#and I go to the movies alone sometimes too
Note
Hey ! I just had an idea for your mystic animals au- imagine, the reader go to war without saying it to Malleus, Lilia and Idia, and the next time they saw them it's when they are at the hospital or still fighting, and they are badly injured (like, really badly injured. Like they will die if they aren't heal)
Sorry for the bad english, it's not my first language.
Have a great day/night !
Malleus doesn’t say a word.
He’s unusually calm, running a slow hand across your wounds. Gently caressing your hand with his thumb, humming to you softly. A tune you don’t recognise, yet it is soothing all the same. Like a familiar lullaby you heard once, a long, long time ago. A gentle tune that somehow makes your eyes weary, your tired body giving way to the darkness of slumber, slipping into the night.
Malleus holds your hand until you fall asleep, head dropping back onto your pillow. Before he slips his arms under your slumbering form, lifting you up. Cradling you close to his chest, sighing deeply into your hair. Nuzzling into you, sighing into that ever so familiar warmth.
With a flick of his wrist, all the tubes connected to you drop, needles clattering onto the ground. Pardon Malleus’ distrust, but since humans haven’t achieved the longevity of his kind, he doesn’t have too much faith in the inventions of mankind.
You won’t die here. He won’t allow it. He doesn’t want to be alone. Not again.
Perhaps there’s someone in the Diasonmia clan who’s accomplished in healing magic. Or there might be some arcane way to restore your life in the old texts. Oh, there was that movie both of you watched once. Something about the people being transferred to the future in a chemically induced sleep. There might be some truth in that story… and Malleus is adept at putting you to sleep.
A luxurious bed shouldn’t be too hard to find. He’ll lay you down in the sacred halls of Diasonmia, and he’ll create a bed for you amidst the thorns. Looking at you asleep soundly like this, your face utterly relaxed… it’s almost as if everything was normal, hm?
Like one of those nights you’ve called for him, your sleep plagued with nightmares. You’ve often asked for his company, those lonely nights. Holding his hand until you drift off into the land of dreams. Now, he’ll stay right by your side until you wake up. If you wake up… no. You must awaken.
No matter how badly you’re injured, Malleus refuses to accept this outcome, and he’ll struggle against it for all that he’s worth.
Until the moment you’re gone, he’ll never truly accept it. Maybe he doesn’t, even then. You are his Master, after all.
He’ll believe in you, until his last breath.
Lilia’s lying right next to you.
The moment he sees your battered body on that hospital bed, his gaze is overflowing with concern. Watching fluids of some sort flow into your arms, a steady mechanical beat beeping shrilly every second. Beeping along to the pace of your heart rate, following every rise and fall of your chest. Lilia’s devastated, to say the least. Yet he’s skilled enough not to let it show. Instead, he gently coaxes you aside, sliding under the covers beside you.
Honestly, why would you go to battle all on your lonesome? Only a fool would do that… a brave fool, nonetheless. Lilia pokes your nose softly, sighing softly. His warm breath wafting against your lips. Master, did you really think of him as a fragile being? As old as he constantly says he is, he’s still rather capable of razing down a few battlefields in your name.
Although you wouldn’t have accepted that sort of victory. You were always a honourable one, insisting that your victories should be seized by your own two hands and your effort. Lilia admired that part of you, truly.
You were a flame, burning away with determination, so bright that sometimes he couldn’t look at you directly. Perhaps that was why your touch was so warm. It comforted him, did you know that? Your presence, your voice, your touch… it meant everything to Lilia.
Shifting a little closer, Lilia’s arms snake around your torso, holding you gently. He’s a little hesitant at first, but unless you object, he’s going to embrace you. Coaxing your back towards the curve of his chest, gently slipping his legs around yours. Lilia’s head rests at your neck, every one of his breaths tickling the nape of your neck.
He squeezes you affectionately, timing each one of his hugs to your heartbeat. It beat feebly against his chest, one beat at the time. A steady, soft rhythm thumping against his very skin. His pulse slowed, as if to match yours. Lilia holds you as tightly as he dared, holding his breath whenever you went still, then exhaling as you took another breath.
For that moment, you weren’t quite dead yet. Thank the Great Seven, Lilia was allowed to hold your slumbering form for another second more. Master, you’re really a piece of work.
You wouldn’t allow him to follow you to the battlefield. And now, you’re threatening to slip away from the land of the living?
Please master, don’t be as cruel as to go somewhere Lilia cannot follow.
Idia clutches at your hands.
It’s almost desperate, the way he holds them. The way his own fingers tremble and shake, the way his jagged nails dig into your flesh, carving red crescents into your skin. He’ll let up the very moment you wince in pain, muttering apology after apology under his breath.
Even then, his voice quakes, lips trembling. Idia’s brows are frowned, his mind racing a million miles per second. Thinking about every possible scenario that could happen, each one growing more and more morbid after the next. Idia can’t help it. When he’s greeted by a problem in life, he’s immediately calculating the odds, going through every possible scenario to clear this stage without expanding too much effort.
Yet he can’t exactly do that now. You see, it’s you. You’re his master, his player two…. You’re his, as much as he is yours. Idia doesn’t want to lose another person so dear to his heart, not again.
Idia’s staying by your side in the hospital, night and day. Never leaving your side for a moment, his hand intertwined with yours. Constantly tugging your blanket just a few inches to the right, to the left. He has a corner pinched in his other hand, twisting and turning it over and over again in his fingers. If only to have something he can control in this messed up situation.
Why didn’t you summon him? Why? Was he not good enough for you? Did he disappoint you somehow? Were you just so disgusted with him to the point you couldn’t even stand his face? Idia spirals into negativity, his brain collapsing under the sheer depressive pressure he’s putting into it. Even if the truth is otherwise, Idia’s beating himself up about it.
He blames you, honestly. Only a total idiot goes into battle without their familiars. He hates that you left him behind without so much as a word. He hates that you got hurt and he could do nothing about it. He hates how you look like now, lying down, beaten black and blue.
But try as he did, Idia just can’t find it in himself to hate you.
His fingers caressing the back of your palm softly, Idia stares into your face again. The face he’s seen contorted into a million emotions. Your stupidly smug smirk when you beat him in a game after a thousand tries, the way your eyebrows frowned in annoyance when he plays a little prank on you, all of these remain as deeply etched in his memory as it was the very days he saw these expressions.
But his favourite one was your smile. If he closed his eyes, it’ll float up into his mind’s eye in the highest resolution a memory could be. A soft, radiant thing, filled with pure joy. A gentle light, embracing him, guiding him out of the pitch-black abyss of his overwhelming thoughts.
Idia squeezes your hand once more, staring silently at your face.
Praying that you’ll smile at him once more.
#twisted wonderland#twst#disney twisted wonderland#twisted wonderland x reader#twst x reader#Idia shroud#Idia shroud x reader#Idia#Idia x reader#Lilia vanrouge#Lilia vanrouge x reader#Lilia x reader#Lilia#malleus draconia#malleus draconia x reader#malleus x reader#malleus#mystic au#lucky potion🔷
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The Nerve
Pairing(s): former!Steve Harrington x Female Reader; eventual!Eddie Munson x Female Reader
Summary: The nerves of some people.
Warnings: Cliché af. Toxic behavior. When they go low, I go lower. Revenge. Not a girls’ girl here bc once you fuck around w/ another girl’s man it’s “yes, and?” from there. Implied smut. Language. We’re probably not gonna like Steve (or even the reader for a bit) here.
Disclaimer: Typical !former and !eventual pairing. Some time hopping. None of the spooky events of the Stranger Things (2016) series take place in this piece. Everything is just where it’s at because this is made up.
Pre A/N: This is embarrassing. I was in my villain era. I was certainly in the business of misery. I was angry (still am sometimes), so I wrote this. We all cope differently.
The nerve.
She had the nerve to steal your boyfriend.
It had been a few weeks since Steve broke up with you, only to start dating a girl you had harbored no ill will toward until that night. He even had the guts to reveal who she was and how long he had been losing interest in you. You weren’t going to lie, it hurt – a lot. Discovering his real need for “space” during the last two months of your relationship was painful to realize because in that time, while you were being understanding, he was finding a way to end things with you.
Looking back, you couldn’t help but dissect the memory. It was an ordinary day. School was let out for the weekend, and you were spending it with Steve, a cozy night in without interruptions since he was often left alone at home. The two of you lay on the couch, cuddled up, bodies parallel, his arms around you, the room dimly lit by the TV screen.
“I have something I wanna talk to you about…and it’s been on my mind for a while,” Steve says, loosening his grip and pausing the movie that was mindlessly playing midway.
“Okay,” you reply, pushing yourself up from the couch to make space for him to sit up. He shifted, swinging his legs over to plant his feet on the carpeted floor, settling into a seated position and scooting aside to allow you room to sit back down next to him.
The atmosphere shifted noticeably, and it made you nervous. The way he ran his hands through his hair and avoided meeting your gaze – it all felt ominous, and you couldn’t prepare yourself for what he was about to say.
“I met someone,” he revealed.
It wasn’t the news you expected, and you could feel your heart sink into your stomach as you absorbed his words.
“Oh,” is all you manage to say, now turning your gaze to the ground too, unable to look at him.
A whirlwind of emotions swept through you – hurt, anger, brokenness, betrayal. The signs had been there. Why hadn’t you seen them? He had been growing distant – more withdrawn, fewer “good mornings” and “good nights”, less calls, more canceled dates. You had been looking forward to tonight, thinking he was just preoccupied with work or his upcoming graduation, believing whatever he needed space for was resolved. Turns out, he needed space from you.
You had so many questions, even though you weren’t sure why you needed the answers. In that moment, you wanted to know what you had done to make him lose interest in you. You had thought the relationship was salvageable.
What? He was breaking up with you.
When? He’d been feeling like this for almost two months.
Where? At work.
Who? The other girl he worked with, also attends Hawkins High, but she's a year above you, therefore had more classes and events with him.
How? It just happened.
Yeah, that last one was a classic, but not as much as him telling you that you did nothing wrong and that you both could stay friends. Bullshit. With Steve, would come her, and you couldn’t believe the nerve of her to pursue another girl’s boyfriend. You’d seen her while visiting Steve at his job, but you hadn’t felt threatened by her. The hurting phase was brutal, but now all you could feel for her was anger – after all, who didn’t know that you were dating Steve Harrington?
She had the nerve to act all innocent.
The school hallways were not pleasant for you. A few days after the break up, rumors circulated that Steve left you for someone else, though apparently their relationship hadn’t been made public yet, sparking widespread gossip.
How would you have known that though? His business wasn’t yours anymore. In fact, you’d made a deliberate effort to distance yourself from them because the breakup was still fresh. Fuck trying to be friends. This time you were the one that needed the space. The last thing you wanted was to think about them together.
Steve had the audacity to point the finger at you because you were supposedly the only one aware of the relationship. Even when you tried to explain, he left you hanging. The disbelief on his face hurt to witness. He didn’t believe you.
“How do they know about us?” Steve demanded as he approached you at your locker, hands on his hips in typical, upset Steve fashion. No hey, hi or hello. He just went right in.
“I don’t know,” you scoffed, continuing to unload your textbooks from your backpack.
“Well, you’re the only one who knows,” he persisted, leaning in closer, determined to get an answer. “And your name is going around.”
“Look, Steve,” you finally turned to face him, your tone sharp, catching him off guard. “Your new relationship isn’t my concern.” This is a side of you Steve isn’t used to. “Why would I go around telling everyone that you left me for her? In all the time you’ve known me, have I ever given you a reason to think I’d do something like this?”
You could see him reconsidering his accusation. The questions seemed to stump him, as if he knew the rumors were absurd and gossip wasn’t something you partook in.
“Why don’t you go talk to your girlfriend and figure it out?” you suggested, turning back to your locker, not in the mood to continue the conversation.
All Steve did was stare at you before shaking his head then going into a tangent of how some of the rumors were negatively affecting her when they weren’t true and how she shouldn’t have to endure them or receive any of its backlash…as if you did. But when he started saying something along the lines of how she wouldn’t do that because she told him she didn’t, you knew this was all a wasted effort on your end because he had already made up his mind. He believed her.
Did he truly think you cared that much about them? Did he really think you'd stoop so low as to announce his new relationship? Did he ever really know you?
