#I’ll see if I post it tomorrow evening or the day after
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The Girl Next Door: Chapter 7 (Hazel Callahan, Bottoms)
Fic master post here
Tag list: @avocifera, @academiareid, @fictionalgap @dynsdiary @sndixz @athenalive @lamoobsessions @eloud12
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Sorry this took so long, I just graduated college, was briefly dating a new girl that I hung out with like 5 times in one week, and this chapter is longer than usual. Def not my best work either, but I hope you guys still like it!
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The Girl Next Door
You hadn't been close with your neighbor Hazel for years. But you find her beat up in the locker room after fight club and all of that changes
Chapter 7
You have some intimate moments with Hazel when you do her makeup, and even go on your first date.
Word count: 5.3k
CW: Profanities, a little suggestive kind of? Changing clothes in front of each other and sitting on her lap to do her makeup, mentions of counting calories (nothing compared to negative body talk in the movie), not beta read
A few days after your movie night you start teasing Hazel on the car ride home. “You still haven’t given me one of your sweatshirts like you said you would.”
“Shit, you’re right. You can come over whenever and pick one out.”
“I can pick it out?” You question with curiosity.
“I’d give you everything you’ve ever wanted if I could.” She murmurs.
You tuck your hair behind your ear and clear your throat. “Well I will keep that in mind, but for now I think I’m okay with getting to steal one of your sweatshirts.”
You pause for a moment and it’s silent.
“Wait, remember you said we would dress eachother up in our clothes? We should do that, tomorrow.”
Hazel peers over, looking you up and down. “Alright, I’ll come over to your house before school tomorrow so we can get each other ready.”
“Come over at 6:30.”
“6:30?” She groans, “You seriously take that long to get ready in the morning?”
You jokingly roll your eyes. “I’m going to need extra time if I’m going to do my makeup and yours.”
“You can’t wear makeup if you are trying to fully embody Hazel Callahan.”
You gasp dramatically, purely to be dramatic. “How could you do that to me Haze? I don’t want to look like a zombie!”
Hazel punches your arm softly. “Are you saying that I look like a zombie, because I don’t wear makeup?”
“God no, the way you look, it’s literally perfect. I, on the other hand, need it to look like a normal human being.” You bite your lip when you realize what you said.
“Would you please shut up? If I’m perfect, that makes you extraordinarily flawless. There’s not a single girl at our school that could even try to compare to you. I can’t even think of any girl on this planet that is more beautiful than you are. I just wish that you could see yourself the way that I see you.” She takes a shaky breath, looking straight ahead.
“I, uh, thank you.” It’s like all the thoughts in your head have been picked up and thrown around by a tornado.
Hazel clears her throat. “I’ll still come over at 6:30, that way we can spend some extra time together.”
“You are going to wake up that early just to hang out with me?”
“I’ve already lost so much sleep thinking about… well I haven’t been sleeping well anyways. Might as well make the most of that extra time.”
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The next morning Hazel arrives at your house with your go to coffee order and favorite doughnut from Dunkin’.
“Hazel, you didn’t have to do that.” You could almost cry because she remembered this little detail and went out of her way to do something special for you.
“I wanted to,” she assures you.
“You treat me so well,” you murmur, gazing longingly at the girl you are in love with.
Hazel puts her hands on your shoulders and her blue eyes bear into your soul. “You deserve the best, never settle for anything less than princess treatment.”
Your lip quivers when you whisper, “I hope I don’t have to.”
Hazel pulls away and crosses her arms without breaking eye contact. “I would never treat you… I mean I would never let anyone treat you badly ever again. As long as I’m around no one is going to hurt you.”
Having maintained a cautious mindset for so long, your brain refuses to process what she has said. Responding is completely off the table. “Well I guess we better get started, yeah? Put on whatever music you want. My phone is already connected to the speaker. My passcode is 3900.”
Hazel picks up your phone and scrolls through your music. “You got a text from Isabel, in a group chat with her and Brittany, do you want me to check it for you?”
You are about to say yes, but remember that you were telling them about how excited you were to get to wear Hazel’s clothes today. How it almost makes you feel like you are her girlfriend.
“No!” You shout at her.
“I’m sorry I didn’t mean to..” she stutters, her voice sounding weak and wounded.
“No no no, that’s not it at all.” You explain more tenderly. “It’s just that- Isabel has been talking about something personal. Just want to respect her privacy.”
Hazel lets out a long breath that she must have been holding in. “Of course.”
She selects a playlist and locks your phone, placing it face down on the.
“Which one do you want to wear?” You ask her, gesturing to the 3 different ensembles laid out on your bed. Hazel looks over the options and goes for the outfit you assumed that she would. It was the least girly of the 3, and the closest to something she would normally wear. A simple white tank top and some casual khaki shorts. Though the shorts are much shorter than anything she owns, and the tank top is rather tight, the outfit is overall within her comfort zone. You knew she would wear whatever you chose for her without complaint, but you wanted to make sure she was comfortable, while still making it clear that she isn’t in her normal clothes. That she is wearing your clothes, that she is yours.
Hazel pulls a few articles of clothing out of her backpack. “I didn’t think to bring you options, I hope that’s ok.”
You giggle, “I trust you Haze.”
You turn away and start to pull off your pajama shorts, fully aware of what you are doing.
Hazel coughs in a way that sounds like she is choking. “Do you want me to leave while you change?”
“Doesn’t matter to me. We used to change in front of each other all the time. If you want to leave though you can.”
“You’re right, I’ll just change here.” Her voice trembles.
You continue to change, but you hear nothing, which means that Hazel has not moved to start changing. Most likely because she was watching you change, just as you had intended. You allow your long t-shirt to cover up just enough while changing the clothes on your bottom half.
When you pull off your top, exposing your bare back, you hear Hazel start to shuffle around and pick up the clothes off your bed. However, you can feel her eyes on you and the thick tension in the air.
When you finish changing and turn around Hazel is already in her clothes and her eyes are glued to you.
“Haze, you look great!” You smirk at her. She looks down at the clothes she is wearing and laughs. “Yeah I do look good. But not as good as you do.”
You glance at your reflection in the mirror and sigh. A white short sleeve button down under a tan argyle cardigan, paired with some loose fitting jeans. You two wear the same size clothes, but everything Hazel wears is oversized. Your clothes are mostly tight, and you know she is only wearing them because they are yours. “I do not look good, I look like somebody’s grandpa.”
Hazel pretends to be insulted. “Do I look like a grandpa to you?”
“You look good in this stuff, it just works. But me, not so much.”
“You would look good in a paper bag,” she casually throws out and then you watch her wince at what she just said.
“You need to get your eyes checked.” You giggle, “sit down so I can do your makeup.” You gesture to your desk chair, and Hazel makes herself comfortable while you pick items out of the drawers and off the shelves.
You stand slightly bent over, hovering above her when you promise her “I am not going to go crazy.”
The first step is sculpting out Hazel’s dark eyebrows. They are already nice on their own so it wasn’t too difficult.
“For your face I’m going to use blush and highlight, is that ok?” You hum switching out the products in your hands.
Hazel’s head turns to the side and concentrates for a moment. “I have no idea what that means.”
You smile as you cup her chin in your hand and she stares back in wonder. “The pink stuff and the shiny stuff. I’ll make it look as natural as possible.”
“I trust your judgment,” she mumbles, lost in your eyes.
The brush delicately adds a sweep of color to her already perfect face. She looks unbearably adorable after dabbing a hint of pink on her nose. When switching out the blush in your hand for highlight you notice a twinge of pain in your lower back from hunching over. You stand straight up and place a hand where you feel the pain as you flex and stretch.
Hazel’s delectable lips curve into a frown. “Are you ok?”
“Bending over, it's just a little uncomfortable. I would move the chair and sit on my bed but i don't want to accidentally get something on my blanket.”
“Sitting down would be better?” Hazel inquires, looking around the room for a solution.
“Yeah but it's probably easier to just stay over here.”
“You could just sit on my lap, right? Would that help?” She bites her lip, eyes wide and expectant.
Help. Most definitely. In more ways than she knows.
You nod casually, trying to hide your excitement and play it cool. “That would actually help a lot, are you sure you don't mind?”
The way she looks you up and down hungrily makes you want to check your pulse because it can’t be at a safe level. “Mind? Of course not. It's ideal actually. I prefer to keep you as close as I can.” You nearly pass out when she says that. Scratch that, you nearly drop dead and ascend into another plane of existence. This isn’t a side of Hazel you are used to but damn, you are loving it.
You sit down on Hazel's lap facing her with one leg on each side of her and the chair. You shift a little to balance yourself properly and she puts her hands on your waist to help steady you. “Don’t worry, I’ve got ya,” she chuckles.
You bite your lip as your head spins and Hazel just smiles patiently until you tell her “I’m going to to do eyeliner now.” She nods her head along to the music.
You catch her chin in your hand to stop her from moving her head. Hazel’s eyes go soft and flicker between your eyes and lips. Or are you just imagining it?
“Close your eyes,” you tell her and she does. You needed her to do so in order to apply the eyeliner, but not having her beautiful blue eyes looking at you temporarily minimizes the urge to kiss her.
“I’m just going to do a tiny little wing. I don’t want to bother with your waterline, it’ll be uncomfortable since you’re not used to it. Your eyes don’t really need any help standing out anyways.” Before switching from one eye to the other you stop to admire her divine features. As if she knows that you are watching her, and is trying to make you squirm, she licks her alluring lips. You feel like she’s inviting you into them but that’s not a signal you can risk misreading. You are so shocked that you drop the eyeliner on the floor. Hazel’s eyes open when she hears it hit the ground. You go to reach for it, but Hazel stops you. “I got it.”
She wraps one arm around you while her other reaches to the ground. She passes you the eyeliner and you mumble a thank you. Hazel then wraps her other arm around you and holds you tight around your waist. She closes her eyes again and you draw on the other wing.
In preparation for her opening her eyes again, you take a deep breath before instructing her to do so. Hazel’s eyes flutter and they are looking right in yours, as if she knew where they were, through the power of your connection. You tell her to look up, so you can apply mascara, but she doesn’t do it right away. Her gaze lingers on your face, like she is studying your features before she has to look away.
“I know that staying still isn’t usually your thing but I’m going to need you to for about a minute, is that ok?”
She looks over your face one last time before saying, “anything for you.” Then she looks up.
“I’m going to be super careful. I promise I won’t poke your eye out.”
She runs her hand up and down your back before holding you tighter. “I know, I trust you more than anyone else.”
You carefully apply the mascara, leaving Hazel's dreamy eyes unscathed and well defined.
“Do you have a lipstick color preference?” You ask, looking over at the vast collection.
She looks over at the array of colors and she points at one. “That one that you had on that day, with the coffee cup.” Did she remember the color from looking at your lips or her own?
You are extremely familiar with the shape of Hazel’s lips, you spend enough time looking at them, though you wish to become acquainted with them in other ways. You effortlessly trace their shape with lip liner and then swipe the lipstick over top. The addition of color only draws attention to her lips and you hope that they don’t catch anyone else’s eyes.
Wishing you could ignore it, every queer girl in school notices Hazel in the tight, low cut, tank top. PJ eyes Hazel like a predator stares down its prey. Fortunately, you get the chance to pick first at that afternoon’s meeting.
“I think I’m finally ready for a rematch, princess,” you coo at PJ. And that was true, this wasn’t an impulsive decision driven by jealousy, though you aren’t above that. It’s been a long time coming.
However, your rage has you quickly taking the offense. PJ dodges your first punch but your second one hits her square in the jaw and sends her stumbling backwards. Her eyes squint and her lip curls as she regains her balance. You just smile at her and it makes her even more angry.
PJ charges at you and is met with much more force than she was expecting. Your hands are on each other's shoulders, trying to push down your opponent. You head butt her instead of continuing the power struggle. It hurts, but it’s obvious that it hurt PJ more when she looks dizzy, holding her hand to her head and says “fuck!”
You don’t show her any mercy, she’s pushed to the hard gym floor before she knows what hit her. PJ sits up on her hands like she is about to continue, but she just shakes her head in defeat. You have to bite back a smile as you pull her to her feet and she sneers at you.
PJ spends the rest of the meeting glaring in your direction and in all honesty, it makes you feel great.
At the end of the meeting Josie announced that tomorrow is going to be a bonding day.
“You looked so pissed at PJ today,” Hazel laughs on the car ride home.
You tuck your hair behind your ear. “I might have been.”
“Did she do something?” She sounds protective and ready to fight.
Yes. “No. It’s just that she… she’s just PJ.”
“I can’t argue with that,” Hazel laughs, sounding relieved.
“How do you feel about having a bonding day tomorrow?” You wonder out loud, the question for the both of you.
“It was actually my idea,” she announces confidently.
“Josie made it sound like it was her idea. Her and PJ are starting to get popular, well less unpopular, and it’s really starting to go to their heads. Like I get it, they are the ugly, untalented, gays, and never got any positive attention before now, but they need to get their egos in check.”
“I hadn’t really noticed it until you pointed it out,” Hazel mumbles.
“They also don’t appreciate you enough,” you spat, disgusted by the thought of someone mistreating Hazel.
“Maybe,” she whispers.
“You deserve better, Hazel, the best.” The reminder is stern. “You should stay away from people like them. Stay close to the ones who treat you like the special person you are.”
“Well you do,” her puppy dog eyes are looking at you like you make the world turn.
“Of course!” You put your hand on her thigh. “No one is more important to me than you are.”
“You really know how to make a girl feel like she’s the only one in the world,” Hazel laughs shyly.
“That’s because you are.”
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The members of the fight club sit in a circle. You are sitting next to Hazel, and when she isn’t looking Brittany gestures for you to get closer to her.
You slide closer to Hazel and when she notices she moves her knee so that it's touching yours. She smiles at you and you return it, but you know you must be blushing hard.
The discussion starts off a bit awkward, but it’s not too long before everyone gets comfortable and begins sharing. After Brittany vents, Hazel starts to share. She talks about what she has been going through with her mom and you are surprised, why hasn’t she talked about this with you? As sad as you are to hear about it, she is so cute when she talks about how happy she is to have made a bunch of new friends. Then PJ, being the dick she always is, cuts Hazel off. You keep your anger contained but you will not be forgetting about this. You put your hand on Hazel's leg to show her that you are listening and that you care about what she has to say.
The meeting gets cut pretty short after an interesting story from Josie about juvie, that for some reason sounded vaguely familiar. You, along with several other girls, didn’t even get to share.
When you go over to your backpack you pull out your water bottle to take a drink. You notice that PJ’s bag is right next to yours. So you ‘accidentally’ dropped the bottle, spilling out the full contents on PJ’s bag. You quickly grab your own bag and go to find Hazel. By the time you are standing next to her you hear PJ yell “What the hell! My fucking bag is all fucking wet!”
Everybody turns to look and Hazel notices the shit eating grin on your face. “Did you…” she questions and you just laugh. She starts to laugh too, but covers her mouth with her hand so that it isn’t obvious. You can still see it in her eyes though and it’s adorable.
“We should probably get out of here, right?” You ask her and she just grabs your arm to pull you away, the two of you stifling laughter.
As you walk towards your car in the parking lot you hear Isabel yell “Hazel! I have something for you!”
She tries to run after you and Hazel, but she ends up shuffling with little steps because of her high heels.
Isabel hands something small to Hazel and it’s a… Chili’s gift card?
“You mentioned craving chips and salsa the other day and I figured I would get-give this to you. Someone, um, gave it to me, but ya know, I’m watching my calories,” Isabel explains.
There is no way that anyone who has ever met Isabel would give her a gift card to a restaurant that didn’t have at least 1 Michelin star. And watching her calories? Yeah her mother was constantly pestering her about it, but she literally just had ice cream the other day.
Hazel is so endearingly gullible that she buys it all.“Thanks Isabel, that’s so nice of you.”
Isabel can hardly contain herself. “You two should go together, wouldn’t that be like, so fun?”
“That’s a great idea. I think it would be a very fun d-“ Hazel pauses for a moment, “a lot of fun.”
After thanking Isabel again, you and Hazel get into the car. She starts fidgeting with her rings. “Would you maybe want to go out to eat tonight? I know it’s Friday so you might have plans or something but if you’re free…”
Isabel had said she had something fun planned for tonight, but you know now that she must have been referring to this.
“I would love to.”
“How does 7 sound? I can drive.”
You nod with a shy smile, though bubbling with excitement.
You don’t want to assume anything, but this might actually be a date, so you are treating it like one. Preparing the way you would for any other date, you get started early to make sure everything looks perfect. You lay out a go to date outfit, one that you know you look hot in, and you do your hair and makeup the same way you always do, it looks good but also like you didn’t put too much effort into it.
You are buzzing with excitement when you walk outside to meet Hazel. She’s already sitting in her car. Her expression makes it look like she feels absolutely defeated, but it melts away into a dreamy daze as soon as she lays eyes on you.
Hazel puts on a playlist that she says she made just for the two of you, and it makes your heart flutter.
As Hazel drives you notice her glancing over at you every chance she gets. It makes you wonder if something is wrong with your hair and makeup.
“What?” You ask her nervously.
Hazel raises one eyebrow and tilts her head to one side. “What do you mean?”
“Why do you keep looking at me like that? Did I forget to brush part of my hair or something?” You anxiously bite your lip.
“No!” she yells and it makes you jump a little.
“Not at all!” She says in a softer tone, trying to recover. “You just… you just look, like, amazing.”
You play with your hair to distract from the warm blush you feel creeping across your face. “Awe, thanks Haze. I just wanted to look nice I guess.”
“It’s just Chilli’s.” God, this girl is so oblivious.
“I know, it’s just that…” you huff and decide maybe you shouldn’t say anything. “Never mind.”
“Cmon, just tell me,” Hazel groans dramatically to make you laugh. Then she pokes your arm. “You can tell me anything.”
“I just wasn’t sure if this was like, I don’t know, this is going to sound absolutely ridiculous, a date?” You cover your face with your hands because you are so embarrassed.
“Hey, hey, it’s ok.” Hazel’s comforting voice reassures you.”I was scared to call it a date, but I really really want it to be a date.” You uncover your face as your jaw drops all the way to the floor. The anticipation is killing you until she finally says “so if you want this to be… it’s definitely a date.”
“For real?” You are practically bouncing up and down in your seat.
“Yeah of course babe,” she smiles looking over at you, putting her hand on your leg. It makes you so happy that you aren’t even concerned about how that might make her bad driving even worse.
You put your hand on top of hers for a reality check, to know that this is actually happening, and not a dream. “I can’t believe this is really a date.”
“Me either. Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for this?” Hazel really should be looking at the road more but you are enjoying her attention too much.
“Probably not as long as I have.”
Her face is lit up by her smiling and laughing, she is shining like the sun. “I doubt it. Let’s just say it’s been a really long time. But no need to compete here, right? I know I’m winning either way.”
You nod in agreement. “Very true.”
