#been meaning to use this lyrics for them for a while now...
Text
wise beyond her years
sol meets someone, and it's doomed from the start. everyone can see it, except her. ingrid tries to balance being supportive and being... a parent?
based [ish] on the manuscript by taylor swift... mostly the lyrics
"afterwards she only ate kids cereal
and couldn't sleep unless it was in her mother's bed"
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You met her at one of Ingrid’s games. Mapi had gone down to the locker room at halftime, and you’d been content to sit in your seat and scroll through your phone until the team made their way back out. That was, until she slid into the seat next to you and introduced herself.
Camila. She was a bit taller than you, the epitome of Spanish beauty. She spoke English with an adorable accent, and when you looked into her eyes for the first time, you were almost speechless. She looked to be a bit older than you. Maybe around Ingrid’s age.
You should have known better. You should have thought about how odd it was that she’d been sitting a few rows up and only came to talk to you when you were alone. How those first few dates she took you on always ended with her getting you to invite her to the next Barça game.
It was so easy for her. You were… healing. That didn't mean that you were healed. Freud would have rolled in his grave at how oblivious you were. Dating an older woman. Only a month or so after a huge fallout with your mother. Letting her talk you into things you weren’t quite sure about. Let her talk her way into your heart, making promises and declarations of love that came much too soon.
She said that she loved you. And it wasn’t that you believed her, not really. You just thought that if you tried hard enough to be perfect, one day she would love you.
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Ingrid had made her displeasure with Camila known to you from the beginning. She knew exactly what the woman was up to, it was obvious to everyone but you. She was using you because you were an easy target, and you were vulnerable and young and excited that someone was paying attention to you.
You wouldn’t listen to Ingrid, though. Not when she warned you nicely about Camila, or when she warned you much more seriously. You ignored her words completely, dismissed them. And Ingrid didn’t want to fight with you, but she couldn’t hold back her feelings about this woman that had slipped into your life, so poor Mapi bore the brunt of the Norwegian’s rants about how Camila was not good enough for her Solstråle.
This was the case today. You were off with Camila, and Ingrid was going crazy back home. It had been weeks, and this was still going on. The worry and concern your sister had for you was at a high, it was all she could think about. Mapi felt similarly, but she tried to keep her cool because she knew very well that telling you not to date the woman would only make you want to date her more.
“She’s going to get hurt.” Ingrid said.
“She might. That’s how she learns, though, mi amor. We have to let her make her own mistakes.”
“Did you read that in your parenting book?” Ingrid asked with a slight smirk.
Mapi flushed red, avoiding her girlfriend’s gaze. “It is not a parenting book. It is a… helping sad teens book.” She argued.
Ingrid softened. “María, don’t be embarrassed. Getting a book to learn how to help Solstråle better… that is sweet and thoughtful. Just like you.”
Now, Mapi was blushing again, but this time a small smile adorned her features, though worry was still clouding her eyes. “Are you sure it’s okay? I know she’s your sister, and I do not want to overstep.”
Ingrid just shook her head. “No, you are not overstepping. I couldn’t do this without you, María, and I mean that. You balance me out. I was worried, for a while, about being too much like my mother. You’d never let that happen, though, and it’s like a safety net. I don’t need to worry as much about making a mistake because you’re always there to tell me when I’m not doing the right thing. And you don’t have to be, but you are. I don’t thank you enough for that, my love. I don’t tell you enough, how incredible you are, for being so full of love, and so happy to share it with everyone you meet.”
“I love you.” María whispered back. “I love you, and I love mi sol, and I tolerate her dog, but I love our family. Sol is a special kid and… I don’t know. I just want you both to be happy. I want you both to feel loved and worthy of love because you are.”
Ingrid isn’t quite sure how this conversation about your ‘girlfriend’ had led to this incredibly mushy conversation, but she pulled Mapi into her and squeezed tightly. “ Don’t make me cry, Solstråle will be home soon and she’ll make fun of me.”
Mapi laughed loudly, quickly wiping a tear off Ingrid’s cheek as the front door opened, announcing your arrival home. When you walked into the living room, it was to see Mapi and Ingrid curled up together on the couch, which wasn’t an unusual sight. Nor was the way they were looking at each other unusual, either. Like seeing the other person smile could sustain the other for days. Ingrid and Mapi loved each other so deeply, and so easily, it was clear for anyone to see.
You wanted that, you really did. And you thought you had it where you definitely didn’t. You’d have it one day, though. Something told you that.
-------
You weren’t sitting with Mapi at the match today. Camila had wanted it to be a real date, and not be supervised by your sister’s girlfriend, though she still wanted to attend the match. You’d been excited about it, even though you’d spent most of your free time with her in the past couple weeks. Well, excited until she’d disappeared right before kick off to get you both waters, and had been gone for 20 minutes.
You were really just worried that something had happened to slow her down, so you got up when an opposing player went down and headed off in search of her.
You found her pretty easily, leaning against a wall by the bathroom, talking to a girl. A girl that looked to be about your age, that looked just like you in fact. You tried not to jump to conclusions as you froze, watching carefully from a few meters away. It was obvious, though, what was going on. Even more obvious when Camila reached out and tucked a piece of the girl’s hair behind her ear.
It wasn’t immediately clear to you what to do. You knew you should be angry, but really all you felt was hurt. Before Camila could spot you, you headed back to your seat, and when Camila returned a few minutes later, you did what you were used to. You shut down. You answered her questions with shrugs or nods, even when she started to get annoyed that you weren’t speaking.
You wanted to talk to Frido. Not Ingrid or Mapi, because they’d freak out. Mapi would get all weirdly protective and huffy, and Ingrid would just be furious that you hadn’t listened to her. Frido would listen to you, and tell you what to do. You couldn’t get to the Swede, though, not without seeing your sister and her girlfriend. And by the time the final whistle blew, Camila’s anger was simmering under the surface, and she practically dragged you from the stadium. You quickly texted Mapi, telling her you were leaving with Camila, before your girlfriend pushed you into the car and all but slammed the door. You winced at the sound, knowing that you shouldn’t feel guilty for how you were acting. Camila should be the one feeling bad, but you couldn’t help the nagging feeling to just apologize and let it go.
It was like the old version of you and the newer version were fighting. Was this how you deserved to be treated? Had Camila really done anything wrong? Your brain was a mess, and as Camila pulled the car out of the parking spot, and began to drive, you decided that you just needed some space to think.
“Can you take me home?” You asked quietly, looking at your girlfriend out of the corner of your eye. She seemed to relax a bit, now that you’d spoken. Camila didn’t look as angry anymore. Just worried.
“Is everything okay? You’ve gone silent on me.” Camila asked gently. Or, at least, it sounded gentle. She was giving you a kind, concerned smile but there was a look in her eyes that made you kind of uneasy. You ignored it, focusing on the softness, letting yourself be lulled into a false sense of security. You told yourself to be honest, that it was probably just a misunderstanding. That Camila would make you feel better about it, explain it all away. And everything would go back to normal.
“I just… I saw you talking to that girl by the bathroom. It looked kind of cozy.” You said cautiously. The car came upon an intersection, a red light, and Camila came to a stop before she looked over at you. The concern was gone from her face. The softness nowhere to be found. She just looked furious at you.
“Did you follow me to the bathroom for a reason?” She asked venomously.
You shook your head, surprised at the turn this conversation had taken. “No, no, you were gone for a while, and I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”
Camila rolled her eyes as the light turned green, looking away from you and at the road. “Sure. I was just saying hi to an old friend. There’s no need to get all jealous.”
“I’m not jealous.” You replied, sitting up straighter in your seat, a bit of anger flaring in you. Anger you hadn’t felt in a while, but a feeling that still filled your veins with fire. “I just wanted to know why you were flirting with someone while we were on a date.”
Camila scoffed. “I was not flirting. I told you it was an old friend. I barely talked to her, what are you being so dramatic about?”
“I really don’t think I’m being dramatic. I just asked you a question.” You said, trying to remain calm even as your girlfriend got angrier and angrier next to you.
“No, you acted like a child. Going completely silent and ruining our date? I know you’re young, but I expected you to act like an adult and be more mature than that. It’s honestly embarrassing.”
You felt your cheeks burn, and you chewed on your lip for a minute, trying not to say anything you’d regret. “I asked you a question, and you just keep deflecting. I don’t think I am being the childish one.”
“Is this the mommy issues or something?” Camila asked, a cruel smile playing on her lips. You sat silent for a moment, not completely sure you’d heard her correctly.
“Excuse me?”
“The jealousy, the insecurity? I know your mom fucked you up, but this is ridiculous. We’ve only been together for a few weeks, why are you being so clingy? It’s fucking annoying, and I’ll tell you right now, no one on earth is going to want to put up with this. Especially not from you, it’s not worth it.”
You blinked, completely shocked. You hadn’t expected her to get so angry when you’d been honest about your insecurity and worry. And you hadn’t expected her to throw things that you’d told her in a moment of vulnerability in your face either. “Are you serious?” You asked, voice cracking slightly.
Camila let out a humorless laugh, parking the car in front of the cafe you were supposed to be going to. “Are you going to cry now?” She asked mockingly. “Christ, you really are too young. I don’t want to date someone this immature.”
You stared at her, feeling like you had whiplash from the turn this conversation had taken. It seemed like she was breaking up with you. Which was probably for the best, if this was how she reacted to you bringing up an issue with her. Still, it was like you were seeing a side of her you’d never seen before. Cold. Cruel. She looked completely unbothered as she unlocked the car doors and gave you a pointed look, one that clearly told you that this conversation was over.
She looked unbothered, and you felt your heart shatter as your biggest fear was coming true. You were too much. It had only taken Camila weeks to get tired of you. Hot tears fell down your cheeks, ones you desperately tried to hide. You were sad and embarrassed, but most of all. You just felt so hopeless.
As you got out of the car, without another word said to your now ex-girlfriend, you wondered how you could have been so naive to think that someone would want you. Camila was right. You were too screwed up for anyone to choose you.
You walked right into the cafe, making a beeline for the bathroom. Locking and shutting the door behind you, the last of your resolve broke, and you worked hard to quiet the broken sobs falling from your lips.
Stupid. You’d been so stupid. It wasn’t the first time someone had broken your trust, or said something awful to you. But it was the first time since… things had changed. And somehow, you’d forgotten how much it hurt, feeling unwanted. You had been used to it, before, numb to it. Now, though, it burned sharp in your chest. Shame and sadness and anger and frustration. And still. That persistent feeling of hopelessness. How was anyone ever supposed to want you?
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Mapi had a weird feeling when you called. Your text after the match had sounded odd, and you were supposed to be getting coffee with Camila. She didn’t really have any other reason to be worried, but for some reason, she was.
“Maps?” You greeted quietly. You called Mapi on purpose. She worried less than Ingrid, and while she disapproved of Camila, she had been pretending that she didn’t. Mapi was more likely to be willing to come and get you. Ingrid, on the other hand, you assumed would be too angry that you hadn’t listened to her. Too vindicated, and too caught up in being right to comfort you.
“Hey, nena. What’s up?” Mapi asked.
“Can you come get me?” You mumbled, the embarrassment of the situation really hitting you full force.
“Send me your location, I’m on my way.” Mapi replied instantly, and you really appreciated that she didn’t try to get any details out of you, was just focused on getting to you as fast as possible.
“Can you bring Scout?” You asked after a moment’s hesitation, knowing how Mapi felt about bringing the dog in the car with her. The simple question sent another wave of worry through the Spaniard’s body, knowing you really only asked for something you needed when… you really needed it.
“Of course. Do you want to stay on the phone with me?” Mapi asked, rushing to grab her keys, ignoring the questioning look Ingrid was giving her from the couch, having woken up from a nap.
“No, it’s okay. I’ll see you soon.”
“Okay, mi sol. I love you.”
“Love you too.” You whispered, choking back a sob as you hung up.
“What is it? Where is she? Is she okay? Did something happen?” Ingrid asked rapidly, moving to get up from the couch.
“Scout! Ven aqui!” Mapi called, rolling her eyes when the dog appeared instantly, as if he knew the reason for being summoned. “I don’t know, she just asked me to come get her. Don’t get up. Stay here, rest. I’ll get pequeña.”
“But-”
“No buts, princesa. Stay here. I’ve got this covered, we’ll be back soon. Don’t move from this couch, I mean it.” Mapi insisted, never one to take Ingrid’s recovery casually.
Ingrid frowned but sat back down on the couch, watching as her girlfriend and your dog disappeared out the front door, both of them moving like they were on a mission. If there was one thing Mapi could agree with Scout on, it was that you were very important.
-------
When Mapi pulled up in front of the cafe, she saw you sitting with a to-go cup of coffee at a little table, staring at the ground. She parked quickly, finding a spot just around the corner, before she got out to walk over to you, bringing Scout with her. Scout pulled harshly on his leash, and for once, Mapi didn’t mind.
“Solstråle?” Mapi called when she got close enough, seeing your head whip up to look in the direction of your name. In a flash, you were abandoning your coffee and all but launching yourself towards Mapi. The Spaniard didn’t say anything, not quite sure what had happened but able to infer that it wasn’t good.
“Thanks for coming so fast.” You said quietly, feeling just marginally better now that Mapi had pulled you into a tight hug. Scout nudged your leg with his nose rather insistently, until you pulled away from the hug and crouched down to pet him.
“Of course, mi sol. I’ll always come for you. Did something happen?” Mapi asked, never not amazed by the way Scout instantly brought a small smile to your face, even if your eyes were still slightly wet with tears.
“We broke up.” You said simply, though your voice cracked over the last word.
“Oh, nena. I’m so sorry.” Mapi sighed. “Let's get you home, yeah?”
“Okay.” You agreed, although you really weren’t looking forward to it. You wanted to go home, curl up into a ball and cry, by yourself. At the same time, you desperately wanted a hug from your sister. You were just completely convinced that she wouldn’t be willing to do that.
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You walked into the house just behind Mapi, trying to take deep, steadying breaths. You were close to breaking down, and you didn’t really need to hear all the reasons that Ingrid had known this would happen. You didn’t need an ‘I told you so.’
Your sister was waiting for you in the entrance hall, pacing nervously, when you walked in.
“Solstråle! What happened? Are you okay?” Ingrid asked as soon as you were through the door, ignoring Mapi’s look that was clearly telling her to be cool.
“It’s fine, I’m fine. I want to be alone.” You said, pushing past her to head for the stairs. You heard Ingrid begin to go after you, but Mapi stopped her, telling her to give you a minute.
-------
You collapsed onto your bed, Scout jumping up next to you like he thought it was a game. You just wished it would just swallow you up. It was only a few minutes later that you heard footsteps approaching your door, like you knew they would. A soft knock on your door interrupted your crying, and you hastily wiped at your eyes. “Yeah?”
Ingrid peaked her head in. “I know you said you want to be alone, but I just wanted to check…” she said, trailing off when she saw you valiantly fighting your tears.
“I’m okay.” You mumbled, focusing on petting Scout, as opposed to looking at your sister.
“Honey, you aren’t.” Ingrid sighed, moving in closer to take a seat on the edge of your bed. “You’re upset, that’s okay. You don’t need to be embarrassed.”
“Well, I am. You were right. Is that what you wanted to hear?” You asked bitingly, not really intending to snap so harshly at your sister, but not quite sure you felt like you could trust her at the moment.
“No, sweetheart, that is not what I wanted to hear. I wanted to be wrong about her, solstråle, more than anything. I am so sorry things didn’t end well.”
“You aren’t glad that you’re right?” You asked, astonished. It didn't really make sense to you; all of this could have been avoided if you’d just listened to your sister. How could she be sorry for you when you’d blatantly ignored her advice?
Ingrid shook her head, her face painfully full of pity and sympathy. “No, not if it means that you’re hurting.”
“Oh.” You weren’t quite sure what to do with that. You’d been prepared to deal with this yourself. To be completely honest, you didn’t really feel like you deserved Ingrid’s support. You’d been so stupid not to listen to her. This was all your fault, really, and Ingrid shouldn’t have to deal with implications of something that was ultimately your mistake. “I’m sorry, I should have listened.” You said quietly, looking down, refusing to make eye contact with your sister.
“Don’t be sorry, solstråle.” Ingrid sighed. You looked so distraught, but you were leaning slightly away from your sister, like you were afraid to accept any comfort from her. Like suddenly, you weren’t sure you trusted her anymore. And though that hurt, Ingrid really couldn’t blame you. Not when the universe seemed so dead set on making you miserable. “What can I do?”
“I just want to be alone.” You mumbled, wrapping your arms around yourself, completely invalidating your statement.
“No, you don’t. Look at me.” Ingrid instructed, waiting until you raised your head to look at her, very cautiously. “You’re allowed to be sad about this. No matter what happened, no matter what I said about her before. I never want to see you hurting. You don’t have to deal with this alone just because you made a mistake. Okay?”
You held your sister’s gaze for a few moments, before you slowly nodded your head. “I really liked her.” You whispered after a minute, leaning almost imperceptibly towards your sister.
“I know. Come here, honey,” Ingrid said, opening her arms for you to all but collapse into them. It was familiar, at this point, being held tightly in Ingrid’s arms. It never failed to make you feel better. And while Ingrid wished that things would just be easier for you, a very critical part of herself settled when you relaxed against her. The brunette was never quite sure she was doing a good enough job with you, but when you went to her when you were upset, allowed her to help you, even if it was rather hesitantly, it felt reassuring to her. It wasn’t full trust, but you were getting there. She must be doing something right if you were making progress.
“What would make you feel better?” Ingrid asked after a minute, smiling to herself at how Scout had settled himself with half his upper body draped across your legs.
“Nothing.” You replied pathetically. It wasn’t the first relationship you’d had, but it felt so much more significant than any of the others had. In just a few weeks, Camila had made herself one of the most important things in your life. You weren’t really sure how she managed it, but somehow, she’d gotten you to confess things you’d told very few people, learned more about you than many people did. And as soon as things had started to not go her way, she’d used all those things against you. It was the first time in a while that you’d really let yourself be fully vulnerable with someone, and it had backfired so horrifically. You were hurt, and you were embarrassed, but most of all, you were just sad.
You thought this was going to be a turning point for you, but you didn’t realize you’d given Camila all of the ammunition she’d needed to make sure it was the biggest setback you’d face. Not until you were lying in your bed, wanting nothing more than to disappear. You’d been nothing to her. That was a familiar feeling, something that made every cell in your body squirm with anxiety. It was happening again.
“What are you thinking?” Ingrid asked, interrupting your rapid stream of thoughts.
“Is it me? Do I just… make people want to treat me badly?” You asked. It wasn’t the first time you’d considered it, but that particular fear had been dormant since everything had happened in the last few weeks. Since Ingrid and Mapi had made it clear that they wanted you here with them. It was confusing and completely contradictory, your brain couldn’t really make sense of it. Your sister and her girlfriend must just be the exception.
“No.” Ingrid said firmly. “No. It isn’t you. You just have… bad luck. You make me and Mapi want to be better, Solstråle. Better for you, so that we can take care of you in the way that you deserve. You are good, Solstråle, and you deserve good, even when you don’t feel like it.”
For some reason, Ingrid’s words brought tears to your eyes. Good tears. “Well, I can’t have all bad luck. I get to be here with you two, and I don’t know if I would still be…” you trailed off, trying to figure out what you wanted to say. “You both saved my life, I think. The two of you wanting me here, and taking me in, that’s good luck.” You managed, sitting up and shifting so you were facing your sister, who looked one word away from bursting into tears herself.
“It’s not good luck, mi sol. It’s what you deserve. It’s what you should have had this whole time.” Mapi chimed in from the doorway, looking fondly at the two of you. Ingrid smiled at her in thanks, humming quietly in agreement with her girlfriend’s statement. The Spaniard wandered in closer, flopping onto the free space on your bed, causing a disgruntled Scout to shift, kicking Mapi lightly in the side. “That girl did not deserve you. And you’ll find someone who wants to treat you the way you deserve. You just can’t rush stuff like that, sí? It will come to you when it does.”
It was potentially the most frustrating advice to receive, but it made you feel better nonetheless.
“And she was kind of ugly.” Mapi said as an afterthought.
“Mapi!” You laughed, smiling a real smile. Both girls’ faces lit up at the sight of the smile on your face, and both of them were desperate for you to keep smiling, for your face not to fall into the sad frown it had been in for the past hour. The conversation lulled, and Ingrid’s mind raced, trying to think of what people liked to do after breakups. She’d been with Mapi for so long, she wasn’t sure she remembered.
“Do you want to lay in bed alone for the rest of your night, or do you want to watch a movie? Or we could go get ice cream. Or we could go shopping. Or on a run. Or-” Ingrid listed, only stopping when you cut her off.
“Sister movie night sounds good.” You said softly, unable to express in that moment how much you appreciated how hard she was trying. You knew ingrid probably wanted to talk, to hear everything that had happened, but she was learning to respect that you really only liked to talk when you felt like it. Which wasn’t often.
“Sister movie night, cool.” Ingrid said, trying to act like she wasn’t thrilled that you’d decided to be with her instead of requesting to be alone. “Go pick a movie, I’ll make popcorn.”
You all dragged yourselves off your soft comforter, having grown rather comfortable, and headed for your bedroom door.
“I’ll be in the garage.” Mapi said, smiling at both of you as she tried to wordlessly communicate that she knew you both wanted sister time, and it was okay that it didn’t include her. Both you and Ingrid froze, though, turning slightly to stare at her like she’d said something absurd.
“Don’t be stupid.” You said, rolling your eyes. “‘Sister movie night’ obviously means ‘sister and her live-in girlfriend’ movie night.”
Mapi looked a bit surprised, though she shouldn’t have been. There were very few times that you just wanted to be with Ingrid, and those times were becoming less and less frequent as you began to depend on Mapi more and more. “You want me to watch with you?”
“Sí.” You said, almost exasperated. “Why wouldn’t I want you to hangout with us?”
“I just thought it was Engen sister time…” Mapi trailed off, looking uncharacteristically insecure.
“Engen León family time.” Ingrid amended, looking at you for approval. You nodded.
“Who else is going to talk the entire length of the film?” You asked, smirking and sprinting off down the stairs when Mapi gave you an offended look, Scout hot on your heels.
------
The movie had been a good distraction, not that Mapi or Ingrid really paid much attention to it. Instead, they kept glancing over at where you were curled up on the couch. Scout had taken his place next to you, one of his legs stretching out every now and then to kick in Mapi’s direction.
The conversation with them had obviously made you feel better, but they were still rather uneasy. You were acting completely normally, all of a sudden. And they didn’t buy it, not for a second. They weren’t sure what had happened, because you hadn’t said, but they knew that it wasn’t good. You’d been infatuated with Camila, and now you were reluctant to speak her name. Whatever had gone on had hurt you, deeply, but in the span of a few hours, you were acting like you were completely fine.
To you, it just felt like there was no use in thinking about it anymore. Crying over what happened, being sad or angry with Camila wouldn’t help you. It wouldn’t make you feel better. You’d very logically taken stock of your emotions, before deciding that they were completely useless. You were fine.
Well, maybe not, but you would be fine. Especially if you acted like nothing was wrong. Like you weren’t questioning every choice you’d made with Camila. Like you didn’t hate yourself. Emotions only had power if you gave it to them, you decided. Before, you might have been angry. Now, though, you just… forced it all off, far away. No feeling anything until it hurt less to think about what had happened.
It seemed like a good plan to you, and you stuck to it. Even when you couldn’t fall asleep that night, your mind swirling with horrible thoughts as you tried to push them away. Eventually, you gave up, putting on a show and forcing yourself to focus on that, instead.
It was obvious that you hadn’t slept the next morning, walking down to the kitchen like a zombie. Ingrid and Mapi were hoping you’d be a little more forthcoming with what had occurred today, but all hopes of that went out the window when you avoided eye contact with them, a hood pulled over your head, dark bags under your eyes. At least you there was no school, as you had the day off, but they had training, training they couldn’t miss. Neither of them felt very good about leaving you home alone, with no idea what was going on in your head.
You were blankly shoveling cereal into your mouth when Ingrid got your attention.
“Solstråle!” She said rather loudly. You jumped slightly, looking across the table at her in confusion. “I said your name 5 times. Did you not hear me?”
Ingrid didn’t sound mad, just worried, and you felt your throat tighten.
No. No. No tears. No sadness. That wouldn’t help. Self pity wouldn’t help. The only thing to do was to move forward.
“Sorry. I’m just tired. Had coffee too late yesterday, couldn't sleep.” You mumbled, turning your attention back to the ceramic bowl in front of you. Your thoughts wandered, briefly, to the fact that since you’d moved in, there hadn’t been a single day where there wasn’t a box of your favorite cereal in the pantry. You really must have been feeling the complete lack of sleep, because that thought alone almost had you tearing up.
“Come to training today. María is out on the grass, again, you can watch.” Ingrid suggested softly.
You shook your head though, swallowing the lump in your throat. You didn’t want to be far from them, but you also knew that if they kept being so nice to you, you weren’t going to be able to keep it together.
“I’m really tired, I just want to stay here.” You replied. Ingrid looked like she wanted to argue, but Mapi nodded from where she stood at the fridge, filling her water.
“That’s okay. Stay here, have a chill day. We’ll be back after lunch.” She walked over to you, squeezing your shoulder kindly. The Spaniard said goodbye, before exiting the kitchen. Ingrid hung back, not really caring at all that she might make them late.
Your sister stood from her spot at the table, and you mumbled a quiet goodbye, only looking up when she came to stand right next to you. Her hand pulled your hood down, her fingers tilting your chin up to look at her. Her face was pinched with concern, and you felt a pang of guilt that you were doing this again. Making them worry about you.
“Try to sleep or something? You looked exhausted, sweetheart. No runs or hikes or climbs, please. Just stay here?” Ingrid asked, making sure to frame her request as a question, and not a command.
“Okay.” You agreed, far too tired to even think about any of those things. You knew Ingrid just wanted you to stay where she knew you were, which was fine. You were honestly just surprised she hadn’t dragged you to training with her.
She lightly patted your cheek, leaning down to kiss your forehead. “Be good. I love you.”
“Love you too. Play safe.”
You were wide awake, completely wired. Even as everything inside of you told you that you should be tired, you felt like you might never sleep again. You kept your promise to your sister, though, collapsing onto the couch and putting a show on. Scout came to lay with you, falling asleep easily in your lap. You were jealous of your dog, you realized. It was an amusing thought, but all you felt was… Empty. Nothing. Because if you let yourself laugh, you were sure it would turn into sobs, and you couldn’t do that.
You just had to be strong.
-------
You got into bed early that night, hoping that the added time laying down would help you fall asleep. You were so exhausted, truly, but as you laid in bed at 8pm, you knew instinctively that you wouldn’t be able to sleep again. Everytime you drifted off, your thoughts drifted too, and you’d jerk awake, struck with a reminder of what Camila had said. Her words were haunting you. Everytime you closed your eyes, you could see the sneer on her face as she spoke, and hear the cruel words she’d spoken.
You were beginning to think she was right about you. How were you so screwed up after a relationship ended that had only lasted a few weeks to begin with? You thought you loved her, yes, but you were being dramatic. You shouldn’t be this devastated, and in your head, this only reinforced that idea that Camila had been right. You were too immature. You were too messed up. No one was ever going to want to deal with you.
A soft knock on your door dragged you out of your thoughts, thankfully.
“Come in,” you called. Mapi pushed the door open, taking in the rather unnaturally clean room around her. You’d gone crazy cleaning the night before, putting away all the clothes strewn across the floor. It was neat and clutter free in there now, and Mapi’s heart melted at the sight of the framed photo on your nightstand. It was of the three of you, a candid that Frido had taken after a match. It was little things like this that made Mapi deeply happy, and deeply sad all at once. For six months you’d lived here, and they’d given you the space they thought you needed. It was so far from what you actually needed, though, and Mapi couldn’t help the guilt that filled her at the thought. All she and Ingrid could do now, though, was do better.
So, she entered your room, holding out a mug towards you. It was the one she’d picked out at Ikea, the one with the map and the sun. You knew for a fact that you’d used it this morning for your coffee, which meant Mapi must have pulled it out of the dishwasher and hand washed it herself, so she could bring it up to you.
“I made you tea.” She said, taking a seat on the edge of your bed as you grabbed the mug from her.
“Did you think caffeine would help me sleep?” You asked skeptically.
She rolled her eyes. “No, idiota, it is sleepytime tea. There’s no caffeine.”
You took a cautious sip, smiling a bit when you liked the taste.
“My mami always made it for me when I couldn’t sleep.” Mapi said quietly. “Thought it might help tonight since you decided to become nocturnal yesterday.”
Ingrid and Mapi really toed the line of parent vs. sister / guardian. It was often a sisterly relationship, you thought, with both of them. When you would tease each other, or argue about borrowing their clothes. Other times, it felt completely parent-y. When they’d make you go to bed early, or annoy you about studying for a test.
This situation definitely fell into the latter category, and you found that you minded it less and less.
“It’s good.” You told her, taking another sip. “And I didn’t decide to become nocturnal. It just kind of happened.”
Mapi hummed, looking around the room again. You just had the string lights above your bed on, the room lit also by the soft glow of the TV, as your favorite sitcom played. You’d lit a candle, and you were bundled up under the covers of your bed, clearly trying hard to be comfortable. Clearly trying very hard to sleep.
You looked so tired, it made her heart ache, and she knew Ingrid felt the same. Ingrid, who Mapi was absolutely sure was hovering outside the door, not wanting to overwhelm you. You seemed… fragile. Like you were one step away from breaking at any given moment, and neither of them wanted that to happen before you were ready. Ingrid was just as worried about you, though, and she’d only agreed not to go in if Mapi promised to make you promise something.
“Can you promise to wake us up tonight if you can’t sleep?” Mapi said finally, looking intently at you.
With a sigh, you shrugged. “What good would that do?”
“You wouldn’t have to be alone.” Mapi said simply, watching as a flicker of emotion flashed across your face. You didn’t have to be alone anymore. Sometimes you forgot. “If you don’t promise, Ingrid is probably going to come in here every hour or something and check on you.”
With a roll of your eyes, and a big sigh that you didn’t really mean, you nodded. “Fine.”
“Good.” Mapi grinned. “Goodnight, mi sol. Te quiero.”
“Goodnight.” You replied. “Tell Ingrid in the hall goodnight too.”
The Spaniard chuckled. “I will. Sleep tight.”
With that, she leaned down, pressing a kiss onto your forehead, before she slipped out of the room. Hushed whispers came from the hall and you smiled to yourself, just a bit. Ingrid was such a weirdo sometimes.
-------
It was around 2am when you broke. You’d tried everything you could think of to fall asleep, and nothing had worked. Worse, the lack of sleep was really getting to you and you were feeling ridiculously emotional. When you promised Mapi you’d wake them up if you couldn’t sleep again, you hadn’t meant it. Now, though, as you lay awake in your bed, tears threatening to fall, you really didn’t want to be alone. You weren’t sure how they could help, or even if you wanted help, but you knew that the indisputably healthy choice to make here would be to go to them. And you were trying to be better for yourself.
Even as Camila’s words rattled around in your head, and you were half convinced you were an awful person, about to become even worse by waking Ingrid and Mapi up, you got up from your bed, and walked down the hall.
There were a lot of notable moments in your time in Spain. A lot of them consisted of long, emotional talks with Ingrid and Mapi. And you knew that this was likely what you were headed for. It was naive to think you could hold everything that had happened in, keep it all to yourself. Especially when you’d kind of gotten used to sharing things with them, as horrifying as that thought was. You weren’t nervous, like usual, though. You just wanted them to tell you that everything she’d said was wrong.
Scout followed you down the hall, slightly annoyed that you’d woken him up when you got up. He liked to sleep with some part of him touching you, so it was inevitable that when you woke, Scout did too. Your sister’s bedroom door was open, and you peeked in, half second guessing yourself. Both of them were asleep. It was a cool night, by Barcelona’s standards, which was obvious by Mapi’s sweatshirt and sweatpants that she’d worn to bed, as well as the extra blanket pulled over her. Ingrid, on the other hand, had kicked the comforter off of her, sleeping in just a tshirt and shorts. They were laying facing each other, their hands tangled together, like they’d fallen asleep talking.
They were sleeping. They’d had a long week. They had training the following day. You shouldn’t wake them. They looked comfortable and peaceful, and you shouldn’t ruin that. You turned to go back to your room, biting your lip to stop yourself from crying at how utterly alone you suddenly felt.
You were sure you hadn’t made any noise, but still, a whispered voice stopped you in your tracks.
“Solstråle?” Ingrid asked quietly, sitting up and rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, go back to sleep.” You said, trying to keep your voice steady. It evidently didn’t work, because not a second later, Ingrid was flicking the lamp on, looking at you with a sympathetic expression on her face. Next to your sister, her girlfriend huffed in annoyance, still practically asleep, pulling the covers up and over her head. Ingrid rolled her eyes, before fixing her attention back on you.
“Come here.” Ingrid instructed, gesturing you closer to the bed. You walked over, feeling ridiculously like a small child waking their parents up after a bad dream. “You can’t sleep?”
“No.” You said miserably, roughly wiping away a stray tear.
“How can I help? Do you want to talk?” She asked worriedly, brutally kicking Mapi in the shin as she did so, thinking that her girlfriend would be somewhat helpful in this situation, even if she was half asleep. The Spaniard grumbled unhappily, but emerged from under the covers just as you responded.
“I don’t know, I just can’t stop thinking about her.” You whispered, truly not confident that anything could make you feel better in that moment.
Mapi sat up, patting the middle of the bed invitingly. It was a king, and there was plenty of room, but you looked between her and Ingrid skeptically.
“I’m not a child.” You said a bit harshly, thinking of Camila calling you immature. If only she could see you now.
“We know. You just broke up with your girlfriend, though, and you haven’t slept in over a day. You are sad and exhausted, and it isn’t childish to need help.” Mapi said kindly, very dramatically scooching over so there was more room for you.
You floundered for a minute, not quite sure what to do. You were an adult. An adult. And Ingrid and Mapi were not your parents. The appeal was there, though, to climb into the bed and tell them everything. To let yourself break when you knew they’d keep track of all the pieces, and put you back together. “Can I have more tea?” You blurted out, looking at Mapi. You weren’t really sure where that came from, but she nodded enthusiastically, rising from the bed, practically taking off for the kitchen in a sprint.
“I’ll go make some!”
You turned back to Ingrid, chewing aggressively on your lip. She rolled her eyes at you, teasingly, before she pointendly looked between you and the bed.
“Get in the damn bed.” Ingrid sighed. It was easier, when she was telling you exactly what to do, because you didn’t have to worry about picking the wrong answer. You settled on the bed, right in the middle, and Ingrid threw an arm around your shoulders, pulling you to lean your head on her shoulder.
“Ingrid?” You said after a minute, so quietly, your sister almost missed it.
“Hmm?”
“Do you think I’m immature?” You asked.
Ingrid thought for a moment. “No. I think you’ve had to grow up really fast, and you’ve had to make a lot of big adjustments. You are more mature because of all of that. Why?”
You knew she would hate what you were going to say. “Camila said I was.”
Ingrid grew tense next to you. “That’s because she was a 26 year old woman dating an 18 year old. What was she fucking expecting?” Ingrid said venomously.
Mapi walked back into the room, taking care to be quiet, as it looked like you were deep in thought. She placed the mug of tea on her nightstand before she sat on the bed next to you, turning so she could see your face.
“Did she say anything else?” Ingrid asked cautiously.
You opened your mouth to tell her that, no, Camila hadn’t said anything else. Instead, words flowed out of your mouth that you hadn’t decided to say, but you were unable to contain them. “She called me jealous and immature. She said the ‘mommy issues’ were really obvious, that I was insecure and clingy, and that I wasn’t worth it. That no one would want to put up with me.”
You said it so forlornly, so resigned to what this awful woman had told you, Ingrid felt an anger she’d never experienced before rise within her. Neither she nor Mapi knew what to say right away, collecting their thoughts. You broke the silence again, though, after only a few seconds.
