#hitting my head on a brick wall repeatedly | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

maximumkillshot · 3 months

Text

Home

Warnings: There are a lot with this one and it hits close to home. Mentions of S/A. The R word is used, sobbing, anxiety and mental episode. mentions of self harm, mentions victim blaming and slut shaming. MDNI. There is fluff spattered around.

Pairing: BangChanxReader

Characters: Bang Chan, Reader, mention of the person who S/A, people Slut Shaming and Victim Blaming.

A/N: Okay so this one is heavy. The things you are about to read have happened to me. I had a mental episode a while back. I wrote most of this during said episode. This is what I think Chan would do for his S/O if they went through and go through what I did. This blog has always been a safe space. I use my fictions to entertain as well as a platform to have safe conversations. If you need me as always I will hang around after drop.

I Can't Lose You Masterlist-CLICK HERE

Stray Kids Masterlist-CLICK HERE

ALL WORK IS UNDER ME AND MY BLOG. DO NOT TRY TO REPUBLISH OR STEAL MY WORK, AS THAT IS COPYRIGHTED UNDER ME AND IS CONSIDERED COPYRIGHT INFRINGEMENT WHICH IS A PUNISHABLE OFFENSE.

ANY WORK THAT YOU SEE ON OTHER SITES THAT ARE MY WORKS PLEASE NOTIFY ME IMMEDIATELY.

“YN?” Your husband called out to you. You couldn't hear him from the pressure of today. It created a seething pool of frustration and anger as you kneeled at the foot of the bed, wanting to pray, but now that you think about it the pain of being on the floor was a sweet torture in and of itself.

Usually, anger like this wouldn't be a problem for you. You would go down to the basement and punch granite with your poorly taped hands, yes you were only a kid then, not knowing how else to get the anger out only stopping when you'd hear a crunch. Yes, that was the start of negative coping mechanisms, and yes you are trying to either bury that anger or let it consume you fast before Chris gets home. He's dealt with enough, we don't need to add on to it.

Now you're no longer a child… as a matter of fact, you are now an adult, an adult with a hairpin trigger vaguely yet expertly disguised as comedic sarcasm. Depression that you don't remember not having… maybe when you were 8? You weren't sure. Not to mention a cast made of a myriad of physical and mental health issues…. Disabilities… and the cast of characters just keep growing! You have the medicine and the “coping techniques”, they called it, for success! Even those fail.

Trying to talk it out just made you more angry, the injustice looking more and more ludicrous by the second. Okay, let's try breathing. Yeah no. That didn't work either, it just gave your brain more oxygen, so your brain went from quantum computer speed to Sonic the fucking Hedgehog. Oh… ok oh oh! Let's try soundboarding. You know, talk to people, not yourself. That ended in yet another game of useless catch phrases like “calm down” and “you shouldn't be thinking of that.”

TELL ME SOMETHING I DON'T FUCKING KNOW THANK YOU! Oh, and I almost forgot the “Your method of thought isn't changing because you don't want to change '' DO YOU THINK I AM POKED ALL DAY AND SAY TO MYSELF…

‘OH I WANT TO FEEL MORE LIKE SHIT… I KNOW LET ME RUN MY FACE INTO A BRICK WALL OF ANXIETY REPEATEDLY UNTIL I CAN'T CONTROL MYSELF ANYMORE.’

You reverted to hurting the people around you due to your anger and frustration, plus you darkened the mood, you've always been a multitasker. My friends were right. I'm depressing, I was only kept around because of my ex. That was before they kicked me out… because they didn't want to believe he assaulted me. You go back to that night often…

“I didn’t want to do that, I felt icky” You told him after he came back from cleaning himself up in the bathroom, while you were left to clean the traces of himself from your own mouth. No aftercare, no thought about you. The ghost of a boy who used you, who was an on and off friend of almost 10 years…

“I know.” he answered with no emotion.

“Then… why?” You asked, your head cocked to the side.

“Because I really wanted it.” He puts his hand on your shoulder, “But I’m sorry you feel that way. Shit now I feel bad.”

Then it switched to those friends, on another night… “ I just don’t buy it. That DID NOT HAPPEN, I know him better than you.”

“I mean you did it anyway so you must’ve wanted it.”

You tried to explain that you were assaulted, it’s called coercive consent and it’s the most common form of assault. You were raped. You didn’t want to do it and he knew that but you wanted to make him happy. You tried to explain, to educate. They weren’t having it.This conversation at times whirls in your head. Making you itch to pull a trigger, do something to make the torture stop.

“You always overreact and you’re so annoying why don’t you just go the fuck away!”

“You’re so depressing just fucking go away! We only tolerated you because you are his girlfriend, just go the fuck away!” The intent in her voice. The reality. You trusted her most out of the entire group. She helped you emotionally… Now shaming you, blaming you.

Her boyfriend rendered you speachless when you called it what it was, it was rape via coercive consent:

“Oh I get the kind of person you are, you’re the type of person who gets felt up in the middle of the night by their significant other because they’re trying to get laid and you call it rape.”

You know the right method to take now, right… Yeah you do.

Isolate… process… torture yourself…cry… alone. Contain the monster, so it doesn't hurt anyone else… You're just a monster parading as a human. Don't forget it. This happens when you forget Y/N… stop being reckless. Always so fucking reckless…

You started clenching your hands one over the other, wanting to rake the top of your hands until they bled, trying to ground yourself. Until subconsciously, you did. You rocked as you did it, trying to soothe yourself.

Sometimes you swear people don't see you drowning right in front of their fucking eyes. You know how to swim, you know how to get out, to scream, punch, fight. You want to swim, you really do. But you can only do so much in a rip current. The lifeguard sees you. But instead of helping they yell “PADDLE! JUST PADDLE YOU'LL BE FINE!” It's a different level of patronization. It just makes you want to let the tides swallow you. Because why fight when the waters are so warm?

“Y/N?!” Chris yelled as he saw your bag tossed haphazardly on the couch, never where you put it. He stopped and listened carefully. He thought back to the last text you sent him. “Shit hit the fan at work …I don't want to feel right now. I'll see you at home.”

That middle sentence made his heart stop. He knows you… something was up. He tried texting you back, sending words of encouragement, calling, and leaving cute messages when you didn't pick up, and nothing was heard from you. As soon as he could get away from schedules he did. When he looked at the clock you had sent that message three hours beforehand, he never raced home faster.

He knows what your mind does to you. He sees the battles every day. When he’d compliment you and you would look down, not shy, but contradictory. When he’d pick you up you would freeze and he’d remind you that you aren’t too heavy, that he loves you in every single way that you think is impossible to love you. He’d always encourage you to wear what you want, do what you want. He would caress every single curve, never being able to keep his hands off of you. Whispering into your ear in public as he tilts your head up gently after asking for permission. He’d kiss you so delicately in front of a sea of people. On the red carpet, on stage, it didn’t matter. You were and are his person, and he loved showing you off. He couldn’t win the war in your mind for you, but he damn sure would fight those battles with you.

He would fight away those negative thoughts, he’d wrap his arms around you and sing to you to will those images, the anxiety and fear away. Until those thoughts were rendered useless. He’d wrestle with them for control, as soon as he won your mind back he gave it to you. He reminded you that you are here with him for a reason. He adores you, and nothing would change that.

It was something he promised you when he saw you breakdown while doing your medicines. You told him that you were ashamed of it all. All the illnesses, that you weren’t perfect and that you’d understand if he didn’t want you. He looked at you and helped with your medicines, learned about each of them, and their dosages. He was so gentle, smiling at you, wiping your tears. He looked at all the medicines and said, anything that keeps you alive is nothing to be ashamed of. You aren’t something to be ashamed of. He knows that sometimes you can’t hear him until he’s right in your ear. Now looked like that case.

You couldn't hear him calling out to you, your mind too loud, too vicious, bloodthirsty. When pain and self-deprecation are your main moods, all others seem like an abnormal concept. Something that is stolen, was it even real in the first place? You know one thing that was real… Chris. You hated being this… the medications, the constant fires in your mind, the barrage of hate aimed at yourself, of unbridled strength turned inward to rip yourself apart for no reason other than things piling up. He didn't deserve that. He deserves peace, the best… just like what he demands of himself, perfection.

You got through the gauntlet at your job. People undermining your authority, people on a power trip of their own. Sending others to try to intimidate, embarrass you into submission… as if you weren't a bloodthirsty wolf that could snap any second, biting their heads clean off. “An Alpha through and through,” that's what Chris would say, “Even Alphas have to bite their tongue, Love.”

That made you cry more because at this point you don't even know if your tongue is still existent, or if you swallowed the damn thing after you bit it off. Or worse… you still have it… but you lost your voice. You know that can't be it, we're too fucking stubborn for that.

But the hits didn't stop coming, traffic happened, then going to the doctor who said that the physical therapy you needed would eat into your personal time, your time to write, to cook for Channie and the boys, to spend time with Channie and the boys.. then you forgot the doctors note so you had to walk back in for it. Then you had to go home while you tried to talk about everything… and well now here we are.

Even now you try to problem solve, try to nitpick at yourself, the person he loves so much. You collapsed more on the floor of your shared bedroom, cross-legged thinking of the ocean, the violent, dangerous, tumultuous ocean… something simultaneously so beautiful and scary. You want to say you are like an ocean, but you don't see beauty in yourself, only a beast. That's all we'll ever be.

Chris freezes in the hallway hearing a sob break loose from you. He hadn't heard a sob like that before, it chilled his core. How does he approach this? He sees the doctor's note thrown next to your purse… He was happy you were approved for physical therapy, you really were in a lot of pain daily from the muscle and tendon weakness, but he looked at the times…

He looked to the hallway, “Oh…Baby Girl.” He had one piece of the puzzle. He knew you loved to cook for him and the boys but this schedule meant you couldn't do that for the foreseeable future. You enjoyed seeing the boys eating, and staying fueled, knowing without that they'd opt for less healthy options. Then he saw the paper right under it. A typed log… a leger of interactions throughout your day… “No…”

Right there, in black and white, was what you went through today, everything down to the sarcastic smirk your coworker had as you were barraged with pressure to break the rules… and you didn't break. He never would've expected you to. You are the strongest person he knows. Even under these conditions, Chris himself would break. In front of fifty plus people being berated, pushed to do something you knew you couldn’t do.

Right at the end of it was a line, written in plain ink by hand. “Vacation not given as described by supervisor. No week off.” With tear stains smudging the ink.

Chris started walking down the hall to the shared bedroom. As he walked closer he heard you mumbling as you sobbed. Things like “stop crying” and “it's nothing.” But one made him freeze right before he opened the door, “Chris is going to worry. You already take too much from him, get it together so he won't worry. It’ll hurt him. Stop hurting the people you love. You’re a monster.”

That made his eyes sting, you were worried about him above all else. He slowly opened the door and you couldn't find it in you to look up. You knew who it was. The aura you know and love, like salve on the holes you ripped into yourself. The small steps were only weighed down by his sneakers as he slowly spoke.

“Hey…Baby Girl?” The tone was even more soothing. We don't deserve that. “Can you look at me please?” You just shook your head. Too embarrassed at the shambling mess you are. The real you that you hide.

Before you knew it you saw two big hands undoing the laces on his sneakers, shortly after he toed them off. Slowly he sat in front of you groaning “Oooooookay criss-cross applesauce it is…” making you smirk as you wiped your nose with the inside of the collar of your shirt. Finally, as he settled he said “aaaaaughh” with a big puff of air…

You just tucked your head into your chest as you hid as much as you could. He waited for a few minutes, until he said, “We can address what happened in a few minutes. But you need to know. You don't take from me.”

Your tears kept falling as you listened, his tone calming the raging currents in your mind.

He looked at the engagement and wedding band on your left hand. He watched the tears fall, he saw the holes in you. He wanted to lunge at you, take that emotional knife away from you, smother you in affection. Hold you, his heart burned for it. Needle and thread ready to patch you up. To heal you.

He spoke softly, “You are my everything, Y/N. You aren't a burden, a disappointment, you aren't a chore, the only thing you took from me was my heart, but you had that before I even heard your voice. The second I saw you… I gave it to you. I don't want it back either.”

You hiccuped breaths as you listened. He scooted a little closer and he put his hands out, palm up into your vision… asking for your hands. That was when you realized you were scratching at them again.

You unfurled them from one another, hissing where one nail was slightly deeper, the tiny droplet of blood following soon after.

He looked at your hands, humming in the back of his throat, “One second.” He didn’t want to show it, but he was worried. You feel so much and he just wants to be there to hold you, to love you.

Then popped up and left. He came back with a first aid kit, “Oooooookay heeaarr we goar again... criss-cross.” That made you giggle the tiniest bit. Chris always loved to hear your laugh. Your laugh is infectious and it always never fails to brighten his day. He knew he was making progress.

You couldn't see it but Chris was smirking at your tiny cute form. And hearing that little giggle made him want to channel Changbin and squeal at the cuteness overload.

“Okay my Koala Bear… hands.” When you both had started dating, he noticed you always hung on to him. You explained that he was warm and you were always frozen, especially in the colder months. You asked if it was okay for you to hold on to him like that. Internally he was trying his best not to giggle like a school boy at the prospect of you holding on to him like this naturally. He looked at you and said, “It’s no problem, you just remind me of a Koala Bear, so cute and tiny. Can I call you that? My Koala Bear?” And you nodded blushing. Since then, you’ve been his Koala Bear.

You presented your hands to him wincing at the stretch of the new scratches and he said “So tiny… so cute. Okay tiny sting” he cleaned the bigger scratch and put a bandage on it, and checked the rest. Once he deemed it all good to have your hands back. He kissed them then returned them to your lap. “Thank you for letting me clean them.”

You nodded and hummed. The voices slowed down. They always slowed down around him. He always was your safe place. Like home base in a baseball game. If you made it there, you’re safe. You’re home. That thought made you sad, surprisingly. How are you safe with only one person? You should have security in yourself not in someone else. Your brain was waiting to start assaulting you again.

“Is it loud in there?” Chris asked. You've told him about all of this before, this is the first time he's seen it this bad though. The voices, memories attack you. You explained to him that sometimes your brain will do this, you try to hold it back but sometimes it just can’t be helped.

“Mhmm”

“People don't help… right?”

“mhmm”

“Can you tell me what's going on in there?”

You told him. Some.. not all. You also told him about that pesky intrusive thought about your ex and your friends.

His body went rigid as he said, “No… they're the ones that are wrong, not you. Your ex…” He wanted to choose his words carefully. He knew that you blame yourself at times. The memory of you explaining why you were hesitant to go further when you were dating. He assured you there was no pressure. That he loved you for you, the rage boiled in him and it still does because you were never at fault for this. Especially when you trusted that asshole enough to experiment with him. He was going to be your first for everything but after what he did. The trust was gone, rightfully so.

Chris continued, “He took advantage of you, and coerced you into consent, that is not love. That is not okay? That is sexual assault. The way that your friends acted was disgusting, the way he acted was sub-human… You are not depressing, you are one of the most beautiful, talented, funny, caring, loving people I have…” his voice gave out and he cleared his throat, “You are one of the most amazing people I've ever met in my life. I love you so much and I know you feel like you're a burden on me but being with you has been the most amazing thing I've ever experienced.”

He tilted your head up and you let him, he had tears in his eyes as he said, “You have never been nor will you ever be a monster.” Your tears picked up as you looked into his eyes. You could tell, Chris doesn’t lie. He’ll tell you the truth. His tears started falling as you leaned forward, reaching for him, needing contact. When you saw him you needed his warmth, you need him to heal you. You were losing hope, faith, everything as you watched the holes in you. Seeing him holding the needle and thread. By holding you, being with you, just being himself, it heals you. You whimpered, “Need you…” As your tears switched from self-hate to desperation… you needed him and he could tell.

He untangled his legs and scooped you up, cradling you in his arms as he rocked you petting your hair back, “You are my inspiration, my eternal love, you are the best part of my past, my present, and my future. You are the future mother to my children, the woman I'm going to grow old with, my forever and always. You are my Y/N, and I am never going to let you forget who you are and why I love you, okay?” He started crying, shielding you in his chest, protecting you. Stitching you together as you heard his heartbeat. You cried on him, relieved that you were with him.

You pulled back from him nodding. He tried to kiss your lips but you said “I'm all snotty” and he giggled. Leave it to you to be worried about snotty kisses. You looked so adorable, cheeks and nose red, nose running, tears stopping, the twinkle coming back into your eyes as he looked at you.

“Are you denying me my snotty kisses?” He giggled as he said “Okay fine. There's no snot on your forehead” he pecked your forehead, “none on your cheeks”, and laid another peck, this pattern continued for any expanse of skin he could get his lips on as you giggled at him and his barrage of affection. When he stopped he wiped your nose with his sleeve and he kissed you gently on the lips. He savored moments like this, being able to heal you, to pick you up. He looked into your eyes as he said, “now I am thinking I’ll draw up a bath for us and I’ll give you a nice massage. After that we order take away, from your favorite place, then we watch something, Hm?” He looked at you for an answer as he kept wiping tears.

You nodded and gently, he placed you back where you were and went to get the bath ready. You'll always have hard days, but those days turn into amazing nights with Chris. Your home.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

LIKE MY WRITING? WANT MORE? Tell me so! Want in on the tags?? Shoot me an ask and consider it done!