She had the nerve to lie.
Steve apologized to you when he discovered it was actually his new girlfriend that spread the news. He recognized his rash behavior and conceded that he should’ve believed you. Why would you waste energy on them? They weren’t worth your time anymore.
“Hey,” a voice calls from behind, and you turn to see Steve standing there, looking contrite. Unlike before, you receive a greeting.
“Hey,” you reply, briefly acknowledging him before returning to organizing your locker, now cluttered by your chaotic friend’s belongings - stashing the shit that no one would suspect the good girl to possess. It didn’t bother you much, except for the occasional stench it left behind.
“You were right,” Steve admits, hands in his front pockets and moving to the side to look at you. Pausing your task, you wait for him to continue. “She was the one going around telling everyone that I left you…for her.” Boy, that was awkward and lowkey stung. It hadn’t even been that long and he didn’t fail to remind you how you all got here.
“I’m sorry I doubted you,” he continues, visibly ashamed, “I should’ve known better than to believe that.” His apology didn’t really move you. The damage had already been done. You were branded as the ‘psycho ex’ and all Steve had to do was trust you from the start.
She had the nerve to act like a girls’ girl.
She never directly apologized, but she had the nerve to claim that she harbored “no hard feelings” toward you. Hard feelings? Why? Because you’re the ex? Was she fucking stupid? How did she expect the girl whose boyfriend she stole to feel? Everything that came out of her mouth infuriated you.
It was no ordinary day – it was your birthday, and your friend had organized a night out to celebrate. You never liked to make a spectacle of your birthday, but it was also a good reason to go out, distract yourself, and avoid dwelling on unwanted thoughts.
“You’re lying,” your friend responds, baffled by what you just told him, “she really said that?”
“She fucking did!” you exclaim, still grappling with her impeccable timing. She wouldn’t know it was your birthday or would she care.
“Jesus. Of all the days…” he says with a low whistle before attempting to lift your spirits, “But, hey, we’re not gonna let her ruin your birthday!”
“I know, and I won’t!” Your voice wavers as you try to convince yourself this wouldn’t affect you. You were determined to not cry today, but the truth was, it still hurts. Her little stunt reopened a wound that was almost healed.
“He’s such a fool,” he remarks, followed by a brief silence. You were preoccupied with regaining your composure, fighting back tears, unable to respond. “He didn’t know what he already had in front of him. Lucky son of a bitch,” he added, and you’re not sure if he was speaking to himself or he meant to say that outloud, but you heard him nonetheless.
“Stop,” you reply, turning your away from him. You’re not gonna cry. “I know what you’re trying to do, Eddie.”
“What am I trying to do?” He asks adjusting to move to your line of vision, but you keep your focus averted.
“Hype me up, make me feel better…I don't know,” you answer, finally meeting his gaze, the tears now freely falling.
He understood how hard you were on yourself, replaying what could’ve been avoided. Your relationship with Steve wasn’t something you anticipated. Steve pursued you, and initially, you were fine with a casual fling, but he insisted on something more serious. You had doubts about whether he was the right person, but what if he was? It’s a reminder that life isn’t planned; it’s lived.
Eddie’s support during your breakup was invaluable. He watched you cry a lot – at home, at his trailer, at school, at work. He watched you criticize yourself for the breakup. He watched the light go out and he was determined to reignite it. He simply wanted his friend back.
“Sweetheart, I promise you,” he assures, hand over his heart, “everything I’ve said is sincere,” accompanied by that charming, stupid trademark Eddie grin. He was so endearing.
“Well,” you begin, but he’s got you. He had a knack for flipping the script, leaving you wondering why you were arguing in the first place.
Despite your curiosity about what attracted Steve to someone else and away from you, you had to accept that you probably wouldn’t ever know.
If there was one thing you knew about Steve, it was that when he falls, he falls fast. With that realization, it sparked a wicked plan in your mind. If you could bag him once, you could probably do it again.
The nerve.
You had the nerve to lie.
The only person you had confided in about your breakup with Steve was Eddie, and you had the right to do so. You needed a friend. You also knew he had no interest in high school gossip, so it couldn’t have been him that told the whole school. You trusted him.
People liked to talk and they didn’t hold back. Although the lies bothered you, you had a strong support system in Eddie and his friends. If any group could shrug off that nonsense, it was the Hellfire Club.
“Are you sure you didn’t tell anyone?” Steve asked, continuing to badger you, even suggesting Eddie as the culprit. You knew Steve well enough that he couldn’t take gossip about him for this long. After all, he had a reputation to uphold, and not all of the rumors were in his favor.
“Eddie?” You asked, confused but also guilty because you had done just that.
“Yeah, I know how much time you’ve been spending with him lately.”
“Why is that any of your business?” You countered, a bit snappy.
“Because,” Steve began, grasping for an excuse, “people talk.”
“And you really think Eddie would? He doesn’t care about shit like this or you-”
“Please,” he interrupts with an eye roll, in the annoying way Steve always did.
“You don’t know him,” you defended your friend, “so get off your high horse and go talk to your girlfriend about your problem,” leaving him questioning everything again.
You had the nerve to act all innocent.
The birthday incident, as you tried your best to keep thoughts of Steve at bay, she unexpectedly approached you, alone, feigning sweetness and innocence. You listened as she spun her lies – lies about overhearing people gossip about her, Steve, and you; lies about rumors allegedly started by you; lies about having “no hard feelings” toward you. It was all fabrication.
Politely, you attempted to have her understand your side of the story, clarifying that you had not spread any rumors and had discussed the situation with Steve, as civil as that could’ve been, and ultimately, how she should address the matter directly with him. What were you now? A couples counselor? You didn’t have time for this or them.
You weren’t going to start lying to yourself now, but it angered you. All you saw was red. So, you gave it right back, feigning innocence yourself, doubling down on it, subtly planting a seed of doubt in her mind.
“Watch out for him,” you said sincerely, your warning devoid of malice.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” She asked genuinely curious. God she was fucking stupid. Did she think she would walk out of this situation without a scratch? She had just proven she was not a girl’s girl for actively pursuing your boyfriend while he was with you. The world is a jungle, and it was every woman for herself now.
“Nothing,” you shrugged, maintaining composure, “...just a girl looking out for another girl,” you added, offering her an innocent, warm smile.
“Okay,” she replied, sounding confused and a bit shaky. You could sense her discomfort, and she deserved to feel uneasy.
Ultimately, you weren’t lying. Yes, she should watch out for Steve – what made her think he wouldn’t treat her the same way he did to you? However, if you were in her shoes, you’d watch out for yourself.
You had the nerve to not act like a girl’s girl too.
The sudden breakup with Steve left some unresolved feelings, but he was now with her, not you, yet that didn’t stop the urge to act on them. Steve was weak and you realized that soon enough.
With your head turned to the side, you observed him, listening to his ragged breathing, how his lips parted, emitting small puffs of air, his chest rising and falling, the sweat that dripped from the top of his forehead, and eyes closed in post-bliss. Your gaze traces the freckles that speckled his skin as you studied his profile, wrestling with the questions swirling your mind.
“Do you want to talk about it?” you asked cautiously, breaking the silence. Why fight for him?
He didn’t respond immediately, but didn’t linger too long before replying, “Not really.”
“We’re gonna have to,” you said and it sounded almost pathetic. Why were you trying to hold onto him?
“I…I think we shouldn’t talk for a while,” and when he said that, you knew that actually meant this was done. He was done with you. Why did you want to change his mind?
The realization hit you like a ton of bricks. You knew it had to end eventually. There was no intention or hope of remaining friends.
That night, you went home feeling hurt, broken, angry, and disgusted. You knew what you did was wrong, a sad attempt on your part. He probably wanted that reaction from you. You were more than willing to feed his male ego. What guy didn’t enjoy the idea of two girls vying for him? If it was easy for her and it was easy for you, it would be easy for another. What made him so special?
You had the nerve to try to steal her boyfriend.
It was a toxic situation. You found yourself doing exactly what she had done to you. What did that accomplish? Bragging rights and a fleeting sense of revenge, perhaps, but it didn’t bring you and Steve back together. It only highlighted how destructive you both could be. You sought revenge at the expense of homewrecking a relationship. You were no better, yet in a twisted way, you didn’t care. You wanted them to feel the same pain you did, even though deep down, you knew Steve was capable of sabotaging his own relationships.
You told Eddie of the misdeed, feeling ashamed. He wasn’t upset with you. He understood that you would follow your own path no matter what. He didn’t have the right to control you. Both of you recognized that this would only lead to your own suffering. Unfortunately, you had to learn this lesson the hard way.
“I know you’re upset and that’s okay,” he tries to console you, “...your feelings are valid. But I don’t think you need to find the answers to everything. They’ll just lead to more and it’ll never end.”
He was right. The more you held onto what happened between you and Steve, the more questions arose. He was living rent free in your head.
“I just-” you struggled, trying hard to make sense of the situation, “I just wanna know. What did I do wrong? How did he get bored of me? When was I not enough?”
“Have you ever heard of the 80/20 rule?” he asked, and you shook your head. “It’s basically a theory that when someone cheats, they are drawn to the 20% in another person that is missing in their current partner.”
You’re not sure how much that helped you because it begged the question…”And I know what you’re thinking, so stop that!” Eddie’s quick to read you, “you’re lacking nothing, alright?”
“Everyone knows I’m not a big fan of Steve Harrington,” he said, scrunching up his face at the mention of his name, “...but he’ll regret this. His type always comes back…fucking roaches.” That last remark elicited a small cackle out of you.
He then took your hand in his. It’s a stark contrast to your own hand – larger, a bit rough, warm and slightly clammy – but it provided a sense of comfort. You don’t realize how long you’ve been staring at your hands clasped together until he gives it a light squeeze and says, “He’ll realize he was much better off with the 80% he already had.”
Damn Eddie Munson. He was too good to you. It gave you a new perspective. Why were you being so hard on yourself? Why were you trying to convince yourself that the relationship’s downfall was your fault? It was Steve who started pulling away from you. It was Steve who did pull away from you. It was Steve who was actively pulling away from you. Everything that happened wasn’t solely on you.
These kinds of things happen to everyone every day. Feeling hurt, broken, angry, betrayed and ashamed were normal and acceptable emotions. You just have to learn to swallow your pride and accept this as part of life. You live and learn – not necessarily forgive or forget, but move on in your own way.
You were once happy without Steve, and you could be happy again. You gave up or changed a lot for Steve, losing sight of what made you happy. Now, you were committed to reclaiming your happiness. Fuck, when did you start crying?
“You alright, sweetheart?” Eddie’s voice laced in concern, bringing his other hand up to wipe the stray tears running down your face.
“How do you do it?” you asked, looking down to compose yourself.
“Do what?” he responded, amused. You didn’t answer verbally, but twist your hand in his to thread your fingers between his. The small smile on your face conveyed your question, softening his features. It’s a rare emotion from Eddie, mixed with vulnerability accompanied with a newfound awareness.
He brings your now interlocked hands to his lips but not before saying, “...because I’m a big fan of you,” and kisses the back of your hand gently.
The nerve.
Steve had the nerve to lie.
Several months have passed with minimal communication from Steve. Occasionally seeing them together around school and town didn’t bother you anymore – well, not entirely. You can’t deny it still stirred up certain feelings, but you didn’t give it a second thought and eventually they weren’t a blimp on your radar. The past no longer consumed you, but unexpectedly, it started consuming Steve.
Evidently, he still knew your schedule and had been desperately trying to find a chance to talk to you – just the two of you, without Eddie, other friends, teachers, classmates, or family around. When he approached you, you were confused; unsure if he was still with her or anyone else. You intentionally tuned out gossip and never paid attention to their situation. Besides, you had a better reason to not care about Steve anymore. So, when he starts pouring out his feelings, you take it with a grain of salt, this time with a clearer mind.
“Hey,” Steve calls out as you step out of your front door, ready to head out with your ride nearby.
“Uh, hey, Steve,” you reply with uncertainty.
“Can we talk?” he asks hesitantly.
“Now might not be the best time,” you respond with unease.
“Please, just give me five minutes,” he begs, his eyes full of hope and pleading. What could there possibly be left to talk about? Despite your instincts telling you to stand firm, you reluctantly agree to hear him out, which you soon regret.
