#I will be told that I’m a hostile person to be around | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ficnation · 8 months

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Chapter 1: Dig In

Series: “Eat Your Heart Out” Pairing: Hannibal Lecter x Female! Reader x Will Graham Word count: 4,6k+ Warnings: canon-typical warnings

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Will Graham hasn’t seen you in years—years that felt like centuries to him. When you greet him, your voice is like a songbird’s serenade—sweet, peaceful, and meant only for his ears. It was a melody he missed dearly yet never dared to summon in his mind, even as the memories of you bled into his dreams.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, voice breaking at the last word. The question is not hostile, but it’s not friendly either. He knows you didn’t expect him to greet you like an old friend would. You know him too well for that—or at least you knew him before Hannibal Lecter barged into his life.

A smile crawls up your face, but it never reaches your eyes. You came here because you know, you know someone’s version of the story. But you crave to see the truth—to find out exactly what happened—and you know that Will is the only person who can provide you with the answers you’re looking for.

Jack Crawford raises his hand, his palm facing Will in a silent greeting—almost a peace offer. He keeps his distance as he lifts your suitcases out of the trunk of his car. He’s the one that called you, told you everything you needed to know, how Will lost his mind, how he keeps insisting that an innocent man—someone he considered a friend—is the Chesapeake Ripper.

Will can’t help but snicker at the thought of how this conversation went. You don’t seem bothered by the change in his expression—you hardly ever were, and he was always surprised by your unflappable composure.

“I’m going to stay with you, Will.” It’s not a question nor a suggestion fueled by concern over his well-being. It’s a declaration, and he has absolutely no say in this matter. Jack Crawford has already made that decision for him, and Will is in no position to object—he’s well aware of it.

Will nods and gesticulates to the door of his house. It’s a reluctant invitation forced out of him by his boss’ incessant gaze.

You don’t let him think about it for much longer, fearing he’ll withdraw the offer. You walk up the stairs of the porch and cross the doorstep. The inside is no warmer than the bitter winter on the other side of the door. You shiver slightly, wrapping your arms around yourself for heat.

A flock of dogs runs up to you, wagging their tails in excitement. Some of them you’ve already met before, and some of them seem like recent additions to Will’s collection of strays. You pat each dog on the head as you take off your boots by the entrance. You note that you no longer feel like you are just another stray Will has taken into his home.

The warmth of the friendly dogs quickly makes you forget how much you don’t belong here; you enjoy their company for a moment before reluctantly moving on to explore the room.

Not much has changed since the last time you were here. Will’s bed is still in the room, and you remember the time he confessed to you that it makes him feel more aware of his surroundings—gives him a sparse flicker of safety. He has easy access to the windows overlooking the outside, and he hears whenever someone walks up the stairs to his porch. It’s a small shred of comfort to cling to in the midst of his torment—you understand his reasoning.

The fireplace is the same one you used to warm up in front of every morning when you slept over—just surrounded by more dog beds than before. The old, simple in their design but surprisingly comfortable armchairs stand in their designated spots. Dog toys litter the carpeted floor, while books and familiar trinkets overwhelm the shelves, though if you look more closely, you find new additions mixed in with the old.

“Nothing has changed,” you say to yourself and the chill air of the room. You don’t hear Will’s footsteps as he joins you in the heart of his house.

“I did.” His words make your head whip around to face him, your eyes finding his. There’s a certain darkness in his statement—one you recognize.

The brown curls on his head frame his face in an untamed mess. He’s beautiful, and you find yourself still affected by his proximity.

“I don’t think you did.”

“You’ve been here for seven minutes, I can’t imagine you know much,” Will retorted.

“I know you, Will.” You meet his eyes for a few seconds—it doesn’t take much longer for him to look away. He hasn’t changed.

“Not anymore. Believe me,” his voice is certain and steady, but his hands shake as he reaches for your cozy black coat.

You let him slide it off your shoulders—the chill of the room refreshing. Will Graham isn’t a gentleman—he’s never conformed to society’s expectations. The gesture isn’t meant to impress you, make you swoon, or simply check a box. He does it because he still feels something toward you—he still cares.

You don’t talk much after that. Will makes some space for your stuff in his closet and leaves your suitcases in one of the many empty rooms. You thank him with another smile that doesn’t reach your eyes—there’s too much worry in them to convey your gratitude.

He goes on a walk with the dogs while you decide to take stock of his fridge and cupboards in search of any ingredients that you could possibly turn into a late dinner—french crepes filled with whatever jam or other sweet spreading he has in his kitchen.

You make yourself cozy in one of the armchairs in front of the crackling fireplace, your legs tucked comfortably beneath you when the door opens, and a blast of cold winter air rushes in along with seven dogs, melting snow clinging onto their fur stubbornly. They sniff around the room in search of the source of the sweet, delicious smell.

Will follows in their steps, taking off his boots by the door. It won’t take long for his socks to soak up the drops of water scattered over the floor—remnants of the snow shaken off by the happy furry beasts. He says nothing for a few long minutes, merely taking in your form, the sweet smell, and the cozy atmosphere. It feels like you belong here, even if just for a moment until you deem him deranged and leave again for long years.

“Crepes?” he asks finally, sliding off his heavy jacket. Will imprints on his memory the image of you so peaceful and comfortable in his home, in his presence.

You hum in response, sticking the fork back into your mouth. “I only found jam and peanut butter.”

“It’s an accomplishment you found anything at all.” He chuckles but isn’t truly amused by it—it is a pitiful sound.

The brunet disappears into the kitchen, and when he returns, his plate is filled with food. He sits down in the other armchair with a heavy sigh—a sound so murky only an old man could make or someone so exhausted with life they didn’t see a point in it anymore.

“I believe you, you know?”

Will’s head shoots up in your direction; he almost chokes on his crepes. He didn’t foresee that at all—the thought of you believing him without even hearing his side of the story, believing in his conviction that Hannibal is the Chesapeake Ripper without even asking for evidence. When everyone around him considered him delusional and regarded his accusation with ignorance or anger—you believed him. He straightens up in his seat, looking at you expectantly, begging silently for you to continue.

“I suppose Jack didn’t tell you why exactly am I here, huh?” Will shakes his head, making you sigh deeply as you mindlessly stab the remaining crepe on your plate with the fork—he notices the anger simmering behind your irises. “Figured. They found my father’s killer in our old house.”

“Dead?”

You nod in confirmation.

“Suicide.” Your voice isn’t relieved; it doesn’t incandesce with light like it should.

Will knows that sometimes, even when the murderer is caught or killed, it takes a while to really settle into witnesses’ minds, and sometimes, they never taste that sweetness of relief for the rest of their lives. Yet, it doesn’t seem to be the problem in your case.

“He was missing a lot of blood and it didn’t appear to be anything abnormal back then so they considered the case solved. Let us come out of hiding.”

“Except it wasn’t a suicide,” the man finishes your thought. He’s right—like always. “Someone wanted you to come back… The real killer?”

He looks at you for confirmation, but his idea seems to be too facile—child’s play. If that were the case, the FBI wouldn’t let you stay with him without protection—unless they considered him your protector. Something feels off about it.

“Will, my sister was killed by the Chesapeake Ripper.”

Will stares at you with his eyes wide open. He’s looking at your face in a way that he’s never looked before. He can finally see you, your emotions, and despair—the mask you hid them under shatters into crumbs and floats away with his shaky breath. He hears the misery in your voice now—almost sees your winsome heart smashed into a million pieces inside your chest.

“I’m so sorry… I—” Will’s words are automatic as he processes your statement. He stays perfectly still in his armchair. “I didn’t—”

“What’s done is done, Will,” you interrupt him, shaking your head—a silent plea that he doesn’t blame himself for it. It doesn’t help—he still does.

The moment you stop talking, he can hear the faint ticking of the watch on your wrist. He looks at you, waiting for more to come, but you stay silent. Your eyes linger on your plate with a half-eaten crepe—the jam spilling out onto the white ceramic canvas; you seem to be contemplating something.

He remembers back on that stormy night when you came home at the end of a particularly complicated and brutal investigation—soaked and chilled to the bone. You had a small cut on your arm, not big enough to require stitches, but he wanted—no, he needed—to clean it up and kiss it all better, anyway.

Will could tend to a cut on your skin, but he couldn’t scour the one on your soul—he couldn’t kiss it all better. He always felt the need to fix things—fix you. Now? He has no idea how to take that pain away from you.

He knows he should be glad to see you—glad to see you again. But right now, there’s only sadness, confusion, and guilt because, somehow, this isn’t quite you. There has been this beautiful, bright light shining from you, but it’s missing, and the man feels the loss of it inside. He wants to reach out and take this sadness away from you, comfort you, and bring back that light you always had. He almost wants to cry—he doesn’t even know why himself.

Will swallows hard and finally speaks, voice shaking, “Can I ask you something?”

He hesitates as if afraid of the potential answer. The only thing keeping him from sinking into emptiness is your presence, and asking the wrong question might have a devastating effect. Will looks at you—eyes pleading for understanding.

“Yes. Of course…”

“What did he take?” He almost doesn’t recognize his voice. It seems to be a mere whimper—a noise buried deep within a wounded animal’s throat.

“Her heart.”

Your words strike him like a bullet. Will closes his eyes, trying hard to keep the salty water from filling them. The loss of one heart was unbearable, losing another one physically… He tries to find a reason not to be angry at fate—but there is none. The world gave you back to him, but at what cost?

He reaches out, taking your hand in his. His touch seems reassuring and gentle, but his eyes betray his anger. “I never should have let you leave...”

You ignore his words, looking into the void, and continue, “Her lungs.”

Another cruel twist of the dagger in his gut. He feels your hand squeeze his, almost as if it were asking for comfort. Yet, Will cannot be a comfort at this moment—he is too enraged at the thought of such brutality.

His gaze turns cold as stone, his hand tightening around yours as he holds back the emotions boiling up inside him, threatening to explode and tear everything apart. His eyes remain closed—unwilling to see any more of your pain. You can feel the anger radiating from him like heat.

If she stops breathing, my heart will stop with it—those were his words to Hannibal. Another therapy session he now deeply regrets. It is his fault—his fault that your sister died. And amongst all the hatred, anger, and remorse, he feels a bone-chilling relief that it wasn’t you in her place.

He knows it’s twisted to think like that; he shouldn’t even feel like that, but he can’t imagine his life knowing you were buried deep—six feet beneath the earth he was walking on and still breathing. He doesn’t know whether it was Hannibal’s well-thought-through plan or his fucked up mistake, but Will is grateful.

You are breathing, alive, and your pulse is beating fast beneath his tight grasp. He does not want to let go of it—not yet.

Will opens his eyes, still unable to see your face, yet so very relieved. He doesn’t let go of your hand, his fingers running over your knuckles as if, by touch, he can somehow reassure himself that you weren’t his imagination.

The anger inside him still roils, but he no longer shows it. The only hint of his discomfort is the tightness with which he holds your hand.

“I won’t let anything happen to you,” he mumbles out, almost inaudible.

“No, Will, I won’t let anything happen to you.” You meet his gaze, your eyes almost begging. “I can’t lose you too. You’re the only one I have left.”

Will smiles at you sadly. His eyes filled with a strange light, his fingers running through your hair. Your plates have been long forgotten on the nearby windowsill as he leans forward and carefully touches your cheek, running his forefinger across your lips and down to your chin.

At first, you think the gesture is affectionate—intimate. But then you notice that he’s trying to remember your every feature. It’s painful to think that someone who loved you so dearly might have forgotten your face, the feel of your skin under his touch. Maybe it’s this thought that makes your eyes well up with tears; maybe it is the gesture itself. Or possibly even both.

This moment feels so real, so raw—you are tempted to believe in it, to be hopeful for your future, at least for a moment. But after all you went through, you know that hope is a dangerous thing, and it can turn against you. It’s been so long since all your hopes have been crushed you almost forgot how to have them... And just like that, the moment vanishes, and reality crashes back.

Later that night, when you come out of the shower and crawl into his bed—your clothes sticking to the slightly damp skin, your hair in an unruly mess—he simply opens his arms.

“You claim to be my friend, yet you sleep in my bed like a lover would,” he says—he still remembers the words you whispered to him when the roles were reversed.

Will smiles at the irony, his arms wrapping around you. Your hair is still dripping, the water sliding down your neck and onto his chest. It trickles down in rivulets to his stomach, creating wet spots on his shirt, but he doesn’t seem to care.

You notice his grip is tighter than usual, yet you feel no pain, no discomfort. If he wanted to hurt you, he would. But you’re safe here—in his arms. Safer than you’ve ever been.

“Don’t pretend you don’t love having me in your bed,” you mumble against his neck, your minty breath tickling his skin.

His body shivers, and a soft sound escapes his lips. Your words remind him of the years of loneliness, of his body yearning for your touch. The sound is almost a whimper, and you feel his fingers twining in your wet hair.

The feeling is intoxicating. For years, he couldn’t touch a woman, didn’t even dream about having one so close to his skin, couldn’t feel someone’s body pressed tightly against him in a bed because they weren’t you—they dimmed in comparison. He missed it; he missed this connection, this skin-to-skin contact.

His hand lingers in your hair, the other one tracing your skin, exploring every inch of it, memorizing every imperfection, every bump beneath his palm.

“You haven’t been with anyone else, have you?” It’s not really a question—more of a sure statement—because, after all, you know Will like the back of your hand.

His head shakes, and both of his hands now run down your body. Will takes his sweet time exploring every inch of you—your hips, thighs, your stomach, and neck.

“I haven’t,” he whispers, almost embarrassed. As if his body belongs to someone else, and giving it to you now is a betrayal of that person.

Betrayal of you—the one he once knew—because he’s not entirely sure you’re still the same person. You were always so cheerful and full of life before—anything you touched, growing wings, flying out of the confines of its cage.

He yearns for this contact, craves a woman’s body—craves your body. He touches your skin, lightly running his fingertips over it, trying to bring back the memories from before. Will’s mind spins, trying to place the puzzle of you in the present.

He holds your face, trying to remember the way your eyes shined, the smile on your lips, the way your hair used to look. The feeling of your body, skin to skin, is almost painful. Your lips are so close, your heart beating so fast…

Winston jumps onto the bed, the weight and heat of his furry body on your calves makes you both pull away hesitantly.

“Sorry,” you mumble out the apology into the stillness of the air.

Will looks at you with a soft smile and a faint blush on his cheeks. “It’s fine.” He glances over at the dog. “What’s the matter, little fella? Can’t sleep?” He reaches over to pet the dog, then he turns his attention back to you.

The atmosphere changes completely, filled with the sounds of the night and Winston’s heavy breathing. Yet, although your physical proximity to Will has changed, you still feel connected to him in a way that only two people who are truly close can. The warmth of Winston’s body seems to melt the tension.

The dog snuggles up against you both, the three of you creating your own little world of peace. Will is the first to speak, “I’d rather be in bed with you only,” he sends you a smirk, “but I would still get the same amount of hair on my clothes.”

You feel your lips part in a grin; your breath catches in your throat, and it takes a moment before you’re able to answer his playful jab.

Will catches you in this moment of surprise as if he can smell your anticipation in the air. His hands wrap around your waist, dragging you closer until your bodies are pressed snugly once more.

When he smiles at you, it’s as if the world stops briefly. Your eyes lock, and for a second, there is nothing else but the two of you.

“It’s a sad thing your smile is so rare,” you whisper, your fingers tracing his stubbled jaw.

Will's heart pounds in his chest. He takes your hand in his, running his fingers along your skin. There's always been an undeniable spark between you, but this time, it feels different, more intense. Like if you let yourself go and let the spark ignite, the fire will burst out of your chest.

Will leans closer to you; your noses are almost touching. His brown eyes are so close you can see every detail in them despite the darkness of the room. You can feel the tension in the air, and you know what would break it...

“Will, I... I can’t—” You stumble over your words, gaze parting from his.

Your stutter is cut short by Will’s lips touching yours. A soft sound escapes him as if he’s been waiting for you to stop speaking so he can taste you. His tongue slips over your lips, exploring your mouth.

This is not the clumsy, almost animalistic lust he had for you in the past—it’s something different. Something tender, almost sweet.

Your hands fall limply onto the duvet, your heart beating faster, your breath catching in your throat as you sink deeper into the kiss. You don’t want this to end… So you pull him closer.

Seemingly annoyed by the nonstop movement, Winston jumps off the bed and retreats to his place by the lit-up fireplace. You almost giggle at that, but you’re far too busy with kissing Will’s lips raw.

Your hands find their way onto his neck next, your fingers running through his curls. With lips almost glued to his, you pull him back every time he tries to move.

The sound of your heavy breathing is enough to make his heart pound in his chest as if his very blood is racing. He’s holding you so tightly you fear you might break. Will breathes in the smell of you, almost intoxicated by it. Your scent enriches him—sends his emotions into a whirlwind.

After a moment, he manages to pull away, gasping for breath. He is still holding you, hands pressed against your back, as if not wanting to let go. Will tries to catch his breath—it feels like his entire life is contained in those few moments.

His eyes find yours, looking for some reassurance, as if he expects to wake up from a dream any moment now. He opens his mouth to say words but can’t find any. All he can do is look at you, so beautiful in the darkness. Will closes his eyes as if trying to cling to this moment.

“I’m glad I’m back. Despite the circumstances...” Your fingers play with his curls, your breath just as shaky as his.

“You’re back...” Will murmurs, looking at you relieved, touching your face as if to make sure you’re still here. He wants to speak, to tell you everything that is going through his mind, but when he opens his mouth again, no words come out. He tries to collect himself—tries to bring his heart to your level.

“It’s been a long time... We should probably talk. You know, just to catch up.”

“You like talking now?” Your grin is electrifying, it sends heat down the man’s body. But when he notices it doesn’t reach your eyes, his neediness crumbles.

A veil of insecurity falls over his face. “No… I don’t like talking. But I still do it if I have to, so can we just…” Will gestures to the two of you, the room—just a sign of exasperation and need to do this now. He swallows hard, trying to find his voice. “It’s just... it’s been a long time. And I... you know... there is just a lot that happened.”

“Will,” the way you say his name halts him, “it’s okay if you want to talk.”

He blinks slowly, suddenly confused—why did he even try to lie about it? Hannibal gave him his voice and showed him the power of his words—the good one and the evil one.

Will lets out a deep breath and then closes his eyes. It’s always been hard for him to tell people how he feels. Especially when he wants to say more than any amount of words can describe—and there is a lot to describe. There is so much he has to tell you, and yet when he tries to form the words—to get them out—his mind goes blank.

He opens his eyes and looks at you for help, but you look just as confused as before. “I don’t even know where to begin,” he says softly. “So much has changed.”

“You haven’t. Not as much as you think you did.”

He sees the impossibly black creature in his peripheral vision. It stands behind you, completely still, and its antlers seem much more massive than ever before when he catches their shadow falling onto you. He wants it to be gone so badly, but deep inside, he knows it’ll never vanish if Hannibal is still alive, and maybe even after his death, he’ll never get his peace back.

“Your opinion will change quicker than you realize.”

The creature’s still there, Will looks it straight into its void of color eyes. It’s just in his mind, yet the shiver that runs down your spine tells him you might feel its presence, too. He hates that he can’t tell if it’s his imagination or not or if you can indeed see it, too. A feeling of dread seizes him, a cold sensation that runs up his arms and into his bones.

“Hannibal...” he whispers, but when he looks around the room, he sees no sign of the creature. The sense of dread lingers, nevertheless.

“The Chesapeake Ripper?” you question, and he tells you all about it. All about Hannibal’s mind games—what he did to him and then what he undid.

Will tells you about the therapy sessions, his transformation, and the darkness that took hold of him. He talks about his memories of your sister, about his guilt, and then he moves on to you—your absence and the reason why you left. The void he felt for all those dark years without you—until he was given the chance to have you back, a light guiding him back into reality. And you listen carefully to all of it; you let him speak his heart out until he no longer feels the need to speak.

When he is done telling you everything, Will falls silent. It feels like he laid bare his soul, exposing his most intimate thoughts, yet you still lie in front of him, unchanged. He looks at you, almost expecting you to leave. After all, how much can a person handle? But your gaze is still strong; you still care about him at least a little…

It’s almost as if you’re reading his mind. “I still care about you, Will. My feelings never changed and they never will. I’ll do anything I can to help you get him.”

His eyes soften at your words, and he closes the distance between you two. Slowly he kisses your lips, tasting your breath, feeling his mouth move against yours. The sensation is so intense that it almost sends sparks through Will’s body.

“I’ve missed this,” he whispers into your ear before he turns your head and kisses you again. His hands rest on your back, pulling you in even closer as his tongue dances against yours. “And I’ve missed you. So goddamn much...”

Will pulls away, breathless, as if his entire body is aflame. He looks at you, studying your face so intently it’s almost as if he wants to burn your image into his brain. “So much,” he repeats softly.

He rests his head against yours, breathing in the sound of your heartbeat, listening to the rise and fall of your chest. “You’re here. You’re really here.” He exhales a sigh of relief as if your presence is the sweetest gift he could have ever wished for.

#hannibal #hannigram #hannibal lecter #hannibal lecter x reader #hannibal lecter x will graham #will graham #will graham x reader #will graham x hannibal lecter #Hannibal Lecter x Reader x Will Graham #hannigram x reader #eat your heart out

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desperate-gay · 3 months

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how bout a heated confession between r and kim little? i really want some kimmy fics 😔😭 my girl needs more love and attention 😔🙏🏻❤

Unexpected Confession

Kim Little x fem!reader

“You, my dear, are one of a kind!” Leah exclaims, grasping onto your shoulders as everyone cheers you on. You smile sheepishly while collecting all of the compliments with a light blush.

Arsenal had just won 4-2 against Chelsea with you scoring two goals back to back at the end of the second half. The whole team basically jumped on you when the final whistle blew, congratulating you while spewing how amazing you were the full ninety minutes.

“Our little miss innocent also showed some of her rough side with that tackle.”

“Katie, stay away from her, we can’t handle you rubbing your card reputation on our goal scorer.” Steph says, shielding you from the Irish woman by wrapping her arms around your front so her taller form blocks your view.

“Well thank you all for the many flattery remarks, but it wasn’t-”

“Y/l/n, a talk?” Kim interrupts, nodding her head toward the empty office.

The team all stand in silence, wondering why their player of the match is getting called away by the captain.

You look at her with a confused look when she announces your last name. The both of you are extremely close and friends outside of games, so when she announces your last name, you’re taken aback.

You quickly follow Kim into the room before she shuts the door with a gentle click and closes the blinds so none of the team can snoop around.

“I told Jonas to bench you for the upcoming game against Manchester.” The midfielder states with a stoic expression and her arms crossed.

“What? Why?”

“That tackle against Reiten was dangerous. Someone could have easily gotten hurt and you need to deal with the consequences.” She explains while avoiding your gaze, not being able to keep her captain facade up if she even takes a peek at your doe eyes.

“That’s so unfair! Russo made a late tackle but she’s not getting benched!” You exclaim, getting irritated at the sudden hostility directed at you.

“Your tackle was dangerous and could’ve cost you an injury. My decision is final.” Kim’s tone warns you it’s the end of the discussion, but you’re too pissed off to give her the satisfaction of an easy win.

As she goes to walk away, you quickly run in front of the door, blocking the older girl from exiting the room. Her eyebrow raises in a silent warning matching the unimpressed look on her face.

“No. You’re not just going to walk out of here without giving me a reason as to why I’m being benched.”

“I’ve already told you-“

“Don’t give me that bullshit excuse that it’s because of my tackle. Yes, it was a little late and that’s my fault but that is no reason not to let me play next week. So tell me the real reason why. Now.”

Kim now raises her eyebrows in surprise at your sudden demanding front. You’re not even sure where it came from because the way the captain is looking at you, you wish you could melt into the floor and never come back, but you simply just gulp and stand up straighter to keep strong.

“Do you really want to be talking to your captain like that?” She questions, cocking her head to the side while slowly walking closer to you, causing you to feel smaller and smaller at the girl's sharp gaze.

“I want the truth.” You say shakily, wiping your clammy hands up and down your tracksuit.

“I gave you the truth, but you can’t deal with it.”

“Why are you lying? Just tell me!” The rise in your voice shocks the other girl, you’re usually always the quiet, calm, and sweet person of the team but not when someone is continually being untruthful towards you.

“You could have gotten injured.” Kim admits halfheartedly, showing you she is still hiding something.

“I am fine. You have no right to take me off the team just because of something that could have happened. If you don’t tell me the real reason now, I am walking out of here and I don’t want you talking to me unless it is an explanation or an apology.”

After a minute or two of silence, you give up. With a scoff and a roll of your eyes, you begin to turn the door handle only to be stopped by an unexpected confession.

“It’s because I love you!”

Your body stays facing the door as you process what the Scottish woman has just said. You run through all the little dates the two of you had together, remembering how you were hoping it would be much more than just friendly, but also thinking that the girl just wasn’t into you like that.

“I should have never said that, it was quite inappropriate. You may leave now.” Kim sighs with one hand on her head and the other waving you off. Slowly, you begin to approach her pacing form.

“Kim.”

“You don’t have to stay. You’re dismissed.”

“Kimmy.”

“Seriously, go home. It was a mistake and I didn’t mean it.”

“I love you too.” You whisper, locking eyes with her when her head snaps up.

“You love me?” She asks in disbelief, making you smile at how quickly the older girl turns quiet.

You take a few steps forward so you’re now face to face with her. You hesitantly wrap your arms around her as your thumb smooths out the tension between her eyes.

“I do. And I’m hoping that your confession was real because if it isn’t, you will see a hole shaped me through that wall.” You joke, causing the both of you to giggle softly, breaking a little of the tension. The taller girl’s hands find a comfortable place on your hips while she continues to look at you with a smile.

“It was real. I have been in love with you for a while now and I wasn’t sure how to tell you. I guess being a jerk wasn’t the best way.” You laugh with a small shake of your head.

“No, it wasn’t, but you can make it up to me.” Your head tilts, looking at her with a bright smile. Once she starts to lean in, you do too, meeting her halfway just before she stops.

“May I?”

“You may.”

With the whisper of confirmation, Kim softly connects her lips to yours in a gentle kiss, showing you how much it means and what it means. Only ten seconds in, she goes to pull away, but you wrap your hands behind her neck and pull her back in.

“Too short.” You mumble against her slightly chapped lips, leaving her chuckling at your eagerness and pushing you closer to her by the small of your back.

Before things got too heated, you both decided to pull away even if you didn’t want to. Although the kiss ended, each other’s arms stayed hugging around the other, enjoying the closeness.

“Will you let me take you on a date, let’s say this Saturday night?”

“I don’t know, I’m supposed to go out with this one girl who constantly takes me out on non-romantic dates because she’s sure we’re just friends.” You sigh in fake disappointment, letting the midfielder roll her eyes at your antics.

You gasp when she slams her lips into yours in a quick but fierce kiss before pulling back with a satisfied look.

“Let me make it romantic.” Kim offers with a charming smile, wooing you fully into saying yes even if you don’t need convincing.

“I’d be an idiot to say no.”

After a few minutes of little kisses, giggles, and talking, the both of you go to open the door only to be met with multiple falling bodies. A sheepish Kyra, Katie, and Beth look up from the floor with guilty smiles while the rest of the team turn back around and continue in their cubbies like they also weren’t eavesdropping.

“Everyone get dressed and leave unless you want to come in extra early tomorrow for some extra laps.” Kim announces with her captain expression, making everybody scramble.

The Scottish woman watches with a stone-cold expression before turning to look at you with a soft smile. She leans over and places a lingering kiss on your cheek.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Of course.”

#kim little x reader #kim little #steph catley #katie mccabe #kyra cooney cross #leah williamson #beth mead #arsenal wfc #arsenal #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso fic #woso

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steddieas-shegoes · 4 months

Text

no more waiting

for @steddielovemonth day four prompt ‘love is being willing to wait for them’

a fix-it for these: steve pov | eddie pov

rated m | 1,094 words | cw: post breakup, implied sexual content | tags: getting back together, angst with a happy ending, mutual pining

🩶🩶🩶🩶🩶🩶🩶🩶🩶🩶🩶🩶🩶🩶🩶

Steve should’ve called him Tuesday when the news broke.

And then he should’ve called him Wednesday when he ran into Wayne at the store and he said Eddie was coming home for a bit.