193 notes · View notes

jayfortheday · 2 years

Note

The way you write Vance is the absolute cutest, I love how you make him the biggest softie when it specifically comes to Y/N. Can you write something from Finney’s POV where he sees Vance being all angry and aggressive at the Grab N Go (like yelling and fighting) and is just so terrified of him but when he leaves and rounds the corner of the building he secretly sees Vance outside being all blushy and soft with his (s/o) and Finney is just like “huh. I guess he’s not so scary after all”

To Everyone But Them (Vance Hopper)

Pairing: Vance Hopper x GN!Reader (romantic)

Word count: 712

Description: After Finney sees Vance win a fight at the Grab N Go, he sees him round a corner to meet up with his partner

Tags: fighting, blood, fluff, language, kissing, third person

Quick note: This story is told from the third-person perspective of Finney and reader will have they/them pronouns

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Finney’s eyes were wide as he watched Vance hit the boy splayed out on the linoleum floor from outside the Grab N Go. The boy tried to fight back, but Vance moved too fast to be stopped, kneeling above the boy’s chest to hit him. He repeatedly pulled his fist back and threw it into the boy’s face, pulling blood with an enraged look on his face. When the boy beneath him finally stopped trying to fight, Vance ceased his hits and stood up off the boy.

Vance’s knuckles were caked in blood and some splattered his face.

“Stay the fuck down,” Vance growled at the boy who was now curled up on the floor. Vance glanced up to Finney, causing Finney to go rigid before Vance looked away. Vance launched one last kick at his opponent before he turned to exit the building. Finney quickly hurried away from the door so he wouldn’t at all stand in Vance’s way.

Finney watched with half horror half fascination as Vance exited the building and round a corner into an alley between the Grab N Go and the adjacent building. From the position he was standing, Finney could see Vance stop in the middle of the alley and smile warmly. Finney adjusted his position slightly to stay out of sight but to see what had elicited Vance’s expression. Pushing himself up against the brick of the building to peer into the alley, Finney saw another person with Vance, looking up at him with a similarly happy expression. Finney could faintly hear what they were saying.

“So, what happened this time?” The other person laughed, reaching up to wipe a speck of blood from Vance’s cheek.

“Same old shit if you’ll believe it,” Vance replied, standing still with his arms crossed as the other person pulled a tissue from their pocket. They brought it up and began to clean the blood from Vance’s face.

“I believe it, alright. Are you ok, did you get hit?” The person asked, glancing into Vance’s eyes before looking back at his face.

“Only a little bit, it’s nothing serious, you don’t gotta worry, Y/N,” he responded, glancing down at his bloody knuckles.

“I’ll be the judge of that,” Y/N spoke, shoving the soiled tissue into their pocket and picking up Vance’s hand to look at his knuckles.

Y/N used the hem of their shirt to wipe some of the blood from Vance’s knuckles, pulling a hiss of pain from his lips.

“Give me a sec to get the blood off and I’ll check it out, ok?” They smiled softly, wiping Vance’s hand again but more gently this time. Once all the blood had been wiped off, Y/N’s eyes went wide.

“Jesus, baby, it’s been a while since I’ve seen you bang ‘em up this bad,” they gasped. “You sure it doesn’t hurt too bad?”

“Ya know, you’re cute when you worry about me,” Vance chuckled, reaching up his other hand to rest on the wall by Y/N’s head.

“Yeah, yeah, shut up,” they muttered with a slight blush on their face.

“You should’ve seen me in there, I was totally kickin’ that guy’s ass,” Vance bragged.

“I don’t doubt it, and I was out here, waitin’ for you all alone,” Y/N replied, looking up to Vance with mock sadness.

“I’m sorry, baby, can you ever forgive me?” Vance half pleaded with a smile. “We can have a sleepover at my house, watch some movies, your choice?”

“I’ll think about it…if you buy me some microwave popcorn,” Y/N replied with a snarky grin.

“Is that all it takes these days, sweetheart?”

Seeing Vance act so strangely pulled a quiet laugh out of Finney, causing Y/N to look up to him. Finney blushed deeply at being caught, but Y/N didn’t seem mad.

“Whatcha looking at?” Vance asked, going to turn his head. Before he could spot Finney, Y/N grabbed the sides of his face and pulled him into a kiss. Vance immediately relaxed into them, resting his hands on their shoulders. Y/N opened one eye and waved Finney off, giving him a chance to leave while Vance was distracted. Finney gave a quick smile before turning around and quickly walking away.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Hope you enjoyed! This one felt a little easier to write, which was nice, but I am still in a bit of a slump. I'm gonna try to do some writing during my break, but I make no guarantees. Love y'all

#vance hopper #vance hopper x reader #the black phone #fanfic #fanfiction

2K notes · View notes

magnoliabutters · 1 year

Text

• THOUGHT YOU DIDN'T CARE •

pairing: joel miller x (18+, she/her) reader

summary: joel and ellie are tasked to move a package from jackson to san diego. little did they know you were the "cargo..."

warnings: 18+ content, mdni, adult language, cordycep apocalypse related violence & weapons, canon divergence, tlou part 1 & 2 spoilers; angst, medium to slow burn, pet names, voyuerism, sub!joel and dom!reader, age gap in pairing, masturbation, etc.

word count: ~6.3k

support your writer: reblogs for daddy joel ✨🌿

request: by @yourmomsmilfmistress; katrina babes, i have another idea!!! i was thinking something along the lines of (whatever male character you want/ im not picky) is OBSESSED with reader and one day after a torturous hangout he starts to 🍆💦 ( ya know) after she leaves and for some reason it's not working and it's like he's just edging himself but (of course) reader comes and walks in on it and it's like sub!male and dom!reader smut!!!

note: um… most definitely. the way i thought of joel freaking miller instantly. sub male? common now 😈 we are set in a post-tlou part 2 world where no one died, abby who?, and ellie lives happily on the farm (aka 20+ age). also, loosely following the plot of part 1. for visuals of characters, i am moving forward with what we’ve seen so far of hbo’s part one and game’s part two casting. although as it’s older ellie, i went with video game looks. hopefully that makes sense. enjoy my fellow hoes ⚡️

Don't tell them your name. Just tell them you're there to see Maria.

His words keep running through your head as you gallop atop your trusted steed, Horse. He told you, repeatedly, that they will find you - not the other way around. All you needed to do was get to the vicinity of Jackson County. Well, you are about a mile into said county and you haven't come across a single person. Let alone, a single runner.

The two things cannot co-exist this far from the cities. If there are no runners or clickers, then there must be people. If there are infected, there are no people. But emptiness? That is something unheard of. It puts you on edge. You swear you want to just yell, yell to draw something out. But that would be stupid. You don't know how many are out here ... people or infected.

You hop over a razor wired fence in the middle of the road. Its height hits a the top of your knee. Perfect stop runners. Your first sign that people have been in this neck of the woods. The deeper you get into Jackson County, you wonder why all you need to say is "I'm here to see Maria." Would these people attack you and saying those words would be the only thing to stop them? Or are they dumb enough to bring just about anyone back into their town? You have absolutely no clue what he has signed you up for.

Fear stands your hairs on end. It fuels your adrenaline and heart as Horse guides you into an opened field. On the main road, you read a sign that displays "surface may be icy." You're thankful you were assigned this job in the middle of July. In front of you, you note green ivory glued to the brick walls of an old music store. The roads were shit, as usual. Cracks and bumps from overgrowth and lack of maintenance. You hope they are not too rough on Horse's shoes. She had them switched out in Colorado, back when you saw your people last.

Horse abruptly stops. Harsh enough for your full body to push up against her back. "Fuck," you grumble with a hand to your head. "What the hell?" You slowly open your eyes to note the clicker before you. With widening eyes, you swiftly reach to unhook your knife from the saddle. As quiet as a mouse, you hop off of the pillion and carefully land your feet on the grass below. You side step as you make your way closer. its clicks grow louder as it uses its echolocation in the opposite direction.

Your eyes are constantly moving, wondering if there are any other infected around. There is luckily no movement. Just one single clicker. The fungi sporadically growing throughout its body. The cordyceps on full display on its face - if you can even call it a face. In your last two steps, you rush up to it. You hook your arm over its chest. Your fingers curve over its shoulder as you grip tightly against the rough flesh. With your other hand, you stab your knife into the crook of its neck. It quickly became limp in your arms. You let slide off your body and ultimately onto the road.

"Drop the knife," you hear behind you. The voice is rough and booming. You gradually put your hands up. You drop the knife, careful to have it fall upon its hilt and not its blade. "On your knees," it bellows. You laugh, tilting your head to the side. "No can do," you scoff. "I only get on my knees when I want to." The man behind you laughs as he slowly walks up to you. His boots crunching against the dirt and gravel.

"On your knees," another voice appears. Despite its higher tone, it is just as rough. A smile grows upon your face as you carefully drop to your knees. "Oh for you, of course," you mutter to the woman. She quickly grabs hold of your wrist and places it behind your back. Her grip harsh and tight. You release a laugh as you lean back into your captor. "I'm here for Maria," you mutter.

Abruptly, the movements behind you stop. The grasp remains tight. "Maria?" the exasperated man's voice pushes through the air. His boots' steps become faster as he rushes behind you. "Why?" the woman asks. You feel the cool head of a gun at the back of your neck. "Hey, hey, hey," you furiously mumble. "I-I'm a smuggler. I'm with a group of people who told me Maria owes them one. I just got sent here for her to pay the debt."

The gun is pressed harder against your neck. "What debt?" the man's voice asks. You move your head to the side, attempting to pull yourself away from the gun's focused point. The gun holder makes sure it stays against your skin despite your movements. "I don't even know, man. I was just sent here. They told me to say 'I'm here for Maria' and that she would know what to do," you spit out.

You hear the man pace behind you. He sighs heavily. His voice hushed as he speaks towards the woman. "I don't feel good about this, El," he whispers. "Does she have any people in her past?" the woman asks. "Not that I know of," he says as those steps draw closer once more. You are suddenly pushed to the ground. You cut up your chin as you couldn't catch yourself in time. "Fuck," you mutter into the ground. "Your name," he mumbles. "I don't have time for games." You yell as your palms lay flat against the surface. "Rita," you quickly lie.

"Alright, Rita," the man's voice bustles behind you. "Let's go." Next thing you knew, a bag was pulled over your head. Your head was then banged against the hard rubber bedding of a truck.

They grip against the bag over your head so hard that it pulls on some of your hair as it uncovers your face. Your eyes slowly blink to adjust to the light. "Shit," you grumble as you relax your arms, only to realize that you were tied to a chair. Rope. Fuck, you think. Rope hurts the most.

"Now, Rita, I'm not going to ask again. Why are you here for Maria?" The familiar voice asks. You squint to look in his direction. A latino man with slicked black hair crouches before you. You look behind him to recognize that you were in a stable - a wooden stable. There is hay all over the floor, but no horses. What kind of stable doesn't have horses? As your eyes trail back towards your feet, you note red splotches staining the wooden floor below you. "Damn it," you whisper the elongated swear under your breath. You know exactly what kind of place this is.

"I told you already, man," you whine. "My people didn't tell me shit. Just that I was assigned a job and Maria owed a ride." You look into the brown eyes staring holes into your face. "I'm here to collect on that ride," you whisper. "To where?" the man asks. "I'll tell Maria ... once I get my ride," you answer with a smirk. The man raises his fist as his upper lip tenses. You wince at the sight.

“Tommy!” You recognize the woman’s voice as he holds back his fist. She walks out from the darkness of one of the stables. You smile at the sight. She looks younger than you. Her reddish brown hair gave you goosebumps. Her eyes a greenish blueish grey. Something you would have envied as a child. She some how looks sweet, but also has clearly endured so much in her short time.

“So, we have Tommy,” you share as you nod towards the man. “And El,” you murmur as you look up to her. You smile - a smile that El winces at. “I’m not here to cause trouble,” you sigh as you attempt to shrug against the chair. “I don’t want to give anyone grief. I just need to talk to-” Suddenly, a remarkable woman bursts through the doors. Another man at her side. Her eyes serious and hellbent. Her skin a deep and beautiful brown. She is undeniably gorgeous, and surprisingly pregnant. She definitely had the glow, complete with her large firmed bump. “Tommy, what the hell is this?” she asks sternly.

Maria, you think. They never gave you a picture, but you knew from the second she commanded that room. The second both Tommy and El backed away from you. Their hands either up or open at their sides. She was in charge. And she was headed right for you. “Maria,” you say with a sing songy voice. Her head shoots your way. “I need a ride.”

Maria stares down at your smile. Her upper lip pulls, just like Tommy’s. “Where?” she asks calmly. “San Diego,” you answer. “San Diego?” she scoffs. “I don’t owe them that much.” You tilt your head, smiling to yourself. “Well, someone thinks you do,” you smirk. Tommy grunts as he steps towards you. Maria quickly puts out an arm across his chest.

With a sigh, she returns her gaze to you. Her arm still across his chest. You are curious about those two. “I obviously can’t take you myself,” she mutters. “Obviously,” you affirm as you nod towards her stomach. “I’ll find you someone. You’ll leave in the morning,” she says carelessly. She turns around and speaks to her people. “Untie her,” she says under her breath.

The man who walked in with her quickly follows through with her demand. You rub your wrists and forearms where the rope’s red rings pressed into your skin. You stand with the devil’s smile across your face. El is the first to walk up to you, while Tommy’s eyes are still daggers. “Hey, sorry,” she says as she rubs the back of her neck. “Things didn’t go so well the last time a new person asked about one of our people.” You hum as you nod. “Make sense,” you say under your breath as you return your gaze to Tommy.

“Maria’s his wife,” El adds as she follows your eyes. “He’s been extra sensitive, given the baby and all.” You smile at her words. She pulls your attention. “It’s also Ellie by the way,” she mumbles. She gestures goodbye and walks out. “Rita?” the man asks. You look at him with confusion. “My name’s Jesse. Come on, follow me.” With hesitation, you follow the tall man out into the dark night.

Your eyes quickly fall upon the string lights crossing from building to building. It is so beautiful your mouth gapes open. “We have a small bed and breakfast for travelers,” he shares as he points to a building at the end of the street. “Shit - a bed and breakfast?” you scoff under your breath. As you walk, you note the happy and clean people randomly walking about. They are loud - comfortably loud. It must be nice.

“Where you from?” Jesse asks. His gaze stuck on you. “I don’t do small talk,” you say with a weak smile. “I don’t mean to be rude.” He laughs, raising his hands. “No, I get it. Just trying to make conversation,” he answers. “Oh, well if we’re making conversation, tell me what your favorite color is,” you teasingly laugh. He chuckles, shooting you a sweet smile. “Orange,” he scoffs. “You?” You nod, smiling as you step onto the front deck of this apparent bed and breakfast. “Green.”

With quick goodbyes, you go inside and easily secure your room. The room is on the first floor. Inside the small space, you have a worn down desk, chair, and bed. Your pack is already resting against the foot of the bed frame. You grab the back of the chair and hook it underneath the door’s knob. You turn the lock and deadbolt the door. When you finally lay back to rest, you reflect on your day. It didn’t go as well as you had hoped - as you had been told. But at least you are alive. At least you are on your way to San Diego.

After the best sleep of your life, Jesse led you to a building across the way. Maria, Tommy, Ellie, Jesse, another woman and a man sit alongside a long dinner table. The woman appears sweet. She sits closely to Ellie. The man is something else. His demeanor laid back, like he had no care in the world. His face kind, but also worn thin after years of this shit world. You can immediately see through the facade and know he is good. But damn does he give off such a strong guard dog vibe. He has random patches of grey amongst his black hair and beard. His eyes dark, but youthful. You struggle to keep your eyes off of him. He watches you, though. He sized you up as soon as you walked through the door.

“Rita,” Maria calls out. You are too busy attempting to watch him through your eye lashes. “Rita,” she says louder. You quickly turn your attention to her. Only now remembering that Rita was the name you gave them. “Yes,” you answer with high energy. “These are my best people,” she shares. “I want Joel and Ellie on this.” Ellie sits up straight, shocked as she exchanges looks with the girl beside her. The two begin to discuss in hushed tones. The man abruptly turns towards Maria, disingenuously laughing under his breath. “No, Maria,” he scoffs. “That ain’t happening.” The man stands, his hands firm against the table. He must be Joel. Rarely have you met someone who’s name perfectly fits them. It makes you smile.

Maria sighs as though she saw this coming. “I would go myself-” she starts. “So let me go,” Tommy interjects. Joel and Maria quickly respond “no” in unison. Maria takes a breath as she slowly looks to her partner. “I’m about to pop. You can’t go,” she whispers. “I need you.” Tommy solemnly nods as he looks back towards the rest of the group. Maria turns back to Ellie with patient eyes. “Ellie, Dina - are y’all okay with this?” she asks. Dina nods, looking at Ellie. "J.J. will be fine. You should go," she whispers. Ellie then turns to Maria and nods.

Joel's scoff could be heard from two buildings down. "This is bullshit, Maria and you know it," he yells as he slams his hand against the table. Tommy stands, pointing towards him. "Watch it, Joel," he warns through gritted teeth. Maria takes a breath as she looks between Ellie and Joel. "You two have gone across state lines more times than any of us. This should be easy as pie," she says softly. He rolls his eyes as a deep, unenthused chuckle falls from his lips. "What's the cargo?" he asks with furrowed brows as he looks off in the distance.

