#it's a nice change from all the nightmares i get every night | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

reverieblondie · 2 months

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Remember Me?

Pairing: ExNerd!Miguel O’Hara X fem!civillainreader

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Smut with Plot, Praise, Unprotected Penetrative Sex (wrap it before you tap it), , Oral, Cowgirl, Missionary. You and Miguel make a mess...

Summary: Miguel has changed a lot since high school, but one thing remains the same...how he feels about you.

A/N: I have been trying to write about Miguel for weeks now! Every time I get close to finishing something for him I reread it and hate it! So I am posting this before I can change my mind! I hope you all enjoy I tried my best!

Word Count: 6,823

“Pfft…I can't believe this is real; this can’t be real!” Gwen keeps repeating to herself, trying to stifle back her laughter.

“I know! I couldn’t believe my eyes when Peter showed me but here it is!” Miles agrees; Pav quickly slings his arm around Miles for a better look.

“Take a look at the specks on him. Did you know he needed glasses?”

“Flip to the club photo. Now, that will shock you all.”

At Hobies request the teens quickly start flipping through pages. The sound of flipping pages and then the sudden bursting of laughter from the small huddle was something Miguel could no longer ignore. Miguel wasn’t sure why the teens and Peter were in his office. But since the events with the spot and some well-deserved apologies, Miguel, in the teen's words, “Chilled out,” and now they seem to hang out around him more. Meaning they are often now in his office… Miguel, of course, tried to appear as indifferent as possible to this change of pace, though He had to admit it was somewhat nice to have the cheerful ambiance that came with them... Hell, sometimes they could make him chuckle; Miles was actually pretty funny. But, of course, he keeps these things to himself.

Miguel makes his way to the huddle to see what could possibly be so enthralling. When he sees what's causing their uproar, his blood runs cold, freezing him dead in his tracks.

Is….that…his….yearbook…

It was turned to his picture and plan as the day under his unrecognizable photo was his name. So there was no getting out of this saying it wasn’t him…

“Miguel, is this really you?” Miles questions pointing to the picture.

“Must be his name right there,” Pav teases, making Miguel groan. This was an actual nightmare.

Looking over them, Miguel sees the picture they are all questioning; the difference is pretty night and day. A young 17-year-old Miguel was way scrawnier compared to his now bulking physique. His dark brown eyes were hidden behind his thick black-rimmed glasses, the only ones his mother could afford at the time. Miguel's thick, wavy brown hair looks untamed as it hangs down his forehead, threatening to cover his eyes if not for his glasses, the rest hanging loosely down to the nape of his neck. Poor kid was desperate for a haircut. Their cheekbones and jaw were still chiseled, and his face was not yet littered with lines of stress, sleepless nights, and age.

Hobie quickly grabs the yearbook, vigorously flipping through the pages until he stops on a picture of a young Miguel holding up a mathlete trophy, awkward smile and all. “This is my favorite picture. Do you still smile like that, bruv?”

“How did you all get this?” Miguel asks in irritation, pinching the bridge of his nose as if that will somehow stop his building anger and embarrassment.

Very aware of the sight of Miguel about to rage out, the young spiders quickly part, pointing the blame to a laughing Peter. Who finally quits his laughing fit as now he is staring into the eyes of a very irritated Miguel, waiting for an explanation.

Peter nervously clears his throat before speaking, “Wel, uh…do you remember a couple of days ago when you told me to drop off that equipment at your apartment? Well…I happened to see this on your living room bookshelf and thought I would look at it. Then I saw how much you had changed… I figured the kiddos would get a kick out of it…”

Miguel's eyes narrow, and his talons pop out, ready to bounce, but that is quickly escalated by Gwen taking back the yearbook, prepared to negotiate peace.

“Okay, okay, no need to rip his head off; we will return your book.” Miguel's body relaxes as he sighs of relief, holding out his hand for the book, but Gwen smirks, holding the book back out of his reach, “But, you have to show us your old crush first.”

Miguel’s eyes nearly pop out of his head, freezing at the terms of the agreement, and everyone else, including Layla, starts oohing. Making Miguel pitch the bridge of his nose again, muttering under his breath, “Esto tiene que ser una pesadilla…” (this has to be a nightmare…)

Then, to make things worse, they start chanting, “Show us….Show us…Show us! Show us!!”

The chatting became too much, and he snapped, holding out his hand irritatedly for the book. “Fine! I will show you; just shut up!”

A yay fills the room as Miguel starts irritatedly flipping through the book as soon as it’s laid in his hand. Everyone waits in bated breath until finally landing on the correct page. It's the page he spent the summer before college staring at, the picture he had agonized over. Miguel pauses, taking in the picture, and he feels those familiar feelings rushing up and swelling in his chest…Those high school crushes do hit you hard…

Even after all these years, he still remembers you so vividly; seeing the picture always solidifies for himself as confirmation as to why he had liked you so much. Beautiful and popular, everyone would only have positive things to say, even if your friend group wasn’t as nice. Miguel remembers that sweetness fondly. Though, behind that sweet smile, there was a mischievous side of you; he recalls hearing it hidden in your cooing voice when you would say that pet name during chemistry class…

“Miggy~”

The memory warms Miguel's cheeks, but he quickly dismisses the feeling. “There, that's her.”

The teens quickly grab the book back, climbing over each other to marvel at the picture of the girl the oh-so-scary Spider-Man 2099 had a crush on when he was their age.

“Wow, she's stunning!” Gwen complements

Miguel hums in agreement, “Yeah… the prettiest girl in my grade…prom queen, part of the student council, incredibly sweet…, and we took chemistry together…”

Pav and Hobie shoot Miguel a smirk, and he quickly huffs, folding his arms over his chest.

“Ever work up the nerve to confess?” Pav questions, ever the romantic.

The group watches as Miguel closes his eyes, thinking that the blush from earlier is slowly rising to his tan cheeks, making them all gasp in excitement.

“You did!” They all scream, but Miguel is quick to correct them.

“Well…technically…I didn’t”

“What do you mean technically?” Miles prys

Miguel can’t believe he admitted this much, but since he's already down the rabbit hole, he might as well give some more context: “At graduation…I kinda did, then I…ran away…”

A look of shock and confusion fills the teenager's face, but Peter is all grins and is going to give Miguel a high five: “Ah, the mysterious type. Nice.”

Gwen quickly swats him on the shoulder, earning a whine from the man.

“Not nice! That is so confusing! You just ran? Did you ever talk to her again?”

Miguel takes a second to avoid eye contact, stoically starting to the side, before letting out a quiet, “No…”

There is a collective groan, and Miguel rolls his eyes, trying to contain his high school embarrassment.

“Can we stop talking about this and return to work now?”

“Have you seen her since?” Miles questions,

“No,” Miguel answers sharply, irritation coming back up.

“Wha-what! How will you ever win her love if you don’t clear up the misunderstanding and confess your true feelings!” Pav laments, making everyone look at him with a raised brow.

“Pav, mate…you know how long it's been since he's seen her?” Hobie chides

Pav shrugs slightly, muttering, “Maybe it could be like a romantic thing…”

“So wait, You have all the resources and never thought to at least search her out? Aren't you curious?” Gwen prods

“No, I never thought about stalking my old crush. Now, can we please-”

“She lives in the city!” Miles' voice calls out, making Miguel whip around.

Miles and Layla stand on Miguel's platform with your picture, info, and social media pulled up on his halo screens. Everyone is quick to web over, including Miguel. Miguel quickly pushes away a beaming Miles as he takes in all your information. He sees where you went to college, where you work, and…

“Ooohhh! She's still single!” Pav beams, looking at Miguel expectancy.

Miguel rolls his eyes as he keeps looking at you, still as perfect as he remembered. Somehow, you seem more confident in yourself, you seem…sexier…

Feelings start rising back to Miguel's chest. He hasn’t seen you in so long, and even your pictures still stir something within him.

“Wow! This is awesome!” Miles beams, pointing to one of the screens

Miguel, being too lost in your pictures, hasn’t realized what the teens are yammering about until they all start shaking him back and forth in excitement. Then he finally hears it.

“You can see her at your High School reunion! It's coming up in a couple of weeks!”

Miguel turns his head to the invitation Layla had pulled up. “You got this a month ago but didn’t think you would be interested…. It looks like you will be attending now, though!”

Before he can protest, she is RSVPing, and all the teens are hollering in laughter and giving high-fives. Everything is happening so fast that all Miguel can do is stand there in something akin to a trance. That's until Pav comes up to him with a giddy smile,

“It’s like density!”

Miguel groans…he wants everyone to get back to work…

They really got him here….How the hell did he let them convince him to come here? They even managed to get him to dress up…

Hair in its usually slick back style, slate gray button down that did little to hide his bulk, and black trousers that he thought appeared too tight but Layla had insisted upon.

Miguel stands uncomfortably off to the side as people he used to know all gather together, chit-chatting about their lives and reminiscing on the good old days… All while Miguel stays sulking in the corner…Maybe things from high school haven’t changed that much. Well, despite the whole genetic splicing that made him a superhero… Instead of still being the captain of the Mathletes team, he's now the CEO of Aleamax. However, one thing remains the same: When he is in a room filled with all these people from school, his eyes still roam around, trying to find you…

High school had not been kind to a nerd like him. He was 9 inches shorter, and the most important things to him were keeping all A’s, getting into his dream college, keeping up with his favorite comic series, avoiding bullying, and wanting so badly to kiss his crush.

Miguel vividly recalls all those times in chemistry when you two worked so closely together. Miguel shyly mutters the mixing process while you lean in with stars in your eyes, taking it all in. Miguel never knew if you were interested in what he was saying or if you were trying to get a good grade, but he didn’t care. You still made his cheeks flush and heart race all the same.

“Then…When-when you add fluid B to A, you will get a fizzing reaction…”

A shaking Younger Miguel tries to steadily pour in the fluids while you watch, leaning in so close he could smell your sweet perfume and look at your glittery glossed lips.

“Wow! Miggy, you’re so smart.” Your voice would be like sweet honey praising him, and the mere closeness of you to him would make his body feel like it was going to melt.

“I keep telling my friends I have the best lab partner…” Miguel feels his throat dry as your hand slowly curls over his forearm. Then the bell rings, and Miguel is flustered, packing his things as you smile sweetly and wave goodbye.

God, you must have been just messing with him, toying with him, knowing he was like a love-sick puppy for you. The worst part, if this was the case, he would have let you…Miguel would have let you toy and bat away at his heart until you felt content with it fully unraveling to you. Pathic…is that what you thought? Well, if it wasn’t what you thought of him before, it must be what you thought after his pitiful confession…

Miguel thinks back to that night when he last saw you…that all too familiar warmth threatens to take him over, so as he stares down at his drink, he slips back to that moment…

The ceremony had ended, everyone had exited the stadium, and Miguel was taking a second to calm himself in the dark hallway. High school was over, and his life was beginning. He was thinking back on all his decisions for this new chapter. Miguel fidgets with his graduation cap and feels about what awaits him. Then he thinks about the things he missed out on…

Then your face comes to mind…he had vowed to confess; even if you laughed and rejected him, he wanted to get his feelings off his chest. But when it came down to it, he let his shyness get the better of him and let you slip through his fingers without telling you. This was high school? He was sure to like other girls…but why was this eating away at him so much? Why did he feel so sick to his stomach for not doing this…

The sound of clicking heels fills the corridor, and like fate, you are walking through the hallway back toward him. Miguel adjusts his glasses, unsure if this is some kind of halustion brought on by self-pity, but no… it was you…

As soon as your eyes locked to his, your lips curled to that all too familiar smile, the one that was so sweet. Then your voice rang that teasing nickname you graciously bestowed upon him.

“Miggy, what are you doing, silly? Hanging out in the dark…Don’t you want to go celebrate?”

“Oh…... I didn’t plan to go to any parties… just going to go home and get started on some summer reading…”

The smile that curled on your lips was additive as you stepped closer to his slouching form, “hm…Miggy…always so prepared… I’m going to miss seeing you around so much. I’m sure you're the only reason I passed chem!”

“No…I am sure you will have more interesting people to talk to than a nerd like me…”

“Maybe I like talking to nerds like you.”

The statement made Miguel look up to see you so close to him mischive filling your eyes. Leaning in so close to him, he feels like he can’t breathe when he looks at you so close like this…

“You don’t mean that…” he chuckles softly.

Then your index finger lifts his chin, and you look at him with sweet eyes, but your tone is stern, “Don’t tell me what I mean…”

Miguel feels his heartbeat quicken, and his palms begin to sweat. Before he can return to rational thought, he leans into you.

He so gently cups your cheek with his nervous hands. Brushing his nose against yours, his shaky breath fanning over your sparkly glossed lips. Then, when your lips finally meet, he isn’t sure who fills the gap.

The kiss was so sweet, and he held you so gently, but he knew you could feel the shaking of his hands and the heat rushing to his face. Everything around you two seemed to fade.

Eyes shut tightly from falling into the depths of the kiss, he pulls away to breathe. Peeking open his eyes, Miguels sees you are breathless, and your face is burning with a deep blush. You look so surprised... and he doesn't know what to say or how to explain.

“I’m sorry…I just had to do that once…”

Then he ran off… leaving you alone in that dark hallway, scared of what you would say next…

“Miggy!”

“Miguel?”

Lost in his thoughts, Miguel failed to notice that one of his ex-classmates had been trying to get his attention. One of them must have finally recognized him. Looking up from his cup, Miguel expects to see one of his old mathlete teammates, but as he finally meets their eyes, he feels his heart stop at the sight.

Looking up at him with that same sweet smile, you look just like he remembers: completely radiant. Your pictures showed you were still beautiful, but in person, you are the thing he remembers most about you: breathtaking.

“Miguel, that's gotta be you… Do you remember me?” -How could he not remember you?

Miguel feels himself staring at his thoughts, running everywhere; what does he say? What does he do?

“I…I, of course, remember m-my lab partner.” -Okay, a little shaky…But with your face seeming to light up when he says he remembers and your eyes roaming over him, he can’t chastise himself too much for stuttering now. Miguel feels his hands starting to become clammy, and his stomach feels full of butterflies…shit…this feels like high school all over again.

“I can not believe how different you look!”

“Yeah, late growth spurt and I uh… I started going…to the gym a lot….You though! You still look so beati- uh nice…good you look outstanding…” His mind is running a mile a minute, and he can’t believe how he is acting right now! He's Spider-Man, and he’s acting so nervous?

Smirking, you look as if you could read his mind about how nervous he is, though to anyone with working eyes, it was obvious.

“You think I look good?” you ask, playful spinning, making Miguel's eyes take in just how tight your dress is. “I was hoping for beautiful…” you smile, giving him a wink. His blood rushes in his veins, and he swallows his suddenly dry throat.

You could eat him alive…and he would let you…

“Beautiful then, you - uh… you have always looked beautiful…”

“Thank you, Miguel, you look very handsome.” Miguel feels his heart racing as you step closer. Your eyes stay on his confident smile on your glossy lips. It teeters on cocky, and Miguel can’t bring himself to hate it…he loves it…

“Though Miguel, I do have to say…I miss the glasses; they were really cute.”

“I still have some that I wear sometimes,” he says a bit too eagerly.

Your smirk widens, “Really? Does your girlfriend like them?”

“Oh, I don’t have a girlfriend.”

The smirk on your lips borders on sinful “Good…” You purr

Miguel feels a wave of electricity shakes through him. Are you flirting? Miguel can’t help the smile and blush that's now reached to the tips of his ears. Miguel came here thinking that you wouldn’t be here, and if you were, you would be avoiding him, but he didn’t expect this. Do you even remember it? Well, of course, you would! Who forgets getting kissed, and then the person runs? He needs to apologize before he never sees you again.

“So Umm…I am glad I got to see you, well other than it’s just nice seeing you…but I want to apologize…”

“You’re talking about graduation.” Your cheerful voice cuts him off and utterly confuses him. Furrowing his brow, he’s lost and hoping you can explain.

“Miguel, I like the kiss…I wish you wouldn’t have run away…”

Miguel is sure he’s died, and there is no possible way you're saying this to him. Sweet, perfect you, like when he kissed you. Nerdy awkward him? Gently, Miguel feels your hands touching his chest, slowly dancing your fingertips over his muscles. Miguel hopes you can’t feel the way his heartbeat is racing right now.

“You know, now that I really think about it…you owe me an apology or something. It was very rude of you to kiss me suddenly and then run away like that, teasing me. Then, when I went to reach out to you, you didn't have any socials. That's not very nice to do, you know…”

Your hand slightly grazes his jaw, and he feels like he could melt. Rising to your tiptoes, you try to whisper in his ear as you lean into his chest, your chest rubbing against him. Miguel can feel himself starting to break a sweat.

“I thought you were sweet…”

Miguel feels you start to pull away, and in a moment of bravery or desperation, he carefully places his hands on your waist. Leaning down, he whispers back to you.

“Could I make it up to you somehow?”

“I have an idea…if you're up for it?”

Gathering his confidence, when he sees your smile, he squeezes your sides slightly, “Anything you want.”

Without any hesitation, you grab his large hand from your waist and pull him along with you to slip out of the reception room into a dark hallway. The irony is not lost on either of you as you grin and pull each other close. Your lips are so close to his as you lean into his chest.

“You're not going to run away this time. I want you to do this properly this time…”

Part of Miguel feels like he could be dreaming; your arms are wrapped around his neck, your fingers tangled in his hair, smiling at him so sweetly. Your eyes are one of pure hunger, and your voice is so transparent with your want. It’s perfect.

Miguel brushes his thumb over your tempting lips, slightly dragging the bottom down while he tries to archer himself back to reality. Moving his hand to your neck as he leans in and kisses you. Your lips are soft and perfectly guiding against his. Miguel's hands fall to your hips; he digs his fingers into the plush of your skin, making you gasp into his mouth with a moan. It’s been a long time since he’s kissed you, and he wants to make sure you know how much he wants you… trying his hardest to impress you.

The fingers in his hair tighten to a fist as you guide him to part his plush lips, then slip in your tongue to get a taste of him. It’s gentle at first but quickly heats up from your eager influence. Then you start straddling his thick thighs, grinding slightly against him. Both your bodies feel like you’ve been set on fire in a blazing flame of want.

“Miggy, I always like you…just-”

Before you can finish your words, Miguel drives his tongue back into your mouth, eager to taste those words he had always wanted to hear. His hands cup your ass as he drives his knee deeper between your legs, letting you use him more. Breaking the kiss, you let out the most perfect moans as your body tingles and shivers. Miguel hasn’t had enough of you yet as he keeps his mouth kissing against your flushed skin. His tongue rolls over your rapid pulse as you keep grinding and mewing for more.

“Fuck, miggy~”

Miguel licks a long strip up your neck before grunting in your ear, “I… I only came here… to see you…t-talk to you…”

His rough words make you grind against him more, and right as Miguel starts to feel your slick soaking through his pants, you pull his hair, successfully pulling a whimper from him, which is quickly cut off by your soft lips to his again. Then, as you pull away, you bite his bottom lip, which makes him shiver.

“Can…can I take you home…” Miguel asks breathlessly, his hands still squeezing your ass.

A small giggle leaves your kiss-bitten lips as you take a second to fix his now-disheveled hair, thanks to you.

“Take me to your place, Miggy; you still owe me…”

Miguel feels a rush of excitement run through him, making his length throb at your words. You really are going to eat him alive…

It's the perfect sight he’s only ever dreamed of seeing, you sitting on his large bed completely naked, a sweet smile on your face, soft legs crossed over each other, waiting patiently for him. Miguel adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose…you had insisted, and he’s finding he can’t deny you…

Miguel slips off his underwear, kicking them away. Your eyes widen as you see his massive length slap against his abdomen, then hanging heavily. Your eyes rake over his immaculate form; the sight of you licking your lips isn’t lost on him.

“Strip for me, Miggy,” you taunted as you dropped your dress with little effort, waiting for him to follow. Of course, he did. He would follow anything your sweet voice commands. Just please…let him touch you…

Running his hand through his hair, Miguel approaches you, but your sweet voice turns to him in disapproval, and he pauses.

“No walking, I want you to crawl on your hands and knees…please? Miggy~”

Every time you use that old nickname, he feels his cock twitch. Keeping his now blazing eyes on you as he slowly sinks to his knees and begins to crawl to you obediently. The action is meant to make him look submissive, but you find that even now, he looks like a predator getting ready to devour its prey… The shiver that shoots down your spine goes right to your sex, making you drip down on his sheets.

As Miguel crawls closer, you unfold your legs, stretching one out slowly toward him. His large hand immediately catches your ankle. Hungry eyes look up at you, blazing with want, as his hand slowly creases up your leg. Miguel's lips kiss softly against your calf while he whispers faint words under his breath after every kiss. His eyes watch you as he slowly raises your legs, the back of your thighs being pressed against his broad shoulders.

Miguel's hands grab your hips, making you slip a moan. His eyes turn softer as he hears you moan, his lips coming away from the fresh mark he's left on your inner thigh. Miguel's lips part to apologize, but you're quick to interrupt before he can.

Leaning forward, you push his glasses back into their proper place and crease his cheek. “You're doing so well for me, Miguel…though…It does feel like you're trying to make me beg… Are you trying to tease me?”

Miguel's lips curl into a smile as he lowers his face to lick his tongue against your clit. You throw your head back at the hot contact, Miguel groaning at the sweet taste of your cyprine.

“I wouldn’t dream of teasing you…” Miguel's lips lower down to your clit before he gives it a quick lick.

Unable to help yourself, you grab a fist full of his hair, making him let out a soft groan, “Then devore me, Miggy; you still owe me, remember? And I-Ah!~”

Before you can finish your taunting, Miguel is driving his face into your wet sex to selfishly devore more of you. Long slow licks of his warm tongue send waves of pleasure to flood your body as your toes curl from every push of his nose to your clit.

His breaths for air huffing against your quivering sex, the tip of his tongue darting back to lick against your soft folds, making you whine. Looking down at him, his glasses crooked and hazy and his groans continue to vibrate through your pussy. Then the sensation of his tongue probing you open makes you close your thighs against his head and grab this thick hair, pulling hard enough for a grunt to slip through his chest. Getting the message, Miguel moves his tongue to lick your sensitive clit as his finger slips into you. Your grip on his hair gets tighter as you squirm, grinding your hips against his face, mouth hanging open as your chest heaves moan after moan. Your body starts shaking at the addition of another finger, making you feel jolts of pleasure that make you need to roll your hips onto his face more.

Miguel could carless at the apparent use of his face for your pleasure; it's all he craves right now, your cum to dip all over his eager tongue. For your hips grind onto his face for hours. He would stay on his knees worshiping you like this until you're calling out from too much pleasure, and even then, he doesn’t know how he could pull himself away from your delicious taste.

You feel him groan into you, the vibrations rushing through you to cause you to gasp and shiver as his tongue keeps sliding in and out of you, desperate for your sweetness. You want more, need more, you crave it with every roll of your hips; you want him in you deeply. Unclenching your thighs from his head, you pull his hair, forcing his face from you with a wet pop.

Miguel's eyes are blown as he keeps them steady on yours, his full lips parted and panting. The sight of his face glistening with a mix of his saliva and your arousal is sinful and complete perfection. His poor glasses are resting on his face, still lopsided from his ravenous pursuit to taste your cunt. Leaving forward, you keep a smile as you hold his cheek; he immediately melts into it. Grabbing his glasses from his head, you toss them to his nightstand; before he can say anything to you, you're leaning forward to bring him into a kiss. His lips and tongue are laced with you, and you can’t help but want to giggle as he groans and leans his whole body onto you, so needy for more.

With a gentle push to his massive chest, you can change the positions as you now straddle his hips effortlessly. You are slowly running your hands up and down his chest and abdomen, feeling his hair decorating his skin, making your mouth water. As you shift yourself up, you feel his swollen length hanging heavily as you nudge against it. The tip is hot and already pebbling with glistening pre-cum, straining for you to envelope around him. Reaching down, you flick your eyes from his eyes to his length.

Miguel sure has changed over the years, but his face is so breathless and furrowing with every strained pleasure as you slide your thumb over his cocks slit. Whining so softly, sounding like the sweet nerd you remember. On the other hand, Miguel is witnessing you in a way only his mind had fantasized about. Your smile is no longer so sweet but devious; He wants to push his cock into you so deeply and have you shudder and scream while you gush all over him, But this teasing and taunting… it's mouth-watering.

Touching his length, you feel the sheer heat of it as you carefully trace over the soft skin, feeling every vein. Tracing over the red weeping tip, you feel him shudder and mumble something under his breath as you grasp him to hold against you, seeing that he measures to your stomach. You can't help but bite your lip in anticipation of the stretch.

Your eyes flick back to Miguels, “Think it will fit?” you tease.

“I will make it fit…” his rough voice sends a shiver down your spine.

Lifting to your knees, you line up his tip to brush on your clit, making you gasp as you slip him through your folds. Then finally, you slip him in slowly, feeling his cock stretch your fluttering hole; the stretch is intense and makes you roll your eyes as your back arches. Miguel grabs your ass tightly, bucking his hips to sink in a bit faster; he pants a sorry as you let out a moan and squeeze your hands on his chest for support. Looking down at his beautifully blushing face, you only smile as you sink deeper.

“So eager, Miggy~”

All Miguel can manage is a smile as he works hard to keep himself from bottoming out immediately. He so badly just wants to shove it in deeply and rut into you like a damn animal. A groan builds in his throat as he tries to keep himself from whimpering as you continue to sink so slowly. His cock throbbing and stretching your walls as it heats your insides. Before he can manage a whine, you sink all the way down, taking every inch; before either of you can moan, you lean down to catch his lips in a needy kiss, taking control you guide him, your tongue pushes past his lips to taste his groans. While his tongue eagerly does the same. Pulling away from the kiss, you grind against him, relishing in the feeling of his cock pushing in deeper and his trimmed hairs tickling your sensitive skin; you can’t help but bite his bottom lip to compensate for the mind-numbing feeling.

Miguel's hands squeeze harder, making you release his lip as your cunt to clenchs on him, the moan of his name dropping from your lips as your hips start to grind on him at a slow pace. Using your hands, you slightly push yourself up and rock your hips back and forth, letting his cock slide to bully your gummy insides, brushing your cervix with every nudge. Miguels is mesmerized as he roams his hands over your body, worshiping every inch of your skin with his careful fingertips brushing and rubbing you so tenderly. His hands come to your breast, where he takes a minute to squeeze and pinch your nipples, your whimper in response, and grind harder against his cock, pushing him to rub harder against your cervix.

“You look s-so fucking beautiful…your body, your…tatse…I’ve never stopped thi-thinking of you…” Miguel mutters through pants of hot breaths.

The words spur you on, and you start to pick up your pace, making him moan out and guide your hips to rock back and forth faster, “Always so sweet…” you coo to him…the words are less taunting but just true; he has always been sweet to you…

“Only for you…” he muses, and you can’t help but smile,

“Good…”

You feel yourself starting to sip from having a clear head that's now blurring in a haze of lust as you continue to pursue your pleasure on his girth. Pushing in and out on him quicker. Your hands grab onto him tighter as you ravish your tight pussy with his throbbing cock. Begging for both his and your release. Fucking so deep in you, now your jaw falls slack as his cock keeps pushing against your velvety sweet spot, making jolts of pleasure pulse through your body with every bounce.

The sweat that has built on your bodies works hard to try and cool your fevered states, but with every push into your cunt and with every clench around his length rousing him to go deeper makes it all in vain. There is no cooling as you two approach your white hot release, bodies only growing more hot and sensitive with every whine and every mind-numbing push. So close to tipping the other to ecstasy…

With a couple of aided thrust from Miguel fucking up into you, your muscles tenase and your mouth falls open in a pitched scream of his name as your danm burst making you clench and shudder on his cock, coming undone on top of him. You're quivering on his length as he carefully grinds you through your drenching pleasure, the feeling of his cock slipping deeper as you eagerly ride him through your high.

With the way you clench so tightly and grind faster, Miguel couldn't help but feel himself throb and spurt right into your cervix. The feeling of it spurting so thickly, his cock pulsing inside of you, feeling so heavy in you with each twitch. This cum is hot and fills you so that it's leaking down mixing with your arousal, creating a sticky mess. You can't help yourself when you side on more and more feeling your cunt want to stick to his skin.

Haze starting to clear you fall forward on him, you try to catch your breath in between placing frantic kisses to Miguel's chest and neck. Your orgasm leaves you utterly satisfied, but Miguels is not done…

With a quick turning over your body, you're lying on your back now as Miguel situates himself between your legs. He takes time to look over your flushed form, his massive hands dragging over your sensitive body, and you shiver and buck your hips up. Miguel takes your legs, pushing them up to your chest, making your mew from his touch, your pussy completely exposed to him. Miguel feels his breath catch as his cum leaks out of your trembling puffy cunt in milky drops. Miguel releases one of your legs to fall to his shoulder so he can plam his cock, still erect and ready for more. His red eyes flick back to your blisted-out face, and though you're at the point of overstimulation, you still ache for more.

“M-Miggy…” you're the one to tremble shyly for him now, and the switch of the roles makes him fold. He’s helpless for you…

Leaning down carefully, Miguel cages you between his massive arms as he places a gentle, sweet kiss on your begging lips. Breaking the kiss, he whispers in your ear so softly, “More? Can you give me more? Perfect girl…let me feel you again…please…”

Wrapping your arms around his neck, feeling his damp skin, you buck your hips up in your whine of, “More, Please, Miggy ah—I need more of you, always. You are so good to me.”

He catches your hips in a quick grip as he lifts them up, smiling; it's everything he has ever wanted to hear from your sweet lips. And he is always eager to satisfy you.

Miguel slips his cock into you with a groan; you're already so sensitive as he pushes down to the base, filling you so quickly that your body already starts quivering around him. Pressing soft kisses to your sweaty skin, he rolls his hips slow and deep. He is taking his time with you. Every thrust is hot and tingling, and you feel that familiar tense starting to build up again from the consistent pace he's set. Managing to open your eyes through moans and rolls, you see Miguel with beautifully flushed cheeks, eyes filled with want as he softly pants and whimpers with each clench of your wet cunt.

As his pace quickens, you feel him throb, giving you new resolve to meet your hips with each thrust, and your core starts to burn deliciously. Your nails find their place, digging into his broad back. Every slap of his balls to your overly sensitive skin makes you moan and throw your head back. Miguel takes the opportunity to kiss and lick against your neck, his hot breath rushing over you. With a final clench and strained moan, you feel that white-hot wave of pleasure burn through you; his body shudders at the feeling of your cunt, so desperate to cum against him to milk him dry again. His groan borders on a whine as his hips are still, and you feel that familiar throbbing against your cervix as his thick cum fills you up. Looking up at him, you watch his face contort to be in complete pleasure; the sight of it is completely addicting.

Staying in you till you are both down from your highs, he slowly pulls out his softening cock. The pooling of both of your cum completely ruins the sheets underneath you, but Miguel doesn’t worry about that. He brushes stray hairs from your face and whispers he will be right back. You're too exhausted to move, and you can only twitch slightly as you feel a cool cloth cleaning you up so gently.

After cleaning you up, you feel the bed sink beside you and the feeling of an arm around you, bringing you closer to his warm body, his other hand brushing through your hair so carefully. You gather your energy to curl into Miguel with a broad smile. You two lay there, slowly drifting away in each other's comfort.

Clearing his throat, Miguel tries to be as unawkward as possible, and it only manages to make you smile more; you two just had amazing sex, and he’s still nervous; some things die hard, you guess. Looking up at him, you see he’s trying to gather up the best way to approach his next words; this night has been everything he hoped, and he doesn’t want to blow it now, but he needs to know the answer to his question,

“Can-can I…take you out on a date?”

His face is completely sincere and flushed; you have to bite back your giggle before you answer.

“Miggy, about time you asked…”

You two set the date up for the next night; Miguel, of course, wore his glasses…

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pippapimentina · 2 years

Text

#today is my 4th anniversary at my current job. Which I am leaving in a few weeks and I will start my new job also on the 5th #in exactly a month #and on that day it will be one year since my parents announced their were divorcing to my brother and I #and also one year exactly since I blocked forever the guy I was madly in love with who broke my heart #(like a minute after the call from my parents ended I blocked him)#dates are significant and so much can change in a short period #the first semester of 2022 was a nightmare : I was crushed by the divorce - work was awful awful awful and #I couldn’t sleep and would get up in the middle of the night to work on my stupid deliverables #other serious health concerns arose for both my parents #I cancelled all my scheduled holidays to stay with my mom #and of course during all this I was alone as f and I still am because I am too fucking difficult and I reject every guy…#while fantisizing about men way way older than me #but anyway that’s not the point. the thing is the past 2 months have just been the best #quitting my job has freed me so much #starting something new is exciting #and I have just been doing whatever I want really wish I taking soooo much time for myself and being unapologetic about it #and at work finally finally I have become completely unhinged #which means not accepting bullshit anymore - cornering my managers into doing things my way because they don’t know what they are doing #and not playing nice with cunty clients #I just love it #personal

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youcancallmeelle · 7 months

Text

She’s got a boyfriend anyway…

Rating: 18+ (Minors DNI)

Word count: 7K

Warnings: Semi public sex, Missionary, Cowgirl, Unprotected Sex, Creampie, Cunnilingus, Teasing, Sneaking around, Secret relationship, Brief David mention, Ellie being a menance, Tommy trying to play matchmaker.

Summary: Tommy has been trying to set Joel up for AGES, he’s got other interests.

You and Joel have secretly been seeing each other.

A03

Read below…

Life in Jackson is promising, nearly a year and half here and Joel feels comfortable, no longer itching for a way out of civilisation because he’s just not used to that no more. Ellie is settled too - finally. She’s attending school three days a week, enjoying the new responsibilities that come with being sixteen and the tad bit of freedom it brings. She helps out at the stables, in the kitchen too but she’s not a fan. She likes being in the library most, checking in and out books, tidying shelves, using her art to create eye catching displays aimed at the younger generation of Jackson.

Joel is proud, his heart feels like it could burst out of his chest all the time. Ellie is still full of wit and charisma that comes out in curses and daft puns that make Joel roll his eyes and get her in a headlock until she’s laughing so hard she’s pink in the face.

There’s times when she skips school completely if a male teacher has subbed in, she flinches away if someone comes too close and sometimes if it’s stew night at dinner, she’ll stare blankly into her bowl at the chunks of meat and see a severed ear, she’ll try to swallow but gag instead. These are nights Joel gives her his bread and Tommy will too, then he’ll make her a fruit salad when they get home with a little double cream poured over it.

The nightmares are persistent on these bad days where triggers occur, he finds Ellie in bed screaming and thrashing multiple times a week. She’ll sob and cry hoarsely as he holds her, hushing her gently and resting his cheek on her head. Most of the time she’ll fall back asleep with him beside her, curled into him like she did back at Silver Lake when death was close.

But mostly, everything’s okay.

Joel had been with Tommy every single day this week so far and it was Thursday evening, they’d been focusing on fixing up the bathroom in a house way further down from his, they were getting it ready for a family that had expanded to move in. The floor was rotten and the pipes wrecked, neither of them were particularly fond of plumbing but they sorted it between them. There was still the kitchen to do but that was a job for tomorrow and probably Saturday too but not Sunday, that was his day with Ellie.

Sunday’s were for late breakfasts of bacon and pancakes - before and after the world ended. The only thing that changed was the kid for Joel, he used to serve Sarah indulgent breakfasts on a Sunday and they’d do something together and the tradition was carried on with Ellie and Sarah remained tucked in his heart.

Tired and stiff from working hunched over all day, Joel was enjoying a quiet drink with Tommy. They were tucked away on a small table with two stools, Joel would have preferred something with a back but beggars can’t be choosers; he was grateful for the cold glass of bourbon nearly empty in front of him and the sound of Dire Straits playing over the old speakers.

As always, Tommy is picking and prying into his lack of a love life. Since he’s noticed his older brother being more settled within the community, he’d been trying his hardest to set him up with various women and Tommy Miller was nothing if not persistent.

At this point in the day, Tommy’s voice is almost just white noise.

“Cath is nice.” Tommy pointed out, Joel snorts.

“She’s also gay, Tommy.”

“Oh shit, really? I didn’t know.”

“Clearly. Can we please stop talking about this? It’s the same thing every fuckin’ time I come drinking with you.” Joel begs, Tommy sighs heavily but drops it for now.

Joel takes in the scenery as he sits there, grateful for the moments silence from Tommy. His eyes stray to the left of the table and he listens as you speak to Denton, an older gentleman in his late sixties with a love of horses. He’s quizzing you about the new mare in the stables, he hears you mention checking on her again after your shift because she’s been particularly temperamental since she was brought in from outside but you’ve developed a nice bond with her, she’s slowly becoming more trusting.

It occurs to Joel that everyone likes you - literally everyone, even Ellie and she was a tough nut to crack. You’re sweet, soft spoken yet confident. You’re always helping out where you can; on patrols, stable duty, in the communal garden, sometimes at the school and also here at the bar when Darius needs his shift covered.

You find good things on patrol and give them to Joel or Ellie before taking the rest for the community, so they get first pick of everything.

You’re just the sweetest thing.

Tommy sees you and beckons you with a friendly wave, you mutter a goodbye to Denton and pat his hand.

“Hey.” You hear your name called over the music and you turn as Tommy Miller grabs your attention as you scoop up two glasses and an empty bowl that once held nuts and dried berries from the table two away from his and Joel’s.

“Yes, Miller?” You patter over with your hands occupied, you sneak a look at his older sibling, sparing him a wink as a greeting, he smirks softly back.

“Has Darius got an other fuckin’ music or are we strictly limited to the sounds of 1985 tonight?” He questions and you laugh, shaking your head.

“You don’t like Dire Straits?”

“He doesn’t appreciate good music.” Joel interjects, shaking his head at Tommy.

“I do - but other music. Eminem or even fuckin’ Britney! Anything but this shit.” Tommy groans, tossing his head back.