The rest of the car ride isn't awkward per say, but you're both very nervous, in a cute way. Instead of trying to force a conversation while processing everything, you take the time to appreciate the playlist that Hazel made, and sing along to the familiar songs. The songs that you don’t know are poetically sweet.
This is actually happening. You absolutely wanted this to be a date, and you prepared by looking good. But emotionally? You never bothered to hype yourself up for this, like a FOOL. You start nervously picking at your cuticles.
When the car comes to a stop you finally have the nerve to look back over at Hazel. She’s already looking over at you, her face is excited more than anything else, but she still has a death grip on the steering wheel.
“Are- are you ready to go inside?” You ask, trying to keep your voice steady, looking at Hazel's white knuckles. She finally realizes what she’s doing and quickly places her hands in her lap and nods enthusiastically. “I’ve been ready for this for a long time.”
Hazel walks a few steps ahead so she can hold the door open for you, and when the hostess brings you to your table she pulls out your chair.
You start looking down at the menu to see what you want. When looking up at Hazel to ask if she has any ideas, she hasn’t even picked up her menu yet, she’s just watching you, starry eyed.
You giggle and point to the menu “aren’t you going to look at that?”
“I’d rather look at you,” she mumbles and leans her head on her hand.
You put down your own menu. “Oh come on Hazel, really?”
“I’m totally serious. I’m finally on a date with the most amazing, beautiful, girl in the world. How am I supposed to focus on anything else?”
You study her face, making sure that you can picture her like this from now on and forever. “You really are just the cutest human to ever exist.”
Hazel sits back up and drops both her hands to the table. “Me?”
“Yes you! Just look at you! You are so sweet and funny and compassionate and empathetic, just anything you could ever want in a...” The waitress cuts you off. “Can I get you guys anything to drink?” She asks and sets down a bowl of chips and salsa.
It’s very difficult to even think about what you want to drink. You almost called Hazel your girlfriend. No matter how bad you want her to be, you are happy that you didn’t. It’s too scary to say out loud, even though you’ve been married for years in your head. Verbalizing it would make it real, and real things hurt much worse if they don’t work out.
Hazel is looking at you, clearly hanging on to every word you say, wondering how that sentence was supposed to end.
“I’ll have a, uh, lemonade,” you tell the waitress without looking away from Hazel, your eyes wide and your lips slightly parted, dying to utter one last word that would change your life forever.
“And for you?” It doesn’t even seem like Hazel heard that.
You smile awkwardly at the waitress and tell her “sprite.” She nods at you confused, “I’ll have that right out for you.”
When she is walking away Hazel finally notices that the waitress was there at all, and she looks a little embarrassed.
She starts adjusting the collar of her shirt, even though it looks fine, so you ask, “do you uh, want an appetizer?”
You can tell she is still longing to continue your previous conversation, but you just aren’t ready for that right now. She doesn’t even bother to look at the menu. “I’m good with chips and salsa. But if you want something I’ll share it.”
“I don’t think I’m that hungry right now.” That’s because nerves are fluttering in your stomach.
“Me neither,” Hazel smiles shyly.
You shift around the way you are sitting to try and expel some of the nerves. Hazel mirrors you, moving around as well, settling with one knee tucked under her. You start to eat some chips and salsa, trying to collect your thoughts, before looking back at the menu.
“I can’t decide between the honey chipotle chicken tenders and the chicken bacon ranch quesadilla,” you sigh.
“Why don’t you just get both?”
“I’m not hungry enough for an appetizer Haze,” you giggle, “I’m definitely not hungry enough to eat two dinners.”
“I don’t know what I want so we can just get what you want and share it.”
“Hazeeeeee,” you drag out, sounding almost a bit whiny. “Don’t be silly, just order what you want, I can flip a coin or something.”
Hazel slides her menu over towards you and looks away from it. “I just want you to have what you want. Besides, we always like the same things anyways.”
You place your menu on top of hers. “Fine, but you have to pick next time so that we are even.”
“Works for me,” she hums in approval. The two of you are just staring at each other, wondering where to take the conversation from here.
Next thing you know the waitress is putting down your drinks and taking your dinner order.
Hazel finally looks like she’s gotten herself together after your earlier conversation.
“I can’t believe you dumped water on PJ’s bag,” she laughs after the waitress takes the order and walks away.
“That bitch had it coming. I hate the way her and Josie brush you off, like they are better than you. They take you for granted, who do they think they are?”
Hazel bites her lip and looks down glumly. “I guess I’m just used to being treated that way.”
You cross your arms over your chest and sneer, “Well anyone that treats you like that has to answer to me now.”
Hazel laughs, even though you are very serious. “Are you going to beat up everyone that doesn’t treat me right?”
“Yes, actually.”
“If that’s the case I will punch your ex in the face if I ever get the chance.”
“That’s a deal.”
You wouldn’t call it gossiping, it’s more like discussing, when you start talking about the unfortunate relationship circumstances of other girls in the club. Like how does Isabelle put up with Jeff? Is Brittany single because she is too attached to Isabelle?
The rest of dinner goes well, and you listen to the playlist Hazel made on the car ride home.
She walks you to your front door and gives you a hug. With her arms still wrapped around your waist she pulls the upper part of her body away from you to take a good look at your face. Hey eyes wander over you dreamily until they stop on your lips. As she leans in you close your eyes, only for her to press her soft lips to your cheek.
#hazel callahan#hazelcallahan#bottoms hazel#hazel bottoms#hazel callahan blurb#hazel callahan bottoms#hazel callahan brainrot#hazel callahan fanfiction#hazel callahan imagine#hazel callahan x reader#hazelfanfic#hazel x reader#hazel callahan fic#hazel callahan fluff#hazel callahan oneshot#hazel callahan x fem reader#hazel callahan x you#hazel callahan x fem!reader#hazel from bottoms#hazel callahan master list#bottoms fanfic#bottoms 2023#bottoms movie#bottoms x reader
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FINALLY, IM FINALLY DONE WITH LETA’S OUTFIT REF REVISION!!!
#hazard talks#I’ll see if I post it tomorrow evening or the day after#I’m just so happy#to be finished#and yea her design is basically the same#just updated#and i love it a lot
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‘cause i’m that bitch.
pairing: charles leclerc x fashionista!reader.
warnings: nothing! just reader being a bad bitch.
faceclaim: rihanna.
summary: charles keeps trying to tell everyone he’s in a relationship with you, the it girl of the fashion world. yet, no one believes him. he’s very keen on changing that.
— part two of my 500 followers celebration ♡ —
liked by vogue, zendaya and 3,822,728 others.
yourcompanyname: our boss y/n l/n at the cfda gala last night where she was awarded the fashion icon award. pictures of her arriving to, during and after the event.
ynswife: ‘do my tits bother you? they're COVERED… in swarovski crystals girl!’
-> user1: oh she ate this look up so bad.
user7: i remember when she was still interning for vogue and now she’s one of the biggest makeup and clothing moguls in the world 🥺
-> yourcompanyname: thanks for being with us since the beginning!! check your dms for a surprise! 🙈
user5: that’s my favourite fashion designer!
user6: did y’all see the post-award interview? she was giggling saying she was going to celebrate with someone after getting the award…. i wonder who it was.
-> user9: probably just her best friend. they’re really close and she helps her get ready for events like this.
𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃
𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃
PARTIAL TRANSCRIPT.
— phone conversation between CHARLES LECLERC and Y/N L/N.
CHARLES LECLERC: they don’t believe it! they don’t believe i’m dating you!
Y/N L/N: they’re probably joking babe-
LECLERC: they called me a french twink! i’m not even french!
L/N: i know babe.
LECLERC: we need to ramp it up. can i wear one of your designs? maybe they’ll understand when i’m dressed in your fashion.
L/N: i have the perfect outfits for you. i’ll send them tomorrow!
𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃
liked by yourusername, landonorris and 1,383,937 others.
gqmens: charles leclerc is our new cover boy, dressed in yourcompanyname’s menswear from head to toe.
landonorris: can you get me some clothes 😩
-> user6: BUY EM 🤨
user2: idc if he’s a stalker, he’s sooooo fine i’m sorry.
-> dumbass1: he can stalk me deadass. go all joe goldberg on me 😍😩
user89: he’s really trying to make us believe that he’s dating her…. we’re not that gullible dumbass!
𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃
liked by yourcompanyname, vogue and 1,728,727 others.
y/nsfanpage: last night y/n was seen at the movie premiere of ‘material girl’, the second film that she’s produced under her production company!
user3: queen!! don’t know what looks better, her or the movie!
user8: some vroom vroom guy is saying he’s dating her….
-> user9: imagine 😭
user7: he’s even buying clothes to pretend he’s sponsored by her that’s crazy 😭😭😭😭
-> user5: she needs a restraining order i’m so serious.
user6: she looks so good!! 😍
𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃
PARTIAL TRANSCRIPT
— phone conversation between CHARLES LECLERC and Y/N L/N.
LECLERC: we need to pull out the big guns.
L/N: if you’re sure…
LECLERC: i just want people to understand and believe i’m dating you. i don’t want people to believe i’m a weird stalker.
L/N: oh babe, i’m so sorry. you know what? i’ll take the day off tomorrow, we can go out and spend all day doing what you’d like to do.
LECLERC: all i want to do is be with you.
𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃
liked by ynswifey, charlieeupdates and 2,628,982 others.
ham1ltonshaderoom: after initial disbelief from the internet, business mogul and it girl y/n l/n has been spotted cosying up with formula one driver charles leclerc in an art gallery in paris. how are we feeling about this new couple ham1ltons?
user7: HE STOLE MY WIFE!!!!!! BOOOO
user6: i apologise mr leclerc i was unfamiliar with your game.
-> user7: don’t ever doubt the game of a peculiar white dude.
user78: she looks so good even blurry.
user67: that outfit is crazy he looks like a mime.
-> user23: he’s never beating the french allegations.
user12: first pic is actually so cute!!
user34: i still think it’s photoshopped.
𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃
taglist: @lemon-lav @firelily-mimi @formulaal @sya-skies @namgification @raevyng @ajvaix @demvnsriot @blupblupfish @ravisinghs-wife @f1kenzzz @d3kstar @wildflowermarns @ironmaiden1313 @evie-119 @decafmickey @nichmeddar @casperlikej @cuteskz @charlesleclercsonlywife @booksandflowrs @mxdi0 @alexmarie29 @iloveyou3000morgan @fate-posts @luckyladycreator2 @23victoria (don’t see yourself or wanna be removed? send an ask!)
— don’t wanna miss an update? join my taglist!
#jayde’s works ☆#ham1lton 500 ☾#formula one x reader#f1 x reader#f1 imagine#f1 smau#formula 1 x reader#formula 1 imagine#f1 texts#f1 fanfic#formula one imagine#formula one x black reader#charles leclerc texts#charles leclerc smau#charles leclerc x female reader#charles leclerc x y/n#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc x you#charles leclerc x black!reader#charles leclerc#charles leclerc x black reader
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Daddy issues
After your dad is arrested, you try and beg for his job back. But Rafe Cameron decides another way for you to help your father. And his arrangement is different than you imagine.
Warnings! Daddy kink! Talks of violence! Slight reference to abuse! Choking! Blow job! Rough unprotected sex! Breeding kink! Virginity loss! Dirty talk!
You didnt know if you were more angry or surprised when you got the call from the officer that your dad was arrested and currently in jail for assault. You were finished working your late shift at the restaurant when your phone rang.
You screamed in your car on the way to the station. Your dad was a dead beat. An asshole who didn’t know how to fucking control his temper. Daddy dearest also liked to get loud with you, throw things when he didn’t get his way and one time he slapped you in the face.
You slapped him back and threatened to slash his tires. But the threat was empty considering he needed to work, which you had no idea how he kept his job at the docks while working for Rafe Cameron. It used to be his father Ward until his suicide. You’d met him often while picking your dad up, given you had to share a car.
He was…polite you could say. But he was also scary. He glared at everyone and he was short tempered. You usually heard him snapping or yelling if something wasn’t done right. Your dad complained about how strict he was.
But his status and wealth made everyone obey him and intimidated you. His attractiveness however was on another level. His height made you feel small and his blue eyes cut through people.
You slammed the door at the station and went to the desk. After signing in, you tapped your foot impatiently as an officer came up to you.
“Are you…?”
“My dad is here. He just got arrested.” You ground out. You hated being here. She nodded and looked at paperwork in front of her.
“Are you here to post bail?”
“I’m here to see if there’s any way we can clear this up as a misunderstanding.” You tried to plead but she shook her head.
“Ma’am, he attacked a man at a stoplight. He beat him up to the point he lost one of his teeth.”
You pressed your head against your hand. Jesus Christ it was worse than you thought. “How much is bail?”
She looked again at the paperwork. “Looks like we’re at 6,000 dollars.”
“What? I thought the bail was lower than that!” You shrieked.
“Ma’am. He also had multiple charges. Public intoxication, disturbance and assault. He caused a lot of trouble. I suggest you alert his job tomorrow. But until then, he’s going to spend at least 60 days in jail.”
You started crying. You couldn’t help it. It hurt so much. You couldn’t get a break. And now you’d have to face Rafe Cameron and face the humiliation of your dad being in jail.
You cried on and off the next day as you had to switch your schedule to the evening and make the phone call to your dads manager about his current situation. It was immediate termination and you broke down even harder in your bedroom. You refused to take his phone call, afraid you’d explode on him.
As you got ready for another dreaded work shift, your phone started ringing to a number you didn’t recognize. Hesitantly, you answered.
“Hello?”
“Your dads in jail, huh?” You immediately froze. It was Rafe’s voice. How did he-well he was capable of finding anything out.
“I-um. Yes. And he can’t work for you anymore. But if you’ll please reconsider. I know he’s a piece of shit but this is the only job he’s lasted out and we desperately need the money. I’m trying to get a car and we have to share one. I know this is probably pointless but I can’t help but try. So please, please take him back.” More tears came and you felt like a total cry baby but you pushed through.
You expected him to laugh but instead silence met you.
You bit your lip hard enough it bled.
“Meet me at my house. I’ll text you the address. I have a proposition for you.”
“Why can’t you tell me over the phone?” Your stomach tightened.
“Do you want me to help you or not?”
“Yes. Of course. I’ll be there.”
“Good girl.”
You set the phone down but seconds later his address came through in a text and your breath stopped short. He wanted to see you after work.
Five minutes before closing and after you finished cleaning, the drive to Rafe’s house wasn’t that far and now you knocked on his door. When he answered, you tried not to reveal how much you found him attractive. His hair was in his face and his eyes were glazed as he looked down at you. His fingers twitched and you imagined what he was doing with that hand…
Rafe gestured with his head for you to come in and you followed him inside the massive penthouse. He had everything you imagined. Expensive furniture, floors and lights.
You followed him to the kitchen where he pointed to the bar stool. “Have a seat.” He muttered.
You obeyed and watched as he circled the island in the center of the room. “So. You wanna save your dads job?”
“Yes. I’m willing to do anything-“ You stopped short when a smirk fell on his face.
“Anything?” Rafe challenged. “It looked like you hated him whenever I saw you talk to him.”
“It’s complicated.” You replied and his smirk grew into a cruel smile.
“Looks like someone has daddy issues.” Rafe countered and you crossed your arms.
“I-well when you put it that way-“
“I’m just bringing up what you’re telling me. Your dad beats the shit out of someone. He went to jail-and now you’re doing anything you can to fix it. Tell me if I missed anything.” Rafe’s voice was low and you hated that he was right.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound pushy. I’m just in a tight spot.”
“Oh I’m sure you’re in a…tight spot.” His meaning was clear and you swallowed.
That was the exchange.
“Look at you. Being a little smart girl and figuring it out. I’m gonna get to the point. You want me to take him back? Bail him out? I get to fuck you. Anywhere. Anytime. And anyplace I want. No condoms. No hidden birth control. No. I wanna see my cum leak out of that desperate pussy.”
Your mouth opened and closed. “I can’t just fuck a stranger. And no birth control? I can’t fucking get pregnant.”
“I’m a selfish whore, baby. And I can afford one. And those are my terms. Either that. Or your dad rots.”
You bit your lip. You weren’t in a position to say no. You needed the money. And Rafe was hot. There were worse guys. Rafe got closer, his big hands reaching to cup the side of your neck.
“Yeah? You want it?”
Slowly, you nodded.
Rafe crooked a finger, signaling you to come closer. You stepped down and approached him gingerly and looked into his gaze. Rafe then latched his hand around your throat. His grip was so strong your feet almost lifted in the air and your eyes widened as he crushed his lips to yours.
His lips devoured you as he shoved his tongue into your mouth. You weren’t experienced. Sure, you’d touched yourself and made out with people.
But actual fucking? You’d never done that. And you knew that was about to change.
“You want me to take care of you, don’t you?” Rafe loosened his hold on your neck and pressed you against the island counter, “need someone to be your daddy?”
Your hands flew to his chest as you brought him impossibly closer, his lips sucked your skin with bruising force. You opened your mouth as he slipped his fingers inside.
“Suck.” He commanded and you listened. Spit gathering on your lips as he kneed your legs apart and lifted you up on the counter.
“Need daddy to help you? Fill you up with my cum?” His dirty words made your cunt twitch as he started toying the end of your skirt. Your thighs dampened as he trailed his thick fingers along your flesh, his fingers grazing the wet patch of your underwear.
You started grinding to give any friction against your arousal as he apparently changed his mind and threw you to the ground by underneath your arms. Rafe gestured to the crotch of his pants. “Consider this your first payment, baby. You ever done this before?”
You shakily remained silent as he huffed an amused laugh.
“Really? A girl who’s such a perv that she’s willing to fuck someone giving her money? Never would have guessed. I guess I’ll be nice and help you.”
Rafe undressed his lower half, his cock leaked with precum and he took your hand. “Swipe it with your thumb, get it all wet.” His massive hand compared to yours was almost comical as he grabbed the back of your head.
“Open your mouth, princess. And remember to breathe through your nose.”
After that, he silenced whatever worries you had by shoving his dick forward. You run your tongue along the thick underside, lessening some of the heavy weight by massaging with your hand. You took the tip through your mouth, shoving down any nerves as you sucked. Rafe bobbed your head up and down as he pushed you further, your head bouncing as your eyes squeezed shut.
“No, no, open your slutty eyes and look at me.” He growled. He leaned over the arch of the space between the counter and where you sank on your knees. The skin of his cock was supple as you continued aiding with your hand. It was hot to the touch.
“Good fucking girl. Maybe I’ll reward you by fucking your pussy.” He started thrusting and hitting the back of your throat. “Breathe. Breathe through your nose.” He wiped a few tears away with his thumb as you listened to him.
You knew he was getting closer as he stopped talking, his breathing heavier as he moved your head. His cum spilled inside your mouth, as he released you and you coughed.
“Not bad for your first time. We’re gonna practice some more.” Rafe smirked as his face was flushed and his fist flexed.