Maria turns towards you. She rakes over you with slight confusion and hesitation. Within a second, there was a moment where her face smoothed out. She took a breath and returned to Joel. "She is," she states with finality. Your face remains looking down the table, but your eyes travel to Joel's seat. He gradually turns to look at the group. With a guttural growl, he says, "Absolutely not." Maria throws her hands up. "Joel, they will come to collect. I will not put anyone else's life in danger," she yells.

"If they come to collect, they can take her dead body," Joel booms as he pulls a gun from his holster and points it towards your head. You remain still. Your breathing intensified as the remainder of the group stands to their feet. "Joel," Maria says softly. "We need her - whether you like it or not. We need her in San Diego." Joel exhales through his flared nostrils. His mouth tight as he looks down at you through the sights of his pistol.

"What's so important about her?" he asks as he lowers the gun. Maria sighs in relief. "I don't know," she shakes her head. "All I know is these people helped us in a pinch back when me and dad started up. They said they'd come to collect and all they needed was a team to get something to San Diego." Tommy watches her intently. It must have been the first time she shared this with him. "I've seen what these people have done when groups don't pay up, Joel," she mutters. "We will not win that fight without losing everything."

Joel sucks his tongue against the back of his teeth. He holsters his gun and walks towards the front door. He hooks a backpack over his shoulder and turns back towards the group. "Ellie?" he asks as he slowly opens the door. You turn to watch Ellie kiss Dina. She presses her head against hers and whispers things you cannot make out. They separate with a strong embrace. Ellie walks towards Joel. "You coming, Rita?" she calls out behind her. You stand immediately. Your shocked eyes fall upon Maria and Tommy as you attempt to process everything that has happened in the past few minutes. You grab your pack and walk out to meet the pair in the street.

Ellie watches Joel with trust and a hint of distaste. You wonder about their story. As you walk up, the two stop talking and turn to look at you. "Hello," you greet awkwardly. "While we're out there, you do exactly what I say - when I say. Understand?" Joel says sternly as he points a finger in your face. How could those sweet eyes simultaneously look so threatening? "Understood," you whisper under your breath as you exchange looks with Ellie.

Joel quickly turns and heads straight to what looks like a mechanic's garage. "Does he always have a stick up his ass?" you ask as you skip to catch up with Ellie. She smiles, nervously biting her lip. "At first," she mutters under her breath as her eyes remain on him. "The Chevy," he asks a man standing behind the desk. He promptly hands him keys without question. You nod, noting how nice it must be to live in Jackson.

"Chevy, huh?" you say, attempting to start a conversation with the man. Joel completely ignores you as he slides the keys into the door handle. "Nice try, but he's not going to crack for a while," Ellie whispers in your ear as she walks to the other side of the truck. You laugh as you open the side door and hop into the backseat. "Seatbelt," he says softly as he points Ellie's way. "Oh," she mutters as she slides it over her body and clips it at her side.

The three of you sat in silence for the first hour of the trip. It was unbearably boring. Wyoming's sights were not as incredible outside of Jackson county. You wish you could sleep, but did not trust the two enough to even try. "Joel," Ellie starts but continues to laugh. "Remember when we cleared this hotel. Remember the tomatoes?" She laughs so hard that she holds her stomach. She leans fully against the passenger seat as she kicks her feet up. You swear you watch Joel crack a smile as he watches the girl burst into a laughing fit. You wish you got a better look.

"What happened with the tomatoes?" you curiously ask Ellie. She turns, struggling to speak between laughs. As she starts, Joel quickly interrupts her. "Don't tell her anything. She's cargo, nothing more," he instructs. Ellie sinks into her chair. Her expression perplexed as she seemed excited to share. "Just cargo, huh?" you taunt. His face remains still as he eyes focus on the road. "Wow, you Jackson people are the sweetest I've ever met," you say sarcastically. "Maybe I should just dip out on this trip. I can probably make it on my own."

Joel quickly slams against the breaks. Your shoulder digs into the back of his seat as you let out a stunned groan. "What the hell?!" you yell. "We are taking you to San Diego, or we are taking your body," he turns to say with stern eyes. You place distance between you two. A sudden rush of alertness and danger bursting through your body. "Let me be clear. I don't care if you're dead or alive by the end of this trip. We are paying off Maria's debt," he seethes. "I'd recommend shutting up if you plan to get there alive."

You suck your tongue against your cheek as you laugh under your breath. You lean back harshly against the back of your seat. "Eyes on the road, asshole," you say as you nonchalantly gesture towards the street. He rolls his eyes as he faces forward behind the wheel. He presses on the gas gradually. Ellie sits in awkward silent with a tight lip. She finds comfort in looking out the window.

Less than a week has gone by and you are barely crossing the border into Utah. In each passing day, you learn something new about Ellie. She loves to draw. She met her partner, Dina, on the first day she got to Jackson. Her son is named after Jesse and Joel. She calls him her "potato" - an incredible nickname you find endearing. The days are starting to blend together, but Ellie remains a highlight of each.

Joel, on the other hand, has remained annoyingly silent. He solely speaks to Ellie. If he does choose to talk to you, it is usually some demand where he forgot how to say "please." He is abundantly cold. It is infuriating. Here and there, you catch him staring your way. His glimpses seem familiar, as opposed to his usual and intentional looks of anger.

He never looks at your eyes, but his gaze tends to fall on your lips and hair. Any time you caught his eye line, he would immediately look away. The way his gaze lingered on you always left you in a ball of confusion. You thought you would have been on edge, being stared at for hours on end. Yet, you loved it. It made you feel seen. It made you feel beautiful. If he wasn't so vocal about his disapproval, you would think he had a "thing" for you. For now, you just enjoy his looks - hoping they are filled with adoration and not hatred.

Luckily for the three of you, communication was not needed as much when taking out the infected. The trio even came across a group of clickers a day ago. Without saying a word, the three put on their gas masks and stepped into the spores. They could all hear the clicking echoing through the old and damaged walls. With only nods and looks, the three separated and silently took down each clicker.

You turned to look at them with excitement. “That was awesome!” you said joyously. “Very SWAT-team.” Ellie was kind enough to crack a smile as she cleaned her blade on the side of her jeans. You turned to Joel, waiting for any reaction. He gave you absolutely nothing. He shook off the blood on his machete and gracefully placed it back onto his backpack. He then immediately moved toward the cabinets in front of him to search for supplies. God, did he really not have a sense of humor?

Tonight, you find yourself resting beside Ellie in a closed off room. The day was once again filled with ambiguous look exchanges with Joel. Your body aches from taking out runners. You wonder if you'll be in pain for the entire trip. The room rests at the end of a long hallway with no other entrances or exits. The only doorway to the outside was located at the end of the hallway and was guarded by the one, Joel Miller. You continued to wrestle with sleep as you lay uncomfortably in your sleeping bag. You have now spent hours staring at the plant infested ceiling. Ellie, luckily, rests peacefully at your side. She felt safe enough to put earbuds in to help her sleep. Another thing of hers to be jealous of.

After a few hours, you decide that it will most likely be impossible for you to sleep tonight. You quietly stand and put your pajama shorts over your undies. You open the door into the hallway. It's long corridor was scarier at night. You pull your flashlight from your pocket. Clicking it on, you remind yourself that the only door is at the very front. You would undeniably see if anyone entered the dark hallway with you.

As you reach the end of the hall, you begin to hear quiet moans coming from the other side of the door. Your mind quickly rushes to the thought of a runner making their way inside. But once you hear slight heavy breathing and groans, you immediately recognize that the sounds were coming from Joel. Excitement bursts through your chest as you press your ear against the door. You could not have imagined a better sound escaping his lips. His groans sound so sweet, so supple. You wish you could be the reason they fall from his lips.

You nervously turn back to see that the door at the other end of the lengthy hallway remained close. There was no way anyone would be able to hear at the other end. Not unless they were right where you were standing. With a smile, you hear his breathing louden. You wish you could see him. See his brows pulling together as his mouth hangs open. You wish you could watch him stroking himself. You would bet on your life that his cock was large and girthy. You have been stealing glances of it beneath his tight jeans.

Your mouth starts to water as you hear his moans grow louder. It takes all your strength and will not to burst through the doorway and beg him to let you help. God, would you absolutely beg for that man - without question. You wonder who's on his mind. Who could possibly be the lucky person whom he is wanking off to? Your legs feel weak. You actually contemplate sitting down and playing with yourself alongside his intoxicating moans.

“Oh, Rita,” you hear fall from his mumbling lips. Your entire body lights up with pleasure. He is thinking about you… Your legs buckle beneath you as you struggle to stay standing. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you hear escape his lips. He must be close. You swear you can hear the slapping against his skin. All your blood rushes towards your clit. You want him - bad.

Out of no where, Joel stops. You hear a sound of frustration but remain curious. Was he edging himself? Shit. Why is that even hotter? you think to yourself. His moans slowly start again. Your mouth hangs open as you tighten your knees together. The friction feels good but it’s definitely not enough. You wish you could touch him. You wish he would be muttering your name as your hand strokes his dick. You wish his big hands could hold your head down as you take all of him in your mouth.

Almost as though you two were connected, Joel’s moans started to repeat more and more. His breathing heavies as your knees tighten harsher and harsher against themselves. Your clit now pulsating, desperate for stimulation. You cover your mouth, hoping your own gasping breaths were not loud enough to hear in the other room.

His voice strains as he gets closer and closer. He mumbles again, “Yes, Rita.” Shit, why aren’t you already in there? Your entire body is on fire but, oh, so nervous. You hear his skin slapping against each other. His moans growing louder. You hear a bump against the wall. His voice begins to break. God, he’s so fucking close.

“Oh baby just like that,” Joel whines. “Cum for me,” you whisper on repeat. Then silence fills the air. You worry if he might have heard you. You’re sure that him catching you listening in is so much worse than you catching him jacking off. “Damn it,” he yells softly with a grunt. That’s when you realize he isn’t edging on purpose. It seems like he can’t get past that final push. To release all that pent up energy.

You could help him. You know you want to. It’s the right thing to do. He must be in so much pain - all swollen down there, thinking about you. You would be helping him. You are so selfless. With a deep breath for courage, you quickly knock and open the door.

You spot Joel in his jean shirt. His legs are spread wide while he sits, bare, on the couch. His pants wrapped around his ankles as he holds his lengthy cock in one hand. His head rests back onto his other. As he hears the door creak open, he nervously grabs hold of a pillow and covers himself. You have never once seen shock and worry on the man’s face until now.

“Shit,” he yells as he scrambles to cover himself. You play dumb, covering your gaping mouth with your hand. “I’m so sorry Joel,” you whisper. “I-I thought I heard my name so I came out here,” you slyly taunt as you end with a smirk. Joel’s usual annoyed face returns as he realizes you know the truth. “Why didn’t you just come get me?” you ask innocently as you sit on the arm rest of his couch.

Joel watches you in confusion as he recognizes your advances. “I shouldn’t have done this, I’m-” he starts. You swiftly interrupt, “No need for apologies. I’m just confused is all.” You gracefully fall beside him. Your bare thigh touching his. The tips of your fingers dance atop his thigh. His grip onto the pillow covering his unit grows tighter by the second. “I thought you didn’t care about me,” you whisper as you lean closer to his face. You are now still, a few inches from his face.

"We don't have to do this," Joel mutters. His teeth locked as he watches you. He must think he's in danger. No, its quite the opposite. "Do what, Joel?" you ask as you pull away from him. You note a chair across from him. His backpack is sprawled over it. You carefully carry the backpack and place it closer to him. To show him that you are not something to be scared of. You then turn to sit in the chair. Your legs spread open as you bite your lip. Your eyes rake over the vulnerable man in front of you.

Joel watches you. He takes in shaky breaths. It is almost as though he is more nervous, now that he understands your intent. "Don't stop on my accord," you say as you gesture towards him. You slowly cross your leg over the other, batting him off with your eye lashes. You gently laugh as you watch him sit still, uncomfortable. "Oh, I get it," you murmur with a nod. "You need help." You watch your shoulder as you slowly push your spaghetti strap off it. You do the same with the other side. When you look back at him, a smirk is shown across your face.

His eyes are darker than normal. He still holds the pillow firmly against the skin between his legs. "Don't stop, Miller," you whisper as you slowly pull your shirt up. You expose your breasts to the cool air. Your nipples immediately harden. He involuntarily bites his lip as his eyes grow full of wonder. With that, he gradually pulls the cover off and shows his enormous cock. You start salivating. Fuck, you knew it would be big.

Joel's thumb starts to move slowly up and down his shaft. His eyes now fully on you. No pulling away this time. Pleasure fills your chest as you raise your chin and open your mouth. You lick your lips, hell-bent on tasting him. He starts to smile between soft moans. His rubbing becoming quicker as your hands calmly travel up your stomach and to your tits.

His breathing shakes harder as your fingers circle your nipples. Your tongue resting gently against your bottom lip. He loves it. His moans become louder as he watches you. "Oh baby," escapes his lips as he watches your sensual movements. "The name's y/n," you whisper. You smile at the shock spreading across his face. "I want to make sure you're moaning the right girl's name this time."

"Your name's y/n," Joel mutters under his breath. His movements stop as he watches you gradually open your legs. Your shorts clearly expose your inner thighs. It shows enough to give him the slightest sneak peek. "And your name is Joel," you coo. “Does that change anything?” He scoffs. A smile spreads across his face. First time you’ve seen it and shit is it beautiful. “Not a single thing,” he mutters. “Then rub one out for me, daddy,” you whisper as your hand travels down your stomach and atop your shorts.

Joel presses his tongue against his cheek as his smile grows larger. His hand starts to rub against his hardened cock. His fingers wrapped around his girth. You bite your lip. You wish it was your hand, but you are not giving up control. “Yeah, start slow,” you murmur as you adjust in your seat. His eyes track you. His eye line at your lips, waiting for the words to just flow out.

His breathing intensifies as he drops his jaw in excitement. “Ooo, just like that,” you whisper as you try to maintain deep breaths. Your clit begins to pulsate. Begging you to jump atop of him. “What next, y/n?” he asks with a gaping mouth. He fully enunciates your name with a smirk at the end. You laugh as your brows bounce. “Hm,” you think aloud. Your finger tapping against your chin. “Have your other hand play with your balls.”

Joel’s brow raises as he’s slightly taken aback. “Don’t make me say it twice,” you playfully seethe through your teeth. He sighs with a smile as his other hand moves from atop his thigh. He cups his balls slowly. A thumb rubbing between them. You suck in a deep breath as you adjust again in your sit. You can’t get comfortable. Your body screams that the only seat you want is on his lap.

His lower jaw keeps moving as deep breaths fall from his lips. “Shit,” he breathes. His eyes close ever so slightly. “Mmm’such a good boy,” you whisper. “Let me hear you.” He gasps as the muscles in his legs begin to tighten. He lets out a low moan. One so deep your entire body shakes. You let out a hesitant breath as your hand covers your mouth. You are trying so hard to keep in control, to be the dominant one - but shit did you want him to wreck your pussy so badly.

“I know you can moan louder than that,” you murmur with a grin. Joel softly laughs and quickens his movements. His breath is fast. His eyes closed. He sits up straighter. His hand slaps against his skin. You spot precum falling from his tip. “Shit,” you mumble under your breath. His head starts to fall back. It rests against the wall. He moves faster and faster. You squeeze your thighs together, holding your breath.

“Fuck, baby,” he whines. You could just about faint. “God, you’re going to make me cum, y/n.” You dig your nails into your thighs. You want nothing more than to see this gorgeous man cum all over himself. “Cum for me, Joel,” you whisper in excitement. Your entire body feels on fire. Goosebumps travel throughout your skin. “I want your big cock deep inside me, Joel. Please cum for me,” you gripe in an innocent voice.

“Oh, fuck,” Joel moans as his brows pull together. He squeezes his eyes shut tighter than before. You hear his voice raise in pitch. Higher and higher as his body moves faster and faster. You note him thrusting into his own hand. He looks so strong. He would feel so good thrusting inside of you. Finally, his breathing fastens and he starts to moan louder than before.

“I’m cumming. I’m cumming, y/n,” he whisper yells as his body tenses up. You immediately rush in front of him. You sit on your knees as you watch the show, up close and personal. Beads of cum stream down his elongated cock as he strokes firmly. You place much effort in keeping your hands to your sides. You watch as his breaths begin to slow.

“Fuck, Joel,” you say breathless. His eyes start to open. He lets out a gentle laugh through his smiling face. You crawl between his legs. His smile quickly falling as he curiously watches you. There you sit, his softened unit before you. “Your turn to help me, Miller,” you say as you bite your lips. His smile re-emerges as his hand pushes your shoulder back towards the ground. His body slides over you until his face hovers above yours. “Yes, ma’am,” Joel whispers as he plants a kiss on your lips so hard, yet so soft, that you completely fall head over heels for the man.

note: whatcha think? joel screams sub and fuck do i love it. also episode 3?? can someone just cry with me about that real quick? shall there be a part two? 🤫

*edit: there shall be & here it is

taglist: @fan-fiction-floozy, @dirtydianaahah

reblogs are much appreciated! feel free to comment or message if you’d like to join a tag list! 🌿✨🌿

• nav • no-no plagiarism • one shot • requests open •

512 notes · View notes

siriusblackloml · 6 months

Text

Day 8 - Sirius Black (Kinktober 2023)

𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩: 600+

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: swearing, derogatory nicknames, belt-use MDNI (18+)

Kinktober 2023 Masterlist┊Day 9

“Weren’t you the one who asked for me to fuck you like a little slut? Take it, bitch.” Sirius growls. His hips snap upwards over and over again, the head of his cock hitting your cervix repeatedly without fail. Your body is limp against the bed from the power of his thrusts. You’d been standing over the edge of the bed with your bottom pushed towards Sirius, and he absolutely adored fucking you senseless like this. It meant he could hold onto your hips and fuck your body into the mattress like his life depended on it. Meanwhile, you were laying stomach down on the bed practically drooling over the way his cock stretched you open in such a satisfactory way.