“I think she’s right.” You said, your voice breaking clearly. You pressed your hands to your face, body shaking with silent sobs.
“No, mi sol, no,” Mapi said softly, scooting closer to rest a hand on your knee.
Ingrid took a breath, trying to swallow her anger, rubbing your arm with her hand comfortingly. “Solstråle, you are none of those things. That awful woman has no idea who you are, not really. You are not immature, you are 18. There is a huge difference. And you are so much more than what happened with mom. You are so many good things despite mom, sweetheart, and Camila doesn’t know what she’s talking about. She just wanted to hurt you, none of that is true.” Ingrid said insistently.
“Why would she want to hurt me? I thought she liked me. I don’t understand.” You replied, still keeping your face hidden away in your hands.
“Because she isn’t a good person, and she doesn’t deserve you. And you don’t understand because you are good, mi sol. So good.”
“Then why do such horrible things keep happening?” You asked, voice raised slightly in frustration. You pulled your hands away from your face, looking between your sister and her girlfriend with a tearstained, bewildered face. “I’m trying to be good, I’m trying so hard, why is this so hard?”
Both girls felt their hearts break a little at your words. Ingrid wrapped both her arms around you, pulling you into her chest as you cried. “I know, Solstråle, it’s not fair. It’s going to get better. I promise you, it is.”
“I’m tired of everything being so hard.” You cried, shutting your eyes tightly as you spoke. You felt a soft hand brushing your hair away from your forehead, felt Ingrid leave a kiss on your forehead. “I’m tired.”
You meant it figuratively, and literally, and Mapi and Ingrid knew that very well. The best thing they could do for you now, would be to get you calm enough to sleep. It was happening without them trying very hard, honestly. You could barely keep your eyes open, even as soft sobs fell from your mouth.
“It’s not going to be hard forever. I promise you, mi sol.” Mapi said, looking intently at you, though you didn’t look back at her.
“I’m so tired.” You repeated, barely making sense. You were almost delirious with exhaustion, your emotional outburst only making it worse.
“Sleep, solstråle. We are right here. Everything will feel better in the morning. You aren’t going to feel like this forever. Just relax, and sleep. We love you so much.”
And even as you nodded, all the fight and worry of being too much for them flooding from your body, you wondered if they were right. If everything would feel better.
If anyone would ever really want you.
You drifted off ridiculously easily, curled up next to your sister, your brain going quiet for the first time in days. Once Ingrid was sure you were asleep, she turned to her girlfriend, who was tucking the blankets around you nice and tight.
“I am going to kill that girl.” Ingrid murmured, feeling absurdly protective over you.
“I will kill her first.” Mapi vowed.
“She isn’t allowed to date again until she’s 50.” Ingrid said, a frown etched on her face.
Mapi cracked a smile. “Good luck with that, mi amor.”
Ingrid shook her head. “I can’t stand to see her like this.”
The Spaniard turned serious again, nodding her agreement. “It’s gonna get better, Ingrid. It’s not going to be perfect, but she’s already better. She just needs time.”
“I wish I could take it from her, so she could just be happy all the time.” Ingrid admitted, flicking the lamp off, her voice barely more than a whisper.
“I do too.” Mapi whispered back. She and Ingrid looked at each other over your slumbering form, each seeing their exact feelings reflected in the other’s face, even with their features obscured by darkness. They just wanted things to be better for you. Easier and lighter and happier. They’d do anything, get you the moon if you wanted it. They didn’t consider if they were giving you all they could, that maybe you needed something else. They just promised themselves that they wouldn’t rest until you were happier, whatever it took. Whatever it took for you, because you were their sol, and nothing on earth was more important to them than your happiness.
-------
my name is girlgenius1111 and i like to make my fictional kid suffer
give me all your thoughts on this installment of sol ☀️
#woso imagine#woso x reader#ingrid engen x mapí leon#ingrid engen x reader#mapi leon x reader#engen!reader#platonic reader#🍓☀️#woso one shot#woso fanfics
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Rest | The Last of Us (3,407 words)
This takes place the first winter after Joel an Ellie return to Jackson. The two versions of Joel need to be written differently, and I had the TV version in mind when penning this one, but I actually think it works for both.
Joel gets sick, and Ellie takes it upon herself to care for him.
His voice wavered with amusement. Maybe exasperation. Where Ellie was concerned, it was usually both.
“You have to--you can’t skip the rest.”
“The what?”
“The rest. Look--you see this thing here?” He reached out, tap-tapping a fingertip to the sheet music before her. Ellie frowned at it. “Yeah, that’s not just there to look pretty, it means something. All the notes mean something.”
She was getting aggravated. Joel estimated she had another five minutes left in her before she declared the lesson done for the day.
“Well what does that note mean?”
“It means rest.”
“I’m not tired.”
He draped both arms atop his guitar and put his forehead down on them. Christ, this fucking kid. Ellie’s head hung back, taking her turn with exasperation.
“Whaaaat?”
“Okay.” He sat up again, fixing the grip on his own guitar. “Look--no, don’t look at me, look at the notes and listen while I’m playing. I’m going to slow it down, but follow along.” He tapped the measure on the paper. “You ready?”
Her head bobbed in a single nod. “Ready.”
“Okay.” At a slightly-less-than-annotated pace he strummed through the chords, the coarse timbre of his voice moving calmly through the lyrics as he went. “...I keep a close watch on this heart of mine--rest--I keep my eyes wide open all the time--rest, rest--do you see?”
“Ohhh. There’s more than one.”
“Right. You need to learn them and watch out for them, at least until you start to pick up the natural rhythm of how the song flows. Usually after the first go-through it will stick in your head where you’re meant to pause, and for how long.”
She reached out, picking up the folded booklet and scanning ahead. She reread the notation, the rests, the lyrics.
“Holy shit, is this song about you or what?”
Joel took it from her with a sigh. “Wow, you made it three whole minutes longer than I thought you would.”
“What? No--wait, hey! Give it back!” He held it easily out of her reach, pivoting his arm away when she tried to stand and grab for it instead. “How am I supposed to practice without sheet music?”
“You’ve got like three books in your room, you can practice with those.” He closed the music, tossing it behind him on the bed. “Besides which, you need to work on your chord progressions some more. Focus on that for now.”
Ellie sulked at him with an exaggerated pout, by which he was moved not an inch. He bumped her with his elbow.
“Git.”
She stood, swinging her own guitar around by its strap, letting it rest at an angle across her back.
“Stupid Johnny Cash.” Her voice dropped a mocking octave. “Steady like a train, sharp like a razor.”
Joel shook his head, looking back and forth between his picking and his silent fingering on the frets.
“Should’ve never let you watch that movie.”
She made it to the doorway and turned in place as she backed out, batting her eyes at him.
“Love youuuuuu.”
“Git,” he said again, head bowing further, but the crooked curl of a smirk betrayed him.
Ellie was halfway down the hall to her own room before she heard the distinctive sound of Joel’s sneeze.
“Bless you,” she called out, and paused to listen for a response. Nothing.
Then, faintly, “M-hm.”
He was so weird.
In good faith Ellie practiced for awhile, grimacing through the slow but unavoidable pinch and pain of developing the stupid calluses Joel kept going on and on about. After a half hour she could no longer feel two of her fingers, so she supposed that was a good start.
All throughout, and in-between the occasional inept chord change, she heard bursts of his crackling cough from the other room. When she finally unslung the guitar and returned it to its case, she realized it had been a background noise for most of the day.
“Hey Joel--” she called out, standing, then startled as he appeared abruptly in the doorway. “Jesus!”
“Hey,” he interrupted, snagging in a rough sniffle. “Tommy’s on the horn, bunch of the hogs got out. I’m gonna run over and give him a hand, but I don’t know how long I’ll be. You OK fixing yourself dinner, if I’m not back in time?”
“Oh shit,” she said excitedly. “Can I come?”
“No.” Unflappable. “You got homework.”
“No I don’t.”
“Yes you do. Do your homework. Maybe clean this up while you’re at it,” as he backed a way he made a vague gesture around the perfectly… well, mostly acceptable state of her room. “Already looks like a sty.”
Ellie followed him only as far as her own threshold, frowning as he picked up his buckskin coat and shrugged into it.
“How do you know I have homework?”
“It’s like you forget I already did this with one smartass kid before you ever came around.” He barely got his arm into a sleeve before he had it pressed to his face, shoulders hunching with another shotgun sneeze. He sighed. Sniffled. Muttered a barely audible, “Shit.”
Ellie came forward a bit more, zeroed on him. “Hey, what’s with--”
“Homework.” He snagged a scarf and was already halfway out the door. “And eat something other than pickles for dinner.”
She stood frowning, even after the shudder of the shutting door had quieted, then turned reluctantly back to her room.
“Fuck you, pickles are awesome.”
*******
Ellie polished off homework in record time, and even managed a dinner of something that contained, but was not exclusively comprised of, pickles. She was a woman of her word, if nothing else. Halfway through packing both their lunches for the next day, the front door finally blew open with blustering drama, and Joel made his return.
Or something vaguely in the shape of Joel.
The overall size and dimensions were right, the buckskin coat was the same, though both it and his hair were heavily mantled in snow. He was nothing but mud and slush from the knees down, hands evidently so frozen that all he could do was stand there and paw ineffectively at his gloves, trying to get them off.
Ellie took in the exhausted, punch-drunk slump of his shoulders with sympathy and amusement. Good thing she didn’t join him after all.
“You look like you smell awesome.”
“Fucking hate hogs.”
“But you love bacon,” she countered.
“After tonight, I only like it for the sense of revenge.” After watching multiple unsuccessful attempts to remove his gloves, Ellie finally came to his assistance. She didn’t even want to touch them, gunked as they were with mud, ice, and probably pig shit, but it was either that or watch him stand there all night, swaying like a Mortal Kombat character. Just as she got the second one off he planted a bare hand on her shoulder, gently pushing her from him as he raised his other arm to his face.
“Ellie, stand clear--”
“Huh?”
He buckled into his elbow with another sneeze, this time lingering his arm in place afterwards, long after he should have simply relaxed and moved on. By the time it dropped away, he found Ellie ogling him with arch worry. He sighed, apologetic, and the hand still at her shoulder squeezed once before letting go. “Sorry.”
But she just stood there, still holding his gloves, having unexpectedly run dry of all sarcasm. She didn’t like this.
“Are you sick?”
“Nah, I’m…” Well, yeah. But also, no. “The weather’s just kicking the shit out of me. I’m fine. It’s fine. It’ll be fine.”
“You’re saying fine way too much for it to actually be fine.”
Joel had just enough strength for another sigh. He took the gloves from her, doing an awkward flamingo balance from one foot to the other to climb out of his boots. The feeling of ice-cold, mud-soaked denim on his bare skin made him grimace. “You finish your homework?”
No no no. She wasn’t being put off. Not like this. “Joel.”
He flicked a mild look to the kitchen. “That pickle jar looks a lot emptier than I remember.”
“Joel.”
“Hey.” He reached out, cupping the subtle angle of her jaw, framing her entire face in the warm, rough cushion of his palm. Calluses, burred knuckles, wind-chapped skin and a touch so gentle she could cry. “It’s fine. I’m just beat. Gonna leave all this shit outside, I’ll worry about it in the morning, then I’m gonna shower and hit the sack.” Her eyes were searching him still, burrowing into him the same as when he’d sworn that his story about the hospital in Salt Lake was true. That was the look of reckoning, and it chilled him worse than any winter storm. “Homework’s good? Got enough to eat?”
Her gaze softened and dropped, the same as when she’d chosen -- willingly or otherwise -- to believe his last lie.
“Yeah.”
His hand fell away, and he gave her a small, punctuating nod.
“Alright, good. You lock up for me?”
“Okay.”
Joel finally got free from both boots, his coat, depositing everything carelessly on the snowy mat outside. He squeezed her shoulder again as he soldiered tiredly to his room. “Night, kiddo. Love you.”
Only her eyes tracked him.
“Love you too.”
*******
She didn’t know why she thought sleeping would help. Useless idea. Total mistake.
Ellie even put it off for as long as she could, hoping that if she fucked around and wasted enough time doing other dumb, meaningless, time-consuming shit that eventually her brain or body would concede that, okay, sleep did sound pretty appealing.
Nope. No part of her was having it.
It didn’t help that, despite his best efforts, Joel couldn’t just lay there and suffer in silence. With clockwork regularity the silence and stillness broke with his wracking cough, the occasional bedframe squeak revealing the restrained force of it. By midnight he just gave up trying to sleep altogether.
Ellie lay awake, listening, and saw his dark silhouette lean into her room just enough to gently close her door, trying to preserve her own presumed sleep.
Five minutes later she fumbled a hoodie over her pajamas and padded out after him.
He spotted her just as he heaped limply onto the sofa, and immediately sighed.
“Shit. I’m sorry, El. Didn’t mean to wake you.”
“You didn’t.” She yanked the hoodie’s zipper up with satisfaction. “I’ve been up the whole time.”
Joel loosened a slow breath, regarding her… then the empty living room… then back to her.
“On account of me?”
She didn’t want to lie, but also didn’t want to burden him with any additional guilt.
“One way or another. Kinda.”
He grunted, disappointed in himself, and his own once-again-stellar parenting. “...you oughta be in bed.”
She roughened her voice in an approximation of his own, mimicking a slightly surly swagger to the couch before flouncing down beside him. “So oughta you.”
Joel side-eyed her. She tucked her chin down, eyes upturned, lips pressed in a thin but irrepressible smile.
“...fuckin’ hard-headed, stubborn, pain-in-my ass--”
“Yeahyeahyeah, I’m a total superstar, I know.” Ellie reached for his arm, lifting it well over her head, then curled it around her shoulders. Joel let her manipulate him without complaint, only turning his head away and uncurling his fingers to shield her from a single, congested cough. When he turned back, she plastered her hand over his forehead like she’d been waiting for the chance.
“What is this,” he asked.
“This is what it feels like when somebody cares about you.” She met his eyes. “Dumbass.”
“Hm.”
Her palm was heavy and cool, the pressure of it on his brow oddly comforting. Judging by the way she frowned, and searched him, and nervously licked her teeth, she didn’t like what it told her. Joel sighed and reached up, taking her hand down in his own.
“Come on. Enough of this. You need to get back to bed. Get some actual sleep.”
“What about you?”
“I’ll… I don’t know, try to lie down for a couple more hours before work.”
“Before work? Are you kidding me?”
“Shit’s gotta get done, Ellie--”
“Yeah, by somebody else, Joel!”
“More hands makes--”
“Fuck that dirty-south, cowboy, Marlborough-martyr bullshit for two minutes, would you?”
He leaned way back, rolling the whites of his eyes at her. “Dirty south?” When she thumped her palm against his shoulder he feigned an injured, “Ow!”
Inwardly he struggled not to laugh. Holy Christ was she angry. Despite his perfect deadpan, there was still a tiny warble of amusement in his voice as he demanded, “What’s got into you?”
Oh, she’d been waiting for that. She’d knocked at the door and he’d opened it all the way.
“Rest,” she accused, emphatic. “You can’t skip the rest.”
Joel rubbed sorely where she’d thumped him, relaxing from his recoiled lean.
“Don’t know why you’re so mean to me. Probably too many pickles.”
Ellie stuttered with a sniggering laugh, shoving him with both hands. Gently, this time. “Asshole.”
“Hm.”
“I mean it.”
“Alright, you mean it. I’ll tell Tommy in the morning, I need a day.” He checked her with a look and leaned away again. “Maybe two.”
“Good.” She pushed up from the couch, hands jammed into her hoodie pockets as she marched off.
“Now where are you going?”
“To get you a blanket. And I don’t know… soup, or something. On account of you being so bad at looking after yourself.”
He watched her go, itching a knuckle under his nose. “Think you can manage tea?”
Ellie cheered immediately, already detouring for the kitchen. “Oh yeah, good idea.”
“Alright, then.” He let his head rest back, smirking faintly. “Hope I don’t regret this.”
*******
Ellie stared, fascinated, the TV battering them softly in blue and white light.
“None of this makes sense.”
“Yeah, that was pretty much the entire theme of the 1980s.” Joel set his tea aside and picked up the cardboard VHS sleeve beside him, garishly patterned with the box art from season one of Full House. “You had to be there.”
“I’m kinda glad I wasn’t.”
She’d managed to brew him a decent mug of tea, heavy-handed on the honey, just how he liked it. He’d been hesitant to waste a bowl of perfectly good soup on his already anemic appetite, but Ellie brooked no argument and brought it to him anyway. They’d decided what to watch by reaching blindly into the box of old VHS cassettes, and now she was nestled close against his ribs, head rested back on his shoulder, marveling at the grainy, laugh-tracked evidence of a world gone before she was ever conceived.
Every now and then Joel looked down at the crown of her head, grateful, always returning to the TV before the little fragments of thankfulness could become too much for him.
Despite the contentment, the cold remained a persistent thorn in his side. Every time Ellie felt his chest expand abruptly against her she sat forward slightly, giving him room to half-twist away with a cough or sneeze muffled to the inside of his far arm.
He’d let the breath back out of his lungs, bleary, and face the TV with a few blinks to clear his eyes. Ellie would retake her place, squirming to close the gaps between her back and his ribs.
“You OK?”
“I’m a’right, kiddo.”
“OK.”
Every time, deliberate, with a sincerity that tattooed her like ink, ever deeper and indelible, into his skin.
Every ache and pain and exerted muscle from the past few days was catching up with him now, his sinuses blocked miserably shut. After a particularly strenuous coughing fit he turned back around to find Ellie’s eyes more focused and ferreting and worried. He needed to work a little harder to put her back at ease.
“Here, look,” he croaked, redirecting her to the TV. “See this guy?”
“Mr. Goofy Fucking Hawaiian Shirts?”
“Yeah. He used to date Alanis Morisette.”
“No way!”
“Yeah.” He chuffed, head shaking. “Wild, right?”
“She’s so angry! I love her.”
“Yeah, well. She’s angry about a lot of stuff you hopefully won’t have to worry about for quite awhile.”
“I guess. She still wrote good songs.”
“That she did.”
“Hey, speaking of, what does it mean to go down on somebody?”
Joel paled, making a long, desperately uncomfortable noise in his throat. Ellie let him suffer for a good five seconds before donkeying with laughter.
“Relax,” she cackled, ear-to-ear grinning. “I’m fucking with you.”
He flattened a hand at his chest. “Jesus. How is this helping me feel better?”
“Oh my God. That was amazing. I almost wish I’d saved that one until I could actually see your face.”
“You know you can go back to your own room any time, right?.”
“And miss this? Hell no.”
Joel quieted, checking her again in the dimness, watching the play of light on her face, her lingering grin. He smiled faintly to himself before his eyes relaxed back to the TV.
“Yeah, it’s pretty alright.”
“Yeah it is.”
He didn’t remember drifting off, but at some point his mind disconnected from the brightly-colored spectacle glowing in the dark before him, the rising and falling tide of canned laughter. Eventually Ellie’s hand spread lightly open at his chest, jostling him just enough to stir him awake. His head picked up, eyes cracked open to see her cast in luminous blue. Her face, serious but calm. She curled the backs of her fingers to his forehead.
“You’re still really warm. How come we don’t have a thermometer?”
“Someone’s gotta have one.” He blinked groggily. “We’ll ask tomorrow. I’m sure I’m running a temperature… suppose it doesn’t matter how much.”
She started to peel the blanket from him, and he stopped her.
“Joel,” Ellie chastened. He stilled her hand with a touch.
“No, it’s alright.”
“You need to lie down.”
“I know, I will. I’m gonna sleep out here. I wake up coughing if I try to lay too flat.”
She wasn’t entirely pleased with this answer, but it was enough of a concession that she was willing to negotiate.
“Okay, I’ll help.”
He technically didn’t need the assistance, but clearly it was important to her to be a part of his recovery. She lifted and transferred his legs to the couch by the ankles, assembling exactly the right pillows behind him so he could recline without hurting his neck. His eyes followed her, lips softly smirking, as she pulled the blankets back over him and tucked them in at the edges. When there was nothing left for her to fuss at she stood back, hands jammed into her hoodie pockets.
“You want me to turn the TV off?”
Joel’s head lolled to observe the glowing blue square, a single white NO INPUT blinking in the top corner.
“No, leave it. It’s comforting.”
She looked at the screen. Looked at him.
“You’re super fucking weird.”
Joel’s hands lifted, rotated outward from the wrist, and dropped limply back to his chest. Look, what can you do?
“Get some sleep,” he urged.
“OK. But you’re not going to work tomorrow. We have like… I don’t know, forty more seasons of this stupid show to go through. Somehow. Hopefully that hideous baby gets cuter.”
“She really doesn’t. You know there was actually two of them playing the same kid?”
“What?” She broke into a helpless grin. “That’s… awful. Imagine giving birth to a horrible-looking gremlin baby, and you’re like, oh well, at least there’s just the one. And then: OH NO.”
Joel erupted with sniggering laughter, hiding his face against the inside of his arm as it devolved into another coughing fit.
“Fuck me,” he crackled. “Get out of here, please. Go to bed.”
“OK.” Ellie leaned in and bent over him, kissing his forehead. “Feel better.”
“Working on it.”
She started to turn, but Joel caught her wrist. Ellie looked back, expectant, but he just lay there a moment, holding her hand, his thumb caressing into the crease of her palm.
“Thank you.”
She softened, awkward, fingers curling around his thumb in a single, meaningful squeeze.
“Of course.”
“I love you, kiddo.”
“Love you too.” She held onto his hand until both their arms were extended, then let him go with an impish smile. “I ate like six pickles.”
“Jesus Christ, girl.”
She receded into the dark, giggling, leaving him in the backwash of blue light.
“Good night.”
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Heard a voice, like an echo, but it came from me
Yellowjackets S2E1 x Supersymmetry - Arcade Fire
#been meaning to use this lyrics for them for a while now...#and this new ep just gave me the content i needed!#yellowjackets#yellowjackets spoilers#shauna sadecki#shauna shipman#jackie taylor#jackie x shauna#lyrics parallels#arcade fire#web weave#web weaving#i need to draw parallels where there are none
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SWANFIRE MONTH 2022
day 3 • a song that reminds you of swanfire
i drive down different roads, but they all lead back to you
#swanfire month 2022#swanfireedit#swanthiefedit#emmaswanedit#nealcassidyedit#ouatedit#onceuponatimeedit#swanthief#swanfire#emma swan#neal cassidy#ouat#once upon a time#**#otp: i love you; i probably always will#been meaning to use this song w them for a while now bc it was QUITE LITERALLY written abt them#it was so hard putting this together tho bc there were so many lyrics i wanted to use and it kind of felt like at least 3 diff sets being#combined into one lmao
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Playful Banter ‘Stayed Gone’
Alastor x Reader
[a/n: I’m not a song writer don’t be mean if the lyrics don’t match up I’m sorry I tried! I haven’t written for Alastor since I think 2020. The entire song isn’t here in lyrics it opens when Alastor and you are walking down the stairs]
Song
Alastor and You, walked down the stairs and noticed sinners gathers around the Voxtech television. You glanced up at him knowingly, and you couldn’t help put clip your heels together. As you made you swiftly made your way, to the radio tower.
‘While they’ve hid in radio, we've pivoted to video’
‘Now their medium is getting bloody rare.’
‘Hell's been better since they’ve split’
You grinned dusting off your clothes; bringing the cup of tea taking a sip. As you glanced ver at Alastor smiling, “Let’s have some fun shall we, darling?” He asked, and you lifted your head with an upturned smile. “We shall.” You chuckle, as you turned on the broadcast. Leaning in closer into the mic.
‘Where's they’ve been? Who gives a shit?!’
You had a devilish smile plastered on your face, “Salutations!” You and Alastor said into the microphone, grinning ear to ear. “Good to be back on the air,” You smiled, holding your cup of tea in hand.
You were ready for some fun, excited, Vox didn’t know what he was getting into with you two.“Yes, we know it's been a while.” You two sang, into the microphone.
“Since someone with style treated Hell to a broadcast” You two said into the mic, “Sinners, rejoice!” Alastor and You exclaimed, as the crowd seemed to gather around the old timey radio.
The sinners gathered in front of both, glancing back and forth between the two. “What a dated voice!” Vox spat, and You could only chuckle as you brought the mic closer.
“Instead of a clout-chasing mediocre video podcast.” You and Alastor sang, smiling
“Come on!” Vox shouted, angrily annoyed. As the two went on, “Is Vox insecure, pursuing allure?” Alastor sang, and making fun of Vox.
“Fitting between this fad and that, is nothing working?” You sang, smirking and standing beside Alastor.
“Ignore their chirping!” Vox spat.
“Every day, he's got a new format!” Alastor sang, grinning. Vox groaned in annoyance.
‘You're looking at the future, he's the shit that comes before that!’
Alastor sang, “Is Vox as strong as he purports?” as other sinners listened in the feud, “Or is it based on his support?” You sang.
“He'd be powerless without the other Vees,” Alastor sang, then leaning closer into your respective microphones. You couldn’t help but chuckle.
“And here's the sugar on the cream,”Alastor sang, leaning closer into his microphone a a devilish smile on his face.
“He asked us to join his team!” Alastor sang, revealing the truth. “H-hold on!” Vox stammered, nervously. You smiled grinning ear to ear leaning closer holding; your microphone close to you.
A devilish grin grew across your face, “A jealous one he surely is!” You sang, stifling back a laugh. Remembering when Vox asked if you wanted to go out. As in start a relationship with you. You couldn’t help but laugh back then. And still laugh even now.
You chuckled slightly,“years ago he asked if we could court!” You sang, into the microphone. You could only imagine the horrified and embarrassed looked, on Vox’s face right now and thought alone. Made your grin wider.
“I said no, and now he's pissy.” You say down in your chair, next to Alastor and smiled. “That's the tea!” Alastor and You sang, sitting back into your respective chairs smiling. Leaning back in them kicking your legs back, as you two sang.
“You two old-timey pricks, I'll show you suf-ffering,” Vox stammered, as his screen started to buffer. “Uh oh, the TV is buffering!” You and Alastor sang into the microphone, with you adding slight coo at the end.
Vox stammered as he started to shorting out, his screen buffering continuously as he was about to lose single. “I'll destroy you, yo-ou lit-tle—” He stammered, suddenly all power across Pentagram City went out. The only source of power coming from the radio tower, attached to the Hazbin Hotel.
Alastor chuckled statically, “I'm afraid you've lost your signal,” You said, grinning. You looked down for a moment before looking up. Your eyes glowing a bright red.
“Let's begin.” Alastor sang into staff, as he slowly transformed into his demon form. Placing down bis staff as his eyes glowed bright red, and his antlers grew bigger. His form slowly started to resemble that of a wendigo.
“We’re gonna make you wish that we’d stayed gone, tune on in,” you two sang, as you slowly transformed. Your body stretching and neck becoming longer.
As your body stretched, into its demonic form. An ‘X’ revealed itself on the side of your neck. As your nails became sharp claws, as you gripped the control board. “When I'm done, your status quo will know its race is run,” You two sang leaning closer, as your eyes and body grew longer.
“Oh, this will be fun,” You and Alastor sang, smiling. Vox stared at the screen in disbelief, as it went blank and fell back into his seat, “Fuck!” he whined, their laughter continuing to taunt him.
Leaning back into your chair you smiled, “We still got it.” You said, smiling of course the two of you would. Nothing beats, radio. “I couldn’t ask for a better co-host.” said Alastor, as he smiled at you. “And I couldn’t ask for a better husband,” You said, blowing a kiss his way a smile on your face.
Wonder what Vox’s reaction would be since he still hasn’t moved on, from you rejecting him. To him noticing a ring on your finger.. hmm I’d imagine he’d be buffering
a/n: I did my best with this.
#alastor x reader#Alastor x you#Alastor x y/n#Alastor radio demon x you#Alastor radio demon x y/n#Alastor radio demon x reader#alastor hazbin hotel#Hazbin hotel#vox Hazbin hotel#Stayed gone#hazbin hotel fanfiction
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like that / jjk
you're spending time with yourself until you get a message from you boyfriend to...what...bend over?
pairing : jungkook x reader
genre : established relationship , fluff , smut
warnings : sexual content , sort of softdom!jk , use of toys , he's pussy whippppeeddd , lots of clit stimulation , he's literally playing w her yk , squirting , fingering , anal play , he's so careful w her kinda , bit of dirty talking , cute aftercare
a/n : NOO IDEAAAA WHAT I JS WROTTEEEE. hope u like it tho :D
unedited.
that's my shit, that's my wave ~
do it like that and i'll repeat ~
don't be scared, i ain't afraid ~
swaying your hips from side to side, you hum to the lyrics and melody of the song as you cleaned the living room. you really enjoyed cleaning, sort of, you liked what the outcome made you feel like. satisfied.
you know what or who else made you satisfied? your boyfriend. i mean, as in, he always made sure you felt satisfied with your relationship. sexually and romantically.
you smile, letting out a small yawn as you think of the cute flowers he got you a couple days ago. there was no special occasion and you were confused at first when he handed them over to you.
"eh, what's this about?"
you tilt your head to the side, biting both your cheeks from the inside. your boyfriend hums, pressing a kiss onto the crown of your head.
"they reminded me of you, so i bought them."
your heart flutters, cheeks heating up as you let out the girliest giggle ever.
"thank you, kook."
you tip toe upwards to press a small peck onto your boyfriend's cheek which he gladly accepted with a bright smile. you were still so shy, even though you've known jungkook for an year before dating, still, this whole relationship thing was new to you. you've been dating for about 6 months now, and it's been the best 6 months of your life so far! he loves you so much, and he shows it.
giggling at the memory, you crouch down to collect the dirt into the dustbin. as you occupy yourself with more cleaning, you suddenly hear the notifications ring on your phone. you walk towards the table where the phone was on, tugging onto each of your gloves to take them off.
you hold your phone in your hand, opening the notification from jungkook.
bab— WHAT the fuck?!
kook💘 : home in 5, be in the bed naked
ass up
what? huh? you turn off your screen, awkwardly looking around although there's not a single soul at home. for now. your cheeks were flushed in a deep shade of pink, eyes blinking repeatedly. that was always a habit of yours which jungkook found adorable all the time. whenever you were nervous, shy, embarrassed, you would blink your lashes repeatedly while looking away. cute, he'd mention.
in addition to the flushed face and blinking eyes, you keep away your broom and apron and walk to your bedroom with a wet patch forming on your panties.
you slowly take your sweats off, then your lose crop top. staring at yourself in the mirror, you reach down to pull your panties down your ankles.
since you've only been together for 6 months, your sexual experiences with him were limited — or just any sexual experiences in general. you were a virgin before you met jungkook. although you've had the sex talk about your preferences, limits and such, you never put it into action. yet.
maybe now is the time? you don't really know. jungkook was always unpredictable, you never know what he's got under his sleeve.
you remove your hair tie to brush your hair a bit to make it look nicer. you make sure to also apply some lotion to moisturize your body a bit more, some perfume and deodorant just in case you smell bad. i don't know, uh—you thought. once you're confident you smell good enough, you open the door a bit to give a little sneak peak of inside the room. giggling to yourself, you tip toe your way onto the bed, laying yourself over the soft white sheets.
to be honest, the sheets made you feel hornier. the feeling of your already hardened nipples brushing against the soft material made you wanna touch yourself then and there. you whimper, laying your chin on the pillow you placed under your head.
you were laying on your stomach, naked, waiting for your boyfriend.
he should be here any moment, you think.
a minute or two passes by. your legs were up in the air, tangled, as you hum to some random song.
"i told you to have your ass up, yeah? what's this?" a soft voice rings in your ears following with a light tap landing on your ass cheek.
you squeel, turning around to face your boyfriend.
"jungkook!"
"someone's excited..." the smirk on his face never leaving, his eyes scan down your body, eyeing your breasts down to your ass.
"mm, pretty baby" his words leave in a form of a whisper, thumb caressing your chin tenderly. you can't help but crack a small smile. Jungkook glides his hand over your shoulder blade, down your back—soothingly— and stopping right above your ass. ugh, you wanted him to touch you there the most.
jungkook lands a soft kiss on the top of your head as he got up. he runs his fingers through his hair, ruffling it after.
"wait for me while i shower?"
what.
"kook—"
"good girl. i'll come to you in a few minutes." jungkook leaves to the bathroom with a snicker, giving you side glances while smirking. it was obvious he was purposely trying to tease you, take his time and make you desperate. he's succeeding. because the mess between your legs just continued to grow.
you had your legs pressed tightly against eachother, clit throbbing as you tried to ignore the ache.
jungkook. that asshole.
you groan, laying sideways on the bed, staring at your nails trying to kill time.
about 10 minutes pass by, jungkook finally enters the room wearing a pair of grey sweatpants and a white shirt.
"look at you, laying there all pretty waiting for me to ruin you." the tone of his voice is cocky, he sits next to you, his presence radiating confidence.
your toes curl the moment he brushes a few strands out your face, tucking them behind your ear.
"pretty." jungkook scrunches his nose up, his eyes squinted as he presses a small peck on top of your nose.
"okay, ass up now." it's as if someone sent an electric shock down your body, you're suddenly in alert and immediately raising your ass up, your knees keeping your body balanced.
jungkook hums, getting up (AGAIN.) walking to your shared closet. wait, closet, shit—
your boyfriend walks out with a pink vibrator and a dildo he had bought earlier. shit, you remember now—
"do you have anything in mind you want to try?" jungkook hums, stretching his arm out to wrap it around your waist.
you sleepily nod, batting your eyelashes with a shy smile.
"care to tell me?"
"no." your voice is small and delicate, almost inaudible for jungkook to hear. but he hears it, giggling in return as a big smack lands on your ass cheek. you stay silent, snuggling more into the pillow.
"i want to know." he asks—no, more like, demands.
you have flashbacks of the conversation you had with him a week, where you ended up telling him that you were open to the idea of using toys after he started suggesting things to try out because you just wouldn't tell him what you wanted. too shy. but you did want to tryout toys.
"like what you see?" he motions his head towards the little 'presents' he's holding. you roll your eyes, huffing at his face.
"ah, ah, up." he signals at your ass as if he hasn't been leaving you needy everytime you got ready.
you pout, still obeying his words as you push your ass up, hoping that this time he would touch you instead of walking off to do something else. this is something jungkook did, he liked to tease you. a lot.
"my good girl, always listening to me." you feel him pat your hair and the mattress dip, indicating that he was sitting behind you.
you feel your mess grow bigger as you wait eagerly for him to lay his hands on you.
...mm, finally! your breath hitches the moment jungkook's middle finger touches your puffy clit. he runs his finger up and down your gaping hole, not adding much pressure but making sure he's still lightly touching you. you whimper at the feeling as jungkook repeats his action a few more times.
you feel his fingers creeping over your clit to reach your crotch as he gently strokes you there. pressing his index finger onto the base, he rubs your crotch in circles, right above your clit.
"please, please, go a little more down and touch me there...!" jungkook cracks up a scoff, not responding to you with words but actions as he starts to press kisses onto the insides of your thighs. his soft plump lips leave delicate, soft kisses on your thighs, trailing up to your ass cheeks.
once he reaches them, his index finger switches positions from being on top of your crotch to your throbbing clit that's practically begging to get touched. he doesn't lay a finger on the very evident wetness between your puffy lips but to your clit as he begins to rub slow sensual circles right there. he makes sure to add the right pressure to press onto your clit, not too soft but harder than usual, then circling it.
all you did was whimper, letting jungkook do his own thing. you feel jungkook's kisses slowly reach down your ass cheek, then kissing in between your thighs, right next to your drenched pretty lips. he continues to leave small kisses around your quivering pussy, enjoying the sight of your pathetic little hole clench around nothing.
all this soft stimulation was enough to make you relax and fall asleep. you yawn even, that especially catching jungkook's attention.
"not gonna sleep, are you? feels too good and i haven't even started yet, hm?" jungkook flicks his fingers against your head.
you whimper, shaking your head.