He moved on top of you on the floor, hiking up your skirt and ripping off your panties. He spread apart your wet cunt and dipped his middle finger inside your clenching entrance. “You’re such a whore. Never done any of this and you’re already gonna cum. Should have known you’d be daddy’s cum slut.”
Rafe yanked your legs apart, and spit on your pussy. “Not that it needed it, but I’m gonna be a little more kind to you.” You shrieked as he grabbed your jaw.
“Are you on birth control?”
“No.” You quickly answered. “Never-never needed-“
“Good. And you’re not going to. Got it?” Rafe moaned as he pushed his tip in your pussy, “fuck you’re so tight.”
You winced from discomfort but then his knuckles hit your clit, aiding to relieve your tension as he circled them. “Gonna make you mine. Take you away from all that shit.” He grunted as he pushed further.
Rafe let you wrap your arms around his neck as he thrusted.
“Tell daddy you like it.”
“I like it.” You sobbed as he moved harder. “I like it, daddy.”
It was slightly shameful how quickly you came all over him and spilled onto your legs. Rafe also came again and you felt it inside you. He was serious about no protection.
He stayed for a few seconds before getting up. And pulling his pants back on. He extended his hand and pulled you up. You knew you were a sight to be seen, fucked out eyes and messy hair. You just lost your virginity to Rafe Cameron.
You cleared your throat and watched him sweep his eyes over your face. “So. My dad?”
He shrugged. “He’s already out.”
You paled. “What?”
“I posted bail a few minutes before you got here. But as for his job, you’re gonna have to work harder than that. I have conditions.”
“But I already said-“
“More than just fucking you, baby girl. I own you now. You are mine and no one gets to even think about fucking you. I will cross any line you make to keep me away. And if you try, I will punish you.”
“I didn’t do anything wrong.” You whimpered as he loomed over you.
“And?” He mocked. “You already agreed. You need me. Don’t you?” He cupped your jaw. Tightly but not as harsh.
“Yeah.” You leaned in to his touch. Your defenses are completely down. You needed care. You were always working. Always cleaning up after someone’s mess. And now…he was going to take care of you.
And either make your daddy issues better.
Or worse.
@xxhellfirebunnyxx @imyourdaninow @lesservillain @take-everything-you-can @slvt4jamesmarch @ifeeltoofuckingmuch @scene-and-dandylover @emsgoodthinkin
#rafe cameron#rafe x reader#rafe outer banks#rafe imagine#rafe smut#rafe fanfiction#rafe x you#rafe obx#rafe cameron smut#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron x female reader#Rafe Cameron imagine#Rafe Cameron series#rafe cameron fanfiction#rafe cameron outer banks#outerbanks rafe#rafe fic
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okay so a very long post incoming.
the shock still hasn’t worn off. i asked misha about bi buck after days. weeks. of talking about it as a hypothetical and i got the BEST answer ever and caused extreme disarray in the destiel fandom.
people in my discord group can attest how often i was like ‘ooh i hope someone asks misha in a panel this weekend.’ ‘maybe we can all go in on a cameo and ask him that way instead?’ i was pretty annoying about it, i just. i NEEDED TO ASK.
so i got to the con thinking if only i could ask a question. then i went to misha’s solo panel but didn’t line up for some reason and then by the end, i regretted it because there was no last question and even misha commented on it. i thought damn now i only have tomorrow’s panel to do it. but i wrote down my question anyways and i thought i’m already here, i have to at least TRY.
i complained to my mother about how i really wanted to ask a question, but no way could i tell her i wanted to ask about buck and tommy kissing and destiel. she doesn’t even know destiel is a thing and she would not approve if she did. but i went to the panel by myself, luckily she didn’t have a ticket to the con anyways so she just waited in the hotel lobby after checking out (which was her choice. she listened to misha’s first panel on saturday from outside the room and didn’t want to sit through one again)
anyways so i go to the tomer/karen panel that was before his panel, and i’m on the right side right at the back, the complete opposite side where the people who ask questions are. then towards the end of that panel i move to the left side. i’m still at the back but i’m at the end of the row so i can easily move when i need to. then when the panel ends i go to ask a person who works at the con about asking a question. she says there are still people who didn’t get to ask their questions yesterday so they get priority, and the rest aren’t lining up yet. now i’m pretty confused because there was a distinct lack of questions at the end yesterday but whatever.
so i go to sit back down but there’s a line of people right where the question line was on saturday, so i join it thinking just in case she was wrong. well more people start to line up and she says ‘nobody is lining up to ask yet!!’ and i’m like okay so it’s fine, we really aren’t going yet.
then i sit back down and a few minutes later i see her directing like 4 or 5 people onto seats after she raises a paper saying ‘reserved for questions’ or something like that. so i think okay it’s my chance. i go up and she directs me into these seats that are closer to the front and is filled with like TEN people who are sitting in that ‘reserved for questions’ section. i think oh my god. there are so many people here. i text the discord saying ‘IM IN THE LINE.’
then the panel starts and i’m like okay well i’m towards the end and i’m close to the front now, i’ll take some pics. and as people ask their questions and sit in their original seats, we have to keep moving along the row of seats so we keep getting closer to the middle near the mic.
but then there’s half an hour and one of the people working for the con comes and says to the girl after me in the queue and the people behind her that they weren’t gonna get to ask. she tells the people at the front of the queue ‘i think just the first few of you will get to ask’ - at this point i’m like the 5th/6th in line (after the person at the mic and the person waiting behind them) so i’m not very optimistic at all. and then.
so i tell my discord ‘yeah i don’t think i’m gonna get to ask’ because i’m still pretty far from the end by the mic.
and then the panel goes on and there ends up being two people, one at the mic, one standing behind them. and one of the people working for the con tells me, THE NEXT PERSON IN LINE, ‘sorry, you won’t get to ask.’ and i am DEVASTATED. i tell the discord ‘yeah i’m definitely not gonna ask.’
i’m thinking I SERIOUSLY just wasted this whole panel shuffling seats and worrying for nothing (i had also just left my bag with all my stuff on a random seat!) so i sit there annoyed and sad for a minute until i see sean (the con organiser) by the stage and he tells her that i can go up last i guess. so she comes up to me and tells me i will be up next and to stand behind the people at the mic and i’m SHAKING.
i get in the line and i text on the discord that i’m the last question.
then i stand there listening to the questions before me just thinking oh my god misha is right there and i’m gonna be the last question and oh my god it’s gonna be such a good question. because i saw how much chaos misha caused with his questions on saturday and in this panel i don’t think anyone asked about destiel. so i thought!!! this is gonna be good!!!
and then i get to the mic and they’re all on stage and sean is next to it and says it’s the last question so it’s gotta be a good one. and then alex and rob and misha are all like oohhh it’s the last question but then MISHA. FUCKING. comes off the stage and comes up to me holding the mic and is two feet from me and looks me in the eyes and says ‘don’t fuck it up.’ but i’m like it’s on my phone! i got it written down! and well you’ve all seen the pictures of him looking right into my eyes but i’ll show you again.
so the first two four of these next photos we were making eye contact. i remember when he came up to me i was looking at all the lines on his face thinking man he’s so pretty and he’s right in front of me what the fuck.
but in these last two i wasn’t looking at him. he was just looking at me. which is just insane to see in retrospect.
after this i think he went back to the stage and i was like okay this last question is for misha and he cheered i guess. i think i blacked out tbh.
now when he got back to the stage i think this was when rob started singing the last question song because i remember thinking like damn i need to ask this question before i cry or something. misha was just standing there and looking at me - from the stage this time and i was. freaking out.
after that singing was done i said ‘this question is kinda about destiel, just to warn you in advance.’ and then apparently rob said ‘perfect last question’ and i started asking my question.
i started with saying ‘so there’s this show called 911’ and SO many people started cheering. i was immediately so much more comfortable because i could tell people would know where this was going. especially when after i carried on with: ‘it moved networks from fox to abc in it’s 7th season. and there’s a main character named buck who in the 4th episode kissed another man’ and then people started cheering AGAIN.
and anyways you all know the rest by now. i said ‘the actor who played him reported that they wanted to do something like it earlier in the show, but when they moved networks they were allowed to make it happen. if supernatural moved networks earlier on, or if it was made later on, do you think something like that could have happened with dean and cas?’
and we ALL know misha’s reply by now. ‘if the cw wasn’t so homophobic, dean and cas would have been balls deep for sure.’ i vividly remember being like OH MY GOD (in my head) and then i put my head in my hands a little and apparently. so did misha. which is to be expected i mean that was wild.
after that he said he was gonna actually give a semi earnest answer and said some things that are shown in these tweets. i remember bits and pieces because i was trying to hold eye contact with misha but i occasionally looked down and played with the mic a little but didn’t want to seem too uninterested. i loved his answer. the thread in this tweet has the general gist of it.
and if you wanna see the question i had written down and open on my phone, which i edited RIGHT before the panel as you can see from the timestamp (don't judge me for the second question it was just a backup) and a picture of misha looking at my phone. here it is.
#cr8#misha collins#destiel#spn#long post#sorry for not writing his whole answer out myself i wish i recorded it somehow because i forgot all the little detaiks#i’ll remember someday i guess#and if you read this whole thing. i salute you
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Dr. Miller - Pt 2
Orthopedic!Joel Miller x afab!Reader | W/C: 4.8k
Summary: It’s time for your second appointment with Dr. Miller.
Warnings: canon-divergent - no outbreak, medical professional au. Reader (she/her) has female anatomy and is able-bodied. No physical description of race. Reference to reader’s clothing, but no sizes mentioned (everything is neutral). Pet names (darlin’, angel, girl, etc). Most definitely doctor malpractice LMFAO. 18+ MDNI. Inherent power imbalance (doctor-patient relations). Dirty talk. Hickeys/biting/marking. Fingering. Slight begging. Praise kink. Multiple orgasms. Spit kink. P in V unprotected (wrap it before you tap it, guys). Cum play/cum swallowing…snowball kisses🥴. Daddy kink… and last but not least, the ending.. I’m not gonna say what, you’ll just have to read, but I’m sorry😵💫😵💫😵💫 although I’m foregoing a warning or two for plot purposes, please let me know if they should be up here! I’ll fix it accordingly!🫶
A/N: Here goes round 2! As far as the series goes and as far as posting it goes LMAO!! This hellsite deleted my first attempt in posting, so hopefully it stays up this time around. And I’m giving a big thank you to @honeyedmiller for proofreading and catching my horrendous grammar mistakes lololol I love you🩶 Anywho, I hope you guys enjoy!!! I’d love to hear what you think :) luv u guys xx
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Friday. 4pm. Your next appointment with Dr. Miller was tomorrow.
This was the first ever doctor appointment you’ve ever been excited for. The automated text their system sends out didn’t tell you to arrive early, and you’ll admit, you were bummed.
You’ll show up early regardless. Maybe he’d be able to see you sooner if his schedule allows. At least, you can hope, anyway.
After your appointment with him last week, you were left hurt and wanting. You knew the hurt was a natural reaction to the sudden dopamine drop, and something tells you Dr. Miller is a guy who’s adamant on aftercare. So, you swept those emotions under the rug easily.
Not so easily, however, was your needy cunt and the way it drooled and throbbed for nearly an entire week straight, craving the one thing she almost had. She barely had a taste, but she was already hooked, addicted even.
Your fingers, your vibrator, your purple dildo that’s helped you come plenty of times – nothing could get you off. Not anymore.
Unbeknownst to you, Dr. Miller had the exact same problem. Well, okay – he could ejaculate just fine, but the want never seemed to leave his system. Ever since he’s had his taste of you, he could never reach the feeling of satisfaction. And it has taken an absolute toll on him.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Dee snarked. Only she could ever talk to him like that. She keeps him on his toes.
“The hell is wrong with me?” he huffed.
“You’re being a grump, doc,” she replies.
He rolls his eyes. “Ain’t I always?”
“Yeah,” she says thoughtfully. “But you seem more… miserable.”
“Gee, Dee, well thank you for that,” he replies monotonously.
“You’re welcome,” she snickers. She comes closer, voice hushed. “Seriously, though. Do you need to get laid or something?”
He chokes on the coffee he now regrets bringing up to his lips. “Jesus,” he coughs. “Time and place, Dee,” he says, trying to collect himself.
She raises her hands up defensively. “I’m just lookin’ out for ya, doc,” she smirks, howling out a laugh as she puts Dr. Miller out of his misery by returning to her desk.
He just shakes his head in response, fighting the blush on his cheeks at the thought of you taking care of the needs Dee so outwardly pointed out he had.
Dr. Miller wouldn’t have to wait much longer, though. Your appointment was so soon, only one more work day before he’s able to be blessed by your presence again. That is, until Dee finds another opportunity to shit on Dr. Miller’s mood.
“What do you mean we’re supposed to close early tomorrow?” Dr. Miller gruffs.
“Exactly that, Miller,” Dee treads lightly. “It was in the calendar. Too many people have off in the afternoon tomorrow. It’s Easter weekend. You’ll be sorely understaffed.”
“Then who booked the patients after 2 if us closing early was in the calendar?” Dr. Miller is never one to be an asshole, dictating boss, but his irritation is very much getting the best of him right now.
Dee whispers her next response. “…The new hire. But don’t blame them. I should’ve caught it sooner,” she reasons.
Dr. Miller takes a steadying breath. “So how many people do we gotta disappoint right now?”
Dee pulls up the calendar on her phone. Dr. Miller watches her shoulders physically relax. “Oh! Actually, you’ve only got one person. At 4. I’ll call right now to reschedule,” Dee says with a finality.
“Wait- who?” Dr. Miller asks. He knows who it is.
Dee looks confused for a moment, but she indulges and reads off your name to her boss.
“Y’know what, Dee,” Dr. Miller waves her off. “I’ll take care of that appointment, it’s fine.”
“Dr. Miller, are you sure-”
“‘Course,” he cuts her off. “I’m the only one in this damn office without Easter plans, anyway,” he huffs. “Empty nest or however that sayin’ goes.”
Dee nods in understanding. “How’s she doing?”
“Fuckin’ amazin’,” Dr. Miller marvels. “She just surprises me more ‘n more everyday.”
Dee smiles before she returns to their situation at hand. “Are you sure you don’t want me to reschedule?”
“I’m sure,” Dr. Miller states. “Listen, I know this practice wouldn’t be able to run without any of y’all, and without you especially-” Dr. Miller explains.
“You flatter me,” Dee butts in with a straight face.
He smirks before continuing. “But have some faith in this old man, why don’t ya? I think I’m more than capable of doin’ the whole check in, check out thing.”
Dee takes in a sharp breath. “It’s much more than that, Miller, but nonetheless,” she holds her hands up in surrender. “I’ll put some faith in ya, old man.”
“Thank ya,” he drawls. “Now please go talk to the new hire about their mistake, I think they’re still afraid of me a lil bit.”
She laughs in the affirmative, shutting Dr. Miller’s office door on her way out.
Holy shit.
His plan to get you alone just worked itself out. Thank you, newbie, he thinks to himself.
Dr. Miller’s office is less than ten minutes away from you, yet somehow you decide that if you left any later than 3, you’d keep Dr. Miller waiting, and you certainly didn’t want that happening.
The parking lot is completely empty, a lone vehicle – a hefty truck – sits only two spaces away from your own. Your tummy swirls, knowing exactly whose car that might be. However, another swirl of nerves swarms through you. Why are there no other vehicles?
Swallowing the anxious lump in your throat, you step out of your car and make your way inside the office. Inside is even further void of life than the parking lot.
You make a beeline for the check-in window, picking up the pen from the cup to begin filling out your information when a deep drawl of your name startles you.
“Dr. Miller,” you jump, your eyebrows flying to your forehead.
“Shit,” Dr. Miller chuckles. “Sorry, darlin’,” his voice was much softer, careful. “I do that a lot to my staff- sneak up on ‘em, they call it. Say I need a bell or somethin’ ‘round my neck.”
You laugh with him at the little anecdote. He motions for you to come on back already, dismissing the check-in process since it’s only you, he explains.
“Why is it only me?” You ask. Well, okay – you know why it’s only you, but how is it only you is the question. He did not just send everyone else home since you’d be here. That would raise too much suspicion.
Walking you to the patient room furthest from the potential public eye, he retells the new hire’s mistake. You find yourself in the same mindset as Dr. Miller as you silently thank them for not being more careful.
“You could’ve rescheduled me, you know,” you tell him, eyebrow raised.
“Yeah, I know,” he quips as he opens the door for you.
You step inside, turning around to face him. “So why didn’t you?”
The door clicks shut, and Dr. Miller’s now face-to-face with you, head tilted down to meet your challenging gaze. The air in the room becomes dangerously charged.
“I think you know why, angel,” he says, scarily smooth.
You don’t back down. “Enlighten me.”
He takes a step closer to you, forcing you to step back. “Why should I? When that very reason is right between those legs already crying for me, huh? I bet she’s a fuckin’ mess already, ain’t she?”
You gulp as your ass hits the exam table, not realizing that Dr. Miller has been slowly cornering you.
Without giving you a moment to respond, his lips are crashing into yours, his large hands grabbing onto either side of your face to keep you against him as your body melts into his hold. His tongue licks across your bottom lip, and your mouth opens, letting him in. You mewl into his mouth, each of your tongues lapping one another’s flavors, your senses immediately being consumed.
The kiss breaks, and you both are frantic. Your hands grab onto the exam table behind you and you hoist yourself up, your fingers already finding the hem of your shirt as you rip it off, letting it fall to the ground. Dr. Miller practically growls at the sight, his chocolate brown eyes blackened with pure need.
He shucks off his white coat, letting it join your top as he pounces on you again. He nips at your bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth and letting it go with a pop as he drags his scruffy face across your jaw and down your neck, biting pretty little bruises everywhere his mouth touches.
Your hands find the bottom of his shirt, taking the liberty of pulling it off and whining when it gets caught over his broad form. “Patience, angel, I’m not goin’ anywhere this time,” he coos, his eyes genuine.
You huff out in mock annoyance, your eyes silently thanking him for the reassurance. You pull back to let Dr. Miller take off the upper portion of his scrubs. Your irritated façade is quick to fade as your eyes coast his body: his broad shoulders and tanned chest, the product of laborious activity throughout one’s life; your eyes drag down to his softer middle, the product of a happy, indulgent life. Your spit is suddenly thick.
Dr. Miller’s thumb comes up to rub across your bottom lip. “Ya alright? Got a lil bit of drool right there,” he taunts.
You tilt your head and take his thumb in your mouth, letting your spit coat his digit generously as your hands pull him in by his waist, your fingers scratching the expanse of his sides and his belly. “So fucking sexy,” you murmur, eyes alight with hunger.
Unable to verbally deal with the compliment, Dr. Miller pulls his thumb from your mouth, settling his hand on your jaw as he pulls you in to kiss your lips again. It’s much softer this time, more savory. He takes his time with it, and it has both your resolves breaking as Dr. Miller’s free hand finds the clasp of your bra and undoes it with ease, the article joining the haphazard pile on the floor.