By the time Thursday afternoon came around, he didn’t need to call him. He was standing at Steve’s front door.

“Eddie.”

“Steve.”

It was stilted, more awkward than they’d ever been, even when they “broke up.”

“You just get into town?” Steve asked as if he didn’t know.

“Yeah,” Eddie answered as if he didn’t already find out that Wayne had told Steve his exact travel plans.

“You wanna come in?” Steve asked like he’d die if Eddie said no.

“Yeah, please.” Eddie replied, just short of begging.

Eddie knew where to go, knew how to act like this was his home just like he had for nearly a year before leaving. Before Steve insisted he leave.

He settled on the couch, leaving room for Steve to sit close, but not touching.

Touching would be too much, too painful.

“You saw?” He finally asked, picking at the hole in his jeans.

“Yeah.” Steve reached over to pull Eddie’s fingers away from the string hanging off his pants. He didn’t let go as he spoke. “I’m proud of you.”

Eddie’s eyes bounced between his own, searching for the hint of a lie, jealousy, anything that might give him an excuse to stay away. But as he expected, as he hoped, none of that was in Steve’s eyes.

“It doesn’t mean shit to me,” Eddie admitted.

Steve’s brows furrowed in confusion, his body tensing at the unexpected hostility in Eddie’s tone.

“None of it means a fucking thing to me without you.”

“Eds-“

“I know what we said, I know. But I can’t do it anymore. The first person I wanted to call was you. The first thing I wanted to do was fuck you into the mattress of my bunk on the bus. There’s no world where I can be a rock star without you standing there with me.” Eddie looked down at their joined hands. “I don’t care what it means for me. I don’t care what it means for the band. I don’t care if I have to give it all up tomorrow. I just want you.”

"I won't let you give it up, not now. You finally made it, Eds," Steve pulled one hand away to wipe at his eyes, equal parts happy to hear that Eddie still wanted him and sad that he couldn't have him. "I can't let you live to regret me. I couldn't wake up one day knowing that you blame me for keeping you back."

"Then come with me! Don't keep me back!" Eddie was crying as much as Steve, eyes red like he'd already been crying before he got to Steve's house. "You're keeping yourself back. What are you gonna do when the kids go? They don't wanna stay here, so they'll spread out and you'll still be here. You'll have wasted years being here for them. What about being there for you? What about letting them be there for each other and calling them up once in a while like I do? Like Robin and Nancy do? You don't owe anyone here anything, especially not if it costs you your happiness."

Steve had heard it all before from everyone, even Dustin, even Hopper, but it never really sunk in. It wasn't really now, either, but he was at least trying to think through it.

It made sense, but it always had made sense. It's just that what made the most sense was being here for the people who needed him.

"Do you really think those kids would be upset if you tried to be happy? Do you think they would rather you stay here and be miserable?"

"No." That answer was easy. The kids would never want him to be miserable. Nobody in their group would.

"Then be happy, Stevie. Be happy with me. I'd do anything to keep you happy," Eddie begged, lifting his hands to kiss his knuckles. "I want you to do this with me. I wanna sing to you every night, sweetheart."

"What if you get tired of singing to me every night?"

Eddie shook his head, smiling fondly at the man in front of him. "I can't imagine a life where I'd ever get tired of seeing the way your cheeks turn pink and you get that goofy smile on your face when I look at you from the stage. But if it did, then you can come right back here or go to Robin or anyone, because everyone loves you and wants the best for you."

Steve knew that, always had known that deep down.

"So the guys are just cool with me tagging along?"

"The guys will be thrilled to not have me pouting 22 hours of the day. They'll welcome you with open arms."

Now was when they could seal it with a kiss, maybe even let themselves get carried away, strip off their clothes, hurry through months of yearning in a few minutes. They could take it to the bedroom, or the shower, or the floor if they wanted to risk a sore back. They could leave marks that would take days to fade, and laugh about the way Eddie always, always makes the same whimpering noise when he gets inside Steve. They could, but they don't.

Steve leans his head against Eddie's shoulder and Eddie cups the back of his head, lets his fingers twist in his hair. They both let out a sob, recognition of how much they missed each other, how stupid they were for thinking being apart was better for either of them, finally sinking in.

"I'm sorry." Steve breathed against Eddie's neck, shaky and unsure.

"I'm sorry, too."

They stayed curled up on the couch together for hours, until Dustin showed up yelling about Steve not answering his phone. They hadn't even heard it ring, so wrapped up in their own bubble.

Eddie shooed him away, told him they'd be by to see him later, and surprisingly, Dustin left.

Only then did they manage to get up and go to Steve's bedroom, undressing as they went, lips never far from skin, as they got reacquainted with the taste and feel of each other.

Later ended up being the next morning, but luckily, Dustin didn't say a damn word when they both showed up at his door holding hands and beaming more at each other than at him.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddielovemonth #drabble #post breakup #getting back together #angst with a happy ending #mutual pining

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sweatervest-obsessed · 5 months

Text

Second Chances Are For Winners

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid

WC: 2.7k

TW: Swearing, teasings, blood, abduction, breaking and entering, Criminal Minds General list of triggers apply here.

A/N: Hiya gang! so actually I have been so unmotivated to write and I just got back from vacation so I promise I will finish up VDVE soon. But please enjoy this mouth vomit that Just came out of my mind. It's a part one since the rest of it is mapped out, just not written! (also why is like every other gif his mouth moving. This man really just doesn't stfu and it's only hot on him)

Spencer Reid being overwhelmed was an understatement. He needed to get out of that police station as soon as physically possible. JJ confronting him about his hostility towards her had not gone the way she had hoped it would, and Spencer was once again, fuming.

The Oklahoma heat was not kind to someone who only wore sweater vests, a fact in which he would later start to reconsider when planning his outfits to places where the heat had personal vendettas against the living. As soon as he stepped outside, it was like he was met with a brick wall of temperatures well over what they should be. As the sweat dripped down his forehead, so did the tension. He took a couple of breaths before picking up the phone and dialing a number he knew all too well.

“Speak and be heard, Wonder Boy”

“Hey Garcia,” A small smile formed from hearing the familiar voice. “I need you to look up someone, and find their cell number for me, if that’s okay.”

He could hear Garcia roll across her ‘batcave’, “Hit me.”

“Her name is Y/N Y/L/N…”

“Give me two seconds…..Isn’t she—”

“Garcia, please.”

He could hear the smirk forming across her face as her fingers flew across the keys.

“You’re looking up more than her number…”

“One point for Boy Genius everybody. Yes, I’m looking up more than just her phone number. She’s the gorgeous mystery woman who kissed your cheek in front of the whole team—of course I’m going to look her up now that I have her name.”

Spencer pinched the bridge of his nose, starting to regret the decision to call Penelope in the first place. “Can you just send me her number and snoop around later Garcia?”

“Fine Genius.” His phone beeped. “Just sent it to you.”

“Thank you Penelope.”

“Anytime Boy Wonder.” Reid hung up the call before looking at the screen, opening the text Garcia had sent him. He smiled at the number, and almost dialed before thinking better of it. Maybe after the case, he’ll call you and take you out for lunch to catch up. But it’s nothing more, Spencer decided. You probably didn’t feel the same way, but at least he knew that there was someone who wasn’t a part of the team in which he could finally vent his frustrations to. Now he’ll finally be able to get an objective view on the whole Emily situation.

Spencer looked at the file in his hand and sighed, opening it up. As he was reading through it for the umpteenth time, something occurred to him, and he quickly made his way back into the station, and towards his team.

_____________________________________________________________________________

Once the jet touched down in DC, Spencer was the first one off the plane. He walked through the hanger, and towards his car. He could feel the others watching him, especially Emily, but his mind was elsewhere.

He reached into his pocket and pulled his phone out, dialing the number Garcia had sent.

“Y/L/N and Associates, how may I help you today?”

Spencer didn’t even try to bite back the smile before he cleared his throat, reaching into his back pocket to grab his keys.

“Hi, yes, I was wondering if I could speak with Y/N Y/L/N?”

“Sure, let me make sure she’s available. Her meeting should be ending soon. Can I ask what this is for?”

Spencer pursed his lips before answering. “She, uh, just told me to call this number.”

He heard the person on the other end shuffle something around before answering, “Good enough for me.” They hummed. “Can I just get a name?”

“Yeah–uh, Spencer–Spencer Reid.”

“Give me one moment Mr. Reid” was all he heard before he was put on hold. He sighed and entered his car, chucking his go-bag into the passenger seat. As Spencer turned on the car, he heard your voice.

“Spencer?”

His face lit up, and a smile graced his features.

“Hey! Yeah. Um” He cleared his throat and ran a hand through his hair. “Hi.”

She laughed. “I knew you’d find me eventually, Doctor, but a whole week? I feel that maybe your profiling skills need a bit of sharpening.”

“Well–I was, I was working on cases. I-I didn’t forget—”

You cut him off, voice softer than he remembered. “I’m just teasing Spencer. So what do I owe the absolute pleasure of having Doctor Spencer Reid grace my line.”

“Well, I was hoping you’d give me your cell number so I don’t have to annoy your secretary…”

You were silent for a moment. “Well my number is going to cost you something.”

“Y-Yeah absolutely.” Answered a bit too quickly, almost out of breath.

“I expect a meal sometime soon, and maybe throw in coffee one of these mornings as well.”

Spencer smiled so brightly he almost couldn’t see the road as he was driving.

“I-I, um, think that’s something I can do.”

He heard you hum in agreement.

“What about tomorrow night?”

Spencer paused.

“I–...I actually can’t do tomorrow night, I have a team meeting, but what about breakfast the next morning?”

He heard you shuffling papers around and a bit of typing on the keyboard before you answered him. “Seems like I’m all yours Doctor.”

Reid smiled and parked his car outside of his apartment.

“Then you’ll have to give me your cell phone’s number and it’s a sealed deal.”

“Are you usually this good at negotiations? Should I start prepping my list of demands for breakfast…” You joked, letting out a small laugh.

Spencer shook his head before he realized you couldn’t see him. “N-No, well yes actually. It’s a part of the whole FBI thing.”

You laughed at his joke before giving him your cell number. “I’ll see you soon Spencer. Bye.”

As you hung up the phone, Spencer sent a quick “hey!” text before getting out of the car and heading up to his apartment. Maybe this wouldn’t be such a tense week after all.

______________________________________________________________________________

The Team isn’t stupid. They’ve noticed that Spencer was somehow in a better mood when he arrived at the office the next morning, despite the way he basically ran away from the jet. They also noticed he was spending a lot more time on his phone than before, especially since Spencer was not the one to text.

As Spencer dumped his sugar into his coffee mug, Derek came up next to him and started to prepare his own coffee.

“Wanna tell me why you’re in such a good mood Pretty Boy?”

Spencer pondered the offer for a moment before putting the sugar back on the counter, next to the coffee pot. “Nope.” and he walked back towards his desk.

Derek was taken back a little bit, but finished his coffee. He made eye contact with Emily and shrugged.

Emily was next, since her desk was next to Spencer’s.

“Morning Spence…”

“Morning Emily.” He quickly replied, and even flashed her a quick smile before his phone lit up and his attention was taken away from her. He sent a quick text, before placing his phone face down and started looking through his files to find the right paperwork to finish the consultation he had started before they left for Oklahoma.

“Wanna tell me what’s going on with you?”

“Nope.” Spencer replied yet again, and now that Derek was back, he watched the same look pass through Emily’s face before she looked at Derek.

Derek decided he was going to try a different tactic this time. “Hey Reid, wanna tell me who you're texting there man?”

Derek’s face lit up like a Christmas Tree not even a moment later when Spencer ignored his question.

“Is it…oh what was her name…”

“Ohhhh,” Emily joined in, “It’s the lawyer from last week…”

Spencer just shrugged and tried to stay focused on the paper in front of him, yet all he had been doing for the past minute was rereading the same line over and over because all he could think about was when you were going to answer his text.

“The lawyer, right right…” Derek smirked and looked at Emily, both knowing they hit the jackpot. “Wasn’t her name…Y/N?”

At the mention of your name, Spencer made the mistake of sitting up a bit straighter, which both profilers noticed instantly.

“Oh so Y/N has been texting you all morning huh. Is that why you raced off of the jet last night? Couldn’t wait to go see he–”

“No.” Spencer cut off Derek, looking up at the pair. “I haven’t seen her since last week’s case. Now if the two of you wouldn’t mind leaving me alone I have a lot of paperwork I need to make it through before I head home tonight.” He turned back to the file in front of him and tried to read it again. And again. And again. Eventually, Spencer was able to continue his work once Derek and Emily let him be.

But anytime his phone buzzed, he could feel the smirks from his friends, he just didn’t care.

__________________________________________________________________________

You were so over your entire day. Every single one of your active clients decided that they had an issue that needed to be resolved in the second they called you.

So when you woke up, face leaving a print against the wood of your desk, you let out a groan.

The little clock in the corner of your laptop's screen flashed the time, causing you to let out a string of curses.

“I cant fucking believe it’s 2 am. Fuck.” You grumbled, standing up and stretching your arms over your head.

Your phone screen lit up with a notification, which also showed that you had missed a few text messages from your favorite profilers. The last one was a, correct, guess that you had fallen asleep at your desk. You smiled and responded with:

Do you ever get tired of being right all the time Doctor Reid?

As you packed up your things, your phone buzzed.

Not really. It’s just in my nature.

You laughed out loud a bit, shaking your head.

And why are you still awake?

That’s when your phone rang. You held it in your hand, staring at it for a moment, before remembering to answer it.

“Hello?”

“Did you even check caller ID or are you trying to encourage stalkers?” Spencer’s voice rang through your body as you let out another laugh, placing the phone between your shoulder and your ear, packing up the rest of your things.

“Well Spencer, I seriously can’t think of another person to call me at this hour besides you…; and maybe this Baby Daddy who won’t leave me alone.” You grumbled, shoving your laptop into your bag with a little extra force than normal.

“Baby daddy?”

“Yeah, one of my clients, he’s a sweet guy—great dad. But because he’s so worried about his daughter having any sort of parenting time, he’s been calling me nonstop, freaking out about supervised visits. Like, I get it, but it’s fucking 2 am and I stop working at 5, maybe 6 the latest.

You heard Spencer hum in response, but no words. “Spencer?”

“Yeah?”

“You okay?”

“Ye-yeah, I uh–”

“Did…Did you think I was talking about someone I had a kid with?”

Spencer sputtered out a “n-no, why–why would…”

You let out another laugh, that was like music to his ears. “Spencer, I feel like you should have figured that out from the way that you clearly used the FBI to look up my office number to get my cell number. You would’ve found out if I had kids.”

“Y-Yeah I guess…”

“Give me one second Spencer.” and before he could respond, you put your phone down, and pulled out your airpods, letting them connect to your phone so you could go hands free.

“Can you hear me?” You placed your phone in your skirt pocket, adjusting your airpods so that they would be comfortable.

“Yeah? Is everything okay?”

“I just had to put my headphones on, I need my hands.” You slid on your heels, and walked out of your office locking the door. “Tell me about your day Spencer, I have to walk around and lock up.”

Spencer hummed again and looked up at his ceiling. He had been sitting in his apartment, trying to read, waiting for you to answer his text–partially because he thought the worst, but mostly because he couldn't stop thinking about you.

“Well. Not much happened. I was at work, and was trying to finish a report for this case I’m consulting on by sending them a preliminary profile, and then Derek was up my ass all day.”

“What about?” You asked, placing your bag on the floor near the office, going to check the rest of the offices to make sure no one was still there.

“Oh, um, well…”

You laughed again, causing his chest to swell again. “So it was me.” You teased me. “Excited to talk to me?”

You could feel Spencer turning redder and redder as the moments went on.

After a brief pause, Spencer responded to you. “And what if I am?”

It was your turn to blush, but it only made you feel a bit bolder.

“Getting a bit flirtatious, Spence. This is not the Reid I once knew from all those years ago.”

You could hear Spencer laugh.

“You sound tired. Why don’t you get some rest Spencer.”

Spencer sat up straighter. “No. I’ll stay on the phone with you—” He interrupted himself with a yawn. “Until you get home. What kind of agent would I be letting you walk home alone at this hour.”

“I’m not going to stop you, but if you fall asleep….I’m hanging up.”

“Fine—Just text me when you get home?”

You hummed and nodded. “Can do sweetheart. Night Spencer.”

“Night Y/n”

You hung up the phone and turned on your spotify, listening to some music that would make this fifteen minute walk bearable. You usually drive into work, but it had been such a nice day, and you usually don’t mind getting in the extra walk since you sit behind a desk all day.

You paused before you exited the first set of doors—part of you felt like you should just go back upstairs and sleep in your office. It wouldn’t be the first time, and it would provide a certain agent with a lot more comfort knowing you’re somewhere safe.

But then you thought about your bed, and the new sheets you put on the night before, and the weighted blanket spread out across the bed spread, and you realized you’d much rather sleep under that than on a stale couch without even a pillow.

You managed to make a fifteen minute walk into a ten one. Speeding home at 2 am was not exactly what you wanted to do, but you’d rather that then the couch. You quickly unlocked the front door and made it up the stairs and into your apartment.

You sent Spencer a quick text saying that you had arrived home, and immediately moved into your bedroom.

The apartment was a small one bed, one bath. It would have been considered a studio if not for the door between your bedroom and the kitchen/living room/entrance/dining room. Your bedroom was quite small, with a skinny closet, a dresser, and your bed. You had gotten lucky enough to shove your bed against one wall, and create a reading nook in the turret window on the other side of the room, which was only about ten feet away, but still.

You kicked off your shoes, and made your way into the bathroom, brushing your teeth and listening to whatever music spotify had decided to play for you.

You took off your outfit for the day and pulled on your pajamas, which felt so good against your skin as you slid into your bed, and shut the lights off.

You wished you took the first option when two minutes later, you heard your bedroom door creak open, and a voice tell you not to scream.

To Be Continued...

________________________________________________________

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astrologuzzy · 1 year

Text

★ MY ASTRO OBSERVASHUNS ★

Disclaimer before I start: I’m no professional astrologer so don’t come for me, mkayyy? MWAH 💋

♡ 𝐆𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐈 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒, more specifically those with Gemini placements in their personal planets loveeeee playing around with their voice a lot. Just utilizing their voice to be a silly goobert. Like making voice impressions or funny sound effects is very natural for them. Which is why I think so many Geminis are comedians, artists and actors. Whenever I see someone who makes goofy sounds or is very into voice acting I instantly know they must be a Gemini/have heavy Mercury placements and up until now i was 100% correct each time lmao. (As someone who has Gemini placements myself: I love to make funny voices or impressions, sometimes I do it without realizing lol)

♥︎ Which actually brings my to my second point on 𝐆𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐈 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒 but those that are musicians; I noticed they frequently love to play around with different genres of music and different styles of singing/rapping in general, even all in one song simultaneously. Good example would probably be Kanye West or Kendrick Lamar. Their music and style tends to be very versatile and they tend to incorporate even very random notes/effects/sounds to it as well.

♡ Oh my goodness, all the 𝐋𝐈𝐁𝐑𝐀 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐒 I’ve ever known have this damn thing where if you don’t ask them specifically for what you wanna know, they’ll never even tell you it. I had a friend with a full blown Libra stellium that I finally caught up with after months of no contact and this girl only told me about her having a girlfriend and getting into a car accident only 3 days later!? That was thanks to me for randomly mentioning romance and cars, otherwise she wouldn’t have even shared it. So if you wanna hear a Libra disclose something specific with you, just be direct with it.

♥︎ I haven’t met an 𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐍 that wasn’t impulsive and would jump from one relationship/project into another and then complain about how everything turns out a mess (but then get back up and repeat the cycle again smh).

♡ 𝟏𝟐 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐒 and their hidden enemies is actually very fukkin real. I got to witness it closely for the first time and oh boi am I shook lol. My boyfriend has a 12H moon and I’ve witness multiple times strangers come up to us, start a conversation and then just become insanely rude to him outta absolutely nowhere as if they been having beef with him since kindergarten?! Randoms tend to get mad or hostile so easily at him even if he doesn’t say anything bad... it’s so weird.

♥︎ Every person with an 𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 in their big 3 has this feistiness to them. Even when they’re super sweet and chill type of Aries I still notice that they have moments where they’re quite direct or don’t really care about what you think. They’re gonna say what they wanna say one way or another and it’s honestly so natural to them, I don’t think they even notice. Even the quiet Aries in my life have this demeanor to them that you just don’t fuck with because they’ll bite back at some point.

♡ In my experience, every 𝐏𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐒 that I’ve ever known always expressed their appreciation and affection in letters/poems/metaphors very frequently. Very romantic, very abstract, Shakespeare who? Every time they’d send a whole ass paragraph like 🥀”you are like a rose that fell in this chaotic ocean and turned it into a tranquil lake” 🍂 just to describe my eyes or something. I don’t think my Aquarius moon is cut for such stuff lmao, it makes me cringe a bit but I do appreciate it! Although every Pisces mars guy I ever knew had additional water placements in their big 3 (like Cancer sun or a Pisces moon) which probably only doubled that sentimentality they had.

♥︎ 𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐑 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒 and their anger issues is something and that something is very real... That’s it, that’s the Tweet lol

♡ Idk what it is about 𝐖𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐍 men but they always make me wanna take care of them and like baby them when they’re in their feels and retract and act like they aren’t on the verge of tears... Make me wanna go and cuddle them lol. Especially Cancer moons for wtv reason really soften my Aqua moon when I’m around without them even doing/saying anything.

♥︎ Also 𝐋𝐈𝐁𝐑𝐀 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐒 are insanely great at faking their true state of being. I’ve met so many Libras that on the outside look like they’re having a blast but when you actually get to know them you see that their house burned down, their granny died, they almost choked to death twice last week and their partner broke up with them for 15th time that day and now they’re homeless... And you’re like damn bro, I’d literally never guess. They really know how to mask everything, put up a great front for others and do it insanely convincingly. You literally would never guess what that Libra is actually going thru, it’s probably worse than you can image. Please check up on your Libra friends and Libras - it’s ok to ask for helpppp. You guys deserve it <3

♡ 𝐒𝐀𝐆𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐔𝐒 𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 are one of the funniest mothafukers everrrrr, they always make me laugh so much! Double points if they have Gemini or other Fire placements with it. Just hilarious individuals.

♥︎ 𝐒𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐏𝐈𝐎 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐒𝐄𝐒 are actually pretty chill people, you won’t see them angry often (but they make sure you know when they do). Usually our anger and passion is more so hidden and works backstage. Compared to 𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐒𝐄𝐒 that are loud with it and don’t hold back.

That’s it for todayyyy ☀︎

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edenfenixblogs · 7 months

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I don’t think most non-Jews understand how disappointed we are in the left right now. How completely abandoned we’ve become. How our contributions to progress for other groups have been erased or disavowed or hidden. How the actual tangible things that Jews have contributed to black rights and civil rights are being ignored. How we’re being told we contribute and have contributed nothing.

How we are being told that the world has been kind to us when it never has. As if my mom didn’t grow up getting called a Kike and getting beat up for being Jewish. How I thought I had friends until I caught them saying “xyz was beautiful until Jews showed up.” How people told me I was pretty “for a Jew.” How I grew up hearing stories about bombs being set off in Israel in buses and markets. How I couldn’t even go two weeks without hearing that and how nobody cared and somehow, every time that happened, the whole world became more hostile to me for some reason.

I just don’t understand. I don’t understand what leftists are doing. Or why. I hate that I have to say—of course, I support a free and self determined Palestine (which I truly do)—in order for you to decide I’m worthy of care and support.

We showed up for you. All of you. And the entire movement is abandoning us at best or targeting us at worst. Celebrating our deaths. Saying we deserved it. How are we supposed to trust you ever again? How are we supposed to feel safe ever again?

A very few select people who are in my life have taken the chance to actually learn about and dismantle their own unconscious antisemitism during this time. And I’m eternally grateful for them. But most people haven’t reached out at all. Most people are still sharing hateful things that could get me hurt and they don’t care. Most people Reblogging my posts are still Jews. Because we are alone. And it sucks. You need to be as loud about antisemitism as you are about Palestine or you’re an antisemite (unless you’re Arab/Muslim/Palestinian—I totally get that these groups are also doing damage control in their own communities just like Jews are).

But we are all in tremendous pain right now.

This moment will pass. And when it does, I will remember how many people let me down. I will remember that when I needed support more than I’ve ever needed it in my life, people fucking vanished. They pretended violence against my people wasn’t happening. They ignored and rewrote the history of Israel to suit their own narratives.

You don’t know what it feels like to be hated this much for opposite things. PoC hate us for being too white. White supremacists hate us for not being white enough. Europeans hate us for being middle eastern. Middle easterners hate us for being western/European. Everyone hates us for being settlers but continually kicks us out of their countries so that we have to settle somewhere else.

I saw a post going around from a Black person who said that the reason he and his fellow black activists go protest for Palestinians instead of fighting antisemitism (as if it’s a binary, which it’s not) is that Jews don’t show up. Muslims and Palestinians do. And honestly? Fuck that guy. Heather Heyer died standing shoulder to shoulder against racism in 2017. [CORRECTION: When I first wrote this post I was under the impression that Heather Heyer was Jewish. I want to correct to avoid spreading misinfo. She was just the first (and incorrect) Jewish civil rights activist I thought of. However there are plenty of other actual Jewish civil rights activists to choose from. If you have reblogged this post from me, please feel free to add a link to the permalink version of this post with my correction to your reblog.]I have devoted substantial time and effort and money that I don’t even get paid a lot of because I don’t get paid a living wage. I have continually reached out to PoC people in my life of all religions to ask how they are doing and what I could be doing to help more—both for them personally and how they would best like me to help their community. I have elevated their voices at every opportunity. And not one person I checked in with has done the same for me or for my community.

And it’s bone chilling. It’s awful. And it’s even worse knowing that when it’s over, people will want to go back to normal. They won’t apologize. They won’t self reflect. They’ll just live their lives, maybe a little more aware of how much they hate us and completely indifferent to the harm they’ve caused us. How disposable they made us feel. And the thing is…it’s not hard for you to know. You just have to ask.

Too many people are cowards. Too many people care about looking good than actually learning something or making the world better. And to those people: you should be ashamed of yourself.

I don’t have any hate in my heart. Truly. Not a drop for any group of people. But I have a tremendous lack of trust that anyone would actually lift a finger to keep me safe.

#antisemitism #leftist antisemitism #anti zionisim #I dare a goy to republic this challenge #goyim ID yourself in the tags if you reblog this #cuz i straight up don’t believe goyisch activists give a shit unless they straight up say they do #i’m not okay #honestly #this is the Nazi stuff I am most scared of #sure the Nazis rounded us up #but you fuckers were the ones who watched and did nothing #you’re the ones who voted the Nazis in #you’re the ones who didn’t stop them #fuck all y’all for real #i/p #israel #palestine #correction issued

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kiss-me-muchoo · 4 days

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𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 || 𝐌𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐎’𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Summary_ He pushed you away some time ago. You forgave him, but Miguel realizes intentions don’t mean much and he wants you back.

Warnings_ age gap! (I’m 20, Miguel is around 28-31, bear with me), angst, fluff.

A/N_ this is The Craving from Twenty One Pilots, I loved the new album. and imgonnagetyouback from Taygod Swift, BOTH IN MY MIGUEL PLAYLIST🩷

♪ ♫ My Miguel O’Hara playlist ✰ Index (+ fics here)

_____________

Waves of silence crash all over the Spider Society. Miguel O’Hara had just told Miles Morales that he had to let his father die to protect canon. Your guts twist in an odd feeling, you feel a bad omen. The chase had been tough, your insecurity playing with your head as you knew Miles had the right to choose his destiny.

Canon had been fair with you, offering you light problems compared to others. So you wished every spider had the same destiny as yourself.

Now seeing that Miles was gone thanks to the “Go Home Machine”, you couldn’t let Gwen to follow the same path.

“Miguel… you can’t send Gwen home. She’s vital for this.” You say quickly stepping up against the man who was intimidating the sixteen-year-old girl.

“I don’t need more problems than we already have. I restate… she’s a liability” Gwen pleads you with scared eyes. You gasp, running out of options to calm the angered man.

“You gave me a second chance too, I was once a novice like her” Miguel huffs, looking at you with much impatience.

“Yes, and you learned from that, never committing an error again.” Gwen is picked and caged inside the machine, she starts panicking and you too. In an act of desperation, you grab Miguel from his forearm, making him turn to look down at you. His crimson-red eyes stare at you with such hostility that you know you have to be careful to choose the right words.

