the staircase. It makes your chest tighten, being here in his house, seeing the parts of him that he can’t bring with him when he visits you.

His room is the most him though — masculine and minimalist. A canvas with a ram painted on it hangs above his bed — a gift from someone, you assume. You can’t exactly imagine Joel strolling the aisles of Target, picking out artwork to hang in his house. There’s another photo of him and Sarah on his bedside table that must’ve been taken at her highschool graduation, cap adorning her head full of curls.

It makes you smile — all of it.

You lope over to the bed, climbing in when Joel pulls back the covers for you. He tucks you in with a kiss to your forehead. His duvet wafts his scent, when you pull it up to your face. You inhale it deeply. Commit it to memory.

“Wait,” you say as he turns to leave the room. “Aren’t you going to stay with me?”

He leans against the doorframe, wood creaking under his weight. “Well I don’t really nap, darlin’,” he admits. “You get some rest, I’ll just be doin’ some stuff around the house.”

“Please,” you say, sticking out your bottom lip at him. You watch as he thinks on it for a minute, then sighs in defeat.

“Okay, I’ll nap with you baby.”

He climbs in next to you. “Only for a little bit, though,” he mumbles, like he’s trying to convince himself.

His broad chest presses into your back. He drapes an arm over your side as you nuzzle into his embrace, so warm, so safe. He noses at your neck, leaving gentle kisses along your exposed shoulder. This, you think, is what heaven must feel like.

The sound of Joel’s breathing lulls you to sleep.

When you wake up, the room is cast in shadows. It’s dusk, you realize, wiping the sleep out of your eyes. You roll over. Find that Joel is no longer next to you.

His side of the bed is still warm, you notice, so he must not have gotten up too long ago.

You clamber to your feet, ignoring the blood rushing to your head as you stumble out of his room. You make your way down the stairs, hand braced against the wall as you descend. The lights are on in the living room — a sign of life. But Joel isn’t there.

You wander into the kitchen. He’s not here either. Did he leave the house? You look around for a note, fish your phone out of your pocket to see if he texted you. But you have zero notifications and the dining table is empty, apart from a pair of salt & pepper shakers and a napkin holder.

You call out for him, to no avail. Stumped, you make your way to the door that leads to the garage, the only room you haven’t checked yet, and wedge it open.

To your surprise, you find Joel standing at the back of his truck, loading something into the bed. Upon further inspection, you see that it’s blankets.

Huh?

“Hey,” you announce, making your way down the small set of stairs. He whips around at the sound of your voice. The color in his face drains, like he’s just been caught in the act of something.

“Darlin’,” he says, eyes wide. “You’re up.”

You join him by the truck. Let him rest a heavy arm on your shoulder. You peer up at him with a quirked brow. “What are you doing out here?”

“Well, I uh, I had planned somethin’ for you. Not sure if you’re up for it?”

You look back at the blankets in the truck bed. It’s not just blankets, you discover. There are pillows too, big ones, like the kinds you put on patio furniture, plus a small radio situated in the corner. And there’s a bag of chips leaned up against one of the pillows, next to a box of your favorite candy.

“A picnic… in your truck?”

He laughs. “Not quite. There’s a drive-in movie theater down the road. Thought we could go.”

Those butterflies from this morning suddenly return, swarming your insides at the realization — Joel planned a date for you.

It’s not that he isn’t normally romantic, because he is.

You recall one particular weekend he’d visited — he’d insisted on cooking dinner for you at your apartment, determined to make it perfect for you. He’d ended up burning the chicken and oversalting his sauce, but you hadn’t cared one bit — not when he’d gazed at you so adoringly across the candlelit table, one of your hands in his as he’d peppered each of your knuckles with kisses.

On another visit, he’d scouted one of the only nearby mountains you hadn’t hiked yet and climbed to the top with you — because the internet said this was the best spot to catch the sunset. You’d stood at the lookout, hand in hand, and shared your greatest dreams — yours to have your research published in a major publication, his to leave contracting behind and buy a sheep ranch. And when the sun had dipped behind the horizon, the sky bleeding vibrant pinks and oranges, he’d just looked at you.

So you know he’s romantic. Still though, you’re practically swooning at the scene in front of you.

“So, you wanna go?,” he asks. He scuffs his boot along the concrete floor, awkwardly. “It’s okay if you d-“

“Joel,” you say. “I wanna go.”

He smiles. Rolls the cover over the truck bed. Presses a kiss to your temple.

“Alright. Let’s go.”

The sky is dark by the time you get to the drive-in. There are already quite a few cars in the dirt lot, parked in neat rows facing the giant movie screen that sits at the edge of a treeline. There’s a person directing traffic, a teenage boy, you guess, based on his stature, and he twirls his light-up batons in the rearview as Joel rounds the corner to the back row.

He backs into a spot at the far-left, car to your right parked a good ten feet away. And then he cuts the ignition with a quiet grunt, steps out, and makes his way over to your door to open it for you and help you down.

The pillows in the truck bed had jostled around a bit on the drive over, Joel finds when he unfurls the cover. So he adjusts them, making sure everything is just right. Then he unlatches the tailgate and helps you hoist yourself up, following closely behind you as you crawl toward the back.

Once he’s set the radio to the right channel, Joel sits with his back flush to the truck cab and spreads his legs, patting one of his thighs in invitation. He doesn’t need to ask twice — you immediately crawl between them, letting your head fall back against his chest as he wraps his arms around you, enveloping you in him.

A satisfied hum escapes your lips. The realization hits you then that you hadn’t even asked what movie you were seeing. Not that you care much — it could be a documentary about grass, and you’d still have a good time, thanks to the company.

It’s some dystopian sci-fi thriller, you find, as the opening credits begin to roll, with a title you vaguely remember hearing in passing at some point.

And it’s good. You’re invested in the story by the end of the first act, curious to find out how the main character is going to save her love interest.

But then you lose interest, quickly, when you feel the white-hot touch of Joel’s fingers against your skin as he slips them under your shirt, inching down your stomach.

He halts when he gets to the waistband of your jeans, and your breath hitches, lodged somewhere in your throat when he dips one finger under the denim. Your hips lift reflexively and he laughs lowly in your ear, prompting a shaky exhale to sputter out of you.

“Stay still, darlin,” he whispers, slipping another finger into your pants.

You try, you really try not to move, but he’s teasing you, his fingers moving the pace of molasses toward your core, where he hasn’t touched you in months. You feel like your entire body is going to combust if he doesn’t make contact with your clit in the next five seconds.

You whine, quiet enough that it’s muffled by the sounds of the movie echoing from the radio, but still too loud for Joel, apparently. He reaches his free hand out to turn the volume up, pushing the nob a few decibels higher.

He returns his attention to you. “You want this, babygirl?,” he asks, fingers reaching the hem of your underwear.

“Yes,” you whisper pleadingly. “Please touch me, Joel.” You feel his cock stiffen behind you, prodding your back.

“Okay,” he says. He pulls his hand out completely to unbutton your pants and unzip them halfway. Then he’s cupping your sex through your panties, letting his fingers brush over the wet spot that has already formed.

“Gotta be quiet then,” he purrs. “Can ya do that for me?”

You’re not sure you can, to be honest. He’s barely touching you and you already feel like you’ve lost all control over your body. Whatever it does, however you react — you have no say in the matter. Still, you’re not about to tell him that, risk him stopping, so you nod, furiously, your desperate face illuminated by the flashing light of an action sequence playing out on screen.

He dips two fingers into your underwear, immediately pressing them to your seam. He curses under his breath behind you, clearly pleased with how wet you are for him, with how easily he breaks you down. He brings them up to your clit, then, swiping back and forth, back and forth, his calloused touch forcing you to suppress a yelp. His fingers feel so rough compared to yours, so good. Breaths are pouring out of you in quick succession, your chest heaving with pleasure.

You’re briefly paranoid as Joel continues his ministrations that someone might see — but as you glance around the parking lot, you realize that you can’t see anyone else, just shadows in cars and on folding chairs, all focused on the movie in front of them. Slouched within the walls of Joel’s truck bed, it’s impossible for anyone to clock what’s happening.

So you let your body relax, melting into Joel behind you, your hands clinging onto his thighs to hold yourself steady. “‘ts it baby,” he says, your pliancy encouraging him to press his fingers down harder. “Always so good for me, huh?”

“Y-yes,” you stutter, your voice still hushed.

“Yeah, you are” he agrees, rubbing your clit faster, more deliberately. He knows by now just how to touch you — exactly how to bring you straight to the edge and send you toppling over. And it’s clear that time apart hasn’t affected this in the slightest, your abdomen already tensing, familiar coil tightening threateningly in your core.

You warn Joel with a squeal. His free hand flies up to your face, covering your mouth in an instant. Your eyes roll back instinctively at the lewdness of it, of him muffling you with his palm. You moan freely against it, teeth scraping the skin there as your orgasm grows nearer and nearer and nearer.

It hits you hard. You have to bite down on Joel’s hand to keep from screaming out as it scorches through you, heating every inch of your skin as it does. Your fingernails are digging into Joel’s legs so hard you think you may be drawing blood even through thick denim. He talks you through it, quietly, his utters of atta girl, look at you, ya cum so pretty for me baby keeping you tethered to reality.

When your breathing begins to even and the trembling in your thighs subsides, he removes his hand from your mouth and the other from your pants.

You gaze up at him through bleary eyes just as he brings the fingers that were pressed against your pussy straight to his mouth, sucking on them through a satisfied hum. He pulls them out slowly, and your body nearly buckles at the sight.

“Taste so sweet,” he whispers in your ear. “Always taste so goddamn sweet.”

Your head swims.

“Joel,” you say, pointedly.

“Yeah, darlin’?”

“We need to leave. Right now.”

He cocks his head at you, confused. “Are you alr-”

“I’m fine,” you cut him off. “But I need you to fuck me right now, and I don’t think we can do that here.”

You see his eyes darken, his jaw twitch.

“Yeah,” he says after a few seconds. “Let’s get out of here.”

Joel speeds the entire way home.

The hand he doesn’t have on the wheel grips your thigh, making you dizzy with desire by the time he pulls into the driveway. He lodges the passenger side door open so hard you’d think there was an emergency (maybe needing to fuck your significant other after months of not seeing them in person does constitute as an emergency, though — who’s to say?).

He unbuckles your seatbelt for you, barely letting your feet hit the pavement before his lips are on you and he’s slamming the truck door shut, caging you against it. It feels like he’s everywhere all at once, his tongue sliding along your jaw, down your neck, across your collarbone. You’re panting by the time he pulls back, begging him in not so many words to bring you inside and pound you into the mattress.

It must take you five whole minutes to get from the front door to his room. Joel’s hand is splayed across the globe of your ass as you walk. He stops you every ten feet to spin your around and kiss you again, sucking on your tongue, needy moans slipping from his parted lips. His shirt has been discarded by the time you get to the stairs, and your hands greedily take in every inch of skin they can reach as you make your way up step by agonizing step.

When you finally make it upstairs, he backs you through the threshold, straight to his bed. You tumble down onto the mattress in a heap, mouths melding together in desperation as he reaches a hand behind you, under your shirt, and unclasps your bra. You help him out, reaching up your sleeve to tug down one strap, then shifting your weight to pull down the other. When you move, he follows you, not letting his mouth part from yours a second sooner than it needs to.

He tugs the bra the rest of the way off your body and pulls your shirt up over your chest, revealing your bare breasts. Only then does he unlatch his lips from yours so that he can admire you.

“More gorgeous every time I see you,” he mutters, rolling one of your nipples between two fingers until it hardens under his touch. Your mouth falls open in a silent gasp. He leans down, lathing his flat tongue over the sensitive peak, eliciting a heady moan from you.

“Joel,” you cry beneath him, a hand coming up to his shoulder. You push against him lightly.

And he gets it — as much as he loves teasing, now is not the time. You’ve been teased enough by the miles between you and him. So he pulls back. Lets you roll him over. You straddle him, bracing your hands on his chest and experimentally roll your hips. You immediately feel his hard cock straining against his jeans underneath you.

You reach between your bodies then, prying open his button and yanking the zipper down. Then your hand is in his pants, tracing the outline of his heavy cock where it bulges under cotton.

You lean down and press a kiss to his clothed length. He hisses through his teeth.

“Baby,” he groans, hand coming down to tilt your chin up towards his face. “Another time. I need to be inside you. Right now.”

You don’t argue. He sits up. Shuffles back to the headboard, bringing you with him. He pulls your shirt the rest of the way off, over your head. And then he’s helping you slip out of your jeans and panties so that you’re completely naked atop him.

He pulls you in for another bruising kiss as he tugs his pants and boxers down, just enough to free his leaking cock. He strokes it languidly, smearing pre-cum from the tip down his length. You’re already impatient by the time he’s lining himself up with your entrance, so much so that you have to refrain from taking him all the way down in one go. You use your better judgment, sinking onto him slowly, until you’re flush with his pelvis, the hair at his base tickling your inner thighs.

His eyes are squeezed shut, his breathing labored as you adjust to the size of him. You’ve missed the sweet, burning stretch of him, the fullness you feel when he’s inside you, like you’re complete, whole. You’re pretty sure you could stay like this forever, make a home here on his throbbing cock.

When the sting dissipates, you begin to move, rocking on top of him. He grabs onto your hips, steadying you, his eyes blinking half-open to take you in.

“Fuck,” he rasps as you set a steady pace, his cock disappearing from you, then filling you to the brim again and again. “‘ts it baby, take my fuckin’ cock; ridin’ it so good.”

His hips snap up, nearly knocking the air out of your lungs. You wrap your hands around his neck reflexively, digging your nails into his shoulders, indenting crescent moons in the muscle there as he ruts against your g-spot. Your face falls against his chest, your muffled pleas for Joel to fuck you harder, harder, right there barely coherent.

He gets the message regardless.

He pulls you down onto his cock, essentially spearing you on it. You think he must be bruising your cervix, the way his thick head is repeatedly bumping it, but you don’t care. You need every inch of him, need to take everything he has to give you; it feels as essential as the air being punched out of your chest right now.

He’s fucking up into you so brutally that you find yourself delirious, eyes rolling back in your head for the second time tonight. You can’t even find the strength to warn him of your rapidly approaching orgasm, your body going limp in his grasp. He doesn’t need you to, though — he can tell just by the way you squeeze him that you’re close.

“Gonna cum for me, baby?,” he growls, hitting that spongy spot over and over and over.

“Uh — ahhh — uh-huh,” you moan weakly into his skin. Your fingers loosen at his neck, too weak to hold onto him any longer.

Suddenly, he grabs a fistful of your hair, pulling your head off of his chest and holding it up so that you’re looking him in the eye.

His gaze is lascivious, almost carnal, like going without you for so long has him ready to swallow you whole.

“Look at me,” he spits, “look at me when you cum.”

You nod wearily. You want to give him that, want to give him anything he asks of you. But you’re not sure if you can, not when your eyelids feel like boulders on your face.

“C-can’t Joel,” you manage through moans as they fall shut again.

“Nuh-uh,” he snaps, yanking at your roots. Your eyes fly open at the intrusion.

“You can do it baby, c’mon. Missed these pretty eyes so much — wanna see ‘em.”

You can only imagine how absolutely fucked-out you must look, using every last ounce of energy in your body to keep from slipping again. Your eyes glaze over slightly as he gives a particularly rough thrust, and you feel yourself skyrocket to the edge.

You feel like putty in his hands — and maybe you are. You’d let him mold you to whatever shape he pleased right about now, when he’s making you feel this good.

“There ya go,” Joel coos, bringing his thumb to your clit. He lazily swipes it once — twice — and you begin to fall apart in his arms.

It’s almost violent, your second orgasm of the night. It rips through you, your body thrashing on top of Joel’s, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes as he continues pounding into you. It feels different too, something more intense lingering, the threat of it just behind your walls.

And then he hits that spot again, the one that makes you see stars, and you’re gushing around him. Your release splatters out onto the duvet below you, soaking it. If Joel notices, he doesn’t care.

“Fuck, darlin’,” he groans.

Your eyes adjust as you come to. You take in Joel’s, charcoal black and blown-out with lust. You feel shy, almost, which you know is ridiculous given he’s still inside you. But even so, the way he looks at you, like you’re the most desirable thing he’s ever seen — it makes your cheeks heat.

He flips you over onto your back in one swift movement, slipping from you momentarily as he helps you to wrap your shaky legs around him. Presses a gentle kiss to your trembling ankle as he does. And then he’s burying himself in you again, right to the hilt, his pace slowing as he nears the edge.

“Please baby,” you cry. “Please cum inside. Need to feel you.”

Your body feels boneless under Joel’s weight, like he’s fucked near everything out of you. And now you need him to feel good, to take whatever he needs from you, whatever you have left to give.

“Fuck,” he grunts. His hips stall abruptly. He spills into you, deep moans pulling from the back of his throat. You dig your heels into the meat of his ass, dragging him closer, forcing him so deep he paints your cervix.

He pulls out with a hiss, his length softening against your mound as he lifts himself up on his elbows to kiss you. It’s a meager kiss, both of you still too out of breath to deepen it, but it soothes you, along with the soft graze of his thumb over your ribs.

You hold each other for a while, in no rush to move from this moment. You’re pretty sure you drift off more than once, awoken each time by the vibration of his gentle hums against your neck. When you finally do move, it’s not far, just up the bed and under the covers. And then his arms are right back where they were, around you, pulling you tightly to him.

He falls asleep before you, snoring quietly at the crown of your head. You try to wiggle from his grasp, move to the other side of the bed, but even in his sleep, he’s acutely aware of your presence. He just grips you harder, nuzzles his head deeper into your hair. You’ve never felt more content being stuck somewhere.

You slip under again eventually. You’re pretty sure you dream of nothing — no need for your brain to conjure up anything more than what you already have.

The following morning, you wake up with Joel’s tongue between your legs. He nibbles at your inner thigh, waiting for you to give him the go ahead to continue. And then he makes you cum twice on his mouth before you even eat breakfast.

He doesn’t let you get up for that, either. He brings you hot coffee in a Texas Longhorns mug and a plate of toast, slathered with butter and grape jelly, and doesn’t complain when you get crumbs on the sheets.

You’re satiated and caffeinated before you even start your day — which Joel has planned out to a t.

He brings you to his favorite spot for lunch, a BBQ place by the river, and acts smug when you tell him these are the best ribs I’ve ever had in my life. Then you go home, take a shower — together, of course — and you rinse shampoo out of your hair with his cock nestled comfortably inside you.

He fucks you with your hands braced against the shower wall until you’re screaming, the echoes bouncing off of tile, and then you get back in bed, laze around in your towels until dinnertime.

Joel orders takeout — sushi for you, lo mein and teriyaki beef for him. You sprawl out on the couch as you eat, your feet in his lap and the calming buzz of the tv on in the background.

It’s the best day you’ve had in a long time.

You easily fall into a routine over the course of the week: wake up, fuck, eat breakfast in bed, fuck, get up around noon, shower, eat lunch, grade papers while Joel cleans up or does yardwork, eat dinner, fuck, go to sleep.

You almost forget that this isn’t permanent, that you’re going to have to get on a plane and go home soon, that this isn’t your home, here with Joel. That is, until Friday night, over dinner — when Joel abruptly pulls you back down to earth.

You’re finishing your pasta, spooning the last remnants of sauce into your mouth. Some western flashes across the tv — Joel’s choice, and as you put your bowl down on the coffee table and snuggle up to him, he sighs.

“This has gotta be the best vacation of my life — or, staycation, I guess.” He says it innocently enough. Still, you feel jolted. Vacation, you repeat in your head until your brain catches up with reality. You feel smothered, suddenly, warm, like your whole body is an ore about to be smelted. You extricate yourself from Joel’s arms and settle on the other side of the couch.

“Just hot,” you lie. “Sorry.”

“‘ts alright,” he murmurs, unphased, eyes glued to the tv.

He doesn’t notice the way you tense, the way your breathing picks up when you excuse yourself to the bathroom. But why should he? There’s no reason for you to be freaking out.

Except there is.

Because the thought of leaving in a couple days, leaving behind Joel and this routine, not seeing him again for several more months, and even then, only having a weekend, or if you’re lucky, a week with him – it’s making you spiral.

You lock yourself in the bathroom. Close the lid to the toilet. When you sit down, your head falls into your hands, heaving breaths warming the skin of your palms uncomfortably. I can’t do this, you think. I can’t keep doing this.

You love Joel — you do, more than anything. And you can’t begin to imagine living without him. But you also can’t help but wonder, elbows digging into your knees, how this has become your life — all the leaving.

Something heavy settles in the pit of your stomach. You feel nauseous.

You get up. Splash cold water on your face. Curse your reflection, all sunken eyes and tear-stained cheeks. So stupid. This is why you didn’t want to get into another relationship. The pain, the pain, the unbearable pain.

Why did you have to fall in love with him?

There’s a clanging on the other side of the door — Joel clearing your dishes from dinner — an act of domesticity that plunges the dagger deeper into your bleeding heart.