His tongue was laced with venom as he continued to taunt you. “I swear, Y/N, you are going to be seeing stars after I’m done fucking your tight pussy. Tell me how good it feels.”

Moaning loudly, you grip the sheets beneath you to try your best to hold onto something. You started to grind back on Sirius, looking over your shoulder to flutter your eyes in an innocent manner. The sound of squelching from your soaked cunt echoed off the bedroom walls and made your mind spin. He was fucking you so damn well; but you weren’t quite ready to tell him that.

You decide to tease him back, trying your best to ignore how well the thrusts of his hips were making that knot in your stomach tighten further and further. “I don’t know, Sirius. I think you could fuck me even harder.”

For just a split second, his thrusts falter. However, this doesn’t last long at all. He continues to push himself inside you and allow your wet walls to suck him in like he’s nothing. Sirius just laughs a bit, his fingers digging deeper into your hips. “Yeah? You think so? Well, allow me to fix that.”

He’s clearly had enough of your mouthy tone. Sirius reaches over your body for the trousers he’d taken off not that long ago and had discarded on the mattress. You can’t see what he’s doing, but you can hear the sound of his belt coming loose from the pants. Figuring he was about to spank your ass, you patiently wait and anticipate the blows. They never come, though.

Before you know it, Sirius has looped the belt around your neck and is pulling your head back, forcing your eyes to look at the ceiling of the room. Your airways are cut off in an instant, head clouded with pleasure and body tingling with excitement. He briefly lets go of the forceful pull he has on your neck and chuckles, fucking you even harder than before. “Yeah? You like that? Like being treated like a fucking dog?”

Sirius pulls the make-shift leash even harder than before. The way that he pulled on your neck made your back arch incredibly hard, as if you were a doll. He leans forward to bring his lips to your ear, whispering to you, “Who’s in charge now, bitch?”

You can’t help but moan at the lewd words. The more he talked to you, fucked your pussy, and tightened his grip around your neck, it just pushed you over the edge. Your sweet spot was being abused in the most perfect way, and it didn’t take long for your orgasm to hit you like a brick. Your body shook as you cum on his cock, milking him for all he has. You groan, “YES! Oh, gods, yes! Fuck!”

Sirius grins, still fucking you slowly from behind, “That’s my girl. I’m not done with you yet, though.”

Fuck, you were in for a night. He was definitely going to break your back.

TAGLIST: @calmspencer, @baddiebbarbietngz, @slytherclaw1978, @serendipitous-fernweh, @pandanation24, @rachelreallyroars, @tinafuentes, @chvmpion-jack, @ethereallovr, @godknows-shetried, @waggoth, @ellieswhor3, @wildestdreamers-tv, @faefaes-world, @hahahafucku, @delusional-13s-blog

#kinktober #kinktober 2023 #kinktober harry potter #kinktober siriusblackloml #sirius black #sirius black one shot #sirius black smut #sirius black fanfic #sirius black x you #sirius black x y/n #sirius black x reader

122 notes · View notes

aihoshiino · 9 days

Note

that "i don't know" from Ai is both so sad and innocent...like she cares about Hikaru enough to drop her mask and tell him her honest feelings instead of simply replying "yes, i'll love you", even if she knew that the latter is what Hikaru wanted to hear, and not the former while with others, Ai would just tell them what they want to hear...love is so beautifully cruel, and this is what Hikaru tragically misunderstood

IT MAKES ME WANT TO PUT MY HEAD THROUGH A BRICK WALL...

I think you really hit the nail on the head by calling it 'innocent' because that is ultimately a really important thing to keep in mind when it comes to Ai's avoidance and the resultant pain she inadvertently causes. Ai is absolutely not under any circumstances a person who wants to cause harm to other people - we repeatedly see her doing her best to extend kindness and compassion to people around her, even if she struggles to properly empathize and connect with them because of her own hangups. I'd even go as far as to say that because of Ai's history as a person who has faced persistent cruelty to the point of abuse, she is that bit more determined to be kind and to accept other people as a result.

The issue is that she just... doesn't really know how to do this! A lot of this is because of her own dogshit socialization - if nobody has ever accepted Ai wholeheartedly and told her things she needs to here, how is she supposed to have enough social intelligence to do the same for other people? But it just as much comes down to what Ai has to perform as an idol. As she herself puts it, so much of 'Ai of B-Komachi' revolves around telling people 'pretty lies they want to hear'. Her script for social situations is basically "figure out what this person wants" -> "give it to them" -> ??? -> "profit", which does not leave a whole lot of room for her to gracefully handle emotionally charged situations.

We see this really strongly in 136 where Nino is literally breaking down crying and screaming in front of her and Ai just sits there like hahaha noooo don't be insecure your so sexy aha with the most shallow, surface level responses imaginable, because she literally doesn't know how to respond to Nino here, because she has no idea what she actually wants.

The HKAI misunderstanding (and I am constantly Rotating the fact that the scene is literally called 'misunderstanding') following on from that scene is really interesting to me, because I can't help but wonder if it's a result of Ai learning from her mistake there and trying to sort of overcorrect without really understanding what went wrong in the first place. It would play in really well to that underlying issue of Ai having nobody else to teach her just, how to be a human being and everything she has figured out, she had to teach herself.

So when Hikaru begs her for reassurance here, Ai realizes that lying to him won't do any good... so she does what she thinks is the kind thing and tells him the truth.

And THAT'S how you do miscommunication tragedy, babey!!!! i love it when my favourite girl destroys all her closest relationships with her own two hands <3

#oshi no ko #oshi no posting #onk asks #onk spoilers #ai hoshino

30 notes · View notes

bunnyyamor · 2 years

Text

[ OCTOBER 14TH ] VILLAIN! IZUKU MIDORIYA x fem! reader

synopsis; the villain of the city, deku, has just kidnapped you, a normal citizen. he is wanting to make you his. wk; 3k

warnings; mdni, smut 18+, heavy smut, dark content, humiliation, non-con, spanking, paddle play, chocking, fingering (anal), creampie, unprotected sex, degradation, nicknames, bondage, violence, overstimulation, sub/dom dynamic, edging, bdsm, kidnapping, blackmail, power dynamics, anal play, orgasm denial, beta read!

notes; i had posted this on the 13th but for some reason tumblr wont put this on the tags idk why.

-nav : kinktober m.list : kinktober taglist

evil was on the rise. many villains roamed the cities, practicing evil. conquering so much, affecting so many people's lives.

that was currently you. it was a muggy, rainy morning. you were off to work your shift at the cafe being a barista. you longed for the smell of roasting coffee beans and now that you thought of it, who knows if you were to smell that ever again.

“shit,” you cried as you held your phone up to your ear. the name displayed was ‘mom’. “pick up, pick up.” you repeatedly called her. your converses met with the concrete as you zigzagged between dumpsters and items discarded in the alley ways. the snapping of your head turning back as you tried to see if someone was after you.

you felt his presence. his touch. someone was out to get you.

the breath in your voice was coming out more strained as you tried to keep the pace in your sprinting. it was burning your throat. your legs were becoming tired and weak.

“please, this can’t be the end.” a tear fell down your face.

suddenly, you were met with a dead end, a brick wall. “no!’ you slapped, punched the brick, not caring that your knuckles were bleeding.

“i am not rich! here, take my money.”

a dark chuckle echoed in the alley way, “i don’t want that, idiot.”

you fell to your knees. head hiding between your hands as you sobbed, “then what do you want? i don’t have much.”

“for someone so irresistible, you are utterly stupid. it’s not material, it’s a game. it’s the chase. the way your heart is pounding from the running and the fear. it’s the excitement and thrill. the adrenaline pumping through my veins. y/n l/n-”

“how do you know my name?”

he continued without answering your question, “i plan to kill you. i plan to make you the front page of the news. girl dies because of the most wicked villain ever…deku.”

a dark shadow appeared in front of you. in a flash you were hit in the face, knocking you out cold into a black abyss. the single flow of tear falling down your cheek.

you woke up, startled. thinking everything was a nightmare. but the tug of your wrists in handcuffs connected to the chair was enough evidence to show you, this wasn’t no dream.

“help! help!” you screamed at the top of your lungs. you didn’t want to die. not like this. “please someone save me!”

“quiet already, god you’ve been nagging all this time! nag, nag, nag! when are you gonna shut up?” the voice exclaimed again. you saw his shadow, the dark outline of his body in the shadows.

“d-deku was it. is that your name.”

“being all sweet will not help you out in this situation. besides, you don’t know who i am?”

you were flustered, should you know.

annoyed and impatient with waiting for your answer, deku walked into the light. his body towered over yours. the side’s of his head were shaved and it was green. he wore an all black outfit, each muscle making an outline in the suit. he had some dry blood splattered across his face, perhaps from you when he attacked you. “is this better now?” he clenched his jaw in arrogance.

you took a good look at him. why did he want you?

“why don’t you take a picture? it’ll last longer. oh yeah, that’s right,” deku appeared in front of you at the speed of light. he threw his hands in the air and smacked them on the arm rests, “because you can’t move your arms. or your legs.” he tsked. “pity, i would have loved to see that ass jiggle as you walked. well, i kinda did. i saw you run. damn you run fast too. i mean, not as fast as me,” deku smirked as he sniffed the side of your hair. he hummed, “your perfume mixed with your sweat is enough to dry a man crazy. that were, if i were a man. sometimes i feel i am a god.”

you tried to release yourself from the bondage, “what do you want deku? i already told you i don’t have money. and this little game of yours, why don’t you just end it? or are you here to tortue me?”

he tapped his lip in thought. in other circumstances this cute stance would be adorable, in this moment his thinking scared the shit out of you. “hmm, well if you count fucking you till your legs give out a tortue then yeah, i’m gonna tortue you so hard.”

your eyes widened and you almost wanted to cry again.

“i’m just kidding,” deku laughed loudly as he smacked his thigh. “ you should of seen your face. you were all like ahhh.” deku lifted your chin up, all submissive eyes on him. your neck pressed against his groin. “or am i just kidding? i mean, you are incredibly sexy. i’ve seen you around. in fact, i ordered a coffee from you the other day. i was wearing glasses, it was a pretty good disguise and i knew at that moment i had to have you.” his eyes darkened as the pupils enlarged. “i’m gonna have my way with you y/n and there’s nothing you can do about it. you can’t cry for help, can’t call for anyone. i’m gonna fuck you so good you are going to be begging me to continue fucking you. and then and only then, depending on how good you feel, will i actually see if i’ll let you live. one move and poof, splat, you’re dead. understand me?”

you shook your head, “no, stop! no i don’t-”

he grabbed your face harshly in his grip, tightening it. “i said, do you understand me, slut?”

you gulped, you knew what you needed to do. “i-i understand.” something heated up inside you. why was this sort of turning you on? was it his aggressiveness? his ownership of you?

you noticed with how close he was to you his freckles. he was such an attractive man, but crazy.

you quickly clenched your thighs, hoping deku wouldn’t notice.

his green eyes lowered down to your action, “are you wet, whore?”

you winced. you didn’t want him to know that. “n-no!”

“tell me the truth! don’t lie!” he grabbed you by the collar of your shirt, gripping it hard.

“yes okay. i’m sorry! i d-don’t know what’s wrong with me. b-but i hate you! i hate you with my every being and i’m scared! help! help me!” you tried again, maybe this time it would work.

“awww,” deku feigned sympathy. “i know, i know. but see, good girls don’t lie. next time you lie to me i will rip you to shreds. don’t do that. here are the rules, no lying, no trying to run away, no being a bad girl or i’m gonna have to punish you. and you hate me? that’s cute cause after my cock is digging inside your wet pussy you’re gonna love me. now strip for me.”

“wh-what? you want me to strip for you?”

deku crossed his arms over his thick chest, rolling his eyes, “another rule, do as you are told. and no asking a hundred million fucking questions. i’m already hard.” he went down to situate his cock. and sure enough you saw a huge bulge through his suit since his suit was spandex. it was huge! you didn’t mean to stare but it held your gaze, hypnotizing you.

“enough staring! if you’re a good girl i can let you touch it. so listen.”

you gulped, you didn’t want to be embarrassed this way, it was too much.

deku unhandcuffed you and stuck the key and handcuffs in his pocket. he stood like a looming shadow, waiting for your move.

your shaky hands first started unbuttoning your shirt. you looked away, not used to stripping naked for a stranger.

“look at me,” deku growled as he forcefully shoved your face to look into his eyes.

you took your shirt off then you went for your pants. you managed to take them off while sitting, afraid to even move in case that made him mad. then you unclasped your bra. letting the material fall down to expose your breasts. in all of this your eyes never left deku’s and his stare got more intense and dark.

he inhaled seeing your perky nipples stand for attention. you noticed his adam’s apple bobbing up and down.

after your bra then you went and took your panty off. feeling the cool air hit your wet cunt.

deku bent down on his knees and opened up your legs. opening up your folds and inspecting your pussy ever so closely.

“as i suspected,” he chuckled, “you are a little whore. look at you soaking wet. from being treated like shit.” his gloved middle finger ran up on your slit, collecting your ooze. his eyes looked for yours in reaction.

you bit your lip, trying to hide a moan.

“slut,” deku spat as he stopped touching you and backed away. he went to a warehouse table nearby and looked into his duffel bag. he rummaged through it and then threw an object on the floor. it was a wooden paddle.

“pick that up,” deku ordered you.

you stood up, feeling goosebumps litter your body.

“no slut! on all fours. like a dog.” he smiled evilly.

“yes, deku,” you went on all fours and crawled your way to him to retrieve the paddle. you wanted to crawl in a hole with how bashful you were but it also excited you. you knew you were fucked up but not this fucked up. something ignited within you. made you want him to overpower you, to destroy you. to overstimulate you. you wanted all of him.

you retrieved the paddle like a dog and handed it to deku.

“stand up,” he grabbed you by the throat and made you stand straight. even wearing heels you would never be as tall as deku. he was buff and thick, overpowering you to the point of death. he twirled you around, ass facing his cock. you wiggled your hips, trying to take in his cock but then you felt a smack on your ass from the paddle.

“did i say you could do that?” deku was fuming. he still had a hold on you by the throat. he needed to show you who was in command.

“no sir. i’m sorry.”

“that’s right. i think you need to be punished.” deku bent you over, ass directly in his vision, all opened up for him and spanked you hard.

you were bent over being spanked! it couldn’t get worse than this. you cried with each slap and jolted forward. you put your hands out to keep you steady.

“you are a bad little slut,” his words dripped like venom. your ass was becoming more sensitive and raw. you knew you were going to have bruises if you were alive tomorrow. “look at you. i can see your pussy pulsing from here. trying to take in my cock. you like this?” deku inserted three thick fingers forcefully. you gasped at the intrusion. it was too much.

“d-deku i can’t-”

“if you can’t take this then how the fuck you’re gonna be able to take my cock? look at that, trying to suck up my fingers too, disgusting!” deku slapped you once more with the paddle. slapping both ass cheeks. he then carried some of your goop and smeared it all over your ass and puckered ass hole.

“look at this hole. it’s so small and tight. look at how much it quivers. i’m not gonna lie. your pussy and ass hole do look delicous and you smell so fuckin good. it makes me want to taste.”

“mmmm,” you moaned, drool dripping from your lips as tears collected by your eyes. “please sir. please deku. i need your tongue.”

“you do, huh?” deku smiled wide. he spat on your asshole and smeared his saliva on the hole. “this should be enough.” he then shoved his thumb inside your puckered hole.

your mouth created an o as he entered. about to come undone and orgasm right there.

“you better not cum. you’re supposed to do that around my cock. now behave like a good girl and take it. let’s see if you can do my middle finger and pointer.”

that’s what he just did. he shoved his two fingers, slowly, igniting every nerve within you.

“oh my godddddd,” you cried. it was hurting a bit because he was stretching out your ass hole.

“i hope this little hole bleeds.” he laughed wickedly. “god, look at how you take me. your ass hole is starting to like it. you are truly a whore.”

“mmmmm,” you nodded as you started thrusting on his fingers. moving back and forth, taking his fingers in your ass hole. it felt so good now. your pussy was definitely dripping from the overstimulation. and the warehouse was echoing with your filth. it was moist and sticky, sounding like gurgling.

“yess, fuck right there,” you moaned as deku smacked your ass. he put more pressure and went in deeper in your ass hole. his fingers were flashing in and out of you, at a quick pace. he even started to curl his fingers inside you. you felt him. felt him touch and caress each and every piece of you.

then before you climaxed, deku put handcuffs on you again.