Dr. Miller kisses down your neck once again, your body leaning back to give him more access. His mouth goes straight for your hardened nipple, his tongue circling the entire area before putting as much as he can in his mouth and sucks.His hand fondles your other breast while he works the one in his mouth. You’re moaning and writhing at the stimulation, your pussy utterly leaking past the barrier of your pants and onto the exam table.
“Dr. Miller, please,” you gasp. “Please- need more,” you moan, eyes rolling back at a particular nip to your bud. You can feel him smile against you, his mouth relenting only to move to your other breast. Dr. Miller is all about detail, of course he needs to make sure every part of you receives ample attention.
He releases you with a pop, a devilish grin on his face as he stands back to his full height. His hand snakes to your front, the pads of his fingers rubbing softly at your clothed center, your slick completely soaked through. “Ya need more?” He drawls. “Tell me what you need, baby,” he says sickeningly sweet, his entire hand moving to cup your sex, the squelch of your arousal making his cock twitch.
“Fuck-” you squeak, eyes fluttering shut at the feeling. “T-touch me, p-please,” you stammer.
To outsiders looking in – hell, to even you – it’d seem as though Dr. Miller is entirely calm and collected, at ease in the way he’s been teasing you. Yet, with the way his cock is straining the material of his scrubs and the way his chest heaves, he is anything but. He is so far gone, he nearly wanted to rip your clothes off in the waiting room and take you over the fucking counter. But he didn’t, much to his displeasure, but he tells himself the buildup is worth the wait. And, fuck- with you? It’s so fucking worth it.
“I am touchin’ you, darlin’. Touch how? Use those words, sweet girl, I know you can,” he tells you, squeezing your cunt in a way that has your belly doing flips.
“Oh, God-” your head rolls back, body on fire. “F-fuck me, Dr. Miller, n-need your- fuck- need your cock, need it so bad,” you plead, eyes tearing up the more you speak. The man finally broke you.
Dr. Miller smiles wildly. “Atta girl,” he rewards you, “I’ll give it to ya,” he breathes. “Lord knows you’re all I been thinkin’ ‘bout,” he admits as his fingers begin nudging your pants down.
“Yeah?” you breathe softly as you lift your hips for him. Even in your aroused craze, you can’t help but soften at the admission. “Haven’t been able to stop thinking about you either,” you tell him.
This is so much more than a fucking hookup, you both think. But you ignore that fact for later.
Shaking off the emotion, as soon as your pants join your clothes, you lean back, settling your elbows behind you to keep you up. Letting your legs fall open, you quirk your brow. “Well, cowboy?”
That brings his attention back. His eyes are fixed on your shiny cunt, his tongue twitches to drink you up. But, no, this is about you this time. And what you want is to be full. He’ll give it to you. But, first-
“I was too big for you last time,” he states matter-of-factly.
“I-” your eyebrows furrow. “What?”
“I hurt you last time.”
“No you didn’t-”
“I could tell it did,” he rebuttals.
Without another word, he steps out of the exam room. A beat passes and he’s back – with a fluffy pillow.
“Um-”
“Lift,” he states.
You lift your hips up, and Dr. Miller places the pillow underneath your lower back. “This should help open your pelvic floor more,” he says. “And ease the tightness of the position,” he adds.
And it does.
“Oh,” you whisper. “Thanks,” you say, your cheeks heating up at the action.
He leans over you to kiss your tummy before his hands settle on the insides of your thighs. “You okay?” He asks. His thumbs rub up and down, dangerously close to where you’re leaking for him.
“Mhm,” you hum, not trusting your voice anymore.
“I’m gonna fuck you,” he says.
“Oh, God, please-” you whine impatiently.
“But I needa touch you first, angel, I don’t wanna hurt you. Please?”
How can you say no to that? To his thick fingers and the way you know he can use them so expertly? How can you say no to the hands that have built his career or to the hands that’ll easily make you fall apart just as much as you know his cock would? You’d be an absolute dumbass to say no to that.
“Okay, Dr. Miller,” you say, voice shaky in anticipation.
“Joel,” he offers.
Your heart skips a beat. “Joel?” you question.
“Mhm,” he hums. “My name- well, first name, I guess,” he pauses. His fingers move closer to your core, the softest of touches ghost through your seam. You take a sharp breath in. “Just tellin’ you cuz I wanna hear you moan it when I make a mess a’ you. I bet it’ll sound real pretty, baby.”
His thumb finds your clit, then, and you do exactly what Dr. Miller – Joel – wanted. You moan out his name deliciously, sending him groaning at the pang of desire shooting up his spine, his cock weeping for attention.
“Fuck yeah, angel, that’s it. Knew you’d sound so fuckin’ gorgeous, fuck-”
His thumb continues its assault on your throbbing bud while the middle finger on his other hand rubs through your wet folds, collecting up the arousal before he pushes into your entrance.
It’s an easy push, his fingers are thick, so there’s still a slight stretch amongst the pleasure. The work he puts in with both hands has your hips bucking in his touch, and it eases your body enough for him to slip his ring finger along his other.
His two fingers fuck into you at a sweet pace, the length of him reaching places your own fingers have never felt before. It’s pure ecstacy. “Oh, Joel, yes- shitshitshit, that feels so fucking good,” you cry, your head lolling around like a bobblehead, your body falling weaker and weaker the more he plays with you.
“Yeah, baby? Like that? That feel good?” He grunts, his heart beating a mile a minute at how fucking pretty and wild you look and sound from his fingers alone. “So fuckin’ wet, baby,” he snarls. “You know what, pretty girl?”
“What?” you whine, trying your best to keep your eyes open and on him as your head begins to tingle from how hard you’re panting.
“I think you’re ready to take me, baby, I think she’s so fuckin’ ready,” he grins, his fingers adopting a come-here motion, your sobs reverberating throughout the tiny exam room.
“Come for me first, pretty girl, make a mess on my fuckin’ fingers, and I’ll give what you’ve been crying for,” he all but demands as he looks down and lets a big glob of his spit fall directly onto your clit, his fingers gliding over you even quicker in the mixture.
“Fuck- Joel!” you scream, the spit being the action that completely throws you over the edge.
“Jesus, angel, fuck-” he stills his fingers, letting himself feel the flutter of your warmth as you cream all around him.“So fuckin’ perfect comin’ all over my fingers, goddamn, messy fuckin’ girl,” he rambles, his eyes roaming every inch of your body, taking in every twitch, shake, and mewl your body is giving him.
Your breathing starts to slow, muscles relaxing but not quite over its shaking. He pulls his fingers out of you and brings it directly to his mouth, his cock nearly bursting at the taste of you on his tongue. Another time, he thinks to himself as he bends down to pull the rest of his scrubs off, using the moment to place a chaste kiss to your puffy clit. You yelp at the sensation, a lazy, blissed out smile blesses him, and he can hear his heartbeat thrum in his ears at the sight.
Joel crowds himself between your thighs again, pumping his cock a few times, his thumb reaching for the precum leaking at his slit and spreading it all over his length.
“How you feelin’?” Joel checks in.
“So fucking good, Joel,” you respond, doe-eyed but entirely honest.
He wants to kiss you so fucking bad.
So he does.
He leans over you as best as he can in this angle, his length rubbing against your folds as he leans in, his hand wraps at the base of your neck, pulling you in for an open-mouthed kiss – wet, hot, and slow. He pulls away with a blush across his cheeks, and your face is entirely engulfed by flames, too. Did that kiss make him nervous? Did it make you nervous?
Unable to look away from each other, you utter the first thing that comes to mind. “Please,” you whisper, though you don’t really know what you’re pleading for.
“I got ya,” Joel whispers, pulling himself back to line up his erection with your entrance.
Even though Joel’s fingers were a stretch all on their own and your body was quick to adjust, you genuinely don’t think anything could truly prepare you for the length and girth of Dr. Joel Miller.
Last week, it was damn near impossible. Thinking back to it, honestly, you think you might want to even thank the nurse that interrupted you two. Still, if Joel hadn’t prepared you today with his fingers, you definitely wouldn’t have been able to take him as fast as you are now.
He pushes in just the tip, and you both gasp at the initial pleasure. Your mewls are more pleasurable than painful this time around, and Joel takes that as the go-ahead to keep going.
“You tell me if I needa stop, darlin’, I’ll stop immediately,” Joel grunts, trying his best to keep slow.
“God, fuck- Joel, I swear to God, you better not stop- need you so bad,” you lament. He finally pushes himself to the hilt, your rambling continuing as he does so. “Please fuck me, baby, fuck me hard, da-” you gasp and slap your hand over your mouth, catching yourself before you let yourself finish that word.
Joel pauses all movement, his hands tightly on your hips as his purely black eyes stare down at you. “What’d ya say, angel?”
“J-Joel, I-I’m sorry, I don’t know what-”
“Not my question, babygirl,” he warns softly. “What’d you call me?”
You gulp, opting to just stare at him, silently begging him to spare you of the embarrassment.
He withdraws from you, all the way out to the tip, then, oh so slowly he pushes back in. He pauses halfway, eyebrow raised. Words.
“Please, Jo-” you start. His hand squeezes your hip in warning. “Please… Daddy, please,” you whine, finally giving in. With that, he pushes in roughly to the hilt, knocking all the wind from your lungs as pure pleasure flows through every nerve in your body. “Oh, fuck!”
“That’s it, angel, such a good fuckin’ girl,” he moans, his thrusts slow but calculated. “Makin’ daddy feel so good, baby, shit-” he tells you, his own eyes finally fluttering shut as he revels in the feeling of the warmth of your walls, tight and fucking perfect.
“How’s daddy’s girl feelin’, baby? Feelin’ good? Hm?” he grunts with a particular thrust forward.
“So- fuck-” you try to get out, your sweet cries of euphoria cutting you off and forcing you into incoherency. But you’ve experienced enough in this short time with Dr. Miller – with Joel – to know he needs this communication. He thrives on it. So you try your damn hardest. And fuck, it nearly sends him to his end.
“F-feels so good, so so good- mmm, shit- love your cock s’much, daddy,” you slur, eyes nearly going cross-eyed as Joel’s hips start to move faster, his fingers gripping tight enough to leave little bruises on your waist, a matching set to the marks across your neck and chest.
The wanton moans spilling from your mouth spurs Joel on, his brain short-circuiting at the feel of your velvety core consuming him. You feel him twitch before he feels you flutter. The sensation wakes you up a little, a wave of confidence overtaking you despite the fervent drive of his hips.
“You’re close, daddy,” you whine, a mischievous grin across your face. “Can feel you,” you tell him, thrusting your hips softly, attempting to meet his every push and pull with the help of the pillow gliding underneath you.
“Fuck-” he chokes, his hips only faltering in pace for barely a moment. One hand lets go of your waist and falls where you two are connected. “Need you- shit-” he pants. “Need you to come ‘round daddy’s cock first, pretty girl.” His thumb finds your nerves, slick and sensitive, and wastes no time in forcing you to the brink of another orgasm.
His fingers circle you, matching the rhythm of his hips, and instantly, your eyes clamp shut, back arching deliciously as you let your legs open impossibly further. “Oh, daddy- oh God, oh fuck- I’m gonna come, I’m gonna-” you yell as your throat becomes hoarse, your chest sinking and rising as you let your body relish in the fire that Joel is throwing you into.
“Give it t’me, lemme feel you, angel,” Joel urges, his lower tummy flexing as he feels your inner walls spasm and soak his pulsing length.
“Oh, yes- yeah, fuck- please,” you babble mindlessly. Pulling yourself to sit up, your hand planted behind you, you pull Joel in, lips ghosting each other as his quick breaths fan against your lips. “You gonna come? My pussy that good, daddy?”
Your random spurts of teasing has Joel in all sorts of panic. Usually, he’s one to call the shots, and all his past partners never wanted or requested anything different, but it seems as though he has finally met his match. “Fuckin- Christ, doll- pussy’s so fuckin’ good, baby, daddy’s gonna fuckin- oh fuck-” he keens, pulling out just in time for his cock to spill his entire worth across your mound and your lower belly.
“Oh my god,” you moan to yourself, your pussy clenching around nothing at the sight of him all over you.
Joel takes a minute to catch his breath, his eyes scanning every inch of you like he didn’t just violate every Doctor oath he’s ever taken.
“I think I need to be the one to check in this time,” you let out in a breathy laugh. “You okay?”
He still isn’t looking in your eye, and it makes you nervous. Is he regretting everything now? “Joel?” you call, barely audible.
His eyes snap to yours before they fall back to where he was looking before. “Yeah, yeah, I’m alright, baby, I just, uh-”
Cutting himself off, he bends down slowly. You watch him, confused but intrigued. He sticks his tongue out, flat, and licks. From your mound to the lower part of your belly, he collects up the salty, milky liquid on his tongue.
He brings his mouth up to you, his hand finding purchase at the back of your neck. He pulls you into his mouth, his tongue invites itself into your space along with the heady musk of his come, and you welcome it greedily, swallowing every little bit of his arousal that you can.
You break away just before his watch beeps: 5:45pm, fifteen minutes until closing. “That was-”
“I’m sorry, that was disgustin’ I don’t know why I jus’ did that-”
You lean in to nip at him, pulling away with a suck to his pouty bottom lip. “That was hot, Dr. Miller,” you smirk.
Dr. Miller’s exam rooms, although not often, can see a lot of bodily fluids. Obviously not the kinds that you two have exchanged together, but with the notion of removing casts and such, sweat is bound to get everywhere. So every room holds baby and/or sanitizing wipes just in case.
He grabs a pack of baby wipes underneath the cabinet and takes out a few. He wipes your entire lower half down, and grabs some more from the pack to wipe himself off. It’s a dance of wobbly limbs as both of you help each other dress back up, you being particularly whiny at how stiff the scrub material is when you try and blame it on his big size.
“I thought you liked how big I am?” He quips, your eyebrows shooting up in response as you slap his chest.
All dressed up, you two walk out of the exam room, both you and Dr. Miller on cloud nine as you make your way back to the front office.
Before reaching the door, he grabs on your waist, pulling you against the wall, towering over you. That beautiful Southern gentleman smile bright on display, the kind of smile that has your knees wanting to buckle.
“I- I had a great time with you,” he says, a little bashful. Sure, the things you did together were otherworldly, but the things that came after? How he was able to help clean you, dress you, and simply just be with you afterwards? He really can’t remember a time he’s felt so right.
“I did, too,” you tell him. “But, I think…” you trail off.
His stomach sinks. Here it comes. We shouldn’t be doing this anymore, he knows you’ll say.
“I think I can’t be your patient anymore,” you whisper with a giggle, wrapping your arms around his neck.
“Dear God, you just about gave me a damn heart attack,” he huffs, burying his head into the crook of your neck, littering playful nips anywhere he can reach as payback for scaring him.
You two break out in laughter, it slowly turning into an impromptu makeout session as his lips find yours again, both of you insatiable for one another’s taste.
You’re so caught up in each other that neither of you realize the front door of the office unlocks, nor do you realize someone is entering the hallway you two are currently in.
You also don’t hear the gasp coming from the person either, not until-
“Dr. Miller?!”
Shit.
NEXT (coming soon) ->
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Who the Hell is Daryl?
Summary: Bucky is in love with you, and finally finds the courage to tell you. But what happens when it sounds like someone else is already in the picture? (Miscommunication!)
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x f!Avenger!Reader
Words: 2k
Warnings: Miscommunication trope! Only one small mention of “Y/N”, teensy bit of yelling, let me know if I missed anything.
A/N: Wrote this a couple days ago and put it in drafts, spontaneously posted bc I'm procrastinating on an essay. Okay I'll get back to hw now :(
Dividers: @firefly-graphics
He was going to do it. He was really going to do it.
He was finally going to ask you out.
-----
To the surprise of everyone on the team, you and Bucky had become fast pals after you joined six months ago. Something about the two of you clicked. ‘Opposites attract’ and all that, but Bucky always felt it went deeper than that.
The two of you had never argued, something he felt very proud of, considering he argued with most people. But not you. Never you.
The moment he decided that he needed to man up and ask you out wasn’t anything fancy. You were sparring with Wanda across the gym, and he was simply watching you work in tandem. He watched the entire 15 minute session, and didn’t take his eyes off you, even as you approached him.
“Buck, I’m out of water, can I take a sip of yours?”
He nodded, “Sure, Doll,” and tossed you his bottle.
You shot him a charming smile and opened the cap, and not-so-gracefully chugged half the bottle. You wiped your upper lip and handed it back to him.
“Thanks, Jamie,” you breathily said, and jogged back to the arena.
His head was completely empty except for a single thought, tumbling through his desert mind like a tumbleweed.
I’m going to marry her someday.
He shocked himself with the thought, he wasn’t sure where it had come from. But he couldn’t help the grin that snuck its way onto his lips as he realized he didn’t disagree with the thought.
Of course before marriage is dating. One step at a time Buck.
After his realization, he had spent the next three days planning the perfect way to ask you out. He went through an entire list of ideas, but none of them seemed good enough for you. He wanted it to be perfect. But as the clock ticked on and he started running out of paper, he realized it was best to just be honest about his feelings.
You had just gotten back from a solo mission, and Bucky was hanging out in your room as you showered.
He was blushing like an idiot and fidgeting like crazy on your bed as he waited for you to hurry up. It was surprising he had so much self control as to not blurt it out while you were showering.
“Oh, Bucky,” you called from the bathroom, the sound of the water pausing.
“What’s up?”
“Could you set an alarm on my phone for 7:30 A.M. tomorrow before I forget? I think I left it on the side table.”
“You got it, Doll.”
“You’re the best! I’m almost done, I’ll be out in like two minutes,” you called, and soon after the sound of rushing water resumed.
Bucky grabbed your phone and typed in the passcode, his heart fluttering a little as he thought about how you trusted him enough to know it.
But the flutter stopped almost as quickly as it started, the moment your phone turned on and resumed on your text string with someone. He would’ve ignored it, but a red heart at the top of the screen caught his eye.
Who the hell is “Daryl,” and why does he have a heart emoji next to his name?
Bucky couldn’t help himself as his eyes flitted over your last texts.
Daryl ❤️
I’m back in town, lemme know when you’re around
You
About to leave for a quick mission, but I’ll be back tmw evening. I miss you sm :( how about we meet up Monday morning at 8 at Bernie’s cafe?
Daryl ❤️
Lets do it. And I miss you too, can’t wait to see your beautiful face!! I love you, be careful
You
Love you too, and Im always careful 😘
Bucky felt sick to his stomach. You had never mentioned a brother named Daryl, or any other kind of family member. And you’d told him about all your closest friends, and none of them were named Daryl. How did Bucky not know you had a boyfriend?
Bucky fought the urge to scroll up, and quickly tapped out of the app, and set the alarm you asked him to set.
So you were meeting this “Daryl” tomorrow morning?