You wipe your cheeks with your shirt sleeve. Huff at how pathetic you feel.

It’s so stupid, so silly, crying in Joel’s bathroom when he’s right outside, right there waiting for you. Even still, you can’t seem to shake the dread that hangs over you like a storm cloud when you make your way back into the living room with dried eyes, back into his arms.

You hope, silently, that it’ll go away with a good night’s sleep. That this is just a minor breakdown, a hormonal thing, maybe, and you’ll feel better in the morning.

It doesn’t, it’s not — and you don’t.

Joel can tell something is wrong the moment he hands you your morning coffee. You’d slept in today, legs tangled under the sheets, trepidation still clawing its way up your throat. You’d been quiet, had only hummed in response when he’d told you good morning.

That, he hadn’t noticed. But when he passes you the mug, steam billowing from the mouth, he detects the way you won’t look at him, your mumbled thank you.

You catch the way he steps back with a dejected hmph, and rounds the bed to climb in next to you.

You feel awful.

The mattress springs creak as he settles, balancing his full mug in one hand, laying the other over yours where it sits on top of the duvet, resting on your covered leg.

“Y’alright?,” he asks, even though you know he knows the answer. It’s why you don’t lie, shake your head. Your eyes flick up to his as a frown sets under his nose.

You downplay it. “I’m fine, really. It’s just — I — I’m sad that today’s our last full day. I don’t wanna go home yet.”

“Don’t have to go,” he drawls, drawing light circles over your skin with his index finger.

And you know he means it — know he’d let you move in with him in a heartbeat. But you also know you can’t. Can’t leave behind the life you worked so hard to make in Vermont.

“I wish,” you sigh, taking a cautious sip of your coffee.

“Well…d’you wanna do somethin’ today? Go into the city? I know we haven’t done much’a anything this week.” He smirks. And just for a moment, the look on his face — that dopey smile and those sweet cinnamon eyes — makes you forget about the darkness fogging your mind.

“We can do touristy stuff,” he continues. “Do anythin’ you want. To take your mind off things. Make the most of the day, ya know?”

His brows are raised as he anticipates your response. He’s so eager to do whatever it takes for you to be happy, and that makes your chest clench. More than you want to protect your own heart, you want to appease him. He deserves that, at the very least.

So you say yes, let’s do it; show me around Austin.

The cracks in your heart deepen when he nearly jumps out of bed in excitement.

Joel is a great tour guide, for what it’s worth.

He brings you to his favorite hiking trail in the city. It runs along a lake, the water busy with kayakers and paddle boarders.

The sky above is overcast. A sliver of sun cuts through the clouds, casting your forehead in a light sheen of sweat as you walk.

Every single passerby waves at you or says hello, all in the same singsong twang. Joel waves back, grunts a greeting. It throws you off, how nice everyone is here. You’ve grown used to New England, with its temperamental weather and even more temperamental people.

“Busy,” you note when another group passes you.

“Mhm,” Joel hums. Wraps a sweaty arm around you, pulling you into his side. It’s awkward to walk like this, but he doesn’t seem to mind. “Sarah used to love this place. We’d come all the time when she was little.”

You lean into his embrace. Nuzzle your face into the fabric of his T-shirt.

“I know you must’ve missed her this week. Is this the first spring break she hasn’t been home?”

“Yeah,” Joel’s other hand rests at the back of his neck, fingers absently working at a knot in the muscle there. “Gotta get used to it though, I guess, with her stayin’ north after school is over and all.”

“She didn’t tell me that,” you admit. “When did she decide?”

He sighs so deep you can almost feel it in your own chest.

“Couple weeks ago,” he says. “Guess she got some unofficial job offer for after she graduates, from this research institute in Boston. She’s all excited about it.”

You know Joel is proud. He’s always proud of Sarah. How could he not be? But you also know his heart is breaking right now, the long-established plans for Sarah to come home to Texas, to come home to him after finishing undergrad, suddenly squashed.

And then there’s you — leaving too — again.

The thought of hurting Joel is overbearing, more so than the thought of hurting yourself. He doesn’t deserve to be so far away from the woman he’s in a relationship with when his own daughter is already out of reach.

You feel selfish, suddenly.

It plagues your mind for the rest of the day — when you go to a diner after the hike and split a strawberry milkshake the size of your head with Joel — and still, later, when you wander hand-in-hand into a tacky gift shop.

You try your best to ignore the ache in your chest as you scan the store.

The back wall is stacked top to bottom with cowboy boots of varying colors and styles. There are cowboy hats too, displayed on a long table.

Joel picks up an oversized straw hat, resting it on the top of his head with a laugh. “Looks ridiculous, right?”

“Somehow, no,” you say. And it’s the truth. You think he’s the only person who could put that thing on and look hot in it.

He grabs another hat off of the table, a more traditional one — brown leather with a braided band wrapped around the base of the crown. You let him affix it on your head. He steps back to get a good look at you and nods.

“Looks good. Looks sexy,” he amends.

“Yeah?” You dip your head in faux greeting, fingers pressed into the front corner of the brim.

He scans over you then, his eyes darkening. It looks like he’s pondering something, the corner of his mouth curving.

“What?”

He steps closer. Leans down to whisper in your ear. “Think we should get ‘em. Wear ‘em later.”

Your breath pulls. The thought of Joel wearing that and nothing but that underneath you is enough to make you forget your quandaries, temporarily.

“Yeah,” you respond way too quickly. “Let’s get them, Cowboy.”

You watch his entire body tense at the nickname. And then he’s yanking the hat off of you, bringing both to the register in a hurry.

The house is dark when you get home, bag of Greek takeout in hand.

Joel flicks a light on in the entrance. You squint reflexively, your eyes adjusting as you set the food down on the coffee table in the living room. Joel brings your new hats upstairs, then joins you on the couch. You pull out two styrofoam containers, passing the one with Joel’s name scribbled on it to him and leaning back with yours in your lap.

“‘m starvin,” he mumbles as he cracks his open, squeezes a wedge of lemon over his rice.

You eat quickly, something else clearly on both of your minds as you shovel falafel into your mouths. You even forget to turn the tv on.

When you’re done, you insist you’ll clean up, bringing the trash into the kitchen as Joel disappears upstairs. Once everything is tidied, you re-situate yourself on the couch.

He returns a few minutes later — shirtless, that ridiculous cowboy hat fastened on his head, dark jeans sitting low on his hips. He’s holding your hat in his left hand.

There’s a dull throbbing between your legs. He starts across the room, toward you.

“Joel-”

He cuts you off with a kiss, bracketing you against the cushions, his hat bumping into your head. He pulls it off immediately, like if it’s going to interfere in any way, it’s not worth it. It falls onto the floor somewhere behind him.

Joel pulls at the fabric of your shirt. Your back arches, allowing him to pull it up and off before tossing it aside. His mouth moves from yours, trailing lower, lower, and settling at the column of your throat. He sucks a bruise there, the contact sending your hips bucking off the couch, the need for him to touch you already borderline painful.

And then that voice returns, the one that’s been screaming in your head since last night.

This’ll be the last time for a while. Maybe forever. Last time he touches you like this, kisses you like this. Don’t think about it — don’t. Just enjoy it. Just-

“Joel,” you pant. He stops immediately. Pulls back.

“What? What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?”

Tears well in your eyes, blur your vision. You can barely make out the look of concern plastered across Joel’s face as he kneels down in front of you and grips both of your shoulders.

When you speak, your voice comes out shaky. “No, it’s not — I just.” Your breath catches in your throat.

“What? What is it darlin’?,” he tries, massaging tense muscle under his palms.

You hadn’t wanted him to see you like this. You feel embarrassed that he has to comfort you like you’re a child who’s just had a nightmare, and not a grown woman with a PhD. You groan. Catch your breath.

“Fuck. I’m fine,” you try. Joel clearly isn’t buying it. He quirks a brow at you.

“C’mon baby, talk to me. I wanna help, whatever it is. Let me in — please”

And you want to, you do, it’s just — you don’t know how to even explain how you’re feeling.

“This is all so hard,” you start. Joel nods. He wants you to continue. “This whole — situation,” you try. “Being long-distance. It’s just — being here for a whole week and waking up together every morning, having coffee, watching tv at night, like a — fuck — like a real couple — and now I have to go back to normal?”

His face falls.

“Real couple? Is this not real to you?”

“It is real,” you sob. “It’s too real. That’s why it hurts so fucking much. I just, I can’t —”

“Can’t what?” His voice is quiet. Low.

“Can’t do this. Can’t handle the pain. And it must be hurting you too, Joel. Between me and Sarah—”

“I’m fine,” he barks, suddenly jumping to his feet. He takes a deep breath. “This isn’t about Sarah. This is about us. Do you not want this? Me?”

Your hands tremble in your lap. “Of course I want you, Joel,” you sniff. “I want you more than anything. But-”

“But not like this. This is too hard.”

You nod weakly.

He sighs.

“You know you can move here — stay with me.”

You do know. He’s said it so many times before. But you’ve worked way too hard to pack up and start over, to give up your professorship after only three years with the blind hope that you’ll land a new position in Austin. And now you’re mad — infuriated, almost, that he keeps suggesting it.

You scoff. “You know I can’t just give up my life, Joel.”

“So what, you’re just gonna give up on us, instead?” His voice is strained.

“I’m not giving up,” you clip, defensively.

“Certainly doesn’t sound like you’re tryin’.”

He stares at the ceiling. You watch as his eyes mist, his concentration palpable as he wills the tears not to fall. Your anger dissipates into guilt.

This is exactly what you’d feared — breaking his heart. It’s like you can see it fracturing, chipping at the edges.

“I don’t want to,” you whisper. “I don’t — I don’t know. I just can’t.”

His face contorts. A single tear slips down his cheek, which he wipes away quickly with the back of his hand. “Fuck,” he curses.

You stand from the couch, begin to move cautiously toward him. “Joel, I-”

“Don’t,” he snaps. Throws his hands up defensively. And then he’s turning, heading up the stairs, leaving you standing there in the middle of the living room with a ringing in your ears.

When you climb into bed twenty minutes later, he doesn’t acknowledge you.

You fly home the next day. Joel doesn’t say anything on the drive to the airport.

Once there, he pulls over to the curb at the drop-off and puts the car in park. You’re not sure what to do — should you kiss him? Tell him you love him? Because you do, so fucking much. You’re just — not sure if he wants to hear that right now.

He makes the decision for you, cradling your face as he presses a gentle, lingering kiss to your lips. He lets his forehead fall to yours with a sigh, and then he pulls back.

He doesn’t open your door for you, though. Doesn’t grab your bags from the back when you clamber down from the passenger seat.

It’s as if he’s saying: I love you, but I’m going to give you space.

You pry open the back door. Pull out your suitcase and rest your new cowboy hat over the handle. You almost wish now that he hadn’t gotten it for you. It’ll just serve as another reminder of everything you’ve left behind once your home.

“Text me,” he offers once your things are all gathered on the curb. “Let me know when you board, when you’re home safe.”

“Yeah,” you nod. Search his eyes for something. Some indicator that he’s okay. But he’s stoic, his lips set in a straight line. “I will. Promise.”

His mouth opens, like he wants to add something else. But whatever he’s thinking, he decides against saying out loud. Instead he just tells you safe travels, and then he’s pulling the passenger side door closed from the inside.

You stand unmoving. As his truck disappears down the roadway and out of view, a list of all the things you should’ve said rolls through your brain like the end credits of a film.

You send Joel a message when you get home. Let him know you got in safe. You don’t call, like you normally would, because that’s not what he’d asked of you.

Then you climb straight into bed, still in your clothes, and let the tears consume you. You wallow in them for what feels like hours, the natural light in your bedroom gradually sinking into the floorboards. You welcome the nightfall, the way the darkness soothes the pounding in your head, the way it feels like nothing.

Morning comes before Joel responds. You’re rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, the time on your phone reading 11:09, and the notification from him just below it nearly jolts you:

Okay. Thanks.

No love you, no miss you.

You curse under your breath.

Why did you have to say anything? Why did you have to ruin this?

The pain of possibly losing Joel for good makes the pain of long distance feel like a papercut. All you want is to go back in time, take back everything you said, tell Joel you love him a million-and-one times. Anything to undo this.

You fleetingly consider quitting your job, handing in your resignation letter the second you get to campus tomorrow. You’ll take your unpacked suitcase and head right back to the airport.

You don’t let the temptation win. But it lingers, sits at the top of your chest like a threat. Like if he asks one more time — you’ll do it.

He doesn’t, though. In fact, he doesn’t say much of anything — which you should’ve expected — but it still stings. You hadn’t broken up, not technically, so you’re stuck in this weird limbo, one in which neither of you wants to talk about what happened in Austin.

Instead, you text each other once a day or so — weird, surface-level messages, ones you’d send to an acquaintance, not someone who literally knows you inside and out.

Finally above 60°, you say, on Monday morning, attached to a screenshot of your weather app.

Your walk to campus must’ve been nice today, he replies.

And the next day:

Guy at the job site today was talking about that show you like.

Parks & Rec?!

Yeah, that one.

It’s barely enough to keep you going, to keep you sane. You feel pitiful, looking forward to Joel’s text-of-the-day like it’s a re-up of your drug of choice. Better than heroin, you tell yourself.

Two weeks pass with no phone calls and minimal messages. It’s 5:45 pm on a rainy Tuesday when you sit at your dining room table with a pile of papers to grade in front of you, some low-fi playlist on in the background, unable to focus.

Because Joel hasn’t texted you all day.

Usually he’d send something by now. And it’s not like you hadn’t texted him — in fact, you’d double-texted, one message sent this morning about how you burned your tongue on your coffee, and another after your final class of the day when you’d seen he still hadn’t responded:

Busy day?

Your fingers hover over the keyboard, the gears in your mind whirring as you debate whether or not to send the words punctuated by a flickering cursor on your screen:

Can I call you later?

He’ll probably say no. Or worse, continue to ignore you. Maybe this is it — maybe weeks of dancing around residual tension have driven him to call it quits. He’ll block you, and then you’ll never hear from him again.

The thought has bile rising up your throat.

You close out of the app and put your phone down before stalking over to the living room, letting yourself fall stomach-first onto the couch. You stuff your face into a throw pillow and scream.

You almost don’t hear it over your muffled yells — the rapping at your front door.

You still, lifting your head from the pillow. Listening intently. It comes again — rapraprap.

Ugh, you groan, lifting yourself onto your elbows, then your feet. You pull your cardigan tighter over your front. Drag your feet across the hardwood to the entranceway, wondering who the fuck could be at your door on a Tuesday evening, unannounced.

Is it the property manager?, you speculate as you reach the door. Was there an issue with my rent?

Your fingers wind around the handle apprehensively. You peer through the peephole and your heart plummets into your stomach.

Because Joel is standing right outside your apartment.

You wonder if you’re seeing things. If you’ve gone full-on hysterical. But it’s him, it’s unmistakably him — in his favorite flannel and his workwear jacket, which is smattered in rain spots. His gaze is trained on the floor by his feet and his hands are fidgeting at his sides — just like the first time you met him.

You throw the door open. Joel’s eyes shoot up. For a long moment, you just stare at each other, waiting for the other to say something — do something.

When your breath pulls, he rushes forward and crashes his lips into yours. He backs you into your apartment, letting the door slam shut behind you.

You barely hear it, still registering that Joel is here, he’s here and he’s kissing the hell out of you. And just minutes ago, you’d been sulking on your couch, convinced it was over between you two.

You feel dizzy. You pull back, only because you fear if you don’t, you’ll literally topple over. Joel’s breathing is heavy — it matches yours.

“What are you — fuck — what are you doing here, Joel?”

“I need to talk to you,” he pants.

“Could’ve called,” you say, as if there’s any universe in which you’d prefer that.

You lead him to the living room. Fall back onto the couch. He sits down next to you, taking both of your hands in his. You get a good look at him for the first time since he’d barreled into your apartment, and he looks wrecked.

“Are you okay?,” you ask.

His response isn’t much of an answer. “’m selling my house.”

Your head spins. “You — what?”

“Listed it last week,” he says. “Already got a couple offers.”

“Oh,” you blink. “Okay.”

“‘m gonna move up here.”

Oh.

Your heart feels like it’s going to beat straight out of your chest. You’re — speechless.

“I put an offer on a place,” he continues. “‘ts a ranch with some land. Room for sheep. I’m sellin’ my half of the business to Tommy. Leavin’ Texas.”

He exhales. His eyes search yours with tangible desperation. “Say somethin’.”

“I — fuck, Joel,” you breathe. “You’re — when? How?”

“Found the place a couple days ago. ‘ts about thirty minutes Southeast of here. Just went and saw it in person. Sent my offer letter before I came here.”

“Right,” you nod. “But Joel, you can’t just leave-”

“Sure I can,” he interrupts. “Nothin’ there for me anymore. Not Sarah, not you.”

A beat passes. And then he adds:

“I can’t lose you.”

Your heart swells in your chest as you imagine Joel this past week, making all of these plans to rectify the distance between you, to be sure he doesn’t lose you. And still — you’re not sure if you deserve it after the way you hurt him.

“You — you still want me, even after what I said?”

“Darlin’,” he says, in that honey-sweet drawl. “I love you. There’s nothin’ you could do to make me not want you. You were right. This isn’t feasible. We can’t do this forever.”

“Joel,” you sigh, “I just — you’re sure you want this?”

“I want you,” he says plainly, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world — like nothing else matters. “And you need to be here. So it’s a no-brainer”

The rain picks up outside. It patters against the windows.

“Tell me you don’t want this and I’ll leave,” he says. “I’ll retract my offer. Go back to Texas.”

“I do Joel — want you here more than anything, love you more than anything. But-”

“Good.” He cups your face in his hands. You stare into his eyes, your future.

“It’s settled, then,” he says, pressing his forehead to yours, his fingers twisting in the fabric of your shirt. “I’m movin’ to Vermont.”

“This is crazy,” you laugh. “I love you. So much.”

“I love you more,” he beams. “No gettin’ rid of me now.”

You smile so wide your cheeks hurt. “I wouldn’t dream of it, Cowboy.”

end notes: ty again for reading! pls consider reblogging and leaving a comment if you liked it <3

tagging everyone who expressed interest in reading a part 2 (lmk if you don't want to be included going forward): @anoverwhelmingdin, @joelalorian, @lol-im-done, @bensonispunk, @sereindreams, @survivingandenduring, @stevie75, @vee-bees-blog, @brittmb115, @casssiopeia, @bbyanarchist, @janaispunk, @barbellpedro

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #tlou fic #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #joel x reader #pedro pascal as joel miller #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal smut #fiiyb

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abibliophobiaa · 1 year

Text

Summary: You’ve never been one for love. Especially after your last round with it. Halloween rolls around and in comes Eddie Munson. He’s only in town for a couple days, you’re looking for no strings, and chances are you’ll never see him again anyway.

Easy, right?

That is, until you end up with an unexpected party favor.

mini series masterlist

next chapter

——

warnings: alcohol; smut; unprotected p in v; unplanned pregnancy and associated symptoms; major miscommunication. eddie munson x afab!reader(7k words)

——

“You’ve been staring around for hours. No one is catching your eye? Not even slightly? You’re not doing brain surgery, you’re just trying to get your toes wet.”

You knew this. But the music had been too loud, the room too heated, your body tucked away against the bar as you sat beside your best friend, sipping on a watery margarita that the ice had long since dissolved into.

All around you people bobbed and swayed to ‘Monster Mash.’ Cliche by all means, and yet it felt fitting when you appraised the crowd once more and noted the mummy dancing with his zombified partner. Further out you caught a werewolf in a particularly compromising position with a vampire, and a group of clowns crowded together hosting what looked to be a meeting.

“What about that Westley guy?”

Right — the one everyone had been talking about all night. The man who had the nerve to dress up as the direct counterpart to your own costume. With a huff, you hiked your leg up, crossing one over the other against the stool. The red dress around you shifted and moved, fingers reaching to adjust the belt around your waist.

“I haven’t seen him.” You shrugged, taking another sip of your drink. “For all I know, he doesn’t exist.”

Micah glanced about the room once again, her makeshift halo wobbling on her head. Somewhere in the distance her boyfriend, Jeremiah, was invested in a deeply riveting conversation about football with some of his friends from college. All of which had dressed in their old football jerseys, dark lines drawn haphazardly under eyes, helmets covering heads. She lingered on him for a moment, and then glanced further over your shoulder, lips tugging upward into a devilish grin. Oddly fitting for the girl dressed as an angel.

“Actually, he’s right there.”

Gravity sent your heart tumbling into your gut. Silly, when you’d thought about it. Just because he’d worn a costume from one of your comfort movies didn’t mean he’d be anything special. Multiple pirates, doctors, and the occasional Michael Myers and Freddy Krueger had already attempted to rouse a conversation, only for it to fall flat. This could very well end up the same, and this night was lost to the turmoil of the inner workings of your mind, still reeling from the sting rumbling in your chest over the past few months.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

But it wasn't a joke when you swiveled around on your stool and faced him. Not at all. In a dimly lit bar, packed too tight with too many bodies bumping you to and fro even as you presently sat, you spotted him. Found the guy people had been mentioning all night as the other half of your ‘couple’s costume,’ saying you both looked amazing together, despite the fact none of them knew he was quite literally a stranger to you.

