#made this in about...four days? so its definitely not as good as it could be (i forgot the ears shhh) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

nereidprinc3ss · 28 days

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do you believe me now? | 3

in which spencer reid spends a rainy day teaching inexperienced fem!reader how to touch him. of course, her efforts don't go unrecognized, much less unrewarded

part one | part two | part four

18+ (smut) warnings: inexperienced reader, softdom!spencer, sub reader, oral m receiving, reader swallows lol, a truly sickening amount of praise, like really, you JOKINGLY refer to each other as dirty sluts, r has longish hair, spit mentioned once, thigh riding (moans loudly), its filthy idk what to tell you, i feel like i've crossed the desert on foot i don't even know what else is in here, your honor they're in love, i take you to dinner first, this part is stupidly long a/n: had a fucking field day the three separate times i had to rewrite this el oh el... but think i like how it turned out?! anyway, if u like this PLS lmk bc writing it took a small piece of my soul, and yes there will be a part four!! take care of yourselves!! i love you!!!

You give Spencer half a minute or so before knocking on his door for a second time.

It’s miserable outside, and though the hallway you’re standing in now isn’t terribly cold, you’d much prefer to be in Spencer’s apartment, where it will be the same toasty 68.5 degrees as always. Not that the heating will magically dry you. And not that you’ll be there for long, if the date you’d scheduled last week goes on as planned.

You’re getting worried, about to knock for a third time when the locks finally click and the door opens to reveal a disheveled Spencer Reid—not at all looking ready for a date. You take in his ensemble; blue checked pajama pants, FBI Academy crewneck, the usual questionably paired socks. He’s rubbing his droopy eyes, which slowly widen as he notices your attire.

“Shit, I’m sorry, our date! I mean—you look really nice. I look… like this. Why don’t you come in while I get ready to go?”

He holds the door open a little wider and you step through, relishing in the familiar warmth as you pull your hood down and excess water droplets spatter on the ground.

“When did you get in?” you ask, hanging your raincoat up on a hook. You know he’d wrapped up a case yesterday evening, but you’d gone to sleep before the team left Cincinnati.

Spencer pauses in the middle of the room, staring at the antique flooring like he forgot what he was doing.

“Uh… four hours ago.”

“Wh—four hours? Spencer, you must be exhausted.”

He laughs awkwardly, running a tired hand over his face.

“I mean… I’ve definitely felt better.”

You kick your soaked shoes off and cross the room until you’re toe to toe with him. Immediately his hands settle on your waist and yours find his arms. His eyes are kind, and he’s clearly pleased by your presence despite his lack of energy.

“The weather’s terrible, anyway. Let’s just go out another day.”

His features have softened and you can see how tired he truly is—not just in his bleary eyes, but the way his fingers grasp weakly to you, the way his head bows slightly. It seems bone-deep.

“But I haven’t seen you in a week. I don’t want you to go home.”

Your lips twist. A clap of thunder rolls in the distance and the rain starts coming down even harder against the windowpanes.

“We could hang out here. We can take a nap!”

Spencer sighs—half resignation, half disappointment.

“But we made such good plans,” he laments.

You kiss his cheek.

“Plans that can be rescheduled. The bookstore will still be there next weekend.”

It takes him a moment to settle into the idea, but you watch the exhaustion win.

“Okay. But no nap. I want to be awake for you. Coffee?”

You nod enthusiastically, beaming at the prospect of getting to spend the day doing nothing with him. Spencer mirrors your grin, before pressing a kiss to your head.

“You’re so cute.” Heat creeps into your cheeks and you can’t think of a satisfactory reply, but in the end you don’t need to, as he tugs gently on your hands. “C’mon. Tell me what mug you want.”

The kitchen counter bites into your palms as you lean with your back to it, watching Spencer putter all around the kitchen as he works on the coffee. It makes you tired just to watch.

“Are you sure you don’t want to take a nap? Caffeine isn’t a substitute for sleep, you know.”

“I do know,” he agrees, measuring coffee grounds. “But other than last night, I actually slept fairly well this week.”

“You seem exhausted.”

“I… am tired in lots of ways. Not all of which can be resolved with more sleep.” he admits.

Your heart drops ever so slightly at the way his voice weakens as he looks through the fridge. Sometimes you remember there are still things you don’t know about him—sides you haven’t met. His work side is one of them, and it more than a little intimidates you.

“Bad case?” you ask, voice quiet and crackling with nervous energy.

Spencer nods, approaching and setting a carton of milk on the counter behind you—caging you in with his arms in the process. It’s hard to find the words when he’s this close, but you manage to stumble through them.

“Do… do you wanna talk about it?”

Spencer hums, tilting his head before gently saying, “not right now. But thank you for offering, lovely.”

“Okay, well—if you change your mind… if there’s anything I can do to make you feel better…”

Finally he stops with the teasing—the unabashed staring at your lips, the faux-attentive nods—and drops his head to your level to kiss you properly. It’s obviously an attempt to get you to shut up, you’re not dumb enough so as to miss that—but you don’t really care why he’s doing it so long as he does it at all.

“I feel pretty great right now, actually,” he murmurs against your lips, a hint of a smile coloring his words. “Do you want sugar in yours?”

“Um…”

Your eyes dart helplessly between his as he pulls away and you struggle to un-fluster yourself enough to answer his simple question. Spencer seems to delight in this. The longer it takes you, the bigger his perfect smile gets.

“You took too long. You’re getting sugar.”

“Are you sure there’s nothing I can do?” you plead later on the couch, for the third or fourth time, setting your mostly-empty mug on the coffee table.

His eyebrows raise.

“I’m sure, honey.”

“But I want to help,” you pout, pulling your knees into your chest. Spencer regards you for a moment from the other end of the couch, before beckoning you closer wordlessly.

“You are helping,” he assures you, gently grabbing your wrist as you crawl into his lap. He rubs soothing circles into the delicate skin with his thumb. “You being here and being you is plenty.”

It’s the closest you’ve been to him since before he left, and while you’ve all but given up on asking him to sleep with you, it doesn’t mean you don’t think about it multiple times per day. It’s especially difficult to keep your thoughts PG when you haven’t seen him in a week, and his hair is all messy, and he’s got his pajamas on, and you’re in his lap, and he’s looking at you like that.

“What are you thinking about?” Spencer murmurs, likely concerned by your lack of response and the glazed-over look in your eyes. You reanimate, averting your gaze to the spot on your thigh he’s now rubbing absentmindedly.

“Nothing. I just missed you.”

“I missed you a lot, too.” You don’t even have to look up to know that his brows have twisted into a pleasant sort of bemusement, like you are a particularly complex puzzle—you can hear it as he continues speaking. “I’m still not used to having something external take up so much of my attention while I’m trying to do my job. I’ve never had that before. Not something good, anyway. It’s like every time I leave, I’m thinking about you more than the time before. And I was already thinking about you a lot.”

The corner of your mouth twitches as he rambles.

“Really?”

“Yeah, really,” he chuckles. “You prove to be incredibly distracting even when you’re hundreds of miles away. Do you know how many nights I almost called you before realizing it was one in the morning?”

A slow smile spreads over your face.

“Oh? Whatever could you have been calling about at one in the morning?”

You’re teasing him, and it works. He blushes adorably.

“Um… probably exactly what you’d expect. In hindsight I think it’s best that I refrained.”

“What?” You grin, incredulous, forgetting your shyness and leaning closer. “You totally should’ve. I’ve never had phone sex before. I would’ve done it.”

“No, you wouldn’t!” Spencer laughs. “It would have just been me talking to myself with you on the other line. I don’t think phone sex is really up your alley.”

“Shut up,” you laugh as your lips meet. He smiles into the kiss. Before you get too lost in it, you pull away, leaning back when he tries to follow you. “I think you’re over-complicating it. It’s just dirty talk, right? I can totally do that. It’s just, like… blah blah blah, dirty slut, something something…”

You trail off as he gives you a look. Poker faced—aside from the slightly narrowed eyes sparkling with humor.

“You want me to refer to you as a dirty slut?”

Maintaining eye contact is an uphill battle—you crack in a matter of seconds, resting your forehead against his and closing your eyes stubbornly.

“No. For all you know I want to call you a dirty slut.”

It’s a ridiculous, but he recognizes the bravado for what it is, still smiling slightly as he rubs your hips.

“Right. I apologize for assuming. But just for future reference, I don’t want to be called that, and I don’t think I’d be comfortable calling you that, either.”

“But you can call me other stuff,” you remind your boyfriend, pulling back and still not looking at him.

“Yeah? Like what?”

And just like that, you’re shy again.

“I don’t know… nice things. I like when you’re nice.”

“I like being nice to you.” It’s so sincere-sounding that you meet his gaze, examining his face. His eyes are clear and soft on you, the only source of warm light on such a grey day, as his hands keep running slow lines over your sides. “Kiss?”

And how could you ever deny him anything?

As has happened before, the kiss starts out innocent enough. And it’s not that it gets particularly heated, or anything—it’s just that it doesn’t end, and after a few moments your mouth slips open and so does his and that’swhat gets both of you worked up over a period of minutes. Pressure and heat that you’re becoming accustomed to build between your legs, and you don’t even notice that you’ve begun rocking back and forth in his lap until Spencer is attempting to still your hips with patient but assertive hands.

“Honey, that’s—slow down, sweetheart.”

Finally he gets a grip on you and you realize as soon as you stop moving that there had been friction occurring—and you’re pretty damn sure you know what you were grinding against.

Your whole body feels hot with arousal and embarrassment.

“Oh my god—I’m sorry,” you mumble, moving your hands from his shoulders to cover your face. “That was an accident, I—”

“It’s fine,” Spencer assures you, squeezing your waist gently. “I just wanted to make sure you knew what you were doing because I know we haven’t… gotten there, yet.”

A moment passes—your hands fall to the FBI stitching across his chest, studying the letters without really seeing them. You haven’t gotten there yet… but why not? Why haven’t you touched him, or even seen him? You think back to the few times he’s touched you and realize that you had been too busy with either your own insecurities or pleasure to genuinely consider how it might be affecting him. He says your name gently, drawing your attention.

“You okay?”

You nod haltingly, brow furrowed as you think.

“I—yeah. I was just realizing that I haven’t, like… touched you, yet.”

It’s silent for another long second, and you glance up, to where he’s studying you with a dissonant kind of relaxed scrutiny—a knowing confidence that probably comes with a lot more experience than you have.

“Do you want to?”

Woah.

Usually you have to beg on hands and knees and prepare a slideshow presentation before he agrees to doing anything sexual in nature. He’s never so overtly invited or initiated it before. Not that you’re complaining by any stretch of the imagination.

You nod shyly, still fiddling with the fabric of his shirt.

“If you want to, I can show you how. But it’s also absolutely okay if you don’t.”

Show you how?

Your brain is melting into sludge at the idea.

“I do,” you admit, meeting his gaze again. It’s kind, and you know he really wouldn’t be upset if you said no—but now that you’ve thought about it, you feel deeply compelled to try.

“Okay. Come here, first.” You lean forward expectantly, eyes fluttering shut as his hand finds the back of your neck and he pulls you into another soft kiss. By the time your lips separate again, your head is spinning. “We’re just trying something, okay? You’re allowed to stop whenever you feel like it. Really low stakes. Got it?”

You nod, still close enough that your noses brush as you do.

“Got it.”

He presses one more chaste kiss to your lips before pulling away and leaning back into the couch.

“Scoot back a little, angel.”

Wordlessly you do so, heart pounding with nervous excitement as he lifts his hips and slides his pajama pants down just enough to where he can comfortably pull himself out, and—

Your breath catches.

Now, you may be about as virginal as they come, but you weren’t born yesterday. You’ve seen porn, you’ve received unsolicited nudes—it is the 21st century. Yet never before have you thought to yourself; wow, that dick is the pinnacle of beauty. Perfect. Breathtaking. But there’s just no other way to describe him.

So that’s what hits you first—how unexpectedly pretty it is.

The size sinks in a quick second later.

You can’t tell with perfect accuracy how many inches he is, but you’re pretty damn sure he’s big. That’s meant to fit inside of you?

No, no—that’s a consideration for another day. Right now you need to stop staring like an idiot. You glance up at his face, and he’s sporting a cocky little half-smile which lets you know you’ve been caught. Motherfucker he’s so hot. It’s unnerving.

“Do you have something you’d like to say?” he asks politely, quite obviously containing his amusement. But you can’t summon a sufficiently sarcastic response.

Your voice comes so soft when you reply, “you’re pretty.”

Spencer melts, eyes impossibly softening.

“Pretty?” His smile is earnest now. He strokes your cheek and you can’t not lean into his touch.

“Mhm. I want to, um…” your lips twist to the side as you look back down, finding he’s not gotten less intimidating since you last checked. “But what if I’m bad at it?” you whisper. He chuckles, brushing hair over your shoulder.

“It’s kind of a hard thing to be bad at. And I’m gonna help you, okay?”

It’s the honesty with which he speaks to you that makes you feel so safe. There are no hidden intentions or words that seem to mean one thing but really mean another. Spencer wants you as a person more than he wants you as a body and that’s been clear since the first time he touched you. You take a deep breath.

“Okay. What do I do?”

“First, you’re gonna spit in your hand.”

You look up, alarmed.

“You want me to intentionally get my spit on you? Is that not your worst nightmare?”

“Believe it or not, I’m not super worried about yours,” he teases. “But if you’d prefer, I can spit in your hand.”

“Actually, mine is fine,” you laugh nervously.

Hesitantly, you do as instructed, even though it seems frankly bizarre.

“Good. Now just wrap your hand around it, like this.” His voice is quiet, focused as he guides your hand downward. Your heart rate ticks up again as he encourages you to wrap your hand around the base of his cock. He feels much warmer than you’d expected—his skin is silken beneath your touch but he’s undeniably hard and that sort of eliminates any sense of him being fragile from the equation.

“It’s gonna be less sensitive down here—and then, up here—” he slides your hand back up, covering your thumb with his own and swiping it just below the head of his cock on the underside. He hisses and you look up in fascination. “That’s the most sensitive part.”

Without further instruction, you do it again, keeping your touch light and watching his face for a reaction. His drawn brows twitch, furrowing deeper for a second, and his lips part. A heavy exhalation passes between them and quickly builds into a breathy laugh.

“What?” you murmur, over-eager to please and very nervous to do something wrong.

“Nothing. Just feels good, that’s all.”

“Don’t laugh,” you pout. Of course that makes him laugh again, and he leans forward to kiss your head.

“I’m laughing at myself, angel. I’m a grown man fighting for my life from a handjob that you’ve barely started. I knew it would be different with you but I didn’t realize it would be this different.”

Heat rises in your cheeks and you look away.

“You don’t have to lie to make me feel better.”

“I’m not lying,” he urges, grabbing your free hand and encouraging you to uncurl your fingers. His thumb traces circles in your open palm, before capturing your entire hand in his. “Do you feel how much softer your hand is than mine?”

You frown, attempting to feel whatever it is that he’s pointing out. Despite the fact that you think he has very nice hands, you realize he’s right. By no means would you say that they’re rough, but you can tell where his gun normally sits in his hands, where his fountain pen rubs against his fingers. “Yeah.”

“Yeah. Anything you do is going to be perfect because it’s you.”

Spencer drops his hand to your leg, rubbing it soothingly. The other moves to cover yours—the one wrapped around him.

“You’re gonna help me, right?” you ask quietly. Some adventurous part of you is very excited about this as an experiment—fascinated by the reactions you’ve already gotten from him and eager to push it.

“I am. Little bit tighter, honey. I’ll tell you if it’s too much.”

You do as you’re told, and he’s murmuring more praise—slowly encouraging you to begin moving your hand with his own. A shaky exhale catches your attention, drawing your gaze to his face. His eyes are, of course, cast downward, but his expression is hypnotizing. Those lips remain slightly parted, and suddenly you wonder if he makes noises like you do. In that moment it becomes your life’s mission to find out.

For a while you continue letting his hand guide your movements, but he keeps things so slow for your sake that you’re getting impatient. You forgo his direction, picking up the pace but trying to keep the rhythm he’d instilled in the motion. His hand slackens around yours.

“Fuck,” he hisses to himself. The hand on your thigh rubs achingly deeper into the flesh. “Angel, what are you doing?”

“I want it to feel good.” Suddenly shy again, you slow down. His hips stutter, which you think may be a sign that it was working. “Am I—was that bad?” Spencer looses a breath, looking almost… frustrated?

“No, I’m just—I’m weirdly close to coming.”

“That’s a good thing, right?”

“Well,” he mutters, “not usually. Mostly it’s embarrassing.”

You giggle, a release of some tension, and begin pumping your hand again. His breath hitches and he finally looks up at you, meeting your eyes with his own lust-glazed ones. Heat pools deep between your legs.

“I want you to come,” you admit quietly as you twist your wrist, brushing that spot underneath the head of his cock again. His jaw literally drops, and a look that is part confusion, part pleasure, twists his features. You see the surprise sparkling in his eyes and it only spurs you to keep talking. “I’ve never seen how you look when you do, but I’ve imagined it. I bet you look so pretty when you come, Spencer. ‘Nd then I would know that I can make you feel good, too.”

“You… you are making me feel good,” he assures you. The way his brow furrows and his lips are parted give you a feeling that’s entirely new. Normally, you’re the one falling apart under his touch—but when it’s the other way around there’s a whole new kind of pleasure in it for you. You feel kind of powerful. Maybe even close to confident.

“Really? I’m not this quiet when you touch me.”

“I’ve ha—ah—had more practice not making noise.”

“But why?” you implore, ignoring the fact that he’s slept with other women and enjoyed the sounds they made, and opting to brush your thumb across that extra sensitive part he definitely shouldn’t have told you about. His hips buck up and he hisses, which is immensely gratifying to you.

“Because I like to listen.”

“What if I do, too?”

In a moment of divine inspiration , you cover the tip of his cock with your hand, swirling beads of pre-come over your palm. Spencer moans and his hips jut up into your grip. It’s a beautiful sound, just as you’d hoped.

“Jesus, fuck.”

You understand why he seems to enjoy touching you so much. It’s so rewarding to watch as his breathing picks up and pleasure contorts his face—to watch him get messier and messier and lose his composure a bit more with each stroke of your hand. It’s so simple but Spencer looks at you like you’re exercising some arcane deviant power over him and he’s not sure he should be enjoying it as much as he is.

Distantly you think about how it felt when he had his hands on you—and then, in clearer focus, how it felt when he went down on you. Both were perfect, but something about his lips so gentle on the most intimate, vulnerable part of you had felt like ascension. Maybe it was the emotional component, or maybe it just felt fucking good. Regardless, it seems an irresistible thought.

You keep stroking him until his head is lolling on the back of the couch as he groans.

“Spencer?”

“Yeah, baby?”

He sounds so destroyed it makes you clench around nothing. Without any indication that you’re going to do so, you stop touching him, and the speed with which he lifts his head again is almost comical. Immediately, while he’s utterly defenseless and desperate, you ask, “can I use my mouth?”

His eyes widen, and then shut, as he processes your request with a tiny shake of his head—probably trying to clear the haze of pleasure from his mind before he answers.

“Honey,” he rasps eventually, opening his eyes and smoothing a hand over your hair, “you don’t have to do that just because I do. That’s not why I do it.”

“But I want to,” you murmur, shy and mildly embarrassed by what feels almost like a soft rejection. “I don’t think I could do anything, like, mind-blowing, but… I want to try.”

Your face is hot by the end of the sentence, and you can’t meet Spencer’s eyes as his fingers twitch over your hip. A quiet moment passes—but it’s short-lived.

“Okay. Go ahead, baby.”

Wide eyes dart up to his.

“Really?”

Spencer smiles fondly, brushing an invisible speck from your cheek.

“I don’t think I’m capable of turning that offer down. Not when it’s you.”

“Okay—um, should I just—” Spencer watches on, finding your sudden enthusiasm completely adorable as you scoot off of his lap and gingerly kneel in front of him. Your eyes are big and glassy as you look up at him, hands set politely on his knees. You squint suspiciously, eyes darting between his face and his cock, now about as hard as it’s ever been due to your toying. He knows it’s probably intimidating for a girl who has never seen one in real life, and he feels kind of bad about it. You do terrible, wonderful things to him that he doesn’t understand. “Wow. So... it looks bigger from down here.”

“Please don’t try to choke yourself,” he instructs hurriedly, leaning forward slightly. “I really don’t need you to do that. It’s fine if you can’t fit it all, I just—” he exhales shakily. Spencer is most definitely strong-willed but he can’t pretend like the sight of you on your knees for him, inches from his aching cock for the first time isn’t impacting his cognition. Most importantly he doesn’t want to make you feel pressured. He’s trying to not let how badly he wants this show in case you change your mind.

Spencer watches as you psych yourself out—wilting like a thirsty flower.

“But what if I’m bad at this?” you mumble, hands curling into loose fists atop his legs. Spencer pushes your hair back, tucking it behind your ears.

“What’s your worst case scenario?” he asks. Your answer is immediate.

“That I’m so bad you make me stop halfway through.”

Spencer can’t help but laugh again.

“I’m sorry—I just… honey, you are really underestimating how profound your effect is on me. I just almost came from a minute long handjob. I can assure you that I won’t make you stop halfway through because I’d rather not have your mouth on me. That is… that’s just not going to happen.”

You lean your cheek against his thigh. He might actually pass away.

“Will you tell me if I’m doing something wrong?”

“Honestly, as long as you don’t bite, you’re in the clear.”

Your eyes squeeze shut and your lips pull into an embarrassed little smile.

“Great. Thank you for that invaluable advice.”

“Of course,” he smiles. It fades slowly as you take a deep breath and look up at him, obviously steeling yourself, before leaning forward and taking him in your hand again. He watches with bated breath, repeating no sudden movements to himself over and over as your hand moves up and down a few more times and your head lowers.

You delicately, so lightly trace your tongue from the base of his swollen cock to just underneath the leaking tip, mapping a vein, and his hips buck as you take him into your mouth experimentally. Only the first few inches fit but the sight of your lips wrapped around him, the way you’re looking at him is so unbelievably erotic Spencer knows he won’t last very long.

From a purely technical perspective—he knows he’s gotten objectively better head. Still, something about the way you’re so delicate with him, so soft and timid in the way you lick and kiss and take him into your mouth has him fighting not to come already. Maybe it’s wrong, but knowing that he’s watching you do this for the first time in your life is obscenely arousing. The idea that you’ve never trusted another person this much; that you’re letting him be the one to help you navigate something as new and as important as sexuality. The more he thinks about it, though, the more he realizes: it’s not your inexperience that turns him on. It’s just you. Everything you do is so undeniably you—he recognizes your mannerisms in every tiny motion, in every glance, and it’s killing him. You’re like a dream as you look up at him with big nervous eyes, (no, really, he has had this dream) and he remembers he wants to be reassuring you—not pondering life and human connection.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, groaning and hips twitching as your cheeks hollow, wrapping his achingly hard cock in soft gentle warmth so sweetly it feels taboo. “So good, baby. So gorgeous like this.”

You whine around him, receptive as always to his obsequious praise, and he notices the way your hips wiggle as you seek friction. God, you must like this a lot. Spencer gathers your hair into a makeshift ponytail, resting his hand on your head as you begin to bob it. That, he wasn’t prepared for. He’d have been satisfied with just kitten-licks and suckling but he won’t complain about this. It’s slow, and so intentional as you keep watching him for feedback cues. Ever his observant girl, you’re constantly paying attention. Aware of his reactions. He needs to keep telling you you’re good or else you’ll assume you’re terrible.

“Over-achiever,” he whispers through a little smile as you down even more of him.

Spencer is for the most part a kind and gentle person. For better or worse he is also a man, and he can’t help but fantasize about getting you all teary and drooly as he holds your mouth open and sees how much of his cock he can push down your throat. But again—kind. Gentle. So when you get a little over-zealous, attempting to sacrifice your comfort for his pleasure, he pulls your head back slightly. “That’s far enough, angel. That’s—fuck. God, you’re good at this.” The words are thoughtless, muttered to himself more than you as he watches through a haze while you look up at him with glassy, half-lidded eyes, slipping him in and out of your warm mouth, a little faster now as you gain confidence.

You whine desperately around him, like you’re the one nearing orgasm and not him. The sound of your pleasure as you suck his cock makes him dizzy. His hips buck, pressing him a little deeper into your mouth. “Jesus fucking Christ,” he exhales. “Slow down, baby. I’m—” a louder moan from him like you’ve never heard as he thrusts shallowly turns you on profoundly. He’s so much more vocal than you’d have imagined—sonically and verbally. He breathes out a quick, “fuck, fuck, fuck,” pulling your hair slightly, and you’ve never wanted to touch yourself more but you know you can’t focus on both. Instead you work on making him come—you can worry about you later. He says your name, with an authoritative edge to his tone that makes you throb. “Honey, if you don’t stop, I’m gonna come—”

You swirl your tongue around the top of him like candy and he’s done for. Spencer tries to pull out, which only results in cum both in your mouth and on your face. The orgasm is his strongest in recent memory, and he grunts, watching your lips part and a little squeak escape as he comes all over your face—but you keep stroking him all the while. Once he’s 90% sure it’s over, he falls against the back of the couch, breathing heavily and looking down at you through hazy eyes. Oh, he’s going to feel terrible about this in a few seconds—but right now you look fucking perfect. Your eyes are wide, nervous as his essence drips over your face and down your neck—he groans when you swallow cautiously, averting his eyes to the ceiling lest he do another thing he regrets.

“Baby, I am so sorry,” he mutters, forcibly clearing the haze of orgasm from his mind and sitting up, fixing his pants and looking around before locating the box of tissues on the side table. “I’m so, so sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.” You look up at him attentively as he wipes himself from your face as gently as he can.

“Why not?”

“Because I didn’t ask you first. I wasn’t thinking clearly.”

Spencer guides your head around by your chin, wiping your jaw and lips.

“It’s okay, Spence, I—”

“No, it’s not,” he cuts you off, trying to at least turn his guilt into a learning experience for you. He’s not deluded enough to think someone like you will stay with someone like him forever, because sometimes he does things like that, and he’s reminded that there are certainly people out there more deserving of you. At the very least he can clarify that nobody should ever do what he just did to you. “It’s really not nice to do that to someone.”

“Do you care what I think at all?”

Spencer freezes, finally forcing himself to look you in the eye. Despite the fact that he’s mad at himself, he’s sure it’s coming across as being directed at you. And he knows you’re sensitive, especially about this kind of thing.

“Of course, I do, baby. I’m sorry. Do you want to come back up here with me and tell me what you’re thinking?” he murmurs, cupping your jaw. Hesitantly you nod. The tissues end up on the table—which he will be thoroughlywiping down later—before you crawl back into his lap from the floor. Spencer helps you settle against him, hoping he hasn’t messed this up irreversibly. He keeps his voice quiet as he rubs your leg. “What were you going to say?”

“I was going to say,” you begin, “that it’s fine, because you’ll remember to ask next time. And because… I kind of liked it. I like when—when you do stuff like that.”

It’s a miracle he can hear you with the way your voice drops into an almost-whisper and you’re hiding against his shirt.

“Like what?” he murmurs. Although he’s not sure he’ll be able to handle the answer.

“Like… I don’t know. Like you can do whatever you want to me. Like I’m literally yours.” Each word makes you cringe further, but Spencer has to try hard to maintain a cool facade as he processes this. If he’s going to try and be chivalrous, you’ll have to move away from this topic—this revelation—immediately. Thankfully, you seem eager to move on. “So… how did I do?”

He almost laughs. It seems exceedingly obvious how you did, but as per usual, you require verbal reassurance.

“That was really good, baby. You did well.”

You blossom.

“Really?”

“I wouldn’t lie.”

“Was I the best girl out of all of the other girls?”

I wasn’t in love with any of the other girls.

Just barely, he manages to stop himself from saying it, pinwheeling his arms on the edge of a very steep verbal cliff. The realization that he’s been in love with you for a while hits him like a truck. But he can’t tell you that right now. He should wait until you’re less vulnerable.

Fuck.

He really wants to tell you right now.

“Actually—don’t answer that,” you decide, while all of this happens in his head in less than a few seconds. “I want to go back to pretending I’m the only girl you’ve ever seen in your life.”

“You’re the only one that matters,” he offers, relieved to express at least some portion of the much bigger truth. Then he frowns. “Not that the other women I’ve met don’t lead important lives. I actually know a lot of incredibly influential and intelligent people who are women. I have deep respect for all of them. Am I helping or making it worse?” he rambles. You giggle. He has his answer. “What about you? How do you feel?” he asks after a moment, tenderly, lowly, stroking your hair as you lean against his chest.

It takes you a moment to deliberate, fiddling with the fabric of his shirt.

“I feel good. I, um… liked it a lot more than I would have thought.”

“Well, that’s good. Much better than if you had hated every second of it.”

You hum in agreement, and he waits for you to say whatever you’re holding back. It comes sooner than he’d have anticipated.

“I feel bad about the times before. How did you just… go to sleep after? Were you not, like—insanely turned on? Not that I’m, like, irresistibly sexy, or whatever—you know what I mean.”

Spencer smiles because he knows you can’t see him.

“I wasn’t doing it to pressure you into feeling obligated to reciprocate, I guess. My line of reasoning was that it would be less intimidating if I didn’t even present it as an option until you wanted to try.”