Bucky heard the water stop, and the sound of the shower curtain shuffling.
Shit. You were getting out. Fuck, he wasn’t ready to face you.
You’d never mentioned you were in a relationship before. He would remember. How long have you been dating? And more importantly, why did you keep this from him? Did you feel like you couldn’t trust him? Maybe you weren’t as close friends as he’d thought.
“Which movie did you want to watch tonight?” You asked, peeking out of the door with a turquoise towel wrapped around you.
“Um, I’m actually really tired, suddenly. I think I’m going to go to bed.” Bucky stuttered, avoiding your gaze as he quickly stood up.
“Oh, okay,” you responded, disappointment and concern lacing your voice. “Everything okay?”
“Everything is fine. Glad you got back safe. Good night.”
With that, Bucky ducked out of your room and practically ran back to his.
Bucky tossed and turned, and once he got over his embarrassment, he settled into a familiar depressive feeling. Of course you didn’t like him back. What the fuck was he thinking? He’s—well, he’s Bucky. Broken, only destined to ever be your friend. How could he be foolish enough to think you would love him like he loves you. At about hour 4, the heartbreak started turning into betrayal. Betrayal that you kept this from him. And soon enough, that betrayal festered into a kind of resentment, something he’d never felt for you before.
He didn’t get much sleep that night.
Bucky checked the clock for the 20th time in the past 5 minutes. 7:45 A.M. You were probably about to leave. Bucky felt his heart clench. He was usually up by 7, and eating breakfast in the common area by 7:30. He sat at the barstool, dragging his spoon around his now soggy Coco Puffs, waiting for you to appear. Why he felt the need to torture himself, he didn’t know.
Finally, he heard your steps coming down the hall.
And there you appeared, wearing the most beautiful sundress he had ever seen. It was lavender, and had small white flowers adorning the skirt, and it fell just above your knees.
Bucky took you in, and his momentary adoration turned back to his heartbreak. You were dressed up as if you were going on a date. There was no chance this wasn’t your boyfriend.
“Good morning Bucky, did you sleep okay last night?”
“Yes.” He lied. Maybe you would tell him the truth if he asked. Yes it would hurt hearing the truth from your mouth, but he wanted to give you a chance to tell him your secret. “Where are you headed?”
“To meet a friend,” you nodded smoothly.
Maybe Bucky was crazy. Maybe he was overthinking all of this. Maybe Daryl really was just a friend.
“Which friend?”
“Penny.”
So you were just flat out lying to him now. Bucky nodded and waited for you to leave before moping back to his room. He wanted to cry. And he did for a minute, or two, but his tears turned from sad to angry when he remembered you were now lying. You never lied to Bucky, and Bucky never lied to you. At least, he thought that was how it was. He clenched his fists, mad at you for betraying him, but more mad at himself for believing he could ever have you.
He didn’t move from his bed.
“Bucky?” Your voice emerged after three knocks to his door.
He couldn’t get himself to respond.
The door slowly creaked open, a stream of light flooding his dark room.
“Hey Buck. You okay? You seemed a little off this morning.”
“Fine.” He mumbled, not turning over in bed to face you.
A pause.
“Jamie, what’s wrong?” You asked, closing the door behind you and flicking on the light.
“Don’t call me that.”
“What?” You asked, slightly taken aback. You thought he loved your affectionate nickname for him.
“I don’t want you to call me ‘Jamie’ anymore.”
“Okay…”
He felt the bed dip as you sat next to him.
“Bucky,” you whispered, “please talk to me.”
He sat up and gave you a pointed look. Was he being immature? Yes. But what could he do, he just discovered that his best friend has been lying to him, and doesn’t love him.
“Where were you?” He asked.
You furrowed your brows a moment, trying to piece together where he was going with this.
“I was at Bernie’s with Penny.”
“Don’t lie to me.” He sneered.
Your eyes widened at his bite.
“I’m not lying? Bucky, what is going on?”
“What’s going on is that you’ve been keeping the fact that you have a boyfriend from me. Why don’t you want to tell me?”
“A boyfriend?” You blinked. “I don’t have a boyfriend,”
“Why won’t you be honest with me?” He yelled, and you scooted back.
“I am!”
“Then who is Daryl?”
“What?”
“I saw your texts last night, when you asked me to set your alarm.” Bucky looked down at his lap, ashamed.
“Bucky,” you sighed, and a look of understanding crossed your face. A moment later you held out your phone to him.
“What?” He asked, dumbly looking at your outstretched hand. The screen was on your text string with Daryl.
“Call the number.” You simply said.
“What?” He repeated.
“Take my phone, and call the number.”
Confused and suspicious, Bucky grabbed your phone and hesitated over the call icon.
“Go ahead,” you urged.
He pressed the button.
Ring.
Ring.
Ri—
“Hey!” A familiar feminine voice rang through the speaker. “What’s up hon?”
“Hello?” Bucky said, looking from the phone to you to the phone.
“Uh, hi? Is that Bucky?”
“P—Penny?” He sputtered.
“Hey Bucky! What’s up, is everything okay? I thought Y/N was calling.”
“Hey Pen,” you interjected, “Everything’s fine, I’ll call you back in a bit, kay’?”
“Sure thing, bye, love ya,” Penny added, and hung up.
Bucky stared at the now blank phone, baffled.
“I don’t understand.”
“Bucky,” you sighed, and tilted his chin to look at you. “I don’t have a boyfriend. Penny is in my contacts as “Daryl” because it’s my funny little nickname for her. My Dad has had a best friend since grade school named Daryl, and they don’t see each other often, but when they do it’s like nothing has changed. They get along like no time has passed. I call Penny “my Daryl” because I know that even if we don’t talk for years, we are so close that I know we would be the exact same.”
Bucky sat quietly for a moment, simply taking in your story. He felt really stupid.
“I’m sorry,” he started, “I shouldn’t have yelled at you. I’m sorry I called you a liar.” He struggled to meet your gaze, ashamed of what he did.
“Jamie—can I call you Jamie now?”
He nodded sheepishly.
“Jamie, I forgive you. But I wish you had just talked to me about it, and asked me. We are usually so good about being open with each other. What happened?” You asked, wide eyes looking into his.
“I know, I’m sorry. I flipped out, I guess I was just shocked, because I was going to—” he licked his lips, “well, I was…”
“You can tell me, Bucky. Honesty, remember?” You soothed, placing your hand on his leg.
He gulped.
“I was going to ask you to be with me.”
You tilted your head, not quite understanding.
“Like, I was gonna ask if you’d let me be your boyfriend.” He mumbled. “So when I saw that you were texting and saying ‘I love you’ to some guy, I guess I was just blindsided.”
“James,” you smiled, moving yourself to sit on his lap. You brought your forehead against his. “You silly, jealous man.” You gently stroked his cheek with your right hand. “You want to be my boyfriend?"
"It sounds so juvenile, I don't know, I just want you to be mine, and for you to call me 'yours,'" he mumbled.
"I accept," you giggled, and watched his glittering eyes shoot to yours.
He had started to say something, but he stopped when you brought your soft lips to his.
“I'm so happy,” he whispered between kisses.
Suffice it to say, Bucky completed step one of the path to marrying you.
A/N: Tysm for reading! If you liked it, please feel free to let me know!
Also I'm sorry if the ending sucks, I wrote this in a couple hours and Idk why I'm so bad at endings gahh
Here's my Masterlist if you'd like to read more!
#bucky x reader#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky fic#bucky barnes x reader#bucky x y/n#bucky angst#bucky fanfic#bucky fluff#bucky x you#bucky barnes x you#bucky fanfiction#bucky barnes fluff#bucky x female reader#Bucky miscommunication#Bucky barnes miscommunication#jealous!Bucky#avenger!reader#bucky x avenger!reader
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the crooked kind
▹ — joel miller x platonic!f!reader
▹ — summary: you were sarah’s best friend, and you reunite with joel years after outbreak day.
▹ — a/n: erm. i love him. again not my best writing but i love this concept sm. also yes now i know there is an audience for father figure joel u will be getting so much of him
▹ — warnings: reader had major family troubles, pre-outbreak & post-outbreak, father figure joel, reader is injured, stab wound, referenced raiders/hunters, bill being hostile as usual, frank being a sweetie
masterlist
∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘
25th September, 2003.
After a long shower at the Miller’s house, you got changed and went downstairs to face them, the same anxiety you always felt when this happened arose in your chest. They were in the kitchen waiting for you, matching frowns on both Sarah and her dad’s face. You smiled tightly at them, grabbing the box of food Sarah held out for you.
“Guys, it’s fine! I can’t stay here forever.” You told them lightly, trying to lift the heavy mood that always fell over the three of you when you had to go back to your own house.
“You could! Couldn’t she, dad?” Sarah asked, turning to her dad and knowing the answer before he even said it.
“‘Course you could, kid. You know you’re a part of the family.” Joel supplied, making it even harder to maintain the certain and confident front you always put on when it was time to leave.
You heard the tires of the truck pulling up outside their house, and the truck door slamming shut as Tommy stepped out, his frown matching Sarah and Joel’s, too. He grabbed the box of food from your hand and put it in the bag on your back, clapping a gentle hand on your shoulder and squeezing as you smiled at him.
“Time to go,” you said, and rolled your eyes with a watery smile as you looked at the sulking expression Sarah wore, “C’mon, Sar. I’ll see you at school tomorrow!”
Nobody responded to your words, and their silence clearly conveyed their thoughts, but what about tonight? You were all aware of how much your family disliked when you stayed at the Miller’s but sometimes, you’d rather face their anger when you returned than any extra time at your own house. Aside from the people who lived there, you also never knew if there would be any water, which is why you always took a shower before leaving the Miller’s. You’d likely be back by this time next week, but it never made leaving easier.
You had once tried to stay at your best friend’s for longer, going on a few weeks, but when you had returned to your house to grab some more clothes, your parents had kicked off. Shouting, screaming, throwing things, the likes. They had yelled in your face that they would call the police on Joel, say he had kidnapped you, was keeping you away from home.
The last thing you wanted was the man who was essentially your own dad going to jail because of you.
It’s better this way, you had decided, because there was no other way. You were lucky your parents let you out of the house at all at this point. Every time you took a bundle of clothes stuffed into the bottom of your school bag you were chancing your luck, but you just couldn’t help it. Staying at Sarah’s gave you the experience of a loving family that you so badly wanted. A warm house, cooked food, and working water didn’t hurt, either.
“Let’s go, kid.” Tommy said, giving you a tight lipped smile. He didn’t want you to go back, either, but neither Miller men were willing to let you walk there. Tommy took you home every time, all of you knowing that Joel was much more likely to snap if your parents showed their faces.
“See you guys later! Happy birthday for tomorrow, Joel!” You waved at Sarah and Joel as you headed out of the front door, throwing a wave behind you and hearing them call out their own goodbyes.
You and Tommy sat in silence for the first few minutes of the drive, before he glanced in your direction, saying, “Listen, if you need anything, give us a call. I’m gonna be out tomorrow but Joel will be about. But hey, you need a bit of extra muscle? I’ll be there.”
You smiled at him, thankful to have such a supportive family who had your back at every turn.
∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘
Joel sighed as he gripped the steering wheel in his hand, waiting for his brother to finish up the paperwork he had to sign. When Tommy finally approached the truck, Joel turned to him with a dark look, annoyance clear in the curve of his eyebrows.
“Listen, Joel, I’m sorry!” Tommy told him immediately, reluctantly pulling his seatbelt over his chest and holding his hands up as if he was surrendering. “That fucker said her name and I just snapped, man.”
Tommy must have seen the way Joel’s face dropped, because he felt anxiety warm up in his chest as Joel said your name, his expression telling them both that something was very wrong. He remembered the crease to Sarah’s eyebrows when he had finally gotten home, the way she’d told him that you hadn’t been in school, and she felt like something was off.
“She wasn’t at school today.” said Joel, his eyes almost unfocused as all the possibilities for the why flashed in his mind, he completely missed the way Tommy’s jaw set.
The sound of guns going off in the police station sent both of their heads whirling around in alarm, with Tommy reaching back for the box that was kept under the driver’s seat. “What the…” he mumbled, eyes flashing with the fire that had started across the road. It was when they started hearing the helicopters and dozens of military and coppers swarming the street that the two Miller’s realised something was very wrong. “Shit, Sarah!”
∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘
23rd May, 2013.
Your arm was throbbing with pain, and you were sure something was fractured at the least. Not to mention the warm red blood that was dripping down from your shoulder, basically the only thing providing you with any heat in the all-encompassing cold. Or maybe all the blood leaving you was what was making you feel so cold. You weren’t sure.
It was the first time in a while that you had left your QZ, and you were ambitious, aiming to travel all the way to the Boston QZ with as little trouble as you could manage. Of course, you hadn’t counted on the people, the raiders and hunters who tried to kill you to steal all the supplies you didn’t have. You were lucky to make it out alive, really. You hadn’t felt very lucky for a long time.
It had been at least thirteen hours since you were attacked, and you knew you wouldn’t make it much further. Already, you were feeling lightheaded, woozy, like the ground was reaching up for you, but you powered on, seeing the glint of a metal fence up ahead.
The wiring at the top told you that it was electric, which you wouldn’t have been worried about if the buzzing didn’t echo in your ears, meaning it actually had electricity.
You pushed lightly against where there was a gate, a keypad there to unlock it. These days, you wouldn’t be able to bet on it being a simple 1, 2, 3, 4. Clearly, this was somebody’s home, and they didn’t take lightly to intruders. Your head dropped against the metal, the metal warm from the sun, and you were glad that only the barbed wire at the top was electric.
Your luck clearly hadn't lasted very long, as you heard the sounds of two guns clicking, the safety turning off.
“Who are you?” A man’s gruff voice asked, and you moved your head from the fence to look at the man stood at the front, “What do you want?” His striking blue eyes tore through you, looking for any sign of a threat, but you didn’t pose much of one in your current state.
“Jesus, Bill, let the girl in, she’s gonna die out there!” A friendlier voice called out, approaching the two men already stood in front of you.
“Or, she could kill us in here.” Bill said, eyes not moving from where you stood, narrowing as you put your hands up in a motion of surrendering.
Your eyes fluttered for a second, and you nodded at the man, understanding of his caution. “I—I’m just looking to get to the QZ. Boston.” You spoke, voice dry and cracking, having only been used when you had yelled out at the people who had attacked you, and that was hours ago. You were dehydrated, tired, and hurt. “Could you point me in the direction?”
“She’s not gonna make it that far.” A woman, who you hadn't noticed approaching, said, eyebrows raised as she looked from the other newcomer to Bill. A part of you knew she was right, knew that you probably wouldn’t make it another fifty steps of the way, but god, you’d come this far, and you really didn’t want to die.
“Bill.” The man prompted, eyebrows raised as he gestured toward the gate. “Just let her in, you can always… shoot her if she tries anything.”
“And I will.” Bill threatened, glaring at you even as you nodded in agreement.
“I’m not infected,” You supplied, because it was the best you could do, “Got a nasty stab wound, little while ago.”
Bill grumbled, sending the man who was trying to help you back into the town for something, and he continued his annoyed mumbling even as he opened the gate, tapping in a code and holding his gun up to your head as you took a step forward. You stilled, eyes following him as he approached, gun still raised, and held a tester to your neck, only huffing as it flashed green.
“Come on in, honey.” The kind man said, approaching your side and helping you stumble your way into their safe haven. You swayed, even with his help, and he frowned at you.
“You sure about this, Bill?” asked the other man, who hadnt spoken before now. You hadn’t really taken much notice of him, too focused on the people speaking to you in hopes that the world might show you a bit of kindness.
“Joel?” You croaked out, eyes going wide and your legs becoming numb as you stared at the man in shock. The guns immediately rose back up to your face, and they glared at you suspiciously, with the man who had been helping you stepping aside with one look from Bill, even if it was with some reluctance. “Joel— It’s you, I can’t believe it’s really you.”
They all stared at you, none of them daring to speak for a few moments. The woman stared at Joel, trying to communicate with him through eye contact alone.
“She—she fixed it. Didn’t she?” You said numbly, feeling like you were going to pass out, but unable to take your eyes off of the cracked watch that sat on his wrist. Sarah had told you her plan for his birthday, even if you’d never gotten to see it in action, but it was broken again.
Recognition seemed to seep into Joel’s eyes, and his gun lowered slightly. He said your name like a question, like your face was an answer he couldn’t work out.
In a single moment, his gun was dropped to his side, and he surged forward, pulling you into his arms. You held onto him just as tightly, or as tightly as you could manage with your fucked up arm, and blinked away tears as you squeezed your hands together behind his back.
His hand held the back of your head, keeping you close to him as he let out a breath. “Fuck.” He said, the words watery with tears you were sure he refused to let out. “I was sure you were dead. The houses on your street were on fire, I—…” He trailed off, pulling away to hold your face in his rough hands.
You forgot all your pain for a moment, eyes full of tears from something else, something like relief, “I got away, my—my dad was arrested and my mom went to get him. When I got to yours, you were all gone.”
He swallowed guiltily, eyes looking over your grown face. You looked so different, so… you looked like an adult.
You looked around at the town, wondering which one belonged to the Miller’s, “Where— where’s Sarah?”
Joel flinched, hands squeezing your cheeks once more, before he shook his head, looking away before he pulled you back to him once again.
“Oh.” You gulped, swallowing down the grief you had already felt for the Miller’s that rose back up, trying to sweep you away.
“Can somebody explain what the fuck is going on?” The woman asked, the first of Joel’s group to speak up since your unexpected reunion. She looked between you and Joel and the two men, as if one of you could answer all of her questions.
You looked up at Joel, and he felt like he was going to be sick, the memories of you doing that before the world had gone to shit hitting him like a brick to the face. He remembered the way you would smile at him, a grin that matched Sarah’s, like the two of you were born as sisters, and not just chosen sisters.
“I…” You began, stepping out of Joel’s arms to face the group and explain, but that wave of nausea hit you, the adrenaline from finding Joel seeping from your body, leaving you feeling like you were about to step into death’s doorway. “Okay, um, let me—”
Joel stepped forward, and you fell into him, with him picking you up like he used to do with you and Sarah before. It hit him then, with how you were heavier, and how he hadn’t done this for anyone in years, but he still managed.
“I—I’ll explain, after.” He said, the words echoing in your ears as your eyes fluttered, the last of your long-winded fight or flight leaving you as you rested in your dad’s arms, feeling like perhaps you’d wake up in the bed beside Sarah’s, and everything that had happened in the past decade would have been nothing but a dream. “Frank?” He prompted, letting the man lead him to wherever he thought would be best suitable to patch you up.
That sickening feeling crept up on Joel again, the situation being horribly reminiscent of outbreak day, almost like your weight was Sarah’s own, and his shaking fingers being from fear and not shock. He hated it, that the feeling of regaining a daughter was so similar to the loss of his other.