“Keep talking smack about Dire Straits, Miller - and I’ll snitch to your wife about the fact you’ve switched patrols with Mark twice this week because you were too hungover to go.” You smile sweetly at Tommy, tilting your head.

“Snitches get stitches.” Tommy remarks playfully, not an ounce of malice in his dark brown eyes and your eyebrows rise, you beam back.

“That right? Well, troublesome men get barred for life.”

“Oooooh.” Joel chimes in, looking amusedly between you and his younger brother.

“Touché.” Tommy quips, folding his arms.

“Tell you what, next time I’m in, I’ll have a rummage out back and see if I can find you some Britney. Bless you.” You pinch his cheek as you walk past and he swats your hand, rubbing the spot while Joel laughs.

“You’re pushing your luck giving her lip, I’m not sure if you’re aware but this is the only operational bar in Wyoming.”

“Tell me about it.” He grumbles back, Joel shakes his head once more as the door behind Tommy on the back wall opens.

“Joeeeeeel?!” He hears yelled from close by, he looks up and sees Ellie dragging her sneakers across the floor, scouring the bar for him with her honey coloured eyes eagerly. She spots him within seconds, beaming and practically skipping over to him and Tommy in the corner. “There you are, I looked fucking everywhere for you.” She groans dramatically, throwing her head back. “I wanna go out, I’m bored shitless at home. There’s nothing for me to do and yes - I’ve done my school work.” She quickly adds.

“You done those quadratic equation questions we were going over last night?” He raises his eyebrow.

“Yep. Easy peasy lemon squeezy, though I did ask my teacher because I’m pretty sure you were figuring them out wrong. You were, by the way.” Joel puffs indignantly, rolling his eyes. Ellie spins to Tommy, the soles of her shoes squeaking. “Can I try that?” She’s laser focused on the bourbon swimming between globes of ice in Tommy’s glass.

“What have I said the last twenty times you’ve asked, El?” Tommy’s dark brows are high on his forehead, his mouth is twisted with hidden laughter. Ellie rolls her eyes with annoyance, sloping over to Joel now.

“No.” She huffs, swinging her lanky arms around Joel. She hums and rubs her face into his shoulder bone, resting there for a second before her attentions shifts comically fast. There’s a warmth that spreads through Joel every single time she does this, she’s so casual about it and he’s drawn the conclusion that it’s a teenage thing because Sarah was the same. There’s a sadness that blossoms too, a darkness that twists and anchors in his chest as he thinks of her and who she’d be now. He can’t dwell for too long, not now - he did that for too long.

At one dark point in time, human connection was not key to survival, hence why he always kept Tess at arms length and then referred to Ellie as cargo until one snowy day it became apparent she was no longer cargo when she was frenzied and panting in his arms, splattered with the blood of a predator and gasping like she was taking her last breath. The sound haunted him for a long time, all memories of Sarah hitting him like a freight train. He had to protect Ellie, the minute he drew her in - oh baby girl - and held her tightly, wrapped in his coat and clinging to him just as hard.

Ellie’s his kid now. She’s his. He’s hers. They’re a family. Ellie Williams Miller - that’s how she’s known now. It’s scrawled on her school books. The love he feels for this human tornado in sneakers is unmatched, the one thing he’s ever been truly good at has been restored and it’s a role he knows well; being a father.

Sure, this teenager that he’s raising is the furthest from bubblegum pink and Avril Lavigne she could be, she’s particularly jagged around the edges and does have the temperament of an unsocialised cat that will bite if you get too close.

He looks down at her, rubbing into him like she’s trying to get his smell on her because it’s comforting and she feels safe and feels his heart ready to burst.

Of course the sweet moment of affection is shattered when Ellie yawns directly into his fucking ear because why wouldn’t she?

He grunts when she bears most of her weight on his aching shoulders, leaning easily into him and twisting her small fingers into his flannel.

“So? Can I go or not?” She presses.

“Go where?” He prompts, raising his eyebrow.

“Toni’s from school. Her cat had kittens a few weeks ago and they’re starting to play. Five of them, Joel! That’s a lotta kittens!” Ellie enunciates, brown eyes wide and Joel can’t help the smile that graces his otherwise tired face.

“You mean a litter?” He corrects and Ellie pauses, frowning.

“Huh?”

“A bunch of kittens is a litter, Ellie.” He informs her and she somehow manages to frown even more, she makes a noise like she’s computing the new information.

“Yeah, whatever.” She mumbles, Tommy snorts in amusement. “So I can go see them?” She presses, shifting her weight again and Joel groans louder now, unhooking her arms from his shoulders with a quiet ‘don’t do that, baby’ that’s full of affection.

“Yes but you’re back at nine latest, okay? Nine. I’ll be waiting for you, the minute those street lamps turn on, you’re home.” Joel says, Ellie’s mouthing along to his instructions that he’s been laying out since Summer began and the evenings stretched longer. “Be good.” He speaks more softly now and she nods, he presses a kiss to the side of her head, her eyelashes flutter happily as the warmth blossoms in her too with the security that’s Joel Miller.

“Peesh. I’m always good. Bye Tommy!” She says excitedly, fist bumping him when it’s offered.

“See ya, squirt.” Tommy replies but before he’s even voiced his reply, Ellie’s hurrying away and knocking into a patron while waving to you on the way out of the door so hard it slams. Joel sighs, thinking she’s a literal hurricane.

The door hinge has barely stopped shaking before Tommy starts with the suggestions of suitors once more.

“What about Myleene?” Tommy proposes, Joel shakes his head quickly, downing the remainder of his drink.

“Too young.” He replies.

“She’s twenty five.”

“Too young.” He repeats firmer this time.

“Okay, fine. What about Michelle? She’s what forty? I was talking to her in the cobblers the other day, she’s definitely interested - mentioned something about making you a pie?”

“I’m good.” He grumbles looking down into his empty glass but quickly shifting his gaze to the bar, you’re leaning on your elbows, laughing heartily with a patron.

You look beautiful tonight - just like every other night. Your shoulders are sunkissed, your cheeks a little flushed and skin glowing from the summer humidity. He absorbs the way your hair tumbles down your shoulders and the way the thin straps of your tiered sundress slip down occasionally, only to be tugged back into place with dexterous fingers.

“Yeah, that’s not gonna happen.” Tommy jibes, Joel looks over with a firm scowl.

“What?” He asks, Tommy shakes his head.

“You can dream, brother.” Joel rolls his eyes, trying to act nonchalant. “She’s got a boyfriend anyway.” Tommy adds, Joel eyes him with full attention.

“A boyfriend?” He asks, trying to be sure he heard right.

“Yeah, overheard her talking to one of the girls in the garden a few days ago. Didn’t mention no names but she definitely said she was seein’ someone.” Tommy shrugged, Joel hummed with interest. “Anyway, it don’t matter because she’s way out of your league.”

“Thanks.” Joel retorts, sneaking one last look before focusing on the door behind Tommy, the one Ellie had not long barrelled in and out of just moments ago.

He wonders about the kittens she mentioned and gulps as he imagines her taking to one with its big eyes and soft paws, his mind is pulled back to a time in April when he’d come downstairs one morning to a sink full of tad poles she’d ‘rescued’ from birds out of the neighbours pond.

Basically, his girl can’t resist animals she deems too vulnerable to leave.

“Scared Ellie’s gonna come home with one of them kittens?” Tommy wonders, reading Joel’s mind.

“Terrified.”

********************************************

The sun is setting in bursts of burnt orange and marigold by the time he leaves Tommy to his own devices at the bar, he hazards a look around as he makes his way in the complete opposite direction to his and Ellie’s house.

He slinks around the back of the school house, slithering through the gap and walking up the winding path that leads to the stables. He climbs the short fence and hops to the other side, his boots kick up the dust from the dirt path and the crickets chirp beneath the skyline.

With one more look around, he opens to rear door to the stables and slips inside, shutting it softly behind him.

Immediately he hears the horses further down huff and puff, he can make out the swish of their tails hitting the walls as they munch on hay, there’s a neigh that is absolutely Shimmer kicking up a fuss about something.

He slopes around the riding gear and sees you leaning against the wall, hands behing your back. You grin.

“Took your time, cowboy. Was beginning to think you couldn’t take the hint and stood me up.”

“Never, honey.” Joel prowls towards you, ready to grab you. “Missed you.”

“You just saw me.”

“Not the same.” He yanks you close like a man starved, you’d shared company less than 24 hours ago but you greet and leave each other like it’s the last time you’ll ever be together. It’s the apocalypse affect, you know that, he does too

This arrangement had been going on for almost two months now, all started by a late night patrol together where you’d shared more about yourselves in an eight hour shift than both of your time in Jackson combined. There was an instant attraction, it was so easy to talk to one another and that’s what you did every single time you were partnered together and it became the highlight of your day. It started innocently and friendship had bloomed, then before you knew it you were sharing a rum laced thermos of tea with him in the bed of a truck and kissing him with reddened cheeks shortly thereafter. You’d first slept together in the same truck, just as dawn began to break. It was clumsy and quick but you couldn’t get enough of one another. You hadn’t cum but Joel promised next time would be better which lead to the question of next time? You’d been seeing each other most nights since.

Any chance you got, you were together. Nobody knew about you both, hence why Tommy was incessantly trying to hook Joel up with other women around town and jealousy burned as you listened in on their one sided conversations in the bar whenever you were covering for Darius.

You’d left the bar shortly before Joel had, waving farewell to him and Tommy, coming straight up here to check on the mare just as you’d told Denton. This was a usual spot to meet Joel, it wasn’t your first rodeo in the stables with him. It was the one place you could be alone after a certain time.

“Were you hiding from me, honey? Hmm?” He growls playfully, pulling you to him even though you were barely a millimetre away in the first place. You hum in response, so utterly lost in him. You’re nuzzling his throat, fisting his shirt, desperate for his attention. “God, you look so good today.” He murmurs, mouth finding yours. You moan softly, standing on your tip toes and kissing him in a way that makes his lungs and loins burn alike. His grey tinged moustache prickles your upper lip beautifully, his beard feels familiar beneath your soft hands.

He’s crowding you and guiding you backwards, kissing you hotly in a sense that makes your cunt throb eagerly. You moan into his mouth when he nips your bottom lip, squeezing the left cheek of your ass.

You love when he’s like this - playful and easy. He feels lightyears younger around you, it’s like the heaviness dissipates the moment he’s in your company. He loses himself in the way you smell, the way your hair feels when his fingers are entwined between the sun kissed strands, the way in which your eyes sparkle with mischief.

It’s easy to pull him towards the back of the stable, where the bales of hay were stacked created a nice wall of privacy. You’d been in here a couple of times with him, having gone as far to stash a flannel blanket in one of the cupboards to lay down as to protect you both from the cold floor and the prickle of loose hay.

Once behind the hay and seated on a bale with you in his lap, strong hands are moving the thin straps of your sundress down your shoulders, you momentarily break away from his mouth to aid the removal of your dress to your waist where Joel roughly bunches it up so that your underwear is now on show and so are your tits.

His eyes light up at your bare chest, like he hasn’t seen your breasts countless times before. One thing among many that you first noticed was that Joel Miller is a tit man through and through. His rough and work toughened hands cup them both gently before his tongue swirls around your left nipple.

“Joel.” You murmur, arching into him, rolling your hips into his. He’s hard already, age not affecting him like that in the slightest. He’s a hot blooded male, every single inch a man and that warms you to your core. You grab his hand, bringing it to the top of your panties and he slides it in without hesitation.

“Christ.” He curses, exploring your lips with his fingertips, gliding through the dewy wetness gathered there and coming back up for a split second to drag it over your clit roughly. You whimper, bucking into his hand. “Mmm, babydoll.” Joel huffs against your cheek in a hot pant, repeating the action.

“Need you so badly, Joel. Almost got started without you.” You confess.

“Fuck. You can’t- don’t say shit like that, honey.” He growls lowly, unbelievably hard beneath you. His fingers explore again, you aid his explorations by canting your hips just so.

Joel is eager to get things moving, he’s hard and frustrated, he has a beautiful woman in his lap and the perfect setting. He pulls his hand from your underwear, looking down to see the shine of you on him. He loses his mind when you take his hand and lead it to your mouth, sucking the tips of his index and middle finger as he watches with eyes blown wide; they look black instead of the earthy brown that sometimes melts into caramel or runny honey.

The minute you hum like a content cat, he has you lifted off his lap and braced against him. You squeal at the sudden shift, the ceiling looking closer than the floor but then he gently lays you back on the blanket and settles between your legs.

“Hey, who was Tommy trying to set you up with?” You blurt, Joel pauses.

“Cath.”

“She’s gay.” You frown.

“Michelle too.” He adds before diving down into your chest, pressing your breasts together, mouthing at the swell.

“I’m not sure you’re Michelle’s type, she’s a cougar apparently.” You remark, Joel ignores you in favour of sucking your nipples until they feel raw. “Why Michelle? I don’t understand why Tommy thinks she’s a good match for you.” You don’t know why this is coming up now, your mouth seems to have a mind of its own, the jealousy settling like lead in your stomach.

“He said she wants to make me a pie.” Joel pipes up, the confession half muffled.

“What kind of pie?” You ask, pulling his face from your tits. Joel groans frustratedly, looking up at you with eyes dark and deadly.

“I don’t know. Why does that even matter?”

“A cream pie probably.” You snarl under your breath, the jealousy swirling in the pit of your stomach like a rattled viper.

Joel laughs, shaking his head and coaxing your mouth back to his. “Gross.” He murmurs, kissing you softly and squeezing your hips as if to guide you back. “You know I only like your cream pies.” He jokes, this time you break into a smile.

“Now whose gross?” You snort, tugging his plain grey undershirt over his head and to the side. You run your palms over his chest and down to his softer stomach, digging your nails in as they drag a long his skin. Goosebumps erupt all over him.

Joel is softer in his older age but strong too, years of walking different terrain, heavy lifting and fighting have made him lean also.

You hum contentedly, tracing over those familiar scars that have been made in the 20 years since the world imploded.

“He said you were out of my league.” Joel suddenly admits, resting his hands on your spread knees. You frown up at him. “Tommy said you were out of my league.”

“Tell Tommy he doesn’t know shit.” You retort with an eye roll, grabbing Joel by his belt and yanking him forward. “I like you, Joel. Fuck what anyone else thinks, it’s not anyone’s business who we choose to be with.” You say softly now, kissing your way up his chin to his lips. “I like you.” You affirm again, Joel kisses you tenderly, weaving his hand into your hair as you moan quietly.

“Well, I like you too.” He says, kissing you with so much passion yet so much tenderness all at the same time as you fumble to unbuckle his belt. You yank it apart, tugging open the button and prying the worn denim apart with the hiss of his zipper.

He barely lets you wrap a hand around him over his boxers before he has both your wrists pinned above your head, you make a sad whine but all disappointment quickly dissipates when he shuffles down the length of your torso and yanks your underwear down so fast you feel the material leave a friction burn. He grabs your thighs and then manoeuvres your legs by the backs of your knees, you like where this seems to be going.

Your spine curves against the hard floor when his mouth makes that first contact, he starts slow with a lick up the length of you, then he lightly suckles your lips and gently licks over the hood of your clitoris.

“Joel.” You murmur, twisting the blanket beneath your fingertips, scrunching it and bitting down on your lower lip as he continues his gentle assault on your clit, the rubber toes of your hi tops dig into his ribs almost painfully.

His thumb comes up to gently push the hood of your clit back, the sensation of his tongue directly stimulating the nerve causes you to gasp and wind one hand down into his hair, you tug and he groans against you.

You’re transported back to one of the first times you’d been intimate together after sleeping together in the truck.

For some reason, it had shocked you that Joel Miller ate pussy like a champ. The first time he’d gone down on you - behind the bar just after you’d blown him - you’d prepared yourself for dissatisfaction and disappointment, only it never came. Joel had licked into you with such ferocity and precision that you’d almost keened over.

He’d made you cum so quickly that you’d barely had time to process the first swipe of his tongue on your clitoris and the climax that followed minutes later.

He’d looked up at you, moustache and beard slick with his eyes wide; ‘I forgot how much I enjoyed doing that’ he’d panted while you squeaked back in shock.

Now, as you live in the moment, you feel that tingle of pleasure building but you don’t want to cum without him inside of you. As much as it pains you, you tug on his hair, urging him back up.

“Wanna cum with you.” You pant when he looks up with dazed brown eyes, frowning a little. He seems to accept that and sits up, shucking his jeans and boxers down over his ass with the help of your clumsy hands. “Lay back.” You demand, he does so and you move to take his place.

You throw your legs over his and settle above his lap, he’s got one arm behind his head and watches as you take him in your first and tease yourself with the flushed tip of him. He breathes in sharply through his nose as you do it again before notching him at the site of your heat, you steady yourself and begin to sink down.

“Fuck me.” Joel sighs, closing his eyes briefly because he’s so sure he’s in heaven. The sensation of your wet heat surrounding him never gets old, he’d forgotten how much he loved sex before meeting you.

“You’re so big, Joel.” You whimper, stroking his ego deliciously and he hates to be such a guy but the compliment goes straight to his dick.

“Fuck, honey. Take what you want, I’m yours - just fuck me.” He begs as you slowly begin to move, your nails scrape across his torso as you fall into an easy rhythm of rolling your hips into his. “You’re so fucking perfect, baby.” He babbles, looking up and admiring the curve of your back and the way your tits bounce as you ride him.

“Mmm.” You whine, picking up the pace and throwing your head back which exposes your jugular and Joel just wants to sink his teeth into you because you truly look good enough to eat.

“Come here, babydoll.” He urges, pulling you down so you’re chest to chest. Your peer at him with pretty doe eyes, your lashes flutter as they shut to kiss him deeply, your tongue swipes his and you taste the tang of yourself on him. You moan louder when he manages to plant his boots on the floor and thrust up into you roughly, tangling his hand in your hair to keep you pressed against him.

It’s so hot in the stables, you’re both sticky and warm. But with your pretty moans and keens filling the air, Joel manages to easily forget the irritation from the heat.

You push against his chest to sit up and Joel grabs your hips, guiding you easily and you feel yourself getting close but you can’t achieve orgasm through penetration alone.

You brace one hand on his thigh behind you, tipping your head back as the pleasure becomes almost too much to handle. Your hips roll in an easy rhythm, his cock head hitting your G spot perfectly and you whine when the hand on your left hip moves ever so slightly until Joel was able to thumb your clit. He knows you so well.

“Oh f - fuck. You feel so good, you’re so good - fuck.” You babble, your hips moving faster.

“Jesus christ.” Joel huffs, throwing his head back against the hard floor, biting his bottom lip hard to stave off his orgasm. You feel so good wrapped around him; wet and snug, like crushed velvet.

He knows he can’t stay like this, he’s too close to finishing and he can sense you’re not quite there yet despite being edged so he makes the conscious decision to hold you and flip you both over with a nimbleness he didn’t know he possessed in his older age.

You stutter out a choked moan, arching into his strong hands. You drag your nails down his toned back, leaving a little spatter of blood in the red tracks.

Joel hisses when your nails puncture the skin on the globes of his ass, somehow trying to pull him closer and push him away at the same time.

“Where?” He asks, nodding downwards as he fights off his climax.

“Inside.” You reply without hesitation. You’d counted your cycle days, marking in a blank notebook the day number and your symptoms, pretty accurately guessing your fertile window and probable ovulation day by cervical mucus alone. You were four days from your period being due, it was safe.

“You sure?” He hesitates, brow furrowed hard with concentration, he’s a stroke away from finishing. He knows better than most people to not trust the pull out method and he knows the importance of contraception but he still ended up a Dad before he hit his mid twenties. Pushing sixty he’s still playing a dangerous game but so far, neither of you had gotten burnt.

“Yeah.” You gasp, fingers on your clit rubbing faster. You groan suddenly and twist into him, making pretty little whimpers and purring. He groans too, thrusting in hard once, twice and then three times. You feel his cock stiffen and twitch, then the pulse of subtle warmth of his cum spreading inside and aiming for your cervix. He works himself through it, you push in return as the aftershocks slow to a flat line.

Joel heaves a breath, resting on his forearms as you lazily kiss his neck in satisfaction and rapture. You sit there for a minute, basking in the afterglow until Joel grows too stiff and has to withdraw from you slowly, kneeling up between your legs to pull his boxers and jeans back up but he leaves them unbuttoned and his belt loose.

You don’t miss the primal look in his eyes when they drift to between your legs, he can see his cum leaking and the pearlescent finish it leaves on your lips. His cock twitches, perhaps if he was younger he could go for another round but alas, he settles next to you on the blanket, pulling you to his chest and cushioning your head with a strong bicep.

“I think that might have been the best time yet.” You pant breathlessly, looking up at the ceiling and seeing the evening sky through the cracks of wood.

“Maybe one day we can do it in an actual bed, I’m not sure how much more of these places my back can take.” Joel jokes, you giggle and turn into him, listening to the rapid pace of his heartbeat as it settles, a perfect mirror of your own.

“Not bad for an old timer.” You tease, giggling when he growls and squeezes your hip.

“Was patrol okay today?” Joel questions you, you nod lazily against him. “You come across anything?” Now you speak, leaning up to peer down at him.

“A couple of runners. We shot them in that abandoned gas station near the entrance to the offices off the trail. I think they were probably people passing through, one was infected on the journey and turned, then bit the other.” Joel hums, rubbing your lower back and hip. “I have some things for Ellie I found, by the way. I’ll drop them over tomorrow. Nothing crazy, just some things I thought she needed.” You say between kisses down Joel’s chest and sternum, your delicate fingers tracing out old battle scars.

“What like?” He asks, catching your hand as it reaches his happy trail, bringing it to his lips instead where he presses tender kisses to your fingertips.

“Pyjamas, underwear and some toiletries. Oh! And get this, a new casette tape for her walkman.”

“What tape?”

“Teardrops.” You grin.

“Womack and Womack? She’s gonna love that.” Joel says, laying back and smiling at the ceiling of the stables, humming the song in his head. “Fuck, I haven’t heard that song in - jesus - years.” He’s frowning, contemplating lost time, the whole concept of time evades him, it never used to at the start but now? It’s one big jumble, his time is defined by events and not a calendar.

“She still playing that one you got her on repeat?” You wonder.

“Yeah.”

“What was it again?”

“Bowie. Heroes.” Joel replies.

“Nice.” You nod.

As you lie there together in an easy silence, content to be together in the quiet solace of the stables, Joel’s mind wanders back to his earlier conversation with his younger brother:

“Hey, er - Tommy actually said something else earlier.” Joel winces at how awkward he sounds and you huff loudly, ready to hear what other dumbass thing he’s said. “He said he heard you say you have a boyfriend or that you were seein’ someone.”

You sit up, frowning down at Joel.

“Okay…” You reply hesitantly, uneasy now. “Am I not seeing you?” You frown.

“No - no! It’s… that came out wrong. I just meant - “ Joel grumbles, covering his face momentarily while you try to will your stomach from not sinking. “I don’t know, I just wanted to know if you meant me.”

“Seriously, Joel? This conversation is going so well.” You say dryly, utterly unimpressed.

“No! Oh my god! I can’t do this.” He groans, realising his mistake. “I’m sorry, that came out so wrong.” Joel apologises, you snort.

“Look Joel, I was talking to Mrs Patterson in the garden and she was telling me about her late husband, saying how lovely he was and how men just aren’t like that anymore. She asked if I’d found anyone and I let it slip that I was seeing someone, I didn’t mention any names and I can totally understand why you’re freaked when we haven’t even had that conversation ourselves. I shouldn’t have assumed this was anything more than sex, I’m sorry.” You annunciate, warm in the cheeks.

“You want to just have sex?” Joel is sat up now, matching your frazzled expression.

“If that’s what you want.” You shrug, taking an interest in your cuticles. A large hand lays over yours, squeezing. You shift your focus to his knuckles instead, tracing out the scars.

“Honey, look at me.” He urges softly, you hesitantly meet his eyes. “I think somewhere we’ve miscommunicated.”

“How so?” You press.

“Look… it’s been a long time since I’ve done this, I’m a little rusty. I’m sorry if I haven’t been clear about what we are or what I want us to be, I kinda just assumed you knew and yeah, that’s real shitty of me.” He says sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “But I wanna be exclusive with you, honey. I mean, I have Ellie to think about so we’ll need to go slow just so I can ease her into the change. Is that okay?” He whispers, pressing his forehead to yours.

“That’s more than okay, Joel. I completely understand, I don’t want to spook Ellie either.” You confirm, Joel let’s out a relieved sigh.

“Good - good, okay. We’ll figure it out, baby.” He assures you, nuzzling his nose against yours and kissing you softly.

It’s easy to lose yourself in Joel Miller, you’re swept up in the gruff voice and strong arms, the softness beneath his outer shell reserved for those closest to him.

You’re kissing him back in earnest, he’s reclining to lay back down with you on top of him and you’re sure this could lead to round two or at least head from either one of you, maybe even both.

However, the moment is spoiled when you hear voices creeping closer to the stables. You both stiffen and wait, looking at each other with eyes opened wide.

The voices are getting closer and you decipher it’s two sets, it’s not made clear who it is until they’re walking behind the stables and you can see their shadows slink between the thin gaps in the planks.

It’s Ellie and Tommy.

You and Joel scramble, you yank your dress back over your breasts and pull the hem of it over your ass. Your panties are on the floor and you narrowly dodge Joel’s elbow as he hastily buckles his jeans back up just in time for the door around the corner to open with a shriek of the hinges.

“What if he’s gone out on patrol without telling me? Or maybe he’s swapped with someone and gone hunting? I know I’m back way earlier than he said but he said he’d be home! Do you think he’s left the gate? What if he’s hurt? What if - “ Ellie begins to ramble and Tommy sighs.

“Kiddo, stop worrying. I’m sure he’s around here somewhere, let’s look at the whiteboard and see if his name’s on there. I highly doubt he’s swapped shifts and he wouldn’t leave without telling you, he’s gotta be around here some…” Tommy’s reassurance comes to a stop when he round the corner of the hay bale wall and abruptly stops, staring at you and Joel with as much shock as you return.

Ellie slams into his back and he wobbles but his gaze never falters.

“What the fuck, man!” Ellie exclaims, shoving Tommy and stepping around his statue like form but also freezing too.

You look between them both, trying to formulate an excuse but Joel shoving his t-shirt on, the fact your clothes are crumpled and there’s absolutely hay in your tousled hair says it all.

Your panties are shoved behind your back out of view.

“Well I’ll be damned, you’re the guy she’s seein’!.” Tommy snorts, looking between you both. Joel growls, yanking on his flannel while Ellie manually retrieves her jaw from the floor.

“What the fuck is this?” She asks, looking between you and Joel. “You have a girlfriend? What the fuck, dude? You didn’t say anything!” She fumes, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Look, it’s complicated and new.” He says, which placates her slightly. She stares at you again and you see the betrayal hidden behind a scowl, she looks at Joel again.

“Fine. I guess this isn’t that bad, it could be worse - we could of caught you with Esther.”

“That’s true.” Tommy nods, pointing at Ellie, she nods back.

“Esther?” You question, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, Tommy’s neighbour, she totally fancies Joel.” Ellie tells you. “You should fight her.”

“No, she doesn’t and stop shit stirring.” Joel warns Ellie, she hides a smirk which tells you she’s winding Joel up.

“I could take Esther.” You say, playing along, Ellie’s eyes brighten with mischief.

“Nobody’s fighting no one.” Joel settles, you’re all silent for a millisecond and then Tommy throws in his two cence.

“You could take Esther.” He agrees.

“Enough about Esther, please!” Joel begs, beside himself.

“This is fucking embarrassing, Joel. What the fuck do you expect us to do? It’s awkward!” Ellie complains, Tommy nods in agreement, you do too.

“Yeah? Try being where we’re stood, kid.” He retorts.

Ellie kinda has to resist the urge to throw up in her mouth because Joel has sex which is so horrifying that she almost can’t bare to look at him but she’s equally happy for him and utterly disgusted, she swallows back a retch.

“Fine, whatever. I’m very happy for you and my da - Joel.” Ellie bursts and corrects herself at the last minute, you don’t miss the hitch in Joel’s breathing but this is not the time for that discussion. “I’m willing to negotiate a price for the emotional damage you’ve both caused me by lying to me, sneaking around and also having sex in front of my horse.” She lists.

“My horse too!” Tommy adds.

“And Tommy’s horse too, Crash and Shimmer didn’t want to see your bare ass.” Ellie continues and for some reason Joel knows exactly where this is going, so he braces himself.

“Name your price.” He bites, Ellie looks at him with a levelling glare, it’s getting hard not to laugh when you see Tommy observing like he’s watching a mafia deal go down.

“A kitten.” Ellie reveals.

He fucking knew it.

#joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #the last of us #joel miller fic #joel miller #the last of us fic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller one shot #pedro pascal fanfiction

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celiastjamesoscar · 6 months

Text

Night Shift

Pairings: Sam Carpenter x fem!reader. Sam x reporter!reader

Summary: Sam blamed you for the 2022 attacks, she blamed you for everything. But guilt drives people into blindness, and Sam eventually finds herself seeking your comfort.

AN: this is the longest fic I’ve ever written, so I apologize if at times it seems redundant. Based off of this request!

Warnings: angst, slight cursing, mentions of past drug addiction, small part of canon typical Scream violence, mentions of childhood trauma, mentions of alcoholism, Tara is a little shit. Let me know if I missed anything!

My Masterlist

Word Count: 18.0K

Nothing. That’s all you could think about as you listened to the sound of Tara’s heartbeat monitor. This was your fault. You were the reason Tara was now in the hospital with multiple stab wounds and a broken leg. If only you had gotten to her house sooner, she wouldn’t be in this position. All your friends tried to tell you it wasn’t your fault, that you had no idea some dipshit in a mask was going to attack her, but you knew better.

You were only nine when it happened, but you could still feel the sharp pain of Jill Roberts’ knife plunging deep inside of your abdomen. Sometimes, you swore you could still hear her black combat boots sneaking around on the wooden floor, and the only thing that would play throughout your mind was the sweet release of not having to look over your shoulder at every sound.

The sound of Tara’s heartbeat motioning increasing in speed pulled you out of your thoughts. “Hey, Tara. It’s alright,” you whispered to the sleeping girl, but you got no response. Her heartbeat motioning began peeping so rapidly, that your own heartbeat began thumping in your ears, and it eventually blocked out Tara’s.

Your heartbeat echoed throughout your ears as it continued its rapid pace of 150 beats per minute. You had no idea why you were anxious, but then your surroundings suddenly changed. You were no longer in the monotone gray walls of a hospital, but you now found yourself in Tara’s kitchen. The smaller girl was no longer in her hospital gown; she now wore a pink long sleeve shirt and jeans, and you instantly knew where this was going.

You tried to scream, but no sound left your throat as you watched Tara answer that dreaded phone call. The pounding in your ears continued as you began to sweat and frantically tried to move, but your feet were glued to the floor; no matter how hard you tried to move, you simply could not compel your body to move. You watched as Tara fought against Ghostface, and just like every night, you watched as Ghostface plunged his knife deep into Tara’s stomach. Over and over again.

But unlike the real events that conspired, you couldn’t save Tara. In this version, you watched as Tara bled out onto the floor, her crimson red blood staining the nicely wooded flooring. Her screams were the only thing that drowned out your heartbeat, and you begged it to stop.

“Y/N! Y/N, help me!” Tara cried out in a broken voice as blood now began to seep from her mouth as she tried to crawl toward you, but Ghostface stopped her. In a single motion, he leaned down to Tara and pulled her up by her hair, and slit her throat. When he stood up, you were met with those haunting hollowed out eyes, and when you blinked, the mask was gone.

Jill Roberts stood before you with murderous eyes as she slowly started to advance toward you. You tried to walk backward, but your feet wouldn’t move. Jill was not an arms length away, and you noticed the beautiful glint of light that reflected off the blood as she brought it down in a single motion.

Before the knife could sink into your chest, you were being shaken away. “Y/N. Get up; you’re having a nightmare,” the rough voice of Sam Carpenter stated as she awoke you from your nightmare.

Your eyes instantly shot up as you leaned up from the couch, checking your surroundings. “Oh, thank you,” you weakly replied as Sam let go of your shoulders and walked away from you, not giving you a response. Sam noticed the sweat that lined your forehead and caused some of your hair to stick to her face, but she didn’t care. Why would she care about someone that ruined her life?

Technically, it wasn’t your fault, but it was easier for Sam to blame you for what happened and she liked having it that way. It was her own fucked up way of keeping you at arms length while also always keeping an eye on you.

You checked your surroundings again and you were grateful that you were in your home and not that dreaded house that Tara used to live in. You had fallen asleep at some point on the couch and you left the TV running while your homework was spread out on the coffee table in front of you. You had gained a terrible habit of staying up until ungodly hours while trying to cram in information for your exams.

You groaned while standing up from the couch and you checked the time, 11:30 pm. If Sam was still here, that meant the rest of the girls were here as well, and you dreaded the thought of being around them. That was the worst part about living with Anika; you were constantly around the people that despised you. ‘People’ as in just Sam, but you liked to make it plural for the dramatic effect.

With a sigh, you grudgingly left the living room and went into the backyard, where a fire was going with the group huddled around it while sitting on hay bales. “Good morning, Y/N,” Tara teased with a gentle smile while scooting over on her hay bale, inviting you to sit next to her. “Yeah right,” you mumbled as you sat down next to the girl, ignoring the glance Sam threw at you, “What are you guys doing out here? It’s starting to get cold.”

“We were talking shit about you, but now we can’t do that with you out here,” Mindy joked as she rested her head on Anika’s shoulder. You and Mindy had a special ‘situationship’ going on for a while, but you two ended on good terms and occasionally picked on each other. “I hope it was good then,” you replied with a smile and Mindy nodded her head.

The conversation around the fire was an ideal one as you caught up with the group about any gossip you might have missed while you were asleep. Nothing sparked your interest too much, not until Tara mentioned Sam having a boyfriend.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Sam dryly stated as she stared down her younger sister, “We’re just friends, that’s all.”

“You have been saying that for months, Sam! All you two do is check each other out but you never talk! You have to give this guy a chance!” Tara exclaimed and you felt an unwarranted feeling of jealousy shoot throughout your chest. “What guy are you guys talking about?” You asked, starting to get more involved with the current conversion.

“This guy that has been after Sam’s heart ever since we moved here,” Tara casually remarked as she grabbed a stick and poked around the fire; the little shit had a thing for a fire.

You could feel Sam’s eyes burning into the side of your head as you racked Tara’s words around in your head. Sure, Sam was old enough to make decisions for herself, but the thought of her actually being with someone other than you makes you sick to your stomach. And just like the masochist you were, you had to ask Sam about it. “So why don’t you talk to him?”

Sam huffed, clearly annoyed by the fact that you, of all people, would ask her about her love life. “Why? So you can go and tell Gale about it? No thanks,” she dryly stated with a roll of her eyes.

“Hey, you little shit, that wasn’t Y/N! I’ve told you that before,” Tara defended as she comfortably put a hand on your knee, “And even if she did, I support her wrongs.”

“Tara, you’re not helping,” you whispered with a small, awkward laugh. A small groan left Sam’s lips as she stood up from the fire, “I’m going inside,” she said while walking toward the door to the house.

Once she was inside, Tara broke the tension, “I’m sorry she’s like that, Y/N. She doesn’t want to accept the truth.” The comfort from Tara was nice, it actually made you feel like someone at least cared for you that had the last name of Carpenter.

“It’s okay, no need to apologize on her behalf. I get it,” you said with a weak smile as you hid your pain. It was a stupid feeling: pain. You owed San nothing, but you still couldn’t help but feel a sense of guilt run through your body every time you saw the woman.

“So, Y/N, what’s it like fumbling an amazing woman like me?” Mindy playfully asked, her own way of trying to lighten the tense mood that had settled around the fire, “I need Anika to know how special I am.”

It was a shitty attempt, but it still put a smile on your face. “Mindy once got in a revolving door,” you said with a laugh, “she was in it for a solid 5 minutes.”

“Blasphemy!” Mindy shouted as she quickly stood up from her hay bale, “It was a one minute and you didn’t help at all! And you let Tara record it!”

“Oh my god, I need to find that video,” Tara butted in as she pulled out her phone, quickly trying to find the video while Mindy tried to steal the phone from her.

It was small moments like these that you enjoyed with the group; moments were everyone was happy and they could forgot about their fucked up pasts. Those moments were rare, but you cherished them like they were your life support.

As time dragged on and the night got colder, everyone outside called it quits. Well, at least on being outside.

“Hurry up, Gizmo, I’m freezing,” Mindy joked as she walked behind Tara, almost stepping on the girl’s shoes. “Don’t call me a gremlin,” the shorter girl shot back with a glare as she approached the back door to your house, “apologize and I’ll open it.”

“Fuck you,” Mindy retorted as she made a move for the door, bud Tara was quick to react as she kicked one of Mindy’s shins.

“Apologize.”

“No.”

Several beats of silence pass by as you and Anika watch a stare down between the two friends before Mindy inevitably sighs with defeat. “Alright fine, I’m sorry I called Gizmo. You aren’t a gremlin, more like a fun sized Lord Farquaad,” Mindy said, trailing off toward the end of her sentence.

“Hey, hey! Stop it!” You exclaimed, quickly catching Tara’s fist that was inches away from connecting Mindy’s face.

You were too busy trying to keep Tara from ripping into Mindy that you didn’t notice Sam opening up the door until she spoke. “What the hell are you doing to my sister?”

The position you found yourself in was an uncomfortable one, to say the least. You were holding Tara from behind, with your arms holding the smaller girl’s ones back.

“Mind your business, Sam,” Tara stated in a strained voice, trying to get hold out of your tight hold, “this is between me and Mindy.”

Her sister’s words didn’t seem to phase Sam at all, as the older sister couldn’t seem to take her eyes off of you. The way you had your hands on her sister made her blood boil. Deep down she knew that you would never hurt Tara, but that didn’t stop the over growing feeling of protectiveness come through.