“This is not right. You are not thinking clearly. Miles and Gwen deserve better” Your gaze moves between him and Gwen, hoping Miguel would agree and let the girl stay.

“Miguel, please…”

“THIS IS ABSURD, Y/N!… CANON HAS GIFTED YOU WITH MUCH LUCK, YOU CAN’T EXPECT EVERY PERSON HERE TO RUN WITH THE SAME FATE. BE REALISTIC, RESPONSIBLE, AND INTELLIGENT FOR ONCE!” As he attacks, Gwen is gone. Another round of silence invades the place, but this is worse. Your eyes open in shock after hearing Miguel.

He can’t be fixed. He won’t change. It’s time to go and follow what you think it’s correct.

You eye Jess and Peter, they seem like they have some things to say but remain quiet.

Miguel finally looks delicately at you and notices your eyes are watering. The awkwardness is very loud, your blush letting everyone know you are embarrassed.

You won’t say anything about it. You just look back at Miguel for a second, before opening a portal in your gizmo, doing the same as Hobie Brown did; quitting.

“I really thought you would get it…” Your gizmo fell to the ground as you disappeared, the screen of it cracking and leaving Miguel a little stunned by your decision. He sighed, knowing he had screwed it, but confident that his intentions were correct.

That night, after a quick patrol, when you returned home, you took a quick shower to wash away all the pain and bitter taste of the day you had. But when you came back, there was a little present wrapped in newspaper that wasn’t from your earth. You unwrapped it, revealing a homemade gizmo. You grabbed the little note attached.

We need you

-Hobbie

You would do things right. And you didn't care if you had to fight with old friends or colleagues. Especially Miguel.

…

The seasons had changed so fast. By the time summer ended, the leaves were already drying and many people had left, by winter and the snow falling over, others came back. But you stayed the same.

You had the same suit, with upgrades and chrome instead of golden details, but it was the same. Your earth was well controlled, with no sign of the villains that used to terrorize your city. All the smiles you offered were the same. All the laughing with Peter B. Parker, Hobie, Gwen, Pavitr, and Miles was the same. Yet, something had changed between you and Miguel O’Hara.

The man knew the perspective people had of him would change after the events of last summer when he put the lives of Miles and many others at risk. He let his fears win and while he tried to protect everything, he was only pushing it towards the edge, dooming the fate of the multiverse. You were on his side at the beginning, claiming that canon was sacred and couldn’t be changed. But the image of Miles, his face full of fear and anxiety, unsure and terrified of his future. He was a kid, he had no idea of anything. He made you question if canon events could change. Either way, the kid was more than enough to draw you worried. Destiny could be wrong, so you decided to help Miles. Your decisions had consequences? Yes. The moment you left the building of the Spider Society, you started to miss everything. In your mind, you were almost assured Miguel didn’t care about you, but deep down, your heart said the opposite. Ending with a drift that seemed invisible at the beginning. But now, a year later, it was more than clear.

The change was something you could get used to. Your work remained the same, with Jess and Peter. B Parker. Your missions only turned more fun with the addition of Miles and Gwen permanently returning like you. Gatherings at Peter’s each Saturday remained the same. But all the awkwardness of the spiderverse invaded you when Miguel O’Hara came into the picture.

After all, you two had gone on a date the day before you met Gwen at her earth while capturing the Renaissance vulture. He asked you out, and you said yes. It was a lovely afternoon and he even visited your home. What started as a mentorship from him, blossomed into a friendship and then as a “almost something”. Which hurt worse.

It all started with you walking away. Briefings were cautiously heard by you, even staying after for further questions. Jess asked you to hand the mission details to everyone when Hobbie and Miles came to talk about a concert you were going to with Gwen and Margo when Miguel came and started asking about a new gizmo coming soon. Everyone noticed you grew quiet and soon after you were gone.

Then, you stopped asking to go on missions with him, Ben, and his usual party. When you were recruited, Miguel was annoyed but pleased to have you along. It happened that one day, you blew things off accidentally, making him extremely angry. Your web shooter failed and you almost missed it to save a baby. Nonetheless, you quickly were ranked higher thanks to your abilities.

All of your friends could see how your small friendship with your boss had suddenly evaporated. And Miguel couldn’t blame you. After all, he was the one yelling in your face when you argued in favor of Gwen when she was sent home. Miguel could remember he almost made you cry, leaving you completely embarrassed in front of everyone. He felt terrible seconds after you left, but he soon went to the earth of Miles with Ben and Jess. Eventually, when the man learned you were silently helping the kid and the ones who had left his side, he didn’t say anything. In the final moments, Miguel knew he had to side with the teenager and help to get rid of The Spot. And when the chaos was over, he wished he had the right to celebrate it with you.

The aftermath changed him, over the months, he even thanked you for trying to make him see the reality from the beginning, and he apologized. But that night, he understood that you had forgiven him, but remained hurt.

Either way, Miguel had to deal with the consequences of his acts and sort the way things would work for the sake of everyone’s canon. Yet, in the middle of the night, he constantly remembered you.

Out of nowhere, Miguel O’Hara was accepting that he missed you. And acknowledging that fact, only made him accept he had some feelings towards you. Which scared him for sure. But after losing his daughter, almost losing all he had built for spiders like him, after feeling so isolated, Miguel lounged to have a partner. He craved the love of someone. And had found it. He just wished he had done things differently.

Jessica knew Miguel so much that she easily solved the mystery. On a random Monday, she bombarded him with questions that soon made Miguel spit out he was attracted to you. She suggested the man slowly try to talk to you. Nothing was lost, there was hope. The woman had her theories about you never getting over that crush on Miguel. She often had caught you staring at him, staring too much for later to avoid him. Jess knew you were protecting your own heart.

“Miguel?” She asks.

So there he was, Miguel was sitting in the cafeteria, taking a big bite of his empanada de picadillo. He could taste the shredded beef, potato, carrot, jalapeños, and mushrooms freshly mixed with spices.

“Yes?…” The insides of the empanada are burning his tongue and he doesn’t mind.

“I asked if you assigned today’s missions?” He nods. With a quick glance at his surroundings, he huffs at the sight of the hamburger with the face of his mask still being served. The cafeteria is full and he hates all of the voices speaking at the same time. He has to wear sunglasses because the place is full of light, and it hurts his eyes. Why is everyone still eating a hamburger with his mask on the bun?

“Are we lunching here because perhaps you want to see when a certain female spider appears?” Miguel rolls his eyes. Some days, he loves Jess and knows about his feelings for you because she grants him free therapy. But other days, he hated it because Jess knew how to mess with him. Like now…

“Oh…Hi y/n!” Miguel looks at Jess panicked, but soon feels relived that his sunglasses are dark enough to cover his blown wide eyes. You appeared there. Upside down, of course, Miguel notices how your hair hangs freely, and he isn’t sure if it’s longer, or it’s just the gravity.

“Hey, Jess. I just came to drop this file with Miguel. Lyla said he wasn’t in his office” You say calm. He notices you have your mask on, but you’re definitely not looking at him. He takes the folder from your hand and stays there looking at you. You seem awkward but remain relaxed.

“That’s from my morning patrol, you asked for a report. I’m leaving with Hobbie and Pav now…” you add. And you can see how Jess keeps glancing back and forth between you and Miguel. Was she hiding something from you?.

“Okay… guess I’m leaving now…” you only sigh when no one answers.

“Get back safe, please,” Jess says as you are already far away from them.

“Thanks” you answer without looking back. Soon you open a portal at the entrance of the cafeteria and you’re gone. That’s when Jess comes back to her friend, side-eyeing him.

“Really? You couldn’t even say ‘thank you” or “good luck”?” Miguel sighs, dropping his empanada and relaxing his shoulders. He knew he had to say things to you to get back to normal.

“I know… I just… I don’t know how to start this” Jess smiled. In the end, even when Miguel was a 6’9 tall man with the title of founder of the Spider Society and creator of the Gizmo, he was a silent and certified emotion avoider.

“She forgave you for last summer and all. But this is now, she’s also awkward about you. She’s also unsure if you want to talk to her…” Miguel leaned closer, interested and equally anxious.

“She said that?” Jess shrugged while taking a bite of her French fries.

“It came out very vaguely. But for sure she’s also a mess for you”

“What? Did she also say that?” Jess giggles at him, only sipping from her soda.

“Maybe you could start sending flowers or letters, Romeo” Miguel huffs, wondering if his friend actually knew something or not.

Jess wanted to lock you two in a room and hopefully, when she opened the door, Spiderman 2099 would have a prospective lover.

…

With another college semester ended and a driving anxiety, summer was a relaxing time for you to spend in your room. Painting your toenails, you were singing at your CD player playing one of your favorite songs. Your family was gone, so you could be letting your feet dry walking upside down in your ceiling. Suddenly, your gizmo beeped and it was a deleted message from Miguel. You frowned and almost screamed. Probably he sent something to you by accident and then he deleted it. But you had an omen. So you called Jess, she answered with a long and mean “what?”, she must’ve been watching some movie with her husband.

“Miguel sent me a message and proceeded to delete it before I could read it?” You didn't mean to sound so fast and desperate, but you did.

“Slow down, girl. But… he deleted it?” Actually, she had been sleeping, her toddler being a little bolt that demanded a lot of her time even with her husband there.

“Exactly… Odd, Right?”

“Coming from Miguel? Sure it is. But… I think it’s time you try to talk to him too, y/n. Maybe he’s awkward about what happened last summer and doesn’t know how to approach you” Jess wants to scream that Miguel likes you too, but she can’t ruin it.

“ I feel like Miguel doesn’t even care I distanced myself from him. But when I see him, my heart starts beating so fast, and my hands sweat.” She laughs and lets out a long “eww”.

“You hide it very well. But you’re very cold, it doesn’t help. I have to admit you also might need to try….”

“Jess, I’d end up bursting out that I’m in lo-“You immediately stop, Jess lets out a surprised groan.

“MISS Y/N, YOU LOVE HIM?”

“Goodnight, Jessica” You go straight to bed, ignoring the deleted message and everything regarding Miguel.

But Jess and her questions keep popping up in your head.

Could it be possible that you were actually in love with Miguel?

…

“So my teacher said my essay was lacking everything, it was marked with red all over,” Miles says walking beside you, both of you are done for the day with the missions. You were almost infected by some poisonous lizard that was haunting earth-2407.

“Did you actually make the corrections?”

“I did-“ you side-eye him.

“Well, not all of them but-“ you two are just walking around with no destination secured. So when you two pass by the training center, Miles literally pushes you towards the stairs that lead to the balcony of said center. He gestures to you to keep hushed before turning to see the couple speaking; Miguel and Jess.

“We shouldn’t be hearing them” you remind him, not wanting to get caught, especially by Miguel.

“Jess banned me from the 10th floor because I was disturbing everyone. Gwen was with me and she received no punishment, bro” the teenager whispered. At sixteen, Miles had grown impossibly taller, almost like Peter B. Parker and Noir. Even Gwen was taller, everyone was taller. But at least you weren’t the same height as Penny or Peter Porker.

“Maybe because Jess is training her yet?”

“So? That’s nepotism” You want to laugh but he shushes you again. So you turn to see Miguel and Jess training.

The man was extremely sweating and Jess too. You never reached the same level of training simulations as them, thinking it was unnecessarily violent and fast-paced.

“Keep Gwen and Miles out of my lair. I’m tired of catching them trying to make new suits from themselves”

“They don’t even know how to work the machine, relax” the woman bites back.

“So? It’s annoying”

“It’s also annoying that I have Lego Spiderman and y/n printing random pictures at my office” The mention of your name makes you blush, remembering the print of Peter B. Parker with a big red font saying “Have you seen this man in your dreams?” It was very funny among the coworkers and every time Peter saw it, he would start complaining from all the bullying he had to endure.

“Don’t get y/n on this. I can’t even stand her now” You swear you can feel your heart shattering. Miles turns to look at you, encountering your sad expression.

“Y/n…” the boy tries to soothe you, but you just shake your head.

“I think I’m going home, Miles” you whisper to him, leaving soon after.

Your eyes water as you walk away from the training center, many fellows stare confused at your sadness. But you ignore them as you open a portal towards home.

And when you are in the safety of your earth, you are not ready to go to your pillow to cry. So you start swinging between skyscrapers and buildings just to clear off your mind.

You knew it was a mistake from the beginning to start developing feelings for Miguel O’Hara. Then he invited you to that damn date. Such a fun day till he had to yell in your face that you were privileged and shouldn’t be stupid ignorant. Now he seemed to have left the issue behind, after his apology. And you forgave him, even letting your feelings for him float around. But if he didn’t want you back at the society? Why did he call? Why did he offer the gizmo again?

He was an asshole.

Meanwhile, Miles stayed a little longer, hearing more of the conversation.

“Just tell y/n to stop using my printer” Jess pleaded.

“Nah, I won’t tell her,” Miguel says smirking. The woman training with him rolls her eyes annoyed.

“Just because she’s your impossible crush doesn’t mean she can have the privilege to print stupid things at my place” Miles gasped, thinking what Jess said was a joke.

“You can use my printer, so I don’t have to say anything to my girl,” Miguel said and Miles was officially shocked. He had to tell you everything the next day.

…

Two days later, the overheard talk is somehow forgotten. Miles tries to mention it occasionally but you brush him off. You have your head centered on Mayday, the two-year-old toddler walking beside you across the hallways of the Spider Society. Peter completely trusted you to leave his child with your babysitting.

“Where did you leave your ribbon, Mayday?” The little girl giggles. She has a dress of flowers and sneakers, making her look very adorable with her long disheveled hair.

“Don’t know” she babbles. Peter would be mad since it was the third pair being lost in the week.

Mayday clumsily waddles, giggling as you keep searching around for that ribbon. Even though the floors are mysteriously always clean and shiny, you can’t see the damn ribbon.

When you walk slightly away from the little girl to look down on a bench, you hear a little yelp from her and when you turn back, you see Mayday on the floor and then she starts crying.

“Oh fuck me…” you whisper, running to grab the kid and start calming her. You carry her in your arms as you sit on the bench.

“It’s okay, Mayday. It was only a little slip, but you are okay” She starts hearing your voice and her cries turn to sniffles, feeling protected when you hug her and gently brush her hair.

“Daddy won’t like looking at you crying. He wants to see you laughing and happy. You are fine, see?” The kid nods brushing away the tears.

“Now give me a smile. You were very brave!” mayday smiles brightly and you chuckle.

“That’s the Mayday I know!” The kid laughs at your way of entertaining her. When you turn towards the hallway to see if Peter is back, you almost drop Mayday again.

Miguel was there, looking at the interaction.

“I found the ribbon,” he says walking towards you and the girl. His expression is very neutral, and you can’t see the way Miguel’s hand is shaking slightly.

“Miguel!” Mayday greets the tall man with a smile, asking him to be in his arms. They both had grown closer. After all, Miguel had been around Mayday since she was born. You appeared when Mayday was 10 months old.

“Hey, kid” you let him take the girl, then you accept the ribbon from his free hand. You barely touch him but your lungs are dry and your stomach is a mess like a powerful tsunami. Nonetheless, your face shows the contrary.

“Thanks. Peter was growing annoyed by how many ribbons this little girl had missed.”

“I know. And you handled very well the situation back there…” he admits, recalling the little slip of Mayday. Miguel sees a little blush in your face, it lights up his hopes.

“Thanks…” you awkwardly say, standing up to try to reach the little girl.

Miguel leans slightly to let you tie the ribbon on Mayday’s hair and he’s able to smell your perfume of figs and brown sugar. He also sees the little golden seashell pendant hanging on your necklace. He smiles when he realizes you are avoiding his gaze. And when you’re done, both stare at each other, with many questions, but silence reigns. Both of your hearts racing with a tormented passion.

“Y/n… I feel like we need to talk about-“

Miguel grows quiet when Peter appears running in the middle of the hallway.

You don’t even catch what he said, you turn relieved to see Peter was back.

“Oh boy, we are late for her passport appointment. M.J.’s gonna kill me” You giggle at his drama. Miguel is still there behind you, he rolls his eyes making Mayday laugh.

“She will understand. And thanks for the ribbon, Miguel” The little girl is back in his father’s arms and you quickly start following them, too nervous to stay with Miguel alone.

The man just stays there seeing how you leave, and he sighs, taking a long breath. His intentions are not enough. His little efforts are nothing to reach you, it makes the craving he feels to be corresponded by you even bigger.

As for you, you feel a great heartache. Half of you feel very nervous, because it seems like some days Miguel wants to talk to you, and other days he wants to say he’s tired of you. What a confusing and fucked up situation.

…

He gives two steps forward, like five steps back. Miguel is standing at the entrance of the terrace in the building of the Spider Society, debating whether to go and talk to you or not. He even prepared a few things to say, hoping to not scare you away, more than you already were. While he knew he couldn’t just scream out he was in love with you, he could try to mend the breach built between you two.

It’s getting late in Earth-928, and a lot of spiders are leaving their home. It’s Saturday and a lot of them have plans with their families, partners, and friends. Miguel is set to have another lonely weekend doing some patrol. But for now, he’s still there, watching you seated on the rooftop of the building, eating some chicken and avocado tacos from the cafeteria. Miguel wants to laugh when he catches a glimpse of some avocado dropping from your taco. You set the plate aside and look down, letting out a little “yikes”, Heaven knows what or who would end up getting a piece of avocado from the sky.

He’s not ready. Miguel curses himself for being a big overthinker. He’s able to fight the most callous and evil villains from different dimensions. But he’s unable to say “Sorry, I was an asshole. Can we try it again?… Oh, and I love you”. Perhaps it was his anxiety or panic, but Miguel swears his gizmo beeped, so he walks away, going down the stairs, feeling his heartbeats returned to normality.

Each step he takes is filled with greetings, comments, warnings, notices, and more from different spiders. He sends spider plushie and Penny to work in a minor anomaly and finally, he closes the door of his office.

There’s a mess of papers around. Miguel suddenly remembers someone… Gabriella. He’s happy that his trauma is slowly fading away. He was officially healing and had accepted his daughter had also forgiven him. Miguel could rest knowing his errors were sealed.

And just as he was about to play some of the recorded memories he had, Lyla appeared.

“The whole gang is coming” she blurted out with her usual cocky smile.

“Tell them I’m busy, Lyla”

“But they’re already here” The AI had a new pair of fucsia heart sunglasses and coat. Which seemed to have made her more stubborn. Miguel sighed, turning off his monitors.

“MIGUEL!” the man heard the annoying voice of Peter B. Parker and sighed. When he turned around, he saw the whole club; Peter without Mayday, Hobie, Pav, Margo, Miles and Gwen.

“What is it now?” he looks down at them from his platform and is already irritated by their presence. Even after a year of changes, they were a group of teenagers and Peter.

“Well… uh-“ Gwen starts, but soon pushes Peter forward, encouraging him to speak up instead of her.

“Uh… Miguel, we know you hate us for wandering about your private life and we respect it. But we feel like you need to talk to y/n about her position here.” As Peter talks, he has Miguel’s whole attention.

“And why is that?” He sounds reluctant, but he grows anxious.

“She said she doesn’t feel the same as it was when she was recruited. That you confuse her with your behavior towards her” Margo answers for Peter, with a better choice of words, of course.

“As the leader of this team, we just want you to remind her that she’s welcome and that you want her here. Because you want her here, right?” Peter adds, Miguel crosses his arms.

He needs you, actually.

“I’m not sure I’m the most adequate person to tell her that,” Miguel replies.

“Oh, you have to be kidding. She heard you and Jess. At the training center…” Gwen speaks again, Miguel is shocked, even terrified of you hearing you were his girl.

“How much?” Miguel asks with that well-known tone of anger and fully intentional intimidation.

“Well…” Peter said.

“HOW MUCH?, POR DIOS!” Miguel yelled exasperated.

“She left when you said you couldn’t stand her,” Miles confirmed to him, making him sigh. Trying to get you back was only getting trickier than expected.

“Yeah… I don’t think chicks want to be neglected twice” Hobie speaks for the first time, mocking Miguel.

“Hobbie, not helping here” Margo scolds him whispering.

“At least I’m trying to pull one out” Miguel fires back making everyone bite their tongue to avoid laughing. Because Hobbie Brown didn’t have the best history search with girls.

“Hey no, stop. The point here is that you need to talk to her. I accidentally heard everything” Miles speaks up, walking forward toward Miguel.

The man only pinches the bridge of his nose, cringed that the teenager had to listen.

“I’m pretty sure she feels something too” Miguel hated that Miles had to be a wise kid, frequently reminding him of his errors and making him realize there were always other options.

“She must hate me.”

“No, y/n just needs to know how you actually feel” Gwen encouraged him, and unconsciously, Miguel was being pulled towards the exit.

“I couldn’t speak to M.J. for a very long time after we divorced. And I had nothing to lose, I just knocked on her door with some flowers. Look at us now… y/n will know too” Miguel thought Peter could be the goofiest man he ever met, but he was his friend. So maybe he could accept his advice.

“Va pues, don’t know why I’m listening to all of you” huffing, Miguel and the group were out, except for Hobbie, who stayed behind stealing things from Migue’s lair.

…

When you open your door, you gasp shocked. Miguel is there, he’s wearing a sweater that fits him a little too tight but nice, dress pants, and tied shoes. You rarely saw him without his suit. But that isn’t all, he has a pretty bouquet of lilies in his hand.

“I’m sorry.” He says and you are already making a pout.

“Miguel…”

“Let me finish, please.” He interrupts you, so you nod, stepping out of your place.

“I’ve made some mistakes, but as the son of a mother and… and-“ you start giggling and Miguel is red like a tomato.

“Let me guess… Peter gave you a speech to say to me?” Miguel tilts his head.

“Yes and… I-… mierda. See, I’m sorry, I don’t want you to leave the Spider Society. I need you. And I still feel guilty for last summer. But if you give me another chance… I swear that I will give you more than I take away” You nod, smiling. Miguel sighs relieved. To his surprise, you grabbed him by the sweater and pushed him towards you to give him a big kiss on the lips. He reciprocates immediately, smiling in between.

“I’m in love with you” he admits, his forehead kissing yours.

“I’m in love with you too, Miguel” As both of you kiss again, chants and applauses start. When you step away from Miguel, you see your friends there, passing past you and Miguel to step inside your home.

You are extremely confused.

“We were here the whole time, FYI,” Margo says as Miles, Gwen, Pav, and Noir pat your back and step inside.

“I’m so happy for you both. I can’t wait to have a double date. You two, M.J. and I” Miguel rolls his eyes at Peter.

“What did I miss?” You ask Miguel. Not that you mind that your friends literally invaded your home, but it was just weird.

“They wanted to help me”

“Aww, we have such good friends,” you say smiling.

“They’re not my friends. I just tolerate them” he is lying of course. You grab his hand, your cocky smile making him feel so happy. He’s still processing what just happened, he can’t believe he officially got you back.

“Oh shut up, of course, they are our friends”

“What about you and I?, Are we more than friends?” You blush at his questions. He grabs you by the waist to prevent you from going inside the house.

“Not so fast, bonita”

“I don’t know. But I’m eager to be your lover”

Now Miguel was turn to get blushed.

_______________________________

#miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara imagine #miguel spiderverse #miguel spiderman #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara smut #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara x reader #atsv x reader

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pedgito · 2 years

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𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐮𝐩 pt. ii ✧ ˚ · . 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

summary: reeling from the night before, eddie's mixed signals lead to new revelations and a spontaneous night of activities that you can't help but play along with.

cw: 18+ (minors dni), virgin!reader, first kisses and more, skinny dipping, oral (f recieving), handjobs, hair pulling, lots of cute interactions, it's a lot calmer than the first part lol. if i miss any tags pls let me know!

word count: 7.7k ♡ part one, part three

There had been radio silence from Eddie the entire morning.

You shoved the dice in Eddie’s hand when you caught him at lunch, roughly slapping them down into his palm and curling his fingers over them, assuring they were squeezed shut. Eddie’s stricken with a wordless response, staring up at you with wide eyes, mouth slightly agape—his brain is short function behind those sweet brown eyes, realization settling into him as he thinks back on the night prior, hand wrapped tightly around his cock as he swayed you toward an orgasm, all while desperately starving himself from his own.

He watches you sit down, pulling your lunch tray closer to your chest. A baby carrot gripped tightly between your thumb and pointer finger, the crunch deafening in the silence that had fallen over the table. The other side of the problem suddenly dawns on him, pulling your own pair from his jacket pocket, sliding them gently onto the tray, the small clinking grabbing the attention of the entire group.

“I’m sensing some hostility,” Dustin ponders, eyes squinted as he glances between the two of you, “what did he do this time?”

“Huh?” Eddie’s wounded by the accusation, hand pressed to his chest in offense, “Why is it always me?”

“Because, it is always you.” You reply sharply, using the weak plastic fork to stab into the dry spaghetti, twirling the noodles around the utensil but never making the trip to your mouth. It made you want to barf. “Isn’t it?”

“That prank you pulled last year that ruined her science project?” Dustin recalls, watching Eddie’s face fall at the memory.

It was harmless, Eddie had so foolishly assumed, sneaking up behind you one dreary, rainy Monday morning–already frazzled by how soaked your project was– scaring the daylights out of you; thus sending your project, which had taken days—days, you’d told him. Hours of paper mache and labeling, just to get everything right, all ruined in the small span of ten seconds, the sad remnants left to wilt away on the ground. He apologies for a week straight, following you around like some sick puppy, but to no avail. Eventually though, you got over it and it wasn’t hard to forgive him. Still, you would never forget.

Eddie really knew how to get under your skin, through pleasure and pain; the pain of annoyance, to be clear. It wasn’t his voice, or his personality—it was the unbounded lack of self awareness and grandioseness.

“So, what did you do?” Dustin pushes, all of the boys now narrowing in on the both of you.

“Nothing.” It’s simultaneous, both of you glancing up with narrowed eyes, quickly flicking back toward your trays. Eddie shoved a small almond into his mouth, chewing harshly.

“Shit, maybe I was wrong.” Dustin concedes, hands thrown up. “Was it you, then?”

Dustin’s staring at you expectantly, determined to get to the bottom of this obvious tension between you and Eddie—though, you are having none of it.

“Dustin, I’m giving you five second to drop it before I tell this entire table that Suzie said—“

“Okay!” He shouts over you, hands waving around in panic, begging you to stop. “I’ll drop it.”

It’s a low grumble, dejected at how easily he’d been subdued by you; he couldn’t help how head over heels he was for his girlfriend, even talking to you about it in confidence—but you weren’t afraid to use it as armor if need be. Dustin really needed to learn his limits.

Your lunch gets cold, the lingering silence switching from awkward to extremely uncomfortable—you excuse yourself immediately. Eddie, unfortunately, doesn’t follow.

☆.｡.:*

You think about Eddie the rest of the day, despising yourself for it. He couldn’t find the courage to say anything to you, other than a simple nod or acknowledgment your way, despite how often you sought him throughout the day. Was he embarrassed now? You couldn’t find any reason why that would matter, having done what you did willingly.

He’s setting up the table for another campaign session after school that day, the entire trudge of boys piling in behind you, gabbing and talking about their days, all the while, Eddie meandering around silently, placing and displacing certain things. Dustin noticed too, leaning in over your shoulder from your seat—which so happened to be directly across from Eddie’s, traveling the long stretch of the table, you glanced in the direction of the long haired boy, his head turned away from the both of you.

“Did you break him?” It’s a valid question. None of you had ever seen him like this. Ever.

“I told you—I didn’t do anything.” You defend, voice hushed as you look over at your younger friend. “He’s just got a stick up his ass today, he’ll figure it out.”

“I hope so.” Dustin sighs, “He’s really gonna go hard with this campaign today, clearly.”

And it’s a stark difference from his usual relaxed demeanor as he directs the narrative, almost harsh in the way he delivers his lines. It’s almost like he’s attempting to rush through, which is unlike him, entirely left field from what you’re used to.

His fingers are curled around the privacy screen setup at his end of the table, eyes glancing up at you every so often. He thinks you don’t notice, but you’re so hyper aware that it’s impossible not to.

“Come on, Gareth—the lemures are dying, there’s no time for leisurely decision making. You either attack or flee.” Eddie demands, eyes scanning over the few of you huddled together, determine your plan of attack.