He felt a hand on his shoulder as he followed Frank, and glanced to his side to see Tess, and allowed himself to feel the slightest comfort at the nod she gave him.
Your eyes blinked open, and you looked at him through bleary eyes, “I’ve missed you, dad.” You told him, not missing the heartache in his eyes as he looked at you, but he smiled. It was thin, watery, and barely there, but you saw it.
“Kid, you got no idea.” He sighed out, focusing on getting you fixed up before he could start crying.
#joel miller x you#joel miller x reader#joel miller one shot#joel miller imagine#joel miller angst#joel miller fluff#joel miller father figure#joel miller fic#tlou imagines#pedro pascal angst#pedro pascal imagines#pedro pascal fluff#tlou one shot#tlou fluff#tlou angst#tlou fic#bill tlou#frank tlou#tess tlou#heartpascal writes
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★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★
★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★
Secret
Part 2 of Spotlight
Pairing: Veneer x GN Reader
Genre: Fluff, Make out
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A continuation of the oneshot, Spotlight.
For the people who asked. <3 ★ ★ ★
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A few weeks had passed since you last been at the club with your friend. So much had happened in that one day, it felt like you just rode the craziest roller coaster in the world. After the party, you and your friend spent the rest of the night giggling and fawning over the guy you just met. He wasn’t just some guy though, he was the Veneer.
You laid back in your bed, head softly hitting the pillow behind you as you pick up your phone from the side table. Today was a relaxing day as you didn’t have anything planned for today, so why not just lay back and go on your favorite social media. You clicked on an app and doom scrolled for a little bit. Most of the posts you saw were just of people going crazy about the latest stars and their new albums. You sighed and kept scrolling, not really interested in other people’s “fangirling.”
You stopped on a post that really struck your interest. It was a post of Velvet and Veneer. You didn’t even know they had social media let alone allowed to because of their agencies. You continued watching the video as they were announcing their touring schedule and meet ups. That’s when your brain clicked. You had Veneer’s number.
You got up from bed and scurried to your dresser, opening up a drawer and picking up the crumbled piece of paper that had his contact information. You took in a deep breath as you opened up the message app on your phone and dialed in his number. You decided to keep it simple and type in a little “Hey, its [_____]”
You dropped your phone on top of your dresser and paced around your room, anxiety getting the best of you. You didn’t know why you were so nervous, it was one simple text. You felt like you were about to pass out until you heard a buzz. You ran over to your phone and read the message.
“Oh hey! I didn’t think you were actually gonna send a text. Had me worried lol.” He sent a little laugh emoji next to his message.
You sighed deeply, all the worry draining from your body as you sent him a reply.
“Heh yeah, I eventually gained the courage lol”
You slightly cringed at the text as you sent it. You waited a couple of minutes for a response until you heard the vibration coming from your phone. He was trying to call you. You panicked and quickly picked up the phone.
“Hey sorry for the incoming call. It’s so much easier just to talk than having to type out everything. How were you lately?” He asked.
“Oh I’ve been good, just relaxing at home and sometimes going out everyone once in a while.” You sighed and smiled. You were nervous and excited all at once, you just hoped he couldn’t hear any of it.
“I wanted to invite you over to one of our meet and greets at the Rage Dome tomorrow, do you think you’ll be able to make it?” He questioned.
You quickly looked at the calendar you had hanging up on your wall. It’s not like you had anything planned but you liked to check.
“Nope! I should be free tomorrow.” You said, a little bit of your excitement coming out.
“Great, can’t wait to see you there.” He softly laughed at your excitement, making you fluster.
“Ugh, crimp is pestering at the moment. I’ll call you back when I can, bye.” He dragged out the bye and hung up. You sighed and laid back on top of your bed. You really were down bad for this guy.
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The next day rolls around and you slowly get up and stretch. You smiled to yourself, remembering that you get to see him today. You get up to go take a shower and fix your hair. You set the shower to be a nice warm temp and started stripping. You hopped in and quickly cleaned yourself, not wanting to spend forever in the shower. You quickly got out and got dressed, picking out your best formal outfit you can find. Yes, it is a meet and greet but you still wanted to look good for him.
You finished up your final touches when your phone started vibrating again. You picked up your phone and answered the call.
“How is my number one fan doing this fine morning?” He laughed. You laughed with him.
“I’m doing good, just finished getting ready for the day. How about you?” You asked, leaving the bathroom and sitting down on your bed.
“I’m doing alright. Honestly, I am way too tired to be getting ready right now but what can I say. Crimps already all up in my hair about the meet and greet. I don’t know why she’s so worried, the meet and greet doesn’t start until six.” He groaned. You can practically hear him roll his eyes at the end of his sentence.
“Well, I wish you luck.” You said softly.
“Thank you.” He paused for a moment until he continued. “What if you come an hour earlier so we can meet up beforehand? In private.”
You flustered a dark red. There was no way he just asked you to meet up IN PRIVATE.
“Uh yeah that would be great!” Your voice almost trembled because of your nerves. There is no way that this was actually happening.
“Great, I’ll see you at five.” He hung up. You sat at your bed, shocked. You slowly went downstairs and went into your living room, filling in time until it was ready to go.
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You stepped inside the Rage Dome and were almost blinded by all the lights they had going on. You were about to pull out your phone until you saw someone approaching you.
“Hey you made it!” Veneer cheered, spreading out his arms to wrap you into a hug.
“Yeah, I was just about to ask you where to go.” You chuckled and so did he.
“Let’s go on back to my break room. I don’t want anyone seeing us out here. I’m not ready for all the paparazzi.” He shuttered sarcastically.
He walked you back to where all the breakrooms were. The rooms were for the celebrities to take breaks in, just in case they needed to fix their appearance or if the crowd was being too much. Once you walked in you noticed that Velvet wasn’t there.
“Where’s Velvet?” You asked, scanning the room.
“Oh she’s getting ready in another room. They gave us separate rooms which I kind of enjoy.” He smiled and looked at you.
“Can I just say something real quick? Your outfit is gorgeous.” He complimented. You smiled, blushing a little.
“Thank you, I didn’t think you would care that much.” You said with an awkward smile.
“It looks really good on you.” He stared into your eyes. You felt like you were about to explode with how close you too were. He slightly pulled you over to the couch and sat you down, him sitting right next to you.
He gently touched the side of your face with his hand, still staring longingly into your eyes. He slightly looked down at your lips and back up again before asking something.
“Can I..” He spoke hesitantly, leaning closer. You followed his actions and leaned in. He brushed a piece of hair back behind your ear and quickly closed the gap between you two. Your eyes fluttered closed as you two both enjoyed each other’s presence.
You wrapped your arms around him, your hand slowly moving through his hair. He deepened the kiss, his other hand grabbing your hips and moving you closer. He pulled back for a quick second to give you guys some time to breathe. His hair was a mess and his eyes were half-lidded. He was breathing heavily. You took in the sight, making sure to keep it ingrained in your memory.
“That was…” He looked down into your gaze. You smiled slightly and pulled him back in for another kiss. You laid down on the couch, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him on top. You continued making out for what felt like forever until you heard some foot steps from down the hall. You guys hurriedly got up and brushed yourself off, making sure it looked like nothing happened.
You were just about to walk out the door before Veneer put his hand on your shoulder.
“We can…keep this….as our little secret.”
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Aye! I made a part two! I hope you guys enjoyed this. I tried to keep it as Pg-13 as possible since he is a teenager. He’s still a little out of character but eh, what are you gonna do. Anyways, leave requests down in the comments!
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#veneer x reader#veneer trolls x reader#fanfic#trolls band together#trolls#veneer#veneer trolls#velvet and veneer
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kiss it better
steve harrington x fem!reader
word count: 3,176
warnings: swearing, sick fic (sorta), steve not taking care of himself, anxiety, stress, mental breakdown?, best friends to lovers deal (let me know if i missed something)
a/n: hi! it’s been awhile. i’m sorry about that. this has been a very slow process for me. my mental health is shit, and that’s probably obvious. i hope it hasn’t seeped into this too much, but it probably will with the next few things i write. i apologize for taking so long to post, for disappearing, for not really making this the blog it once was. but i’m not the same person i was then. so we’ll see where this goes. i hope you enjoy this one a little. i love you.
————
The shrill sound of a phone ringing scares you awake, eyes flying open, heart pounding so aggressively you fear for a split second that it might burst.
You sit up quickly, enough so that you make yourself dizzy trying to get your bearings. You roll onto your side, and reach blindly across the edge of your nightstand, grabbing for the green plastic that’s shaking with the force of which it’s ringing.
You almost fall out of bed, just managing to catch yourself as you bring the phone to your ear.
“Hello?”
Your voice comes out weak, thick with sleep and the longing for more rest. It startles you and makes you clear your throat.
“Hey, it’s me.”
The voice on the other line is even weaker than your own. It’s quiet.
“Steve?”
Your eyes find the alarm clock on your dresser, bright red letters telling you it’s just after one in the morning. You might be half-asleep, but you’re conscious enough that your heart rate picks up, registering that this isn’t when your best friend normally calls.
You hear him breathe, along with some shuffling. He’s nodding his head, but realizes you can’t see.
“Yeah. Listen,” he drags a shaking hand down his face. “I’m sorry to call so late.”
“Hey, it’s okay. What’s the matter? Is something wrong?”
He goes quiet for a moment, but you wait patiently for him to continue. He must be trying to get something out, and you don’t want to pressure him, or cause him stress in any way.
Steve huffs, frustrated with himself.
“I-I’ve got an insane headache, and we’re out of goddamn medicine. My parents were here, and my mom was hungover and I guess she must’ve emptied us out, but it hurts too bad to drive, and…” He trails off, breathing heavily.
His pause lends you a moment to process, and you decide to speak up. If his head is killing him, you know finding the energy to speak to you, let alone call, has to be draining. You wouldn’t want him to suffer anymore than he already is.
“Stevie?” you start, happy to hear a small hum that encourages you to go on. He registers what you’ve called him, something you don’t call him often, and his chest aches. “I’ve got some I can bring you. I think all the drugstores nearby are closed.”
You swing your legs out from under the covers, pushing yourself off the mattress. Pressing the phone between your cheek and shoulder, you pull on the pair of sweats slung over the end of your bed, trying not to bust your ass as you hop into them.
“Is anything else hurting you?” you ask, gently as can be.
“Honestly?” he responds. “I think I’m sick. I can’t be sick, can I?”
You stand upright once again, taking the phone firmly in your hand.
“I think even King Steve can get sick from time to time. I’ll be there soon, okay?”
————
Steve’s not sure you understand him. He can’t be sick. He’s got shit to do. He has a shift tomorrow, and he’s pretty sure Dustin needs a ride one day this week because Claudia is on a “girls trip.” He has to keep working on his college essay, because he’d told you he was almost done, but really he isn’t.
Steve doesn’t have the time to be sick. And he can’t have you ruining your own schedule to come and babysit him. He’s supposed to be the babysitter. Not the charge.
He should be able to take care of himself, but of course, the one time his parents come home they clean out his mediocre supply of medicine. Something he’s always stocked up on, given his tendency to get the shit beat out of him, or the nasty string of tension headaches that just won’t quit.
And his head is killing him. He has his palms pressed to his temples, trying (and failing) to dull the ache. There aren’t any lights on in the kitchen, where he’s sitting on the floor, back pressed to the cabinets.
He’s trying not to move too much either, because he’s dizzy. This probably has to do with the fact that he skipped dinner, feeling too nauseous to eat. Now that Steve is hungry, he fears he won’t be able to get up and fix anything.
Maybe you’ll be able to help, he thinks. But that voice is quick with a counter argument. No. I need to do it.
He perks up at the sound of the front door opening. “Steve?” you call out, careful not to slam the door or yell too loud. It’s also why you hadn’t rung the doorbell.
Steve raps his knuckles softly against the countertop, hoping it’ll be enough to clue you in. He can’t bring himself to shout right now. You follow the sound, taking the few steps toward the kitchen.
When your eyes lock on his figure, see the way the heels of his hands press into his eyes, you realize how young he looks. He almost looks small, legs pulled up to his chest, big, lanky body compacted as much as possible. He looks vulnerable. You’re sure he hates that.
“Hi, Steve,” you say, keeping your voice low.
He looks up at you, and his face splits into a sweet grin. He’s happy that you’re here, even if that voice is screaming at him, wanting to punish him for asking for help.
“Hey, honey.” You smile back at him, and his heart rate picks up. Sometimes he forgets how beautiful you are, and then you’re standing in front of him, snatching every last breath from his lungs.
You set your bag down beside him and reach out, brushing his hair back from his forehead. He feels a little warm, but not feverishly so.
You move away from him, grabbing a cup from the drying rack. You fill it up with water and crouch at his side. Steve takes the glass from you, head resting against the cabinet to watch as you grab him some medicine. You hand him a few pills, and he takes them quickly. If he doesn’t get this headache calmed down soon, he thinks he might just die.
Steve keeps drinking the water you gave him, and you push his hair back again, watching the way it curls around his ears.
He drinks about half of the water before he pauses, taking a deep breath. He looks at you then. It’s mostly dark in the kitchen, but the lamp on the table by the front door is on, so you’re a little backlit from it. Not to mention the moonlight seeping in from the window above the sink.
You look gorgeous. And you came over to take care of him. You got up, at one in the morning, and drove to his house, just because he asked you to. Hell, he hadn’t even asked. He hadn’t gotten the words out. But you’d known. You’d known exactly what he was trying to ask, and you’d offered your help with no qualms.
Steve’s nose starts to sting, and that pressure from behind his eyes—it starts to release. Before he knows it, his vision is getting cloudy, and he’s crying. He can’t be crying, can he?
You carefully remove the glass from his hand and move in between his spread knees.
“Steve, it’s okay. I’m here, and I’m gonna take top notch care of you.”
“I know you are,” he says, voice breaking. “But I should be able to do it myself. I always do it myself.” He presses his hands against his face, but you catch his wrists and gently pull them away.
You hold your arms out, and Steve practically falls into you. He buries his face in your neck. He can feel the warmth of your skin, the cotton of your sleep shirt. You smell like soap, that fancy conditioner you use.
One of your hands finds the base of his neck, nails scratching gently over his scalp, thumb dragging over the top of his spine. Your other rubs soothingly up and down his back.
“But the thing is, Stevie, you don’t have to.”
He’s not a loud crier. But he is sort of panicky, breaths coming quick and short, chest heaving against your own. “I know you’ve always had to do a lot by yourself, but you can ask for help, and you don’t have to punish yourself for it, either.”
You feel him nod against your collarbone. His hands are fisting the back of your shirt. Eventually, he pulls away, but keeps his eyes closed. He tries to keep his head turned from your gaze.
“Hey. Look at me.”
He does, albeit reluctantly. Steve’s cheeks are flushed, lashes clumped together and lips parted where he tries to suck in a good deep breath.
You reach up, fingers gently sweeping away the remainder of the tears on his face. He leans into your touch, and you let him. You lean forward and press a sweet kiss to his forehead. You’ve never done that before.
Steve recognizes that you’ve never done it before, even if it’s sort of fuzzy. Sure, he’s kissed the back of your hand and you’ve reciprocated, but he’s usually the one to initiate physical affection. You’re too shy most often, even if you ache to do it.
Fuck, he wishes he were a little more coherent right now.
“Can you stand for me? It’s late, and I think you need to rest.”
He runs a hand through his hair. “Yeah, sure.” Now that he’s thinking about it, getting in bed sounds so nice.
You stand first, and watch as Steve pushes off the floor, gripping the countertop on the way up to steady himself.
“Come on. The stairs are gonna be a pain.”
He reaches out for you, and you let him take your arm. He pads out to the staircase, and you watch each precarious step he takes, hoping he won’t get too woozy and trip.
By the time he finally makes it up there, he’s wrapped both arms around your waist and buried his face between your shoulder blades. You soften beneath his hold.
You walk slowly towards his bedroom, and he waddles behind you. You push the door open. “M’kay, Steve. Wanna change clothes and hop into bed?”
He pulls off of you and grabs hold of his dresser. “I’m not givin’ you a free show.”
You snort. “I’ll go get some more water and be right back.”
His grin fades. “Please be fast.” He doesn’t want you to go. He doesn’t want you to leave him.
“Steve, I’m practically The Flash.”
He laughs, pulling a pair of sweats and a t-shirt out of the drawer. Usually he’d sleep in less, but with you here he feels he should keep his modesty.
When you return, he takes the water from you, drinking it faster than he probably should. Steve feels like he’s had the shit beat out of him, and for once—he hasn’t.
You’d sat down on the edge of the bed, not noticing the way he’s staring at you. You look up when he sets the glass down. He drags both hands down his face.
“What’s wrong?” you ask.
He exhales. “I want you to stay here with me, but I don’t want you to get sick. The idea of you being on the couch, which is like, miles away, is driving me insane.”
“Steve?”
“Huh?”
“Can’t I just sleep on the futon?”
His eyes move towards the other side of his room where said piece of furniture is pressed against the wall. He’d bought it when group sleepovers became a thing after all they’d dealt with. Jesus, his brain really isn’t working.
“Oh. Yeah, honey. Just don’t want you to go far.”
You lean forward and push his hair back from his forehead. You’ll need to remember to take his temperature come morning.
“I’m not going anywhere, Steve. I promise. Not until you’re all better.”
————
When Steve wakes up, you’re not there. He starts to panic, thinking maybe he’d been too much, maybe he’d shown you a side of himself he shouldn’t have, that maybe you left.
But you return to his room just as he’s about to start looking for you. There’s a thermometer in your hand.
“Morning, sleepy boy. Are you coherent enough for me to check your temperature? Or no?”
He yanks the covers off of himself, and his shirt has ridden up. You catch a sliver of tummy before he sits up fully, and you miss it the second it’s gone.
“Hit me, I can take it.”
You roll your eyes but stick the thermometer under his tongue when he opens his mouth. When you pull it away, you’re happy to see he hasn’t got a fever. He was warm last night when you kissed his forehead, but you’re thinking it was from stress or just overheating.
“No fever. What’s buggin’ you today, Stevie?”
He flops onto his back, and his shirt rides up again. You mentally slap yourself for being so enamored by it. All your brain can compute is tummy. Steve’s tummy. “My head still, and my stomach. I feel like I haven’t slept in four years.”
His words snap you out of your reverie. “Four years? That’s incredible. When’s the last time you ate something?”
Steve stares at you for a moment, though it looks as if there isn’t a single thought behind his eyes. “Yesterday…morning. I think. Yeah, I had a banana.”
You stare back, rather appalled at his statement. “Steve.”
“Hm?”
“All you’ve had to eat in the past twenty four hours is a banana?”
“Yep.”
“Jesus christ. Get your ass up and come with me.”
Steve doesn’t move. Rather he watches you move, right out the door and towards the top of the stairs. You pause and turn around, crossing your arms.
He huffs. And then he slides down the side of the bed like a child before crawling up and following you to the kitchen.