In a single motion, Sam stopped out of the house and gripped your bicep with her right left hand. When you looked down, you could see her veins in her hands as her grip tightened, and if you didn’t know any better, you would say that was trying to flex as well.

“Let her go,” Sam demanded, leaving zero room for arguing. So, you shrugged your shoulders and let go, not caring to warn Sam about the can of whoopass her sister was about to unleash on Mindy.

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

“She was like a tiger! A short-legged one with asthma, but a Tiger!” Mindy cried into her phone, telling her brother about her vicious fight with Tara. Honestly, it was impressive how quickly Tara moved to latch onto Mindy, but even more impressive how surprisingly strong she was. The wounds that Mindy sustained weren’t anything terrible; a small cut on her cheek and a busted lip, but nothing was hurt more than her ego.

“You asked for it,” Anika commented, but then gave Mindy a quick kiss for the look she received. You chuckled at the small encounter as you excused yourself from Tara, who had a smug smile on her lips. She knew where you were going, and she didn’t think about warning you that Sam was also there; it was like her own way of playing matchmaker—a shitty matchmaker, but still one nonetheless.

The kitchen was a weird place you found solace in; nothing was special about it. It was where you went when you needed a step back from reality. Another odd thing: Sam also found the same comfort in the kitchen. Maybe it was the quiet nature, or the dim lights that brought comfort, or even perhaps the shitty decorations that littered the walls, but whatever it was, there was a soft comfort.

“Hey,” you said upon entering the kitchen. Sam was leaning against the countertop, arms crossed over her chest as her eyes refused to leave the floor. To anyone else, it would have gone unnoticed, but not with you, not with it involved Sam. You noticed her slightly heavy breathing and the barely visible sweat that glistened her forehead. And when her eyes finally left the floor, you could see nothing but black in her irises.

It took not even a second before Sam finally snapped out of whatever trance she had found herself in and returned to her usual self. Well, about as normal as Sam could be. She quickly wiped the sweat off her forehead and recrossed her arms as she looked at you. “What are you doing in here?” She all but demanded; her eyes seemed never to leave you as she stared you down.

The question was a weird one, as this was your home, but you just chalked it up to Sam's bizarre way of asking, ‘Why are you here with me and not my sister?’

“Hanging out in the kitchen; it’s where I belong,” you said with a smile, and to your surprise, you managed to pull a chuckle from the Latina. It was a quick laugh, but it sounded like angels were singing in your ears, and you would go through hell and back with nothing but the Hamilton soundtrack to keep you busy if it meant hearing that laugh again.

Sam smiled faintly as she spoke, “Yeah, well, I’ve tried your spaghetti before; you don’t belong anywhere near the kitchen. I’m sure they would have sent you into the army and made your husband stay at home.”

“Okay, wow, that one hurt!” You exclaimed with a joking smile as you placed a hand over your heart, pretending to be hurt, “That one dug deep, but bold of you to assume I would have a husband.”

“Bold of you to assume I would care.”

A tense silence filled the air after Sam spoke, but it was a silence you were starting to grow comfortable with. And for the first time in her life, Sam felt terrible for what she said to you. She wanted to apologize for saying she didn’t care about you, but she couldn’t muster up the pride to admit she was wrong. So all she did was look at you sadly and hope you would pick up on it.

“You know, I seriously thought we were having a moment,” you halfheartedly joked in an attempt to lighten the mood.

It took several seconds before Sam replied, just as you walked out of the kitchen, “Yeah…I don’t really think the whole ‘husband’ thing would work out for me either.”

This comment certainly caught you off guard. “Why is that?” You asked while returning back to the kitchen, clearly interested in what Sam had to say, “Not much of a marriage person?”

Sam shuffled awkwardly on her feet as she uncrossed her arms, gripped the counter behind her, and looked down at the floor. “No, it’s not the marriage part. It’s the man part,” she admitted while slowly looking up at you with the most vulnerable eyes ever. The look she gave you said a thousand words: this was something not even Tara knew about.

Sure, the Carpenter sisters shared everything, but Sam wouldn’t share this. Her attraction toward women was something that further ruined the bond between her and her mother, and she sure as hell wasn’t going to let it ruin her relationship with her only family left. Of course, Sam knew about Tara’s relationship with women, especially once she found out about Tara and Amber, but she still couldn’t help the feeling of being afraid to disappoint Tara.

But before you could comfort Sam, before you could tell her that her fears meant nothing and that Tara would still love her, you got interrupted. “Sam! Y/N! Get your asses in here!” Mindy yelled from the living room, “We want to watch this movie with you two!”

Sam quickly got rid of the vulnerability on her face when she heard Mindy’s voice, not wanting to show that kind of weakness to anyone.

“Sam-” you started, but the woman quickly brushed past you, subtly wiping a tear from her eye as she walked into the living room.

Following behind her, you entered the living room and sat at the only open spot on the couch, which was conveniently next to Tara, who had Sam on her other side. “Thank god, I was starting to think you two were fucking in there or something,” Mindy remarked as she grabbed the tv remote, “Let me introduce you guys to the scariest movie on the planet: The Cat in The Hat Live Action!”

The rest of the night was filled with laughter and playful teasing as the hours slowly seeped into the early morning hours. The small banter between Mindy and Tara kept things interesting; Mindy compared Tara to the Things, as Anika tried to keep it peaceful. The stolen glances you shared with Sam had their conversations, and when you went to bed that night, you would consider this night a step in the right direction at changing your relationship with Sam.

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

One thing Sam hated about working a 9-5 was how inconsiderate most of society can be. It was already a busy day at the cafe, more alive than average, and her nerves were already shot for the next and a half. From people complaining about not getting orders in a short time to people demanding to have their drinks remade, it was a rough day for the older Carpenter.

She had half a mind to tell the next person who complained about their coffee not being proper that it was just coffee; if they wanted it right, they should buy a Keurig and make it themselves. Although that would be funny, it would also end in Sam getting fired, so she just bit her tongue and continued working.

As if her day couldn’t get any worse, you always had a habit of catching Sam at her worst. “Are you stalking me now?” Sam questioned once she saw you approach the front counter.

“Oh yeah. You know me, I can’t get enough of the Carpenter girls,” you said with a smirk as you quickly checked San up and down, frowning when you saw a faded coffee stain on her apron. It wasn’t hard to notice the looks Sam got in public, so you could imagine how customers would treat her. If the universe would allow it, you would put Sam in your back pocket and protect her from the rest of the world; God knows that the woman deserves some peace in her life for once.

“For whatever reason, Tara can’t seem to leave you alone,” Sam mumbled as she pulled out a pen and notepad, “What can I get you?”

“Just a small cappuccino, please,” you replied as Sam wrote down your order and took your payment. She liked writing things down, which helped her remember the important stuff. And maybe, in the distant future, she might want to buy you a coffee sometime.

Once you ordered, you went and sat down at a booth by yourself and took in the place: it had indeed calmed down from earlier; only a couple of people remained from the rush hour. You enjoyed the calmness, as it gave you time to observe people. Not in a weird or stalkerish way, but in a way to think about other people’s lives, how these weren’t just random people who had no life. These were people who had dreams, who had family and friends; you enjoyed watching the way the world works around you.

You watched as a man wore stress lines on his forehead as he eagerly typed away on his laptop, mouthing every word he typed. How sweat lined his hairline, you could have had a deadline for work that he pushed off until the last minute. You then turned your attention to the girl at the opposite end of the cafe, a book in hand as she wore black headphones over her ears, entranced into the world of fantasy without a care in the world while sporting a soft smile. The world amazed you in ways like that: two completely different people who somehow ended up at the same place at the same time, with different things going on in their lives. Maybe it was fate that brought these two strangers together, and you smiled when you saw them bump into each other before leaving, both wearing a smile and talking about the book she was reading. Maybe that’s what you wished had happened between you and Sam: an accidental meeting somewhere where a good relationship was possible and not this borderline hostile friendship.

A couple of minutes passed before Sam brought over your drink to you. “How late are you working?” You asked once she handed you your drink. The questioning look she gave you was a funny one, but not that it mattered.

“I’m here till 5. Why?”

“Damn, you got a 9 to 5? It looks like I’ll take the night shift,” you joked, but Sam didn’t laugh, only giving you a questioning glare, “Lucy Dacus? No? You’re boring.”

“I’m sorry, I’m not obsessed with three grown women who refer to themselves as ‘boys,’” Sam remarked. She had no desire to learn anything about Boygenius, especially after listening to her sister talk for an hour about all of the unholy things she would let Julien Baker do to her. If Sam was being honest, half of the stuff Tara said deserved at least a ten-year prison sentence.

“But you know who they are,” you said teasingly as you stood up from the booth, “Don’t worry, Sam. You’ll soon grow to appreciate Boygenius. I’ll have Tara fix that.”

“Mhmmm, I’m sure about that,” she mumbled as she returned to the counter, bidding you farewell with a slight nod, not caring to return your toothy smile or wave.

If Sam drove home after her long shift listening to Julien Baker, that was no one’s business but hers.

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

When Sam got home, she only wanted a nice, hot shower and go to bed. She didn’t even bother to eat dinner, as she didn’t have the energy or care to do so. As she opened the door to her apartment, which seemed heavier than usual, she kicked off her shoes with a sigh as she made her way into her bedroom, utterly oblivious to the voices in the living room.

“What’s wrong with her?” You asked Tara once the taller Carpenter had shut her bedroom door. “I don’t know; probably work stuff. Do you have five of spade?” Tara asked, more intrigued with the game she was playing than her sister.

“No, go fish,” you replied while looking at Sam’s door; something was telling you to go check on the girl to make sure she was alright, but you didn’t want to overstep any boundaries.

“Ohhhh my god, you hate me,” the younger Carpenter dramatically stated, dragging out the words as she threw herself backward onto the couch.

“If I hated you, I wouldn’t have done your entire English paper, would I?” You questioned while shooting a glance at the pouting girl, but when your comment earned you a middle finger, you placed your cards down as you stood up from the couch, “I'll be right back.”

Tara scoffed at you as she leaned up on her elbows. “Have you learned nothing from the Meeks family? I hope you don’t come back,” she mouthed off as she started looking at your cards, “you fucking asshole! You did have that card!”

“I never said I didn’t,” you replied with a smirk as you walked toward Sam’s door, ducking out of the way of a flying shoe courtesy of your best friend Tara.

A soft rasping of knuckles pulled Sam away from her almost meltdown. She had felt a constant pressure on her all day, and it started to lift briefly, but it suddenly came back by the end of her shift. Sam was used to the constant pressure and needed to be the best version of herself now that she was providing for her sister, but it all started to get too much for her.

“Sam, you okay?” Great, not only did she have this overwhelming feeling about to take over, but she was also about to have a high speed come apart in front of the person she didn’t want to see her weak.

“I’m good, Y/N. Go back to Tara,” she called out as she backed herself against a wall, slowly sliding down to sit on the floor.

“Are you sure? You didn’t seem too happy when you got home,” you replied, hoping to get somewhere with the older woman. “I’m fine. Please, leave me alone,” Sam pleaded, but the way her voice broke off toward the end of her sentence told you that she didn’t need to be left alone right now.

Several seconds passed, the sound of Sam’s bedroom clock ticking away, slowly counting down the seconds until Sam couldn’t bear the deafening silence. She felt like she had somehow found herself in her version of ‘The Tell-Tale Heart,’ at any moment, she would succumb to the voices that were guilting her. For what guilt, she did not know; guilty of her origins, guilty of neglecting her baby sister for five years, guilty of torturing her body for years on end, putting any substance into her body to help calm her mind? Sam didn’t know what was causing this constant guilt that followed her anxiety and pressure, but she would do anything to make it stop. And she did make it stop.

“Fuck it,” she mumbled as she pushed herself up from the floor and walked to her door, grabbing the handle but making no motion to open the door. If she opened that door, it would be an invitation to open herself up to you; she only opened up to one person in her life, and look what he did to her. This constant fear of having to look over her shoulder, as if the shadows were going to transform into physical beings and take her life, or even worse, take Tara’s life. Sam wears scars, both physical and mental, from him, and she would lay down her own life if it meant protecting her sister. But when she looked at you, with your innocent eyes that beamed when you looked at her, Sam knew you could never hurt anyone. But Sam was never one to make accurate judgments.

The creaking sound of Sam opening up her door pulled you from your thoughts. Thoughts that weren’t any special; who you would have in your ideal Hunger Games lineup. You knew for a fact that the president would be Cersei Lannister and the game maker would be Jigsaw. However, you still have yet to determine who the twenty-four tributes would be: the only tributes you had so far were Santa Barbara Ellie, Pioneer Kim Kardashian, Regina George, and Chanel Oberlin. It's not the best list, but it's a solid start.

“Hey,” you said quietly, eyes darting over Sam’s bloodshot eyes with dark bags underneath. Even at her worst, she always somehow managed to captivate you like she was a siren, slowly bringing you into your inevitable demise. Still, you could never seem to pull yourself away from the beauty that was Sam Carpenter.

Sam scoffed at your weak greeting while ignoring the feeling of her stomach turning at how you looked at her. She knew she looked like a hot mess, and she believed it was your way of silently making fun of her. But the way your lips were slightly parted and your eyes seemed a bit too dilated, refused to leave her own, told her that you weren’t judging or making fun of her. No, you were admiring her, which sent a slight shock of guilt throughout her; Guilt, that was Samantha Carpenter’s best friend.

Sam’s eyes drifted down to the floor, as she couldn’t handle the feeling of your eyes burning into her skull. “Who’s shoe is that?” She asked, motioning down to the floor, where Tara’s shoe landed.

“Well, if you look closely, you can see that it’s a size three for babies,” you remarked teasingly.

“Kill yourself!” Tara shouted from the living room, not caring enough to storm out into the hallway and show you how vicious she can be.

“Charming, isn’t she?” You stated as Sam looked back up and made eye contact with you. Her face told you that she didn’t want to talk, but her eyes were silently begging you to stay. It was a dilemma that you stumbled upon, but you were always someone who loved conflicts. “Is everything alright?”

Sam sighed as she leaned against her doorframe, crossing her arms over her chest. “Is that what you wanted? To ask me if things are okay?”

“Um, yes and no?” You trailed off, not wanting to make things more awkward than they were, “Hold on.” You quickly moved from Sam’s door into the living room, and Sam ignored the hushed threats being spoken; her sister was an angel, after all.

“Here ya go,” you said with an embarrassingly large smile once you returned to Sam’s door. In your hand, you held a small brown lunch bag. Sam had to fight off any instincts to punch you in the throat.

“I don’t like gifts,” she said instead of resorting to violence. Truth be told, Sam loved gifts; she just hated receiving them, as it made her feel like she was in someone’s debt.

“Well, good thing it’s not a gift,” you replied, smiling, pushing the gift bag toward Sam, who gave you a questioning look before accepting it. The bag itself was featherlight, almost as if nothing was in there. Sam gave you one last questioning look before opening the bag and looking inside.

In the bag were several containers, all hosting different kinds of cookies and brownies, and to Sam’s surprise, they were all her favorites. There was something much more prominent at the bottom, but she couldn’t tell what it was as the rest of the cookies sat atop. Sam gave you a small smile as she walked over to her chest of drawers and began taking out the items, ignoring how you were now peering into her room as you leaned against the door frame.

“Thank you, Y/N,” Sam genuinely said in a weak, almost fragile voice as she slowly got to the bottom of the bag, “I appreciate this. it has been-” The rest of her words died on the tip of her tongue as she stared into the bag, as silence filled the room. Those silent seconds dragged on into a quiet minute, neither of you saying anything. You knew it might have been too bold or maybe even wrong, but you wanted to let Sam know that you were proud of her.

“Goodnight, Sam,” you quietly whispered, gaining Sam’s attention. Your heart broke once her eyes met yours, tears glossing in her doe eyes as her lip quivered. She gave you a slight nod of recognition before turning her attention back to the bag as a single tear ran down her cheek, grateful that you had already left by the time it broke from her eye.

With a dry chuckle, Sam reached into the bag, pulled out a 10-inch cookie, and sat it down on her chest of drawers. She stared at it for several moments before her lips pulled into a smile as a new feeling shot throughout her heart, one that she hadn’t felt in a long time: hope. But that feeling of hope wasn’t for her; no, it was a hopeful feeling about you.

Sam smiled down at the cookie one last time before she went into the kitchen and grabbed a knife and plate, thankful that Tara had gone off to her room so she could enjoy her treat by herself.

Once she returned to her room, she pulled the lid off the container and cut a small piece out of the cookie. Making sure not to ruin the words that said, “Happy three years of sobriety.”

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

The minutes seemed endless as you stared up at the ceiling of your bedroom. You didn’t know why you were waiting, but you just were. Your mind was telling you to get up, to do something productive, but your heart and soul were seemingly forcing you to stay put, like something important was going to happen anytime, and if you were just a fraction of a second too late, you would miss it.

It was a stupid feeling, but you couldn’t compel yourself to move; it was as if your mind was in a trance, stuck in some faraway land, and you could do nothing to pull yourself back into your body. You were on the verge of losing your mind when you knew exactly what you were waiting for, and when you finally accepted why, it happened.

Your phone dinged on your nightstand, and you immediately smiled; you didn’t have to look at it to know who it was. In a swift motion, you quickly got up from your bed and grabbed your phone as you read the text message. It wasn’t a long one, or even a special one, to be honest, but the smile on your face was almost comical, and your heart soared. The text read, “I don’t know how you found out about the date, nor do I even want to. But thank you, Y/N, I needed that today.”

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

“I will never understand the hype for ‘Hamilton,’” Mindy stated with a look of distaste as she flopped down onto the Carpenter’s couch. It wasn’t movie night but more of a girl’s night. Since it was Tara’s idea to have a girl’s night, she got to pick the movie. But it wasn’t for her, no, it was for Sam.

The older Carpenter sister would never admit to liking such things, but she did have a soft spot for musicals. She didn’t know where this love for them came from, but ever since she was young, she had loved the idea of singing.

Before Sam had discovered her mother’s journal, which had ultimately led to the destruction of her family, she used to sing in her church’s choir. It was the first thing her mother didn’t force her into doing, and she loved singing in front of people; it made her feel like nothing in the world could touch her.

Singing was the only thing Christina Carpenter told Sam she was good at and the last thing she ever took away from Sam.

Once Mr. Carpenter left, Christina stopped taking the kids to church, which caused Sam to be pulled from the choir. It still didn’t stop Sam; she saved up enough money to buy a guitar and write songs while practicing the guitar in her room. When Sam started to dabble around in drugs and alcohol, she slowly started to lose herself. She lost who she really was, but she never lost her voice.

Only when it was the day of Sam’s 18th birthday did Christina finally ruin the last good thing Sam liked about herself, “Your real father had the voice of an angel.”

Sam left that night, and she hadn’t sung since.

But now, five years later, Sam still loves everything to do with music. She was glad that Tara had taken one for the team and turned on Hamilton because Mindy would never let Sam hear the end of it.

“‘Hamilton’ is okay, but not Lin-Manuel Miranda’s best work,” you stated as you stood in the kitchen, making a bag of popcorn for yourself. Sam was also in the kitchen with you, which has become a common meeting place. She was making herself a sandwich as she quietly listened to the banter between you and Mindy.

“I don’t believe you. What is his best work?” Tara challenged as she shifted on the couch, throwing an arm over the side as she looked into the kitchen to glare at you.

“His best work is easily ‘In the Heights,’” you declared with too much emphasis on the movie title.

“No!” Tara yelled, “You only say that because the lead actress looks like Sam, and you said she was hot!”

“I did not say that!” You lied as heat rushed up your neck and flooded your cheeks. It wasn’t embarrassing because Tara called you out; you were embarrassed because you were in the kitchen with Sam. It didn’t help that you could hear Sam snickering as you were defending yourself.

“Yes, you did. Do you want me to pull up the screenshots from the long chain of text messages you sent me?” Tara asked, even though it wasn’t a question, as she pulled out her phone. “Example one: ‘Oh my god, Tara. I’m watching this movie, and this woman looks just like Sam.’”

You quickly threw your bag of popcorn down onto the counter as you sprinted into the living room. You simply couldn’t live with the idea that Sam knows just how you yearned for her.

“Example two: ‘This is Sam, just in another universe.’ Example three, in all caps: ‘Oh my god, Tara! I am not joking when I say that-’” You quickly snatched the phone from the younger Carpenter sister before she could say possibly the horniest text message you had ever sent.

“You are no fun,” Tara whined as you deleted the messages from her phone. “You’re evil,” you retorted before handing Tara back her phone, who was quick to grab it. You walked back into the kitchen to grab your popcorn and became embarrassed when you saw Sam.

She was wearing one of her light-colored long-sleeve muscle shirts again with a pair of gray sweatpants. In simple words, she looked amazing. Usually, when Sam wore some variation of the muscle shirt combo, you could act ‘normal.’ But now that Tara had practically outed your attraction to Sam, you just wanted to crawl into a hole and die.

Thankfully, she just gave you a small smile as she watched you grab your bag before heading back into the living room, no doubt about to be the subject of constant teasing from Tara and Mindy.

“So,” Mindy started once you sat down on the couch next to her, “Are we going to talk about those thirst messages-” “Start the damn movie, Tara.”

By the time the movie started, Sam had entered the living room, but not without earning a cat call whistle from Mindy, no doubt a jab at you. She opted to sit by herself in the loveseat as she kicked her feet up on the opposite end. She sent you a smile when no one was looking, and you could have sworn both hearts started beating as one.

Throughout the movie, you had to deal with Tara rapping and Mindy ranting about the musical, but overall, it was a fun night. Sam was slowly starting to warm up to the idea of having you around more often, and you slowly felt yourself catching feelings for her.

Of course, there was this natural attraction to Sam, she was simply beautiful, but her protective personality mixed with her stand-off, almost bitchy, personality was merely perfect. But with her bitchiness, she was the sweetest, most caring person you had ever met. Her laugh was so angelic, and the way her eyes crinkled when she did laugh was so heartwarming. Sam Carpenter was perfect in your eyes.

To say that this attraction was one-sided wouldn’t be fair. After you had dropped off her cookie, Sam started to act differently around you. She would smile more, and only at you most of the time. It seemed like she had begun to reserve that confident smile just for you. She started to see you more as an individual with feelings and plans for the future rather than a simple 2-dimensional person who was only in her life to make it hell. Sam had actually started to care for you even though she still tried her best to despise you.

So when the movie finished and Mindy went home, you grabbed your coat to follow suit soon.

“Thank you for coming, Y/N,” Tara said as she hugged you while you were standing next to the front door, “You know I love you, right?”

You quickly reciprocated the hug, pulling the girl into a warm, soft embrace. “I know you do, and I also love you too. Even though you can be a shit sometimes.”

“Yeah, but you love it!” She happily exclaimed while pulling back from the hug to pinch your left cheek, “Drive safe, okay?”

“I will, Ms. Carpenter, I will,” you replied, smiling as you opened the door, and Tara disappeared into her room. You had gone halfway out of the door when someone spoke.

“You’re just going to leave without saying goodbye?” You didn’t need to turn around to know who it was; you could pick that soft voice from anywhere. Granted, she was the only one left in the apartment, but you still have yourself the credit for knowing it was her.

“I didn’t think you would want to say goodbye,” you replied as you entered the apartment and shut the door, “I didn’t want to overstep any boundaries with you.”

That was the thing about you: you were so damn respectful. Sometimes, Sam wanted to slam you against a wall to beat the hell out of you. Other times, she wanted to slam you against a wall with her tongue down your throat. Sam had a weird way of showing her attraction to you.

“You didn’t think you were overstepping boundaries when you brought me that cookie?” Sam questioned with a faint smile on her lips. She would never tell you this, but she loved teasing you, as it was the only way she could see the more embarrassed side of you.

“I figured I was, but I thought the gesture of it would be nice enough,” you replied in a weak voice as you rubbed the back of your neck with your hand and shuffled from one foot to the other. “I’m sorry if it was rude of me to do that without asking first. I just wanted it to be a surprise.”

The older woman laughed a bit as she walked closer to you and opened the door, “At least let me walk you out,” she offered. You gave her a smile with a nod as you followed her out of the apartment, making sure to close the door behind you.

“So, what do you think of musicals?” You asked as you walked down the stairs with her. “Why? You wanna ask me out on a date?” Sam joked with the slightest hint of flirtation in her voice, and you almost felt your knees give out.

“Ha, you wish,” you replied as you matched her tone of voice, which earned you a playful smirk to get sent your way. If you figured your one way to win Sam’s trust was to flirt with her occasionally, you would go out giving it your all.

You two reached the floor level of the apartment building, and you held the door open for Sam as you walked outside. “But seriously, though, what do you think of them?” You asked as Sam followed you to your car.

“I enjoy them well enough. Why?” Sam responded as she eyed you suspiciously.

“Because the ‘Aladdin’ musical is going to be here soon,” you stated before you continued with your proposal, “And I was wondering if you would want to go with me?”

The offer was a genuine one from you; you wanted to spend more quality time with Sam, but you also have been dying to see the musical. It was a win-win situation all around.

“Y/n,” Sam started with a beaming smile that matched her chocolate eyes, “I would love to go with you. When and how much do I owe you?”

You quickly picked up Sam’s hand and held it between yours, “You don’t owe me anything. Consider it payment for letting me terrorize your sister.”

Sam glanced down at your hands before looking back up at you. Her beautiful eyes held so much darkness in them that they couldn’t help but draw you in. When you looked into Sam’s eyes at just the right moments, you didn’t see the gorgeous woman; no, you would see her father. And it made you yearn for her even more. Sam had never experienced actual love, but when you looked into her eyes, it made you wonder why thieves bothered to steal pieces of art; you knew you were in love with her.

In a swift moment, before Sam had time to think about her actions, she leaned in. She had meant to kiss your cheek, but in a sudden and indescribable moment, Sam slightly turned her head to kiss the corner of your lips, millimeters away from your lips.

“Thank you, Y/N,” she whispered with a small smile as she said goodbye. You were too busy hoping she left a lipstick mark to respond.

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

The seconds seemed to drag on endlessly as you tapped your foot against the floor. Your stomach was wrapped up in knots you could barely remember to breathe; the only thing you could think about was the constant nervousness that was rattling you to your core. You were early, half an hour earlier, to be exact, but you would rather be early and have to wait rather than be late.

You were sitting on the bottom stairs of Sam’s apartment building, impatiently waiting until it would be an acceptable time to go to the Carpenter’s apartment. It was the night of the musical, and you were wearing a simple yet elegant suit as you pulled at the collar of your shirt as if it was slightly choking you.

‘Nervous’ wasn’t the correct word to describe your feelings. Petrified would be a better word for it. You were terrified that you would somehow mess up this night, had somehow overdone it, or that Sam wouldn’t have fun. Self-doubt was your greatest friend, after all.

You picked up the bouquet of roses from beside you and stared at them. “Maybe it's too much,” you thought out loud as you turned them over in your hand. Neither of you had explicitly said it was a date, but the way Sam kissed your cheek was something you would never forget. Even though you wanted to consider an actual kiss, since it was so close to your lips, you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. Samatha Carpenter is a strong woman who takes what she wants in this world, and if she wanted to kiss your lips, she would have done so.

Your phone vibrated with a text message, pulling you away from self-doubt. It was from Sam, telling you that you can come up whenever you would like.

Like an idiot, you wanted to run up the stairs as fast as you could to get to Sam quicker, but you forced yourself to play it cool, to not look like a loser. So, ever so slowly, you began your journey up the six flights of stairs.

Within a few minutes, you were standing outside Sam’s door. You had arrived quicker than you wanted, but the excitement was too much. Then, your mind slowly started to get the better of you as you stared down at your fancy dress-up shoes. You hoped you weren’t overdressed, but if you were, you could easily change into the clothes you kept in Tara’s room. But then what if you were underdressed? How would you fix that? You wouldn’t have enough time to go home and change into something more congenial, and you certainly weren’t going to make Sam change. What if Sam wasn’t even dressing up at all? What if this was just a friendly outing, and you completely fucked it up? What if-

Before you dive further into the scenarios that could play out, the door opened, and all of the air within your lungs left.

“What the fuck are wearing?” You asked with slight irritation in your voice, bewilderment written all over your face.

“What? You don’t like it?” Tara questioned as she spun around in a circle for you. The younger Carpenter sister was wearing a yellow shirt with a pineapple that had on a thong; underneath the fruit was the word ‘slut.’ She was wearing a pair of gray sweatpants, and when she turned around for you, you saw ‘baby girl’ embroidered on the butt.

“Clearly It’s referring to the pineapple, not you,” you said with a smile before it fully registered what was on the girl’s pants, “Hey, turn back around!” Tara did as you demanded, “If I would have known you were wanting to check on my ass, I would have done some squats first,” she teased with a smirk.

When you reread the word ‘baby girl,’ you scoffed at the more petite girl, “Why are you wearing those?”

“Because it's funny! It’s called having a sense of humor!” Tara shot back before an evil smirk appeared, “Why? Do you want me to take them off? I don’t think Sam would like that too much; she gets territorial over you.”

The comment certainly surprised you, and Tara quickly noticed her mistake. “I didn’t mean that,” she tried to explain, but it was too late.

“What do you mean she ‘gets territorial’ over me?” You questioned, completely forgetting about why you were talking to Tara in the first place as the thought of Sam ran rapidly throughout your mind.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Tara replied with a nervous laugh as her eyes darted around the room. She wasn’t supposed to tell anyone this, and Sam made her swear not to tell anyone. Now, she has broken that promise to the one person who wasn’t supposed to know.

Now, it was a simple mistake that led to Tara finding out about the flirtatious relationship between you and Sam. It was the night Sam kissed your cheek; Tara saw that bright smile on Sam’s lips and how her eyes held so much admiration. She had never seen that look on her sister’s face, and she knew something had happened.

So, like any good sister, she interrogated and terrorized Sam until she finally caved.

Sam only told Tara the bare minimum; you two were going out later in the week to watch a musical together and that you had gotten her a gift a week ago. She didn’t plan on telling Tara that the gift in question was her sobriety treat basket, but when Tara went to grab a water bottle from Sam’s mini fridge, she saw a small box of brownies with your handwriting on a sticky note. “I believe in you :)” was written on it, so Tara asked Sam about it.

Sam told her sister about the gift, but Tara didn’t seem bothered by it. “Oh, yeah. I figured something fruity was going on between you and the biggest homo of the century. But why the fuck did you keep this from me?!” Tara shouted, moving the box around in the air.

“I didn’t think you would want any,” Sam defended with a weak sigh, but she knew it wouldn’t help.

“I would give a strip show to the old people’s home just for a brownie from this place, and you didn’t think I would want any?” She questioned in a slightly more demanding voice before huffing and leaving Sam’s room with the box in hand.

But now, in the current moment, Tara wished she hadn’t opened Sam’s fridge. That annoyingly hopeful smile on your lips drove her insane, not to mention that lovesick look in your eye.

“Stop it, you’re freaking me out,” Tara stated as she made a disgusted face at you. “No. Tell me why you said that,” you pressed on, hoping to get an answer from the younger sister.

“Y/N, what are you hounding her about?” A soft, angelic voice questioned, and your attention immediately shot to Sam. She was wearing a black dress that clutched her curves and somehow made her look even more beautiful if that was even possible. The dress had a plunging neckline, and you had to force your eyes away from her cleavage, earning you a smile of approval from Sam, but an elbow followed by a look of distaste from Tara.

“You look amazing,” you stated breathlessly as your eyes wandered down Sam’s body, admiring the leg slit that showed off her left leg. You prayed for nights when that leg would be wrapped around your head.

“Thank you. You look not so bad either,” Sam replied with a soft smile as she picked up her black clutch bag and walked toward you.

“Have fun on your date,” Tara sneered as she entered her room. Truth be told, she couldn’t have been happier for her sister, but she would rather die than let you know that.

“Yeah, yeah,” you mumbled under your breath as your eyes followed Tara before they shot back to the goddess before you. “Are you ready?” You asked, and she gave a curt nod before walking to the door. When you got to the car, you opened the passenger door for Sam, and she thanked you with a soft smile that made your heart explode and your knees weak.

The car ride to the theater was a peaceful one filled with pleasant conversation as you asked Sam about her day and her about yours. Sometimes, you would catch her looking over her shoulder with those soft doe eyes, and you had to fight off any urges to kiss her soft lips.

“Here we are,” you stated as you pulled into the back parking lot of the theater. As you parked the car, Sam observed people leaving their cars, dressed in all kinds of formal clothing, as they made their way into the theater. It took several seconds for it to click in her mind; this was a date.

Of course, she had assumed it might be considered one whenever you asked her, but as she watched the couples get out of their cars and link hands while they all wore fancy clothing, she knew that this was a date. Sam also knew that if she asked you if this was officially a date, she knew that you would deny it. So when you both stepped out of the car and started walking toward the entrance together, she reached out to interlace your fingers with hers.

It was a simple gesture, but the warmth of her hand in yours was enough to warm your cheeks and set your heart afire. You looked at her, only to find that Sam had already been staring at you.

“What?” You asked with a slight smile and a hint of nervousness in your voice. Sam bumped her shoulder into yours, “Nothing, it's just you look beautiful tonight.”

As if your face couldn’t get any redder, you laughed nervously as you looked down at the ground. The compliment threw you off, but you still accepted it nonetheless. “Thank you. And you look beautiful as well, Sam,” you stated.

“I know; you said that earlier,” she teased as she squeezed your hand, “Come on,” she continued as you two walked into the building.

You held open the door for her as you two entered, and then she patiently waited while you got the tickets.

“My lady,” you said as you returned to Sam, sticking out your elbow. “You are such a dork,” she replied, smiling as she locked her elbow around yours and followed your lead. Sam kept quiet as you led her past row after row, but her surprise never stopped until you led her to the third row up front. “Come on,” you stated as you led her down the row toward the middle, “these are our seats.”

“Y/N. How much did these cost?’ Sam questioned as she hesitatingly sat down next to you. “Don’t worry about the price. Money doesn’t mean anything when it comes to memories,” you eagerly replied, which was the truth. You didn’t care about the ticket price; the only thing you cared about was making Sam happy. Sam was someone who found happiness hard to come by, so you devoted your time to try and make her life better, even if that meant putting a massive dent in your credit score.

“I will stab you in the neck with a knife if you don’t tell me how much you spent on these seats,” Sam demanded with a soulless look in her eyes. It was meant to be threatening, maybe it was, but the only thing you could feel toward those dark eyes was a sense of attraction.

“Shhh, it's getting ready to start,” you silenced her, and soon enough, the lights began to dim as the crowd quickly stopped their chatter and turned their focus to the stage. Sam scoffed at you and turned her attention away from you. She wanted to be angry with you for not telling her how much you spent, but she knew that doing that would only ruin this night, which was something she knew you had been looking forward to for longer than you had been leading on.

So, when the curtains opened, she quickly glanced at you. She noticed how your eyes seemed entirely dedicated to the actors on stage and how your lips were curved up in the slightest of a smile. Sam thought you looked the most beautiful woman in the entire world.

Sam moved her hand from her lap to place it in your lap. She turned her hand so that her palm was facing up, and you didn’t have to ask what she wanted; you interlaced your fingers with hers and pulled them further into your lap.

If Sam noticed the way your hands started to sweat, she didn’t say anything. She was too busy focusing on how your thumb was featherlight stroking her hand to concentrate on anything. No one had ever touched her with such softness; she wanted to cry.

When the play finished, and you took her back to her apartment, she couldn’t help but give you a goodnight kiss as a thank you.

Maybe one day you could bask in the sweet taste of her lips on yours. But for now, you would live with her lipstick stain on your cheek, and you would wear it with honor.

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

Things had changed between the two of you. They were highly subtle at first: Sam’s eyes looking for you in a crowded room, her fingertips lingering on your hand whenever she handed you your coffee, and she even gave you another rare kiss on the cheek when you brought a very drunk Tara home late one night. Then things started to pick up; she would text you and ask you to pick something up for her and Tara, and when you would drop them off, Sam would ask you to stay for a while. She would always say Tara asked you to stay, but you knew better, even though you never questioned her.

It was one of those nights at the Carpenter’s apartment, movie night with just the three of you. Of course, typical movie nights with the core four plus Anika and you were on Fridays, but the sisters liked having you over just by yourself, as you weren’t nearly as much trouble as the twins. Tara wanted to refer to you as a plant; check in occasionally to make sure you weren’t dead and give you some stuff to keep you from dying.

“Tara, I am not watching ‘The Babadook,’” you stated as you sat on the couch alone. Tara was doing her dad's stance while flipping through movies to watch while Sam was in the kitchen making popcorn.

“Who?” She asked, not even caring to look back at you. “What-” you started to say before the shorter Carpenter cut you off, “Asked?”

“Why do I even hang out with you? All you do is insult me,” you joked as Tara moved to sit beside you. Well, on you. She threw an arm around your shoulder as she got comfortable on your lap. “Because you love me, obviously,” she remarked, still looking for the perfect movie.

Sam knew it was spiritual love, but she couldn’t help the feeling of jealousy grow throughout her chest. Especially over her sister! With a slight shake, Sam tried to fight off that feeling as she grabbed the popcorn bags, along with some bowls, and made her way into the living room.

“Just two bags?” Tara questioned once Sam entered the living room. “Yeah, I figured you and Y/n would share. Why; is there a problem?” The older sister questioned with a raised eyebrow as she set the bowls on the coffee table.

“No, it's fine. But I am getting an entire bag for myself,” Tara stated as she left your lap to grab a bag from Sam before moving to the opposite end of the couch. “Looks like you two will have to share,” she added with a sly smile.

You shared a look with Sam, who had slight irritation on her face. She handed you the bag as she spoke, “I’ll go make more.” When Sam moved to head into the kitchen, you quickly grabbed her wrist, stopping her from getting further.