“wh-what?”

he didn’t answer. all he did was drag you to the chair and put your stomach first against the back of the chair. you were sitting opposite.

“deku?”

“sit all pretty like that for me. i have a surprise.”

daku again went to his duffel bag and that's when he showed he had your cell phone.

“deku what are you doing?” you were frightened. stuck to the chair by handcuffs. unable to do anything.

“i want to make sure epeople know that you fucked the worst villain in the world. that you were willing to put the worst man alive cock inside you. people need to see you for who you really are.” he set up your phone and tapped some buttons on the homescreen.

he fixed his hair and pressed another button. “hello world. this is deku, yes, the scary man,” he laughed. “i’ve done some things in my life that have caught your attention.”

your eyes widened and you wanted to cry. he was taking a live of himself and you saw all your friends were watching. surely it would end soon right? this was unable to be on the internet.

“now i know what you are all wondering. how can this be shown on this live? well, i hacked into the system so they can’t end this. but i have a certain guest with me.”

deku grabbed the phone and showed you.

“say hi y/n.”

“stop deku! deku i beg of you!”

all of your friends were watching. you were mortified. you tried to grab your phone but you were stuck. tears fell down your cheek.

“look at this ass.” deku slapped it with his palm. “all for me. and the best part, y/n wanted it. i mean look at this pussy.” deku did a close up of your cunt dripping. “you don’t know this but i just fingered her asshole that’s why it looks so red and swollen. all dripping for me. she really is a bad girl.” deku made his way to your face and put the camera to you. your mascara was streaking down and you had droll down your chin. “say hi baby!”

you looked away, face heating up.

deku grabbed you by your hair and shoved his tongue down your throat, groaning as his spit mixed with yours, even some spilling out the side of your mouth. he separated and caressed your cheek, then he spat on your face and cackled. “enough bullshit talking lets get on with the show! enjoy everyone,” he winked to the camera.

he carried your phone and took footage of everything he was doing. he took his spandex off and let you see his cock straight up for attention. some precum dripping down his sides.

“let’s see you take this cock,” he pushed your chair forward as if you were to fall and then let you fall down on his cock.

“ohhhhh,” you whined. your pussy was sensitive and even though you were embarrassed he was recording live everything. you didn’t care, you wanted no needed his dick inside you. “yes, right there, sir.”

“see! the bitch loves this!” he cackled. he pulled out and shoved back inside with force. each thrust full of energy. each time dragging itself in and out. it felt like it was about to touch your insides. you felt a bulge on your tummy.

“yes sir, yes,” your tongue rolled out as he then started going faster. his balls smacking your sensitive cunt, sounding gushy and squelching. deku groaned with each thrust, having superhuman strength that he could probably last all day.

that made you nervous too. you felt so full and stuffed from his cock. it felt almost impossible like he was ripping you.

“i-i’m gonna cum,” you cried, not being able to hold onto nothing.

deku grabbed onto your shoulders and pounded into you. the sound of skin slapping made you go insane. you tightened around his cock and urged him to cum.

“now slut!” he allowed you to cum.

“shiitttt,” you cried, squeezing him within you. “ughhhh, ohhhh. right there!” your legs shook like crazy. you were unable to keep still.

deku rode out his orgasm, slapping your ass repeatedly, loving to see the paddle marks knowing he did that. “fuck me. look at this.” he showed his cock and showed how all your juices glistened on it. then he did a close up to your pussy, showing his cream inside you, dripping and having squirted and smudged everywhere. “not such a good girl after all.” he turned off the live. “that’s probably gonna be breaking news tomorrow. are you excited to be famous?”

you didn’t care to listen to him, all you were doing was catching your breath. “so, are you going to kill me now?”

deku thought about it, pondering. “hmm, nah! i see more of use you staying alive. and i like you. so you’re sticking with me, got it. forget about your past life or working as a barista, i choose you. you’re gonna be bonnie and i’ll be clyde. you ready for the villain life?” deku smirked.

#cry baby *🧸*#mha smut #mha kinktober #izuku x reader #deku x reader #izuku smut #deku smut #midoriya izuku x reader #izuku drabble #deku drabble #midoriya x reader #midoriya smut #midoriya drabble #my hero academia smut #mha x reader

566 notes · View notes

antennaed-shidou · 6 days

Text

Violet (Baro)

❀ Baro Shoei x f! reader

❀ Warning: not proofread, curse words (?)

❀ Flower Series number 2 The Violet

❀ Extras: Work count 2.7k+ Roses are red Violets are blue and this is part two of the Flower Series

In Which {Y/n} and Baro met in an alleyway

{Y/n} was walking around the side of the road. As she was walking she took a turn into an alleyway. She was looking down at the ground seeing all the little critters. Something caught her eye, a vibrant color of more blues and purple. {Y/n} bent down to the ground seeing Violets growing. This was an unusual place for them to grow.

She plucked one from the ground to observe them when she returned to her lab. {Y/n} put it in her pocket and continued walking the alleyway. Though as {Y/n} was walking she heard a ball hitting the wall over and over. She went toward the sound to see a man with a football, he was hitting it toward the wall over and over. He didn’t seem to notice her and kept on doing his thing.

{Y/n} on the other hand sat down by the building so she could watch him. The man named Baro backed away every second he hit his target. He didn’t notice that someone was watching him, even if he did notice he wouldn’t care. Baro was busy with his own thoughts.

The sound of the ball repeatedly hitting the wall grew louder and louder for every time he got further and his kick was more powerful than before, {Y/n} was still sitting there. Neither of them noticed the time and it was getting darker and darker. Baro soon stopped practicing when he noticed that the shadows were gone, he looked up to the sky seeing the moon in replace of the sun.

{Y/n} stood up from the ground and the male finally noticed her, “Hey!” He yelled, “What are you doing?”

The female faced him with a half smile, “I was walking down this alleyway to find new specimens for my research. I found this Violet,” She took out the Violet that was now half squished.

Baro looked her up and down, “Sure. Then why were you watching me?”

{Y/n} held her hands in front of her, swinging back and forth, “I thought you were interesting to watch. You seemed very focused on kicking the football at the wall. I took notice that every time you hit a certain brick on the wall you would back up and take another shot till you hit the same spot again. It was all very interesting.”

“Whatever you say, weird scientist,” Baro walked the other way with a crate of football he was kicking.

“Hey,” she puffed out her cheeks, “I’m not a weird scientist, I’m just a researcher.” {Y/n} says the following Baro.

The male rolled his eyes to himself, “Then whatever you say, weird researcher.”

{Y/n} smiled at him as she continued to follow him, not too close but not too far where she could lose sight of him. Baro turned around and stopped walking, {Y/n} did the same and looked at him with a big smile on her face.

“Stop following me!” He lashed out.

“I’m not following you,” She pleaded, “I’m going this way too.”

“Fine then stay away from me,” Baro rolled his eyes and continued to walk his way with the footballs in a cart. He didn’t see that she nodded her head, but this time she walked closer like she didn’t listen to a word she was saying.

The two walked out of the alleyway and {Y/n} picked up a few more weeds and some Violet that were growing. Baro didn’t pay her any mind and acted like she wasn’t there, it was easy to do as she kept her mouth shut. Soon they exited the alleyway and went their ways. When he knew she was no longer following him he turned around to see she was skipping her way along the sidewalk.

He didn’t notice the smile that formed on her face and he walked to his house. {Y/n} on the other hand skipped to her house which was only a few blocks away. When she made it home she took out all the items from her trip on the table and all her items were ones that she had never yet looked at.

She went over to her research table with a microscope on it and many other things. {Y/n} walked over to the table that was full of all the little items she brought home. Even though she has things that have been sitting there for a while, the first thing she was interested in was the Violet flower.

Why would they be growing in an alleyway? The soil they are used to growing was not the right soil that would be in the alleyway where there is little to no sunlight and the soil is mossy and behind all the concrete.

She also took some of the soil in a little container. She put the flower between the glass and put it under the microscope. She looked at the cells to see if there was anything different from what a regular violet would grow around the woodland edges. But there was nothing different. She then looked at the soil and nothing different there either. {Y/n} decided to give up on what was wrong. She put ideas in her notebook and decided for it to be that.

Violets were a symbol of modesty, humility, and innocence. Violets come in many different forms 680 to be exact, and {Y/n} couldn’t tell what one this violet was in. She tested another one that she picked and this one was different from the last. Before she knew it the sun started to rise and her head was lying on her desk with her mouth wide open drool spewing on.

The only reason she woke up was because of the loud sound outside. She woke up and wiped the drool from her face. {Y/n} put on a jacket and walked outside to see where the nose was coming from. Upon opening the door she saw a football inside her gated backyard. She picked the ball up and walked to her gate pecking over to see a man standing there with plenty more in his cart.

“You’re the guy from the alleyway,” {Y/n} speaks up, she throws the ball back over and climbs the gate, lands on her feet, and walks over to him. “Do you need anything? How did you find where I live?”

“I found more Violets,” He held them in front of him while he looked the other way. “Thought you could use them.”

“Thank you so much!” She took the bundle of Violets in her hand and put them aside. “I never got your name, a guy in the alleyway.”

“Baro Shoei.”

“{L/n} {Y/n}.”

They shook hands with a firm handshake. The two of them stood there not knowing what to do. “See you later,” They both said, then going their own ways. It was awkward but they had just met, what were they supposed to say? They didn’t know anything about each other.

{Y/n} jumped back over the fence and picked up the flowers that she threw over the fence. Baro on the other hand walked away from her house, the way he found out where she lived wasn’t one of the best methods but it was a method nonetheless.

Baro walked to the alleyway with the basket of footballs. This was his 8 week doing this every day and at this point, it became a habit. He had a fixed schedule he did every day and he has slowly but surely added the alleyway shots to his routine.

---

A few weeks go by from when the two first meet in the alleyway, and a couple of days when she gets the Violets from Baro, he gives those to her to study but she never touches them. {Y/n} had put them in a pot from them to continue growing. Baro on the other hand wondered when she would come back to the alleyway.

Baro went to the flower shop on the side of the road, he picked up a Violet bunch that he was going to give to her if she showed up in the alleyway. If she doesn't show up then he’ll just throw them away, the flowers of innocence and purity being thrown in the trash, someplace they don’t belong.

Baro went back to the alleyway where he kept the basket that night. He has become confident that no one would steal it as no one walks down that way. He was right, no one did steal it. He put the flowers on the basket so it wouldn’t be in the dirty walkway.

The black-haired male was practicing for about 10 minutes before he heard footsteps. He grabbed the flowers and set them close. He could hear her silver boots get closer and closer. Baro continued acting like he didn’t notice, but he really did notice. From him, this was out of the ordinary, something he has never really experienced. Whatever the feeling was, he couldn't deny it.

{Y/n} pecked her head over so she could see Baro practicing. She had been coming here every day and now it was part of her routine to peck over and watch him play. She hasn’t been making herself apparent for the fact that she didn’t want to distract him. Baro had no idea of this and thought she just wasn’t showing up, but she has.

The female wasn’t paying attention and had accidentally tripped over a slat that was pecking out of the ground. She fell face flat to where Baro could see her. He had stopped what he was doing and rushed over to her and flipped her over.

“That was embarrassing,” She sighed, covering her face with her hands.

Baro held a straight face trying not to laugh, but he was on the inside. “Let me see your face,” He moved her hands revealing her bloody nose and her face scratched up. “It’s not that bad.”

She sat back up while leaning her head back so there wouldn’t be blood everywhere. “I can feel it, obsessed football player.”

‘That’s new,’ he thought to himself. Baro told her to stay here while he got her something. To which she listened and sat there for a while till he came back with a rag and bandages to put over her nose.

{Y/n} held it there for a while until the bleeding stopped. Baro put the bandages all over her scraps. “Thank you, Baro.” She smiled at him which made him remember what he brought with him.

He got up from the ground and walked over to the basket, the flowers weren’t there. He looked all over until he found them lying on the dirty ground. He picked them up and shook them a little for the dirt to wash away. Walking back over to {Y/n} who was now standing up and had a look on her face asking what he was doing. With no plan, he just held Violet out in front of her.

With a big smile on her face {Y/n} took the bouquet of Violet from his hand. “You know, I had never touched those Violets you first gave me.” Gave crooked his head to the left, “The only thing I did was plant them in a pot so they could continue to grow.”

Baro couldn’t believe that a researcher like her never looked at the flowers up close. It amused him, he wanted to get to know her more and why she was a researcher out of all things. The fact of the matter was that he would never act like this with someone else. Baro was more mean and standoffish, but for some reason, she had changed his brain chemistry when she was around.

Maybe it had to do with her being a researcher and she just knew how the brain worked, at least that’s what he thought. But that was quite the opposite, it was all him and her pure emotions.

“I’m gonna head home and get cleaned up,” {Y/n} was walking away with the flowers in her hand.

Baro's muscles just moved and followed her, “I’ll help you.”

She laughed at him, “Sure, if you so insist, obsessed Baro.”

The two walked to her house, the football still in the alleyway. Baro helped {Y/n} clean up and get the blood out of her clothes. She took a shower and washed the scars on her face and the rest of her body. When she walked out of the bathroom her whole house was spotless, that was beside her research table everything was untouched.

“I’ve never seen this place so clean.” She whispered to herself walking over to Baro who had heard her.

“What happened to you?” He asked, seeing a bunch of scares over her body. She would wear long sleeves or cover her arms with a jacket so he had never seen her arms or legs.

She froze in place not knowing what to say, “Failure. Every time I failed, this is what my boss did to me. So I stopped working for him and now work by myself. I like it better.” She smiled at him holding her arms near her body.

Baro looked at them, examining all of them he could see. She was innocent and pure, never would he have thought someone would even touch her. Especially in such a cruel way. Just like the Violets he had been giving her, they were only touched by the ground, no one ever touching them. But they were filthy from the dirt and soil. They were only as clean as we could see.

From that point onward Baro had always walked to {Y/n} house and given her a Violet or two, and never did she touch them, even when they died out. The only thing she did was water them and give the young new soil.

Baro had stopped going to the alleyway to practice, he had left the basket there and weeds and vines were growing all over so that it couldn’t even move anymore if you tried. {Y/n} had moved a lot of her researched items either out of the house or in a box. She would make dinner, lunch, and even sometimes breakfast for the two of them.

So enough it was like Baro was living at her house, it was better than his apartment. It was like luck when he moved in, a football team scouted him and he was now in a new team. {Y/n} supported him and would show up to his practice and games.

------

Violets are the flower of modesty, humility, and innocence, there are many different types of Violets around the world. People love them and pluck them from the ground using them for their good. That’s why Baro stood in a graveyard with a bouquet of Violets of different kinds. He placed them on a grave with the name {Y/n} {M/n} {L/n}.

He bent down seeing a small picture of her and the date she died on it 5/15/23. He was there because today marked her first year dead. It had been hard for him since her death and all the people close to her.

Baro didn’t like to go home to see the dead Violets. He couldn’t bear the thought of touching what was hers. Even if he was more of a clean freak, the thought never grazed him to touch her items. All of her clothes were still in her closet, her pens and pencils all over. The only time he did touch them was when he needed them.

Even after a year no doctor, detective, or anyone could find the cause of her death, It was unnatural and never has anyone just died without showing signs of death. Baro knew if she was still alive she could find the reason. {Y/n} had a few awards herself for her research, like how she was the first person to discover help slow down cancer, how to stop people from developing diseases when they are born, and a bunch of other great achievements.

Maybe that’s how she died. Someone was jealous and decided to end her life before she did anything else. Baro knew it had to be someone, but he could never find who. Who even out for her? She was the smartest, prettiest person in the world, and Baro never got to tell her how much he loved her. He regretted that he never even got the chance to propose to her.

a/n: if you have any flowers or characters you want me to either comment or message me, it would be nice to the more.

#fanfic #blue lock #bllk #blue lock manga #blue lock x reader #mk. oneshots #x y/n #baro #barou x reader #barou shouei #mk. baro shoet #blue lock barou #mk. flower series #Violets #flowers

21 notes · View notes

prettytoxicrevolver · 1 year

Text

Trade | Anthony Beauvillier

Requested? No I wish

Warnings? A fuck ton of angst but with a happy ending?

Summary: When Anthony gets traded to the Canucks, the future of your relationship becomes uncertain

Word Count: 1,940

The trade came as a shock.

You had been sitting with your best friend, planning dinner and the rest of night plans when your phone started blowing up. You tried to ignore it at first, enjoying the minimal time you get with your friend but after your phone continued to ring off the hook repeatedly she told you to look.

Firstly it was the tweet notification from the Islanders. Then a text from Anthony. Followed by the ESPN notifications and eventually several texts from several players, wags, coworkers, etc.

“What’s up?” your best friend asks, clearly sensing a shift in your mood.

“Anthony got traded to the Canucks,” you say, still not truly believing the words coming out of your mouth.

“What!?” she yelps, running over to where you’re sitting in bed and yanking your phone out of your hand.

She scrolls for a minute as you space out, trying so desperately to process the news. Anthony was being traded. To a team in a different country, three thousand miles away from where you would be.

You’re snapped out of your daze when your phone drops to your bed with a silent thunk. You look over at your best friend and upon seeing the pity in your eyes you can’t help the tears streaming down without your permission.

“Oh honey,” she says. She pulls you in and you cry on her shoulder, loud embarrassing sobs as the weight of the news finally settles and holds onto your chest like a ten pound weight.