"no, please don't stop." your voice was muffled due to your lips being pressed against the pillow.
he stops for a moment, then two of his fingers dive straight in between your folds, coating them with your juices. jungkook drags his fingers back to his mouth, tongue licking his fingers clean. he hums in satisfaction;
"fuckin' delicious. so sweet. never gonna get tired of you." he licks his fingers again.
jungkook delivers a slap to your asscheek, gripping the flesh after to pull on it. he fondles with your ass, taking his time to appreciate your lower body. you're just a whimpering little mess for him, that's it.
you feel your body suddenly jolt up, feeling his palm lay flat on your pussy, rubbing it harshly. jungkook circles his whole palm on your cunt, middle finger pressing tightly onto your clit. you moan in a low tone, back arching for him instinctively.
he continues to rub you while you release a series of hums. your dripping arousal, now smeared all over jungkook's palm, created a wet slippery noise.
"a-ah, gguk..."
"hm?"
jungkook pulls his hand away to slap your pussy twice, the wet smacks echoing through the room. he then grips onto your thighs, pulling them back to have you laying on your back suddenly.
you look at him, confused, but also a bit annoyed by the loss of friction on your pussy. jungkook grabs your face and holds it tight, both of you not giving a single fuck about the fact that his hand was drenched in your arousal.
he moves your face to your left, then to your right, then proceeds to wipe your own arousal on your cheeks. that action alone had your cheeks burn in the colour red and pussy clenching again. jungkook's smirk never falling off of his face, he also wipes his palm on the side of your neck.
silence.
but clicking his tongue in his mouth, jungkook's hands touch your thighs, rubbing up and down the smooth skin. slowly, he spreads your legs further until there was full access to your pussy without any problem.
you can see him bite his lower lip, eyes glued to your clit while his other hand grabs the little vibrator he had bought you earlier.
okay, but, nooooooo.
"kook, need y-your cock instead!" you whine, "please" ; barely a whisper.
desperate.
"mhm? this what you want?" His hands reaches to grab his fully erect cock through his sweatpants. there was a very evident tent in his sweats.
"yes, yes, please!"
"listen to me well and you'll get it, hm?" he reassures you, hand caressing your hair.
you gulp, nodding. jungkook turns on the pink vibrator on medium intensity, then angling it on your clit.
your hips immediately buck up slightly, making you gulp down your saliva. the vibrations weren't too intense, but not too less either. there was a light buzz heard in the room, mixed with your soft pants.
the smug look on jungkook's face never came off as he tightly presses the vibrator onto your clit, making you result in jolting up again. not only that, he also has the audacity to increase the volume to its max intensity. immediately, your hips started shaking, thrusting upwards as well. your moans were a mess, mixed with whining and small cries here and there.
"shh, it's okay, pretty girl." he tries to soothe you down with his hand caressing your thighs.
"ah! ah! gguk, p-please, mm!" you fist the bedsheets real hard.
"yes, sweetheart? how does it feel? feels good?" jungkook hums, never stopping the soothing rubs on your thighs.
"ah, ah, n-nngh, please, please, please, gonna cum!" your body was going crazy. body shaking with hips trusting upwards with intensity. jungkook had to press your legs down to the mattress, fingers gripping tightly onto your thighs.
"jungkook! f—fuck! ah, nnh, mm, gh— cumming!" your whole body shudders, shaking as your white liquid gushes out.
jungkook immediately turns the vibrator off, fingers reaching to gently stroke your pussy up and down to soothe you.
you were a panting mess.
"sensitive baby, came from just that. didn't even start yet. wanted to cum so bad." he gently blows on your swollen bud, then pressing a light kiss on it after.
you whine louder, hands squeezing your breasts really hard due to sensitivity.
"think you can take more?" he asks.
immediately, you shake your head from side to side, signalling no. fuck, maybe you could, but hell no.
"come on, baby. you can take a plenty more. it's okay, my love." he starts planting kisses across your shoulder blade, hands caressing your breasts.
you melt into his touch, almost forgetting the little ache in between your legs. jungkook grabs a nipple, twisting it to the side before releasing it.
"need you to get on all fours again, pretty girl."
you groan, lazily picking yourself up again and turning around, body now laying flat on the bed. jungkook wraps his arm around your waist, lifting your ass up. you put pressure on your knees to balance yourself again, your ass up in the air for your boyfriend.
"love this view."
you hum in response. he begins to slap and squeeze you a few times again, kneeding your cheeks as if it were some dough.
jungkook begins to touch your pussy again, fingers circling your clit. your body grinds onto his hand, whimpering. his fingers slither away from your clit, now touching your puffy folds.
"oh, fuck", he caresses your folds, fingers slightly dipping in between as well.
"mine." jungkook kisses the top of your ass cheek.
jungkook gathers your wetness from in between your folds, then dragging those fingers to your hole (read:other hole) to smear it all over.
you audibly gasped in shock.
"kook..." you ask.
"mmh, will you let me?" he presses his thumb onto your hole.
"mm, mm." you hum in approval; hands clutching onto your pillow beneath you.
jungkook grabs the dildo this time, then shoving it right up your pussy. you make a squeaking sound, startled.
he chuckles, "what's so shocking? 'know you like this, baby."
he didn't even give you time to prepare.
"so pretty like this. just a little hole for me to stuff, hm?"
he traces his pointer finger on your agape folds then thrusting the dildo in a little deeper.
"g-gguk!"
he ignores your yelps, turning on the vibrating dildo.
fuck, wait, you didn't know it vibrates— your body is immediately falling to your pillow, full weight on it and your entire body squirming around.
"fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK–"
you clench your hole so many times, the pleasure slightly unbearable. it wasn't a secret that he had put it on max intensity.
"how do you feel?" jungkook reaches your hair, caressing your locs softly while you squirm on the bed.
"p-p-please, mmh! gggood! feels good!" you choke out.
jungkook laughs, kissing the tip of your ear. he leans back to reduce the intensity a bit, now on medium vibrations. you feel your body calm down, but still, squirming around and your pussy a big fat mess.
he spits a fat globe of spit onto his fingers, then spreading it across your tight hole. jungkook moans, thumb rubbing your hole in the form of circles.
"pretty baby." he murmurs.
you're whimpering - music to his ears -, jungkook enters his pointer finger inside you, just a little, but fuck, does it hurt. this is a weird feeling, you've never had anything put inside...there. it's an odd feeling, but you trust jungkook. it's okay.
he pushes it in a bit more, earning a lengthy moan from you.
"so fucking tight. gotta get you to loosen up, hm? yeah?"
"yes, yes, i need to—" you gulp, "loosen up. for you." you were nodding your head frantically, pussy clenching over and over around the vibrator.
this was all fun for jungkook, he loved seeing you so obedient and squirming under him as he toys with the vibrations of the dildo inside you. his pretty little girlfriend. who knew she'd be into this kind of stuff? nobody, exactly. he'll make sure he's first and only person to ever touch you this way, and to love you.
he spits on you again, smearing it all over your hole then pushing his finger in deeper. you had to admit, you kind of enjoyed it. being stuffed on both your holes. as filthy as it sounds.
jungkook begins to slowly thrust his pointer in and out of you, loving the way your falls feel around his finger.
"think you can take two, sweetheart?" he caresses your cheek with his free hand.
you bite your lower lip only to let go with a small bounce, you nod your head.
"words, baby, need to hear you say it." his touch is really soothing.
"yes, two. take t-two..."
jungkook squeeze your ass, then pulling his finger out to replace it with his pointer finger and middle finger. he spits on you again, getting it all over his fingers and your hole, then slowly thrusting it in.
"mmh! hurts! ...a little, ah!"
"'s okay, baby, it's okay." his thumb on the same hand rubs your cheek softly.
jungkook begins to thrust his fingers in and out of you at the same time, maintaining a decent pace, not wanting to hurt you too much.
meanwhile, he also makes sure to increase the intensity of the vibrator. again. fuck, not like hr ever told you, anyway.
"shit— gguk! ggukie, ah! ah!"
your legs start shaking due to the intensity, which results in jungkook having to wrap his arm around your thigh to keep you still.
"it's okay, baby. you're doing so good." he says while pulling his fingers in and out of your puckering hole.
he holds you down to the mattress harshly while your moans are muffled by the pillow, drool gushing out of your lips and making a damp mess in your pillows.
"shit, feels so good—mmh!"
you reach your arm down to grope your breast, flicking your nipple with your finger.
if someone had asked you an year ago what you'd be doing now, you definitely wouldn't have guessed to be on some man whom you call your boyfriend's bed with both your holes stuffed. but oh well. life.
at this point, you don't even feel your legs anymore from this position. but oh, so worth it.
jungkook curls his fingers inside you with a smirk, his other hand suspiciously sneaking around you waist and—
"ooooohhhh, oohhh, ah, ah! fuck, gguk! you're gonna make me cum!"
—rub your swollen little clit in circles. shit, shit, shit. his fingers tug on the little bug, pinching it and pulling it to rub it all over again.
this felt like heaven.
you grind your hips onto his hand, now both your fingers working on your sensitive nipples as your body begins to completely shudder, shaking and squirming.
your pussy grips tightly onto the dildo, clenching over and over again as you yelp out an extended moan.
"kooook!" you moan out afterwards.
"yeah? my baby's gonna cum? gonna cum all over this good for nothing dildo like a little slut?"
your tongue was out, your mind was fucked and you could barely think of any words. there was only one thing you could focus on and that was the stimulation jungkook's giving you and the fucking dildo that's shoved up your pussy. you feel so full, so stuffed that at one point you found it hard to breath even.
so you just nod your head showing agreement and jungkook's fingers dipping deeper into your flesh while you squirm around. that's definitely going to leave a mark.
and without another second being passed, your orgasm comes crashing down to you, your shoulders shrugging and whole body slumps down to your bed.
your legs are shaking, heartbeat increasing, nails gripping the bedsheets as you scream in overstimulation while your boyfriend continues to rub your clit. you're a whining mess, the room filled with your sweet moans and groans.
"please, please, please, please, please!"
you scream, tears at the end of your eyes.
"fuck, you fucking squirted."
that was the second time you've squirted. first time being from jungkook's dick, of course.
he turns off the vibrations, slowly and gently pulling the dildo out of you.
"shit, y/n."
he holds your ass cheeks separate, spreading them to take a closer look at your completely ruined pussy. big mess on the bed too.
"my girl..." he coos.
you're whimpering, body fully exhausted from the whole session you had.
"baby, are you okay? y/n, sweetheart?" suddenly, he's concerned.
"you just fucking ruined my cunt, moron." you cuss out.
jungkook's nose scrunches. he leans down to press a kiss on the tip of your cheek.
"come on, you need to pee." he pats your ass cheek.
"no, too tired." your words are barely audible.
"alright." jungkook hums. for a moment, you think he's sided with you, but no, you squeak once you feel his hands flip you to your back, then two arms enveloping your entire body as he picks you up.
instinctively, your legs wrap around his little waist, face hidden in the crook of his neck.
jungkook takes you inside the bathroom, then placing you on top of the toilet.
"pee. you want me to look away or?" he asks.
you nod your head. jungkook takes that as a sigh to walk out of the bathroom after muttering a "call for me when you're done".
while you pee, you take a moment to take everything in. your boyfriend had just fucked you hard with toys, made you cum and squirt and now you're in his bathroom, taking a piss. you probably looked like a mess right now, also.
once you were done, you also make sure to clean yourself with some tissues.
"kook! done..." you shout, then mumble the last part. your post sex self was always quiet and too fucked up. in addition to that, always feeling confused and lazy. jungkook would happily take care of you instead.
your boyfriend opens the bathroom door and sees you cutely sitting on the toilet, fingers fidgeting with one another.
"cute baby" he snorts.
he parts your hair to the side, fixing it for you before pressing a kiss on the crown of your head. but your attention is paid to only one thing. the big fat dent on his pants and the big wet patch.
"kook, let me..." still drowsy, but you reach your hand to cup his rock hard cock through his sweats.
"mm, no, no, you're tired, sweetheart." he gently pats your hand away, then tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.
"but you're still hard..." you mumble.
"doesn't matter. i'll handle it myself. besides, i already came." he smirks.
"huh?" you were this close to falling asleep on spot, but your head shoots back up at his words.
"who wouldn't. i felt satisfied from your satisfaction. that's all what matters to me, hm?"
"hmmm..." you hum, nodding your head, eyes threatening to close. your head was leaning against jungkook v line as he caressed your head with a chuckle.
"hey, wait, don't tell me you're asleep?" he asks you, immediately waking you up from your 5 seconds of sleep.
"no! awake! me!" you shout.
"right." his nose scrunches.
jungkook hooks his hands on your armpits, hoisting you up to carry you out of the bathroom. since the bedsheets were ruined and there was no time left to change them, he decides to take the guest room instead. he takes you in there, gently placing his lovely girl on the soft mattress.
he goes back to your room, opening the closet to pull out one of those soft cotton white pajamas you wear. he goes back to the guest room to dress you up in the cute little pajama gown and granny panties.
he leans back, admiring his little cute girlfriend. chucking to himself, jungkook then gets in the shower. he was still hard of course, so he had to take care of himself. afterwards, he wears a comfy pair of grey sweats and heads back to the guest room.
the adorable sight of you sleeping on your stomach and now turned to jungkook's side of the bed with an arm thrown over it as well and lips in the form of a pout.
he chuckles in my mind, a bright smile on his face as he makes his way to the bed. jungkook gently lifts up your arm then slides under it to lay on the bed. he places your arm back, but this time around his waist. he makes sure to pull your comforters over both your bodies to keep you both warm.
you suddenly move on your spot, then snuggling closer to jungkook's chest to seek warmth.
you looked so cute and beautiful like this. fully passed out next to him with a bit of drool on your chin. he happily wipes it away though, then proceeding to press a little kiss on your forehead.
"goodnight. i love you."
#jungkook#jungkook fanfic#jungkook smut#jungkook x oc#jungkook x reader#jungkook x y/n#smut#bts#bts jk#bts smut#jungkook fluff#bts fluff#fluff#jjk fluff#aftercare
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be good
no outbreak joel miller x f!reader
pairing: sub!joel miller x dom!f!reader
summary: joel was never really the submissive type. until he met you, and realised he'd do whatever you asked of him.
warnings/tags: [18+ MINORS DNI] no outbreak au, established relationship, strangers at a bar role play, dom!reader, sub!joel, dirty talk, joel miller is desperate, face sitting cunnilingus, f!masturbation, save a horse ride a cowboy, size kink, praise kink, light choking, mean!reader, pet names used for joel [honey, baby, sugar], orgasm denial, reader talks joel through it, 90% porn 10% plot lmao.
word count: 7.6k
masterlist
a/n: folks i've been gagging for something with joel just being so good for his partner and [begrudgingly] doing whatever she tells him too... and then i listened to 'sex with me' by rihanna and got even more inspired so here we go. [i swear i will post something soon with an actual plot jfc]
He’d been watching you all night.
Pip’s Bar was busy. Though it wasn’t your usual haunt, it was one of the more popular spots in Austin, and on a Saturday night it was absolutely teeming with people. Strangers lined the bar, drinking and talking and trying fruitlessly to chase down two overworked bar tenders. A mass of bodies gyrated and swayed in the middle of the room, moving to the fast rhythm of a bassline that shook the rickety old floorboards. You were lost in the midst of it, dancing alone and yet connected to the foreign bodies that crowded you from every angle, suffocating you until you were slick with sweat and sticky from spilt alcohol. Swallowed whole by the writhing, heaving pack of dancers, your every breath and movement synced with theirs.
And he’d been watching you, all night.
He’d arrived at Pip’s not long after you. And since then, he had hardly moved from the same spot across the room. He leant against the wall, one hand gripping a glass and the other propped on his hip. He looked bored, uninterested in everything happening around him, and yet every time you glanced his way those eyes were already burning a hole into your skin. The truth was that he’d never had much patience for the whole thing, but you trusted he enjoyed it just as much as you did. Knew he’d do whatever you asked him to, even if it included going to a bar and pretending you were strangers. Even when it meant him watching you dance all night, rubbing yourself against strangers, and pretending you didn’t know him until one of you finally broke.
Your arms stretched high above your head, hips swaying from side to side as you muttered the lyrics of the song underneath your breath. Once again, you glanced back in his direction while you danced. You allowed your torso to sway with the movements of your hips, hands dropping to rest lacklustre by your sides. You offered him a quick smile, but his face hardly moved, body rigid. He lifted the glass to his mouth, playing coy, and you chuckled under your breath, closing your eyes and revelling in the heavy bass that vibrated through your body. When you opened them again he was gone, the wall where he’d once stood now devoid of his presence. You didn’t give it much thought, until suddenly a pair of hands were on your waist, pulling you back against a solid body. A gasp of soft surprise exhaled from your mouth, and you felt the hands squeeze gently. When you turned around, there was already a sly smile was painted across your lips.
The dim lighting in the bar did him no justice; casting too many shadows across his strong jawline, his straight aquiline nose, hiding the perfect shade of his dark pink lips.
He stared down at you with a simmering intensity as you pressed your chest against his. The room was hot, and sweat beaded along your hairline, but it didn’t stop you from dancing slowly against him, gliding your curves against his body, maintaining eye contact all the while.
A faded denim button up covered his chest, the thin material doing nothing to disguise the toned, strong body beneath it. The fabric was slightly coarse, and it was rough against the thin mesh of your shirt. You always loved waiting to see what he would wear, how he would dress up for you. Tonight’s shirt was new, something he’d bought specifically for the occasion, and you loved it. Your nipples hardened a little, and you smirked as he snaked an arm around your waist to press his palm to the spot in between your shoulder blades, holding you against him.
“What’s your name?” you asked over the music, noting the way his eyes drifted to your mouth when you spoke. God, he was so easy.
“Joel.” Those deep, brown eyes bore into your own, drinking in the details of your face as his hips moved slowly against yours. He was always antsy to get this part over and done with, but he played along for you.
“Are you single?” you asked, revelling in the way his mouth went to respond before his brain could catch up. The beginning of the word no formed on his lips, and you almost grinned at how loyal he was, even when you wanted him to lie.
“Yes,” he said.
“You’ve been watching me all night, Joel.”
You reached up to fix his collar where part of it had been turned up. He didn’t respond immediately, mulling his thoughts over in his head, contemplating what he thought you might want to hear.
“It’s okay,” you spoke again when you sensed he was overthinking it, allowing your hand to glide down his shoulder and over the firm muscles of his upper arm. “I liked it.”
“And your name?” he asked, almost shouting to be heard over the music. You smirked at the deep bellow of his voice; at the way it gave the pumping music a run for its money. The thick, Texan drawl of it always managed to spark a fire in your belly.
When you told him, he repeated your name slowly, as if it were foreign to him; rolling it around in his mouth, tasting out the syllables on his tongue. The hand on your back held strong, and you could almost feel the individual tips of his fingertips leaving indents in your skin.
A gyrating body jostled into you from the side suddenly, and you stumbled forward. Joel tightened his grip on you, keeping the both of you standing up right. You flashed him a grateful smile, and your eyes dipped to stare at his mouth. The urge to kiss him was strong, but you held yourself back, knowing the payoff would be worth it if you could just hold off a little longer.
You didn’t waste much time though. “What brings you to Pip’s? Y’here to meet someone?”
A spark of desire flashed through his eyes, and his grip tightened inconceivably. Your body thrummed with excitement as you gained the upper hand so successfully, and so quickly. Joel cleared his throat, face relaxing back into a neutral expression.
“Didn’t want to come here at all,” he spoke plainly, glancing down to where your chests rubbed together. His eyes trailed over your torso, the mesh fabric of your shirt allowing him a full view of your breasts, clad in a thin lace bra. “Brother dragged me along.”
You hummed, almost grinning at the mention of Tommy, who would blush beet red if he knew what the two of you were doing at Pip’s. You opened your mouth to speak again, but he beat you to it.
“Did you?” he asked quickly. “Come here lookin’ for someone?”
You quirked an eyebrow and shook your head once. “No, I didn’t.” Bold faced lie.
His left hand rested on your hip, and he squeezed your waist once, holding your midriff solidly against his own. You could feel his heart beating, a rapid badoom badoom badoom that knocked rhythmically against your sternum. You draped an arm around the back of his neck, gripping the collar of his shirt.
“But maybe I could be persuaded,” you spoke slowly, testing the waters. “If you’re good.”
His eyes darkened a shade at your wording, and a soft exhale rushed out of his mouth, breezing against your face. His lips were a hairsbreadth away from touching yours, but he hesitated, eyes flickering back up to yours, as if asking for permission. Perfect.
You kissed him gently at first, slotting your lips against his and moving tentatively, exploring him as if it were the first time. His hold on you stiffened as he pressed back, running his tongue eagerly along the seam of your mouth. Your hand drifted from his collar to his hair and you gripped it softly, tugging on the wavy curls. Joel was taller than you, and yet he was crouching somewhat, so that your mouths would be level. Simplifying things for you; always so eager for the game to end. He struggled with it – the standing across the room, watching you, waiting for you to invite him over with a smile. But after an hour of dancing, you were willing to let him have it.
You parted your lips and allowed him to swipe his tongue greedily into your mouth. He tasted like whiskey and mint and soda water. It burnt your mouth, and inspired a dull ache in your abdomen. He gained confidence, kissing you harder, deeper, and so you sunk your teeth into his bottom lip. Not hard enough to draw blood, but enough to make him pause. A warning.
You pulled away. “Have you been drinking, Joel?”
His chest rose and fell quickly. Lips swollen and red. You could feel him pressing against your stomach, already half-hard from just a little kiss. Poor baby, so desperate.
“Only had two.” His voice was stilted. “I drove here.”
“Good,” you nodded, gripping his hand and leading him out of the throng of dancing bodies.
“Good?” Joel shouted back, eyebrows raised.
“Good that your car is here,” you clarified. “Means you can drive us back to my place.”
Joel walked through your apartment like he’d never been there a day in his life, and you adored him for it.
He rested on the edge of your bed, nursing a cold beer that you’d swiped from the fridge for him. He stuck out in your bedroom, but you suppose he always had. The queen-sized bed looked like a double with him on it, his broad frame taking up most of the mattress. And the contrast between your floral wallpaper and his dark, masculine figure was so stark that you almost giggled as you watched him from across the room. His eyes felt heavy on you, following you wherever you moved, lest he miss a single thing. They raked over your figure, basking in the bare flesh you had on show, monitoring your hands as you removed your jewellery and discarded it. It caused a prickling heat to rise across your skin, and you liked it – the way he seemed so eager, so uncontained.
“What’re you doin’ all the way over there?” Joel asked. His fingers were long, wrapping around the entirety of the beer bottle, making it look miniscule in his grip.
You bent to take off your shoes. “I’m admiring you.”
His lips pursed, beer bottle pausing in the air halfway to his lips. When he spoke, his voice was deeper somehow. “Well, you should come over here.”
“Would you like that?” you straightened up, smiling sweetly.
“Yes,” he responded. His voice was measured, quiet. But you could tell he was frustrated by your relaxed demeanour. It was always the way it went. Joel was so impatient. He knew what was going to happen, knew what awaited him, and he couldn’t fucking stand the tension build up.
“Maybe if you’re good,” you winked, padding over to where he sat. You stood over him, knees brushing against knees.
“I can be good,” he spoke gruffly, depositing his beer bottle on the ground with a gentle clink.
“Is that so?” you asked softly, pulse quickening. He nodded, wiping his palms on his jeans before splaying them on the bed beside him. A slick heat had formed in your underwear, the near-ruined material sticking uncomfortably to your skin. “You’re gonna do what I want? Whatever I ask of you?”
You could see the way his jeans tightened over his crotch, cock clearly straining against the rough material at your words. He swallowed, nodding again. Slowly, so slow it was painful, you leant forward and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips. His scent filled your nostrils and you inhaled it deeply, sighing against his mouth as everything that was Joel Miller invaded your senses. Your tongue flicked against his mouth and then you were dragging it past his lips, over his teeth, rolling it against his own tongue. A warm, heavy hand gripped the waistband of your pants and long fingers fumbled with the button, but you pulled back, tutting as you shoved his hands away from you. He looked dejected, wet lips parted as he frowned up at you.
“Take your clothes off,” you ordered softly, and he grunted, but did as you asked. “And then lay on the bed.”
Making quick work of it, he stripped out of his shirt and jeans, tossing them haphazardly into the corner of the room. Finally, he tugged his briefs down, before laying back on the mattress.
Splayed on the bed, not a single inch of Joel Miller was left to the imagination. His body sunk into the soft blankets on the bed, and his cock stood at painful attention. It gave you pause, as he stared at you, and you stared at his cock. He was big—bigger than most guys you’d slept with in the past—and he knew it too. Had always been proud of the fact. His tip was ruddy and swollen, with a small pearl of pre-come resting on his slit, taunting you. A thick, pulsing vein travelled down the side of him. You thought about how he would taste, in that moment. How heavy he would be on your tongue, how your jaw would ache, and you’d struggle to breathe as his tip glided against the back of your throat. You were salivating just thinking about it.
“You like what you see?”
You simply took your clothes off in response. Taking your time, you dragged your shirt over your head before peeling your trousers off, underwear following it and landing in a pile on the floor until you stood naked as the day you were born. Joel watched closely, dark eyes monitoring your hands as you removed layer after layer. His gaze dipped to the spot between your thighs, and you saw his cock twitch.
You straddled his thighs, resting just above his knees and taking care not to make contact with his length. As soon as you settled above him his hands rested naturally on your waist, gripping and kneading the flesh beneath his palms. You decided to allow it, just for a moment, as your gaze travelled down his chest and the dark smattering of hair there, past his happy trail, all the way to where he wanted you the most.
His hips shifted on the mattress, cock bobbing against the soft flesh of his tummy and leaving a shiny smear where the tip brushed his skin.
“So handsome,” you traced your fingers over his stomach. “You’ve got such a pretty cock, Joel.”
“Yeah?” he grunted, eyes trained on your hands as they wandered toward his hips. The power you felt in moments like this were unmatched. With this broad, strong man laying beneath you, completely at your mercy, hanging on the precipice of your every word. Even if he struggled to admit it, even when it seemed like he was using all of his will power to let you have your fun, you both knew that you were in charge. And it was invigorating.
“Yes,” you implored, your heart warming at the way his chest seemed to puff with pride at your words.
Your fingertip traced alone his hipbone and he shivered at the featherlight touch, goosebumps breaking out across his skin. “So pretty and thick. I love it like that, you know? When it’s so big that it hurts at first. No matter how wet I am, there’s still that sting.” You dug your nails into the soft of his upper thigh to emphasise your point. He didn’t respond, eyes darkening as he watched you.
“So big that it fills me up until it’s like I can’t breathe, and I’m so cock drunk that I can’t focus on anything except you and how deep you are.” You placed your spare hand on your lower stomach, splaying your fingers. “When I can feel it here.”
Joel’s breathing had started to labour, chest rattling as heavy exhales drifted through parted lips. His hands dragged from your waist to the crease where your thigh met your hips, and his grip was bruising. You knew he loved it when you talked like that, knew it drove him crazy. And you couldn’t deny it made a fresh wave of heat roll through your stomach to think about him stretching you out just right.
“And I love this,” you continued softly, dragging your fingers from his thigh to graze the moustache that rested above his top lip. He smirked at that, tongue darting out to swipe at your fingers. Your stomach tensed at the feeling of the wet muscle touching you, pussy fluttering around nothing, devastatingly empty.
Joel whispered your name against the palm of your hand. Smiling, you traced the tip of your index over his lips before pressing down, watching it slide easily into his mouth. He closed his lips around the digit immediately, grazing his teeth over it before sucking gently.
“Oh, you’ve got such a pretty mouth,” you said. “You gonna show me what you can do with it?”
He moaned around the digit, strong hands pulling your hips forward so you were edging your way up his torso.
“Mmh,” you hummed lowly, dragging your soaked finger from his mouth. You tapped it once against his left hand and gave him a sly smile. “But none of this, okay? I don’t want to feel your hands on me, not for a second. Do you understand?”
Joel’s brow furrowed, eyes dimming as he slowly pried his fingers away from your flesh, lowering his hands to rest in the sheets.
“So that’s how it’s gonna be?” he asked softly, tongue swiping out to wet his lower lip.
You nodded, using your knees to shift further up his chest until you were hovering just above his collarbones. Joel’s eyes darted between your thighs, and a soft sigh left his lips as he gazed at the way your lips had parted ever so slightly, giving him a glimpse of your glistening core. When you paused there for a moment too long, he looked back up to your face, expression almost begging you to movepleasejustmovejustalittlebitcloser.
So you put him out of his misery; rested your knees on either side of his head before lowering your aching cunt to meet his mouth.
Joel groaned in relief as his nose buried itself in your hair, tongue darting out to swipe between your soaked folds. You gasped in delight, rutting yourself against him in encouragement. The coarse hairs of his moustache scraped against your clit and you whined at the sensation, reaching up to rest your hands atop the headboard.
Joel licked a firm stripe up your core with the flat of his tongue, and your shoulders tensed as he set to work. He wasted no time setting a hard and fast pace, letting out messy groans as his tongue rubbed firm circles around your clit. You exhaled heavily, teeth biting down on your lower lip. He dragged his tongue to your entrance and dipped it inside you, so quickly that you flinched, before he was back to rubbing your clit, swiping the tip of his tongue back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. He was so overzealous, so hungry for it; exhaling hot air against you while he lathed sloppy kisses against your pussy.
“Hey,” you rasped, reaching down to run your fingers through his hair. Joel didn’t let up, simply flicking his tongue across your clit again. You jolted, tightening your grip in his hair and inching your hips away from his face. “Hey.”
His eyes flashed open, lips parting as his mouth tried to follow you when you pulled away.
“Wha—?” he couldn’t finish his sentence as you took his bottom lip between your thumb and index finger, squeezing it once.
“Slow down,” you said firmly. His cheeks flushed. “Moving that fast, a girl might start to think you’re trying to get it over with as quick as possible.”
Joel shook his head in a daze, mumbling a meagre apology against your fingers. Those big browns gazed up at you, wide and sad, reminiscent of a Labrador being told off for eating his dinner too fast. You pressed back down over his face, murmuring a gentle reminder for him to go slow.
He was soft then. Meticulous. Calculated. Every lick, every suck, every graze of teeth, was thought out and purposeful. You could feel more slick oozing out of you as his tongue massaged the flesh between your clit and your entrance.
“That’s it,” you praised breathlessly. “That’s perfect, doing—ohh—doing so well for me.”
Within minutes he had you on the edge, holding the headboard in a white-knuckle grip and grinding down against his mouth as breathy moans fell from your lips. It was reverent, the way he ate you out like it was his favourite thing to do in the world. And as liquid fire began to twist in your stomach, and your thighs burned with the intensity of holding yourself up above him, you could swear you felt him moving. Sparing a glance over your shoulder, you bit down on your lip to stifle the whimper that threatened to escape you at the sight of him.
The muscles of his long tanned legs were tense, the soft flesh of his hips flexing as he thrusted upward subconsciously, his leaking cock desperately seeking for contact but being rewarded with nothing but the humid air of your bedroom.
You thought about how easy it would be to turn around. To lean down and take him in your mouth. To slide your lips over his head; to taste his salt while his tongue glided through your folds. Just the thought had you careening over the edge, body jerking as you gasped and sighed and grinded the swollen mess of yourself down against his face. Joel moaned gratefully, dark eyes flicking open to watch you as you came. You could feel him everywhere; his facial hair scraping against your twitching inner thighs as his nose bumped against your clit and his tongue lapped at your entrance, sucking and swallowing down everything you had to offer until you were gasping and prying yourself away.
On shaking legs, you made your way back down his body. As you moved, you rubbed your pussy against his torso, smearing a shimmering trail of your slick across his skin. Joel let out a brief, wrecked moan, stomach tensing as you passed over it and then lifted yourself up. His pink tongue darted out to swipe at his lips, savouring the glistening remnants of your taste. Resting on your knees, you hovered above him, smiling breathlessly.
“Fuck.” You admired the sight, pouting your lips out teasingly. “Made such a mess on you, I’m sorry, baby.”
“Jesus.” His voice was pained. “S’perfect.”
“And it’s all for you,” you hummed, trailing a finger absentmindedly over his collarbone. “You looked so pretty like that. All messy haired and fucked out while I rode your face. So good for me, I’m tempted to let you go down on me all night.”
“I want to,” Joel exhaled heavily. A soft blush had risen across his chest, and he glowed under the shower of praise. “Think about it all the time.”
“Is that right?” you asked demurely.
“S’right,” he mumbled. “Think about the way you taste. About spreading you out and spending hours with my head between your thighs.”
The words were so hot they almost made you forget about the game you were playing.
You looked down, brain shifting gears and mouth going dry at the sight of your puffy lips hovering so beautifully close to the tip of his cock. He was so hard it looked painful. Stiff and pulsing, the vein down the side of his length visibly throbbed. Pre-come dripped down his length, pooling at the base of him.
“Oh, honey,” you cooed, and Joel looked down, groaning at the sight of you so close to where he was just aching. With a soft gasp, you noticed yourself begin to drip. “Look at that.”
Together, you watched a strand of your slick drip out of you, and land directly on the tip of his cock. Joel’s entire body jolted, and a pitiful moan escaped his mouth at the first stimulation he’d received all night. On instinct, his hands rushed forward and gripped your hips, stomach tensed as he thrusted upward into the air. You could see it in his eyes, the burning desire to grab you and pull you close, roll on top of you and just split you open. But this was your night, and you were the one calling the shots.
You tutted softly. “I said, hands off. Don’t make me tie them to the bed,” you clipped. He cursed, hands dropping immediately. “Mmh, you’ll do whatever I tell you to, won’t you?”
He whispered your name hoarsely, lips shifting below his wet moustache.
You ignored him, smiling at the way his cock twitched whenever you spoke. “So needy, so fucking desperate for me to touch you.”
“Yes,” he admit to it through gritted teeth. “God, fuckin’—please. Anything, I’ll do anything. Need to feel you, please baby, I need it.”
You hummed quietly, pondering as you gazed down at the sweaty mess of a man beneath you. “I’ll bet you say that to all the girls, huh handsome?”
His lips parted, harsh exhales rushing past chapped lips. “Only you,” he said firmly.
The corner of your mouth twitched up and you gave an approving nod, admiring the sincere gleam in his eye.
“Good boy,” you murmured. He groaned softly, eyes almost closing at the words. “But I’ve decided I don’t think I’ll use my mouth on you tonight. Or my hands, for that matter.”
Joel frowned, lips curling into a deep grimace as he twisted the sheets in his fists.
“Because,” you continued. “All I want your cock to feel, all night, is my cunt. Nothing else. Do you understand?”
His jaw slackened and then he was nodding, muttering yeahokayyesyes.
“Yes what, Joel?”
“Please,” his voice cracked.
A wide grin spread easily across your face as you shuffled down the bed, settling your knees on either side of his waist.
“You such a tease,” he groused under his breath.
“Uh-huh,” you chuckled darkly. “And we both know you love it.” He stayed silent, knowing you were right, and watched as you splayed a hand across his stomach, using his body for leverage as you—finally—pressed your folds against his cock. Joel’s stomach tightened as you glided along his length, spreading your slick from his head to his base.
“Can I…?” he trailed off, eyes darting from your face and to where the two of you were touching. You nodded once, unable to look away as he reached down to grip himself, strong fingers wrapping around his length and squeezing once while he notched his tip at your entrance. The lingering sensitivity from your previous orgasm had you shuddering at the contact, walls contracting at the thought of him finally being inside of you.
You pushed his hand away swiftly, placing it back onto the bed. A harsh gasp ripped from your throat as you sunk down on him, gravity taking away any chance for your body to adjust to him slowly. The stretch stung a little, and your mouth hung open, spilling breathy whines.
“Jesus Christ,” you heard Joel exhale, voice ragged. The muscle in his jaw moved underneath his skin, the muscles in his arms straining as he focused all of his willpower on not fucking touching you.