Steve begins with an apology and offers to explain his actions. What more was there for him to explain? You no longer desired an explanation. It was simple – he grew tired of you, became interested in another girl, and left you; perhaps grew tired of her too and now he’s back. You had moved on from your failed relationship with Steve months ago. However, he felt he “owed” you an explanation. Was this all a joke to him?
The more he spoke, the more you got lost in your thoughts trying to comprehend the reality that he was standing before you, admitting to his mistakes, and seeking a second chance. His voice started to fade into the background as you felt the weight of deciding how to respond, all while knowing your ride would arrive at any moment. When the pressure got too much, you finally managed to step up.
“Steve,” you interrupt, “I don’t know what you want me to say to you.”
“You don’t have to say anything right now. I just–” he’s cut off by the sound of loud, muffled music, causing both of you to turn your attention to the bulky van that just pulled up in front of your house.
You glanced at Steve sending him a tight lip smile before taking the short few steps to the curb, not looking back, knowing you were never going to get that "owed" explanation.
Steve had the nerve to try to act all innocent.
The atmosphere in Eddie’s van is tense the moment you climb into the passenger seat. Neither of you expected to see Steve today, let alone right before a date. And it happened. The lingering feelings had unearthed between you and Eddie and you welcomed it, a testament to your decision to move on from Steve. Right when things are looking up, life throws you a curveball in the form of your ex.
“Are you okay?” Eddie asks cautiously, stealing a quick glance at you before focusing back on the road.
“Yeah,” you reply unconvincingly, then quickly retract, “no,” followed by a sigh, “I mean, I was…I am. I’m just annoyed at Steve right now. I swear I had no idea he was stopping by.”
“You’re fine,” Eddie assured, dismissively waving his hand to convey that it wasn’t a big deal to him, though his mind was racing with a million questions. When he saw Steve with you, he couldn’t help but wonder: Why was Steve there? What were you two talking about? What did Steve want? Had you been in contact with him and not mentioned it? Not that Eddie could control who you talked to, girlfriend or not.
“I can’t believe he had the nerve to say he ‘respects’ my feelings!” Your emotions spill out as you unload on Eddie, “After everything he did to me, does that look like someone who ‘respects’ my feelings?”
“It is a pretty shitty thing for him to do,” Eddie agrees, not just coming from the boyfriend perspective, but from any perspective.
Steve thought that by acknowledging your feelings upfront, it would ease his case. However, upon reflection, you realized it was more about saving face for the hurtful way he left you, attempting to depict himself in a more favorable light.
“Right?!” The audacity Steve had to arrive at your door, unannounced, just before your date with Eddie. God, Eddie. It was a brief but uncomfortable moment. Steve knew you were friends with Eddie, he never bothered to understand the depth of your relationship because he didn’t care enough to meet your other friends. “I’m sorry, Eddie,” you say, feeling remorseful.
“For what?” he chuckles softly because can’t believe what you're apologizing for.
“I didn’t expect to see Steve today,” you explain.
“That’s not on you,” he assures, “remember, I told you they always come back.”
“True,” you agree, “but that’s not what I want.”
“What do you want, then?” he asks.
“You,” you admit, “just you, Eddie,” reaching for his free hand to hold for assurance.
Yeah, Steve wasn’t going to fool you.
Steve had the nerve to try to steal you from your boyfriend.
During the initial months, Steve made attempts to regain your favor. You questioned repeatedly whether you could genuinely consider being just friends with him. That had been his original intention after breaking your heart, but he failed to uphold his end of the deal. Was it worth attempting to rebuild a friendship with him? Would it reflect poorly on your judgment if you did? Could you bear being around Steve in any capacity? If Eddie hadn’t arrived on time for your date that evening, you didn’t know how much more of Steve's admission you could take before you hit another breaking point.
“I’ve been thinking a lot about you,” Steve begins, pausing, his mouth opening and closing as he carefully chooses his next words, “I miss you.” He observes your lack of response before continuing, “I miss us. We worked…and I really want to try and get to that again…to what we had.”
You can see it was difficult for him to admit this. Seeing your unphased reaction, he begins to ramble and talk out of his ass, “I mean, only if you want to. I can understand if you don’t. I do respect your feelings.”
You knew you didn’t have the mental or even emotional capacity to deal with Steve at that moment, and fortunately, the interaction didn’t progress any further. More importantly, it didn’t ruin your date with Eddie.
Steve’s graduation, once an event you looked forward to celebrating, was now a canceled event on your calendar. While you wished you could’ve joined in celebrating, Eddie had unfortunately not passed his exams again. Hopefully, on his third attempt, he will be able to graduate and walk the stage with you next year.
You had started working at a music store, which you enjoyed because it allowed you to be surrounded by something you loved – music. Eddie particularly appreciated the employee discount, a place to hang around during your shifts, though he seemed less excited about the store’s proximity to a certain video store.
It was inevitable that Steve would eventually walk in. Initially, your classmate and presumably Steve’s co-worker, now friend, Robin accompanied him. Over time, Steve started coming in alone, conveniently when Eddie wasn’t hanging around.
It wasn’t that you were afraid to be alone with him, and Eddie trusted you; he simply didn’t trust Steve. Despite Steve not being the same person from high school, multiple events humbling him, his efforts to revive your past relationship persisted. Although his approach was more subdued than before and masked as friendship, there was still an underlying motive. It was no secret either that you were in a relationship with Eddie.
Given the small-town geography of Hawkins, you accepted Steve wasn’t going to just disappear. You managed to adapt to his presence. While you couldn’t deny that this attention boosted your ego, you were resolute about not revisiting the past with him.
“So, I’ve got a copy of Pretty In Pink hot off the press,” Steve announced, showcasing proof of the video tape during another lunch break he spent at your workplace with you on a slow day. “Interested in watching it with me tonight?” he asked, trying to sound smooth and hopeful, adding and emphasizing “as friends,” though not convincingly considering you haven’t agreed to any plans with Steve let alone as that.
You glanced at him, then at the tape in his hands, and then back at him. “Thanks, but I’m not really into rom-coms,” you replied with a small smile.
“What? Since when?” he asked, visibly surprised.
“Since forever…” you answered with a light laugh that almost sounded like a scoff. It internally annoys you because as a former partner, he should’ve known that.
“Oh,” he said, setting the tape down on the counter between you.
“Yeah,” you drawled, trying to fill the ensuing awkward silence. Fortunately, the door chimed, signaling a new customer – saved by the bell, literally.
“Babe, you’re gonna love me! I convinced Robin to save me a copy of Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2, and she fucking delivered,” Eddie exclaimed excitedly about tonight’s movie, barely noticing Steve’s presence until he reached the register. “Oh, hey, man.”
It’s amusing yet endearing to see Eddie straighten up and square his shoulders around Steve, as if they were in competition. You couldn’t blame Eddie for feeling that way, though he really had no reason to worry he’d lose.
“Hey,” Steve replied, shoving the copy of the romantic comedy aside, embarrassed that he had forgotten your preference for horror movies.
As you and Eddie enthusiastically discussed the sequel, Steve felt out of place, as if you and Eddie were in your own little world, completely forgetting he was still standing there. He couldn’t contribute to the conversation because he hadn’t seen the first movie and didn’t know anything about it to share in the excitement. Eventually, he quietly slipped away with the tape in hand, on the short trek back to Family Video concluding his lunch break.
The notion of ‘forgive and ‘forget’ was bullshit. While you could be civil, deep down, you still harbored hurt and anger over what happened. Much of the past year was spent in an emotional decline that affected various aspects of your life – home, social interactions, physical and mental well-being. Now, however, you were focused on reclaiming your happiness. Places and things around town that once reminded you of Steve and your past relationship no longer brought sadness; you were forging new memories with someone else.
Whether it be in a friend or significant other, Eddie was like your rock. He was there from the start, witnessing your first date with Steve and even expressing his reservations about him. Yet, he knew he had to let you navigate life, love and mistakes on your own. Despite any reckless choices you made, even those that disappointed him, Eddie remained a source of comfort and support because he genuinely cared for you.
Growing closer to Eddie was a breath of fresh air compared to Steve. You didn’t feel the need to impress Eddie; he was always impressed by you. Reflecting on it, you realized how much you had changed to fit in Steve’s world, which now seemed almost pathetic. With Eddie, you don’t have to change anything – your clothes, your diet, your friends, or your interests. He respected you for who you were.
It���s ironic that just as you’re back on track and happy, Steve wants to interfere. What’s even sadder is that he promised an explanation but hasn’t delivered, yet he’s actively pursuing you. So what? You tell your ex you still have feelings for them and miss what you both had. What did he expect? That he was Steve Harrington and you’d jump back into his arms? No. He had moved on, supposedly, and so did you, finally.
Part of you cherished early memories with Steve, and you weren’t going to fail to admit that during the initial attempts, you entertained the thought of what if you got back with him. However, he’s the reason why you struggled to move on and became recluse. Who knows? Maybe he learned from his mistakes or not. What he did to you, he did to her and would likely repeat to others. He only proved that second chances sometimes didn’t matter because rarely do people change. You concluded you couldn’t be more than what you currently were to Steve.
He was the one who chose to end the relationship. He was the one who decided you weren’t enough for him. He was the one who chose to engage with another woman. He was the one who strung you along. He's the one who decided to cut you off. And now, he’s the one seeking a way back in. It was comical because all the tactics he used the first time he convinced you to go out on a date with him didn’t work this time. It had him trying harder and he was failing miserably. You were now the one living rent-free in his head.
The events of this whole situation have allowed you to build emotional strength and learn to love yourself and someone else again. You were happy, and happy with Eddie. You weren’t going to let something silly as an 80/20 rule or a past relationship with Steve interfere with that happiness.
Yet, it goes to show the nerves of some people.
Post A/N: I wish I had this happier ending in real life. Please like, comment and/or reblog. It’ll motivate me to write more and you know also help my self-esteem.
#mrwinterr writing#steve harrington x reader#eddie munson x reader#steve harrington imagine#eddie munson imagine#steve harrington fanfic#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson x female!reader#steve harrington x female!reader#stranger things fanfic#stranger things fic#stranger things#eddie munson#steve harrington
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Hi since ur request is open 👀I would like to request Eddie X wife reader since it’s mother day . Maybe Eddie has a surprise for the reader for mother day and he really show how much he appreciates her . And even uncle Wayne is willing to babysit their child .
Aww, this idea sounds so cute! Thanks so much for the request, lovely!
husband!Eddie x wife!reader
You and Eddie had been been married together for four years, but this was your first Mother’s Day celebrating as a mother after you had your daughter, Charlotte and Eddie had insisted on making it perfect for you. You had just gone back to work and were exhausted with having to take care of a baby on top of it, so Eddie had planned a date for the two of you to show you how much he appreciated you as his wife and the mother to his child.
Wayne had insisted on watching Charlotte while the two of you spent some much needed time by yourselves. Eddie had planned for the two of you to watch your favorite movie while you snuggled up on the couch with an array of all of your favorite snacks. He didn’t think it was nearly what you had deserved, but you had been so tired that he thought that it was something you were going to enjoy.
When Eddie had told you what you were going to do to celebrate, you almost cried, feeling so grateful that he somehow knew exactly what you wanted. You knew he was going to plan something, but were wanting it to be low key and that was exactly what he had come up with. Sometimes you were convinced he could read your mind.
“What movie were you thinking, lovely?” Eddie asked as you looked over the collection the two of you had accumulated over the years. It was a mix of your collections and some you had bought together.
You were torn between a rom com and a thriller but ended up choosing the rom com because you needed something like for the mood you were in.
“10 Things I Hate About You?”
“Pick whatever you want, hon. It’s your day.” Eddie secretly wanted you to pick that one because he loved when you told him he looked like Heath Ledger.
You popped the VHS into the VCR and settled onto the couch, snuggling into Eddie’s side as the movie played. You had both seen the movie so many times that you always ended up quoting it to each other when your favorite lines came up.
Eddie turned to you while you quoted yet another line and couldn’t help but fall even more in love with you than he already had. You were so beautiful and sweet and kind that it was hard for him not to. He couldn’t believe that you had agreed to go out with him so many years ago and had stuck by his side ever since. He really was one lucky man.