“No, I’m alright with sharing. Only if you are, though,” you said quietly, ignoring the snickering coming from the end of the couch. Sam gave you a small smile as she nodded, sitting beside you on the sofa.

A small laugh left your lips as you looked at Sam’s outfit. “What?” She questioned.

“We are matching,” you responded with a smile as you looked up at Sam, who was already looking at you before she looked at your outfit. It was true; both of you were accidentally wearing practically the same outfit: blue plaid pajama pants with solid black shirts.

“Yeah, I guess we are,” Sam said with a smile as her eyes met yours. It was a small moment between the two of you, but it was quickly ruined when the sound of gagging pulled you two from it.

“Please, no homosexual activities in front of my popcorn. I don’t want it forced down my throat,” Tara complained as if she wasn’t someone who also suffered from those homosexual tendencies as well.

Sam cleared her throat as she grabbed one of the bowls and opened the bag of popcorn, pulling all of it into the bowl. “What movie did you pick?” You asked as you kicked your feet onto the coffee table, earning yourself a slight glare from Sam. She wouldn’t classify herself as a neat freak, but she hated it when people put their feet on furniture not used for sitting.

“‘It puts the lotion on its skin, or it gets the hose again,’” Tara quoted while throwing a piece of popcorn into the air and catching it with her mouth.

“I love that movie so much,” you commented while grabbing a blanket from the back of the couch, covering up your legs as you got comfortable.

“What movie?” Sam questioned as Tara hit play. “‘The Silence of the Lambs.’ It's one of my favorite movies,” you replied with a smile, leaning over to give Tara a quick fist bump for the choice.

“Is this the one with Jodie Foster?”

“Yep,” you and Tara replied simultaneously, earning a small groan from Sam, but she didn’t protest.

Once the movie began, Sam pulled at your blanket and placed some over her lap. You thought nothing of it until you felt Sam’s thigh brush against yours. You guessed it was an accident, but she didn’t move her leg; you relaxed your body and pushed your thigh against hers. You felt your chest flutter at the slight smile on Sam’s face at the contact.

As the movie progressed, the distance between you and Sam slowly became nonexistent. Your shoulders were now touching each other as you shared one blanket. In a moment of braveness, with a little bit of stupidity, you moved your hand underneath the blanket, which was where Sam had been keeping her own. Slowly, your hand inched toward Sam’s, hoping to reach the desired location without Sam pulling her hand away.

When your hand gently grazed Sam’s, the Latina made no effort to pull away, so you took it as a sign to continue. You linked your pinkie with hers and waited. I waited for her to finally realize what you were doing and pull away or glare at you and then ridicule you for such actions. So when Sam did pull her pinkie out of the lock with yours, you tried not to show your disappointment on your face.

But before you could get too comfortable with your sadness, Sam interlaced her fingers with yours, giving your hand a gentle yet firm squeeze. It was a small gesture. Some people might even call it friendly, but how your heartbeat quickened at the contact was embarrassing. You only hoped that your fast heart rate and nervousness would cause your palms to sweat. If they did sweat, though, Sam didn’t say anything about it, which you were grateful for.

As the end credits rolled, you let go of Sam’s hand, much to the older woman’s disappointment. You helped Sam clean up the mess made during the movie while you two let Tara sleep peacefully on the couch.

“I can clean those,” you said while walking into the kitchen. Sam was at the sink washing the bowl that you two had used.

“No, it’s okay. I got it,” she replied as she looked over her shoulder at you. “Thank you for staying tonight. I know Tara can be a little shit sometimes.”

You laughed at Sam’s words as you walked over to her, leaning against the counter. “It’s no problem; I love hanging out with you guys,” you genuinely replied, smiling, “Thank you for letting me stay over. I know we haven’t always had the best past.”

At the mention of the one-sided distaste that was formerly between you two, Sam stopped cleaning the bowl. A frown appeared on her lips as she looked down, refusing to meet your piercing gaze.

She took a deep breath before she spoke, “I’ve been an asshole to you, I know. I thought you were only getting close to us so you could tell Gale, but I know better than that now. I’ve been so…closed off to people that my judgment blinded me. I’m sorry, is what I’m trying to say.”

To say that Sam’s apology took you aback would be an understatement. You had just assumed that Sam would never own up to how she treated you in the past, opting just to pretend nothing ever happened. But you could tell that she had been working on this apology for a long time, so you appreciated it while you could.

“Thank you, Sam, for apologizing. I won't try to play it down, but it does mean a lot to me,” you said with a soft smile as you looked at the vulnerable woman before you, “but I have to ask. What changed?”

A sigh left Sam’s lips as she turned on the sink, washing out all the soap. She then began drying it off to think about her response. It wasn’t a difficult thing to explain. Well, the logical reasoning for her change of mind about you. But what she was trying to avoid was telling you that she also had a change of heart. Sam had started to enjoy your presence and hated being without you; she yearned for your soft, gentle touches that followed your caring words. She wanted to tell you that she still hates you but cares deeply for you.

Sam dried her hands off as she leaned against the counter, crossing her arms over her chest. “I honestly don’t know entirely,” she began, “I know my opinion started to change after you brought me that cookie. But I feel like things changed before that, you know?”

“No, I don’t,” you said with a soft laugh, “I think I’ve just gotten so used to you being a dickhead to me that I kind of don’t associate anything else with the way you treat me.”

Sam had to pretend your words didn’t split her heart down the middle; she had to pretend your words didn’t pierce her heart like an ice-cold dagger. She knew she had no business to be hurt by your honesty, but still, she hated being reminded of how things were.

“I am sorry about that. You were there to protect Tara when I wasn’t, and for that, you will always have my gratitude,” Sam stated as she took several moments to decide on what to say next, “Tara told me that while I was gone for those five years, that you took care of her. Is that true?”

“Yeah,” was all you said in a quiet voice, almost as if you were preparing yourself for when Sam started to ask more questions but silently prayed she wouldn’t.

“How bad was it?” The older Carpenter asked with a voice filled with regret. You didn’t have to ask to clarify what she was asking about; you could tell by how her left fist started to clench as she brought her right arm to rub over the median cubital vein in her left arm. She wasn’t asking about how bad the attack was. No, she was asking about how bad Tara’s home life was when she was too high to do anything about it.

“I made sure she wasn’t left home alone,” you admitted. It was the half-truth, and you hoped Sam would accept it, but you knew better. “What was it like when Christina was there?” Sam pressed on.

“Things were okay; nothing was too bad,” you replied, trying your best to sugarcoat the truth.

An awkward, dry chuckle came from Sam as she shook her head, “Don’t lie to me; tell me the truth.”

You debated whether you should spare Sam the details or try to lie to her about how ugly it got sometimes. But fuck it, Sam had been making your life hell for almost a year now, so it's time she found out what you dealt with for five years.

“Christina’s a drunk; everyone knows that. But it got ugly once you left, especially once you left. It was like, maybe three weeks since you had left, and Christina had drank herself into a coma. The only problem was that it was in some European country, and no one back home knew about it. Christina was only supposed to be gone for the weekend and return home by late Sunday. Only, that weekend turned into a week, which then turned into a month.”

You gave Sam several moments to digest everything you told her, waiting for her to object. But when all she did was nod, you continued. “Tara didn’t tell anyone about her mom not coming back, and she only just told me why she didn’t tell anyone about it: she didn’t want people to view her as some monster because her entire family had left her.”

A soft sob came from Sam, and that was when you noticed she had been silently crying. When you moved to comfort her, Sam smacked your hand away from her body. “Keep talking,” she demanded. And you followed your orders.

“I didn’t notice anything different until I heard her stomach growl during lunch. She had been rationing her lunch for weeks, trying to make every piece last as long as possible. School food isn’t the best, but you would have thought Gordon Ramsey had made it how she cherished every bite. By the end of the school day, I finally got Tara to tell me what had happened, and I forced her to stay at my house. I told my mom that she would stay with us for a while, and she didn’t bat an eye; it was like she already knew what had happened but didn’t want to find out. That night, my mom had cooked lasagna; Tara had three full plates of it.”

“She hates lasagna,” Sam said in a choked-up voice. “I know,” you responded with a small laugh, “After that night, I made sure Tara always had something to eat and that she was never alone. But the one time I wasn’t there,” you had trailed off, not being able to finish your sentence without a tear forming in your eye.

Sam knew what you were talking about: the first Ghostface attack. Instead of pushing you away, she reached her arms and grabbed you, pulling you into a hug. It was the first hug you two had ever shared, but it was still the best. The grief you two shared could be felt by each other in that warm embrace, and you both found comfort in each other’s arms, which was something no one had ever made Sam feel.

You two hold on to one another as you both quietly cry over the past, hoping to be free of it with every tear that falls down your face. It was a bonding moment, but it was something you both needed; you two needed to be vulnerable together and for the other one to pick the other up.

After a few minutes, Sam pulled back from. She wiped the remaining tears off your face as she tucked your hair behind your ear and did something unexpected but not unwelcome. Sam leaned forward and placed a small, lingering kiss on your forehead as she quietly muttered, “Thank you.”

Once Sam pulled back, she gently squeezed your shoulders as she left the kitchen. You followed after her, only stopping to watch as Sam picked up a still-sleeping Tara from the couch and returned the gremlin to her bed. While Sam dealt with Tara, you grabbed the blanket you shared with Sam and some pillows to make your ‘bed’ for the night. The couch was comfortable, and you preferred it over sleeping with Tara. As small as she was, she always took up the entire bed.

After you deemed your sleeping quarters right, you went into the bathroom to brush your teeth. Props to being over so much; you had your toothbrush. It was a small gesture from Tara, but it gave you unlimited bragging rights. As you brushed your teeth, you could hear Sam talking to someone. With your curiosity getting the better of you, you peeked into the hallway to see the woman talking to someone on the phone.

“Thank you for inviting me. I had fun going out with you, but I don’t want this to go any further than friendship,” she quietly said into the phone as she paced back and forth. Deciding to give her some space, you stepped back into the bathroom and closed the door before spitting out the toothpaste and then rinsing your mouth with water. You wiped your mouth off with a towel before opening the door and leaving, finding Sam still talking on the phone with a mysterious love interest.

As she continued to talk to the person, you got situated on the couch, but before you could get too comfortable, Sam started to snap her fingers at you.

“What?” You hissed out, staring at the woman growing slightly more agitated as her phone call continued. You noted that Sam had already changed into her pajamas for the night: a loose band t-shirt with a pair of shorts.

“Have a good night; I'll talk to you later,” she abruptly said as she ended the phone call, “Are you seriously sleeping on the couch?”

“Um, yeah? Where else would I sleep? And besides, the couch is comfortable,” you replied as you gave Sam a questioning look. If she was insinuating that you sleep with her in her bed, well, that warranted some questions. But not that you would reject her offer.

“Are you alright with that? I know you usually sleep with Tara, but she might try to fight you if you go in there while she’s already asleep,” Sam said, trying to hide that she wanted to ask you to sleep with her. She found comfort in holding your hand earlier, and she surprisingly enjoyed the depressing conversation you two shared in the kitchen. Sam hated to admit it, but she found herself seeking you out for comfort. Not only the comfort but the fact that you warmed her heart as well; she had started to fall for you most unexpectedly.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. And besides, she usually ends up taking up the whole bed anyway. I’ll have more space out here than I will with her,” you responded, and Sam couldn’t help but nod at your words. “Yeah, she’s small, but don’t doubt how much space she can take up,” she said in agreement, “But would you like my bed?”

Now, that offer caught you off guard. You hadn’t even considered that Sam might provide you with her entire bed so she could sleep on the couch. As considerate as it might be, you were either sleeping on the sofa or in Sam’s bed with her, no in-betweens.

“No, I can’t take that from you and leave you on the couch. I’m honestly fine on it; don’t even worry about it,” you stated honestly, but Sam only shook her head. “No, I wouldn’t be a good host if I let you sleep out here.”

Neither of you wanted to be the one to offer it up, but you refused even to suggest the idea of sharing a bed. Nope, that was going to have to be something that Sam does, and you would happily wallow around in her swollen pride.

Just as you predicted, Sam swallowed her pride and offered the best solution if it did come with a backhanded offer. “Since you enjoy being difficult and making me feel like a horrible person, would you want to share my bed with me? Just this once?”

When she said the sentence, it didn’t sound as rude as the first one; it sounded a lot nicer, like she was hopeful that it wouldn’t be just this once, that this night would turn into another night, and maybe even the rest of the nights you could share.

“Only if that’s alright with you,” you said in a calm, normal tone as you tried to convince Sam that you weren’t mentally bouncing off the walls. “Sounds good to me. Come on,” she replied as she pulled you up from the couch and led you to her room. Sam dared not let go of your arm the entire walk there.

Once you entered her room, she only dropped your hand as she walked over to her side of the bed. She pulled back the covers as she got in bed, stopping to stare at you. You stood uncomfortably in the middle of the doorway as you looked around Sam’s room.

You felt like you saw a new side of Sam as you admired her room; the walls had old types of vinyl, and a single guitar was hanging from the wall. Along with the guitar, there were some framed movie posters, one being ‘Kill Bill’ that was signed. There was a singular bookshelf that didn’t have a single open spot. A record player was also sitting atop her desk in the corner of her room. How you missed all of these small details when you dropped off the cookies, you had no idea.

“What are you doing?” Sam questioned, pulling you out of your mind. “Sorry; I was just looking at your stuff,” you admitted with embarrassment as you walked over to the bed. You halted before getting in as if you were waiting for Sam to change her mind and kick you out suddenly.

“Is something wrong?” Sam asks as she leans up in bed, her doe eyes shimmering under the dimly lit light. “No, no. It’s just…,” you faltered on an excuse. You didn’t want to admit that you were nervous about sharing a bed with that goddess of a woman, but you also didn’t want her to think you were disgusted by the thought of sharing a bed with her. “Do you want me to sleep in my street clothes? I have New York on me, and I doubt you want that in your bed.”

With a sigh, Sam exits her warm, comfortable bed to grab you a pair of fresh clothes. She didn’t even bother to ask if you happened to have a spare set here-which you did; she started rifling through her closet.

“Here,” she stated as she handed you a faded shirt before walking to her chest of drawers. Sam opened her top drawer and grabbed a pair of shorts for you.

“Thank you,” you said softly while grabbing the shorts from her, “I’ll change in your bathroom real quick.”

Sam hummed in response as she quickly got back into bed, missing the warmth of it.

After you had changed out of your dirty clothes, you decided to put them in Sam’s hamper—a subtle move at her being able to keep your clothes without offering them.

As you left the bathroom, you were still slightly pulling down your shirt, only showing off the lower portion of your stomach. The skin was only visible briefly, but it caught Sam’s full attention.

The scars that littered your abdomen were scattered, but she could recognize a stab wound from anywhere. The story about Jill Roberts haunted you night and day, so you never told Sam about that nightmare. The only one who had some faint idea about it was Mindy, as she had seen you naked on a few occasions. She never asked about the scars; she felt that asking would have been more intimate and personal than the sex was.

But things were different with Sam; you wanted that intimacy with her. And she liked that intimacy with you. Sam wanted to be able to share every nasty, dark part of her past with you, just as much as she wanted you to tell her your dark past. It was opening up with your pasts that allowed you two to share a possible bright future.

So, she asked you about it. “What happened?”

It was a stupid question, but Sam wanted to know your side. Of course, she was aware of the fact you were involved with the 2011 Ghostface killings, but she wanted to know why you were targeted.

You softly sighed as you climbed into bed next to Sam, who was fully sitting up with her legs crossed as she stared at you, silently encouraging you to trust her. If there was going to be anyone to judge you for your past, it certainly wasn’t going to be Samantha Carpenter.

“Well, I was nine when it happened,” you began, “and I suppose it all boils down to being at the wrong place at the wrong time.”

You waited several seconds, debating whether you wanted to share this information. It wasn’t a secret; it was out there for the entire world to read about, courtesy of Gale Weathers, an author who turned a tragic story into a multi-million dollar yearly profit.

“Jill was my babysitter. It was after the first few attacks, and she was still babysitting me. She was always nice to me, well, about as nice as she could be. I had been messing around in her room, and I found this camera, so of course, I started to watch what was on it. On it were videos of all of the recent attacks, ruthless shit. Instead of telling her I found it, I hid it in my backpack, and I had planned to bring it to Judy Hicks. Well, Jill finds out that it’s missing and goes ape shit.”

You shifted around in bed as you got more comfortable, opting to fully lay down on your back as Sam propped herself up onto her elbow to engage herself in your traumatizing story fully.

“Anyways, she starts ripping the house apart, turning it inside out and upside down. Of course, she eventually finds it in my backpack, and I don’t even defend myself. I just stood there like a deer caught in headlights. The scariest part about it was that she didn’t even hesitate. One moment, she had my backpack in hand, then the next, she had a knife,” you finished, not wanting to recall the gruesome experience.

Sam was silent momentarily as she thought over what to say to you. She wanted to comfort you, but she didn’t know how. In a way, she felt like your attack had been her fault. Logically, it couldn’t have been, but she felt guilty about it, guilty about her father.

“I’m so sorry you had to go through that, especially at such a young age,” Sam stated. She truly did feel heartbroken for you, but she couldn’t seem to express her sorrow adequately. The only emotion she was good at convening was her anger, a trait she inherited from both her mother and father.

“It is what it is,” you replied with a soft sigh, “Who were you talking to earlier?”

The older Carpenter sister let out a small groan as she fell onto her back, running her hands down her face to add dramatic effect. “It was Danny,” she replied as she interlaced her fingers and placed them on her stomach.

“Oh yeah?” You asked with a teasing tone. Now it was your turn to prop up onto your elbow. “What did he want?”

“He just wanted to go on another date,” Sam responded, to which you huffed. This slight noise got her attention; she turned her head to the side to look at you as if she were studying your facial expressions to try and guess what you were thinking. “Why do you ask?”

You shrugged your shoulders, “Just curious. You seemed annoyed, and you hung up pretty quickly. Just thought you were having a sneaky link I didn’t know about.”

“Oh, please. If I wanted a sneaky link, I certainly wouldn’t let my family know about it,” she joked softly, and your heart erupted. Sam’s smile was rare, even more rare around you. It was as if the angles had parted the sky, and you could catch a glimpse into heaven. It was the most beautiful sight you had ever seen, but the most teasing one.

“Okay, but be honest: what happened?” You pressed on while clarifying that you respected Sam’s boundaries if she didn’t want to tell you.

“We went on a date. Danny kissed me because he felt something; I didn’t feel anything. He called to ask me on another date; I said no. Simple as that,” she replied with a monotone voice, but you knew there was more to the story.

“Sam,” you said with a soft voice.

“Mhm?”

“I will throw myself out of your window if you don’t tell me the truth.”

“Oh my god, what the hell is wrong with you?” Sam questioned with a voice full of laughter as she smiled from ear to ear.

“Tell me, or I’ll paint the sidewalk red,” you joked with a smile that matched hers.

“I told him no because I don’t want to be with him,” she replied honestly as she stared at you with those dark, doe eyes. You swore you could get lost in that void. “Now, will you leave me alone so I can sleep?”

You scoffed at her but entirely laid down nonetheless. “I guess so,” you grumbled as you rolled onto your side, facing away from Sam.

Sam only laughed at your shitty attempt to pout as she got out of bed to turn off the overhead light. Once she was back in bed, she rolled onto her side to face your back.

Slowly and very hesitantly, she wiggled closer to you, wrapping a loving arm around your waist. Sam didn’t have to wait long before she felt your hand atop hers, pulling her closer to you. Soon enough, her entire front was pressed against your back, and you couldn’t have been happy. Your heart seemed to only beat for Sam, as your entire body started to feel like it was catching on fire.

“You know,” Sam whispered into the dark room, “I listened to Julien Baker the other day.”

“That’s not the one I was talking about,” you responded, not missing a beat.

She scoffed at your weak response, “There’s too many.”

“Girl, there are only three!”

“Whatever,” she mumbled while she pulled you closer into her body as if she couldn’t get enough of you. Sam placed a chaste kiss on your head before slowly drifting off to sleep, with you in her arms.

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

The picture frames hung on the walls rattled as the loud, booming sound of music filled the air. Against your will, the twins plus Tara dragged you to a frat party. Drunken college students mixed with obnoxious music was not your cup of tea, but you did enjoy the theme: early 2000s club. From Lady Gaga to Timbaland, even to Beyoncé, it was the first time a party had gotten the music right! There’s nothing wrong with today’s music; they don’t make them like they used to.

“Can I get you anything to drink?” Tara offered. Even though she forced you to go out tonight, she still wanted you to have fun without pressuring you to do too much. She could be a little asshole sometimes, but she had her soft moments.

“No, I’m good, thanks,” you replied softly. The two of you were sitting together on the only couch that didn't have people either passed out or making out, even though Tara suggested doing either with you.

“Tara, I think you are wonderful and completely captivating, but I do not want your tongue down my throat,” you joked with a soft laugh. The younger Carpenter whined in response as she kicked her feet up into your lap.

“Oh yeah, I forgot. It’s the other Carpenter’s tongue you want,” she teased with a wink as she made a V with her middle and pointer finger, bringing it to her lips while sticking out her tongue.

“What is wrong with you?” You questioned while politely shoving the more petite girl, forcing her to stop. “Oh yeah, how come I found you two wrapped up in each other’s arms then? Mmm?” She pressed.

It was a simple question but an entirely challenging one as well. You needed a place to sleep, so Sam offered to share her bed with you, as it was better than the couch. That part you could explain, but you couldn’t explain why or how you woke to Sam’s face pressed against your chest. It was the first time you had ever felt so loved, so seen. It wasn’t just you who had found so much comfort that night. Sam loved falling asleep to your heartbeat; the drumming sound soon became a lullaby.

“She tried to kill me and forced me to share her bed for warmth,” you stated, but Tara didn’t believe you for a second. “You know, if you would have told me that four months ago, I would have believed you. But now that you have stolen my sister from me and somehow tricked her into falling for you, I don’t believe you.”

Your ears perked up at the mention of Sam falling for you, and your cheeks started to get warm at the thought of Sam recouping your feelings. “She likes me?” You asked with a love-sick smile on your lips.

Tara rolled her eyes at your question and pushed herself off your lap. “I don’t know how you did it, but Sam cares about you. I think she started to go soft on you when you took her to that musical,” she stated as she stuck out her right arm to you. You grabbed onto her hand and allowed the more petite girl to pull you off of the couch, then you followed her into the kitchen.

“I didn’t even know that Sam likes musicals,” you commented as you grabbed a Seagram from the bucket full of ice on the kitchen island. “She loves them more than me. I fully believe Sam would sell me for some ‘Six’ tickets,” Tara remarked as she grabbed a beer.

You laughed at the younger Carpenter comment. Sadly, she wasn’t being dramatic; you now knew the extent of Sam’s love for musicals, and you hated that you agreed with Tara.

“Yeah, I hate that you believe you on that one,” you replied as you followed Tara into the backyard. The two of you sat down together on a swing, drinking in silence as you two silently judged the drunks amongst you.

All in all, it was a nice night to socialize; exams were finished up for the week, and you two needed a break from all of it. It was nice to get out occasionally with friends, even though you preferred drinking the safety net of your own home. It wasn’t because you didn’t trust people. It was that you hated being around drunk people, and you were a homebody. But just when you started relaxing at the party, the universe had to ruin it for you.

It wasn’t anything terrible at first; Tara had left to grab some more beers for the two of you. She was back within a minute, and as she walked toward you, a man grabbed her arm and pulled her into him.

You couldn’t hear what was being said, but you could tell from the anger in Tara’s eyes that it wasn’t anything good. Sometimes, you wondered if the Loomis genes were airborne, due to how quickly Tara got angry and violent.

Before you had any time to react, Tara had taken the beer bottle in her right hand and smashed it against the man’s head, causing him to fall to the ground. You quickly sprang up from your comfortable seat as you rushed over to Tara, now held back by two of your friends from college. You checked over her hands to ensure no glass had gotten in them, and when you deemed her safe, you took her from friends, who then went to check on the man, who was still on the ground.

“Come on,” you mumbled as you dragged Tara from the backyard and into the front yard.

When you two entered the front yard, she shook herself from your grasp and dramatically flung herself onto the ground, sighing in defeat. The air was full of tension as you stared down at the more petite girl, who held her head in shame.

“What happened?” You questioned as you sat down next to her. With a sigh, she wrapped her arm around yours and rested her head on your shoulder. “He’s from my theoretical film studies class. The other day, we had argued about the Harry Potter movies. And-do not fucking laugh at that!” She exclaimed as she playfully smacked your arm once you started to laugh at her.

“I’m sorry, but you two argued over Harry Potter?” You asked with laughter in your voice, “That’s insane!”

“Shut up, no, it's not. Anyways, before I was so rudely interrupted,” she replied with attitude, “the argument was over who was the real bad guy: Dumbledore or Snape. We disagreed, but we didn’t have enough time to discuss it before class ended. Tonight, he stopped me to tell me I was wrong and that he was right, and I kinda got a little angry.”

“‘A little angry?’ You smashed a bottle against his head,” you exclaimed with a look of bewilderment.

“I’m little; my anger fills up my entire body, and sometimes it gets the best of me,” she shrugged as she stood up and held out a hand, “Come on, let's go home.”

You accepted her hand as you followed her home. You didn’t need to ask what she meant by home; you both knew it was the Carpenter’s apartment.

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

“You did what?!” Sam shouted as she stared down you and Tara. The two of you were sitting down on the couch together, sharing shame as you listened to Sam ridicule you. “I let you go out for one night and I promised not to text you the entire time, and you do this? And you,” she then turned her attention toward you, “I can’t believe you let this happen.”

“Sam, I'm so sorry. It happened so quick and I-” you tried to defend but she interrupted you. “You had one job, Y/n. One!”

Sam paced back and forth as she rubbed her temples. This was supposed to be a night of relaxing; she had already had two glasses of wine and ate a little bit too much pasta that was acceptable. Sam even had plans to ask you to stay the night again, that’s why she had the wine; she needed that liquid courage to taste your lips for the first time.

But now, as she went over the possible outcomes of her sister assaulting one of her classmates, all she wanted to do was go to sleep. With a sigh, she dropped her hands and stopped pacing. “Alright,” Sam said in a defeated voice, “I will let it slide, but just this once. Go take your shower, but then you are going to bed.”

Tara was out of the room as soon as Sam said it was okay, not wanting to waste a second as she feared that her sister might change her mind. Tara also wanted to give her sister some alone time with you; she noticed the wine glass on the living room table and she was praying that tonight would be the night the two of you stopped pussyfooting around.

“Sam?” Your voice pulled her out of her thoughts and her eyes automatically snapped to you. “What’s up?” She asked.

You stood up from the couch as you approached her. “I’m sorry about tonight. If I would have known that was going to happen, I would have stopped her,” you apologized but Sam was already shaking her head.

“No, it's okay,” she replied as she grabbed her wine glass and finished it off as she walked into the kitchen, with you a few paces behind her.

“Are you sure?” You quietly asked as you awkwardly looked around. “Yeah. Why do you ask?” She questioned as she placed her glass on the counter and looked at you. You could feel her eyes burning into your skin, and you couldn’t help the words that soon poured out of your mouth.

“I don’t know, I’m just worried that you are actually really upset with me but you don’t want to tell me that because you don’t want to upset me. I’m worried that things are different between us now, and I don’t know why I feel that. I’m just terrified I fucked up somehow, and I really really like you, Sam. I’ve worked so hard to gain your trust and now I’m scared I lost it. So, I am so sorry-” she cut off your rambling by cupping your cheeks and pressing her lips against yours.

Your heart automatically started beating quicker as your hands found home on her hips, pulling her closer into you. When you kissed her back, you could have sworn she let out the slightest moan, and it drove your mind insane.

You couldn’t recall her walking toward you, but the only thing that was running through your mind was how soft her lips were; how sweet they tasted mixed with the wine.

The wine.

You quickly pulled away from Sam’s lips. “I’m sorry, but I don’t want to do anything while you’ve been drinking,” you apologized, but your eyes darted between Sam’s own eyes and her lips.

With a soft laugh, Sam leaned forward and kissed your cheek, something she had found out she loved doing. “It’s okay, Y/N. I really really like you too, and I hope that we could possibly go on another date again soon?” Sam asked with a look of hopefulness, and you had to fight the urge to lean back in.

“You’re also considering the musical a date too?” You questioned with red cheeks. Sam nodded her head with a smile that matched hers, and oh how your heart beat for the woman in front of you. You swore you were love drunk off those lips that you’ve only tasted once, but now that you’ve tasted them, you’re sure that nothing was as sweet.

“Y/N, would you like to stay the night?” Sam asked, “With me?”

“Are you trying to get in my pants?” You teased as you playfully pushed her shoulders, to which she grabbed your hand and pulled you into her.

Sam reached up with her right hand to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, then ran her fingers down the side of your jaw as she admired your features. “I’ve been an asshole to you, I know that,” she admitted as her thumb stroked your jawline, “But I hope over time I can make it up to you fully. I’ve blamed you for things that weren’t your fault and I’m sorry I was that dense. I know you are just following Gale’s writing as a way to forge your own career, and I shouldn’t have blamed you for the book she wrote.”

Sam took a deep breath as she tried to collect her thoughts. “What I’m trying to say is that I’m sorry for how much of a dick I’ve been to you, and I would like to make it up to you,” her voice got quieter as her eyes refused to meet yours, “By hopefully being your girlfriend?”

Your heart skipped a beat as you tried to wrap your mind around what Sam just asked. When her eyes did meet yours, they were holding so much love and hope that you felt your heart explode. Tears welded in your eyes as you cupped her cheeks and pulled her into a loving kiss, forgetting about the alcohol in her system.

“I would love to be your girlfriend,” you mumbled against her lips as you quickly pecked them, “But how much have you had to drink tonight?”

The older Carpenter sister laughed at your comment as she grabbed your hand, pulling you toward her room. “I’m fine, Y/N. I’m sure you and the demon child have had more than me. Besides, I only needed a few drinks to actually make a move on you,” Sam admitted as she opened her bedroom door and dropped your hand, to your disappointment, “But how much have you had?”

You shrugged your shoulders as you walked over to the vinyl set in Sam’s room and began flipping through them. “I’m fine; a little buzzed but nothing too bad,” you replied.

“Mhm, yeah, you’re not as awkward as you usually are. I don’t like it,” Sam stated as she handed you a clean pair of clothes to change into you. You noticed they were her clothes, and an embarrassing large smile over took your lips as you finally realized that Sam Carpenter was your girlfriend.

You leaned to kiss her, but Sam placed her hands on your shoulders, preventing you from doing so. You gave her a little pout, so to make you feel just a little bit better, she sighed and gave your cheek a kiss. “Go change and get ready for bed,” she quietly commanded you and you did as told.

The clothes fit you perfectly, as if Sam had bought them just for you. There was a toothbrush laying on the sink, still in its packaging, and you knew that Sam had gone out shopping for you tonight.

Walking into the bedroom, you climbed into bed with the older Carpenter, who was sitting upright with her back against the headboard of her bed, reading a book. “Did you buy me a toothbrush today?” You asked as you laid down and scooted closer to Sam, wrapping your arm around her waist.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she replied as placed her bookmark in the book and set it down on the nightstand, “Why do you ask?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because there was a toothbrush that hadn’t been opened yet, and these clothes fit a little bit too nice,” you commented as you watched Sam turn off the bedside lamp and lay down next to you.

“Yeah, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she denied as she pulled you into her body. Sam brought her hand up to the back of your neck and brought your head close to her chest. You sighed in comfort as you nozzled your head, hoping to get as close as you can to her breasts without making Sam uncomfortable.

Sam placed a kiss on your head as she tightly hugged you, “Goodnight Y/N.”

“Goodnight, my lovely girlfriend who used to hate me,” you cheekily replied, earning a laugh from Sam.

“When will you ever let that go?” Sam asked with a slight annoyance in her voice, but you knew she was joking.

“I don’t know, until I’ve deemed that enough time has passed for me to be able to move on,” you replied, “But a goodnight kiss would help.”

The Latina chuckled at your words as the hand that was your head was now cupping your cheeks, pulling you into a loving kiss. Her lips were soft and warm, and you knew that you could never leave them. So when Sam pulled away, you chased after her lips, hoping to taste them for just a second longer.

But she stopped you, much to your disappointment. “In the morning you will give you all of the special treatment you want. But for now, let’s go to bed,” Sam stated in a loving voice, and all you did was nod your agreement. You placed your head back on your chest as you two allowed sleep to overtake you.

When the morning came, you awoke before Sam, greeting her with kisses all over her face and sweet nothings about how much you cherished her as your girlfriend.

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

Taglist: @elduster @silentwolfsstuff @maskthedwarf @canvascoloredin

#sam carpenter #scream #melissa barrera #sam carpenter x y/n #sam carpenter x you #sam carpenter x female reader #sam carpenter x fem reader #sam carpenter x reader #Tara carpenter #wlw

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meownotgood · 1 year

Text

quiet dream. / dan heng x reader, 18+, smut, reader is fem bodied, grinding, thigh-fucking, fingering, creampie, soft dan heng, reader is super needy, dan heng offers to help when you can't sleep. word count: 4.7k

You can't sleep.

It's a realization you've slowly come to after waking up in the middle of the night several times in a row, but it really starts to hit you like a truck after the fourth. This time, you don't even bother to try and close your eyes again. You just sigh, twist onto your back, and stare begrudgingly at the shadows on the ceiling.

You want to get some rest, you really do. You know you're going to need it. You can't let exhaustion affect your performance on such a difficult and important mission. But no matter how hard you try, it's damn near impossible to sleep when every time you start to drift off, you get interrupted by dark visions and terrible nightmares and loud voices you don't recognize echoing inside your head.

It's been plaguing you ever since you first set foot in Belobog. You were almost starting to think you were losing it. Perhaps this hotel is cursed. Or maybe not, since none of your comrades seem to be suffering from the same fate.

You stumbled out of your room and saw your teammates already waiting for you in the hall. March chuckles and tells you she had a nice dream about making snow angels with Pom Pom. Dan Heng doesn't look up from his phone as he answers, I didn't have any dreams.

So it's just you.

At this point, you've tried absolutely everything — you've made yourself comfortable in every position you can think of, you've got up and paced around hoping it'd relieve some of your energy, you've tossed and turned and yet still, nothing has helped. No, no, you can't take this, you have to do something. When your missions are only getting more and more difficult, you're going to need all the energy you can get. You can't go another night without sleeping.

Your brain spins with ideas of possible solutions. You can't get any medicine, it's way past the time for any stores to be open. Can't get any food or something to drink either. You don't feel like bothering March 7th, she'll just babble on and on and keep you up even further. Sitting here alone in silence though, with nothing but the idle hum of the passing train cars to keep you company does nothing but make your insomnia worse.

When it comes down to it, there's only one last idea you can think of.

You fling the covers away from your face and sit up to plant both your feet on the ground. You open the door to your room as slowly as you can to keep it from creaking, and you carefully make your way down the hall, rounding the corner, to the first room on your left. Sucking in a nervous breath, you raise your knuckle and knock, but when there's no response after a few seconds, you twist the doorknob and invite yourself inside.

The blankets shuffle and Dan Heng lifts his head immediately, hair messy and eyes squinted as they adjust to the sudden flood of light. He seems to relax, tense shoulders slumping once he realizes it's only you.

"What happened?" His voice is rough and laced with tiredness, but he's sitting up further, and he's getting right to the point, "Are you okay?"

"Nothing, I'm fine. Relax." You raise your hands defensively and gently close the door behind you with your heel. It clicks shut. "I can't sleep, so I figured I'd stay with you for a bit. If that's okay."

Dan Heng eyes you up and down, considering, before he flops back onto the bed with a quiet sigh, the mattress bouncing from the sudden weight.

"Sorry, I'll leave if you want me to."

"No," He retorts sternly, shaking his head, his response catching you a little off guard. Is he really okay with this?

Much to your surprise, he continues, "It's fine, I understand. Here." Then, he shifts, turning over and onto his side to make some space next to him. "You can sleep with me if you think it'll help."

Quickly, without giving him a chance to change his mind, you make your way over, and Dan Heng lifts the covers so you can crawl in. You aren't used to seeing him like this; his hair all ruffled, his clothes casual, just a blank t-shirt and sweats. When you settle in and he leans his head onto the fluffy white pillow, you swear you catch him trying to stifle a yawn.

Honestly, you really didn't expect him to let you in so easily, either. You haven't known him for very long, but you're somewhat familiar with each other, to the point you'd consider him your friend, but Dan Heng's a private sort of person. He's a bit stiff, a bit hard to talk with — You like him, you really do. You like those parts of him. You like the way he's serious and smart and strong, how he's much kinder than he appears.

You like the way his nose scrunches when he's focused on something. You like how he cares for you awkwardly but earnestly, slipping his jacket off of his arms and draping it over your shoulders when you first arrived to Jarilo-VI and said you felt cold. He cleared his throat and glanced away, muttering something half-hearted like, Just thank me later.

The thing is, despite all that, despite everything he's done for you, you can't seem to figure out the way he feels. Dan Heng is the most impossible person you think has ever existed.

And right now, even though he's invited you to come lay next to him, you still can't decide, and your brain is a little too scrambled to really start thinking about it.

He's already shut his eyes again, his face is close, wisps of dark hair messy. His chest rises and falls, up and down.

"Did I wake you up?"

He cracks his eyes back open when he hears you speak once more.

"Yes." Dan Heng answers bluntly, and if you weren't feeling so shitty right now you might've just chuckled.

"Sorry."

"Don't worry about it." The smallest specs of golden light cast from the street lamps outside reflect in his gaze. "I wasn't upset. I'm more concerned about you. Why can't you sleep?"

"Mmm," You look away, shrugging your shoulders, "Bad dreams."

"Nightmares, huh?"

Yeah, he'd surely know a thing or two about that. Though, strangely, he hasn't had any bad dreams since arriving in Belobog. Maybe it's because the plush hotel beds are way comfier than his little setup on the Astral Express, he figures.