“Fuck,” you whimpered. “Y-you’re so deep, stretching me out so good, just how I like it.” You tightened around him and a deep groan tumbled from Joel’s mouth, lids fluttering as his eyes all but rolled back into his head. You wiped the sweat off his forehead and cupped his cheek in your palm.
“Talk to me, honey,” you ran the pad of your thumb across his cheekbone. “Tell me how it feels.”
He grunted, heady brown eyes opening to peer up at you. His hips flexed beneath you and you bit your lip to stop from crying out at the way his cock shifted inside you. Slowly, knees painful from the pressure, you lifted almost entirely off him, before sinking back down. And then you did it again, and again, setting a deliberately unhurried pace and never once taking your eyes off his face.
The room already smelt like sex, a heady mixture of sweat and come, and a warm fog settled over your mind as the moment enveloped you.
You rotated your hips in a circle and delighted in the way he slammed the palm of his hand down onto the bed, teeth gnawing on his bottom lip. His eyes were half-shut, vision drifting to the ceiling as his head sunk into the pillow behind him. Within a second your hand tightened on his face, fingertips pressing gently into either side of his jaw, angling his face back towards you. His eyes flashed open, fully alert now.
“Look at me,” you whispered. “Wanna see those pretty eyes on me while I fuck you.”
He groaned at the words, pushing himself up into a seated position so your chests were almost touching. The new angle made you moan, and you loved the way the softest part of your stomachs brushed against each other every time you lowered your hips against his. Maintaining your hold on his face, you knocked your forehead lightly against his, nudging his nose with yours.
“Come on,” you urged, speeding up the rhythm just a little. “Tell me, baby, I—fuck—I wanna hear you. Do you feel good?”
“Yes,” he choked out. His voice was rough and wanton with need, and he wet his lips quickly upon hearing it. He almost looked shy, with his flushed cheeks and pouted swollen lips.
You hummed, hand drifting from his cheek to hover over his neck. Joel stiffened, nose pressing against your cheek as his head dropped forward doggedly. You let your fingertips graze the side of his neck, thumb brushing over his Adam’s apple.
“Is this what you want?” you murmured.
“Yes,” he repeated against your skin and you grinned, applying soft pressure on either side of his neck.
He moaned a low, tortured sound in response, and you leaned back to watch his mouth hang open as the sensation heightened everything he was feeling. With your free hand you stretched down to take one of his off the bed, and placed it firmly on the plush globe of your ass cheek. Joel’s eyes shot open in surprise, hand tightening instinctively.
He squeezed, gripping the flesh so tight it had you gasping, taking full advantage of the new freedom he’d been afforded. He used his hold to push you up and down faster, quickening the pace of your hips. And every time he bottomed out, he held you down on him for a second longer than you’d planned to allow, ensuring you felt every inch of him, every ridge and vein as he throbbed inside you, pressing against the deepest part of your core. You could already feel bruises forming where the tips of his calloused fingers squeezed you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care.
Until you began to notice the signs, that is – the way his jaw slackened and his eyes glazed over. Relaxing your grip on his neck, you instead stroked your fingers along the skin there, feeling his thrumming pulse; listening to his hoarse laboured breaths; watching the way the rise and fall of his chest had rapidly increased. His cock twitched inside you.
“C’mon,” you whispered. “Tell me.”
“M’so fuckin’ close,” he garbled out mindlessly.
“Yeah?”
“Y’feel so good,” he gasped, words slurring together. “Squeezin’ me so fuckin’ tight, s’like you were made f’me.”
“Mmm, I know,” you hummed, dropping your hand to press down over his stomach. The muscles contracted under your fingers, tensing over and over again as you moved along his cock. “But you can’t come yet, Joel.”
His eyes snapped to your face, lips silently forming your name.
“I mean it,” you warned in a low voice, hips never ceasing their movement. “I’m not done with you.”
“You can fuck me again,” he shook his head. His face all but crumpled, pupils blown so wide that his eyes were almost entirely black. “Can fuck me as many times as you want, do whatever you want with me.”
You grinned breathlessly. “I know.”
“Please,” his voice cracked, abdomen tensing as you sunk down on him with a particularly heavy thrust. A high-pitched moan left your lips as you grinded your clit against the coarse hair at his base. “M’so close, darlin’.”
“No, Joel,” you admonished quickly, tone clearly too condescending for his liking.
Anger flashed across his face. Sharp and fast, but impossible to miss.
“Fuck you,” he hissed. You clenched around him without meaning to, the fire in your abdomen burning hotter as you watched his patience wane.
Swallowing down a moan, you gave him a measured look, and stopped moving entirely, relaxing your thighs against his.
“That’s not very nice,” you ground out. Joel’s expression loosened, panic glinting in his eyes. “What ever happened to southern hospitality, huh sugar? Do you think you deserve anything if that’s how you’re going to talk to me?” Not waiting for a response, you lifted your hips up, and his cock began to slide out of you painfully slow.
“No, no,” his hands lifted off the bed, hovering warily in the air over your thighs. “Wait, m’sorry, fuck—”
You ignored him, lifting up until you were completely separated. You gasped in unison at the loss, and you fought against the voice in your head that told you to just forget it – to end the entire charade. But you held strong.
“Is that any way to speak to a woman?” you teased, resting your ass on the meat of his thighs. The corners of his mouth were downturned, eyebrows furrowed as he stared despondently at you, face the picture definition of frustration. His length hung heavy in between you, glistening with a thin layer of slick and pre-come.
“I’m sorry,” he repeated softly, and your stomach twisted at the earnestness in his eyes. He meant it, and you knew that. Your sweet, kind, loving man… so quick to temper. And forgiving him too fast would be just setting a bad example.
“You know I can do this without you,” you lied dolefully, stroking a hand along the damp skin of your own thigh. “You’re nothing special, y’can’t do anything I couldn’t do just as well to myself.”
His frown deepened at your words, hurt flashing across his features. But he knew better than to speak in that moment – knew better than to dig himself into an even deeper hole by trying to argue.
“I want you to watch me,” you ordered sternly, fingers stroking thoughtfully through the coarse hair on your mound. “And if you touch me, or yourself, I won’t make you come tonight. Not even once. If you want to touch yourself so badly, be my guest, but you’ll be finishing yourself off.”
Dark eyes flashed down, jaw flexing as he watched your fingers dip to slide between your folds. You let out an exaggerated sound, gaze trained on the way his eyes devoured your movements. You spotted the muscle in his bicep tightening and loosening intermittently, and noticed that he was gripping the bedsheets so tight that you almost worried they would tear.
Moving carefully, you trailed a finger to the apex of your core and began to run circles over your clit, humming genuinely as the pleasure that had been building inside of you was reignited.
It used to make you shy, the way you touched yourself. The way your brain would run hazy with pleasure, and your hands would take on a mind of their own, grazing over your body as you shivered beneath your own touch. But now? It made you feel fucking formidable. The way you squeezed your breasts, made yourself gasp as you pinched and rolled your nipples. To rub a hand over your lower stomach and press against the soft flesh there, putting pressure on all the nerves underneath the skin to stimulate your g-spot. You were greedy, never stinging away or pulling back from what you knew felt good. It was intoxicating, knowing every intricate part of what made your own body tick. And you knew for a fact that it was like a drug to Joel to see you touch yourself.
His dark eyes glared at your fingers, awestruck as he watched your movements, tongue swiping greedily over his lips as if in an attempt to taste you again. And when you moaned, he did too, soft groans slipping past his lips and hands fisting in the bedsheets as he watched your fingers disappear inside yourself over and over again.
“That’s it,” Joel said roughly. “Add another finger for me, wanna see you stretch yourse—.”
“Shut up,” you muttered, refusing to do as he asked. He grunted, lips pursing closed. “You like watching me like this? Seeing how I touch myself?” He moaned his assent, raking a hand through his unruly curls.
You were already so high strung, so pent up, that it didn’t take long for you to bring yourself to the precipice. And as you approached to your end, expression contorting in pleasure, Joel’s eyes dragged upward to focus on your face instead of your pussy. Devastated, his eyes flicked once back down to your slick fingers, unsure of what he wanted to see more, before steadfastly holding eye contact with you. And as the high washed over you in sharp, twitching waves, he held your gaze, eyes raking across your features and delighting in the way your jaw hung open in a stupor.
You rode the waves of your pleasure for a moment, only the stopping the ministrations of your soaked fingers when your clit began to burn with oversensitivity. Your eyes slowly flicked open to find Joel’s gaze still trained on your face, although his expression was lax now. His lips formed a small, somewhat dazed smile, and you felt heat rise in your neck at the way he stared at you. All lust forgotten for a moment, he simply watched.
“What’re you lookin’ at?” you teased softly, your own mouth lilting into a grin.
“I’m admirin’ you,” he repeated your words from earlier in the night, and you huffed out a short laugh.
“You were so good, Joel,” you responded kindly, leaning forward on trembling legs to cup his face. “So patient, let me fuck myself on top of you and didn’t try to touch me once. Did everything I asked, just like you said you would.”
“Of course,” he murmured, turning to press a chaste kiss to the inside of your palm. “I’m sorry.”
Confusion flitted through you, and then you relaxed, remembering the way he had cursed at you. “It’s okay, honey. Why don’t you c’mere?”
Still smiling, he pushed back into a seated position, this time pressing his chest flush to yours. You looped an arm around his neck, toying with the short curls at the base of his neck as he lined himself back up to your entrance. Once he was in position, he gave you a quick look to check in, and in response you simply sunk your hips over him, letting him fill you to the brim once more. He sighed in relief, forehead pressing against yours.
Tilting your chin forward, you dragged your lips lightly across his, kissing him for the first time in what felt like hours.
“Where do you want to touch me?” you asked.
“Everywhere,” he breathed into your mouth.
Your fingers tightened on the back of his neck, tongue trailing lazily along the seam of his lips. “Then touch me, baby.”
His hands were on you in a second. Calloused palms running over the skin of your back, your shoulders, your hips, fingers gripping flesh for leverage as he began to fuck up into you. He had always been an attentive lover, with a keen eye for attention to detail. And it was never as apparent as when he was touching you. Because as he held you against his chest, dragging you harshly over his cock, he did everything just the way you liked it - the way you did it when you were touching yourself.
His palm pushed on your lower stomach, applying pressure there to intensify the feeling against your g-spot. And when your hands drifted to touch your breasts, his hands came up to cover yours, and you squeezed them together until he brushed your hands away to twist and play with one of your nipples, mouth dropping to flick his tongue against the other.
It was intoxicating. Both of you so drunk on the feeling of each other, of finally throwing out the pretence and just being together, that you found yourself hurtling towards the edge faster than ever.
As if he read your mind, Joel’s mouth left your breast, face pulling back to watch you, saying “I’m not gonna last.”
“It’s okay,” you panted heavily. “You can—I want you to come.”
“Need to feel you,” he frowned, shaking his head dizzily. “Want to feel you come around me, please.”
“I will,” you swore. “Come on, give it to me.”
“It’s yours,” he whimpered, wrapping an arm around your waist to hold you to him. “Fuckin’ take it, it’s yours.”
His hips begun to falter in their movement, and you picked up the slack with ease, rotating your hips against him to maintain the pace he’d set. His cock jumped inside of you in quick, jerking movements, and as soon as you felt his hot release inside you, your own orgasm hit like a freight train, walls pulsing around him, sucking him in as deep as you could take him. Your vision blacked out for a second, the intensity of multiple orgasms finally catching up to you and making you almost lightheaded. Extended moans and laboured breaths mingled in the air, forming a raucous symphony as you rode out your highs. Sweat beaded across his temples and dripped down the hard lines of his face. Your lower half shook with the intensity of it, thighs bracketed firmly against the outside of his hips. Joel sung your name, wet lips pressing the word into the flesh of your neck and repeating it there, embedding it into your sweat-soaked skin like it was all he knew how to say anymore.
“Fuuck,” he dragged out once your hips stopped moving, his teeth nipping gently against your pulse point.
“Oh honey,” you murmured, head lolling forward to peck his forehead. “Don’t tell me you’re throwing in the towel? I seem to remember you saying something about how I could fuck you again, and do whatever I want with you.”
“Yeah, yeah,” his shoulders shook as he laughed quietly, keeping his face hidden in the crook of your neck. “Give me a damn minute.”
Although you could feel his length softening inside of you, and a mix of both of your come was steadily seeping out past his girth to make a mess of your thighs, you didn’t move just yet. And Joel seemed more than content to stay put, his strong arms enveloping your body almost entirely as he held you against his chest, breaths slowly beginning to even out. You shifted your head to the side to peer at his face, smiling when you saw that his eyes had indeed fallen shut.
“Lay down,” you encouraged quietly, letting out a quiet huff of surprise when he simply fell backwards into the mattress, dragging you down with him. Adjusting your legs to rest more comfortably on either side of him, you laid your head against his collarbone, pressing soft kisses to the burning skin of his chest.
“Just a minute,” he mumbled in assurance, although his eyes stayed closed and his breaths deepened.
“Are you okay?” you asked softly. “Can I get you some water? Something to eat?”
He hummed; eyes cracking open to peer blearily at you. “Water sounds about right.” You nodded, moving to get up from the bed, but he held you down, palm solid on your lower back. “Not just yet though,” he added quickly. “Just stay with me for a minute.”
“Okay baby,” you kissed his collarbone, allowing him a few more minutes of rest before you forced him to drink a litre of water and allow you to clean him up. His fingers mindlessly traced a pattern onto the skin of your back, stirring goosebumps across your flesh.
Slowly, a smirk slid across your face and you tilted your chin up to gaze at him once more. “Just saying though—you should probably get out of here before my boyfriend gets home. He’s pretty quick to anger, and I have a feeling he’d kill you if he found out what we just did.”
Joel groaned loudly, hand reaching up to press over your mouth and muffle your laughter. “Jesus, do you ever stop talking?”
#joel miller#joel miller fanfiction#the last of us#tlou#tlou fanfiction#joel miller smut#sub!joel miller#joel miller x reader#joel miller one shot#my writing#be good
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BAD REPUTATION | LUKE CASTELLAN
DISTRACTION — CHAPTER 03
pairing luke castellan x fem!ares!reader
summary y/n's guitar practicing is interrupted several times.
author's note slowly introducing more of the social media aus into these fics! you can view all of the characters’ twitter accounts here.
→ installment of this au read for context
The weather outside was beautiful. Kids were strewn out around camp, some were by the lake while others found shade in the armory or stables. You, however, were in your cabin all alone. You knew that this was one of the few times it would be empty, so you snuck away from archery to practice your other instrument– your guitar.
You began strumming the first few notes to a song you had been working on. Quietly singing the lyrics to yourself, you were reminded of a time before camp.
It was back when you were still with him. You recall how your back leaned against his as he helped move your fingers to the correct strings, how he guided your hands to the right positions, he was always so patient with you. But that had all come crashing down when the monsters in your head became real, too real for him to deal with.
Anyway, that was a long time ago now. You went back to strumming your guitar and tried to push the memory away, but you couldn’t. You hated that he still occupied your mind, no matter how hard you tried to move on.
You thought that coming here would help, and it did for a while. Other boys became distractions and temporary fixes, but then there was Luke, who confused and terrified you.
When Annabeth and Clarisse brought him up at your sleepover the other night, you felt the need to hide. The bravest girl in camp, and you couldn’t face your own feelings. It made you feel weak, and you hated that.
Realizing that you got distracted once again, you resumed singing for a third time.
It wasn’t long before you heard the sound of keys dropping followed by“shit.” You looked up from where you were sitting cross-legged in bed to see who it was.
“Hello?” you called out.
A bashful curly-haired boy peeked his head into your door. You frowned.
“Hey Y/N, sorry for interrupting you,” Percy said, slowly.
“Aren’t you supposed to be training right now?”
“Y-yes,” the boy stammered. “But Luke needed me to get something from Hermes cabin for him.”
“You do realize this is Ares, right?”
“Right, I just-”
“Just…?” You knew you were being a little rude to the boy, but it had been a while since you messed with the campers. You couldn’t have them thinking you went soft all of a sudden.
“Sorry, I was just walking by and I heard someone singing and I figured it must be you, so I just stopped for a second to listen.”
“Okay, stalker.”
“I wasn’t stalking, I swear!”
“Whatever, just get going before Luke gets mad at you too.”
Not needing you to tell him twice, Percy rushed away. Sighing, you went back to your guitar for the umpteenth time.
📥 INCOMING MESSAGE FROM: PERCY
You enjoyed about 30 more minutes of peace before you heard a soft knock on your door. Grumbling, you climbed out of bed, ready to scare the camper away.
“I swear to god-” you started.
“Hey, hey, I come here in peace,” Luke put his hands up defensively.
“Ironic because you’re actually disturbing my peace. What is it with everyone bothering me today?”
“Look, I came here to apologize for Percy earlier.”
“You wasted your time because this could have been a text then,” you said. You were usually nicer to Luke than the rest of the campers, but you hadn’t been in a good mood recently, not since the sleepover and not since you started working on this song.
He must have noticed your change in attitude toward him because he asked, “Is everything okay?”
“Yes,” you said quickly. “And even if it weren’t, I’m not going to bother you with my problems.”
“You’re not a bother,” he responded sincerely.
“Well, I’m glad you think that. But us Ares kids, we have to take care of ourselves. I’m used to it.”
“Just because you’re used to something doesn’t mean it’s the way things should be.”
“Oh, my bad, Castellan. I didn’t take you for a philosopher.”
“Alright, whatever. I just came to apologize for Percy, I’ll leave you to your moping.”
“Hey! I’m not moping!” you said, defensively.
“It sure does look like it,” he said, scanning the room and landing on the mess of sheets on your bed and the snack bags you had discarded haphazardly on the floor.
“I’ll have you know I’m actually working on a very special project, so. This is what the room of an artist looks like.”
“Oh?” he chuckled. “Is that so?”
“Mhm, I can show you.”
“Alright, bet,” he found a spot next to you on your bed and watched as you set up your guitar.
You strummed the first few verses of your song, hyper-aware of how close the boy next to you was right now. You could feel his breath on the back of your neck, and closed your eyes as you slowly allowed yourself to lean into him, softly singing the lyrics.
When you got to the chorus, you cleared your throat. “Uhm, here is where I’m getting stuck a bit, because everyone keeps barging in here.”
“Is this the part where you ask me to leave then?”
You stared into his brown eyes. You wondered how anyone’s eyes could look so soft, could hold so much emotion. Did he look at everyone like this?
“Y/N?” he said, after a moment.
Shit, how long were you staring at him for? And was your mouth open the entire time?
“Sorry, I thought I saw something in your eye. Probably just a piece of dust,” you laughed nervously. “Uhm, yeah, I think I need another hour or something to finish this song, but I’ll see you at the campfire tonight, yeah?”
If Luke was disappointed, he didn’t look it. “Yeah, of course, I gotta head back to my counselor duties anyway.”
He saluted you playfully as he turned around to leave, being sure to close the door after him.
#bad rep fic#luke castellan#luke castellan x reader#percy jackson series#percy jackson#pjo#charlie bushnell#charlie bushnell x reader#luke castellan imagine#percy jackson x reader#pjo x you#luke castellan x you
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A Nightingale Sang in 1941
This is my inaugural meta (yay!) Eventually I will learn how to add gifs and whatnot to make this more interesting but today, I give you a wall of text.
I need to give credit where credit is due to three existing metas that I’m drawing upon heavily here:
A speculative continuation of the 1941 story, which includes an almost-kiss while “A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square” plays on the gramophone,
A behavioral analysis of Aziraphale during the S2E6 finale (will find ref later if possible)
A meta-analysis of the way in which “coffee” is used as a symbolic equivalent for liberty and freedom of choice, a running theme of this show (will find ref later if possible)
I’m going to expand upon meta #2 and #3 and explain why I think there is are very compelling reasons to believe that #1 will be canonized.
At the end of S1E6, an instrumental version of “A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square” plays diegetically, but the lyrical version plays non-diegetically over the credits (we hear it but the protagonists don’t). So we the audience could plausibly say “that’s their song,” but as of the close of S1, we have no reason to believe that they know that it’s their song. Even Aziraphale’s S1E3 (1967) suggestion that they dine at the Ritz could be a reference that only he gets, or just a fancy restaurant suggestion.
So when I was watching S2E6 and Crowley said “no nightingales,” I was jarred. What does that even mean? We know it has something to do with dining at the Ritz, but what does it mean to them? The reference only works if they know it’s their song. But we’ve only ever seen them hear it together after the averted apocalypse; if this is the direct reference that Crowley is making, it leaves our 1967 reference contextless and twisting in the wind.
If we assume that there was a romantic story beat in 1941, wherein “A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square” (which, incidentally, was written in 1939 and saw the height of its popularity at the end of 1940, so timeline-wise it’s spot-on) became their song, then a lot of events get renewed interpretations through this lens, in a way that makes this story much more cohesive and the “no nightingales” comment even more soul-shattering than it already was.
Let’s presume that immediately after this became their song and just as they were discovering their romantic potential, they were forced back into hiding. Forever after, references to the song serve as a macro for “I’d like to pick up where we left off that night.”
The 1967 suggestion of “dining at the Ritz” now becomes a directly romantic suggestion. It also gives better context for “you go too fast for me.”
Actually going to the Ritz in 2019 is not simply a celebration or even a callback to 1967, it’s a callback to their almost-romance of 1941.
When Crowley says “no nightingales” in 2023, this isn’t to say “we’re not going to eat together at the Ritz anymore.” It’s saying that the romance that began that night, the precious, fragile romance, is over.
I’ll give you a moment to dry your eyes before we move on to metas #2 and #3.
In light that this is what has been going on - they know they want a romantic relationship but have gotten so used to hiding and denying it that they are more comfortable keeping the status quo static and quo-y then trying to achieve their ideal - a lot of S2 behavior can get a fresh view.
Crowley’s reaction to Nina isn’t a realization that he’s in love - he knew that already. You can only ask someone to run away with you so many times before you are forced to admit some things to yourself. No, he’s realizing that trying to hide it (which was justified by survival), hasn’t been working, but despite failing at being stealth nothing bad has happened. He’s realizing that it may finally be safe to show it.
Crowley’s confession, then, is not a revelation. It’s making the subtext text. He’s not telling Aziraphale anything he didn’t already know. He’s saying it now because he thinks he’s safe to do so. Pin in that.
Lots of people have lots of theories about Aziraphale’s motivations in the S2 finale, which can more or less be divided into 4 camps: the genuinely held belief, the coffee theory, the lie theory, and the mutual trick theory (some version of the body-switching at the end of S1). Let me start by saying that I love all the fans and all their theories and I find their analyses to be insightful. The genuinely held belief theory, while I believe it to be erroneous, has been incredibly conducive to so many wonderful conversations and I love being in a community that has those conversations. But I’m going to explain why I think the lie theory finds the most support in canon.
Re-watch the finale (when you feel like you can) from 35:18 to 36:19 and then from 40:45 to the end, paying very close attention to Aziraphale’s words and his eyes. Michael Sheen is telling us a LOT with his eyes, and in the back half of the finale scene, with pacing.
For 60 seconds of footage, this setup is doing a lot of work. If Neil Gaiman wasn’t doing enough to beat us over the head with how evil the Metatron is, that glare at Crowley at the end with the non-diegetic ominous horns should convey the message. But again, focusing on Aziraphale. He initially refuses to talk to the Metatron; he’s made his position quite clear. There is no hint of regret or wavering; this is not someone who’s aching to return to the fold. The Metatron ignores his refusal and functionally forces him to accept a “cup of coffee.” The coffee isn’t spiked, but it is a metaphor. It is symbolic of choice. The Metatron is going to force Aziraphale to make a choice. Meta #3 does a great job of exploring the idea that a choice between anything and death is never really a choice. Hang onto that thought.
Notice I had you start up again 3 seconds before “The Conversation.” That’s because it’s important to note where the Metatron is right now. He is across the street, staring straight in through those giant windows to where our protagonists are about to have The Conversation. He is watching.
When Aziraphale returns, Crowley begins his “let me talk” riff. Aziraphale ought to be interested in what Crowley has to say, since the preamble is pretty compelling. You’ll notice that Aziraphale quickly turns to the window and back, through which he (but not we) can see the Metatron standing there, watching them. Aziraphale is then doing his best to get Crowley to STFU without raising the suspicion of the Metatron, eventually having to cut him off.
Because unfortunately, Crowley’s entire impetus for speaking up now is that it’s safe to do so. Only Aziraphale knows that they are in very real danger (or at least, Crowley is, but I’ll come back to that).
You might take something from the fact that he’s shaking his head while talking about “incredibly good news,” and seems to self-censor his criticism of Metatron (or more specifically, he takes ownership of any criticism of the Metatron, censoring out Crowley’s role in that, with the emphasis on I in “I might have misjudged him”).
Notice in the flashback that he begins the conversation reasonably relaxed. The Metatron also says a series of things about him that not only are false, but everyone, including the Metatron and Crowley, know are false: Aziraphale is not a leader, he’s a defector; he’s not honest, he lies all the time, in fact this entire season revolved around his one huge lie of hiding Gabriel. Not only does the justification not make sense coming from Metatron, but it shouldn’t make sense that Aziraphale would accept these reasons and it shouldn’t make sense to Crowley either. So is Aziraphale including these details in his recounting to Crowley so that he will get suspicious and figure out the jig? Maybe. Let’s continue.
Immediately upon being offered the job of Supreme Archangel, Aziraphale says “but I don’t want to go back to Heaven.” This is direct evidence against the genuinely held belief theory. If returning to Heaven and making a difference was a genuine motivation, we would have gotten a different response at this moment. But then we get something more.
“Where would I get my coffee?”
This is a beautiful response for a number of reasons; coffee should be trivial compared to the opportunity to be a Supreme Archangel, so it serves to highlight just how little interest Aziraphale has in returning. Taken at face value, it’s the Aziraphale equivalent of “not even at gunpoint.” But remember that coffee is a metaphor for liberty in this universe and this season. So what Aziraphale just said, in the language of Neil Gaiman metaphors, is:
I don’t want to go back to Heaven, I would rather have free will.
What does the Metatron do next?
He brings up Crowley.
Watch Aziraphale’s eyes before and after the mention of Crowley. He goes from confused to eye-flicking panic in the space of two syllables. Aziraphale already understands that his “no” is not being accepted, and that bringing Crowley into it can only possibly serve as a threat.
So the coffee, the choice, is a false choice. No one ever orders death. The Metatron has forced Aziraphale into a situation that looks an awful lot like a choice (it comes in a blue cup, after all) but it isn’t.
We definitely have some reliable narrator problems here. I’m going to presume for purposes of analysis that these cut-outs are accurate but incomplete, and that a more explicit threat about what would happen to Crowley if Aziraphale did not return to Heaven was made.
If we assume that Aziraphale has been made aware of a threat and is trying to hide that from Crowley, the rest of this scene reads very differently. Aziraphale cannot say, “you are in danger but you will be safe if you swear your allegiance to Heaven” or “I have to go, no matter what, and the only way we can be together is if you come with me,” but nonetheless he now has to convince Crowley to do the one thing he ought to know Crowley definitely doesn’t want to do all through subtext. Which we’ve spent an entire season establishing that they can’t communicate well when they are allowed to use their words. Disastrously, this is not a magic trick that Aziraphale can make work when it counts. Their failure to practice good communication means that, right now, when it counts most, they are not going to pull it off.
We see that Aziraphale is very hopeful that Crowley will pick up on his cues and play along. Obviously, he doesn’t.
If the whole riff about Hell being bad guys and Heaven being the side of truth and light is taken as genuine, it discards a massive amount of character development that we’ve witnessed in Job, Edinburgh, etc. (again, to all the genuine belief subscribers, I think it’s a compelling argument but it simply doesn’t account for the evidence). So if it’s not genuine, why say it? Again, to alert Crowley that something is Off, because Crowley should know that Aziraphale doesn’t actually believe that. They saved humanity from Heaven and Hell. They hid Gabriel from Heaven and Hell. Crowley knows that Aziraphale knows that Heaven and Hell are just two sides of the same coin. Notice again that Aziraphale glances out the window while he’s talking up Heaven; he knows the Metatron is watching, he can’t not defend the position of Heaven. I think it’s also worth noting that Aziraphale forcefully glances and gestures off to Crowley’s left (away from the window) when talking about Hell, and then turns his head to Crowley’s right (towards the window) to try to get him to realize that a representative of Heaven is literally standing right over there, just look out the window please dumbass!
When Crowley is asking Aziraphale if he said no, and we see the back of Aziraphale’s head, again we can see him turn his head to glance out the window. This is also when he changes strategies, and admits that Heaven could use a little reform. Because now there’s a problem almost as big as getting caught, which is that he won’t be able to get Crowley to go with him.
Which unfortunately makes the next part of this so much more heartbreaking. Because when Crowley begins his speech about being a team, Aziraphale wants to hear it. He can’t bring himself to shut down Crowley again, even though it could get them both in massive trouble. Notice that he glances out the window again during this, and the look of panic on his face. He begins to shake his head when Crowley mentions that Heaven and Hell are toxic; this can be taken a lot of ways but I’ll argue for the interpretation that he’s trying to get Crowley to STFU and stop saying shit that could get him destroyed.
After Crowley puts on his sunglasses we are in the “back half” and Sheen is doing a lot with phrasing here, specifically pregnant pauses.
“Come with me… to Heaven!”
“We can be together… as angels!”
Based on the pacing decision I am thoroughly convinced that the first half of each of these statements is intended to be the message to Crowley and the second half is always a qualifying statement to satisfy the Metatron.
Unfortunately, these pregnant pauses are completely backfiring in their effect on Crowley. The sentiment gives him hope and the qualifying statement crushes it again immediately. He is being taken on a horrible emotional rollercoaster with these declarations which are only further amping up his instinct to run away.
The only truly genuine, unaldulterated statement I think we get from Aziraphale is
“I need you!”
When it becomes clear to Aziraphale that there’s been an irreparable breakdown of communication between them and the subtext is not getting across, he says:
“I don’t think you understand what I’m offering you.”
He means this literally. Crowley has not understood that Aziraphale is offering him protection from whatever threat the Metatron has made.
Which makes this part extra-devastating and also absolutely in keeping with a major running theme of this season.
“I understand. I think I understand a whole lot better than you do.”
Your understanding and my understanding are different understandings.
Crowley views the offer to return to Heaven through the lens of his trauma. He understands what life in Heaven would be like. But he doesn’t understand that Aziraphale is offering him protection.
But Aziraphale just heard Crowley say that he understood everything, and he’s still going to leave. There might be a little suspense of disbelief here to believe that Aziraphale really interpreted the statement this way, but we know that Aziraphale isn’t always the brightest battery-operated candle in the drawer. So under the assumption that Crowley did understand him and is still rejecting the offer, rejecting him—
“Well, then there’s nothing more to say.”
Please pay very close attention to Aziraphale’s body language for the next part. He’s active, agitated, turning side to side, arms swinging. This is a very fidgety angel.
“No nightingales.”
Aziraphale is now completely still. He’s feeling that feeling. You know it. The one where your entire body is getting sucked into the pit of your stomach. The aching paralysis.
This is their song, the one that began their romance in 1941, the secret code for all other attempts at flirtation. Crowley has walked out on him before, Aziraphale has been stubborn and obstinate before. But they always came back together, sometimes with an apology dance or other rituals that belonged solely to them.
But now the song is over.
By saying this, Crowley has broken up with Aziraphale. We can see in Aziraphale’s sudden transition from fidgety to paralysis that he has understood it this way.
Then he turns away from the window so that the Metatron won’t see him cry.
The kiss was heart-wrenching already. But we’re not done with this analysis.
During the kiss, Aziraphale has a choice to make between two very compelling bad choices. This is the Job dilemma. But worse.
If he doesn’t kiss Crowley back, he will let Crowley think that he doesn’t love him. He will have missed out on this (maybe/probably their first kiss?) and regret it forever.
If he does kiss Crowley back, in full view of the Metatron, they are in deep trouble.
He seems to do his best to split the difference. I would even go so far to say that the awkward arm waving is Aziraphale acting for the Metatron’s benefit, to try to portray that he doesn’t want this even though he absolutely does (just not like this). The anguish when they break the kiss is absolutely real, and the first thing he does is glance out the window. Through all this he has remained painfully aware of their spectator.
He wants to say I love you. He mouths it. He breathes it.
But the Metatron is watching.
He can’t tell Crowley I love you. So he has to say the only other thing that has always unequivocally meant “I love you” when he said it to Crowley. He has to hope that Crowley understands him now, even though he never has before.
Spoiler alert: Crowley doesn’t.
My forgiveness and your forgiveness are not the same forgiveness.
One more point against the genuine belief fans (I love you): if the offer to let Crowley back in is what changed his mind, then Crowley declining removes that incentive. Aziraphale should/would have consequently retreated to his last stated position of “I don’t want to go back to Heaven, where would I get my Crowley—I mean, coffee?” [post-publication nod to @theonevoice for a great little meta] It simply doesn’t hold up to scrutiny.
I think a lot of fans were already making these assumptions about the use of the nightingale song so this meta may not feel revelatory, however, it isn’t canon (yet), and I’m sure I’ll find company that agree that canonization of this connection would strengthen a lot of these story points, as evidenced by how it is already assumed by many fans.
If you made it to the end - omg thank you! Please leave a note and tell me your thoughts!
Bonus: somebody already made the song connection here
~~~
if you liked this, you may also like:
Book of Life and what it means for Crowley
The Erasure of Human!Metatron
Baraqiel and Azazel
~~~
Recommended related (lie theory) metas by other people:
making the subtext text by @theonevoice
Aziraphale's Decision Matrix by @yowlthinks
Nothing Lasts Forever: META by @phoen1xr0se
#good omens#good omens 2#neil gaiman#coffee theory#lie theory#no nightingales#metatron#good omens meta#the metatron#good omens 2x06#fuck metatron#metatron good omens#good omens 1941#michael sheen#crowley#aziracrow#aziraphale x crowley#ineffable husbands#aziraphale#ivoc
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paradise city || joel miller
AO3 || MASTERLIST || FREE PALESTINE
pairing : guitarist!joel x f!reader
summary : when you and your friends go out to a bar to see a local band gig, you can’t help but notice how the guitarist’s eyes somehow keep finding you in the crowd.
tags : M-18+, no use of y/n, no outbreak AU, i imagine joel is in his early 40s, no age gap mentioned, mention of reader’s breakup, mentions of alcohol consumption, joel starts off a little shy but truly there ain’t nothing shy about this man, size kink (kinda?? a little bit??) oral (f! and m! receiving), unprotected p in v sex, dom!joel, joel gets a little possessive (you’ll see what i mean…), praise kink, squirting, multiple orgasms, creampie, aftercare ofc
fic playlist : https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0afpHjoOFylI01OTbV5jol (picture joel playing during the guitar solos in every single one of these songs 😁)
WC : 7.9k… (no one look at me. not a single soul.)
a/n : 100 FOLLOWER SPECIAL !! i apologize in advance for all the song lyrics i’ve scattered in this fic… i opted to make a playlist of the songs i think joel’s band would play but there were just too many good ones to pass up and i was losing it a little bit 🫠 also, shoutout to @joelsdagger for constantly yapping with me about this idea and letting me tease her about this absolute menace of a man and also @haileymorelikestupid for beta reading for me 🥹😭 it feels extremely fitting to post a joel fic on international women’s day where he fucks you so good, so i hope y’all enjoy !! <3
You and your friends have had a week.
Deciding you all needed a night to let loose and have fun together, your friend Erica found out about this place hosting a local rock cover band called Fetters Whiskey and thought it might be nice to come see them.
Earlier, you had all piled into the Uber and were headed out, a low girly chatter filling the car. The three in the back harped on about their spouses and all the little things that annoyed them.
“He left the dishes in the drying rack!” “She helped me clean a little too well and used all the cleaner, now we’re all out!”
The complaining did help them destress a bit.
You and Erica were in the second row captain’s chairs of the car, the three in the back doing their pregame de-stressing. “Makes you rethink the whole marriage fantasy, huh?” she jokes, looking over at you playing with the rings on your fingers.