“What?” You asked, turning to him, even though you knew exactly what he was going to say.
“Nothing,” he shrugged. “Just like looking at you.”
“Aww, Eds, I like looking at you too.” You leaned towards him and pressed a sweet kiss to his lips before snuggling even further into him.
As much as you liked spending time alone with Eddie, you had to admit that it felt odd not having to listen out for a baby’s cry. And if you were being honest, you actually missed it. You missed rocking Charlotte back to sleep and feeling her head rest against your shoulder while you did it.
You turned to Eddie once again, not really enjoying the movie anymore since you couldn’t get the thought out of your head. You wondered if he would be okay with cutting your date short to go pick your daughter up. Maybe you weren’t ready to be alone just yet.
“What is it, honey?” His arm that was wrapped around your shoulders gave one of them a squeeze.
“I miss her.” You hated sounding like a clingy mother, but you couldn’t help it. You just missed your baby and thought you deserved to hold her with it being Mother’s Day and all.
“You want to go pick her up, don’t you?” Eddie really could read your mind.
“I guess I really am that mom, huh?”
“So what? I want to see her too.” That made you feel a lot better hearing him admit that. It made you feel less alone.
“You do?”
“Of course. I just really need to hold her.” The way he said the words was so soft and gentle and it warmed your heart. It had only been a few months and the girl already had him wrapped around his finger.
“I’ll go get her from Wayne’s.” He stood up from the couch and you couldn’t help but fall even more in love with Eddie. So grateful to have him as a husband and the father to your child. He was everything you could have hoped to have in a partner and you couldn’t believe he was all yours.
“Are you sure?” You tried to stand up too, but he just pushed you back down.
“Nope,” he shook his head. “Your job is to just sit here and look pretty. You’re not lifting a finger today, alright?” He pressed a kiss to your waiting lips then grabbed his car keys before heading out the door to go pick up your daughter for some much needed snuggles.
#stranger things#eddie munson#eddie munson x reader#eddie x y/n#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x fem!reader#eddie munson fluff
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I saw y'all liked my SMG34 headcanons, so get ready to be fed >:)
Some of them are a bit intimate but yk
•SMG3 would most likely have gone through multiple emo fazes throughout his life. (Once a month or year, depends honestly) He would most likely wear some sort of dark makeup around his eyes, making them look like eye bags. The only person who could help him through his crisis would be (you guessed it) SMG4.
•Whenever SMG4 comforts SMG3 in general, he would have two main different ways to do so. The first option would be to spoon him, holding him tightly, ruffling his face into his hair. Another way he could comfort him would be letting him lay on top of him as he let's 3 nuzzle his face into the crook of his neck or his chest.
•SMG3 likes to sneak up behind 4 and just either tackle him to the ground while tickling him/kissing him and such, or grabbing his waist then kissing his neck. SMG4 would love this kind of treatment, and honestly would be excited for it everyday.
• SMG3 says he doesn't like holding hands, but he secretly loves it. The reason why he says he doesn't is because he doesn't like to admit things he loves (SMG4 can read him like a book though, so he knows he loves it) 3 just thinks he does it to make him mad
•At III's coffee and bombs, SMG3 and SMG4 have their intimate moments in 3's little secret room (when it is closed, also the walls are soundproof) that's all I have to say.
•They both like to tease each other by mentioning the igloo incident so much that they ended up going back just to recreate it. Though, it wasn't the same.
•SMG4 loves watching horror movies but he is genuinely so scared of them, that he needs to watch them with 3 or else he would not get through even 30 minutes if one, he would just bail out instantly. SMG3 loves horror movies though so he really doesn't care if he has to watch them with him because he enjoys spending time with his lovely boyfriend
•After they started dating, SMG3 began to invite 4 to his silly little tea parties that he has with his eggdog before bed. (4 loves them but honestly since it is usually late at night, he ends up getting extremely tired.)
•SMG3 and SMG4 shop at hot topic together because SMG3 is too much of an introvert to go out into the public alone.
•when they sleep in the same bed, they only sleep in their trousers. Since SMG3's chest is hairy (another headcanon) SMG4 is the one who spoons 3. But he can't complain too much if SMG3 does spoon him, because he really doesn't mind the hair much tbh.
•sometimes, whenever SMG3 hugs 4, he forgets that he is wearing spikey bracelets, so he accidentally jabs 4 with them. He regrets it a lot after and starts to cry his makeup off apologizing to him with all the love in his heart.
•They like to experiment and try on each other's clothes, SMG3 wears really baggy clothes while 4 wears relatively normal fitting clothes. Most of the time they regret trying them on.
I know this one is not as long as the other one was, but honestly I am running out of ideas.
Y'all should give some headcanons you think I should add to the list (I will cred if you do)
#smg3#smg4#smg4 smg3#smg43#smg3 x smg4#smg34#smg34headcanons#does anyone else do this#i love them#headcanon#my thoughts
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Tea and Tenderness
VERY self-indulgence Inky Ribbons one shot because I needed it 🐙🎀. If you guess what book/movie I'm referencing in this you're officially super cool.
Words: 1064
Prompt: “. . . sorry, I talked too much” “No no no not at all. Keep talking” (the prompt was taken from this list)
(if you wonder about the pronoun changes, me and Jovie/my sona use she/they)
(Reblogs and Likes are appreciated 💕)
Jovie had a lot of interests.
And they loved talking about her interests.
As reserved as they seemed, once she was comfortable with someone who would listen, they would not close their mouth until the air left her lungs.
Despite being a chatter himself, Azul couldn't compare to the amount of chatting and information sharing Jovie could do. It was common practice for the two to get together, enjoy a nice cup of tea or coffee, and talk. Or more accurately, for Jovie to talk as Azul carefully paid attention to their words, taking in the information, and storing it in his head for potential future use.
He often didn’t fully comprehend what exactly they were talking about— he lacked the proper context to fully understand, even if she did their best to provide it. What kept Azul focused was his adoration for their enthusiasm— he loved how passionate she was about their interests, the way her eyes sparkled while talking about their favourite books or shows. He, admittedly, found it attractive.
Azul, like the researcher that he was, made sure he researched their interests to follow their conversations better. Although he couldn’t dedicate his time to fully watching all the shows or reading all the books, he made sure he had a general idea of the topics and ensured he remembered the information she would offer him.
As they sat once more in the dimly lit Mostro Lounge, sharing one table long past closing time, romantic soft jazz quietly played in the background, adding to the ambience. This time, they were enjoying a warm cup of tea Azul had prepared beforehand— Lemon tea, Jovie's favourite. Silence embraced the room, ruined only by the constant chatter of the young witch.
This time Jovie had a new fixation to share during their alone time— a dark fantasy novel about a young girl, who discovers a hidden door inside her new house that leads to a supposedly better world, when in reality, it was a trap to lure her in.
Azul wasn’t versed in this book, though he was a reader himself, his preferences laid with autobiographies of businessmen and the economic news. So the dark fantasy genre was a whole new subject of discussion to him, let alone the particular book Jovie wanted to talk about.
Despite that, Jovie went on, animatedly talking about the plot, explaining every point, all the little details in it. They spoke as if she had made a world-alternate discovery, as if the whole world needed to know about this one book they loved so dearly.
If he had to be honest, he would be at a loss at times, especially when Jovie began to explain the differences between the book and its movie adaptation— she wasn’t the best with words, sometimes stuttering while speaking as their voice got tired. He started feeling a sense of overwhelmingness taking over him as they continued. Despite that, it was something he was accustomed to, it had no negative effects on him. So he let her continue, occasionally asking questions to catch up to them.
But then, suddenly, Jovie stopped, fixing their gaze on him as if analysing his current facial expressions and body language. Her face changed from radiating excitement and enthusiasm to becoming completely expressionless.
The abrupt shift in Jovie's demeanour made the gears in his mind start. He couldn't shake the sense that something was wrong, since it was unusual for Jovie to go silent so suddenly. Even if they were tired after so much talking, she wouldn't stop and just stared at him, like a deer caught in headlights.
“Is everything alright, angelfish?” He finally decided to ask, his concern evident with his eyes betraying a hint of worry. “...sorry, I talked too much again.” She turned their look away from him. They spoke quietly, like a kid realising they did something bad and had to apologise. “I know it's not really your thing.”
Azul's eyebrows furrowed slightly in surprise at the unexpected apology. He began wondering— or overthinking— if he had unintentionally shown any hints of discomfort, with Jovie picking up on them. And if he did, he never intended to, he quite enjoyed learning more about his girlfriend, after all.
“O-Oh- no no no not at all.” He reassured them with a smile, part of his worry slipping through his words. “You can keep talking, I don't mind.”
They shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “Are you sure?” Their faces turned a slight shade of red while they fidgeted with their fingers, embarrassment running over their body. “I know I can be…a lot when I get like this.”
Azul felt his heart beating as a warm flush spread across his cheeks, this sight of them brought up his own feelings at the forefront. He rarely saw this…unusually vulnerable side of her. Jovie was known for being animated and talking loudly—them speaking so quietly and so unsure of herself was a rare sight, even if he had seen it before. And every time he'd see it, it prompted an urge to comfort them, as if that very moment nothing in the world was more important than that.
“I promise you, it's alright.” His voice sounded smoother as he spoke with such sincerity. “Besides, I do enjoy delving into your interests. It offers valuable insight into who you are."
Jovie's eyes met his once more, absorbing his words. A small, shy smile made its way onto their continuously flustered face “...Thanks, it means a lot.” They admitted quietly.
“Of course, angelfish.” His expression softened at the sight of their smile, his heart melting a bit too. “Now please, do continue— what happens once the girl throws the cat at the monster?” Leaned closer as he raised an eyebrow, his genuine curiosity of the absurd plot point evident in his tone.
“Oh, that's the best part-! You see, in the book…”
They launched into an explanation of both the events in the book and the movie once more, emphasising the biggest differences between the two and why they loved both for their own reasons.
With how much they had talked about it, Azul thought he might as well watch the movie himself.
As he thought about it at the moment, he realised it would make for a perfect date idea.
And as he kept that thought in mind, he continued listening.
tagging: @ramshacklerumble @thehollowwriter @summerspook @scint1llat3 @skriblee-ksk @cyanide-latte (lmk if you wanna be added)
#twisted wonderland#twst#azul ashengrotto#twst persona#azul x oc#azul ashengrotto x oc#azul x yuu#twst yuusona#twst oc#twst x oc#twst yume#twisted wonderland yume#yumeship#twst writing#jovie's writing#inky ribbons
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im not even done my current kuwameshi fic and im already getting ideas about new ones...