“Oh.”

Spencer thinks he sees where this is going.

“Why?” he asks, leaning back and encouraging you to look at him. “Are you insanely turned on?”

“Wh—that’s—I didn’t say that!”

Spencer can feel how warm your cheeks are as he presses his lips to the side of your face.

“You can tell me if you are,” he murmurs, all smiley as he moves to kiss your lips. “If you want something, you need to ask for it. I’m not a mind reader.”

“Yes you are,” you grumble. “That’s literally what behavioral analysis is.”

Not quite true, but surprisingly, he doesn’t feel the need to explain to you the semantics of what he does for work right now.

“What got you all excited?”

“You know what,” you mumble, trying to look away again. Spencer doesn’t allow it this time, gently grabbing your jaw.

“Yes, I do. But I want you to tell me. If you want me to make you feel good, this is how you’re going to convince me that you deserve it.”

You whine wordlessly, looking at him with those big, lust-glazed eyes.

“You wanted me to teach you how to use your words, right? This is it. I’m giving you an opportunity. If you don’t want to, that’s okay. Maybe we can take a nap, like you said earlier.”

“No! I liked—um, I liked all of it. I didn’t know if I would, because I was really nervous. But when I first—you know—and you got all quiet… it was like you couldn’t even talk for a minute. I was kind of proud of that. Because normally nobody can ever get you to stop talking.” Spencer narrows his eyes incredulously, a small smile tugging at his lips. But he doesn’t interrupt—not when it seems you’re finally starting to get more confident in your words. “And I really liked the noises you made. I think that was my favorite part. I liked when you pulled my hair back, and how you spoke to me. And when… when you got me messy and I had to swallow it. I really liked how it felt because I couldn’t think of anything else, just making you feel good. I really wanted to… make you proud, I guess. Is that weird?”

Spencer shakes his head no, a fond smile on his face when your eyes meet his again.

“No. It’s a pretty normal thing to feel when you’re nervous and wanting to impress someone you care about. And I would have been proud no matter what, for the record. You were being very brave.”

You pull your bottom lip between your teeth, watching him expectantly. Spencer should have known you’re too needy to truly absorb anything he says to you right now. Which is actually pretty cute. Everything you do is endearing to him.

“Stand up.”

You frown.

“But—”

“Just stand up,” he demands calmly, preferring to think of himself as firm and not bossy.

You do, looking rather annoyed and confused as you plant yourself in front of him.

“Why?”

“You are so full of questions.” His hands slip up the side of your legs, under your skirt, and hook in the waistband of your underwear. Spencer looks up at you meaningfully and you nod, swallowing.

As he pulls down, Spencer can literally feel the resistance of the fabric clinging to your soaked core. Under his touch the skin of your thighs is warm and soft. He wants to feel it on either side of his face, he wants to hear you whine as his stubble rubs against it, he wants to feel it clamp around his wrist, he wants it between his teeth and he definitely wants it pressing against his hips as he—

But no.

There will be time for all of those things—especially the last one—later. For now, he’ll reach between your legs just to see—

“Oh, my god,” Spencer half-chuckles, half-groans, upon feeling how wet you truly are for him. He drags his knuckles from your dripping entrance up over your clit, pinching very lightly and earning a squeak from you which he ignores. “You really did like having your mouth full of me, huh?”

“I told you,” you breathe, visibly relaxing some as he continues to play with you for a moment. Then he pulls his hand away again, patting his thigh.

“Sit.”

“You want me to…”

“Yes,” he says, simply.

“But is it not going to… am I not going to mess up your pants?”

“You are even more neurotic about messiness than I am. I can wash them, honey. Come here.”

Spencer guides your hips over his thigh, watching your pretty face twist with uncertainty as you fully settle on him. Fuck, he can feel your warmth through the fabric instantly. Already he’s getting hard again.

“What am I supposed to do?” you whisper, bunching his shirt in your fists. Spencer slides your skirt up higher, revealing the way you’re nestled against his thigh. He spreads you a little further apart, exposing more of your clit to the material underneath you. Immediately you press against him—he watches the delicate flesh rubbing gingerly against him and his grip tightens ever so slightly.

“All you have to do is rock back and forth. It’s easy.”

Already you’re starting to do it—but he guesses it’s like earlier where you don’t even realize it’s happening.

“But… I wanted your mouth,” you admit, quietly, slinging your arms around his neck and burying your face there.

“Do this for me first. Just get yourself off like this one time and then you can have my mouth. You said you wanted to help me feel better because I’m tired today, right?

“Yes,” you mumble, squirming over him.

“Well, there are a lot of days when I get back home and I’m tired. I’m gonna need you to be able to get on top of me, just like this, and make me feel better. And I know you don’t know what it feels like to have something that deep inside of you yet, but it’s gonna be a lot. Even once you know how it feels to have me inside when you’re underneath me. I need you to practice for me right now so you’ll be ready, okay?”

You could come from the words alone. You nod, dazed with need as you roll your hips in a circle, pressing his thigh against your clit.

“Back and forth, baby,” he murmurs, guiding your hips forward with his hands locked around them. “Back and forth, just like this…”

You moan quietly, shamelessly, eyes fluttering as you look down and watch your clit dragging over the darkening fabric. It’s easier if you isolate your hips, grinding down without moving your legs or upper body at all.

“It feels really good,” you whisper under your quickening breath.

“Yeah? Does it?”

“Mhm.”

“Good, angel. You look like you know what you’re doing.”

It’s audible now, quiet and wet and dirty.

“I don’t,” you breathe. He sucks in a breath of his own, stilling your hips with fingers pressed deep into your flesh.

“Sit up, baby.” You really wish he would stop making you stop, but you don’t want to keep going in case he needs you to quit—so you rise slowly, thighs trembling as you kneel. Spencer groans at the strings of your arousal momentarily connecting your core to his pants before they snap, getting your inner thighs wet. There’s a dark, very wet patch over his thigh, shining like glass. He thumbs over your slick clit absentmindedly as he looks up at you like you’re a miracle. “You’re fucking soaked. I’ve never seen you like this. Is this all from making me come?”

You nod feverishly, hips grinding against nothing in search of friction. He sits you back down on his leg, allowing you to sloppily find your rhythm again. Spencer bounces his leg lightly and you cry out softly, buckling forward. His arms wrap around you, still pressing you down against his thigh as you rut against it.

“You’re sweet. Maybe I should have known how much you’d like it when I came all over your pretty face. You really like hearing that you did a good job, huh? I bet you like it even more when I prove it to you.”

You moan a “yeah,” barely processing his words.

“My good girl even swallowed on her first try. Took it so well. And now look at how you’re taking this. You’re gonna love riding, baby. Just going to be another thing you’re good at as soon as you try it.”

“Spencer,” you gasp, overwhelmed by the praise. He’s bouncing his leg at regular intervals and everything is so sensitive.

“I know it’s harder to finish this way, but just one time, remember? And then you can have my tongue for as long as you want. You are my only plan for the day. Just give me one like this.”

But it’s not really harder to finish this way. Then again, you’re so turned on you could probably finish if a breeze hit you just right. Regardless, the thought of him going down on you again pushes you even closer to the edge.

You don’t know how much time goes by like that, you rubbing against him like it’s the last thing you’ll ever do, him pressing up into you until the pressure is so taut it snaps. There’s no time to warn him, but you suppose you don’t really need to. You writhe against him, caught between wanting to keep going and not being able to take more stimulation. He lifts you up just slightly, trying to separate you from his leg. You exhale deeply as your body relaxes, already close to dozing off against his chest.

“We can’t have you tapping out just yet. I still have to fulfill my end of the deal.”

In the end, he fulfills it three times over, and you end up showing your appreciation in kind one more time—much slower and more comfortably in his bed. He gives you plenty of time to learn what he likes, taking your teasing and coquettish explorations like a champ and never so much as tightening his grip in your hair. Turns out, you don't exactly spend the day doing nothing.

And you do end up taking that nap after all. Just... much, much later. And with less clothing on.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds smut #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine

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jyoongim · 4 months

Text

Based on ep 5

ALASTOR

BARKK BARK AOOOGAAA

Love a caring, defensive, sadistic, cannibilistic daddy demon

Title: Acts of service

Themes: slight submissive y/n, protective, blood, demon form, fluff, relationship dynamic, implied married couple, human life mentioned

Alastor can take a lot of shit…but even he has a breaking point….

(hehehehehehe)

Charlie’s hotel was not making the progress she wanted and so one day she shocked everyone with four words;

“My dad is coming”

The hotel was in a state of frenzy.

Everyone seemed excited to meet the King of Hell.

For once everyone was on one page and getting the place in tip top shape.

You had finally calmed Charlie down from her nth breakdown and had started primping yourself for the big man’s visit.

“Honestly its about time Luci showed his bright ass around here” you said as you patted some blush on.

Alastor was standing in the corner of your bedroom; oozing darkness menacingly.

He had been rather quiet and for once not making a fuss.

You almost smirked, whether or not he admits it

He adored Charlie

And HATED being bested in anything.

“Youre glowering dear” you say as you finish applying your flawless makeup.

“I just dont see what all the hoopla is about. So what if the Morningstar is coming…its just charlie’s dad” Alastor grumbled in a rant.

You giggled “Yea but this is important to Charlie so no funny business mister”

His big smile tightened and his eyes narrowed “no promises”

You and Charlie greeted Lucifer

“Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel!”

He damned near choked Charlie in a bear hug before turning to you

“Long time no see Sis” you hummed and gave him a big squeeze, but not before hissing lowly in his ear “do not fuck this up Luci”

He swallowed and you grinned before walking to stand by Alastor.

You nudged him towards Lucifer and reluctantly he introduced himself.

“Alastor sir pleasure to put a face to the name”

Lucifer shot you a look before eyeing Alastor suspiciously

“Uuuhh and you are?”

Alastor eye twitched “i’m the host of the hotel…you might know me from my radio broadcast hmm?”

Lucifer shrugged “nope guess thats why Charlie named it the HAZbin hotel”

You facepalmed and charlie was visibly getting nervous as you could literally see Alastor’s ego flare

“HA HA HA actually i came up with that”

“Ha Ha Ha well it wasnt very clever!”

They were in each other faces now

Alastor growled “ha ha HA fuck you”

You interjected, getting between the two, mostly Alastor

“Boys Boys reign it in PLEASE” you threw a look at Alastor, who straightened his suit.

You sighed and turned your attention to Charlie

“Dear why dont you tell your dad the whole point of your hotel” you gave a tense smile.

“Y/n is right dad! Alastor here has been tremendous help with the hotel…i wouldnt have made it this far without him” lucifer made a face.

You could see the wheels turning in Alastor’s head

He was up to no good.

“Yeeeeessss we are all very proud of Charlie. I am honored to fulfill any wish this lovely young lady has”

He hugged Charlie and it took all of your willpower to not laugh at Lucifer’s annoyed look.

You giggled as he completely ignored Alastor and in turn to the others.

Charlie introduced her girlfriend and you could literally see his shoulders ease.

“OH thank Hell youre a lesbian! Cool cool i totally approve of THIS!”

Lucifer went on to give luxurious suggestions to Charlie, which Alastor shot down.

You sighed lovingly at Alastor’s antics.

He might have been the big bad Radio Demon, but he really was a softie when he wanted to be.

Definitely would have made a great dad…

You blushed at the thought.

Lucifer and Alastor were currently bickering with each other about who was the better father figure.

When suddenly the door flew open and a short, voluptuous, 1920 styled woman bursted in.

Your eyes widened “Mimzy?”

She squealed and embraced you in a tight hug, you kissed each other’s cheeks in greeting

“Ooooh y/n darling how you’ve been? Its been too long” she asked.

You grinned and gave a shrug “ooh it hasnt been that long has it?”

She greeted Alastor and gave you an astonished look “Y/n darling you still with dollface here?” you felt everyone eyes shift to you and you felt your eye twitch a bit but said nothing.

She begged to have you chat with her but you told her youll catch up her later, as you were helping Charlie and Alastor with Lucifer.

Not many people knew what your relationship with Alastor, hell not many people knew about Alastor life in general.

And you kind of liked to keep it that way but Mimzy was a talker if you ever saw one.

But Mimzy was not was one to just show up just out of nowhere…

She wanted something

You and Alaster were trailing behind Charlie as she explained the purpose of the hotel when Husker appeared to the two of you, addressing Alastor

“Boss a word with you” you quirked a brow when Alastor kindly shooed you off to have his discussion. You walked a bit aways before morphing into the wall and listened in on their conversation

“What is it?”

“You and I both know that Mimzy only pops her ass up when she needs somethin, that bitch is trouble and who knows what kind of shit she got into to come running to you”

True.

“Dont worry so much Husker, its nothing i cant handle, besides who in their right mind would cross me?”

“I mean…youve been gone a while and it aint like no one knows why-”

He was cut off

“And they dont need to know” that sharp smile was tight

Alastor patted Husker’s head condescendingly; like a pet.

Husker shoved his hand away angrily.

“Big talk for someone who’s also on a leash”

You saw Alastor glitch, eyes turning to black and glowing dials

Uh oh.

“What did you say?”

Your eyes widened as contract chains shot out at Husker, wrapping around his neck

Alastor was menacingly toying with the chain as he growled

“If you ever say that again i will tear your soul apart and broadcast your screams for every disrespectful wretch WHO DARES TO QUESTION ME!”

Husker was shaking like a leaf and you were stunned; Alastor rarely ever lost his composure.

When Alastor disappeared down the hall you morphed to Husker to ease his nerves

“Oh Husker are you ok?” you asked as you tried soothed his nerves.

He shook it off (not really) and grumbled “fucking asshole”

You headed back to the lobby with Husker when a loud BAM was heard.

What the fuck?

“Mimizy you skank c’mon out here!”

You see Mimzy hide behind the bar and raise a eyebrow.

You frown, going to heave her over the counter

“Mimzy care to enlighten me about what the actual fuck is that”

She sweatdropped “i-i may or may not have borrowed some money from a loan shark”

Your frown deepened “how. Much. money?”

“O-o fifty…grand”

You hissed.

The hotel was shaking and was being heavily damaged

You pulled charlie out of the way as some debris fell from the ceiling and hissed at Lucifer “arent you gonna do something!?”

He was trying to make this a life lesson and now was NOT the time.

You growled and went to march right outside to give those goons a piece of your mind when a clawed hand settled on your shoulder.

“Dont worry dear ill handle this”

“But Alastor…”

His smile turned wild “its about time i reminded everyone why i am here…a reminder to not fuck with the Radio Demon!”

He transformed. Antlers out and black tentacles flaring.

You watch him grow big in size and rip the gangsters apart, eating a few.

You smiled wickedy, hells he was hot

After he had his fun he shrunk back to normal and you launched yourself at him

Lovingly you purred into his neck “you ok now?”

He grinned, nuzzling you “i missed blowing off some steam”

Mimzy approached the two of you and you frowned, opening your mouth to say something but Alastor beat you to it

“I think you should go Mimzy. Now”

She was shocked. Usually Alastor let her off the hook and it was you who normally told people off.

“Y-you cant be serious…”

His eyes narrowed “I mean it. You brought danger to this place just for me to clean up your mess. I wont allow that here”

He was putting his foot down. You leaned into him, happy.

You flashed her a sharp grin “i agree Mimzy, you should go”

She blinked “you backing up your hubby over ya own friend? y/n!”

She hissed at Alastor “you think i dont know you? You cant really give a shit about this place”

You crossed your arms, giving her a pointed look, hissing as you felt your eyes glow in anger “leave Mimzy. While i’m the one being nice”

She huffed and turned to leave, but not before flipping you both off.

You relaxed and turned to Alastor, who was looking smug.

Tugging on his bowtie you craned his neck to your level, purring

“Bedroom now dear”

His ears perked and his smile grew wider “feeling big emotions doll?”

“Ooh you have no idea”

With a flick of your hand the hotel was restored and you were whisking the lanky red demon upstairs to blow off some steam of your own

….

extra:

"what y/n and Alastor are married?!"

charlie blinked "yea i thought you guys knew that"

"WHAT THE FUCK!"

#hazbin alastor #alastor the radio demon #radio demon #alastor x reader #alastor #hazbin hotel

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songmingisthighs · 4 months

Text

You <3 I

group : ateez

pairing : mingi × reader

genre : smut, oneshot

wc : 2 k

warning : mdni, sex, mature content, soft dom!mingi, unprotected sex (it's condom not sindom)

a/n : requested by @certifiedmoa

buy me coffee ?

Travelling with your boyfriend for his work has never been an issue for you. Heck, it's fun because you both get to explore places and cultures together and if you look stupid, at least you look stupid together and you were sharing that moment. You love him, truly and dearly, but sometimes you do wonder if he loves you or his work more.

It had been two hours since you both checked into the hotel, approximately an hour and a half since his manager told him that there was no schedule today si he was allowed to explore on his own. But what did your boyfriend do? Plant his ass on a chair and work. Sure, most days this happen, you'd just stick by him and accompany him finishing up his work. But most days you're in his studio and where you were was definitely not his studio. So many potential of fun yet his focus is doing something he'd usually complain about days on end. He didn't even realize that you had been sitting on the bed, pouting and glaring at him for the past 10 minutes.

Well, if you wanted to do something, it was now or never.

Just as Mingi was about to clip the audio, his iPad was taken out of his hands and off his lap and before he could complain, you had carefully placed yourself in straddle on his lap. "Baby!" He exclaimed, trying to reach for his iPad but you closed the cover and placed it on a nearby coffee table. "Don't you 'baby' me," you huffed, crossing your arms on your chest, "I have been waiting for you to get off your ass and do something with me for two hours, Mingi, I am not kidding when I said you seem to pay more attention to your work than me even when we're at a four star hotel with a nice view!"

Your rant surprised Mingi mostly because he hadn't realized that it had been two hours since he "checked out" his work. He swore he had only wanted to take a peek of the revision he uploaded but time slipped past him and he felt bad.

"Aww, I'm sorry baby," his big hands grabbed you gently by the hips and his thumb began rubbing gentle circles over your leggings, "I didn't realize I was taking that long. Can I make it up to you?"

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Maybe Mingi being so overly focused on his job was a good thing if it means that you were getting eaten out this good.

"F-fuck," you gasped, head lolling back as your chest arched to the ceiling. From between your spread legs, Mingi looked up at you with a satisfied smirk on his lips, "Feeling good, baby?" He chuckled. The movement of his lips on your clit paired with the vibration of his voice made you shuddered out a sigh and thighs threatening to snap around Mingi's head. He didn't even bother pulling your leggings and panties all the way off, they were simply pulled down to your knees and each movement you made, the flimsy garment rode up, securing Mingi's position on your cunt. "Better than good, I-I, shit- M-Mingi please, I wanna cum," you whined, hands gripping the sheets tightly due to desperation. Oh-so-simply, Mingi drag his tongue from your opening slowly to your clit muttering loud enough for you to hear, "Fuck, so eager. My sweet, sweet love being so good for me by making me happy. Do whatever you want on me, you deserve as much."

The words that came out of Mingi's mouth felt more like an order than permission and it made you visibly shudder. So you grabbed onto the sheets beneath you and began grinding your cunt on Mingi's face. It was as if your hips had a mind of its own with how feantic the movements seem. The moment you realized the way your body reacted to him, you tried putting some space between you two from being shy all of a sudden but Mingi seem to be enjoying every bit of it as seen from the way his hands turned like talons, gripping the underside of your thighs tightly, making sure his nails were making crescent indents to mark you.

Just as you were about to cum hard on his tongue, Mingi ripped his lips away from your nether ones abruptly sending you nearly jumping up only for Mingi to move quicker than you by pressing on your chest gently gently as he only wanted to ensure your position and pushing you down on the bed. You don't know which was hotter, the sight of Mingi panting, the flush of his cheeks paired with the glaze in his eyes, or the way his tongue ran along his bottom lip, greedily collecting your juice as if not wanting them to go to waste. "Baby, I'm sorry but if you're gonna cum, it's gonna be on my cock," he panted.

It was your last warning before he pushed your knees open and expertly nudge the tip of his cock into your pulsing hole. The pressure of the head made your eyes roll back into your head while your hips tried to meet his movements only to fail because he was keeping you in position. Meanwhile, Mingi was enjoying the tension from holding himself back. Between feeling your warm cunt that provided a biting edge of pleasure and watching your eyes watering from anticipation, Mingi didn't know which was better. With a roll of his hips, his cock slowly entered you. Your head was thrown back and your thighs tensed from the delicious drag of his length filling you up until it was completely sheathed inside you, the tip kissing your cervix which sent a chill down your spine.

Though Mingi himself wanted to move and his hips found it hard to remain still, he enjoyed how you look falling apart on his cock with the way you gasped and bit your bottom lip from your pleasure. A rumble bubble in his chest from how hard he tried to control himself so before he completely lost it, he began peppering kisses along your jaw and exposed neck. "Baby, baby," his voice managed to pause your whining momentarily but not your squirming, "I need to move, okay? Can you handle that? Can you handle me making love to you? I wanna see you cum when I fill you up, okay?" Though Mingi didn't mean to rile you up, your breath became laboured and with a low whine, you grabbed the back of his neck and locked lips with him.

Mingi took your action as permission for him to move so he began rolling his hips upwards, meeting your pubic bones with each wave of movement.

Neither you nor him were experts in sex per se, but you both were just so compatible with each other that your connection reached the most intimate aspects of your lives. A lot can be said about the minimal movement Mingi did; starting from the way he cupped the back of your head, to the way he let your fingers tangle together in a firm yet loving grip, and the way he minimized the chance of you two being detached by grinding on you rather than jackhammering his talented hips on you. It felt great because you were stimulated in different ways all at once, something you had never experienced before you met Mingi and while it took a while for you both to be able to understand what worked for each other, you both did a pretty good job of taking mental notes of what the other like.

Especially Mingi.

While Mingi had a rather higher level of libido, he found himself feeling even more pleasure when he was able to pleasure you. The idea of you unravelling from him, being so affected, it was an ego boost. And you supported that idea by letting him know that you have never felt like that before. From the moment he made the discovery, he began taking care of you more than he cared about taking care of himself. Technically, when he took care of you, he was most definitely taking care of himself. It was a win-win situation.

"F-fuck- Mingi!" You gasped, your free hand reaching to the back of his head to tug on the soft, short hair near his nape. The tug made Mingi let out a groan followed by a low hum, the lack of space between you two allowed the vibration to hover on the skin of your chest. "Don't do that, baby, I don't wanna go rough on you tonight," he mumbled as he pressed his forehead on yours, letting out a shaky breath before his hips moved even faster.

Maybe it was due to the denial of your previous release but you could feel your high coming. Your body gave away signs of your release and Mingi always seemed to notice it. The corner of his lips tugged upwards and the waves of hip rolls were given a slight edge when he started hitting you harshly. The impact caused you to almost got sent reeling back and on instinct, your free hand wound around his shoulder and held him close. "Fuck!" Mingi grunted when he felt your pebbled nipples rubbing against his chest and your voice echoing in his ears, turning his brain fuzzy. "Baby, I wanna cum in you but you gotta cum for me first, I wanna see you make a mess, can you do that?" It was almost comical that your cunt clenched around him when he said that but he couldn't find it in himself to make a comment.

With your feet locked behind him, resting right above the cute butt that you like to smack in passing, you locked his position and almost immediately, Mingi started pistoning his hips.

Obscene sounds came out of both of you be it from your mouths or from your bodies moving together. Had either of you had any shame left, a permanent blush would be tattooed on your cheeks and you would be sending your hotel neighbours apology letters and fruit baskets. But who cares about other people when one second you were holding onto your boyfriend for dear life and the next, your cunt had a vice grip that was hard enough to make Mingi hiss and still as he release his load in you when he felt your body trembling against his.

Mingi let out a silent huff followed by an almost silent 'fuck' which was only so because your orgasm caused your ear to ring. In the haze of your high, you could hear Mingi muttering about not wanting to cum that fast and blaming you for being too damn hot. If your face was not warm before, Mingi's cleverly veiled sexual compliment would've been able to allow you to warm up a hot pocket by just pressing it to your cheeks.

Sex with Mingi always took your breath away and it wasn't just because he fucks like a drill in an oil rig but it was also because it was... Him. Even as you lay there, trying to catch your breath, Mingi hovered above you with an arm propped so he could watch you.

"Stop looking at me like that!" you whined, trying to shield his gaze away by covering your face only for him to whine and shove your hands gently to the sides. "Like what, like you're the only person I've ever loved in my life?" he smirked, laughing when you smacked him square in his chest. "I'm gonna have to ask you to say that again so I can record it and send it to your mom," you teased, rolling your eyes as if you were annoyed but the slight tug on the corners of your lips gave your true feelings away.

"Are you okay now?" Mingi asked, asking if you'd fully caught your breath. Letting out one last sigh, you nodded, thinking that he was finally taking you out of the hotel.

But you soon found Mingi had another idea in mind because soon, he repositioned himself between your spread legs with a teasing glint in his eyes and the once softened cock coming back alive inside you.

"Great, because I'm not done with my plan on making this your best trip just yet."

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kanekisfavoritegf · 6 months

Text

Paranoia

Click here! For Pt. 1 : SHAMELESS

This actually took forever cause of my hiatus and severe writers block so I'm super sorry :((

MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS DNI you will be blocked!🩷

Warnings: Smut, BJ, face fucking Cucking, rough sex, kinda deranged Sukuna, breading, hate sex, voyeurism, exhibitionist, mentions of prior infidelity. Sukuna x reader x toji??? (more in the first part)

Sukuna had been living in a state of paranoia.

Ever since your son had been born, he’d been taking notice of how different they looked.

He wouldn’t say anything to you. Not until three months in when one day at work…

He was in Toji’s office going over some business plans for a big upcoming merger. He was about to leave when his eyes flicked to a framed photo on his desk. His heart dropped for a second before rising once again to its rightful place when he realised it was a baby photo of Megumi, circa 2003.

“Your son?” He nodded to the image.

Toji smirked a little before nodding, “Yeah, he is now four, about to be five in a few weeks. Time really goes by fast.”

“He looks exactly like you.”

“Yeah, he always has, even when he was a newborn.” Toji fought off the incoming smirk.

Sukuna’s brain clogs were slowly turning as he pierced everything together. Anger simmered in his blood.

“Cute runt.”

“How old’s your kid now anyway, Ryo? Like two months?”

“Three.”

“Cute.” Tojis said not really caring to look up from his screen.

Half an hour after Sukuna left his office, he felt his eye twitch every other minute. It was like there was a devil on both his shoulders. One telling him to get a paternity test and kick you to the curb, the other telling him to call you to his office and make you suck his dick until he wasn't angry at you anymore.

Option one would definitely solve his paranoia, but he would lose you. And Sukuna refuses to give up his favourite treasures, especially not to Toji of all people. He’d rather kill you than have him call you his wife.

Totally very sane.

So option two it is.

When Sukuna’s assistant called telling you to come, with no explanation. You honestly felt the air leave your lungs. You knew he knew, and he knew that you knew that he knew. But none of you acknowledged it. You don’t know why.

You had a plan the day Toji left your house the morning after you two defiled every single wall in yours and Sukuna’s shared home. You planned to leave your husband and start a new life. But then it hit you. Guilt like no other. A guilt that had left you crying for half the week and drinking for the rest.

Upon your husband's arrival, he pulled you into his embrace, covering your face with kisses and shoving an expensive bouquet your way and a diamond necklace in his briefcase. His form of apologising was gift-giving. Along with eating you out right there on the floor, until, you had made a mess of his face.

How could you leave him after one measly fight? How could you cheat on him after a small hiccup in the relationship? This was your marriage and you acted like a complete whore. You let temporary emotions and anxiety take control of your vagina and like a shark smelling blood you raced your way to the closest dick you could find.

And everything just went down hill after you found out you were pregnant. The anxiety of finding out who was the father killed you. You spent many tearful nights hoping your child’s face would grow to resemble your husband more. But that wasn't the case. So you did your best to be the perfect wife and stay in his good graces, for how could you lose the love of your life?

So there you stood, at the door of the meeting room knocking softly at its smooth wood. You fiddled with your hair and straightened out your dress as you waited for your husband's response.

“Come in.” The voice was deep, like your husband's but its specific rasp had you hesitating as you turned the door knob.

“Hi, sweetheart.” The scar on his mouth twisted with his smile. He looked overjoyed to be here. And you couldn’t be any more annoyed at him.

“Why are you here?” Your voice was laced with annoyance.

“Baby, that’s not how you greet people.”

“Don’t call me baby Toji.”

“You’ve been avoiding me.” He stated, eyes piercing yours.

“So?”

“So, you have my kid-”

“Could you keep it down!” You slammed the door shut behind you, hoping no one overheard. “Sukuna is the father, not you.”

“You have MY kid, Y/N, my kid, and you don’t talk to me. You barely even look at me.”

“Because I have a HUSBAND and a life I want.” You shook your head at him.

“That’s not what you said last year.”

“Is that why you called me here? To try and convince me to leave my husband?”

“He is here because I invited him.” You jumped from your position. Turning to face your husband with a shocked face.

“Ryomen.” You put on your best smile, trying to keep it together as you stare at him; paying no mind to the growing grim expression of your past lover, or for better words, past mistake.