You look up and breathe a laugh. “Yeah, I guess so,” you say with a weak smile.
“Well… have you had any luck finding anyone?” she asks sweetly, sincerely. Genuinely hoping someone has caught your eye.
You had a pretty nasty breakup a while ago, probably about eight months by now. You two had been dating for a while and the breakup honestly seemed to come out of nowhere, like some switch flipped one day and nothing was really the same. Your friends stuck by you through every up and down you had. You felt really lucky to have them.
“No. not yet,” you tell her.
“Well, maybe tonight’s your night,” she says with a friendly smile. “You deserve to unwind and let loose a little, y’know what I mean?” You breathe another laugh. “You do!” she exclaims, hitting your shoulder.
“Yeah, well, I guess we’ll see,” you say, the rest of the car ride seeming to fly by, a part of you kinda hoping she’s right.
The bar is crowded.
You walk in, snaking the group between the crowd and making your way near the stage towards the back of the bar, men and women alike all brushing bodies the closer you get to the stage, drinks in hand, friends chattering away, everyone waiting for the show.
Two of your coworkers disappear to fetch everyone a drink while you and the others stake claim on a little area near the stage. A couple of guys are on the stage setting up the instruments and making sure everything is plugged in right, the lights dimmed enough to not really draw much attention to them. It’s not long before the others join them on stage and start playing. The girls return just in time, handing out the drinks as the music starts.
The band is pretty good (you’re not sure what you were expecting, but you’re more than pleased with how good they sound). They play some fan favorites like Wanted Dead or Alive and I Love Rock ‘n’ Roll, and they mix in some random fun songs like Play That Funky Music.
The drummer is clearly in his own world, head moving at a velocity you would think could give him whiplash. And he’s absolutely killing it, hitting every beat with fervor. You can feel the strikes of the sticks on his drums in the center of your chest.
Another guy seems to be the swiss army knife musician: pretty good at almost everything, filling in wherever he’s needed depending on the song. One minute, he’s playing his keyboard and the next, he’s busting out a trumpet, and the next, he’s busting out a guitar. And no matter what he’s playing, he’s playing it with passion.
The lead singer clearly loves all of the attention he gets. He’s feeding off the crowd’s energy like a cat lounging in the sunlight, basking in every cheer and whistle and fist pumping in the air from the crowd. He practically lives at the edge of the stage, crouching down to sing with the girls but backing up to sing and dance with his bandmates too, bringing them in on some of the harmonies and tying the whole show together.
But by far the unsung hero of this group is the lead guitarist. He hides off to the corner, leg posted up on his amp with the body of his guitar resting slightly on his thigh. He looks down at the instrument carefully watching his fingers strum each cord perfectly, furrowing his brow in concentration during his solos and lifting his head up to the sky. He looks like he feels every note in his blood, expressing it through the expert strum of his fingertips on the strings. He doesn’t have a mic and the singer doesn’t make him sing alongside him very much, but you catch him mouthing all the words and getting into the singing as well.
He’s a particularly pretty man and your eyes linger on him more than the others, always finding their way back to him, and always during the more raunchy lines of the different songs…
Well, I am imagining // A dark lit place // Or your place on my place
I’ma paint his town red // Then paint his wife white
But I got both hands on the wheel while you got both hands on my gears // By now, no doubt we’re heading south // I guess nobody ever taught her not to speak with a full mouth
…but who can blame you when he has such a reserved, cool vibe. Plus, did you mention that he’s really pretty too?
And maybe it’s the couple of drinks getting to you more than you thought, or maybe you’re just crazy, but it seems like every time you look at him, he’s looking away from you. Like he’d been staring and you caught him. You swear he starts to look ever so slightly more flushed, but it’s practically impossible to see with the colored lights flooding the scene. No, you think, that’s crazy. You’re standing in a crowd of people, there’s no way he—
“Hey, I think the guy on lead guitar keeps checking you out!” Erica exclaims over the loud music and singing crowd.
You turn and look at her, eyebrows raised before you turn back to the stage. He does it again, averting his gaze the second he sees you look and you feel a flutter in your chest. He really is checking me out, huh?
You keep staring at him, waiting for him to look back in hopes that you’re looking away. When he lets his eyes wander back to you, you’re still staring. This time, though, he doesn’t look away. His eyes won’t let him now that you’ve caught his attention — like a fly in a spider web.
He turns his body ever so slightly, facing your direction more than anyone else as he plays the rest of the song. The lights focus on him, colorful spotlights of red and blue illuminating his face as he positively shreds his guitar solo. His fingers expertly tap dance across the neck of his guitar, his other hand working double time to strum on beat and hit every single note. You watch in a complete daze as he finishes, sealing off his musical escapade with the smuggest wink right to you.
He put on a show. All just for you.
Something stirs in your belly, a low heat kindling as the band continues to play. Their next song — god, their next song… — really puts the icing on the cake.
The jack of all trades band member busts out a sound board, the sampled sound of a snare drum filling the space, a warped, funky-sounding instrumental following.
You let me violate you // You let me desecrate you // You let me penetrate you // You let me complicate you
The guitarist shares a mic with the guy on the sound board, offering back-up vocals for the song. He’s getting a little bold now, you think.
I broke apart my insides // (Help me) I’ve got no soul to sell // (Help me) the only thing that works for me // Help me get away from myself
He’s locked eyes with you the whole time, changing the tides of who is winning this staring battle for dominance. Each second his gaze stays on you, you feel smaller and smaller, completely at his mercy. He backs away from the mic, preparing to play and licking his lips in a manner obviously made to make you even dizzier than you already are.
I wanna fuck you like an animal // I wanna feel you from the inside // I wanna fuck you like an animal // My whole existence is flawed // You get me closer to God
He glances back at you from his guitar, a smirk decorating his face before he turns to keep playing the song. You’re in a complete daze. He’s clearly won this battle, and you don’t even know what to do with yourself anymore.
You have to have this man.
Erica caught a some of his little show for you, watching him wink at you and the way your features fell to a focused stare at him. “Girl, get a room next time!” she teases and all you can do is smile back.
When the set is over, you and your friends walk back towards the bar, not wanting to leave just yet. You claim a few of the tiny standing tables, again gathered with Erica at one while the other girls try to cluster around another.
“So…” she starts, giving you a look of anticipation.
“So…?”
“What the hell was going on between you and that guitarist?” she asks, her tone of voice high with excitement.
You laugh, looking down and shrugging your shoulders. “I honestly have no idea,” you say, shaking your head and blushing a little thinking about his little performance. “I thought I was crazy until you said something.”
“Well, whatever it was, you should go for him!” she encourages.
“Please,” you scoff and laugh, “you’re ridiculous.”
“No, I’m serious! While you were having your little… whatever you were having, I was watching the whole band, and the other guys weren’t doing what he did. And he didn’t look at anyone else the way he looked at you.”
You stare at her, a blush creeping up on your cheeks and that small fire in your belly growing a little bigger, a little hotter.
Erica looks up over your shoulder, “Oh my gosh, there they are!”
As if on cue, the band walks through one of the back doors. Having just put away their instruments and whatever other equipment they brought. They saunter in, hair wet from the sweat of performing and lifting all their stuff back into their van. Trailing behind the rest is that damn guitarist. He scans the crowd before he sees you, his expression opening with a bit of an urgency as he quickly finds the bar to grab a beer.
You turn back to Erica, mouth dry and nervous. “Please, you have to go talk to him,” she practically begs.
“No, I- I can’t. I don’t even know what to say,” you plead. “I’m so out of practice.”
“Oh, quit it. I saw you looking at him first. You had him going before he got bold with you. You still have game, go get that man!” she says.
“I don’t know, Erica—” you start, but youre quickly caught off by a tap to your shoulder. You turn around and it’s him.
“Hi,” you say, desperately trying to hide the nerves threatening your vocal chords and smile genuinely at him.
“Hi there,” he says. God, his voice is so deep. You couldn’t hear it in all of its beauty before, but it has a bass to it that rumbles in your bones.
You stare blankly at him for a second before you finally pipe up, “Um, that was a good set you guys played.”
“Thank you,” he chuckles, looking down at his beer and leaning against the edge of the table.
Erica watches with wide eyes before announcing, “Well, I’m empty. I’m gonna go get a refill, okay?” She winks as she walks away leaving you and this mysterious guitarist alone together.
You turn your gaze back to him and fully take in his features now. His eyes have their own glow to them that persists even with the dim stage lights littered around this bar. His hair is patchy from sweat but still sits pretty. His strong features demand your eyes and you’re unable to look anywhere but him.
He extends his hand out to you, “Name’s Joel.”
“Hi, Joel,” you say, shaking his hand and telling him your name. He echoes it and it sounds beautiful off his tongue. “Listen, I--”
“Y’know, you’ve got one of those faces that stands out in a crowd, anyone ever told you that?”
You shake your head, “No, not necessarily.”
“Well trust me, we’ve played our share of shows and none of them had a pretty girl like you in the audience catchin’ my eye every two seconds.”
You blush, starting to gather your mind back from the sudden thrust into a conversation with who you think might be the prettiest man you’ve ever seen in your life now that you’ve had time to really study his features up close. “You’re no different yourself,” you offer.
“How so?”
“I’m just saying, you’d think the prettiest member would be the one front and center, not tucked in a corner by an amp.”
His eyes bounce back and forth between your own not breaking contact as he takes another sip of his beer. “I don’t want just anyone lookin’ my way, I guess. You gotta work to see this pretty face.”
“Pretty, indeed,” you agree, stepping ever so slightly closer to him. “You put on quite a show up there.”
He leans down just a bit, closing the gap between the two of you even more, “Well, I did have quite the eager audience, didn’t I?” he asks.
You stare at each other for a moment before Joel starts, never breaking eye contact, “Listen, I don’t really do this… but I also don’t get distracted like I did tonight…”
You inch closer to him. “Yeah?”
“Yeah… your friends bring you here?” he asks and you glance at the other table where Erica lingers around your other friends and they’re all looking your way, trying not to be obvious and failing miserably.
“No, we took an Uber.”
“Well, what do you say to savin’ that money you’d pay for an Uber and lettin’ me take you home instead?”
Am I really gonna do this?, you think. Call it a gut feeling or whatever you may want, but the way Joel is looking at you, the way he put on a show just for you, how he spotted you in the crowd to strike up a conversation… Erica did say I need to unwind and let loose…
You grin back at him, “Whose home are we talking about?” you ask.
“I think you know, darlin’,” his tone drops low and deep.
A shiver runs up your spine, that ever-growing fire in your belly burning hotter and hotter. “Come on,” he says, taking your hand in his, making it look miniscule in comparison, and walks you towards the back door he came through earlier. You glance back to the bar, the girls still watching and Erica flashing you a smile and a thumb’s up.
Joel leads you to his truck, opening the passenger door for you. You see the backseat loaded with what must be his personal equipment before his door creaks open and he sits inside, the whole truck bobbing from the sheer size of this man.
He pulls you closer across the bench seat until your legs are touching, his hand snaking around your waist as you relax against his figure and his hands trace your sides.
“I meant what I said, y’know. That you stand out in a crowd.”
You turn to look at him as he quickly glances at you and you slowly bring your arms up, one landing behind his neck while the other cups his face. You slowly, softly, tenderly kiss the spot where his jaw meets his neck leaving open mouth kisses all over. He tilts his head to the side just a little, humming at the feeling and settling his hand right at the swell of your hip, pulling you even closer into his side and squeezing just a bit.
The drive isn’t long at all. He pulls into a parking spot lining the side of the road and once the car is safely in park, he grabs your face with both hands, kissing you deeply. You hum into his mouth, not expecting the sudden movement, and melt into his lips. His soft, warm lips. Your hands trace his body, the two of you unable to get where you want to be from sitting in this truck.
You pull away from him. “Take me inside.”
He immediately leaves the truck urging you to hop out on his side, offering a hand to help you out but not letting go even typing the code for his apartment and after you walk through the door.
You giggle as he pulls you up the stairs of his complex, the two of you itching to have your hands all over one another. You reach the top and he twirls you around in his grip, grabbing you with one hand by the hip and the other cradling the back of your head. He kisses you with an insatiable hunger, like his life absolutely depends on it, as he backs you up until you’re pinned to the door with his entire body pressed against you.
He fumbles with his keys for the lock to his apartment door, lips locked onto you, eyes closed, lost in the soft sweetness of your lips. He snakes a hand behind the curve of your back to brace you as the door swings open and he pushes you inside.
Your hands tangle in his hair grabbing the soft, damp strands unable to pull him any closer but wanting every inch of him in your mouth, on your lips, practically in your skin. You bite his lower lip making him moan a little into your mouth and your hands reach around to his face, wanting to stay lost in the ocean of his tongue and cheeks forever.
He pulls you back and you whine, already missing the warmth and taste of his tongue, but your disappointment is short lived. “God, darlin’… Need to have you.” he says, voice low and completely feral as he grabs you under the swell of your ass and you jump into his embrace. Your hands wander back up to his hair, pulling and grabbing as he trails his kisses down your chin, your jaw, your neck, soft sounds escaping his lips with every tug and whimper you give him.
His legs mindlessly take him to his bedroom, knowing the pathway instinctively. His mouth leaves your body for just a moment when plops you down at the edge of the bed, but he’s right back on you in an instant, reaching down to the hem of your top. You lift your arms for him to pull it off and he removes it in one fluid motion. He moves his hands to the clasp of your bra next. “This okay?”
Your chest aches with these little moments of tender sweetness from him and you nod, letting him remove your bra and he does so with skill, not fumbling for even a second as he tosses it to the floor.
His eyes immediately dart down, taking you in. He’s all but drooling, his gaze burning hot against your skin. He sinks to his knees taking one tit in his mouth and sucking on your nipple. Your hands immediately run through his hair holding him onto you and humming at the feel of his mouth on you. His other hand grabs your other tit, massaging it and thumbing your growing bud before redirecting his mouth to the other side too.
His hands drop to your sides and run up along your ribcage trailing towards your back, closing you in and burying his face into your neck peppering kisses and licks and nips there.
“I gotta have you, baby…” he mutters into your neck. “Lay back on my pillows up there.”
You do as you’re told, lounging against his pillows and the headboard of the bed as he pulls his shirt off over his head and crawls up to meet you, hooking his hands in the belt loops of your jeans. He looks up, his gaze silently asking for permission and you nod. He pulls them down along with your panties in one smooth motion.
You didn’t think about how worked up you had gotten until your hot core, slick with your arousal, meets the cool air of the room sending a chill across your skin. You watch as Joel’s eyes widen slightly at the sight of you, subconsciously licking his lips and softly grunting at the thought of diving in.
You open your legs wider, inviting him in and he settles between your legs, his arms hooking under your thighs locking you right where he wants you, all spread and open for him.
He immediately gets to work, unable to hold back anymore and expertly licks through your folds. His warm, wet tongue feels amazing on you as it dances across every nerve ending down there, each one sending fireworks across your skin. You whine and lean back, lifting your hips up to meet his mouth and squirming under his face.
His hands gently rub your thighs while he drinks you down, his nose occasionally hitting your clit making you whine. He draws flattened circles with his tongue, the surface area hitting you just right.
“Yes… fuck yes, that feels so good…” you moan.
He moans back, unwilling to leave you for even a moment and he keeps going. One hand falls from your thigh and you keep yourself open for him as best as you can when you feel his thick, calloused fingers teasing your entrance. He slides his middle finger in easily, so he adds his ring finger too, curling up and finding the softest parts of you. But God, are his fingers huge.
Your walls constrict squeezing his fingers and you leak more slick all over his palm. His other fingers flay across your lips and ass, gripping you slightly and he’s got you locked down.
His tongue continues at your clit while his fingers pump in and out of you, the tips curling up and stroking you perfectly.
“Right there, Joel… right there… don’t stop… please, don’t stop…” You feel yourself getting closer and closer, the flame burning in your belly all night erupting into a wildfire and igniting every inch of your skin. You feel a tightness start to grow in your belly, inching down your insides as he keeps going, and going, and going, never letting up and reveling in each twitch of your body.
You look up and see him lying flat, his hips subconsciously moving against his boxers and jeans and sheets, getting himself off just from your taste. Finally, he opens his eyes, dark with lust and locks his gaze with you with one especially deep push and curl of his fingers and another wink. That fucking wink.
“Fuck… fuck…!” It sends you over the edge. The coil snaps and a warm flood fills your body spilling out onto Joel’s hand and into his waiting mouth. He grunts and whines, his tongue never stopping, not even for a second, as he drinks every ounce of your slick getting drunk on your juices.
He only pulls away when you pull him off by his hair, a single line if your arousal still connecting him to you and a groan leaving his lips as he lets you go. You fall back onto the pillow, legs collapsing from their own weight and twitching from your orgasm, chest heaving as you try to catch your breath.
Joel sits up licking his palm and bringing his fingers up to your mouth, jaw slacked and panting. Your mouth closes around his fingers and he groans, “That’s it, good girl,” he coos and you hum around his digits.
When you fully come back down to Earth, you can’t help but chuckle in the afterglow of your orgasm. Joel rests on his heels gently stroking your knees and you cover your eyes with your forearm, one big sigh leaving your lips. “I guess I should have expected a guitar player to have some skilled fingers,” you joke and Joel chuckles. “That was so fucking good.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not done with you just yet, pretty girl,” Joel teases, holding out his hand to help you sit up. You do and he meets you with a sweet kiss, his hands cupping almost all of your face as he kisses you sweetly.
When he pulls away and you open your eyes, you notice another amp sitting in the corner of the room. This one looks old, unused, and the cable management could use some work, to say the least.
Joel follows your eyeline. “Whatcha lookin’ at?”
“That’s a lot of cables for a little speaker like that,” you say, following the tangled mess of wires scattered on the floor. “Why don’t you use that one?”
“Jus’ got old. Bought a new one and I didnt need it anymore.”
A depraved idea pops in your head and the question leaves your lips before you can even fully think it through. “Those wires… how strong do you think they are?”
Joel looks back at your face, eyebrow cocked up slightly, “What d'ya mean?”
Your bashfulness catches up quick, a shy blush pricking your cheeks. “I mean… just the outside looks braided, almost… it kinda looks like… I don’t know, kinda like a rope…”
His face softens, a look of intrigue spreading across his gaze. “Go on,” he says, his voice dropping impossibly low, dripping with sultry tease.
You look up through your lashes feeling more vulnerable that you have to ask specifically (he seems to love it, though). “Well… I guess, how well do you think they’d hold a knot…?”
He bites back a smirk but can’t quite hide his excitement. “Kinky…” he says with a little nod. “I like it.”
He rises from the bed but he doesn’t turn to grab the wires. Instead, he reaches for his belt, the buckle clinking against itself. “But you gotta earn it first, sweet girl.” He pulls his belt out of the loops of his jeans and tosses it to the side.
He pauses a second before reaching for the button and zipper, enough time for you to crawl to the foot of the bed and rest your hands on his. You slowly move them away and take over, undoing his button and slowly zipping his pants apart.
You reach under his groin cupping his covered balls in your hand and he hums. He barely fits in your palm and you salivate at what could be beneath those boxers of his. You look up at him with another gentle squeeze before pulling both down, his cock springing out and up against his lower tummy as he steps out of his pants, the tip already red and leaking.
Your eyes widen when you really take in his size and you salivate. You wrap your hand around him and very slowly pump his length, getting a feel for his size and weight and staring at him the whole time.
He looks down at you, eyes still dark and mouth slightly open. “Go ‘head, baby. Kiss it.”
You feel a flutter in your belly again already and you do as he says, kissing the slit before taking the whole head into your mouth and circling your tongue around it. His eyes roll back and he lifts his head up to the ceiling with a groan, his hand tangling in the hair at the back of your head.
You slowly take him inch by inch making him slick with your spit and using your hand to pump whatever you cant reach. Your other hand gently squeezes his balls and you feel his grip on your hair tighten a bit.
“That’s it, baby… Mouth feels so good f’me…” He starts to slowly push you down his length, taking him deeper and deeper and being careful not to get ahead of himself.
But then you moan around his length sending lightning up his spine and it feels so fucking good… A guttural groan booms from his chest and he starts to slip, pushing you a little too far a little too fast and you gag, pulling off until it just rests on your bottom lip, spit gathering at his tip and spilling over the corners of your mouth.
Tears prick the sides of your eyes and his hand reaches down to wipe them away. “Shit— I’m sorry… are you alright?”
You cough and catch your breath, something new and hot burning through your veins. Something about the way he lost all control… “It’s okay, I’m okay,” you say when you pull yourself together a little bit. You wipe the corners of your mouth and reach up to slowly pump his length again. “Let me try again.”
“You sure, darlin’?”
“I’m sure,” you say, looking up through your tear-soaked lashes, a small smile ghosting your lips as you nod.
He nods back and you take him in your mouth again, closing your eyes and breathing through it, trying to focus on taking as much of him down your throat as you can.
His hands find the back of your head again, not pushing anymore but tangling through your hair as you work.
He looks down and sees your eyes closed, brow furrowed in concentration and taking him so well. He drops a hand back down to your jaw, “Eyes on me, gorgeous.”
You carefully open your eyes to look up at him and when you do, his brows furrow with desperation, unable to look away from you as you bob up and down his length, hands once again pumping the length you can’t reach and massaging his balls.
“Shit, baby… that’s it…” he moans, watching the way your cheeks hollow and lips flush red from taking him. He’s twitching in your mouth and you think you’ve got him, flattening your tongue when he touches the back of your throat and swirling up his length as you pull back.
His abs start to tighten and you taste the slightly salty precum leaking from his tip. You work up the nerve to suppress your gag reflex as best you can, taking a few deep breathes before pushing yourself all the way down, taking his cock up to the hilt.
You stay there, letting your protesting throat constrict around him and he whines, his hand in your hair tightening and making you moan, another bolt of lightning taking over his entire being. His cock jumps in your throat and you think he’s a goner for sure—
He pulls you off his length completely and you gasp for air while he catches his breath too. “Nuh uh, baby. It can’t be over yet,” he says breathlessly.
You pout up at him, your doe eyes almost black from how blown your pupils are.
“Get back on the bed,” he demands.
So you do, rising a little wobbly from your knees and crawling back up onto the bed. Joel walks to the corner of the room and unplugs some of the cords plugged into the old amp.
He digs around in his nightstand and pulls out a condom before walking back over to the bed where you’re kneeling on the mattress. He sees you eyeing the little packet pinched between his fingers. “What’s th’ matter?”
You look at him, a blush forming on your face. “Oh, I…” Your mouth goes dry and you clear your throat. “…um, you don’t— I mean, I’m on the pill so, um… If you don’t wanna…” you ramble, trying to find your words but failing in your shyness.
He smiles smugly, tossing the condom to the side. “’S okay. I hear you loud and clear.”
You take a relieved breath and watch him stand there as he starts separating the wires. He twirls his finger in the air and you turn your body to face away from him.
“Gimme your hands, darling,” he says, firmly but gently.
You obey, reaching your hands behind your back. His giant hand easily fits both in one grip and he wraps one cable around your wrists.
You can’t help but smile to yourself, facing away from Joel so he can’t see, but you’re sure it’s audibly obvious when you ask “So this must be where the band name came from then, hm?” as he ties a comfortable knot around your wrists.
“What d’ya mean?”
“Fetters. Like restraints. Usually they’re on the ankles but I guess it’s the same principle.”
He breathes a laugh. “I mean, I didn’t help with the name all that much, but I guess ya’ really do learn somethin’ new every day,” he says just as he tightens the loose, but still restrictive, knot around your wrists.
You shimmy in them a little, surprised at how well they hold together. His hands are still there, rubbing over the covering of the cords and brushing against the warmth of your skin.
“These look real pretty on you, y’know,” he mutters from behind you.
You chuckle and ask, “You tell all the groupies that?”
He grabs your chin to face him, eyes scanning over your face for a second and planting a kiss to your lips before a positively devious smirk spreads across his face. Before you know it, he puts his hand on your back gently pushing down so your chest hits the bed.
“No, I don’t,” he says and you hear his footsteps fade. You sit there, face pressed against the mattress and ass in the air, desperately trying to crane your neck to see where in the world he’s going leaving you like this, all out in the open and exposed.
He treads back into the room and climbs back onto the bed right behind you, calves brushing up against the inside of your own as he grabs your hips to straighten them.
“I don’t tell the groupies nothin’,” he starts. “Usually jus’ ask if they want an autograph.”
The unmistakable click of a Sharpie cap rings in your ears and you feel the cold tip of the pen dragging along the skin right below the small of your back. You gasp, surprised at the unexpected feeling, completely shocked at the sheer audacity of this man, and you can’t help the butterflies it gives you, the way you mewl so quietly at the thought of him marking you with his name — his signature, no less — in such an intimate place.
You need to find a way to keep this man.
The pen trails off at the end and he recaps the marker, tossing it somewhere to the side before you feel his hands smoothing over your hips. He lets out a low toned, one-note whistle at you, staring at the dark ink branding your lower back. “Now, what a pretty view I have,” he says, a tantalizing, saccharine sweet tone lacing his words.
You can’t hold back the whimper that falls from your mouth at his teasing, his big warm hands rubbing big circles over each cheek.
He sees you clenching around nothing. “Want me to fuck you now, sweet girl?”
“Yes, please,” you whine, earning you a light tap on your ass.
He pulls on the cords and wraps an arm around your torso, bringing you up flush to his torso and reaching a hand to your mouth. “Gimme some help.”
You spit into his hand and he hums in content. “Atta girl,” he says, gently laying you back down and pumping his length with the wetness. You feel the tip of his cock rub against your folds and you squirm. He grabs your hip with his free hand as he lines himself up to notch right at your entrance. He slowly pushes just the tip in, the pressure making you moan.
“I gotcha, baby. Jus’ relax f’me,” he coos, pushing inch by inch into you letting you adjust to his size. Your walls twitch at the intrusion and your breathing gets heavier, soft sounds escaping your lips. Eventually, he’s up to the hilt and you swear you can feel him in your lungs. You subconsciously swirl your hips, the movement inside making you whine.
“Shit, baby… so fuckin’ tight…” Joel breathes, squeezing your hips and trying not to lose his cool too quickly. His cock bounces and he grunts, taking a minute before slowly pulling out of you as you whine at the loss. It’s short lived, though, because he’s immediately pushing back into you, the stretch and burn pulling a desperate groan from your throat.
“Fuck yeah, baby. You like how that feels?” he moans, picking up the pace slightly with each thrust.
“Yes— fuck, feels so good…” you moan. The way his cock drags along your walls makes your belly burn hot. His grip on your hips tight and threatening to bruise if he squeezes any harder, but you couldn’t care less. Just another way for him to mark you as his.
“Squeezin’ my cock so good… she’s achin’, baby…” He’s very talkative, you think and decide to play into it.
“She’s all yours, Joel. Pussy belongs to you,” you say as you squeeze him again, the pressure in your belly growing with each gentle kiss to your cervix that his tip gives you.
You feel his pace falter for a second, his grip tightening at that. “Yeah? Say it again. Who’s she belong to?” he says, pounding into you now, unable to keep control of his pace anymore.
You whine loudly with one of his thrusts when he drags up a bit hitting something new inside of you, something your ex surely hadn’t ever found before. Something you definitely had on your own but never this deep…
“Theeere it is,” he coos, pressing your torso down some more to get the angle just right and he’s hitting that soft, spongy part of you with every snap of his hips. You can barely form the words to tell him how fucking good it feels, nonsense whimpers leaving your mouth instead.
“Answer me, baby… Belongs to who?” His pace doesn’t let up and you can’t get the words out. “C’mon, you can do it, gorgeous… tell me…” he insists, slowly rubbing his hand across his own signature that’s been staring back at him.
“Sh… fuck, oh my god… she belongs to you, Joel…”
“That’s my good girl,” he says, leaning down and planting kisses down your spine, snaking a hand around to your front and circling your clit.
You cry out in pleasure, all the sensations getting to be too much. A flood of wetness spills out with a twitch of your insides making Joel’s cock slippery, letting him push in and pull out easier than before. He picks up his pace again with ease, rapidly hurdling you towards the edge.
My good girl…
That one little word finally hits you after a minute.
My.
His unrelenting fingers on your clit… the way his tip hits your cervix with every snap of his hips… my good girl… it’s all too much. “Fuck… fuck… fuck, ‘mgonnacome…” you mumble in a high pitched whine.
“Fuck yes, baby… come all over my cock, that’s it… feels so fuckin’ good, darlin’…” he moans from behind you, the grip on your hips definitely bruising now as he keeps pounding into you. Your back arches and your whole body writhes as your walls squeeze him impossibly tight. Your vision blurs and you have no control over the downright pornographic sounds escaping your mouth. All you feel is warmth everywhere.
“Holy shit—” you hear Joel but he sounds far away, your head still spinning with pleasure. “Fuckin’ hell, baby…” When you feel like you can finally see again, you see a wet spot on the bed and your eyes go wide, quickly craning your head around as best you can and see Joel’s thighs soaked from you.
“Oh, shit— I-I’m sorry, oh my fucking god, I didn’t meant—” you stop mid sentence when Joel plows into you again bottoming out completely, your words trailing off into a wailing moan.
He drags out slowly but quickly regains his momentum. “Fuck, baby… Chokin’ my dick so good… So. Fucking. Hot,” he says, punctuating his words with the slap of his hips on your ass.
Your legs start to give out under you and it’s like Joel already knows you’re almost too gone to take anymore as he unties the knot at your wrists, your arms falling to the bed. He flips you over, managing to stay inside, and lays you on your back. Your hair lays messily on the pillow and Joel leans down to fix it, tracing his fingers along the side of your face and kissing you deeply.
When he pulls away, he stares at your fucked-out eyes, his own completely taken over by his pupils so much that you can barely tell what color they actually are anymore. “Baby, you gotta give me one more…” he begs.
You raise your eyebrows worriedly, unsure if you can actually take anymore. You whine at his ask and he gives you another quick kiss, resting his forehead against your own when he pulls away, your lips barely touching. He’s moving in and out of you at a snail’s pace, so close to his own orgasm that any extra movement would cause him to snap. “Please, baby, I know you can do it. Doin’ so good for me already, just one more…”
You nod weakly and stare through hooded eyes. “Thank you, angel,” he sighs, gently fucking into you a little quicker and peppering kisses at the corners of your mouth. Your hands trail up to his shoulders rubbing up and down on his soft skin. Forehead pressed to yours again, you feel him panting, small moans and whimpers filling your ears.
“Feel so good…” you use all your strength to whimper out, barely above a whisper. His eyes open, brows furrowed in desperation. You feel him twitching hard now, so close to his own orgasm but not wanting this to end.
“S’good, Joel… so big…” He whimpers at your words, his hips moving erratically, unpredictably. He’s close, you think. And it eggs you on.
“Want you to come for me… Please…”
“Yeah? You want it?” he breathes.
“Please…” you say again in a whimper, grabbing his face in your hands.
“Where, baby? Want it inside?”
“Yes, inside… please, please, please…” you beg.
“Come with me baby… wanna feel you squeezin’ me… fuck— c-can you do that?”
You whine and nod, having been teetering on the edge of overstimulation with another orgasm growing in your belly. You roll your hips slightly into him, the extra movement sending shivers down your spine.
“So close, baby, I can feel it… ‘s right there, she’s chokin’ me…” he grunts out, painfully holding back his own until you come undone under him again.
Which doesn’t take long, a flutter of your heart and one big wave of arousal covering you from head to toe making you see stars. Your mouth opens in a silent moan, unable to even make a sound as you come on his length all over again.
“Fuck… fuck… good girl, ‘m gonna come—”
Joel’s breathing quickens, becoming ragged and broken as he grunts and whines and spills inside of you. His lips press to your forehead suppressing his noises with kisses there as he empties himself inside of you, filling you up completely.
Your hands scrape his back at his shoulders, your senses all blurring into one another. Joel’s weight falls on top of you as he moves his kisses down from your forehead to your nose and finally to your lips, his tongue licking into you as you feel his cock finally stop twitching. He sits back to pull out of you watching as his cum leaks out of you. You whine at the loss feeling empty but still so full from him, shivering as you feel it dripping down your body.
Joel wipes his sweat-ridden brow and sighs with a goofy smile as he looks down at you. Your body is still jolting from your last orgasm. Any more and you would have been overstimulated beyond belief.
“Now that I definitely don’t do with the groupies, sweetheart,” he teases.
You give him a playful glare and chuckle at him. “What about all that autograph nonsense, then?”
“Well, you got the first of its kind. Never signed anyone there before.”
You blush and stretch a little, suddenly feeling that damp spot from earlier. You sit up in panic and sit back leaning against his pillows again. “Shit, Joel. I’m so sorry. That’s never happened before, I—”
“Stop,” he cuts you off. “Ain’t nothin’ to be sorry for. Sheets can be washed.”
“But I made a mess—”
“C’mere, baby,” he says, extending a hand out to you. You take it and he pulls you towards him, both of you on your knees facing each other as his arm snakes around your torso pulling you even closer into him. “‘M gonna get you cleaned up, ‘kay? Got a spare bedroom we can use anyway.”
You stare into his eyes, his words bouncing around in your head. We can use. “We?” you ask.
He scrunches his eyebrows, raising one at you. “What, you wanna run away already? Was it that bad?” he jokes.
“Oh, quit,” you say, playfully hitting his shoulder.
“Okay, okay,” he laughs, standing up at the end of the bed and holding his arms out to you. “C’mon, pretty girl, how’s a warm bath sound, hm?”
“Sounds amazing, actually.” You grab his hands and stand up, taking a second to get your balance before following Joel to the bathroom.
When you’re all cleaned up, you walk into his living room wearing one of his t-shirts, a pair of his boxers, and some very oversized socks that he left in the bathroom for you to change into, towel drying the rest of your hair so it's not dripping everywhere. He sits on his couch, fresh pajamas on and dampened hair from the shower he took in the other smaller bathroom.
He taps the space next to him inviting you to sit, TV on and low, playing some random movie he found to fill the silence around him while waiting for you. You curl up into him, you warm from your bath and him warm from relaxing. He squeezes you close, planting a kiss to the top of your head.
Erica was right. You really did need this. Maybe it's stupid that you're growing so fond of this guy and you've known him for just a night, but there really is something about him. Something you can't quite explain...
You spend the rest of the night curled up next to Joel, your entire being content and you can only think one thing:
You’re not letting this one go easily. This one’s gonna be yours.
All yours.
a/n : thank y'all again so much for 100 followers, it means so much seriously 💜🫶🥹 and thank you for reading this fic that absolutely got away from me in the end, this idea tortured me for weeks and hopefully letting him out into the world will give me some peace finally 😭 but really, thank you guys so much and i hope everyone enjoys !!
#100 followers#100 followers special#thank you all so much !!#joel miller#joel miller fic#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller one shot#joel miller x reader#joel miller x female reader#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller x y/n#joel miller x you#joel miller smut#tlou#tlou fanfiction#tlou one shot#the last of us#the last of us fanfiction#tlou fic#the voices keep getting louder and louder and louder
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The Ghost King is my Uncle Drabbles #2
A/N: Some more linked to a prompt week writing I did
>>Masterpost
Original this builds on: Link
Rowdy Cousin
Batman swore internally, from the outside he stoically sat in his chair and did nothing to indicate the absolute chaos that was going on in his mind. The Meeting rooms light flickered and the speakers once more started up loudly blaring a song all over the Watchtower. He was pretty sure one of his sons had told him once that playing that song was a meme.
"Someone do something about that kid! He is Rickrolling us!" Green Lantern screamed above the music.
"Constantine is already trying to do something." Superman's hands covering his sensitive ears as the music must sound to him even louder.
Batman very much only looped one thought in his head. -It's only for world ending purpose, I cannot use it right now.-
He had a responsibility to uphold, he was the patriarch of the earth branch family. This was not something that required him to use that. No he would not use it. He refused. This was not a world ending matter. Surely Constantine or anyone else of the Justice League Dark would solve this problem any second now.