He sat at a lonesome table. Leaned on an elbow with a cheshire grin spread across the prettiest set of pink lips. His dark curly hair was tied behind his head, tucked into the mask that covered the upper half of his face. Even partially obscured like that, he was handsome, freezing you in place with those piercing brown eyes that were locked unwaveringly on your silhouette.

So he’d noticed you too. Inwardly, you were beaming. After two months of couch surfing and feeling sorry for yourself after a failed relationship wherein you’d walked on your partner of two years with someone who most definitely wasn’t you, you’d decided tonight was the night you’d get back out there. A night of fun, a night to meet someone new, to let loose a bit.

“What are you waiting for,” your friend Micah asked, shoving you forward with a hasty push. “He’s your Westley. If this isn’t some weird ass fate, I don’t know what is.”

Your Westley’s smile grew wider as you approached. Corners dragged upward to form that broad grin, bracketed by the sweetest set of dimples you’d ever seen on a man. Heart pounding a bit, you leaned up against the table, letting out a noncommittal huff. Puffed out a deep breath that caught his attention and had those chocolate brown eyes solely on you.

“Is this space taken?” you asked, and he dipped his head in greeting. “So you’re the guy everyone has been talking about all night.”

“Ah, yes,” he laughed, and you couldn’t help but to smile at the very sound. It’s a lovely, hearty sound. The kind of laugh that seemed dangerous, because you might like it too much. “And you’re the girlfriend I didn’t know I had.”

“You too, huh?”

“Yeah,” he echoed, taking a step closer. “Though it’s all very flattering. Prettiest Princess Buttercup here.” He dropped the lowest part into a whisper, “Definitely a compliment because, if I’m being honest, you’re way out of my league.”

Your cheeks burned with the compliment, feet fidgeting beneath you where you stood. He reached over and slid a chair beside his hip, patting the surface so you could hop on up and join him, a hand of his reaching out to steady you when you wobbled a bit. Another round of drinks were ordered and you learned quickly his name was Eddie and he’d been in town only for a couple weeks now. Had a few gigs in the city for the band he played in and would be off in another two days. Blew in and out like the storm that presently raged outside, wind howling, rain splashing against sidewalks, lightning painting the night sky in a shock of white before leaving it dark once more. He’d grown up in a small town, but realized he’d only ever had dreams that were too small for the walls he’d been raised in.

So he’d ended up on a short tour and would head off to California to start laying down tracks for the band’s first ever album. He sounded so hopeful and eager, so rejuvenated and excited about life, and it had you endeared to him. Drifting closer as the night went on and he asked you about your own life. Learned you grew up here in the city but craved something quieter, very much unlike him. You’d studied creative writing and English in college and wanted to write the stories people would one day know and love and shelve in their homes, but in the meantime you worked at a library. It wasn’t the most thrilling job, but it kept you abreast, and he regaled you with the endless fantasy titles he’d known and loved through the years.

It wasn’t long before the hours trickled on by and Micah approached the two of you with a sulking Jeremiah in tow. The latter of the two a little too inebriated based on the slight sway in his form and the hand Micah kept firmly planted around his forearm.

Her blue eyes flickered up at Eddie’s face, then drifted back to yours. “I’m taking this idiot home. He’s in time out —”

“Noooo,” he moaned, forehead pressing into the crook of his girlfriend’s neck.

“Are you coming back with me or…?” Micah’s eyes trailed back upward to Eddie once more, brows arched curiously.

Eddie looked at you and shrugged. “Up to you, Buttercup.”

“I’m gonna stay…actually.”

Micah nodded, giving you both one last glance over before tugging her boyfriend along behind her in the direction of the door. As she passed, she leaned up against the hollow of your ear and said loud enough over the music, “Be careful. Have fun. You’re beautiful and I love you and you deserve to enjoy yourself tonight, okay?”

Once they were gone your attention returned to the man swathed in black standing before you, shoulder bumping his. “It's too loud in here,” you shouted for emphasis, insides nearly rattling from the music booming from the speakers positioned about the room. “Is there somewhere we can go that’s a little more…”

“Private?” he asked, leaning down toward your ear. Chills skittered along your arms as his lips nearly brushed your skin there, gooseflesh pimpling in its wake. “I have a hotel room two blocks over. How do you feel about running?”

“Let’s go.” You grinned.

“As you wish.” He beamed, holding out a gloved hand for you to take.

Outside, the two of you huddled up beneath the small awning growing smaller by the second with the other patrons who had similar ideas of waiting for their rides and cabs or braving the fall storm head on and taking off into the soaked streets in their full Halloween costumes.

Laughter bubbled up from your lips as a particularly hard jolt against your back sent you tumbling into his form, a quick hand of his reaching out and curling low around your back. He tensed, eyes locked on yours, awaiting your response and you leaned further into him, relishing in the heat of his form.

Moments skittered by under the awning. His eyes roamed your form, dark and beautiful, ringed with those little crinkles that appeared in the corners whenever he smiled. He’d been smiling all night — at you, a thought that has little butterfly wings quivering low in your belly, and lower still at the suddenness of the desire ramping up in your bloodstream.

The glowing lights from the bar filter out onto the street. Flashed orange and red across Eddie’s features, painted him in vibrant color, highlighting the plushness of his lips, the curve of his jaw, the bump of his chin. Hesitant fingers reached up to brush at the curls tied behind his head, curled one of the ringlet strands around and around a fingertip, your forearm spreading over the space between his shoulders, around his neck until he pressed in closer to you. Those chocolate brown eyes flickered southward. Lingered on your lips briefly before traveling back up, asking that question without words. Your only answer was the upward tip of your mouth, leaning into the space, waiting to feel him warm against you.

Electricity danced in the moments shared between you. In the fingertips that pressed into his shoulder and gripped tight as his nose nudged at the space beside yours, your mouth tipping up closer to his. From here, you could smell the mint he’d tossed in his mouth on the way out, could feel the tremble of his breath against your sternum, feel the heat of it fanning over your lips.

But the kiss never came. Behind you, a group of friends pushed and shoved toward the front door, nearly sending you and Eddie into the sidewalk and out of the shelter provided by your awning. It dawned on you then, however begrudgingly, that maybe you should move, give others a space to wait for their vehicles, and start to head in the direction of his hotel room.

He seemed to agree, sliding his palm down your forearm to twine his fingers between yours. “Guess that’s our cue, huh?”

“Bet you’re glad you wore the equivalent of tights for pants today, huh?”

“Suppose it makes it easier for me to whisk you away in the night, now doesn’t it?” He barked out a laugh, and clutched your hand tighter, dragging you out onto the street and into the rain.

——

You were presently in the midst of what was officially the weirdest, most endearing hook up you’d ever had. Moments after rushing out into the busy city streets and getting absolutely drenched from head to toe, Eddie tugged you toward a grocery store, suggesting he had nothing back at the hotel. Had looked a little bashful about it, even when you reassured him it was fine and you’d manage without, though he wouldn’t hear any of it.

As a result, you trailed behind him, dress sopping wet and clinging to every inch of your body, helping gather some things you might need in between what you hoped would be an eventful afternoon. Water, snacks, and the like. He seemed so giddy with it, and you hated the way his dimple in his cheek had your heart and thighs clenching. You preferred only the latter of the two, and couldn’t afford yourself the emotional aspect that came along with the former.

Eventually you had both found yourselves in the frozen food aisle, his shoulder bumping yours, your fingers dancing in the spaces between the two of you, the anticipation of after burning brighter with every minute that passed.

“How do you think they know what…oh, I don’t know…Moose Tracks taste like?” Eddie asked, turning his head over his shoulder.

Fortunately for you, he’d removed his mask, revealing more of his features. Those curls that dangled along his brow line, the smattering of freckles along high cheekbones, the crinkled corners of his eyes whenever he smiled at you.

“What?” you asked, once more reminding yourself of just how differently this night was going than you’d originally anticipated.

“Like what makes a Moose Track a Moose Track?”

“I think it’s just a…mix of things that remind them of…you know what?” His eyes twinkled, and you shifted a little closer. It really sucked that he was cute — obnoxiously so. “I actually don’t know. But, I do think we have more than enough stuff here to feed an army. And I think the rain finally let up.”

“You want to head out?”

“I think we should,” you agreed, tugging him along behind you down the aisle, in search of the nearest check out line.

The walk to the hotel room reminded you both of what you’d intended for that evening. The curious glances you would catch him shooting your way, the way you’d do the same when he focused his attention ahead. It increased with every step closer to the looming building, the desire for closeness, to feel, to touch, to taste.

Burned brighter when he swiped his key card and you started shoving the things he’d brought inside of the mini fridge, before snatching two water bottles and placing them down on the bedside table. He whistled as you walked around the room, fingers snapping, one of his curls tucked against the fullness of his mouth.

“You know, we don’t have to do anything,” you reassured him, sensing the nervousness radiating from his form.

Those dark eyes settled on yours as you approached, palm coming up slowly to rest against his sternum, right where you could feel his heartbeat clanging against his ribs.

“It’s been a while,” he settled on, voice softer than it had been all evening, a tremorous quality catching your attention.

“We’ll go slow,” you promised, leaning up to finally, and happily, close the space between the two of you.

It felt like a long, shared exhale. The way he immediately knew which way to turn his head, how you liked for his calloused fingers to rest against your cheekbone, that you wanted to be as close as possible, pressed flush against his form. Your head swam as he turned you around and walked you backward until your backside thumped against the edge of the dresser positioned against the wall opposite the bed. Grunted as he reached a hand up the back of your neck and sought out that pesky zipper you wanted so badly pulled down.

As if he’d read your mind, the man in question gave the zipper a nice, hard tug and the fabric shifted and dropped around your shoulders, baring the similarly colored bra beneath. So maybe you’d gone shopping for your first foray back after your break up? Based on the darkened eyes honing in on the lacy fabric, you’d picked correctly.

“Such a shame,” he groaned against the curve of your collar bone, fingers pushing the dress down and onto the floor, “really liked that dress.”

“My turn,” you mused, fingers reaching forward to tug the tunic free from his obscenely tight pants.

He helped you with ease, arms lifting just enough to help pull it over his head, giggling as his endless mane of curls sprang free. Tattoos jumped to life before your eyes. The multiple on his arms and torso, some looking faded and older, likely done in someone’s house, and others freshly inked, leaving a tapestry of stories he’d likely tell you if you’d only had the time.

“Fuck it.” He reached down and cupped your jaw, bruising kiss after bruising kiss laid upon your mouth, your toes digging into the carpet below as pale fingers trailed down the center of your chest, and then lower still, pausing at the hem of your panties. “Can I touch you?”

You might burst into flames if he didn’t. “Please.”

“Never have to say please with me, Buttercup,” he said, fingers pushing past that lacy barrier until they met your flesh, knowing exactly what he’d find there. “Sweetheart…this all for me?”

“Don’t tease.”

A broken sigh spilled from your lips, fingers clutched tight around his forearm as those expert fingers dragged a slow circle around your clit before sliding back to your center, pushing in. Your head rolled back against the wall, heat blooming anew as he stepped closer into the circle of your thighs, watching the rapid rise and fall of your chest, enjoying the sounds made only for him, the slickness of your center practically pulling his fingers back in with every perfect thrust curled in that spot right where you needed him the most.

“Fuck, just like that, sweetheart,” he panted, mouth pressed tight to yours, grinning against your skin as you keened high and tight, creeping closer and closer to your edge.

And just when you’d thought you were about to explode into dozens of tiny stars like in the night sky above, Eddie stopped. You nearly cried out his name in your frustration, only to find him dropping down onto his knees in front of the dresser, capable hands tugging you closer to the edge, before he pushed the dainty fabric back to the side and swapped his fingers for his tongue.

One long stripe from center to clit was all you'd needed for the rubber band to snap. For the shaking to start, the chanting of his name like a mantra or a prayer to rouse the neighbors likely next door and alert everyone in the building to what magic Eddie had worked between your thighs.

“Not,” you gasped, leaning your head forward to rest against his heaving chest, “fair.”

“What’s not fair, sweetheart?”

“Too good at that.” Another rasped breath pooled from your lips, quieted by the sound of your lips pressing to his chest. Hazy eyes lifted to his face, a satisfied exhale slowing the rise and fall of your chest. “Get on the bed.”

“What do you —”

“On the bed,” you repeated, grinning wickedly as he backed up just enough so his kneecaps hit the mattress. “I want to look at you.”

And god, what a sight he was. Once you’d finally managed to tug his pants down, revealing the boxers beneath, you were rewarded with the fullness of Eddie Munson in the flesh. The narrow waist, the smattering of hair you kissed along his abdomen, the curve of his chest, the freckles along his chest and shoulders. Traced along the tattoos on his chest, the sides of his ribs, the one on his upper thigh, before dragging upward to slide over the increasingly — and massively impressive — hardened cock peeking out from the waistband of his boxers.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck,” he blew the words out on a shaky exhale as you squeezed a little tighter, gauging what he liked.

Your grin grew as you wiggled the remnants of his clothing off his hip and cupped the weight of him in your palm. Perfect. He was absolutely perfect, and you wanted so badly to show him just how much you thought so, sliding down further onto the edge of the bed, tongue dragging a long line up the underside, along that prominent vein that had him bucking upward off the bed.

“Can I, Eddie?”

He watched through hooded lashes as your eyes zeroed in on his leaking tip, thumb sliding over the pre-cum there, before gliding your palm in a slow downward motion around him. He nodded, breath nearly cutting off completely as you finally, and blessedly, welcomed him into your mouth, immediately knowing nothing would compare to this moment and this girl.

Ruined. You’d ruined him for others, your pretty smile around his cock driving him too swiftly to a precipice he didn’t want to see the end of. Not yet. “Wait, wait, wait. Fuck. Your mouth is perfect, sweetheart. But — mmm — I need you.”

He pulled you upward with a gentle hand on the back of your neck, rolling you over beneath him, tongue marking a path along your chest, the peaks of your nipples, the delicate skin of your abdomen. With each pass of his lips over your flesh, you sank deeper into the mattress, knee bent, foot digging into the space above his hip, drawing him close enough that you could feel his glistening, wet hardness brushing your abdomen.

“Someone’s impatient,” you teased, moaning as his finger circled your wet entrance. “Want you inside me.”

“Patience, Buttercup,” he practically purred, reaching over into the bedside table to find…nothing. “No. Oh shit. We didn’t get condoms. I’m such an idiot, I —”

“Shit,” you whimpered, jolting upright and nearly smashing your skull into his as he double checked the inside of the drawer. “What about your suitcase? Wallet?”

“I told you I don’t exactly do this often.”

Those dark brows knitted together on his forehead, fingers pinching at the bridge of his nose. You remembered then the fortunate and recent development of starting birth control after Micah suggested she could never live without it, and suddenly you wanted nothing more than to clasp your hands together and thank the heavens for the little pills you had back home in your friend’s bathroom.

“I’m on the pill,” you told him, swallowing the nervousness that grew with every beat of your heart. “And I’ve been tested recently. I’m clean.”

Maybe it was stupid. Maybe you should have known better.

“I’ve been tested since my last time too. I’m good,” he said, unmistakable desperation filling his voice.

“I don’t want to stop,” you whispered as he rolled onto his back.

“Me neither,” he agreed as you clambered over his lap and bracketed his hips with a thigh on either side.

Lured with the wonderful bliss that was Eddie Munson’s lips warm and plus against yours, you gripped him in hand and slowly lowered yourself down onto him, completely bare. There was something so raw about the moment. About the shuddered breath you both released, the way his hands cupped your hips as he pushed in deeper than you ever thought possible, his voice a broken mix of ‘that’s a good girl,’ ‘taking me so well,’ ‘look so good full of my cock,’ as you move over him.

You wanted to hate that you end up doing something between fucking and making love. For something so casual, it feels almost too intimate, the way you collided together like two pieces fitted together of a puzzle that had only been missing those parts.

And it wasn’t gentle, his fingers clutched in your flesh, feet planted on the bed as he eventually pounded up into you — but it was also somehow tender. A complicated mess, just like the shattered pieces of your heart as he groaned one last time and urged you to come with him, pulling you closer in his arms. His fingers circled your clit until you cried his name and clenched down around him, whimpering at the warmth of him spilling inside.

As you both drifted back to reality, he maneuvered around the bed and washed himself from between your thighs. Cooed when you winced at the cold contact, dropping a kiss against your forehead and telling you that it had started storming again. He could either call you a cab or you could stay the night, he’d suggested. You hadn’t anticipated spending the night with him, but after he dug around for the ice cream and M&Ms you got from the supermarket, you found you couldn’t say no to him.

Especially when he turned on the television and, funnily enough, The Princess Bride was on. Fate, or something more, seemed to laugh in your face. Gleeful as you sprawled out beneath the covers naked as the day you were born beside the man who you quickly learned enjoyed handfuls of popcorn mixed with his sweet chocolate treats.

It didn’t take long before he’d grown hard again, the lights dimmed and the food forgotten, your soft sighs and pleasured peals filling the room as he pushed in and watched as your eyes rolled back and back arched prettily for him.

And later, after you were both satiated and satisfied, you fell asleep to the sounds of Inigo Montoya’s famous speech, and the gentle inhales and exhales of the man sprawled out beneath you.

——

Daylight streamed in through the olive curtains positioned against the wall across from you. You hadn’t noticed them last night. Hadn’t noted the wooden walls, the pale ceiling above, nor the cream bedspread across your hips. Hadn’t noticed a lot of things, it seemed, other than the man who dozed behind you, tattooed arm slung low around your waist, keeping you in close.

Fallen asleep — you’d both fallen asleep watching The Princess Bride, much to your grunted amusement as you shifted up and into a sitting position. Eddie’s arm thumped onto the bed, leaving a wrinkled mess around his sinewy forearm. Sparing a glance over your shoulder, you took in the curve of his jaw. The way he looked more boyish than his nearly thirty years, lips parted in a sleepy breathing pattern, curls strewn all about his face. A smile graced your lips, fingers of yours rolling over the curve of his back, the heft of his shoulder, the breadth of his bicep.

Part of you craved curling back up beside him. Wanted to feel his mouth roving over yours, across your skin, between your thighs once more. Would probably dream about the way his face had scrunched up in pleasure before he came apart beneath you last night for weeks to come. But your eyes noticed the time ticking on the far wall, alerting you that work started in two hours. Some weekend reading activity for the children in your town you’d volunteered to work weekend hours for; hindsight, as they say, was twenty-twenty.

“She’s running away in the night,” he grumbled beside you, mouth rolling over to press into the pillow you had slept soundly on for a shocking eight hours, letting out a loud yawn. You couldn’t recall the last time you’d done so. That curly head of hair lifted, too-long strands falling into his gaze as he pinched one eye shut and glanced toward the giant bedroom window. “Or…morning, I guess?”

“I have work,” you said, reaching over to snatch your underwear from off the floor.

He watched with rapt attention as you whirled around and clasped your bra into place, cheeks burning despite the fact he’d seen every inch of you merely hours ago. The man propped himself up onto one elbow, your eyes catching the bat tattoos on his arm as his fingers reached over to curl around your hip, dragging you back down into bed.

Soon enough it was loud giggles, his fingers dancing along your sides, noisy kisses against your own. But it didn’t take long before you were reduced to breathy sighs. His fingers against the span of your hips, his chest pressing yours into the mattress. Lips over yours, against your cheek, the curve of your throat, the hollow between your breasts, the valley of your abdomen. He stopped with a nip along your hip bone, tongue laving over the sensitive skin there.

“Do you have to go?” he groaned against your stomach, placing a final kiss there before crawling back up your body and cradling the back of your head with one hand, his body weight perched on the other elbow, face hovering over your own. Pretty, he was so damn pretty and you wished you could hate him for it.

“I guess I have a few minutes,” you suggested coyly.

And it was all Eddie needed before he had you beneath him once more singing a tune he knew he’d never forget.

You dressed in silence after. He pulled on a fresh pair of jeans and a thin sweater while you glanced at the wrinkled heap of your dress from the night before. It hadn’t dawned on you the complications of getting your feet wet on Halloween — at least, not until now.

“I can’t walk back to Micah’s in that,” you groaned, pointing to the messy ball of fabric on the floor.

“Wait — I have an idea!”

Eddie rummaged around a box in the far corner of the room and tossed a tee shirt your way. Across the front was ‘Corroded Coffin’ in a messy font that reminded you of how your brain often felt after one too many cups of coffee in the morning.

“Your band?” you asked, turning the shirt around to show him.

“Yeah.” He nodded, white teeth flashing with his smile. “You know, you could see us some time.”

You quickly slipped the dress over your head and let the skirt ruffle messily along the floor, then moved to roll up the billowy sleeves to your shoulders.