It feels like you cry for hours and hours, your best friend sitting there the entire time. She offers soft, kind, reassuring words to help calm you down. Why did this feel like the five stages of grief rolling through you over and over again?

“I’ll be right back sweetheart,” you hear your best friend say. She moves from your embrace and you fall onto the bed, curling into a tight ball with tears falling messily over the side of your face.

“Baby girl?” you hear.

You lift your head and through the flood of tears and blurry vision, you see Beau standing in your doorway.

“Oh Beau,” you say. You get up and move to him and his strong arms are around your waist in seconds. He rocks the two of you back and forth, one of his hands slowly tugging through your hair and rubbing your back in a perfect cycle.

“I had no clue baby,” he whispers and you can hear the hurt in his voice as well.

It suddenly hits you like a brick wall that this trade was worse for Tito than you could ever imagine for yourself. He has to pick up his entire life and move across the country, be away from you, and leave his best friend and the team he has worked his butt off for for years now.

You pull back, looking up at Beau to find he had started to cry as well. Your hands slide from his neck to his cheeks and you wipe away the stray tears that are left. He leans into your touch, his lips coming to meet your palm in a soft kiss.

“I’m so sorry my beautiful boy,” you whisper.

The next three days are spent helping pack Tito’s stuff up and get it sent out to Vancouver, wrapping up any loose ends, and spending every second possible together. Giving Anthony three days was a blessing from the Canucks especially considering they originally wanted him on the first flight out of New York.

You couldn’t sleep the night before his flight. You tossed and turned and had a rush of nightmares that left you restless for the remainder of the night. When you wake again, sunlight has started to peek through the curtains and you feel Tito’s heavy gaze on you.

“Good morning mon amour,” he whispers. One hand comes up and carefully curls a piece of hair around his finger before releasing it and letting it rest behind your ear. His eyes trace the features of your face, memorizing the way your eyes stay half closed when you were sleepy, the small smile that rested there when you looked at him, the way your hair fans in a million directions when you lay down forming a halo around you.

It feels like the morning happens in slow motion. It’s like your body was put on autopilot, knowing exactly what to do to survive while your brain hesitates due to all of the sadness clouding around you. You swear you don't become coherent until Tito stands before you at the security line.

Your arms are crossed firmly across your chest, your lip quivers as you look at the man you love before you and you look away quickly trying not to cry. Tito keeps his hands in his pockets, it's like you both know that if you hug each other now, you might never let go.

“Call me when you land?” you ask, trying desperately to act as if this is temporary.

“Yeah darling. Get home safe,” he says.

You take a deep breath, stepping forward and wrapping your arms around Titos middle and shoving your face into his chest. You couldn’t meet his eyes, if you did you’d do something embarrassing like ask him to stay.

“I love you,” you say, squeezing him tight. He reciprocates, whispering the sentiment back before pulling away from you and turning without a second glance.

The car ride is deafeningly quiet, you’re shocked still the entire time trying desperately not to let your emotions take over. Your body moves on its own accord, pulling you out of the car, trudging up to your apartment and shutting the door.

The sound of your keys dropping onto the counter is what shocks you out of your state. You slide to the floor, tears falling faster than you can think and suddenly you’re a puddle of sadness and missing Tito and wondering how the hell you were going to make this work without him here.

Tito has to work to make his body move away from you. He has to think through every step and every second to make it on the plane in time and off to Vancouver. He wipes away tears as he looks out the plane window that only takes him away from the one thing he wants.

It takes six weeks before you and Anthony can have an actual facetime call. Not quick texts, not short phone calls that last less than a minute, but a real face to face connection for a longer period of time.

When he picks up the phone, your gasp is quiet but audible enough that Anthony makes a face. It’s only been a little over a month, but everything seems to have changed. He started to grow out his beard, his hair a little longer and falling in waves, but his eyes are bright. He’s happy.

“Mon amour,” he greets and your heart flutters at the pet name.

“Tell me everything,” you demand and Beau smiles. “How’s the team? What’s your apartment like? Is the coach nice?”

Anthony tells you everything about the past six weeks and you’re grinning as you find out how well he’s been doing in his new job and his new home.

“I wish I was back home next to you,” he says towards the end of his recap and your smile falters.

“Me too,” you admit quietly.

You both try to continue the conversation after that, desperate to catch up and resume some normalcy in a relationship that seems to have blown up within the span of two months.

“I’ll talk to you soon?” he asks and you nod.

“I love you beau.”

“I love you too.”

The next few months are more painful than anything.

Beau is attempting to fit into the team, working hard to improve his game and help them win as much as possible for the rest of the season. His issue with achieving that? He still looks for you in the crowd every night.

He was losing you in the crowd quicker than he can imagine and it hurts that he’s struggling to remember the way you would scream and cheer when he scored. The way the fluorescents lit up your smiling face and while he was still living that dream for himself it was empty without you there.

This sadness coupled with the fact he just wanted to celebrate a win with you has him calling you after a particularly good game for him. He fails to notice that while it’s only 10 pm for him, it was 1 am for you.

“Hello?” you answer groggily.

“Oh darling I’m so sorry I forgot,” Tito’s voice falls over your ears and you’re quick to sit up in bed and shake yourself awake.

“What’s going on?”

“Nothing I just,” he hesitates and you frown wishing you could see him. “I scored twice and got an assist and I’m just so excited and I wish you were here.”

Your head falls, relieved that Tito was okay but you could feel a slice through your heart at his words. You wanted to be there, wanted to celebrate with him and show off the love of your life. You hated this distance. Hated it, hated it, hated it.

“Oh honey that’s amazing,” you choke out quietly trying not to let your emotions overcome the joyous moment for your boy.

“I should have never left,” Tito whispers out and both of your hearts tear a little more at his words.

He can hear it in your voice, the quiet sighs, the hidden sniffles, and the fact that you’re no doubt crying halfway across the world and he can’t do anything about it. He should have never left you. He shouldn’t have caused this pain.

“You didn’t have a choice babe,” you remind him and he nods even though you can’t see it.

“Are we wasting time? Should,” he takes a deep breath trying to get out the next painful words. “Should we call it quits? I can’t keep doing this without you.”

“Beau,” the word is a plea on your lips. Asking, begging him not to do this.

“We only have two more months till you’re home. We can figure it out then but just wait okay? Don’t give up on this.”

You’re twirling a pen around in your fingers, zoning out as you stare at the pile of work in front of you.

“(y/n)?” your coworker asks. Your head snaps up to look at her and it occurs to you that it’s late and everyone has left.

“Oh shit sorry,” you mutter out moving to get all of your stuff and start heading out.

“Hello mon amour.”

You’re dreaming. You absolutely have to be dreaming. He didn’t come home till tomorrow. You knew that because you had been practically counting down the seconds till he’d be back in the states, back in your life, back in your arms, till he was back.

When you look up you’re more than happy to be wrong.

“Anthony,” his name falls from your lips like a prayer.

You’re both stepping quickly towards each other and when his arms come around you it’s like he never left in the first place. Everything has changed in the past six months since he left but none of it matters. Not when he was here, not when he was pressing kisses to your lips and keeping you so incredibly close it was impossible to get any nearer.

“I’m home,” he says into your hair. “I’m home love.”

#anthony beauvillier fic #anthony beauvillier x reader #anthony beauvillier imagine #canucks x reader #canucks imagine #nhl x reader #nhl imagine #nhl fanfiction

181 notes · View notes

gasolinerainbowpuddles · 4 months

Text

| HAPPY HOLIDAZE | part of the A Weight Off Your Shoulders collection ║ series masterlist ║ main masterlist ║ | PAIRING(s): Joel Miller x plus sized!fem!neighbor (Roxy)

| RATING: explicit material | 18+ | WORD COUNT: 9.7k | CONTENT: age gap (Joel mid 40s, neighbor late 20s), struggles of body image and self-worth, diet culture, awkward conversations and situations with your parents, fluff with dash of smut at the end, two idiots in love who are disgusting sluts for each other

| SYNOPSIS: You and Joel finally meet each other's families.

✧this is the fifth installment of a oneshot collection✧ ✧◦◦║ Part 1 ║ Part 2 ║ Part 3 ║ Part 4 ║ Part 6 ║◦◦✧

nail color? You text the question along with a picture of the wall of options in front of you. getting a pedi too so pick two The text bubble pops up then disappears for a moment before reappearing again.

You want it to match holiday stuff or whatever? I’m not an expert at this stuff. Don’t know if there’s unspoken rules or something.

You roll your eyes and smile down at your phone. Joel was older, old enough to not always get the social implications of certain situations, especially in the dating world - not that the two of you were officially dating or anything - situations, like asking a man to pick out what color you should get your nails done.

don’t need an expert

A playful grin warms your features as you type out a few extra snippets and hit send.

just need to know what color you wanna see on my nails

you know, for when you’re watching me grab your dick and stroke it later

You bite back a smile, teeth tucked into your bottom lip, as you wait for a reply. As expected, the text bubble flashes and disappears on the screen repeatedly. You can vividly picture Joel texting you back in a frenzy over your flirty message. You relished in getting him worked up sometimes, knowing you could get him absolutely feral to the point that he’d just rip his clothes off the second he got through the door and fuck the living daylights out of you.

You stifle a laugh when his contact picture takes up the entire screen. Of course he’s given up on trying to text you back and is just calling you instead.

“Yyyeesssssss?” you draw out in an innocent voice.

“Goddamn you can’t just send me shit like that when I’m at work, baby.” His husky voice is clear even as it passes through the somewhat scratchy receiver.

“What’s the matter, Joel? Those big ass Wreck It Ralph hands of yours couldn’t type the words fast enough?” you tease. Joel’s deep laugh on the other end of the line makes your belly feel like a swarm of butterflies are about to burst through your throat.

“How the fuck did I end up with a brat like you, huh?” he chuckles.

You hum a laugh in reply and wait patiently for him to answer your original question.

“Alright, brat. Lemme think.” He makes small, thoughtful noises as you tilt your head and scan the wall. When he makes a low, throaty noise, you sniff a laugh through your nose.

“Okay, if you are actually picturing what the color will look like while I’m … doing that–” you pause, glancing around the nail salon as if an eavesdropper would somehow immediately know what sort of filth you were exchanging “–you’re gonna get sent to HR when somebody sees you all bricked up at work.”

Joel laughs again. He’d laughed every time you said “bricked up” since you taught him the expression several months ago.

“Alright, alright. Red. I want ‘em to be red,” he decides.

“Okay. And my toes?”

He makes a weird noise on the other end, and you roll your eyes. You know exactly what he’s thinking about.

“No, you will NOT have to picture what color my toes would look like wrapped around your–” you cut yourself off when you catch a curious, disapproving look from an older woman in a chair nearby getting a manicure. Joel busts out in a belly laugh, understanding that you were probably talking too loud and got a look from somebody.

“Hm, I dunno, baby. Never been into that, but who knows. Might be my new thing if you’re the one doin’ it. I like everythin’ you do,” he murmurs. It sounds like he’s cupped his hands against his mouth and the microphone so he could talk without getting noticed like you had.

“Joel,” you warn with no real weight behind it.

“And besides, even if it ain’t a footjob situation, you know I like gettin’ those things up on my shoulders when I’m fuckin’ you senseless.” His voice is quieter now, but it’s less to do with volume and more to do with the raspy, lewd bend to his words.

“I just know I’m going to regret teaching you this, but there’s actually a name for that,” you say low, cupping your own hand into the receiver now so you could speak without catching another disapproving glance.

“Oh?” He sounds excited, as he always does whenever you introduce him to these kinds of things. Slang. How to hide photos from his main camera roll. How to work the remote on the TV. Turns out dating someone younger had its benefits - not that the two of you were dating or anything.

“Mmmhmmm. It’s kinda like the one I told you before. The ‘your hands would make a nice necklace’ thing. So yeah, you’d say ‘I wanna wear your ankles for earrings’ or, like, ‘I’m gonna make your ankles my earrings.’”

“Damn, maybe your generation ain’t so bad after all,” he chuckles. “Certainly come up with some handy terms, I’ll give ya that much.”

“Oh my god, you’re so annoying,” you giggle. “Like you’re that much older than me. Give me a break.”

He chuckles. You hear some yelling in the background on his end and then his muffled response to whoever it was that he’d “be right there.”

“Alright, honey. I gotta go. Lemme see. Alright. Toes. Hhhmm. How ‘bout blue? Like those one pair of panties I like’a yours,” he decides.

You smile. You know exactly the pair he’s talking about.

“Mmm’kay. Only ‘cuz I like you so much,” you hum.

“Yeah, you sure do like me ‘n these Wreck It Ralph hands. Don’t mind ‘em when they’re fingerin’ your–”

“Hanging up now,” you snip playfully.

“Don’t wanna hear you complainin’ when I yell ‘I’M GONNA WRECK IT’ when I’m balls deep in you tonight,” he hurries out before you can end the call.

“GOODBYE, JOEL. And you better not!” you snicker. “Talk about a turn off. I’d cut you off for a month.”

“Bullshit. You couldn’t go a month without me. Without my–” he laughs, not getting to finish before you cut him off.

“GOOD. BYE.” you huff in a giggle.

“Bye, baby. See you tonight,” he laughs easy before making some exaggerated kissy noises and hanging up.

You shake your head, trying to keep from erupting in laughter. This man was an absolute mess and full on dork, and you loved every second of it. You nab a seasonal red and a panty blue and wait to be called. You dutifully ignore the eavesdropper from before as she glances your way a few times. It wasn’t very hard to divert your attention with all the giddy, bubbly feelings surging through you. Joel made an outstanding distraction in plenty of ways, and you find yourself smiling like a love-struck puppy most of the time because of him. He really felt like the best thing that had ever happened to you.

He was wrong when he’d said “you couldn’t go a month without me” during your call. The truth was, you couldn’t go without him, period. He had become so naturally ingrained into your life that it felt strange to think of what it had been like without him. It just felt right that you existed in tandem. It was hard to separate how you felt and what you “knew.”

You knew you were in a casual “situationship” that neither one of you sought to define in any certain terms. You felt as though spending practically every night together, going on a weekend getaway together, and neither one of you pursuing anything outside of each other was decidedly more in the “serious, committed relationship” category.

You knew that it was a “textbook mistake” to jump from an almost decade-long failed relationship into a new, serious one. It wasn’t in line with what you were “supposed to do” after such a big change, which conventionally involved something along the lines of “playing the field for a while” and “just having some fun” while getting back out there. But your heart had decided that you were going to abandon all sense and become involved with the first guy you had a meaningful interaction with post-breakup.

So, here you are, just several months out of a heartbreaking split from somebody you were supposed to marry, and completely head over heels with someone new who felt too good to be true. You can’t think of a time in your life that you’ve been happier, so why did it feel so petrifying to just lean into the obvious? Why couldn’t you just yield to the undeniable, consuming magnetic connection between you and Joel?

He so often seemed to hold back for your sake, never wanting to push you past your comfort zone or ask too much of you too fast. Biting his tongue at times that you could’ve sworn he’d nearly slipped and said the “big L” to you and caught himself at the last moment. Just a miracle of a man who was patiently waiting you out, waiting for you to give in to it all and accept what was clearly happening. Admitting that, as crazy as it seemed and felt, the two of you were in love, and one of you needed to make the first move towards the next step. The definitive kind of step that makes this “casual fling” into a real relationship.

Something or someone was bound to give, and you don’t know if you’ll ever be ready for what that brings.

Your parents had booked the cruise long before your engagement was broken off. It was a dream of theirs to go on the two week long journey, spanning several continents and all of the major winter holidays you celebrated. Naturally you’d insisted that they don’t cancel on account of your bad bit of luck. At least somebody’s year was going like they thought it would, and it felt wrong to ask them to cancel the vacation they’d been talking about since forever.

That, and the fact that you were relieved to have a valid reason for attending Thanksgiving with your parents instead of going with Joel for a quick trip to see Sarah during her college break. Even though he’d asked in an offhand way if you’d want to go with him and meet her, you could tell he’d very much wanted you to say yes. Of course you wanted to meet her and share in Joel’s life that way, but it was a major shift into the “real, defined relationship” category – the kind where you had a title attached to your name when you were introduced to their family.

It’s how you found yourself currently sat in your parents’ kitchen, poking around on the appetizer tray, while your mom busied herself with the normal fare in addition to “lower calorie alternatives” you were no doubt expected to choose if the quantities of each offering was anything to go by. You watch your mom slice impossibly thin pieces of cheese for the crackers and wonder if you should’ve just sucked it up and gone with Joel. Then again, you’d have to offer some sort of reason for missing out on a major holiday with your family. It was a catch 22.

“Roxy, don’t eat so many appetizers. I know it’s a holiday and all, but don’t go overboard,” your mom offers with genuine kindness that stings just as bad as if she’d meant to hurt you. You set the cheese slice and cracker combo back onto your plate. You knew you were stress eating from all the nerves about the possibility of the “how’s your love life” conversation, but you surprised yourself by only realizing you were taking so many bites after your mom pointed it out.

You’d stopped being so vigilant with every morsel of food that passed through your mouth. You ate most of your meals with Joel, and you weren’t self-conscious about eating around him or in front of him like you always were with most people. It was a hard habit to break, to not be so focused on pacing yourself, matching your rate of intake with others so you didn’t look like a pig chowing down and wiping your plate clean before everyone else had finished.