“Just fucking fireball it,” You suggest, exhausted from how hard your brain was working to follow the campaign, feeling like this was a losing battle from the beginning, “if we die, at least we’ll finally be put out of our misery.”

“Fine, fireball—we’ll fireball him.” Gareth decides, eyes glancing nervously toward you as he rolls. It’s just enough to give you that edge, ultimately defeating the horrible monster Eddie had conjured up—he smiles slightly, but it’s so faint you almost didn’t notice.

The campaign lasted nearly five hours, yet somehow, you felt energized, awake—but that was mostly the frustration that had built within you throughout the day, bothered by how irritated and distant Eddie seemed with you.

This was all his idea, originally—so how was this fair to you? Why did you have to feel guilty? It’s a partial reminder to yourself to never rely on anyone else for an orgasm, because clearly it was too difficult to even face that person afterwards (it's an absurd thing to think about, but it was true).

And while everyone else had already said their goodbyes, you lingered behind, helping him pick up like you always did, but there was a lot less talking and a lot more narrowly moving around each other, making it a point to avoid touching.

He huffs under his breath slightly, shoving the sprawled out papers into a folder, snapping it shut.

It’s a shock to your body, turning on your heels to look at him—his back was still tense, noticeable through the thin fabric of his shirt, his vest jacket slung over the back of his chair.

“Oh, would you fucking cut it out?” You nearly beg, talking to the back of him, hands thrown out to your sides in anger, balled into tight fists, “You’re acting like I scandalized you or something.”

His head turns slightly, the sharp line of his jaw visible to your eye, eyes dropping down to the floor. “Sorry,” He finally says, one of the very few words he’s spoken to you all day, “I’m not trying to—I just, don’t know what to say.”

“That’s news to me,” You laugh slightly, a little flippant sting behind your words, “If it’s really a problem we can forget it ever happened—“

“That’s not it,” He admits, turning his body to face you, sitting gently against the edge of the table, “I’ve wanted to talk to you all day—everyone is always around, though.”

You hadn’t considered that, honestly—not realizing how often Dustin or Mike trailed behind Eddie, or Gareth badgering you about some homework from the day prior as you walked to your next class, you were never truly alone, not until times like this.

Your lips pull together in a thin line, that nagging feeling of guilt eating away at you—maybe you had been too harsh on him.

“You seemed mad this morning when you gave me the dice.” He adds, idle fingers twisting his rings back into place accordingly, “I thought maybe you were upset about last night.”

“You did interrupt me,” You point out, “over something you could’ve just bothered me about at school the next morning—I was a little annoyed, don’t get me wrong.”

“But, if I hadn’t, maybe—“ Eddie starts, heading in a direction you were already well aware of.

“You’re making it awkward when it doesn’t have to be.” You remind him.

There was too much space between you both, Eddie feeling like he was on the other side of the planet, staring down meekly at his torn up Reebok’s.

“I know, I know,” He murmurs, chewing at his bottom lip, “I’ve never been in this situation before.”

“With anyone?” You ask, like Eddie gave up his free orgasm advice to anyone—it was a stupid question, but it slips out regardless.

“With a friend.” He corrects, eyes glancing up to lock with yours. “But, yeah–never with anyone else either.”

Friends. Just friends.

A friend who’s dick you pictured an awful lot, even before having him describe it to you—and even that feels dangerous to think about, knowing that you craved the idea of seeing your friend that way, stripped down and wanting.

“So, do we just forget about it then?” You ask again, more insistent this time as you approach him in small steps, “Like it never happened, right?”

“No,” Eddie says suddenly, “God, no.”

You tilt your head, pressing for more. Why? Why no?

“I can’t just forget shit like that.” He admits, his hand uncurling at his side, palm resting against the table. It’s a subconscious move, like he’s reaching toward you. “Can you?”

“I can lie and say yes, if that makes you feel better.” You tell him, soft laugh escaping your chest. “But, no—I don’t think there’s any way to just forget about it. Ignore it? Maybe. It doesn’t have to be weird, Eddie.”

“I know,” He agrees, nodding slightly, “Just—can I be honest with you?”

“Always.”

“It’s all I’ve been thinking about all day.”

And you sigh a silent breath of relief, because the sentiment was shared. Your cunt buzzed at the admission, feeling something stir inside of you. You blamed it on the lack of sexual interaction; it was a natural, after sharing something so intimate, that you couldn’t help but feel guilty thinking about—still, you were definitely thinking about it.

Eventually you arrived at his side, taking a careful seat on the side of the table beside him, feet perched up in a chair. He was silent again, thinking, following you closely with his eyes.

“That’s fair,” You shrug, deciding to not clue him in on your own selfish thoughts, his hands, his mouth, all of him; all over you, “Did you think I was going to make fun of you for it or something?”

“Maybe,” He says softly, eyes glancing from your face to the small gap between you both, hands pressed against the table, pinkies only a few inches apart. “I feel like I pressured you or something, which wasn’t my intention at all, I just—“

You don’t feel regret—shame maybe, at the idea that you couldn’t get the memory out of your mind, but there wasn’t an ounce of regret to be felt. “Eddie, I wouldn’t have agreed to it if I didn’t want to—it’s okay.”

You swallow your words for a moment, debating carefully on how to switch the conversation to something less debilitating.

“Besides, you’re pretty good at it.”

It isn’t what you mean to say, but it comes out anyway.

“Helping you come?” And the words are so crass to hear coming from his mouth, inches away from you, but you can’t help the way your stomach turns, fluttering pleasantly. “Really?”

He’s laughing and you can both agree that it’s a ridiculous topic to discuss, but neither of you bothers to stop.

You shrug, head tilted up to look at him, “Like I said, I don’t have anything to compare it to—but it was pretty good.”

“You’re so difficult to understand,” Eddie responded with fondness, a small smile spreading across his face, deep smile lines in his cheek making you blush, face warm with embarrassment.

“All you have to do is ask questions, Eddie—I don’t bite.”

Eddie gives you an unsure look, almost mocking in the way that he doesn’t fully believe you.

“Was everything you said true?” He finally asks, curiosity racking his brain. Part of him can’t believe you, it doesn’t seem real. Ruin me, Eddie. I want you to ruin me. It was the single most earth shattering thing he’s ever heard someone say to him.

You nod feebly, maintaining a comfortable eye contact, admiring the way Eddie looked at you freely now, less restricted and apprehensive—his eyes looked warm under the theater room lighting, pools of dark honey, dangerously inviting. “I wasn’t lying. I’ve really never done anything.”

“What about the time you had to kiss Gareth on that dare?”

You snort softly, remembering how mortified Gareth looked in the moment, having no courage to actually go through with it. “You were there! He kissed my cheek, remember? He was terrified.”

“Oh, yeah,” It dawned on him, a burst of laughter bellowing from his mouth—and the thing about Eddie, he always laughed with his full body, the sound vibrating throughout him. He was as physical with his actions as you’ve ever seen among anybody; so distinct to him, “well, sorry.”

“Sorry?” You’re confused, eyebrows pinching together. “For me not being kissed? It’s not that big of a deal, you know.”

“Everyone should get to experience it once,” He defends, hands shoved deep into his front pockets as he shrugs, his head leaned down far enough that his bangs almost obscured his eyes—still, he was looking at you, “it’s important.”

“I’m eighteen—I still have time.” You remind him, “Plus, not everyone has their first kiss at fourteen, Eddie. Some of us are late bloomers.”

Eddie huffs a laugh, seeing the rightful argument you were making—despite that, he couldn’t shake the fact of the matter and what you’d said to him. Had it been true? Was it just a heat of the moment thing? Ruin me. It rang through his head again.

“If it bothers you that much—kiss me.”

The boldness is sudden, but you were over the harping about it—get it out of the way; easily taken care of. Eddie wasn’t a stranger, he was someone you genuinely trusted.

“You sure?” You admire that care he has, leaning away from you slightly to get a full view of your face, noticing just how serious you were.

“If you don’t do it, I will.” You challenge him, feeling your inside burn with anticipation.

Despite Eddie’s unconstrained confidence, he’s second guessing himself during, possibly, the most crucial moment he’s had so far in his young life. He watches the way your eyebrows draw up, almost a—well, what are you waiting for?—type of expression washing over your face.

He shuts everything off; his mind, his thoughts, his anxiety, and leans forward.

His palm is really warm, burning against the already hot skin of your cheek, blushed red with how easily he gave in—you half expected him to back out, stutter his way out of another conversation with you today. And his lips, they’re soft; not like you would expect, still cracked from his constant habit of licking his lips, but they’re plush and warm and perfect as they glide against your own in a careful dance—a balance of sincerity and care.

You make a small noise, a tiny little gasp, feeling the back of Eddie’s hand—the one not holding your face, creeping around to the small of your back, pulling you toward him as he moves to stand between your legs, leaving you crowded back against the table. It’s hard to process while Eddie is kissing you so thoughtfully.

It’s innocent and explorative, but he’s desperately trying not to cross any boundaries, only ghosting the top of his tongue across your top lip by accident when he kisses back too enthusiastically, feeling the way your chest arches toward him, wanting to feel closer to him. You’ve never made out with anyone—if you could call this that, but it’s glorious.

Your hands are still planted against the table, chair holding your legs forgotten, resting lazily against the table, the feeling of denim against denim as your inner thighs rubbed against the rough line of his jeans.

“Well, that’s another box to check off.” You say lightly, taking the opportunity to breathe as Eddie leans away, looking smug at the admission despite his early hesitation. “You really are trying to ruin me, aren’t you?”

It’s meant to sound playful, but it strikes a cord deep inside of Eddie.

“Only if you want me to.” He supplies, taking a small step back, still close enough that you can feel his body heat radiating off of him,

You smile so hard your eyes squint, eyelashes touching at the corners. There was always something about Eddie that you couldn’t quite put your finger on—but maybe this was it. He was a solid reminder that you could enjoy yourself; indulge in what you wanted and not take everything so seriously. He was a needed distraction in your life and you were welcoming it with open arms.

“Give me a ride home?” You ask shyly, poking at his hipbone playfully. Eddie chuckles, grabbing the tender spot like you’d wounded him.

“Your chariot awaits, princess.” Eddie bows, fishing for the keys in his pocket as his arm extends out in waiting.

☆.｡.:*

Eddie’s humming along to the beginnings of another Dio song, kept at a comfortably low volume so it doesn’t burst your eardrums—he knows how much you hate the loud music, despite actually enjoying most of his song choices.

The drive is slow, peaceful—the sticky and warm humid of the air leaking through the half cracked windows; nights like these make you hate the end of summer, the heat nearly unbearable some days.

“The windows still busted,” He tells you, “Otherwise I’d roll it down more.”

“It’s okay, Eddie.” You assure him, pulling at the loose shirt you had on, slipping it over your head—luckily you spare some of your modesty for him, a thin strapped tank top underneath.

It bared a small bit of your midriff—though, Eddie didn’t seem like he was bothered, not from your perspective anyways.

“Any plans tonight?” Eddie asks, hoping to break the silence that had fallen, glancing over at you sparingly.

You smirk to yourself, reading around the context of the question without Eddie realizing. He wasn’t as smooth as he thought he was, clearly.

“You can call me, if that’s what you’re wondering.” You reply smugly, legs crossed over the other, hands resting against your thighs, fingers looped together loosely.

“You—you want me to call?”

“Sure,” You shrug indifferently, “We are still friends, Eddie—we’ve talked on the phone before; if it leads to more…well—“ You shrug again, offering a small, reserved smile.

His brain is not capable of processing this shit. Eddie always had the worst luck in the world, plans always turning upside down on him, things never working out—but this, he couldn’t let this one go. He’s got an idea swirling in his head, but he’s too afraid to say it outright.

“What’s your curfew again?” Eddie asks casually, fingers tapping against the worn steering wheel, the lack of luminosity from the street lights makes it hard to examine his expression, his heart thrumming in his chest like a jackrabbit—it felt like it was going to burst out any second.

“Uh, ten,” You respond, offering a puzzled expression. You quickly grab his wrist, glancing at his watch, “It’s only eight, so I’ve got a couple hours.”

Eddie nods silently, turning down a street that definitely did not lead to your home. His mischievous nature gives him away immediately.

“Eddie,” You speak carefully, drawing out his name, “If this is going to get us arrested you better turn around.”

“Hey, last time was a fluke—“ He defends, quickly skipping past the topic, “besides, you’re safe with me.”

“I know.”

Eddie smiles, turning around a long bend, leading to a closed off wooded area, large lake off in the distance.

“Lover’s Lake?” Confusion hits you, watching Eddie’s eager hands twist the keys from the ignition, bouncing out of his seat and toward your side, opening the door.

“Gotta start your rebellion at some point, right?” He grins, nodding toward the lake.

Your face pulls up, nose scrunched in confusion. Eddie laughs loudly, slipping off the jacket—which despite the heat, he still wore; it was true dedication. But, it doesn’t take you long to fit together the pieces of the puzzle that Eddie was conveniently leaving out.

“Skinny dipping?” Eyes wide, they follow Eddie’s departing figure, jacket tossed haphazardly on the hood of his van. “Eddie—I can’t!”

“Why not?”

“You’re kidding me?” He was so infuriating.

Yet, you still followed him, eagerly.

“What? I won’t look.” Eddie shrugs, toeing off his shoes when you reach the point where water meets muddy foliage. “You’re always talking about how you want to experience more—well, why not this?”

“What if someone comes out here?”

No one ever came out to Lover’s Lake anymore, you both knew that. It was a weak attempt to feign your disinterest, but really, you were a giant bundle of nerves.

“Look—it’s hot as shit, I’m jumping in. You can watch or join, I’m leaving that up to you.” Eddie pulled his shirt over his head, skin stretching over his back—you’ve never realized how beautiful shoulders could be until you’ve seen Eddie’s.

But really, everything was beautiful on him.

“Dammit.” You mumble to yourself, Eddie reaching for the button of his jeans—and you want to avert your eyes, you do, but he’s doing it on purpose; hoping for you to steal a look, a glance—hell, even a peak. It wasn’t like you didn’t already have a vivid picture in your head.

“Last chance, princess.” He calls out, slipping his jeans and boxers off in one fluid movement.

“Eddie!” You gasp, somehow still shocked by his boldness; part of you couldn’t help not being able to grasp what was happening.

He turns to you, hands grasped over the part of himself that you were most intrigued about, your eyes stay locked on his, despite how hard you fight the urge to glance down. Eddie’s looking at you, almost expectantly. You hated how right he was; how badly you wanted to experience as much as possible, yet terrified at the idea.

“Shit—fine, I’ll do it.” You finally cave, Eddie grins wide, turning on his heels to skitter towards the water; the glance you steal of his ass is purely indulgence.

☆.｡.:*

Eddie is underneath the water as you tread through, the cold water against your skin feeling foreign, heart racing in your chest as you dip far enough beneath the surface that enough of your breasts are covered, your hair sticking against your skin from the water splashing back in your face.

“How does it feel?” Eddie asks suddenly, heading popping above the surface, pushing his wet hair away from his face.

It’s strange, not having half of his hair obscuring his face. You smile, though your tone is still entirely deadpan and serious.

“Cold.”

“Not the water,” He laughs, flicking a droplet at your face, “your heart’s racing, isn’t it?”

You nod sheepishly, eyes wandering toward the shore. It was dead, dark, not a car or person in sight. You had nothing to worry about, yet somehow, you couldn’t help but worry—though, it was all mostly harmless.

“We’re safe.” He assures you, wading closer. “Here,” He takes a handful of water and pours it over your hair, wetting the rest of what wasn’t submerged in the lake, “that’s better.”

Your lips purse at the water that drips down your face, eyes squinting at Eddie’s expression; the smugness was evident.

“You’re enjoying yourself too much.” You point out, shoving his hand away gently. “How often do you do this?”

Five, ten, maybe a hundred times, no doubt.

“Never,” Eddie admits, “this is the first time.”

Your hands surface to push his shoulder, a little rougher than you intended. “Then how do you know this is safe?”

He senses your panic, grasping your elbow, his fingers settling in the dip of it, adjusting you to look toward his now abandoned van. “Look,” He points out a particular bend in the forest, a place that looks clear enough but still gives a decent view of the water, “I come out here at least once a week, just to smoke—Wayne hates the smell in the trailer, so, I try to improvise. Either way—no one ever comes out here anymore. Well, aside from me and a few homeless people, but I promise. We’re completely safe.”

You sigh, that small tinge of doubt in your stomach starting to dissipate, still hyper aware of his burning touch, even through the bitter cold of the water.

“You’re corrupting me, you know.” You confess, face turned away from him as you moved away, swimming further from the shore, feet barely touching the lake floor. “Is this all a part of your master plan, Eddie?”

You’re joking, he knows that. He can hear it in your voice, but the idea has something twisting inside of him. Eddie smiles, unbeknownst to you.

“You caught me.”

“You called me the other night with a plan, huh?” You press.

No, he hadn’t.

“Maybe,” He agrees with you, the splash of the waves against your back indicating that he was moving closer, you could hear him, almost predatorily slow. “Does that bother you?”

You shrug. It didn’t, not in the slightest.

“So, what’s your plan now?” You push, feeling the tip of his chest brush against your shoulder blades, just hovering.

And truly, he didn’t have one. It was an idea born out of spontaneity and Eddie flowed from one step to the next, not sure what he was expecting to happen. But, he feels it—the sense of tension that was building, lingering between you both like it had during the call from the previous night.

“Well,” His fingers brush the hair away from your shoulder, touch ghosting over your skin. You can feel his breath, his lips, right against the shell of your ear. You try desperately to hold back the full body shiver that runs through you, “want to check another box off your list?”

His forwardness is an act, a mask to cover how fucking nervous he was. His hands shook as they curled around the back of your neck, but you couldn’t see it—only feeling the dip of his thumb at the start of your spine.

Your head leans back on its own accord, his lips coming into full contact with the side of your face—and he chuckles, you can’t help the way your cunt clenches at the sound, not daring to make any sort of eye contact with your friend, who was pressing himself up against you so openly—feeling every point of him, despite the hindrance of the water. You gulped softly, too quiet for Eddie to hear.

“What do you have in mind?” You finally speak, voice sounding pathetically weak.

“You trust me, right?” He speaks softly, his unoccupied hand reaching around to cover the expanse of your stomach, turning you gently until you face him, “I just want to hear you say it.”

It’s the only thing he cares about—despite the weird mess you’ve both tangled yourself in, he wanted to make sure you were comfortable, the idea of pushing you into something you didn’t want was the last thing he needed.

You nod slowly, his hand creeping around to caress the side of your face, thumb pressed against your jaw as he angles your face to look at him. Say it, his eyes speak, making contact with yours. “Yes, I trust you.”

☆.｡.:*

Eddie’s deliberate in the way he kisses you this time, no fear of having to hold back, it’s full and pleasant and everything you had always expected it to be—albeit, not with Eddie, but you weren’t complaining. His hands are buried in your hair, angling your head up to reach his lips, leaving you to chase them desperately every time he pulls away, adjusting you until you’re pressed up against, nothing but bare skin against bare skin, the peaks of your breasts surface just above the water. The water ripples against your already sensitive nipples, gasping openly into Eddie’s mouth.

Eddie laughs lowly, pulling back to make eye contact with you, his gaze burning into your own. “Sensitive?” He asks coyly. You roll your eyes in casual annoyance, the smirk on his face growing by the second.

“Cold. It’s cold, Eddie.” And truly, it was. Even with the kiss of summer heat and humidity against your skin, the water was nearly freezing. “Want to tell me what you have planned so we can move this along—maybe somewhere out of the water?”

“How do you feel about me going down on you?” He asks sweetly, almost sickening. “That is, if you’re up for it.”

Did he think you were scared? Suddenly faced with the reality of everything, staring him down face to face, you couldn’t help but feel a surge of pride run through your body, realizing just how badly Eddie wanted you. He’s never been this sweet—to anyone.

Eddie knew you were special; different from all the rest, in all the best ways. He knew that from the moment he’d met you, set you up in Hellfire and neatly tucked you under his wing, along with the rest of his friends—but you, you were the one who he thought about when he was most vulnerable, the only person who really knew who he was.

“Gotta see if there’s any truth to those claims, right?” You counter, his face twitching up in amusement.

He doesn’t give you time to react before he’s hauling your legs up and over his hips, wading through water until he’s back on land. He ignores the haphazard pile of clothes, despite your protests, swinging open the door to his van with a free hand, other gripping tightly around your waist. You want to protest, complain and force him to put you down, but made some excuse about not wanting you to get dirty—despite how dirty you felt now, being settled down onto the base of his van, blanket already spread out from Eddie’s frequent use of the space for his own hotbox sessions, he even has a couple of thread-worn pillows shoved in the corner.

And it’s not until you’re finally settled that you realize how intensely Eddie is watching you, hands settled at the base of your ankles. His naked, completely bare—and you can’t remember any other time you’ve seen it before; someone so unashamed of their body, taking time to admire your own just as much. You’ve seen his tattoos up close before, but not like this–the small flurry of bats over his arm, or the few that lingered over his chest, now flushed a light pink from how deeply he was indebted in this.

“Sorry—“ He finally says, noting the small glide of his hands up your shins, then back down, like he’s caressing your legs, “just trying to take a mental note, in case I’m a disappointment and this never happens again.”

You let out a gasp that quickly turns into a small giggle, shoving him gently in the stomach. You were guilty, doing almost the exact same.

He’s toned, which isn’t a surprise—he didn’t try to hide it, those occasionally too tight shirts giving him away. His skin is milky, alabaster white and muddled with light freckles, the trail of hair at the top of his chest leading down to his lower abdomen, just at the base of his dick—which, seriously? He had enough to be proud about, but you half expected him to lie during the call, boost himself up; it was all true. Every single bit.

He’s not fully hard, but it’s still enough to intimidate you—Eddie clears his throat unnecessarily, left eyebrow quirked in amusement.

“Are you still with me?” He asks, arms crawling forward to lean over you slightly, body like a curtain against your own. You try not to think about the proximity, how easily you could reach up and pull him to you, feel that glide of his cock against you—just to put you both out of your misery.

“Hey, you get to see mine, it’s only fair I get to see yours.”

He laughs at that, brushing hair away from your face, lips settling against the line of your jaw, a small chaste peck, then switching to the other side to repeat the process. “Any judgments to be made?” He asks curiously, almost teasing.

“I’m not giving you anymore unnecessary ego boosts, sweetheart.” You say with a saccharine type of sweetness.

Eddie doesn’t need you to elaborate, that was already enough of an ego boost in itself. He tries to ignore the way you’re looking at him, so intently; not that he didn’t want you present in the situation, but he felt like you were looking right through him, sensing every bit of anxiety and nerves that riddled his body like a sickness. It wasn’t his first go at this, but with you—he was too afraid to fuck up.

You see the gears in his brain working overtime, trying to jump that initial hurdle of awkwardness—thankfully, you knew just what to do.

“Can I?” You ask, nodding down to where your hand grazed against his stomach, just above the line of his groin.

“Uh—yeahyeah, of course.” He rushes out, watching your timid fingers graze the tip of his dick, gently grabbing the base of his shaft. You didn’t know what to expect, but the way Eddie’s leaning into your touch is a good enough indication that you weren’t totally fucking things up.

“What feels good?” You ask shyly, your hand at a slow, graceful pace as you tug at him, watching the way he’s forcing himself to breath slower, through his nose.

He rocks his hips gently in time with your hand, “Tighter—a little—yeah, that’s good.” He says, feeling your hand tighten around his cock, the groan he forced back down has you lighting up, almost smiling at the revelation of how easily worked up Eddie could get; it wasn’t a wonder why he had a hard time holding himself off.

“Is this better?” You ask softly, “then—you know, your own hands?”

He chuckles at your curiosity, eyes glancing up to look at you, hair already partly dry, his bangs curtaining his eyes. He had such a timid innocence to him, under this light, in the belly of what could be something dangerous for your friendship—but, neither of you could seem to care anymore.

“So much better.” He nods gently, groaning outwardly at the movement of your thumb sliding over the head of his cock, a small pearl of precum wetting your finger; so you do it again. A few times, until he’s rocking up into your hand in earnest.

“Fuck—we gotta stop.” He warns, swatting your hand away kindly, fingers wrapping around the length of your wrist.

You want to pout, like some spoiled child—but instead you sigh, letting him guide your hands back toward your chest. He doesn’t give much warning before he leans in, capturing the bud of your nipple between his teeth, gently, but the sting is still there—quickly soothed away by the flat of his tongue.

“So pretty–just like I imagined.” He admits pathetically, speech muffled against your skin. That was something to unpack for another day.

You gasped, feeling his mouth capture the other, repeating the process before leaving small, open mouthed caresses against your breasts—you weren’t even sure if you would call them kisses, but they felt good. The warmth of his mouth, the wetness of his tongue, suddenly it was hot again, stuffy in the small containment of the back of his van.

You moan, so softly you weren’t even sure he’d hear it. But, of course he does, pulling back with a salacious and satisfied smile, reaching up to capture your lips in a kiss that can only be described as breathtaking.

Friends definitely didn’t kiss like this. Absolutely not.

“Eddie—Eddie, I still have a curfew.” You force through his assailant of kisses, his tongue a small tease as it traces your bottom lip. You warn him again, this time forcing him to look at you.

And friends definitely didn’t look at each other like that.

☆.｡.:*

He settles between your thighs soon after, wrapping his arms around the outside of your thighs, fingers pressing into the soft flesh there, spreading you open wide, leaving you almost no place to hide.

You take a long, deep breath—reminding yourself that you had nothing to worry about, you were safe here.

“You ready?” Eddie asks, a bouncy eagerness to his voice, feeling the heat of his breath against your cunt, what once was a dull buzz now a steady pulse inside you, deep and needy.

You nod eagerly, Eddie’s hang reaching up to spread your folds apart, finger dragging through jestingly.

“Eddie.” You warn, or beg—you're not sure which, but he understands. You weren't ready for him to sink his fingers inside you, afraid this would all be over quicker than you both wanted.

“I won’t.” He assures you, just applying the small bit of pressure you need to keen forward, grind against the flat of his palm. It was a lot like your own hand, in a way—but also completely foreign. “Just wanna ease you into it.”

And he does, letting you chase the gentle glide of his fingers against your folds, occasionally dragging over the swell of your clit, your hips chasing his hand, over and over again, desperately.

“Need it,” You beg, propped up on your elbows to look down at him, “wanna know.”

You were dying; dying to know.

He bites at the inside of your thigh, soothing the skin with his tongue, trailing a line of quick nips up the sensitive skin. You make a small noise of complaint, begging him to put you out of your misery.

Eddie doesn’t waste anymore time, leaning forward to lick a broad stripe up the seam of your cunt—even the first touch has you reeling, hand immediately tangled in the damp mess of curls at the top of his head.

You hear the messy, embarrassingly loud shlick of your wetness as he laps it, small kitten licks as he leans forward to focus on the soft buttony point of pleasure, sucking experimentally.

It should be a criminal how fucking good Eddie is with his mouth.

“Ohoh—okay, huh,” You ramble breathlessly, moaning out a sensical plethora of nonsense, noises that has Eddie groaning against you, vibrations like a wave of euphoria crashing down on you, “fuck, that feels really good.”

“Keep talking,” He urges, pulling away for half a second before he’s diving back in, face buried so deep into your cunt that you can’t even breath, tongue dipping inside of you carefully.

It caught you off guard completely, gasping out loudly into the air.

“Fuck, Eddie.” And friends definitely don’t say each other’s names like that.

“Too much?” He asks, his expression worried.

You shake your head fervently, “No—good. It’s so good,” You tell him, feeling the lack of motivation to form words now, despite his prior urges. “Keep going, please.”

And he does, openly groaning against your pussy, the sight of him grinding his hips down into blanket; it was something you couldn’t believe with your own eyes, but had you fighting off the urge to turn him over and sink down onto him, no more harping on the big red sign that said ‘I’m a virgin’—you wanted Eddie to consume that part of you completely.

“Come on, baby, wanna hear those pretty little noises.”

You could disintegrate into nothing at those words, letting the soft, wanton moans that you’d been holding back out, spurring him deeper and deeper into his own chase for pleasure, his mouth less controlled—more distracted, but still fucking incredible. He’s so desperate to come with you, reaching down to grab ahold of his cock, pulling idly as he kept up his lazy pace against the inner folds of your cunt, moaning out as his thumb slides over the tip of his cock, precum coating his fingers, making a mess of his own hand.