“My love.” He smiled with a twinkle of something dangerous in his eyes.

“Why did you invite him here?” You watched as he locked the door behind him, closing all the curtains and stalking down the long table passed all the empty chairs. Until he reached the end. The CEO’s chair.

He sat himself down and looked at you, raising his eyebrow until you got the hint, and hurried your cute self onto his lap.

“Hello, my wife.” His head pressed into your neck roughly, taking in the scent of you. “God, you smell amazing.”

“Sukuna, Toji is here.” You sighed out dreamily as Sukuna busied himself with kissing your neck.

“You are truly a shameless slut.” You froze in your movements.

“What?” Your voice shook.

“Oh, I was talking to Toji, but I guess it can apply to you too.” Your heart had now dropped to the pits of your stomach. Was this it? Was this the end of your marriage?

“Sukuna wai-”

“Shut up.”

“Ryomen, please.” His hands grasped your hair tightly, moving you off of his lap and onto the floor. All the while, Toji watched with a smile on his face. This was it for him. The moment in which Sukuna would kick you to the curb and let him have you. At least, that’s what he thought.

“Suck my dick.” Sukuna didn’t even give you time to process what he demanded, because as soon as your mouth was open he plunged his length down your throat. Groaning at the feeling of your immediate gags. You begged him to kick Toji out with your eyes, pleading for privacy as he used you.

“You know, I watched the clips of you screwing my wife over and over.” Your husband's attention was fully on Toji now, as held on to your hair. Staring him down as Toji watched on, not giving a response to Sukuna’s obvious attempt to get to him.

“You made it seem like they were erased, but I only had to put in a little effort to find the security camera's videos on your hard drive.”

His hand guided the movements of your head so roughly, tears already streamed down your face.

“If I didn’t want you to find them, Sukuna, I wouldn’t have let you.” Toji finally gave a response back.

“Now, now. Is that any way to talk to your boss?” He tutted at him. Smiling at the growing annoyance on Toji’s face.

“The one mistake you made wasn’t fucking my wife, or trying to take my child.” He scoffed at him. “It was thinking I’d ever let my wife go.” Sukuna had pulled his now fully erect cock out of your mouth and slapped it against your tear-stained cheeks. You used this time to breathe and rest as he assaulted your face with more slaps. But this reprieve didn't last long, as he was plunging back into your mouth as he continued talking to Toji.

“You what? Thought I didn’t know she was a whore the day I married her?” You couldn't help but moan at your husband's words, rubbing yourself down onto his shining shoe. “I mean just look at her, humping my leg like a bitch in heat.”

And as you completely ignored the attention of your past love, Sukuna came to the resolution that he’d never leave you. Not ever. He would punish you for all your worth. But leave you? Never. You were like a drug to him, an incubus who had her fangs lodged deep into his soul. So, while yes, he was angry at you for sleeping with another man, he realised he just needed to fuck the much-needed sense back into you.

And that's when Sukuna decided to fuck you until the very idea of Toji had been completely erased. Again and again.

Sitting prettily on the table, Toji was forced to watch Sukuna take you over and over just like he did all those months ago.

You made no attempt to be quiet because you knew you would be met with Sukuna’s hand squeezing your cheeks, forcing them open as he plowed into you. Every moan and every whine was one pulled from your husband, as he took you, sitting on the table.

Toji’s eyes were kept to the ground until Sukuna noticed his aversion to the scene.

“Look at my wife while I fuck her, Toji. You know what you put me through this year? You should be beaten bloody and fired. You have it easy. Now, watch her face as I make her cum.”

Even with his eyes pressed on yours as they rolled back in pleasure, Sukuna didn't stop his verbal attacks at the man. Continuing to talk as he fucked through another orgasm.

“I’d fuck your wife to prove a point, but she’s dead already, isn’t she?”

“She’s always been a screamer but listen to her now. Any louder and someone might hear through the soundproof walls.”

“Do you miss fucking her?”

“God she's always so tight and wet.”

“Look at how lovely my wife squeezes around me.”

Wanting a change of position, Sukuna thought it best to throw you over Toji’s lap as he took you from behind.

“Don’t touch what isn't yours.” Your husband warned as Toji went to pat your head as you drooled over his lap and his very prominent hard-on.

“Ryo—fuck. Break. Plea-Oh fuck.” You tried pleading for a break.

“Nuh-uh, baby. We are gonna keep going until I say so.

Pressing your nails into Toji's thighs for stability only caused him to groan out in pleasure.

“Oh. You like watching me fuck my belongings?” Sukuna laughed at Toji’s glare. Knowing that if he tried to leave, it would be over for him, he'd lose his job, along with you.

Slowing his movements down a little, Sukuna reveled at the way you shuddered over his cock. He was getting close and could feel it.”

“Should we give our baby boy a sibling? Hm? A girl or a boy? I think I want another boy. What do you think, baby?”

You gave no response, only the moan of a cock drunk whore.

“Since my wife can’t answer. Toji, tell me. Should I give my son a sibling?”

After being met with silence again. Your husband took it upon himself, cumming in you, triggering your climax immediately after.

You fell to the ground, your weak legs giving in after The hard fucking they withstood. Cum seeped out of you and onto the floor. “What are you doing? Get up. How many times did it take for it to stick in the security footage?” He asked you, keeping eye contact with the other man as he spoke. “I want to make sure you leave full.”

Taglist: @mcnooberton @watyousayin @lazullywinter @llovergirlll @sanrioglocks @ramonathinks

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chuluoyi · 7 months

Text

UNHOLY MATRIMONY — 03

✩°｡ ⋆ the right husband

- fushiguro megumi x oc/reader - oc/reader's character name is hara sena, pronouns still refer to “you” and i won’t mention it often—just for the sake of aesthetic rather than repeatedly writing "y/n"

in another life, in which fate is still screwing his life over, Fushiguro Megumi finds himself in an arranged marriage―with you.

genre/warnings: arranged marriage au, domestic life, family drama, fluff

notes: you and megumi start noticing these little things about each other? anyways, slice of life for this chapter―let's call it "fluff before the storm" *evil smirk*

listen to: found you - jyj more for fluff effect ehe

✩°｡ ⋆ unholy matrimony (masterlist) | chapter two : unholy matrimony <- previous ✩ next -> chapter four : going downhill

Your marriage to Megumi is, considering all things so far, peaceful. While it's platonic at best and filled with petty arguments at worst, both of you still managed to become something akin to close frenemies.

And Megumi is, in every sense of the word, a very decent husband.

He was well aware that living at the Zen'in estate had been far from comfortable for you―bumping into Naoya on several occasions definitely did a number on your mental health―and it wasn't like he enjoyed it either, so when your marriage reached its third month, he declared before the elders that the two of you would move out of that accursed property and live on your own.

"This place is nice." You marveled in awe at your new shared apartment. Every piece of furniture and appliance was brand new, exuding a modernity that was a stark departure from the aged, wooden-themed furnishings of the traditional Zen'in household.

"Of course, I chose it," Megumi quipped as he moved the boxes of your belongings. The second he saw this place from a real estate pamphlet, a spacious two-bedroom apartment with good cooking space, he immediately dipped into his life savings to purchase it.

To have his own personal space away from the clutches of the Zen'in, and let's not forget that now he has a certain wife to come home to. So overall, he considered it a good investment.

He eyed you, as you gleefully fussed over the little cactuses on the window. "Oi, get your things," he barked and you whipped your head at him sullenly, before begrudgingly stomping towards him.

By now, Megumi had found you more than just tolerable. Sometimes you still annoyed him with your little antics, but you were funny. He couldn't deny that his life had brightened considerably for the past three months―he wasn't as bored.

"You could've helped," you griped with a glare as you reached out for your box.

"You must be responsible for your own things," he deadpanned.

"But you're the husband! Husbands help their wives, no?"

That word again. Megumi didn't know why sweat gathered at his palm and something inside him jolted whenever he heard you refer to him as your husband. Shouldn't he get used to it by now? You made fun of him almost every day at this point.

He glanced at you with a straight face, or at least trying to. "Husbands don't help irresponsible wives."

"Hmph!"

You puckered your lips in indignation, and at that moment, Megumi thought you were cute.

Wait... what?

Well, the least you could do after he so kindly had both of you out of that Zen'in hell was of course, getting your own belongings in order. So you picked your boxes of outfits, already marked with your name, two at once just because you wanted it done quickly. The weight made you wobble and unsteady on your feet though.

Megumi frowned, already dreading one possible outcome. "Hey―"

And suddenly, you lost your balance, and he didn't think twice when he caught your hand, didn't think at all when your boxes fell with a thud, scattering the contents―as he instinctively pulled you to him, with him bracing the impact of the cold, hard tiles.

The feminine scent of your favorite shampoo filled his nostrils.

You fell on his chest hard, and even you felt the pain. "Megumi! Gosh, I'm so sorry! Are you okay?"

You wanted to make sure he was alright that instant, your hand rested on the black sweater he had on, and what you touched―his body―was sturdy, hard. It dawned on you that it was probably the first time that both of you were this close in distance.

Your cheeks bloomed into the wondrous shade of peach, but you either didn’t notice or ignored it as you peered at him. "I'm so, so sorry! Did you hit your head? Oh no, are you in pain?"

Megumi cracked his eyes open, hissing at the pain on his back. And the immediate sight in front of him was the pair marbles of your eyes. And for one good second, he just bored through them.

Then he blurted the first thing in his mind to save his thoughts from being caught. "Get off. You're heavy."

You were broken from your trance and scrambled away, still mumbling apologizes. You honestly felt bad. "Sorry... I'll get my things right away. Are you fine though?"

He got up, rubbing his back. "Just get your things. It's fine."

"Once again, I'm sorry―"

"Yeah, yeah. You're so troublesome."

You wanted to retort back but you bit your tongue due to guilt. With a sigh, you put your scattered things in the box and went to your designated bedroom.

Megumi shifted his gaze to the little succulent pot he placed at the living room as you stalked away. Yeah, he was the one who bought those cute little plants and placed them at every corner of the place, wondering if you'd like them. His face burned at the remainder of your touch on his chest, and the vividness of your doll-like eyes just now.

Has he always thought you were pretty?

As much as you and Megumi wanted to live as mundanely as possible now that you had moved out, some bumps were still bound to happen. Zen'in clan, at any given chance, choked both of you with their traditional values; the importance of a man's strength and woman's virtues, heirs and whatnots―which sounded like a bunch of nonsense to you most of the time.

But as you’d been made aware, Megumi had his own agenda as to why he agreed to this marriage. He has a sister, who was cursed, and he wants to use his newfound resources obtained from the Zen'in who has legitimatized him.

“How long has she been like this?” your question came out in a whisper as you took a good view of Fushiguro Tsumiki on the pristine hospital bed. She looked so peaceful, as if she was merely sleeping and not on the verge of death. The only thing out of place that would show you her apparent state was the crimson curse mark on her forehead.

You had just finished your mission and decided to join Megumi after he finished his to visit his sister. It was your first time seeing her and the sight of her was quite heartbreaking.

"Almost nine years now." Megumi didn't turn to you as he gazed at his sister in melancholy. He looked sad, and deservedly so. You wouldn't be able to imagine how destroyed you'd be if your mother was the one in Tsumiki's place.

"Have you been able to figure anything out?"

"Nothing so far," he lamented. "Even after living in that godforsaken place for three months, I didn't find anything worth trying in the archives."

During the first three months of your newlywed life, Megumi spent a lot of time away in the warehouse of archives of Zen'in estate, looking for any way for him to help break this curse. Reflecting on those early days of your marriage, you couldn't help but recall how dreary and monotonous they had felt.

There wasn't much that he could do aside from visiting her, and so after leaving refreshment for the nurses, the two of you went back to your shared apartment together in silence.

"How was your mission today?" Megumi asked with a neutral expression as the two of you waited at a crossroad. He maintained a vigilant watch over the passing and approaching vehicles, positioning himself slightly ahead of you.

This. You can feel your cheeks getting warmer. Small gestures like this make your heart soar these days.

"Fine, just a grade 1. The usual," you answered, looking away from the sight of his broad back. "You?"

"Yeah, same. Ah," he pointed at the green light. "Let's walk."

He instinctively slid to your right, positioning himself closer to where the cars were lining up. It was a subtle gesture you had come to notice over time—Megumi is a gentleman underneath his prickly exterior.

He would get you take-outs even when you had insisted to cook. And he was fine with you invading his personal space in the very apartment he bought with his own wages from jujutsu work. And of course you noticed those little pots of succulent he planted just to make the place seem brighter—a considerate and thoughtful gesture on his part.

"I don't think I have properly thanked you," you murmured when both of you reached your home. "Thank you for getting us out of that place."

He glanced at you with a blank expression. "Hmm."

"But how do you get them to agree with this arrangement?" No matter how you look at it, Megumi must've faced quite a challenge. For a household as ancient as Zen'in, something like moving out must be seen as some sort of an outlandish behavior.

"I just said it as it is. It's a big deal, you know?" he replied with a grunt, taking off his shoes. "It's enough already that we keep our heads down and go with whatever they say, but marriage is a business between two people, not the whole clan. And it makes things convenient too for us in the future, so why not?"

"You're thinking that far ahead," you mused, blinking a few times.

"Yeah? Unlike you, I'm the adult here." He shot you a withering look. "While they keep droning on about having a kid, I used that chance to emphasize just how important it is for us to have our own space."

Ah, that again. It irked you too that the Zen'in elders seemed to pressure you into having a child. What was their aim anyway? A Ten Shadows-wielding baby?

But you were curious. Mainly because you just wanted to get a rise out of him. "Hmm, be honest with me. What are your thoughts about having a child?"

Your question clearly took Megumi by surprise, evident by how he immediately snapped his head towards you with an annoyed glare. "You're seriously asking me that, now?"

"Yes, why?"

He shook his head, settling on the couch. "I don't think I'm ready to raise a kid. I mean, the only reason they want us to have one is for that kid is to inherit the Ten Shadows. That's not exactly a good reason to have a child."

You should've expected this degree of seriousness from him. He was this kind of a person. But you really thought his obvious answer was cool, despite yourself.

"What about you?" he finally asked, waiting for your response.

You snorted. "Well, I share the same sentiment with you. I might've wanted to have them someday, just so I can protect them though." You fiddled with your fingers. "Children... they never ask to be born. We are the ones who must be responsible for them."

If he had to be honest, he was a bit taken aback. You had just said two things—a possibility of having children with him and a glimpse of what you believed in. Megumi decided to focus on the latter though.

"What was... your childhood like?" he tried to choose his words carefully, but it still came pretty straightforward to his liking.

"You don't have to be on eggshells around me while asking that," you chided with a smile. You'd figured he'd ask one of these days and it was no longer a sore topic for you to talk about. "A sob story, more or less."

You felt his questioning gaze on you, so you elaborated. "My mom didn't know that my father was a married man. She didn't know she was the mistress until she had me. And from then on, she lives the life of an abandoned wife whose sole purpose is to nurture her child to the fullest. Me."

You clearly had Megumi's attention with the way you worded your story. You shrugged. "My childhood was a happy one when I was unaware of anything and everything, until my father decided to take us back just to make me try these... jujutsu shit," you bitterly scoffed. "Apparently I have a knack for it, way more than my entitled half-sisters do. And so he finally provided for us."

You let out a full-blown laugh laced with sarcasm—you didn't know how it sounded to his ears. Miserable? Plain acceptance?

"Mom poured her heart and soul for me, so that I won't live a terrible life. She said it was better with my father rather than her, so she let me go." Reciting this story should no longer hurt, so why do you have the beginnings of tears at the corner of your eyes? "And father literally made me work for him. If I wanted to see mom, then I had to excel at a cursed technique. If I wanted to meet her, I must marry that prick Naoya."

"That's—" Megumi wanted to say something—anything, perhaps to soothe you. But he held himself back when to both of your surprises, you sniffled.

But you wiped your eyes and forced a chuckle before he could say anything. "No, sorry, Megumi. I wasn't looking for your pity. Yeah, so that's that. It's not like I want this." It's not like I want to trap you with me.

Megumi wasn't sure what his reaction should be so that he wouldn't come off as offending. But now that he had heard this from you, he was even more certain of one thing.

"Good thing I got both of us out of there, huh?" he lightly jested, and it worked. You burst into these cute giggles.

"They barely did anything to you though. You could've stayed."

"And watch Naoya harass you? Nah."

"Ah," your eyes now twinkled with that no-good gleam he almost saw everyday at this point. "So you no longer hate me. We've come this far. I'm touched."

He rolled his eyes. "I never said I hate you. Throughout people in our clans, remember? We can only trust each other."

"That's what I call progress, dear."

And Megumi didn't know where he got this sheer confidence from but he didn't falter when he retorted, "Whatever you say, wife."

That night, when you got back to your separate bedrooms, once again you were convinced.

You have picked the right husband.

✩°｡ ⋆ next -> chapter four : going downhill

🏷️ taglist

@moonmalice @hellothere9597 @qtnfer @firstplaidpeachnickel @waddlingwanderer @chilichopsticks @satorus-slut @dcvilxswish @illyrian-moonswarrior @tojirin @bluebreadenthusiast

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neostrayteez · 1 year

Text

PLAY MY WAY

PAIRING. mark lee x female reader

WORD COUNT. 5.9k

SUMMARY. you never met a guy you couldn’t score and church boy Mark is no exception, but he may end up surprising you.

WARNINGS. smut, profanity

PLAYLIST. “serial lover” by kehlani

ONLY WAKE ME UP IF YOU CAN TAKE THAT SHIT UNDERSTAND YOU’RE ENTERING AT YOUR OWN RISK

The moment you saw Mark, you knew you had to have him.

Not because he was cute, which he definitely was. And not because he laughed at all your jokes, even the bad ones. But because he was a good little Christian boy, yet there was something in his eyes that told you he would burn down everything he believed in for the right girl.

Mark thanked God for everything - the food his mother spent hours preparing, the clothes his father paid for, even the goddamn sunny weather when rain was expected. It was annoying and made your eyes roll back in your head.

You, on the other hand, despised everything about religion. Especially its misogynistic rules on what you could and couldn’t do with your own body. Sitting through a sermon on chastity (or any subject, for that matter) was far worse than sitting in hell beside the devil himself, you mused.

So, when you excitedly asked to go to church camp, your parents could hardly believe it. A whole week of preaching and bible thumping? Maybe one message would finally get through to you.

Little did they know, you were a girl on a mission.

First, you wanted to know if Mark actually believed the bullshit he so fervently said. Secondly, and much more importantly, you wanted to know if getting him between your thighs would be as much of a fun challenge as you hoped.

From the moment camp kicked off, you had every innocent excuse ready to be near Mark. You needed a prayer partner, because you weren’t very good at asking God for things. You needed a peer to counsel you, because you were struggling in your faith, but the older leaders were too intimidating.

Mark was all too happy to be everything you needed.

You were careful not to be too clingy, avoiding and ignoring Mark in between your moments together, creating a push and pull dynamic that definitely caught his attention, because Mark would start searching for you when you weren’t leaning on him for guidance.

And by day four, you had him.

Mark moaned as he slid inside you, fingers digging painfully into your hips.

You sucked in a breath, feeling yourself stretching around him, and tightened your fist in his hair, your arms around his shoulders. “Just like that, baby,” you purred, nibbling at his ear. “Doesn’t it feel good?”

Mark braced a hand on the wall behind you and groaned, “So good.”

If you had told Mark that morning he would be having sex in a tiny closet crammed full with craft materials and weird stuffed animals staring at him, he would have laughed in your face. But there was no resisting you.

Mark was hooked to the sound of your laugh, to the twinkle in your eye when you smiled at him. He knew deep down you didn’t give a shit about God, but he would eat up any opportunity to be near you, to feel even the slightest brush of your skin against his.

When you took him by the hand and asked him to follow you, Mark’s body was already moving before his brain could comprehend what it all meant.

You had kissed him with a passion Mark wasn’t familiar with, because he’d never known it. He’d kissed girls before, little pecks here and there, but this was something entirely different. You were kissing him like there would be nothing left of him when you were done.

Mark had groaned when you palmed him over his jeans and he didn’t stop you when you began unfastening his belt. The taste of you on his tongue was too addicting; he didn’t want it to end. The warmth of your body against his was more intoxicating than any alcohol he’d tried. Just the feeling of your breasts pushed against his chest as you kissed him was enough to get him hard.

The moment Mark sheathed himself to the hilt inside you, he knew he was fucked. Literally, but also in every other definition of the word.

You knew the chances of an orgasm on your part were slim, but you didn’t care. You were getting off in other ways. You wanted Mark to come and you wanted it to break him.

The closet was dimly lit. Your naked ass was propped on a cabinet against the wall, your skirt hiked around your waist as Mark tentatively thrust inside you again, your thighs hooked on his hips. You found purchase in his shoulders as you tucked your face in the crook of his neck and let a sound of pleasure escape you.

“Fuck,” Mark said, his voice low and raspy in your ear. The heat of your breath on his skin sent a shiver down his spine. He moved slowly inside you, drawing his hips back to push in again. He was trying to savor it, make it last.

You smiled, a little smug and even more surprised. You expected him to go hard and fast, too fucked out by the vice of your body. A pleasure he had never felt before.

Mark snapped his hips harder and liked the noise you made when he did. So he did it again and again, until the cabinet beneath you started to creak with his movements. He shifted his footing, cursing his pants pooled too snugly around his ankles that threw him off rhythm.

“Mark,” you whined, grazing your teeth at the base of his shoulder. You felt his body tensing under your hands and you smoothed them down his back to calm him.

Mark lifted his head and tossed the hair out of his eyes, staring into your face and wondering what the fuck someone as beautiful as you saw in him that you would let him be inside you like this.

“What’s wrong?” you asked softly. The look on his face was something you hadn’t seen before. You didn’t recognize it. It wasn’t the lust you’d come to expect from boys that got to touch you.

It was more like reverence.

Rather than get into all the feelings rushing through him with the same intensity his pulse was pounding through his body, Mark said, “You promise you’re on birth control?”

You snorted. “Mark, I would not be letting you hit it raw right now if I didn’t have an IUD inside me.”

“Does it hurt?”

“My doctor was nice enough to numb my cervix before putting it in.”

You assumed, since Mark was still sinking his cock in and out of you at a languid pace, that the sudden need for conversation was to distract himself from how close he was and you wouldn’t hold it against him.

Mark bottomed out inside your wet, tight sex and stilled. He wanted so badly to kiss you, but he was a coward. “No, I mean, me,” he said, swallowing the lump in his throat. “Am I hurting you?”

You blinked. Tilting your head, you asked, “Do you want it to hurt?”

Some boys did. You knew that. But Mark shook his head immediately.

You dragged your nails down his spine, getting ahold of his hips and drawing him flush against you, chest to chest, nose to nose. Kissing the corner of his mouth, you whispered, “It’s deep. And tight.”

“Fuck,” Mark huffed, smashing his lips on yours. He couldn’t resist anymore.

You closed your eyes and let yourself feel him, whimpering into his mouth when he started thrusting into you again, smooth but hard. Mark swallowed every sound you made, holding you to him so tightly it was almost painful.

This was what made life worth living - the toe-curling pleasure of him fitting so perfectly inside you, completing you and making you whole again. His cock dragging against your sweet spot almost rivaled the high that came with knowing you had conquered another boy.

Mark moaned into your mouth and broke from your kisses. His gaze fell to your swollen lips. They were parted, endless soft noises of pleasure rolling off your tongue with every stroke of his cock. He shivered at that, knowing he made you feel good.

You grabbed Mark’s arms for dear life when he began fucking into you like he would never get the chance again. A victorious grin spread across your lips when his groans pitched higher and higher, his pace jarring you on the cabinet as he lost himself to the euphoria that was your body.

“Come for me, baby,” you crooned in his ear and Mark shattered in your arms.

He released inside you with a mangled cry, a groan catching in his chest, hips smacking into you messily to empty his load until he was totally spent.

Mark’s mind went blank except for pleasure. He couldn’t think and he sure as hell couldn’t breathe. The high took over every inch of his body and ruined him, making him shake down to his very core.

You snickered quietly, tempted to tease him for how hard he came, but held your tongue. Mark slumped against you, burying his face in your breasts, hands braced on opposite sides of your hips as he panted for oxygen. You kept running your fingers over his hot skin, soothing him, and whispered, “My sweet little virgin no more.”

Mark was relieved you were still holding onto him, even as he went soft inside you. He wasn’t ready to be parted yet. From this feeling. From you.

Get it together, he told himself and finally staggered out of your arms to begin fixing his clothes.

Mark couldn’t meet your eyes, because he’d realized that thanks to the intensity of his climax, he wasn’t sure if you’d finished too. He did shyly ask if you were alright and you told him you were fine. He didn’t need to know you were fighting a giggle at his expense. The boy was so fucked out. Mark was seeing you - and probably his life - though brand new eyes.

It was all a lie. He didn’t get struck by a bolt of lighting from heaven for having sex. Though whether or not he would burst into flames when he walked into church remained to be seen.

After finding your panties on the floor, slipping them on and adjusting your skirt, you sauntered out of the closet without a word and went about your day. You didn’t like to linger and began the long walk to your cabin for a well-deserved shower.

You weren’t surprised that instead of afterglow, there was awkwardness on Mark’s part. It was to be expected for someone who had surrendered their precious virtue. What did surprise you, however, was that you kept thinking about Mark after you left him. That wasn’t like you. You assumed the attraction to him would go away once you’d gotten what you wanted, but no - you found yourself eyeing him from across the way.

Wanting him.

No one had ever looked at you the way Mark did. Other boys focused on your body and all its power, but Mark stared into your eyes. He kissed you recklessly, driven within an inch of madness. Like he was fighting for his life and only you could save him.

Get a grip, you told yourself, the low monotone of another preacher humming like static in your ears as you replayed the memory of Mark fucking you in your head. It made the evening sermon easier to get through.

Mark, despite being at the other end of the row of chairs, could hardly breathe with the heavy tension in his chest. He wanted to stand up and shout at the top of his lungs, “What are we?!”

But he already knew. Out of the two of you, he was the only one thinking about that closet and the secrets it kept inside. You had already moved on and Mark felt totally discarded. He fell asleep that night to a fantasy of you sleeping in his arms.

Ever a loner, you kept to yourself. You had two more days to get through of this stupid camp, but you were satisfied. You’d accomplished what you came there to do.

Sitting at one of the tables outside, the pages of your bible that you had never opened flapping in the wind, you played on your phone and nearly jumped out of your skin when someone slid unannounced into the spot beside you.

“Jesus Christ, Mark,” you exclaimed, setting down your phone. The anger swiftly left your face when you realized how close he was to you and goddamn, why did he smell so good? Your heart was dancing in your chest, much to your annoyance.

Mark had been watching you from afar, catching himself smiling at the way you tucked your hair behind your ear as it swept up in the breeze and how you kept nibbling on your lip as you concentrated on your phone. He decided, at the sight of you, that he wasn’t happy with being discarded.

And he didn’t like that he was falling apart at the seams while you went along like nothing happened.

“I think we should pray together,” Mark said under his breath. You didn’t come to him anymore, for prayer or guidance or advice. Mark felt invisible now and for someone that had been inside you, that seemed unfair.

The anger instantly returned to your face. You rolled your eyes and focused on your phone again. “I think you should suck my dick,” you deadpanned.

If you had one, Mark probably would. He’d never felt about anyone the way he felt about you, but he persisted. “What we did was wrong.”

Like hell it was, you wanted to say. If it was wrong, why did it feel so right? Why were you craving for it like an addict after a high?

You didn’t look up and said in the most disinterested tone you could muster, “Give me one non-religious reason that having sex with me was wrong.”

“We’re not married.”

“Marriage is a piece of paper used by the government for tax purposes.”

“We don’t even love each other.”

“Love and sex are two different things. They are not mutually exclusive.”

Mark knew he would lose this argument, if he hadn’t already. You would have an answer for everything, because you were a girl set in your ways after years of experience. You were the total opposite of him and yet, you were what Mark wanted.

And what he wanted to be - free.

“I’m thinking about you,” Mark confessed in a soft whisper, because it rebelled against everything he’d been taught. “Constantly and in very bad ways.”

That made you finally lift your head and look at him, lips pulling into a devilish grin. “Glad to be of service.”

Mark scowled. “This isn’t funny.”

“I think it’s fucking hilarious,” you shot back, turning toward him more directly. He was already wilting beside you. You knew exactly how a boy looked when he wanted to fuck you. “You’re having an existential crisis about getting your cherry popped, aren’t you?”

Rather than get angry or annoyed, Mark looked sad. His expression sank and he asked, “Didn’t you? Don’t you feel even the tiniest bit of shame?”

That made you bristle. They always resorted to shaming after they had their way with you. You wouldn’t relent. “No. Why should I?”

You expected him to quote the bible. You expected him to rant about purity. You fully believed he would chide you for stealing his virginity. You were prepared for that. It would bounce off you like arrows on a wall, because you’d heard it all before and you would never let a boy’s words hurt you.

Instead, Mark sighed, “Because it’s supposed to be a sacred thing between two people.”

Your eyes flickered. Your mind scrambled for a witty retort, but for the first time in your young adult life, you came up empty. That’s when you realized you were looking at Mark differently.

This wasn’t purity culture talking. It was just a boy wanting to be loved.