Joel was a good cook, and he often brought you bites to test or little plates of this and that to tide you over before the whole meal was done. You weren’t even embarrassed when he’d feed you pieces of popcorn while you watched movies together, snuggled up together on the couch. He’d chomp a few pieces down himself and then pop a few kernels into your mouth, always attentive. Just like he was with everything when it came to you.

But here in your childhood home, listening to your mom’s offhand comments about your intake, it brought you right back into all those years of shame and guilt. You knew she meant well. She always had. Never wanting you to struggle the same way she did, years and years of diets and exercise regimens and restriction. She’d dropped a lot of weight since taking up Weight Watchers, and you were happy for her. She was always nicer and more relaxed when she’d hit those lower ends of the yo-yoing. All the more uptight and anxious the moment her weight crept back up again.

Your dad didn’t seem to care either way what she looked like, but it was a bit of accidental negative reinforcement that he liked interacting with her a whole lot more when she was nicer to him and everybody else. It just so happened that was only when her jeans didn’t fit so tight and the numbers weren’t too frightening on the scale. She’d no doubt come to internalize the dynamic and equate her lower weight with better interactions and a more fulfilling relationship with your dad, never even realizing it was the way she interacted with him and others that brought about those pleasant times and not what size she had to pull from the rack.

“Awfully quiet, Rox,” your dad notes.

You look over to find him studying you with those astute eyes. He was never much of a talker, but god could he communicate so much with a look or a gesture. Your mother on the other hand–

“Yeah, hon. Please don’t spend the day thinking about that awful, awful man.” You suppose your unusual quiet could most readily be explained by all the feelings that might come about spending your first major holiday out of a relationship for the first time in almost ten years. You aren’t sure which is worse: that hypothetical explaining your silence, or the truth, which was an over the moon sort of romance that you couldn’t talk about yet.

“I’m not thinking about Michael,” you mumble petulantly. You didn’t want to give him any sort of win, even if he wasn’t around to know about it.

“Y’seem distracted,” your dad says plainly.

He’s watching you with those eyes that say he already knows something is up, but he doesn’t know enough to speak on it yet. Your gut pinches. It won’t take him long to figure it out. It never does if he’s got his mind set to something. It was a trait you’d always admired and envied. You shrug off his observation, but your mom isn’t so quick to let it go.

“You’ll get to a place where you can put yourself back out there, hon. I just know it. You’re a resilient girl, and you’re not going to let that loser change that,” she sniffs with an air of indignation. It’s hard to imagine this was the same woman who this time last year had been so effusive with compliments and general praise to the same man she was now deeming a loser. Still, the sentiment that he had kneecapped your entire romantic life annoyed you more than it should’ve.

“Who says I’m not ‘back out there’ already?” you grumble to the half empty tray of appetizers.

Your mom jolts like she’d been doused in ice water. Your eyes flit to your dad who gives you a knowing grin. Even though you hadn’t even actually said anything, it felt good to talk about Joel, to acknowledge his existence at least. You feel a sudden urge to just tell your parents everything about Joel. You chug the rest of your red wine to reign yourself in and wait for the onslaught from your mother.

“You’re seeing someone?” she breathes, excitement boiling over.

“Well, I mean… I guess I’ve been, you know, like, talking with somebody,” you say as casually as you can manage.

“Oh? REALLY? Oh! That’s-That’s wonderful, Roxanne!” your mom exclaims, rising to the balls of her feet and clapping her hands together quietly. “How long have you been seeing each other? Why haven’t we met him yet?”

“Take it easy, will ya, Melissa? She didn’t say it was anything serious,” your dad mutters.

For all his faults, your dad at least grasped the concept that the dating world had changed significantly since he and your mom got together, and it was no longer the kind of landscape where you were “going steady” with the same person after two successful dates. Your mom, on the other hand, struggled with the concept of casual anything when it came to relationships. A romantic at heart, she was always the type to believe in the sorts of things like twin flames, finding your soulmate in every universe, and so on.

You snort to yourself, considering how you were a perfect blend of the two. The logical, practical side of you knowing that you and Joel hadn’t defined your relationship with any specific terms, but you were mutually exclusive. A noncommittal sort of committal. The bleeding heart side of you knowing good and well that you were in love with him. It was the stuff of romcoms, the type that you’d make Joel watch with you on the weekends when it was your turn to pick the movie. The kind that he pretended to be annoyed by but never truly complained about and never made you feel like a mawkish idiot when you’d cry at the sappy payoff in the overwrought finale.

“Oh, shut up, Robert,” your mom snips. “I just meant I wanted to know more about him. Don’t act like you don’t, either.” She did her best to be annoyed with your dad, but she broke almost immediately when he smirked at her and poked her sides teasingly.

“Didn’t say I wasn’t. Just wasn’t gonna push her, dearest,” he mocks half-heartedly. He swigs a sip of beer and turns back to you.

“Of course we’d love to hear about him, Rox. Wanna know who’s got my little girl’s attention, ya know?” He smiles, mood and tongue steadily loosened by the beer in his hand. Your mom makes a low sneering sound. When you and your dad both look at her curiously, she sighs and shrugs.

“Sorry. It’s just- Yes, of course we want to hear all about him, serious or not. I want to know who’s got your attention, too, but I-I just…” she trails off, suddenly seeming uncomfortable as she and your dad exchange a loaded look.

“What? What is it?” you demand.

“I think what your mom is tryna say, Rox, is that we want to know more about him for the sake of knowing about him, but also because we’re both… we both hope whoever it is treats you better than.. what you dealt with before,” he finishes clumsily.

Your dad wasn’t the talkative type, but he was always better at expressing himself when he did decide to speak. Choosing his words more carefully than your mother ever did and communicating clearly despite not offering up much conversation very often. It felt odd to hear him stumble over his words, but it went hand in hand with their shared look moments ago.

They’d obviously talked amongst themselves about your complete failure of a relationship with Michael. It had been humiliating to tell them the truth of the situation, why you couldn’t “work it out” and why you had to move back home, but they were ultimately supportive.

It felt all the more humiliating on your end because your parents had been madly in love and happily married for decades. It was the kind of relationship you didn’t hear about much anymore, the childhood sweethearts who were destined to fall in love and be together forever. You’d thought that you were going to have the same thing, just a little rougher around the edges. Instead you’d ended up with a mockery of a relationship that you’d wasted years of your life on and would never get back.

“Maybe somebody closer to your age would be better, too,” your mom’s third glass of wine said.

Your dad didn’t say anything, but his face spoke all the agreement in the world with the sentiment. Your stomach flipped. Great. Of course they were going to write off anyone with more than 5 years of seniority on you after Michael had so dutifully upheld the classic trope of “older man divorces his wife for his younger girlfriend and then repeats the cycle when she ages out of his desired demographic.” Yet another aspect of your life that he ruined despite not having spoken to him since before you left Colorado and came home.

“Maybe you should meet him before deciding you don’t like him,” you gripe defensively. The urge to defend Joel was strong, but you regretted your words the moment they left your lips.

“What a lovely idea!” your mom practically sings. Your dad’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline in surprise at your quick to defend attitude for this “casual relationship.” Right off the bat and you’d shown your hand. You wonder if your dad will clue your mom in that you obviously had strong feelings for this mystery man. You pour another glass of wine and resign yourself to divulging the bare minimum of information about Joel to your parents.

You don’t give a specific on age – “he’s older than me” – or when you met – “he lives next door.” Your mom was biting back annoyed sighs at how you danced around questions. You’d finally had enough to drink that you promised to talk with Joel about the four of you meeting up for dinner sometime in December before your parents left on their cruise. You hope that Joel will help you concoct some sort of excuse for not scheduling such a dinner, but your instinct tells you that he would probably be even more excited about it than your mother, if that was even possible.

“Joel, I don’t think this is structurally sound,” you half-joke.

The gingerbread structure, which was really just a bunch of graham crackers stuck together with store bought icing, was definitely leaning towards the left, but there wasn’t any discernible freefall motion to it. Just a slow, sinking slant towards the dining room table surface.

“Just leave it to the professionals, huh?” he snips back playfully.

“I knew I should’ve gotten a second opinion,” you theatrically mutter under your breath.

Joel pops a marshmallow into his mouth and chews loudly just because he knows how much it annoys you. “You got the best right here, baby.” He smacks his mouth in big gnawing motions. “Can’t get any better than this.”

His goofy grin is endearing, and you focus on that instead of the voice in your head readily agreeing that, yeah, you couldn’t do better than Joel and you might not even be good enough for him in the first place.

“You up for a lil friendly competition?” he suggests.

You shake off your negative thoughts with a loose shrug and smirk back at him. “Let’s hear it, then.”

“Whoever makes the best gingerbread house person wins,” Joel proposes in a borderline smug tone . You’re about to agree when he holds a single finger up. “But wait just a minute, let’s make it interesting. You make me, and I’ll make you.”

Your mind is already going into overdrive producing hilarious confectionary Joels, and you don’t even waste any time offering up a verbal agreement to the challenge before diving right in. It’s only a minute or two later that cereal boxes have been erected between the two of you as “anti-cheating shields.” Sprinkles and icing cover the surface of the table everywhere you look. You’d both worked in near silence as you diligently crafted holiday candied versions of each other.

You give your creation a once over and beam at your work: rice krispy treats mashed together with extra marshmallows for a broad, strong body, brown and black sprinkles mashed into the “face” to make a patchy beard, little red licorice pieces for the mouth, a chocolate candy smeared with marshmallows for his “salt and pepper locks,” and two mismatched sprinkles for eyes.

You start to peek around the boxes, but Joel is quick to block your line of sight. “Hey, no looking until it’s done!” You put your hands up in mock surrender and giggle uncontrollably at how serious he’s taking the task. He grins big and wide before nipping at your bottom lip, cheek, and earlobe in quick succession. “Absolute brat,” he breathes out a laugh. His eyes slide to your making of him, and his smile goes even wider.

You pick it up gently and present it to him. “Ta-da!”

He wheezes in laughter as he produces his version of you, and you’re quick to join him when you see it. Two jumbo marshmallows shoved together, some sort of pink taffy crammed into it near the bottom to represent what you can only assume is your vagina, two smaller but still sizable marshmallows attached by toothpicks for breasts – pointed ends of the toothpick still visible, of course, for your nipples – and random bits of icing and sprinkles mishmashed into a face.

“Oh wait wait wait,” you giggle like a maniac. You shove three mini marshmallows onto a toothpick to give your candy Joel a penis. He arranges the two of you against the lopsided graham cracker house, marshmallow penis situated crudely into your pink taffy vagina, and you both take in the completed scene.

“Never seen a better lookin’ gingerbread family,” he chuckles.

You nod, enthusiastic with agreement at the deformed but lovable pairing. You want to shove down the urge to mention the impending dinner with your parents, but you can’t quite manage.

“Speaking of family,” you awkwardly lay out, “you sure you’re still up for meeting the folks?”

Joel only looks a touch more serious when he answers. “Wanna meet the people responsible for creating such a beautiful thing like you.”

“Can’t promise they won’t make you pay for all of Michael’s sins,” you mutter.

He just smirks back in response. “If they didn’t give the next guy shit after that colossal failure of a man you were with, I’d wonder if they actually gave a shit at all.”

As usual, Joel brings everything into focus and props the situation up on a patient, flexible perspective for everyone involved. If he was in charge of the narrative, maybe the dinner wouldn’t be that bad afterall.

The pretty green satin dress you’d finally worked up the courage to buy and wear suddenly felt three sizes too small and ten times too revealing to wear for dinner with your parents. You smooth over the already smoothed fabric, hands gliding freely over the swell of your hips and belly where the light catches, and let out a heavy sigh.

“Jesus fuckin’ christ,” Joel groans from the doorway.

You twist around awkwardly to find him staring at you. His eyes roam back up to your face, and he shakes his head with a small, incredulous laugh. His grin etches out little grooves of joy around his eyes. “You look incredible.”

And it’s as simple as that. Joel looking at you how he does and saying the things he does, dispelling those nagging, intrusive thoughts in a moment’s passing. You turn to face him directly and do a bit of admiring yourself. Crisp, neat gray slacks paired with a nice button up shirt, hair lightly gelled back, scruff a little less scruffy. Joel looks devastatingly handsome, and you tell him so.

It’s an easy atmosphere for most of the car ride to the restaurant. It’s the kind of familiarity and comfort that comes so easy that it ends up being difficult to explain to people. A sort of if you know, you know energy, and the closer you got to the restaurant, the more you were scared your parents weren’t going to “get it” at all. The nerves crept up and tightened like a vice squeezing around your chest. Your dress feels too snug and inappropriate again all the sudden.

“Hey.” Joel’s voice plucks you from your mini spiral. He’s glancing at you while he waits for the light to change, but you hadn’t even noticed the car had stopped at all. “It’ll be good. It’s gonna be a nice dinner, okay?”

You shake your head. “No, I know. I know it’ll be alright. I’m just–I don’t know why, but I guess I’m just nervous.” You give an apologetic shrug as if you might offend Joel for feeling anything less than ecstatic for him to meet your parents.

“Ain’t nothin’ to be worried about. If you get too nervous at dinner, I can handle it. I know how to steer a conversation, baby,” he assures you.

“But it’s not fair to ask you to take charge of the conversation just because I’m being overly anxious,” you grumble. “Especially since they’re my parents. I should be the one fielding questions and directing the conversation to pleasant chitchat.”

“Well, I guess that’s just one of the many things that makes me such a catch,” he teases with a wink.

You can’t help but smile a little at his attempts to keep you level headed. “Can’t argue with that.”

You focus on the lazy circles his wide hands draw on your thigh for the rest of the drive. You keep a flow of steady breaths as you pull into the lot and tell Joel not to worry about paying for valet. He grins knowingly at you. It was always a good sign if you were focused on economics and prudent money practices. His arm wraps across your back like a stabilizing bracket. The hostess informs you that the rest of your party has already arrived and is awaiting your company. Your heart jumps into your throat when you spot your parents seated in the middle of the restaurant.

It’s a bit of a blur as Joel introduces himself, offering a firm handshake to your dad and a friendly kiss on the cheek for your mother. He’s not even batting an eye as he prompts you to take a seat in the chair he’s pulled out for you. You plop awkwardly into your seat and feel like a deer in headlights. You realize now you probably should’ve prepped more for potential conversations and what sort of cohesive statements you and Joel would make in return. Your mouth feels like sandpaper, and your mother has to ask her question again when you realize you’ve missed it.

“I said, are you feeling okay? You’re just staring off,” she repeats with an edge of worry.

You snap into “fake it until you make it” mode and laugh it off. “Yeah, sorry, mom. Just realized it’s been a while since I ate something. Guess I’m a little hungry.”

It was the first thing that came to mind for a flimsy but passable excuse, and you want to launch yourself into the sun for immediately inviting the topic of food and appetite to the table. Even your dad pauses for a split second to squint at you as if he’d misheard. Your mom doesn’t take note of it, too delighted by your choice of topic.

“OOooohhhh, is it intermittent fasting? I’ve heard a lot about that. How long have you been doing that? I’m so proud of you!”

The unspoken “I’m so happy that you’re finally trying to lose weight again” hangs in the air and makes your cheeks start to burn. You’d rather shrivel into a ball of mush and seep through the cracks in the floor than have Joel bear witness to one of you and your mother’s back-and-forths over eating and body weight.

Joel barely finishes his sip of water before wading into the disaster of a conversation you’ve started. “Intermittent fasting? Ain’t that what you do before a doctor’s appointment?” You appreciate his willingness to throw himself into whatever awkward bullshit you’ve managed to whip up in such a short amount of time, but he’s truly not well-versed enough in your mother’s history of food and diet culture to really understand just what he’s getting into.

“Oh, I guess, but this is a real winner from what I’ve heard. One of my girlfriends just switched to it from keto, but she’s still quite plump, you know? It’s supposed to do wonders for cutting back on calories and weight loss, ” she reports with glittery, tired eyes that shift to you for a split second at the word plump.

“What? Like a diet or somethin’? You tellin’ me people just cut out whole chunks of time and won’t let themselves eat?” Joel’s misgivings with the entire concept is obvious. Your mother of course further ensnares her victim into the conversation, knowledgeable or not of the verbal intricacies and diatribe lures that await them. “It restarts your metabolism,” she explains excitedly to a further perplexed Joel.

At least she was trying to salvage the discussion and didn’t seem put off by Joel’s less than stellar reception to her passionate opinions.

“Sounds a little strange to me, but I guess to each their own,” he offers, noncommittal and not entirely convincing.

Your mom deflates a bit but takes it in stride. It was more than what she normally got in those types of conversations. You thank the high heavens when the waiter comes to start your orders. You fumble with the menu and mentally thank Joel when he casually suggests something for you, exactly what you would pick for yourself had your brain not been in panic mode. Everyone is focused on their menus for a short time, muttering here and there about which special looks good and what the house favorites are. You spend the entire time dreading the thought of your mother talking about your weight, dieting, and body in front of Joel and haven’t picked a dish by the time the waiter returns. All your brain can do is hammer thoughts of the night ending badly one way or another.

Before Joel can step in and just order for you, your mother supplies you with her ever helpful suggestions. “You know, there’s a lot of really delicious looking salads. And it’s easy to get the dressing on the side to save yourself some Points.”