The screens flicker and Batman did anything he could in his mind to not let his eye twitch even if no one would be able to see it. Cat videos were playing where second earlier statistics and observatory programs had been running.
No he would not, they could handle this problem no need to involve family.
The music stopped and some of his hero colleagues let out a relieved sigh only for a familiar laugh to echo through the watchtower and a new song starting to play. One that apparently counts all 100 dumb ways to die.
"Why is Klarion even targeting the watchtower like this?!" The Flash shouted over the lyrics before turning to him.
"Did one of your kids piss him off or something?!"
"No." At least not as far as he knew, though considering the recent discovery as well as the surprise visits his uncle had done lately he might have a guess why the witch boy was targeting them right now. Didn't mean he would elaborate this reason to the other heroes present.
Before Wonder Woman could comment John Constantine stormed in the room and slammed his hands down onto the table staring right at Batman with blood shot eyes. "Call him."
"Who?"
"Don't play fucking dumb bats. You know who I mean. This is not the witch brat alone. There is another entity and if you don't want the fucking watchtower crashing into earth you call him right now."
"Bats, he is not talking about who I think he is?" Superman carefully asked while the other heroes looked at him just as questionable.
He held his staring contest with Constantine a little longer before he grunted and reached into his utility belt pulling out a small bat-shaped pendant. A personalized upgraded calling card, his uncle had gifted to him as well as each of his children and extended family members.
This was not how he imagined a meeting in regards to his new discoveries and a possible sure fire contingency plan against world ending emergencies would go. He rubbed his thumb against the engraving waiting for a short moment for it to pulse, before tapping the pendant three times, paused and tapped it two more times. This was a non-emergency call, even if his colleagues might disagree.
He still thought they could very well handle this situation without the help of his uncle.
"BABY BAT, YOU CALLED THIS IS THE FIRST TIME YOU DID!"
The present heroes watched in stunned fashion how a white haired, 20 years old man stepped out of a green portal and instantly zoomed across the room to hug THE Batman around his head rubbing his cheek against the bat's cowl mindful of the pointy parts.
And Batman was letting the man do that only looking resigned.
"We agreed that I would only call on you with this pendant for emergencies."
The white haired man only hummed before his head turned sharply and green glowing eyes narrowed at Constantine, who visibly paled and took a step back standing straight and looking very much like he regretted what he had asked Batman to do. "Trading game is not being rude to you is he?"
The bat only grunted and the white haired man finally let go of him, humming as he took in his surroundings, eyes glinting in mischievously as he saw the flickering lights, animal videos on screen and heard the blaring music over the speaker. "When I okey-ed Klarion to go playing with his cousins I didn't think he would seek you two out. He had been talking about his older cousins starting another game of 'who's the better demon lord' in different dimensions. I thought he was joining their bet."
Wait did he say two? Batman grunted and the white haired guy chuckled. "I will be back in a second."
Not even the Flash could react as fast as the white haired man disappeared and reappeared with Klarion next to him. Clearly pulling on the witch boy's ear like a father would when their child had been naughty. The flickering lights and blaring of music over the speakers had stopped.
"Ow DAD what in the name of chaos are you doing here."
"Your Cousin called me. You are disturbing his work and risking them crashing into earth with Technus' help."
"YOU SNITCHED TO MY DAD?!"
"Hn."
"Technus get out of their network or I will lock you up on a Medieval Island for three decades."
As if the present heroes weren't confused enough a face appeared on one of the screens. Glaring at the white haired man. "You wouldn't dare."
"Watch me, if you stay in there any longer. I will also dig out the old thermos and soup you additionally for a decade or more."
The face on screen grumbled and the heroes nearly flinched back as a ghostly, green skinned man came out of it, looking every bit frustrated and annoyed. "I was just getting a good look at this modern technology, you have banned me from any big shot Industries…"
"We had that discussion 100 years ago, Technus. Back to the Ghost Zone." The white haired man commanded by opening a portal next to them with the wave of his hand and surprisingly, the green skinned guy listened.
"Sorry about this Baby Bat and Little Demi. Klarion will be grounded for a bit and re-educated in how to bond without risking potentially killing any bystanders. Oh and remember I will come by later for Baby Ghost to get his checkup with Frostbite!"
"Dad, please no grounding! Anything but that!"
"I am sure your Grandpa will be happy to have your help during your grounding."
"Dad! NO! I don't want to keep time in order! I live for chaos not order!"
The man was just smiling and completely ignoring Klarion's complains as he turned towards Batman and Wonder Woman, for reasons the hero's didn't understand.
"Well we will be on our way then Baby Bat, Little Demi!"
Batman grunted and the white haired man chuckled, leaving through the portal and dragging along a whining Klarion, who apparently was that man's son.
Just before the portal closed, the man stuck his head back out looking towards Wonder Woman with a mischievous smile. "Oh before I forget! Pops Clockwork sents his regards Little Demi . He doesn't want me saying this, but he is glad about the path you choose. Says you're set on a pretty good timeline!"
The head disappeared into the portal again and it finally closed. Wonder Woman was left blinking at the empty space, her mouth slightly open with the silent question of "What?"
"Bats, who was that?" The Flash was the first to break the silence that had followed as eyes turned to the dark knight.
"His Uncle." / "The Ghost King."
Superman and Constantine spoke at the same time. The JLD member flinched back as he looked at the glowering bat. Muttering something the man took his leave or rather escaped the room as quickly as possible as Batman kept glaring. Meanwhile Wonder Woman was slowly having a crisis of her own as suddenly family relations that had been hinted to her through Pandora made sense. "Clockwork... no, Titan Cronus? The Ghost King... Uncle Daniel?"
Chaos broke among the present heroes.
"WHAT UNCLE?!"
#danny fenton#danny phantom#dp x dc#fanfic#crossover#batman#klarion#superman#wonder wonder#clockwork#john constantine#dpxdc#dcxdp#Ghost Uncle Danny#Klarion is messing with his cousins#Wonder Woman is part of the family#Klarion is Rickrolling the Watchtower#crackish#no beta wie die like danny#drabble#oh and Technus is there too
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TOO IN LOVE TO THINK STRAIGHT
summary — when you mention to your dominants that you want to further explore the dynamics of your relationship, they’re all for it
warning(s) — established relationship, married wandanat, dom/sub dynamics, exploration of non-sexual bdsm, purposefully triggered subspace, implied mommy kink (never said), implied daddy kink (also never said), brief mention of sensory overstimulation, literal fluff to the fullest extent possible, men/minors dni
authors note — i committed to the lyric titles too hard, but wonderland perfectly describes this fic! daddy nat lovers, i see you
you are in love universe
♥️⊹ ˚ . 18+, men/minors dni ⁺ 𓈒 ꒰💌꒱ ♡ ･ mommy maximoff ✧
“Are you excited?” The soft vibrations have become a fond sensation as you peer out of the car window and admire all of the buildings that you pass. You’re not in the best area, one of the worst actually, but you find something so calming about the construction crowded roads and graffiti covered storefronts. You’ve been stuck in bumper to bumper traffic for the last half hour, a plethora of detours and u-turns standing in your way of where you really wanted to be, but every time Natasha eases her foot back onto the gas and shoots between lines of cars that don’t have the balls to make the move themself, you hum in contentment. You’re okay with being stuck if you’re stuck with them.
They’d been promising you this day for months, and although it had been canceled two weeks ago when you came down with an unexpected cold that left you miserable and bed-ridden for three days, it was finally here. There was no time left for another extenuating circumstance to push the date back farther. You hadn’t stopped bouncing in the backseat since Wanda had affectionately buckled your seatbelt, your fingerprints are smeared against the backseat window from how you point out the exit signs that mean your destination is growing closer. Natasha had long since stopped asking you to refrain from touching the glass she kept spotless, looking back at you through the rear-view mirror with fondness whenever a lull in speed occurred. Now was one of those moments. The line of cars all waiting to merge back onto the Garden State Parkway kept the car still, the break was applied heavily and wasn’t going to be let off soon. Unlike the other times she had looked back at you, she craned her entire body now, and you grinned at the easy way about her expression.
Your fingers left behind the glass of the backseat driver side window to press firmly against the tip of her nose, wanting to see it scrunch up in annoyance like it always did when you poked it. Natasha was less compliant with your need for physical touch then Wanda was, but she allowed you small victories every once in a while. Today was one of those days where everything seemed to fly. You had eagerly pulled her around the house all morning, sat in her lap at breakfast, and all but forced her to help you dress when you decided picking the perfect outfit was too hard to do on your own. The women had immaculate taste in fashion, you supposed it was something that needed to come with their high-profile occupations, but you’d never complain about them making your old clothes look fresh and new without adding anything tasteless or unnecessary. You hadn’t wanted to be apart from her since your eyes had peeled open at seven, the excitement in your belly too strong to ignore despite Wanda telling you that you wouldn’t be leaving the house until eleven. You were so beyond grateful that Natasha had been serious about taking you out when her and Wanda’s schedules allowed, that it didn’t matter to you if your earlier than usual wake up time meant having a full four hours to merely sit around and wait.
You nodded your head at her simply asked question, bearing a smile that compiled a list of words you’d be happy enough to use in a sentence if she so desired. She didn’t though, you knew she was well aware of how excited you were and was merely pulling your leg because she herself was bored. There was no way she could be oblivious to your hyperactive movements when your feet kicked the back of her seat every handful of minutes, but she’d not asked you to stop only rolled her eyes in fond exasperation and murmured to Wanda about the copious amounts of fingerprints and scuff marks she’d have to tend to later. Natasha and traffic were not things that should exist in the same sentence. For as patient as the woman was, she quickly lost her composure when ‘assholes in black hondas don’t know what the fucking speed limit is’. The first time she’d bellowed in annoyance you’d shook your head and giggled into your hand, your eyes connecting with Wanda’s who had glanced back at you in a silent threat to not egg Natasha on further. You’d tried to keep your amused reactions to yourself after that, but it was hard not to laugh at Natasha’s annoyance for anyone going under eighty miles an hour; especially considering the speed limit was only sixty-five.
The drive wasn’t meant to be any longer than an hour and a half, Wanda had meticulously gone over each and every available route before she’d loaded you and Natasha up in the car, but construction hadn’t been something to consider while she was planning your departure. It seemed every major highway and backroad was under construction lately, even the roads that led down to the shore in Westview. You didn’t mind it, occasionally pointing out the names of the yellow vehicles as you passed them, but you worried how little time you’d have to explore as the second hour of driving came and passed. When your legs grew restless, you settled for sitting cross-legged in the backseat, your elbows pressing firmly against your knees as you craned your neck to see between the head-rests on the couples seats. The sky was open and blue, no trace of clouds but apparent wind. The trees on either side of the road rustled with the flow of the breeze, and if you stayed just quiet enough, you could hear it howling outside of the windows. The sight of wind was a ploy to get unsuspecting people out of their houses. The weather was hot and humid, temperatures climbing into the low hundreds, but your destination was indoors, so thoughts about how you’d melt beneath the sun didn’t have valid reasons to come.
Wanda’s eyes locked on yours when Natasha eased onto the gas again, pulling off the exit ramp like a bat out of hell and dodging oncoming traffic that honk and scolded her boldness. You giggled when a particular car just to your left raised their hand at her, a single finger pointed toward the sky. She was unaffected, returning the gesture with passion. Your smile fell off your lips when your gaze shuffled over to meet Wanda’s, and the Sokovian looked at you with displeasure. “Feet on the floor.” Wanda reprimanded when she knew she had your attention, and you sighed but complied with the request. “We'll be there soon. Why don’t you tell me about what you're most excited to see?”
That had inspired a full tangent of thoughts that were only half complete to spill from your lips like rushing water off a cliff, but neither Wanda or Natasha had tried to interrupt you and get the full version of your story. They were happy enough to listen to you ramble nonsensically, your fingers twisting together in your lap out of pure elation that you had no other way to express. Wanda was simply content with knowing that should Natasha crash, you were sitting properly in the backseat. It wasn’t another half hour before Natasha was grabbing a ticket from the machine at the entryway of the parking garage and pulling into a reserved spot on the very first level by the exit. You’d known they would go all out for today, they always did, but it never failed to make you feel incredibly special to be getting such attentive treatment from two of the most willing and powerful women in the world. You flew out of the car before Natasha even had the engine off, feet not even hitting the pavement beneath you entirely before you raced around the back of the Stingray so you could pull Wanda’s door open for her. You bounced excitedly on your toes throughout the entire exchange, grinning up at her with an expression of complete innocence. The Sokovian smiled down at your adoringly, capturing your face in her gentle hands and pulling you just close enough for your forehead to fall against her lips.
“Such an excited little duckling.” Wanda mused with gentle laughter, her breath warm and thin as it fanned across your temple and shot sparks of pleasurable admiration through your belly and across your spine. You would’ve stayed permanently fixed on her tender expression had you not heard Natasha’s door swing closed. Your eyes trailed over the top of the car until they met the sight of her, dressed casually in a white t-shirt and jean shorts, her red locks had been pulled up and away from her face in a fleetingly worn ponytail that swung behind her head with every subtle move her body made. You could drool over the sight of her, but there were other priorities at the forefront of your mind.
“Can we go now? Please?” You bounced eagerly beneath their transfixed stare, your hands grabbing eagerly at Wanda’s who still had a soft grip on your cheeks. You knew the rules of walking in busy parking lots well, and although they’d made you feel like an incapable child at one point, you adored and craved them now. The lawyers reminded you so often that just because you are a capable adult, doesn’t mean you have to act like one when they’re there to take care of you. You let them take control easily now, no willingness to fight left to linger in your instincts, even in something as simple as finding your way through busy parking lots.
A smirk splayed across Natasha’s lips as she approached you and Wanda, her hand shoving her phone and wallet into one of the back pockets of her denim shorts. You should be ashamed for finding the simple action so attractive, but you didn't. You'd stopped letting yourself feel embarrassment for merely noticing their beauty long ago, and greedily your eyes trailed over the muscles in her shoulder and bicep that flexed as she reached toward her back. Natasha chuckled knowingly, sending a wink in your direction before she purposefully flexed her biceps. You wanted to roll your eyes and tell her to knock it off, but Wanda had beaten you to the punch and sent her wife an exasperated hit to the gut. “I don’t know, malyshka. Can we?” Natasha answered your earlier question, letting her feet carry her impossibly close to Wanda’s side. You wanted to groan aloud when the Russian’s hand slid comfortably into the back pocket of the Sokovian’s denim shorts, but you were too excited to dwell on the fact that Wanda’s ass had definitely just been squeezed roughly and possessively.
“Yes.” You made the executive decision with a curt nod of impatience, already setting your pace toward the exit, dragging Wanda behind you with rushed steps. It was the exact opposite of what she intended to happen when she’d first implemented the rule of wanting you to hold either her or Natasha’s hands in busy spaces. You were now the one leading her around by the hand, and quite blindly if she wanted to put it nicely. You’d hardly noticed when you led her body straight into a traffic cone, her feet just barely able to avoid tripping over the bright orange safety measure. Natasha had to stifle her laughter as she followed, her hand still in Wanda’s pocket and effectively pulling the Sokovian in two different directions as she remained a couple of steps behind.
Wanda placed a firm hand overtop of your wrist, catching your attention as you looked back at her with a whine of impatience toward the back of your throat, ready to be unleashed if she didn’t make whatever she needed quick enough for your standards. You were almost there, almost to the long line of parents and children that wrapped themselves around the building in an unruly line. You could see the electric blue sign on the top of the structure perfectly, the artwork on the sides of the building visible but intercepted by bobbing heads and tall bodies. Her abrupt stopping when you were so close to where you desperately wanted to be was the cruelest thing that had ever happened to you. “Why don’t you leave the dragging around to me, lyubov’. Unless you want me to end up in the infirmary before you even get to see the sharks.”
You groaned at her teasing, a fierce blush crawling up your neck that couldn’t be blamed by the unforgiving heat. You didn’t let her words sink beneath your skin however, deciding that pulling at her hand was effective enough. “Will you hurry up then?” You groaned, smirking victoriously when Natasha laughed at your antics and placed a kiss on the top of your head.
“Yes, milaya. We can go.” Wanda rolled her eyes but agreed with your demand, already beginning to set your pace at a significantly slower speed before the rest of her sentence even lingered in the air for your ears to pick up on. You practically skipped beside her, a broad smile on your face as you once again droned on and on about everything you couldn’t wait to see and have. Natasha had promised you a stuffed animal from the gift shop, knowing that you’d never had many in childhood. You’d decided that today would be one of the first times you explored your dynamic outside of the house, and the Slavic women were sparing no experience in giving you the purest taste at reclaiming your lost childhood. It felt too good to be true, to just surrender your conscious mind and let them take control, but you found yourself submitting to them easily. They wanted to do this for you, they enjoyed playing up their roles in this aspect. It was still hard to grasp that something that could be so kinky in bed could also be so pure outside of it, but they were allowing you to learn at your own speed, and selfishly they loved how inexperienced you were. There was no former training to unwind from your beliefs, there was no burned skin around your heart that had been failed by somebody else. You were fully theirs to shape, and they intended to show you the purest sides of this dynamic.
You frowned when Wanda began to lead you toward the front of the building, getting farther and farther away from the long line of people waiting their turn to enter. Toddlers pointed at you and tugged on their parents arms, not so quietly wondering why they couldn’t follow you and go around the line. A blush settled onto your cheeks when a little girl, no older than six, tugged at who you assumed was her fathers hands and boldly declared that you were ‘cutting’. Natasha and Wanda were in their own little world it seemed, laughing and talking with one another in quick Russian that you couldn’t comprehend, not batting a blind eye to the whispered accusations that were being pointed at you.
“The lines back there.” You whispered albeit a little self-consciously, not wanting to draw attention to yourselves anymore than the redheads adoring your waist already had. The sight of you together dripped with wealth. The diamond studded Chopard watch on Wanda’s wrist dazzled in the sunlight, the yellow gold Tiffany hoops in Natasha’s first piercing swayed when the breeze caught them. You looked properly out of place amongst the parents and young children all waiting in line.
Wanda stopped walking at your timid statement, looking down at you with a look that could only be described as dominating. It wasn’t hard, wasn’t demanding, but rather apologetic and soft. You felt entirely small beneath her sage green stare. “What did you want to try today?” Wanda reminded you softly, her body language not portraying the suggestiveness behind her quiet words. To any of the parents standing feet away, it looked like she had simply paused to ask you a well-intended question, which you supposed was true, but it wasn’t as innocent as it appeared.
You deflated slightly, leaning into the touch Natasha had placed on the small of your back minutes ago. You were becoming fuzzy, a feeling you’d associated with rough sex, but there hadn’t been any of that today. The closest thing to having their bodies had come when Natasha pulled you into a bruising kiss before you left the house. “Letting you have control.”
Wanda hummed, content with your answer, knowing that once again she had full control. Her fingers that always seemed to be perfectly polished ghosted over your cheek, and you could assume she’d attempted to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear like she always did, but today your hair had been tied back into two french braids that Natasha had suggested. “So let Mommy worry about where the line is. That’s not something for little girls like you to be concerned about.”
You nodded softly, unable to help the rush of something sweet that further propelled the dizziness in your mind forward at the Sokovian’s dismissal. Although you didn’t resume your skipping like you had been doing when Wanda guided you across the street, your footsteps came lightly and with a bounce as you became lost in the simple action of counting the many cracks that adorned the sidewalk as you stepped over them. At some point, your hand had grabbed Natasha’s, and you swung your arms back and forth absentmindedly. The day was hot, unforgivingly so, and the natural flush across your cheeks was becoming annoying. You were ready to start vocalizing your discomfort when Wanda guided you inside of the aquarium, saving her the headache of listening to you whine about something she couldn’t control.
You gawked at the sight of light blue painted walls and elaborate glass tanks that held any color coral you could imagine. The front desk was a giant fish tank, and little orange and white clownfish swam around the enclosure blissfully. You were practically vibrating beside Natasha as you looked around at the little details that had been incorporated into the entrance of the building. The ceilings were high, and painted across them were sharks and whales and every kind of fish you could even imagine. There was no embarrassment when you pulled at Natasha’s hand and let your own little finger shoot up to the ceiling, excitedly pointing out a boesemani rainbow fish that swam beside a hammerhead. Wanda had gone to check you in for your reservation, or at least you assumed that was what she was doing as she stood closely to the front desk and nodded at the teenager behind the counter. His eyes briefly flashed over to you when he noticed your head craned toward the ceiling and overheard your loud exclamation, but Wanda must’ve said something that made his attention snap back to her just as quickly as it had left.
“Inside voices, dorogaya.” Natasha smiled sweetly at your excitement, having no real issue with the volume that you had spoken at before, but she knew it would bother you if you caught onto the lingering stares of judgemental adults who couldn’t possibly understand that not everything was meant solely for children. You had just as much of a right to enjoy these little things as the toddlers who ran free, but she couldn’t change everyone's opinion even with her deadly glare.
Your cheeks flushed pink, and not because of the blistering sun, but you nodded to her request and tried not to let it sting. You’d been told all your life that you were too loud, reprimanded by your mother until you’d just fallen silent. You knew she hadn’t meant it in any particular way, but some things still struck a chord in your heart. The crushing feeling hadn’t lasted long, too comfortable in Natasha’s presence to dwell in self-consciousness. Your eyes went back to trailing all of the open space that you could see, and when they landed on a particular tank beside the single hallway that led into the larger room that veered off in several separate directions, you attempted to jut off. A whine rippled through your chest when your hand was squeezed and Natasha didn’t follow you forward, cemented in the place where you’d been instructed to wait for Wanda.
“Seahorses!” You tugged at her hand, earning you a disproving expression complete with a single raised eyebrow. You sulked back toward her, giving the tank one last sad glance before you focused down on your shoes, a frown on your lips.
“What are we meant to be doing, hm?” Natasha didn’t allow you to keep your gaze transfixed on your shoes, one of her slender and ring adorned fingers guiding your chin upward until your eyes flickered to hers. Her heart clenched at the sad frown that clung to your features that had been so happy not even seconds ago, but she didn’t let your pout sway her decision. After all, Wanda had given you a clear direction, and she expected that you follow it. “Can you tell me what we’re meant to be doing?”
You sighed, glancing back over at Wanda who looked to be wrapping up whatever conversation she’d been having with the teenager behind the counter. “Waiting for Wands.” The words slipped past your lips softly, your eyes trailing back over to Natasha’s. “But there’s seahorses.”
“And the seahorses will still be there when Wands is done. We’re gonna have our listening ears on today, aren’t we?” Natasha was really laying it on thick, even she knew that, but it was hard to help herself when you looked so soft and pliant standing in front of her dressed in an outfit that she picked out. You nodded your head, shuffling into her embrace, sadness still tainting your features.
Natasha kisses the top of your head, wrapping her arms around your torso as she lets you have your feelings against her chest. She knows they’ve been guiding you into a stage of subspace all day, it had been perfectly intentional, but how you handle it is still a wildcard. Much to your misconception, subspace wasn’t always brought on by getting railed, as you liked to refer to it as. Any form of submission could send you down that rabbit hole, including following instructions; which you’d been doing all day. Subspace wasn’t about the weight of the scene or how badly your body ached afterward, it was just about trust and the right amount of guidance. They’d been doing something right, and Natasha could recognize the glassy sheen over your eyes as you peaked up at her and then over toward Wanda who was finally, finally, walking back toward you.
The Sokovian had three brightly colored bands in her hands, her lips curled into a bright grin that crinkled her eyes. She stopped just in front of Natasha, effectively blocking you from view as she felt the eyes of the teenager behind the counter try to burn into your form. “What’s with the frown?”
“Seahorses.” You pouted up at her, much to Natasha’s amusement. The Russian’s hand ran over your back soothingly, though she couldn’t fight her bright smile when you again tried to wiggle out of her arms and rush over to the cylinder tank now that Wanda was back in sight.
“She wasn’t very pleased that you asked us to wait for you.” Natasha filled in the gaps, your explanation rather vague and rushed; if you could even call the one word response you gave much of an explanation at all. “Why don’t you tell Wands what kind of fish you found on the ceiling?” Natasha nudged you, prompting your attention onto something other than seahorses. You beamed at the excuse to ramble again, your finger pointing up to the ceiling like it did the first time, and even if Wanda couldn’t follow your finger to the specific fish she was meant to be looking at, she smiled encouragingly.
“It’s a boesemani rainbow fish! They get brighter when they get older!” You laughed, your pouty face no longer a visual that filled the entrance of the aquarium. Wanda had not the slightest care in the world for the fish you were pointing to, but she praised your knowledge either way. She’d pretend to care about anything if it meant seeing that bright smile linger on your lips even after the words stopped coming. “Can we see the seahorses now?”
Already anticipating how the rest of the afternoon was going to play out, Wanda laughed at your eagerness but nodded her head. You were just out of Natasha’s grip when she captured you in hers. This time, you did whine, sad eyes stuck on the tank in the corner of the room. Neither redhead could blame you for your distress when you’d been intercepted on your way to the seahorses twice now, and so neither scolded you for the sharp sound that reached their ears. “What are the rules if you’re not holding mine or Natty’s hand?” Wanda quizzed softly, her voice taking on a tone that had made you weak in the knees too many times. It was a voice Natasha called her ‘Mommy Voice’, which usually led to the Russian getting slapped upside the head when Wanda overheard.
“Stay where you can see me.” You bounced on your toes, still pulling at Wanda’s hand and glancing between her and the seahorses with a desperate plea in your wide and glassy eyes. “Please!”
She nodded at you with encouragement, smiling fondly when you raced over to the tank, carefully not to place your hands on the glass though it was already smudged with little fingerprints and what could only be assumed to be saliva. You marveled at the seahorses that bobbed in the water, illuminated by an electric blue strip of lights that made the gradient of colors on their bodies pop. You would’ve stayed staring at the seahorses all afternoon had Natasha not been the one to softly guide you away after five minutes of soft oohing and awwing. There were so many more tanks and creatures to see, she didn’t want you wasting any more of your time on just one tiny tank. You’d been upset about her gentle hands guiding you away until you’d turned a corner and spotted a tank of hippos in the distance. Your eager hand had pulled her through the crowd with Wanda following hot on your heels.
You showed the same level of excitement at every tank and exhibit, which neither lawyer thought was possible. There was no lull in your squeals and shrieks, and both of their wrists hurt by the time they sat you down for a late lunch. You’d abided by their every rule, including the ones that seemed stupid to you, what was so wrong about falling into the penguin exhibit, it was an easy enough climb back over the thin glass barrier? They’d expected lunch to go smoothly, you’d been so well behaved that they’d even considered buying you ice cream first, but unfortunately for them, the small cafe in the heart of the aquarium was directly beside the shark exhibit.
“Milaya, we will see the sharks after we eat.” Wanda cooed sweetly for the umpteenth time, trying not to let her face crack as she contemplated just giving into your pleas. Their firm voices and whispered praise had guided you into what Natasha referred to as the ‘sweet spot’. You weren’t so blissfully fuzzy that you couldn’t comprehend their words, but you were beyond the point of making a rational decision, and listening seemed to fall into that category as you struggled against Wanda, eyes fixed on the large sign that comically had a massive bite mark in the side. It was the little things that lingered throughout the building that made it more immersive, like the stickers on the floor in the shape of penguin footprints that lead to their enclosure, and the bite mark in the sign that led to the sharks. Your eyes searched to find every little detail that anyone else would overlook.
“I want to see them now.” Your crestfallen face was enough to weaken the reserve both redheads had been putting forth since your little meltdown had started. They hated to think that had you not been so high on endorphins and adrenaline, you never would’ve expressed how much you enjoyed all the little things that the aquarium had to offer, but they were still working to earn this level of trust from you when peptides weren’t at an all time high. With your head firmly planted in subspace, there wasn’t a single insecure feeling prickling beneath your skin. You were utterly free, control sitting in their hands and they had to force themselves to remember that.
“Not now, detka.” Natasha stepped in, guiding you toward the only empty table in the cafe. Your lips were turned downward in a persistent frown, but by some miracle, you’d actually sat down on the chair and let Wanda name out the options on the menu. It was no surprise to either of them that you pointed toward the chicken tender basket, but it was good enough for them to fulfill your request immediately.
Wanda left to order the food while Natasha kept you occupied at the table, ensuring that you didn’t start to fall out of the state they’d been working you into all day. She offered praise when you answered her little questions about the fun facts you’d been reading on all of the displays, and she tutted disapprovingly when your fingers ripped apart a napkin that some other family had left on the table. When Wanda came back with a tray of three chicken tender baskets because it felt wrong to eat any of the seafood that was offered, you were firmly engaged in a conversation about the stingrays that had been yet to be spotted. You’d explored more than half of the aquarium, finding out that the pink band around your wrist was a pass to all of the activities that lingered around. You’d fed the penguins, given the seals high-fives, and watched a 4D movie that made absolutely no sense, but had dispensed bubbles and sprays of water that were fun enough. All that was left to do was walk the roped path overtop of the shark exhibit, but that didn’t sound like something you wanted to put your faith in, even if hundreds of people did it every day. You, nor Wanda, would be walking across a shark infested tank, though Natasha had plans to do it herself. She’d always been the more daring of the couple.
When your lunch was finished, or when your lunch was picked over enough for Wanda and Natasha to set you free again, you wasted no time in grabbing both of their hands and zipping through the families that stood in your way. You’d been too distracted with the bamboo sharks to hear Wanda mutter to Natasha about how your crowd direction was just as bad as her driving, but you’d turned around in time to watch Natasha roll her eyes and whack Wanda’s bicep.
In your fuzzy headspace, their rules engraved in your mind, one of them being to show respect to others, you frowned and settled both hands onto your hips. “You broke rule number six!” You stated rather angrily, stalking up to Wanda with long strides that didn’t match the innocence in your eyes. You kissed her arm softly, the place where Natasha had hit her engraved in your mind.
“Yeah Natty, you broke rule six.” Wanda’s amusement wasn’t so easily hidden in her tone as her lips curled into a smile and she pulled you into her chest, settling a kiss onto the top of your head as you both sent glares toward Natasha. Yours was littered with a protectiveness that almost outshone the glassy gleam that had settled, Wanda’s however, was riddled with enjoyment and humor. “What should she do, detka?” Wanda giggled, leaning down to whisper in your ear though it was loud enough for Natasha to hear, and the redhead was just barely keeping the smile off her face as she watched you and Wanda conspire against her.
“She’s gotta say sorry!” They’d noticed that in your fuzzy state, you’d shied away from the bigger words that slipped into your vocabulary normally. You weren’t yet at a point where communicating your needs was impossible, but you weren’t actively fighting to clear your head and search for words like apologize and blasphemy either. Natasha would never forgive Yelena for throwing that word around so often you’d started to pick up on it.
“Well?” Wanda jutted out her hip, placed a perfectly manicured hand just above where her bone rested. You mimicked her stance, though you were significantly less threatening than Wanda with your french braids messy from the humidity that drafted in from windows, and your baby blue colored corset shirt that was adorned with intricate lace patterns and ribbons that tied the back together.
“Ona razob'yetsya v mashine.” Natasha hummed, and although you knew enough Russian to know that wasn’t an apology she had uttered to Wanda, no, it was a very true statement that you’d crash in the car on the way home, the Sokovian had accepted it and laughed.
Despite your excitement to see the sharks, you didn’t hang around the exhibit for long. There were too many people and you seemed to become overstimulated more easily when you were flush full of endorphins, so Wanda had been the one to lead you away toward tanks of lobsters and jellyfish. She started walking down the hallway, leaving you with Natasha, wanting to find a sign that could lead the three of you toward the stingrays because she knew you wouldn’t enjoy the aquarium for much longer. It had been hours, and in your sensitive headspace, the bright lights and sounds were quickly becoming too much to handle. You’d been so brave, trying this out with them and trusting them fully, but Wanda wasn’t about to compromise your happiness for a few more hours of mindless walking from room to room when you’d already seen everything that interested you. All she cared about was making sure you had a good time, even if she thought aquariums were savagely overpriced now.
Wanda frowned when Natasha found her way over to her without you. Her eyes flickered around the long hallway, searching for your blue top that stood out brightly against the sea of other colors that adults and children wore. It was such a specific shade that even if seventeen other people all crowded around to watch jellyfish bob had blue on, you stuck out like a sore thumb. “Where’s Y/N?” Wanda questioned and Natasha frowned.
“I thought she was with you.” The Russian quickly realized that no matter how many times she spun around in circles, you weren’t anywhere in sight. She distinctly remembered you telling her that you wanted to go with Wanda, so she hadn’t questioned when you walked off and toward the direction that the Sokovian had gone in. Natasha was properly panicked when thirty seconds went by and she still couldn’t spot you, but Wanda at least had the thought to check the next hallway before she let herself spiral too.
The stingray exhibit turned out to be in the next room over, crowded by kids and parents who talked about the sea creatures with excitement in their quiet tones. The occasional toddler bellowed in disgust when they realized how slick the back of a stingray was, but for the most part, the room only vibrated because of the sheer number of voices that occupied it, not because of volume. You were hunched over the edge, elbows deep into the shallow water when Wanda and Natasha spotted you. Each let out a sigh of relief, but nothing was going to stop them from marching over to you and pulling you away from the water.
“What were the rules, milaya?” Wanda asked you, her voice not as soft as it had been all day, but not hard either. They’d never been out of the house while you were lingering in subspace, and though they never wanted to lose you, it hadn’t been something that never crossed their mind. You wandered away even when your head was clear, your lack of impulse control only heightened that need to trail off.
“Stingrays!” You beamed at Wanda, not taking into account the thin line that settled over her eyebrows as she peered down at you. Your excitement was cute, a telling indication that you really hadn’t meant to wander away and give them the scare of their life, but it wouldn’t get you out of the scolding Wanda had ready on the tip of her tongue.
“Not stingrays, utenok. What were the rules?” Natasha laid heavy emphasis on the last word of her question, and though your eyes were more glassy then she’d seen them all day, she could see the wheels turning as you tried to process her words.
“Oh.” You mumbled when you finally came to the conclusion, your shoulders deflating as your head dipped down and set your gaze on your shoes. “Sorry.”
Wanda, who had been prepared to dig into you, sighed softly and dropped the topic. She may be a stickler for the rules but she knew it would only cause further damage if she laid into you about listening. Your disappearing hadn’t been intentional, and even she could see the tears threatening to spill over as you brewed in your own feelings of disappointment.
“I want you holding my hand, dorogaya.” She instructed firmly, “No more walking by yourself. We don’t wanna lose such a sweet little duckling, huh?” Wanda lifted your chin, smiling reassuringly down at you. Her rings caught the light, glimmering like a million little stars that cried to be released from the gold adorning her fingers. It was over after that, you’d fallen too deep into the sea of bliss to want anything other than her. You shuffled close, all thoughts of stingrays forgotten as you breathed in her scent. Sensing your loss of interest, Wanda shared a silent conversation with Natasha who nodded.
“Why don’t we go check out the gift shop?” Natasha claimed one of your hands, engangling you from Wanda before you could sink any deeper. They needed you coherent enough to get back into the car, and then you were free to settle deeply beneath the blanket of comfort they’d slowly been laying over top of you all day. Natasha held back on delivering any further praise, knowing it wouldn’t help you coming closer to the light.
She guided you through hallways and crowded rooms, occasionally squeezing your hand when you winced at crying babies and strong fishy odors. She herself was over the aquarium, but she’d been holding out for you. She was glad she didn’t have to fake her enthusiasm anymore, though Wanda was certainly getting a kick out of all the exasperated eyerolls the Russian hid from you.
The gift shop was practically empty when you shuffled inside, clinging to Natasha who didn’t mind the contact. She led you through rows of toys and puzzles, some not having any connection to the aquarium while others quite boldly sported the name in a thick black font. You found interest in none of it, which she couldn’t blame you for. Everything looked tacky and far too cheap to be as expensive as the prices on the shelves said, but still she guided you around encouraging you to pick something out. She’d promised you a stuffed animal, but when you finally reached the back wall where all the cuddly toys were lined up in rows, neither of you liked any. They were all filled with stuffing that was too stiff to cuddle, and you retracted your hand quickly when you reached out to touch one. Whatever had been used as fuzz was scratchy and coarse, and you hated it with a passion. Eventually, when Wanda came up to you holding a soft gray crewneck with an embroidered whale shark and the name of the aquarium on the front, you agreed to let it be purchased for you, and although it was still in the highest temperatures that New Jersey had seen all summer, you wore it out of the aquarium with a smile.