At your silence, Mark seemed to gather he had you on the ropes and he leaned in closer, close enough to kiss you, but he didn’t dare. Not out in the open like this. But he’d be a liar if he said he didn’t want to kiss you until you fell in love with him.

“I took advantage of you and I’m sorry,” Mark started.

Anger reared its ugly head again and you glared at him, snapping, “You did not take advantage of me, Mark. I’ve been trying to fuck you since the moment I met you.”

Mark’s jaw dropped and his eyes went wide.

You smiled at getting the upper hand again. “What if I told you that after you filled me up, I got in the shower and touched myself to thoughts of you, and came so hard I screamed your name?”

Mark swallowed the lump in his throat. He really was an idiot to think he could ever beat you at your own game. “...Stop.”

“No,” you said, staring him down. “I’m trying to save you from a lifetime of being made to feel guilty about sex. About intimacy. They want you to feel guilty about being a goddamn human. Don’t you get that?”

Mark opened his mouth to answer. To tell you that you were winning. You were shaking him down to his foundation.

Something that felt so good couldn’t be bad.

“Mark!”

Both of you turned to see one of the youth leaders, his arms folded tightly across his chest. Given how close you and Mark were to each other, you should have known it would draw some unwanted attention.

“That’s my cue,” you said, packing up your stuff and leaving Mark alone with his thoughts.

Mark hung his head. Being close to you made him feel whole again. You’d taken a piece of him and it went with you whenever you parted.

“Jezebel,” the leader hissed as you walked by.

“In the flesh,” you retorted proudly.

But the moment you were hidden in your cabin and sitting on the edge of your bed, tears pricked at your eyes.

It’s supposed to be a sacred thing between two people, Mark said. You were thinking about the way he’d looked at you. It hadn’t left your mind since you left that damn closet with him.

For once, you felt like a thief. You’d stolen something precious from him. Mark just wanted a connection with you, a connection with the person he was intimate with.

But a connection was what you’d learned to avoid most, because boys always ended up changing their mind once you’d given all you had to give.

Except Mark. You’d given him your body and he still wanted more. Boys weren’t interested in your heart or your mind, but Mark was. You thought about all the times you talked with him. Even though you had ulterior motives for it, Mark listened to you. He never interrupted or spoke over you.

Mark cared.

I’m thinking about you - constantly. Mark had said that too. It would seem both of you were in the same boat about each other. Confused and lonely boats adrift at sea, passing in the night.

You skipped dinner and feigned stomach problems when the evening service rolled around, because you didn’t trust yourself to lay eyes on Mark and not burst into tears. You’d hurt a sweet boy that didn’t deserve it, who deserved much better than the likes of you.

The counselors didn’t argue. One look at you curled up in fetal position in your bunk and staring at the wall was enough for them to leave you alone.

It was nice being the only person outside while everyone was in church. You sat on the front steps of the cabin with your arms around your knees and watched the beautiful sunset, enjoying the quiet and trying not to think about Mark. To no avail.

You wondered if he noticed your absence and if he cared. If Mark came looking for you to ask if you were okay, you would probably crumble. It was hard accepting someone cared about you after all you’d ever done was take care of yourself.

Yes, Mark noticed. Yes, he felt like dying. He regretted confronting you that afternoon, but he’d wanted to apologize. It felt empty and worthless now, honestly. Like all he’d done was make things worse.

Mark asked one of the girls in your cabin about you and she told him you were refusing to get out of bed. That told Mark all he needed to know and it made hope spark in his chest that maybe you were down bad for him like he was for you.

The next morning, you were deemed well enough to attend the early service. Unfortunately, because you’d spent all night thinking about Mark - or trying desperately not to think about the feelings you were growing for him - you fell asleep barely ten minutes into it.

Turns out, youth leaders got really peeved when someone was caught either sleeping or playing on their phone during a sermon. If they only knew you’d had sex too. You sat through a stern scolding, which you gleefully ignored, and then you were sentenced to an hour of solitary time in the chapel.

Hurt me some more, you thought with a chuckle. So, you sat on the front row, leaned back and made yourself comfortable, and zoned out. Once again, enjoying the peace and quiet of being alone.

At this point, you wondered if they would hold a gun to your head to try and make you talk to God.

Toward the end of your delightful punishment, a familiar voice called your name.

You opened your eyes and sat up sharply, gathering your things. “What do you want, Mark?” Your tone had an edge. You weren’t in the mood for a lecture.

“You.”

You glanced up at him as he approached you, hinged on whatever he said next like your heart depended on it.

Mark looked like he hadn’t slept a wink either. “I just want you,” he whispered softly.

You smiled. The first real smile to grace your lips in years. “I’m all yours.”

Back in that same closet, you cried out when Mark shoved you against the wall and slipped his tongue into your mouth.

You liked this hungry, impatient side to him. The one that couldn’t go without you for one more second.

Maybe you were his god now.

Mark cradled your head, kissing you deeper, making you moan a little. You would have been content to kiss him for the rest of the day, but you knew time was of the essence. People would come looking eventually.

“Mark,” you stammered, sucking in a breath when he latched his lips to your neck, his hands now palming your breasts over your shirt. “We don’t have long.”

Mark seemed determined to kiss and suck every inch of your neck, in a silent competition with the boys that came before him, but he should have known he’d already won.

“I wanna make you feel good,” Mark growled in your ear. “Like you did for me.”

“Then fuck me.”

Mark spun you around roughly, crowding your back, and kneaded your breasts, kissing down the column of your throat. Your eyes fluttered closed and you moaned softly, rocking a little to brush your ass against his crotch. He was grinding against you, searching for friction, but stopped to unfasten his pants.

You bent over the cabinet, lifted your skirt and shimmied your panties down around your thighs, not getting a chance to take them off completely because Mark was on you again, wrapping his arms around your waist in a vice grip and spreading your legs with his knee.

Mark groaned when his hand cupped your sex, running his fingers between your slit and feeling your arousal. “Do you always get this wet?”

You chuckled at the shock in his voice and answered honestly, “Definitely not. This is all for you.”

“Fuck.”

Sweet little sounds fell from your lips as Mark played with your entrance with two fingers. His hard cock followed, having been rubbing eagerly against your ass. You gasped and grabbed the edges of the cabinet when he impaled you on his length, your pussy fluttering and stretching around him.

Mark had only a string of curses to say. Any other words escaped him. The heat of you knocked the wind out of him, just like the first time.

Your legs trembled as he bottomed out, immediately drawing back to sink into you again slowly. You bit your lip to hide a smile at how hard he was inside you, but how gently he moved.

Mark felt you relax once you’d adjusted, hyper aware of every little move you made. He slipped his hand into yours and said, “Put me on your clit.”

That was definitely unexpected, but you did as told. Steering him down, you helped his fingers find your bundle of nerves and he rubbed at it curiously.

“There?”

“Yes,” you sighed in pleasure.

Mark was salivating at how sensitive you were to his touches, thrusting into you eagerly for good measure. “It feels good?”

“So good.”

“It’s making you tighter,” he said, stroking his cock inside you deep.

You taunted, “If you really wanna feel how tight I get, make me come.”

Mark swallowed loudly. Pressing a kiss beneath your ear, he said, “Tell me how to do it,” with a tone that left no room for argument.

“When you feel close, slow down,” you told him, brushing your hands over his arms affectionately, coaxing him. “Edge yourself for me. Until we come together.”

With a nod, Mark kissed your cheek, which felt both intimate and possessive, and released your waist in favor of your hips.

You were too fucking tight and warm. Mark was humiliated at being so close to orgasm already when he’d only just begun and the sound of his hips colliding with your plump ass turned him on so bad he kept biting his lip to stifle a groan. He was ready to sell his soul to you just for the chance to empty himself inside you again, but he wanted to feel you come.

Mark stilled, body trembling a little with restraint. You smirked, knowing he was close to finishing.

You purred, “Good boy. That’s it.”

Mark’s jaw went slack and he moaned as you started rolling your hips, grinding back against him. You knew exactly what you were doing. There was no thrusting. You weren’t pushing him back to the edge. Your pace wasn’t fast enough. But your pussy clenched on his cock, so wet with arousal the insides of your thighs were slick with it.

You giggled when Mark reeled a hand back and slapped your ass. He just couldn’t resist. You wiggled your hips from side to side to make your ass bounce for him, working yourself on his stiff cock.

“You like being balls deep in me, baby?”

Mark groaned. Girls weren’t supposed to talk like that. But fuck, it turned him on.

“Say it,” you hissed, throwing yourself back on him, sending a loud, wet slap echoing through the tiny closet.

“It’s good,” Mark said hurriedly, wanting to please you. He squeezed your hips in his hands to the point of bruising and watched you take his cock. “You feel so fucking good. I can’t… fucking…”

That made you fuck him harder, arching your back.

“Fuck!” Mark snapped, folding himself over you, pinning you to the cabinet and throttling his cock into you, drilling your pussy at a brutal pace.

Your eyes rolled back, your toes curled and you moaned at the top of your lungs for him. The angle was just right. He was hitting your sweet spot, making you suck in a breath and beg him, “Don’t stop, Mark. Please, don’t stop.”

Unfortunately, hearing you moan like that and beg him to keep pounding you made Mark’s cock twitch with warning. Mark let out a mangled groan, stilling inside you abruptly, because he was there - again. “Shit. I’m sorry,” he stammered, kneading your clothed breasts. “I was close.”

You steered his fingers to your clit again and made circles with your hips with him sheathed inside, trying not to lose the edge he was bringing you toward. “I’m close too, baby,” you assured him. “Hang in there a little bit longer.”

Mark’s heart skipped a beat. He rolled your clit with his fingertips, peppering kisses on your neck, tasting the salt of your sweat on his tongue. He was pressed so tightly against you and locked inside you.

He could feel your labored breaths, just like his. He could feel your racing pulse beneath his fingers. It moved at the same furious pace as his own. Your skin was hot and sticky with sweat. His too. He could feel it running down his back.

It hit Mark like a ton of bricks. This was what intimacy felt like. Tangled together with another person, not knowing where he ended and you began.

And Mark knew then and there he didn’t want to live without it. Nor did he ever want to let someone tell him he couldn’t have it.

Mark lifted you up, your shoulders against his chest. He cradled your jaw in his hand, tilting your head so he could kiss your cheek and the corner of your mouth. You sighed at the affection, both of you still moving hungrily but gently in tandem with each other.

“You were right,” Mark said breathlessly. “There’s nothing wrong about this.”

You smiled. Not from victory this time, but acceptance. Maybe he was right too. Maybe sex could also be treated as a special thing between two people. There was a connection between you and Mark, and you were done fighting it.

Mark desperately wanted you to say something. Deep down, he hoped that he was more than another quick fuck for you. Though to his credit, there was nothing quick about this time.

“You were right too,” you finally whispered, making Mark’s eyes flicker. “Maybe it should be treated with more respect.”

Mark turned your head and smashed his lips on yours, kissing you with such intensity your heart stopped beating in your chest for a moment. At least you thought it did. It was rapturous and made your legs weak.

If not for Mark holding you to him, you would have fallen to your knees.

Mark broke from the kiss, but held you in place, making you stare into his eyes as he took you, as he started thrusting hard and deep again. Your mouth was open, panting for air, because you knew you weren’t in control anymore.

You had surrendered to him.

And Mark knew what to do now. His body followed instinct. He lost himself in your eyes, no thought in his head except how perfectly you wrapped around his cock and how he wouldn’t stop until you came for him. On him. With him.

You’d broken him. He was ready to break you back.

“Mark…,” you choked out, scraping your nails over the cabinet. “I’m coming.”

Music to Mark’s ears. He tightened his grip on your neck, making sure you knew that you were his now. His breath was hot on your cheek, rapid like the pace of his cock slamming into you. He pinched your clit with his fingers, feeling your walls pulse around his dick.

You squirmed. You couldn’t help it. Your body arched into him involuntarily, warmth spilling over between your legs. His touch on your bundle of nerves teetered dangerously toward overstimulation, but it was that perfect cock hitting your sweet spot that finished you.

“Come with me,” you barely managed to say before crying out in ecstasy, your core tightening and your legs shaking.

Mark kept burying his cock inside you to the very end, his hips smacking into your ass. You could hear him grunting and swearing past the ringing in your ears, his thrusts turning ragged with how tightly your cunt gripped him.

“Holy shit,” Mark growled, struggling to keep his hold on you as you writhed. Then with a shudder, Mark came, bottoming out and releasing with a moan that rivaled yours, painting your walls with his release.

As you drifted back down, you undulated as best you could, kneading every drop out of him. You let the cabinet support your weight, catching your breath while Mark went soft inside you.

Mark clung to you, but at this point, you weren’t surprised. And you kinda liked it.

Okay, you really liked it. Finally, you felt like you could belong somewhere. Tangled up with Mark.

With a kiss to your temple, Mark stepped back, his cock slipping out of you, and you sighed at the loss of him, feeling both of your releases dripping from your folds.

Mark’s eyes were on your sex and seeing his cum mingle with your juices made him want to kill any man that dared lay eyes on you. He tried not to think about how he would walk out of there like nothing happened, but you would be carrying the evidence between your legs.

It should not have turned him on the way it did.

The two of you dressed in silence, occasionally stealing glances of each other, but there was no awkwardness this time. Instead, tension settled over the room.

Where did you go from here?

Mark was the first boy you’d fucked a second time. You weren’t usually one for encore performances. He was also the first boy you couldn’t get off your mind. And given what Mark had said to you - to say nothing of how he looked at you - the feeling was mutual.

“What’s wrong?” you asked sweetly, though you had some idea.

Conflicted emotions were colliding in both of you for totally different reasons.

Mark had fully dressed, but made no moves to leave. He stared at you, wishing he could put into words how you made him feel.

“I want to hold you.”

You blinked and your heart clenched in your chest. For a moment, you studied him. Cautious. But you knew from the start it was a losing battle. “Hold me,” you said, reaching for him.

Mark closed the distance between you and swept you up in his arms. You closed your eyes and tucked your head beneath his chin, breathing him in. Mark’s hand was lost in your hair, the other resting at the small of your back.

You didn’t realize how hard you were holding onto him until it was too late to stop.

“Maybe we could see each other again,” Mark said in a low voice.

You fought the tears as they burned your eyes.

Mark tugged at your hair, searching your face. “You could teach me more about intimacy and being human.”

You allowed yourself to smile at him, appreciating his efforts to diffuse the tension. “Okay.”

“And I could teach you about trust and commitment?”

Two things you staunchly avoided, but you recognized the soft lilt in his voice, framing it as a request and not a demand. Too many people had tried to force you to see the error of your ways and they were met with resistance.

You would never let anyone conquer you, but maybe you could make a little window in the walls around your heart so Mark could sneak inside from time to time.

Maybe he’d make a home there.

Either way, you wanted to watch him try.

“Alright, Mark. You win this time,” you whispered, rising to your tiptoes to press a kiss to his lips.

Mark grinned and kissed you back.

END.

#mark lee #mark smut #mark lee smut #nct smut #nct dream smut

2K notes · View notes

mediumgayitalian · 2 months

Note

What are some of your Will headcanons?

Any angsty ones?

hair style:

will's hair has a Mind Of Its Own. it is impossible. brushing it? keep dreaming. styling it? dude just give up

he can, however, wrangle it into two french braid pigtails. those are fun.

in the august after the giant war, the aphrodite cabin take it upon themselves to 'style' nico, including giving him these little elastics with a skull charm (like this but with skulls), but he doesn't like tying his hair back very much (too tight) so he gives them to will as a joke.

will LOVES them.

he literally wears them almost every day. the next time they go out on a supply run, nico sees these little elastic charms and buys them for will. he can't summon the courage to give them to him face to face but he leaves them on his bed. will adores them, too, and it starts something of a tradition of people giving will charm elastics as a small thank-you.

he has a collection of them and wears them whenever he wears his hair in braids.

his favourites are the skull charms, though.

artistic ability:

will really doesn't have many musical talents. he's hard of hearing and while hephaestus-made hearing aids definitely work better than mortal ones, it's not really something that can be cured, so he has a lot of trouble staying on key/making music himself.

however! apollo is the god of poetry and art in general -- that is more than just visual!!

will is a really good writer, poetry especially. he's very articulate and verbose and writes with startling clarity. he's written a lot of songs and a lot of poems, although he hasn't shown anybody in years.

he used to share them with his older brothers and sisters and sibling, but...well. obviously that's no longer an option.

he's never stopped writing, though. he may keep it to himself, but it's kind of an open secret. he's scribbling in his notebooks all the time -- it's impossible not to notice.

his friends and siblings, however, are the only ones who know that he writes creatively. they've peeked over his shoulder here and there (and also kayla is a huge huge snoop, like, badly, and austin is easily convinced to be complacent in her crimes), and sometimes he says things that are just kind of poetic.

no one else knows, though. he's deliberately obnoxious about it -- every once in a while, at campfire open mics, he'll clear his throat loudly and grin as people groan and recite something so bad apollo might have written it. most people think will's quite bad at writing, actually.

another thing he's really good at is drama, which is a surprise to absolutely no one. although beyond his regular histrionics, chiron had shakespeare as part of his curriculum, and will could play puck like nobody's business. he recited a mercutio so good once lee actually cried with laughter (so did everyone else). on a hauntingly beautiful february in 2004, he played ophelia by the creek so beautifully that it was silent for a good four minutes after he finished.

there are very, very few people at camp who remember that. will hasn't recited anything in a while.

an unexpected bonus of his medical knowledge, actually, is a really good understanding of depth, space, and anatomy.

he's a surprisingly good artist.

it started pretty normal -- he was having trouble articulating a question to michael one time, and in a fit of frustration drew a diagram to try and explain himself. it was really good, even as rushed as it was, so michael used to give him 'homework' that was hand-drawing posters of various body systems to hang in the infirmary.

it was kind of spooky how will could do it without looking it up. just close his eyes and start sketching an accurate nervous system. cool though.

his older sister, cass, encouraged him to branch out of anatomy diagrams and create whatever he liked. she made the unfortunate mistake of giving him several cans of paint and free reigns on blank infirmary walls (they're freaky and boring) to a nerdy eight-year-old -- that's why r2d2 and c3po are chilling on the wall by the mortal medicine cabinet.

he doesn't paint a lot now, 'cause he doesn't have the damn time, but when rachel finds out who painted the infirmary walls she hounds him until he takes a morning to paint with her. they have a lot of fun. they end up with more paint on each other and their clothes than their canvases, predictably.

siblings:

when will was a kid, he had twelve older siblings.

apollo tends to have kids in brackets. he is, as everyone knows, a hoe, so he'll be busy on olympus or with artemis and go a while without having any kids, and then he'll be on earth for like three years and have a litter. so a lot of his kids end up the same age.

before the war, in the same cabin, there was: cass, the oldest, 18, somewhat year-long; diana, 18, year-long; lee, 16, somewhat year-long; michael, 16, somewhat year-long; gabriel, 15, summer-only; leanna, 15, summer-only; mercury, 15, summer-only; kate & phoebe, 14, summer-only; laurel, 13, summer-only; amir, 13, summer-only; melody, 12, summer-only; and will, 8, year-long (for now).

their abilites were pretty vast and well-rounded, and they came from all over the continent.

there was a time when the infirmary wasn't understaffed at all.

will doesn't like to think about it.

style:

on their birthdays, apollo leaves them all a gift on their bunks (or their beds at home, if their birthdays aren't in the summer).

each of them gets a piece of blessed gold jewelry when they're ten. will got a pair of threader earrings with thin blue sapphires that he loves. he can't wear them often because they're a genuine hazard in the infirmary (yes, more than flip-flops) and he doesn't want them ruined. but he wears them on the rare days he has off.

he actually has quite a lot of jewelry! because he is a sappy nerd, he has two watches: a hephaestus-made one, totally waterproof, weatherproof, and monsterproof, because it helps quell the anxiety when so many people are counting on him (he has to know when people will be better and how long he can be away from his patients, also used to tell people to fuck off when he's on break lol); and his mother's much nicer watch that she gave to him when she dropped him off at camp for the first time -- it's not changed for the time zone. he knows what time it is for her, and it makes him feel better about being so far away from her.

he wears both watches on the same wrist, ala chad danforth.

he has a third watch. it was lee's. it's got r2d2 on the face. will got it for him with his own money when he was nine years old, for his birthday. it lives in a box under his bunk. it's cracked and broken and never tells the right time except on 1:52 p.m. on june 30th, although the year gets farther and farther off every time will checks it.

contrary to popular belief, will does not actually wear the same pair of cargo shorts every day.

...because he has seven pairs of the same shorts.

he does have other shorts through. namely swim trunks and a pair of tighter shorts he wears specifically to kick ass in volleyball. he didn't try for this or anything, he got the shorts at the thrift store, but he's pretty sure they might be designer. he gets a lot of compliments from the aphrodite cabin when he wears them.

he also has a collection of nerdy t-shirts (his anakin sand-rant t-shirt is worn to threads), novelty pajama pants, hoodies, and flannel.

he has more than one tattoo. he has several, actually; constellations, lines from freckle to freckle so faint you can barely see them: the seer, the drummer, the archer, the tiny lion, the archangel, the maiden, the lyre, the twins, the boat stern, the hearth, and the singer.

just plain will:

he's slightly red-green colourblind.

when he gets mad, his cheeks puff up and he gets all red in the face before erupting. his older siblings used to call him tinkerbell.

he gets teased for being so dramatic that he was named for the most dramatic apollo kid who ever lived -- shakespeare. but his actual, legal name is just plain will solace. when pregnant, his mom used to mutter 'it's you, me, and sheer fucking force of will, baby' to herself a lot, as a kind of mantra, and then will was born and she thought it would be kind of funny to name him will (she was right). lee invented william andrew solace so he'd have something to yell when will got in trouble lol.

he has the climbing wall record. this is because he climbs a lot of trees. he has no explanation and no one is going to stop him.

when he was a kid, and the whole mythology thing was explained to him, he misnderstood michael's explanation of food sacrifice as one to be done to all theoi/mythical beings. he worked his way to praying through the entire pantheon, a horde of minor gods, hestia, chiron, argus, and half the nymphs before someone caught wind and explained to him properly. it is the main reason all the nymphs and dryads are so endeared by him. he used to go around asking their names and very seriously writing it down in his little notebook to pray to them properly.

he carries around notebooks constantly. at first, diana gave them to him because he was driving everyone bonkers with his endless questions and she needed Five Minutes, Will, Gods, Please of silence, but he really took to it and wrote everything in there. he keeps them all as a sort of diary. kayla reads them any time he has his back turned.

it is really, really hard for him to talk about his siblings. but he knows kayla and austin feel kind of left out and hurt about it, since they didn't get the chance to know them like will did (the kids never met them), so sometimes, late at night, he calls them softly over to his bunk and they curl up, one under each arm, and he tells them stories until his voice goes hoarse and they're long asleep.

#i have so many fucking more but i have to stop because i actually want to write some of these so bad #dude.....the LORE this ask inspired i have pages and pages #why did no one tell me how fun and also heartbreaking it is to invent characters #will solace #will solace headcanon #will solace angst #ask #longpost #headcanon #pjo headcanon #my writing #solangelo

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lovelettersforthedamned · 2 months

Note

i have been a away for a bit and i come back to see you have reached 400 followers!!!!!! CONGRATS BABES YOU DESERVE IT SO MUCH

peter (obv) and "so...do you actually like me-." "we have been together for 4 years. we're getting married next year. what the hell do you think?" - 🎀

Old And Gray With You

✮ tasm!peter parker x f!reader

✮ word count: 0.6k

✮ summary: with your wedding a year away, your mind swirls due to insecurity, but peter is there (like always) to help you through it.

✮ warnings: anxiety, marriage, kisses, reader has hair (no length specified), fluff asf.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

main masterlist ⋆ peter parker masterlist ⋆ four-hundred follower bash

not my gif. credits to the owner:)

The show playing in front of you was the last thing on your mind. Your fingers were messing with the engagement ring on your finger, a common nervous habit you’ve picked up since Peter asked you to be his.

A million thoughts were swirling around in your mind, mostly about the wedding. You knew it wasn’t until a while, but still, you couldn’t stop your mind from thinking on its own. Marrying Peter was never a doubt in your mind. You loved him with your entire being and you would marry him tomorrow if you could. But would Peter feel the same in a year when your big day finally arrived?

His hand on your thigh suddenly became very heavy as anxiety bubbled in your stomach. The air around you felt like it was constricting your ability to take a deep breath.

At the beginning of your relationship, Peter let you know that he’d rather you talk to him about issues rather than keep them locked away. He knew your tendency to overthink affected your life, so to ease both of your worries, he reassured you that he’d keep an ear open for you to talk to. You decided that this was the perfect time to talk, but having the courage to do so scared you.

Peter knew something was off even before you realized you needed to talk about it. His ability to focus on you with his heightened senses came in handy for situations like this. The second you started fidgeting with the ring he got you made his awareness double, and as soon as he felt you tense, he was just waiting for you to say something.

And with a deep breath, you did, “So…Do you actually like me?”

Peter’s head whips around to look at you in an instant, not like he was paying attention to whatever was playing on the TV. He knew you would say something, but it definitely wasn’t that. “Bug, we have been together for four years. We’re getting married next year. What the hell do you think?” He huffed a laugh at the end of the question, his hand moving up and down your thigh in reassurance.

You give him a sheepish smile in response, your face warming at his response. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know what I was thinking,” you’re embarrassed for even thinking that. A wave of shame washes over you.

“Hey, come here,” Peter opens his arms for you to scoot closer to him, your head resting on his chest while his arm wraps around your shoulders. “Don’t feel sorry for anything your pretty head comes up with,” he whispers into your hair, “I’m going to be with you for forever and ever, and I promise you that.”

You tilt your head up to look into his eyes. The beautiful brown eyes pull you in, but you don’t mind. If you could lose yourself in Peter’s eyes, you would do it and never complain. Leaning in, you press a warm kiss on his lips. He smiles into the kiss, his arm wrapped around you pulls you in closer. “Love you, Pete,” you mumble. Your words make Peter’s heart explode.

Pulling away for a breath, his gaze falls over your flustered features, “I can’t wait to be old and gray with you.”

✮ author's note: hi 🎀 anon! good to see you!! thank you for this request:) i have a bash going on for those who don't know!! come join us! don't forget to like, comment, and reblog to support my work:) ok, bye ily <3

#peter parker x reader #tasm!peter x reader #fluff #andrew garfield peter parker #tasm!peter parker #marvel #peter parker #spiderman #llftd 400 follower bash

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starstruckmoony · 9 months

Text

electric touch.

masterlist

pairing - theodore nott x reader

summary - a cute guy stumbles into the coffee shop you work at and it alters your brain chemistry.

trope/tags - coffee shop!au, modern!au, college!au, muggle!au, out of pocket headcanons

word count - 6.5k

warnings - language, smoking, mentions of sex, light smut-ish (not really)

"get a job at a coffee shop", they said.

"i'll be fun", they said.

bollocks.

working at a café as busy as the three broomsticks certainly had its perks, if you could say so yourself, but it definitely had some godawful cons in the bunch and was terribly annoying in itself. the shop was located in one of the most bustling parts of london, not very far away from a university campus, which meant that one could easily make out the atmosphere inside of it without having to step through the door. it was always filled to the brim with students who all relied on caffeine for survival, many of which you would usually avoid even glancing at during lessons. so between your utterly unendurable acquaintances, occasional out-of-control children, and middle-aged ladies who criticized your every move and complained about their lattes being zero point four degrees too hot, you weren't sure which one irked you more.

your job was barely tolerable, but it wasn't like you had many other options laid out in the first place. you needed the money and you swore to do whatever it takes to pay for your tuition and heaps of other costs that came in the package with it. you went into it with very little enthusiasm, but nevertheless settled for working as a barista, as much as you were dreading the thought of it.

your shift started of normally that day. you were busy serving one of your least favorite friendly customers in world, draco bloody malfoy, and fighting a tempting urge to dunk the drink in your hand all over him. the two of you went way back, there was lots of resentment, some unresolved negative feelings and grudges about situations you could barely remember clearly. primary school, the darkest years of your lives. neither of you bothered much to fix your shitshow of a relationship. you were schoolmates who were sort of friends who didn't like each other very much. he was nice to you when he didn't have a stick up his arse, but he always had stick up his arse. pansy (who was also your coworker) declared you frenemies, and she was sort of onto something.

despite all that dirt, finding him in the shop wasn't an unusual occurrence, and you never got used to his annoying presence or the way your skin literally crawled just seeing him walk through the door. although, you had to admit that you were pretty grateful when he brought his hot beautiful handsome please snog me sir friend with him for some coffee that faithful friday.

"good morning." draco greeted his friend absentmindedly and gave him a short-lived glance before continuing the deadly staredown you two were having. keeping things professional with that little arsehole was a tough challenge. pansy nudged you behind the counter, and then very subtly motioned over to the handsome bloke next your nemesis when you finally gave her some attention.

"did you not order for me?" the guy questioned in disappointment, seeing that only a single cup of coffee was sitting on the counter. one good look at him was all it took for you to realise why pansy was so eager to get you to heed her observations. you sucked in a breath, focus.

"no? do i look like a maid to you?" draco spat, taking a loud, annoying slurp of his freshly-made cappuccino. he scowled in disgust, making your eyes roll backwards into your brain. the man always managed to find something wrong with his order. this time, the stupid drink of his didn't have enough sweetener. his friend coughed to cover up a chuckle.