“I can’t say that I’ll be in California any time soon,” you told him, pulling the tee over your head next and draping it over the belt. Like this, it looked more like an oddly fitted skirt and a top. You already decided that was much better than a Halloween costume, so it would do until you got home and could change.

He nodded rapidly, like he knew that, but hadn’t realized that you’d be coasts apart in only a couple of days.

“Well…” he trailed off, searching around the bedside table for a moment.

Once he procured a pencil and a piece of paper, he scribbled down a string of numbers you immediately knew were the hope for something more from a boy with kind eyes, a beautiful smile, and a heart of gold. Your chest ached. If only you’d met him two years ago, at a better time, in a place where you were more open to whatever this could not be.

“My number — for the place I’ll be staying at for the next couple months,” he explained, tucking it into the exposed circle of your palm, closing your fist within his fingers. “Maybe, I don’t know…we can talk?”

“I can do talking,” you conceded, already hating the fact you knew you wouldn’t be utilizing the number.

It was better this way; he was better off this way.

You both parted with a kiss in the doorway. With his arms looped low around your waist in a way that felt too familiar. A way that suffocated, heart twisting at the soft smile that graced his pretty mouth when he wished you a good shift and you wished him a safe flight.

The walk home was all inward grins that flowed on your face until it hurt. Waves to random strangers passing on the street, curious gazes from onlookers at the billowing sleeves you kept shoving up into your tee shirt as you passed. Memories of the night before flashed in your mind. Of his fingers tugging the zipper on the dress, tossing your underwear alongside his on the floor, mouth on yours, hands learning the contours of your body, the way he fitted perfectly inside you.

Another time, another place, another day maybe.

And that day was not today.

Micah was sprawled across the kitchen island when you entered. You shut the door as quietly as possible behind you, only to find she’d already been awake anyway. A cup of likely long gone cold coffee rested beside her along with a bottle of painkillers, her forehead pressed against the cool tile, nursing what you imagined had to be the headache from hell.

“You’re home late,” she grumbled, pushing her head up into her hands. Blonde hair spilled around her forearms, face covered behind her palms. “I’m assuming you had a good time. Which will at least make one of us. Jere passed out as soon as we got home and snored all night.”

“Sorry, sweetie,” you apologized, stepping further into the kitchen, opening the refrigerator immediately for some water. “I…we had fun.”

“I’m going to need you to spill, because he was cute even with the mask. Don’t think I didn’t notice,” she mused, suddenly healed of her headache, what with the way she looked at you like she’d received the best news of her life.

“I accomplished exactly what I wanted to. I got my toes wet.” You shrugged, lathering some butter onto a freshly toasted bagel.

“You like him,” she screeched, making her own self wince at the sheer volume of it.

You did. You do. But those feelings would fade. Your resolve had already hardened because he wanted romance and flowers and you needed no strings. He deserved that much — he deserved so much.

“We had sex, that’s all. And he’s leaving for California in a few days. I’m never going to see him again. So it doesn’t really matter, now does it?”

——

It hadn’t felt real. For days, you’d doubted every symptom. Every inkling that might have alluded to your present condition.

First, it had been the realization that your period was late. Not even the one or two days you would have pushed aside as a result of stress, the extra hours you’d taken up at work to try and save a little money here and there for a new apartment, or your severe lack of sleep. Then, the nauseousness started. In waves, most days, and definitely not only in the mornings like you’d been led to believe your whole life. Your chest ached next; a fullness that felt unlike your normal, monthly symptoms. Chalked it up to your oncoming period. The same period by that point was nearly two weeks delayed. There was also the fact that no matter how much you slept, you’d still felt like it wasn’t enough. Found yourself dozing off at work, yawning standing in the line for groceries, losing focus while out with friends.

There was also the fact statistics were on your side. You’d done all the right things and were on birth control at the time. So it couldn’t be…that, right? Statistically improbable, unlikely, unwarranted. At least, that was what you had chosen to reassure yourself with, quieting the shouting in your skull that suggested otherwise.

It wasn’t until you were sprawled out against that obnoxiously crinkly white paper in the doctor’s office a little over a month after Halloween that you’d even allowed the thought to enter your mind. It also happened to be the first moment you wondered if you were about to have the entirety of your life changed by a night with a boy in too tight pants you’d definitely not thought about even once since you’d spent the night with him. And you most definitely didn’t picture his dark pupils expanding in the night as you rolled over him, his palms gripping your hips, your hands on his chest, heads thrown back in shared ecstasy.

No.

Not at all.

Six weeks, they told you, with sympathetic looks and uncertain smiles as you exhaled shakily and stared up at the ceiling to stop the room from spinning out of control around you. Six weeks pregnant and undoubtedly so, based on the rapid thrum of the baby’s heartbeat on the screen before you. Strong, they’d said. Perfectly healthy for someone at this point in your pregnancy. They printed pictures up for you of the tiny gummy bear with arms and you held it in trembling hands as they began to speak. Words strung together to form sentences you’d barely understood. Options for next steps, vitamins to take, habits to stop, foods to eat and foods to avoid, how much caffeine to drink, how much weight you could lift and what activities you should start to limit—your head spun with it and continued the whole quiet walk home back to Micah’s place she shared with her boyfriend, Jeremiah.

She welcomed you with open arms as you entered their apartment with a pamphlet on pregnancy in one hand and your pocketbook in the other, whimpered cries of not knowing what to do soaking through her knitted sweater. She’d accepted it without hesitation, just as she always did and would. Held you close to her chest — and hissed at Jeremiah to leave when he’d eventually poked his head in — as you processed the emotions swirling like an endless kaleidoscope in your mind.

And later, when your tears had dried and she’d plopped a freshly opened box of ice cream in your lap and demanded you eat, she asked, “Please just…tell me it’s absolutely Westley’s and not Paul’s.”

“Six weeks,” you sighed, watching her shoulders relax. There was no mistaking who the baby’s father was, and at least that brought you some comfort, “Definitely Westley’s.”

Though you weren’t sure if that made it any better.

“I just want you to know it’s going to be okay,” Micah reassured you, reaching over to rub at your forearm. But did she really know that? How could she? Because to you, it felt like the earth had fallen out of orbit, spinning dizzily now with no signs of stopping any time soon. “I know we don’t have the most space right now, but the couch turns into a futon. It’s yours until you find something otherwise, you know that.”

Telling Eddie his world was (potentially) about to change happened two weeks later. You needed some time to process, is what you’d told yourself was the reason why you’d delayed. After hours of debating, you decided to keep it, and knew that there was always the chance Eddie didn’t want kids — always the chance he’d want to pretend it never happened and that he didn’t want to be a part of its life. Regardless of what he chose, you’d set your mind on being a mother, and you’d do it alone if you had to. But he at least deserved to know; deserved the option of choosing them, even if all you’d had was a night fueled by lust, because you weren’t interested in anything more than that.

Fear had clamped your mouth shut, preventing you from forming those two words for fourteen days. Just two simple words that would have opened the dam to let in the floodgates for the conversation that needed to happen.

Eddie, I’m pregnant.

I’m pregnant.

You’d rehearsed it all afternoon, pacing a certifiable hole in the ground from how rapidly you’d moved. Had even stood in front of your friends and had them listen to it until you felt confident enough to do it for real. Gripped Micah’s hand tight as you swiped the man’s number from your pocketbook and dialed. It rang once, then twice, and you worried he wouldn’t answer or you’d caught him at a bad time when the line exploded with sound. Voices. Dozens of voices spilled through the other line, and music along with it.

You winced. “Uhm, Eddie? Is this the right number?”

A long pause extended, drowned out by guitar strings and drum beats. “Uh — uh, yeah. This is him.”

He sounded gruffer than you remembered — voice tinged with a smokier quality that seemed almost unfamiliar to you now. Not that you’d spoken much that night. Maybe he’d caught something, maybe he was sick. Maybe it was merely the weeks that had grown on since you’d seen him, and he'd become another person in the crowd already — someone you knew if only for a night. Heart pounding, you gripped Micah’s hand tighter and wound the phone wire around a pointed fingertip.

“Hi…I’m sorry I’m only calling now. Busy, you know?” A lie, because you’d never intended to call. It had been one night; that was all it was ever meant to be. “It’s the…girl from the party. The Buttercup to your Westley costume on Halloween.”

He chuckled in reply, and you wondered if maybe he was shy. He’d been looser the night you met — louder. Boisterous and passionate. Carefree and fun. But you wondered briefly if that was the glass of whiskey he’d drunk before you slipped away to his hotel room hearing him now. But you remembered that next morning, too; his splendid affection, the kissing, the exuberance of his persona, the way he’d made you fall apart around him again.

It seemed…strange now. Cut off, cold even.

“I’m…pregnant. I just —” You swallowed the knot of fear forming in the back of your throat and continued, “I just thought you should know…because it’s yours.”

There was another prolonged pause.

Nervousness welled up in your throat the longer it continued. Joined that roiling nausea that had become your friend and foe these weeks. Swallowing thickly, your fingers pressed over the span of your abdomen, over the knitted sweater and skin protecting your tiny secret — still not visible to others yet, but wholly your own all the same. You’d already decided you would love them fiercely enough for the both of you if he didn’t want anything to do with it, just so they’d never feel like they were missing out.

Then, after what felt like decades, he asked, “Who is this again?”

You repeated your name, nervousness rattling your bones, fingers trembling in Micah’s. Micah mouthed out ‘Breathe,’ even though you were doing anything but.

The line went dead, and your heart along with it.

——

let me know what you think! 🩷

#lunaloveseddie #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fanfiction

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nvrsaidiwasinurcloset · 5 months

Note

When will you post the y/n Meeks Martin x Ethan Landry post 😭

Right fucking now lmao.

This is my first post in a while, take it easy on me 💕

Secrets - Ethan Landry x Fem!Meeks-Martin!Reader

This contains SMUT - Minors DNI

Summary: Growing up with overprotective siblings has made it difficult for you to find someone to be with, until you meet your brother's nerdy best friend.

Contains: Fluff, Angst, Some violence-ish, Oral - f receiving, riding, p in v, teasing. (If I missed something, let me know:)

A/N: If any of yall are familiar with Spongebob, I have the fucking suds and I'll be writing a lot the next few days lmao

Your brother and sister were so protective of you. After some of the things they’d been through, you couldn’t really blame them, and you were thankful that they were always looking out for you. The only downside? They seemed to hate every person that asked you out or showed interest in you. You were sure that you would be single forever if it was up to them, because they didn’t think anyone was good enough for you.

Once they went away to New York for school, you missed them, but with there only being a one-year age difference, you knew you wouldn’t have to wait long before you’d be heading to Blackmore. You took the opportunity to finally put yourself out there and go on dates without the twins interfering, and you were starting to realize how right they were when they told you that the guys in Woodsboro weren’t really worth your time.

When you FaceTimed Chad to let him know that you got accepted into the same university as him and Mindy, he was beaming at the news. He was going on and on about all the things he loved about New York, and wouldn’t shut up about the pizza, but you tuned out everything he was saying once you noticed his roommate in the background. His hot roommate.

“Dude, my sister got in!” Chad yelled, as you rolled your eyes. He seemed more excited than you were about the whole situation. “Ethan, come say hi.”

“Fine,” he huffed, as Chad passed him his phone. He paused for a second once he saw you, but quickly pulled it together. It was awkward enough to meet someone for the first time on a phone screen, and he didn’t want to make it any weirder. “Hey, I’m Ethan.”

“Ah, the dorky roommate,” you said, as Ethan looked away from you to glare at Chad.

“Is that how you tell people about me? You say that I’m dorky?”

“If the shoe fits…” Chad trailed off before he tried to take his phone back from Ethan.

“Well, it was nice to meet you,” he said, passing the phone back to your brother.

“Have you told Mindy yet?” Chad questioned, a smirk on his face as he waited for your answer.

“No…”

“I knew I was your favorite!”

Once Chad and Mindy came home for summer break, they wouldn’t stop talking about how excited they were to take you back to New York with them. They were heading back early to help Chad move into his own apartment with Ethan, and Mindy was moving into the spare bedroom at Tara’s with Anika. They decided that you needed to come with them, even though you wouldn’t be able to move into your dorm for a couple weeks.

“I’m not thrilled about couch surfing,” you said, as Chad rolled his eyes.

“I’d sleep on the couch. You could sleep in my bed.”

“So, she’s staying with you for two weeks? I thought she’d stay at Tara’s,” Mindy said, “What happens when you want to stay over with Tara and she’s left alone with Ethan?”

“Oh, please. Ethan won’t try anything,” Chad said, as Mindy scoffed. “What?”

“What makes you think Ethan wouldn’t try something?”

“Because he’s my boy. He knows she’s off limits…I already told him,” Chad said, as you sighed in frustration.

“You know what? I’m not doing this whole ‘You can’t date so and so’ shit that I’ve dealt with for years,” you said, as Mindy cocked her eyebrow at you.

“You’re staying at Tara’s,” she said, “You’ve gotten a little feisty lately. It wouldn’t surprise me if you tried to get with Ethan just because we said you can’t.”

“No, I’m staying with Chad. It’ll be fine. Ethan doesn’t seem like the type to try anything,” you said, as she had a confused look on her face.

“When have you talked to Ethan?”

“Oh, that was when she called me first to let me know she got into Blackmore,” Chad smirked, as Mindy snapped her head in his direction.

“No, she called me first.”

They turned to look at you, “Who did you call first?” they both asked at the same time, as you shrugged.

“I’ll never tell.”

When you made it to New York, you were exhausted. You couldn’t sleep on the five-hour flight, and the jet lag was really starting to get to you as you went to the baggage claim area to get your stuff.

“When’s your furniture getting delivered?” Mindy asked, as Chad checked his phone.

“Soon. Ethan’s here somewhere,” Chad said, glancing around for his friend that was taking you back to your new home for the next two weeks.

“I think that’s him,” you said, pointing to the guy with the huge sign that said ‘Meeks-Martin’. “Is he always that lame?”

“Yeah, poor dude can’t get a girlfriend to save his life because he’s that cheesy,” Chad said, as he walked over and took the sign from him. “We’re just going to put this in the trash.”

“Hey, it took me two minutes to make that,” Ethan said, as he glanced over to you. He noticed you struggling with your luggage and carryon. “Can I help you with that?”

“I got it,” Mindy said, grabbing the large suitcase from you. She stared Ethan down for a second before she walked past him.

“How do you deal with them?” Ethan asked, as you sleepily smiled at him.

“They’re not that bad.”

As Ethan drove, Mindy was in the backseat arguing with Chad as he sat in the passenger seat about how you staying at Tara’s would be best. You sighed as they bickered, before you noticed that Ethan kept glancing back at you in the rear-view mirror. You thought he was even more attractive in person and thought about how hard the next couple weeks could potentially be with him living in the same apartment as you.

“Seriously, how are you going to feel when those losers leave the toilet seat up all the time?” Mindy questioned, as Chad scoffed.

“I think we’re housebroken,” Ethan spoke up for the first time in the drive as he glanced back at Mindy. He quickly looked away once he noticed her glaring at him.

“Listen, Landry. I know I won’t be able to convince her, so I want to make it perfectly clear that if you touch my sister, I will kill you.”

“What makes you guys think that I’m like that?” Ethan asked, the annoyance in his tone obvious.

“They think anyone’s like that when it comes to me,” you said, smiling at him as his eyes met yours in the mirror again.

You made it to Chad and Ethan’s apartment seconds after the furniture delivery truck pulled in. Once they opened the back of the truck, Mindy’s jaw dropped.

“I can’t believe mom paid for all this stuff,” she said, as Chad sighed.

“She didn’t. Ethan and I took out loans.”

“Maybe you should’ve asked mom. She paid for all my bedroom stuff,” Mindy shrugged, as Chad sighed.

“Why didn’t I think of that?”

After the stuff for the apartment was scattered in various areas of the house, Mindy got the text that Anika was at Tara’s, and was wondering when she’d be over.

“You staying here, or coming with me?” Mindy asked but cut you off before you could even respond. “You’re coming with me.”

“No, she can hang out here if she wants to. We’re all going out for pizza later tonight, anyway,” Chad said, as Mindy rolled her eyes.

“Are you two going to argue like this until I move into my dorm?” you questioned, as the twins exchanged their glances.

“Probably.”

“I’ll hang out here,” you said, as Mindy nodded.

“I’ll see you soon.”

Later that evening after you’d helped the two boys set up their new apartment, you were starting to get hungry. Chad wanted to keep working, and you eventually flopped onto the couch, sighing in defeat.

“I’m starving,” you whined, as Ethan walked into the living room and sat down on the free cushion beside where your feet were resting.

“Me too,” Ethan said, matching your whining as Chad glared at the two of you. “What? It’s been a long day. We skipped lunch.”

“We’ll leave soon,” Chad said, as you got an idea in your head.

“Orrr you could meet us there,” you suggested. “You know how I get if I don’t eat.”

“True,” Chad sighed, “Ethan, make sure nothing happens to her.”

“I won’t let her out of my sight.”

As you walked beside Ethan, he started to make small talk. By the time you made it to the restaurant, you were in a full-blown conversation about all the interests you both had, and he was proud of himself that he didn’t get nervous when he talked to you. You scanned the restaurant for your sister and Tara, but once you noticed they weren’t there yet, you and Ethan sat at one of the tables.

“Do you want to eat now, or wait?” he asked, looking at you from across the table.

“We can eat now, I’m so hungry.”

“I was hoping you’d say that.”

While you and Ethan ate the pizza that Chad hyped up so much, you were surprised at how good it was. You kept talking to Ethan, but you soon realized how much time had passed, and no one else had showed up to the restaurant.

“Where do you think they are?” you asked, as Ethan sighed.

“Okay, don’t hate me,” he said, as you curiously stared at him. “I kind of wanted to get to know you without your brother and sister making it seem like I was trying to get into your pants.”

“That’s really sweet,” you said, taking a sip of your drink. “But if they aren’t here, where are they?”

“They probably went to the one on campus.”

“Did you trick me into going to dinner with you?” you joked, as he started to blush.

“I’ll be honest, I thought they would’ve come to hunt you down by now.”

As soon as those words left his mouth, Chad, Mindy, Tara, and who you assumed to be Anika walked in. Chad sighed in relief once he saw you, but Mindy just looked pissed.

“You know how many pizzerias we stopped at to look for you?” she questioned before she looked at Ethan. “Why did you bring her to this one?”

“Simple mistake,” he shrugged, as Mindy stared him down.

“Simple mistake, my ass. I told you Ethan would try something with her.”

“It’s just pizza!” you snapped, “Last time I checked, we weren’t fucking.”

Everyone’s jaws dropped at your words as the waitress brought the check to the table. Ethan took it from her, his mouth still hanging open as he looked at you.

“You want to split it?” you asked, as he shook his head.

“I got it.”

“We’re going back to Tara’s,” Chad said, as you stood up from the table to hug her.

“Hey,” you said, before you turned to Anika. “It’s nice to meet you. Mindy wouldn’t shut up about you all summer.”

“Aww, babe,” she said, pulling Mindy into a side hug.

“Look, as much as I’d love to hang out with you guys, I’m exhausted,” you said, yawning as Chad sighed.

“I really wanted to hang out with Tara.”

“I’ll walk her home,” Ethan suggested, as Mindy, once again, glared at him. “I can drop her off and go to Tara’s after.”

“No, I don’t want her left alone in an area that she doesn’t know,” Chad said, as you rolled your eyes.

“I can stay there with her, then. Seriously, I won’t try anything,” Ethan said, putting his hands up in defeat as Chad nodded.

“I know you won’t, dude. Thanks.”

As you and Ethan made your way out of the restaurant, you heard Mindy scold Chad for being so trusting. But Chad felt like he had no reason to think Ethan would do anything to betray his trust.

Once you got back to the apartment, you were tired, but not tired enough to fall asleep. Ethan was about to head to his room before you stopped him.

“Do you want to watch a movie or something?”

“I thought you were exhausted?” he asked, as he turned around and made his way towards you.

“I just didn’t feel like going with them and being there all night,” you sighed, as he sat on the opposite end of the couch. “Why are you sitting over there?”

“Because if Chad comes home and sees me sitting beside you, I’m sure I’ll be moving out of here into an unmarked grave,” he said, half-joking as you rolled your eyes.

“Please. If it was Mindy, yeah. But Chad, I don’t think so.”

“Whatever you say,” he said, scooting closer to you as he turned on the tv. “You cool with something scary?”

“Mindy’s my sister, what do you think?”

“Scary it is.”

Ethan thought that after sitting through some of the goriest movies ever with the Twins, there was no way that you’d be freaking out over some jump scares. But once you were practically in his lap, your face hiding behind your hands as the scene played out on the screen, he started to laugh to himself.

“What?” you asked, looking up at him. That’s when you realized that you were practically on top of him and went to move, but his arm wrapped around you to hold you in place.

“Your brother and sister don’t get phased by this shit,” he said, smiling down at you. He started to glance between your eyes and your lips, and he was so close to making a move, when a loud shriek on the screen pulled your attention away from him.