Over the course of the next few hours, you manage to get Steve to eat, shower, and go for a short walk, weather permitting and all. He’s looking astronomically better than he did last night.
Steve sits opposite you on the couch, his socked feet in your lap. “What do you think my deal is?”
You rub your hand over his calf. “I think you just had a little bug. Or maybe you let yourself get too stressed out and your body couldn’t take it.”
He blinks. “Is that…that's not a thing? Is it?”
“When’s the last time you gave yourself a fuckin’ break, Steve? When you just took a day for yourself rather than worrying about who needs to go where, or if you’ll have to cover a shift? You have to take care of yourself, or this is the kind of shit that happens.”
“Being overwhelmed about your parents, not eating, worrying about that application, all of that is fucking with you. That headache was probably a stress headache. They’re killer. I want you to be healthy and comfortable, Steve.”
You exhale, and close your eyes. When you open them, Steve has sat up, scooting towards you on your end of the couch.
He might still be tired, but he can’t believe this. He can’t believe you. No one has ever worried for him in this way.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” you ask.
He barely even registers your words, too busy memorizing every line on your face. You look so fucking beautiful. It almost makes him angry.
“I’m thinkin’ about how bad I want to kiss you.”
Your face starts to burn. You shove his shoulder. He looks at the place where you’d pushed, quirking a brow, but grinning nonetheless.
“What?”
“Steve, you can’t say shit like that.”
“How come?”
“Because we’re friends.”
“Best friends.”
“Well yeah, but best friends don’t say that to one another.”
His grin widens. He looks more awake than he has this entire time.
“Oh, but you haven’t said it.”
You blink. “Huh?”
Steve gets his voice up that little bit higher, doing a cheap imitation of you. “‘Best friends don’t say that to one another.’ Now, correct me if I’m wrong, but that implies you want a kiss too, doesn’t it?”
You drag your hands down your face and flop back against the arm of the couch.
“So you gonna say it, or what?” He’s shifted, and you can feel him hovering over you, but you refuse to move your hands.
“Of course I’m thinking about kissing you, Steve.” You suck in a breath and open your eyes, locking with his own. “But you’ve got cooties.”
Steve rolls his eyes before he backs up and yanks on your ankle so that you’re flat against the couch.
“You did not just lecture me about self-care just to tell me I have cooties. I didn’t even have a fever.”
“I didn’t even have a fever,” you mock, lowering your voice in what is quite possibly the worst impression of him you could do.
He’s quick about it. Almost stealthy, not that you’d ever boost his ego by telling him so. But his fingers are reaching for your sides, the tips dancing over your shirt, that tiny sliver of hip showing where it’s ridden up.
Steve is practically drunk off of your laugh. It’s the sweetest sound he’s ever heard, and when he goes for your neck, when you tilt your head and trap his fingers between your cheek and shoulder, he thinks he could die.
You and your laugh. The fact that you drove over at one in the fucking morning, without even thinking about it, just because you care. That you stayed the night, listened to his pitiful thoughts, took care of him…it’s too much.
Never in his life did he think he’d find someone like you. Someone who makes him feel like he matters. You’d made him realize how smart he is, how capable. That he could do things for himself and not just to please his dickhead father.
You have made him whole.
He lets up when you start breathing extra heavily, only to tickle the underside of your foot before he quits, just to piss you off. You kick him in the side.
“I think a kiss from my very favorite person might be the best form of self-care there is, honey.”
You sit up. “Wow. King Steve really never died.” He raises his hands like he might tickle you again, but you catch them before he can do any damage. “Okay, sorry!”
Before he can register it, you’ve leaned in and pressed your lips to his. When he does realize, he lets out a surprised hum, and you can feel that smartass smirk forming on his face.
When you pull away, he whines.
“All better?”
Steve falls back against the couch, pulling you with him just to get that laugh out of you again.
“I’m healed.”
————
please let me know if you liked this! feedback is always appreciated!! comments and reblogs mean more than you know. <33
#savannah’s fics#steve harrington#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington x fem!reader#steve harrington x you#steve harrington x female reader#steve harrington comfort#steve harrington imagine#steve harrington fanfic#steve harrington fic#steve harrington fanfiction#steve harrington sick fic#steve harrington one shot#steve harrington fluff
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Revelations - part 2
Pairing: Daniel Ricciardo x Reader
Summary: bringing the kids to a gp
A/n: whoooo double drop day! Enjoy!!!!
requests open masterlist part one
——————————————
“You know the drill, stay with me or your dad,” you remind your son and daughter as Daniel parks. Oscar immediately came to visit your home when you got back to Australia, wanting to catch up on the hidden parts of his fellow Aussies lives. The exchange? Free babysitting.
Daniel is such a girl dad, it almost pains you that your daughter likes him more than you, but your son is a mama’s boy so it balances out.
“Florence, keep a tight hold of me,” Daniel says, carrying the four year old on his him. She dozes on his shoulder halfway to the paddock entrance. Your son, Sidney, had a tight grip of your hand. You decided to get here early, before media, so there was a less stressful entrance. Even the video that Red Bull posts of Daniel walking through the paddock blurs out your children’s faces.
“Uncle Maxie,” your daughter stretches her arms out to the Dutchman. He carefully takes her and walks off, chatting away. If it were anyone but Max, you might be concerned.
“Hi Uncle Christian,” Sidney greets his godfather excitedly, the older man equally happy to see his godson. Christian gives you and Daniel the go ahead to walk away and grab breakfast at Hospitality.
“Will you be okay watching them the whole race while being my engineer?” Daniel asks as you both pick at your plates.
“Kelly is going to keep an eye on them, they will be with her in the garage. I think your Mom is coming in for the race tomorrow,” you tell Daniel. You decided to test out their F1 tolerance during FP3 and Qualis instead of just the race.
They do well enough that you feel comfortable with having them in the garage for the race. You do your race engineer work from the garage instead of the pit wall, preferring to be closer with the mechanics and other engineers. Halfway through the race, your mother-in-law carefully hands you a fussy and tired Florence. You let her sit on your lap as you work, holding her close, something that F1TV caught. She notices you talking to her father.
Daniel, overtake is available at the next DRS
Copy, DRS is enabled
Nice overtake, continue to defend. Daddy?
Is that Flo? Tell her I said hi and to let you work.
Copy, focus on your race, please.
Florence is happy to know her dad heard her and quickly falls asleep on your shoulder.
Daniel, box, fresh set of hards are ready for you.
Copy. How are the kids?
Flo is sleeping and Sid is watching with P. Please focus on the race, Danny. Box, box.
Alright Mrs Ricciardo, I see how it is, all business no fun
Someone has to keep you focused, Daniel.
You honestly don’t know how no one had picked up on Daniel’s radio messages to you before your relationship was revealed. He does focus on the race, it’s his job, but every once in a while he does make comments that aren’t racing related. As the last few laps are underway, Florence wakes up from her nap. You point out her dad on one of the screens and decide to surprise him by letting her talk to him.
“Okay Flo, just like I told you,” you gently remove the headphones covering her ears and put the far too big headset on her. Christian is the one who suggested that you do that.
Great race Daddy, P5
Hi Baby Girl, did you help your mama out this race?
I did, just like you told me to.
Good job, I’m so proud of you. Now, let me talk to your mama, she has some special things to tell me. I’ll see you soon sweetheart.
Hey Daniel, great race. Team’s proud of you. Pull in for weigh ins and media. We will have a quick debrief but we are happy with the race.
Copy. Couldn’t have done it without you and the team. Thanks guys.
Kelly and Daniel’s mom entertain the kids while you and Daniel have post-race meetings, but when you get to his drivers room after your last meeting with the engineers, you find him passed out on the couch with your kids sleeping on him. You snap a picture, sending it to one of your Red Bull group chats as well as directly to Max and Oscar.
Social media was loving the radio clips of you and Daniel talking, as well as Florence congratulating her father. Pair that with the videos of her sleeping on your shoulder mid race and every other clip of you and Daniel with the kids, it’s no wonder why your family is trending.
“Dan,” you whisper, gently shaking your husband’s shoulder.
“Hm? Have I been asleep long?” He whispers, trying not to disturb the kids.
“Probably not. Let’s get back to the hotel,” you smile softly, gently picking up Florence so he can get up. He carries Sidney, who is still asleep, while you carry Florence. Thankfully for the both of you, you were ready to leave.
“No more races for them until they are older,” Daniel proposes.
“Unless it’s here, I think I will agree to that,” you nod, brushing hair off of Florence’s head. You realistically know Daniel only has a couple seasons left in him, and that Florence wants to race just like her dad, so it might be better to wait until one of you is available to be with them the whole time. Sidney stirs as you get closer to your car.
“That was fun, when are we going again?”
#f1 imagines#f1 x reader#f1 imagine#daniel ricciardo#daniel ricciardo x reader#daniel ricciardo imagines#daniel ricciardo imagine
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thank you guys for the help i know nobody’s awake anymore but i’m awake now again and the email is officially sent
#i’m nervous cause i’m not seeing philosophy club anywhere#and yes i am capable of learning and growing as a person and doing other stuff with my life#(when i told my dad yesterday that i was nervous he said i should see this as an opportunity…)#but i would rather prefer to be in my regular thing every thursday… also i kind of need this teacher#i’m trying to not skip class as much anymore (i kind of did a lot of that last trimester) so it’s not like i’ll just be always over there#but my mom gets home tomorrow and it’s making me nervous. things were getting pretty bad between my parents#and y’all understand there’s only one adult in the entire world who understands what it’s like at home? it was cool knowing him#anyway the real point of philosophy club is learning philosophy and seeing friends. and that’s why i want to do it and was excited for it#but the reason that i’m nervous about it not happening is because what if i just never have a place like that again#but!! the email is sent!! and if there’s no philosophy club there really isn’t anything i can do#i’ll just have to join newspaper and start going to silent reading and all of those things i could do#also getting help from teachers. that’s a big one. that’s what raider time is actually for. and i could use it#but on the other hand that half hour of every day is like. my only piece of free time cause i’m away from parents and not in class#so i tend to want to use it for self care and fun times. plus last year that meant i could stay after school to get help from teachers#thereby maximizing my away time even more!!!! which was pretty great and a good situation#so anyway idk but the point is i sent the email and it’s the morning now and i’m gonna plug in my phone#and a friend of mine is driving me today so idk when she is getting there#because yesterday it was a different friend but not today and i don’t remember this friends driving schedule#but anyway yeah. and yesterday was a bad first day but maybe today will be good#me. my post. mine.#delete later
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i am a rich man
words: 1k
warnings: misogyny, brief mention of violence, reader is a kook
a/n: im on vacation starting tomorrow monday 1/22-friday so i will not be posting any new fics for this week!
“have you decided what car you want baby?” rafe asks, pressing a kiss to your cheek as you scroll through the dealerships website.
“i’ve narrowed it down to two.” you tilt your phone towards rafe, letting him look at one car before navigating to the other tab to show him.
“why don’t you test drive both and decide after that? and if you like both, just buy both.” rafe shrugs. it was weird for him at first being with someone who had even more money than his family, but now he’s grown used to it, liking knowing you can support yourself if needed, even though rafe likes to buy most things for you.
“good point.” you hum. “i’d have to park one on the driveway though, my dad is only giving me one spot in the garage.” you pout. your dad has a mild obsession with sports cars, and therefore three of the four spots in the garage were already taken.
“lets not worry about it now, figure it out after you see them in person.” rafe says, and you nod, getting up off the couch to head to the dealership, glad that rafe agreed to drive you and test the cars with you, mainly because you didn’t want to spend the day without him.
it’s a long drive to the nearest dealership that had cars in your price range, but you don’t mind as you sing along to your favorite songs playing through rafes trucks speakers, always letting you be the dj even if he can’t stand some of the girly pop songs that you play.
“almost there.” rafe reaches over, squeezing your thigh as the dealership finally comes into view.
“thank god.” you groan. “my butt is starting to go numb.”
“don’t talk about your butt when we are about to be in public.” rafe warns, glancing over at you as you giggle.
“sorry baby.” you say, in a voice that tells rafe that you’re not at all sorry.
“let me drop you off at the front, i’ll park the car then join you inside.” rafe says upon pulling in and realizing that there are no close parking spots, and he doesn’t want to make you walk outside for longer than he has to.
“mmkay, thanks baby.” you lean over and press a kiss to his cheek, always extra appreciative and lovey on rafe when he does sweet things for you, even if its just something little.
you hop out of the truck, heading inside the main showroom of the dealership.
“hello, ma’am!” a sales associate instantly hurries over to you. “i’m john, did you have an appointment?”
“no, but i’ve checked out your inventory online and i know what i’d like to test drive today.” you say with a fake smile right back, already not liking the condescending attitude that john is giving off.
“alright, well lets take a seat at my desk and you can tell me your budget.” john walks you over to his cubicle, and before he can begin talking you’re joined by rafe.
“this is my boyfriend, he’s helping me pick out a car today.” you say as he sits down next to you, reaching over and looping your fingers through his, already eyeing up john as he tries to size him up.
“hello, sir.” john smiles. “so what is your budget?” he addresses the question at rafe, making your eyebrows scrunch together.
“well,” you answer, making johns gaze flick quickly to you, “budget isn’t an issue. i know what two cars i would like to look at.”
“okay, if you just want to tell me the models i will pull them up.” john turns the computer screen so you all can see as you tell him the two cars that peaked your interest the most.
“and i assume you will be financing?” he hums. you glance at rafe, shocked that he would have the audacity to assume anything.
“no.” rafe answers for you. “in full.”
“okay, that makes sense that you will be paying, sir.” john says, nonchalantly as if he didn’t just imply that you wouldn’t be able to afford the car.
“as said before, i will be the one purchasing the car, so while my boyfriend is here to help me, i am your customer.” you clear up, hand squeezing rafes as you try to hold back your anger, knowing you can get just as fired up as him.
“sorry, just don’t see many young women being able to buy cars like these outright.” he says before quickly switching the subject, going through some of the specs of the vehicles. “and the cost on that one is $94,000.”
“wait a minute.” you rub your forehead, getting tired of this mans bullshit. “while i said money was no issue, that doesn’t mean that i’m going to let you get away with scamming me. that car is worth no more than 75.”
“well, ma’am, there are various-”
“no.” you shake your head. “i have done my research on these vehicles and i know that ever 75 is on the high end.”
“let me double check my figures.” john swallows nervously, turning the screen so only he can see it as you send a look at rafe, seeing he’s struggling just as much as you not to reach across the desk and smack the misogynistic sales associate across the face.
“my apologies, i must have accidentally selected an additional maintenance package. it is $74,000.” john says.
“that sounds much more reasonable, but i will not be purchasing a car from someone who tries to scam me out of my money just because they think i’m a dumb girl. get me a different sales associate, now.” you command.
john scurries away from the desk, the stark opposite of the cockiness air that he had when you first arrived.
“jesus, you’re hot when you’re scary.” rafe says, looking you up and down as you smirk at your boyfriend, knowing while you’re usually sickly sweet, when a man irks you wrong, it brings out your full wrath.
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#IF YOU DONT GET THE TITLE#it refers to a famous cher quote#please google and watch the video i love cher#rafe cameron imagine#rafe cameron fic#rafe cameron fanfic#rafe fic#rafe cameron x reader#rafe x reader#rafe cameron fanfiction#rafe fanfic#rafe imagine#rafe cameron fluff#rafe fluff#obx fic#obx fanfiction#obx fanfic#outer banks fanfiction#outer banks fanfic#outer banks fics#outer banks x reader
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desperate
pairing: yuuji itadori x f!reader
genre: fluff
a/n: i quit my old soul-crushing job and i’m desperately trying to finish off all wips before i start my new job svdndjsj please enjoy 🙏🏻 live laugh lovesick yuuji 🫡💕 very shamelessly got inspired by this post
nobara said yuuji shouldn’t call you.
“you don’t want her to think that you’re desperate, right?”
yeah, maybe.
but here’s a thing that a considerate friend that is nobara didn’t take into account.
yuuji is crazy about you and he is indeed very desperate for you and your attention. he is filled with joy and excitement whenever he hears your voice – it’s almost pavlovian, very embarrassing. or at least could be, if yuuji cared enough. his pride is a small price to pay to have a wonder that is you in his life.
but yuuji has to admit, maybe nobara is right. at the end of the day you two are not dating (yet, as yuuji very much hopes). you two are not even very close friends (yet, again, as yuuji hopes).
yuuji’s finger lingers over a call button under your name embezzled with a variety of heart emojis.
“at least text her before calling, you know, it’s kind of a new etiquette these days, not to call someone unannounced,” yuuji remembers nobara’s chastising. it makes yuuji hesitate. of course, he doesn’t want to seem like an ignorant bumpkin who isn’t aware of social cues. what if you’re busy? which you probably are because you are so smart and cool. and you are definitely a great texter (even if you weren’t, yuuji wouldn’t know any better because he is that much in love).
with a sigh, yuuji slides over to messages and starts typing rather pathetically “hiiii how are you???” while fighting the urge to add like a gazillion emojis to express himself better. nobara is really getting into his head, yuuji sighs. this is hard considering he is not exactly an overthinker (that would require having more than one thought and his only singular thought right now is you). a text is better than nothing, sure, but yuuji really really really needs to hear your voice. so he rushes back to his contacts and gathers every ounce of willpower to press on your name.
after almost painful eleven seconds you pick up. yuuji’s breathing hitches a little when he hears your sleepy “hello?”
he wants to throw himself from a window.
he forgot it’s almost 3 am.
“hi, um, hey. sorry, you’re asleep.”
what an absolute mess.
“well, not anymore,” you softly laugh. yuuji, though embarrassed, is so happy to hear your laughter.
“sorry.”
“it’s okay, yuuji. did something happen?”
well, kinda. obviously, yuuji’s not going to tell you that he’s just so down bad for you that he called you up in the middle of the night for no reason.
“no, nothing, i- i’m sorry, it’s nothing urgent, i better call you tomorrow.”
“are you sure? i mean, it’s…” he hears you scramble. “three in the morning. it has got to be an emergency.”
it is, just not a conventional one. yuuji violently shakes his head and then remembers that you can’t see him (why is he such a fool when it comes to you?)
“no, no, i’m sorry, i screwed up. i forgot that not everyone stays up late like me. go to sleep. sorry.”
“stop apologising, it’s all fine. okay, i’ll believe that there’s no emergency. but you better call me tomorrow to confirm that you’re okay.”
yuuji’s cheeks are burning.
“yeah, of course. sorry again.”
you laughed.
“good night, yuuji.”
“good night.”
yuuji’s fingers shake when he types the first message.
“sorry, i actually didn’t mean to call you.”
delivered.
yuuji’s eyes are not leaving the screen beaming brightly into his face.
read.
his palms are suddenly cold.
dot, dot, dot.
“it’s okay,” followed by a smiley emoji and a thumbs up. such a you thing to send. for a minute he contemplates going to sleep and maybe die from embarrassment in his sleep but something takes him over. before he can register it, his fingers start typing.