"i will be filing a complaint." he declared, sitting back and crossing his arms.

"shove it up your arse, hm?" you offered him the fakest, most poisonous smile you could muster, turning to his attractive friend who's order you had to take. he gave draco a rather aggressive shove before he was able to open his mouth again, and then smiled at you sympathetically.

"i admire your patience." he was speaking to you, but even the most oblivious of people would realise that he took a subtle jab at draco. he looked a bit offended, "what the fuck, theo?" just like that, you got his name without even having to ask for it. today must have been your lucky day.

"tell me about it. if throwing drinks into people's faces wasn't listed as strictly forbidden in my job description, i'd be thriving." you responded without thinking, regretting it the moment you spoke. you could only hope that he would take your awful joke well because receiving a judgemental stare and no response at all was the last thing you'd have asked for that morning. but your thoughtlessness did pull something that sounded like a laugh out of theo, and he appeared to be pretty satisfied.

you suddenly felt hot. a handsome guy just laughed at your joke made at his best friend's expense? it made your heart flutter a little bit, kind of like everything else about him. you sighed inwardly, it was totally unfair that somebody as insufferable as draco got his eyes blessed by that man's presence every day.

"am i allowed to order or will you threaten to throw coffee in my face, too?" theo snapped you back to reality. you heard pansy snicker at your awkward stance before she continued talking to draco who got bored of tolerating your abuses and resorted to flirting with her instead. the pretty boy bit back a laugh once he noticed the way your cheeks turned pink. you wished for the earth to swallow you whole.

"yes, of course! sorry, uh, what would you like?" you put on a professional smile, yet you felt like he saw right through you. he was doing things to you by just simply being there. you already knew pansy was going to have a jolly good time teasing you about this.

"uh," his eyes trailed over to the menu on the wall. he looked completely and utterly clueless, but after a moment of silence, he made up his mind, "one black coffee..." he responded a bit uncertainly, as if he was afraid that you were gonna judge his choice of beverage.

"see why i don't order for you?" draco threw a crumpled up receipt into theo's face. you wondered how he managed to be so unphased by it.

"one black coffee?" you queried just to confirm his order, pretending not to notice pansy who's mischievous eyes were set on you. that, and the constant comments she was making about how cute you and theo would look together. you were surprised when draco didn't disagree like the snobby little hipster he was and then call her batshit crazy. maybe magic was real.

"yes." theo cleared his throat, slumping down onto a barstool three seats away from draco. next level damage control. when he found a smoking allowed sign on the wall, he immediately lit a cigarette.

"oh, thank god." you mumbled in relief. theo stared you in amusement, with a tiny smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. if you hadn't met in the middle of a crowded café, you would have kissed him then there. these days, people tend to forget that plain coffee is, in fact, a thing. that in itself isn't so bad, no, but it's pretty horrible for a coffee shop worker who has to balance time spent on making a drink while also satisfying everybody else at the tables. maintaining your sanity was another thing you had to dedicate yourself to, especially with having draco coming in every day.

you quickly got to work, hyperfocusing on the task at hand for the first time in a while - all that in a poor attempt to ignore the way that blush kept creeping up your cheeks. that wasn't the first time you had laid your eyes on a handsome guy at work. many good looking blokes had set their foot into the café, but you rarely ever let it get to you. they would come and go, simple as that. but there was something about the way theo was looking at you that made you feel unbearably giddy, and you were having a hard time keeping your thoughts from going places.

you were too busy preparing his coffee and trying to remain calm to see the way he shyly kept stealing glances at you. he was enthralled, to say the least, and he could not fathom the fact that you were that person draco always complained about. it was impossible. not only did you make him laugh literally ten seconds after he spoke to you for the first time, but your strange relationship with his friend was quite intriguing. and pretty hilarious, if he could say so himself. something was pushing him to find out more about you. he could not keep his eyes off of you, and he was deeply regretting all those times he shut draco down when he suggested they got coffee together. he'd even offer to pay each time, which theo only found more off-putting. the concept of being so nice and inviting was usually unfamiliar to the blonde, but theo eventually guessed that he had his own reasons and motivations for showing up everyday.

you whipped up his coffee in no time, shooting pansy with a death glare because of the way she wiggled her eyebrows at you. you placed the cup in front of him and were thankfully spared of any additional awkwardness when theo grabbed the drink and took a sip. you watched him with burning anticipation in your eyes as he blinked in confusion, "what the fuck are you complaining for?" he turned to a scowling draco who was making sure that everybody knew that he was rather discontented by the way his cappucino was made.

"i have tastebuds." he explained, shooting theo with an aggravated glare. pansy covered her mouth to silence a laugh.

"are they dead?" theo deadpanned.

"are they dead?" draco mocked, and then began sulking like a little child when pansy had to take the order of another customer.

theo turned to you again, "ignore him," he offered you a comforting smile, "this is the best coffee i've had in a while." he took another large sip of the hot drink. a satisfied smirk appeared on your face. draco flipped you both off.

"it's probably the beans," you trailed off, "although, brewing it does require some talent." it was true. pansy herself admitted that you made better coffee than her, multiple times, but that was probably because she proudly half-assed all of her work knowing that it won't cost her much. it helped you out tremendously when you had nothing else to brag about.

thoughtlessly, you continued speaking to theo, completely forgetting that your shift had not yet come to an end, and that you had well over two hours of work left. theo possessed the power to snap you back to reality, but was even more skillfull at pulling you out of it. your mind fully dismissed where you were. you learned a few things about him; he lived with draco, enzo and mattheo, who you got to meet after blaise and pansy dragged you to a random nightclub not so long ago. he had a persian cat who he named 'cat' because he wasn't creative enough to come up with anything that hit the spot and lorenzo made a pledge to make fun of him for it till the day they both die. he liked black coffee only, and no it was not a metaphore for the colour of his soul or some out of pocket bullshit that you heard way too often for comfort, he was just that basic. insane too, as he didn't put any sugar in it. you missed the basic, though, and it was a nice breather from all the ridiculousness you had to deal with on a day to day basis. he also happened to have seen your favourite movie, and that opened the door to about ten other conversation topics that you could go on about for hours upon hours. you were so immersed in the discussion that neither of you realised draco left, with pansy's number (which he finally acquired after three months of asking for it) written down somewhere in his notebook.

the sound of a stranger's throat clearing stopped you mid sentence, and you were rudely reminded that you were still at work, with lots of drinks to prepare, and many more customers to serve. curse them, whoever they were. they were practically forcing you to get theo's contact information, which would have been totally fine if it wasn't for the thought of rejection that was tearing your insides up into pieces.

you and theo offered some empty words of apology to the older man who pulled you out of your own little world and returned you to the misery that was present day. you sighed, exchanging a longing glance with the boy in front of you as if you hadn't just talked to him casually for twenty whole mintues, all while the line was gradually growing. not to mention that you both had places to be.

"here," theodore stuffed a hand into the pocket of his coat, pulling out what looked like twenty quid and sliding in front of you. you opened the cash register to fish out the amount of money you were supposed to give back to him, but he shook his head. there was no way in hell he was leaving that big of a tip. or maybe he was. you not only spent almost half an hour making his day better, but he liked your coffee so much you had to make him three, one being on the house.

you let out a laugh of surprise at the serious expression on his face, silently wishing for him to walk out and retrieve the money like any sane person would. at that point, just simply being graced by his presence was more than enough. you didn't even want the damn tip. your thoughts caused an onset of panic to flow through you. you weren't thinking straight at all.

"thank you." you spoke finally, contemplating whether you should ask him for his number or not. pansy's look of anticipation seemed to be heading in the exact direction you were most terrified of. thank god theo was being a wuss too.

"i'll see you around." he smiled as he made his way over to the exit, and you nodded enthusiastically, giving him a small wave as he stepped through the door and out into the streets.

you sighed when he finally disappeared out of your line of sight, failing to notice the way a few of the customers waiting in line were holding back their giggles after having witnessed the whole commotion. you weren't sure if you wanted to fly around like happy little fairy or burst into a million pieces and disappear off the face of the earth, but you knew that you were very spontaneously falling for theo and there was no going back.

***

a few weeks had gone by since theodore first came into the three broomsticks. and many things changed, one being that you began looking forward to coming into that hellhole which was a 'goal' rotting away somewhere in the far bottom of your bucket list. you'd never been more happy having to wake up at seven in the bloody morning to grind coffee beans and serve annoying londoners. it was laughable how you jumped from hating your job to getting excited by the thought of showing up to work. life was indeed full of surprises.

theo made sure to come in every morning (or afternoon, depending when you had your shift), and would always stay much longer than he intended, or so he told himself. he was awful at balancing university and personal life, but he was willing to make some sacrifices for you, even if it meant that he had to endure some never-ending teasing from his friends. blaise came in from time to time to enjoy the show live, mattheo called him a softie, enzo thought the whole thing was too hilarious to be real, and draco was giving him the cold shoulder (lovingly).

"oi!" pansy nudged you with her elbow. you were just about to brush her off as you were busy with the ice dispenser, but when she motioned with her head towards the door, your breath hitched.

theodore stepped through the entrance, and he somehow looked even prettier than he was when you saw him yesterday. you swiftly whipped up the order that you were working on and bid the customer goodbye when they confirmed that their to-go macchiato was perfectly made.

he smiled at you as he took a seat at his usual spot, and you grinned back in response before returning to work. it was awfully difficult not to lose focus when he was sitting there looking like a god sent gift, and you were getting frustrated with yourself. you could see pansy smirking at you in the corner of your eye, and you groaned quietly as you began working on another drink.

you were starting to get very impatient while you were busy with the other customers, but after making several cappuccinos and dealing with an angry man who's twelve espresso shot latte was too bitter, you finally got to speak to theo.

"hello." a greeting. a bloody greeting was all it took to make you blush furiously. you mentally applauded yourself with some heavy sarcasm. you were doing a great job at not being obvious.

"hi." you responded breathlessly, making him chuckle at your rather dishevelled state. pansy was having a very difficult time trying to stifle her laughter, but she remained professional and continued helping her costumer.

"so, i've been thinking...today." he cleared his throat, wiping the sweat on his palms on his black jeans.

"okay," you chuckled, "i'm listening." you tilted your head to the side slightly, curious to see what he had to offer. you hoped it's what you thought it was, but you didn't want to get excited too early. for all you know, he could be asking you for a favour or help to sort him a working spot at the café itself.

"right," he looked a bit uncertain. he gulped, hesitating before letting his words form decently, "my roommates are having a movie night and i'm not exactly sure what they have in mind, but that's besides the point," he rambled, letting out a displeased huff. something was definitely wrong with him today. when he went over this with mattheo, it seemed incredibly easy, but now that he was going through with it, he felt as if his downfall was inevitable, "i was wondering if you wanted to join us." he forced a smile, the internal prayer of please say yes was becoming so loud his thoughts became clouded. it's not like he couldn't handle rejection. frankly, he was fairly good at it and rarely ever let it touch his ego, but not in situations like these. not when he was actually falling in love and able to picture his life with somebody.

you weren't sure if it was possible for your cheeks to get any more red than they already were, but you quickly learned the harsh truth when you heard draco snort rather loudly.

you weren't that shocked by theo's suggestion, no, but it seemed to good to be true. so good that you had to pinch your arm behind the counter where he couldn't see it to make sure you weren't dreaming. he silently panicked for a moment, but when he saw the lovestruck expression on your face, he turned red himself. he sort of bid farewell to his intimidating, mysterious persona the moment he first met you, too enthralled to try and keep it up, and this was barely what was left of it. it was long gone. draco wished he had brought a camera with him.

"of course, i'd love to." you responded, without a sign of doubt in your voice. he smiled, breathing out a sigh of relief. he scrunched his face thinking how desperate he must've looked, but nevertheless continued the conversation. the speed with which you accepted his offer made him feel a strong surge of confidence, "when does your shift end?" he questioned as you began preparing his coffee.

"seven, remus is letting us off an hour earlier tonight. he said he had somewhere to be." you looked over at pansy who was giving you a not very subtle thumbs up. you rolled your eyes at her with a stupid grin on your face.

theo felt on top of the world. his eyes never left you, he watched you work, and only got snapped back to reality when pansy addressed him and asked him to close his mouth before he starts drooling all over the counter. he blushed profusely, and you tried not to laugh at him, but failed miserabley when you turned around and handed him his drink.

he groaned and covered his face with his hands, having no other option but to laugh along with you. "you should've seen her face when you came in," pansy winked at you with a mischievous smirk. you kicked her from behind the counter for that comment, and she blew a kiss your way before handing draco his coffee, "you know, nott," she started, pretending like she was thinking about what to say next, you should put that mouth of yours to use soon so she finally shuts up about–" you scrambled to cover her mouth before she could finish that.

"how's your coffee?" you changed the subject, turning to him innocently.

"perfect." he gave you a brief nod, not daring to spare draco or your friend another glance. you yanked your own hand away when pansy licked it, muttering a few curse words as you reached over to the sink to wash her spit off.

you turned to theo with an apologetic smile, making a mental note to murder pansy after your shift, and the two of you held eye contact for what felt like a goddamn hour to all the people impatiently waiting to get served. you simply could not get enough of those beautiful green eyes. they were so, very distracting.

"can you two eye-fuck after i get my overpriced tea?" lorenzo decided to make a surprise (dramatic) appearance. fair point he had there. you scratched the back of your neck awkwardly, and theo only rolled his eyes, wordlessly reaching for a cigarette. that was his one way of dealing with lorenzo.

"are you gonna bring your entire friend group in here or what?" pansy exclaimed in disbelief, thinking she would spot mattheo sitting at a table somewhere in the corner.

"i'm not bringing them here, they're following me around like annoying fucking flies." draco jumped to defend himself. the poor guy was never able to escape the countless of false accusations thrown his way. you were loving every bit of it.

"that should tell you something." lorenzo sat himself next to draco. "huh?"

"you smell." he purposefully leaned in too close for comfort, successfully avoiding the harsh shove the blonde was preparing to give him.

"what the fuck, are you five?" draco stared at him with obvious judgement. theo shortly glanced at the pair, and then shifted his full attention back to you. as funny as watching them bicker was, he found you a lot more captivating. and besides, his day was going quite alright (minus pansy's comment about him drooling all over the counter), so he wasn't looking to ruin it by getting involved in playfighting with his idiot friends.

the boys took about an hour to leave, and when they did, they made sure to let you know that theo was going to make you very happy, emphasis on the what's in his pants part. well, lorenzo did, at least, draco wished to leave the moment his friend opened his mouth and started listing all of the reasons why one should date theodore nott.

"and also, he will very much– hey, i'm not done!" theo ignored lorenzo's protests, and proceeded to push him towards the exit with draco on their tail. they all waved you goodbye, although enzo did it quite reluctantly, he wasn't ready to leave yet. theo offered you one last smile before stepping out the door, and you mouthed a quick goodbye, your face redder than ever.

"do you think he's good in bed?" pansy suddenly quipped while she was cleaning up the coffee spilled around the espresso machine. "who?" you shot her with a perplexed glare. you were not about to have this conversation with her.

"draco." she said it as if it was the most obvious thing ever.

"good god," you mumbled to yourself. at least she wasn't trying to get you to talk about theodore, "i don't know and i don't want to know."

"hm," she stared at nothing while she spoke, "i wonder if that's how he gets all his anger out." she said thoughtfully before shrugging it off like she didn't just make you picture the most atrocious thing known to man. you never wished for theo to be there more so he could save you from whatever grotesque form of nightmare that was, and you certainly hoped that pansy wasn't going to attempt to test out her little theory tonight, as draco had invited her over in the meantime, too.

***

patienece was something you heavily managed to work on while working at three broomsticks, and you could say that you had successfully mastered the art of it in your four months spent there. you could also say that meeting theo was the biggest fuck you to all of the progress you had made.

the remaining two hours of your shift ended up turning into what felt like an eternity of torture. pansy had to keep a careful eye on you, a bit mortified that you might just strike an innocent customer. if looks could kill, yours definitely would. you best believe she told draco about that.

it wasn't all so sullen, though. your misery did not last forever. at last, the clock struck seven. but there was one thing you did not consider when you thoughtlessly agreed to show up at theo's place at eight, and that was that you'd have a little over thirty minutes to make yourself look presentable. the moment your shift ended, you sprinted to the staff room to collect your things, gave pansy a clumsy hug, and left the shop light speed.

you always felt incredibly lucky that your dormitory facility was very close to your workplace, but today that feeling was extraordinarily more intense. you made it there in less than five minutes, cursing the out of order elevator and swiftly climbing up the stairs to third floor where you were situated.

you burst through the door, out of breath, immediately ridding of your clothes and disappearing inside your tiny bathroom. you couldn't recall the last time you took a shower so quickly. not even ten minutes later, you were back inside of your room, rummaging through your dresser in search of something cute to wear. it was rather sad that you just then noticed that hermione, your trusted roommate, was not there. she stuck a post it note to her headboard, explaining that ron's parents invited her over for dinner and that she'll be spending the night at his place. just when you needed her, she wasn't there.

"fuck." you cursed, continuing to ransack the drawers of your small commode. trousers were out the window. the best pair you owned was in the wash, the other three were an immediate no. you weren't sure what the dress code for a movie night was, exactly, but wearing your over-the-top fake leather trousers did seem like a bit much. maybe that should have been your sign to get some new ones.

you yanked the bottom drawer open and managed to dig up some clean socks and a large jumper (one that you weren't even certain was yours), and when you couldn't find your favourite sweatpants, you snatched a pair of jeans from hermione's closet. you could only hope that they would keep you comfortable for however long that little movie marathon was going to last.

you shuffled the clothes on, you didn't have enough time to try on anything else, and quickly did your make up just so you looked a bit more presentable. bless pansy and her patience when she was helping you step up your eyeliner game. you took a few improvised mirror selfies to send to her, emotional support and all that, grabbed your coat, slid your old low docs on, and bolted out the door.

it had begun to get dark before you even stepped outside, and with the sun disappearing behind the horizon, it got colder, too. you were very happy that the boys' flat wasn't located too far away from your dormitories, and you could make it there in about ten minutes if you tried hard enough. good thing you knew the address, as you had the displeasure of having to visit draco a couple of times when you got assigned to work on a project together. he always made sure that his friends were out whenever you showed up there. you were hoping that your experience would be a little better this time, but you didn't worry much. you were going there for theo, so how bad could that really go?

you didn't even want to think of it as you stepped in front of the entrance of their flat, and pressed your finger to the doorbell to alert them that you'd made it. mattheo opened the door for you and grinned like an idiot, very obviously trying his hardest to fight away his inner demons that were pushing him to crack some stupid joke on your and theo's account.

"do not." you threatened, and he raised his hands up in defeat, moving out of the way and letting you walk through the door. he waited for you to kick your shoes off, and then politely led you further inside, no unnecessary comments made.

you didn't expect the boys to make it all look so comfortable, but you had to admit that you had underestimated them. they brought out some extra pillows so that whoever sits on the floor doesn't leave with sore buttocks, fluffy blankets with star wars patterns, an old beanbag, lots of different food to choose from, and a crate of beer shoved under the table. huh, you could definitely see yourself enjoying that.

draco, unsurprisingly, didn't say hello when you stepped into the living room, but lorenzo offered you a different kind of greating.

"theo, your girlfriend's here!" he announced, loud enough for the neighbours on the fifth floor to hear.

"piss off, enzo!" theo yelled from what you assumed was his bedroom, and then stepped out a few seconds later, flipping lorenzo off when he wiggled his eyebrows. what a child. he grabbed a hold of theo's wrist and kissed the offending finger.

"good evening to you too." you gave him a pointed look, letting out a noise of surprise when theo took a gentle hold of your hand and led you to the couch. he mumbled something along the lines of, "you look pretty", and you offered him a smile in response, not willing to attract any more attention. draco had already claimed the spot sofa, explaining that he and nobody else is allowed there, so the two of you settled on the floor without a fight, sitting so close your shoulders were touching.

pansy showed up not very long after you, and lorenzo was more than happy to have the long awaited movie marathon finally start. it didn't go down without bickering, obviously, and after twenty excruciating minutes of arguing if you should watch notting hill, poltergeist or fight club, pansy grabbed the remote and put on 10 things i hate about you. nobody really complained.

you and theo managed to avoid the hand accidentally touches hand part of sharing a bowl of popcorn, but then your legs somehow tangled under the blankets and neither of you bothered to move or apologise.

in the meantime, lorenzo shifted from his chair to the beanbag mattheo was in, and had the other cuddle him against his own will. not like he actually minded. it was a miracle that thing was big enough, one wrong move and they'd both be on the floor along with their bags of funny-flavoured crisps.

the beloved rom-com felt like it came to an end sooner than it started, and you were all already arguing on what to watch next. mattheo took the advantage to grab the remote when draco reached over to hit lorenzo, and clicked on dirty dancing without asking for a second opinion. two romance movies in a row. somebody was out to get you. draco groaned in protest, but pansy gave him a kick to shut him up. yes, he let her sit on the couch with him, but her, and her only.

halfway through, you felt theo shift next to you, and not long after, he threw an arm around your shoulders, nervously holding you before relaxing when you didn't move away. you smiled to yourself and shuffled closer, the warmth radiating from his body was addicting. you could get used to it. the thought of pulling away seemed ludicrously dreadful and the concept of time became unfamiliar.

you only realised how long you had been squashed together when it hit you that the second movie was coming to an end, too. there were barely twenty minutes left, and you felt your eyes beginning to flutter shut. not because you were bored, you were just simply exhausted. theo quickly noticed, and he let you lay your head on his shoulder, but falling asleep was the last thing you wanted to do.

"god, i could really use a coffee right now." you groaned and you rubbed at your eyes, covering your mouth as you yawned. you needed a little something to keep you awake, and your trusted caffeine would surely do the job.

"come on, i'll make you some." theo stood, helping you up and not letting go of your hand as you made your way towards the kitchen. mattheo questioned where you were going, and nodded skeptically after receiving a short response. the other three didn't care, either too immersed into the movie or occupied with other things.

you took a seat on the counter next to theo where he opened the cupboards, his eyes searching for whichever form of caffeine they had left in there. he pulled out a half empty jar of instant coffee, and looked at you unsurely, unknowing whether you'd want to drink it or not.

"just make me whatever, it's fine." you waved a dismissive hand, and he gave you a quick nod before getting to work. not that it took much effort.

it was almost done in an instant, hence the name. you didn't mind, though, coffee was coffee, and coffee could never be bad. although, you weren't really paying attention to what he was doing, a little too busy staring at his face to notice anything else.

"tell me if it's horrible." he said as he handed you the hot drink. you hopped off the counter and thanked him before you pressed the mug to your lips and took a tiny sip. you tried not to grimace, and politely took another one. it was not good.

"it's good." you choked out, holding back a cough and forcing a supportive smile. theo didn't look very convinced, you doubted he was, and he took a step closer, like he was about to confront you about your little white lie.

"be honest." he sighed, yet there was a sort of menace behind the disappointed look on his face.

"it's terrible." you failed to hold back a snicker, feeling a little sorry that his coffee tasted just that bad. he was lucky you had some tips up your sleeve, "it's so bad, what did you–" to say that you were absolutely flabbergasted when he kissed you would be an understatement. you didn't push him away, nor did you resist, you were simply too shocked to react.

you laughed in surprise when he pulled back, your jaw hanging open slightly. then he leaned in again, but you had enough time to react this time, so you kissed him back, despite feeling a bit lightheaded by it all. it was one of the strangest situations you had found yourself in in a long time, but were enjoying every little bit of it.

"i literally just criticized your–" he quickly hushed you, going in for another kiss. you giggled against his lips and set the cofee mug aside, wrapping your arms around his neck and letting your hand tangle his locks. theo could fucking collapse. there was something about the way you grabbed his hair, something that made him see colours he didn't even know existed. you weren't oblivious enough to miss the way he reacted, pressing his body closer to yours and tightening his grip around you, so you did it again, smirking in satisfaction when it drew a pleasant sound of approval from him.

his tongue brushed over your bottom lip, and you let out a tiny noise of surprise, feeling your knees buckle. without dwelling on it, you opened your mouth, and when his tongue touched your own, you gasped, maybe even whimpered, accidentally pulling on his hair a bit too harshly. theo didn't seem to mind. he grunted in response, you were making him forget that there was nothing but a wall separating you from your friends.

"you just missed the best– oh, fuck, my bad, continue please, sorry!" mattheo disappeared as fast as he appeared, his footsteps followed by laughter and the end credits of dirty dancing which got increasingly louder. courtesy of draco turning it up to drown out any unholy noises he suspected might come from the kitchen after seeing the look mattheo's face.

you pulled away from each other, too flustered to even laugh, your lips swollen and cheeks pink. theo's grip on your waist loosened, and you relaxed your arms, but still didn't pull them away from where they were wrapped around his neck. he leaned his forehead against yours, uneven breaths fanning over your lips.

"uh," you started, as speechless as he was, "have i mentioned that my dorm was empty for the night?"

#theodore nott #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott x you #theodore nott x y/n #theodore nott imagine #theodore nott scenarios #theodore nott smut #theodore nott fluff #theodore nott headcanons #theodore nott fanfiction #mattheo riddle #draco malfoy #lorenzo berkshire #pansy parkinson #blaise zabini #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction

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voxsmistress · 8 days

Text

Mama Didn't Raise No Bimbo - Part 11

I decided we needed a bit of an outsider view on Y/n and the Vee's as its so easy to get stuck in your little bubble, plus Angel being shifty needed to be sorted!

Part One / Part Two / Part Three / Part Four / Part Five / Part Six / Part Seven / Part Eight / Part Nine / Part Ten / Part Eleven / Part Twelve

“You thought this was a date?” you asked in a bit of shock. Humming his lips were twitching in amusement. “Well …” you bit your lip and then thought screw it, “I thought you out of everyone would have planned a much better date and more entertaining than posing for cameras and being looked at like shark bait by creepy club owners?” It was now your turn to laugh as his screen once again glitched and he narrowed his eyes.

“You just wait Y/n” as you walked outside you took a deep breath of fresh air.

“With pleasure, Sir” you smirk up at the TV Demon who matched you with one of his own. This night might have been a bust but it definitely was interesting.

It had been a few days since the club opening and you had dealt with seeing articles plastering yours and Vox’s face over them asking ‘who was this Sinner with Vox’ quite well. Which meant you had avoided looking at any news, any articles and any social media for the first day as you were a little embarrassed by the headlines and different opinions demons were saying about you and Vox. You had a few messages off the Vee’s each expressing different emotions about them. Velvette checked to see if you were okay, also complimented you how you made sure to tell the paps that you were wearing her design (and looked hella hawt doing it – her words) while looking good solo and with Vox. Valentino just praised how well you did and when were you going to come to one of his clubs in those outfits, and when you did could he choose it. And Vox. Well, he simply put ‘I always knew we would look good together, don’t think I’ve forgotten about our date’.

Currently you were, however, sat in the Hazbin Hotel at the bar waiting for Angel. He’d been avoiding your calls, texts and now you have had enough of it, you have given him all day to respond to your messages and calls so now he was going to face you whether he wanted to or not. So, eight minutes ago you sent a message: ‘Bar. Downstairs. 10 Minutes. If you don’t come, I’ll drag you out of your room myself’. A cocktail sat in front of you untouched as you counted down the minutes. You knew he wasn’t at work today as you’d checked with Valentino and Husk the bartender had been very informative that Angel had dragged himself to his room this morning and hadn’t emerged yet. Husk was currently wiping over a few glasses sending you questioning glances every minute or so.

Nine Minutes. Tapping your nails on the counter you start to count the seconds from the clock hung on the wall.

“What are you going to do if he doesn’t come down?” Husk’s deep voice distracts you from counting. 45 seconds.

“Drag him out kicking and screaming”, you smile serenely picking up your cocktail to have a sip. His eyebrows rose in surprise.

“Little thing like you?” Smirking into your drink you shrug, placing your drink down. 20 seconds. You really didn’t want to have to yank Angel out of his room, but you would. Bracing your hands on the bar you go to push yourself up when a very hungover Angel slumped into the bar stool next to you.

“Good evening, stranger” you chirp, irritating the already grumpy sinner.

“What do you want y/n? I’ve had a long night, and I haven’t the fuckin’ energy to deal with your positive mood”, chuckling at his moaning you slide the sipped cocktail in front of him. Eyeing you he quickly downs it, flinching at the excess alcohol you asked Husk to put in there. Choking he tries to clear his throat as you turn on your stool to face him head on.

“Why are you avoiding me?” You ask. Face now devoid of humour, you stare at his mismatched eyes catching the flinch he tried to hide.

“Who says I’m avoiding you?” He mumbles, motioning for Husk to bring him another drink.

“Me, idiot. We used to see each other nearly every day, if not at least once or twice a week and now you don’t respond to my messages, you don’t answer my calls, you are always busy when I pop to see you at work. What would you call that if not avoidance?” Waiting for him to finish his sip, you tap your nails in annoyance when he evaded looking you in the eyes.

“Look toots, these things happen. People grow apart. That’s what happens in show business, you should get used to it.”

“Please tell me that is not it?” eyes narrowing at him. “That I am finally getting a bit of recognition and you aren’t happy about it?”