“This is one of the few I haven’t seen,” you shrugged, “I wouldn’t be so jumpy if you picked something I had seen before.”

“I don’t think I believe you,” Ethan chuckled, as you turned your head to look at him again.

“If you want to kiss me, you should probably do it soon. The movie’s almost over,” you said, as he smiled and leaned down.

When his lips touched yours, you felt something different than what you’d usually feel when you’d kiss someone. You immediately felt the chemistry, and with the way his lips were quickly moving with yours, you were sure that he felt it, too.

Once he pulled away to catch his breath, he had a sweet smile on his lips. He definitely didn’t expect to kiss his best friend’s sister, but he was happy that you were bold enough to tell him it was okay. Another thing he didn’t expect was for you to adjust yourself so you were straddling him, as his eyes looked into yours. His hands moved to rest on your thighs as you leaned down to kiss him again. This time, it was way more intense. Your hands were in his hair as his hands rested on the curve of your ass to keep you as close as he could.

The second the kiss got deeper, you heard the sound of a key going into the front door.

“Shit,” you said, pulling away and jumping off the couch.

“Wait,” Ethan said, as he followed you. He pulled you in for one more quick kiss before you rushed into Chad’s room and shut the door.

When Ethan walked back out, Chad had just made it to the living room.

“Where were you?” Chad questioned, as Ethan glared at him.

“My room is beside yours. I wasn’t trying anything with your sleeping sister,” Ethan scoffed, as Chad nodded.

“Sorry, dude. I had to listen to Mindy talk about how much she hated the idea of the two of you being here alone.”

“It’s cool, just don’t accuse me of shit you know I wouldn’t do.”

Ethan felt a little guilty for lying to Chad, but you were the first girl that he’d actually felt something for in a long time. After days of stealing quick kisses and steamy make-out sessions whenever Chad was in the shower, the sexual frustration was starting to build. Ethan knew that he wasn’t going to initiate it, because the last thing he wanted was for you to think that was the reason he was spending time with you. Plus, you hadn’t been left alone long enough since the first night.

“So, I think Tara and I are going to a movie tonight. You guys want to come?” Chad asked, as Ethan looked over to you as you sat on the opposite end of the couch.

“I’m not really in the mood to watch a movie,” you said, as Chad cocked his eyebrow at you.

“You don’t want to watch a movie?” he questioned, as you shook your head. “What about you, Ethan?”

“Dude, spend time with your girlfriend. I’m sure she doesn’t want a third wheel tagging along.”

“Mindy and Anika are going, too. You wouldn’t be a third wheel,” Chad said, as Ethan chuckled.

“Your right, I’d be a fifth wheel. You guys have fun. I’ll probably just play video games all night anyway.”

“Okay, I should be back around eleven,” Chad said, as he made his way towards the apartment door.

As soon as he left, Ethan was on you, literally. You moved so you were laying back as he hovered over you, his mouth moving with yours as your legs wrapped around him.

“Hey, do you want to go to your room?” you asked once he pulled away to breathe.

“You sure?”

“Mhm.”

Within seconds, his feet met the floor, and his hands reached for yours to pull you up. He led you down the hallway to his room, before his lips connected with yours again. He backed you towards the bed, a small squeal slipping past your lips against his as your back hit the comforter. Your legs wrapped around him again, holding him as close to you as you could. One of his hands was running up your side over your shirt, until the material started to ride up. He gave you goosebumps as his fingers moved over the newly exposed flesh, before he pulled away to look at you.

“What do you want to do?” he asked, “Because if you just want to make out, that’s fine. There’s no pressure, and I don’t want you to think that I just want sex.”

”I know you don’t,” you said, smiling at him. “But if the sexual tension get’s any stronger between us and we don’t do something about it, I might actually explode.”

“So, you want sex,” he said, trying his best to not freak out.

“Yeah,” you said, as he leaned back down.

It didn’t take long for his hips to start moving, the hard cock in his sweatpants brushing against you. You gasped into the kiss every time your clit got the smallest amount of friction, before his hand moved in between your bodies so he could rub you over the shorts you were wearing.

“Fuck,” you mumbled against his lips. “You can take those off me, if you want.”

He quickly slid them down your hips before his hand went back in between your legs, rubbing across your soaked panties.

“You’re so wet,” he groaned, “Does kissing me do this to you?”

“Yes,” you said, as his lips moved to your neck.

Your bottom lip was in between your teeth as he slid your panties to the side, his finger rubbing slow circles over your clit.

“We’re here alone, baby. Don’t hold those pretty sounds in.”

Soft whimpers were slipping past your lips as his finger moved faster against your sensitive bundle of nerves. Your pussy was already drenched, and you felt yourself getting more wet by the second. You whined in protest once he pulled away, but he quickly shut you up, a low moan falling out of your mouth when he easily slid two of his fingers inside you as he moved down the bed.

Your hands tangled in his hair the second his tongue touched your clit, his fingers hitting that special spot inside you. Your hips were involuntarily arching off the bed at the feeling as he struggled to keep you pinned down.

“So good,” you moaned, as he sucked your clit into his mouth. “Fuck.”

Once he started to hum with your clit in his mouth, you felt the coil in your stomach getting tighter and tighter. Your moans kept getting higher and louder, and he made the mental note that he really couldn’t sneak around with you like this if Chad happened to be home, because you were just so loud. He loved it, though. All the noised you were making went straight to his throbbing cock as he brought you closer to the edge. Once your pussy started to squeeze his fingers, he sucked harder on your clit, the feeling throwing you into an intense orgasm. He groaned as your shaky hands tugged on his hair, his fingers slowing as he got you through it.

Once you started to relax, he sat up to look at you as he slowly slid his fingers out. Your cheeks were rosy, your chest was heaving, and you were still a little shaky. He loved that he had that effect on you and couldn’t wait to actually be inside of you.

“Let me help you with your shirt,” he said, as you sat up and looked at him, your eyes still hazy.

“That felt so good,” you finally said, as he chuckled.

“I hope so with how hard you were pulling my hair.”

“I’m sorry,” you said softly as he shook his head.

“Don’t be sorry, I loved it.”

Once he got you out of your shirt and bra, and he slid his sweatpants down his hips, he walked over to the bedside table to grab a condom.

“You still want to do this, right?” he asked, as you smiled at him.

“Yeah.”

He slid his boxers down his thighs before he rolled the condom on and lined up with your soaked pussy. He took his time as he inched his way inside of you, a loud moan falling past your lips once he was all the way in.

“So fucking tight,” he rushed out, before he started with slow thrusts. “That feel good?”

“Yes,” you moaned, your hands reaching up to squeeze your breasts as he started to go faster.

You knew you were wet, but you could hear how wet you actually were as his cock slid in and out of your pussy. His eyes stayed on you. He didn’t want to miss any of the faces you were making.

“Can I be on top?” you asked, as he smirked at you.

“Yeah, babe,” he said, as he pulled out and laid down.

You got up and moved to straddle him, the whimpers flooding out of your mouth as you sank down onto him.

Ethan felt like he was in heaven as his hands held onto your hips. He had the perfect view of your face, your tits, and he could even see his cock sliding in and out of you. Your hands moved to rest against his chest so you could stabilize yourself as you rolled your hips, the tip of his cock giving your g-spot the attention it needed.

“Come here,” he said, as you leaned down, your bare chest pressing against his. You felt his hands snake around you to hold you close before his hips started to move, his cock thrusting in and out of you so quick that you couldn’t think straight. He was letting out soft grunts that could barely be heard over your moans. You were both getting sweaty as you clung to him, his pace not letting up as you felt yourself start to get close.

“Fuck, Ethan,” you whined, as you felt that white-hot feeling spreading across your body, your hands gripping him as he just kept fucking up into you.

“I’m almost there, baby.”

You didn’t think it was possible, but he went even faster. You were a moaning mess as he kept slamming his cock into you, before his thrusts got erratic.

“Cumming,” he groaned, as you slowly moved back to meet his thrusts as he got himself through it. “Fuck, that was…fuck.”

“Yeah,” you mumbled against his chest.

He slid out of you but held you close for a few minutes, his hands rubbing over your back as you both caught your breath.

That’s when you heard other voices inside the apartment. You shot up, your eyes looking down to meet Ethan’s panicked ones.

“Where are they?” Mindy asked, the annoyance in her tone obvious as you and Ethan jumped up to grab your clothes off the floor.

Ethan quickly took the condom off and slid his boxers on as you tried to put your clothes back on. It was too late, though, once his bedroom door eased open.

“Hey, dude,” Chad said, before closing the door once he noticed Ethan was just in his boxers. “Shit, sorry.”

Chad was embarrassed as he turned to look at Mindy before he realized something. Your shorts were on Ethan’s bedroom floor.

“What the fuck is going on in here?” Chad’s voice boomed once he opened the door. This time he was able to see you, but you’d just slid your shorts back up over your hips. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

He walked over to Ethan and grabbed him by the shirt he was able to put on in those few seconds, and you could see the fear in Ethan’s eyes as he looked over to you.

“Don’t fucking look at her!” Chad yelled, as Mindy finally walked into the room.

“Told you her staying here was a mistake,” she said, as Chad got angrier by the second.

“I didn’t think that my best friend couldn’t keep his dick in his pants.”

“Stop, seriously. You guys are making this more than it needs to be,” you said, as Chad looked over to you. “Calm down, Chad. He’s your best friend.”

“Last time I checked, friends don’t sleep with their friend’s sister!” he yelled, before he looked back at Ethan. “I can’t fucking believe you did this.”

“Why are you acting like I had no part in this?” you asked, as Mindy scoffed.

“Yeah, right. I’m sure Ethan charmed you out of your panties just to get what he wanted.”

“That’s not true!” Ethan snapped, his fear of Chad kicking his ass turning to anger as his friend finally let go of his shirt. “I really like her. This has nothing to do with me just wanting to sleep with her.”

“She’s my baby sister, Ethan!”

“Stop calling me that,” you sighed in frustration. “I’m a year younger than you. I’m a legal adult. Nothing Ethan and I did is wrong aside from you two saying that he needed to keep his distance from me.”

“He obviously doesn’t listen,” Mindy said, as you felt yourself start to get mad.

“You know what really fucking sucks? You two are my best friends, but you won’t let me live. You won’t let me experience things. You know Ethan’s not a bad person…you know how bad I’ve wanted to hang out with him and get to know him better, but you guys won’t let that happen.” you ranted, “I like him, too. And if I want to be with him, you aren’t going to tell me that I can’t! You better not threaten him anymore, either. I’m sick of this childish shit.”

Your sibling stared at you as Chad nodded in understanding. He had no problem intimidating any of the boys that’d shown interest in you, but out of the two of them, he was the one that seemed to be the one that got you.

“I do really like her. I don’t want us to have to sneak around, but I’ll keep doing it, if I have to,” Ethan said, smiling at you. “She’s amazing. It’d be stupid of me to not want a chance with her.”

“Do we have to sneak around? Or can you guys be cool about it?” you asked, as Chad sighed.

“I’m cool with it. Just…no hooking up when I’m here.”

“You’re okay with this?” Mindy scoffed, as Chad rolled his eyes.

“Ethan’s not a bad person. If he really likes her, what’s the big deal?”

“And that’s why he’s my favorite,” you said, brushing past them to head to the bathroom.

“Told you,” Chad said, teasingly pointing at Mindy before she smacked his hand away. “Ow!”

“Ethan, you better not hurt her,” Mindy scolded, as he nodded.

“I won’t…but can you guys get out while I put my pants back on?”

#ethan landry #ethan landry x reader #scream smut #ethan landry smut #smut

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hellishjoel · 1 year

Text

psycho bitch

3.2k / pairing: brat tamer!joel x f!reader

pt. 1 pt. 2

summary: When Joel ignoring you leads to an expensive shopping spree on his credit card, punishment follows in the form of spanking and a well-deserved pounding.

warnings/information: MA 18+ (minors DNI), no outbreak, brat tamer!Joel, swearing, dirty talk, pet names (kitten, etc.), degradation, name calling (be nice lol), praise kink, dom!joel, spanking, a little ass play, unprotected p in v, overstimulation, mean joel honestly lol

A/N: it’s official, I’m naming this series psycho because I’m pretty sure that’s what Joel has reader’s name in his phone saved as. his lil psycho <3 we love psycho in this house (it’s you, you’re psycho).

“Say you’re sorry.” Joel sneered, voice low. You paused the motion of your hips and cocked your head in an attempt to look back at him. A dopey hm? left your lips. Mistake. The smack of his hands cracked against your ass, the stinging sensation warming your entire body as you gasped. “Shit-- Joel!” You whimpered as you writhed under his body, but it was pointless, he had pinned you to the couch. “What the hell is wrong with you?!” “Say you’re sorry,” He repeated. “Say you’re sorry for rackin’ up my credit card.”

If there was one thing you loved doing above all else, it was irritating the shit out of Joel. Whatever he was to you, boyfriend, fuck toy, situationship… whatever role he played, he was more fun riled up.

You’d rather have the most psychotic, deranged, raving mad sex with Joel than be stuck in missionary for the rest of your life.

You were at his place, lying in his bed waiting for him to come home from work. And you’d be waiting a while because according to your phone, it was barely noon. Bored, you tried calling him a few times, but he didn’t care to answer.

To busy your mind, you started watching Clueless. What a horrible idea that was because now, you wished you had the funds to afford Cher Horowitz’s wardrobe. Hm.

Laid in the lingerie Joel left you in this morning, you rolled onto your tummy and started surfing the different stores you loved for inspiration. You wondered what would drive Joel up a wall. A mini skirt? Knee-high socks? An expensive gold waist chain? They all sounded good.

Add to cart. Add to cart. Add to cart.

Your heart clenched at the total.

“Fuck.” You murmured, tossing your phone to the side in frustration. To live a life of wanting so much, but earning so little was not a life for you. Your lips twisted in thought.

Maybe Joel would buy the rest of your items if you threw in a new set of lingerie or two. As much as it was for you to wear, it was just as much for his enjoyment.

You sent him a screenshot of a nice bubble gum pink lace bustier and garter set. The embellishments were gold hearts, and the snaps onto the garters were gold clasps. It was absolutely to die for, despite it being a few hundred dollars.

cute, isn’t it?

You sent it off to Joel and chewed on your fingernail for his response.

It made your eyes roll back into your head the way that he continued to ignore you. You decided to give him one last call, and if he didn’t pick up, you were grabbing the emergency American Express on top of the refrigerator and using it for… said emergency.

If there was one lesson Joel needed to learn, it was that you were not someone to be ignored.

You spent the rest of the afternoon into the evening online shopping with the Amex, giggling in excitement at the newfound cash flow. Sure, he might not be happy at first, but surely Joel would love everything you bought. It was all for him, after all.

You had moved from his bed to the couch after eating a late lunch, laid on your tummy in just a t-shirt and thong, still scrolling through your phone.

Your jaw clicked when the front door was kicked open so fast that it made the floorboards shake. You were used to his theatrics by now, so you continued to lay unphased.

“The HELL do you think you’re doin’ with that?” Joel snapped as he swiped the Amex card straight from between your fingers. You smirked as you stared down at your phone, mindlessly scrolling and ignoring him.

“Do you know how many DAMN notifications I got on my phone today? Do you know how many charges you made on the card?” He snapped, shucking off his work boots and jacket as his eyes burned into the back of your head.

You fluttered out a sigh, finally giving him a little attention and turning your head to him.

“You don’t like what I bought?”

Joel was starstruck with anger, it grounded him into one standing spot in the living room with his muscular arms crossed in annoyance.

“You crossed a line, you fuckin’-- psycho bitch.” He spat his words, venom poison dripping from his pretty lips. “Paid over a thousand dollars today and for what? Lingerie?!”

You stifled a giggle and bit on your lower lip. “And a pink silk robe. Verrrry pretty.”

He scoffed. “Very fuckin’ expensive. Waste of time, waste of money, made me damn near keel over at work today seein’ those bills rack up!” Joel said as his angry growls filled the room.

“So you were on your phone today, just not talking to me, huh?” Your voice held annoyance, your face in a light pinched expression.

He ignored you, rolling your eyes as you returned to your phone.

“Should have said so before I bought everything... Tried calling you, texting you. Never answered me.” You could feel Joel’s obvious annoyance and anger without even looking.

“I was at work, don’t have time to wait on you hand and foot.”

You lightly shrugged, back turned to him as you pouted. Still laying on your stomach, you lifted your calves and crossed your ankles, ass curving perfectly with your thong on display. You could feel him watching, staring, admiring.

“Sounds like a you problem, Joel.”

His scoff was indignant as he sauntered past the coffee table and moved closer to the couch. Joel’s fingertips lightly grazed up the back of your thigh, causing goosebumps in his wake.

“Does it now?” His southern accent was slick with lust, you could feel his eyes staring at your ass. It was only confirmed when he took a big handful in his palm and squeezed.

“Mhmmm.” You hummed, paying him no mind. “Bought all of it for you, anyway. Know how much you like seein’ me all prettied up.” Your words were sweet but dangerous, a Venus flytrap waiting to snap Joel up.

Joel’s jaw was tight with anger, and he was taking it out through the grip of his hand on your juicy flesh.

“Feel like no one’s ever said no to you before I came along,” Joel muttered. You felt the couch shift, a soft gasp leaving you as he mounted the tops of your thighs with one of his knees smooshed between the cushions and the other on the edge, your body laid between.

Your lips parted at the feeling, his denim jeans grinding against the smoothness of your thighs. Your phone fell to the floor, and you paid no mind to it.

Joel was taking all of you in, massaging your gorgeous ass in his wide, warm palms.

You hummed at the feeling, your head dropping to lay on the arm of the couch.

His fingers lined your thong, and you purred in excitement.

He loved this pose. He’d sit on your thighs and part his dick right between your ass cheeks, slip right in, and watch his cock disappear into your entrance, enveloped by your flesh. Sometimes his thumb would notch into your second hole, fill you up and drive you up a wall.

You supposed you were both good at driving each other mad, just in different forms.

You couldn’t help but try and lift your hips up off the couch, leaning into his touch and lightly grinding up into his palms.

“Say you’re sorry.” Joel sneered, voice low.

You paused the motion of your hips and cocked your head in an attempt to look back at him.

A dopey hm? left your lips. Mistake.

The smack of his hands cracked against your ass, the stinging sensation warming your entire body as you gasped.

“Shit-- Joel!” You whimpered as you writhed under his body, but it was pointless, he had pinned you to the couch. “What the hell is wrong with you?!”

“Say you’re sorry,” He repeated. “Say you’re sorry for rackin’ up my credit card.” His signature snarl was sending you into a fit. And now you were just being stubborn. You weren’t sorry, he should be sorry!

“N-No.” A harsh slap hit your backside once more, and a broken crying whine left your throat, your eyes clenching closed.

This was the worst part about spanking; Joel was ruthless and unforgiving. But the hot sting was soon greeted by an aching pleasure between your thighs. You were going to give the couch a terrible wet puddle.

A shaky breath left your mouth as you braced for more, it was heaven to get this much attention from him.

The anxiety was lying in wait. You never knew when he was going to strike your red-soaked ass again, your breath hitched in your throat as you willed yourself to calm down in anticipation.

“A thousand. Fucking. Dollars. Just for you to be half naked like a little slut.”

Joel’s words didn’t hurt, they only implored you. He was so goddamn sexy when he talked like this. A soft moan left your lips, not being able to help it.

You were a wet sopping mess below him, weakly grinding your hips either down into the couch or up into his thighs. Anything to get some sort of friction. Fucking touch me already!

His greedy hands gripped and cupped your ass, pushing it up into your tailbone. He was so fucking possessive, the motion had you moaning.

“Yeah... I know you fuckin’ like it when I manhandle you. Lucky I even touch you after the shit you pulled today.” He pulled your panties aside and spat down over your pulsing asshole, feeling it glide down to your pussy and between your thighs.

You gulped, and the sound bounced off the walls. “Joel baby, I-” A harsh slap rang so loud, it echoed off the windowpanes. You clenched the couch in your little fists and let out the shaky, whimpery breath you were holding in. His couch would surely have nail marks in them now.

He spanked you until you were apologetic and deduced to nothing. A writhing apology below him in the form of your cunt sopping wet and mascara tears of pain and pleasure on your cheeks.

“I’m sorry baby, I’m so f-fuckin’ sorry daddy, please put your hands on me again-”

Smack.

“Fuck! Fuck! Right there, yes Joel, holy sh-shit, can hit me harder baby, feels so good, so so go-”

Smack.

“Fuck! Fuck Joel, owww, p-please baby, lemme make you feel good, take me in any hole you want, I’m yours, I’m yours!”

You were a whimpering, moaning, mess of a woman under him. He had smacked your ass so hard that it was numb. You hoped his hand would be tattooed on you forever. And you knew that was his point, to imprint the outline of his massive hand on your ass, branding you, announcing to everyone through the way you were going to walk tomorrow that you got bent over and spanked so hard into submission.