The exhaustion in your tone doesn't lie: "They've been happening ever since we got here. And it's not a regular thing, it's the first time I've had so many dreams like this and… they're relentless."

If the room was a little less dim, and if you were paying just a little more attention, you might have caught the way Dan Heng's expression starts to soften.

"I'm sorry. I wonder if there's a reason for it. Something with the environment here." He says. You let your eyes close at the sound of his voice. "I'll check the data bank tomorrow. I researched Jarilo-VI thoroughly before we came here, and I don't remember anything like that in any of the submissions, but… I suppose I might've missed it."

You snuggle into the pillow, your body feels warm and light; Dan Heng's presence alone provides you with comfort, and you're already starting to drift off. You silently hope to yourself that this will be the last time, and then you murmur in response, "Dunno. I'm tired, you can tell me about it later."

"Right." Dan Heng answers. "I'll see you in the morning. Goodnight."

Dan Heng is losing his mind.

When you first stumbled into his room, he didn't think anything of it. He knows how difficult nightmares can be, especially the ones that seem to be affecting you. Until now, he's never seen you so troubled. He doesn't have a problem keeping you company — you'd do the same for him, and he knows that.

The first time, you managed to drift off for an hour or so. He stayed awake for a while to watch over you, and when you ended up waking up from another bad dream, Dan Heng slung an arm around you, he rubbed your back with his palm and tried to mutter something into your ear to help you fall asleep: some boring story he learned from the archives.

But you were quick to wake again. And again, and again. Nothing worked, trying his best to help you has only served to make him just as restless as you are, and right now you, you're just —

"Dan Heng, please."

You say his name in a voice so pleading, so sweet and sugary it takes nearly everything he has to struggle to resist. A warm blaze of heat rushes to every corner of his face, his breath is hot and thick, the slightest bit shaky when it fans over the expanse of your neck. In your tossing and turning, you've chosen to face away from him now, with your back pressed deft to his chest. Dan Heng wonders how strongly you can feel the thudding of his heart.

The proximity alone is enough to get his heart pounding — you're so warm, so close, he can't take it — but each and every word you say makes it so much worse, and you keep shifting back, you keep pressing into him and you just have to know what you're doing.

"You're still awake."

Dan Heng breathes the words into your ear, his voice as still as he can get it. Matter-of-fact, just an observation. Not acknowledging anything but not ignoring you either. Exactly as you'd expect him to respond.

Softly, barely audible, you grumble back a simple response: "Yeah."

"Get some rest."

You back up into him a bit more, your ass rubs against his groin, right there; you both sigh in unison, yours of relief, his more like exasperation.

Dan Heng grips you hard, fingers curled into your side. "Stop it."

"I can't, I can't fall asleep like this. You're so stubborn." You huff, and you sound honest with that, you're seemingly breathless already.

It's half his fault this is happening. He'll take some of the blame. Perhaps he shouldn't have held you so close earlier. When your breathing got faster, when you hugged him tighter, maybe it was wrong of him to let his lips ghost over your neck, or his palms drift over your thighs.

He wasn't trying to take things this far, he's never had any bad intentions. He's the one in the wrong for getting carried away. You were just so close, and Dan Heng hasn't been able to stop his heart from pounding for hours now.

It wouldn't be the first time he's thought more with his heart than his brain. Stupid.

He swallows the lump in his throat. "I'm sorry."

He's realizing he's weaker than he thought he was, he's more obvious about his feelings for you than he intended. He has to be stubborn, but he's already failed, because you've gone and found him out. Now, you know.

You know, because you're gripping his arm with an urgency, you're twisting around and forcing him to meet your desperate eyes while your free hand finds and fiddles with the loose drawstrings of his sweatpants.

Dan Heng, please fuck me.

God, how can you say that without even hesitating? His head is spinning. He feels dizzy, he feels like this isn't really happening.

"You're- that's enough." He presses his hand to your shoulder and shoves, but clearly with no force behind it. You don't budge.

"How many more times?" Your warm fingers are working their way under the hem of his pants now, teasing his bare skin ever-so slightly, "How many more times do I have to ask?"

How much longer, because you know he's going to give in.

"I-" Dan Heng looks away, anywhere but where you're staring at him. He breathes a long, heavy sigh out from his mouth. There's an ache in his chest he can't possibly shake, and an even harder throb between his legs.

He shouldn't. He really, really shouldn't. You don't have protection. You're not even dating.

One hand twists up to hold the back of his neck, and when the other brushes down to squeeze the bulge of his stiffening cock through his sweats, Dan Heng starts to forget about all the things he'd better not do.

He sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth, and with eyes half-open, he looks towards you again, finally. "You think it'll help you sleep?"

You nod, "Mhmm."

"And you're okay with that? This is really what you want?"

"Yes, it is, I'm sure," You say, you're starting to tug his sweats from his hips and his breath is hitching and stuttering in his throat, "I can't wait any longer. I need you."

Dan Heng gives himself just one more moment to attempt to compose himself. Your thumbs brush the space just underneath his hip bones, and he takes an unconvincing deep breath in. Then, he's placing his hand on your chest and gently pushing you back; the hotel bed creaks, the mattress shifts and the sheets rustle as he slowly climbs on top of you.

"Need is a strong word," Fingers grasped around the hem, he makes quick work of shedding his t-shirt. The crisp night air is colder than he thought. The dim light casts most of his face in shadow. "What's got you like this?"

"You want it with me just as badly, don't you?"

You've dodged the question. But you aren't wrong.

"Just this once." Dan Heng affirms, "We won't bring it up again."

One time. That'll be enough. If he's lucky, you'll save him the embarrassment and remember this as just another dream.

When it comes to you, he's just too weak.

"Dan Heng-"

There it is again, you're saying his name in a tone reserved just for him — Dan Heng gasps, he fucks up into you a little harder, he rams right into your sweet spot and you grasp his forearm to steady yourself, his muscles firm when you squeeze. The sound of skin against skin along with the rhythmic creak of the bed echo around the walls of the small hotel room. Arm wrapped around your stomach, you're on your side, and his body curls around yours, his head leant on your shoulder, hand tightly gripping the fat of your thigh.

Sweat coats his skin, his head feels hazy, thoughts dreamy. By now, he's come to lose any semblance of lucidity he once had, any hope of not taking things any further. But when he's buried all the way inside you, he's hardly even come to realize.

His voice feels sore and tired, but he still manages to mumble into your ear, "Say it again."

And you do, you say his name once more, twice more. Dan Heng fucks his cock right into that perfect spot for the hundredth time and you're cooing each syllable for him even louder.

"S-Shit, you-" He interrupts himself with a gasp for breath, "You feel so amazing, I'm- I can't," He never sounds like this, so needy and awestruck. A soft moan uttered right into the nape of your neck, then, "I'm gonna cum again."

Your fingers clench the sheets tighter, your breath comes out in short pants, "Wanna hear you say my name too, Dan Heng-"

His arms are shaking, and once he teeters over the edge he's practically biting down on your shoulder to keep himself from getting too loud; he focuses less on hitting the right spot and more on getting off, his thrusts into you become sloppy and clumsy and erratic. As he cums, chanting your name with each fragile breath, he just barely manages to find a moment of clarity, slipping out to fist his cock and empty all over the sheets.

His heart thuds incessantly in his ears, drowning out everything else. He's gasping, wiping his hand off on the sheet, resting his forehead onto your shoulder and swallowing to keep his throat from drying up.

"You alright?" Of course, your well-being is the first thing Dan Heng is concerned about.

"I'm fine," You answer immediately.

Dan Heng stays quiet for a few agonizingly long seconds. Slowly, he guides his half-hard cock to your thighs, he slides it in between them and feels it start to throb and pulse with need again once you squirm, adjusting to give him more room to work with.

Warm, you're so warm, he closes his eyes and thrusts forwards and he's already thinking about how it's going to feel so much better when he puts it back inside you.

"Sorry, what am I doing?" Dan Heng suddenly freezes, rubbing his temple with his fingers. He's absolutely losing his mind. "I'll stop. I'll stop if you want me to."

"Don't," You reply, and he finds it difficult to object, "I want to keep going, come here."

You're twisting around then, pulling away from him and shifting onto your back, splaying your arms above your head and blinking away whatever exhaustion is starting to form behind your eyelids. Dan Heng is quick to follow suit, settling into his familiar spot on top of you.

He raises his hand, and he lets his knuckles brush tenderly over the side of your cheek. "You sure? You're still not tired?"

Your response comes in the form of a hasty shake of your head and an eager grab of his arm.

It's been like this for hours now. Dan Heng gives you what you want, you're satisfied for a bit until you beg and coax him into giving you more. The faintest hints of sunlight are starting to creep past the curtains now, and as much as Dan Heng is trying to hold on to his sanity as best as he can, he's really starting to think he's past the point of no return.

How is he supposed to face you tomorrow? Hell, tomorrow is already practically here, and yet he still can't stop.

He keeps telling himself the two of you need to calm down — but as you're gripping his hand, as you're pressing his fingertips over your swollen clit, dragging them down and getting them nice and wet on your arousal, his heart is once again caught in his throat and all he can do is listen.

Dan Heng's whole body shivers. He gives you exactly what you want; he sinks his fingers into you knuckle-deep, he pumps them in and out to a slow and careful rhythm, slick sounds ringing in his ears.

"Dan-"

He quirks his fingers up and presses them right where they belong, and you can't manage to get out the other half of his name.

"More?" Like he already knows what you're going to say, he pulls his fingers out before he even sees you nod, just like that.

His palms find your waist, he holds you with shaking hands as if you're delicate. Shiny, wet precum is already budding at his slit, and he aligns his hips to press the needy tip of his dick to your entrance. His bottom lip finds its way between his teeth as he's sliding in, just barely, stretching you with just the fat tip of his cock; the rest of him aches, his eyelids flutter and he groans, he can't move. He can't, or he already won't last.

Please, Dan Heng. Put it in all the way.

You're greedy, so ridiculously insatiable. He doesn't blame you though. He can't.

Here you are, always so kind to him, always asking so nicely. Always saying please, always loyal, always sticking by his side. Begging for him, all for him. He'd be stupid not to give you everything — everything you ask for, and every last second in the stretch of this infinite universe.

Because you're special to him. You mean more to him than he'd ever be able to admit. And after being cooped up in the Astral Express for so long, after so much running and running and never finding his place, after never having time for anything like this and never realizing how badly he needed it, he knows he's even worse.

It fits in so easy when he finally slides all the way in, like he was meant to be there. He stays still at first, taking deep breaths, getting used to the feeling. He's sensitive, way too sensitive. He tries his best to ignore it and focus on you. He rolls his shoulders backwards, waits for the moment you start to impatiently squirm. And then, he pulls back only to press all the way in; he starts up a gentle rhythm, taking things slow, fucking you nice and softly.

Even just his shallow thrusts feel heavenly. Your nerves feel like they're on fire, you're warm all over from head to toe. You're a second away from choking out a plea for him to go harder, but Dan Heng seems to read your mind before you've spoken a single word.

You're pretty when you're underneath him, pretty face and pretty wide eyes locked onto his. It's a pretty sight each time he buries the length of his cock all the way inside you, shaft slick and wet and glistening when he pulls it out. You make the prettiest noises when he shoves in deep only to pull out and slam himself back inside, you've got the prettiest expression as he grips your legs and folds them up to fuck his dick into you even harder than before.

You've always been pretty in his eyes. But more than anything, he wants to see how pretty you'll look when he makes you fall apart.

"You're getting loud," He mumbles, in that matter-of-fact way you've come to expect. He doesn't slow down though, doesn't give you a moment to breathe; he squeezes your thighs and rubs them with his palms. "If we keep going like this- they'll hear. You know that?"

"Don't care," You can barely get out the words, your back takes on a tell-tale arch, "Let them. Just don't stop."

Dan Heng isn't sure how thin these walls are. But in hindsight, it might be too late. The thought makes him feel dirty. He should have considered quieting down a long time ago.

Forehead to forehead with you, his pace speeds up a little, a tight knot forms in the pit of your stomach. His hair is a thick, tangled mess, even messier when you reach up to run your fingers through; you grasp and tug, sending waves down his spine, and Dan Heng can't help but whimper. He bucks into you hard, desperately, and you can't do anything but claw at his back, leaving scrapes and marks of red.

He's panting, his face is inches away from yours; he can't take it anymore. He starts with a single quiet please, and when you cup his cheek in your hand he's sighing and stammering without even thinking, "Please I- please kiss me, please please please-"

You pull him closer, he tilts his head and you shut him up as your lips connect for the first time tonight — Dan Heng kisses you softly, his lips plush, his heart flutters and flips. His first kiss with you, and it's so much more desperate than he expected, but he needs this too badly to take things slow. Your lips part and he's groaning, licking into your mouth, sucking on your tongue.

He takes the opportunity to grab your thigh, tossing your leg over his shoulder to give himself a better angle. He pistons in and out at a steady pace until you're about to snap, until everything else is melting away and you're focused on nothing but him. Until he gets carried away, the tip of his cock shoves in too deep, and you're tossing your head back, crying so loudly you're certain someone would hear. He feels so good you can't bother to care.

"M'close," You're mumbling once he gives you a moment to breathe, dragging away from your lips to plant wet kisses onto your cheek, your jaw, your neck. Your fingertips drag along his back, you feel out the shape of his mismatched scars — you're whining even louder, begging for him to make you cum, and Dan Heng is really, really done for.

He's thought himself to be somewhat of a strong person. Someone with a good resolve. Tonight, you're making him rethink everything.

He's close too, movements getting sloppy, it's growing harder and harder for him to hold back how you make him feel. He's never felt like this, never been so desperate. Dan Heng's fingers twitch, he moans and wraps an arm around your back securely. He rests his head in your nape and sighs, breath warm and heavy on your skin.

"I-" He hesitates, because even now, even after all this, he's nervous to speak; his chest heaves, his whole body's trembling. "I want to cum with you."

"Don't pull out, please Dan Heng, it feels so good, you're making me feel so good-"

He shouldn't listen to you. But he will. And he won't even think twice.

"Gonna cum," His shoulders tense, his voice nearly breaks, "F-Fuck, you're so sweet, I'm-" A stuttery whine, "I'm cumming, I'm cumming…"

A few more sloppy thrusts and you're both done for. Wet sounds fill your ears, Dan Heng reaches up with an unsteady hand and grips the headboard to keep himself steady. When you cum, clenching hard and throbbing around his cock, chanting his name just as he hoped you would, Dan Heng has little pent-up tears forming in the corners of his eyes, he hastily covers your mouth with his free hand, your noises muffled on his palm. He's riding his high out with you and fucking you through it all, biting hard on his bottom lip to stay quiet, shamelessly spilling every drop of his spend inside.

It takes a while for him to finally slow down, for his vision to unblur. He nearly collapses on top of you, and it takes him even longer to work up the strength to pull out.

The early-morning sun shines even brighter through the curtains. His fingers slip over your cheek, they fiddle idly with your ear. He kisses your lips once before finally settling, rolling over next to you with his eyes already closed.

"Dan Heng."

He was hoping you'd managed to fall asleep, finally. He gives himself a second to regain some energy, and then with a huff, he lifts his head and props himself up on his elbows, meeting your eyes.

"I don't want this to end."

Your words catch him by surprise. Your genuine expression does even more so.

"It won't," He concludes, earnest as ever. Your hands are splayed out above your head, clenching and unclenching, and he grips one to give you something to hold onto. "I'm not going anywhere. And I won't forget about this, or about you. I'll be here when you get up, do you think you can try and get some rest now? It's late."

It's early, more so.

You offer him a shallow nod in response, and Dan Heng wastes no time fluffing your pillow, pulling the covers over you, and giving you some space to curl up. He doesn't bother to find your clothes, he just tucks the blankets in around you and hopes that'll suffice for now.

"I…" He gets comfy next to you, resting his head on his arm. "I don't want this to end either. I don't. I didn't even think it was happening for a while. I think… I think we should focus on our mission. We can't afford to get distracted. But when we're back on the Astral Express- Once we've got more time on our hands, we can talk about this. How's that?"

You don't answer. He takes a few moments to realize you've stilled, your chest calmly rising and falling.

"Are you asleep?"

#dan heng x reader #dan heng x you #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x you #hsr x reader #hsr x you #dan heng smut #honkai star rail smut

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alotofpockets · 5 months

Text

Seeking comfort | Natasha Romanoff

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Prompt: "I didn't know where else to go."

Masterlist | Marvel masterlist | Words: 1.3k

A little over a week ago Natasha had left to go on an Avenger mission, it wasn’t the first mission she went on since the two of you started dating six months ago, but it had been the longest one. Every day that Natasha was away, your worries for her wellbeing grew. You weren’t in the superhero world yourself, so it was all still rather new for you.

The more that your worries grew, the harder it got for you to sleep at night, it was getting to the point where you woke up to a nightmare every hour or so. You decided to text Wanda to ask if maybe you could stay at the Compound for a bit. She agreed instantly and texted you the address. You had met the Avengers on a few occasions but it had always been for events that were elsewhere, so when you walked up on the Compound’s gigantic driveway, your eyes looked all over the place, taking in the enormous buildings.

Wanda opened the door and let you in. "Sorry, I didn't know where else to go." She shakes her head, “No worries, you’re always welcome here. Let me show you around.” After a tour of the Compound you found yourself in the common room where a bunch of the Avengers were gathered, “Hey y/n, good to see you!” Steve gets up and gives you a hug. “We were just about to start a movie, want to join us?” Natasha’s friends surrounding you was a nice distraction, of course you still had your worries, but at least your mind wasn’t constantly on those anymore.

It was getting late when the movie ended, so Wanda showed you to Natasha’s room. At first it felt a little bit weird being in your girlfriend’s room, without having you by her side, but it quickly started to feel comforting. Her familiar scent was all around you, pictures and trinkets filled the shelves in her room. You look around, and find pictures with her teammates, her family, as well as a few with the two of you. You smile when you come across the picture that you deemed your favorite picture of the two of you. It made you feel warm inside that Natasha collected all these memorabilia from her favorite moments, there was something so sweet about it.

Once you finished looking around her room, you went ahead and found a hoodie and a pair of sweatpants in her closet. Wearing her clothes made you feel instantly closer to her, as you slipped into her bed and laid your head down on her pillow. It was the first night that the nightmares stayed away. Your night was peaceful, until a slight shaking woke you up. “Hi baby.” The familiar voice of your girlfriend whispers softly. You have to blink a few times in order to realize that you aren’t dreaming, and that your girlfriend is actually sitting beside you on the bed. “Nat!” You sit up and fall into her arms, “I missed you so much.” She wraps her arms around you and kisses the top of your head. “I’ve missed you too, detka.” After a moment of quiet embrace Natasha speaks up, her voice still soft. “Not that I don’t love having you here, but how come you’re here?”

“I missed you so much, and I was so worried about you, so I asked Wanda if I could come by the Compound for a bit. Then I was invited to join movie night and Wanda let me stay the night because it was getting late. It has been so nice sleeping in your room though, it helped with the missing part a bit.” Natasha smiles down at you, “Well, let me get changed real quick and I will join you.” After she presses a soft kiss to your forehead, she walks over to her closet to pick out some pajamas.

Natasha lays down beside you in her bed, “Come on, let’s get some more sleep, and then we can catch up tomorrow. How does that sound?” You hum in agreement, already fighting to keep your eyes open. Natasha turns on her side to put her phone down on her nightstand, you take it as an opportunity to wrap your arm around her, and snuggle into her back. Your girlfriend scooted back into you a bit, getting comfortable herself, she intertwined her fingers with yours and pulled them closer to her chest.

The comfort of your girlfriend laying safely in your arms, let your body drift away in a peaceful slumber. Natasha stays awake for a while longer, her thumb rubbing lightly over the back of your hand. She was so glad to be with you again, your arms wrapped around her, and your legs intertwined. There wasn’t anywhere she would rather be than in your arms. She had missed you so much while she was away, it made her realize just how much she loved you. Natasha had missed you every moment of every day that she had been apart from you. She knew that being away was a part of her job, but the way she had missed you the past week, made her realize something. She wanted to come home to you.

Natasha had let you sleep in, realizing you needed the extra rest. She was watching so sleep, not in a creepy way, just full of love. You woke up to her green eyes lighting up at the realization that you were awake. “Good morning, baby.” Your voice slightly raspy. “Good morning, detka, how did you sleep?” She gently moves some hair away from your face. “Better than I have the whole week, I love when I get to fall asleep with you.” Natasha’s smile widens at your words, now was the perfect time to ask you. “I would love to come home to you, like how I did last night. It made me so happy, so I wanted to ask you if maybe you would want to move in together?” Her question got you to wake up fully fast. “I would love that.” You hug her tight and start placing kisses all over her face. “That would be perfect.”

A couple weeks later you were moving into a beautiful apartment in New York, close to the Compound and your job. It had big windows overlooking the Hudson river, one of the few requests that Natasha had for an apartment. Her view on the Hudson river had always helped her calm down when she was looking out of her window in the Compound. All of the Avengers that were around helped the two of you move in, declining Tony’s offer to pay for the movers, you wanted to share this experience with Natasha, without missing any part of it.

When everything was moved in the Avengers stayed for some take out dinner, the first meal shared in your shared home with Natasha. After they left, you took Natasha’s hand and walked around your new house together. Talking about all the ideas the both of you had to turn your house into a home.

The first night in your new place was special, and Natasha wanted to make sure that it would be memorable. She took out her polaroid camera and took a few pictures of the both of you. Since movie nights were special to the both of you, Natasha had set everything for a relaxing evening in bed, filled with your favorite movies, and snacks. The pile of polaroids grew, and you couldn’t wait to fill your home with memories, just like you had seen in Natasha’s room back at the Compound.

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#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #black widow #black widow x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #avengers x reader #avengers imagine #natasha romanoff fluff

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steddieas-shegoes · 1 year

Text

The first time Dustin tried to get Steve and Eddie to meet, Eddie refused.

“You expect me to be nice to Steve Harrington? The King of Hawkins High?”

“I told you, that’s old news,” Dustin rolled his eyes.

“Last year isn’t exactly old news, Henderson.”

So Dustin let it be.

— — — — —

The second time they didn’t have a choice.

Eddie was wanted for murders he didn’t commit, and Steve was well-versed in the ways of the Upside Down.

When Eddie almost died, it was Steve who was able to carry him through the gate.

When Eddie was in the hospital for three weeks, it was Steve who sat by his side every night so he wouldn’t be alone with his nightmares.

When Eddie got out, it was Steve who brought him to his appointments and helped him get settled in the new government-provided house for him and Wayne.

When Eddie thought about it, Steve was probably the nicest guy he’d ever met.

— — — — — — — —

But Steve ended up having to go back to work when things got fixed up.

His parents left him the house, but otherwise cut him off.

Groceries and gas don’t pay for themselves.

So he saw him for an hour here or a few minutes there, always checking in when he dropped Dustin and Mike off for D&D.

Eddie started to wonder if Steve only hung out with him because he had like, survivors guilt or something. He had been so kind and caring, but clearly the clock ran out on that.

But to Dustin, it was just a reset.

Steve hadn’t changed, just his available time.

And it was time to do something about it.

— — — — — — —

They say the third time’s the charm, but in this case, it wasn’t.

In fact, Dustin almost gave up when this result ended in Eddie telling Steve to go fuck himself.

He didn’t know what happened, and he never found out, but Steve looked hurt, and Eddie shut himself in his room for three days.

— — — — — — —

Dustin was sick.

The flu was running rampant through the streets and school halls of Hawkins, leaving no person left untouched by the worst nausea and body aches known to humankind.

Also, Eddie’s dramatics may have been rubbing off on him. Just a little.

So he couldn’t go to Hellfire, and without him, they couldn’t finish the campaign.

But in his drug-addled mind, he thought of a resolution. Potentially. But bribery would have to be involved.

So he called Steve.

“Steve.” He turned up the pitifully low rasp of his voice to make it seem like he was dying. “I need you to cover me at Hellfire.”

“Why? So Eddie can tell me to go fuck myself again? No thanks.”

“Dude. Please. I’m too sick. Everyone’s been wanting to finish this campaign for a month.”

“Can’t they reschedule when you’re better.”

Well, yeah, probably. Eddie had been way more open to rescheduling since everything happened.

That would ruin his plan, though.

“C’mon, Steve! I’ll owe you!” He coughed to add to the drama of it all.

“Fine! Fine.” Steve sighed. “I hope you know you’re gonna lose.”

“Nah, it’s a team effort. Everyone will help you.”

“Sure.” Then, because Steve was Steve: “Need anything, Henderson?”

Dustin almost felt bad about what he was making Steve do. Almost.

“No, mom’s making me a broth soup to try to sip on.”

“Okay, call tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow.”

If Dustin wasn’t as sick as he was, he probably would have tried to stay awake to call tonight.

But he fell asleep within minutes.

— — — — — — — —

“I’m sorry, you’re what?”

Steve rolled his eyes and placed his hands on his hips. “Filling in for Dustin. He’s sick.”

“You can’t do that.”

“He said I could.”

“He doesn’t run Hellfire, does he?”

“Shouldn’t he? Since you graduated?”

Eddie glared.

“If you two are done bickering like old ladies fighting over the same man in the nursing home, we have a campaign to finish,” Erica said from her seat, looking at her nails instead of at them.

“You heard Lady Applejack,” Eddie gestures towards the table.

Steve sat in the largest chair at the end and leaned back.

Everyone was staring at him.

“You’re not that dense. You can’t be.”

Steve looked up at Eddie with a smirk.

“Is there a problem?”

“That’s the DM seat. I’m the DM. Therefore, my seat.”

“It’s big enough to share. I like the view from here.”

“You can see all my notes from here!”

“Exactly.”

Eddie’s face was so red, it was a wonder he hadn’t exploded yet.

But he didn’t continue arguing. To Steve’s delight, and Dustin’s if he were there to see it, Eddie sat down on the edge of the chair. Steve scooted over a little, but they were pushing each other and being immature and stupid.

They both fell on their asses and Lucas finally spoke up.

“Can we just reschedule? This isn’t gonna work.”

“No. We’re so close. Dustin wouldn’t have sent Steve if he wanted us to reschedule.”

Eddie looked at Steve, searching his face for something. Whatever it was, he must’ve found it.

“Alright. Steve’s in my lap. Let’s go.”

He clapped and pulled himself back into the chair, patting his thigh and smiling at Steve.

“The whole game?”

“It’s this or Dustin’s spot over there.”

Steve wasn’t having that. He deserved this spot.

He stood up and sat down in Eddie’s lap, ignoring the way his stomach fluttered at being close enough to smell the shampoo Eddie used. Eddie’s hands settled on his hips to hold him in place while he leaned around to check his notes.

“Let’s begin!”

Luckily, Steve didn’t have to do much. The rest of the group kind of played for him, knowing he was just a warm body at the table.

And he was certainly warm.

Eddie’s hands had been finding new places to touch on his sides or legs or back or stomach all night. It was distracting. It was annoying. It was intoxicating and addicting and Steve never wanted to leave.

He was completely zoned out, barely registering he was supposed to be an active participant in this fucking game when he felt a light smack on his thigh.

He let out a whine.

And then reality came crashing in.

Everyone was staring at him with raised eyebrows. Eddie was completely still under him. He was mortified.

But he still didn’t want to get up.

He kind of just wanted to turn around and bury his face in Eddie’s neck.

As soon as he has the thought, his body is making it happen. ‘Your wish is my command,’ it’s saying in excitement.

Within seconds, his body is turned facing a shell-shocked Eddie, legs using the space between Eddie’s back and the back of the chair to wrap around his waist, and his face burying itself into his neck. He let out a much quieter whine, and felt his whole body relax.

A hand was on the back of his head, keeping him in place, and he sighed.

He could feel vibrations, like Eddie was speaking, but his head was cloudy and he couldn’t quite figure out what it was he was saying.

It didn’t really matter anyways. He was cozy and safe and relaxed for maybe the first time ever. Unless Eddie physically removed him from his spot, he wasn’t moving.

Time passed, but Steve couldn’t take a guess at how much.

“Stevie? You awake?”

“Mhm.”

“You wanna get comfy?”

“Am.”

He felt Eddie laugh more than he heard it, but he just snuggled further into Eddie’s neck, bunching his shirt in his hands.

“Okay, I’m just gonna pick you up and go to the bedroom. It’ll be better to sleep.”

Sleep? Was it that late? Where was everyone else?

“Shhh. It’s okay. Just squeeze your legs around my waist and hold on.”

Steve followed his instructions to the letter and he could’ve sworn he heard Eddie whisper “good boy” into his ear, but that could’ve been wishful thinking.

The next thing he knew, Eddie was sitting on the edge of his own bed with Steve in the same position on his lap.

“Wanna get in comfy clothes?”

Steve shook his head.

He was so tired.

“When’s the last time you slept?”

“Dunno. Week?”

“A week?! Steve…”

“Shhh. Sleepy.”

“No shit. You haven’t slept in a week.” Eddie sighed and then somehow managed to get them both settled in bed, Steve’s body almost entirely on top of Eddie’s. “Get some rest, sweetheart.”

“Mkay.”

Eddie kissed the top of his head, but he was already almost completely asleep.

— — — — — — —

“So he just…cuddled him? Right there at the table?”

Dustin couldn’t believe his plan worked and he wasn’t even there.

“It was awful,” Erica spit out.

“It was weird,” Lucas added.

“It was disgusting,” Mike said, pointing a glare at Dustin. “I wish I had the flu so I could’ve missed it.”

“And has anyone checked in on them since?”

Two days had passed and Dustin was finally able to keep solid foods down and his fever broke more than 12 hours before. His mom was even going to let him call Suzy later.

“Uh. Should we?”

“Lucas! Dude! They may have turned on each other.”

“Yeah, more like turned each other on,” Erica mumbled.

They all stared at each other, disgusted at the thought of their friend and babysitter being close.

“Gross.”

But Dustin smiled anyway. His plan finally worked.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #headcanon #tumblr drabbles #dustin henderson #Dustin the meddler #that should be his d&d class tbh #idk what this is? I just furiously typed this out on my phone for the last 30 minutes #it felt important at the time

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zvdvdlvr · 25 days

Text

Good Night

💤 Synopsis. Aaron knows you can’t sleep, so he offers his home to you. Just to help you sleep. Not to fall even deeper in love with you or anything- psh!

💤 Warnings. Not too descriptive vomit scene. Nightmares from previous case (nom descriptive). Crude language. Idiots in love. Possible OOC!Hotch. Not edited.

“Hey boss,” you greeted, sleepily letting the pen fall out of your hands and onto the table.

“Y/n. You need to sleep,” Hotch murmured sternly from across the table. “We’ve all noticed it. I know these last few cases were rough…” he went on keeping a low voice as to not wake the rest of the team. “But you need to take care of yourself.”

You shrugged pitifully. Truthfully, sleep avoided you like you and sleep were two positive magnets. It was getting harder to sleep now anyway. After a particularly rough patch in your life, you lost two little girls and a boy on a case. Now, you see them in your sleep as they beg for you to save them as they fade away to nothing in your consciousness. Emily tried to help, since you normally roomed with her on cases, but there wasn’t much you could do when the monsteres where in your head.

“I’ll try, Hotch. I just- I always feel… like I don’t… I don’t know.” You struggled for words, rubbing your eyes. “I feel trapped in my mind when I sleep. And- and I can’t get out: can’t fight it, can’t change it, can’t fix it.”

Hotch nodded. Your eyes were so so heavy and he knew you were trying your hardest to keep your composure. Hotch admired that. “Do you want to try something?”

You tolted your head at Aaron’s proposition. His tone changed to a high pitch, clearly apprehensive about the idead himself. “Sure.”

“Jack gets nightmares too,” Aaron started slowly, making sure you heard and processed every word. “After Hayley. I make sure when he wakes up that we go out to the kitchen and get a snack. Then he comes back to my room and stays with me under a weighted blanket I have. It- It helps me with my own sleep problems.”

Your lip twitched. “You’re trying to get me in your bed, aren’t you Agent Hotchner?”

Even though he heaved a massive sigh, Hotch smiled and shook his head. There you are. “If it gets you some quality sleep? Yes.”

“Well,” you murmured, leaning your head back on the seat. “I guess I’d be rude to decline.”

“Luckily for you we have about ten minutes till we land,” Aaron noted. He stood up and his knees popped. You chuckled and smiled up at him.

“Am… Do you want me drive separate?” You asked, bring Hotch’s attention back onto you.

His eyes took you in. Stretched out as far as you could on the cramped plane seat, frizzy baby hairs surrounded your tilted face- lit by the dim light like a halo- as you peered up at him with dark eyes and gleaming smile. “No need. Just make sure you have your go-bag. I can drop you off at home tomorrow morning and then take you to work. If you want,” he offered as coolly as he could, despite his racing heart.

“Yeah. I’d like that.”

“Good.”

Packing away your stuff and reports you needed to do the next morning, you felt warmth creeping up your neck and onto your cheeks.

You almost fell asleep on the ride to Aaron’s home. It wasn’t your fault the vehicle smelled like Hotch so good and the were heated! Not to mentions how soft the material was… When was leather this comfortable!?

“Y/n,” Aaron murmured, nudging you with a knuckle. You blinked awake and looked around, owlishly-wide eyes taking in everything.

“Sorry-“

Aaron chuckled. When did he have such a nice laugh? Jeez. “You’re here to get some sleep, hon- y/n. You don’t need to apologize for dozing off.”

Were you actually hallucinating or did Aaron Benjamin Hotchner almost call you ‘honey’? You felt your insides as well as your outsides warm, but Aaron turned away fast so you didn’t know if he was blushing too. “Yeah. I- yeah, of course,” you mumbled, opening the door and stepping out.

Aaron opened the door and led you inside. His home, unsurprisingly, smelled exactly like him and you felt like melting to a puddle on the floor. Here, in his house, you looked around.

Evidence of life was everywhere.

Jack’s toys were in a mildly organized pile in the corner, along with a few of his cartoon carachters on a blanket onthe couch. Aaron toed his shoes off and you mimicked his actions. You ventured further into his house, running your hand on the marble counter.

“I’ll get the bed ready for you. I don’t have my spare fixed up, so I apologize for any messes,” Aaron finally said, breaking off your staring contest with the picture magnets on his fridge.

“Hm? Oh, no Hotch I can sleep on the couch. I think just being here will help.”

Aaron had none of your protests, padding down the hall and turning on the light. “I have my weighted blanket here,” he explained. “There should be a nightlight…” he trailed off and spun around. “There.” He pointed at a plug-in nightlight of Captain America’s shield. “Do you… need clothes?” Aaron asked.

You nodded without even knowing if you had P.J.s. “Please, Hotch,” you said, a shy smile on your face. You really hoped Aaron wouldn’t mind giving up some of his clothes.

“Aaron. Call me Aaron when we aren’t at work.” His statement sounded more like a question- his voice got a little higher at the end. “Do you sleep in shorts or sweatpants?”

You shrugged. “Shorts are fine.”

Aaron hoped you didn’t see his flush as he handed you the only clean pair of black shorts he had, along with a ‘Relay for Life’ shirt.

Fingertips grazed your own as Aaron handed you the clothing. “Thank you. Aaron. But I seriously don’t want to take your bed. I’m going to be fine on the couch, so-“

“Y/n, do not make me order you,” Aaron joked sternly, wagging a finger at you.

Even as you stifled a laugh, Aaron made his way to the door. “I’ll be in the living room if you need me. The bathroom is over there,” Aaron pointed to a door. “I… Don’t be afraid to wake me up, y/n. I’m here for you.”

You sighed and nodded, knowing that Aaron was going to win any argument against you. “Okay. Well, thank you again. I can make breakfast tomorrow to pay you back. Or just pay you. Whatever works,” you shrugged awkwardly.

“Completely unnecessary. I pay you. And you can pay me back by getting some good sleep so you can preform at your highest ability on the field,” Aaron explained. “Good night y/n. Sleep well.” The look in his eyes added the ‘I’m down the hall if you need me’ more than his words ever did.

It must have been three hours later when you woke up, clawing violently at your chest and forhead. You pushed the weighted blanket off of you and lurched forward, heading for the bathroom.

You keeled over and threw up stomach acid and whatever snacks you’d eaten previously. Tears ran down your face as you leaned your flaming forhead against the clammy skin of your forearm. Your stomach heaved and you whimpered, leaning forward and prepaed for another wave of vomit.

“Y/n?”

“‘M sorry, Aaron. G-go back to bed,” you ordered hoarsely.

Aaron padded forward and collected your hair, pulling it out of your face. “Do you think you got it all out yet?” He asked, tracing your clammy, tear-covered face as your eyes fluttered closed.

“I think so, but I don’ wanna move.”

Aaron cooed sympathetically at your pained whines. “Alright, honey.”

“I’m so sorry, Aaron,” you whispered, leaning into his touch.

“It’s okay. Don’t worry about a thing, y/n,” Aaron said. You were leaning further and further into Aaron’s chest, searching for comfort. Despite the slight sheen of cold sweat on your forhead, Aaron barely withheld himself from pressing a feathery soft kiss to your temple and hoping you understood what it meant.

“Do you think you can get up now? Brush your teeth?” Aaron asked, your arms curling into your stomach. You opened your glazed eyes and nodded.

Aaron helped you stand up and tied your hair back with the black hair tie on your wrist. You flushed the toilet and turned on the faucet.

Leaning on the door, Aaron thought you looked as beautiful as ever even after throwing up minutes before. You looked so normal- domestic, even- as you rubbed sleep out of your eyes with the back of your hand. You looked so right in Aaron’s bathroom- Aaron’s home as you brushed your teeth and washed your hands and returned as close to Aaron as possible.

“Will you stay with me? I- I get it if you don’t want-“

“Of course.” Aaron worried if he answered too quickly, but you just gave him an exhausted smile and flipped off the bathroom light off.

He would probably walk off a cliff if you told him too, Aaron thought, following you back to his bedroom. His clothes even looked better in you. His boxers made your butt look like a goddamned snack.