He speeds up the movement of his tongue, dragging over your clit relentlessly, using his hand to wrap around yours, still buried in his hair, forcing you to pull tighter. And it shouldn’t have come as much of a surprise—but it is, how easily it turns Eddie on by it. You pull roughly, enough to have him moving away from you, looking up at you with wide, dark eyes; pupils blown out.

“Use my face,” He urges, “I want you to.”

You do, chasing exactly what you want—Eddie eagerly slurping up your wetness, grinding your cunt selfishly into him, the tip of nose dragging over your clit sends you toppling over over the edge. He grips both of your thighs, pulling you as wide as your hips allowed—and he’s still going, overstimulating you past the point of what you can handle. He’s drunk on the sounds you’re making, forgetting where he is for the moment. You yank at his hair, hard enough that he groans out, pulling away from your cunt as you rode through your orgasm, you pulse over and over again, nothing there to satiate that need—leaving a dull ache where you were desperate for Eddie to be, fill you up completely; it doesn’t stop you from sobbing out a broken, “Fuck!” as you start to come down, eyes closing from the intensity of your own orgasm.

When you finally come to, Eddie’s face is scrunched up, nose wrinkled at the bridge. His tone is soft, but forced.

“Shitshit—“ He curses, head still held up by the grip you had in his hair, his face tightening as he came, mouth hung open in a silent plea.

You take a second to catch your breath, “What the fuck?” You ask, the ‘was that?’ on the tip of your tongue, but you’re too tired to finish.

Eddie laughs, face riddled with his own exhaustion. “Good, isn’t it?” You nod, loosening the death grip you had on his curls, smoothing out the hair to soothe the sore spot, though Eddie doesn’t seem to mind.

“I’ve never come that hard before.” You laugh, falling back against the bed of the van.

“I told you, princess—“ Seeing him from this angle should be a sin, face covered in your wetness, “there’s so much you’re missing out on.”

“No shit.” You smile softly, lifting yourself up to sit, following Eddie as he leaned away, reaching blindly for a discarded shirt in the back of the van, watching as he wiped at the front of his abdomen, covered in his own come.

His eyes flick up, noticing your intense stare, “Enjoying yourself?” He asks, challenging you to look away.

You shrug casually, eyes tracking his movements—“Wait, what time is it?” You ask, the watch on his wrist bringing you back to reality.

Eddie takes a glance at his watch, eyes widening in shared panic, “Fuck—five past ten.”

“Eddie!” You exclaim, “I’m dead—go grab our clothes.”

Eddie scrambled, racing to grab the discarded fabrics, tossing them into the space between you both, dressing quickly.

“If I get caught, you’re dead.” You warn, nearly knocking him over at the grin that spreads across his face.

He was clearly too proud of himself.

☆.｡.:*

“You’re lucky I’m a good climber.” You mention to him, eyeing the dimmed lights through the window of your home.

It was either, a.) walk through the door and risk an earful from a pair of worried parents, or b.) find a way into your second story bedroom and guilt your parents in the morning when they ask why you never came home—reminding them that, yes you did; how could they not notice?

Rebellion was becoming a normal theme in your life and you couldn’t hate how good it felt to feel—Eddie laughs softly behind you, parked across the street.

“Oh, are you?” He teases, arm sling loosely over the back of your seat.

You wish you could hate everything about him, but it was impossible, not with the way he was looking at you.

You scoff in faux disgust, shoving his face in the other direction. “You’re so gross, Eddie.”

He does watch you climb the lattice wall to your window, embarrassingly so, flipping him off in full when you’re finally able to slip through the threshold of your room, quiet enough that the only noise you make is a soft thud on the fuzzy carpet floor.

The high hits you later, curled under the sheets of your bed. It wasn’t Eddie who was influencing you, it wasn’t that easy—it’s because you wanted it. You didn’t want the idea of rebelling and doing everything that your parents tried to scare you out of, you wanted Eddie.

You wanted him as the friend he’d always been, but so much more than that. Eddie was always good at forcing you out of your comfort zone, for good, and you couldn’t help that love you had for that fear; of unknown and new experiences.

And he does call you that night, but not for any other ludicrous reason than to talk—hear you, listen to the tiny inflictions in your voice when he makes some stupid joke. He was in love with you, he already knew that—he was just waiting for you to catch up, dawn on the feeling that you had buried for so long, too afraid of rejection.

Eddie could absolutely ruin you; he already was.

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #my writing #1kfic

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seattlesellie · 1 year

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anything but me; part 1 ♡

pairings: abby anderson x reader, ellie williams x reader

warnings: smut, angst!, mentions of marijuana, secret relationship

synopsis: you, abby, ellie and friends are in a cabin in the middle of a snowstorm. what could possibly ever go wrong?

The landscape, once familiar and inviting, transforms into a hostile and treacherous terrain.

It’s rapid, forming deep, unyielding drifts. it was a relentless onslaught, a tempestuous manifestation of nature's fury.

A snowstorm.

And then a warm, messy kiss, tongue pressing right on the pulse of your neck.

“We can’t-“ You whispered. Shallow breaths, your heart was racing like a runaway train. Pounding rhythm echoed in your ears, palms grew clammy, and beads of sweat formed on your forehead.

It was snowing outside.

And you felt like the middle of August.

“Why?” the blonde whispered, her minty breath caressing your temple. Her heart was beating just as fast, you could feel it against your chest. Her arms were wrapped tightly around your waist, pulling you closer and closer with every kiss. You had to break it off.

“Because-“ you whispered erratically. Fuck. She sucked the skin on your neck, suctioning it in between her plump lips. Your cunt was pulsing, she would have mocked you if she knew. “Already?” she’d say, a soft smile creeping on her face.

“Abby-“ you whimpered, as she brought her large hand to cup your clothed cunt. Did she just read your mind? She parted two of her fingers on the delicate spot, just like she spread you wide before divulging in with her tongue. Puffy pussy lips spread open, her favorite.

There was no time for teasing, or for mocking. She needed to fuck you right now.

“Ca- I cant- I cant” you whispered. You almost screeched when she softly patted your clothed cunt. You were ready for a slap.

“Yeah you can…” She grabbed your hair and pulled. “My best girl” she whispered, a glint of cockiness in her eyes. She knew what she was doing. Her praises always paralyzed you completely, completely fucking your brain’s capacity of understanding the outer world out of you. Her needy, nasty girl.

But you really couldn’t. Not right now.

It almost hurt when you had to peel her off of you, to slap her hand away from where you needed her the most.

She pouted. Abby pouted.

“I’m sorry… I- Ellie wanted to talk, she practically begged me to. I told her id come to her room at 10, It’s 10:05” you apologized, eyebrows furrowing in anguish.

“No- No-“ Abby kissed your cheek, trying to catch her breath.

“Don’t apologize, It’s okay, I promise.” She gave you a look, a look that said, I trust you. And you’re mine. And I know how bad you need me. Chivalry was alive and thriving. Ellie should take a masterclass, taught by Abby Anderson herself.

“I’ll be right here, yeah?” She whispered softly, planting a soft kiss on the tip of your nose. It drove you truly crazy sometimes, how a rough kiss was followed by a delicate one, a slap by a caress. Her good girl, and then her slut, her princess, and then her bitch.

“Mhm” you nodded, doe eyed. She hypnotized you. Dragging your feet, forcing them to walk away from her seemed like the worst thing you could ever imagine doing.

But you weren’t an asshole. You weren’t Ellie.

The cabin stood tall and sturdy, nestled amidst a winter wonderland, with its wooden exterior contrasting against the pristine white surroundings. You were dragging your feet, and god, the stickiness in your panties didn’t help.

You hesitated before reaching for the doorknob. With a creak, the door swung open.

“Hey” the auburn haired girl said dryly, as if she didn’t fidget with her fingernails while drawing aggressively just five minutes ago. She was trying to contain herself. Be normal. Just talk to her.

She was wearing a white tank top. It was snowing outside.

“Youre not… cold?” you asked, without even greeting her. You, the thoughtful person that you are.

“M’fine, I turned on the heater” She sniffed. She wasn’t fine, and the heater was definitely off. Her nose was red, eyes puffy, and god, that room smelled like Ellie. Your Ellie.

Was your Ellie.

Before entering her room, you decided you weren’t going to let her win this. See, Ellie had a habit of… dancing around important subjects. She was a master of distraction, knew exactly what to tell you, where to touch you, how to get you to crumble beneath her. She wasn’t evil, she never did it on purpose. The weight of her inner demons pressing upon her were a suffocating presence. They suffocated her, at first. Then, they creeped up on you too. She would yell, and demand you to stay quiet, to shut up. She would argue, and then ignore you, and then argue some more. She would scream at you to leave, and then beg you to let her in. You couldn’t do it anymore.

Thats why you left.

You didn’t know whether to sit or not, so you balanced your weight between your feet. You scratched your chin with your shoulder. Abby. Her scent lingered upon your skin. The cologne, like a silent caress, delicate pine, left an indelible mark upon your being. Your face flushed. Maybe Ellie’s room really was hot. Maybe she was right to wear that top.

You fixed your hair. Focus.

“What did you wanna talk to me about?” You questioned. Ellie was stood in front of you, avoiding your gaze. If she looked - she didnt know what she’d do.

“I don’t know” She said dryly, voice raspier than usual. It smelled like weed. She must have smoked before you entered.

“You don’t know?” you questioned. You tried to avoid rolling your eyes. It was so typical, so Ellie. Of course she didn’t know, she never fucking does.

“I- Can you sit down? Why are you acting like you don’t know me?” Ellie's voice sliced through the air with a tinge of annoyance, her words dripping with frustration. Every syllable carried a distinct edge, as if each letter resented being uttered.

She signaled you to sit on the bed.

You obliged.

She sat next to you, keeping the distance. Funny, how just a month ago, she would have begged you to sit on her lap. She would have pampered you with kisses. That was then, and this is now.

2 strangers.

You felt a lump forming down your throat. Don’t cry. Don’t cry.

Ellie stared at the floor. She glanced over to you, and then shifted on the bed. The forrest green duvet emitted a soft rustle, like a gentle sigh escaping its fabric embrace.

She took a deep breath.

Thats what those Youtube videos taught her. “Meditation for beginners” was probably the worst one. “How to deal with anger issues”, yeah, she binge watched 7 of those videos.

“I wanted to ask you…”

You glanced at her. She was biting the inside of her lips, blood was forming. The taste of metal washed over her tongue.

“Fuck-“ She whispered.

“I need you to explain. I need to know why you left.”

your gaze froze, breath catching in your throat. Ellie's question pierced through your defenses, demanding an answer.

“I’m not doing this right now” you said, ready to get up and leave. It’s not like you didn’t expect it, but for some reason, you just couldn’t.

Ellie looked at you with disbelief. As you got up, halfway there, Ellie grabbed your hand forcefully. Before you knew it, you were sat back down on the bed. Your breath hitched. You should have walked away.

“I said I’m not doing this with you.” You made eye contact with her for the first time. Her eyebrows were scrunched, jaw clenched. Your Ellie.

“Are you not even going to apologize? I mean, fuck-“ Ellie's eyes narrowed, frustration burning within her. Her gaze intensified, her pupils dilated.

Apologize?

“Fuck- Apologize?” you laughed in disbelief.

“Holy fucking shit- Wow” you glared at her.

“You are un-fucking believable”

#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams #ellie x reader #ellie williams fanfiction #ellie williams x you #abby anderson #abby anderson x you #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson smut #abby anderson angst #ellie williams angst

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to-the-stars8 · 3 months

Text

The Waynes' Nanny

Batfamily and Reader/ Bruce Wayne x Reader Chapters Ao3

The Pilot Pt. 2

Walking into the dining room, your bunny slippers pink and prominent, you stretched and yawned out a ‘hello’. It was wonderful falling asleep in a mansion, and even more so when you spent some time in the lavish bathtub attached to your room. It almost made you not want to leave to go downstairs. Yet, you knew there was a job to be done. The children commented on your colorful robe and slippers, astounded that you showed up to breakfast in such attire. Mr. Wayne seemed amused and commented as such, playfully saying that he wished he owned the same bunny slippers you did. You offered to lend them to him, and he rejected the idea.

Sitting at the table, you playfully scolded Alfred, “You should tell me these things. A simple dress for breakfast would have been fine.”

“Forgive me, Miss, I assumed you knew,” He said, slightly smiling, as he set a breakfast plate in front of you.

You shook your head, smiling at the plate of food. “I’m from downtown Gotham, Alfred. You have to assume I know nothing.” You looked around the table, watching as they looked at you with surprise. “What? I got something on my face?”

“You’re sitting at the table,” Duke said shyly.

You looked to Bruce, expecting him to say something, but he didn’t as he continued to eat his food. “Where else am I supposed to sit?”

“The kitchen,” Dick replied bluntly.

You blew him off. “That’s so old-fashioned, and I’m too social for that. Now, what’re we doing today?”

The kids told you they would need to leave the house since Mr. Wayne would be holding a charity dinner party that the children were not invited to. Not that you said it aloud, you were less than impressed by Bruce’s lack of involvement with the kids in things. So, you offered to take them to buy clothes and other things, and Mr. Wayne was happy enough to lend you his credit card. You marveled at the black American Express card, never thinking you’d see one in person—Let alone hold one.

Suddenly, Alfred re-entered the dining room to tell Mr. Wayne that Lucius Fox was on the phone for him. You got up soon after, taking your plate full of food, and told the kids that you were leaving to get dressed, happy as a clam with your new position.

—

Dick was reserved, openly hostile toward you, and didn’t like the idea that now there was even more of a reason for Bruce not to be involved. You automatically made a note to force Bruce to be more active in his kids' lives and shake the eldest's rough exterior.

So, when you arrived at the clothes shop, one your friend owned, of course, you spent more time picking out his clothes. Dick seemed like, well, a dick. He was as clever as he was spiteful and attempted to attack you at every angle. You persisted, though, while managing the other kids' wardrobes.

Dick huffed and went to sit in one of the waiting chairs on the other end of the small boutique, seething in silence. You left him there for a bit, doting on the other children who were pretty well-behaved, albeit a bit odd. Tim had been looking under the mannequins’ skirts to see if they were anatomically correct—and, you knew instantly that would be a conversation with his father.

As Duke and Jason were trying on ties, you finally looked over to the teenager brooding in the corner. You went over to him, holding up a red tie to his neck before taking the blue one from Damian’s small hands, who was on your hip, and doing the same. Dick was less than impressed.

“Blue, it compliments your eyes,” You said.

Dick huffed. “Why’re you doing this?”

“Because I think you guys should go to that dinner tonight.”

Before Dick could say that wouldn’t happen Cassandra stumbled over holding out a dress that she wanted to wear, but he wasn’t too dissuaded by that. He insisted that they wouldn’t be going to the dinner party.

Cassandra, even more clever than her older brother, nicely said, “I think the blue tie would suit you, Dickie. It brings out your eyes. It makes you super, super handsome.”

He stared at her for a moment before saying, “You’re a bitch, you know that?”

Cass smiled, turning on her heel to walk off, leaving you to scold Dick as Damian slowly became more and more irritated with your arm.

Dick only snapped at you again.

Usually, you could keep your cool, when it didn’t involve your boyfriend, but this was the last straw. “Listen here, I do not care how you feel about Bruce or anything of the sort, but I do know this; you are under my care, and you will be polite, respectful, and cut that language out when I am around.”

“Or what?”

You smiled smugly, stepping closer to Dick as you told him exactly what would happen if he did not behave.

—

The children had come home happy, Dick noticeably more so than when he left that morning, and they all boasted about the fun they had with you. Bruce found himself excited at just how well they got on with you, and surprised when the seven of you seemed to be in cahoots. This suspicion rose when he asked you about what the kids bought, but you only brushed him off—heading upstairs in a hurry as you giggled along with the little ones. Fortunately for you, Bruce didn’t dwell much on the thought as his attentions were pulled toward making the evening perfect.

And so had the party gone. It was starting perfectly. The guests were happy, dinner was being served on time, and, most importantly, the money was rolling in for the charities. Bruce stood in the doorway of the foyer and salon, where the guests were because Alfred had informed him that you needed something. Harvey, who had been in the middle of telling him something, followed him.

To his surprise, you were standing on the last landing of the staircase in a classy red dress, and he would be lying to himself as well as you if he didn’t admit that you looked stunning. Proudly looking down at him, you grinned before turning to see the kids, all dressed up, behind you.

“Who is that,” Harvey mumbled to Bruce, grinning from ear to ear.

Bruce answered, “My nanny.” When you approached, he said in a hushed tone, “I told you the children couldn’t attend.”

You acted shocked, hand going to your cheek, and said sarcastically, “Oh, my! I must be blushing.”

“You’re a dirty player,” He commented before going to his children. Bruce admired how well they all cleaned up, doting on them like he always did, before telling them to be on their most perfect behavior.

Harvey took this chance to introduce himself, and you seemed charmed. “Pleasure to meet you, Mr. DA. Say, I’ve got some parking tickets that I think are pretty bogus, you think you fix those for…”

You trailed off when Bruce came back up to you, motioning all of you toward the salon, and whispering in your ear, “We’re discussing this later.”

You rolled your eyes, you would rather have fun than stress what your boss would say. The children were a hit amongst the party-goers, all of them cooing and awing at the children. You, too, were an intrigue to the guests since you were the mysterious latercomer who also happened to be beautiful. Bruce was surprised by just how well, with your downtown Gotham charms, you ran in the circles of the rich. You enthralled them with little tales of the children, some he was sure you made up, as well as wise outlooks on life (according to yourself, but the people listening took it up like catnip).

Bruce also found himself having the time of his life with his kids, joking with them, and sharing the bits of business to the best of his ability. Dick was happy that he was paying more attention to them rather than the party, even going as far as to call him ‘Dad’ rather than Bruce. And, when you had left to put Damian to bed, Dickie had told him to keep you around along with something about wanting to keep his social life intact another day.

That certainly would be something else he would need to speak to you about.

—

“Goodbye, Harvey! I’ll call you about those parking tickets,” You called out the front door as you put the small piece of paper with his number into your bra. When you turned around there was Bruce, standing there with his hands on his hips, and you thought for sure you were going to get sacked.

Before you could explain, Bruce said, “Don’t pull a stunt like that again.”

You were shocked, but not undeterred from your original task. “All I want to do is show those kids that you care about them.”

“I do care about them, and don’t need you to show that.”

You stepped forward, snickering. “I seriously doubt that. I mean, look how happy they were tonight. Why would you want to exclude them like that, Mr. Wayne?”

Bruce thinned his lips, thinking for a moment before relenting. He wasn’t sure if it was the fact that you were right or that he found the courageous glint in your eyes fairly pretty that he gave up so easily. Reluctantly, he agreed that maybe you were right and mentioned how much the kids liked you, even going as far as to offhandedly mention what Dick said.

“You can stay,” He said.

You grinned, “Good. I think you’d have a hard time getting rid of me now. I think the masses in this house might revolt.”

Bruce looked at you again before smiling. No matter how he felt, Bruce couldn’t deny one thing; That you were the perfect addition to the household.

281 notes · View notes

jessybarnes · 10 months

Text

Bunker Nights

Fandom: Supernatural

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Rating: 18+ Only! Minors DNI!

Tags: Angst, mentions of past physical and emotional abuse, nightmares, panic attacks, eventual fluffy smut, and protective!Dean

Betas: @winecatsandpizza

Word Count: 4,667

Fic Aesthetic: Yours Truly

A/N: This is a repost from my old Tumblr account. I am in the process of transferring all of my fics over to this one. I hope you enjoy :)

One year.

It had been exactly one year since you ended it with Tyler and you still suffered from the aftershocks of the abuse. Even though your body and mind weren't subject to his fists or harsh words, you still felt worthless. Every day the memories of the torture you went through filled your mind.

The moment you met Sam and Dean in the shitty hole-in-the-wall bar, your personalities clicked. You needed a distraction and somewhere to live, and they needed help in their line of work. So when they offered to let you stay and help them hunt you agreed without hesitation.

Finally, things seemed to be looking up for you, or so you thought. Two weeks after moving into the Bunker, the nightmares started.

These weren't just any run-of-the-mill bad dreams either. No, in these dreams, Tyler was torturing and trying to kill you. The vividness left you screaming and crying in your sleep almost nightly. The nightmares plagued your mind every time you went to sleep.

Neither of the brothers said anything to you about it, so you tried to pretend everything was fine. It was one of the hardest things you've had to do if you were being honest with yourself. The physical training alone sometimes brought on a panic attack. Even though you knew Sam and Dean weren't trying to harm you, your mind was starting to become your biggest enemy.

You could tell they wanted to ask you about it, but they also knew that you weren’t one to talk about your past. The only thing you told them was that you and Tyler had a rough breakup. The thought made you laugh. Calling it a rough breakup was putting it very mildly.

The day before your first hunt went surprisingly well. You went the entire day without any panic attacks or a questioning glance from either of the Winchesters. Even though you couldn’t remember the last time you slept, it didn’t stop you from humming in the kitchen while you cooked everyone dinner. Not to mention, the copious amounts of makeup you used to make yourself look less like a zombie. You made a mental note to get some more of the coverup you hid your dark circles with.

Sam rounded the corner as you filled everyone’s plates, one of his eyebrows rising quizzically.

“You’re extra happy tonight, Y/N.”

You shrugged and continued to hum as Dean joined you both at the table.

“Yeah, what’s gotten into you? You win the lotto or somethin’?”

You gave them both your signature eyeroll and took a pull of your beer.

“What? I can’t be in a good mood now?”

Sam cleared his throat and looked over at his brother before staring back at you, concern evident in his eyes.

“Of course you can, Y/N. Dean and I … well, we’ve noticed that you’ve been having nightmares.”

Your eyes narrowed to thin slits. If this was their attempt to keep you from going on tomorrow’s hunt, then they had better think again.

“I’m. Fine."

You enunciated your words, making sure to look at both of them sternly. Sam scoffed and set his drink down.

“I don’t call it fine when you wake up almost every night screaming, Y/N”

All you wanted was one day, one day where you could just forget about the grim night that awaited you.

“They’re just dreams, and I’m going tomorrow no matter what. I’ve been training for this day for months, and a stupid nightmare isn’t going to bench me.”

The hostility in your voice caught them off guard, and you suddenly weren’t hungry anymore. You pushed the contents of your plate around with your fork, the awkward silence becoming more deafening by the second. Dean was the first to break it, his soothing tone of voice practically making you sick to your stomach. You knew they wanted you to stay home, and it pissed you off even more that your brain somewhat agreed with them.

“Look, Y/N, we just wa-”

You slammed your fists on the table cutting him off mid-sentence.

“ENOUGH! I’m not here to be your charity case! I came here to hunt, not for you to feel sorry for me!”

Before either of them could say anything you had stormed down the hallway to your room. Slamming the door for good measure, you finally let yourself unleash the angry tears you’d held back. You knew they were only trying to help, but being pitied didn’t sit with you well. You’d grown accustomed to it after being with Tyler for so many years, and it made you feel like everyone was hypersensitive to your feelings.

Once the tears stopped, you were left exhausted and feeling numb. Falling asleep right after an outburst would definitely bring on a nightmare, so you opted for a long hot shower instead. The moment the water cascaded over your skin you felt the stiffness in your muscles leave your body. You spent extra time massaging your scalp and even used your lavender soothing body wash to help calm your nerves.

Finally, in your pajamas, you slid beneath your covers and sighed deeply. Couldn’t you just have one day where you didn’t have someone worrying about you? Deciding not to dwell on it any longer, you turned the bedside light off and let yourself fall asleep.

Fear, raw fear coursed through your body as you ran. You’d just told Tyler you wanted to see other people and he’d tried to force himself on you so you’d stay. He pinned you against the wall, his breath reeked of stale beer as he kissed down your neck. The feeling of his lips made you shiver with disgust. When he reached for the hem of your shirt, you raised your knee hard and fast hitting him right where it counted.

Tyler yelled in pain as you broke free, running as fast as you could to the door.

“Ow, FUCK! God Dammit, Y/N! Come back here you fucking bitch!”

Cold air hit your face as you ran barefoot into the woods behind your home. Branches hit your exposed skin leaving little cuts in their wake. You could hear Tyler shouting after you as you found refuge behind a big tree trunk. Your chest heaved and you shivered as you tried to stay still and quiet.

Tyler’s footfalls and yelling became louder by the second, and you were sure he could hear the thundering of your heart. Just as you thought you were in the clear, strong arms boxed you in, the bark of the tree cut into your back as Tyler stared menacingly down at you.

“There you are… you pathetic little slut. You shouldn’t have done this, Y/N. You should have just come home like the good little bitch you are and kept that pretty, little mouth shut.”

His fingers grazed your cheek briefly before his mouth was on your own, the taste of his tongue made you almost vomit.

“Now, we could have done it back at the house, but seeing as how you made a scene, I think I’ll just take you right here.”

You tried to push, shove, kick, anything to get him off you, but it was of no use. He began to forcefully rid you of your clothes, and all you could do was scream. Scream for anyone to help you.

“Stop! Please, Tyler!”

Sobs racked your body as he pawed roughly at your skin. You could feel him now, shaking you, calling your name.

“No! Just leave me alone!”

You bolted upright in your bed, a cool sheen of sweat covered your skin and the sheets. Dean knelt in front of you, concern etched in his features.

“Y/N! It’s okay! It’s me… it’s Dean.”

You blinked a few times before covering your face with your hands, tears of relief streaming down your cheeks.

“D-Dean… I’m… I’m s-sorry for waking you up. I… It was just another d-dream.”

You tried to sound confident between your sobs, but you knew he wouldn’t buy it. Hell, even you knew how pathetic you sounded. Ever so slowly Dean sat on the foot of your bed, his hand coming to rest gently on your knee. You couldn’t see his face, but you knew he was looking at you with worry in his eyes.

“C’mon now, Y/N. Don’t bullshit me. You and I both know that this is past the point of being 'just dreams'. I want to help you, but you’re going to have to work with me here.”

Using the back of your hands to wipe the loose tears away, you finally got the courage to look at him. His eyes were soft, kind even. The lopsided smile he gave you was the moment you finally let your walls down. Dean was here to help you, not judge you.

“O-Okay… so umm… what do we do now? How do I stop dreaming of these… these horrible things?”

Dean started to move his thumb across your kneecap. In any other situation you’d be in a fit of laughter, but at a time like this, it was soothing.

“Do you trust me?”

Those four words made you swallow thickly. Trust wasn’t something you took lightly, and Dean knew that. Sam understood this too, but Dean was different. He could count on one hand the people he had full trust in.

“Yes, of course, I trust you, Dean. Believe me, I want these nightmares to stop just as much as you do if not more.”

He stood and held his hand out to you. Your eyebrows knit in confusion, but you took it anyway and let him lead you to his room. The Bunker was eerily quiet at night, but you knew you were safe. You stood at the threshold, watching him as he padded across the floor to his bed. Your cheeks flushed as he rid himself of his t-shirt, leaving him only in his low-hanging grey sweats. You never let yourself think about Sam or Dean this way before, but you weren’t a prude. Every woman who came in contact with them knew how attractive they were.

Dean cleared his throat bringing you back to reality.

“You comin’ sweetheart? I don’t bite...much.”

He winked, and you knew he was trying to lighten the mood, but who were you kidding? You couldn’t share a bed with Dean. That would make things weird, and that’s the last thing you wanted to do. Nightmares or not, you weren’t going to jeopardize your friendship.

“Dean...I-I don’t think I can do this… I’m pretty worn out from crying so let’s just say we forget about this night and I’ll go back to my own bed… I’m sorry for being a burden. I’ll just.. I’m gonna go…”

You turned to leave, but not before Dean caught your arm.

“Whoa whoa slow down, Y/N. What’s wrong? Is it because I took my shirt off? ‘Cause I can put it back on. I’m just used to sleeping without it on is all.”

You sighed and shook your head.

“No, it-It’s not that. I just… I don’t want this to ruin our friendship ya know? I don’t want things to get weird or anything.”

Dean shook his head and chuckled.

“So, don’t let it get weird.”

His look went back to firm before he continued.

“Y/N, be honest with me. How long has it been since you slept, and I mean really slept?”

Your eyes went to your feet, your toe rubbing across a rough spot on the old floor.