#kuwameshi#give me a sec i'll reblog later with the actual idea but like#WHAT IF UM KUWAMESHI BUT UM. PRINCESS BRIDE AU...#i also have another song fic idea but it's way sillier than the one i have on ao3#based off you me and steve by garfunkel and oates#i got the idea cos i just remembered when yusuke got back from training with genkai the 1st time and instead of a 1 on 1 date with keiko#kuwabara is also? there? and it's just so funny to me like what. and then they're supposed to all 3 go to the movies together?#AND WHEN THEY GET THERE THE 2 BOYS DITCH KEIKO?? for a mission yeah but she doesn't know that!!#and then yusuke and keiko actually go on a date alone and it gets interrupted cos of younger toguro#and shortly after kuwabara shows up so it looks like he was bound to come across them??#as far as a i remember the next time yu and keiko get together alone is the day he tells her to just wait and she's like im literally#not gonna wait for you <3 and it was so funny she just walked off lmaoo#anyway im trying to say i wanna make a silly little fic addressing the fact that keiko is like. pursuing her crush on yusuke#but kuwabara is kinda just. always there and it's fun she does like him but it's just awkward#planning on having her ask kuwa to maybe give her and yusuke some time alone like maybe just avoid their next outing#and kuwa is like oh damn :( ok good luck and yusuke shows up to the date and he's like woah wait. where tf is kuwabara?#keiko is like bruh. and she makes up some shit about him mentioning that he felt sick or wtv and yusuke is like ''then y are we here?#i should check on him. i dont think that guy has even been put outta commission by anything but my fist!'' and keiko just follows him#cos what else can she do. and kuwa is fine ofc and yusuke is like bro what gives i thought you were sick and kuwa is dense sometimes but he#catches on from keiko's desperate look and he's like well i got better *flexes his arm* and yu is like i knew you were too dumb to catch#a cold. and he's stupid happy that kuwa is fine and can come with them after all ''hey he's fine ya hear that keiko''#and then keiko is watching this whole exchange eyes blown wide open and she's like actually i just remembered i have plans#you two should totally go without me tho and yu agrees so easily that it just solidifies that she made the right call#kuwa is looking back at her all confused and she gives HIM the good luck thumbs up. he gets as red as his hair and#yusuke is worried he really is coming down with something
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love being 25 and not knowing how to socialize bc i’m autistic and off putting and cringe so no one wanted to talk to me/wanted to be my friend growing up so now i’m an adult with very few friends or ppl i talk to on a regular basis bc i never learned how to socialize or text properly bc no one taught me how
#abc shut it#vent#i’m so lonely it’s not even funny#my talking to myself has just gotten worse in the past few months alone#i just want some friends i can do watch parties with and play games with damn it#i’m so bored and lonely all the time#my life has just been work sleep and chores and it’s driving me insane bc i have nothing breaking up the routine#like it doesn’t help no one texted me bc i was poor and had didn’t get a smart phone until is was basically too late :)#like i know part of it is the depression but#idk i just don’t do anything when i get home#sometimes i do art sometimes i game but usually i just lose track of time staring at tumblr and the next thing i know my few hours—#after work are gone and i have to go to bed#like don’t get my wrong i LOVE my coworkers but i need some more friends within my own age bracket#like is it to much to ask for a group of friends that will watch anime and movies with me in our own discord server#like is that literally to much to fucking ask of the universe can i be allowed to feel like an actual normal human being that’s connected#to the human experience for once in my fuckkng life#and not feel like some sort out outlier that doesn’t fucking exist to anyone#i’m to a point where i think and feel like i’m not even real! lol#like idk i would just like there to not to be days where i literally don’t communicate with anyone#and know what to say when ppl DO text me bc when ppl do text me i half the time don’t even know what to say#and forget the message is there and get to scared to reply after too much time has passed like#i know it’s a me problem that therapy would help but im terrified that it won’t#that i’ll just be going therapy and still be a lonely autisic looser who doesn’t know how to communicate without being off putting#or being too much
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i keep finding out that facing my fears helps me understand that they're not as scary as i thought. heartbreaking. why are all my fears so dumb and weak
#not all of them ofc like a horror movie scenario would suck to be in#but like my fear of puke for example. for the first time in over a year and a half my gf got sooo sick#probably from new meds reacting with weed and/or other circumstances. and i had to help her and clean up ofc#and i still hated it but i couldnt just leave her and it forced me to get over it at least for a little while#which is probably a good first step bc i know it's not the last time she'll be like this lmao#but other things too like going out alone or starting a new job. simple things that people do all the time that i just had to do once#or twice to get over the fear#pushing past discomfort is so important sometimes. not all the time but sometimes.
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Dear friend,
I have not seen my friends in two weeks. It's starting to get bad again.
#SAY THE LINE CHARLIE. The second half of this movie drives me crazy because after the angel in the snow he tries really really hard to grasp#onto the other side of the edge again and hold onto some sense of normalcy And everything is trying to beat it out of him.#he has a ptsd moment and the first day back in class he's made fun of and he tries to make a friendly comment to his teacher (his only othe#friend aside from sam + patrick's group) and it's shot down. And he just kind of takes it. and then it's just downhill from there and he#tries his very hardest to avoid thinking or acknowledging or noticing that it's going downhill But it's going anyways. and he's alone again#and it's his fault* too.#*i don't think this is really Charlie's fault all the way. I think he tries his very best but it's just not right enough sometimes because#of how he interacts with people and relationships. And also he's very young and learning how to live#meowing
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My friend wants to hang out and i want to hang out but also just have absolutely no will to leave my house and not a lot of social capacity atm and UGhhhhh idk how to express that, like yes I want to see you and yes I like to see you but I dont think I have the capacity to be a fun person lately
#i think its just my tendency to kinda go offline out of sight during break#bcs there was a lot going on before so once break hits im like okay time to be a cave gremlin#like UGH i wanna see her and i like talking to her and i hate it but it gives me anxiety#i hung out w my other friend today which was nice but it was very structured like movie and ice cream. very nice very neat#i just feel bad because i really am no fun at all lately#like. hey wanna come over and watch me rot in my room?#i just feel distant idk#and she wants to see my school at some point but i just really have absolutely no will#there was that post i reblogged at somw point abt being alone and enjoying it but feeling insane#i really really like being by myself and doing my own thing but it also just makes me be in my own head way too much#its not like i think she has huge expectations for me or anything and she knows what im like#i guess i just feel like im being disappointing sometimes bcs i really dont like to do much out and about#and so id rather just *not* than to feel that way#haha that's why i always just mostly only hanging out by going to the movies bcs its very outlined and its out#because otherwise im like 'ahhhh....dont really wanna go out at all sorry!' idk i just feel distant#vent sorry just idk ahhhhh 😭😭 dont wanna ghost her but i just feel disappointing#and im sure wed have a fun time but i don't feel the will to i guess :/#catie on break is just social isolation sob sob sob#catie.rambling.txt
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Sometimes I wanna wildly yell about scribbles
and then I get too nervous to and just sit here like:
#Cade.Txts#hhhehhoguggushg#something something about how his own perception of reality is pretty skewed.#Sometimes he has trouble telling if things are: really fake or if something is Real.#kinda. loose grasp on what is or isn't 'real' sometimes n tht varries.#keep imagining him watching a horror movie and then he sits there like 'oh my God the BEASTS are goung to KILL ME'#Too scared to get up n go into the kitchen because the Thing will Be at the Fridge.#me too scribbles me 2.#reality wibbly wobbly for him and physically weighs on him. is like. fighting with him.#his very existence kind of Goes Against it.#it is Crushing Him and Some days are worse then the others.#hyper aware of his own body every part of it- this crushing feeling grips his chest and#all he can do is curl up on the ground and wait for it to Pass by.#Sometimes its easier being alone and other times it helps when someone is there to hold his hand through it#feels and hears their heartbeat through their hand and their breathing and the sound of the blood#rushing through their veins and they exist and are Alive and Real-#it is overwhelming but keeps him grounded.#His head feels like it is full of static and its hard to think when everything is so Loud#Cade's Characterz#i forget what my oc tag is all the time#do you guys GET WHT I M SAYING..#i am rambling nonsense.#feeling a way about him
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genuinely so emo abt the fact that i have friends who want to do stuff w me now omg
#i was v scared for college bc i have had. such awful luck w finding ppl who want to do things w me#the closest friendship ive ever had was online lol and even that ended w me being ignored and pushed away so its a v foreign experience for#other ppl to v openly. enjoy my company and continously invite me to things just bc they want me to be there#like ik a good part of that is everyone trying to not be lonely as shit these first couple weeks but all of the friends im referring to#were part of a summer program where they got to show up like 6 weeks early and so they already have friends and ppl to hang out w#so its still rly cool that i showed up made friends w like 2 of them and now 3 weeks later im having to actively plan time to do hw and#watch my shows and stuff bc im being invited to eat and walk around and watch movies and do things all the time#shit is surreal !! im so grateful esp when my suggestions for things to do are well recieved like today alone i invited some of them#to go to the barnes and noble opening in a town near us next month + to a open house at our states observatory. and other ppl were actually#excited to learn abt those. its insane im so used to being ignored and treated like the things i care abt dont matter i love life rn omg#ppl are so cool and interesting sometimes i still feel like i am the most boring person in the room bc i never had the time money location#or motivation to explore a ton of my interests but when i tell ppl abt that feeling theyre like bitch me too !!! lets go snowboard and hike#and have observing nights and paint and dress up for halloween together and its makes me so happy. that is all#actually one more thing i was initially thinking abt dressing up as asa csm (which is. already an improvement from younger me feeling so#isolated she avoided dressing up for halloween for a decade bc she never felt close enough to go w anyone) BUT NOW im a part of a 2 month#old plan for like a dozen ppl to dress up as monster high girls AND im gonna be draculaura. literally such a slay i cant#🌸.txt
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Okeydokey so my Christmas plans are going to be:
Order Indo-Chinese from the local Indian place 🇨🇳 🇮🇳
Try and think of thirst asks for the event 🙈
Write? Maybe? ✏️
Animal Crossing 🍃
Weed (definitely) 🪴
#i used my surgery as an excuse to not go home for Christmas#legit excuse mind you#my mum was already totally okay with it and my dads side is too awkward to ask questions#we’ll have a rain check sometime in January probably but in the meantime#Chinese food movies video games and weed#it’s gonna rock and I may in fact be totally alone if my roomies are both gone home that day#me
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I see a lot of people joking about the adhd thing of "I have a appointment/phone call at 3pm, guess I won't do anything all day!"
But no one seems to make the connection that it's a time blindness thing. One of the symptoms of ADHD is not having a good and accurate sense of time. And not doing stuff prior to an event with a hard deadline is an obvious coping mechanism for that.
Can I go to the store? It's 10am and the appointment is at 3pm. How long does going to the store take? An hour? Three hours? Five hours? I DON'T KNOW!
I get anxious trying to do things before appointments because I'm aware that I don't know how long those things take, and that if I think I do, I may be very wrong. Too often I've been like "hey I can walk to the corner store and grab a drink, that'll take like 15 minutes!" and then an hour later I get back and whoops my rice has burnt.
Plus there's also the fact that ADHD people know that motivation and focus is a two-edged sword.
Like, let's say you decide to play a video game. You've got time, you can pause/save whenever, so this should be a perfect fit to make good use of your waiting-time. So you start playing and WHOOPS you get really focused for some reason today (because people with ADHD do not get to pick when their brain decides to focus) and the next time you look at the clock it's 2:49 and you haven't showered or dressed and the appointment is 30 minutes away. Fuck. (you could have set an alarm, but now you're asking people with the forgetting-things-and-time-ignoring condition to remember it set alarms)
And with motivation, it can be almost worse. Instead of playing a game, you so something useful or creative. You clean your room or fix your plumbing or write a story or draw a picture. And suddenly it's great. Your brain is firing on all cylinders. You've got all the motivation you can ask for, and you are FLYING. the ideas are brilliant, your hands are nimble, you're getting stuff done you've been putting off for weeks or months. And then the alarm goes off. Time to go to your appointment. Fuck.
You drive there, your brain still full of ideas and plans. But by the time you get back, the motivation is gone. You may still have the ideas but you don't have the drive to write them down. You can't force yourself to do it. Your sink is still in pieces. Your room is half-cleaned, and you have to shove all the sorted clothes into one big bin just so you have somewhere to sleep. You've left things half finished again, in a cycle that has been repeating your whole fucking life. It seems sometimes that nothing ever gets finished.
So next time you don't even start. There's not time. You've been burnt too many times. Why add another half-completed project to your pile of shame?
My point is that people seem to be going "lol I can't do anything all day if I have an appointment at 3pm" like this is a quirky "oh I'm so scatterbrained!" weirdness they alone have, and not a major complication of a disabling mental illness.
(and that's not even getting into the secondary effects. If you know that having an appointment ruins your whole damn day, you're going to avoid them. Even when it's things like "going to that party" or "meeting your friends for a drink/game" or "going to a movie with that cute girl from your math class". Things you should enjoy. Things that'd help you be social. Things that make you feel human.)
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Controversial opinion among Dune book fans maybe, but I loved the changes they made to Chani's character. Making her a fedaykin who is already an experienced fighter before Paul arrives was a brilliant choice. Dune Part Two is a war movie, and this puts her at the center of the action, side by side with Paul, and gives her a much more active role than she has in the book.
We got a hint of where things were going in the beginning of Dune Part One. The first thing we ever know about movie Chani is that she's a fighter. She serves as a voice for the Fremen, telling us the story of their struggle from her point of view. I wrote here about the difference this change makes compared to other adaptations of Dune, what a perspective shift it is to have the world of Arrakis introduced not by an outsider, describing it as a dangerous but valuable colonial prize, but by one of its native inhabitants, who tells us before all else that it's beautiful, her home that she's fighting to liberate. I am so, so glad that the second movie followed up on this characterization.