You climbed into Aaron’s bed as if it was natural and opened the comforter so Aaron could too. A satisfied sigh escaped your lips as you pulled the weighted blanket up to your shoulders.

“Aaron?” You asked, snuggling up as close to his arm as you could without actually touching him.

“Y/n?”

��Can you- if it sounds dumb or stupid you, uh, obviously din’t have too- cuddle with me? Like, wrap your arms over my stomach? I- the pressure helps me relax…”

You trailed off, shrugging even though Aaron probably couldn’t see the movement in the dark.

”C’mere,” Aaron said, opening his arms. He felt his face grow warm as you took no time in slotting yourself perfectly into his arms. “This alright?”

As you requested, his ridiculously muscular arms were loosely squeezing your to him by your stomach. His mouth was up close to the shell of your ear, and Aaron swore he could see a shudder run down your spine after whispering.

“Yes. You- it’s perfect. Thank you.”

Aaron huffed a laugh. “You’re welcome, y/n. Sleep well.”

“I will. You too, Aaron.”

As you fell asleep, Aaron burried his nose into your neck and savored the moment.

327 notes · View notes

ilguna · 8 months

Note

I love your work! Could I please get #17 of list 2 with Haymitch? I was thinking it could be a nightmare from the games or going into the reaping for the 75th? Thank you 💜

☼ history repeats itself (Haymitch Abernathy) ☼

warnings; swearing, death mention, alcohol use.

wc; 1.6k

prompt; 17. "Hey, listen to me. You're safe. Nothing is going to hurt you."

—

The last time Haymitch was himself was the night of the reading of the card for the Third Quarter Quell, which happened in the winter. He hasn’t been the same person since, but you weren’t really expecting him to be.

The horror that President Snow presented in front of the entirety of Panem had shook him, and every other victor across the country that thought they were safe. You remember sitting with him in silence on the couch. When you looked at him, it was clear to you that he was slipping away.

It hadn’t even been five minutes since the news reached your ears.

Haymitch stood up from the couch without a word, walking from the living room into the kitchen. You didn’t have to turn around to know what he was about to do. You couldn’t blame him, either. You didn’t even think to hold it against him.

He slammed open the window, you jumped at the noise, and he muttered an apology. The first breeze that came through was nice, it seemed to calm the warmth that had crossed your skin. You looked over to find him pulling a bottle of white liquor out of the cupboard, reaching to open it.

There was a series of hard knocks on the door, you got to your feet to answer it, but it was already swinging open. It was Peeta, a string of apologies leaving his lips for barging in. In the next breath, he was addressing Haymitch, and it wasn’t for what you’d thought it would be.

Peeta started to beg Haymitch to allow him to go inside of the arena again. He didn’t want Haymitch to interfere, to let the reaping run its course. He said that if Haymitch were drawn, he’d volunteer. But if he was drawn, Haymitch wasn’t allowed to lift a finger. He wanted to go back into the arena if it meant that Katniss would be.

You watched as Haymitch cracked the seal on the bottle, taking a long drink of it, before walking over to the dining room table to set it down. “I’m not going to make any deals, Peeta.”

It started out as them talking civilly, and then it began to fade into an argument. With Peeta telling Haymitch that since he protected Katniss the first time around, that meant he owed Peeta. Anything. And Peeta wanted a chance to go into the arena again.

By the time Peeta left, Haymitch was a quarter of the way through his bottle. When Katniss showed up, he was halfway in, drunk. You were sitting at the table with him, asking him if there was any way he could get out of this. You knew what the answer was already, you were just hoping it wasn’t true.

He did what he always does with Katniss—antagonize her. He asked her if she was there to ask him to go back inside of the arena for Peeta. She denied it and sat down with you two, drinking from his bottle. And then, instead of suggesting for him to volunteer, she said she wanted Peeta to be saved from the arena, no matter the situation.

It was only when Haymitch agreed to this, did she leave. The next day, Peeta came by and dumped all of the liquor in the house down the drain. He told you that neither you or Haymitch were allowed to buy it from Ripper down at the Hob—not that he thought you would, anyway.

If you’re being honest, you thought that his whole plan to get Haymitch to train alongside him and Katniss would last a few weeks at best. It wasn’t until the three of them started to show signs of improvement, did you believe that Haymitch wasn’t going to slip back into his habits.

Still, his attitude about the situation hasn’t changed in the past six months, and it’s grown worse over the past week, leading up to today. When you woke up this morning, you were expecting him to say anything about the reaping that will be taking place in the matter of hours. Instead, he pulled himself out of bed and disappeared into the bathroom.

You’ve kept a close eye on him all morning, something you’re sure he doesn’t appreciate very much. You don’t know what else to do. You tried to pretend like everything was alright, when he picked up on it, he asked you to stop. Every attempt you make at conversation falls short.

It’s like he wants to revel in the doom cloud above him. And who are you to tell him otherwise? If you were in his place, you’re sure you’d do the same. He’s the first victor of District Twelve, and he was a tribute in the last Quarter Quell. If there’s anyone that’s earned a right to silence this morning, it’s him.

That doesn’t mean it’s any easier to see him this way.

“Are you almost ready?” Haymitch asks.

You look into the mirror to see where he’s standing, finding that he’s in the bathroom doorway. You tilt your head to the side as you slide the earring into place. “Almost.”

He nods, turning his body halfway to leave, and then he changes his mind. He leans against the frame, head tilted downward to look at the ground. He’s dressed nicely, considering the situation. You’re even able to see the muscles that he’s built up from training. The only thing he’s missing is his blazer, but if he doesn’t have it in his hands already, that means he’s not planning on bringing it.

“I wish I could go with you.” You tell him, rising from your stool in front of the mirror.

Haymitch’s eyes snap up. “No, you don’t, (Y/n).”

“If it means that you don’t leave me, I do.” You close the drawers, and then begin to walk in his direction.

“You’re safer here.”

“It doesn’t feel like it.” You murmur. “I’m ready.”

He lets your comment slide, not wanting to fight. The two of you leave his Victor home, going down the steps. He shuts the door behind him and doesn’t stop to lock it. Usually, you’d say something about it, but you’ll be coming back here after you bid him goodbye at the train station. You’ll have the house to yourself for the next few weeks while the Victor’s battle it out in an arena.

You barely make it out of the neighborhood before you’re pulling his hand into yours, squeezing tightly. He glances in your direction, you catch it out of the corner of your eye. Your head is facing the other way, not wanting him to see your face, and the frown that’s struggling to settle on your mouth. You won’t let it.

What you’re feeling is selfishness and guilt. You hope that Haymitch gets his name drawn first, and you hope that Peeta goes through with volunteering. You don’t want today to be your last day with him. You want him to go to the Capitol as a mentor so that you’ll be able to see him again.

This isn’t fair.

The walk to the Justice Building from Victor’s Village only takes a few minutes. From a distance, you can see the crowd that has gathered around the stage. This year, since there is no giant pool of young teenagers, it’s doubled in size.

Haymitch stops you, letting out a shaky breath.

You raise your eyebrows, eyes watching his face. He presses his lips together, breathing quicker, eyes locked on the stage.

“Hey, listen to me.” You squeeze his hand. “You’re safe, nothing is going to hurt you.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about, (Y/n).” He tells you. “I don’t want to lose you, the same way I lost them.”

Your face twists, confused for a moment, until it dawns on you. You haven’t been with Haymitch for long, only about two and a half years now. You’ve seen who he was before Katniss and Peeta, and heard his mindset because of what President Snow did to him.

In the beginning of your relationship, it felt like he was doing everything in his power to hide his history from you. It wasn’t because he was ashamed of it, he just wasn’t prepared for your reaction when he told you all of it. You knew the basics, the stuff everyone knows about his Games.

It was the aftermath of it that was hidden.

At the end of his Games, the Career girl had thrown her axe at him, and Haymitch collapsed because of the wound on his stomach, causing her to miss. The axe flew over the cliff, but came shooting back up, lodging in her skull.

Supposedly, they saw this act from Haymitch as one of rebellion. He was crowned Victor, and two weeks later, his mom, younger brother and girlfriend were all killed in retaliation. He tells you that he tried to put an effort into mentoring, but it was hard to exist everyday without aid. When he figured that he was never going to get a winning tribute, he turned to drinking, and stopped trying altogether.

This is what he must’ve been thinking about all morning.

You pull Haymitch in by your hands to hug him. He places his face in your neck, breathing in deeply.

“You’re not going to lose me. I’m going to be right here when you get back, Haymitch.” You tell him. “They can’t take me away from you.”

“I’ll be back, (Y/n).” He pulls you closer.

“I know.”

this is part of my 3k celebration!! you can join until the cure is released on Oct, 31st at midnight!!

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somanyratsinthewalls · 9 months

Text

Prescribed Medicine (+18)

Prescribed Medicine (+18 Law x Reader)

Summary: Law knows you have trauma. He wants to help you look past it. The doctor orders a risky procedure. Will it be successful?

Pairing: Law x afab!reader

WC: 3900 lmao

AGELESS BLOGS AND MINORS DNI

TW: MAJOR TRIGGER WARNING. This fic hints that the reader has experienced sexual trauma. I understand the delicacies in this matter and have not tried to highlight them any more than necessary for the plot. sex, kissing, pet names, praise, doctor play, vaginal sex, oral sex, fingering, begging, crying.

*Get off of me! You’re sick! No!*

“No!” You sat straight up in your bed, chest heaving trying to catch your breath. Sweat dripped down your neck, staining the grey tank top you had on. Another nightmare. You had been having them almost every night lately. Every time you close your eyes you see those men and live through what they did to you over and over again…

—

As a much younger woman, your island was raided by violent pirates and burnt to the ground. During the fire you snuck onto the pirates ship while they pillaged and destroyed your home. You hid in a storeroom and shook while you imagined what they were doing to your friends and family back on the island. You had to save yourself.

To your dismay, upon discovering you holed up in a broom closet, the pirates took you straight to Sabaody and sold you to the slave auction. A young, beautiful virgin woman fetched a high price.

You spent the next 5 years as a slave. Being bounced around from master to master, having to do more depraved and violent acts each time. Until one day your life changed forever. Your weak body and mental state had left you a lifeless husk. When you overhead the whispers of your fellow slaves that there was a strong pirate crew liberating the slaves you barely even looked up. It was probably just a rumor. There would be no end to your suffering, this was your life now.

But they were right! The pirates had handily took out your brutal captors and no less than an hour later, men in white jumpsuits were removing your shackles and cuffs. The other slaves all ran to the docks, cheering, trying to get a ship back to their home islands as fast as possible. You however, just stood there. You were in the middle of the plaza in town, surrounded by bodies… no… not bodies… body parts? The men had been sliced into neat, tidy pieces and littered across the ground. Who could have done this?

“Aren’t you going to run?” A deep voice rumbled from around 20 feet behind you. You whipped your body around, shocked out of your trance. There stood one of the most powerful pirates in the New World, a Warlord of the Seas.

“Trafalgar Law…” You said more to yourself than anyone else.

“I didn’t ask you my name, I asked if you were going to run.” He says nonchalantly as he crosses his arms in front of him and leans back. “You’re free. Go.” Law turns on you and starts to walk away when you yelled out.

“I don’t have anywhere to go. My home was burned. This is all I have.”

Law stopped in his tracks but didn’t turn towards you. “Hm. And what can you do? Anything useful?”

“I.. I can cook… pretty well actually. My parents owned a bed and breakfast on my home island. I can clean… and I… I can fight too… well.. at least I could…”

There was a long silence. You could see the gears in his brain turning just by staring at the back of his head.

“Alright. Let’s go then.”

“What?” You asked, tilting your head.

“You’re coming with me. Our cook sucks. It’d be nice to have a decent meal after all of this.” Law didn’t turn toward you, just started walking back to his ship. You said nothing. You couldn’t believe that he was inviting you to join his crew.. one of the most powerful pirates to ever live was asking you to join him at sea. But, what choice did you have? You could go with him and risk your life on a journey of piracy and probably die in the process, or you could stay and rot here.

You saw him walk further and further away from you, so you started jogging after him… fully committing to your new life.

—

“Fuck”

You started to sob. All you could think of was your past, the things that befell you during your time as a slave. You needed to distract yourself. After you wiped your tears and blew your nose, you hopped up out of your bed and pulled on a pair of black joggers over your panties. After pulling the door of your small stateroom aboard the Polar Tang open, you made your way to the kitchen. Trying to slow your heart and catch your breath, you brewed a cup of tea. Sitting at the counter in the galley with your tea, you let your head fall back and eyes close with an exasperated sigh.

“No sleep for you either?”

Your head shot up and you opened your eyes.

“God damnit, Law. You have to stop doing that.” You scolded him for having a habit of sneaking up on people.

“It’s not my fault you have poor hearing and can’t tell when I’m coming.” He smirked at you. Law walked toward the counter and sat down sat the stool next to you. You look up at his grey eyes and they met yours. He was searching for something. He saw that they were bright red and your eyelids are puffy. There was no hiding that you had been crying. You hung your head back down.

“The nightmares… they��re back, huh?” He knew. This wasn’t the first time you’d had periods of night terrors due to your past mistreatment. He could always tell. He rarely slept so he knew when someone else was awake on the sub. Sounds traveled far under the sea. He could hear your wracked sobbing or your feet pacing across your room trying to calm yourself down from a panic attack. His normally unaffected heart couldn’t help but feel for you.

Without an answer from you, he continued.

“I want you to come to my office tomorrow night. I think… I think I know what treatment you need…” Your head shot back up to meet his eyes when you heard him.

“You mean… you can make them go away? The nightmares?”

“I don’t know, y/n, but don’t you want to at least try?”

You nodded.

“Good. Go back to your room. Try and get some rest.”

Law stood up and walked out of the galley. You finished your tea and stared at the empty mug. What did he mean? What kind of treatment? It had been a year of sailing together now and he hasn’t offered any sort of procedure or medication so far. Why now?

—

It was 9:55 PM the next evening and you were checking yourself in the mirror before you were going to head down to Law’s office/surgical room. After smoothing out your hair and your off-white jumpsuit, you left your stateroom and walked nervously down the narrow hallway towards your captains office. Upon reaching his door you stood still starting at the doorknob, unable to move your body another inch.

“Come in, y/n” Law said as the doorknob turned and the door creaked open. Fucking haki.

You gingerly walked into the office. It had been so long since you had been here… His tall bookcases so unorganized with some books facing the wrong way outward. It smelled like him… a musky, mysterious scent. Law was hunched over at his desk, going over some maps of the New World.

“I’m glad you could make it. I’ve been meaning to talk to you about this for awhile.” He says as he rolls up the maps and moves towards his bookcase. He’s being so casual about all of this while you’re nervous out of your mind. He hasn’t even looked at you. It’s like you’ve come to him for a band-aid, not a life altering cure. Law grabs a large book off the shelf and brings it back to his desk. He finally looks up at you as he opens it and flips through the pages.

“Sit.” He nods towards a leather char next to his desk. You oblige.

He settles on a page in the book, which you now realize is a psychiatric textbook.

“Post traumatic stress disorder.”

You stare blankly at the words he’s pointing to in the book. You didn’t know what to say.

“People who have experienced massive, violent trauma often suffer from side effects long term, even years after the event. Effects include night terrors, panic attacks, trouble focusing, and other psychical symptoms… Y/n this is what you have. I am certain. It’s no surprise after what those..” He slams his fist onto his desk next to the textbook. “.. Those fucking monsters did to you. I am so sick and tired of seeing you suffer every day and every night because of what happened.”

He crouches down next to you seated in the chair. He looks directly into your welling eyes.

"I want to help you. Will you let me? Y/n, do you trust me?”

Tears were threatening to spill over, could he really fix your pain? Did he have that ability? And he would do it… for you?

You nodded.

“Captain… please help me…”

“Hm.” He nodded his head and stood up. “I need you to go next door into the operating room. Remove your clothes, all of them. Lay on your back on the table. I will be in in a few moments.”

Law left the room. You stood there in shock. You had no idea what was going to happen or what he had up his sleeve. He had essentially just told you that your brain was broken and he was going to fix it. You finally collected yourself and you went towards the door of the operating suite he kept next to his office. You walked into the cold, sterile room. There were machines, surgical instruments, a large operating table… nothing comforting.

But, not wanting to displease your captain you followed his orders to the Nth degree. You zipped down the front of your jumpsuit and let it slide off your shoulders onto the floor.

*remove your clothes, all of them* you heard Law in your head. You slipped your sports bra over your head and you pulled your panties down to the floor. Finally fully bare, you hopped up onto the operating table and laid down on your back. You expected there to be some sort of blanket to cover your body with, he was a doctor, wasn’t he? But there was nothing. You were completely nude staring up at the fluorescent lights.

The doorknob turned and your head instinctively snapped in its direction. Law came in wearing gloves and a white coat.

“Y/n… literature suggests that sufferers of post traumatic stress can be aided by turning those negative feelings into positive ones. In a way, replacing the memories of those events with more pleasurable ones.”

You were confused, but he stared into your eyes and you saw a flash of warmth. He wanted to help you. You gestured for him to continue.

“My plan of treatment is to give your body intense sexual, physical pleasure slowly over time to retrain your brain into associating those things with good memories as opposed to the bad ones.”

“Intense what-?” You must have misheard him. There’s no way he said what you thought he did.

“Y/n those horrific cretins took your body from you, I intend to fight to get it back. You deserve your own autonomy. If you trust me, I’d like to begin.” He said as he pulled the metal foot stirrups from the corners of the operating table and folded them up. “Scoot down and place your feet in here and we can get started.”

You moved down to do as you were told. You hesitantly opened your legs. You knew that it wasn’t pretty. You had experienced such hardships that things weren’t looking as nice as they should. You opened them anyway and slotted your feed up into the cold stirrups.

Law rolled his stool over to between your legs and sat down.

“I am going to touch you now, okay? If anything is uncomfortable at any point I need you to say ‘stop.’”

You nodded.

“No, y/n. I need you to tell me you understand.”

“I understand, Captain.”

Law leaned in and inspected your pubic area. He saw the scars and deep cuts that were left on your inner thighs from those disgusting monsters long ago. He ran his gloved finger over the ones on your right leg. You jolted from his touch, so startled by someone touching you there. You didn’t like it. It reminded you of the last time someone tried touching you there.

“Law.”

“I can stop. But just breathe for a second.” Law looked at a monitor across from him but behind your head. “Your heart rate is at 124, try thinking of something else. Remember when we landed on that tropical resort island? And Penguin tried taking that girl back to the ship?”

You chuckled. That was such a nice day. Nothing but sun and pampering yourself. You read your book on a pool float while waiters served you endless margaritas. Law paid for everything of course, happily watching you from a shaded lounge chair. He loved seeing you relaxed. It was hard, due to Penguin and Shachi constantly trying (and failing) to pick up women and Bepo complaining that this was not the correct environment for someone with a fur coat. But Law tuned them all out, seeing you smiling and content floating in the sparkling water… in the tiniest yellow bikini he’d ever seen… You were the only thing on his mind.

“Yeah, Law," You breathed out heavily. "I remember that. It was a fun day.” He continued to slowly stroke up and down your inner thighs, getting you used to having his hands on you.

“I remember the bathing suit you wore… When you jumped into the pool it bunched up on your ass. I watched you adjust it, and pull your top down.” He laughed softly. “Your tits are incredible. Your whole body, really y/n.”

Law had never spoken to you like this. He found you attractive? He watched you in your swimsuit and thought about your body? You had pined for him for so long, there was no way that he felt the same way. Maybe he was just talking like this to get you more receptive for his treatment… but it was working.

“You.. you think so?” You stutter out as he gently grazes his right hand over your heat.

“Of course I do. I’ve always thought that. Such a perfect little thing you are y/n.” Law’s tattooed hand finally moves to rest over your whole mound and pussy. Your hips buck instinctively. This was nothing like anything you were used to.

“The procedure is going well. I can see you’re becoming more lubricated. Far more, actually. I am going to touch you here now, y/n.”

Before you could protest he takes his pointer and middle finger together to stroke the sides of your now engorged clit up and down.

“Oh! Law!” You shout and lean up on your elbows. “I… That feels… Oh my god…”

Law takes his fingers and now applies pressure to your bud and rubs it in smooth, tight circles. You feel your lower abdominal muscles tightening and releasing outside of your control.

“Talk to me y/n. How does this feel?” Law asks, his eyes never leaving your dripping cunt.

“I.. It feels? Pressure? It feels warm, it feels.. fuck, it feels like so much Law”

“But good or bad? Does it feel good? Your pussy is leaking all over the operating table. Do you enjoy when I rub you like this? When I treat you like my sweet little girl?” He was so serious. It was like he was taking notes on a mental pad in his brain.

“YES! Fuck yes, Law, yes this is good I don’t want you to stop.” Your chest was heaving, you had never experienced a sensation like this before. You only knew pain, not pleasure. You felt Law’s other hand ghost over your thigh.

“Ok y/n I think you’re ready for the second part of the procedure. I am going to insert my fingers into your hole now.” He said it so casually, like he was prescribing you an aspirin.

Law continued rubbing your clit with one hand as he took his two fingers and slowly pushed them into your sopping wet hole. You gasped and jolted at the intrusion. Your mind started to go a darker place…

“Hey y/n it’s me, I’m right here. Your captain is right here. It’s me. It’s just us, okay? Try to keep your eyes open for me, sweets.” He felt your muscles tense so he rested the side of his face on your thigh. The scruff of his facial hair brought you back to reality. He was looking up at you to gauge your facial expressions. You looked down at him breathing heavily, he smirked at you from between your legs as he began to crook his fingers up and pull on them.

“FUCK, Law!” You shouted, forgetting that everyone else on the Polar Tang would hear you.

“Perfect, that’s perfect. Keep your eyes on mine, sweet. You’re doing so well for me. I am so proud of you, y/n you’re being so good.” He praised your endlessly while his two hands worked your pussy into a soaking mess.

“Law I’m starting to feel weird…”

“Weird how, describe your symptoms to me.” He was back in doctor mode.

“Like… Like there’s something in my belly that’s big and swollen. It feels like my skin is hot. It feels like something is going to burst… it feels like I have to pee but I don’t? Law there’s so much pressure, Law, please help me I don’t know what it is! Stop!”

Quickly Law pulls out his fingers and stops his motions on your clit.

“Room.”

A light blue tinge covers your space. He raises his right hand, tips of his two fingers glistening with your slick. His doctors notepad and a pen come flying into his hands. He furiously takes notes.

“Hmm… Yes…. Better than expected…”

Your body started to ache. An ache you’ve never experienced before. He flips his pad over and looks through previous notes he had taken. You realize they were all about you and your condition. He had been watching you for awhile.

“Y/n… have you ever experienced an orgasm?” Law asks after he closes his pad and sets it down.

You flop backwards on the operating table, unable to look at him with your answer.

“No. No I haven’t.”

“I see…” Law looks over your sweaty, heaving body. He knew you were frustrated by not achieving release, even if you didn’t know. “I’d like you give that to you. I think it’s what’s best for your treatment. Would you allow me to do that?”

“… how…?” You knew where this was going.

“I’d like to fuck you, Miss y/l/n.” He smirked down at you from the side of the table. “I believe I can make this all go away soon.”

You were hesitant.

“Ok…”

“Y/n listen to me.” He grabs your hand and pulls it to his chest and looks into your eyes. “I promise I won’t hurt you. I won’t hurt you and I won’t let anyone else hurt you ever again. You’re mine now. I’d kill anyone for you.” He was confessing. This wasn’t about your treatment anymore. He let his feelings take over. It as no longer doctor/patient. It was no longer captain/crewmate. This was 2 lovers.

You were nervous, but you trusted him. You brought your hand that was still held in his up to his cheek.

“Fuck me, Law. Make love to me. Fix me.”

He stripped his white coat and gloves first. Yellow baseball tee and hat went next. After he was out of his jeans and boxers, your mouth was agape at the size and girth of his hard cock. Clearly the “procedure” was affecting him just as much as it was you. He hopped up on top of you on the operating table swiftly. He locked eyes with you before he brought his face down to give you a soft, yet fully passionate kiss. Your lips moved together slowly, you moaned softly into his mouth.

Going back into doctor mode, Law looks down between you and grabs his cock to line it up with your hole.

“I am going to push inside of you now, y/n. Tell me if there’s any discomfort.”

He presses the weeping tip of his massive dick into your pulsing warm hole. You begin to get stretched out and instinctively slam your eyes shut.

“Hey, hey. No. With me.”

Law holds your cheeks with the hand that wasn’t holding himself up on top of you.

“I need you to know you’re here with me. No one else. Just us.” His breath was ragged, now that’s fully pressed inside of you his calm demeanor seems to dissolve. You open your eyes and look up at him.

“That’s my girl… that’s my good girl…” He coos to you looking into your eyes as he starts thrusting. He lets go of your face as he lifts your hip upwards onto his strong thighs. His cock was pressing hard into a spot inside of yourself you didn’t know existed until 40 minutes ago.

“Law! It’s there! It’s right there! Please don’t stop!” You shrieked at him, no longer knowing yourself. That strange “weird” feeling starting to come back in your belly but it was coming on much faster than last time.

“Law wait I feel it again…” You push your hands on his shoulders.

“That’s you about to cum, sweets. I promise it will feel so good. Don’t fight it anymore y/n. I want you to cum on my cock. It’s going to feel so good. It’s totally normal and healthy. Let it go. Do you trust me?” He punctuated his sentences with strong grinds against your spot.

You did trust him. You’d do anything for him. He was your captain, and now your lover.

“Law I-“ You moaned out louder than you ever have. Your vision went blurry and your body lurched forward as your muscles spasmed. Your cunt tingled and squeezed without your permission. You could barely breathe it felt so incredible.

“Such a good job you did, y/n. You did so perfect. You’re the perfect patient. You’re the perfect girl for me. I want you forever, y/n. Oh sweets I’m going to cum-“ Law let out a strained groan as he pushed his hips into yours as far as they would go. You felt his cock pulse within you, pushing out his hot seed.

His head lolled forward after your pussy was finished milking his cock. He kissed your lips gently before pulling out of you. Your brain was hazy and foggy. Law was saying something to you but you were so relaxed that you felt yourself drifting into sleep already. He carried you bridal style, fully nude back to his captains suite. You fell asleep immediately in his strong, tattooed arms.

—

You woke up after an uninterrupted 12 hour of sleep. You couldn’t even recall the last time you got more than 2 without having nightmare. But when you woke up, Law’s bed was empty other than you. Had he regretted helping you? Changing your relationship forever? You brain ran a mile a minute before Law walked in with a tray from the galley holding a few pieces of toast, a glass of water and a little white pill. He smiled at you.

“I’d say your procedure was a success.”

He set the tray down in front of you.

“You should drink a lot of water today. You lost a lot of fluids last night.” He smirked to himself at his dirty implication.

“What’s with the meds?” You gestured at your tray.

“There’s enough crazy pirates out here in the New World. Let’s not add one more.”

You laughed, realizing what it was. You swallowed the pill with your water and took a bite of the toast. Law added,

“Not now… at least…”

#one piece #one piece anime #one piece smut #one piece fanart #one piece fanfiction #one piece live action #one piece netflix #one piece headcanons #op x reader #one piece x you #one piece fluff #one piece x reader #law x reader #law x y/n #trafalgar law #trafalgardwaterlaw #law one piece

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janeyseymour · 3 months

Text

Love Thy Neighbor- pt 6

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4. Part 5.

Summary: Ellie's sick. Cue Melissa to jump in to help.

WC: ~2.7k

Over the past few months, the way that the redhead has made herself present in your life has only gotten stronger. She’s with you in the morning for breakfast, during the drive to and from school, she shows up when you need help with school work, there when you just need some adult time. She’s there for Ellie when she needs help with homework, wants to cuddle but you’re busy, there when she’s excited or sleepy, has had a nightmare and she’s with you on the couch, shows up when her dance class has a parent night… she’s just there. She always is.

But you still don’t want to ruin what you have going on. Life is easy and nice right now with her… if you two decide to date and it falls apart, she’s gone. Or you’re gone. You suppose that if it were all to go up in flames, this is her apartment complex, Abbott is her school, the coworkers that you’ve become friendly with are hers. The only thing that you would get out of a breakup with the redhead is your daughter. And even then, you’re fairly certain at this point that Ellie would be more devastated about not seeing Melissa than she is about the absence of her father. So you haven’t done anything about it yet.

But that’s about to change… not that you know it.

Ellie’s been sniffling a lot lately, but you’ve just contributed it to the fact that the seasons are changing, you have allergies, her father has allergies… so naturally she should have inherited your seasonal allergies. You don’t realize that she’s picked up what seems to be making its way through Barbara’s classroom.

Your daughter is currently putting up the biggest fight of her life. She does not want to go to school, which is so unusual for her. She’s flat out refusing to eat the breakfast that Melissa made, she’s sticking her nose up at every sweater for her to put over her uniform that you try to show her, and she bursts into tears when you tell her that she can’t bring her stuffy to school with her because it isn’t a stuffy day.

“Elizabeth,” you sigh. You’re slowly starting to lose your patience. “Come on. We have to go to school today.”

“Why?! Other kids are not coming in because they’re sick!”

“Because you aren’t sick, baby,” you tell her as you pinch the bridge of your nose. “Now please. We have to be out the door in ten minutes, and Momma isn’t ready for school yet.” You suppose you’ll have to do your makeup in the car while your neighbor drives in to the school.

“I don’t feel good though,” she whines.

At that, you soften. You place the back of your hand on her forehead, cheeks, and the back of her neck. She’s a little warm, but it’s nothing to be worried over.

“I’m sorry, lovey,” you sigh. “You just have to make it through today, and then when we get home tonight, we can cuddle.”

As you’re leaving the house, you throw a few tylenol in your bag for Ellie if she needs it throughout the day.

The girl clings to Melissa as soon as she’s back in your apartment, and the redhead does everything she can to try to get Ellie to smile- it doesn’t work. She just lays her head on the woman’s shoulder and sighs heavily.

You’re able to get your daughter into the school, and by then her cheeks are a little flushed. But she did fall asleep during the short car ride over, so you think that the red on her right cheek is from where her seatbelt was.

Ellie stays in Melissa’s lap during the morning news, and when it’s time for her to go with Barbara down to the classroom, the water works start again.

Melissa hands your daughter over to her kindergarten teacher with a shrug. You kiss Ellie’s temple gently, telling her to have a good day, before you and the redhead are making your way down to your wing.

“What’s got pipsqueak so upset today?” your colleague asks quietly.

You bite your lip. “She isn’t feeling well I don’t think.”

She frowns. “Poor thing. Shouldn’t she be home? Or with your parents resting?”

“My parents are galavanting around Europe right now,” you huff. “Or she would be.”

“You could’ve taken off today to keep her home.”

You roll your eyes. “We are so short on subs lately, and I don’t need to have Mr. Johnson as my sub if I can help it.”

“Fair point,” Melissa chuckles. “Last time he was my sub, the kids came in the next day telling me all about the fourth dimension.”

It’s only about 9:30 when your classroom phone rings. It’s Barbara, so you tell your kids to work on the next math problem before answering it.

“Ellie still hasn’t calmed down,” the kindergarten teacher tells you quickly. “I’m not quite sure what else to do. I gave her stickers, I gave her hugs, I told her she could hold one of my stuffed animals…”

“I’m so sorry Barb,” you apologize.

“She should be home, Y/N,” the woman tells you sternly.

You breathe out. “I know… but I don’t have sub plans or a sub, and my parents aren’t around to come pick her up.”

“What am I supposed to do?”

“Maybe just send her down to the nurse so she can sleep on the cots?” you suggest. “I’ll call down and tell them the situation.”

The veteran teacher agrees and hangs up. You dial the nurse and beg her to let Ellie stay down there for the day while you teach. She begrudgingly agrees after you promise you’ll make her a key lime pie as payment.

Your prep comes faster than you really expect it to, and you line your kids up to take them down to the music room as Melissa is lining her kids up to take her class to gym.

“I can come to your room once I drop them,” the redhead tells you.

“You can, but I won’t be there,” you sigh as you fall into step with her. “I have to head down to the nurse’s office.”

“Ellie still isn’t feeling well?”

The two of you head into the nurse’s office, and the woman behind her desk doesn’t look very pleased with you. Ellie is laying on one of the cots crying.

“Oh, sweetness.” Your heart breaks at her little sniffles. As you pull her into your arms, you immediately feel how hot she is, but she’s trembling as if she’s standing out in the snow without her winter coat on.

“Momma,” she cries. “I’m so chilly!”

You immediately take your sweater off and drape it around her, pulling it tightly to her body. It seems to help, but she’s still cold despite the sweat forming around her brow.

“Kid’s been crying since she got here,” the nurse tells you. “Fever of 101. She should not be here.”

“I know, I know,” you mutter. “I’m sorry.”

“I’ll make you a meatloaf as payment for having her down here,” Melissa tells the woman as she too shrugs off her blazer and gives it to your daughter.

“Miss Mel,” your daughter reaches for the redhead immediately.

“I’m here, sweetheart,” the second grade teacher says softly, but doesn’t take your daughter out of your arms. Ellie squirms, and while you try to fight the hurt on your face, it doesn’t quite work. “Stay with your momma, hun.”

“But I want you,” your daughter mumbles as a tear falls down her face. You hand her over.

“I should probably get some work done anyway,” you shrug. You start to head out of the nurse’s office, but the redhead follows.

“I thought we were going to work on your lesson plans,” she says softly, Ellie on her hip.

You shrug. “I can always get some other stuff done.”

The two of you work quietly in your room, Ellie clinging to the redhead and falling asleep rather quickly.

Your preps are over far sooner than desired, but such is life. When you look up from your teacher’s manual, Ellie is fast asleep in Melissa’s lap.

“Shit.”

“She’s fine,” the second grade teacher promises. She stands and starts to make her way down towards the gym.

You chase after her. “Mel, she has to go back to-”

“I can teach with her,” the redhead tells you. “It’ll probably keep my kids in line better than they would be if I wasn’t holding a small, sick child anyway.”

“I can’t ask you to do that,” you argue back.

She waves you off. “You didn’t, I’m just doing it. And if it becomes too much, she can lay on my carpet with the bean bag and sleep there.”

“You’re going to get-”

“I’ve been teaching for years now,” she laughs. “My immune system is made of steel at this point. Don’t even worry about me. Just go get your kids and teach. We’ll see you at lunch.”

You watch as she makes her way down to the gym, Elizabeth in her arms and snoring softly. You see her press a delicate kiss to the girl’s sweaty hairline before smiling at her gently. The eyes that she’s looking at your daughter with are full of love and no selfishness in the slightest. If you weren’t sure before, you are now. Melissa is worth all of the risks in the world. You turn on your heel to pick up your kids from the music room.

Come lunch time, the redhead still has your daughter on her hip, and your heart swoons at the sight. The badass, mob-like teacher is just so soft and gentle with your little girl. Ellie is awake now, but she keeps her head resting in the crook of Melissa’s neck. As the two of you walk your kids to the lunchroom, Ellie waves at you sleepily.

“No sleeping again yet,” Melissa tuts quietly. “We have to make sure your belly is full and you drink some water before you nap again.”

“Mhmm,” your girl hums out sleepily.

Ellie spends the entirety of your lunch period wrapped up in your sweater and Melissa’s blazer curled up in your lap. You just barely get her to eat, but when Melissa attempts to get her to eat, she does so easily.

The rest of your friend group spends the period quietly, watching as the redhead handles your daughter with such a maternal warmth that they’ve never quite seen from her before. And when Ellie falls back asleep in your hold from your gentle rocking her, they fall silent at the steely gaze Melissa gives them.

Ellie lets out a small whine for the redhead when you stand to pick your kids back up, and Melissa just takes her back into her arms with a wave of the hand.

“Pipsqueak’s been a good human heater for me,” she chuckles before glancing at your daughter. “Isn’t that right?”

The six year old nods into her shoulder before turning her head and blowing you a tired kiss.

“Only a couple more hours, and then you can curl up at home with your momma, okay hun?” she tries to assure the little girl.

“And you?”

“And me, if you want.”

“Yes, please,” Ellie requests softly.

At the end of the day, you make your way outside to help monitor dismissal alongside your neighbor. Ellie is still in her arms and fast asleep. She’s been asleep on the redhead for quite some time if the rather large wet spot on Melissa’s shoulder is any indication.

“My poor little girl,” you sigh as you brush a few hairs away from your daughter’s face. You kiss her head gently.

“She’s been out for a while,” Melissa tells you quietly. “But let me tell you, my kids have never been more well behaved.”

“You’ve been holding her since lunch?!”

“I tried to set her down on the carpet, and she stayed there for about five minutes before coming back over to me and begging me to hold her because she was cold. I just taught from my desk.”

“You could’ve sent her over to me,” you tell your coworker.

She shrugs. “I didn’t mind having the little one with me.”

Ellie stays asleep throughout dismissal and the drive home. When Melissa pulls into the parking garage at your complex, you grab your things and collect your daughter before turning back to walk in with the redhead. She’s still in the driver’s seat though.

“Go in. I have to run to the grocery store if I’m going to make my Nonna’s chicken noodle soup for the two of you.”

“I can make-”

“Trust me when I tell you this stuff will have El healed in no time flat, and you’re going to want it for when you get sick too,” your neighbor tells you. “I’ll be over once I’m back.”

You head in and settle yourself on the couch. Ellie lays on top of you, fast asleep and shivering. You kiss her forehead before reaching for the remote to turn on the television. There’s no way you’re going to get any work done tonight- you have to step up and be the mother for your daughter you always promised you would be.

The little girl only stirs when there’s a gentle knock on your front door, followed by the redhead stepping into your house and heading for the kitchen.

“Miss Mel?” she asks quietly.

“Yeah, baby,” you whisper back. “She’s making you soup so you can feel better.”

“I love Miss Mel,” she sighs quietly as she cuddles back into your hold.