“I umm… I haven’t slept in four days…”

A flash of concern laced his features as he pulled you back into his room.

“C’mon, sweetheart.”

He pulled back his covers and got under them before patting the other side of the mattress invitingly.

“Come here, Y/N. You need sleep just as much as I do. I promise I won’t try anything with you. I mean, I’m a cuddler so, I might do that, but nothing else, I swear.”

You lowered your head in defeat and crossed the room before climbing into bed next to him. He carefully wrapped his arm around your waist, feeling you tense a little, before relaxing. Neither of you talked, but there really wasn’t any need to. You already felt more at ease in Dean’s arms. The smell of his shampoo and pheromones calmed you. Mere minutes later, his breathing evened out, and his light snoring filled your ears. Moments later, you were asleep.

It became a routine that none of you spoke about. Every night, you would get ready for bed in your room and slip into Dean’s, silently climbing into bed beside him. True to his word, he was a cuddler but instead of the apprehension you’d expected at his touch, you only felt warmth and safety.

He was never inappropriate either. His hands stayed firmly in the safe zones, holding you around your middle if you decided that spooning was the position for you; his lower half was always carefully angled away when you woke up. If you slept curled into his side, he kept his hand on your shoulder or waist, never anywhere else.

The nightmares weren’t dispelled so easily. But being with Dean, they were normally stopped before they were over - he was a naturally light sleeper and the slightest twitch in your slumber had him waking you with gentle reassuring murmurs.

It was three weeks before your first night with no memories assaulting you. You woke with your face against Dean’s bare chest - you’d fallen asleep there the night before. His skin was warm under your cheek and you sighed, closing your eyes and allowing the haze of sleep to keep you still for a little longer.

“You slept well,” he muttered without opening his eyes and you smiled.

“No nightmares,” you whispered.

“Good.” Dean yawned, stretching his arms up. “I think I slept pretty well too.”

The covers slipped down with his movement and you couldn’t help it; your eyes went south to the straining erection that was fighting against the elastic of his pajama pants.

His hand wasn’t fast enough to snatch the covers back up and when you raised your head to look at him, his face was beet red.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, “s’morning and everything… y’know.”

“It’s okay,” you assured him, patting his chest.

“It’s not,” Dean grunted, clutching the covers over his lap, “you didn’t want this to get weird.”

“You having a…” you swallowed, unsure how to phrase it, “an erection, isn’t weird. It’s perfectly natural.” With a shrug, you slid your eyes away from his, feeling your cheeks heat up. “I’d say it’s a compliment.”

He blinked, processing what you’d said before his mouth set in a thin smile. “Can’t help what happens when I sleep next to a beautiful woman.”

You were sure your face was about to burst into flames and you giggled. “Now you’re making it weird.”

Dean smirked - not one of those sarcastic expressions, more playful, devilish. The way you expected he’d look at a woman he wanted to -

“Besides,” you added hurriedly, shifting a little way away from him, “I’m not your type.”

“Who says?” he challenged and you pulled back, frowning.

Dean moved, pushing himself up with his arm. “You say you don’t wanna ruin our friendship but I can’t keep spending the night with you warm next to me and pretending I’m not craving you in every way possible.”

His declaration left you speechless - what were you supposed to even say to that?

Thank you?

Dean chuckled, leaning in a little closer. “Can I kiss you?” he whispered and you were struck by the thought that no man should ever look that pretty when asking that question. With scruffy bed hair and sleep lines on his face, Dean managed to look like he’d fallen out of a GQ photoshoot.

Your reply, when you finally forced it out, was barely a squeak.

His lips were soft when they pressed against yours but you couldn’t relax. Your entire body was stiff with trepidation; you felt hot and cold all at once and it took only seconds for Dean to notice your tense posture.

Breaking away, he cupped your cheek, dragging his thumb down to rest on your chin, making your eyes meet his.

“Talk to me,” he urged softly.

The temptation to shut off, to not tell him anything, warred with the need to spill your illogical shame for what had happened. You knew Dean would never blame you but seeing the pity in his eyes would be unbearable.

But he deserved to know what he’d been protecting you from. At least, in part.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve,” you took a shuddering breath, dropping your chin away from his hand, “since I’ve been with anyone. And the last time wasn’t…” Your eyes closed and you tried to forget the rough touch on your skin.

Dean’s hand moved, resting on your hip and the warmth of his touch seeped into you, forcing you to look at him again, letting his gentle touch replace the horror from before.

“You know I wouldn’t hurt you,” he coaxed, smiling softly. “I could never hurt you.”

What you feared most was nowhere to be found in his face. His sincere green gaze focused on you, filled with nothing but lust and affection.

You moved closer, startling him with a chaste kiss, your little moan swept away by his hum of appreciation and when he tugged you closer, you moved with him easily, losing yourself in the warmth of his skin.

Dean didn’t push, letting you set the pace and you were content with kissing, feeling his hands roam your body. You licked into his mouth, breaking only for air; you weren’t paying much attention to the way you pinned him back onto the bed, straddling his lap so you could kiss him and run your hands over his solid chest and stomach.

He laughed, arching when your fingers caught a ticklish spot, which only prompted you to do it again.

“Quit it,” he chuckled, grabbing at your hands but keeping his touch light.

Dragging your right hand to his lips, you sucked in a breath as he kissed each fingertip, his eyes locked on yours the entire time.

He continued down over the palm of your hand, tracing the throb of your heartbeat to your wrist. By the time his soft lips reached the inside of your elbow, you were practically mush - before he could continue, you used your free hand to cup his face.

“Later,” you promised.

Dean’s eyes sparkled as you rolled your hips, reminding him of the erection straining at his pants. “Fuck,” he groaned, letting his head fall back, “don’t do that.”

“Why?”

The tone of your voice had him narrowing his eyes at you. “Because if you do, I might not be able to help myself.”

“What if I don’t want you to?”

Dean pushed himself up onto one hand, abruptly enough that you squeaked and giggled, smiling when he used the other hand to cup the back of your neck and draw you in for a deep kiss.

“Do you want me as much as I want you, princess?”

You nodded, feeling the heat in your cheeks rise, his nose squished against yours.

“You know you can tell me to stop at any time, right?”

“I know,” you whispered, initiating another kiss, dragging your tongue over his.

Shifting his weight so his back was straight, Dean’s hands landed on your hips, grinding you down harder against his cock. His fingers trailed up underneath the thin tank top you’d worn to bed; he groaned when his thumbs brushed the underside of your bare breasts.

You lifted your arms, letting him pull the top up over your head, giving him full access to your breasts and Dean leaned in, brushing his nose across the top of one.

“You’ve got no idea how beautiful you are,” he murmured and you smiled, folding your hands around the back of his head as he started to worship your tits with his tongue.

His cock was twitching against your core and Dean grunted, pushing one hand underneath the covers to shove his pants down.

“Sorry, it’s getting a little uncomfortable down there,” he joked, resuming his attention to your nipples and you gasped when his teeth grazed one solid peak teasingly.

The sudden desire to feel his skin on yours was a full-body craving; you shifted and pushed at your shorts, managing to drag them down without dislodging him.

The sound Dean made when you were finally perched nude in his lap was only amplified when you pushed him back, using your feet to shove the covers down. His cock was warm and throbbing against your bare slit and you whimpered, grinding against him and he broke away from your breast, groaning loudly.

“Fuck, Y/N -”

“Sssh,” you ordered, sliding down his body until you were straddling his thighs, wrapping one hand around his shaft before you could stop and think about it.

Dean’s chin tilted up and the veins on his neck popped with the strained angle of his neck, a low moan accompanying the bob of his Adam’s apple when you licked the tip of his cock.

He kept his hands at his sides, clenching them in the sheets, giving you all the room you needed. It wasn’t something you had an entirety of experience in but Dean seemed happy enough to let you explore, finding the sensitive spots at the base of his length. When you cupped his balls with your other hand and fondled them gently, Dean emitted a noise of pure lust and warmth swelled in your core in response.

Stroking him slowly, you watched a bead of precum seeping from his slit; the urge to taste it was more than you could ignore. The salty tang was worth the way Dean’s entire body twitched and he looked down at you, tucking his chin into his chest.

“You know there are limits to torture, right?” he muttered, raising an eyebrow and you giggled, continuing to stroke him as he moaned under his breath. “Jeez, Y/N, you’re gonna… fuck…”

“You’ve got a dirty mouth,” you chided, your gaze fixed on the way his cock fit in your hand. Your fingers didn’t quite touch either side, not until you reached the slightly flared head and you suddenly wanted to know what it felt like to have him buried inside you.

The thought was enough to provoke a sudden rush of wetness between your thighs and Dean groaned as you rutted against him, barely acknowledging your own movement.

A tiny voice in the back of your head stilled your movements, doubt settling in the pit of your belly. Shouldn’t you be frightened of this? After… after him, there hadn’t been anyone and this felt like something that should be shaking you to the core.

But all you could feel was pure adrenaline and desire pumping through your veins; everything was focused on the way Dean felt underneath you, the warm weight of his cock as you stroked him, and the sounds of pleasure he was making.

“Dean,” you whispered, meeting his eyes, “I wanna fuck you.”

He muttered a curse, biting his bottom lip when you released his cock and crawled further up his body. There was no objection - Dean continued to let you set the pace. You lifted yourself, slipping two fingers between your thighs, sinking them into your body.

“Y/N…” Dean muttered, covering your hand with his own, “let me.”

You nodded, letting him take over, whining when he pushed a single digit into you. Just one of his fingers felt bigger than your two, more calloused and filling. He pumped them a few times, smirking when you closed your eyes and tilted your head back, enjoying his slow touch.

All too soon, you grew impatient for more but before Dean could add a second finger, you tugged on his wrist. “Want you,” you pouted, leaning over to kiss away any protest he could make. Lifting your hips, you pinned his hands beside his head, smiling against his lips. “Stay.”

Dean obeyed, groaning when you slipped one hand down to grasp him again, lining his tip up with your soaked entrance. Lowering down onto him, you whined, lifting again when your body struggled to accept the intrusion. With a few more thrusts, you had him halfway inside and his body was shaking with the effort of holding back.

Lifting up once more, you pushed down, taking him to the hilt. The shock of being so full made you yelp and Dean’s hands were on your hips, holding you steady so you could adjust.

“Gah,” you moaned, resting against his chest, “you’re… fuck.”

“Now who has a dirty mouth?” Dean teased and you pulled back, smiling. “Want me to put my hands back?”

You nodded, waiting for him to return his hands to the pillow before sliding your fingers up to lace them with his.

When you started to move, rocking gently on him, Dean closed his eyes, a low rumble in his chest letting you know that it felt good. The way he reacted made you a little bolder and you lifted yourself, letting him withdraw a few inches before taking him to the hilt again.

“Y/N…”

“What?” you asked, worried you’d done something wrong with the way he moaned your name.

His cheeks were a little red when he answered. “I’m close and you haven’t -”

“Oh,” you blinked, ceasing your movements, unsure what to do, “do you want me to stop?”

“God, no,” Dean chuckled. “I just wanna make sure you cum too.” The way he said it, his low throaty voice almost catching on the words, made you shudder and clench around him. “Sit up straight,” he instructed - you obeyed, a little puzzled until you felt how much deeper it let him be.

You moaned, circling your hips as Dean’s jaw clenched. Your lips parted in a little “o” when he responded with a slight thrust, one hand untangling from yours to hover over your mound, his thumb settling just above where his cock was inside you.

“That okay?” he asked and you nodded, squirming needily. Intense pleasure was on the edge of your senses, teasing you with the promise of climax but you craved more. Dean’s thumb traced your clit and a spark made your hips jerk. “That’s it,” he coaxed, “keep moving for me, baby.”

Your teeth sank into your bottom lip as you started to rock, much like how you had started. The throbbing inside you increased with each glide of his thumb over the sensitive bundle of nerves. Electricity ran through your veins prompting your head to fall back as you whimpered into orgasm.

“Cum for me, Y/N,” Dean murmured his other hand on your hip now, guiding your rocking motion when you fell over the edge.

It was calmer than any orgasm you’d ever experience but possibly one of the best. Dean’s climax followed yours within seconds and he stopped touching you, letting you fall forward onto his chest, panting heavily.

Although you’d barely moved, you were sweating, exhausted and more sated than you’d ever felt. An overwhelming sense of calm swept through you; even though your legs were shaking with the effort of simply existing, you felt peaceful.

Eventually, Dean had to move, helping you clean up before he slipped back into bed with you. Neither of you spoke as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders and drew you back against his chest, letting you curl into his side.

“Get some more sleep,” he whispered, kissing the top of your head.

You nodded, closing your eyes without a reply and letting the last ebbing waves of bliss carry you off.

#j snow writes #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #dean winchester x you #dean x you #dean winchester x y/n #dean x y/n #dean winchester smut #dean winchester angst #dean winchester fluff #dean smut #dean angst #dean fluff #supernatural smut #supernatural angst #supernatural fluff

853 notes · View notes

rise-my-angel · 2 years

Text

Confused Warmth

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Length: 12.3k

Warnings: angst/hurt comfort with happy ending, smut, p in v, oral (f receiving), romantically inexperienced reader, mutual pining

Note: it took me a few days to summom the courage to post this here, but i really hope you enjoy it! Prequel to Distracted Mistakes and Past Retribution

Softness and warmth surrounded you, and yet your mind felt anything but calm and comfortable. The blanket draped over you should be enough to lull you into a comfortable sleep, but the warmth emanating from the body next to you is a constant reminder of what you’ve done. The quiet breathing along with every rise and fall of their chest yells at you for not just doing what they’re doing and fall asleep.

But you can’t. You replay in your mind what actions directly led you to right now, and even worse, how this will affect your relationship entirely. You never expected this in your life. Not in general, and especially not with the person sound asleep next to you. Afterall, you were told when you first arrived in Jackson that Joel Miller is a difficult man to know.

Though, really thinking about it, you were given pretty conflicting opinions on the man right up until tonight. Once you had met Joel, everyone felt the need to tell you how to deal with him or how to handle him. It was nothing but confusing for you, and not just because you had only met him.

Before arriving at Jackson, you were alone, and had been for a long time. You knew how to hide from danger, how to forage, and how to lay traps for hunting food. That was enough. You had to travel, nowhere for a long stretch of road was anything resembling civilization. You could find places to stay with no Clickers, but it was the depraved hostility of other survivors you didn’t want to stay and find. So you kept going.

Eventually, you heard rumours of Wyoming. A real community, good people paying their dues to make it all work. While you didn’t hold that flicker of hope in your heart, you planned a path regardless. It took a while, but you found it. An awkward and slightly scary initial confrontation with a few men aside, it was obvious you were alone and simply looking for a place to breathe. So they brought you in, and showed you around.

It was that first day, rain lightly misting in the evening air, that you met him. One of the men, learning earlier was named Tommy, led you into a building that you thought was originally some kind of restaurant, and introduced you to his wife Maria. It was there, talking to them about the time you spent alone and how you found this place, when he walked in.

The door flew open, sprays of rain droplets flying around the entrance followed by a broad man with an angry disposition barreled in, paying no mind how his loudness disrupted the quiet conversation taking place.

“Tommy, if this damn thing snaps one more time, I’m heading out to find a new one and I’m fixing it myself.” With a bang, he turns to drop what appeared to be some kind of metal piping onto the counter you sat at. The noise causing you to jump in your seat, hand letting go of the glass Maria had handed you, the bottom of it hitting the counter with a noticeable clank.

“Well maybe if you give the man more than 5 minutes to fix it, you wouldn't keep having this problem,” Tommy began giving what sounded somewhat like a lecture, only it was toned in an amused familiarity, like this was a regular kind of occurrence. But the newcomer's gaze wasn’t on him.

It was on you, a glare turned your way at your startled jump, later you’d learn it wasn’t really a glare. Joel’s resting face just looked like that naturally. Only a glare wasn’t enough to make you look away. In fact, you only just watched him back in return. Instinct told you to brace yourself for a fight, too used to the road with aggressive men looking to steal whatever you had that they didn’t. But he didn’t move, he just looked at you as Tommy said something about pipes behind you.

“That work for you, Joel?” Tommy’s affirming tone pulling his attention away from you. His face turning just slightly to look up at him, his eyes clearly going from whatever apprehension towards your presence fading back to the annoyance he held when walking in.

“Just tell him it’s his last chance.” The voice is harsh and gruff, but in a way that suggests he isn’t angry, he just has this angry demeanour. Joel’s arms slid over to the metal works he placed on the counter, with a brief moment of his gaze following suit to once again look at you. It almost looked like he had a question to ask, but his eyes narrowed back to it’s usual look as he draped the material over his arm. “It’s my house he’s fixing, not some cheap hotel that pays him no matter the shit job.”

And with that he hitches the thing in his arm higher and swings the door back open, his body fading into the mist of the rainfall until the door closes over the scene.

It was then, when you first heard your first warning about him. Tommy chuckled to himself, before moving from his place at the counter to walk past you, a hand playfully grasping your shoulder as he goes by. “I know I said we have a bunch of different kinds of people, but I was hoping you’d have a nicer introduction to them than my brother.”

Your eyebrows shoot up in question as you put it together. The similarly structured faces and both holding a clear southern accent that didn’t belong to the area matched each other but not the relatively calm presence Tommy gave you versus the fiery urgency his brother radiated.

Maria laughed lowly to herself, before getting up from her own seat and coming to stand next to you. “Joel can come off as an asshole at first, but he’s less grumpy and more caring when he gets to know you, don’t let it bother you.”

Tommy didn’t add anything about his brother, simply gestured for you to get up, and walked the two of you outside with him, going on about available places to live.

From that point on, it felt as if you saw Joel everywhere. Jackson wasn’t big, sure, but more than one person on many occasions said that you likely wouldn’t encounter him often. That he works hard, but doesn't often interact with people a lot outside of Tommy, Maria, and the young teenager who lives with him who seems to be his daughter of sorts.

Yet, you constantly saw Joel everywhere. At first anytime you ran into him, it was quiet but cordial. An answer to where a certain building is, pointing out that you were doing some small meaningless task wrong, he was gruff and intimidating but was never rude. Just pointing towards whatever you were doing with a, “You need to hold it this way, you’re just gonna hurt yourself doing it like that.” Sometimes just grabbing whatever you are holding and turning your hands to hold it properly, himself. It was always quite flustering, but by the time you would turn to look at him with a quiet ‘thank you’, Joel was always either back to minding his own business or has walked away totally.

One evening, you were outside of your home, a small rundown place tucked away from the other houses for peace and quiet. Tommy had warned you it was in rough shape, and pretty ugly, but that it never had many people around, which after years of travelling all alone, is what you were most comfortable with. You were busy working away at sawing slabs of wood into specific lengths, so focused on making sure the measurements were right, that you didn’t notice your approaching visitor.

“You planning on dragging all that around, yourself?” Looking up to see the source of the voice, Joel stood mere feet away, arms crossed over his chest as he looked down at your hunched form. The only response you gave was a raise of an eyebrow.

Joel nodded his head to indicate at yourself, “No offence but you’re not exactly in prime shape to carry around lumber.” While he was right, it was also embarrassing and you didn’t like that he just said it out loud.

You shrugged, looking back at the wood and eyes downcast to the side. Your plan was to just drag each piece to its destination and you’d figure it out from there. Without knowing what to say you merely muttered, “I’d manage.”

There was a moment of silence, but before you could determine if it was awkward or not Joel spoke again. “What’re you even doing?”

Looking up to him he seemed to be genuinely curious. Tommy was right, Joel’s face was always just a degree of grumpy no matter what it seemed. Standing up to face him properly, you gestured to your windows. “The back of my house faces the edge of town. Maybe I'm just paranoid, but I don’t like how easily the windows open from the outside.”

Joel still cross-armed, nodded, a thoughtful look in his face. “Life on the road does that to you. Makes you feel like you can’t trust anything too comfortable.” You knew from word of mouth that Joel hasn’t been here for that long. He and his daughter Ellie had only arrived less than a year before two men on patrol stumbled upon you.

You don’t know why you felt the need to say anything, you assumed he was just curious and would walk away again, but you still spoke. “I still don’t really know anyone here.”

Joel was just confused looking, but waited for you to finish your thought.

“I didn’t know if I should ask anyone for help, since, uh, no one really knows me. So I just decided I’d do it myself.” You turned back to start just moving things anyway. “Nice seeing you, Joel.”

You simply started to lift some of the larger slabs since you may as well get those over with first, when it suddenly lifted from your arms. Your hands hovered from where they held it, when you looked at Joel holding it up over his shoulder like the heavyweight meant nothing to him. “Gonna take you until midnight doing this alone.” As he began walking towards your backyard he just hollered, “Bring over those smaller ones, would you?”

He worked with you to nail the slabs around your loose windows all evening. You didn’t share much conversation that night, but you two worked together pretty seamlessly. By the time the job was done, it was finally getting dark.

Joel had one forearm resting against the wall, deep brown eyes looking at you, something clearly stirring around in his head behind them. You don’t know if intimidated is the right word for how you felt in that moment, but it’s the only one that came to mind. His large, broad frame standing over you, ever watchful of your moments, it made you squirm.

You hated that feeling. Years on the road, surviving and defending yourself, it wasn’t natural for you to feel flustered. Like his gaze made you warm, and you didn’t understand the feeling at all. So you gave yourself an out.

Picking up the tools left on the ground, you looked at Joel hoping it was a grateful expression not a hesitant one. “Thanks for the help, Joel. Least now I can hopefully sleep a little better.”

Joel’s mouth opened to respond but you were faster. “I should let you go, you’ve taken enough of your time helping me. I’ll let you head back home.”

His head tilted as he clearly was trying to process your quick dismissal. “Anytime, really. Just gotta ask, alright?”

You nodded, lips pursing slightly as you tried not to look at him. “Goodnight, Joel.”

Right before you went inside, Joel yelled out your name, just loud enough to get your attention. “Seriously. Just ask next time you need help, okay?”

Again, you nodded, not sure what to say. He didn’t leave the moment open for long, Joel simply said, “Alright. You know where I live.” Turned, and left the way he came. Leaving you standing at your front door, looking into the darkness of the evening. Wondering why you always feel so strange around this man.

The time in which he spends around you seems to increase with every encounter. It’s probably not enough time to consider the two of you friends, usually you either pull away busying yourself to escape this growing unknown feeling, or Joel is pulled away either by whatever job he had taken up, or usually, by Ellie.

You’ve actually spoken to the girl enough times to feel fond of her. She's smart, but boy does she have a quick mouth on her. She gives you more sass than you’ve ever seen from one person, and anytime you see her with Joel it’s a constant back and forth. Bickering as if they can’t stand each other, but it’s filled to the brim with playfulness and affection. You don’t know what they’ve been through, but it’s clear that whatever it is it’s left the two of them with an inseparable bond.

The group of people you’ve found yourself spending a consistent amount of time with have tried to mention it around you. Speculating on what the mouthy teenager and brooding father have been through before arriving in Jackson, but you never listen. It feels wrong.

You don’t know why they would care to talk about it in such a way. If they wanted to know just ask, but you didn’t want to know. Every single person here has a story, one that hurts them to remember and no one deserves to have it brought out into the open without their permission. The most you’ve ever heard before leaving the conversation was enough to learn that Ellie isn’t Joel’s biological daughter.

Though you don’t know why that’s even interesting. The two look nothing alike, not in skin tone or facial structure, but they clearly see each other as father and daughter, so you don’t care until the duo themselves feel the need to say otherwise.

You do, however, pay attention to when one of the group members mentions that Joel seems to hover around you. Your head turns from watching your finger tracing the lid of your glass to whip around to face her. Brows furrowed and eyes screaming confusion, they laugh and say, “What like you’ve never noticed? He is always suddenly around when you’re around and when he is he watches you like a hawk.”

That strange warm yet juggling feeling in your gut returns. You hate it. You don’t understand it. “He doesn’t.” It’s all you can say in your defence, before downing the remainder of your drink before getting up to pour yourself another.

This time another person in the group speaks up, “No he definitely does. I don’t see Joel hovering around anyone else, and he definitely talks to you just as much as he does Tommy or Ellie.” That makes your stomach lurch even more.

You don’t make a habit of watching Joel. Watching people’s movements comes naturally to you, being alone on the road, tracking people’s movements on a day to day basis becomes a necessity for survival, knowing how to avoid anything treading on too dangerous to handle alone. You have no reason to watch Joel, so you make a conscious effort not to, even though you don’t feel compelled to watch others like you do him. Not that you’d admit that.

“He’s just nice to me, is all.” You drink maybe half of your new glass, trying very hard not to chug it down.

“Sweetheart, Joel ain’t just nice like that to everyone.” You ignore the light laughter from the group. Your whole body feels warm and taut with tension, and you hate it. All you can do is roll your eyes and wait for the conversation to change topics.

Against your best effort, you start to take note. Joel in fact, pops up where or around where you are whenever constantly. He approaches you just to chat some of these days. It’s never super chatty like other people. Joel isn’t a big talker, and neither are you. But the silence between the words is comfortable all the same. Just standing, backs slightly leaned against the wall, both your arms crossed as you talk. Small laughs or smiles gracing your faces the longer the conversation.

You never associated the strange happenings in and around your place with him at all. But they bothered you.

It was Tommy who spilled the beans about what Joel’s been doing behind your back. You walked into the bar one afternoon, complaining that someone was messing around your house. He looked very surprised, and when you mention how things on your property seemed to be fixed by themselves, or firewood suddenly is precut for you on your outdoor pile, he has the audacity to laugh.

“Those ain’t bad things, you know that right?” You didn’t let it slide, though, wishing he was taking it more seriously.

“Tommy, someones on my property, touching my things, and I don’t like it. I get that this is a safe place, but I don’t feel safe when I come home and someone’s clearly been there without my permission. If I can’t feel safe here I may as well be back out there.” Your voice with each sentence raising in pitch and hysterics, Tommy realising that you didn’t like your privacy being invaded, and to you, your home itself was your privacy.

He says your name low but gently, grabbing your attention. “Listen, sweetheart,,” He sighs as he contemplates how to say what he needs to say. “My brother’s not the best at letting people know he cares. I mean hell, he's closest to me and Ellie and he’s had more arguments and fights with the both of us then anyone else combined.”

“I don’t,” you shook your head in denial, “I don’t get what you’re saying.”

Tommy leans in closer to you, his voice quiet, “He’s not good at saying he cares about you, he’s better at just doing things you need. He’s not going to just tell you what he’s doing, he just notices things you need fixing or more supplies of, and he just does it for you.”

That warm feeling has become the thing you dread the most. You’d rather be shoved into a room with Clickers than keep having this unknown feeling arise anytime Joel came up.

“I never brought those up though,” Tommy shakes his head, hand raised to interrupt you.

“You don’t need to, he pays attention to you.” Your head lowers, lost in thought, when he speaks again. “If it really makes you uncomfortable, I’ll tell him that. But he’d rather just do things to help you out, especially since he knows how little you try and rely on anyone else.”

Your fingers light start tapping against the wood of the bar, “I, I guess you’re right. Not like it’s bad things he’s doing.” You move to grab the bag that you had unceremoniously dropped when storming in, “You’re right, he’s just being nice, not a big deal.”

Tommy had more to say, but clearly you didn’t, you just looked him in the eye, “Please uh, don’t- don’t tell him I said anything. Don’t want him mad that I complained about it.”

Hands raised in the air, he swears, “Not a word.” as you leave the building.

The next day, Joel shows up at your door, walking in like he was previously invited and makes his way into your kitchen. “I’m sick of walking by here at night, and seeing every light working and then just candles lighting your kitchen.”

You genuinely can't tell if Tommy said anything to him, and Joel doesn't elaborate.

He does, though, fix your kitchen lights that day, just needing a quick job that you didn’t know how to do. After it’s done, he stays for a while afterwards when you offer him a drink. The two of you just in your kitchen talking until it gets late enough that you joke, “You know if you don’t get home before the street lights turn on Ellie’s gonna be worried.”

Instead of thanking you for the drink, Joel just asks you, “You wanna join us?” Him having to elaborate further at your widened eyes, “For dinner, it’s Ellie’s night to cook, and I know you ain’t got a huge stock of stuff here.”

Both of your hands now holding the glass, grip tightening on it matching the tightening feeling in your gut, you answer anyways. “I’d like that.”