More tears threatened to spill on your waterline, you kept trying to blink them away. You had a dummy fucked grin on your face, Joel could see it with the way your sweaty cheek laid against the couch arm. He raised his hand once more, but you couldn’t take it again.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m so fuckin’ sorry, please, please, please..” Your voice trailed off, and his hand lowered. Suddenly, his hands were on your ass again, but now he was massaging into you again, taking away the ache and sting. Somewhat.

You let out a groveling whimpery moan, jaw dropped as you watched his gorgeous face out of the corner of your eye. His cock was rock hard against your thigh. He had only gotten harder during the whole spanking session.

“Know you wanna fuck me.” The notion slipped out of your mouth before you even had the chance to reclaim it. A cocky little smirk on your lips as you mustered up all the strength you had and ground your ass up into his hands.

You felt him peel your ass apart, watching the wet thong sopping with his spit and your arousal sink down to your pussy. He hummed in appreciation, slipping his thumb under the band and brushing against your tight hole.

“You can keep one pair of lingerie..” Your eyes twinkled in lust, a smile perking up on your lips.

“Only ‘cause I’m ‘bout to rip these off you.”

You gasped as your head whipped back to him, watching as he ripped the flimsy lace of your thong into nothingness. He made it look easy, effortless, his strength was nothing to contend. So fucking sexy.

You bit down on the plush pillow of your lower lip, holding back a grin as your small hands gripped the cushion of the couch. Fuck, he was so riled up tonight. Getting under his skin was always in your best interest.

Hot, shaky pants left your mouth as you watched him undo his belt buckle, the cool metal clasp falling onto your spanked, red ass with a hiss that had you seething through gritted teeth.

Joel pushed his jeans and black boxers down his thick thighs, his cock springing free.

The sight in your peripheral made you writhe your hips under his, but he was heavy weight over you, holding you down as you tried to shake your ass back into his tip.

This made him scoff out a degrading little puff through his nose, seeing you so desperate for him like this despite being freshly punished.

The adrenaline of it all heightened your senses, you could really smell him now.

You liked when Joel smelled like work. His lips and cock tasted musky, fresh and old sweat mixed with the heady smell of lingering cologne he applied in the morning. His odor tickled your nose, and you couldn’t help but let your grin slip.

“Somethin’ funny, princess?” Joel’s tone was teasing, goading even. He was looking for a fight, a reason to ram you into a speechless existence. Maybe then you’d learn to shut up. But for now…

Your head twisted against the couch cushion, loose arousal moistening your thighs as you took a shy but brave look back to the man mounting you from behind.

“You’ll never fuck the attitude out of me.”

Your eyes held his in a seductive staring contest.

“Is that so?” His grated voice was teetering on no return. You could feel his heavy shaft sitting between your peeled-apart ass cheeks now, his tip lightly notching against your hole as you whimpered with need, an ache for him to fill.

Joel held himself at his base, loosely pumping his shaft and feeling it swell fat and heavy in his hand.

His tip was slowly enveloped by your thighs and ass, finding your cunt and slowly pushing in. Your eyes quickly rolled to the back of your head because to be filled up by Joel was an indescribable experience.

Joel’s head fell, partly in concentration but also in awe watching his dick slip between your folds.

It was messy at first, with broken moans and whimpers leaving you as his hips pushed forward. He parted your insides, trying to accommodate his size. Usually, he didn’t give you this much time. Often you had pissed him off so much that he was bottoming out in one thrust and you were screeching his name in hot, happy pants.

This was slow, methodical, making you feel the weight of every damn dollar of his you spent today.

Finally, he plunged in fully to the hilt, bottoming out in one swift thrust that had you choking for air.

Joel slowly reeled his hips back out, seeing his length glisten in your pretty slick before he slowly joined your bodies together once more.

Your head was heavy and full, clouded and starry as he fulfilled a need you had been desperately aching for all damn day.

No amount of clothes could fulfill the hole you needed Joel to fill.

Joel’s balls were swollen and happy, you can tell by how they slapped against you while he picked up the pace of his thrusts. His hands are splayed around your ribcage, fucking you into the couch and making you feel as if you were sinking into the cushions.

Your moans were a broken record of his name, feeling your head rock as he started to really pound into you.

“Joel, Joel, Joel, J-Joh fuck!” You clenched your eyes closed, you could feel his one knee sinking deeper into the couch as he continued to rest on your upper thighs, his other foot coming down onto the floor beside the couch to keep his fill in you.

With the added traction, he felt like he was fucking you at a million miles an hour. The squeeze on your ribcage shuffled from your sides to your hips, feeling yourself get pounded and straightened out.

He was merciless when he was fucking you silent like this, making you listen to the echo of your disgusting moans, the only sounds Joel made being his horny growls and fuck-hungry grunts.

You were squeezing around him perfectly, the curve of your ass and the walls of your cunt milking his length.

His hips continued to clap your ass, feeling it bounce and reverberate against his abdomen as he started to hunch his body over you.

You gasped as you felt his palm flatten against your cheek, face smooshing into the cushion and distorting the sounds of your moans.

“Oooh f- ooh, Jowl, Jowl!”

His tip tickled your cervix, feeling his cock twitch inside of you. He was close. Your clit was throbbing, begging for release, he needed to keep hitting that spot in you.

“P-Please, wanna cuwm.” You whimpered, mouth still smooshed.

Your jaw dropped as he used the leverage from his extended arm holding your face down, fucking into you deep and leaving your ass clapping.

“Retunin’ all those damn clothes,” Joel grunted, leaving you whining against his palm.

“Shut up, fuckin’-- little psycho bitch.”

Your cunt swelled at the compliment, a loud moan leaving you as his piping hot, white cum creamed your walls.

Please don’t stop, help me finish, so close-

Your eyes widened as Joel moved his hand from the side of your cheek to your shoulder and hoisted you up, your back now flush against his sweaty chest as you both kneeled on the couch.

His softening length stayed nuzzled inside of you, feeling Joel reach around to circle your clit messily with his free hand as he was still reeling from his own orgasm.

You cried out and threw your head back on the top of his shoulder, face trying to curl into his neck as he overstimulated your senses.

Joel’s big firm hand holding you up by your shoulder moved to wrap around your throat, keeping you against him as your hands weakly gripped his wrist.

“God- God!! Fuck! Joel!” You cried out his name while he squeezed at the sides of your windpipe, your walls clenching around his soft cock as you came desperately down his shaft. You saw stars as Joel restricted your airflow during your orgasm, a dopey grin on your face.

He threw you back down onto the couch, your body falling into the safety of the cushions. He pulled himself from your soaking cunt, snagging his boxers and pulling them up with ease along with his jeans. All while you were laid out on the couch, fucked dumb as you laid in a heap on the couch. Fuck, that was so good.

“Joel?” You whimpered, both of you still panting to catch your breaths.

“Yeah, baby?”

“Can you think about letting me keep all the lingerie?”

You watched with a small smile as he rolled his eyes, trying to hide a grin.

“You never learn, do you, psycho?”

You shook your head slowly, pushing your hair away from your sweaty face.

“Sometimes I need to be told twice.”

---

here's my masterlist!

here's how to join my taglist!

@jrrmint @macfrog @notjustjavierpena @bastardmandennis @joelslegalwhre @brittmb115 @casa-boiardi @nostalxgic @cool-iguana @chim-cham-blog @joeldjarin @unsteadyimagines @pattwtf @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @schnitzelwnoodles @flippittygibbitts @turtles-all-the-way-d0wn @cartoon-garbage04 @lunarxeclipse @alltheseperfectimperfections @sunnywithachanceofjavi @kyloispunk @hopplessilse @keeponlivinmanl-i-v-i-n @toxicfics @angelicnotifs @iquitedislikeithere2 @livingdeadmaria @emmalandry @worhols @radsanchez @pedritoferg @lucyeyelesbarrow @airalihmarylu @nobodycanseeinsidemysoul @suzmagine @pastawench @crazedquilter-blog @kaitangatatacos @amanitacowboy @loveisacowboyyy @kittytiddywinks @slut-for-bucky-barnes @mendessi @aphterthoughtt @chyannealaniz @pedrotonin @barbieratogabx-blog @chicville03 @meaganjm @quicheislife @bookishhella

(idk why so many of my tags aren't working. Might make a notifications blog instead where you'd follow it and turn the notifications on and I'll only reblog my work on that account. Sorry for the inconvenience! love you!)

#joel miller #joel miller smut #pedro pascal #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal the last of us #pedro pascal joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller one shot #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #therapist joel #tlou #tlou fic #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #hellishjoel #hellishjoelrequest #joel miller x reader

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atomsglory · 7 months

Text

i know i’m not active here much but my wife and i are currently actually homeless.

we’re couch surfing at the moment but can’t stay long where we currently are and we have nothing else lined up or anyone else who can take us in.

we have a social worker and are in the process of applying for emergency housing but have no idea how long it will take.

if anyone can spare any change for food or possibly a hotel it would help immensely. i genuinely don’t know what to do.

p*ypal- [email protected]

c*shapp- $sunnyvalentine333

v*nmo- @brusiecat

#i never imagined this could happen to us #please even a word of encouragement helps #mutual aid #please help

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merge-conflict · 1 year

Text

I was kinda curious what other people envision Johnny's situation to be post-ending, assuming he survives so now I've finally gotten around to asking.

I ran out of poll options (I was going to split the last one into dead and dead but there's a backup engram) so I'll just assume that we're talking specifically about the Johnny that V gets to know during the game and consider any other fragments or engrams to be separate persons. I would have also liked to add an 'other' section, so if your thoughts don't fit neatly into these buckets feel free to add it in the tags. Feel free to do so anyway, I love reading people's stuff. :3

#cyberpunk 2077 #johnny silverhand

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kesterite · 2 months

Note

Love your cyberpunk work! Your Vance is really cool! Have you any other V’s that are your own or other people’s that you like? I’d love to see them!! xxx {:

the autocorrect getting vince is making me giggle so much sorry. I have a few other Vs, vince is just my favorite child. put under a cut because its a long oc rant post LMAO

ref of a few of them (including vinces old design)

Vetle is a biker bruiser and leatherboy. He was part of a sort of offshoot off the bakkers that scouted ahead, did the dirty work, and usually travelled a little ways forward or behind. I cant find his full ref because most of my drawings of him are nsfw LMAOO. he's with kerry and johnny

Van was my first V. He's a diy crust punk that lived the whole lifestyle, couch surfing in night city and atlanta before settling down for a while in night city. He was happy to get a move on with Panam, who he was absolutely WHIPPED for. I think hes also my only cis V.

Virgile is a ripperdoc techie that I actually dont think im keeping as a V. Johnnys presence doesnt make a ton of sense in his life. I think hes just an oc. He's adaptable and not very easily miffed, so he has a reputation for taking cases that other ripperdocs won't. Namely, a lot of cyberpsycho maintenance and hospice. He has a shaky rep with the voodoo boys, since he invites a lot of night city residents out into his clinic in pacifica. I haven't decided on a pairing for him although I do really like the idea of him and vik.

I made Victorino for my first playthrough with the multilingual night city (version 1) (version 2), which I cannot recommend ENOUGH as a linguistics nerd. It changes my perception of night city entirely and makes it genuinely feel like a melting pot city.

I needed a V that spoke english as a second language, so I made Victorino! They're from the same area of Mexico that was ravaged by the war johnny fought in, and didn't look up to him for most of the reasons that other people did. They looked up to him for risking it all and making the only brave choice that a soldier can (deserting). They're creative, incredibly brave, and really good at working a crowd. Their version of the assault on Arasaka tower was publicly televised. They're paired with Kerry and attached at the hip. I have a lot of thoughts about the incomprehensible tagalog-spanish that they use with each other. They also made a plan to rev up the starfucker narrative to promote both of their albums.

and, finally, Vid is another scrappy techie of a very... different personality. He has a dozen pistols, all with different quirks. He sleeps in his shitty van but runs from the cops on Scorpion's bike. His main strengths are his ability to get broken tech working again and his charming personality. Don't count on much else. While Vetle got kicked from the Bakkers because of power politics, Vid did it all himself. He flirts with River a lot, but actually cuts things off amicably to run off with Takemura.

#ask #ocs #cyberpunk #vid #van #vetle #virgile #victorino

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spinningwebsandtales · 2 years

Text

Imagine Staying Inside For A Cozy Halloween With V

V X FemReader

Rating: G

Warnings: None

Word Count: 854

(A/N:) This is my last Halloween DMC imagine I had planned. And I have four more to write until I have all my Halloween ideas written out and finished! So this may be my last post until Halloween! I plan on posting the last four on the day of Halloween so I go out with a big bang! I’ve enjoyed being able to write more for this spooky season and I will see you my dear readers on the night of all Hallows Eve! Stay spooky and until next time happy reading! ~Countess

Halloween has always been a holiday that you enjoyed be never went overboard with. And while you hadn’t had any particular plans of going out and celebrating, the fact that this Halloween was storming with no sign of letting up, you felt bad for the children that had waited for this night. You couldn’t lie to yourself though that bad storms did make your anxiety levels rise a little. So as thunder shook the house and lightening sizzled through the sky, you cowered a little in the living room. V sat on the couch an open book in his hand (one of his many books of poetry) reading the night away oblivious to the raging storm outside. You flinched at another searing bolt of lightening carving it’s way through the midnight sky before thunder quaked the house. Now V looked from his book seeing how uncomfortable and frightened you were.

“It’s just a storm,” he soothed. “You’re alright inside. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

You flinched again, “I know. It’s just kinda creepy such a storm on Halloween. It’s spooky alright.”

He chuckled scooting a little bit before patting the couch cushion beside him. Abandoning your spot another bolt and thunder caused you to jump and rush to V. He raised an arm letting you nuzzle into his side before wrapping said arm around your trembling form. The comfort that V gave you had the fear easing while the storm still continued it’s fury outside the cozy house, but you were more focused on the black haired man who held you tightly as he read. It was moments later you began to investigate the book in his hand. It was hard to see the cover due to his large hand taking up majority of the front cover. You could see some words in the title, finally you gave up with a huff and decided to ask him.

“What you reading,” you asked looking up at him with doe like eyes.

He smiled warmly kissing the top of your head before placing a thumb in the crease of the book. He folded the book over, thumb still holding his place. Now the cover was revealed to you and you couldn’t help but giggle.

“Edgar Allan Poe,” you giggled more. “How festive.”

“I guess you could say that,” he cooed. “While William Blake may be my absolute favorite, Poe does have his merits.”

“Which poem are you on now?”

You were so focused on V and the talk of the works of Edgar Allan Poe you couldn’t even hear the storm outside no longer. “Next one is A Dream Within A Dream,” he said before showing you the next page.

You snuggled in deeper, “Can you read it to me?”

“Of course.”

V’s voice echoed through the living room. You felt yourself transported into an old castle, with candelabras, a crackling fire in a fire place, hot tea upon the table, and wooden desk in the corner. While V caressed your arm as he spoke every line with his strong voice.

“Take this kiss upon the brow! And, in parting from you now, Thus much let me avow — You are not wrong, who deem That my days have been a dream; Yet if hope has flown away In a night, or in a day, In a vision, or none, Is it therefore the less gone? All that we see or seem Is but a dream within a dream.”

You sighed earning a elated look from V as his voice continued to carry as he started the next paragraph.

“I stand amide the roar Of a surf-tormented shore, And I hold within my hand Grains of the golden sand —How few! Yet how they creep Through my fingers to the deep, While I weep — while I weep! O God! Can I not grasp Them with a tighter clasp? O God can I not save One from the pitiless wave? Is all that we see or seem But a dream within a dream?”

V finished and you had melted further into him. Though some of the poem saddened you, there was just something about the way V read it that warmed your heart. Before meeting him you wouldn’t have said that you were a consumer of poetry, but when it came to V and his love of poetry you found yourself enjoying such creations. The storm had ceased, like V had calmed it with his words like they had calmed you inside.

“Shall I make us some tea and continue to read more of the more Halloween type writings,” V asked still holding you tightly.

“I think I would enjoy that very much,” you answered eyelids becoming droopy. He kissed your cheek before placing the bookmark you had bought for him when you both had first met. You watched him leave for the kitchen leaving you in the living room. While Halloween had started out unexpectedly, you begun to think you both had started a new tradition. One you were going to be glad to have every single year when Halloween came back around.

#V X Reader #V / Reader #Devil My Cry #DMC #V imagine #Devil May Cry Imagine #DMC Imagine #Imagine #V #Not My Gif #My Writing

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fortunefool · 10 months

Text

hi hello everyone!! im here w yu sera and her luck manip ability!! aka ur rabbit's foot & broken mirror in one! ik ik ... 2 in 1 .... what a steal ! formal descriptions / pages will b coming this weekend!!!

dc is avail. upon req if u prefer it over tumblr ims (which im ok with, btw!!) & like this if u wna put our beasts in some situations (if u want to plot) ! OH! and ty to evry1 who has alrdy reached out!! tw for mentions of : death, murder, drowning, sewer side.

ㅤㅤㅤ 𖹭 ㅤㅤㅤ statistics .

name : yu sera. (유세라)

birthday: 980922. (twenty5)

hometown: yongin, south korea.

education: master degree in nursing, second yr.

residence: yellow hall('s resident advisor)

ㅤㅤㅤ 𖹭 ㅤㅤㅤ biography & co .

you see, sera's life has been L after L after L, back to back

her mother? poor, modest, v excited to have a daughter. her f*ther? HWAKTHU. fluctuating between rich and poor, gambling his life away, alw fucking around, messing w the wrong people, scamming!

scammer on scammer hate crime ensues when a dubious low budget genie irl tells sera's dad "give me all the $$$ u have. but dw dw! i can grant u a wish... such as.... i'll give ur newborn daughter the power of Luck." and he leaves out the part that Luck is bad n good.

and what does her dad do? he listens!!! a born, living, lucky charm? sign him tf up!!!! he waits for sera to be born, tells her mom that he has to leave n he will take sera (so he doesnt have to share the lucky charm yknow), the mom tries to fight for the daughter but... ope... person w money vs person w no money.... yea... head low.

sooooo, she spends her childhood pretty happy. daddy's girl n all! w an ability that she believes to be some form of Good Luck Manip. she sees her dad as the best man in the world and he. loves. it. why? bc it makes her ability v powerful and he keeps on winning, buying expensive things, not being caught etc etc... just living the best life off of sera... but ofc. nothing lasts forever.

sera enters her teenage years and hell breaks loose. she accidentally learns that her mother didnt abandon them (as per her dad's fake sob story), she figures out that her dad is no Fair businessman and it alllll comes crumbling down.

so young and so shaken up with new, different emotions, she quickly learns that she can manifest bad luck as well. luckily(?) for her dad, she was still in denial so the bad luck wasnt strong enough to k*ll him off.... but it did take away all of his riches which cld count as murder in his books. long story short, he becomes a Monster, trashes her things, kicks her out, leaves her out in the street w nothing.

i'll try to make this part rlly brief bc i want her Trauma to be traumaing but i also dont want to get into graphic deets!! couch surfing at a friend. friend dies. parents hate her. sera starts searching for her mom, someone tells her that she's dead. ope... sera tries to end it all bc of that by drowning. randomly gets saved. ends up living w this cute ol lil lady, a retired nurse, who feels like a grandma figure for sera... baow. accidental bad luck manifestation makes them get into an accident, guess who survives thru survival luck and who doesnt. yea....

so ... you may be thinking ... now what. WELL. she hears abt sua ... abt the Patch (one that she cldnt afford/get her hands onto) so she decides well. im sick of being the bad guy (accidentally) all the time, im sick of spiraling, im sick of my ability fluctuating. let me become a nurse and help out! maybe i'll finally get to use my power for proper good this time....

soooooo she tries to cheer up during her uni years. she gets more control over her ability but theres still lots to learn! her emotions still affect her deeply but its no longer THAAAAAAAAT bad.

her goals? become a v v v good nurse. gain complete control over her ability and use it w her job. help ppl w her power. find her mom. and... devious smile..... find her dad to k*ll him w the bad luck.

ㅤㅤㅤ 𖹭 ㅤㅤㅤ ability .

luck manip!!! she can give u good luck or bad luck!!! her eyes turn green when it's good luck & black when it's bad luck! she can touch u, look at u, think of u, it works either way! ofc, she can do more w a touch than w a thought!

she can make you get the luck you need to find your keys or to win the lottery! she can make you spill ur coffee all over ur new clothes or get u vvv sick! anything goes! if it's a casual ez kind of luck (keys, coffee), then she'll need a few moments to regain her energy. if its smth more extreme (lottery, sickness), she needs a few days (even up to a week), to recover!!! the more complex it is, the more it drains her energy!

it's all within d laws of physics & limits of 'reality' ! so she cant get you to magically materialize ur lost keys back and she cant spill invisible coffee on u! ALSO!!! this ability only works in like... idk.... a 100-200 miles radius!

her Survival Luck is also present n exists and she can (and has alrdy) managed to survive a bunch of extreme situations (see above)! however, the Way that she survives it.... out of her control fr.... cld be a scratch, cld be 5 broken bones, not up to sera!