When you reached the car, there was no keeping you afloat any longer. Natasha had uttered the first bit of praise in minutes, and you surrendered fully to the warmth in your mind. Wanda smiled, usually the one who you attached to when you fell over the edge, but Natasha had been your chosen pick today.
“Just get in the back with her, Talia.” Wanda rolled her eyes after three minutes of Natasha trying to detach you from her arm, each attempt ending with whines and stomped feet as you tightened your grip.
Natasha sighed, able to count the number of times she’d let Wanda drive her car on one hand, but she wasn’t getting away from you right now, and she didn’t really want to anyway. “If you so much as leave one fingerprint on my radio you won’t be getting laid for a week, Maximoff.”
Wanda rolled her eyes, snatching the keys from Natasha’s outstretched hand and opening the driver's side door more aggressively than needed. If anyone was going to be leaving fingerprints it was Natasha, who could never decide which type of music she wanted to listen to. Seeing that you had gotten your way, you smiled up at Natasha with a grin that was only right to describe as cheeky. The Russian rolled her eyes and settled you into the backseat, shushing your protests when she strapped the seatbelt over your chest and made sure your feet were planted firmly on the floor.
She pulled you into her side when her own seatbelt was clicked into place, gently releasing your hair from the tight braids that had been twisted together all day. At the first pass of her fingers across your sensitive scalp, you all but melted into her chest and let your eyes flutter closed. It wouldn’t take six minutes before you were asleep against her chest, clutching desperately to the white t-shirt covering her torso. With the absence of your questions and excited statements, the car settled with silence, filled with only the sound of the engine revving when Wanda stepped on the gas.
“Did you have a good day, moya lyubov’?” Natasha asked, extending an arm to run over fingers over Wanda’s shoulder. She couldn’t see the Sokovian’s face, but she knew there was a satisfied smile settling over her lips.
“I did.” She breathed out softly, flicking the right blinker on when she merged onto the parkway, thankful that all the construction seemed to have been paused for the day and the road, though filled with typical traffic, was clear of any major dead stops. “Did you ever think we’d be here?” Although Wanda hadn’t been specific, Natasha knew she was referring to you. You were practically the sun in their own two planet universe, everything they did revolved around you now, but she wouldn’t have it any other way. Things got boring when it was merely her and Wanda in a universe void of endless light and warmth.
“I hoped.” Natasha kissed your temple softly, glad that she hadn’t stirred you awake.
When Wanda pulled into the driveway, you were still sound asleep and the sky was dark with nightfall. It was early to call it a night, but the couple did so without complaint. You settled into Natasha’s chest with only the aquarium crewneck on your body, and Wanda had shuffled into the space in bed where your body typically rested, laying her head down on Natasha’s shoulder and placed a heavy hand on the small of your back.
“Goodnight my little utenok.” She whispered into the thick stretch of silence before sleep overcame her too, and although the night carried on outside of your small bubble of peace, none of you had any idea.
#wanda maximoff x natasha romanoff#natasha romanoff#natasha romanoff x reader#dom!natasha romanoff x reader#natasha romanoff fluff#natasha romanoff comfort#daddy natasha#wanda maximoff#wanda maximoff x reader#dom!wanda maximoff x reader#wanda maximoff fluff#wanda maximoff comfort#mommy wanda#wandanat#wandanat x reader#dom!wandanat x reader#wandanat fluff#wandanat comfort#series: you are in love#minors dni ৎ୭
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The Dancer [FA14 smau]
Fernando Alonoso x dancer!reader
Masterlist
Summary: Few months after, everybody laughs when they remember the rumors about Fernando Alonso and Taylor Swift dating. Would they laugh though if they new it maybe wasn't so far from truth as it may seem? Well, one thing's for sure - Y/N and Fernando will laugh very much while soft launching their relationship... and confusing everyone with swiftie content thanks to her job.
Warnings: Maybe wrong dates and timeline of The Eras Tour, but whatever XD.
messages between Y/N and Fernando
fernandoalo_oficial posted on instagram
liked by alex_albon, zhouguanyu24, pierregasly and 562,109 others
fernandoalo_oficial I was taken by the view like we were in Paris... romance is not dead.
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user1 i dont think my brain can comprehend so many things all at once😨
user2 right? I'M IN SHOCK
user3 fr fernando wants to give us a heart attack😭
lilymhe I see what you did here...
alex_albon I indeed see what he did here too...😏
user4 guys tell us what he did pls I'm begging youuuu
user5 Alonso soft launching was not on my 2024 bingo card
user6 him soft launching with TAYLOR SWIFT wasn't on MY bingo card 😭
user7 How he's suddenly so hot in the first pic? Like damn sir okay🫢
user8 girlfriend effect is real y'all
georgerussell63 Mate you can't do that to me, I just woke up 😧
user8 lmfao princess georgie is as confused as we are xd
fernandoalo_oficial sorry mate, don't get wrinkles🤞
gerogerussell63 What even is that choice of emoji?
fernandoalo_oficial well, someone is original with an emoji and someone is original with a pose... choice is yours 😃
georgerussell63 Stop it's been almost a year 😭
user9 not them bullying each other💀
user10 Yeah the duo we didn't know we needed
user11 I saw the first picture and almost spat out my drink in shock of such a hot photo of Nando. Then I swiped and literally choked on it because the last think I'd ever expect from his photo dump is a soft lunch of some baddie girl🫣
user12 I am delusional for thinking Taylonso could still have a chance, aren't I?
user13 well i mean you basically answered it yourself so... yeah XD
user14 OMG WHAAAAAAT😱
user15 oh no Fernando is not single anymore💔
user16 I think I accidentally teleported into some alternative universe... what is thiiiis?
user17 REAL
user18 fuck me this man seriously used lyrics from paris by ts💀
user19 Idk why but I kinda like this new side of Fernando😻
twitter
yourusername posted on instagram
liked by taylorswift, fernandoalo_oficial, carmenmmundt and 5,234 others
tagged: taylorswift and 9 others
yourusername crazy performance, even crazier night out and the most crazy training the day after... I call that the life of a dancer😻🎉 also my head and heart did go vroom vroom after the second pic
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taylorswift I call that the eras tour life!💗
yourusername yes ma'am!
user1 damn she got our queen Taylor replying to her posts... how does it feel to live my dream?!😭
yourusername amazing! 🥰
user2 such a shame my mum didn't force me to try dancing when I was little... I could have been at podium next to Taylor Swift right now 😃
liked by the author
user3 You are such a good dancer, the shows wouldn't be the same without you Y/N!
yourusername omg thank u sm I really appreciate that!!🥹
user4 sooo... are we gonna just ignore Fernando in the likes or what???
user5 THAT'S WHAT I CAME HERE TO SAY
user6 fr I need some crazy detective from twitter to figure this out😫
carmenmmundt Hey, could you give me and lilymhe vip tickets...?
yourusername I mean... everything can be done 😏 I'll just need to ask mother Taylor bc I just used my plus one at the last concert🫡
lilymhe OH MY GOD WE LOVE YOU Y/N
yourusername I love you girls as well, we have to finally meet sometimes!!!
carmenmmundt Yeah, I think we'll have chance at the end of February at the latest😉
user7 WHAT IS HAPPENING HERE
user8 Omg are they hinting Y/N at the Bahrain GP?? F1 season starts at the end of February right?!
goergerussell63 Well hello there, nice to meet you Y/N... given the fact my dear girlfriend doesn't care about me, could you give me and alex_albon vip tickets as well?😊
alex_albon Yeah Y/N we are very big fans😊
yourusername everything for the guys that go vroom vroom🫡
alex_albon Like your heart
yourusername exactly!
user9 I AM FREAKING OUT
user9 MY BRAIN HURTS FROM HOW MUCH IS GOING ON
user9 WAIT FUCK I THINK I GOT IT
user9 AAAHHH I FEEL LIKE SHERLOCK MF HOLMES
twitter & messages between Y/N and Fernando
yourusername posted on instagram
liked by selenagomez, fernandoalo_oficial, francisca.cgomes, astonmartinf1 and 8,234 others
yourusername preparing for the next season🤞
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user1 y/n is literally living my dream life rn
georgerussell63 Oh no... he infected you with that emoji, didn't he?
yourusername we'll never know... maybe I infected HIM with it
gourgerussell63 I think higher of you and your taste in emojis
yourusername aww thanks princess georgie how sweet🥰
georgerussell63 I take it back
user2 HELLO?! what is happening💀
dancer1 excuse me little miss y/n... is that a man i'm seeing?🤨
yourusername well... maybe
dancer2 Be fr she's trying to soft launch him for like a month now😭
dancer1 okay i'm calling you rn STAY WHERE YOU ARE
user3 Guys why's nobody talking about the paddock pass in the 5th picture!!!!
user4 omg that's a PADDOCK PASS?😱
user5 yeah it is I noticed it thanks to this comment
user6 Wait... does that mean her and Fernando have been together longer? Because she already went to a race before the winter break??
user5 idk girl we don't even know for sure she's really dating him😓
user6 idgaf about who's dating her bc even without bf y/n's sooo hot like damn... mommy🥵
user7 I'm so confused... is this Alonso's girl or not?
user8 trust me user7 - we'd all like to know that😭
user9 😍
yourusername and fernandoalo_oficial posted on instagram stories
yourusername story has been seen by taylorswift, lance_stroll and 13,634 others
fernandoalo_oficial story has been seen by charles_leclerc, astonmartinf1 and 308,003 others
user1 replied to yourusername story: is that an f1 driver there y/n
dancer1 replied to yourusername story: Hope he'll not disappoint me in person when you talked about him sm 😒
yourusername ohhh trust me you'll love him just as I do🥰
dancer1 omg bleeeeh I hope not 🫣
user2 replied to yourusername story: your friends are so pretty😩
taylorswift replied to yourusername story: When you'll take him to get my approval??
yourusername soon taylor, soon... I'm just afraid it'll break the internet lol
taylorswift I think we're used to that already with Travis at this point😂
yourusername true😭
fernandoalo_official replied to yourusername story: 🔥
yourusername it's going to be okay, they'll love you 🫶
fernandoalo_oficial how did you know I was nervous amor?
yourusername I saw you literally shaking when you left to the bathroom love...😹
yourusername oh they're back come quickly!!💞
fernandoalo_oficial onmw
user3 replied to fernandoalo_oficial story: IS THIS THE CONFIRMATION WE NEEDED?!
user4 replied to fernandoalo_oficial story: I see what you're doing here old man 👀
user5 replied to fernandoalo_oficial story: soft launch slowly turning into a hard launch and I'm here for it!!!!
dancer1 replied to fernandoalo_oficial story: I guess you aren't that bad in person...
fernandoalo_oficial 😁
user6 replied to fernandoalo_oficial story: screaming crying throwing up
taylorswift replied to fernandoalo_oficial story: You better treat my best dancer right Alonso!🤍
fernandoalo_oficial of course ma'am! 🫡
user7 replied to fernandoalo_oficial story: So cute!!😍
messages between Y/N and Fernando
fernandoalo_oficial posted on instagram
liked by maxverstappen1, oscarpiastri, f1, yourusername and 601,239 others
tagged: yourusername
fernandoalo_oficial All these people think love's for show but I would die for you in secret... #swiftie
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yourusername I'd just like to make it clear to everybody that it's me who made him be swiftie... you're welcome💋
liked by the author
user1 OMG THE LYRICS FROM PEACE BY TAYLOR
carmenmmundt Y/N is so pretty!😍
yourusername ohh carmen ilysm you're even prettier🥹
user2 No way Fernando just really har launched his gf😭
f1 We smell a new wag!
user4 LOL you're kinda late for that admin xd
user5 Congrats and wish you well world champ!💪
user6 can we talk about how gorgeous she is???
lilymhe double date when honey?
yourusername anytime babeee!!!
fernandoalo_oficial why do I have a feeling me and alex_albon will be third-wheeling on you two?🤨
alex_albon you'll eventually get used to third-wheeling your own girlfriend and her friends, trust me fernando...🤠
user7 This girl is like a goddess, I can't even blame him ❤️🔥
user8 mommy & daddy
georgerussell63 Finally! Congratulation on the hard launch mate👍
fernandoalo_oficial and look who's original with emojis now...😂
user9 from now on this is my fav couple
user10 mine to
user11 SHUT UP THE DELULU GIRLIES ON TWITTER WERE RIGHT
lance_stroll 💚💚
user12 nah I don't know what he see in her🙄
user13 Go away we don't want the jealous haters here 🥱
kellypiquet Welcome to the F1 family yourusername!🤍
yourusername thx!💞
user14 i call this couple goals
user15 I'M SO READY FOR BOYFRIEND MATERIAL ALONSO
user16 I can already feel he'll be so hot in his new era 😩
user17 lmao nando in his swiftie and stlutty era as someone on twitter said😹
yourusername swiftie and slutty era? i like the sound of it😏
user16 not y/n reading all the comments sipping over her bf 💀
liked by yourusername
THE END
Author's Note: Hello everyone, hope you liked it! I'm not sure you should get used to me posting so often, but let's say that after Lance's social media au and the great feedback I had so much motivation... plus I'm sick, so I actually have the time to write and create XD. Anyway, I'll be glad for likes, comments, reblog and every other way of showing support! Have a great day and let me know how you liked Nando and swiftie dancer together!
#fernando alonso x reader#fernando alonso#formula one#formula 1#f1 imagine#f1 fanfic#fanfiction#fanfic#f1 x reader#x reader#reading#george russell#taylor swift#taylonso#swifties#the eras tour#dancer#writing#social media fic#social media au#social media#aesthetic#couple#motosport#spanish#fa14 x reader#fa14#smau#f1 smau#f1 social media au
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6 | The Fangs Between Us
summary. You remember how the sunlight glistened against his skin the morning after your first night together. The longing in his eyes for the very same thing now makes your stomach churn.
It might have suit him even more than the moonlight.
With an irritable sigh, you take your blade and press the sharp end against the tip of your finger.
“What are you doing?”
“Keeping you alive,” you reply, pushing your fingertip now with a bead of blood trickling down its side, toward his face. “Drink.”
warnings. angst, comfort, slow burn, reader is a bard
pairing. Astarion x GN!Reader
parts. TFBU masterlist
a/n. 6.4k words,,,tav is better than me i would've thrown hands like twelve years ago,,,I HAVE NO IDEA HOW I WROTE THIS IN LIKE TWO DAYS???? also thank you for all your comments they really motivate me to write!! so have this monster of a chapter early as thanks!!
"You'll kill them, Astarion," you mumble. "They might not have had the power to help you, but they're still your siblings. I don't want them to die hating you."
"They're not my siblings--not really. I don't care what they think of me. Hells, they could haunt me even in the afterlife, as annoying as that would be, but they're no innocents either. They've brought in as many souls as I have," he responds, his jaw visibly clenching at the thought. "I don't care if all seven thousand of them die hating me as long as you're here."
And while you feel flattered, you can't disregard the worry driving a hole through your conscience. Ever perceptive, he lifts a hand to brush stray strands of hair out of your face, his fingertips tracing your jaw. His voice is but a hushed whisper.
"You understand, don't you, my love? It would set me free--after two hundred years of forcing myself through hell--I can finally free myself from Cazador," his tone sours at just the mention of his master's name, and he intertwines his fingers with yours, drawing your attention back to him.
"It is what you want for me, no? For me to be happy?"
It is what you want. Just not like this.
Music was your way of releasing the mountain of feelings you kept locked away in your chest, waiting for the right person to recognize them for what they are. You’d hoped someone would understand the meaning behind your lyrics without you telling them outright, and they’d know what it truly meant to you. And for a while, you’d believed Astarion would be the key to this safe.
You couldn’t have been more wrong.
“While I usually entertain your certainly out-of-the-box plans, this is bordering on just foolish, I’m afraid,” Gale sighs, eyes tracing you as you pace around the house, stuffing every possible weapon and healing potion into a brown sack. Despite his insistence, you ignore him, testing the blade of a knife against the edge of the table. It’s not entirely dull, nor is it sharper than the dagger in your drawer, but it’ll have to do. “Simply charging into the tavern won’t do much good if you’ll be overwhelmed in number anyway.”
“I know what I’m doing, Gale,” you hiss, snatching an Alchemist’s Fire and shoving it a tad too hard into your bag. He tenses. “If they want to talk to me so badly, then I’m not waiting around for them to attack another one of my friends—I’ll go to them.”
“Yes, your determination is certainly praise-worthy, but can we please just sit down and think this through before running into a battlefield with a few knives? This is basically a suicide mission.”
“The wizard is right, even if it’s hard to believe,” Lae’zel announces from the corner of the room, wiping a cloth on her sword. “When I arrived, they’d already fled. They could be anywhere by now, and they’ve had more than enough time to plan another ambush if we were to charge now. We must be smart about this. I am a warrior, but I am no fool.”
“I’ll go by myself,” you say, a sense of finality in your voice. “They already showed what they’d do if someone they didn’t want to talk to approached them. I’ll just talk to them.”
Gale stares with lidded eyes. “So why are you packing so many explosives, exactly?”
“...Precaution?”
Silence befalls the room, and you take it as a sign to finish your preparations. All you can hear is the crackling of the fireplace and the rain falling against the windows of the home. The lot of you had somehow managed to stabilize Shadowheart by the time Lae’zel returned, and while she’d been conscious earlier, you insisted she rest before she consumed herself with the investigation again. You didn’t miss the way she limped back to her room with little to protest against you.
“Take the spawn with you.”
Two jaws drop at the words, the only one remaining fixed belonging to Lae’zel.
“The kainyank is living here to help. Not cause more problems for us. And so far, he’s only done one of the two things, and I’m dangerously close to turning to my blade if he doesn’t choose otherwise,” she says. “The spawn are searching for him, too. If blood breaks out, you must use him to flee safely.”
Gale blinks. “As in…use him as a body shield?”
“What else is he good for?”
While the wizard seems positively appalled, you can see the contemplation flicker in his eyes before he shakes his head. He's always been more considerate than the rest of you. “No, Tav would never agree to such a-”
“Okay.”
They both whip their heads toward you, and you avoid their piercing gazes, staring down at the dull blade in your hand. “It might help, too, if we find out why they want him. There are nearly 3000 spawns in the city—we can’t kill all of them, at least not immediately. It’d be best if we convinced them to leave, and the best way of doing that is to understand what they want in the first place.”
Lae’zel narrows her eyes. “Then you must swear it. Swear that if Astarion were to face risks, you will leave him behind. If he were to turn on you, you slice through his throat without a second of hesitation. He is there to aid you–nothing else.”
“I will,” the words feel hot on your tongue.
And so, you soon find yourself standing in front of his door, hand reaching for the door handle. There’s a slight pause right as you touch the cool metal, but you bite your tongue and shove it open, praying he’s still not as ravenous as he was a few hours ago. And much to your surprise, he appears wholly composed.
He lowers his book to his lap, eyes training themselves on you as they dart from your bag and then back to your face. The window’s wide open, bathing him in the moonlight, with dark curtains tied to the wall to keep them from obscuring his view of the city. He raises a brow. “What could you possibly want from me at two in the morning? Come here for a cuddle?”
You’re scowling again.
“I need you-”
“I’m flattered, but I fear you may stab a butter knife into my eye, so I’ll have to decline.”
“Not like that.” Your frown creases deeper at his smug grin. “We’re going to the Blushing Mermaid to find the spawn.”
“Just us?”
“They want to see us.”
“And if I refuse?”
The answer is almost immediate, cutting through the atmosphere like a knife on bread. “I hear the bloody bedrolls in the Duke’s dungeon are very comfortable.”
He drops his smile at this, and a tiny spark of pride puffs your chest. He seems to weigh his choices before snapping his book shut and standing from the bed, snatching a comb from his bedside table before pacing up to you, pocketing it behind him.
"A comb?"
He shrugs as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Well, I doubt you’ll be giving me a weapon of any sort, so I must make do.”
You don’t correct him.
As the two of you make your way downstairs, you hear your other companions speaking.
“I didn’t expect you of all people to defend Astarion,” Gale says in disbelief, still comprehensive as Lae’zel poorly cuts up slices of an apple.
“I am doing no such thing, istik,” she mutters. “I am giving him a choice. Either to pick up his dead weight and prove his life is worth more than the dirt on my shoes or die at my hand.”
The walk to the Blushing Mermaid is painfully awkward. To you, anyway, because he seems positively unbothered the entire time. Seeing him leisurely follow behind you is irritating—and it bothers you more than you’d like to admit.
By the time you survey the area around the tavern, you’ve discerned they must be inside, considering there are no ambushes awaiting your arrival. While it’s a relief, it also increases the anxiety of what lies inside the tavern itself, and you confirm your knives are at your disposal if it were ever to come to that. You sincerely hope it doesn’t. Astarion sighs dramatically for the umpteenth time as you approach the front doors, and you finally snap to look at him with a glare.
“Will you stop breathing so damn loud?”
The change in your attitude toward him is apparent, but he doesn't seem to care. If anything, he seems more pleased with you than he was before every time you shoot him an annoyed glance or something along those lines. He responds with lazy answers, but it's better than the bitter ones he gave you before.
You're not terribly surprised, though. He's always loved pissing people off for his own entertainment, and it would be an understatement to say that he's been somewhat successful with you.
“I’m not breathing, my dear. I don’t need to, remember?”
“Then what is your problem?” you hiss between your teeth. “Are you trying to wake up the entire city with your insistent groaning?”
“Must we do this tonight, of all days? Couldn’t this wait till tomorrow?”
“No!” you say in exasperation. “That gives them too much time to heal and recover from Shadowheart and Gale. It has to be tonight, just in case they do decide to fight—then we’ll have an easier time because, in case you haven’t noticed, it’s just us two!”
He sighs again, and you swear you might pluck a strand of his hair for good measure. And just as you shove past him and reach for the door, he clears his throat again. Loudly.
“For God’s sake, what?” you nearly yell.
He smiles at you, pointing at the front door. “Well, if we’re looking to avoid an ambush, perhaps we should find another way in than the main entrance. Unless my prior knowledge as a rogue proceeds me.”
You blink. You recognize the validity of his statement and feel your face flare, and you immediately march past him again—the other way this time—and search for the nearest wall you can climb up to the roof. You hear him snicker, but you do your best to ignore it.
Somehow, you manage to climb in through the window, admittedly a lot louder than him, but you don’t think it’s fair to compare yourself to him when he has footsteps lighter than a child’s. Hidden behind one of the tables, you peer into the rest of the tavern, which is completely empty save for the bottles of alcohol scattered everywhere. You turn to signal to him that the coast is clear, but he’s nowhere to be seen.
Immediately, your face drains of color.
“Right here, darling.”
He drops down from seemingly thin air, and you gasp, nearly letting out a shriek if it weren’t for your hand covering your mouth. He grins at that.
Bastard.
“There’s nobody in the entire building–at least, not visible to the eye,” he confirms, glancing around the room.
“How do you know that?”
He points at the ceiling, and your eyes follow it. “Someone decided to build such useful beams on the roof. You can see the entire place from up there. Care to take a look?”
While you would have thanked him if he had been any other person, you only march straight by him. “Don’t do anything without telling me first.”
“No ‘thanks, Astarion’?” He quirks a brow but huffs when you ignore him. “Very well then, my liege. No need to acknowledge a humble servant such as I. But I shall let you know when I’m about to take any questionable decision.”
You’re starting to wonder if his presence is worth the headache it gives you.
Pacing around the tavern, it seems all too normal. No blood splatters against the wall, no broken chairs—hells, even the booze cups look clean, which is a rarity for the Blushing Mermaid. You check each room, inspecting down to the last cups in case there are traces of blood in them, but to no avail.
It’s like there was never anyone here.
“You look like you’re having trouble, my dear,” Astarion clicks his tongue mockingly, leaning back in one of the more luxurious chairs he’s decided is his own.
“Considering the only company I decided to bring along is lounging around like a bum, I’m not surprised,” you say back, now searching the smallest cracks in the walls for some sort of secret passage. It’s strange. Even though your companions had spoken of the bodies they encountered when facing the spawn, there’s not a single speck of blood in sight. Neither is there anything outside but the whistle of the wind.
“This particular wall must be quite fascinating.”
You fight the need to groan and whip around to snap at him, but he’s suddenly just a foot away from you, staring at the spot you’d been squinting at. Gods, you hate how quiet he is when he walks.
“As wonderful as it is getting a fresh breath of air,” he feigns disappointment with a half-hearted sigh, turning to walk toward the entrance. “I believe we’ve done what we can. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d love to return to my book–”
The wooden floor underneath him creaks. It sounds hollow.
As if there’s something underneath.
“The basement,” you blink, eyes wide. “The hag’s lair.”
He stares at you as if you’ve taken too many mushrooms. “It was sealed up after we rid of that dreadful woman. Good riddance, too, I mean, I’m not particularly fond of children, but eating them, even I wouldn’t be able–”
You rush toward the very corner of the tavern, sensing that he’s following you regardless of his obvious distaste toward your decision. There, you push against a table perched on top of the basement latch and test its locks.
It’s open.
“Heavens, it reeks here. How didn’t I smell it before?”
“Of what?” You sniff the air. “I don’t smell anything.”
“Blood, my dear. Fairly recent, too, if my judgment hasn’t gotten rusty in the time I’ve spent cooped up in that room,” he pauses. “And I haven’t gotten rusty, to be clear.”
“Right,” you retort, reaching down to pull the latch open. You don’t see him do the same, and you glance at him quizzically.
“Gods no,” he says, when he realizes why you’re staring. “I’m doing no such thing that ruins these nails.”
You sigh. Loudly.
The latch opens relatively easily, but you make an effort not to simply swing it open in fear the occupants inside might be warned of your arrival. You prop the trap door open against a chair and begin your descent down the stairs, remaining as silent as possible.
The first thing you can notice is that he’d been right.
The stench of blood burns in your nose, and you immediately cover it with your sleeve to avoid inhaling anymore. You’ve smelt enough of your companion’s blood today, and you’d rather not continue the streak with the blood of complete strangers. Astarion, however, frowns.
“Such a waste,” he mumbles.
When you turn to where he’s looking, there’s a pile of bodies—poor victims, no doubt—lying over a puddle of their collective blood mixing with one another. It almost feels inhumane to leave them that way, just hours after their death, as if they’re cattle to be used.
Though, in this case, they are cattle.
“Are you sure it’s them?”
“I’m telling you it is!”
“Where’s their lyre, then?”
“How would I know that?”
You locate the source of the whispers instantly, reaching for one of your daggers as your eyes bore into the corners of the lair that are obscured from your view. Astarion steps forward before you can figure out a plan to approach them, arrogance exuding from his very body as he holds nothing but the comb tucked in his back pocket. “We can hear you, you fools. Come out before I lose my patience.”
“What are you doing?” you hiss.
“They’re only a few spawns, my dear. Nothing like Cazador—no need to be so cautious.”
You open your mouth to protest, but a woman emerges from the shadows, her eyes trained on your own as she marvels at your mere presence. You realize she’s not alone as multiple vampires begin to emerge from different corners of the room, all a safe distance away but not enough to ease the nerves jittering in your stomach. She steps toward you. “It’s really you, isn’t it?”
Another spawn steps beside her, and you immediately notice how ravenous he seems, eyes almost glistening with hunger as they bore straight into you. The woman puts a hand on his neck, seemingly soothing him, before he slumps his shoulders again, but the pure violence swirling in his head doesn’t seem to vanish. She then looks to Astarion, and the expression on her face morphs into something more akin to dread. “And you, brother.”
“Dalyria.” Astarion only stares with lidded eyes, visibly unfazed.
You instinctively scan the entire lair, searching for any differences you can spot since the last time you were here. The only glaring thing besides the bodies piled in the corner is the study desk on the other side of the room, scattered with different potions and concoctions. Behind the desk is an entire wall plastered with diagrams—most of which study the anatomy and functionality of what you can only determine to be a vampire judging from the fangs. There are also beds everywhere—though they look like they could collapse any second—and the room almost looks like a hospital.
The atmosphere between the siblings is so uncomfortable you’d think they’ll start attacking one another any second.
“Is Leon here?” you finally cut through, lowering your hand away from your blade. “I need to speak with him—technically, all of you.”
“How curious. We were hoping to speak with you as well,” she says, motioning all the other spawn to stand down. It does little to ease you. “By all means, feel free to go first.”
You take the opportunity, too exhausted, to demonstrate polite etiquette. “The spawn are causing too much trouble in the city, Dalyria. They’re killing too many people, and it’s getting noticed by more than enough people. At this rate, you’ll lose some of your own if the Fist figure out how you guys are hiding throughout the city.”
“...Yes, I’m aware.”
The resignation in her voice makes your throat bob, but you continue anyway. “I’m saying we need to get you guys somewhere more stable. Whether it be the Underdark or elsewhere, we can’t have you staying here.”
“I see,” she says slowly. “I appreciate you trying to talk this out with us, but I’m afraid I cannot grant your request.”
Your shoulders tense, and you can see Astarion shift beside you. “You don’t understand, sister. There’s going to be an outright war at this rate-”
“Baldur’s Gate is our home as well, Astarion. You, of all people, should know this,” she demands. “We have a right to remain here, and if the Fist insists on forcing us out, we have no choice but to retaliate.”
“But you’re killing the city off!” you gawk in disbelief, unable to believe what you’re hearing.
“We’re surviving,” she corrects, the corners of her lips turning downward. “Surely you can’t hate us for that.”
“Then…” you blink at her, positively appalled at her words. “Why the hells did you need to speak with me? What was worth putting my companion through hell?”
“...There is a way—for both parties to benefit.” She looks down at her hands, then back up at you. “I didn’t expect the both of you to come together. Our informants were correct when they claimed to see Astarion in your possession. In all honesty, we technically only needed one of you, but this makes things a lot quicker.”
Confused but desperately wanting an answer, you urge her to continue. Only you can see the way Astarion’s hand slips toward his pocket, where his comb lies.
“We were going to ask you to bring him to us, you see. But it appears you’ve already done the hard part.”
The dreaded intuition in the back of your mind tells you something is wrong. Very, very wrong.
“Me? What do you need me for?” he scowls.
She disregards him and continues speaking to you, leaving a sour taste in your mouth. “If you turn him over to us, you’ll never have to see him again. That is what you want, yes?”
Both you and the pale elf freeze.
“I watched as my brother nearly killed you the day of the ritual,” she continues. “I understand how you feel being betrayed by someone you thought shared your pain. And I believe this is a way to relieve you of that pain—and finally move onto a new stage of your life.”
She acts as if Astarion is the only thing holding you from moving on from the past few months of your life. And if she’d said so a week ago, you would have nothing to defend yourself with. But you’ve cut the few strings left that tie yourself to him. You remind yourself that you no longer care for him, regardless of the slight squeeze in your chest. You’ve already sworn to force yourself to disregard him, and you want to say all these things to her, but nothing comes out. So, instead, you keep your mouth sealed.
Astarion scoffs from beside you.
“For God’s sake, please tell me you’re not actually considering this. Let’s just force the madwoman out and go,” his voice attempts to stay firm, but it’s high-pitched at the end. He’s panicking.
You don’t respond to him, and he stiffens. “...My main concern is the city. If you think you can use my personal matters to convince me to just let you keep killing all these people–”
“That matter will resolve itself in its own time. We’ll return to the Underdark—or wherever it is you wish, and you won’t have to spend your nights hunting us down anymore.”
With a dry throat, you fixate your gaze on her face, desperately trying to discern any hint of a crack in her mask. Instead, you find nothing. “Why would you do that? For one spawn?”
“I’m afraid that’s for me and my siblings to know. But I can promise you that no harm will come to you if you take this deal.”
For what seems like the millionth time this month, you have no idea what to do. Lae’zel’s words flood you like a wave crashing onto shore as you remind yourself that Astarion is here not as your ally but as a shield. If things are as Dalyria says, simply turning over the man standing next to you would end this entire ordeal. You could return to your everyday life of repairing the city, learning to heal and grow from the terrors of the illithid invasion. You could learn to let people in again.
You could learn to play music again in hopes of finding the person you dreamed would understand.
Such an enticing, perfect deal. It’s almost too perfect. But you’ve learned not to trust perfection, especially when handed to you by a vampire spawn.
Astarion, who had been observing your expression this whole time, almost seems to read your mind. Or perhaps he’s just feeling selfish, ready to defend himself. “You’ve created a lot of problems for me, dear sister. I’ve gotten accused of your own murders, thanks to your pets.”
The delirious spawn, who’d looked sluggish after Dalyria’s soothing, now bares his teeth at Astarion. Dalyria attempts to calm him again, but it’s no use. The bloodthirst cannot be satiated unless there’s blood spilled on his very hands.
Astarion doesn’t seem to take a hint—or maybe he does but chooses to simply ignore it. “I’ve always known you were strange, Dalyria, but really? Experimenting with your ‘useless procedures’ on fresh spawns? He looks positively possessed, sister. He might just resort to eating you instead.”
“They are not useless, Astarion,” she snaps. “I am a doctor. I’m only curing what needs to be cured.”
“Then tell me why you haven’t managed to cure yourself of our curse? You may be intelligent in medical aspects, but gods above, you are more foolish than Cazador himself if you really think you can cure vampirism.”
“I had nobody to test my ideas on for two centuries, Astarion! Now that I do, surely I can-”
“You’re starving them, Dalyria,” he snaps, tone drastically different from the banter you shared just minutes ago. “And they’ll give into the thirst sooner or later.”
His words are the final straw.
The spawn who’d been standing beside her launches himself toward you. Before you can even register what’s happening, his fangs are at your throat, your neck tilted so it shoots pain up your side. Just as you feel your skin split at the tips of his canines, Astarion rips him away from you so harshly that the spawn flies helplessly into the wall, which crumbles under his weight. Dust flies into your eyes, and you cough, wiping at them until it clears just enough to see Dalyria staring in horror.
“I told you, Dalyria. You are no doctor, not anymore,” Astarion scoffs, eyes narrowed into slits. “And I’m afraid I can’t let you kill my liege here, as I’d much hate to be trapped in a cell somewhere underground.”
You reach the specks of blood drops forming on your neck, horrified by the close encounter you had with death just seconds ago. The culprit of your injury lies unconscious beside the cracked wall, and you wonder just how hard he had to be thrown to be rendered in such a state. You can see the other spawns’ eyes practically glow at the sight of your blood—fresh, unlike the pile of corpses on the other side of the room.
She turns to you, desperation pouring from the wavering of her voice. “Please, don’t make me do this. Don’t make us enemies. All you need to do is give us Astarion. My brother, for heaven's sake!”
You think better of it. Something that obviously pleases Astarion if the way his face relaxes tells you anything.
“May I?” he glances at you.
Surely, there are ways–more civilized ways–-than drawing your blade, but the ferocious growling from the rest of the spawn tells you otherwise. You need to find out why she needs Astarion so badly, and clearly, she’s not willing to tell you unless it’s through pure force. You despise the idea as much as you despise the predicament you’re in, but you refuse to be attacked and deliver nothing back. Just as you nod to his question, another spawn lunges, unable to resist the red staining your neck.
But it’s smart this time, choosing to eliminate any threats before turning to the full course. In this case, the only thing between you and the vampires is another vampire.
“Brother!” Dalyria shouts, horrified.
You don't bother calling his name, only barely manage to tackle Astarion out of the way before the spawn’s claw sinks into the very ground he was standing on just seconds ago.
As embarrassing as it is to practically crash on top of him, both of you wince because it’s more painful than anything. You force yourself up with your arms, and it’s then that you see even more spawn crawling from whatever shadows they hid in, and you realize you are terribly and most definitely outnumbered. By a lot.