Joel’s house is far nicer than yours, it feels lived in, full, no doubt a large part being Ellie’s young and more energetic influence at work there. You do spot a guitar as you make your way into the kitchen. It had been so long since you heard proper music, the old music player you carried with you for years had broken just a month before arriving at Jackson. You had missed it greatly. Was it his or Ellie’s, and why did a part of you so badly want to see Joel play it?

Your attention didn’t linger for long, Ellie acosts you as soon as you walk into the threshold of the kitchen. “Finally, I’ve been telling him to invite you forever.”

“Ellie,” Joel’s tone is final in the abruptness which is comes out, making Ellie look drastically between the two of you.

“What? It’s true, he never shuts up about you during dinner anywa-”

Joel turns away from you completely to point at the stovetop, “Ellie, watch the damn burner.” His back to you hiding his wide eyed unimpressed look, though it did little to hide it in his tone.

Turning back to you, his body tense in an uncomfortable awkwardness, his hands placed on his hips. “So uh,” his hesitation lingering in the air as he thinks, “Sit down, I’ll get you a drink.”

Things do settle, Joel complimenting Ellie for getting better at cooking, and her trying to play it off like it’s no big deal. It’s heartwarming watching the two of them together. Their banter compliments each other, but their closeness doesn’t disclude you. Joel throws things your way all the time, trying to get you to speak up.

It doesn’t come naturally to you, making casual conversation, but you get the sense that Joel knows that. It’s not like either of you are a chatterbox to anyone. It helps getting you through dinner, though. The night is cozy, you have a good time just being around them as they go about their evening.

It also though, leaves you feeling confused and somewhat stupid. This sensation you get around Joel was so strong the entire night, you at some points worried you were going to be sick. It torments you the next few days, unable to stop thinking about how much you liked being so close to him, spending time with him. And you don’t know why.

Honestly you are not used to sharing how you feel with people. You spent so much time watching how people sharing their feelings with each other ended up tearing the group apart, leaving you to go find a new group to travel with, until it became too much to bother with. There’s something foreign about this feeling though that makes you wonder if there’s something wrong.

It’s Maria who gets it out of you. On more than one occasion you find yourself sitting at the bar counter, picking at whatever you brought out for lunch, staring at it like it’s the cause of your problems. Maria approaches you, “You wanna tell me what’s bothering you so much, or do you want me to leave it for the sandwich?”

You’re not sure what it is about her, but she feels safe, like she’s not going to just use it against you. You dish it all out, how Joel makes you feel, the feeling in your stomach, how confused you feel about what people have said when it doesn’t make sense. By the end of explaining it all to her, it may be the most you’ve ever said in one go.

Maria has to take a moment to take it all in, to think about why you’re feeling so bad about this when it dawns on her. She says your name quite calmly, “Have you never had a crush before?”

No, no that’s what’s happening right? It couldn’t be, you didn’t even think of that. “I, no, never. Uh, it just, never, no one has ever,” You start stammering, eyes looking around as if worrying someone else would hear you. “I mean before all this happened, like, I was still pretty young, it just never happened beforehand and then afterwards everything was just about surviving that it didn’t matter anymore.”

Maria knew you were younger then Joel clearly, but you held yourself up in a quiet but put together way. You spent years out there alone, hardening your spirit, that it made her forget that you must have been younger then they were when the outbreak happened. She figured you may not have even been around anyone that would have given you a crush for a while anyways, having to go through a life in all this didn’t give most people the best understanding of these kinds of feelings.

“It’s okay, it’s not a big deal. Actually, it makes sense really. You’re both a lot alike from what I can tell.” She watches you fidget in your seat, and all you can do is accept that she’s right.

“What do I do? Fuck no, nevermind there’s nothing to do about it. It doesn’t matter.” You jump up from your seat and grab your bag to run out the door when Maria calls your name.

“Listen, don’t shut it out okay? Don’t just push that all down, you never know-” You cut her off right then and there.

“It’s okay Maria, I know who it is we’re talking about. Just uh, don’t, don’t say anything, please?” You look at her desperate, wishing that just by not talking about it will make it stop.

“Don’t worry, I won’t.” She’s not entirely sure that’s true though, she’s probably going to talk about this with Tommy, but you didn’t need to know that right now.

For a while, you could pretend like life was normal. You and Joel spent increasing amounts of time together, but none of it changed. He’s still grumpy, and brooding, he still is a degree of rough in how he speaks to you, but he speaks to everyone that way, so you don’t think anything of it. Joel is just a rough around the edges kind of guy.

Joel still just does things for you without you bringing it up or even asking, he becomes increasingly protective over you, and you just assume he’s always like this. Part of you wonders about it, but you rationalise it. You tell yourself that reading into how he protects you is just going to drag you back into that hole.

It all comes to a boiling point one day, when you are preparing to make a trip out. You know that Jackson provides you with as much food as you need, but a part of you will always feel the need to ensure you can still fend for yourself. Trapping is the one you rely on more often. It allows you to practise patience and a degree of stealth to track animals movements.

Tommy already knows you’re headed out today, asking if you wanted one of them to come with you, but you declined. Going out alone is what you’re used to.

What you didn’t count on, was before and just after you left. Joel had come up to talk to Tommy, when he notices you. “Hey, where do you think you’re going?”

You were kneeling down on the ground, checking to make sure your pack had everything necessary when you heard the deep voice approaching you. Looking up to see Joel just in front of Tommy, you quickly closed your pack and moved to stand up. Joel reached out to give your arm a pull when he could see you stumble as you tried to stand and slip the bag onto your back at the same time. “Just going out to check my traps before it gets dark.”

Joel’s eyes squinted and his brow furrowed as he moved his gaze from you to up in the sky, and back to you. “ Getting pretty dark, isn’t it? You should wait until tomorrow.”

Shrugging you let the suggestion slip by, “I’d rather do it now, it’s been a little too long and I want to check them all before something else gets to whatever got caught.”

“It’s still late, I’ll go with you.” Whatever Joel came over to talk with Tommy about, clearly involved other plans because Tommy immediately looked surprised if not a little put out at his brothers words.

“No, no it’s fine. I prefer doing it by myself. Go uh, ahead with whatever you guys were gonna do.” As you started to secure the bags straps across your chest, Joel took another step forward into your personal space.

“You shouldn’t go out there by yourself.”

“I’ll be fine, Joel. Seriously.”

“I’m going with you.”

“Joel, I can do it on my own.”

Both of you were starting to get annoyed, and Tommy took a step forward as Joel’s tone raised.

“You’re not going out there when it looks like it could storm at any time.”

Now you were looking him right in the eye, very frustrated. “I don’t need you to babysit me Joel, I know what I’m doing.”

Another step forward towards the pair of you from Tommy as Joel almost growls your name in warning.

Looking back on it, you know your frustration was your fault. You were struggling with realising you have feelings for him, and the subsequent problems that came with trying to ignore it. All mixed with Joel spending more time with you and the people around you commenting on how unusual they thought it was. Today's last straw was simply. Hating feeling like Joel was treating you like a child contrasted badly with having this crush on him. Tommy was fine with you going out now. Why couldn’t Joel just do the same?

Joel makes a move to grab your arm when Tommy finally steps in between the two of you. A hand on his shoulder, Tommy pulled his brother back out of your face, “Let’s take it down, now.”

You didn’t want to hear it. You wanted time alone, to check your traps, go home to use one of them for a quiet dinner, and this was getting in the way of that. “I’m heading out, I’ll see you later Tommy.”

Just as you turned away, Joel calls out to you, calmer than he was just seconds before. You didn’t say anything, but you just looked at him apprehensively. The anger had faded into something softer that you couldn’t identify. Brown eyes shining wide, with a concern behind them, a concern for an unknown reason.

“You come back if you get into trouble, alright? One of us’ll go out with you in the morning.” Tommy had let go of his brother at this point and watched him with a thought filled expression.

All you did was nod. The annoyance drained from your face and body, you just accepted his offer before turning and leaving. You didn’t look back to see Joel again, you didn’t want to. You just wanted things to be normal between you two, you wanted this stupid crush to go away forever. It was getting in the way of how you talked to him.

Not 5 minutes into your journey, you felt a drop of water splash onto your cheek. Thinking nothing of it at first you kept going. Water gets trapped in the tree leaves and any breeze can send it down towards you, and it feels just like rain.

Just as you were approaching your first trap, the water droplets picked up and turned into steady rainfall. Seconds later, it poured down. Heavy rain drenched you beyond compare instantly. The sun setting down below the view of the horizon, and the heavy rain made it hard to see more than a few feet in front of you.

You didn’t really mind. It felt nice after almost getting into a fight with Joel. You some days used to travel the most during the rain, Clickers were less likely to find a home out in the open when it rained hard, and other survivors typically took shelter until it was done, so you could cover more ground without anyone or anything getting in your way.

Besides, whatever had been caught in this trap got snatched up by something else. The remains of something was apparent, but not enough to tell you what you missed out on. That was fine, you had 3 other traps to check anyways.

You reset it, and got up, continuing on to the next one. By the time you made your rounds and were headed back in the direction of Jackson, you had scored 2 squirrels, and a rabbit. Not great, but better than 4 empty traps. Wandering into town, you were debating your meal. After dealing with the squirrels, you thought the rabbit would do for tonight. Rabbit meat was too lean to be worth keeping in storage so you may as well use it well, now.

Well, at least that was your plan until you passed by a certain grumpy southerner’s house. You heard him before you saw him, Joel’s loud and angry call of your name. This time his voice was angry without a doubt. More angry than he was before. Looking at you from his front door he yelled your name again, angrily beckoning you over with his hand.

You didn’t even get within 6 feet of him before the yelling continued. “What the hell did you think you were doing?”

What was he so mad about? “I’m fine, what are you talking about?”

Joel pulled you out of the rain, just under his front door when you got within reach. Well, yanked was more like it. Pulled was too gentle of a term. “It’s been storming for a good hour and a half and you just hung out there this whole damn time?”

You could sense another fight brewing and desperately tried to swallow it down. “This is nothing, what are you talking about?”

Just as you said it, a flash of lighting hit the sky. You hadn’t even realized. Once it got too dark you pulled your flashlight out anyways, you must have missed it. “There's barely any, it doesn’t matter.”

“You’re out there alone in a thunderstorm and you think it’s no big deal? It started pouring just after you left you should have just come back, I’d have gone with you in the morning.”

“Joel, I told you it was fine, I don’t care about getting wet!”

Something flashed in Joel’s eyes, something dark that set your nerves alight, something you didn’t understand. “You don’t care until you wake up tomorrow, sick from being soaked for so long.” His voice was low, akin to the growl he sounded like earlier. His head leaning down right into your personal space.

“Who cares?” Your voice was raised now, and that did not help.

“I care, so why the fuck don’t you?”

You had nothing to say, you just wanted to get your stuff and have a quiet night but every step of the way today Joel had been right there trying to get in the way of that. You sighed deeply, a hand coming to press against your forehead. You just pressed harder hoping somehow that would make this headache go away.

“Can you yell at me tomorrow, I just,” You sighed deeply again, “I just want to go home.” You didn’t want to yell, or to fight with him. You were so exhausted with this growing tension between you and him.

Joel looked you up and down, something brewing within him. He took a step towards you, saying your name with a gentle hum, as your eyes met his, he nodded to the side where his front door remained open. “Come on in, let me at least get you something dry.”

When you hesitated, Joel's posture almost seemed to slouch. As if trying to make himself less threatening. "No more yelling. I promise."

Exhausted and drenched like a rat, you muttered a tiny, “Okay.” before following him inside. His house was just as cozy and warm feeling as ever, after a night in the rain.

In the corner of your eye, you see Ellie on the couch, something in her hands that she quickly goes back to when she notices you spotted her stare. Curiously she stayed completely silent. No doubt she heard you two at the door, but says nothing.

You and Joel go down the hallway, following him to a room closed shut at the end. Joel opens the door and gently waves for you to follow him in. It was for a brief moment, you hesitated.

It hit you out of nowhere that you’ve never been inside a man's room before, let alone while being alone with him. It makes you freeze and you don’t quite know why, but you suck it up and follow inside.

Joel was rummaging through a drawer of his, he pulls out a few pieces and walks over to hand them to you. “I’ll let you change, and we’ll get on drying those for you.” With that he leaves the room, pulling the door closed behind him.

Joel’s room was warm. A cozy orange light that wasn’t too bright, curtains pulled halfway closed to let the patter of the rain splash the visible window, a heavy blanket draped across his bed, and near the wall, his guitar gently sat against a bookcase. You look at the clothes in your hand, a T Shirt of his and what appeared to be sweatpants with a drawstring to adjust the waist.

It felt like a daunting task, slowly peeling off your clothes in the middle of Joel’s room. Your eyes glancing to the side at the door as if it would fly open at any moment, but it doesn't. So all you do is quickly throw on the replacing clothing as soon as yours was off, like you shouldn’t spend too much time undressed in here.

Once you rejoin Joel in the living room, wet clothes folded awkwardly in your hands, he’s talking quietly with Ellie, too low for your ears to catch. Joel looks up, and just stares. Neither of you move, your eyes feel snapped to his face, which is staring at you so hard it’s almost right through you. Breaking the silence, Joel leans down to his companion.

“Ellie takes her clothes to dry them out, would you?” The teen nods, and takes the clothes from you and leaves into another room.

Joel nods his head to some unheard thought of his, before shaking it off and moving to the table. Pulling out a chair he waves you over, “May as well feed you if I’m gonna spend all day arguing with you.”

Taking a seat, you finally smell cooking in the air. “What about my tra-”

“Ellie’s handling it, she needs the practice anyways.” Joel comes around with two plates, and places yours down as he takes his own seat at the small table. “Not so warm anymore, but it’s better than freezing.”

You’re not sure how much you want to admit it, but you’re so cold that he could have told you the food was blazing hot and in comparison, you’d probably just believe it. Everything feels so precarious being alone with Joel right now. You don’t quite understand why he got so mad, but you don’t want to bring it up in case it makes him mad again.

You’re not scared of him, but you are worried of ruining whatever peace you two seem to have found since you stepped into his house. Joel sits in the other chair, not having touched his own food yet, but holding his drink glass tightly. So tightly that you can see the tension in his knuckles, like as long as the glass doesn’t break he won’t either. So you just eat, and lose yourself in the silence.

Turns out he couldn’t hold the silence for very long. Before he’s even moved to have a bite, Joel says your name. “Why didn’t you just come back? I told you I’d even go with you in the morning.” He’s calmer than before, but still tense.

The fork in your hand taps the plate lightly as you try to figure out how to say it. “I’m just used to doing things during storms. No one else typically wants to travel during them, so I just got used to taking advantage of it.”

“Yeah, except yo-”

You cut Joel off almost right away, “I also maybe needed some time alone, and when you showed up, I just knew you were going to offer to come. But I needed time to myself, without you.”

If the way you phrased that hurt him, Joel doesn’t show it in his face, but you back track regardless. “I don’t mean I didn’t want to be around you, at least, not in that way.” You take a long breath, chest visibly rising and lowering with it. “Being around you is confusing sometimes. A lot of times.”

He doesn’t speak, but he shifts his body to face you more directly. His head moving to catch your downward gaze, dark eyes watching yours, narrowing just slightly to figure you out. So you continue. “One day we get along great, and then the next it’s like I’m walking a fine line around you trying to, trying to like, keep you from hating me.”

It’s out, and now you can’t stop. “I can never figure out what I’m doing around you. Like tonight, I was out in a storm for what? Not even 2 hours, and I come back and you’re yelling at me like you think I’m a goddamn child who doesn’t know any better.” Finally you’re looking him in the eye, and like before, something flashes in his expression that you can’t quite figure out.

“I know you're not a child.” Joel almost shakes his head in exasperation. “Trust me. I know.”

“Then what? You know I’m an adult but you just wish you could order me around like a kid? That it? Because you're kind of protectiveness lately always feels like you’re just lecturing a dumb kid who doesn’t know any better. I don’t know if you’ve noticed Joel, but I can take care of myself. I have for a very long time.” The eye contact is seething right now, you’re mad, but Joel is..something else.

Moving his body to lean into your personal space, his voice comes out in a husky whisper. “Let’s get one thing clear, I’m not and have never tried or wanted to treat you like a child. Far from. If I saw you as a kid, I’d just treat you like I do when Ellie acts out, and teach you to know better.” He breathes in through his nose deeply before he speaks again, “There are other ways to get to listen.”

Lips parted slightly, your lungs suddenly feel shallow, and that warmth flows through your veins like fire. It’s not the same feeling like before, no this was a sensation you know you can put a name too. Like the combination of his words, the deep quiet tone of his voice you’ve come to adore, and his eyes boring into yours as if the answers to everything he wants are there.

It’s a rush you feel fly through your whole body, leaving a shiver in its place as it passes, and finds a home directly between your legs.

Joel though, means more to you then is worth jumping to conclusions. You have no real idea what he wants or meant, but that doesn’t stop your mouth from speaking before you could even hear yourself do so. “This is nothing. You want a brat?I could show you a brat.”

What did you just say? What is wrong with you? What are you trying to do here? You take a long sip of the water before you, a desperate reprieve from the thick air surrounding you. It's a fruitless effort, because Joel's eyes are right there watching you once you look back.

“There’s a line here sweetheart, and I’m damn close to just pulling you over it myself.” The flash in his eyes isn’t just a flash now, it’s a continuous bombardment towards you, and maybe it’s just a little too overwhelming.

Not knowing if his slight shift towards your body had any intention other than to speak, you shoot up from your seat, turning away to face the main room and miss the instant shift of concern in his eyes as he follows suit. You force the words out without the stammer, but it’s draped in an uncertainty that you wish you could hide.

“I should get my stuff and go, I’ll just wear my wet clothes home. No reason to ruin your stuff you know? Not like I live too far away, anyways,” Quick and desperate voice trailing off into nothing as you see Joel approaching you, an arm outstretched towards you palms up, as if you’re a horse he’s afraid of spooking.

“Hey, take a breath for me.” You nod as you do so, in and out, willing your nerves to settle. Joel finds himself right in front of you, looking down at you, his arms raise slowly, a firm hold on your arms as his head leans in to speak quietly. “Listen, I’m not here to push something you don’t want. If you want to head home, that’s okay, but-”

“I don’t. I just…I’m not sure if you..” The words are in your head but not your mouth. Joel seems to know what they are nonetheless.

He trails his hands down your arms, one coming to his side gesturing to his room, and the other moving to find a gentle home on your back. “I think we should have a talk, sweetheart. In private.”

His voice turns strangely commanding right as he stops speaking, but you follow his now distracted eyeline just in time to see a head of long hair disappear around a corner. It’s enough to make you smirk, Joel looks at you, and it’s enough for him too.

Back in his bedroom, he nudges you in before him, so he can close the door behind him. You stand motionless in the middle of his room, eyes wide as you watch him bypass you and take a seat on the edge of his bed.

Your name comes out firmly, “Before I say anything else, I need you to know that there’s things going on here that you don’t know about, but I want you to just stay here and listen.”

You nod, arms crossed over your torso protectively.

“Tommy’s not one to just give away other people’s secrets. Neither is Maria, but they’re involved enough to pester me about certain things I’m not good at doing myself. So when he comes around spilling your secrets it’s not because he wanted to embarrass you.”

Your eyes could pop out of your face at the realisation you were having. He knew. He fucking knew. “How did Tommy-”

“Maria probably told him the same day you told her.” You almost got out asking why, before he shifts to lean a bit more over his thighs, hands splayed out on them in a way you suspect is as much a protective move as your arms wrapped around your torso. “They knew how I feel about you, and figured telling me may finally get my ass in gear to do something about it.”

The look in your eyes soften, but remain wide open, and lips part in a disbelieving quiet gasp. “How you..feel?”

“If you’re going to feel that way about me, I’m either the best or the worst option. I’m not exactly an expert at talking about how the people around me make me feel,” His hand pointing lazily at who you both knew was somewhere outside his door. “So I get how you feel, but it also means it takes months of my brother and his wife nagging to get me to do something.”

You had so many thoughts, but only one you needed an answer to. “Why get so angry with me sometimes? If you are saying what I think you’re saying, why be so mad at me?"

A voice suddenly shouts through the door, “He doesn’t know how to show affection otherwise!” Joel stands up and opens the door at record speed.

You don’t hear what he tells her, but you see a variety of arm gestures being made just beyond your view of the door. Followed by what sounds like a very smug Ellie saying something about leaving him alone before what you presume is her bedroom door shutting.

When closing the door again and turning to you, Joel finds you with a hand over your mouth. Doing a very poor job at hiding your laughter, Joel smiles slightly and his hands find a home on his hips. “I can’t say that she's wrong, actually. She would know that best.”

A giggle threatens to spill over you, the tension finally coming to a simmer from its blazing heat. You shrug one shoulder, eyeing him with a playful but challenging smirk “Well if you just don’t know any better, maybe I should let you yell at me more often.”

His voice hits you almost late, like you see him reach you in such a small amount of strides, his gruff tone hits you almost when he’s already right in front of you. “You want me to show you better?”

He’s close now. So close you have to look up to meet his eyes. Whatever he searches for in your eyes, he seems to find it, and you suspect it’s a lot like what you keep seeing in his. A hand wraps its grip on your hip, while the other tilts your chin with a hold he controls. “Say no to me at any time. Okay? This isn’t just about me.”

And your relationship takes a turn it can never return from. You feel Joel pull on your chin, while his own head leans in and finds your lips.

Whatever you imagined kissing was like, kissing Joel kicked those thoughts out and found a new home in your heart. His kiss was soft, such an utterly soft feeling as his lips move against you, but also incredibly demanding. He moved you how he wanted to move you, deepening how hard he kissed you, and teased you just on the edge opening you up.

His grip on your hip tightens as he pulls your body against his, the hand on your chin drifting all across your jaw to hold your neck. Hands so big they encompass the side of your face as well. The gasp you let out gives him his opening. His tongue finding yours, still teasing, as if he can’t decide between kissing you rougher and exploring your own tongue. So he switches between both.

The scruff on his jaw and moustache burns against your skin. You’d never feel the same after feeling it against your smooth skin.

You’re hands out of pure reaction, held lightly at his thick sides, but just as he moves from your hip to pull the other side of your face in a rough kiss, his nose pressed tightly against the side of yours, your own hands move. Refusing to even leave him, your hands move up against his chest and find a home grasping the back of his neck like it’s a lifeline.

Your addicted to the feeling of his lips moulding against yours but you’re light headed. So lightheaded. Pulling back with a loud gasp of breath, Joel’s need rumbles against his chest, “Fuck.” He yanks you right back into him so harshly your teeth bash together. He doesn’t even seem to notice, he just turns you in the room.

You couldn’t say where you were at all or where he was directing you, but right as both his hands leave you to grasp onto your hips, they just as soon push you into the plush bed.

Joel’s hand rubs down his face before curling against his mouth, watching your chest heave to catch your breath. You lean up on your hands splayed behind you to whisper his name. The second it takes for him to join you feels like an eternity. Climbing up a knee at a time, finding its place on each side of your closed legs.

At the same instant, you both lean into the other, Joel’s hands resting on your waist, you laying one hand in the middle of his collarbone, the other wrapping to grasp the back of his neck and pull his lips back onto yours. His teeth scrapes against your lips, biting down on them, only to follow with a smirk at the breathy whine you cry out.

Joel moves his hand from your neck downwards, to feel the softness of your skin, pushing, grasping, and pulling at the plushness. Rougher and rougher with every shift of his hands, his patience serms to find a limit. He pulls from your lips just enough to coax your eyes to look at his. “You still want this? Cus I can’t promise you I’ll remember to be gentle if this goes any further.”

Your eyes drift back to his mouth, so pouty and slightly flushed from the force. You can barely pull away from the sight long enough to look up and answer. “So don’t be, Joel.”

For a moment, Joel just leans his forehead against yours, your arms all holding still against each other. He kisses you with a force that pushes your body back, and he pulls away just as quick to lift your shirt up and off you. The uninteresting sports bra beneath it does little for Joel's patience just getting in the way of his need to feel your soft bare skin. Before you can even think about moving your arms back around him, Joel yanks the sports bra up and over your head, chucking it to whatever direction his arm manages to find.

He doesn’t ogle. His patience has no time for that right now. He pushes your body the rest of the way down into his bed, as he holds the hair at the back of your head in a tight grasp, with the other coming between your bodies to grasp your tits just as tightly. Each gasp and whine you give him, just allows his tongue to find yours again.

It took nothing but simply being exposed to harden your nipples, but Joel isn’t satisfied with just that. His thumbs caress over them for mere moments before finding a hold and pulling them. The sting so shockingly good feeling, you cry out a moan that sounds awfully like a very high pitched “Oh God,”

His other hand leaves your hair to grip and pull at your other breast, each nipple feeling a tight pull over and over. Joel leaves your mouth and trails itself down your neck and joins his hands. His facial hair scraping against your skin with the same addictive burn.

A man possessed, Joel wastes no time in replacing the fingers pulling your nipples with his mouth. Your chest betrays you and lifts up to meet him even closer, It’s a sweet suck of lips and mouth, only to bite down. He bites and he bites while the other hand caresses your other breast, reaching up to tease your unattended to nipple in much the same fashion.

His legs encompass yours, but your thighs desperate to feel more try and open up for him. Your outer thighs brushing against the inside of his, he lifts up from your entirely to take one leg and shoving it outside of his hold. He doesn’t return to you, he just looks at your heaving body, one hand holding your upper thigh when it moved you, the other dragged itself down to the very top of your pants, gripping the very top seams in its own desperate question.

The second he spots your own hands moving to get them off yourself, Joel gathers a hold and yanks them off of you. Just one small fabric keeping you from showing him what he desires the most, he lets your legs move to find a home against his sides and hips, finding your mouth with a hold on your jaw, the other gripping the sides of your underwear like it offends him.

The sound of your kiss is only interrupted by a growling breath and whining need as he pulls them tight up between your legs from the stretch only to threaten to come off from the push and pull. He’s had enough. He’s tearing them down your legs and leaving your legs out and spreading to bare all of you to him. Before the insecurity can have a hold on you for even a second, he rubs against your thighs soothingly. “Don’t even think about it, sweetheart. Don’t you hide any of this gorgeous fucking sight from me.”

Joel moves in, only for your body to shoot up with a hand on his chest. You gaze at each other for a moment as he feels you go for the buttons. Before unfastening the first one just at the bit of chest he always seems to show, you hesitate. Looking up at him with a sweet, “Please?”

Joel leans in to capture your lips in a much more sensual kiss before nodding. “Go ahead, sweet girl.” He just watches you undo each button. Your eyes glued to the sight of his torso with each little exposed skin until you reach the bottom button. Undoing it your hands push the fabric aside to hold the exposed stomach at your reach when Joel holds your chin in his hand gently once more.

Fingers sliding along as he moves and stands up on the floor before you. Not a word is spoken as he watches you, his brown eyes barely blinking as he stares at your body as if he’d forget what it looks like if he looked away. Joel pulls the rest of his shirt open and lets it fall to the ground, his hands finding his belt.

There it was, what he was looking for. As Joel pulls his belt open, and unzips himself, he sees you clench. Legs still wide open, Joel watches your pussy clench around nothing like it's desperate to fit him.

In mere moments Joel is just as naked as you are, and you were not ready. His body broad and thick, strong muscles give way to a softer stomach that sits deliciously and unapologetically without flexing abs to show off. But it’s beneath that, that you cannot look away from. His cock sits hard and thick between his legs, a length that makes your mouth ache just looking at, and a thick girth that has your fingers holding the sheets below you tightly.

Joel doesn’t return to you just yet, his eyes impossibly dark, nostrils flared in an audible breathing, Joel fists the base of his cock tightly for a moment before he’s suddenly right over your legs, face level with your stomach.

His cock pressed up against the sheets, one hand reaching to grasp your ass and pull your hips to him, with the other pushing a thigh out to make room for his broad size. Joel pulls your hips up closer as he presses his nose up against your mound, taking in your scent when he calls you, “Look at me, sweet girl. You gonna let me taste you? The way I’ve always fucking wanted?”

A thought passes through your head, but it gets pushed down right away. It’s not the time for that line of thinking. You’ll deal with it later, all that matters right now is the furious nodding of your head, “Anything,” You try to open up more for him, “Fuck Joel anything you want.”

Anything? He takes the anything he wants. Joel licks you up to your clit in one slide of his tongue, taking your clit into his mouth to suck and tongue at. The feeling is like fire, its burning white hot and your arms give you, your back flat against the bed.