I never found Chani and Paul's love story in the book particularly convincing, because why would this woman, who already has a prominent and respected place in Fremen society, even give the time of day to her deposed would-be colonizer, let alone fall in love and have children with him? Without a compelling reason for Chani to love Paul, she ends up feeling like a prize to be won, and "indigenous culture personified as a woman to be wooed (or conquered) by the colonizing man" is a trope we've seen and don't need to repeat.
But as soon as you tell me it's a barricade romance I get it. Cool cool cool, I know exactly what this relationship is now and it makes sense. Movie Chani doesn't respect or even particularly like Paul when she first meets him, and she doesn't think he's the fulfillment of any prophecy. She comes to respect him, and eventually love him, through his actions. He's brave--sometimes recklessly so. He fights well. He's willing to stick his neck out on the front lines with the other Fremen fighters. He can (after a little help) hack surviving in the harsh desert environment. He's not too proud to learn from others. He seems to genuinely want to be her equal in a common political struggle. All these qualities make sense as things she values.
Fighting side by side as equals is just about the only way I can see movie Chani falling for Paul. And it fits perfectly with the film's pattern of reversals that Paul's capacity for violence would initially be one of the things Chani likes about him, only for her to be repelled later when she sees what he becomes.
And as for Paul, well, he's had people deferring to him his entire life. Someone who doesn't take any shit from him is probably refreshing. He seems to like people (Duncan, Gurney) who challenge him and engage in a little friendly teasing--and aren't afraid to go a few rounds in the sparring ring.
It's easy to speedrun a romance when you're spending all your time together in mortal danger fighting for a shared political cause. Especially if you then start winning in a war your people have been fighting for decades. Are you kidding me? That is the perfect environment for intense battle camaraderie to turn into romantic love, and lust.
It makes sense that this version of Chani never believes Paul is any kind of messiah. Of course a character like movie Chani wouldn't believe in or trust some outside savior to liberate them. She's been working to liberate her own people for years. The more Paul invokes the messianic myth, the more he starts sounding once again like someone who plans to rule over them, and the more uncomfortable Chani becomes. In this way she becomes a foil to Jessica, the two of them representing the choices Paul is pulled between. It's a great way of externalizing the political and philosophical debates that often happen within characters' heads in the book.
And of course this version of Chani would leave Paul at the end of the film. It's not just the personal, emotional betrayal--although that stings. What common cause does she have with someone who just declared himself emperor and is sending her own people off in a war of conquest against others? Given the important role she plays in Dune Messiah, I am super curious to see how they get her back into the story, but girl was so valid for being willing to just gtfo. Given that she has the last shot of the whole movie, I'm sure she'll be back somehow, and I can't wait to see what they do with her character in any future installments.
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but I would die for you in secret
summary: The relationship you have with Joel Miller is… complicated, and you’re not entirely sure what to even call it. There’s the fact no one can know, so his kid doesn’t find out, and you’re pretty sure he’s ashamed of your age difference—he’s not your boyfriend, but you only fuck each other; this thing started months ago, and Joel does not like it when men give you attention, because he wants you all to himself. But again, he’s not your sexy, older boyfriend.
pairing: Joel Miller/f!reader
rating: E (18+!! No y/n, porn with some plot, explicit smut, Possessive Joel Miller, Joel being a lil dominant, age gap (unspecified, reader is an adult), secret relationship, sneaking around, accidental voyeurism, edging, orgasm denial, mutual masturbation, dirty talk (so much), oral sex (f receiving), unprotected p in v (wrap it up!), rough sex, explicit consent, creampie, spanking, spit as lube, love confession, Good Parent Joel Miller, Ellie giving Joel so much shit, TLOU AU where Joel doesn’t lie to Ellie and they’re good when they get back to Jackson)
word count: 7.1k+
a/n: Hey! I needed a break from my long fic that I’ve been writing nonstop for five months, and I was really missing Joel and Ellie, so here we are. I hope you enjoy! Thank you to @juletheghoul for betaing!
Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs feed me. I’d love to know what you thought!
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The relationship you have with Joel Miller is… complicated.
To start with, there’s the age difference. It doesn’t bother you at all, and why should it? You’re both consenting adults who know what they want, but he’s got this idea in his head that he shouldn’t be chasing someone so much younger than him and that you should be with somebody your own age—he mentions this almost every single time you’re alone together, and you've learned a simple flash of your tits or a sudden kiss will make those thoughts disappear.
Then there's the fact he isn't your boyfriend, yet you only fuck each other. His days are spent working whatever job he’s assigned here in Jackson and he’s at your place most nights after his daughter goes to bed—however, that’s a secret; No one can know about you two, even though Joel’s a tiny bit possessive and doesn't take kindly to other men giving you attention; which you're not one to judge because you can't stand when women flirt with him, especially Sandra, his next-door neighbor who won't leave him the fuck alone after the many times he’s told her he’s not interested.
So, again, he's not your boyfriend, but neither of you wants to fuck anyone else; whatever this thing is between you has been going on for over eight months, and he doesn’t want people to know you’re together—yet, any time he catches a man being too friendly with you, there's a 100% chance a grumpier than usual Joel will show up at your house that night, and at some point, while he’s fucking your brains out, he'll let a 'Mine' slip out.
Clearly, you have some kind of relationship with him, and it borders somewhere between fuck buddies and him being your boyfriend; where it gets confusing is it's not all sex with him. If his kid is staying over at a friend's, he'll show up at yours earlier than normal, and usually, with a movie he hadn't seen since the world ended or a record he thought you'd enjoy that you both listen to all the way through for him to tell you facts and anecdotes that he could possibly be the only person on the entire planet who knows.
If you need anything fixed around your house, he'll do it, and sometimes you don't even have to ask. You'll mention something, and the next thing you know, he's at your front door with a toolbox—sometimes, he uses doing repairs as a ruse so people will see him arriving at your place with his tools when, in actuality, he’s there to spend the day with you.
You’re also probably the only person, unrelated to him, he has actual conversations with; there’s hardly any grumbling or muttering.
There is a reason he won't acknowledge you’re dating, and it's his sixteen-year-old daughter whom he doesn't want to know he has a love life—it's to where Joel's basically taken the role of the rebellious teenager, sneaking out of his own home in the middle of the night to ensure she's unaware he left.
It's an accumulation of factors why she can't know. The big two, you think, are your age, and you know for sure he doesn't want Ellie to think she'll be any less important to him or that he's abandoning her if he's seeing someone—he worries she won’t take it well, and from what you know she's been through, you can understand why he’s being so protective.
Do you wish you could openly be in a relationship with Joel? Sure, it'd make you happy to shove it in Sandra, his stupid neighbor's face that he's taken.
That isn't a possibility, though, and honestly, what the two of you have is good, so you're not going to make a fuss about labels.
It's been a few nights since Joel has snuck over to your place, and you know why he hasn't stopped by—Ellie—she's sick with a cold, and to put things mildly, her father is freaking the fuck out that it could turn into something worse, and he won't let her out of his sight.
Now, if a person didn't want their child to know they were dating anyone, they’d keep them separated, right? Well, you live across the street from them—that's how you met Joel; he saw someone had moved into the tiny one-bedroom, one-bath home across from his and came over to introduce himself—and since you live across the way from him, and Ellie, the two of you have this, 'Just being a good neighbor,’ act, where any interactions you have in public, are under the guise that you’re just friendly neighbors. So, Ellie has spoken to you many times and has even invited you to hang out and eat meals with them at their house or in the mess hall, where Joel always does his damndest to act indifferent.
Joel left a simple note three days ago stating Ellie was feeling under the weather on your front door. The next day, you stopped by, as the good neighbor you are, to drop off some chicken soup you convinced the kitchen at the mess hall to make. Joel had let you in with a ‘Thanks’ and took the large bowl from you to the kitchen, and you followed the sounds of sniffles to the living room, where you found the teenager wrapped in a blanket on the couch, her stuffed-up voice exclaiming when she saw you in relief you were there so she’d have someone other than her dad to look at or talk to; obviously, she was tired of him, and with how he was hovering, and fussing over her like a mother hen, you would’ve been tired of him, too.
The man had bags under his worried eyes and looked like he hadn’t slept since she’d gotten sick. After he served her some soup and saw she was eating it, Ellie and you convinced him to take a nap while you hung out with his kid—the kid you’ve had a suspicion for a while knows there’s something up between you and her father, simply because every time the two of you are alone, she grills you about your love life.
The thing is, she always fishes for information you won’t give her, but she never seems bothered by the prospect of Joel dating; frankly, she’s supportive and wants him to be happy. However, that wasn’t something you could tell him because he’d probably end things with you immediately, so you’d have to wait for them to eventually have a heart-to-heart for him to find out—which, you’re not holding your breath with how bad they both are at talking to each other about their feelings.
And now it’s been over three days since you last got laid, and after having great sex regularly, the horniness is hitting you hard tonight, and you need to come.
It might be the dead of winter, but you’ve pushed the blankets to the end of your queen-sized bed, the old sheets not as soft as you imagined they’d once been when they were new, your bare, heated skin pressing into them. You’re lying in the middle of the mattress, your head cushioned by a pillow that’d lost its firmness long ago, your naked legs spread while your fingers rub at your swollen clit just right, the others pinching at your pebbled nipple to have the pleasure welling up inside you. You’ve been biting your bottom lip so much it’s sore, your breaths panting from your lungs, the wood stove in the living room keeping your house warm, and that, combined with your arousal, has a thin layer of sweat coating your body.
Sure, you can get yourself off, but the orgasm will be nowhere near as good as what Joel coaxes from you; it’ll take the edge off, at least, so you’ll feel a little better.
For the last hour, you’ve been building yourself up, almost hitting your peak, and stopping, edging yourself over and over again to try to make yourself come as hard as you can by your own hand to assuage some of your need—the sheets are wet under your ass where you’ve dripped onto them.
Your heart is pounding in your chest, thinking about that one night Joel saw some guy about your age at the bar laying it on thick to get you to leave with him, and how after you turned him down and left, a familiar presence followed you along the dark streets. You had to keep quiet when those big, gun-calloused hands you knew all too well pulled you into the stable that had nobody in it except the horses—Joel fucked you from behind against a wall, having to brace yourself with your arms on it. You remembered his palm over your mouth to muffle your sounds and him blanketing himself over your back to have his lips at your ear while he pounded into you hard and fast, quietly grunting about how you were his and that no one could make you feel as good as he did. There was no forgetting how his cock stretched open your cunt, or how before he sheathed himself inside you, you heard him spit on his fingers to slick himself up; the way he made you come around him while he circled your clit with those same digits. The memory of how he’d worked himself up so much he’d forgotten to pull out and spilled deep in your pussy, has you so close to coming by your hand you moan loudly, “Joel.”
“Stop,” the familiar gruff voice makes your eyes snap open as you gasp, immediately sitting up on your elbows.
There at the foot of the bed is the man on your mind—he must’ve taken off his winter jacket in the living room—his green flannel shirt is gaping from most of the buttons being undone, revealing his chest, his grey waves of hair looking to be slightly damp from melted snowflakes. What steals your attention is the fact his jeans are unbuttoned and open, and he’s slowly stroking his hard dick; from how the tip is angry red, leaking precum, and his shaft shines, he’s been watching and jerking off for some time.
“Joel,” his name comes out as a whisper, and your eyes flick up to his, finding them dark and staring hungrily between your legs at your glistening cunt.
You’re so happy to see him you’re not even mad he ruined your orgasm, knowing he’ll make it up to you.
“How many times have you made yourself come while I’ve been busy?” he asks, finally meeting your gaze, his expression grumpy.
“No-none,” you stammer.
His eyebrow lifts. “You lyin’ to me, sweetheart?”
“No.” You shook your head. “Are you mad at me…?”
His face pinches in confusion. “What? No. I’m not mad at you, baby. I’m mad at myself for leavin’ you hangin’.” He undoes the last two buttons on his shirt and shrugs it off for it to fall to the floor, pushing down his pants to step out of them, now standing before you completely naked.