ㅤㅤㅤ 𖹭 ㅤㅤㅤ brief personality .

she's v chill and looooooves helping people!!! not super hyper BUT still a fun girl nonetheless! not boring by any means despite being v toned down and lowkey!

DESPITE the previous bullet point, she is extremely afraid of getting attached to people and LET ALOOOOONE love them so she tries to keep everyone at arms length. why? obv bc of her ability and her fear of not being able to control it properly... she doesnt want another friend + grandma incident.

has a tendency to become mellow / nostalgic and can be caught overthinking... which she tries to do while on that nullivi .... ofc! LDFDFGJJ

ㅤㅤㅤ 𖹭 ㅤㅤㅤ plots .

a few friends????? a few foes?????? a few younger ppl @ yellow hall she's helped out as a resident advisor??? someone who tries to get close to her but shes ADAMANT on not letting that happen?

ppl affected by her good luck..... what abt ppl affected by her bad luck.... ooo swearing up and down that she didnt mean it and it was accidental... cld be true or not. ppl accusing her of using her powers when she didnt? OOOO what abt using the bad luck on a person that she was told was a bad person but sera was only manipulated into thinking soooooooo ooooooouuuuu

someone who's known her ever since she was a teenager? watching her go thru the whole spiral of bad luck??? maybe theyre older and even told her abt sua!!!

what if there's someone who jus doesnt believe that she has an ability? or they do and they think its a stupid one? NLKFJGN idk...

i kinda want lots of angst for her.... i think it'd be fitting.... lets put sera and ur muse thru the pain machine tgt!

THANK YOU FOR READING / SKIMMIN THRU THISSSSSSSSSS SMUAAAAAAAAAAAAACH!!

#⠀ ⠀ 𖹭 ⠀ ⠀ 유세라⠀⠀ ⠀ ›⠀ ⠀ ⠀ intro.#nm:intro

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melancholysway · 2 years

Text

Serendipity (2007!Raphael x Fem!Reader 5

CHAPTER V: Revelation

——— = a flashback is happening or ending ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ or ====

= perspective change

~ = small time skip

Raph kept his promise. He came by about three days after he said that. A few more weeks passed by, and it’s been around 3 months and change since you and Raphael had become friends.

You still didn’t know about his identity.

Despite this, it didn’t prevent you and Raph from getting close. You thought of it like an online friend, you never saw their face but were close with them regardless.

it became routine for Raphael to visit you. Every three or so days, he would come by during the nighttime, knocking on your window. You of course would open it up happily, and exchange a sweet hello while you conversed over dinner. You knew to keep your best-tasting foods for the nights Raphael would visit, and you would learn new recipes on the nights he didn’t. He stayed longer on nights you didn’t have class the next day, since you were able to stay up longer.

You didn’t exchange numbers the last time, and you cursed at yourself for not doing so. He probably would’ve come back earlier.

Raphael brought it up the next time he came because he had no way of knowing if you were home or not beforehand. So, he wrote his number on a blank page in your Physics notebook while you were passed out sleeping from staying up with him before he left.

As the months went on, you learned about Raphael. You learned small things, like what music he enjoyed.

“Classic rock, always.” He said as you surfed through Spotify on your laptop for songs to play through your speaker.

He talked about his brothers, and it became hard to put a personality to a name, so he told you.

He spoke about Michelangelo or Mikey, who was his loud and crazy brother.

Donatello or Donnie, his extremely smart and talented brother.

And Leonardo or Leo, his reserved and frankly annoying brother.

He later revealed during the conversation that Donatello was the one who brought your camera back to life, and you thought back to that very first time you met Raphael.

Leonardo was currently abroad in South America for reasons unknown. You had a feeling it might have something to do with ninjutsu.

You still kept your promise to Casey of not telling anyone you knew Raphael or that he exists, but it became hard at times when certain things reminded you of him.

— — —

“I love this song!” Jade pops an earbud in your ear as you sit beside her on the train to Times Square.

“I know this song!” You listen as the familiar classic rock song plays in your left ear. It reminded you of your good friend Raph.

“How do you know it? Never took you for the rock type, ya know? Seems that’s all you’ve been into lately!” Jade smiles and looks at you curiously, as you think of an excuse.

You twirl the ends of your hair, “Ah, it popped up in my recommendations once, since then I’ve been into the genre.”

— — —

Raphael had the same issues, too. He realized he hung around you too much when he picked up your lingo and used it around his brothers. But, he didn’t mind it at all.

However, he felt a difference in his mood. He seemed…happier than usual.

And boy, did Mikey notice.

---

“He’s gotta be getting some, dude!” Mikey wiggles his eyebrows to Donnie, who rolls his eyes in response.

Donatello sighs, “Thank you for painting that picture for me, Mikey.” he says sarcastically.

“I like nice Raph, do ya think Splinter’ll find out?” Gathering his small invention from the work table beside Mikey, Donnie ponders his question.

“Not unless you or I say anything. If it makes him less miserable and moody than he usually is, I won’t say a word.” And with that, Donnie heads upstairs to his lab to start his I.T shift.

---

So, Mikey said nothing. As did Donnie.

You had begun to get extremely close to Raph, emotionally speaking.

You longed for him to come over, sometimes you’d spend your nights together on the couch watching a movie until it was time for him to go.

Other times, Raphael would finish saving the city from crime that all he’d want to do was tell you about his night, which was always so interesting that you couldn’t help but be fully invested into what he always said. Depending on Raphael’s mood, you found yourself talking a lot more in depth with him when he was pissed or upset; and vice versa. Other times, he would convince you to hang out outside the apartment and take a spin on his bike to find a nice place in the city to stargaze.

One time, he took you on your first bike ride when you were having a particularly rough evening.

———

“Raph, I don’t get it.” You place your large Calculus textbook on the coffee table in front of you and bury your head in your hands and deep sigh. The big exam for Calculus was tomorrow, and you wanted to get some last-minute studying in by taking a practice exam on the same content. However, when checking it over, the questions you brushed past and quickly answered had been incorrect, and it added up. You wound up getting a 70 on the practice exam, and that wasn’t acceptable to you OR your GPA.

“Ya’ve been at it for an houa,” Raphael cursed at the fact that he didn’t have Donnie’s smarts, otherwise, he would’ve gladly helped you.

You tried to write and redo the problems out, but nothing seemed to be working at this moment. With the stress of the exam, and now that you aren’t getting the problems correct or how to fix it, you were on the brink of a Calc breakdown.

You felt a tear roll down your cheek, and you quickly wiped it away. Soon, your vision clouded and you felt your eyes watering.

“Don’t cry Y/n,” Raphael snaked a supportive arm around your shoulder, and you tried to hide your distress.

“I-I’m not!” Raphael stared at you through his visor, thinking up something to do for you.

You stayed like this for a moment, until he got up.

“Come on, we gotta get ya out of hea’ for a few.” You look at him confused, sniffling and shutting your notebook.

Raphael motions to the fire escape that leads down to the street, “Meet me by that bike there.” Was all he said before disappearing from your sight.

Confused yet curious, you decided you could use a break, and whatever Raph had in store for you had a strong chance of getting your mind off of schoolwork.

You grabbed your sweater and put it on, ready to take on the chilly New York City weather. You shut and locked the door behind you, and made your way quickly downstairs, so Raph wouldn’t wait too long for you.

Once you got outside and we’re greeted with the cool crisp air, you walked toward the bike Raphael said to, and saw him there as well standing by it.

Raph grabs a helmet hanging from the side of his bike. “How about a ride around tha city ta get ya mind off things, yeah?” You could almost feel the grin he was wearing right now, and you smiled at his gesture; yet nervous at the same time.

“I’ve never ridden a bike before, are we really…?”

“Here.” You watched as Raphael stood in front of you and lowered the helmet on your head. It was a perfect fit.

He looks at you for a moment before stifling a laugh. “Ya look ready to rumble,” He took a seat on his bike and revved it up, patting the spot behind him.

You comply and smile faintly as you plopped behind Raphael, automatically putting your arms around his waist for support. You listen as Raph starts his bike, and you tighten your grip slightly in anticipation.

“Do you have a name for it?” You ask before Raph takes off. He looks back at you, confused.

“Name for what?”

You laugh. “Your bike. Like, is it a male, female, in between, no gender?” Raphael takes a moment to think, considering the thought of characterizing his bike never came to mind.

“She rides smoothly yet wild when I want, I love it. I don’t know what I’d name her.”

“How about…Roxanne!” Raphael nods slightly, and you pat the bike now named Roxanne, admiring how clean and scratch free she was.

“Why Roxanne?” He asks. Raph actually really liked the name you chose, he just didn’t know where you got it from.

“Or Roxy. I don’t know; Roxy or Roxanne sounds rebellious and strong, like you. So, poof! Roxanne appears.” Raphael unknowingly smiles at your compliment on his nature, and he thinks of you in the same light. After agreeing on the name, Raph speeds off onto the street, and then starts taking sharp turns to an unknown place, a glint of hope in his eyes. .

“This is so fun, Raph!” You yell over the loud wind blowing against your helmet, your friend laughs in response and takes this as a sign to go even faster. You can tell bike riding is a passion of Raphael’s. Long gone is the stress about an exam, right now, you’re enjoying a night time ride around the city!

You notice the scenery change from busy New York City streets, to back roads and darkness, the view only lightened by the lights on Raphs bike. The many hills he’s driven up never ending. Feeling Raphael slow down, your grip on his waist falters, and he stops the bike by a bare tree.

Raphael helps you off the bike and takes the helmet off of you, revealing your face to him again. “Like what ya see?” He asks. You stare at him, slightly confused.

“You?”

“No.” He laughs. He always liked when you made jokes like this. “Look,” he points to the sky, and as you follow his gloved finger to the direction he was pointing, you let out a slight gasp of awe.

Despite the amount of pollution in New York City, let alone the state, the sight was undeniably beautiful.

Being at the top of a hill gave you the ability to see all of New York City. You, your small body, staring down at a city larger than anything you’ve seen. It looks small to you, but you know the many loops, alleys, streets, twists and turns intertwined together reminds you of how large the city really is. Street lights, building lights, and the faint view of the Empire State Building makes you step slightly closer to the edge, enough to see the bottomless pit in the event you fall. Taking a step back after that thought, you look up at the sky.

The moon seems to look back at you; lighting up your face to amplify your beauty, and you think the same of the moon, too. It’s a gorgeous full moon, the craters prominent on the imperfect sphere that brings the Earth its defining qualities during the nighttime.

You don’t notice Raphael staring at you.

He’s staring at the way the light shines on your face, and your eyes seem to glow with it. You have a look of pure serenity on your face, and that was the whole point of this thing.

Raphael wished he was normal sometimes. He wished he could simply take off his suit and run off into the sunset or something with you after revealing who he really was. To experience different things with you. But, sadly, he wasn’t blessed with a human body, only a mutated turtle one. It was laughable, how peculiar life can be.

His eyes landed on your mouth; your moist lips amplified by the moonlight, shining gracefully. Your mouth is slightly open from the sight, and he couldn’t help but sigh to himself. Raphael was caught up in his world of observing your facial features, he didn’t even realize you had turned to him, only to see he had been staring this whole time. Could you blame him, though? You just look so…

“Beautiful.”

Shit.

Raphael wanted to slap himself. He wasn’t exactly the most confident, and you in particular had made him nervous at times. What if he just said he didn’t mean it like that? Oh, but he did. Or that he meant the sky and not you? No, you just caught him staring. Not only that, but he couldn’t exactly take something like that back, now can he?

“I-…” You massaged your cheeks to try and get rid of the new heat that formed on your cheeks from his compliment. “Thank you, Raph. That means a lot coming from you.” You say softly. You’re unable to see Raphael's face still, and this was the downfall of waiting on the day he’ll reveal himself to you. But you knew deep down he was smiling back at you.

———

You realized you had gotten more invested into this friendship when you started to miss him.

His presence, his voice, his laugh.

It didn’t take much to make Raphael laugh, his laughter was something you enjoyed.

What you both didn’t know, however, was that he’d be less frequent in visiting you in the days and months that followed.

It wasn’t his fault, nor was it yours. It was someone else.

Leonardo.

---

“I think you should give him a warm welcome. He’s been gone for so long, you know?” You sat face to helmet with Raphael on the roof of your apartment building, staring up at the full moon present in the New York City sky. Raph scoffs, and gets up from his spot.

“If he did come back, I wouldn’t know what ta do.”

April had informed Casey she saw Leonardo on her business trip in South America, who then told Raph, who told you. Raphael was pissed that Leonardo didn’t show regret of his lengthy absence from his family.

As you and Raphael spoke to each other, the more you realized he needed someone to spill his worries and problems to. Especially when it came to his home life.

You sighed and stared at Raph. “Well, how do you think Donnie and Mikey would feel if he comes back?”

The amber-eyed vigilante stares back at you through his visor and ponders your question.

“Those two are so caught up in their work lives that if Leo came back, it’d reset everythin’. I hate ta admit it, but I miss…us. Tha way shit used ta be.”

Raphael would never admit it out loud, but he does miss his brother, you realized that much. He had a hard time admitting certain feelings he had, because he always had a wall up around his brothers, an emotional wall. The only person who could break it down before you was his father and Sabrina.

“I think Leo coming back would be better for you. If it means that things will be like they used to be.” You bask in the moon's light for a moment before continuing.

“You’re used to how life is without him, but him coming back I think would help bring Donnie and Mikey out of their stressful work lives. You with your vigilante hustle, too. You constantly put yourself in danger every time you put on that suit, all for the sake of people's safety. You carry the world's problems on your shoulders, Raphael, you shouldn’t have to deal with it alone.”

“How do you always do dat?”

“Do what?” Raph sits beside you and puts an arm around your shoulder. You feel the familiar rush of heat go to your cheeks from his touch, and you savor it.

“Ya always find the right words. What ta say. What I need ta hear. Ya sound like my fatha sometimes, old and wise.”

“I am NOT old Raph!” You push his side playfully and giggle, as he pulls you closer and laughs.

It’s moments like these that you really wish Raph would show you who he was. It was also moments like these that you came to the conclusion you developed some type of feelings for the mystery man.

You’d fallen.

You’d fallen for a person who you didn’t even know what they looked like.

You realized it when butterflies invaded your midsection everytime Raph texted you that he was stopping by, or when he would talk; his deep accent putting you in a trance. When he would touch you in a friendly way, and you had hoped it would turn into more than just companionship.

Despite the terrible things you experienced that night you met Raphael, it brought you to this point in your life with him in it. Someone who would randomly text you wondering if you were home so he could stop by. Someone who would stay up and watch movies with you or who would take you on night rides through the city on his motorcycle. Someone who would listen to you, because you did the same.

And sometimes, all you both needed was someone to listen, when it seemed like nobody else would.

So, you deemed that fateful night as luck. A lucky accident.

A happy accident.

Serendipity, if you will.

———

Back to Raphael’s family dilemma: Leonardo was back.

The oldest brother was so caught up in his own little world, that he forgot about everybody else.

So when he returned home without a heads up, Raphael didn’t know what to feel. Who did Leo think he was to just leave then show up when it suits him?

Not only that, it was Leo’s job to whip the team back into shape before they can fight as a team again.

“Leo’s back, say hello before he leaves again.” Raph wakes up Donnie and Mikey by shaking them lightly. He skipped the happy family reunion with his brothers, and went up to his room.

He had so many emotions going through him, that he didn’t know what to do without talking to you about it.

“He’s back, Y/n.” Raphael typed quickly and sent it to you, to which you reacted by sending a picture of Surprised Pikachu as your reply moments later.

“Wellll??? How is it?” You texted back.

Raphael couldn’t stand texting, so he called you instead. The usual one or two rings before you quickly picked up was routine.

“Hey, Big Red, how you feeling?” You greeted him with the usual nickname, hoping to lighten the mood for him.

“Not sure, Damsel.” Ever since you had started calling him Big Red, Raphael realized he needed to find a nickname for you, too.

You came to using Big Red since Raphael’s frame was much bigger compared to yours, and when you asked him an ice breaker question one night regarding his favorite color, he said red. Thus the name: Big Red.

You and Raphael had become accustomed to calling each other by your nicknames, as it was just another way of you both teasing each other.

“I'm not a damsel, Big Red. It was one time!” You earned a soft laugh from Raphael on the other end.

“I don’t know…it’s…weird. It’s definitely gonna be hardah’ ta sneak around here and be tha Nightwatcha.” Raphael’s whisper almost sounded like he went mute at the last part, as a precaution just in case someone wouldn’t hear him admit he was the famous vigilante if they passed by his room.

“I can’t imagine how Leo would react if he found out, ya know?” Raphael huffs and lays down on his hammock, wondering what you’d say.

“Eh, you’re pretty good at keeping secrets from what I know, Raph.” You hint at his hidden identity, to which his scoffs.

“Yeah, yeah, whateva Y/n. Listen, it’s gonna be much harda for me to see ya, I don’ want ya thinkin’ I’m doin’ it on purpose. Ya know I like spendin’ my nights with ya.” He says regrettably. It hurts that Raph has to keep you a secret from his family, but at the same time, it’s better this way. It’s bad enough Leo’s come back, and he’s going to be doing everything in his mutant turtle body to keep the team together and focused.

You blushed at the last part. Raphael made it beautifully obvious he liked seeing you and being in your presence. He had an obvious flirtatious side to him. You loved that you had someone there who made you feel special, and you did the same.

“I’ll miss you coming over here almost every night.” You sigh as you reminisce about all the times your vigilante friend came over to your small apartment. You learned a lot about Raphael during that time. From the music you listened to together, to the food you ate (you found out he likes Japanese and Chinese food the most,) to sitting with each other for God knows how long to talk to each other about anything either of you are dealing with.

“I…hold on.” You hear what sounds like Raphael getting up on the other end, and a door open, followed by a thud.

“What tha…Mikey!” Raphael’s voice boomed on the other end, with groans from someone that wasn’t him.

“Uh…hi?” After hearing an audible slap, you hear Raph sign on the other end, “Give me a sec,” And with that, the line was cut.

===

“You were spyin’ on me weren’t cha?!” The red clad turtle stopped his little brother from escaping his room after being caught listening in on the conversation, and Michelangelo was stuck.

The orange clad turtle recovered from falling face first on the floor. “Maybe? Dude! You’ve been different lately, I had to find out why!”

“Have ya eva heard that curiosity killed tha cat, numb nuts!?”

“Yeah but, satisfaction brought it back,” Mikey smirked, earning a glare from his brother. “and I’m a turtle…ow!”

“What tha hell were ya spyin’ on me for!?”

“I won’t tell Splinter! I swear it!” Mikey puts his hand on his heart, sweating an oath to not tell his master of Raphael defying his orders.

The baby blue eyed turtle and his brother stand in silence for a moment, before he breaks it. Wiggling his eyebrows, he grins, “So…Y/n, huh?”

“Get out!” With that, Mikey’s attempt at diving deep into Raphs personal life has failed, and he’s now kicked out of his brother's room.

‘Shit.’ Raphael huffed. Great. Just great. Now, Mikey knows about his little friend. Michelangelo was notorious for having a loud mouth, and it’s only a matter of time before he accidentally blurts out his secret.

He knew he would be walking on thin ice for the next few weeks.

===

You waited for Raph to call you back, but he never did. Instead, he shot you a quick text saying he wouldn’t be able to for a while, to which you frowned at. You didn’t know his living arrangements, but you concluded that he just needed some time. Leo was back after all.