Joel licks and drinks at every slick drop you have for him, and finally he devours your cunt just the way he wants. He’s everywhere, his tongue is inside you too much yet not far enough, and you need his mouth on you more but it’s so much that you writhe desperately. He works you over with his mouth for a while, building you up for an unknown amount of time.

It could have been minutes or hours, you lost all senses that aren’t him. One hand above your head grips the pillow it finds, while the other hand tries to simulate his push and pull of your tits. The pull of your nipple both isn’t enough without him and yet it seems to even match every tug of your clit his mouth gives you.

Joel doesn’t let his mouth leave any part of your cunt out of his actions, it’s so overwhelming you don’t realise what’s built up until it’s at your door. Suddenly it’s there, this burning tension alights right where Joel devours you, it warms and tightens so fast your cry out is almost followed by tears.

His hands hold your hips firm right up against his mouth, “Fuck, come on, give me it,” You can’t hear him well, but you feel him speak against you. He takes and takes and doesn’t stop until he knows you can’t give him anymore.

He doesn’t wipe his mouth, doesn’t clean you off, Joel just drapes his body over you and forces you to taste yourself from his own mouth. You hold his shoulders and neck like you can’t afford to let go, and he uses the chance to slide his fingers down.

You only realise his intentions when they brush against your sensitive clit. They don’t linger though, your pussy is soaking wet from your own doing and his mouth, giving his fingers a home without issue.

Two of Joel's thick fingers pump in and out of your soaking hot center, letting you cry into his mouth as he kisses you just as demanding as his fingers fuck you. They shift slightly as he rubs his nose against yours muttering, “There you are,” And suddenly his two fingers brush against a part of you that makes your cunt weep for him. He doesn’t let up either, he’s found your sweet spot and his fingers fuck up against it with little mercy.

You moan and gasp against his mouth, his name the only word he can even make out. Joel separates from your lips and nudges his nose against your cheek, “One more, sweetheart. I need one more, then I’ll let you have me, come on, I need you to cum one more time before I make it cum around my cock.” Joel just keeps talking and talking and you can’t stop him. “Give me one more, and I’ll fuck you so full of me, give you every fucking inch and you’re going to take it, aren't you?”

You’re almost there, your orgasm rushing into you faster then you could ever imagine, “Yes, yes please. Please Joel, I’ll take it.”

The palm of his hands rub right up against your clit to push you over, “Gonna cum for me, sweet girl?”

You can’t even answer him, you just hold any part of his body you can find as your head takes refuge in his chest. Riding your orgasm struggling to catch your breath. Slowly Joel slips his fingers out of you, soaked and sticky with you, lips brushing yours with small kisses, “Good girl.”

Joel wraps his soaked hand around his cock, spreading it all over him, stroking up and down with rough strokes. He gives you one more bruising kiss, before he kneels up, wrapping your legs properly at his hips, stroking his cock right up until it’s pressed against your entrance.

If Joel sees any hesitation in your eyes, he doesn’t let it take over you. One hand holds his cock right up against you, the other grabs your hand. Bringing it up to his mouth, he gives it a gentle kiss before holding it against his heart. “I’ve got you, sweetheart. I’ve got you.”

He places your hand down to join the other one of yours around holding his sides, and with a push of his hips, it’s all over for you.

Every inch of his cock pushes into you like there’s only just enough room to fit him, but you feel it hitting every single part of you in a hot overwhelming pleasure. Only halfway in, Joel grapes your hips ready to move them, “You gonna take all of me, sweetheart? Gonna let my cock feel every part of this,” Joel teeth grit together with a hiss, “this sweet cunt?”

You can only beg him, and that’s all he needs. Joel holds your hips up at his, and thrusts the rest of his cock into you. It’s a brutal pounding pace that's set. Joel slams his cock into you while pulling you hips back onto him like he can’t settle for just one thing.

He groans and gives such deep low moans to match your high pitched crying ones. The only other sound being the harsh slap of his skin against yours with each rough thrust. It’s not fast but it’s certainly not slow, each pull of his cock gives you only enough time to gasp in a breath before it’s forced back out when he shoves his cock back into you.

“I’m, Joel- fuck,” There’s no comprehensible thoughts, it’s him, it’s his cock hitting every right part of your cunt, it’s the obscene slapping skin as he slams into you, and the mixing moans from both of you, and nothing else.

Suddenly Joel yanks your hips to follow hips, your legs wrap around his body, finding a home around him, one at his waist, the other wrapped around his leg that you can reach like you’ll fly away without it. His hands push at your thighs, opening them wide, stinging in pain to give him the most he can offer.

Part of him wants to watch your tits bounce with every slam of his cock, he can fuck you so much faster like this, but he cant help but constantly watch how well your take him. Giving neither of you any reprieve from the overwhelming burning pleasure. You grasp the sides of his face, leaning up just enough to feel his forehead against yours, and a brush of your lips against his.

He’s gritted and tight in his jaw, eyes shutting from the feeling, brow furrowed in intense sensations, but he opens his eyes when he feels your cunt clench tightly against his cock, just as they did his fingers. “That's it,”

Joel loses his steady pace as his hips simply start pounding in a desperate search for your end. He captures your lips again and spits out your name in need, “You can do it, sweet girl, you can give me one last one.”

Your nails dig into his skin as you feel yourself coiling, knowing it’ll break you when it releases. “You- you need, I want your,” Whines and cries stops your sentence but Joel knows.

Joel wraps his hand around to grasp your ass in a painful hold, the other gripping the back of your head, tight and commanding, “You first, cum one more time for me, then I’ll give it all to you.” His cock pounds into you without any purpose but fast and urgent need.

It's so blinding when your final orgasm hits you, it’s too much, he’s too much and you can’t hold on anymore. You choke out Joel’s name as you hold onto his neck as he hits his own peak.

Joel pulls his cock from your tight cunt just as he moans out your own name, face burying itself in your neck with panting breath. His cum shoots out just as he slips from you, and paints your cunt and stomach as he strokes every last bit of it out.

You both stay there for a while, how long you can’t be sure. But when Joel comes up from his home in your neck, his hands gently find your waist and cheek with his hands, gentle caressing as he pulls you into another kiss. This one much calmer than the rest, this one soft but full of a matching emotion you both pour into the other.

Joel warns you before he moves from your hold, a kiss to your forehead, “Stay right here, I’ll be right back.”

Your arm reaches out before he leaves your touch totally, and he leans back in, “Hey, I’m just gonna clean you up, I’ve got you, I told you.” You nod, eyes not fully open, exhausted your fingers graze his entire arm as he gets up.

Joel returns just as fast with a soft touch of cloth to your skin, damp with warm water he is careful not to press too much on the sensitive skin between your legs as he cleans you of his cum.

For a moment, your body leans up on your elbows as you look at him, walking back to you, before stopping just before the bed and grabbing his shirt he pulled off of your body. You freeze in your spot. Does he want you to leave now? Is this it?

He doesn't let it linger for long, he sits on the bed facing you, “Come here, sweetheart.” You realise he only has the t-shirt to put on you. He helps it over your exhausted head and down back to cover you up a bit. He moves your legs to slip underneath the blanket before slipping on the soft pants he had previous given you.

Turning the only light off, Joel slips into the bed right beside you. Whatever moonlight that peaks through the storm clouds gives just enough light to see the other. You turn your own body to touch at his chest and his cheek, your thumb stroking back and forth against the scruff.

His hand finds your own face in return, bringing his face down to kiss you once more, and maneuvering you into laying right up into his chest, both of you facing the other, held tenderly in eachothers arms.

You slip into sleep before him, you think maybe you heard him say your name, saying something soft into your hair, but at the feeling of lips against the top of your head you finally slip into a slumber.

You wake up briefly only a few hours later, a crack of thunder just loud enough to pull you awake. The blanket gives you a soft, heavy weight it should be enough to lull you back to sleep, but the warmth of Joel’s body wrapping you up in his sleeping arms keeps you awake longer then you should be.

The soreness between your legs brings back the thought you pushed away from your mind so quickly earlier. You think to yourself in that moment, wrapped up in Joel’s safe embrace. You should have told him.

He made sure more than once you were okay with him, and he made it clear his intentions to be rough. But he also didn’t know when he said that. It’s not that you’ve just never had a crush before. You don’t necessarily need feelings for the physical part.

You're not naive. You understand clearly how this all works, nothing came as a surprise when it got physical. You've explored your own body on safe quiet nights.

You’ve just never done any of it with another person. Not a kiss, never being touched like he did, never had sex. You know he wouldn’t have been so rough, so demanding, if he knew, but you treasured every second of it.

This isn’t how you imagined any relationship you would ever have to go. You didn’t know what it would be, but that day? That day you first arrived in Jackson, and this large brooding man with a demanding presence that barreled into the building wasn’t what you expected.

Joel wasn’t in your survival plans, a normal pursued relationship not being accounted for at any time in your planning. But he was here, and you were here. He was right, you know it. He has you now, but you also have him. And that’s all you decide matters right now.

One of his arms around you, moves to stoke at the top of your head and pull you closer into his warm chest. Voice so gruff and muffled with sleep you can only hear him because he is in your ear. He catches your name, “Stop thinking so loud, come here and just sleep, sweetheart.”

So you do. You snuggle in closer to Joel, and fall back asleep in the only place you’ve ever truly belonged.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x female reader #joel miller imagine #pedro pascal imagine #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us fanfic

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lowgothree · 4 months

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003. ༺RED HANDED༻∘

a/n: i hate this chapter tbh but i'm excited for the next one 👀

summary: after getting unexpectedly left by your roommate, you find yourself in need of a replacement.

contents: reader is down bad. paige in a situationship. kinda angsty. this chapter is from paige is pov but it's not in first person if that makes sense 😭😭

previous. next. masterlist.

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it’s not weird being this attracted to someone in such close proximity to you. is what paige thinks every time she sees you. after your little late night interrogation a week ago, paige has started to see you differently. it’s an almost out of body experience for her considering she’s never allowed herself to stray too far away from olivia. normally, when she starts to develop these minor feelings for another person she’d just distance herself from them…but that’s kind of hard to do when you live with them.

“i swear you’re never paying attention to anything ever…” azzi chuckles in paige’s direction, shaking her head at the confused look paige gives her. paige is sitting on her gaming chair but it’s faced away from her entertainment system, towards the bed where azzi is laying.

“my fault.” paige clears her throat and shakes her head as if she’s trying to shake away her thoughts. thoughts of you. “what were you saying?”

azzi just stares at paige for a few moments before saying. “is it olivia…again?”

she rolls her eyes and grumbles. “the world does not revolve around olivia.” she says it slowly. like if the words left her mouth with enough conviction, even she could believe them. it doesn’t work.

azzi laughs again. “okay, sure, but your world kinda does…i mean, if she asks you to jump you’ll say how high.”

okay, maybe that’s true… it's definitely true. but even then, it wasn’t like paige relies on olivia.

“sometimes it kinda feels like you rely on her.” azzi continues making paige sigh to herself.

about a year ago, paige met olivia at the library. she was the first and only girl she had been with after she realized she also liked girls. at the beginning, all they really did was talk. about anything. everything. paige told her all the things she’d never told anyone before: her insecurities, dreams, feelings about the little things…and olivia always listened. with rapt attention. paige appreciated how it never felt like she judged her for any of the shit she told her, she just listened and understood and that felt like magic. she had been chasing that feeling for months now but to no avail. maybe that’s why she stays. a foolish part of her feeling like eventually she could get that feeling back.

“you’re annoying…” she mumbles and azzi chucks a pillow at her.

“i’m not wrong though…”

paige opens her mouth to reply but pauses when she gets a call. olivia.

azzi snickers again, shrugging as if to say ‘point proven’ when paige immediately picks up the phone. she gives her friend a pointed look as if to say ‘shhh’. putting the phone to her ear, she mumbles hello softly but guarded –– preparing for either apologies aplenty or immediate hostility considering that they haven’t spoken since their argument last week which caused olivia to stomp out of the apartment.

“why haven’t you called me?” olivia mutters dryly on the other line, paige shuts her eyes and sighs. immediate hostility it is.

“i just thought you wanted space…”

“what? so you can spend extra time with your little ‘roommate’? no way.”

paige practically flinches at the mention of you. unsure of why the very thought of you gives her goosebumps. it felt like time stopped. as if paige had a moment to process not only olivia’s words but her reaction to them. she clears her throat before continuing.

“oh my god, how many times do i have to tell you it’s not like that, liv!” paige begins to get frustrated at the girl on the other line. feeling herself get defensive as soon as she hears how upset olivia is. azzi puts her airpods in as she tries to ignore the impending argument.

“then what is it like?!”

“she’s my roommate.” paige stresses over the phone, groaning as she speaks. ever since olivia found out you liked women, she’s been overly jealous at the amount of time paige spends in your presence. “that’s all.”

“liar.” olivia scoffs, the simple word is spoken gently but it’s duplicitous. the tenderness of it only meant to mask the true emotion behind it in hopes of getting a genuine answer. only meant to hide the anger.

“what — “

“you’re attracted to her.”

that brings paige pause. she didn’t expect olivia to notice. that got her wondering if it was obvious. was olivia just being jealous per usual or did she actually know. could everyone tell? could you?

“oh? nothing to say now?” olivia spits out, venom laced words mumbled bitterly through the phone and bleeding out of the speaker into paige's ear. it’s whiplash. she gives paige fucking whiplash. going from yelling to gentleness to calm to anger.

“liv…” she sighs. “you’re being crazy again.”

wrong thing to say…

“crazy?!” she shouts again making paige roll her eyes.

then it stops. all the shouting and the malice. it melts down until all that remains is a monotone voice which scared paige far more than any of the yelling or mood swings ever did. “so you’re denying that you’re attracted to her?”

paige swallows, not wanting to hesitate but not sure of exactly how to respond. the obvious answer was to lie and say no ––– claim that olivia, who didn’t even want to date paige, was the only one she wanted. but then she let her thoughts slip to images of her telling the truth. saying yes. ending things with olivia. it almost felt too freeing. like discovering uncovered territory, new and open and terrifying. would it make her happier? that question brought paige pause too and that’s what scared her the most. the what if. so no matter how good it might feel to admit the truth…she goes with the safe choice.

“of course i’m not.” it’s a blatant lie. purely for survival.

then came the scariest sound paige hears. far worse than the screaming or the monotone: silence. olivia’s silence means…

“you know what? i’m done.”

“baby, what?” paige rushes out, eyes widening as her heart starts to beat frantically.

“we’re done.”

#rock the boat!#paige bueckers x reader

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athenaistired · 6 months

Text

𝐃𝐈𝐋𝐔𝐂❞

— 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐩𝐭.𝟑 //

ᴘʟᴏᴛ: ᴅᴏɴɴᴀ ʜᴀᴅ ʟᴏꜱᴛ ʜᴇʀ ᴘᴀꜱᴛ, ʜᴇʀ ꜰᴜᴛᴜʀᴇ, ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴡ ꜱʜᴇ ᴡᴀꜱ ʀᴇᴀᴅʏ ᴛᴏ ʟᴇᴛ ɢᴏ ᴏꜰꜰ ʜᴇʀ ᴋɪɴᴅɴᴇꜱꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴜᴍᴀɴɪᴛʏ.

art credit & word count: 2634

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ (ᴄᴏɴᴛᴀɪɴꜱ ꜱᴘᴏɪʟᴇʀꜱ): ɢʀᴀᴘʜɪᴄ ꜱᴄᴇɴᴇꜱ, ʜᴏꜱᴘɪᴛᴀʟɪᴢᴀᴛɪᴏɴ, ɴᴏɴ-ᴄᴏɴꜱᴇɴꜱᴜᴀʟ ᴀʙᴏʀᴛɪᴏɴ, ᴍᴜʀᴅᴇʀ ᴘʟᴏᴛᴛɪɴɢ, ᴅᴇᴘʀᴇꜱꜱɪᴏɴ, ɢʀɪᴇꜰ, ᴍᴀᴛᴜʀᴇ ʟᴀɴɢᴜᴀɢᴇ, ʙᴜʟʟʏɪɴɢ

— 𝑴𝒀 𝑳𝑼𝑺𝑻𝑭𝑼𝑳 𝑯𝑼𝑺𝑩𝑨𝑵𝑫 !3!

Donna woke up to the sunlight forcing its way through her eyelids. She was in an unfamiliar bed, with Diluc gone from her side, and with a strange string attached to her arm. Her memory was still hazy; the only thing that she could recall was that she was speaking to you about Diluc, but somehow she ended up here.

“You’re awake.” An unfamiliar man in a black suit was sitting in front of her bed on a chair, he seemed to be reading a book in another language with a drawing of a human’s head on the cover, “I’m Sebastian, personal doctor working for Master Y/N in case of emergencies. Just call me by my name. How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay. Just a bit sore all over..” Donna mumbled back, to which the man nodded, “And.. My stomach kind of hurts..”

“That’s expected.” He reached for the paper laying by her nightstand, “You’ve been here for 32 hours, in and out of consciousness. Your medical record is missing information about your allergies, but considering that you and Master Y/N were having tea together, I’d say that you had quite an aggressive reaction towards some type of fruit which was used to make the blend.”

The moment he explained what had occurred hours prior — memories came rushing back in Donna’s mind, and she instantly felt more awake than ever.

“So.. It wasn’t poison?” She asked with hesitance, and the man almost dropped the mug which he was holding in his other hand.

“What kind of person do you think Master Y/N is to poison someone in a broad daylight, in their own home, with this many people around? Of course this was an accident.” The doctor scoffed and got up, “Anyways, leave whenever you feel like it. You seem more than fine to me.” He quickly detached the IV drip out of her hand, and bandaged up her elbow, “Try not to put any unnecessary strain on this arm.”

“A-Alright..”

Donna had actually never seen one of the proper doctors before in her life. Her family were strong believers in Herbology and Barbados’ will, so she wasn’t exactly sure why the doctor had concluded she was allergic to some fruit. Her whole life she tended to the gardens, sold massive varieties of flowers, and even once was a waitress at the bar with all kinds of drinks. Something didn’t seem to perfectly match what Sebastian had described, but maybe she just had to ask you what the two of you had that day to get to the bottom of this situation.

“Donna! Are you alright?!”

Suddenly, the doors bursted open with Diluc rushing inside. He looked even worse than last time she saw him. He was beginning to smell, his hair was forming mats and shining with grease, and his eyes were puffed and red; huge eye-bags forming above his cheeks.

“H-honey.. What has happened to you?” The woman gasped in shock at the appearance of her lover. He seemed to be taken with surprise by her reaction, and took a few steps back to stare at himself in the mirror.

The man froze.

Slowly, he reached to cup his own face as if he couldn’t recognize it.

“That dammed Y/N..” He mumbled to himself, “I am actually falling apart..” He whispered, while crouching down to take a seat on the ground. Now, Donna was more than worried. She got up from her bed and hugged her lover in a tight embrace, “Did they do something to you?” He pulled away to look deep into the woman’s eyes, “Did they hurt you?”

“I..” The brunette wasn’t sure what to say. Was she poised? Was this intentional? Accidental? Were you naturally hostile or angered by the circumstances? She had no clue. “I don’t know. Sebastian told me that I had an intense allergic reaction to something and that Y/N called in the medics to save me.”

“Oh.” Diluc blinked in surprise, “T-that’s confusing me even more now..”

“I know..” The woman sighed, “I know.”

You sat at the edge of your bed, as Marie kneeled before you with your right hand in her skillful palms. Your feet were soaking in a warm tub with rose petals floating above the water’s surface, and the maid gently trimmed your cuticles and the length of your nails to perfection. The two of you sat in silence throughout the whole procedure, as you stared at the flickering flame of a candle on your nightstand.

“What do you think, Marie? What are they going to do next?” You asked her a question, and she didn’t even bat an eye before answering to you.

“They are going to try to murder you, my Master.”

You didn’t expect such conclusion. Truly, your death seemed to be an only out for Diluc’s desperate cry for freedom. The moment he’d sign a contract provided by you — his life would be over. Staying in the same mansion with you would also ensure his and Donna’s suffering until their last breaths. But in order for him to be back in control of his future — he would need to erase you. You let out a bitter laugh, however, Marie’s expression remained as stoic as always.

“What do you think I should do?” You questioned further. You watched her grab a warm cloth, and rub your palms in gentle motion, as if trying to cleanse you of your sins.

“I am a mere servant, my Master.” She reminded you.

For a second, you saw red. Without a thought you slapped her hands away from yours’ and grabbed at her chin — forcing her to look you in the eyes. She didn’t tremble, she didn’t fight, she just froze. Your anger vanished, and slowly you melted into a fake smile. Your thumb hovered over her bottom lip, and you brought her closer to yourself, until you both could feel each others’ breaths.

“You’re my servant, Marie. I don’t keep fools around me, do I?” You then let go off her, making her lose her balance for a second, but she quickly gathered herself and bowed her head in submission, “Now, speak.” She rose her gaze, and you encouraged her once again with a raised brow.

“I believe for there to be two options.” Marie began her speech, and took your feet out the tub to place them on her thighs and wipe them dry, “You get rid of Master Diluc and send Mistress Donna back to Mondstat. Nobody would believe her that it was you who hurt Master Diluc, but even if they would, a single mention of his crimes across the world and that it was all done in self-defense would guarantee your innocence.”

She was finally done taking care of you, and proceeded to reach for freshly the ironed socks by her side.

“And second?”

“You get rid of Mistress Donna, and make Master Diluc fall into the deepest depths of despair, so that he won’t have anyone else to turn to for comfort — but you.” Marie buckled up your shoes, and stood up, instantly straightening her back, “The choice lies in whether you prefer to execute quick revenge and forget, or, to keep a hold of your revenge until your last breath.”

You laughed at her words.

“Do you believe for revenge to be a waste of time?”

“Many people who consider themselves above others would say that, but I solely believe that your decision is absolute, my Master. I believe a yearn for revenge made you into a person who you are today, and Master..” Marie locked her hands together by her chest, “You are an entity beyond my comprehension.”

“You flatter me, Marie.”

Looking at her, you saw emotions which Diluc had never expressed towards you. Yes, he loved you. But young love comes and goes. Meanwhile every single one of your servants in this house, were undoubtedly loyal to you. There was no hesitation that every single maid, butler, cook, and even the recently hired doctor would die for you. Kill for you. Live for you.

Diluc was never any of those things.

“I think I made my decision.”

You’ve made that decision long time ago, and there was no reason to back out on it now. Even if Diluc would put you in the casket, you would crawl out with a knife in your hand to continue to haunt him. You weren’t sure where this obsession was coming from. Perhaps it was boredom. Maybe, you were just that evil and prideful. Or even..

It was just fun.

Donna decided to finally leave Master Y/N house and go for a walk. They have been living in the mansion for a month now, and each day was worse than the previous one. She tried to make it work. She followed all lessons which you signed her up for, she learned the etiquette, she put herself on a diet, did her hair to the best of her ability, but one thing for sure — each day was more miserable than the other.

The moment that the sun would rise, she would feel the dread wash over her. Even when you weren’t at the mansion your spirit and your presence were felt everywhere. Your mere gaze was driving her insane, even giving her nightmares. She had a dream, where you were smirking at her with a maniacal glare in your eyes whilst holding a blade to her throat. Then, there were visions of you poisoning her, assassinating her, or hanging her off the ceiling.

Donna’s thoughts were getting darker and darker. From a light and careless girl, she has become something else entirely.

Perhaps, being with Diluc was the biggest mistake of her life.

As she finally stepped through the gates of Mondstat — the whispers began. Nobody in this city knew what you were truly like. How terrifying, how cruel, how manipulative. They all saw you from the best angle, meanwhile, Donna was seen from her worst.

“Homewrecker..”

“Slut!”

“Whore!”

“To get together with a married man, no shame at all!”

“How can she even bear to come back here..”

Even though they were mere whispers, their voices seemed to be louder than her own thoughts. She had to bite down on her bottom lip to keep herself away from shedding tears. Her life had become so terrible. Although she was outside, it felt like the curtains were still drawn. She couldn’t see the sunlight as bright as it used to be. A part of her was still locked away in that mansion — forever caged.

She felt her heart rase, her breathing picking up — she was panicking. There were so many people, and they all hated her. Yes, she did a bad thing, but did she really deserve all of this? Were her good deeds before this now completely forgotten? Where did all of her friends go when she needed them the most?

She had no one.

She was so alone.

“Is Sister Barbara around?” Donna asked as she had finally reached the church. Her feet felt sore, and the base of her spine was aching.

“One second.” One of the nuns had ran off to get her. As Donna waited she took a seat and looked around the church. Perhaps, she should beg, no, plead Barbados for His guidance. For His help. For His involvement.

“She’s here.”

“Donna! I haven’t seen you in a while.” If there were someone who hadn’t changed their attitude towards her — it was all the nuns, especially Sister Barbara. Maybe she was just very good at hiding her real thoughts, but Donna preferred to indulge herself in a more positive light.

“Hi, Sister Barbara.” The brunette murmured shyly, “I sent you a letter a week ago..” She reminded the other, and at first Barbara seemed confused, until she remembered.

“Ah, yes, yes!” The young girl continuously nodded her head, “Let’s head to a more private room.” She gestured for Donna to follow her out the church, and into the next building.

Barbara wasn’t the only doctor in Mondstat, in fact, she wasn’t even an actual licensed professional how Sebastian was. However, people with healing hydro abilities were granted permission to accept patients and examine them if required. Donna didn’t trust Sebastian, so, she sent a letter ahead explaining her symptoms to the blonde girl and arranged time and date of their meeting.

Barbara made the woman lay down on the examination table, as she checked what worried her most. She applied pressure on different parts of her body, especially her stomach. Then, a frown covered her face and she spread out her palms across Donna’s stomach — hydro particles suddenly formed in the air and circled around each one of her fingers — until they had vanished. It seemed that the blonde had come to her conclusion, but was hesitating to speak.

“Donna..”

“What? What is it?” The brunette was already imaging the worst. Was she dying? She must be dying! “What’s wrong with me?” The longer she wasn’t hearing an answer, the more panicked she got.

“You’ve had a miscarriage.”

What.

“I.. I was pregnant?” Donna stared, and Barbara nodded, “What do you mean I had a miscarriage?” She breathed out a pained laugh, “I didn’t bleed or anything.. I..” And then — it hit her. She understood what happened. You didn’t poison her that day. Your intent wasn’t her assassination, but rather.. “N-no way..”

She was drowning.

Her lungs were getting filled with the sea of sorrow.

“NOOOOOooooOOoOOOooOOooo!” A howling, blood-curdling cry was heard echoing through the halls of the hospital. Her tears were running down her cheeks like a river, and Barbara’s comforting embrace felt like the last hold on her humanity.

That day Donna hadn’t just lost her past, but she also lost her future.

Donna came back home only a week later. She might have not even known her child, but the grief was weighting down at her heart. She always wanted to be a mother, and from a young age she was told to be infertile. She never said anything to Diluc about it, because the topic was never brought up. But now, she was finding out that her miracle baby was forcefully taken out of her. She felt violated, torn, and broken. Every part of her soul had shattered like glass with pieces scattered so far apart that they’ll never be fixed back together.

“Donna.. Finally.”

Diluc was hugging her, but she couldn’t even feel it. Her body just froze, meanwhile, her gaze and mind were elsewhere. She couldn’t stop thinking about her lost child. Was it a girl, a boy, or twins? Were they going to have her brown her or their father’s crimson locks? What about their eyes, their height, their smiles? Were they going to grow up to be strong and powerful, or would they prefer a more standard and quiet life? Why did this happen to her? Why wasn’t she given a chance?

If only you had asked her to decide between her child and Diluc, she would have chosen her child in a heartbeat.

“Where have you been?” The man whispered into her ear, and she felt his tears falling onto her shoulder and soaking through her shirt. She hadn’t cried since that day. She hadn’t even said a word. Her whole world was stuck in that one moment, unable to move on, “What happened to you, my beautiful?” Diluc was playing with the locks of her hair, just how he used to.

He hadn’t changed, but she was now a different person. She was in grief. He was in despair.

“Can we kill them?”

Diluc instantly pulled away, and stared at Donna’s empty eyes. He blinked once, twice, but still couldn’t believe his ears.

“K-kill who?”

“Master Y/N. I want to take their life.“

FINAL CHAPTER !

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