You smile. “I do too.”

The woman brings three bowls of soup into the living room, along with two mugs of hot tea and some juice for Ellie, before settling on the couch next to you. The soup is amazing- not that you expected anything else.

When dinner is over, you give your daughter a bit of cold medicine, hoping she’ll feel better in the morning. She demands cuddles from both you and Melissa, but she’s quick to fall back asleep once she’s situated between the two of you. That leaves you and the redhead to chat about your days and have a bit of adult time. You know that you want to approach the situation at hand- the obvious feelings that she has for you and the feelings that you have for her.

“Why are you doing all this?” you finally ask.

“Doing what?” she raises a brow.

You gesture broadly. “All of this: helping us adjust to a new life, being here for Ellie, helping me get a job and then mentoring me, cooking us dinner… for heaven’s sake, you’re taking care of my child while she’s sick.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” she shrugs.

At that, you sigh. “Because I kind of expected to you hate me and stop coming over after I told you that us might never happen.”

“I could never hate you. I’d rather have you as a friend in my life than nothing at all,” she says softly as she places a hand over your own. “Besides,” she chuckles. “It’d be pretty awkward seeing each other at work and when we’re running in and out of the apartment if we stopped talking.”

You laugh softly. “Yeah.”

“And I think Ellie and I are something of kindred spirits,” the redhead says as she looks down at your slumbering daughter. “I couldn’t just leave her high and dry.”

You smile. “She’s a special one.”

“She is.”

“So are you,” you look at her with a soft gaze.

She rolls her eyes playfully. “I ain’t nothin’ special, hun.”

“You are,” you whisper as you squeeze her hand in your own. “So special.”

She rolls those striking green eyes again and turns her attention back to the television.

“Hey.” Melissa looks back to you, and you squeeze her hand again. “Special enough for me to throw caution to the wind and do this.” You press your lips to hers softly.

#melissa schemmenti fanfiction #melissa schemmenti fanfic #melissa schemmenti x you #melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti #abbott elementary fanfic #abbott elementary fanfiction #abbott elementary

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jadeylovesmarvelxo · 3 months

Text

You and Eddie take comfort in each other when his nightmares become hard to handle.

Comfort and fluffy, this is an 18+ blog so minors shoo! Idiots in love, jealous reader. Sleeping together for comfort (no sex)

❤️

It started two weeks after Eddie was discharged from hospital, he tried to settle at his and Wayne's new trailer but every time he closed his eyes he could hear the chittering of the demobats, feel them tearing at his skin.

He had died. Actually died. It was just for a minute but the memory still haunted him, he remembered how much pain he felt in what he was certain was his final moments on earth, all the regrets and things he wished he had been brave enough to do.

Miraculously he survived but the scars remained and the terror of what he went through would come back to haunt him in the deep of night.

He sought out solace in the one person besides Wayne who he felt safe with. You. Snuck into your bedroom through your window like he did when the two of you were kids.

Just one look at how broken Eddie looked, how terrified and ridden with anxiety and lack of sleep had you reaching out to him. You led him into bed and just held him, soothing away his fears and the frightening images in his head.

It was the first time in weeks that you both slept well. Eddie's death was a recurring nightmare of yours, so to have him beside you, sleeping soundly as you lay entwined together, soothed you.

It was meant to be just one night, but then Eddie would come to your house night after night, so much so that you had grown so used to his presence, would offer to stay with him at Wayne's some nights too.

Wayne never mentioned anything, all he knew was Eddie was sleeping better than he had in a while and that's all he cared about.

Of course he knew that his nephew and you were head over heels in love with each other but that was something the two of you had to figure out for yourselves...

Maybe with the tiniest nudges from him.

❤️

Eddie had a date, you were helping pick out an outfit while fighting the strangest feeling in the pit of your stomach. This gnawing ache that wouldn't go away at the thought of Eddie with this girl who was called Selene.

This was a good thing you reminded yourself, Eddie was finally getting back out there. His nightmares were practically non existent now, you two were closer than ever so Eddie dating someone wouldn't change that.

"So uh I guess you won't be coming over later? I mean if you and Selene hit it off then we obviously can't continue sleeping together"

Not in a sexual way, there hadn't been any sex but you couldn't deny there were times where you wanted to lean over and kiss Eddie, feel his plush lips against yours. Make a move.

Then you would dismiss the idea because Eddie only saw you as a friend, you missed any chance you could have had even if there was a slight possibility he felt the same way.

Eddie stares at you for a second, something flickering in his big brown eyes before he clears his throat and nods. "Yeah, I guess"

The confirmation makes your heart sink, you blink away tears and avoid his eyes, bury the sad feelings down and try to be happy that Eddie had met someone so nice.

Selene was a friend of Gareth's who had visited him a few days ago and immediately zeroed in on Eddie. She was gorgeous and super confident. Asked Eddie out there and then and when he told you the news looking slightly stunned, you had to pretend that hearing it didn't hurt like a bitch.

When Eddie heads off on the date you feel despondent and head up to your room, try to take your mind off what's happening.

Neither you or Eddie slept well that night.

...

Everything feels off, deep down Eddie knows why and it scares the hell out of him so he avoids thinking about the why and focuses on his second date with Selene.

Not being with you for the last two nights was quite frankly shit but he was trying to get past that. Trying to avoid the deeper meanings of why he was so angsty when he wasn't with you.

His avoidance of the subject didn't last long as Selene stayed over for one night for their second date. It felt strange having Selene with him and not you, it just didn't feel right.

His heart ached for you and he knew right then that this thing with Selene wouldn't work, they had only been on two dates but he knew she wasn't the one for him.

He knew that the only person he felt truly safe and that he could be himself with was you. His decision was solified during that night as he fell asleep while he and Selene were watching a film.

The nightmares came back. They weren't as bad as they usually were but they still caused him to yell out, screaming in panic.

Selene would barely even look at him, tried to comfort him but he only wanted comfort from you. It seemed like a relief to her as well when he said that he didn't think they would work out.

He drove to yours as soon as she left and seeing you was the only time in the last few days that he felt at peace.

"Weren't you hanging with Selene tonight?" You ask confused and he shakes his head.

"Nah princess, we aren't going to see each other anymore. Anyway I brought snacks and a movie if you're interested" smiling and feeling strangely elated that he's here with you and him and Selene are no more, you invite him in.

When you fall asleep in his arms later that night he watches you for a few seconds, you fit so perfectly with him. He felt content and that he could stay in this moment forever.

Jesus h Christ he was being corny as shit but he guesses that's what happened when you were in love.

Wait. His eyes widen and he almost startles you awake as he sits upright. He was in love with you?

You whimper from the loss of contact and mumble reaching out for Eddie's embrace.

In that moment Eddie knows he's a goner for you. If only he was brave enough to tell you. He had faced down hoards of demobats and survived, he was a badass if he was being honest.

But this? Being totally vulnerable and admitting he was in love for the first time, not puppy love or a dumb crush or fling. He was really truly in love with you and it was terrifying Eddie that he had to tell you.

And he would. He was Eddie the Brave after all.

But not tonight. Tonight he just wanted to hold you close and slip into a peaceful slumber with you snugly ensconced in his arms.

Tomorrow. He would tell you tomorrow.

💞

❤️🫶

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson comfort

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starrylothcat · 4 months

Text

Dawn of Us

Pairing: Crosshair x Gen!Reader

Summary: Crosshair feels bad about being cold to you and struggles with his ~feelings.

WC: 2100

Warnings: None. Kissing, fluff, some angst (c’mon, it’s Crosshair). Mentions of nightmares. Happy ending. TBB AU in which Crosshair is rescued and with his brothers.

A/N: This is based off of an ask from @banthasworld ! This took an incredibly embarassing amount of time, I am so sorry. It is based on the sunshine x grumpy trope, with Crosshair being…well Crosshair. Reader is always nice to him, and he struggles with that of course. Reader isn’t super described, since this is more from Crosshair’s point of view. But he sees reader as a ray of light, his sunshine, so it kind of works? ANYWAY, I hope you like!

Crosshair furiously chewed his toothpick, watching with feigned disgust as your shoulders shook with mirth, laughing as you placed a delicate ring of flowers atop Wrecker’s head.

Omega let out a giggle, handing Echo a crown of flowers of his own.

Tech was already adorned with one, and Hunter was adjusting his flowers around his bandana.

Everyone had a smile on their face, and Crosshair couldn’t help but retreat to the back of The Marauder to clean his rifle, hoping it would distract him from the merriment happening in the cockpit.

Earlier that day, Tech guided the ship down on a grassy planet for re-supply. They had agreed to pick up a shipment for Shep to bring back to Pabu.

While you were waiting, you and Omega found a lovely patch of flowers not too far from the ship, the fields blooming with color.

You were reminded of your childhood, sitting in meadows and making flower crowns with your friends. You showed a wide-eyed Omega how to make one for herself, which in turn inspired her to make one for all of her brothers.

Crosshair had been back with his brothers for some time now, and while he had mostly gained their trust back and things were somewhat back to normal, he couldn’t help but still keep himself at arm's length.

Crosshair looked up from his rifle once more, connecting his narrow-eyed gaze with your bright eyes.

He felt his stomach flip, something that he noticed was happening more often, something that he was desperately trying to ignore.

You were there when they rescued Crosshair from the Empire’s grasp. You had been kind to him from the start, even knowing everything that he had done, at least whatever his brothers told you about him.

You were laughing now, Wrecker telling a story of a mission Crosshair didn’t remember. It must have been a mission they went on while he was gone.

Crosshair scowled, retreating even further into himself as he flung what was left of his toothpick to the ground.

He glowered at his Firepuncher, waiting to be distracted from the sound of your voice, the beautiful glimmer in your eyes, the sneaking thought of wishing he could make you laugh as joyously as Wrecker…

He snapped out of his thoughts when your shadow changed the lighting around him, realizing you were standing right in front of him.

“Here.” You smiled, holding out a flower crown to him. “This one’s for you.”

Crosshair frowned, not making a move to take it, looking back at his rifle. He couldn’t bear to make eye contact with you. His heart thudded, hoping you’d just walk away.

“Tell the kid thanks, but no thanks.” He muttered.

“Omega didn’t make this for you.” You paused for a moment.

“I did.”

Crosshair’s eyes snapped to yours. You made it for him?

You hesitantly placed the ring of flowers down next to him.

“You don’t have to be back here by yourself, you know.” Your voice was soft, a kindly cadence that Crosshair couldn’t get out of his head at night, no matter how much he tossed and turned.

Crosshair bit down on a fresh toothpick, glancing at the intricately made ring of flowers next to his thigh.

“Who says I want company?”

He knew he was being an asshole, but it was the only way to get you away from him.

Every second you were close to him, every time you glanced his way, brought him a cup of caf, or asked him how he was doing, it was making it harder and harder for him to not take your face in his hands and kiss you.

He wanted to hear your warm words in his ear, feel your lips on his, finally let his guard down for once, and bathe in your light that outshone his darkness.

He couldn’t, though. Why would you want him?

The severe and unyielding traitor who broke his family’s trust? Something he was still gaining back, and may never truly get back.

He was broken. You deserve someone better.

These were the intrusive thoughts that kept him away from you, the nagging voice in the back of his mind that he just couldn’t keep quiet, no matter how hard he tried.

“I can sit with you if you want.” You asked, still standing in front of him, a glimmer of hope in your eyes.

Ask them to sit with you, you idiot.

Crosshair huffed. “I want to be left alone.”

Why am I like this?

You bit your lip, nodding and turning away from him, respecting his space.

Crosshair’s eyes didn’t miss a thing, watching as your shoulders slumped in such a subtle way that you may have done it subconsciously.

You looked over your shoulder at him, your lips parting like you wanted to say something, but continued to walk to the front of the ship, where his brothers and Omega had started some sort of card game.

Crosshair furrowed his brows, trying to focus on cleaning his rifle again.

This was normalcy he thought he’d never have, and it was right in front of him, waiting for him.

And yet he was still choosing to be alone.

Guilt, something he had never really felt before he came back to his brothers, sat like a stone in his stomach. He felt bad for being cold to you. You didn’t deserve this.

He watched as you sat, overseeing the card game, a smile back on your face. You glanced at him quickly, before being dealt in.

✼　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　✼ ✼　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　✼ ✼　

The Marauder was quiet, except for Wrecker’s soft snores reverberating on the durasteel walls.

Crosshair lay in his bunk, gently turning the crown of flowers in his hands, holding it above him.

It was made with extreme care, his fingers grazing against the delicate petals, observing how thoughtfully you crafted it, the vines and stems intertwining with one another without being broken.

Could that be him? Could he be entwined with something beautiful without breaking it?

Crosshair laid the flowers on his chest, slinging one arm over his eyes. He replayed earlier in the evening in his head, except this time, he invited you to sit with him.

You watch as he demonstrates how to take apart his rifle, explaining each part, and showing you how to put it back together. He imagined your face close to his, paying close attention, feeling your breath on the side of his face. Laughing at something he says, a cheery smile just because you’re near him…

A tidal wave of unfamiliar warmth engulfed him, a peculiar fuzziness spreading in his chest.

Crosshair held on to that feeling, this time not trying to push it away, letting it spread and take hold of his heart. The sensation was strange, but comforting. He fell asleep with the ghost of your lips on his, your soft hands embracing him.

✼　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　✼ ✼　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　✼ ✼　

Crosshair awoke early the next morning, something he still did out of habit. He was a light sleeper, and ever since he decided to leave his brothers, his sleep was interrupted by nightmares from his choices, and what was done to him while he was captured.

This morning, though, he realized the usual terrors that plague his mind did not make a visit. Instead, his dreams were filled with you, with flowers, with feelings he could only describe as…peace?

Crosshair sat up, realizing he was still holding the crown of flowers from last night. His head was spinning with emotion, with the realization of how much you meant to him, how much he needed you.

Crosshair didn’t expect anything in return from you, especially after how he’s treated you. But at the very least, you deserved an apology and a thank you for the gift.

Everyone was still asleep, except for you. Your bunk was empty, made up neatly. You were an early riser too, Crosshair often catching you staring at the sunrise on Pabu down at the beach by yourself. He never joined you, assuming you wanted your space.

Crosshair knew you’d be right outside the ship, waiting for the sun to cast its glow over you.

Crosshair silently slipped out of the ship, the ramp cracked just enough for him to slip through without waking anyone else.

The sun was just beginning to rise, casting soft pink and orange glows over the dewy fields, the flowers still closed up for the night, waiting to wake with the rays of the sun.

Crosshair saw you sitting alone in a small clearing, staring toward the horizon.

Crosshair didn’t realize he was holding his breath as he approached you, his heart pounding in his chest.

He cleared his throat, not wanting to scare you.

You turned immediately, your eyes lighting up the second you realized it was him.

“Crosshair! I hope I didn’t wake you?”

Crosshair shook his head. “No, I was already awake.”

He stood awkwardly, not knowing if he should ask to sit with you or not. He wanted to give you the chance to tell him to buzz off, like he told you the night before.

“Would you like to join me?” You asked, your voice quiet, a hopeful spark in your eye.

Crosshair didn’t say anything, taking a seat next to you in the damp grass. The horizon was beginning to turn a kaleidoscope of color as the sun began peeking above the grass on the horizon.

There were a few moments of silence, and then you spoke.

“I’m sorry.” You said, your voice almost inaudible.

Crosshair’s head snapped toward you.

Why the hell were you apologizing to him? He was supposed to be apologizing to you!

“For what?” Crosshair’s brows were knit, wondering what the kriff you were trying to apologize for.

You fiddled with some of the grass under your fingers.

“I know I can be too much sometimes, when I know you just want to be left alone…” your voice trailed off.

“I’m sorry if I’ve been too pushy, especially last night. I realize I’m making you uncomfortable. I will back off.”

Crosshair’s heart sank to his feet. This is not how this was supposed to go. He felt even guiltier than before. You and your big heart, assuming it was all your fault.

Crosshair shook his head. “You’re wrong.”

You looked at him, confused.

“You have nothing to apologize for.” Crosshair took a breath. “You don’t deserve how I’ve treated you. I…appreciate everything you do for me. I’m sorry I don’t return it. I have no excuse.”

Crosshair felt something on his hand. It was yours, barely touching his. Rays of sunlight were reflecting in the dew of the grass, spreading across the plains. Petals stirred, beginning to open toward the light.

“Crosshair…” You whispered his name, your fingers threading together. “I care about you, a lot.”

“I know.” Crosshair’s voice cracked, barely above a whisper. “I’m not a good man, you shouldn’t…

Here I go again, pushing them away.

Crosshair wanted to yell, to take you up in his arms, say how much he cares, how much he wants you, how much he needs you…

You must have seen the battle in his eyes, and your lips were on his cheek before he could continue.

Crosshair froze at first, his body going into overdrive of a million different emotions.

You’re kissing him? You’re touching him? Was this a dream, one that he has secretly wanted for so long?

Your lips were softer than any fantasy as they pressed softly, pulling away as quick as they were on him.

Crosshair’s body erupted in sensations he’d never experienced, goosebumps spreading throughout his body as you kissed him. As fast as it happened, you pulled away.

You quickly took your hand out of his, seeing as he wasn’t responding to your bold move.

“I’m sorry, I-“

“Quit apologizing.” Crosshair muttered before capturing your lips with his in a needy kiss, wrapping one arm around you to bring you close, cradling your head with the other.

Crosshair never, ever wanted to let go of this moment. Feeling your body relax against his, your own arms wrapping around him. He held onto you for dear life, wanting to say so much more, to keep apologizing, to warn you that his darkness may never be cured. Your lips didn’t stop moving together, expressing everything that words could not.

Finally, you both pulled away for a much needed breath, the sun’s rays now fully shining down on you.

“The flowers…” Crosshair uttered against your lips. “Thank you.”

You smiled, tucking your head against his chest as he held you. Momentarily, Crosshair forgot everything as you embraced. It was just you and him, and the hope of the new day, both of you bathed in its light.

Maybe, just maybe, it was time to let himself be cared for. Maybe, just maybe, things would be okay.

As long as he had you, he knew it would be.

Ze Taglist:@crosshairlovebot @sev-on-kamino @kimiheartblade @wizardofrozz @clonemedickix @sunshinesdaydream @kashasenpai @freesia-writes @multi-fan-dom-madness @aconstructofamind @dreamie411 @dystopicjumpsuit @wings-and-beskar @starqueensthings @idontgetanysleep @secretthegriffin @anxiouspineapple99 @sinfulsalutations @secondaryrealm @littlemissmanga @maybethatfanfictionwriter @pb-jellybeans @wanderer-six @king-chaos-world @wolffegirlsunite @dukeoftheblackstar @523rdrebel @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @sleepingsun501 @coraex @cw80831 @dangraccoon @mythical-illustrator @eternal-transcience @the-cantina @nahoney22 @moonlightwarriorqueen

Masterlist Taglist

#crosshair x reader #crosshair x you #crosshair x gen!reader #crosshair x gender neutral reader #crosshair tbb #tbb crosshair #the bad batch #the bad batch fanfiction #tbb fanfiction #tbb #x reader #starrycatwrites #star wars fanfiction #the clone wars #crosshair fanfiction

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adventuringblind · 4 months

Text

Unrequited Understanding

Norlestappen x Reader

Genre: Angst, hurt/comfort

Summary: Her father comes back into her life as a replacement race engineer. Now she can't escape him and his voice when she does the one thing she thought he couldn't touch.

Warnings: eating disorder, abuse, past child abuse, sef harm, suicide attempt

Notes: for @ashiekins, I hope you like it! I'M SORRY FOR THE ENDING I COULDN'T HELP MYSELF!

Masterlist // Request Form // My Website // buy me a Ko-Fi

January

The new year had never felt so sweet. Her victory with Max and Redbull had been a dream. Max taking another championship, had the entire team walking on cloud nine.

She spent new years with her boys. It's tradition at this point to messily kiss all together as the new year comes around.

They'd done so much for her. She's come so far in her journey.

"What are you thinking about, Love?" Neither her nor Lando could sleep. Most nights, they end up talking to get the heavy thoughts to lessen a bit. It's why they get one half of the bed to themselves.

"How nice it feels to know I'm still here and loved." She rests her head on Lando's chest, the steady rythme of his heart lulling her into a restful state.

"Life wouldn't be the same without you." He kisses the top of her head as her mind finally gives into sleep.

February

Her and Max sit together at the large conference table. The factory is preparing for the new season. Energy is running high, and she can feel it crackling in the atmosphere.

Christian talks about how excited he is for the new season. 2023 is going to be theirs to dominate. Adrian has been working tirelessly to give them a title worthy car.

"We have had to make some last-minute changes to the team, unfortunately." Christian makes eye contact with her, and the good feeling she had dissolves. "Your race engineer has fallen terminally ill and is being hospitalized. The good news is we've found a last-minute replacement."

The door opens, and she feels the air leave her lungs. Her body shakes in fear of the man who takes confident strides to his chair.

Christian introduces them, clearly not understanding that they know each other very well. The man is her father, after all.

She has her mother's last name. Intent on separating herself from him entirely. He'd been doing Indie car for years. She never thought he'd make the switch after how they left things.

Max shoots her a concerned look, but she shakes it off. None of the boys had ever seen what her father looks like. They don't know she changed her last name.

She has no intention of ruining a good season because of her petty emotions. So, she says nothing.

March

It's not as bad as she thought it would be. They don't interact much aside from talking about data and while she's in the car.

The underhanded comments make her thoughts reel. The constant questioning of her skill while she's driving makes her think she's crazy. Her father is too good at making it look like a joke. People laugh with him, not understanding he means what he says.

He talks over her, cuts her off, bosses her around like she's still a child. She shrinks in on herself every time he cones around.

Stay silent and listen. That's what got her through her childhood. Just don't make him angry.

He lashes out when he's angry.

Charles is there when a nightmare causes her to be sick. A memory of her childhood that haunts her still.

The Monegasque holds her hair up and rubs her back as she sobs. He makes her a warm drink and holds her, letting her wet tears soak into his shirt.

"Do you want to talk about it, mon chéri?" He whispers gently against her forehead.

She inhales, breath catching in her throat as she does. "My dad, he - well - he used to say I'd never be anything. I sometimes dream about the memory."

"Your father and Jos can fuck off." Charles cups her face with his hands. "You are amazing. Whatever he told you is a lie. You've proven yourself to the world. Your younger self can rest knowing she got you here, that you are safe and loved and enough."

April

It's getting worse by the day. She's not sure where her father got the idea that he could order her around like she's still five and karting. It's getting annoying and ridiculous.

He's taken to snatching any food out of her hand and tossing it away into the nearest bin. What a waste. He could've eaten it himself.

He keeps telling her the car is too heavy. The data doesn't show that, but whatever. Her food being taken from her like when she was young was not how she expected the season to go. She takes to not eating because it's easier than fighting with him.

Her physio keeps asking her about why her weight seems to be plummeting recently. Even trying to get it back on her with altered meal plans. The concerns get brought up later in a meeting with Christian. The severity of her condition being made apparent.

Max watches her sob over a salad. She can tell he wants to push, asked what is causing the relapse. Understand where her head is at.

He hands her a water bottle and waits until she drinks the entire thing. "It's okay to struggle, but please don't shut us out. You don't have to do this alone, alright?"

She doesn't respond, simply collapses into his patient arms.

May

Lando and Charles happened to be passing by at the worst time. The Redbull garage still buzzing with the excitement of Max's podium and her mediocre result compared.

They saw her race engineer laying into her about every mistake. No other staff around to hear the conversation. Her head hung in shame as he pointed out every flaw.

Charles interrupts with such ease. He says her PR officer was looking for her earlier. It gets her to excuse herself from the conversation, leaving the two boys with her engineer.

"Mind your own business next time," scoffs the older man. He leaves the younger two confused.

Charles takes in Lando's mildly anxious body movements. "Something isn't right, Charles. She had that same look from when we were rookies."

Charles hums in agreement. "We'll have to wait for her to come to us for now."

June

The underhanded comments are getting progressively worse. People have started noticing that something is off about her race engineer and his behavior towards her.

Meetings are difficult and the team is walking on eggshells. Max looks ready to explode and has been ripping her father to pieces after every comment. He gets in trouble, so she asks him to stop.

She doesn't mind. Her whole life has been taking this kind of behavior from him. Max knows better than anyone that it's best to respect that kind of ask.

"I'm here if things ever get to a point where you want it to stop. I will always be here for you."

July

Her wight combined with her self-harming habits are making it harder to drive. Somewhere in her head she knows she can't continue like this. The car no longer works with her.

Christian keeps pulling her into his office and asking her about where she's at. Warning her the if she continues down this road, she won't be able to drive. That he'll be forced to find a replacement.

She cries as the boys hold her. She tells them she's not sure if she can do it anymore, that she's not cut out for this sport. They comfort and reassure her that's a lie.

Her thoughts remain stuck on being a burden to them. She gets better just to fall once more into her old habits. They have careers and goals that would be easier to achieve without her around.

Maybe her father is right about her after all.

August

The summer break brings them a much-needed reprieve from the fast-paced world they live in. She gets to spend time away from the incessant voice of the man she hates. Her boys occupying her mind instead.

There is a finality about this that she can't explain. Like things can only get better from here on out. That something in her future is going to bring her the one thing she's looking for.

Swimming in the ocean and eating what they want. They laugh and joke like nothing has changed. It's the first time in months that she feels normal.

This is how things should be. The smile on her face is genuine and the boys can all tell.

September

The cuts line her skin in an unorganized fashion. Angry, red, and bleeding. Her race had been ended early due to a collision. She'd been collateral damage; it wasn't her fault.

The media didn't see it that way. Her father definitely had no mercy when he mercilessly explained how she will never be good enough as a driver.

Hidden away in her drivers' room now, watching the blood pour from her skin. The boys know, they've seen the fresh lines. They are trying to find a way to get her to stop, but these feeling are fighting back harder than ever before. She's not sure how to fight them anymore.

Disappearing seems like the best option. The only way she'll be able to escape the dark thoughts swirling in her head. The one place her father won't be able to touch her anymore will be in her death.

She moans as the blade digs deeper. The ecstasy that accompanies addiction is a feeling she will always crave. Sick satisfaction bubbles in her throat and pour out on her eyes as red stains the floor.

This wasn't her plan, but it's okay. The pain makes all her thoughts go away. Lessens the weight on her chest. Forces her mind to focus on something else.

Everything is spinning and then it goes dark.

Warm hands and comforting words. That's all she's ever wanted.

October

The boys can see how sick she is. Max won't let her be alone in the garage. Not after she almost died.

Her physio is with her when none of the boys are. They keep asking her questions that she won't give answers to.

It's not until an altercation with her father is finally caught. He's condemning her over the radio while she's driving. They'd had an argument earlier about how she should be taking turn three.

The public execution is miserable. Still, she puts her head down and drives.

The second-place trophy has never felt heavier. It drags her arms downwards as she heads to the garage with Max. He doesn't know about what happened yet and she hopes it stays that way. She screams as she puts it away in her room.

She avoids her father as much as possible on the way to the press conference. The glimpse she does get of him leaves a bitter taste in her mouth. Christian looks angry as he presses a finger into her father's chest.

She's zoned out majority of the conference. Until A journalist with a soft voice is asking about her feelings towards her race engineer.

"It's just how things are sometimes. I wasn't listening to instructions, and he was frustrated. It happens." She shrugs it off like this is the most normal everyday occurrence. Which, in her defense, it kind of is.

Every media outlet seems to want to know more about it. Her emotions are struggling to remain contained. the inevitable sobs escape after a particularly worded question about whether his actions could be considered abuse or not.

She breaks, collapsing in the middle of the media pen. Her boys are there blocking the view of the cameras as her body fails to move.

They know now what has been happening. Her secret is out there for everyone to see.

November

Her father is fired from the team with immediate effect. Christian apologizes relentlessly for not knowing and not seeing it sooner.

The media is asked to refrain from asking about the incident and anything regarding her past race engineer. They respect it, probably wanting to avoid another meltdown in the middle of an interview.

Max, Lando and Charles are with her through every step of the way. They encourage her to talk to them and she does. It feels nice not having to hold in her family secrets.

They want to help her, and she wants to be helped.

Her race engineer for the end of the season ends up taking the job for next year. He's kind and keeps his voice calm. Her last few drives amaze everyone.

The top step of the podium has never felt so good. She didn't need to prove herself to anyone, but the confidence it brings her is hard to deny.

Closure feels even better.

December

Her therapist is proud of her for opening up to the boys more. They don't push her to spill everything, but they encourage her when she does.

The end of the year pulls them closer together. After everything that happened, she wasn't sure she was going to see 2024 come around. She's glad she does though.

She fought to the end. She made it to her peace. A place where her father can't touch.

Warm hands and gentle words for all of eternity.

January... Again

Three boys stand in front of a grave. Her favorite flowers in hand. The silence stretches between them. None of them know how to proceed.

The memory of finding her on the floor replays in Max's head. He should've known to find her right after the race. That cold September afternoon in Zandvoort. The day she bled out for one final time.

Charles and Lando assure Max it's not his fault. IT hadn't been her plan. There was no note, not even a warning sign aside from her mental health declining.

Her father, who they now know was the catalyst for her relapse, is in jail. Christian made sure to get him put away so the boys wouldn't have to worry about it.

The other drivers came to the funeral. The journalists respect their wishes not to speak on the matter. They need to heal before they can even think about trying to explain how all three of them had taken time off.

The FIA pushed the races back since Redbull needed to sort things out. The memorial on the track has been visited by everyone on the team.

They tried so hard. They wanted her to stay. They can only hope that she found what she needed in whatever lies beyond this life.

348 notes · View notes

seeingivy · 10 months

Text

new year's day

actor eren x f!reader

**part of my method acting fic, masterlist here

content: reader mentions insecurity, connie and reiner teasing you, smooching, levi being a dad for ten minutes straight, sukuna cameo

an: I MISSED YOU POOKIES SO MUCH. SO SO MUCH. war (my 9-5) is over. this ended up at 9k, I hope it can compensate for the wait. ALSO VERY IMPORTANT WE'VE REACHED OUR FIRST TAYLOR SONG OF THE FIC. you can listen to new year's day from reputation before reading - it'll make the end part make more sense <3 (me furthering my turning people into swifties agenda, I saw her last night and my brain chemistry changed)

previous part linked here

“Go outside and look at the moon.”

“No. I’m really comfortable in my bed.”

“Oh, come on Y/N. Just go outside.”

You grumble some nice profanities at Eren over the phone as you shuffle out of your sheets, pushing open your window to stick your head out. The breeze in the air is cold, the frigid atmosphere invading your already freezing room.

Erwin won’t justify turning on the heater. There are only four people in the townhouse right now - you, Levi, Hange, and Erwin (which is totally not your worst nightmare) - and apparently, that doesn’t justify heater use at all. Luckily enough, Eren and his very convincing angry face will arrive tomorrow to save you from your eternal winter.

“S’cold, Jaeger.”

“Yeah, yeah. Do you see the moon?”

You crane your head up, twisting back in the window to look at it. A small crescent pressed against the sky, just slightly hidden beneath the clouds.

“Yes, Eren. I see the moon.”

“Okay. Now look to your right.”

“Are we playing Simon Says?”

“STOP SASSING ME AND JUST DO IT.”

You’re thrown off by the irritation in his voice, and you turn over, peeking your head entirely out to look to the right.

“Very exciting views, Eren. It’s literally pitch black.”

You don’t see much, just the tandem bike you set out for tomorrow - when Eren would be here and not berating you through the phone - and the small patch of flowers that are by the front door.

“I meant your other right, Y/N.”

You shift your head to the left and see Eren standing there, his green hoodie pulled over his head and a cheeky smile pressed into his face.

You drop your phone flat on the floor, running (falling) down the steps out into the cold air, your socks against the cold pavement as you run out to greet him.

He’s already holding his arms open, which you run into, as you burrow your face into his shoulder, his warm arms squeezing around your frame and his laugh in your ears.

“You were supposed to come tomorrow, Eren.”

“And yet I’m here today, Y/N.”

“Shut up. You know what I meant.”

“Flight got moved up. And maybe I just wanted some time in the house where it’s just you and me - you know, without Mikasa interrupting us every two seconds.”

You laugh as you and Eren sling your arms around each other’s shoulders, trudging out of the cold and into the kitchen.

Before you can even mention it, Eren’s pulling out two bowls, and you’re grabbing the ramen packets, the two of you leaning against the counter as you watch the water boil. As excited as you are to see him and actually to be near him, there isn’t really much to talk about.

You guys literally talk every single day.

“How’s the song coming?”

You groan, leaning into his shoulder as he laughs, his hand coming around your shoulder to rest in your hair. But it’s better. Because you can see him with your own eyes, hear him with your own ears, feel him with your own hands.

“Bad. I’m never going to finish it.”

“You’ll finish it. Plus, Armin’s coming soon, and he knows how to rhyme and stuff.”

“That’s not the problem. I feel like the lyrics work when I can figure out the backing tracks and the music. But I keep getting tangled up because I can’t figure out the piano.”

He reaches forward, opening the packets of noodles and dipping them into the water as you start chopping up the vegetables on the side.

“I play piano, Y/N. I can help you if you want.”

“No. That would just be more embarrassing. I get super frustrated when I’m writing. It would be infinitely worse if you were there watching me fail.”

He rolls his eyes as he takes the knife from your hand, lightly pushing you to the side to watch the noodles.

“You’re not going to fail. Let me help you. No one gets a hit on the first try, stupid.”

“Don’t call me stupid, idiot.”

“My bad, dumbass.”

“Language, Eren,” Levi says from behind you two.

You watch a smile spread across Eren’s face as he moves, running past the side of the counter to give Erwin, Hange, and a now-annoyed Levi a hug. Hange and Erwin are ruffling his hair, Hange cooing about how their little stars are back together again.

Eren joins you again at your side as you're dishing out the food, Erwin pulling out a stack of papers as you and Eren start eating at the counter.

“Business.”

“Go ahead, Erwin.” Eren says, handing you the hot sauce before you can even reach for it.

“So. Final scripts. As you’ll see, there aren't too many big scenes for you this season. It’s mostly focusing on this whole Utgard Castle arc, which you’re both not in.” Erwin explains.

“Okay, that’s-” you say.

“That doesn’t mean you both can slack off. There are more scenes for the rest of them because we need you two to nail the scenes you are in. Eren - this whole Colossal Titan reveal, you need to put everything you’ve got into it. If you think I’ve pushed you hard before, you’re in for a whole different playing field this season.” Levi says, glaring at Eren.

You watch Eren roll his eyes, grumbling under his breath as he agrees and starts flipping through the script.

“And you too, Y/N. This whole “Thank You” scene at the end - the majority of the dialogue falls on you. But you need to deliver in all ways. You better be acting with your eyes, your mind, your entire being. This is the type of scene you both could get nominated for as awards that’ll get you more roles. Take it seriously.” Levi continues.

At the mention of awards, you and Eren both perk your ears up, flipping to the end of the script to the scenes tabbed at the ends with your name on it. You quickly run your eyes through the scene and the staging and feel your throat constrict at the staging lines right in the middle, bolded.

Y/N leans forward, grabs Eren by the collar, and presses the softest kiss to his lips. It’s not overly passionate or sensational, but to the two of them, it’s a simple message. One they’ve known all along, maybe since they first met - in that cabin all those years ago.

I know how you feel. You don’t have to say it.

You feel your eyes widen as you look up at Hange and Levi, the words spilling out of your mouth.

“You want us to kiss?”

“Huh?”

At your words, Eren’s leaning over into your space, reading the line marked, and suddenly your cheeks are both burning pink. You both give each other a glance, which only makes it more awkward, as you shuffle as far away from each other as possible.

“Yeah. It’ll fit the scene. It’s just one kiss, maybe two if we don’t get it on the first take.” Hange says nonchalantly as they start flipping through the rest of the highlighted script.

As Erwin, Hange, and Levi start milling through their own conversations - discussing sets, costumes, that scene - you squeak out something that stops them in their tracks.

“I’ve never kissed anyone before.”

Hange’s eyes light up as they nearly jump to your side, taking your cheeks into their hands and teasing you. They flip you around so you’re facing Eren, which you’ve been avoiding this entire time, and start whispering into your ear.

“Aw, isn’t he so sweet? It’ll be so nice to have your first kiss with your best friend, someone you trust.”

“Uh, I-”

“Cmon. Eren won’t bite now, will he?”

Eren awkwardly pads to the other side of the room, shoving his face into his script, as Levi comes over and yanks Hange by the hair, muttering something about how they need to stop teasing you.

“Another thing. While they’re filming the Utgard Castle scenes, you’re both not really in, you’re both going on a press junket. We’ll all be there as well.”

“The rest of the cast too?”

“No, just you two, Eren. They’re all going to finish filming so we can maximize time and all that. You’ll return on New Year’s Day to film that last scene.”

“Can we come back earlier? Y/N’s birthday is on New Year’s Eve. She should be here to celebrate with everyone and not on a stuffy plane.”

“Fine. You’ll come back that day. And then the scene is the day after.”

Hange, Erwin, and Levi give the two of you a curt nod as they pad back upstairs, leaving you, Eren, and your two bowls of ramen in the kitchen. You and Eren take the bowls and place them on the table, eating silently.

It’s still hanging in your mind. In a little less than a month, you’re going to be kissing Eren.

“Y/N.”

“Yeah, Eren?”

“I haven’t kissed anyone either.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“I just mean, it doesn’t have to be awkward. We’ll just…figure it out together. And it’s you and me, so it won’t be weird.”

You smile, watching the last of your noodles swirl around the bowl as his words seep into your head. Right. It is just you and Eren. You’re best friends. It’s just one kiss. Or maybe two. It’s not a big deal.

“Yeah. You and me, Eren.”

He smiles in response, the awkwardness lifting off of you as you both finish eating.

The second Connie, Reiner, and Ymir make it back on set, their incessant teasing starts. They read the scripts. Kissy faces, smooching sounds, purposely pushing you and Eren into corners together just so they can tease you.