His body is a tapestry of littered scars that tell of his fight to survive this long, some from injuries you’re sure should’ve killed him. Yet, somehow, if by spite or the grace of God, he managed to stay alive—your fingers have traced many of them, mapping the silvery and pink lines in the quiet of the night with only the glow of a bedside lamp. With what people have to do in order to keep living these days, they rarely like to share the stories behind their close calls to death. Still, there’s a jagged scar low on the right side of his stomach lesser men would have died from, you noticed the first time he took his shirt off, and you always wanted to know the story of. Surprisingly, he told you how he got it a few months into this not-not relationship when you asked.
Excitement pools in your belly, your pussy throbbing needily, watching as he climbs onto the bed to kneel in front of you, between your legs, down by your ankles.
“Touch yourself,” he orders and takes himself in hand again, languidly pumping his cock. “I wanna watch you make yourself come; then I’m gonna show you how I’m better than everyone, includin’ you, at gettin’ you off.”
Your cunt clenches because he is better, and the promise has you doing as he said, sliding your hand down to the apex of your thighs to rub your clit the way you like while you watch him fist his shaft. This isn’t the first time he’s watched you touch yourself, and you’re sure if it was anyone else, you’d feel embarrassed, but with how the desire is clear as he stares at what you’re doing, it spurs you on.
Having been so close to coming when he told you to stop, and now, it’s turning you on so much that he’s jacking off to what you’re doing, all of it is building you back up quickly, the familiar heat growing at the base of your spine.
“Just like that, baby,” he rasps and wets his bottom lip. “Keep rubbin’ that pretty pussy—did you miss me?”
“Yes.”
He hums in the back of his throat. “Missed how good I make you feel—how I stretch open that perfect cunt with my cock? Do I fuck you so good, you were thinkin’ about me to make yourself come?”
The strokes of his hand sound wetter, your arousal drooling onto the bedding while the muscles in your belly begin to tighten.
“Yes,” you gasp.
“That’s right, you were. So fuckin’ pretty spread out like this for me—I wanna taste you, shove my face in your pussy, and drown in it; just look at how you’re drippin’ for me.”
“Joel,” you moan. You’re so close it’s not going to take much more.
“God, I fuckin’ missed that sound; I missed hearin’ your voice and how good you smell, how soft your skin is, and the few hours I get to sleep next to you—come for me, baby. Come all over your fingers, and I’ll give you my dick—I’ll make those gorgeous eyes roll back in your head and give it to you so good, I ruin you for anyone else.”
He’s already ruined you for anyone else, and you doubt there’s another who’d fuck you as good as him.
It’s the thought that he’s yours and no one else can have him like this that sends you over the edge, your body seizing up as you come, pleasure erupting from your center as you moan his name.
He doesn’t give you a chance to recover, batting away your hand to dive in and bury his face in your wet heat. He shoves his tongue inside your soaked hole, groaning loudly as he laps at your come, your body trembling when he drags the flat of it up through your folds to suck your clit between his lips. Your fingers press into his hair, soft sounds leaving your throat at how good it feels.
The one orgasm isn’t enough—you need more, his mouth igniting arousal to burn hot in your belly, making you feel achingly empty. He’s licking up every bit of your need, coating your sex, moving to flick his tongue against your sensitive bundle of nerves. You’re feeling greedy; what he’s doing isn’t enough, and you want, no, need him inside you.
You pull at his hair as you tell him in a somewhat whiny tone, “Fuck me, Joel—stop making me wait.”
His chuckle vibrates into your sensitive skin before he rises to kneel with a groan. “Impatient.” He smacks your thigh. “Flip, ass up.” And it’s not a suggestion, his hands on your waist helping you to roll over, pulling your backside up into the air while your torso is against the sheets. Your knees are sinking into the bed and spread a little, putting yourself on display for him, the mattress jostling when he shuffles forward, feeling his body heat behind you. His palm lands on your asscheek hard, the sharp sting making you moan. “Now, ask me nicely to fuck you.”
You should’ve known he wouldn’t care for your lack of manners.
Your head is resting on your crossed arms in front of you.
“Joel, will you please fuck me?” you ask as sweetly as possible.
“Yes.”
The sound of him spitting on his fingers meets your ears, and you know he’s slicking himself up. One of his hands holds your hip, the other guiding his cock through the lips of your pussy to wet it even more, nudging your clit—it doesn’t seem like he’s in a mood to tease too much. Your eyes slip shut when he notches himself at your entrance and starts slowly feeding himself into you, your tight, velvety walls expanding to take the considerable girth of him, whining as he fills you. He slides all the way home, your cunt throbbing around him.
“Fuck, that’s good,” he groans. “Is this what your needy little pussy wanted?”
“Yes,” you moan.
He’s as deep as he can go and pulls out until just the tip remains, and slams back into you hard enough to knock the air from your lungs—oh, this is going to be one of those times where he fucks you to the point your legs are too shaky to walk on afterward. The pace he sets is deliciously brutal and has your eyes rolling back, all thoughts leaving your brain, unable to think with how he’s pressing into so many heavenly spots, his grip tight on your waist.
The sounds in the room are obscene—the springs beneath you are squeaking, and there’s the noisy slap of his hips colliding with your ass, Joel grunting with each dull smack of his skin to yours, while you gasp out moans.
He’s fucking you so good, your orgasm is already taking shape, its fiery tendrils tightening in your core with each stroke.
“You feel so fuckin’ good,” he says through gritted teeth. “You’re so fuckin’ wet—I could live in this perfect pussy.”
His hand slaps your ass hard enough the crack echoes amongst the four walls, the sweet pain making you clench around him and press back into his thrusts, crying out his name.
“Does it feel good, baby?” he asks. “Did you miss getting fucked like this? You love this—this pussy is mine, isn’t it? You’re mine.”
He’s not wrong; you are his, and all you can do is mewl in reply, waves of your arousal seeping down his shaft to catch on his balls.
His gun-calloused hands adjust on your hips to get a better grip, pulling you back each time his dick impales you, fucking you harder and faster, hearing him panting behind you—the wet sounds of him working himself in and out of your drenched cunt, are loud, and lewd.
You’re so close; you’re just needing—
Joel leans forward to get his hand under your body to the swollen pearl of your clit, circling it how he knows you like it.
“Come on, sweetheart,” he grits out. “Let me have it—soak my cock with your come. Let me feel you—I know you’re almost there.”
That’s it—the knot in your belly winds tighter and tighter until the tension snaps, and you fall over the edge with a silent cry, your pussy clamping down on him hard enough that it slows his rhythm almost to a stop. Joel groans loudly while euphoria explodes out from your center, feeling it spread to your fingers and toes. Your brain goes blissfully blank, and your legs tremble under you like a leaf in the wind.
A gasp leaves you when he suddenly pulls out and flips you onto your back, taking his place between your spread thighs. He puts your legs high on his ribs, holding his weight on one arm while his other hand sheaths himself back inside you.
It’s not surprising that you’ve found yourself under his hulking frame with his hips snapping in and out of you—when you open your eyes, his are closed, his expression looking pained, and it’s his broad shoulders and head that take up your vision. This is how Joel wanted to fuck you from the start, but he’s a gentleman and did your preferred position first.
Your fingernails end up digging into the skin of his shoulder blades for something to hold on to, and he kisses over your chest to duck his head, wrapping his lips around a stiff nipple and sucking on it, the shock of pleasure causing a moan to slip from your throat. His breaths are heavy, and you know he won’t last much longer.
Your voice is hoarse when you speak, telling him what you know he needs to hear, “I missed you, Joel.” He whines. “I want you to come for me.”
His mouth leaves your breast to crash against yours, and you’d been wondering how long he’d go without kissing you—something about kissing while he fucks makes him come faster; maybe it’s the intimacy?
He’s told you the last woman he was with back in Boston wouldn’t kiss him because sex between them was just scratching an itch, and she wasn’t looking for anyone to replace her dead husband.
All you know is Joel loves kissing and touching—he’s admitted that he sleeps best with you snuggled against his back as the big spoon, which, you’ll never tell him, you think is adorable with how he scares people enough, they move out of his way when he walks down the street.
His kisses are fervent, and you give just as good as you get, welcoming his tongue when it presses between your lips, his pace speeding up. You love having him inside you, the way he fits all nice and snug to fill you completely. This is what you’ve been needing, and it’s perfect.
When his rhythm gets uneven, you expect him to pull out at any second to spill his release on your belly. What he does next, you’re not expecting.
Joel shoves his face into the crook of your neck, his facial hair scratching your skin, feeling his hot breaths.
He says something that’s too muffled to make out, so you pull on his hair to make him lift his head, finding his eyes dark and glazed over, looking totally and completely wrecked. His pace slows to him rocking in and out of you.
“What did you say?” you ask.
“Can I—” he pants. “Fuck, can I come inside you?”
The question has your tight walls constricting around him.
“Fuck,” Joel hisses, his eyes closing. “Please, can I?” he asks again.
The answer that immediately pops into your brain is ‘yes,’ but thinking about how the only times this man has finished inside you in the past were all accidents, you’re worrying he’s just pussy drunk and not thinking straight; that if you fell pregnant, something you didn’t mind, he’ll regret it.
“Are you sure?” you ask.
He looks at you and nods. “Yes, I know—” The consequences, he leaves unsaid. “—please.”
“Then yes, come for me, Joel—fill me up.”
He raggedly moans, his face falling into your neck again. His thrusts speed up and become frantic as he pounds into you, your heels digging into his ass, feeling the muscles flex. He works himself up until he presses into you one last time as deep as possible and comes with a guttural groan—his dick jerks inside you, and the hot spurts of his spend gush into your depths, filling you up. Electricity zips down your spine as you moan, your tight walls throbbing around him while he grinds his hips, fucking his come deeper.
The weight of his body is welcome when he eventually slumps onto you, and instinctively, your fingers slide into his hair, scratching your nails lovingly against his scalp, the man practically purring on top of you.
For the first time in three days, you feel happy and finally sated, loving how he’s stuffed you full of his cock, and come. There’s no talking as your heartbeats slow together and your breathing evens out, basking in each other’s presence. Your eyes are closed, and you’re choosing to ignore your shaky limbs.
It’s hard to imagine a life without Joel, which is odd since up until this point, most of it had been spent without him, or anyone really. What you actually mean is you don’t want to imagine a life without Joel and Ellie—you think she’s a great kid, and you have a soft spot for her; plus, she and her dad are a package deal. Then there’s Joel, who you’re absolutely and completely in love with, and it bothers you that you don’t know what this relationship between you is or if he even feels the same as you.
Minutes pass, the old, wooden bones of your house creaking as the winter wind gusts outside.
“Joel?” you break the silence.
“Mhmm?” he hums, nuzzling into your throat.
“What are we?”
“Huh?”
“What are we? Like, what is this thing that we’re doing?”
His head lifts, and he pulls out, rolling off you to lie beside you on his back, pressing his hands to his face.
“Somethin’ I shouldn’t be doin’ in the first place,” he finally answers.
You turn on your side toward him, propping your head up on your arm. “Take my age out of the equation.”
His palms lift, and he looks at you confused. “What do you mean?”
“For some fucking reason, you are stuck on my age—take it out of the equation; if that wasn’t a factor, would you openly date me?”
“Well, there’s Ellie—”
“—let’s pretend she doesn’t give a fuck about your love life,” you cut him off, “and actually wants you to be happy, and my age doesn’t matter—would you openly date me?”
“Yes.”
“So, you have feelings for me?”
“Of course.”
“Do you love me…?”
“Yes,” he whispers, covering his face again.
One word has your heart picking up in speed.
“I love you, too.”
His head whips in your direction with an expression of bewilderment.
“What?” he asks.
“I’m in love with you—have been for a while, and I’m fine with doing what we’ve been doing if that’s the only way I can be with you, but I kinda, sorta, would like it if you thought of us as a couple, and weren’t ashamed of me…”
A secret relationship? You’re fine with that. But Joel being ashamed of you? It fucking hurts.
“I’m not ashamed of you,” he says too quickly.
“Joel, if Ellie were okay with you having a love life, you wouldn’t openly date me because of how old I am—I’d just continue being your dirty little secret that one other person knows about.”
His eyes dart away, and the sigh he lets out is long and weary.