“Salad? Points?” Joel asks.

“Oh, I guess intermittent fasting wouldn’t be Points,” she laughs at herself like she’d just made a funny joke. “Weight Watchers does Points. You know, tracking your calories through Points. Makes it so easy, especially during these cooler months when everybody just starts letting themselves go and eat anything they see!” She’s nodding with an enthusiasm that no one else at the table shares.

Joel glances at you with a look of why the fuck would anybody waste a nice meal out being worried about calories? but he doesn’t say that – thank god. You order a pathetic sounding salad just to move things along, and you ignore Joel’s bewildered expression over your dinner choice. Your mother makes a face – over what you can only assume is the fact that you didn’t order your dressing on the side – before she orders a smaller, even more pathetic sounding salad and a bowl of glorified bone broth. It’s steaks and seafood for the men at the table, and then you’re left with the expanse of time between ordering and the food arriving.

“So, Joel,” your mother starts up again. “You’re quite the mystery man! It was a pleasant surprise when we found out our little Roxy had made a nice friend.”

Joel’s face radiates warmth and pride at the mere allusion of being yours, being your mystery man - a “nice friend.” He gives a breezy explanation of how it’s been nice for him to have such an intelligent, funny companion that’s just a stone’s throw away from his own house. Things get a little rocky when he mentions his house being more quiet since his daughter went away to college. Your dad all but freezes on the spot and pins you with a look that you can’t place.

By some divine nature, your mom doesn’t say anything and opts to just blink repeatedly at Joel with a blank stare. Sensing he might’ve opened a can of worms with the innocent comment, Joel looks to you with uncertainty for the first time this evening. Something in his search for the right thing to do at this moment gives you the drive to speak up.

“Yeah, it’s been nice for me, too, honestly. It’s the first time I’ve lived alone in a really long time, you know? And I think I would’ve been doing a hell of a lot worse if I hadn’t met Joel,” you attest.

He gives you one of his shy, goofy grins, and part of you wonders why you would ever feel nervous when you’ve got someone like him by your side.

“Well, it certainly sounds… convenient,” your mother notes with a questionably loaded emphasis on the word convenient.

Ah, yes, there’s the other part of you screaming and hopping up and down that says THIS is precisely why you would feel nervous, even with Joel by your side.

“Maybe it was destiny. Aren’t you always going on and on about that sort of thing, mom?” you shoot back with a glare. Heat prickles on your neck at the insinuation that you and Joel enjoy each other’s company simply because it’s easy and right in front of you. Your mom huffs a little at your pointed tone, but you don’t back down.

“I never said it was a bad thing. I just think it’s certainly an element that’s made things more… speedy. But that’s neither here nor there, I guess.”

“Oh so now it’s not just because it’s easy but it’s rushed, too?” you scoff.

“That’s not what she’s sayin–”

You cut your dad off before he can jump in to defend your mom’s rude comments. “Sounds pretty clear what she’s saying, dad.” When you catch a “just so fast” and a “the whole Mike situation” muttered under her breath towards your dad, you feel on the verge of screaming. A large, firm grip on your thigh snaps your attention to Joel who levels you with a look – no, a silent request to let him take this on for you, to make good on what he’d promised in the car: ain’t nothin’ to be worried about, I can handle it, I know how to steer a conversation.

“Hey,” he bids to you, tender but firm. “Let them say their piece. This is all new to them, alright? They’re just wantin’ to protect you is all.”

“I’m not going to let them disrespect us– you,” you grit out.

“I can handle myself, sweet girl,” he reassures you with a lopsided grin. He motions for a waiter and orders a bottle of white for the table. The brief pause has deescalated some of the tension, but you’ve yet to look at your mom for fear that you’ll want to snap all over again. Joel turns his full attention to your parents.

“Joel, I didn’t mean anything bad from what I was saying, it’s just—” Your mom is rushing to appeal to his understanding, easygoing nature, and you think to yourself she doesn’t much deserve it right now.

Joel waves a dismissive hand - water under the bridge. “Pardon me for the interruption, but you don’t need to explain yourself to me. If somebody did to my daughter what that prick did to yours, I’d probably be behind bars,” he says plainly. You swear your dad smiles for the briefest moment at that. “So I don’t take any issue with y’all wantin’ to keep her from gettin’ hurt again.”

Your mom frowns and drops her gaze. A spark of guilt nips at your gut. Maybe you weren’t being fair. Maybe you were just so keyed up from the start that any little thing was bound to set you off. When the waiter appears with the wine, you happily gulp down the entire pour. Your mom sips at hers and avoids your eye.

“Here’s to new beginnings, yeah?” Joel offers with a lift of his glass. You clink your empty cup with the rest of the table in a muted cheers. “And to the love and happiness that we all deserve,” your dad adds with a soft look in your direction. The conversation shifts to meaningless chit chat, anything safe and tame to avoid another labile interaction.

You’re happy when dinner arrives just to have something else to focus on. Without a word, Joel takes your salad and scrapes half of it onto his plate before doling out a large portion of the steak he’d ordered. He nestles the bowl back in front of you and bites back a devilish smile.

Your dad is definitely sporting a tiny grin now, no mistaking that. Your mom of course looks puzzled but thinks better of commenting. When the table is quiet long enough for it to start being awkward, your dad steps up to the plate. “Pretty dress, hon. Don’t think I’ve seen you in it before. Don’t tell me you went and bought some new digs on account of this little dinner,” he teases.

You smile softly at the compliment and taunting. “Glad you’re sitting down already because I actually did buy this not too long ago. Realized I didn’t really have any going out clothes I actually liked.” You relax into the ambiance a little and cut through Joel’s – your – steak.

“You got my daughter out here acting strange, Joel,” your dad jokes. “Can hardly convince this one to spend a dime on anything, let alone herself. Good man.”

Joel chuckles goodnaturedly. “She’s been a good influence on me. Taught me a thing or two about finances I’m ashamed to say I prolly shoulda known at this point in my life, but better late than never I guess.” He gives you a playful nudge, and you feel like melting into a happy puddle. This is really happening. You and Joel, out and about as a legitimate, bonafide pairing, having dinner with the parents. It might be the entire glass of wine you downed on an empty stomach, but you’re pretty sure Joel is what’s got you feeling so intoxicated and fuzzy brained.

“Can’t work a lawn mower worth a damn, though,” he taunts. You groan and hide your face under your palm. Your mother zeroes in immediately on the inside joke and manages to convince Joel to tell the story. He sugarcoats none of the language or tantrum involved, and your parents both crack up at the telling. “Wish I could’ve snapped a picture of her face when she came back out to see me pushin’ that thing around without a problem.”

You’re a good sport, knowing Joel somehow finds all those less than flattering aspects of your personality more endearing than damning. He seems happy just to be talking about you so freely with others who know you and know how you can get. Joel can’t help ribbing your dad about the time you called a screwdriver a “screw gun,” and you can only laugh and shrug innocently when he claims they’re gonna “take his man card” for having his daughter out here misnaming basic tools.

You’re struck by how comfortable and confident Joel seems, how effortlessly he commands the attention of the table with his amusing storytelling and magnetic charm. Your parents are both genuinely smiling and engaged with him, and your eyes start to prick with the realization that this might actually end up okay. You and Joel stepping into this serious, committed territory might be nothing more than a no brainer, a path set in motion and followed with ease because it was just waiting for you to take the step forward and begin traveling.

You feel floaty by the time Joel excuses himself to the restroom. He plants a small peck on your temple before walking towards the back of the restaurant. You know you should gauge your parents’ impression of him before letting yourself just sit there in an unmistakable, lovestruck haze, but you can’t quite find the will or the concern to do anything else but bask in it. Joel just makes it around the corner and out of sight when your dad turns to you with a shrewd stare.

“He makes you happy. Doesn’t he?” he posits.

You blink back tears and nod with a watery smile. Your dad clucks his tongue on the roof of his mouth and nods back. “You know, your mom earlier… I think she was trying to broach a subject that we– to keep from making the same mistake twice. Her and me both—” you gently shake your head, not following the train of thought “—We had our reservations about Mike, and we didn’t say anything at the time. We didn’t want to rain on your parade, you know? But, we should’ve– we both should’ve shared our concerns we had about him from the start. Hindsight is 20/20 and all that, but we regret it, hon. We really, really do. Feel like we let you down. Like we failed at being your parents.”

The blissful tears inching towards the front of your eyes were blurring into those of rueful retrospection. Of course it made sense that they hadn’t been crazy about the freshly separated, not entirely divorced, and notably older coworker you’d found your heart embedded in. He’d lived an entire life before you’d come around, and then he’d thrown all of your pivotal young adult years down the drain like you were nothing.

“Joel’s nothing like him,” you blurt out.

“And we can see that, hon, we really can,” your mom adds quickly. Her eyes are glossy and entreating, and you sniff back the impending outpour hot along your lashline. “But that doesn’t mean he can’t hurt you, too. And we just have to be honest with you this time around, okay? If we see something, we’re just gonna have to speak on it, and I’m sorry if that’s upsetting to you.”

“We aren’t looking to make Joel pay for anybody’s sins. We just– We owe it to you to do it right this time around, Rox. Can’t stand to look at myself in the mirror if you got hurt again because we didn’t say something when we should’ve.” Your mother’s hand stays cupped in his when he reaches across the table to hold onto yours.

“It’s not your fault,” you sniff. “The only person who should be feeling bad right now is that scumbag back in Colorado. I deserve better than him, and I’m not going to let him hold me back from finding that person.”

“Of course not, of course not,” your dad agrees. “We just felt it was only fair that we be upfront with you about where we’re coming from this time around. Thankfully Joel seems like a great guy, so there’s no need to get the pitchforks out just yet.”

You snort and roll your eyes at the much welcomed turn to levity in the conversation. “Yeah, well, he’s a really good guy, and I know the more you get to know him the more you’re gonna love him.”

“Like you do?” your mom presses.

“Like I do what?”

“We’ll love him, like you love him?” she probes.

“I-I… um… I need to use the bathroom,” you announce as you stand and skitter the direction Joel headed what seems like 400 years ago. Without a second glance, you round the same corner he’d taken and make a beeline for the women’s restrooms. You’re not even cognizant enough to be startled when Joel pulls you into him.

“Where you runnin’ off to?” His smile falters when he sees the barely contained tears, and then his hands are cupping your face until you tell him what happened. You give him the quickest recap possible - dutifully excluding the part where you’d run off before having to answer your mom’s question about whether or not you were in love with Joel - and promise it’s nothing major. After the fourth time of asking if you were sure you were okay, you turn the questioning onto his whereabouts during the whole thing. You’re prepared to be annoyed with his answer, but the wind goes right out of your sails when he reveals he had given his card to the waiter to handle the bill and placed a to-go order for some dessert “in case you weren’t full from the half steak half salad.”

You don’t even allow yourself to sit with the genuine kindness and thoughtfulness oozing from Joel right now. You’re about two seconds from an emotional whiplash cry session, and you want to finish the night on a good note. Joel kisses you lightly across the forehead while he brings you into his embrace, and you take the opportunity to talk low and private.

“When we get home, I want you to turn my cervix into a dick punching bag,” you rasp. You meant for it to come out more joking than it did, but your abrupt detour into sexual frustration turned that intention right on its head.

Joel groans and sneaks a handful of your ass into the hand closest to the wall and out of sight of passerby. “Fuckin’ nasty. Baby needs some stress relief and it gets her talkin’ real filthy, huh?”

You look up to him with wide doe eyes and nod urgently. He sucks in a breath and looks to the ceiling like he’s collecting himself. He adjusts the crotch of his pants and crowds you against the wall. His breath is hot against your cheek when he murmurs, “Don’t wanna hear it later when I’ve got you pinned down with nowhere to go but to just take it, you understand?”

You gulp back a moan and bob your head yes. “S’good. S’real good because I ain’t gonna let up until that pussy is all beat to hell and raw from my cock, you hear me?”

“Oh my god,” you whimper. You rub your thighs together at the mental images he’s conjuring.

“See you back at the table, baby,” he toys. He waggles his eyebrows and is gone with the turn of a heel. You practically sprint into the bathroom and slap a towel drenched in cold water around the back of your neck. When you finally calm down enough to return to the table, Joel helps you into your chair and informs you that your parents will be joining the two of you at his house for a home cooked meal after they get back from their cruise. He manages to keep the mood friendly and light for the rest of the dinner, and your dad doesn’t even get weird about the bill when he’s informed Joel has already taken care of it.

By dad code, that has to count for something, right? Not turning it into a pissing contest over who’s going to cover the tab was as good a sign as any that he definitely liked Joel. Your mom’s full on squeeze hug and cheek pat settled any lingering doubts. Your parents like Joel. You think Joel likes your parents, too. Despite a minor hiccup at the beginning, everyone had come out unscathed. Hell, you already had plans for them to spend more time with you and Joel as a couple.

You say your goodbyes to your parents and wave them off as their valet arrives. You’re awash in the swell of your successful night as Joel walks you to his truck. You’ve got that silly, happy smile plastered across your face. You can feel it pushing your cheeks against your temples with the intensity of it. You’re brought back to earth when you see that Joel has not only opened the passenger door for you but has the rear passenger door opened as far as it will go without hitting the empty car next to his truck. You’re boxed in by the doors and the cars. Joel tosses the container of dessert onto his dash and flings your purse onto the floor of the passenger seat.

“Hey! I don’t even think it’s zipp–”

The sheer heft and heat of Joel slams into you from the back and pins you against the seat. Your arms fly up and onto the seat as you try to catch your balance. Your next round of indignant complaint is halted when Joel curves himself flush against you, arms resting atop your own. He grinds slow and steady against your backside. Your breath hitches at the feel of him fully thick and hard for you.

“You see what you fuckin’ do to me?” he grunts against the side of your head. “Wearin’ this pretty thing. Bein’ so goddamn beautiful all dinner. Then seein’ me in the back and beggin’ me to fuck you so hard your pussy goes all bruised from me slamming my cock into you. Gonna fuck you so hard I gotta kiss it all better after, huh? S’that what you want?”

“Oh sh-shit,” you gasp.

Without waiting for your stunned response, Joel shoves your dress up to your hips and kneels between your legs. His mouth is on you in seconds, and you bite into your arm to stifle the surprised sound trying to claw its way out of you. He licks into you with blinding need and only stops working you with his fingers just long enough to free his dick from his pants and start jerking himself off.

“Fuck yeah, all mine,” he growls into your sloppy wet heat. He smears some of the mess from his mouth and chin onto his hand and tugs himself harder with the added lubrication. He slips two fingers into you and works them in tandem with his stroking. You bend your head as far as it will go and drink in the sight of Joel crouched on his knees in the middle of a parking lot with your slick glistening all over his face in the dull glow of the streetlight. He locks eyes with you and grins like he knows a secret.

“You’re mine now, yeah?” He hooks his fingers and plunges them faster. Your legs start to tremble.

“Y-Yes! Mine. Yours!” you choke out.

“Gonna let me have this pussy all out in the open if I want it, huh? Got me so wound up I can’t even wait ‘til I get you home. Bet you’d like it if somebody came walkin’ by right now and saw me claimin’ this pussy all to myself.”

You sob out a moan at the thought. Joel buries himself between your legs again and sends vibrations through you with every grunt and growl. You tense against the seat when your orgasm comes barreling out of nowhere, and you cling onto the truck for dear life when your legs start to give. Joel shoves his head up into you harder, licking and slurping up your cum at the same time he presses you against the car for support. He pulls back with a heaving inhale and grips at the fat of your ass as he erupts between your spread legs and onto the concrete in thick splats.

He stands and meets the heavy rise and fall of your chest with his own. “Goddamn perfect,” he pants. You reach a hand behind you and scratch against his scalp. He leans into your mouth and kisses into it like he’s putting the final mark of his claim onto you. He tucks himself back into his trousers and rights your dress before helping you into the truck. You can feel your arousal wetting into the fabric of your dress beneath your ass in the seat, another indication of who you belong to - officially.

That little mark of pleasure had ruined your dress. You cast a pitiful frown to where the still visible line of demarcation had resisted all intervention the dry cleaners could muster. You were supposed to be meeting Sarah in a few days when she got into town, and now you had no cute evening dress in the event you went out together. You make it through a few household chores and a handful of work calls before calling it a day an hour and a half earlier than usual. It wasn’t like you to dip out before you were scheduled, but you didn’t have anything as pressing as your ruined dress.

You drag your feet the entire 2 minute walk into Joel’s house. “Joellllll,” you call out. His truck was in the driveway, wasn’t it? So he should be here. You call out for him again with the added news that he “officially owed you a new dress after ruining the green one.” Just as you’re starting to get concerned with the silence, the stairs creek. You round the corner with a heavy pout. “You ruined my dress!”

The bright set of eyes and impish smile that greeted you were an echo of Joel’s but not quite his own. You recognize her from the hundreds of photos Joel had shared with you. Sarah. Days early and looking increasingly amused and curious at your presence.

“Ruined your dress, huh?” She crosses her arms and leans against the wall. Her grin spreads the longer you blink silently back at her. “Should be an interesting story.”

Your cheeks burn, and you don’t think she’d be as amused if she knew just how right she is.

part 2 coming tomorrow :)

#fic: a weight off your shoulders #joel miller x plus size reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters

42 notes · View notes