Engulfing yourself in your bed sheets, you drifted off to sleep; hoping to hear from Raphael soon.

~~~~

“What’s wrong, Y/n?” Jade flops beside you on the couch and flips on the TV. Sighing one last time, you turn your phone over and put it on Do Not Disturb.

“Nothing.”

A whole 5 weeks had gone by, and you heard nothing from Raphael.

Not only that, but you haven’t seen him either.

You winded up texting him randomly one night, but received nothing.

“Hey! Just wondering if you’re able to swing by tonight? We can order from that sushi place, Big Red.”

The day after, you tried calling him, but he didn’t pick up. It seemed as if Raphael fell off the face of the earth, and you were determined to find out why.

Saying goodbye to Jade and walking her to the elevator, you made your way toward Casey and April's apartment.

====

Raphael hated this.

Leonardo being back was one thing, but now he’d have to walk on eggshells around him to keep up his vigilante antics? Not only that, but it’d be risky to even pay you a visit.

Unbeknownst to you, he was closer than you thought. Literally.

Here he was, the same night, lying in the middle of Casey and April's apartment after passing out from a poisonous dart. He took the hit for Casey’s sake, although it was Casey’s fault they were caught.

———

“And now we got walking statues?! You got a plan for those?!” Casey whispers beside Raphael from the rooftop. They watch as a group of people who seem to be stone capture a gigantic bat.

Looking down, Raphael chuckles. “Hey, those are a first for me too. Who knows, they might be friendly.”

Suddenly, the largest stone man flattens the bat with his hammer, putting him to sleep.

Casey steps back. “Haha. Friendly.”

Squinting his eyes, Casey Jones seemed to recognize the stone men and one female below him. He took a step closer to the edge of the rooftop.

“Hmm.” Casey thought to himself.

They looked just like…

“Woops.”

“Way ta go, Jones.”

The statues noticed the debris falling from above them, and stared right at Casey and Raphael, who’d seen everything they were doing.

“Witnesses!” One of them snarled. Foot soldiers shot darts directly at them, and seeing one was aiming straight at Casey, Raphael thought quickly and stepped in front of his bud.

“I don’t feel so good.” Raph felt his eyelids become heavy, but remembered the situation him and Casey were in. Throwing a smoke pellet on the ground, Raphael disappeared. Casey followed behind, and was pulled into a nearby closet on top of the roof.

One of the statues had been following, and forcefully banged on the door to the room they were in. Luckily, Raphael and Casey were strong enough to fend it off before the police helicopter light shined on the unknown figure, before it fled the scene.

As soon as the adrenaline came, it quickly left Raphael’s body as he fell to the ground unconscious.

———

Finally being able to walk, Raphael sits beside Casey on the couch along with the three brothers. He avoids looking at Leo, and sighs.

Now they have to deal with some random immortal guy and his stone generals? Really? Although it’s a weird situation, Raphael is still somewhat excited to get back into fighting someone other than low life criminals.

Oh, how he’d wish to see you right now. He was so close to you he could almost sense your presence.

“Well, now I know who to thank for tha shot in the arm, so where do we find Winters and his stone assholes?”

“We’re not going anywhere until we get Splinter's blessing.” Leo scowls at his younger brother. Shooting Leo a cold stare, Raph stands up to his brother.

“What tha hell?! You’ve been gone for damn near two years, and ya expect us ta sit on our asses while shit like this is happenin?! Tha hell is that, Leo?!”

“Listen, Raph-“

Just as quickly as the argument between the two brothers started, it was shut down in an instant. A sudden knock at the door had turned everyone mute.

“Hey…Casey? I heard April's back!”

Oh. Fuck.

Immediately recognizing the sound of your muffled voice, Raphael’s eyes widened. Going up to the door, Casey sighed quietly.

“Hey, Y/n. Listen, now’s not really a good time…” Trailing off, Casey listens intently through the door to hear your response.

“Oh, sorry, Casey. One more thing I had to ask though, have you seen Raphael?”

Leonardo’s confused face soon turned into disappointment as he looked at his brother. Donatello had the same look as well, and Michaelangelo couldn’t help but snicker.

“Busted!” He whispered and nudged the red-banded turtle, who put him in a headlock to shut him up.

“I haven’t spoken to him today, I’ll let you know if I see him soon, okay?”

And with that, Casey heard the familiar footsteps recede across the hall followed by the sound of a door shutting close.

Something was especially fishy.

That was definitely the sound of Raphael’s voice. There’s no way it wasn’t. It also sounded like there were more people in the apartment than just him, being as though you seemed to knock at a particularly heated moment.

He said Leo, was he there?

Although it may be one of the reasons why he hasn’t shown up to your apartment, it doesn’t excuse the fact that he hasn’t texted or called you in almost a month.

Heading back to your apartment and closing your door shut, you plopped down on the couch upset.

Have you done something wrong? Raphael completely left you in the dark with only a thought that you had done something to him. But, what was it?

Casey seemed to play off the fact that Raphael was in his apartment instead of confessing that he was.

All of this got you upset, what did Casey gain from lying? And what was Raphs deal of ghosting you completely?

So, you had decided to get out more. Spend some time with Jade and even Teddy to get your mind off of the memories you had made with Raph in your home. Everything reminded you of him; the couch, the songs you played, your Calc textbook for god's sake. Everything!

The more you got out of your tiny apartment, the more the memories of Raph seemed to fade away.

You didn’t want them to, but he wasn’t putting forth much effort to see you, now was he?

So, when you saw him nearly a month after he had ghosted you, it caught you by surprise.

It had been totally uncalled for, he wasn’t expecting to see you like this.

Especially because once again, an occasion of pure serendipity had revealed him to you.

The real him.

“Yeah, I can come in today. See you then.” Hanging up the phone, you make your way to your closet that holds your waitress uniform for Jimmy's Diner. Just your luck, the only other waitress for this Friday evening shift had called out, and you were asked to come in. Seeing as though you weren’t doing anything- finals week was over, the semester ended, and onto a prolonged break until the next one was ahead of you, why not take the shift? Besides, you could always use the extra money.

Following the weeks and soon months from when you’ve last seen or heard from Raphael, you decided to just drop it. You had thought of some crazy conspiracy in your head as to why he hadn’t spoken or texted you, but still was able to continue (very subtly) his Nightwatcher persona. Although it was much less than it was in the past, the Nightwatcher continued to stop crimes whenever he could.

Later on, you’ll realize that taking this shift would be the best decision you’ve ever made since being in NYC.

Quickly taking a shower and getting dressed in your uniform, you pat Stella on the head as a goodbye and head out of your apartment building. Completely oblivious to the odd aura in the air tonight.

“Another coffee?” You ask the man sitting on the barstool in front of you. He smiles and puts out his empty coffee mug, getting lost in his newspaper with the Nightwatcher headlining.

It’s pretty dead for a Friday night. Usually, groups of friends would come and hangout during this time, but it seems the only people here today are the man reading in front of you, and the cook.

Bored out of your mind, you grab your phone out of your pocket and text Jade. Knowing her, she’s probably passed out on her bed, catching up on the sleep she missed during the past semester. Putting your phone back in your pocket, you do mundane tasks: wiping the tables, clearing tables of past groups that came in before you clocked in, and chatting it up with the chef, Judd. He’s a pretty cool dude, he boasts about how he has kids in college; community college.

Huffing, you stare at the clock realizing it's only been an hour and a half. Working from 7pm to 12am seemed it’ll be the slowest of the slow. After chatting it up with Judd, you decide to get a breath of fresh air from the outside. . You take a breath of the polluted February atmosphere, and watch as the moonlight shines upon the many cars driving to God knows where in the street. The sounds of police sirens, cars honking, and overlapped chatter of passersby fill your ears, and it's all you can hear.

You look up at the crescent moon above, then glance at the rooftops. You can faintly see a figure standing above the building but can’t make out who or what it is. You never knew the reason people chose the rooftops to look down on the city, but after meeting Raphael, you finally knew why. It’s the perfect view of everyone and everything. The beautiful skylight, how tiny everyone below you look, and the serene feeling of looking at the vast land you’re inhabiting. Raphael was always fond of the city he lived in, and you grew to love it just the same.

As you took one last look and went back inside the diner, you noticed that Judd was gone from the Front of House. The man was still reading his newspaper and sipping his coffee idly. The soft music continued to play, before it was interrupted by a roaring scream coming from the Back of House.

You jolted up, anxious to see what had happened. Suddenly, Judd slammed open the revolving kitchen doors and sank under the counter, pressing the panic button underneath viciously.

“Uh, are you okay?” You ask, staring down at the middle aged cook. He shakes his head and continues spamming the panic button to notify the cops.

“No! There’s a monster in there! We need the cops! Where are the cops!? Why haven’t the cops come yet?!” He yells hyperventilating. You were suspicious of this so-called “Monster” but honestly, you weren’t buying it.

Instead of waiting under the table for the cops, you decide to investigate. This boring night had the potential to become the slightest bit interesting.

You walked through the kitchen, and stopped in front of the walk-in freezer. There was an obvious rustling noise coming from the opposite size of the door, and curiosity seared through your body. You turn the handle to open the door, and the cold frosty wind immediately tickles your face as you try to see through the frost. As your vision clears, you can clearly see a small, red...thing. You’re not sure what it is, but it has its back facing you. He seems to be chittering and munching on a piece of frozen meat from the bottom shelf. He looks like a little devil, actually. He has a little tail, and if this wasn’t abnormal to you he would seem like a cute creature. Shocked, you slowly back away, careful not to trip or make any noise to alert him.

Closing the door softly, you’re greeted with the warm sensation of the air outside the freezer. You speed walk back over to Judd, who pulls you under the counter with him.

It seemed as though a whole hour went by, when realistically it was only 20 minutes. The cops still weren’t here, and Judd was freaking the hell out. You thought about Raphael. Maybe he would be able to handle it? But, if you gave him a call would he even answer?

Unlocking your phone, you flip through your contacts, landing on Raphs name. Your finger seemed to hover above the call button, there was a big chance he wouldn’t pick up, but a tiny chance he might.

You mustered the courage to press it, but the entrance door swung open just before you were.

Judd was much bigger and taller than you were, so whoever did come inside would only see him, as you were basically hiding behind him.

Heavy footsteps seemed to get closer and closer with each step, the slight creaking from the wooden floor accompanying them. They sounded so familiar to you that it took everything for you not to leave your spot.

“Don’t get up, I’ll serve myself.”

‘No way.’ You thought to yourself.

A sudden twist of fate had led up to this moment.

The Nightwatcher was here,

Raphael was here.

He walked right past you both, and didn’t seem to notice you. The short glimpse you got of Raphael before he disappeared into the kitchen brought back so many memories.

While seeing him gave you nostalgia, it also pissed you off.

So, why not confront him?

Months worth of not seeing or hearing from him until now by pure chance was an extreme twist of fate. This was an opportunity, and you weren’t going to let it out of reach.

You had decided to wait a bit, because there IS an actual monster in the freezer, and you didn’t want your small reunion to get ruined by it.

Sneaking into the kitchen, The Nightwatcher was nowhere to be found. It was quiet for a bit, and you tiptoed around for any sign of him.

That was, until, a large figure was thrown onto the floor, a loud crash following after. Surprised, you duck into a corner where you can’t be seen, behind the large sink. You watch in shock as Raphael gets up and dusts himself off, groaning in pain. You decide to watch the show, I mean, seeing Raph get tossed around like a rag doll was funny to see, especially because he deserved it.

You watch his large figure get back up, and the small monster latch onto Raphs back, silently giggling as he tries to peel the creature off of him.

He was thrown onto floors, hit against the fridge, pushed onto counters, and even smacked on the head by this tiny, innocent being.

It seemed like forever, watching Raphael get his ass kicked by something so little, it was almost comical that you just so happen to be witnessing it all in 4K.

======

Raphael tried to think quickly of a solution to get him out the kitchen. He wasn’t concerned with killing the damn thing, just steering him away. This monster had a direct correlation with Winters, and it's best if nobody knew about the current situation. Not only that, but monsters were still running around Manhattan. He remembered a few weeks ago when Leo tried to whip the team back into shape one night, and they winded up getting their asses kicked by one big fuzzy blue beast. Splinter had found out, and gave Leo a stern lecture about leadership.

It looked as though Raphael was out of the clear, until you knocked on Caseys door in the middle of a family feud between him and Leonardo. He felt the feeling of guilt wash over him. He really left you, huh?

That was the worst thing he could do. It was selfish of him, he knew that. He couldn’t imagine how you were feeling. The nights you guys spent together talking, flirting, opening up. It was the period of something special.

So, this beating he’s getting by this tiny monster? 100% deserved.

Especially after the small argument with his brother before coming here.

---

“Raph, who the hell is Y/n?” Leonardo asks sternly. He stands, arms crossed and eyebrows ridged in confusion. Raphael had just finished working out in the dojo, and was on his way to take a shower before attempting to sneak out for his vigilante work.

“She’s nuthin’ ta worry about, Fearless.” He simply states.

“Well Raph,” Raphaels brother starts, “She is my concern, if it means someone knows about our family. My god, has Splinter's words taught you nothing?!” Leonardo took the cake for the most skeptical and untrusting member of the group. Raphael was a more benefit-of-the-doubt guy, Mikey was always open to new people, and Donnie seemed to read people well to tell what their intentions were.

“Aren’t ya sick and tired of tha same old shit!? There’s nuthin’ wrong with goin’ out and talkin’ ta people otha than April and Casey!”

“That may be true,” Leo remembered Sabrina and sighed, “Except you’re risking the safety of our family Raph! What were you thinking?! You know we’re not normal, and we never will be!”

“Don't start ya shit Leo, I haven't risked anythin’. She doesn't even know what I look like.” Leo steps back, confused. How the hell doesn't this girl know what Raphael looks like?

“What is she? Blind? or something?”

“Whateva’ helps ya sleep at night.” And with that, Raphael heads to his room to grab his duffle bag to begin his night as The Nightwatcher.

---

Already heated, Raphael was taking all his anger out on this tiny monster, but it seemed to backfire. He had to think quickly of what to do before the monster caused more damage than he already has.

He frantically looked around the kitchen, completely oblivious to the fact that someone was watching him, before hearing the monster's stomach grumble faintly. Groaning, he clutches his empty stomach in pain, which sets off a bulb in Raphaels brain. Diving in his pocket, he fishes out a few smoke pellets and clutches them in his left hand.

“Are ya hungry, lil fella?” Waving the pellets in front of him like it was a pet, the monster growls in response and charges after Raphael, only stopping suddenly when the pellets are thrown into his mouth.

The creature stops for a moment, before feeling a heat built up inside him, as smoke begins to come out of him from every part of his body, and he cries out in pain. He bounces everywhere in panic, trying to alleviate the heat of the smoke, and powerfully knocks down Raph in the process of running away.

“Ugh…that was different.” Raphaels vision is slightly cloudy, and he looks around for his helmet that the small monster just knocked off, getting a breath of clear air in the process. He notices the helmet has slid into a corner of the kitchen and walks over to it. He bends over to pick it up, but freezes after hearing a slight gasp coming from behind the sink.

“Shit.”

=====

It’s hard to see Raphael at first, as you heard the sound of his helmet fall to the floor. You’re still not moving from your spot, especially now as the helmet is right in front of your hiding spot.

You hold your breath, and watch from behind the sink as Raphaels footsteps get closer, and all you can see is his waist down.

That is, until he bends down.

He bends down to pick up his helmet, and you finally get to see what he looks like.

Gasping, you take in his features.

He wears a red bandana around his amber colored eyes, and his skin is an emerald color, which seems to fit really well. He’s a…turtle.

He's a turtle.

A walking, talking, turtle. But, a mutated, able-bodied turtle.

The same turtle that’s been in your apartment. The same one that fights crime and practices the art of ninjutsu.

The same one you felt a deep connection with. He’s here. And although seeing his face was by pure chance, you were relieved that he wasn’t some serial killer or 40 year old that was lying about their age.

So, this is what Raphael has been hiding from you this whole time?

The brothers he talks about must all look like this too, then.

It explains a lot, really. Why Casey and April never mention them during conversation, and why Casey was so adamant about not telling anybody you knew.

The pieces of a confusing puzzle you were determined to figure out finally put themselves into place, and it was a relief.

This small victory of yours was short lived, as your hiding spot had been found, and you became face to face with Raphael.

His shocked, confused, and nervous golden eyes met your e/c ones, you were face to face with the real Raphael.

If you were being honest, Raphael made his appearance seem much more daunting than what he really was. Maybe it’s because you got to know the person he was, but he was just a mutant turtle with the capability to feel human emotions and struggled dealing with them. His appearance wasn’t nauseating, disgusting, or ugly. He wasn’t normal, but he wasn’t ugly. He never could be, not to you or anyone who got to know him. He absolutely was not ugly.

“Y-Y/n?” He managed to choke out, his breathing became erratic, and he was practically shaking from you seeing his real self. His breath waved over you, and you enjoyed the cold, minty waft of air.

“Y…yeah…hey, Raph….” You noticed how his eyes never steered away from yours, almost as if he was trying to see your reaction.

“Hey…” You weren’t sure how to feel. He definitely wasn’t human, but he was still Raphael. He kept a big secret for a long time, and then left you hanging.

You smiled at him, signifying that you accepted what he was, and that it didn’t change a thing.

“I-...I missed you.”

“I…” Raphael looked for the words to say, but it was interrupted when sirens could be heard. Quickly putting his helmet back on, he stepped away from you and ran out of the kitchen.

As quickly as you saw him, he was gone.

Getting up from your hiding spot, you kick a nearby box in anger. Months and months after not seeing Raph, you only get a ‘hey’?! What the fuck? Had you not seen him tonight, who knows when you would've seen him eventually.

Now, you were desperate.

Desperate for some kind of closure, you knew just the person to see.

Dialing that familiar number, you hear your good friend pick up.

“Casey? Hey, I know it's late but I have a lot I need to tell and ask you.”

====

“Please don't hurt me, big guy, I got kids…in college. Community college.” Raphael rolls his eyes at the chef cowering under the bar table and tries to hand the cash register that was damaged by the monster back to him.

“Why does everyone think I’m tha bad guy!? I just saved ya life!” Raph argues, before being interrupted by a dagger flying into the register. He looks around, confused, before seeing a silhouette on a nearby rooftop.

Sighing, he drops the money holder, “This night just keeps gettin’ betta and betta.”

=====

“So, you saw him?” Casey sits beside April on the couch after handing you a glass of water. After hanging up earlier, Judd was talking with the cops, and told you that you could go home.

You take a sip and frown, “Yes, but…the real him.” April’s eyes widen, and Casey does the same.

“You saw…Raph…?” The jet black haired male asks, shocked.

“Yep…turtle and all. He saw me see him, then just…left,” You curl up on the couch and bury your face in your hands, “Without a word. All I wanted was to see him, Jones.”

“It’s a little more complicated than that, Y/n. Especially with his brother, Leo.”

“Why couldn't he just tell me that? Why did he keep himself a secret?! He knew I would’ve accepted him, we had that conversation before!”

THAT conversation. You remember it really well, and so did Raphael.

---

“I know you hide your identity from me for a reason, but you know I wouldn’t judge you based on looks, right?” You sit up on the rooftop and continue staring at the stars with Raphael, who laughs.

“If ya only knew, sweetcheeks.”

“I’ll see you eventually, you know. I just want you to know that I’m not a shallow person. I’m not gonna suddenly stop talking to you just because of what you look like, Raphael.” You smile up at him, and he scoffs.

“I know ya aren’t shallow, Y/n. You’ve made me feel pretty comfortable, even though ya don’t know what I look like under all dis.”

---

Yeah, you directly told Raph that you wouldn’t judge him for whatever he was hiding underneath.

“It wasn’t just him he was keeping a secret, it was his family, too.” April says, “They don’t know anyone else but me and Casey, and that’s because they trust us.”

“Trust?” You thought that was stupid. Did Raphael not trust you after all this time? He probably thought you were shallow, then.

But why? You had slowly made your way into his tiny friendship space, spent time together, and opened up. If he didn’t trust you, he wouldn’t have opened up, would he?

“Did Raphael not trust me, then?” You frowned, feeling a heat rise in your cheeks, and your vision blur, tears forming and begging to be let out.

You cried, but for good reason.

Spending as much time as you did with the red-banded turtle, and he didn't trust you after all this time? It was funny, actually. Because you grew to trust him with your life if it came down to it. You made sure he was comfortable and didn’t overstep boundaries, and he didn’t trust you? After all this time, he didn’t trust you?

What a piece of shit.

You wondered what type of life he’s lived, though. The things he went through, the things he wasn’t able to experience. He vaguely described his pastimes and life, but after seeing his true face tonight, there was definitely more to Raphael than you originally got to know.

Time seemed to go by in your neighbor's apartment. April and Casey weren’t sure how much they should tell you and only limited it to what they knew when they first discovered the mutant family.

They spoke of the different brothers, leaving out where they lived, and how they had a rat sensei. They spoke about Leo and Raphs feud, Leo’s absence, and how much it affected Raphael. How upset he was when Leonardo left, and how he hated seeing crime go on and nobody do anything about it.

So it made sense why Raph didn’t want Leonardo to find out about you. Leonardo wanted no secrets in the family, and another human in their lives would complicate things.

Not just for them, but for you, too.

The people who would be after you to get to the turtles. April could tell you how the Foot would kidnap her and use her as a pawn to get to them.

You took all of this in, everything being completely new to you, until April’s cell phone rang.

You couldn’t hear who it was on the other line, but judging by April’s expression, it wasn’t good.

“We’ll be there shortly.” Ending the call, she takes a deep breath, “It’s about Leo…Winter's group took him…the guys need our help.” April quickly gathers her things and Casey does the same, looking at you sympathetically.

“I’ll talk to Raph. He’s probably more mad with himself.” You shoot a confused look toward Casey, “He’s kept a big secret from you knowing you would find out, and he probably doesn’t know how to handle talking to you after you saw who he really is and after ignoring you for months.”

“You think that’d help?” You ask, hopeful. What you needed was to tell Raphael how much you accepted him no matter what species he was. Not only that, but you were somebody he could trust, and he along with Leonardo could be the most skeptical members on the team at times, but he had nothing to worry about when it came to you.

His secret was safe with you.

His family’s secret was safe with you.

And what you wanted the most was Raphael to feel safe with you, as you felt with him.

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