“I ain’t that pathetic” he snarled at you, fists clenching around his drink.

“Well thank Lucifer for that, then what is it?”

He opened and closed his mouth a few times, contemplating what to say before he finally just snapped: “it’s who you are hanging around with to get that ‘recognition’”.

Ahh. Okay.

“You don’t like me spending time with the Vee’s?” You confirm, tilting your head eyeing him as he struggles with his words.

“Obviously honey! They ain’t good people!”

“We’re in Hell babe, who is?” You waft your hand around to make your point. If you were good people, you’d not be in Hell.

Scrunching his face in concern, he reaches over and grabs your hand. “Look y/n, you don’t know what you are getting into. You don’t know who or what they are like!”

“Like you did when you signed your contract?” Low Blow, you know but you needed to get your point across. “I know you are trying to protect me Angel, and I appreciate it. But you pulling away and avoiding me is only going to have me going to them more. I am not stupid. I know what I’m doing. I know who they are and what they have done. I mean have you really forgotten who you are speaking too here?” You squeeze his hand, offering him a small smile.

“I know you are clever and can play their game as well as the best, but I’m just worried they’re going to trap you somehow”. Your eyes drop to where he pulls at his choker necklace with a small gold tag. Hmm.

“Then that’ll be my own fault. But I swear, they aren’t getting near my soul. I made one deal with Velvette and that is just to showcase her clothes and me singing at her catwalk okay – that’s it. Nothing more, they know that.” I keep my eyes on his so he could see how serious I was.

After a few tense moments he nodded in surrender and tiredly rubbed his face with his other hand. Asking Husk for two shots of vodka you push the other in front of Angel.

“Apology shot?” A small smile graced his face as he clinks your glasses together before you both finish them off.

Watching you for a moment he starts, “So…” you scrunch your nose up at the taste of the shot, you forgot how much you disliked vodka, shoving the glass back on the bar. “How are your suga’ daddies and momma treatin’ you?” Snorting in amusement you throw him a look.

“I’m still living in my shit house that I call an apartment and working every job that is worth taking if that’s what you’re asking”, accepting another shot off Husk.

“Oh, they’ve not offered you to move in yet?” Choking on the shot you slap your chest to remove the alcohol from your windpipe.

“I wear Velvette’s clothes, not shag the Vee’s babe, why would they ask me to move in with them?” You questioned.

“Hmm, I dunno know toots. I saw the photos”, his eyes lit up in amusement as he started pulling them up on his phone. “I mean big ol’ Voxxie looked like he was just about ready to devour you – which woulda been so hot. Which reminds me, do ya need any pointers? I know it’s been a longggg time for you” your cheeks were on fire from blushing as you shove a laughing Angel away from you. Dick.

“Ain’t it like riding a bike?” You tease back trying to lessen the blush from your face.

“What type of bike are you ridin’ doll?” if you weren’t so glad you both were now okay, you’d have cursed him out by now. After a few more teasing comments about your lack of skill or sex life you glared. His teasing smile lessened a bit, sipping on his drink he decided to throw you a curveball, “ya know, Valentino messaged me the other night and not about work”.

Eyebrow quirking you tilt your head: “What about?”

“He cursed me out for ditching you at that club opening”, ah bugger. You remembered him typing furiously on his phone that night but you didn’t even think he’d contact Angel.

“Oh Angel, I am so sorry babe I didn’t think he’d say anything to you!” Waving off your apology he shrugged.

“I shouldn’t have ditched ya so I deserved it … but you looked like you enjoyed yourself anyway”, his teasing smile came back making another blush raise on your cheeks.

“I didn’t know Vox was going to be there, he hadn’t said anything to me. He told me Valentino messaged him to get dressed and meet me”. You defended yourself a bit against the teasing Sinner.

“Val told Vox to meet you?” Angel’s eyebrows scrunched up on his forehead.

“I was just as confused as you are now, I figured the club scene was more Val’s than Vox’s.”

“Huh” eyeing you with a mixture of confusion and amusement. “Ya really got them wrapped around your little finger now ain’t cha”, rolling your eyes it was your turn to laugh at him.

“Hardly! If I did, don’t you think I’d be living in a gorgeous apartment, have a nice car and not having to work another day in my undead life?” you reason with him. Having the Vee’s wrapped around your little finger, that’ll be the day.

“Mhmm … but you’ve got Velvette giving you free clothes”-

“-Which I promote for her, help design and plus I’ve gotta sing at her catwalk show” you interrupt.

“Okay fair but you’ve got Valentino bossin’ around Vox for you, sending you cutesy shit – yes I’ve seen the messages and photos – and you’ve got Vox looking like a panting dog chasin’ ya around on those photos on the articles. And probably more shit but the cameras just aint caught it!”

Mouth opening and closing as you try to come up with a counter argument, you eventually shut your mouth with a snap. He was right – not about Vox chasing you around the carpet he had actually helped you, but the rest was kinda correct.

“You might not have them completely wrapped around it but toots you are pretty darn close”. He surmised with a smug smirk.

Gulping a little you bite your lip: “What do I do?”

Shrugging, he awkwardly smiles at you: “Ain’t for me to say darlin’, but whatever you do be safe … and have fun”.

Licking your bottom lip, you play around with your empty shot glass on the counter so you didn’t have to look at him. “If … hypothetically I did, how did you so beautifully put it – wrap them round my little finger and have fun – you wouldn’t start avoiding me again would ya?” you questioned, running your finger around the rim of the glass.

Snorting in amusement, one of his arms wrapped around your neck as he placed an exaggerated kiss on your cheek.

“Doll face. You are stuck with me now! Hey if you’re up living it large with those Vee’s I want a Lamborghini for my birthday”, he teased. Tenseness fading from your body you laugh and give him a squeeze around his hips. Angel was one of your true friends in Hell, you’d be lost without him. “Plus, I can give you the low down on how to get Val off”.

“Ew Angel!!” Shoving him off you he bursts out laughing. Clutching his stomach as you scoff at him, blush burning your ears. A buzz from your pocket distracts you from a cackling Angel, pulling it out your jeans pocket you see a message from Vox: ‘Me and Val need to speak to you about an opportunity, I’ll send a car for you’. Peeking up through your hair you see that smug grin on Angel’s face.

Rolling your eyes you give him a snarky smirk in return: “sorry my suga’ daddies are calling” you wink at him as you both laugh. Texting Vox the address, to which he responded: ‘I know’ you scoff. Course he would know. Finishing the last shot you give Angel a quick kiss on the cheek and thank Husk while putting down some money to pay for the numerous drinks.

“I will be seeing you later babes!” He promised to text you tomorrow and you left, happy that you two had buried the hatchet and feeling so much lighter than you have for a few days.

Stepping outside the hotel you spy a black car pull up. Hurrying down the steps you are surprised when a sinner gets out the driver’s seat and opens the back door for you with a small bow in your direction. Okay. That’s new. Thanking them you slide in and relax in the lush leather seating. Perhaps having them a little bit wrapped round your finger is a good thing?

Tag List: @tasha-1994 @azullynxx @reath-solia @leathesimp @klorinda @twinklethewarrior @martinys-world @rosiethevoxobesser

@the-maladaptivedaydreamer @songbrita @midge7838 @joumi13 @wonderlandangelsposts @th3rizzl3r

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spaceshipellie · 8 months

Text

everything’s about you to me

ellie williams x reader

chapter three: bathe me clean

masterlist for other chapters (prev) (next) *✧･ﾟ: wc: 5.9k

summary: in the midst of the apocalypse, you and ellie find each other after you’ve both lost everything. what started out as a mere safety in numbers pairing, turns into something imperishable. however, after some time you get separated, leaving you both to believe the other is dead. four years later you find a commune in wyoming.

warnings: tlou au, violence, knives, guns, dead bodies, murder, stab wounds, self inflicted injuries, ellie’s dad humour, 18+ MDNI

author’s note: this took me a lot longer to write than i was expecting so hope people are still interested in this series lol, i’m kinda proud of it and thank you for being patient <3 as always lmk what you think!

♪ ‘cause the world could be burning, and all i’d be thinking, is “how are you doing, baby?”

A few days had passed and you and Ellie had decided it was a good idea to investigate the town. You were in the kitchen, checking through your backpack to make sure you had what you needed. You had to make sure you packed enough so you had resources out there, especially considering the town was several miles away, but not too much that it meant your bag was too heavy to move swiftly with.

“You got the map?” Ellie asked, zipping up her own bag and slinging it on her back. You noticed she had traded her blue shirt for a brown, long sleeve shirt that must have been Jack’s. It was slightly oversized on her but not too much.

“Yeah.”

You put your bag on, attaching the machete on the side and putting the pistol in your back pocket. You had already locked and secured the front door so you followed Ellie out the back and towards the barn. She grabbed the brown leather bridle from a hook and took it over to Harley, stroking her peach-fuzz soft nose before hooking it over her ears and buckling it up.

“Where did you learn to do that?” you asked, watching as Ellie scrunched her face in concentration.

“I read about it.”

She then grabbed the saddle and the forest green blanket underneath and slung it over Harley’s back. She studied it for a moment, adjusting its position until it seemed to slot better with the curve of the horse’s back. Harley stood patiently, kicking one of her hooves on the floor and snorted a soft breath. Ellie reached under her stomach for the band that dangled down, bringing it up to her side.

“Okay okay, let’s remember how to do this,” she mumbled to herself, fingers fiddling with the buckles. She stuck her fingers in between the band and Harley’s stomach to check the tightness and yanked around at the stirrups before giving Harley a pat on the neck, seeming satisfied with it all.

“That should be fine,” she said, turning to you. You blinked a couple of times, not realising how hard you had been staring at her hands working. You nodded, standing back as she led Harley out of the barn.

Ellie put one foot in the stirrup and held onto the saddle as she swung her other leg up and over. She adjusted her hips in the seat, bunching the reins in one hand before taking her foot out the stirrup and holding out her other hand to you.

“You ever ridden a horse before?” you asked.

“Nope, you?”

You grabbed her hand, putting your foot in the free stirrup to support you as she helped pull you up. You had to hop a little on the foot that was on the ground cursing a “fuck,” as Harley took a step forward as your leg flew over.

“Never,” you said as your ass hit Harley’s back.

She chuckled. “Well, this’ll be fun.”

She replaced your feet in the stirrups and indicated for the horse to start walking. The sudden jolt made you keenly aware that this was definitely the closest you and Ellie had ever been. Instinctively, she put her free hand on your knee for a second steadying you before moving it back to rest on her thigh.

“You okay back there?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m good.”

Your chest was pressed against her backpack, brushing up and down slightly with the movements of the horse. Harley walked through the field until you reached the road, the clack of her feet louder now that they were on the concrete. You held the map in both hands so it didn’t blow away, looking to see if you were heading in the right direction.

“According to this, we walk down this road for about a mile then we go right when we hit the junction,” you observed before folding it and shoving it back in your pocket, hands resting on your thighs.

“Seems easy enough, ‘least it’s not raining.”

“You’ve jinxed it now,” you teased.

“Oh shit,” she laughed.

It felt wrong to laugh too but you did. It felt selfish laughing when so many bad things had happened lately. It felt insensitive to laugh when your mom wasn’t around to hear it. Up until now, you thought you might never laugh or even smile again. You knew that it would take you a long time to heal after her death for who could put a restraint on grief. Yet you didn’t want to feel like actual poison was running through your veins anymore.

After losing your dad, it had been anger that had controlled you. You had fallen into a frenzy where everything you did was erratic and irascible. It was as if your body didn’t belong to you anymore. Your fingertips would claw at anything that made you feel as though you had found some retribution for what had happened to him. You thought at the time that it was the worst pain you had ever felt, but you’ve come to quickly realise that sadness is worse than anger. Anger can blindley carry you through whereas sadness makes your limbs too heavy to even move.

After losing your mom, you were overwhelmed with sadness. Everything hurt permanently and instead of time moving rapidly as a distraction, it had slowed to an impossible pace, as if it had pins holding your eyes open to watch the events play out over and over again. Her speaking to you, hugging you, leaving you.

“Y/n?”

“Huh?” you shook your head, snapping out of your thoughts.

“I said what does the map say after we turn right?”

“Oh right, um,” you flustered as you tried to pull the map out of your pocket, fingers suddenly feeling slippery as you tried to unfold it. “Um, oh fuck, fuck.”

Your hand flew out as the piece of paper floated to the ground, whisking along with the breeze. Harley staggered back and forth on her feet as your weight shifted, naturally trying to follow the direction of the fallen map.

“Woah, careful,” Ellie’s hand suddenly gripped your leg firmly and your hand darted out to grab her arm to stop you from sliding off.

“Sorry, but shit, the map,” you said pointing.

“I know, here,” she held her hand out for you to take, “get off for a second.”

You complied and she did the same, rushing to stamp on the measly bit of paper so it didn’t go any further. She picked it up and shook off some of the dirt, wiping it before holding it up to you.

“See? Good as new.” She chuckled at her own sarcasm.

Your stomach lurched with anxiety. You had barely left the house and you’d nearly lost the very thing that could help you navigate this place.

“Hey, don’t stress. We’ve got it,” Ellie said, noticing the way you were wringing your hands and nibbling your lip.

You met her eyes and nodded. “Sorry, I’m fine.”

She handed you back the map and you folded it up, safely tucking it in your pocket. She mounted Harley, once again holding her hand out to help you on.

“I had a look, after we go right we need to go left at a gas station,” Ellie informed you, asking Harley to walk again.

“Okay.”

“If you need to hold on, don’t be shy. I’d rather you not actually fall off.”

You nervously placed your hands just below her waist, lightly fisting the fabric of her shirt so as to not touch her body too much. She had just said to not be shy but that didn’t mean you weren’t. You spent the next few minutes in comfortable silence, taking in the sights of greenery around you. How it shined under the strips of sunlight that poked through the huge clouds.

“Have a look in my bag a second, there should be a book in there.”

“Did you not see me nearly fall on my face? I don’t think I’m good enough to read and ride a horse,” you jested.

“Not that kind of book,” Ellie laughed, “just look.”

Keeping one hand gripping her shirt, you unzipped her bag and dug around for something book shaped. When you felt it you pulled it out.

“No Pun Intended: Volume Two,” you read outloud, “what the hell is this?”

“Open it and read something,” Ellie pushed, grinning to herself.

You flicked through the pages.

“I stayed up all night wondering where the sun went. Then it dawned on me.”

Ellie laughed. “Funny, right?”

“Sure,” you smiled, unconvinced.

“C’mon, read some more.”

You turned the page.

“I never trust stairs because they’re always up to something,” you snickered, flicking through more pages.

“These are so dumb,” you commented before finding another. “I had a crazy dream last night. I was swimming in an ocean of orange soda. Turns out it was just a Fanta sea.”

“I don’t get it,” Ellie said, frowning in confusion.

“Me neither.”

“I’ve got one,” she started excitedly, already laughing at her own joke. “Did you hear about the restaurant on the moon? I heard the food was good but it had no atmosphere.”

You put the book over your mouth, trying to stifle the laugh escaping your lips. “These jokes are so stupid.”

“Yeah, but you’re laughing.”

“No, I’m not,” a smile evident in your voice.

“Yes you are, I can hear you,” she chuckled, turning her head around for a second trying to look at you.

“Okay, fine. I laughed. But you’re the one who’s memorised some of them!”

“Who knows when you’ll need an emergency pun!”

You squeezed Ellie’s side where your hand was and it made her jump. “You’re so weird.”

About an hour later, you arrived at what you heavily presumed to be the town. The gas station you had passed on the way you thought you would check out on the way back if supplies in the town weren’t great. On approach, you could see terraced buildings lining the streets. It looked like a typical small town. Shops with broken windows. Cars parked in skewed positions with flat tyres. Street signs half covered in vines that grew thick across brick walls. A general eerily quiet atmosphere. Very normal. Ellie pulled Harley to a stop and you both got off.

“Where should we look first?”

“Um, maybe make our way down these,” Ellie gestured to a row of shops on your left. You climbed over the open window pane, carefully avoiding any of the broken glass on the floor. You seemed to be in a pharmacy with its clinically white walls and flooring. The shelves were mostly empty, some completely knocked over with various items littering the ground. You naturally both went to different sides, scanning for anything useful. There wasn’t a great deal where you were looking, just some paracetamol that expired the same year as the outbreak, some expired baby formula, definitely won’t be needing that, and some dust covered sunglasses. They had massive frames with electric blue lenses. Beside them on the wall you saw a ripped poster of a guy who was also wearing sunglasses and a colourful open shirt, carrying a large board on a beach. You smirked to yourself and wiped the lenses clean before putting them on and looking up at where Ellie was.

“Think I might save these for my next beach visit. You know, try ‘n’ catch some waves,” you joked, putting on your best surfer dude voice for the last sentence.

“Hot,” Ellie laughed, stepping closer to you and slapping a huge, wide brimmed straw hat on her head. It had a reduced sticker on it which made sense considering the world went to shit about a month after summer. “I’ll join you.”

Getting into character, you sauntered over to her and rested an arm on the shelf beside her, popping your hip and resting your hand on it. You pitched your voice lower. “What brings you to the beach, pretty lady?”

Ellie pitched her voice higher, pretending to twirl her hair around her finger. “Oh, you know, just wanna work on my tan.”

“Well lemme know if you want any,” you pretended to flex your muscles, “any surfing lessons.”

“Oh I will,” she fake giggled before you both burst out laughing.

“That hat looks ridiculous,” you said, slapping the front of the rim.

“These don’t look any better.” She tapped on the lens of the sunglasses.

“No really? I thought I looked cool.” You took them off, pretending to be disappointed.

Ellie chuckled and frisbee-threw the hat across the store. You continued your searches for supplies, again coming up against nothing. You crouched under a knocked over shelf, more broken glass crunching under your feet.

“Ohhh, fuck yeah.”

Your head snapped up at the sound of Ellie’s voice. She was grinning smugly at something small in her hands.

“What is it?”

She held up and wiggled a tiny plastic bag containing thin rolls of paper.

“Weed?”

“The one and only. Saving that for later,” she smiled, shoving it in her pocket.

You smiled at how excited she seemed. You had smoked once when you were fifteen with Amy but you both had no idea what you were doing so you’re not even sure if you did it right. You just remember it making you feel a bit wobbly and your throat had felt scratchy and burnt.

“I’m not having any luck here, wanna try next door?” you suggested and she nodded.

After searching through the row of shops you decide to find the supermarket, using the map for directions. It was a large, standalone building with rusted cars parked sporadically in the carpark. A few with windows broken and dented hoods, some completely destroyed from crashing into each other. It made you stop and think for a second about how terrifying and confusing it must have been when the outbreak hit. One minute you’re hearing the sounds of shopping carts across gravel whilst you load your shopping into the car and then you hear screams and screeching tires trying to escape.

“This seems to be it,” Ellie pondered. She suddenly mumbled a “shit” and you followed her eyes down to a skeleton beneath ripped clothing on the ground by the door. You grimaced thinking about how long that had been there and how many people had walked past the decomposing person over the years. Perhaps not many as this seemed to be the epitome of a ghost town.

Not being shocked by the sight, Ellie began trying to shove the broken automatic doors apart further. You watched as the wind blew a piece of her hair across her face, catching it in the corner of her mouth. You wanted to reach out and fix it for her, frowning to yourself as you weren’t sure why you had the urge to do that. Instead, you helped her pry the doors apart, each slipping through once there was enough room. You glanced around the expanse of aisle, noticing the signs that hung above them. The chipped cream floor was littered with anything from knocked over produce, broken shopping baskets, ripped pieces of board, broken glass, smears of blood and other unknown substances. The deeper you looked the darker it got, the light from outside only travelling so far, especially seeing as on one side some of the windows had large pieces of cardboard taped to them. Maybe that person out the front had been camping out here once upon a time.

“I’ll start left, you start right and we’ll meet in the middle?” you suggested. Ellie merely nodded before heading to the far right aisle. There were fifteen of them in total so hopefully you would find something.

You had made your way down to aisle four and had lucked out in finding some scissors and matches. Shaking a box upside down to see if anything came out of it you suddenly heard a rattle which sounded like the door. You inched your way towards the back, careful to not to bump into anything and give your location away. You prayed the sound was just Ellie, but you weren’t about to call out her name to find out.

“In here,” a gruff voice sounded. Fuck.

Footsteps clambered in, rubber soles screeching on the floor. You couldn’t detect how many there might be but you were definitely outnumbered. You made a mental note of where your weapons were and clutched your machete. You racked your brain for what to do, fear boiling up inside you. You could hear the movements from these newcomers spread out, shadows slipping underneath the shelving units. You slipped around to the end, peering round to see if the next aisle was clear. It wasn’t.

A woman was walking towards you, a gun in her outstretched hands. You moved quickly back into aisle four before she could see you but you knew you weren’t safe to stay there. You trod carefully down to the other end, towards the front of the supermarket but there was someone guarding the door. Knowing that you would have to face one of them no matter what direction you went in, you decided you had a better chance against the woman who could be turning in your direction any second now. You paid close attention to any noises you heard although the building was eerily silent as you made your way back up to the other, darker end of the aisle. Your body faltered as you heard a squelch in the distance followed by a low, agonising grunt.

Having reached the end, you braved peering around the corner again only to see the woman with her back to you, slowly walking away. You swapped your machete out for your switchblade and took your opportunity to wrap a tight arm around her neck and puncture it. She choked out a splutter of bubbling blood, dropping her gun as you brought her body down slowly to the ground. You snatched the gun from the floor and moved forwards in hopes of finding Ellie.

The next aisle was clear so you kept moving before a hand suddenly slapped itself over your mouth and an arm held a firm grip around you, yanking you back into them and onto the floor behind a freezer unit. Your eyes widened and your body went rigid until you glanced down and saw the brown shirt sleeve. Bringing your knees closer to your chest so that they weren’t sticking out the side of the freezer you slowly turned your head. Your eyes met Ellie’s as she removed her hand from you and brought a finger to her lips to be quiet. You noticed some blood smeared on her hand. Your worried eyes darted between hers as she tightened her lips in a line.

“They got Milo.” you heard a sinister voice.

“Sadie too,” a shakier voice said.

“C’mon, let’s find those little shits,” the first voice commanded.

Your back pressed harder into Ellie and the hairs on the back of your neck stood on end. You both knew you couldn’t just wait there, they would find you eventually, but you had no idea how many of them were left.

“We’ll take out the guard at the door and run,” Ellie whispered so quietly she had to practically press her lips against your ear in order for you to hear.

She snaked her arm away from you and gave you a gentle push, indicating for you to shift away so she could sneak a look over the freezer. You were now both crouched as she peered over before snapping her head back down. She pointed left and you nodded slowly before beginning to move forwards, still in your crouched position. You held your breath as you emerged from behind the freezer, exposing yourself to the possible dangers. Swiftly, you ducked into one of the aisles, Ellie following suit.

You moved down the aisle with careful speed, wanting to just get out of there. A dark shadow flashed before your eyes before a tall man with a scar starting from his cheek and finishing on his neck appeared. You halted and immediately rushed back up the aisle to create more distance, now behind Ellie as you both ran. A sharp, dense pain hit your thigh as you yelped and stumbled to the ground. You looked down at your leg and saw a knife that the man had thrown at you lodged in your flesh. Beneath the rip it made in your jeans, blood spilled down your leg.

Your eyes darted up to the sound of heavy boots stomping towards you. Ellie reached for your hand as you tried to scramble your way up but a rough hand gripped and yanked at your ankle, pulling you onto your back and away from her outstretched hand. You tried to kick as the man climbed on top of you, a cry coming from your lips as he ripped the knife out. With your legs stuck under his weight, you tried to blindly grab for your machete. You could hear Ellie’s grunts in the distance and assumed she had also been grabbed. Your frantic fingers managed to get a hold on the weapon and pull it out from its location on the side of your backpack but before you could swing, the man gripped your wrist. With everything you had, you tried to fight against his strength but it was no use. With his other hand he slammed his knife down and you screamed as the metal punctured your arm. He then pulled your machete out of your weakened grasp and tossed it so it skidded along the floor far away from you. You looked into his hardened eyes, your own glossing over. Your fingers scratched at him as you tried to push him off but your actions were cut short when he pulled the knife out of your arm and brought it up above your chest, thick fingers adjusting to get a stronger hold on the handle. Your crimson blood dripped from the blade and clung in splotches to the fabric of your top. Whether or not Ellie was okay flashed through your mind before your ears started ringing and your eyes squeezed shut at the sudden splash of something on your face.

A gunshot echoed through the store and when you opened your eyes you realised the only thing holding the man up anymore was your grip on him. You gasped at the glassy look he had in his eyes as you shoved his corpse off of you, the knife he had clattering to the ground. You sat up and tentatively brought your hand up to your face and swiped your cheek before looking at the blood that coated your fingertips. Turning your head you saw Ellie with an enraged look on her face and a shotgun pointed in your direction. At her feet lay another dead body, blood spilled and smeared around it. She lowered her gun and her expression softened ever so slightly as she walked towards you, crouching at your side.

“Here,” she mumbled as she ripped a piece from the hem of her shirt to make a tourniquet for your leg. You winced as she tightened the knot and her eyes glanced quickly to your face before noticing the stab wound on your arm. She ripped off another strip of material and did the same thing before holding your arm to help you stand up. You scrunched your face in pain at the weight being put on your leg but gritted your teeth to bear it.

“Was that all of them?” you asked.

“Think so, I haven’t seen anyone else.”

You hobbled towards the door of the supermarket, Ellie keeping a firm grip on your arm to support you. She hadn’t let on that she had any injuries but you could tell she had suffered beatings of her own by the way she slouched and strained her face. When you reached the door she let go of you to pry the doors open again. As soon as her hands gripped them a scrawny body came out of nowhere and wrapped a metal pole tight around Ellie’s neck. You screamed her name as her hands flew to grab the stranger's arm, trying to pull it away from her as they stumbled back. The man looked young and scared yet he desperately held his firm grip on the pole.

Ignoring your injuries, you grabbed your switchblade and threw yourself at him. The impact made him loosen his grip letting Ellie free. She was bent over, coughing and holding her neck as you tackled the boy to the ground. The fear you had felt about nearly losing your own life as well as Ellie’s transitioned into red anger as the faces of everyone you had lost flickered through your mind like embers. You fell completely inside your own head to the point where it felt like your ears were stuffed with cotton wool, blocking out the cries and screams of the man as you stabbed his chest over and over again with your knife. The sticky blood splattered your hands and stomach as you remained on top of him, repeatedly releasing your rage with every slash. He started to choke on bright blood as his eyes lost light. A pinching grip on both your arms was the only thing that snatched you from the trance, your vision and hearing becoming clear again. Ellie’s shouts became louder and clearer.

“That’s enough, that’s enough! Stop!”

She pulled you off of the man, your switchblade slipping out of your red hands. You sat sideways with your legs bent and looked up at her sat on her knees in front of you, her hands still holding your arms. She looked into your eyes with concern and took in your bewildered expression.

“I-” you choked on your words. The adrenaline was still running through your body.

“It’s okay, let’s go home.”

Ellie grabbed your switchblade off the floor and wiped it on her jeans before shoving it in her pocket along with hers before helping you to your feet once again. You both wobbled your way out and thankfully over to Harley who hadn’t been harmed. She neighed and kicked her front foot upon seeing you as if she was grateful you were still there. You steadied yourself by placing a hand on Harley’s neck whilst Ellie lifted herself up. She held her hand out for you and you braced yourself as you heaved your aching body up and onto the horses back. You had no embarrassment this time about holding onto Ellie’s waist as she gently kicked her feet for Harley to go.

The ride home felt like an eternity. The adrenaline had soon worn off, allowing the searing pain to sink in. Ellie had occasionally checked in on you with a quick “you still with me back there?” to which you’d mumble out a yes. All you wanted was to lie down. When you reached the house you climbed off of Harley and made your way to the back door whilst Ellie secured her in the stable. As soon as you got through the door you slumped into one of the dining chairs. You groaned as you shoved your backpack off, revelling in the removal of its heavy weight. Ellie came in and dropped her bag down also before rotating one of her sore shoulders and sighing.

“Wait there,” she instructed.

“I don’t plan on moving any time soon,” you joked as she dug through the kitchen cupboards.

She pulled out a first aid kit and some alcohol before marching back over to you and setting them on the table. She pulled a chair for herself to sit in and placed it in front of you. Your knees bumped as she opened up the first aid kit. She then paused, realising that in order for her to access your wounds you would have to take your clothes off.

“Um,” she started. It then clicked for you too.

“Oh right, um, yeah, you know, I can do it if you–fuck,” you groaned as you started to stand up. Her hand darted out to stop you but she quickly brought it back.

“It’s fine,” she laughed nervously, “if you don’t mind, I don’t.”

You nodded in appreciation, pausing before fumbling with the makeshift tourniquet on your thigh. You tried to swallow a groan as the pressure on your leg was released. You hesitantly undid the button and zipper on your jeans before resting your weight on your other leg so you could push the rigid denim down, exposing the nasty, deep gash on the side of your leg. You pulled your top down over your underwear and looked at Ellie who was looking intently at the wound. She didn’t seem phased, only concentrated on helping you. She poured a bit of sterile rain water onto a cloth and dabbed to clean any grime out of it, pausing to look at you when you flinched.