“Dalyria, if you’re truly a doctor, do something! Stop them, godsdammit!” you shriek in her direction.
“They’re not—they were doing so well!...” she gasps before she reaches for a tattered journal and desperately files through its pages in a frenzy. “They were nearly docile before. I don’t know why–”
You feel Astarion’s hands slip out of the sack you carry on your back, realizing you hadn’t even noticed him opening it. He’s still lying flat on the ground, and you look down at him, puzzled before he laughs bitterly.
“I’ll be borrowing this for a few minutes, darling.”
You barely dodge another spawn that comes flying at you, rolling off of him and practically slamming into the wall. And before you can crawl away, your knife—in Astarion’s hand—stabs through the spawn’s left eye through the back of their head, specks of their blood splattering against your cheek.
You want to throw up.
“No, don’t harm them! Please, just let us go!” Dalyria pleads, but you’re finished being patient with her. She clearly has no way of calming the spawn, and you’re tired of being thrown around like a ragdoll in the mess that is the lair.
You yank out the Alchemist’s Fire and chuck it at the nearest cluster of spawn—around 2 or 3—and flinch as the vial collides and explodes into flames right before your eyes, blowing your hair out of your face in a gust of smoke and wind. You swear you hear Astarion cackle in utter glee at the destruction, but you choose not to dwell on it, too busy figuring out how else you could get out of here alive.
“You’re ruining the patients!” Dalyria screams, and you almost regret not throwing the vial at her instead.
“Your spawn are the ones attacking us!”
Suddenly, her face goes impossibly pale, and you hear a hiss of pain from a few feet away. Astarion winces as one of the spawn claws at his chest leaves behind a reasonably deep wound following the path of their sharp nails. Your knife is kicked away from him, and you hear Dalyria again just as he reaches for the comb instead. “Brother, be careful!”
You’re not sure if she wants you and Astarion dead or not, but it’s seriously giving you backlash at this point.
He stabs the comb into the spawn’s neck and kicks him away, and you take the opportunity to send the knife he dropped through the air.
By some miracle, it pierces straight through the spawn’s arm. Astarion lets out a breathy laugh from the floor, attention glued to your handiwork. “Ha! And to think that could have been me!”
And while you want to admire your aim yourself, there’s no time. Dalyria’s footsteps rush up the stairs, out of the basement, and you realize you need to follow moments after Astarion, who’s already fleeing up the steps, cursing under his breath. “That demented wench!”
You stand to follow after him, but the remaining spawns are already blocking your way. There are only two more, but you brace yourself for the worst, reaching for whatever remaining weapons you have left in your sack. The smoke and debris feel suffocating in your lungs, but you have no choice but to push through, praying to whatever God you can remember at the moment that this be the last time you have to fight this many vampire spawn. Or any, for that matter.
You wish you had left your fighting days behind you when you defeated the elder brain, but you suppose even that was too much to ask for.
You arrive just in time to see the sunrise.
Lying against a wall is Astarion, who you find just before the sunlight hits the part of the ground he’s on. He’s clutching his shoulder, which drips with his own blood, and showing no signs of the quick vampire regeneration. You stare down at him, face stoic as you wait for him to say something.
Judging from his condition, you assume Dalyria got away.
“Leaving me to die here would be unwise,” he scoffs. “Though it’d be rather easy to let me burn to death in the sun, I must remind you that I much rather prefer decapitation if it’s all the same to you.”
“I’ll consider it,” you reply curtly. "Can't promise anything, though."
He leans his head back, amused. The sunlight is just a few feet away now, and you wonder how long it's been since he's been outside to watch the sunrise. “You’ve always had a cruel streak in you. I just had to lure it out, sometimes, but when it did come out—Gods, you should have seen it yourself.”
“You’re delirious,” you remind him, observing just how much blood he’s losing. You remind yourself of your resentment when worry probes a small part of your heart. One that you hope dies soon. “Why aren’t you healing?”
“I haven’t been exactly feeding well, unfortunately. And days old boar’s blood can only sustain me so long, darling,” he lulls his head forehead, sneering to himself. “Now that I think about it, dying by sunlight sounds rather poetic, don’t you think? Perhaps you can make a song about my glorious death.”
He’s definitely unhinged from blood loss.
You sigh, tossing his arm over your shoulder as you deem the sunlight a bit too close now. It’s a slow process with your own body’s soreness, but you manage to drag him to a more shaded area, propping him against the wall there so that you can rummage through your sack for a healing potion. You stop when his hand latches onto your arm.
“What?” you frown.
“It won’t help. I need blood, my dear.”
“There’s none for you here.”
“The bodies in the basement,” he bites back a groan, more blood gushing out of his shoulder. “I can make use of them--give their deaths a sense of purpose."
The displeasure on your face must be apparent because he laughs.
You pause, lowering the sack onto the ground. While you’re illuminated by the sunlight now, he remains in the shadow of the building, only able to see the sun with how it reflects off of your skin. And you find that he’s no longer looking at you but looking past you into the glowing orb you call the sun. You remember how its light glistened against his own skin the morning after your first night together. The longing in his eyes for the very same thing now makes your stomach churn.
It might have suit him even more than the moonlight.
With an irritable sigh, you take your blade and press its tip against the tip of your finger.
“What are you doing?”
“Keeping you alive,” you reply, pushing your fingertip now with a bead of blood trickling down its side, toward his face. “Drink.”
His eyes widen, and the temptation is more than evident with how his mouth falls open as if he tastes your blood from a few inches away. But as fast as it had come, he tears his eyes away. “I’m not taking your blood.”
“Stop with your prideful act, Astarion. You’re going to bleed out.”
“I wouldn’t die, exactly. I would just remain unconscious until I can properly heal myself.”
You spare him a long, hard stare. He refuses to look at you, biting the inside of his cheek to ignore the scent of your blood. And it's painfully clear he's failing.
You have no idea why he's so insistent on avoiding your blood, but you refuse to spend your own time pondering it.
“Fine then.”
He watches in utter loss as you lick the blood off of your finger, shrugging. “Bleed out for all I care.”
You turn to stand, but his hand latches on your arm once more. You’re not sure if you’re imagining how warm he feels, but you think you must be. He's always been terribly cold.
“Do you hate me now?” he asks again, this time staring up at you through his lashes. “Have I finally run through your patience?”
The question remains the same as he asked you a week ago, but it feels different now. This time, you know your answer, and it feels so, so relieving. You just wish you could understand his own feelings, but his expression is so superficial you don’t even attempt it.
“Yes,” you reply blankly. “I hate you.”
He takes a moment to process your words. You have to admit it’s satisfying to say it to his face, even if your hatred for him is new. But perhaps because it’s new is why you feel it so strongly, and you silently thank it for how confident you sound saying the words. Even if they taste bitter. You think he might have some quip to respond with, but he only smiles, and as usual, it doesn’t reach his eyes.
You never want to see it again.
Without another word, he pulls you down to him, and you nearly topple over before stabilizing yourself with either of your knees on either side of his legs. He breathes against your neck, and you think he might drink from you until you feel his fingers brush against your nape. Immediately, your body freezes like a deer in headlights, flinching at his touch as your mind involuntarily forces the last memories you have of his hands on your neck.
And ever so perceptive, he notices how you recoil from his touch.
You hate your body for reacting the way it does out of fear. Not the disgust or the anger, but something much more pathetic, and you want to go back on your own actions to stop yourself from appearing so weak to him. You think he might tease you--taunt you, even, but he stops, slowly pulling away and lowering his head from the crook between your shoulder and head.
You’re unable to see his face, but his movements seem more sluggish.
Instead of going for your neck, he lifts your wrist, brushing his lips against it before sinking his teeth into the tender flesh.
Despite the initial sting, it’s a feeling you’ve grown accustomed to over time. With him, it had always felt so intimate. It’s why you can’t help but feel heat bloom across your cheeks before you remind yourself you no longer care for him. Only when you think he’s drinking a bit too long do you try to pull away, but his arm loops around your waist, bringing you even closer as the amount of blood he’s taking increases with how deep his fangs are.
You feel so cold, yet heat burns through your very blood. It makes your head dizzy, and you take it as a sign that he’s had enough.
You only manage to speak a few seconds later, breathless. “Astarion.”
He pulls away, seemingly out of breath himself as he releases his hold on the rest of your body. He runs his tongue over the access, staining the side of his mouth. He uses his finger to make sure the rest is off his face. “I know.”
He rarely feeds so messily, so you discern he wasn’t lying when he said he hadn’t been drinking well. Knowing he wasn’t deceiving you brings little relief, but it’s still a welcome feeling. Rubbing at your wrist and the two puncture wounds now residing there, you stand up and slug your sack over your shoulder. He watches you the entire time, and you hate that you can never seem to read his expressions—only one, and that’s whenever he claims to despise your very existence.
His shoulder has already stopped bleeding.
“Why didn’t you drink from those people at Sharess’ Caress?” you finally say.
“Their blood…” he pauses, trailing off, and suddenly he seems to change his mind. “...I've grown tired of it.”
“Blood is just blood, isn’t it?”
He stares at you for a moment, then laughs.
“I wish it was, darling.”
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@bitterbeanren Please let me know if I didn't add you to the list or if you'd like to be added!
#baldur's gate 3#astarion ancunin#baldur's gate astarion#bg3 astarion#astarion x tav#astarion x reader#astarion#bg3 x reader#fluff#bg3#angst
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✮ DEMO (238K) ✮ FAQ ✮ PLAYLISTS ✮ PATREON
Latest update -> 12/01/2023
You're going to be a superstar, no matter what it takes.
You and your friends have been in a band since high school, when all you were was a lead singer to a band that played out of someone's garage and did occasional birthday party gigs for the neighborhood kids. after years of grinding, your band has yet to make it big, but has managed a small and dedicated cult following. All you and your bandmates want is to see your names in glittery lights, traveling the world to perform for millions of fans.
Your chance comes in Misfit Alley's Battle of the Bands. After auditioning every year with no success, your band has finally gotten the opportunity to tour across the United States and open for the biggest band in the world, performing against other bands in the hopes that you win and get signed.
As you perform, your fame rises and you can see the dream coming to fruition. But with fame comes problems of its own, some that might just ruin you and the band you swore to take to the top.
Infamous is rated 18+ for explicit language, explicit sexual themes, drug and alcohol use, violence, morally questionable behavior, and more.
✮ FEATURES ✮ CHARACTER INTROS ✮
Customize your MC (the lead singer of your band)'s appearance and personality, as well as their public image and persona. Are they loved or hated by the public? Controversial or appeasing? Humble or arrogant? Fame and money-hungry or simply there for the music?
Following that, work on your band's public image and whether they're mainstream or underground, depending on the choice of music you release and what kind of promo you do. Is your band hated by parents due to its explicit content or is your band squeaky clean, perfect for a mainstream label?
Engage in fiery romance with an array of wild characters, including some that may just get you into hot water with the rumor mill.
Create your own lyrics and decide whether you want to be a genuine artist or the face of a brand.
Get rich and famous ! Isn't that what you're here for?
✮THE BAND + ROs✮
The Band Manager: Orion/Oriana Quinn ✮ he/him or she/her, 35 ✮ [RO] -- strict and reserved, O is the antithesis of what a rockstar is. Some call their cold and uptight demeanor having 'a stick up their ass' but they call it being business focused. O is all about bringing the band to the top, which includes being professional at all times.
Special romance route: you can choose to have been chasing O for years, to no success (until now?)
The New Addition: August Pierce ✮ they/them, 26 ✮ [RO] -- With the exit of your bandmate, August has taken her place as the band's drummer. Usually shy and reserved, that all goes out the window once they start playing. You wonder if their isolation is less a personality trait and more the fact that they're in a band with longtime friends. Doesn't matter--seems like it'll take a while for you to get close to them regardless.
The Idol: Griffin/Gina 'Gigi' Reign ✮ he/him or she/her, 28 ✮ [RO] -- the spunky, charming and controversial lead singer of Misfit Alley and now your mentor, G Reign is currently the most famous person on Earth. Everyone either hates them, wants to be them, or wants to fuck them. Of course, this means a slew of trouble if one gets close to them...that is if they even allow it.
Special romance route: engage in an affair / engage in a strictly physical relationship (that can lead to a romantic one) // poly route with Victoria Valentine
The Rival: Seven Lawless ✮ he/him or she/her, 27 ✮ [RO] -- once your best friend or ex, they are now your rival and the lead singer of Soft Violence, another band competing for Battle of the Bands. They hate you. Still, the line between love and hate is a whole lot of passion.
Special romance route: can either be an ex or a former best friend, enemies to lovers.
The Girl Dad: Sebastian Holland ✮ he/him, 33 ✮ [RO] -- a normal and friendly data analyst, Sebastian isn't about the music scene....but his daughter is and she's a superfan of your band. Sebastian is your typical 'nice guy' almost too nice, sometimes, and has been dragged along by his daughter to follow the Battle of the Bands for her birthday. He's just a normal civilian. The last thing you should do is get to know him, right?
The Eye Candy: Victoria Valentine ✮ she/her, 27 ✮ [RO] -- G Reign's wife, she's an upcoming actress and model. Victoria has been G's eye candy since they came up on the scene, but you can almost sense the tension between them. And the way Victoria seeks shelter in someone else...that could be you.
Special romance route: engage in an affair // poly route with G Reign
✮BAND MEMBERS✮
Rowan Hart (he/him) -- guitarist
Iris De Luca (she/her) - keyboardist
Devyn Powell -- (they/she) bassist, background vocals
reblogs appreciated! and thank you for your interestttt
#choice script#interactive game#interactive fiction#interactive novel#cog game#hosted game#dashingdon#interact-if#if wip#interactive fiction wip#choice of games#cog
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i've got headaches and bad luck but they couldn't touch you
[not my gif. title from song Of All the Gin Joints in All the World]
pairing: joel miller x fem!reader (afab, use of she/her, use of the word girl)
rating: explicit. (18+. mdni.)
word count: 4.6k
requested: Could you write something (literally anything really) like mean Joel x feisty Reader but based on the ancient Fall Out Boys song "Of All the Gin Joints in All the World" pretty please? 🥺🥹 I was just listening and I thought the lyrics were perfect for your writing ❤️But as always no pressure and no problem at all if you don't like the idea or anything else. Lots of love! P.S. smut is very welcome btw hihihi
summary: “Joel's not one for feelings anymore, but you seem to pull them out of him like it's your goddamn job."
warnings: established previous hookups, use of girl/babygirl, established age gap (unspecified but addressed openly), brief mention of oral m!receiving, brief mention of reader and joel’s canon-typical scars. choking, mean!Joel & brat tamer!Joel, brat!reader lol, dirty talk (its joel), degradation, use of the word slut, slight dumbification, spitting, rough sex, unprotected PiV, cum eating, nipple play, slapping (tits, ass). think that's it!
notes: okay finally another mean!Joel for the soul!!! this is super unedited also. tysm for the request, obv inspired by the song Of All The Gin Joints in All the World by FOB. :) this was fun and i hope yall love it! dont b afraid to request anything yall wanna read at all and as always pls comment or reblog :) love u xoxo
[other Joel fics: mr. miller series fever landmines ]
★
Joel Miller isn't sure exactly when all this bullshit started.
one day, he was introduced to you fleetingly in the cafeteria while you and Maria had an intense conversation - he’s not sure if you spoke for more than ten seconds; but months later and Joel happens to know exactly what your sweaty skin tastes like on the sharpness of his tongue and could probably list his favorite pairs of underwear you own.
it's nothing, really.
you patrol together often, and Joel guesses that out of all the insufferable people he's had to deal with, you're definitely not the worst. perhaps your handiness with a trigger - not nearly as inept as his own but definitely a close second - helps; or maybe it's the way your mouth feels wrapped around his cock.
and he's not stupid; he knows exactly what Tommy was doing when he signed Joel with you for patrol - the same shit he'd been pulling since they were thirty years younger and Joel was fresh out of the relationship with Sarah's mom. but it's different now, because life is not the same - nothing is the same.
Joel's not one for feelings anymore, but you seem to pull them out of him like it's your goddamn job.
you are one talkative motherfucker; usually, that'd drive Joel up a wall, but after repeated and incessant exposure to Ellie for such an extended period, his patience has surprisingly grown.
and unlike others, you never acted nervous or scared by him. irritated, maybe, but it's not like he cares much if you get irritated by his attitude; you're worse than he can be.
at first, he thought you were just fucking him because you just didn't know who he really was yet. but months into whatever this shit is, and you're still - for whatever fucking reason - hanging around him, even after everything. he likes it, though, that you fight fire with fire.
and maybe that's why Tommy stuck you two together, because in some ways it was inevitable - maybe it was a good thing, Joel thinks.
but this morning, as Joel's mind slams against his body, jolting him awake, his aching head makes him double-guess that.
it's weird how different it all is now - before you, Joel was tortured through nights plagued with sweats and memories. blood, pain, loss. he used to dream restlessly of life and all of its unforgiving horrors; but now, to his shock, he finds himself plagued with dreams of you.
he gasps awake - he's not sure he'll ever stop that.
but this time, you're next to him in the bed. his skin feels warm as the light filters through the blinds that stay constantly pulled down this time of year to retain the cool air and Joel lets out a shuttered sigh, his head aching.
it's only the second time you've stayed the night. he's never stayed at yours, god forbid - but a small part of him aches this morning when you slide out of his heavy, sleep-addled muscles. in the absence of your heat there is still bliss for a moment, until he's roused fully by your voice.
"these sheets are dirty." the sound carries into his ears, melodic and fiery. he cracks one eye open, hand raising to rub over his face - a deep, tired sigh.
"g'mornin' to you too." he snarks, sighing as he pulls himself on aching muscles to blink his eyes open; you stand over the bed, on the side that usually remains cold an empty while Joel thrashes in fits of restless sleep. there's not a single scrap of clothing on your body.
he feels himself stir at the sight of you, naked, neck painted in a splattering of beautiful marks that'd been pulled forth in moments of ecstasy the night before.
you send him a half smirk, shrugging as you tug on a shirt - his, fuck, his stomach swirls at the sight of you wrapped in him. something primal crawls in his chest as you smile at him, legs almost glowing in their bareness as they knock against the side of the mattress. your fingers brush the fabric to the left of his head.
"there's stains on the pillows." you shake your head, your face alluring in its tease. he feels himself roll his eyes as he grunts, "you're actin' like it ain't your makeup stainin' it?"
he stares at the marks on the pillowcase; black, from that shit you sometimes put on your eyes which just makes them all the more beautiful, wide, and alluring. the makeup that's surely expired after all this time but still is something you like to do to, as you'd mentioned once, 'reclaim your humanity.' whatever.
Joel would never admit it to you, but he hadn't even really tried to wash out those stains; something about them gives him a warmth in his chest every morning that he wakes up in this cold bed.
but when his eyes fall back to you in your silence, you smirk and it hits him: you're fucking teasing him.
he glares at you as your lips curl in a huff of a laugh, shaking your head. "if you keep complainin' about every damn thing, might as well just fuck you on the floor." he mutters, mostly to himself- but also to see the way your thighs shift, eyes widening slightly as color washes your cheeks. you're squirming at his words, just like that - oh, he's got you pinned.
you'd like that, you dirty little thing.
but you regain your composure quicker than lightning, ready to snap back; yet another tally to add on the list of things he admires about you.
"you're such a gentleman, Miller." you snide, fanning yourself sardonically with one hand as you roll your eyes, searching for your underwear.
he remembers the first time you'd said that to him -
"why so shy?" you'd purred.
the memory of your voice curls around his ears as he huffs, watching you bend over and give him a complete view of your ass as you fetch your panties from the floor.
"c'mon, Joel, you don't need to be such a gentleman. 's nothing you haven't seen before." you'd stripped yourself of your shirt, your pert nipples pebbling in the cold breeze as he'd sat, cleaning his rifle. "the hell's the matter with you?" he'd grumbled; but it didn't stop either of you. you'd been pressed between him and the splitting backseat of the broken down crashed car within seconds, anyways.
his eyes meet yours as you stand again.
he snarks, "well you’re givin' me a headache, an' I've only been up for two minutes." he glares at you, swinging to pull his boxers over his hips, standing up to find his shirt. he pointedly ignores the glare you send him at his grumpiness.
"you're the one acting dumb," you mutter, "acting like I'm the one who gives you headaches." you retort, a teasing glint in your eye; he knows that look. Joel knows you'd never get a headache from him - as much as he pisses you off, he knows you're too fiery, too lucky to get caught up in whatever miserable puddle he's drowning in.
because Joel's bad luck curls around his fists wherever he goes; the talons reaching out, crawling through every hallway and seeping through every door. you, on the other hand, are like a goddamn firecracker. Joel hates the idea, but you're... somehow gifted in that way.
he's convinced his bad luck couldn't touch you if it tried.
no matter the dumb shit you pull - forgetting a flashlight, not flipping off your safety that one moment when the clicker had stumbled out of the brush; all of that, and you escape unscathed, nothing but a giggle and a half-shrug from you before you move on to the next stupid thing.
if you weren't such a goddamn brat, it'd be charming.
his eyes snap to yours as your words fall from your lips; a burning in his chest at your tone. he watches your legs carry you into his bathroom, and he can't help it when his follow yours.
you haven't even flipped on the lights before he shuts the door behind him - you're already wearing that snarky fucking smile on your face, and he's straining already against his boxers.
he stares down at you, crowding you slowly into the wall. "what the fuck did you just say to me?" he hisses, mouth close to yours. as you turn your chin up towards his face, he can tell that you try your hardest to control your smirk, playing into the tense energy that's emanating from his chest.
"I said you're acting dumb."
you repeat, tilting your head slightly as you drink in the darkness in his eyes. lord, you'd let that darkness swallow you in a fucking heartbeat.
speaking of; your own heartbeat thunders in your chest, anticipating. you know what's coming, you can nearly taste it on your tongue.
"oh, 's that right?" Joel asks, tilting his head to stare down at you. you swallow as you stare back into those deep irises, the small bit of golden light that shines through the small bathroom window illuminating in an ominously heavenly ray.
his hand settles on the crook of your shoulder and neck, sliding gently upwards as you nod your head defiantly, pushing as far as you can to see when he'll snap. his eyes glisten in temptation; daring you to act up more.
raising your brows, you try to play like it's obvious, "waking up and complaining about your headaches, old man?" you tut gently, shaking your head innocently. "I don't think it's my fault that you fucked me twice, immediately passed out and now your head hurts when you've woken up the next morning. you know better than to push yourself in your old age, Joel. that's stupid." you add coyly, knowing it'll push him over the edge - he loves it when you act like a brat, no matter how much he denies it.
his response is immediate and exactly what you'd hoped for.
he's on you in a split second - hand sliding from your shoulder to grip your throat, pushing you back onto the wall of the bathroom. the towel bar digs into your middle-back slightly and you gasp in arousal at the force of his body on yours. you can feel his cock, hard and straining in his boxers, as it presses into your lower stomach.
"y'wanna play like that, baby?" he growls, "why you fuckin' around with an old man like me, then?" he asks.
your face heats up, arousal flooding your core, your cunt slowly wetting itself at the purr of his voice - the meaner the words, the larger the flame.
"hm?" he gently pushes, raising his brows as his hand squeezes gently on your throat, nudging you against the wall further; your gasp is slightly rasped under the pressure, your whole body screaming with desire. this is what you love - mean, angry, hungry Joel Miller. "'s it because nobody fucks you like I do, is that it?"
his knee slides between yours, wedging himself high up, rubbing suddenly against your aching pussy, the material of your cotton already soaked with a damp spot that rubs against his thick thigh.
"Joel, fuck-" you groan, already willing to just do what you can to get him to touch you. his hand on your throat tightens at your word, thigh rutting up to slide against your needy clit, your hips bucking at the feeling. "-'s because nobody else is so easy." your fiery mouth betrays your body; the snarky comment snaps his eyes to yours, a dark breath leaving his lips.
"that's ironic," he snaps, "comin' from someone who begged me to fuck them for hours."
your face burns at the memory of the first time you and Joel'd hooked up; your desperate voice hoarse from pleading him to fuck you - out in the middle of the woods, a sleeping bag that, by the end, had rips on it from rocks and twigs and the force of his thrusts; the shyness gone from either of you as your touches made up for all the silence between you.
he hums lowly, watching you as you swallow at the memory, his thigh rutting up again and pulling a yelp of pleasure from your lips. "y'don't feel so high 'n mighty when I fuck you stupid, right baby?" he asks, voice dripping with condescendence as he nods gently, encouraging you to answer him. your core throbs at his words, your mouth going dry.
his hand leaves your throat; you swallow a gulp of air, staring with wide eyes as he grasps your jaw roughly. "answer me."
"n-no, I don't." you mutter, voice sounding small; the arousal that pulses through your veins begs your mouth to be smart, do what Joel says so he'll give in to what you want.
he smirks, hands roughly grabbing the thick of your hips and flipping you around to press you against the counter, your hips bending as he shoves himself just behind you. your eyes meet yourself and his own hawkish gaze in the mirror in front of you; your heated breath fogs up the mirror in the faint morning light.
his fingers thread through your hair, tugging you back again as he tilts your head back. his upside down face, smirking down at you, has your thighs clenching - "open." he orders, voice stern.
your tongue sticks out and he wastes no time spitting roughly onto your tongue, moving your head back to stare into the mirror; his eyes meet yours as his spit slides over your tongue and his furrowed brows twitch with a slight smirk. "look at you, doin' what I tell you. now swallow it and say thank you."
your core flutters at his words deliciously as you do as you're told; swallowing, you take a breath and mutter, "thank you," - though it's more breathless than you expected, Joel seems to approve. he hums, "there are those manners," he mutters into your ear, cock pressing against the swell of your ass. "almost seemed like you'd forgotten you had them."
"didn't forget." you mutter, face heating up as your pussy aches, fluttering around nothing and desiring for his fingers, his cock - anything.
one rough palm slides his shirt up your torso, exposing your bare tits to both of you through the mirror. with his face stooped down near your neck, a short inhale of your hair before his hand reaches it's destination - your throat.
"then why're you actin' up?" he rasps, teeth grazing your shoulder. he squeezes his hand again and your eyes roll back in pleasure, arousal soon slicking your thighs as you think you may die from all the teasing. "you don't wanna cum?"
your eyes widen, breath halting as you shake your head, "wh- no- no!" you hiss, "I do want to cum, please."
his other hand raises, slapping your breast harsh and quick; your gasp of shock tapers off into a whine of pleasure, your nipples hard in arousal as his palm comes to soothe over the sting.
"then why're you acting like this?" he asks again, shaking his head. another slap, this time to your other breast. his eyes follow the skin of your chest; the way you gasp, your whines at the slight stinging and the pleasure that follows. fingers pinch your nipples, teasing in circles before another sharp slap echoes through the room. "just a little brat, y'can't help yourself." he decides, biting on your neck lightly.
you can feel him rut against you hard, grinding his hips as he lets out a short groan. you let out a low moan, whining slightly when he smacks your tits again, skin glowing with the impact. his eyes meet yours in the mirror. "quit the whinin'," he grunts, rutting his hard cock against your ass, "you'll be stuffed full of me soon enough." he grunts, "then we'll see who's dumb."
your shaky moan sounds more like a groan, elbows falling to steady yourself as Joel releases your throat, tossing you forward to grab your hips instead. he pulls you back, grinding into you as his head tilts back in how own small groan of pleasure. "this ass." Joel grunts to himself as he palms the curve of your ass in both large hands, one falling to smack harsh onto the left.
you're dripping down the inside of your thighs as he ruts against you twice more; thick fingers soon slide to thumb at the slick wet of your panties. his fingers tease the wet material that's glued to your pussy with need, tracing over your lips lightly over the fabric. "pretty pussy, just for me." he mutters; you nod, looking up at him through the mirror, "all for you, Joel." you affirm, voice shaking with anticipation.
"you gonna be good when I fill you up, baby?" he lifts his brow, stern look as he palms himself. fuck, he's so sexy behind you like this, his thumb slowly dragging the material of your panties to the side and exposing your weeping cunt; you nod, "yes, I'll do anything-"
you're cut off by a sharp gasp as the stretch of his cock's head cuts off your brain. he eases in gently at first which you're more than grateful for - no matter how many times Joel fucks you, his size is always something you have to adjust to; especially after your rounds last night left you barely able to walk straight.
he lets out a breath, "there y'go, baby, take me." he says it surprisingly gently, easing in inch by inch as you breathe deeply, your soaked pussy easing his cock through your channels. his cock is heavy and aching as he slides into you, sheathing you fully within another few seconds - Joel's hands grip so hard on your ass, splaying you open for him, that you think his fingers will remain there for days.
he's still only for a moment, letting you accommodate to his size before he's leaning forward to press his chest to your back, "gonna fuck you stupid, baby."
"please, Joel," you groan, cunt fluttering, begging him to move. "do it."
it's all that he needs before he's setting a pace that has you whining under him, your breath choking as you brace yourself agains the counter of the sink.
it's bliss. his hips are sharp, the reach of his cock pressing against the spongy spot inside you, dragging against your pulsing walls. "fuck, so deep-" you hiss, eyes closing in pleasure as he presses himself against you, hips surely going to bruise against the thrusts that shove you into the countertop.
one hand sneaks over your front, grasping at your tits as his cock reaches up into you deeply. he lets out a grunt, "fuckin'- christ, you're s-so tight," he grunts, "even after fuckin' you all night."
you moan, the quick bout of his praise causing you to squeeze around him, trapping him in your aching desire. the both of you moan at the feeling and suddenly one hand presses on your spine until you're low to the counter. his hands grab your shoulders, fingers curling around the base of your throat as he changes his pace to hard and rough, the sound of your ass against his hips nearly hitting your ears over your cries of pleasure.
the noises of your arousal swallowing his cock echo around the room in a familiar, comforting chorus as you both let out shuttering moans; his strong arms pull you back until you're once again pressed against his broad chest. his breath fans over your neck and you whine slightly when his thrusts press you up onto your tip-toes. his lips find your ear, "how's that feel?" your hole flutters from the deepness in his voice - he groans at the feeling.
your response is a whine of ecstasy as you claw at his forearms, head tilting back until you can almost feel his erratic heartbeat. his chest rumbles with a light chuckle, "look, barely took ya any time to get fucked out on my cock," he praises, hand petting your wild hair, "knew you'd be good for me. always take what I give you, right?"
you nod, desperate to reach the climax that's easily built within you from the stretch of him deep in you and his voice in your ear. your clit aches from being ignored and your hand snakes down to rub light circles on it; your hips jolt as you gasp raggedly, eyes fluttering shut in pleasure.
"no." he growls, hand grabbing your jaw sternly as he pounds into you, "when I'm fuckin' you, you keep your eyes on me." he snaps, squeezing your cheeks. "'s that clear?"
you nod in the mirror, whines getting louder as his name falls nearly incoherently from your lips- you see his lips ghost over your neck, the smirk that spreads over his pink lips as you finally get out a strangled, "Joelpleaseplease- s'close-"
he knows what you need; you and Joel are each other's best escape. he pistons into you hard, chasing your high as he feels it spasming close around him. "easy, huh?" he snarls, hips just as harsh as his words, eyes sharp on yours. "who's easy, baby - me, or the one beggin' like a slut to cum on my cock?"
for someone so quiet and closed off, Joel Miller has never shied away from using his goddamn words when he's fucking you, that's for sure. his words, his accent - they push you towards the edge and it almost distracts you from his question. his eyebrows raise in the silence as you gasp for words, moans choked as his fingers slide down from your jaw to squeeze your throat.
"look at'cha, can't even speak for me," he groans, his hand suddenly snaking down to smack your away from your clit; two larger, calloused fingers replace your shaky ones and you wail at the stimulation, almost too much.
you blink up at him through the mirror, unable to speak, unable to think as you feel the crest of something incredibly blissful growing; you let out a whine of ecstasy. "I'm- I'm easy," you concede, finally able to spit your words out, your voice higher than normal in your pleasure.
Joel nods, kissing your sweaty hairline, "'s goddamn right you are, babygirl," he hisses, "easy for me. this pretty little pussy is mine, isn't it?"
you scream, "yours, Joel-" before he barely finishes the sentence.
with your words, he smiles against your neck - the feeling of it sends goosebumps over your whole torso. "you're a lucky girl," he growls in your ear, teeth brushing the shell before licking it gently, "you can cum."
you barely realize you've hit your orgasm until you’re writhing - a white-hot, searing arousal streaking your vision as your eyes roll back. he fucks you steadily through your orgasm, your thighs closing slightly around his large palm, but his fingers don't stop their motions on your clit.
you shake and stutter for gasps as he pounds into you, chasing his own high that's been spurred - by your own words or the clenching of your orgasm around him, you're unsure.
"love how you feel-" he groans, voice weakening as he nears his own orgasm, hips sloppy as he pushes your face down, against the cool tile of the bathroom sink. "fuck, baby, made to take this cock."
his sentences are choppy, his gasps and grunts of pleasure mixing with the slap of your ass against him as he thrusts, your legs tired as he fills you full and then suddenly pulls out. you gasp at the suddenness of his absence, turning to look at him as if betrayed - but he looks completely gone, eyes dark with need. "gonna cum on your tits, sweetheart."
your stomach flips at the word - one he's never used before - and you relax into his harsh grip, moving down to the ground on your knees as he grunts, "take this shit off now."
his shirt is on the ground in half a second, your breasts bare to him as he fists his cock, eyes on you and lidded with pleasure. your hands fall onto his strong thighs, looking up at him in awe as he fists his cock, slick with your sticky spend, tip flushed and veins stretching over the shaft. "please, cum on me, want it so bad, Joel," you whine - his hand caresses your jaw and slips over your lips, sticking his thumb into your mouth. you suck eagerly and he moans your name deep, head tilting back in ecstasy.
"fuck," he grunts, slipping his thumb out of your mouth before you can even swirl your tongue around it, and then he's hitting his orgasm.
ropes of his cum land on your tits, a small bit gathering on your chin as he slows his hand, letting out a few sharp breaths. he's barely caught his breath before your fingers are gathering a swipe of his thick cum, bringing it to your mouth. his dark eyes follow you through his labored breaths as you slowly suck his spend off of your fingers, "fuckin'- pretty," he mumbles into his hand as he runs a palm over his face, shaking his head.
you smile, cheeks heating up. the sun is rising and the room is fully golden, bouncing off the mirror and illuminating his tan skin, the scars on his body and yours. he's pretty, you realize.
you tell him so, quietly - in the silence of the bathroom. his scowl softens and you swear you see a blush forming as he rolls his eyes down at you from where you perch on the linoleum.
Joel always says you only tell him sweet things to get him to fuck you - but in the afterglow of your actions, you catch sight of your makeup-stained pillowcase back in Joel's bedroom and it makes you grin. you know he doesn't wash it for a reason, the same reason you keep coming back to him.
and you also know that the way he smooths his thumb over your hairline, the way your own hands in turn soothe over his thighs - those actions, they make up for everything else that's unspoken.
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taglist: @satansgoatt @elissaaa @queerponcho @bbyanarchist @lapricot @umavvitch @asreadbyaj @dinsbaby @cottoncandytomu @onmytallesttiptoess @switchbladedreamz @missannwinchester @abs-2020 @afandomidiot @cosm1c-babe @rogersbarnesxx @carleenphillips-blog @bonnibuckets @nightlovechild @jazzyspasms @girlboybug @cannolighost @pastelnap @userpedros @feministfanboi @frogers @grhowls @daddy-din @gothoppered @totallynotastanacc @robbatlover @casssiopeia @wannab-urs @redhotkitchen @joelapologist2001 @silkiers
message me if i forgot to tag u. i was pretty lazy with this one sorry. requests are open.
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#joel miller x reader smut#joel miller smut#joel tlou smut#joel x reader smut#joel x reader#joel smut#joel tlou#tlou fanfiction#tlou spoilers#tlou hbo#the last of us smut#the last of us (tv)#the last of us x reader#joel miller x you#joel miller x reader#pedro pascal x reader
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