“fuck it”
delivered, read.
“i did mean to call”
delivered, read.
“i wanted to talk to you”
delivered, read.
“to hear your voice and your laugh”
delivered, read.
yuuji can physically feel the blood rushing away from his limbs when he sees three dancing dots.
“i want to hear your voice, too.”
yuuji’s head is spinning as he fights the urge to jump around the room while smiling at his phone like a madman. megumi and nobara for sure would be disgusted at this sight. he is so ecstatic that he almost misses the next message.
“ft?”
his long calloused fingers dance across the screen to quickly type “i’ll call you”.
he rushes to facetime.
you pick up almost instantly.
yuuji looks at your face, traces of sleep still present in your expression but he can see – and it makes his heart flutter – that you are genuinely happy to see him, too.
you both spent a few intimate moments staring at each other’s badly lit faces, glowing under the dim lights of your screens in the dark, until yuuji finally finds the courage to break the silence.
“so… did you sleep well?”
you quietly laugh and yuuji falls in love even harder though he thought it wasn’t possible. he can’t wait to tell the gang that being desperate pays off, and oh so well.
and what does nobara know anyway.
#jjk#jujutsu kaisen#jjk x reader#jjk itadori#itadori x reader#itadori yuuji#itadori yuji x reader#itadori yuji x you#itadori x you#itadori yuuji x reader#yuji itadori#itadori fluff#jujutsu itadori#my fic
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a touch of colour — eddie diaz.
writing masterlist | askbox
─── summary: eddie and chris' home is freakishly empty. you decide to redecorate a little.
─── pairing: eddie diaz x reader.
─── warnings & notes: fluffy fluff. no use of y/n, this was just supposed to be a short drabble but it ran aay from me and eddie might seem a little ooc but i don't even care it's so cute.
─── word count: 2.7k.
“BUCK, CAN I BORROW YOUR KEY to Eddie’s place, please?”
Your arrival at the station house isn’t preceded by any warning, and though it isn’t your intention to sneak up on Buck, he doesn’t seem to hear you coming. A panicked shriek tears itself from his throat as he drops what he’s holding, and the spray bottle full of cleaning fluid clatters to the floor at your feet.
An amused smile curls at your lips as he tries to play it off, ducking his head to hide the embarrassment blossoming in bright red spots across his cheeks.
“Uh, hey.” The words stumble out of Buck and he coughs, trying to recover what remains of his dignity. “You know, sneaking up on people isn’t good for your health. What if I’d panicked and thrown a punch or something?”
You quirk an eyebrow at him. “You did panic, Buck. Seems like it’s worse for your health than mine. Key, please?”
“Eddie’s just up in the loft, I can grab him if you want.”
It’s your turn to look a little sheepish. “Please don’t. It’s a surprise. Or it will be a surprise, if you let me borrow your key. I’ll return it tomorrow, I promise, and I’m not going to let a bunch of raccoons loose in there or anything━”
Buck blinks. The hint of a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth, just enough to let you know that he’s teasing. Mostly. “I wasn’t worried, but now I am.”
“I’m saving the raccoons for your apartment, actually,” you tell him, and now you’re not even really asking anymore, know that Buck will inevitably break because you’re Eddie’s girlfriend, and he actually likes you, and most importantly, his insatiable curiosity will not allow him to deny you. Hand outstretched, you wiggle your fingers expectantly. “Key, please.”
He huffs at you as if you’ve asked him to scale Mount Everest in nothing but swim trunks, rather than the perfectly reasonable request you’ve actually made, and makes a show of tugging the key to Eddie’s house off the keyring before passing it along to you.
“I have only one condition,” says Buck, a mischievous gleam in his eye as he presses the key into your palm.
You watch him warily. You’ve been dating Eddie, and subsequently been acquainted with Buck, long enough to recognise that look. “What?”
“Whatever you’re doing, make sure you film his reaction. I’ve got a funny feeling he’s gonna freak out.”
A nervous laugh bubbles in your throat, and you can’t help rolling your lips together as you pocket the key. It doesn’t take a genius to know that Eddie Diaz isn’t overly fond of surprises, but… fuck, you hope this one goes down well.
“I’ll keep you posted, Buck.” You offer him a two-fingered salute and turn on your heel, hurrying out of the firehouse before Eddie catches you sneaking around.
What he doesn’t know can’t hurt him, right?
Here’s the thing.
The first time Eddie invited you back to his place, you hadn’t really seen it. A euphoric haze had clouded all rational thought in your brain, because this brilliant guy you’d fallen head over heels for was so obviously guarded, and you’d been so happy the day he’d kissed you and invited you back to his place for coffee.
You’d been dating for three months by that point, and you’d wandered in and out of his house without really seeing anything except for him.
Meeting Christopher had gone much the same way. On the drive over you’d been rattling with nerves so much that you’d had to pull over on the freeway and shake out the cramp in your hand after white-knuckling the steering wheel. Your heart had thudded so hard in your chest that you worried Eddie would be able to hear it from the other side of the room.
There had been nothing to worry about, in the end, and almost a year on, you’re certain that neither of these boys can be pried out of the space they’ve created in your heart. Somehow, without really noticing, the pair of them have made a home there, built on a foundation of blood and muscle and all the love in your body.
You’re not sure your heart would know how to beat without them now.
And you love them, you love them, you love them both with everything you have…
… but this damn house is driving you insane.
There’s nothing wrong with it, in particular. It’s small and functional, perfect for the little family it shelters. Beige walls, basic furniture, sparse decorations that Eddie definitely had nothing to do with, and that’s sort of… it.
Now, you’re not an interior decorator, and you’d managed to miss it the first few times you visited, but now it’s like the blank walls are mocking you. Now you’ve seen it, you know, and the stark bleakness of this house has become a glaringly obvious problem that you’ve finally decided to tackle.
Unlocking the door with Buck’s key, you manage to nudge it open with your hip, hands and wrists weighed down with Target shopping bags that you dump on the floor the moment the door is closed. Tucking Buck’s key back into your pocket ━ Eddie gave you a key almost six months ago, but you’ve managed to lose four of them since, so it’s widely agreed that it’s best you borrow Eddie’s or Buck’s or Carla’s whenever you need to ━ you turn to the sparse open space of the kitchen/diner.
Hands settling on your hips, a slow breath escapes through your teeth as you survey the house. Christopher’s room is the only one with any personality, and you wouldn’t dare intrude on his privacy in that way anyway. Eddie’s room, similarly, feels off-limits.
But the rest of the house? Fair game.
When Eddie stumbles through the front door at the end of his shift, he doesn’t notice it right away. Not your bag hanging on a hook by the door, or your shoes tucked neatly against the wall. His head feels like it’s filled with cotton after a twelve-hour shift, and he’s simply grateful that Carla offered to drop Christopher off later, rather than have Eddie come pick him up after his shift.
He doesn’t notice you lingering in the kitchen with a bottle of beer in your hand until you clear your throat, and then he looks over, and a tired smile spreads over his face.
“That for me?” he asks, as hold out the beer bottle towards him, drops of condensation soaking your fingers.
“It’s definitely not for me.” You wrinkle your nose playfully as he accepts the drink, and you lean over the counter to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. You hand over Buck’s key, and with it, all the anxiety you’ve felt since it first landed in your possession that morning. “Give this back to Buck for me? If I lose another one, I’ll never hear the end of it.”
Eddie chuckles and tucks the key into his pocket. “Buck didn’t mention you came by the firehouse.”
“I asked him not to.” Your voice wavers, just a little. The way you’re picking at a loose bit of skin near your thumb lets him know you’re nervous, and he reaches out with his free hand, curling rough fingers around your own. Unable to help yourself, a deluge of words start to babble out of you. “I did a thing. And I’m aware that you may not like the thing, and it almost certainly wasn’t my place which I’m realising now, but it seemed like a pretty harmless idea at the time?”
“Baby━”
“And if you hate it, I can take it all away! We can pretend I never did it, it’s just that your walls were driving me freaking insane, like which decorator decided that beige was a good base colour because I would like to have a word━”
“Hey!” A gentle squeeze of your hand grabs your attention, and when you look back at Eddie, the sight of him knocks the breath of you. You never knew eyes could be so big and brown and full of love, and even though there’s a little humour glinting in there at your expense, you still find it a little difficult to breathe.
Fuck, you love this man.
“What am I supposed to hate, exactly?” There’s a lilt of laughter in his voice, a gentle quirk to the corner of his mouth.
You want to kiss him until it blossoms into a full-blown grin. You hope you’re lucky enough to make this man laugh forever.
The look on his face helps to ease the tension in your shoulders. Slowly, you reach out and take the beer bottle from his grip, setting it on the counter. Instead, you replace it with your own hand, threading your fingers through his, a little chilly where the bottle pressed against his skin.
“Let me show you.”
Guiding him by the hand, you lead him through to the living room, and at first, he’s not sure what’s changed. There’s still the couch, and the TV, and the coffee table he knows you’ve always hated because it’s glass, and who has a glass coffee table, Eddie, you're a firefighter and this feels like a recipe for disaster!
(You’ve seen way too many movies where characters end up crashing through a glass coffee table but you still think it’s a valid point.)
And then he sees them.
He spots the first one next to the television; a picture of Chris from a few months ago, the first time all three of you went to the beach together. He’s grinning at the camera and there’s a dab of ice-cream on his nose from where you swiped him just a moment before. Eddie remembers taking this and sending it to you.
It wasn’t the first moment he realised he loved you, not by a long shot, but he hadn’t said it yet, and that day on the beach had cemented your place in his heart even further.
The picture is small, sitting in a quirky silver frame that you’ve glued a few seashells to.
The next two are over on the mantel. A photograph of the 118 in Bobby and Athena’s backyard last summer; Bobby’s frowning in the foreground, having been bullied into wearing a Kiss The Cook apron by Buck and Hen, while the rest of them are howling with laughter behind him. The other is a picture of Christopher and Shannon cuddled together beneath the Christmas tree.
Tucked between them, bizarrely, is a little wooden figurine of a runner duck wearing galoshes. This one, he knows, came from your personal collection.
Eddie’s heart stutters in his chest as he turns, finally, to the big thing. The wall behind the couch has always been depressingly bare, a dull expanse of beige paint that he’s always sworn he’d do something with, eventually.
Hell, the whole house is bare. And depressing. This, he’s ready to admit, even if the reason for it used to sting a little bit.
Before now, the only personal touches in his home belonged to Christopher. Report cards and drawings stuck to the fridge with kitschy magnets from tourist spots. An ever-changing pile of video games stacked on the floor next to the TV. A dinosaur-print throw that was dragged from Christopher’s bedroom on a lazy Sunday that hasn’t quite managed to migrate back there yet.
It was never that way on purpose. At first, he thinks, it was a reluctance to put down roots. Life was hectic enough, with his work schedule and Christopher switching schools. Before Carla, Eddie hardly had a moment to breathe, let alone think about decorating their home beyond the bare minimum required to get by.
And then, he thinks, it might have been guilt.
He doesn’t dare to dwell on that for too long. He feels your hand in his own, steady as a rock, and stares, glassy-eyed, at the wall you’ve managed to transform into something… something that feels like home.
A collage of wooden picture frames are scattered over the surface of the wall, in varying hues of warmth that contrast nicely with the beige that peeks through the cracks. A beige that, formerly, kind of made him want to scratch his eyes out. He hadn’t quite realised that until now.
Dozens of smiling faces peer down at him. A handful of memories he holds most dear, and each of them sends a flush of warmth through his chest.
There’s the day Chris was born, and he’s staring at this tiny baby in his arms as if he’s holding the sun and stars themselves. There’s Buck and Chris at the zoo, posing near the penguin exhibit. There’s Eddie, on the day he was certified as a full-fledged member of the LAFD, shaking Bobby’s hand. There’s even a picture where he’s fallen asleep on the couch, and his sisters are brandishing Sharpies like the little demons they are, drawing a moustache and beard that took days to properly fade away.
It’s such a little thing, really. They’re just pictures. But his throat feels tight and his eyes are wet and it doesn’t feel little to him. Not at all.
“You thought I’d hate this?” He’ll never admit that the words come out a little choked up.
You shrug. “You’re not a fan of surprises.”
“I might be now.”
And you both know it’s not true, that Eddie will never be that guy, but this is fine. This is perfect, and he’s damn sure it might be the nicest thing any girlfriend’s ever done for him.
He turns to you, a thousand more questions on the tip of his tongue, when he notices you’re holding your phone up with your free hand. A confused furrow appears between his brows.
“Buck,” you tell him, and it really doesn’t require further explanation, but still you add, “He thought you’d freak out. Asked for evidence.”
“Ah.” Eddie nods. You put your phone away as he winds his arms around your waist, pulling you close enough to kiss the tip of your nose. “I’m not freaking out.”
“I noticed.”
“Thank you,” he says, and kisses you again. This time his mouth slides against yours and lingers there for a few seconds, slow and gentle. “I can’t help but notice you’re not in any of the pictures.”
Your cheeks turn a rosy pink. “That would have been a little presumptuous of me, Mr. Diaz. And I was already hijacking your home for my own selfish agenda, so…”
“Wanna hijack it some more?”
The question slips out without any warning, and you blink up at your boyfriend in bewilderment. “Uh?”
Eddie smiles, wide and wonderful, and even though it’s not possible to fall more in love with him, you think you do.
“I talked to Chris about it a while ago,” he tells you, his thumb rubbing slow circles against your hip. “I was just waiting for the right time to ask you. And then you went all House Flipper anyway━”
“I did not go all House Flipper!”
“━ so it feels like the right time to ask.”
You watch him for a moment, all soft at the edges. “You want me to move in with you?”
“I think you’ve got a tartan throw that would look great in here,” he says teasingly, “and that little duck is part of a collection. He might get lonely.”
“He might,” you concede with a hum.
There is enough space on that mantel for the whole family.
You feel like there’s a tiny sun in your chest, like you might honest-to-God be glowing from the inside out right now, and when you pull Eddie down so you can kiss him again, you know without a doubt that the answer is yes.
There are a hundred things to figure out. You have a lease to get out of, and an apartment filled with enough clutter to furnish ten houses, and you’ve really got to figure out a solution for the key situation, because it’s getting ridiculous.
But in this moment, none of that matters. It’s you, and Eddie, and Chris, and a bare apartment suddenly filled with a lifetime of potential, and you just know everything is going to be fine.
And you hope, for a moment, that he’ll let you replace the couch next.
#eddie diaz x reader#eddie diaz fanfiction#eddie diaz imagine#9-1-1 fanfiction#9-1-1 imagine#9-1-1 fic#* chapter update.
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ENTANGLED IN YOU— WHEN WILL MY LIFE BEGIN?
ways to help, daily click, do not support neil
ellie williams x reader
a/n: this actually isn’t the best but i’ll post it now and edit it later :D let me know what you think
tags: @astralnymphh
masterlist
…
once upon a time there was a beautiful princess who lived a castle…
okay maybe it was an abandoned apartment complex, and maybe she wasn’t a princess, but that isn’t the point of our story. our story focuses on how fate is inescapable.
“flower! let me up.” the doctor calls. you look outside of your broken bedroom window and quickly rush to the main room where there is a lever. you then, twist it with all your might. this triggers a series of reactions going downward which opens a space in the wall for the doctor to walk up.
this was a daily routine. doctor would go out and forage for supplies and food while you tidied up your “tower” as you called it. it wasn’t much but it was home and helped protect you from the outside world.
many years ago an outbreak occurred causing a sickness in the people of the world. doctor says it was terrifying to see. disfigured faces as a parasitic virus took over their minds.
but you were special.
you were born a few years later in a hospital doctor had been working in at the time. your mother had been seeing doctor for months and she was finally ready to deliver you. then suddenly, there was a break in. the infected monsters stormed through and bit your mother as you were being born. in a panic, doctor wrapped you up, ran as fast as she could until she found this abandoned building, and promised to always keep you safe.
she waited to see if the affects of the bite were passed onto you, and gratefully reveled in the fact that they did not. she still continued to watch you carefully. just in case. then, one day while cleaning up, she turned her head for a moment and you’d been scratched by an infected that had found its way inside the building.
you wailed and so did she before she realized that you were not turning. days began to pass and you still hadn’t turned. you were completely fine other than a small scratch on the back of your neck.
doctor rapidly got to work. after running various tests she used your blood to create a cure. it’s temporary against the infection, but it helps keep it from doing extensive damage. it gave those who were previously hopeless a reason to be hopeful.
she was excited about the results and prepared to share them with the world.
once she’d gotten in touch with the others in her field, they said in order to make a viable cure for everyone you would have to die, which she did not agree with.
so she rushed back to the tower, closed the doors, and swore to never let you leave out of fear that others would hurt you. even after you’d grown older. even after a cure had been fashioned years later from a mystery flower. even after the apocalypse had been declared over and it was semi safe to leave again. you would never leave. and she was confident that you’d never try to, until…
“are you excited for you birthday tomorrow, flower?” doctor asks as she walks into the lounge area. you were sat in the corner knitting a scarf out of yarn you’d fashioned from leaves. “i am actually. i’m more excited about the possibility of-“
“leaving to see the festival?” she finishes your sentence. you huff. “doctor, please. i look outside of my window and i see people laughing and lights shining just down the mountain. i know that a settlement is out there. have you still not checked it out?”
“no i haven’t checked it out and i’m not going to. i told you it’s probably fires started to control a large population of infected.” her tone is stern. she has checked already, it is a settlement.
you slump down in a chair next to her, hands clasped together. bottom lip sticking out. “please. please! atleast promise you’ll check on your next trip.”
she looks over at your face and smiles. “fine. we’re running out of supplies anyway. i’ll check on my trip tommorow, would that make you happy?”
“very.” you respond, smiling.
♡₊˚ 🦢・₊✧
a loud clanking is heard from underneath the tower followed by a string of curses. “doctor?” you call out. your heart begins to race. what if she’s hurt again and she needs help? or more of the cure? you quickly turn the knob and listen as her footsteps get closer.
then you hear her speak and it is definitely not doctor. you hide behind the entrance, a frying pan in hand as it was the closest thing to you. you watch as the woman steps up and looks around. breathing heavily with dirt all over her. before she can turn around, you knock her hard on her head.
#bunnie can speak? ☆#ellie williams#・❥・ bun’s sweet ellie#ellie williams x reader#bun’s asks ꕤ#bun’s anons ˖°🦇ִ ࣪𖤐#ellie williams headcanons#ellie williams imagine#ellie williams fanfiction#ellie williams tlou#ellie williams x you#ellie williams x y/n#wlw fanfic#sapphic#fanfic writing#wlw fantasy#wlw imagine#princess au#beforeimdeceased#© abbysvictim#lesbian fanfic#wlw writing#wlw fiction#tlou au#tlou fanfic#tlou headcanons#ellie williams headcannons#ellie williams the last of us#tlou fic#wlw pining
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