“Tell me if I’m hurting you.”

“It’s fine, you’re not the one who stabbed me.”

She chuckled at your dumb joke and continued dabbing the wound. You became very aware of how her fingers softly touched your bare skin. It felt like that shouldn’t be something to think about right now but you couldn’t help but watch how she was delicately looking after you.

“Okay, this definitely will hurt,” she said, grabbing the alcohol and twisting the cap off.

You shifted in your seat, readying yourself. You had suffered stab wounds before but that didn’t mean you had gotten used to it. You let out a string of curses as the splash of alcohol burned. It dripped to the floor in tinted red droplets as she pressed the cloth to the cut again, applying pressure whilst she grabbed the roll of bandages with her free hand.

“Hold this, keep the pressure on,” she gestured with her head to her hand on your leg and you swapped with her.

She started to wrap the bandage around your thigh, your hand slipping away as the wound was covered and she used her switchblade to cut through it and tie the bandage off. You thanked her before she gestured to your arm.

“I’ll go and get you some clean clothes then do your arm.”

She ran up the stairs and returned with a top and some loose pyjama trousers and handed them to you. You thanked her and winced as you pulled the trousers on before peeling your sweaty, blood soaked top off, leaving you in a vest. Ellie resumed her role as nurse and treated your arm the same way she had done your leg. She gave you a soft look as she helped you pull the fresh top on.

“Can I help you now? What about changing this–”

“Don’t,” she cut you off and sat back as you tried to reach for her bandaged right arm.

You sat back too, mumbling an awkward sorry whilst her eyes darted nervously side to side.

“Sorry,” she muttered.

“It’s fine.”

A somewhat uncomfortable silence fell. You couldn’t help but stare at the bandage and wonder why she didn’t want your help. Especially seeing as she was completely fine helping you. You didn’t know what to assume but you could only suspect that something horrific had happened to her to make her suddenly shift from sweet to closed off in an instant.

“You should get some rest,” she whispered, avoiding eye contact.

You nodded and made an attempt to stand, groaning as you did so. A hot flash of burning pain pounded in your leg as you put your weight on it. Ellie quickly snapped a hand out to support you.

“Maybe you should just stay on the couch.”

“Yeah, good idea.”

Your lips tightened as she helped you shuffle to the living room where you not-so-gracefully flopped onto the couch. You thanked her again and both mumbled goodnights before she disappeared upstairs, leaving you alone with your pain and curious thoughts about her.

ELLIE’S POV

Ellie’s fingers tapped nervously on her wrist where her hands rested on her stomach. It was in the early hours of the morning and she was staring up at the ceiling, her body feeling restless and flighty. She couldn’t keep this up any longer, not now that she wasn’t travelling alone. She was scared to death about how you would react and how you’d see her if you knew. She had to do something to hide it, something much more convincing than a raggedy bandage. The mattress springs screeched as she got up from the bed. She made her way to the bathroom and rummaged as quietly as she could through the cupboards.

“Fuck, nothing.”

She carefully descended the stairs, nose scrunching at the loud creak from the top step. She had to find something fast so that you wouldn’t accidentally wake up. She crept into the kitchen and started looking through all of the cupboards. Her wavering eyes suddenly landed on a white bottle. Hesitantly, she reached her hand out for it and stood up, staring at the glaring warning labels. Her eyes quickly scanned the small print to see if it was strong enough to do the job and when she deemed it was, she turned her head to peer out the kitchen door and into the living room. You were still fast asleep. Grabbing the bandages and a bottle of the sterile water that was still left out on the table, she went back upstairs and set the things down on the bathroom floor by the bathtub and shut the door. She took a big breath and stared at the items before her. Shaking her head to rid it of the doubtful thoughts she quickly knelt on the ground and yanked up her sleeve, peeling off the bandage. The scarred indents of the bite mark revealed themselves and she brushed a hand over it.

“Ok ok ok,” she chanted quietly to herself in an attempt to psych herself up.

She grabbed the bottle and twisted the cap off, grimacing at the chemicals unnerving scent. She clenched her right fist and held out her arm over the bath. Her teeth gritted as she held the bottle ready to pour, occasionally tipping it back each time it got close to releasing the liquid.

“Fuck, come on.”

She clenched her jaw and tried to swallow a grunt as she poured the substance over the bite. Her skin stung but it took a few minutes before she could see it turning red with irritation. Her fist tensed as she let the chemical stab away at her skin, ensuring that it would blister enough to cover the bite mark. She tried to focus on keeping a steady breath to avoid thinking about the pain and when she had had enough, she quickly rinsed her arm thoroughly with the water before bandaging it up. She slumped to the ground and hung her sorry head low between her bent knees, looking down at her arms before her. She didn’t even realise she was crying until she felt a tear drop on her hand. She sat there and quietly sobbed until her head started to hurt. She figured she should put the bottle back in the kitchen where she found it to avoid any suspicion from you before she climbed into bed. Her eyes felt sore and heavy, a contrasting drowsy feeling to the lightening pain that was prickling her arm. But eventually, she was able to sleep.

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piratefishmama · 4 months

Text

I Wish | Part 3

He barely recognised his friends. He was just glad they were themselves though. That somewhere along the way to a stardom he didn’t remember going through, his band hadn’t lost anyone. That someone hadn’t been replaced.

That happened a lot, didn’t it? Bands losing members due to circumstance, arguments over direction, infighting... but they were there. Older, Gareth had a little grey in his hair, Jeff had shaved his down completely, he didn’t have braces anymore, taller too, neither as weathered as Eddie but… definitely older, and Dougie...

Fuck, he'd slimmed down.

Eddie didn’t know if that was an improvement or not, he instantly found himself missing what had once been, he was still big, still broad, but... where disarming chub that Eddie had on more than one occasion fallen asleep on had been, soft muscle resided in its place and Eddie found himself wondering just how the biggest of four of them had done it. Whether it'd been through healthy choices or godawful ones like himself.

It was muscle though, it looked like healthy muscle, so... probably healthier than him. Good for him.

“Oh look who's joined us in the land of the living!” Gareth chirped, his mouth half full of pancake, syrup dripping down his lips.

Jeff, to his left “Saw Louie stormin out kicking up a storm, that shit for good this time?” Asked with a tone laced in caution, as if the subject was touchy. God what had Eddie done in the past that made his friends think they couldn’t rib him about relationships?

That was like... their whole thing back in high school, Eddie, and his disastrous non-existent dating life. He’d trusted them and them alone with who he was, with what he liked, and while there were the obvious ‘do you find me hot?’ questions at first, the playful ribbing, the teasing, the jokes only friends could share… he had them. They weren’t afraid of him. Afraid to hurt him because they knew they never could.

How had he lost that?

Eddie looked to Steve in a bid for help, Steve wasted no time in coming to his aid “One can only hope” with obvious exhaustion in his retort, his hands on his hips, a deadpan expression that Eddie couldn’t stop himself from smiling at.

Gareth snorted a little laugh and followed with “Amen to that, dude.”

“He’ll be back though, he always is.” Dougie piped up around his own bite full of some oat concoction, it looked gross. “Once he sees his job offers dry u—what?” The other two were giving it the kill signal, twin expressions of panic, as if he’d said too much… god who was he? “You fuckers know I’m right, Eddie knows I’m right, he’s a clout chasing pretty boy riding Eddie’s coattails to fame, just cause you’re too chicken shit to say anything to him doesn’t mean I am.”

Eddie looked to Steve again as Dougie spoke, only to receive a silently raised brow in return, he was on his own. “Well—” Eddie began, the other three froze, even Dougie’s attention was on him now, all three clearly expecting something “not anymore! Dunno what I saw in him, but I’m done, Steve, if you would… uhm… make sure he can’t contact me again?”

“Want me to block his number?”

“What?” Eddie whispered behind his hand, brows furrowed in confusion, block? A number? What?

“I’ll sort it.” Steve would sort it, and of that Eddie had zero doubts. He wouldn’t doubt the genie about anything ever again. Louie and his overly manicured entire self would never darken his doorstep again, of that he was certain.

“Holy shit, who are you and where did Eddie go?” The panic gone, Gareth seemed genuinely surprised by his declaration. He'd missed too much, too many things he didn’t know, too many things he’d done that he couldn’t apologise for because he didn’t know what he'd be apologising for. it'd be cheap, it'd be pointless.

Eddie hated everything. He could have probably lived with it, with his lost time, had this not been his first experience of the day with people he recognised. He couldn’t. Not like this. Not with his friends looking at him like he were a bomb ready to go off.

He could put on a brave face though, even if the muscles in his face felt foreign, even if he felt tired... he could act the part. “Turnin over a new leaf I guess... self reflection, new path, bachelor life never hurt me too bad, right?” His friends shared looks, a silent communication happening between them that made Eddie feel isolated, othered, outside, and alone.

He wanted out. To run.

And as if he knew, Steve’s hand found his shoulder and squeezed grounding him in place. He was there, the Genie was there, he'd fix it if Eddie wished him to. He wasn’t stuck, Steve just wanted him to live the day. Experience it. Be brave, it wasn’t permanent.

Jeff broke the silence though, he stood up, crossed the distance between them, that gigantic chasm that seemed so impossible to cross seconds before, and clapped his hands to both of Eddie's biceps, his straight toothed smile blinding “nice to have you back then, Eds, now eat your fuckin breakfast an let’s get this stupid talk show shit over with, yeah?” Okay... maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.

Fuck the ‘old' Eddie, the Eddie who Eddie himself had never met and never wanted to meet, he had his friends, he'd be fine. Maybe he could even stay.

“Sounds good, what's for breakfast?”

“For you? Nothin but the good stuff, man, ordered you some wholemeal toast with avocado an egg whites” so many words, so little recognition in his eyes.

What the fuck was an avocado? Was that a real thing?

“...Can I not have pancakes like Gareth?” Gareth with his syrupy monstrosity.

Dougie scoffed around his oatmeal, swallowing before he responded because at some point during the last thirty years he’d developed manners. “With your cholesterol? Fuck off, dude, we don’t want you having a heart attack on stage.” Steve only offered him a sympathetic smile in consolation. The beautiful bastard. “It's avocado toast or oatmeal, your choice old man.”

Strike being able to stay. He wanted to go home.

Eddie didn’t like Avocados.

He decided this the moment a semi-hard glob of green mush touched his tongue, lightly seasoned, mixed with something tangy, he hated it, hated the smell, hated the unexpected texture, hated the taste but he ate it. He pushed through like a little champ when every instinct he had told him to rebel against it, to demand French fries or something stupid that definitely didn’t come as a breakfast food.

Maybe he could swing fast food later, see what the future held for the fast food joints.

Later seemed too busy though, the moment they were done with breakfast, the band were whisked away into some kind of car, something way fancier than Eddie had ever seen, to get to the venue and prepare. Hair, makeup, the usual routine that Eddie wished he had an ounce of experience with because back at the Hideout it was just… them climbing up on the rickety old stage Bev’s late husband put together on the fly and letting loose.

There was no pre-gig warming up, no hoard of professionals tugging them into various chairs and rooms to make sure their hair was the correct brand of artful frizz, or mess of floof, or women with brushes coated in powders to minimize the shine from the studio lights that’d make their skin too shiny for the cameras to work with.

Wardrobe was fool proof as they were presented with options that ranged from smart casual to red carpet. Everything suitable for a talk show and nothing fit for a ‘metal’ band, which was strange considering they were advised to go for something they could move in as they were going to be performing during their run through, maybe more than once to make sure all angles were covered.

It was a lot, it was a hell of a lot, Eddie kept finding Steve in his peripherals though. Always there, silent, and observant off to the side, close enough to step in should anyone cross any boundaries but staying out of the way of the professionals so they could work unhindered.

It was grounding in a way, him there, even if he looked so very human despite what he knew Steve to really look like, having him there, knowing the man could get him out of the chaos at any time was grounding.

All those people touching him, all the noise around him, sounds, smells, lights, the pushing, and pulling, and the tugging on his hair, he wanted to scream, he wanted to get away from it all, he wanted—

“Alright, five minute break.” Steve stepped in, his voice firm, without room for argument. “Rockstar needs a breather.” Eddie could have kissed him, genuinely. The relief as all those professionals took a few steps back was instantaneous, that feeling only growing when Steve managed to corral them out of the room entirely, leaving just them in there.

The other band members were in their own rooms, Eddie clearly some ‘big shot’ that he didn’t quite get. Sure he was the front man but… they always said they’d be equals if they made it big. They’d always scoffed at the idea of multiple green rooms, of putting single members on pedestals, that was how shit went sideways, that was how infighting and breaking apart happened. They’d stay grounded, stay real.

They didn’t want that bullshit and yet there he was. All on his own, his friends elsewhere being prepped without him. He hated it. How had it happened? “I should be used to this, shouldn’t I?”

“What makes you think that?” Eddie damn near jumped out of his skin when Steve was just. Right there. Stood beside him in the reflection of the mirror. No longer looking all that human, he looked like himself, golden and beautiful, wearing the clothes he first saw him in.

When he turned around, the human looked back at him, smiling as if he knew what Eddie was looking for. Reflections showed the truth then. Interesting.

“I’m—fuck that's a cool trick, man... but i'm a fuckin rockstar! I should be, I dunno… used to it.” At the very least his old man brain should have caught up by now, right? He should have gotten used to it all, muscle memory of thirty years having passed should have at least kicked in a little, right?

He still felt like that kid from the trailer park on the inside, still felt completely overwhelmed.

He’d just been dropped into a life with no memory of living it.

“Who said you ever got used to it?” Steve hadn’t said that. In fact Steve had painted a pretty sad story of addiction and self-destruction. “Eddie… some people aren’t meant for this kind of life, yes, you’re very talented, you’re absolutely good enough to get this far, and once you’re on stage you are incredible—” for a moment, just a moment, Eddie felt warmth, a teeny sprinkle of warm pleasure trickle through his weary soul at the easily spoken praise. “The weariness fades away and you’re… yourself, everything that you are shines through and it’s breathtaking.” Eddie really did try not to blush, but he felt the heat in his cheeks anyway, as it turned out, older men could definitely be flustered by a cute guy thoughtlessly praising them “but the rest of it… everything that goes along with it… not that I’m an expert or anything, but I don’t believe it’s who you are.”

“I can’t just adapt?” All Steve offered was that similar look of sympathy he’d had in the bathroom back at the hotel. No… no Eddie knew the answer before he’d even asked it. He’d never been able to adapt. “Why?”

“If it helps at all, there’s millions of people out there who feel seen whenever you talk about your struggles with what happens behind the glamour, so many people who love you and support you for the very things that make you struggle so much, for the fact that you keep going, you made it despite them. I’m not going into the why’s and the how’s, but adapting really isn’t something you’re very good at, Eddie, there’s no changing that. You get overwhelmed, that’s just you.”

“Can I wish to change it?” Did he even want to? Not really, something told him it’d backfire somehow, not by Steve’s design, not on purpose, but… it just would.

“You can… I can work my magic, but you wouldn’t be you. You wouldn’t be the person your friends love, the louder than life DnD loving nerd, you wouldn’t be that anymore, and I like that person, he’s very sweet, so I really don’t want to.” There it was. At least Steve wasn’t just letting him make that mistake. “There’s a life out there that is perfect for you, and trust me you will find it, this just isn’t it. Do you want to go home?” Steve wasn’t going to force him to stay, he wanted Eddie to experience it for this very reason, to see the truth behind one of his biggest dreams, see the chaos behind the curtain of a life that maybe he just wasn’t suited to.

He could go home if he wanted to, but… “No. Not yet. I wanna experience it, just once, y’know? Even if it’s gonna suck, I think you were right, I think I need to.” If only to really drive it home that maybe fame and fortune wasn’t everything.

That maybe he didn’t have to be famous, maybe he didn’t have to be some metal legend, he could just… be. And that would be okay.

“Got it.”

“Will I at least know the song we’re meant to be performing here?” Given how little he knew about his present self, the very real possibility of his music having evolved, of new songs being written, it was an issue he really should have thought about by now, but Steve snapped his fingers, an otherwordly light flashing in his hazel eyes for the briefest of moments, and then he smiled.

“You will now.” And that made him feel a little better. Just a little. Until the chaos continued and the professionals filed back in to finish their jobs, the five minutes up.

Part 5

#PirateWrites #IWishFiclet #Steddie #No Upside Down AU #Genie!Steve

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daughterofthequeen · 5 months

Text

A New Diagnosis

Pairing: Joel Miller x autistic daughter!reader

Summary: I have an idea. Joel Miller x daughter!reader, based in the camps they had everyone in after the outbreak(so a couple days after Sarah’s death technically) and the reader is a high functioning autistic who stims. So when they get to the camp and because of all the stress she has been under, it’s causing her stimming to flare up like crazy. So Joel and Tommy had to beg and plead to the soldiers, trying to let them know she is autistic and she wasn’t infected, that she just can’t control her stims.

Warnings: Angst, crying, cussing, stimming(not really a warning but its in the story), overstimulated meltdown, denial, most likely inaccurate chain of command about construction work or construction jobs in general, might be a little ooc Joel in one scene I’m not completely sure but it feels like it and I hate it😠😤.

A/N: the reader symptoms and preferences are based on my own, which is also where this idea came from. Ever since the show came out I just wondered what did they do to the people with ticks and stims at the beginning of the outbreak. I mean they eventually had to come up with a way to tell a difference in the beginning of the outbreak before they had the infection detector things, right?

I honestly might rewrite this because I don’t know if I like how this turned out. Usually I’m pretty good at picturing what characters would say in a certain situation, but there’s one part of the fic that I’m not so sure about( you’ll know it when you read it I’m sure). But it’s crazy because I’ve been living like this since the ages of 4 or 5 and it still extremely difficult to describe stimming, even harder writing about it. But I wish I had a Joel Miller parent so I guess I’m projecting a bit in this fic. And this may also be longest fic yet.

So I decided to make this into two parts because I want this posted today because it was supposed to be out yesterday and I don’t want to wait any longer.

Mockingbird (Part 2)

Taglist: @miss-celestial-being @ilovemydinoboi @taraiel @distorted-twink @geralallfandoms @your-shifting-gurl @daemontargaryenwhore @mihstar

What started out as a regular day went to hell in the span of a couple hours. I mean homes being set on fire, families separated, innocents slaughtered due to the fear of a sickness they had no cure for. But I’m getting ahead of myself, aren’t I? Let’s start from the beginning. My name is (Y/n) Miller, and this is the story of how everything went to shit.

I was only 4.

As a kid you’re oblivious to almost everything, but sometimes a child’s behavior can reflect the type of day the family will have whether they realize it or not. And my attitude had been off all that week, until my father’s birthday aka outbreak day. I called it the calm before the storm. That week I was in an overall bad mood. All of my senses had been on high, being overstimulated plus the struggle of always being alone in school. I mean don’t get me wrong I use to talk to some of my classmates, but most likely than not I would’ve been playing by myself either from trying to avoid the bullies or because nobody wanted to play with me in general. But hey, you can’t miss what you’ve never had. I never really understood people, I still don’t but I had my family and they always made everything okay. They never made me feel different about myself. Regardless of me being only four, I understood that the repetitive behaviors were definitely not normal. Along with the what I now know as stimming; physical, vocal, scripting, ticking, etc. I could go on and on about everything that makes me different, but my family had always helped me feel normal. To be honest I didn’t start realizing I was doing all that stuff until one day my dad sat me down and asked me ‘what are you doing’ and ‘are you okay?’, which made me more self-aware. And then there was school, the weird looks and the mean jokes came into play. I’ve rarely caught my family staring, but I knew they were. Growing up and remembering the past helps you realize things you might’ve missed or didn’t understand as a kid. Like the concerned/confused stares I would catch my dad or uncle Tommy giving me before I was diagnosed. I just didn’t know what the looks were for. But the day my father finally decided something was indeed wrong, that it wasn’t just a phase, had him making an appointment to my clinic fast. It was the first time my stimming caused me serious pain. Well, from what I can remember anyway.

July 23, 2002 - Austin,Texas (Y/n is 3 years old)

The day started out like any other. I woke up in my sister’s bed, once I got my bearings I got out of the bed and headed down stairs to see my dad and my sister having one of their many daily debates

“I’m just saying your generations music has nothing on ours- (Y/N)!” After hearing Sarah saying your name, Joel turned around seeing you standing in the kitchen doorway rubbing your eye.

“Hey babygirl. Did you have a good sleep?” He asked as he turned off the stove top and went to pick you up.

“Mhm. I’m hungry, daddy.”

“That’s good because I just cooked your favorite breakfast.” He said as he kissed your cheek and sat you down in the chair across from Sarah, who got the two of you orange juice. Joel then went to grab the plates. There were eggs, sausage, french toast, and he sat a bowl of grapes next to you knowing how much you love them. You all started eating your breakfast. You went straight for the grapes and started eating them, until you spotted something that looked weird to you. Frowning, you push the bowl away and went to the food on your plate.

“Something wrong with your grapes?” Joel asked you noticing the way you frowned up.

“They dirty daddy.” Causing Joel to frown in confusion.

“Dirty? I just washed ‘em.” Joel leaned forward and grabbed the bowl and didn’t see anything abnormal about the grapes. The water in the bowl didn’t even black specs in it that grapes leave behind. “They look fine to me.”

“No. They dirty daddy, look.” Standing in your chair, you leaned over and pointed to a grape with a light brown streak on it and another where it was brown from where the stem was.

“Oh, that doesn’t mean they’re dirty, baby. Grapes just to look like that sometimes or because they’ve gotten older. That’s all.”

“Ew.” You mumbled.

“They’re gonna taste the same.” Joel said as he sat the bowl back down next to you.

“I don’t want them anymore.” You say pushing the grapes away.

“They’re fine, (n/n). I actually think the small brown areas actually make them sweater.” Sarah says trying to reassure her baby sister.

“No.” That was your final statement before you went back to eating the food on your plate.

“Ok, you don’t have to eat ‘em.” Joel states as him and Sarah go back to eating their own food.

———

“(Y/n)!!! Come back here!”

“No!”

“We go through this every time you use the bathroom!”

Sarah was currently chasing you around the house. A daily thing really, but for the last few months you have determined on not washing your hands after using the bathroom. And not with just Sarah. With Joel and Tommy too. Joel usually would have to keep a firm grip on you that disabled you from moving away from the sink, and to keep you from running or flailing your arms around as an attempt to keep him from making you wash your hands.

The first time that happened you guys were at a restaurant. He would be surprised if that whole side of the restaurant didn’t hear you,

“Daddy, I have to use the bathroom.”

“Ok.” Usually he would have Sarah take you but her and Tommy’s food had made it to the table. And since he was still waiting on his, there was no sense in stopping her from eating. He took you out of the high chair, and you two headed to the restroom. After the long process of putting toilet paper on the seat, he sat you on the seat and let you do your business. Once you were finished cleaning yourself up and him flushing the toilet, he waited for you to go towards the sink. But you headed towards the door instead.

“Don’t forget to wash your hands.” Joel said from his spot on the wall he was leaning on with his arms crossed.

Turning towards the sink, you clasped your hands to your chest, letting out a low groan of disgust.

“What is it?”

“I don’t want to touch it.”

“What the sink?” You nodded.

“You have to wash your hands, babygirl. Come on.”

“No.” You whined, and Joel knew then the two of you were going to have a problem.

“Babygirl, please.” He said in a pleading tone and tired tone.

“No!” Joel sighed then picked you up and held you over the sink as he usually would when washing your hands, but this time due to your decision of fighting and squirming in his arms, he had to get a gentle but firm grip on your hands to wash them himself.

“(Y/n).” That caused you to stop in your tracks. The sound was unfamiliar until your mind put together it was your father’s voice. He never says your actual name unless you were in trouble, and even then it would depend. But him calling your name was enough time for Sarah to scoop you up and head to the nearest sink which was the kitchen.

Sarah sat you down after she finished washing your hands. After getting free you pouted and went into the living room to continue playing with your toys before your bladder interrupted you. So invested in what you were doing, you didn’t even hear your Uncle Tommy come in the house.

“What’s for dinner today?” He teased, rubbing the top of yours and Sarah’s head as he passed by each of you.

“I don’t know you’ll have to ask this guy. He was supposed to go to the store but surprise, he didn’t.” Sarah says with a sarcastic smile towards her father who was going through bills. Joel head turned towards Sarah giving a bored look.

“We’re ordering pizza.”

“Fine with me.” Tommy states triggering Joel to role his eyes.

“Of course it is.”

Sarah went upstairs for the book the two of you were reading. To ‘keep her ahead of her future classmates’. While Sarah was upstairs, Tommy eyes trailed over to you, he smiled as he watched you in your own little world playing with your toys while talking to yourself. He watched you for a minute until he saw you stretching your neck. Normally he would’ve thought nothing of it until he realized it was happening constantly. At first they were only seconds apart, then you would stop for a few minutes and start again. There wasn’t an exact pattern, but he caught the rhythm of it.

“Buns neck been bothering her?”

“No.” Joel answered absentmindedly, still invested in the papers he wished he could use as a coaster without consequence.

“You sure?”

“Yeah I’m sure. Why wouldn’t I be sure?” Joel asked, getting annoyed by the fact he kept getting interrupted with his task.

“ ‘Cause she keeps stretchin’ it like it’s bothering her.”

Joel looks up at Tommy who had a slight worried look on his face. Joel then turns around in his chair to see what his brother was talking about. And true to his little brother’s words there you were stretching your neck and shoulder in a way that looks painful if he’s being honest. Joel turned back around to his brother with an equally concerned look. He leans closer towards him and lowers his voice before he started talking signaling Tommy to do the same.

“I don’t know why she does that, and every time I ask her if she’s ok she tells me she’s fine.”

“Maybe she has a crook in her neck.”

“No, if it was a crook we would know. She would be a lot worse. She tends to panic when she has one of those, and doesn’t do a lot of moving around. To stop the ‘bouncy feeling’. This. This is something else. And it’s been getting more frequent lately.”

“Frequent?”

“Yeah, this started a few months ago. It’ll leave and come back after a few weeks, but like I said it’s been happening a lot more often lately. She does it with her hands and wrist too.”

“Hm.”

Joel turned back towards his youngest. “Babygirl, you okay?” He said in a tone reserved for only you and Sarah when she’s upset about something.

You look up from your toys, bright innocent eyes finding your father’s concerned ones.

“Yeah.”

“You sure? Your neck not bothering you?”

“No.” You replied while standing up from your place on the floor and walked over to your father. When you got close enough he automatically picked you up and sat you on his thigh.

“Then why do you keep rollin’ it around honey?”

“I’m not.” Joel frowned in confusion. He’s clearly watching you do it so, either you’re lying for some unknown reason or you just don’t know that you’re doing it. But he’s always able to tell just by asking one question.

“Are you telling me the truth?” Simple, but it works. It was a question he would ask you every time he would think you were lying. And every time you answer you have a tell. When you tell the truth you tend to answer pretty confidently, but when you lie, you always fiddle with something whether it be your clothes, your fingers, or just bouncing your foot.

“Yes.” There’s no fidgeting. Covering up how even more confused he was in the moment he just nodded in understanding even though he didn’t.

“Ok baby, you want to go back to playin’ with your toys?”

“Yeah.” You replied getting down from your father’s lap before he even had the chance to put you down. Then you ran off to start back playing until Sarah came back down the stairs.

“(N/n), story time.” Hearing that you stood up and headed over to the couch with your sister. Before you sat down you picked up your stuffed bunny, Tommy got it for you when you were two. They used to use it to stop you from crying, but now you take it wherever you go. You laid down across the couch with Sarah and had your bunny in front of you in the same position you were to Sarah. She opened the book to where you two left off and started reading stopping at every few paragraphs to let you read.

Joel watched the two of you, his world. He would never understand how a mother would want to give this up.

“Have you thought about getting her checked out?” Tommy’s voice broke Joel from his thoughts.

“Checked for what?” Joel asked frowning at his brother.

“Joel, are you serious? Something could be wrong.”

“She’s fine, Tommy. She’ll grow out of it.”

“Grow out of it? Don’t you want to make sure?”

“Tommy, please.” Now Joel was lying. To himself especially. But that is understandable, what parent wants to accept that something may be wrong with their child. It was a scary thing to think about.

“What if it’s somethin’ wrong? Wouldn’t you want to get Bun’ the help she needs as soon as possible.”

“She doesn’t need help Tommy. I’m telling you she’ll grow out of it.”

“Joel-”

“Just let it go.” Joel whispered in a hardened tone, trying to keep his voice down so the girls wouldn’t hear that anything was wrong. “Look, would you order the pizza for tonight. I’m trying to finish up these bills.” Tommy mumbled a ‘sure’ and got up to make the call. He understood why Joel didn’t want to talk about that kind of stuff, what parent does? But knowing his stubborn nature he won’t act on it unless something happens that causes him to. After hearing the voice of the pizza lady on the line, Tommy uses it as a distraction to get his mind off his niece and his stubborn mule of a brother.

January 16, 2003 - 6:30am

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

Sarah sat up with a soft groan and stretches, when she heard whining. She turned toward her sister who was hiding under the covers.

“Time to get up (n/n).” Sarah was about to stand up until she heard you cry out. She pulled back the covers to see you in a fertile position, hands covering your ears, eyes squeezed shut. “Come on (n/n), we- what’s wrong?” Sarah asked starting to panic seeing a tear fall from your eye.