“I’m not ashamed of you,” he says. “I’m ashamed of myself for fallin’ for you and not bein’ able to give you the future you deserve. I just felt like I was stringin’ you along when you could be with someone who can offer you more, but I’m so fuckin’ selfish.” He looks at you. “I want you, and I don’t want anyone else to have you—I can’t let you go, even though I should cut you free.”
Your fingers brush back the sweat-soaked hair on his forehead. “I don't want anyone else, Joel—I want you, and you’re not stringing me along. I’m happy with you and any future I can have with you and Ellie.”
He’s frowning. “If only it were that simple,” he sighs.
This is a conversation you thought might make him end things with you, but maybe giving him a slight nudge will be okay—at least, you hope it will.
“It is that simple,” you tell him. “I’m gonna tell you something that if you can work up the nerve to talk to her about, she'll confirm it.”
His eyebrows furrow. “What?”
“Ellie doesn’t care if you date. She’s told me she wishes you weren’t such an asshole ‘cause then the only negative thing about you is how ugly you are, and people love ugly things all the time, and if someone loves you, then you won’t die alone, plus it’d hopefully make you happy, and she really wants you to be happy—that’s pretty much what she said word-for-word.”
His eyes close, and the sigh that leaves him is that of a father who’s real tired of their child’s shit, and you smile.
“That’s Ellie,” he says, scrubbing a hand over his face. “I’m not even sure how I should be feelin’ right now.”
“I hoped you’d be relieved at least, possibly even happy.”
He looks at you. “Yeah, I’m relieved and happy but also a little ticked at her embarrassin’ me like that.”
Scooting closer to him, you lay half on top of him with your arms folded on his chest, resting your chin on them to stare at his pretty face.
“Don’t be embarrassed. It was said out of love—she loves you.”
He sighs again, wrapping his arms around your bare back.
“I guess she does, even if she’s mean. Jesus, I can’t believe I just needed to talk to her sooner.”
“That’s usually how things work—it’s called communication, and you should talk to her.”
His eyes narrowed, and he smacked your ass, making you giggle. “There’s no need for the sass, sweetheart, and I was plannin’ on bitin’ the bullet and tellin’ her about us in the next couple of days.”
Your eyes widened. “You were? What?”
“Yeah, uh, I had a hard time with Ellie bein’ sick, and when you came over, I didn’t feel like I was goin’ insane with worry. Havin’ you there made it better, and I missed you.” His lips dip in a frown.
“I missed you, too—you were really gonna tell her?”
“I was.” He nods. “With how happy she was to see you, I thought maybe she’d be okay with it.” He shrugs.
You smile. “I think you’re right,” you reply, giving him a quick kiss. Meeting his gaze, you ask, “Is she feeling better?”
“Yeah, and thank Christ, she is.” He looks visibly relieved. “I think it was that soup you brought over—thank you for that and for givin’ me a chance to sleep.” He pecks you on the lips.
“It was no problem. I would’ve been there the entire time had it not been suspicious.”
He smiles. “I know.”
“Good. Sooo, I’m wondering, what are we now?”
“A couple,” he answers. “I’ve thought that for a while, but I’m too fuckin’ old to be callin’ myself your boyfriend.”
“I quite like having a sexy, older boyfriend.”
You squeak in surprise when he rolls you onto your back, your legs automatically opening for him to nestle his hips between. He’s holding himself up with his arms beside your head while yours loop around his neck, his lips pressing to the side of your throat, kissing the taut skin.
“You like havin’ a sexy, older boyfriend, huh?” His question is muffled, and you swallow hard when he sucks on your pulse point.
“I do,” you reply.
“I like havin’ you.” He’s kissing and nibbling along your jaw.
“‘Cause no one else can?”
He nips your chin, then hovers his head over yours to look you in the eyes.
His expression is serious. “Yes,” he says, “and I love you—if Ellie really doesn’t give a shit about me datin’, then every fuckin’ person in town is gonna know you’re mine.”
And something about that declaration thrills you.
“I’d like that.”
He gives you a small smile and kisses you for a moment before a thought comes to him, and he pulls back to meet your gaze.
“Maybe that neighbor, the annoyin’ one who doesn’t seem to know the meanin’ of no, will finally get it through her head, I’m not fuckin’ interested.”
You glare off into the distance. “Fucking Sandra,” you seethe.
The first time he met you, Joel knew he was fucked.
All he wanted to do was be polite and introduce himself to his new neighbor, then you opened the door, and his brain stopped working because you were so beautiful. It didn’t help when you blatantly checked him out, clearly undressing him with your eyes before looking entirely too pleased with what you were seeing.
If he’d been a stronger, honorable man, he wouldn’t have accepted your offer to come inside for a drink; he wouldn’t have kissed you back or laid you down on the couch to eat your pussy; he wouldn’t have let you choke on his dick or crawl into his lap and ride him; he wouldn’t have gotten so lost in being buried in your wet, warm, perfect cunt and your lips on his that he forgot to pull out when he came; he wouldn’t have gotten addicted and returned to you almost every night after.
If he’d been a stronger, honorable man, he would’ve ended things before it went too far and definitely before he fell in love with you.
From the beginning, he knew he was way too old for you, and he didn’t understand why you wanted him or kept letting him into your house. He had nothing to offer you, yet even when the opportunities arose for you to go home with men your own age, you rejected them and welcomed him into your bed instead. It made little sense that someone as young and beautiful as you would give someone like him all of your attention.
He’s lost count of how many times he’s told you that you’d be better off with somebody younger than him. It’s usually when he remembers your age or when you don’t know what he’s talking about when he brings up certain things from how life was before it all went to hell. He says the words out loud, practically a reflex at this point when the guilt gets to him, and as quickly as the feeling comes, it goes because, as he told you, he’s selfish; he doesn’t want you with someone else; he wants you all to himself. When you tell him there isn’t anyone you’d rather be with than him, it feeds something deep inside of him that won’t let you go, and hearing you say you love him has only made it stronger—you have his total devotion.
Ellie being sick messed up his head enough that in the moments when you came to mind, he was plagued with the thought that you probably found someone new. The only time he felt a modicum of peace was when you stopped by, and with that and how much his kid loved you being there, and in general, he came to the conclusion he couldn’t lose you:
It was time for him to tell Ellie.
Joel isn’t delusional; you’d grow tired of only getting his nights and the occasional day, eventually, and he needed to give you more of himself, which required his daughter to know about your relationship.
If Ellie knew, then he could give you more.
He’s ashamed of himself for hiding your relationship and, in turn, not having much to offer in terms of a future. It bothers him so much that he hasn’t been able to be with you out in the open because you deserve better than being his dirty little secret, as you call yourself.
He hates that.
He wants everyone to know you’re his and that he is yours.
When he realized he was going to tell Ellie, he started imagining how your relationship would change. You could finally have a life together, and it had him thinking about things he never would’ve considered before you and actively tried to prevent in the past, but you didn’t mind the idea of bringing a new life into the world, and he thought that might not be so bad; Jackson’s safe, and he has no doubt you’ll be a great mother—and it’s a future he’s pretty sure you want since your reactions have always been positive when he accidentally finishes inside you. That’s why tonight he decided to say fuck it and asked if he could; he wasn’t worried about the consequences anymore.
He’s kicking himself in the ass for not talking to Ellie sooner.
The only reason he hasn’t broached the subject with her is after what happened in Colorado, Joel’s treated her like she’s a fragile piece of glass that he doesn’t want to risk getting broken again—the way she lost her spark after that resort town killed him; and what happened at the hospital? If he had the chance, he’d murder every one of those Fireflies again for how fucked up she was when he told her their plans to kill her without knowing for sure if they could make a cure or not and that her life meant nothing to them.
It took a lot of time for him to put her back together again, and being in Jackson helped a lot with her making friends and having some semblance of normalcy. But he’s worried any major changes will mess her up, and add in her biggest fear of ending up alone, Joel dating seems like a recipe for disaster—Ellie will always be his top priority, even if it’s at the expense of his happiness.
It’s early morning, and he’s got another thirty minutes before the sun will begin its ascent on the horizon, fresh snow coating the ground, the temperature freezing. Joel is skulking home from your place to be there before Ellie wakes up.
His point of entry is the back door that leads into their kitchen, which doesn’t make as much noise as the front and can be locked when he leaves. He’s staying close to the side of the house, heading toward the backyard, and peeks around the corner to check the vicinity—his heart pounds when he sees a dark figure trying to get into the door, Joel pulling the knife, he walks around with, off of his belt, keeping his steps light, silently approaching them.
“Why the fuck don’t we have a light back here?” he hears them quietly mutter.
“Ellie?” Joel says at regular volume.
“Ahhh!” she screams, turning in his direction. Her hand is over her winter coat-covered chest. “Jesus Christ, Joel! Way to give me a fucking heart attack!”
He walks closer, sheathing his knife, as he says, “What the hell are you doin’ out here?”
“What the hell are you doing out here?”
His hands perch on his hips. “Doesn’t matter—you, on the other hand, just got over bein’ sick and shouldn’t be out in this cold. Move, I’m gettin’ your ass inside.”
She stepped aside, and he walked over, quickly unlocking and opening the door; he grabbed her by the shoulder and firmly guided her inside. He flicked on the room’s light once they were inside, and the door was closed and locked, Joel crossing his arms over his chest.
“Now, where the fuck have you been?” he asks.
She’s unzipping her coat. “Where the fuck have you been?”
“I asked you first.”
She shrugs off her jacket and tosses it onto the kitchen table. Joel sighs, walking over to pick it up—he’ll hang it alongside his by the front door before he goes up to his room.
“I was at the same place you were.”
He keeps his face neutral, but his heart is thudding, and he’s pretty fucking sure she wasn’t at your house.
He meets her eyes. “And that is?”
She smirks. “My secret girlfriend’s.”
“Goddammit.” His fingers press to his forehead as he closes his eyes. “You fuckin’ know—how the fuck do you know?”
“Let’s see, she’s literally the only person in town aside from me and Tommy’s family you like. You stare at her with, I don’t know what to call them, googly eyes? It’s that look the dudes have when they see the love of their life, or whatever, in those shitty romantic movies we like to make fun of. I’ve heard you call her ‘sweetheart’—” She fake gags, and Joel sighs. “—you’ve gone over to her house to fix so much shit that, at this point, it’s gotta be a whole new house. You sneak over there every fucking night. Oh, and when she sees the lady next door, the crazy one who’s got a real hard-on for you—gross by the way—when she sees ‘you can call me, Sandy,’ flirt with you—double-gross—I’m pretty sure she’s plotting murder; you’re definitely plotting murder when guys hit on your girlfriend—which, I don’t get why the two of you pretend like you aren’t together; is she embarrassed that you’re so fucking old and ugly, or something?” His teeth clench, and he glares at her. “God, don’t give me the murder eyes, Joel! I was kidding!” She playfully punches his arm. “Kind of… I mean, I’m happy you found someone who loves you even though you’re a grumpy asshole and look like that.” She points at his face.
“You done?”
“Telling you you’re old and ugly? Sure. For now. But I have one more thing that gave you guys away.”
His eyebrow lifts. “What is it?”
“When she came over the other day while I was sick as balls and hung out with me, you slept. Joel, you do not fucking sleep if there’s anyone else here besides me, which is why if I wanna have a sleepover with my friends, I have to go to their houses.”
“Were we really that obvious?”
“Oh, yeah.”
“Why didn’t you tell me you knew?”
She’s clearly confused. “I thought we were avoiding the topic.”
“What topic?”
“Like, relationships—you never said anything to me, so I figured it was something we don’t talk about.”
He cringes. “I wasn’t sure how you’d feel…”
She smiles. “I don’t give a fuck if you date, Joel—if you’re happy, I’m happy.”
He matches her look. “I’m pretty fuckin’ happy. Are you happy with your uh, girlfriend? Have I met her?”
“Yeah,” she nods, grinning. “It’s Cat!”
His eyes round—he was under the impression Cat is her best friend, and he has met the other girl many times.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” he chuckles, shaking his head. “You’re way better at this secret girlfriend stuff than I am. I had no clue. I like Cat; she’s got all those neat tattoos.”
“She does!” she replies with a grin. “And I’m getting one!”
“You’re what?!”
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#pedro pascal#joel miller#joel miller/reader#joel miller x reader#joel the last of us#joel miller smut#wheresarizona writes#joel miller x you#Joel miller/yo
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