“Eren. Are you excited to kiss, Y/N?”

“Shut up, Connie.”

“Is this your first kiss together? You must be sooo excited, Y/N.”

“Okay, Reiner. Are you excited for your weird pervert lines about Historia?”

The entire room laughs, Historia and Mikasa coming over to yank you out of the corner and sit at the table with them as you all catch up. Armin’s going around - taking pictures of everyone for our first day of filming with his Polaroid - as he starts labeling them all.

There’s one of Reiner and Bertholdt - in their iconic fists to each other’s back poses - labeled “pervert and giraffe” by Connie.

Another one of Sasha sleeping face first on the table from her jet lag while Connie and Jean are spraying whipped cream into her hair, labeled “connie springer, ultimate menace”

And another one of you and Eren, fist-bumping each other, labeled “l/n-jaegers, season two”

Connie films his first incriminating video ten minutes after that. It's Eren tucking your hair behind your ear.

You yank your earphones out as you crunch the pebbles under your feet, rubbing the sleepiness from your eyes. When Armin walks up next to you, he’s immediately leaning his head on your shoulder, his eyes sleepily shut as you wait for everyone else to join.

It’s five in the morning. And you really, really hate Hange for this.

You’re all supposed to be filming a scene two hours away, in the snowcaps. It’s meant to be a flashback scene, primarily for Ymir and Historia, which is why you’re pissed that you had to wake up this early anyways. The light is barely peeking into the sky, the hues still a dark navy as everyone strolls out of the townhouse.

Jean’s grumbling profanities, Mikasa’s dragging Connie out, and Sasha's the only one who’s really awake. Erwin slides open the bus door, and you trudge in, sliding into the first seat.

You're leaning your head against the glass, ice cold, as you try to flutter your eyes closed again to rest a little bit on the drive over. You feel a shifting in the seat next to you and two hands on your head, moving you through space.

You peek your eyes open to find Eren, placing your forehead against his shoulder instead of the glass.

“Huh, what-”

“Sorry, Y/N. Didn’t mean to wake you. Just figured it would be more comfortable this way.” he whispers, lightly pulling the hood of your jacket back over your head.

You nestle more into his shoulder, letting the weight of your head fall entirely onto his shoulder as he readjusts under you, his arm splayed across your back. You feel his head resting on top of yours, your breaths in tandem as you both shut your eyes and drift off to a very unrestful and bumpy sleep.

You wake up two hours later to the flash of a camera. And when you open your eyes, Armin and Connie are smirking at you, holding up the Polaroid of you and Eren sleeping in front of your face and then running out the bus.

You frown as you rub your eye sockets with your knuckles, readjusting your hair and cracking out your neck.

"Fuck Erwin for getting Armin that camera."

“I really hope they’re not there when we have to kiss each other, Eren. They’re never going to let us hear the end of it.”

“You and me both.”

He holds his hand out, helping you up from the chair as you both pull on your jackets and join everyone else in the snow.

“Sleep well?”

You and Eren turn your heads to find Marco standing beside you, a shy smile on his face. You and Eren both reach forward, pulling your arms around him as you start talking at the same time, shocked at his presence.

“Marco. What the fuck? What are you doing-”

“You didn’t even tell us you were coming! That’s so messed up. You bitch.”

He pulls back, a hand resting on both of your shoulders as he smiles, the look soft.

“Sorry, guys. I wanted it to be a surprise. I’ll be here after you’re back from the press junket, too, Y/N. For your birthday.”

You smile at him, giving him one more hug as he ruffles your hair, the two of you linking arms as you wait to film the scene at hand. After you film the aforementioned extremely short scene - which just makes you more aggravated at Levi and Hange because why the hell did you have to come out here for that - the lot of you head into the cabin, peeling off your snow coats and settling into the seats.

Armin and Eren settle at the window, the two of them teaching each other card tricks while Bertholdt follows Sasha to rummage for snacks. Mikasa and Reiner run off to explore the upper level of the cabin as you and Marco sit flat against the wall, watching everyone walk around.

“How are you, Y/N?”

“Okay, Marco. How are you?”

“I meant. Regarding everything we talked about last time and all that.”

“Oh. Right.”

The last time you saw Marco was when he came to visit you and stay with your family for a week. It was an impromptu trip after you mentioned to him that things weren’t going so great. Granted, he was only an hour away from filming a short film and had the time to spare, but it still meant the world.

He places a hand on the top of your knee as you look over at Eren, his eyebrows scrunched in concentration as he starts talking.

“You doing okay? Seriously?” he asks.

“It feels better when I’m here. With you guys. Especially you, now that you’re here. I feel most normal here and wildly out of place when I’m home.”

He sighs, squeezing your knee as you watch Eren place his card down, a victorious screech leaving his mouth as Armin rolls his eyes.

“I can’t say I understand. We all went to the SHWA when we were so little, and I guess there was always some understanding that we’d be…in the spotlight. Scrutinized. No grocery stores or going to the beach, or any of that. Those things wouldn’t be normal. There was really no…normal to go back to.”

You reach down, holding his hand, as you tilt your head back on the wall.

“I don’t know. It’s weird. Sometimes it feels like I can’t even be normal without people picking apart everything I do. I knew this was something I wanted badly but never figured it would be like this.”

“Yeah. I know the feeling.” he responds.

Eren looks over from his spot on the windowsill, eyebrows scrunched together in frustration now as he mouths the words.

You okay?

You nod, albeit halfheartedly, as Marco pulls you up, the two of you scooting into the kitchen.

“Did you tell him about any of this?”

“No.” “Don’t be silly, Y/N. The first thing they say at the SHWA is to rely on the people around you. The ones who understand.”

“I do rely on the people around me. I’m talking to you right now.”

He reaches forward to flick your forehead, the spot stinging.

“Ouch, asshole.”

“I’m not a series regular anymore. And he’s the person you should tell. He’d want to know.”

You roll your eyes at him as Sasha comes up, splitting half of her chocolate bar with you. Armin and Eren amble in a little while later, the lot of you all standing in the kitchen, watching Connie shove as many marshmallows as he can into Reiner’s mouth.

Armin takes a picture. Labels it “chubby bunny gone wrong” when Reiner’s choking over the sink.

The press junket is insane. You and Eren are spending three days, all at the same convention, doing panels together. All while trying to memorize the lines for your kiss scene. Levi and Erwin said to meet as many people as the two of you could socialize as much as you can. Answer questions about the show for fans without letting Eren spoil the show.

The first interview was a get-to-know-the-actors test. You and Eren are tasked with asking each other simple questions and talking about them. It should be easy. As the camera beeps red for recording, Eren turns to the side and starts.

“My name is Eren Jaeger, and I’m one of the cast members of Attack on Titan.”

“And I’m Y/N L/N, and I’m also from the cast of Attack on Titan. We’re going to be doing an interview today for you to get to know us better!”

Eren leans forward, giving you a warm smile as you talk. He reaches forward, reading off the question on the first card.

“Y/N. Did you take anything home from the set?”

You turn to the side, making a fake warning face into the camera.

“Levi, if you’re watching, stop.”

Eren laughs as you turn back to him, trying to ignore the lights blaring in your eyes.

“Um. I totally accidentally took one of the scarves home. But that was an accident. Did you take anything?”

“I stole one of Armin’s polaroids from the wall. I keep it in my wallet. And I totally stole one of the ODM gear swords.”

“Huh? What do you even do with that?”

“Threaten my brother.”

“Oh my god, Eren. Jesus. Which polaroid did you take?”

“I have it, actually.”

Eren smiles at you as he yanks his wallet out of his pocket, handing the shiny white Polaroid over. You smile as you remember the day, the picture being of you and Eren with your ramen bowls. Armin’s inscription says, “sosuke and ponyo.” You hold it up to the camera before handing it back to Eren, making a mental note to steal one of Armin’s Polaroids too.

“Okay, Eren. Your question is…who is the first person you call when you get good news?”

His cheeks turn pink as he pinches the bridge of his nose, rolling his eyes at the camera.

“This is kind of cheesy.”

“Huh, Eren?”

“The person I call is you.”

You smile, twiddling with the end of your braids as you respond.

“My answer is you too.”

He smiles back, the two of you getting through the rest of the questions and thanking the crew team in the filming room. As you and Eren swing out of the door, he pulls the tiny little sheet Levi had made for the two of you out of his pocket, looking where to go next. You’re leaning so close into his space to read the little sheet that you can smell his minty gum, the smell filling your nose.

You’re going to the networking event.

You and Eren slide into the hallway, a big expensive conference room filled with people milling around. Almost everyone is nursing a glass of red wine in their hands, all adults talking over and around you as you both awkwardly stand at the front. You instinctively reach down for Eren’s hand, the two of you locking fingers as you move forward.

You both naturally lean against the wall, watching everyone walk around as you enter the room. All men. Well, almost all men. But from what you can tell, the only other women in the room are actresses - the producers, directors, screenwriters - they’re all men.

“Does it feel weird to you here, Eren?”

“Kind of. I can’t really place what it is, but it doesn’t really feel like we’re allowed to be here.”

You’re both significantly younger than almost everyone in this room. And they’re all drinking. Talking about god knows what. You try to scan the room - looking for Erwin, Hange, or Levi but come out dry from your search. Eren must be sensing your unease because he’s leading you toward the doors, ready to yank the two of you out of the situation.

But before he can, a man stops him, tapping him on the shoulder to talk to him. You both stop in your tracks, half turning around to look at him. He’s extremely tall, looming over the two of you, and you feel infinitely small in front of him. He looks at Eren, a self-assured smile pressed on his face as he introduces himself.

“Scott Clarkson. I’m a producer for Stone Studios.”

“I’m Eren Jaeger. This is-”

“I know who you are, Eren. I was invited to see one of the first cuts of the latest movie you just filmed and-”

Before you can even understand what’s happening, he has his hand on Eren’s shoulder, and they’re walking down the length of the hall, the end of their conversation lost to you. Eren looks back, and you give him a halfhearted smile as he tries to turn back before getting stuck in a larger group of people.

You make your way back against the wall, sliding into one of the farthest chairs and swirling a cup of lemonade in your hands. You watch the pulp of the lemon dissolve into your cup as you aggressively swirl, the drops landing on the black of your skirt.

It’s moments like this where you feel like you don’t belong. Marco’s words swirl through your mind, that this type of stuff is normal for them because they have no normal to return to, but you can’t help but feel other to them even if they are where you feel most comfortable.

Eren’s on the other side of the room, now stuck in a big group and laughing with producers and casting directors and talking about movies he’s filming and what he has lined up next. You’re on the other side of the room, sulking against the wall - you’d be shocked if they even knew who you were.

You’re not jealous of him. If anything, it’s everything Eren deserves and more. He’s always been phenomenal. But that’s just the thing, he’s everything and you’re not even on the same playing field.

Sometimes, it feels like Eren’s too good to be your friend. Your co-star. Someone you’re around. You can feel your knuckles turning white against the plastic of the cup, crushing against your hand.

“You know, if you do that any harder, you’re going to spill it all over yourself. Then I’ll have to take my pants off so you don’t look like an idiot.”

You look up to find Sukuna smiling at you, with Nobara and Maki rolling their eyes at him. You hop up, crushing Nobara and him in a hug and physically feeling the unease untangle in your chest.

“Hi. I’m really glad you’re here I-”

“This shit always sucks. I have no idea why we’re forced to come to these things.” Maki says, sliding into the seat on your left. Sukuna sits to your right, his arm resting across the back of your chair as the four of you whisper, well, more like the three of them explaining who all the producers in the room are, as you sit there.

“Hey Sukuna.”

“Hm, doll?”

“That guy. The one talking to Eren. Who is he?”

He squints his eyes as he cranes around the room, trying to find where you’re pointing at Eren. And when he does, you watch his eyes widen before he talks again.

“Ah. That’s Clarkson. He’s kind of an asshat.”

“What? Why?”

“No, he’s just a dick. A really great producer makes super cool movies, but he’s…not the best. All that shit you hear about the industry running people dry, taking advantage of people. They’re talking about him. And his lot.” Nobara explains, glaring daggers at him.

“Not his entire lot, Nobara. His daughter is fine.” Sukuna says, reaching over to you and Maki to flick her cheek.

“She’s a bitch. You’re just saying that because you’re dating her.” Nobara responds, flicking him back.

“Who's a bitch?”

The four of you break apart, still leaning over each other, to find Eren, Levi, and a short girl with brown hair staring at you.

“No one, Hyla.” Nobara says, grumbling as she and Maki stand up. Levi gets side-swiped into a conversation. He looks like he’d rather be five feet under than whatever he was talking about as the six of you stand up. You hold your hand out, introducing yourself to Hyla.

“Y/N. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Hyla Clarkson. Your dad was the one who acted in Interstellar, right?”

“No. That’s Historia’s dad, but I get the confusion. We’re just from the same show.”

You watch her eyebrows pinch up in confusion as she crosses her hands around her chest.

“Oh! Was your mom the one in Moonrise Kingdom?” she asks.

“Nope. I-”

“So what film were they-”

“My parents are dentists. They’re not really in the industry like that.” you ramble out, trying to spare yourself from any more embarrassment.

She smiles, the expression not meeting her eyes, as she reaches down and links her hand with Sukunas.

“That’s really sweet, actually. Humble beginnings and all that,” she says.

“I think it’s pretty cool. Like yeah, we all land roles because our parents kind of help us get them in some way. But, Y/N worked her way to the lead of the show, sans famous parents. It’s a testament to true talent. ” Eren says, his voice firm.

“I agree. L/N has always been badass, especially on the screen.” Maki says, glaring at Hyla altogether.

She rolls her eyes as she reaches into the pocket of her dress, taking out a shiny silver card and handing it to Eren.

“Eren. This is my dad’s card. He wanted me to give you another one unless you lost it.” Hyla says, giving Eren a hug before she walks away.

You both wait outside for Levi to join you, quietly standing against the wall. You watch Eren turn over the card in his hands before ripping it up, slashing right through Scott Clarkson’s shiny name in the middle.

“That’s a bit harsh, Eren. He’s a really good producer from what I’ve heard,” you say.

“Don’t care. We’ll get there on our own - we don’t need leg-ups from guys like that.”

You smile as you lean your head on Eren’s shoulder, the anxious feeling still tingling in your chest. Levi makes his way out, giving you two a smile as you both get dragged to your next panel, individual interviews.

You go first. The interviewer is a pale blonde girl with a stack of cards in her hand.

“Y/N. Who's your favorite male co-star on set?”

“Oh, um. That’s a hard question to ask, we’re all friends.”

You can tell she’s not satisfied with your answer by her uptight posture, the irritation rolling out of her mouth.

“Oh, don’t pick a cop-out answer. Who's your favorite male co-star? Is it Eren?”

“Um, sure? He’s my best friend on set. But I like everyone.”

She smiles, switching to her next card.

“Fans have picked up on matching bracelets you and Eren have been wearing during this press tour. Can you comment on the story behind them?”

“Oh, sure! It was last year, at the Savant Awards TV show awards. A pair of sweet fans gifted them to us.”

She doesn’t comment any further on the story, switching to the next card as you swirl the bracelet around on your wrist, concealing Eren’s name on the beads against the inner part of your wrist. You have a feeling that what you just said will already get twisted into something it’s not, which in the worst way, distorts the entire thing for you together.

“Okay, well, that’s all I have for you.”

You give her a smile as you switch seats, taking Eren’s previous seat. Hange places a hand on your head, and you watch them share a look with Levi as Eren takes the seat.

“You’re a phenomenal actor, Eren. What gets you in the zone on set?”

“Thank you so much! I usually have to take a second before I start filming a scene just to get in the right headspace. Especially for scenes that I film with Y/N, I usually need her to be right there next to me just so I can…feel the scene before we film it.”

The interviewer smiles, sliding to the next card as she asks Eren the questions. She couldn’t be this cheery and enthusiastic for you?

“Do you have any pre-filming rituals before you get on set and start filming?” she asks.

“I need to eat a bowl of ramen with Y/N before we start. It’s not like a good luck thing or anything, but we’ve just always started our day like that and now we just have to do it before we go on and film.” Eren responds, looking over to give you a smile.

You give him a thumbs up as he keeps going, trying not to pay too much attention to the fact that all of Eren’s questions are about his upcoming roles, his acting techniques, his favorite parts of acting, and how yours were all about him. Granted, Eren somehow brings you up in almost every question he answers - even if it’s not explicitly related to you - which only makes the entire thing fester in your mind more.

What are people going to say about it? This would just make what everyone says about you guys worse.

Not that it’s bad, but they just…say things. Granted, everyone had been saying things since the start, but you’ve always chalked that up to the fact that you and Eren are closer than everyone else is. And you know how the two of you are, but everyone else seems to have their own opinions about it. And maybe you should try to stop it? But if that’s how you are, who are you to change and-

“You okay?”

Eren’s taken the seat next to you, leaving Erwin to get interviewed next. You’re both slumped into the chairs at the back, Levi and Hange whispering in hushed voices in front of you. You can’t help but wonder if they felt this way when they were filming La La Land, but then again, they had no reason to deny anything that anyone said. They were actually together.

“Yeah. Just want to go home.”

He frowns as he brings a hand to the top of your head, leaning it to rest on his shoulder again. His cold fingers are in your scalp, pressing against the pulsating headache you’d been ignoring for the past hour, soothing the feeling.

Should you guys really be sitting like this if there are cameras five feet away? And what if-

“Do you want to take a walk? We can go look for lemonade or something.”

You nod as you both stand up, giving Hange and Levi a wave as you walk off. You’re slowly ambling behind Eren as he looks around for the drinks, the entire day replaying in your mind.

You just want to go back to set. Have Mikasa tell you goodnight, eat breakfast with Sasha, play cards with Armin. None of this press junket, stupid interviewers, uncomfortable producers business.

You feel a tugging on your arm, and you look back to find two girls looking at you. They can’t be much older than you, maybe eighteen or nineteen, with matching Attack on Titan shirts. With your face on it.

“Hi. We’re Sarah and Sofia. We’re really, really big fans of the show. We were wondering if we could get a picture with you?”

“Oh! Yeah, of course. I’d love to.” you respond.

You take a few pictures with them before handing them their phones back.

“Are you guys enjoying the panels?”

“Yes! We’ve gone to every single one of yours, you’ve been doing really well.”

You can feel your cheeks burning at their praise, reaching forward to hold both of their hands as you talk.

“You guys are too kind. And I really, really love the shirts. Did you make them yourselves?”

“Yeah! We also drove down two hours just to come watch, it’s been such a good weekend. We really, really admire you for what you’ve done. It seems like we hardly ever see “normal” people in the media. But every time we watch you do an interview, you always bring up our favorite songs and slang that we use, it just…makes it feel like there’s someone like us on the screen.”

You squeeze their hands, the tears welling in your eyes as you fight them down while responding.

“I promise, I’m a thousand times more like you than any of them, in more ways than you’d think. And…you could do it too. It’s like you said, we’re one and the same.”

They’re smiling so brightly at you that it’s making your heart squish in your chest, the feeling all warm and gooey and self-soothing. Right. You can do it. Who gives a fuck if a stupid reporter or these people think you’re lame - the people who watch your show are the ones that matter.

“We love you so much. You’re so, so sweet. You’re literally the nicest celebrity we’ve ever met. I’m sure you have to run soon - I can see Eren back there staring bullets at us - but we hope you have a really good birthday tomorrow, and we can’t wait to meet you again.” they say.

You wrap your arms around both of them as they both run off, excitedly talking, as you see Eren coming up to join you. He has a cup of lemonade in his right hand, the left hand reaching forward to wipe away the one tear that escaped your eyes.

“Sure you’re okay?”

You look over at him, green eyes looking into yours, and reach down to take his hand.

“Yeah. I’m okay.”

“Let’s go home, yeah?”

You nod, the two of you shuffling off to where you came from.

When you get on the plane, your impending panic of the “Thank You” scene comes back. You’re both landing on set on New Year’s Day - which is your birthday, so you won’t be filming. Levi and Hange granted you the night off, and Eren says the two of you can go get slushies when you land. But then you’re filming the scene the next morning. You’re both still stuck on the plane for another seven hours running through the lines.

“Listen, you’ve always been at my side...thank you.”

You drop the script onto the table and groan loudly, to which Eren laughs in response.

“It-it’s falling flat. This scene is too serious, I-we’re going to have to do a million takes.”

“It’s fine- we’ll just practice a lot.”

You switch seats so you’re right next to Eren, the two of you looking down at your scripts and switching. You read each other’s stage notes - you both have a habit of writing notes to help remember lines and blocking - which you’ve found helps reading each other's notes helps you stay in line. Like you’re in each other’s head.

You read through his little scribbles - keep eye contact, start crying here, practice this.

“Eren.”

“Hm?”

“When you say practice this, you mean…”

He leans over, eyes going wide as he snatches his own script back, face burning. The arrow saying “practice this” was pointing to the line referring to the two of you kissing.

“Were you going to practice kissing in the mirror?”

“Shut up.”

“I think a pillow would be more sanitary. Maybe you could find a video of it on the internet or-”

“I was going to ask if you wanted to practice with me,” Eren responds angrily.

You can feel your throat drying, eyes met with Eren’s burning stare.

“Um.”

“I just thought it-it would be worse if we did it wrong. And had to keep trying, and you know that everyone’s going to come to watch us and-”

“I guess, but-”

“You don’t have to, Y/N. I was just thinking about it, and I was going to ask. Just so we don’t…have to do it for the first time in front of cameras.” he mumbles, turning his head away to look out the window.

You sit there for a second and think about it. Eren does have a point. Having Ymir and Reiner stand there while you kiss Eren, or anyone, for the first time would be horribly embarrassing if they were actually standing there. And it would be weird to have your first kiss for the first time in front of someone, maybe it would be a better memory if it was more isolated and someone else.

“Okay, Eren. That actually makes sense.”

He turns back, a shocked expression spreading across his face.

“Really?”

“Yeah, just…don’t be weird or something if it’s bad. I’ve like never really done this before, Eren and-”

“It’ll be fine. We can figure it out together. It’s just…kissing. Can’t be rocket science.”

You nod, albeit apprehensively, as Levi and Hange join you and Eren in the seats across from you.

“You guys doing okay?” Levi asks, pushing bottles of water toward the two of you.

You both nod as you take in their expressions, the two of them more stern or serious than normal. Well, Hange being more stern - Levi has resting serious face.

“We wanted to talk to you about something,” Hange says.

“Okay. Is everything okay?” you ask.

“The press junket. You both were exposed to many different things you really haven’t been to before and we just…want to give you our own advice before we let you go on and about in your careers.” Hange says.

“We care about you both, and there are just some things you should know. We don’t care what you do because you’re your own people, but we just want you to be warned about things you…might see.” Levi continues.

You and Eren give each other a weary look, halfheartedly nodding at the two of them.

“There are some producers in the industry that don’t have your best interest. I’m sure you guys have heard rumors before of what the industry is really like and what it can do to someone - we’re trusting you both to keep your heads when dealing with situations like that.” Hange says.

“I don’t give a shit if it ruins your reputation. You don’t let them ruin you, control you, whatever. Your safety and what you’re comfortable with comes first.” Levi says.

“Have you guys ever been....near stuff like that?” Eren asks

Levi and Hange give each other a weary look before nodding.

“Yes. That’s why we’re telling you because no one ever told us. They’ll make you do things you don’t want to, make it feel like they control you, and take away the things important to you so they’ll know you’ll stay. Some of them are also very deep in some very, very illegal shit, so again. If you value where you are, you won’t interact with them.” Levi says.

You both nod, reaching for each other's hands as Levi and Hange study you with their eyes.

“Eren. Y/N. Did you notice anything weird about the press junkets we did today? Or what the media says?”

“Not really,” Eren responds.

You look down at your hands, focusing on the way your knuckles look when they’re flexed, from clenching so hard, as they all wait for your response. But you guess your silence is enough of an answer because Hange takes that as their sign to start talking.

“I had a feeling. What have you been thinking?” Hange asks.

You can feel your voice getting tangled in your throat and the tears coming to fill your eyes when it comes time to explain, to tell the three of them something they might entirely reject. Or just not understand.

“I just-the press junket was weird. It seemed like the interviewers were all asking me questions about Eren or Connie, or my other co-stars while they were asking Eren questions about his acting and what he does to get ready on set. It just feels like-that’s the only thing they care about when it comes to me. How I interact with other people.”

Eren’s squeezing your hand - three times - as the tears are freely spilling out of your eyes. Right with the words because now that you’ve opened this can of worms, it seems like you won’t stop until they’re all out on the floor.

“And. At the networking event, everyone wanted to talk to Eren and not to me. And it’s not that I’m jealous of him because I want Eren’s dreams to come true just as much as mine, but it…just feels like I’m less than. Like I’m stupid for even trying because my parents are just dentists in a small town, and the only acting I’ve done before this was in a very shitty small-scale production of Hamilton at my middle school.”

Hange and Levi scoot into the seats at your sides, Hange’s arms around you on your left and Eren’s around you on your right. Hange and Eren are squeezing your hands, Levi’s hand softly running through the strands of your hair as you sniffle through all the tears.

“I’m sorry, kid, but this part doesn’t go away. Especially because you’re a girl, something about that makes people think they have the right to the most heinous things about you. They’ll criticize anything and everything you do. You’ll learn to roll with the punches because, at the end of the day, you’re here to make art. Let that do the talking for you.” Hange says.

“I know. I just have to ignore them. Plus, there are nice people out there who really care about the show and what I do so-” you respond.

“More than just care about it, Y/N. People love you. The ones around you and people out there.” Eren says.

“Another thing. Eren, the type of scrutiny you’ll face is nothing compared to what she’s going to face, just on principle. It’s your job to not be the asshole who turns a blind eye to that and it’s your job to defend her if it calls for it. And if anything, it should infuriate you enough anyways that-” Levi mentions, looking over the tops of your heads to look at Eren.

“It already does infuriate me. Who gives the people the right to say anything about her when she’s one of the best ones on the show?” Eren responds, the anger spilling out of his mouth.

Levi and Hange give your hands one last squeeze before walking away, muttering something about how you should just focus on enjoying your birthday tomorrow and the scenes, leaving you and Eren in the seats again.

“What were we talking about before?” you ask.

“Everyone is stupid. You know that, right?”

You sigh, leaning against the chair so you’re looking up at the top of the airplane, the white lights shining on the two of you.

“I know that logically. But sometimes, it just kind of sits in my head. Repeating, and I try to convince myself it’s not true, but-”

“I’ll convince you.”

“What?”

“Just tell me. I’ll convince you. You could have told me before too and whenever you want. I’ll drop whatever it is I’m doing for you if this is what you need me to do.”

You nod, thinking of the best response. Because how do you tell him that he’s the best person you’ve ever met, and this only furthers the fact that he’s just too good for you. Because you’ve never had someone defend you or be so ready to come to your aid before that you don’t know what to do with it?

“I know how you feel. You don’t have to say it, Y/N.”

You laugh, rolling your eyes at him.

“Are you quoting the stage directions from our kiss scene?”

“Maybe. But it’s true. And also, that’s what we were talking about before. Practicing kissing.”

“Maybe after we go to get slushies for my birthday later?”

“Yeah.”

You both smile as you dig your noses back into your scripts, waiting for the plane to reach back to set.

You guys land on set the next day, around three pm. Eren and Levi woke you up on the plane with a little mini-cupcake and a candle to surprise you. Hange then smashed almost all of the frosting onto your face, which just earned them a good amount of scolding from both Eren and Hange. When you land, you and Eren head to the townhouse together, to change before getting slushies.

“Why do you have your phone out, Eren?”

“What? I always have my phone out.”

“Not when you’re like…walking somewhere. And there isn’t even any wifi outside the townhouse, so I don’t even know what you’re doing on that.”

“Can you just walk into the house, please? Do you have to question everything I do?”

You pretend to scratch your temples, like you’re pondering his questions, as Eren rolls his eyes and lightly pushes your head, gesturing you into the house. And when you walk inside, they’re all waiting for you - the foyer of the townhouse decorated for your birthday and little party hats on all of their stupid little heads.

They’re all singing Happy Birthday off cue - Reiner singing opera again, Connie screaming cha-cha-cha off cue, and Historia singing like she’s the next contestant of America’s Got Talent. Mikasa and Sasha bring over a cake with seventeen green candles, each of them giving you a tight hug as you blow out the candles.

“Surprise!” Armin says, flashing the camera in your face.

“This is so sweet, you guys. Thank you,” you say.

“We have gifts. Come on, let’s open them.” Jean says, grabbing you by the hand and leading you to the center room.

They each hand you their gifts, excitedly watching you rip off the wrapping paper. And you get why because it seems like everyone put so much thought into their gifts that it makes your heart squeeze. Mikasa gives you a nice, leatherbound notebook so you can stop writing song lyrics on napkins, and Armin compliments her gift by buying you a nice set of green guitar picks.

You take the time to squeeze everyone in a hug and press a kiss to Ymir’s cheek, much to her dismay, because she writes you the sweetest little birthday note that makes you cry, and Reiner buys you a vinyl player to use for when you make your own record. And when you go all around the circle, you end up back at Eren, who is seemingly empty-handed.

“Did you get me something? You don’t have to, I just-”

“Shut up. Of course, I had to. I just can’t really wrap my gift.” Eren responds, grabbing you by the hand and leading you to the closet near the front door.

The rest of them all follow suit, watching you guys from a little distance.

“Wow, Eren. I love it. I’ve always wanted my own closet.”

“Shut up and open it.”

You reach forward for the handle and swing it open, only to be met with your brothers - Colt and Falco - springing out of the closet and wrapping their arms around you. You’re squeezing the both of them so hard, so excited you’re crying because it’s literally been months on end since you’ve seen them, and you never dreamed they could even be here.

“What are you doing here? Coco, you literally have class in like two days, and Colt so do you and-”

“Eren flew us out for your birthday. We’re leaving at the end of the day tomorrow.”

You turn around, and you know you’re all teary-eyed and pink in the face, but you reach forward and squish Eren into the tightest hug known to man, eliciting cheering from the rest of them still watching you - that you entirely forgot about.

“Eren. I love you so much. Thank you. I’ll pay you back for the plane tickets, but this really means the world to me, and I-”

“You don’t have to pay me back. This was a gift for you, birthday girl,” he says, pinching the side of your cheek.

Nine hours later and the whole new year in the flesh, you’re scribbling lyrics into the little book Mikasa bought you. The party they threw you - fully set with games, karaoke, and a pinata that Bertholdt procured out of thin air - turned out to be so tiring that they all passed out in the foyer, sleeping on top of each other on the couch and the floor.

“Writing a song?”

“Yeah. I think it’s done, actually, I just need to go play it now,” you say.

“Want me to come? I can help with the piano.” Eren asks.

“It’s three in the morning. Aren’t you tired? And I don’t even know where the key to set is where we can access the piano.”

Eren reaches for the closest drawer, pulling out a shiny black key and dragging you out by the hand. You both pull on jackets and run out into the dark to the tandem bike, pushing towards set while shivering in the cold air.

And when Eren opens the set door and turns on the lights, you immediately scream and duck behind him.

“What the fuck is that?”

“Ymir’s prosthetic titan.”

“God. Do they need to leave it at the front door? That literally scared the shit out of me.”

He laughs, locking his hand in yours as he drags you to the piano near the back of the set. You yank your hoodie off your head, placing the lyrics on the front of the piano.

“Okay, so. Sing it. I’ll see what chords make the most sense after.”

You nod, going through the first verse.

There’s glitter on the floor after the party Girls carrying their shoes down in the lobby Candle wax and Polaroids on the hardwood floor You and me from the night before, but

Eren starts playing the piano around the chorus, a light piano tune filling the air. And he’s watching you so intently as you sing the lyrics, change words around with your messy handwriting, and he thinks at this moment, with your forehead all scrunched up in concentration and your sweet voice in the air that you might be his favorite person to be around.

Don’t read the last page But I stay, when it’s hard, or it’s wrong, or we’re making mistakes I want your midnights But I’ll be cleaning up bottles with you on New Year’s Day

And when you finish, he’s wrapping his arms around you, his voice so soft when he whispers in your ear that it makes the hair on your skin stand up.

“You are…amazing. You know that?”

“Eren. You’re so-”

He cups your cheek in his hand, his thumb rubbing back and forth as he looks into your eyes, the look so warm, so sincere that it makes your chest tingle and your heart pound. Any denial of the fact will be met with pushback, so you drop it.

“Thank you, Eren.”

He smiles, dropping his hand to play the chords again and write them in the book.

“Hey.”

“Yeah?”

“Is this song about me, Y/N?”

“What?”

“Well, the line. You squeeze my hand three times in the back of a taxi? Isn’t that kind of our thing? Squeezing hands three times.”

You can feel your cheeks burning as you focus on the lyrics. And god, maybe the song is about Eren. You didn’t intend to write it that way, but he’s right. The candle wax, and the polaroids are mentioned in the song.

Those are all things you associate with him.

“I guess so. I mean, I didn’t mean to really write it that way, but I guess that’s how it came out.”

He smiles, a smirk on his face as he starts teasing you.

“Am I your muse?”

“Shut up. You’re so fucking stupid, Eren.”

“You and me, forevermore huh?”

“Eren. Stop.”

“I’m teasing, Y/N. I like the sound of that. And the entire song, it’s really good. You should submit it to perform for the Savants.”

“No. I could never do that.”

He rolls his eyes as he shuts the book, swinging on the other side of the piano bench to lean against the now-closed piano. You’re both sitting silently, taking in the set when it’s so empty. Everyone’s ODM gear is labeled in the closet with their names, Eren’s prosthetic titan arms lying nearby, and Levi’s cleaning supplies.

Eren clears his throat, breaking the silence.

“We-um. Were supposed to get slushies yesterday.”

“Oh. I’m sorry, I just got so distracted.”

“Yeah. And.”

“And?”

“Weweresupposedtopracticethekiss.” he mumbles out, rubbing his hand against the back of his neck.

You feel your eyes widen as the recognition hits you. You’re supposed to kiss Eren tomorrow morning.

“Oh, shit. That’s literally tomorrow.”

“Yeah.”

The silence hangs between the two of you as the pit in your stomach starts burning.

“Do you want to practice now? Just so we’re good for tomorrow morning?”

“Oh. Yeah, I guess.”

You both awkwardly shuffle on the piano bench facing, splitting your legs between each side so you can both scoot closer to each other. And you can feel your heart beating really fast at being this close to him, all alone.

He must sense it, because he puts his hand in yours, squeezing three times, before talking.

“You okay? We don’t have to.”

“No. We should. I-I want to.”

He nods, lifting his hands in the air as confusion spreads across his face.

“You can put your hands wherever. It’s okay.” you say

“O-okay. Right, Y/N. Sorry I-”

“Don’t worry. I’ve never done this before either.”

He settles for cupping the side of your face with his right hand and leaving his left hand resting against the side of your waist. You place your hands against his hoodie, crumpling the fabric in your hands as you try to limit the sweat gathering on your palms.

“Okay.”

“Okay, Y/N. You ready?”

“Yeah.”

He leans forward and presses his lips to yours, the sensation so strange that you forget to move your lips and freeze up against your face. You both stay there for three seconds - but it feels like an eternity. And when he pulls away, you can feel the embarrassment rushing to your face when you realize what just happened.

You just kissed him wrong. You forgot to kiss him back.

“Oh my god, Eren. Oh my god, I’m so sorry. I was so thrown off by it, and I just made your first kiss wrong, and I-”

“Y/N.”

“Oh god. We’re going to fuck this up so badly tomorrow. I’m going to fuck this up so badly tomorrow. And we’re going to-”

“Y/N.”

“Ymir is never going to stop making fun of me. And then I’ll probably-”

He drops his hands and reaches for your wrists, squeezing hard as he talks.

“Y/N. Stop.” he says, his voice so soft, so earnest that it stops you in your tracks.

“It’s okay. You didn’t mess anything up. I think you’re just…thinking about it too hard. This isn’t the kiss we’re doing for tomorrow or the show. This is just you and me, kissing here and now. So just…relax. It’s just us.”

You groan as you put your hands on your face, murmuring through your fingers.

“How do you always say the right thing like that? It pisses me off.”

He laughs, grabbing your wrists and placing them back on his shoulders where they were before. And when he secures his hand around your cheek and your waist again, his green eyes are shining in the set light and you think he might be your favorite person to be around.

“Ready, Y/N?”

“Ready.”

And when he leans forward this time, you move your lips too, taking notice of how soft, how warm his lips feel against yours. How the sensation tingles all the way down to your stomach, makes your cheeks burn and your brain prickle. You instinctively lift your hands off his shoulders, feeling the softness of his hair between your fingertips and how his hand is only guiding your mouth closer to his like he’s pushing your lips together more than they already are.

And when you both pull away, you’re both staring at each other - dilated eyes and swollen, pink lips. Your hands in his hair and his hands around your waist, breathless.

When he cracks a smile, you can feel your entire resolve shattering. You make no effort to stop beaming at him the way you are, because you know you couldn’t even if you tried.

“Hi Y/N.” he whispers.

“Hi Eren.” you whisper back.

And you both laugh so hard that it makes your chest hurt.

“Listen, Y/N.”

“Yeah?”

“You know. We’re practicing. And doing it one time doesn’t mean it’s perfect, so-so we should try again. You know, for method acting purposes and-and.”

You smirk, reaching forward to pinch his cheek.

“You want to kiss me so bad.”

“Shut up. We don’t have to, I just want to make-”

“We can.”

He smiles, leaning forward to press his lips against yours again, his breath tickling the tip of your nose and his lips pressing against yours again, this kiss better than the last. You’ve committed it to memory - how his lips fit perfectly against yours, where his hands feel the best.

For acting purposes, of course.

You and Eren are ready bright and early to film the scene. Seconds before you start, Levi comes over and drops a key piece of information that leaves you and Eren pink in the face.

They’re cutting the kiss from the script.

next part linked here

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