“Too loud!” Sarah was confused for a second before she remembered the alarm was still going off. She quickly reached over to turn it off, and brought you into her arms. She laid you on her chest, rocking you back and forth while rubbing the top of your head, and she softly shushed you until you calmed down. When Sarah heard your cries turn into sniffles and looked down at you.

“You okay?” She asked softly rubbing the top of your head. She was confused as to why you reacted this way but, whatever the reason, it had her extremely worried. After seeing you nod your head she was able to relax, but she knew she still needed to tell dad about what just happened. Sarah got you up so, the both of you could start your morning routine. Everything went semi-smoothly, but that’s to be expected after your reaction to the alarm clock she’s not all that shocked about your agitated behavior. Sarah had just finished fixing your shirt when there was a knock on the bedroom door.

“Come in.”

“Hey, you girls almost ready?”

“Yep, we were just about to head down for breakfast.” Sarah stood from her kneeling position in front of you, letting you know that she was finished. And after going to tuck your bunny in bed you walked over to Joel.

“Unfortunately, you two are going to have to eat breakfast at school.” He said as he picked you up.

“Ew, why?” Sarah asked.

“Well your Uncle Tommy called and said there’s been an emergency at the house we’re working on so, when he pulls up we gotta go.” He grabbed your book bag and started down the stairs since you had decided to fall back asleep, not that he blamed you if he could he would have too. A minute later Tommy pulls up and surprisingly the Adlers weren’t outside, then again they were leaving a little earlier than usual. But, either way they didn’t have time to stop and talk. Sarah was dropped off first, then you. And it wasn’t until Sarah sat down in her first period class when she realized she forgot to tell her dad what happened this morning.

———

Time Skip

Normally, when school gets out you would ride home with Denise, due to her daughter going to the same school and Sarah’s school getting out 10 minutes after your school does. Then add another 20-30 minutes of her having to take the school bus then the city bus to get home. When Sarah makes it to the neighborhood she has to pass by Denise house to get to yours which is when she picks you up, but today didn’t work out that way. It started when Joel got a phone call from your school.

Joel and Tommy were currently managing the workers that were doing the framework of the building they were working on. Well Tommy was, Joel was trying to keep calm while talking to the construction manger.

“Look all I’m saying is we should be getting paid more since we’re working more hours than what we were told we would be working, don’t you think.” The construction manger has been going back and forth with Joel for about 10 minutes now, way too long for Joel’s liking.

“No, I don’t. Especially since the reason we’re in this situation is because you guys didn’t do your jobs right in the first place. You’re lucky you’re still gettin’ paid the amount that was agreed upon.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that if you and your guys spent as much time working as you do talking and taking breaks you probably would’ve done your jobs right the first time, and we wouldn’t be in this situation, or behind a day.” The manger didn’t take too kindly to that statement, and Joel was so close to losing his nerve until he was saved by the bell, literally. Right before he was about to tell the construction manager that he can stick it where the sun don’t shine, his phone started ringing.

Joel sighed while taking his phone out of the carrying case to see it was the preschool calling much to his confusion. He didn’t even notice the construction manager was still talking.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Take it up with Tommy.” He said while waving him off and answering his phone. “Hello.”

“Mr. Miller.”

“Yeah.”

“This is Elizabeth, (Y/n)’s teacher. We need you to come to the school.” Joel immediately sighs, dragging his hand over his face.

“What’d she do?” He replies in an exhausted tone. He never gets calls from your schools unless it’s to let him know he needed to bring a change of clothes for you. All the preschoolers have to have an extra pair of clothes that’s to be kept in the classroom just in case the kids have an accident or something. But you’ve been acting out a lot lately, and he wouldn’t be surprised if it was for something like that.

“It may be better for you to come up to the school so we can explain it to you face-to-face.” Joel didn’t like the way this was sounding. It was hard for him to pinpoint the emotion that was coming off her voice, which worried him more.

“Okay, I’m on my way.” He sighed while hanging up the phone. He walked over to Tommy who looks like he actually did tell the construction manager to shove it, going off the look on the of their faces. “Tommy, I need you to watch over everything here for a while.”

“What’s goin’ on?”

“That was (Y/n)’s school, they need me to go up there.”

“Is everything okay with bun’?”

“I don’t know her teacher wouldn’t tell me anything. I’m sure she’s fine, she probably just got into it with a kid in her class again.”

“Okay, call me when you find out what’s goin’ on.”

“I will. Alright I’m off, and make sure they actually do their job correctly this time.”

“I got it, go on.”

After that Joel made his way to the truck. Even though he says he’s sure she’s fine, he couldn’t help but worry about you. The tone of your teacher didn’t sound good at all. She sounded worried. And sad? Were you sick? He could deal with a common cold, but your teachers tone indicated something worse than that. And there has been a deadly virus going around the world, it hasn’t made it to America yet at least that’s what they’re telling everyone. But what if it has made it over seas? There’s no cure for it, and what if you had it? That couldn’t happen, to you or Sarah. He wouldn’t know what he would do if he lost one of you. No. Stop. That’s not going to happen. That would never happen. He hates when his mind gets like this, but as a single father the need to protect the two of you is the most important thing to him, and that makes him worry even more because that’s something he can’t ever fail at, and he doesn’t even want to think what’ll happen if he does.

He gets out of the truck and speed walks towards your classroom. He had gotten into his own head, but there’s something inside of him that’s telling him this is as serious as it feels.

“Mr. Miller.” He turns upon hearing his name being called, seeing your teacher standing in the doorway of the office.

“Where is she?” He asks as he makes his way to her. Once he got close enough he realized the tone in her voice wasn’t sadness, but pity? Why would she pity him, and where were you?

“She’s in the principals office. But! But before you go in we should probably explain what happened and why.” She said stopping him from brushing past her.

“What did she get into a fight with another kid or somethin’?” Joel ask impatiently.

“No-”

“Okay, then it can wait.” He moves to fast for her to stop and walks into the principals office to see you sitting in a chair with dried tear stain down your cheeks. He quickly kneeled in front of you gently grasping your hands in his.

“What’s wrong, babygirl. What happened?”

“I wanna go home.” You mumbled

“Ok, you want to tell me why?”

“Mr. Miller, we really need to talk to you.” The principal finally spoke up motioning to the officer hallway. He huffed as he stood up and followed the principal out, but not before he kissed your forehead and told you that he would be back.

“Okay, what’s so important that you had to drag me away from my daughter, who’s been crying? And why is she crying? I swear if that Richardson kid put her hands on her again-” He was annoyed with everyone at this point everyone besides you obviously, he just doesn’t understand why they couldn’t tell him while he comforted his daughter.

“We’re sorry, Mr. Miller. We just didn’t want to make her think that she was in trouble, we just got her to calm down.”

“So, she’s fine?”

“Physically, yes.”

“What? What does that mean?”

“Ms. Elizabeth?” The principal could he was getting upset so she found it best to let your teacher explain what happened.

“Mr. Miller.”

“Would y’all stop calling my damn name and actually tell what the hell’s going on with my daughter?

“Well (Y/n) has been in an agitated mood all day, but that’s not the problem. Uhm, the kids just got back from lunch about 30 to 40 minutes ago, and after they eat I usually let them have play time before I start their last lesson for the day before nap time. Today during play time (Y/n) had a little outburst.” Elizabeth knew she was beating around the bush, but that’s because she has heard this conversation happen many times with other teachers and parents and most often than not the parents don’t respond to well.

“Little outburst?”

“Well not really an outburst, but more of a meltdown. This is the special needs teacher, Ms. Thomson, and a friend of mine so I know what signs to look out for in a child. And (Y/n) has been showing these signs since the beginning of the year. They can be overlooked especially in girls and be seen as ‘normal’ and in a way it is. For her anyway.”

“What are you talking about? Signs for what?” Joel asked in frustrated tone.

Ms. Elizabeth look over at the special needs teacher to nervous to continue, and to make sure that she’s positive of (Y/n)’s condition. To which her friend responded with a nod.

“We think (Y/n) has autism. And before you say anything, the signs are all there. I’ve been watching her since her first day of becoming my student. And we highly recommend that she be tested.”

“What? She’s not autistic. I think I would know if my daughter had autism. Look at her, does she look autistic to you?”

“Autism doesn’t always have a look Mr. Miller, and just because she doesn’t have a physical disablement doesn’t mean she’ll be any less autistic than someone with one. That’s why we recommend getting her tested to find out how far she is on the spectrum.”

“You sound so sure that, that’s what it is. How did y’all come up with autism from her having a ‘meltdown’? And what do you mean by meltdown?”

“Well after I sent the kids to go off and begin playing I noticed (Y/n) hadn’t moved from the table, she just sat there, covering her ears with tears in her eyes. She had been in that position since they came back from lunch. When I asked her what was wrong, she told me the other kids were being too loud. But before I could offer a solution the students behind us started screaming louder than what they were, which triggered somewhat of chain reaction with the rest of the class, so I turned around make sure everything was ok but when I that’s when (Y/n) ran to the bathroom and locked herself in. I had to send the other kids to sit in a classroom with another teacher. (Y/n) was crying. Sobbing. When I unlocked the door she was sitting in the corner squeezing the sides of her head so hard it looked painful. All to try and block out the world because it was too much for her. It broke my heart to see her like that because (Y/n) is sweetest little girl I’ve ever met, and to see her in pain like, any child, it’s a hard thing to see. I had to wrestle with her a little to keep her from hurting herself, but I was able to get her calm enough to sit her in my lap and have her hold onto me while I called Ms. Thomson, who was able to calm her further until she reassociated with everything around her.

“Pain?” That’s when the special needs teacher finally decided to step in and say something.

“It’s called a sensory overload, Mr. Miller. It’s very common in the Autism Spectrum. It’s when someone on the spectrum becomes to overwhelmed with the world around them, and if they can’t find some kind of outlet from everything more than likely it’s going to cause a break down in one way or another.”

“That doesn’t mean she’s autistic-“

“Mr. Miller. Does (Y/n) walk on her tippy toes?

“Yeah, but all babies do that.”

“How does she act when she is in a large crowd or around someone she doesn’t know.” Ms. Thomson was completely calm while asking these questions. Knowing that getting agitated or saying something wrong could keep you from getting the help you need.

“The same as any other kid.”

“Does she get in mood where she doesn’t want to talk or just can’t talk in general?”

“Ok look, you’re only naming things all kids do.”

“Yes, but like every thing else on the spectrum there’s a line where it occurs more than it should. Let me ask you one more question Mr. Miller.

He doesn’t even reply he only took a breath to let her know he didn’t want to talk about the topic anymore. Still in denial, even after everything they just told him.

“Does she tend to twitch, or repeat her movements? Have you ever seen her stiffen or strain her body?” Joel didn’t even reply.

“Your silence speaks volumes Mr. Miller. Please, get her tested. It will help her make it in a society that wasn’t made for her. Giving her benefits she can use to even the playing field with neurotypicals. Don’t you think she deserves that?” Joel really didn’t want to accept this. Knowing that if you are autistic, you’ll face more difficulties in life. All because you were different. Difficulties you’re already facing, he just didn’t want to admit it.

“What do I need do to get her tested?” Joel asked after his little debate. All he can hope that the test comes out as negative, but that’s a long shot, given the special needs teacher already seems so sure, the test was just to confirm it.

Ms. Thomson who was smiling after hearing his agreement answered him. “Nothing, I already have an appointment set up for her with a neurodevelopmental pediatrician, who is also a good friend of mine. So, as soon as she finishes with the evaluation you will get the results. I just needed your approval.”

“Okay. Uh, thank you.”

“No problem.”

“Is it ok if I take her home?” Joel ask looking towards your teacher.

“Yes, I think that’s the best thing for her right now. Being in her safe space with all her things will help her get some much needed rest. I will write down the appointment information and what you’ll need for the evaluation and put it in her backpack for you.”

“Thank you.” After that Joel walked back into the office to see you playing with one of the pens on the principals desk in one hand and your head laying on top of the other. “Hey babygirl. You want to go home?” He asked as he kneeled in front of the chair, while making sure to keep his voice at a low level. Once you nodded he stood up, gently grabbed your hand, and the two of you went to get your bag and appointment information.

January 20, 2003 - 1:00 p.m.

Joel and Tommy were on their lunch break at a burger place when Joel’s phone started ringing. He cleaned his hands and took his phone out it’s carrying case before answering. “Hello?”

“Is this Joel Miller?” A woman’s voice.

“Yeah?”

“Oh, good. This is Tonia, the neurodevelopmental pediatrician that did (Y/n)’s evaluation.”

“Right, so what were the results?”

“Well, the documents are ready for you to come and get them, and I will break everything down once you get here, if you want.”

“Uhhhh yeah, I’ll be there in about 20-25 minutes.”

“Ok, see you then. Bye bye.”

“Bye. Get up Tommy, we gotta go.”

“I’m still eatin’”

“Tommy, bring it with you. Jesus.” Joel mumbled as he rolled his eyes at his younger brother.

They made it to the building, and Joel was doing his best to remember the way to the correct office while also trying to calm his anxious mind. When they made it to the office, Joel knocked on the door frame of the open door before walking in Tonia’s office.

“Here you go.” She said as she handed the papers to Joel who noticed it was about 15 pages.

“Wha-what am I looking at?” He asked looking up at the pediatric who let out a low chuckle, she gets the same reaction from almost all of the parents she encounters.

“Well first things first, I’ve concluded (Y/n) does have ASD. She is what we call a high-functioning autistic, and I came up with that diagnosis based on her teacher’s observations, your own, and from the activities I had her to do. The evaluation explains everything of what that means in detail like her sensitivity to sounds, her not liking to touch certain things, lack of social skills, etcétera.”

“So, what does this mean for her?”

“Well, she can stay in Ms. Elizabeth’s class, there’s no need to move her to the special needs class permanently. But she does have special education, and all that means is that Ms. Thomson will take her in her classroom to help her find ways to calm herself when she feels herself getting overstimulated. Or if she can’t and Ms. Elizabeth sees she is getting overwhelmed or she tells Ms. Elizabeth she’s getting overwhelmed they’ll send her to Ms. Thomson class or a quiet place for her to calm down. And maybe she’ll even have better luck with making friends in the special needs classroom than she does in her regular class. And education wise it means when she gets test she can go to a different classroom to take it and she’ll be able receive more time on any tests she has to take as well.” She looked up from her notes, making sure she got all the main checkpoints, but when she did Joel’s face told her everything she needed to know.

“Mr. Miller, the worst thing you can do for her is to feel bad for her. There’s no reason too.”

“No reason to? The whole point of this was to make sure she gets the help she needs to keep up with everyone else.”

“No, the reason for this was to make sure she had the help if and when she needs it. Academically (Y/n) is one of the smartest kids in her class, actually in her grade. It might take more effort, but she’s keeping up with her classmates. Some of the worst things you can do is pity her, hold her back due to being overprotective, or use it as an excuse to make her seem more fragile. I’m not saying she’s not going to have challenges because she is, but all you have to do is stay beside and make sure she keeps working at it till she gets it. And stay way from describing her condition as ‘slow’ or ‘retarded’. And you can’t punish her because of her stimming or overstimulated behavior. Not saying that you would! I mean- you just wouldn’t believe how many parents would get agitated and angry about things their child can’t control, but I’m sure you’ll be fine. You’re attentive to her, and that’s something she’s going to need from you growing up.” Joel nodded in understanding still skimming through the evaluation packet.

“Thank you for doing this in such short notice.”

“No problem. She’s one of the sweetest kids I’ve met. And cutest.” That caused a smile to appear on Joel’s face. He hasn’t been able to smile much since Thursday, always thinking about you and the whole situation. Which has been weighing on his mind literally 24/7.

“Thank you for this, you have a nice day.” He said before turning around to leave out the office.

“You as well.” She replied also smiling at Tommy, who smiled and winked back, reaching his goal of getting her to laugh.

Joel barely made through the door before Sarah hit him with a “what’d she say?”

“Uhhh- where’s (Y/n)? And how’d you know she called?”

“She called the house phone first. And (Y/n) is upstairs, I just got her out the tub, which she didn’t like, at all.”

“She didn’t want to get out?”

“No, she didn’t want to get in. But she should be finished putting on her pajamas by now.”

“Ok, go get her and I’ll tell y’all the results.”

“Ok.” Sarah ran upstairs to get you, when you both got down stairs and sat on the couch, Sarah sat on the right side of Joel, and he picked you up and sat you on his lap tucking you into his side.

“How was school today, honey.” Joel turning his head towards you.

“Good. Ms. Elizabeth gave me headphones to put on my ears when everything got too loud again.”

“Did she? That was real nice of her.”

“Yeah. How was your day, daddy?”

“It was really good, babygirl. Thank you for asking.” The smile you gave him made his whole day. He thought back to what the pediatrician said about not pitying you because that’s not something you need from him. Looking at you now he realized she was right. He’s going to do his best to give you what you need. Whatever it may be, and he knows you’re going to grow into a smart and beautiful woman. He reached down and kissed your temple getting laugh out of you, a sound he would never get tired of.

Joel turned his towards Sarah, about to ask her how her day went stopped him before he started.

“My day was fine, the same. What did she say?” Joel paused for a second before he chuckled at her before pointing to the where he sat the evaluation.

“That’s the paper, she gave me that explains everything.” He blinked and Sarah had the papers in her hand, while she started reading he turned back to you to explain everything to you somehow.

“Ok babygirl. Do you remember test you had to take with the lady a few days ago?” After you nodded he continued. “You remember she told you it’s going let us know if you think differently than everybody else?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, it turns out you do.”

“Is that bad?”

“No! No, no, no. It’s not bad at all, and don’t let anyone tell you that it is. Ok?”

“Ok.”’

“All it means is some things may be a little harder or more overwhelming to you than other people, but it also means better at other things too.”

“Like what?”

“Like being artistic, and solving puzzles. But it also means you can be smarter than others in your class. You may have to learn some things in a different way, but that doesn’t mean you can’t be smarter. You already are. Ms. Elizabeth told me you were one of the smartest people in your grade.”

“She did!?”

“She did.”

“Wow.” You whispered in awe.

“Yeah, that’s a big deal, and daddy is so proud of you. You remember that, ok? No matter how big you get.”

“I promise, daddy.”

“Good. I love you babygirl.” He said, pressing another kiss to your temple.

“I love you too, daddy.” You said placing a kiss on his cheek.

“Awwwww, that’s so sweet. What are we eating for dinner? I’m hungry.” Sarah interrupted and Joel huffed out a laughed placing a quick kiss on her temple as well.

“I’m proud of you too baby.”

“I know, dad.” She said softly smiling.

“How about we go out for dinner? I really don’t feel like cookin’.”

“Fine with me. Come on (Y/n), let’s go put some clothes on.”

“Okay!” You said as you jumped up from Joel’s lap and ran off to catch up to your big sister.

A/n: Long story short the story was too long🤭🙇‍♀️😭 so I decided to split it into two parts. I hope you guys enjoy, sorry I took so long. But I love you guys for being patient, I really appreciate it.

#joel miller x autistic!reader #joel miller x platonic!reader #joel miller x daughter!reader #joel miller x reader #hbo tlou #tlou fanfiction #A New Diagnosis #joel miller x autistic!daughter!reader #joel miller x autistic daughter!reader

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evergone · 1 year

Text

Read between the lines

Theodore Nott x reader

Warnings: limited swearing, kissing

Description: The reader comes to terms with their feelings for Theo through the narrator and the narrator's subconscious.

The Slytherin dormitories were by far the best out of all the houses and that wasn’t something you thought just out of bias or pride for your own house, it was the objective truth. While the other houses shared their dormitories with anywhere from one to four roommates (to foster teamwork or cooperation, you presumed), the Slytherin dormitories were one to a room (likely to foster individuality and self-dependence). Gryffindor had some system to stop the boys from entering the girls’ dormitories apparently, a shame for them, really, because Slytherin trusted its students enough that no such system was implemented for you. Sure, there was the occasional pregnancy scare but no more than the amount that came out of the girls sneaking into the boys rooms in Gryffindor. And, as if that wasn’t enough, each room had its own private en suite bathroom to add that extra level of superiority over the other houses.

Everyone in Slytherin liked to boast that their room was the best. Between the designer decorations their parents bought them and the hours they spent rearranging furniture, it could occasionally get a little competitive. Your own room was nice but nothing too fancy. Of course, your parents were well off (that was basically a prerequisite of Slytherin), but they weren’t the kind to show that off. Only your father had gone to Hogwarts and, unlike you, he was a Hufflepuff, so he was always a firm believer in having a more modest amount of belongings. Your room definitely had his influence, with sketches of his favourite dragons, cuts of plants from his garden, and an old mirror of his.

Of all your friends’ rooms, it was Theo’s that you found to be “the best.” That’s why you were headed there to study with him in the comfort of his sheep’s wool blanket (and occasionally his arms if you were too tired to bother). It was a study nook rather than a bedroom, with enough books to fill a library and a collection of antique pens. Truly, the best place to study, the best place to be and the best of the Slytherin bedrooms.

“Excuse me, Y/n L/n?” You turned at the sound of your name to see a tall, olive-skinned girl with blue lining in her robes standing awkwardly amongst a small group of girls.

Not all of them were from your year but the one who called your name certainly was. Last year you had… What was it? Oh yes, you had Care of Magical Creatures with her. She had her bow stolen straight from her black hair by a pixie and Draco, ever the kind boy, had teased her relentlessly about it for the rest of the week. Quite hypocritical of him, considering his own track record with magical creatures, but it wasn’t any of your concern. Her name was something like, Ann or Sam or… Sue! Sue Li (you were never good with names).

“How can I help you, Li?” You said politely, unsure whether she’d prefer you call her by her first or last name, “There isn’t anything wrong, is there?”

“No, no, everything’s fine, um,” she barely made eye-contact with you, her head tilted to the left to hide her gaze, “You’re friends with Theodore Nott, right?”

A half-laugh escaped your lips at the coincidence that she was asking after the very person you were on your way to see. It took her aback, her face lighting up with offence before you quickly apologised, explaining that you hadn’t meant to laugh at her, rather, at the coincidence you found yourself in. She nodded and her shoulders relaxed, like a weight had been taken off them by your openness to chat.

“I was just wondering, you know, Valentine’s is next week, and, well…” Li danced around the point of the conversation for a while, stalling with enough ‘uh’s and ‘erm’s to last you a lifetime, “I was wondering if he — Nott, that is — had a date?”

Valentine’s day. You’d forgotten about that. Never in all your years had you celebrated Valentine’s day (not that you hadn’t wanted to). Neither had Theo as far as you knew (not that he hadn’t wanted to). He wasn’t really the romantic type, to be honest, he’d never so much as mentioned a crush or told you he found someone attractive, let alone talked to you about a Valentine’s date. Theo was the private type, he didn’t like parties or team sports or group projects, Merlin’s beard, he didn’t even like it when people went in his room (other than you, of course). To think he would agree to a date with someone without talking to you and having an entire identity crisis first was out of the question. So, you supposed the short answer was no.

“I don’t believe so,” you told Li.

“Oh! Good! Well, then, would you give him this?” She asked and handed you an envelope sealed with a little blue and silver spot of wax.

Before you even had the time to answer she had waved a ‘thank you’ and skipped off in the other direction, giggling with her friends. You blinked twice and pocketed the envelope, turning on your heel to continue your journey to Theo’s room. On your walk through the halls you found your fingers blindly playing with the wax seal in your pocket. As if of their own accord they were picking it off. Letters are a confidential thing, and you knew for sure (well, you were pretty sure) Theo would be (maybe slightly) upset if you opened his letter without permission. You already knew what was inside, it was obviously a declaration of love.

Would Theo like a love letter? Truthfully, he presented as the kind of guy that would hate the complexity of a love letter. If, say, you were to confess your love to Theo (not that you were in love with him or whatever, but just for argument’s sake), what would you do? He’d like for you to tell him casually, you thought, as if it was just another everyday conversation. Grand gestures weren’t his thing, he was a quiet guy, a reserved guy, again: a private guy. The intimacy of the moment would be enough for him; your arms slightly grazing each other as you sat side-by-side in his bed, your faces so close that you’d be breathing the same air, your legs interlocked under the sheets (because if no one else saw it, it wasn’t happening, right?). You didn’t love Theo, but you knew how you would love him (liar, you wanted him). What? (You had ripped the envelope in your hand by the time you got to the entrance to the Slytherin common room).

“Password?” The portrait of Elizabeth Burke, an ancestor of yours, asked as if you didn’t see her every day.

“Slytherins are supreme,” you replied and she swung forward to let you in.

“Pass, poppet,” she said fondly, “Remember to make our family proud.”

The response you gave her every day escaped your mouth robotically — something like ‘always do’ or whatever it was — and you stepped into the common room. Almost home. ‘Home’ wasn’t your room, no, despite the multitudes of furniture and decorations that were from your actual house in rural England, you didn’t feel as at home in your own room as you did in Theo’s (I wonder why). Shut up. (Theo’s room was nice and all, but it was just another room. The same bricks that built yours had built his. They were identical down to the centimetre, apart from the odd extra piece of furniture and a few of your own personal touches—) Merlin’s beard, who’s story is this? (— The only real difference between your room and his was that yours didn’t have him.) Pansy interrupted you on your way, her hair in two braids. Over the years it had grown rather long, from just under her chin when you were all first years to her shoulders. (Some of your other friends had grown too, a particular Theodore Nott comes to mind. Where once was a short, meagre little boy, was now a man who towered over you with just the right amount of muscle to attract you). Stop it, please.

“Are you going up there to snog him?” Pansy teased (she gets it), “You guys never get your homework finished and, quite frankly, it’s a little suspicious.”

“We’re just friends who have too much to talk about,” you laughed (but it was laced with a sense of pride. Did other people think you were snogging him? Did the two of you appear like a couple?).

Pansy scoffed, not believing a word you said (as she shouldn’t) but too exhausted from double Defence Against the Dark Arts to argue with you. At the door to Theo’s room, you paused and let your fist hover above the deep brown wood. Nerves? You were just going to study, like you always did. Why on earth would you be nervous? (Maybe because you liked him and it was finally dawning on you that, by Salazar, you’d torn up a love letter that was surely going to get chased up. How did you plan to lie your way out of, or even justify that decision?) The door opened before you got the chance to knock and your eyes were blessed with the sight of Theodore Nott, who looked down at you with furrowed brows.

“Why are you just standing here?” He asked.

“Sue Li gave me a letter for you,” you said, refusing to acknowledge his question.

“That Ravenclaw girl who got her bow stolen last year in CoMC?”

The nod you gave him shook a loose eyelash from your eyelid and you watched it fall down onto your cheek then pushed straight past him and made yourself comfortable in his bed (and he was alright with this despite all these claims of being a “private person” because anything for you, Y/n, dear). It was only Autumn but already the Winter chill was starting to settle into the centuries-old uninsulated castle that was Hogwarts. Professor Flitwick cast a heating spell every year at the beginning of December but sometimes Autumn got nippy enough that students would go beg for it to be cast a bit earlier. Hopefully, that would be the case this year. The sheep’s wool blanket was a blessing on your legs that were previously covered only by your crappiest thin stockings.

“Can I see the letter?” Theo pushed.

You looked up at him through mascara clad eyelashes, one lash less thick than minutes prior, and silently prayed that your tongue would fall out so you’d never have to embarrass yourself by telling the truth. (You couldn’t lie to him, not to Theo). Would you like to take over? (I really, truly would.) Fine. Go for it. (Much appreciated. Theo could see through you, that was something you really admired about him. Transparency came easy when the other party already seemed to know everything.

“I threw it away,” you said.

Were you ashamed? Of course you were. There was always the chance that Theo may have liked Li or wanted to get to know her and you had taken it upon yourself to, quite literally, throw that chance away. Theo didn’t mind, though. He elbowed you until you slid over to the other side of his bed to make room for him under the covers and he sat down next to you. It was perfect. Exactly how you’d imagined it. Your arms were like atoms, so close but never daring to touch. Your faces had closed in and the air you breathed was hot and moist. It was his air. Under the blanket his legs sought yours out like an explorer wandering through uncharted land. When they found yours they locked, knowing they were where they wanted to be.

He took a breath in, inhaling you, “Why did you throw it away, Y/n/n, dear?”

“She wanted to be your Valentine’s.” He breathed out and you inhaled him in return.

He inched closer to let the tips of your noses touch, obscuring your vision and blurring his face, “I don’t even know her.”

He knew you. Theo had known you since the first time he saw you on the Hogwarts Express in your colourless robes with an excited but airy aura about you. Theo had known you since third year when he watched you verbally assault Draco so severely that you were handing his ass to him, stick and all. Theo had known you since fifth year when you slapped that Hermione Granger girl right across the face for insulting your family’s line of work. Although, perhaps, ‘knew’ wasn’t the right word.

“I don’t love her,” he said.

“Good,” you said with a smile, “Who do you love?”

“Let’s save it for Valentine’s day, eh?”

Right there in his face, you scoffed at him. Neither of you had ever celebrated Valentine’s day, there wasn’t a chance in all that is holy that you were going to start then. So, you leaned your chin in and captured his mouth in yours.

You pulled away, “Who do you love?”

“You, Y/n/n, you, you,” he rushed, stumbling over his words, “I love you.”

“I love you.”)

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