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endlessthxxghts · 3 months

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Breakfast

Husband!Joel Miller (no outbreak) x afab!Reader

Summary: Your usual Saturday morning routine with your husband takes a turn, for the better. W/C: supposed to be 1k as per my celebration rules, but... it is now 2k... Oops... I’m sure y’all don’t mind😚. 18+ MDNI: Implied age gap (8 years per request hehe<3). Feminine pet names. Oral sex (reader recieving). Implied domesticity kink. Slight overstimulation, multiple orgasms. Soft Dom!Joel. Dom/sub undertones. Joel being a check-in king (safe word system in action, we love good communication). P in V unprotected. Breeding kink (y'all should expect this from me from now on LOL). ONE (1) USE OF "DADDY" (I had to, I'm not sorry). Sweet sweet aftercare.

A/N: This is in response to this request made by @survivingandenduring for my 1k follower milestone celebration. I remember you being one of the first to accompany me on my journey, and now that we're here together celebrating something I'm so humbly honored to experience, it feels so surreal. I love and appreciate your existence so so very much. Thank you.💚 I hope y'all enjoy!! (Pics for aesthetic purposes only)

MASTERLIST || L'S 1K CELEBRATION

Saturday mornings are your favorite. They’re lazy. They’re warm. They’re spent wrapped completely in the arms of your husband, Joel Miller. Whether it’s your lips or your limbs tangled in between the sheets—Saturday mornings are for you and him.

So when you woke up this morning to the other half of your bed colder than usual, you woke up with a frown. Rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, you pull yourself to the restroom to brush your teeth and wash your face, not bothering to change out of your sleep clothes since you made Joel promise you that you guys weren’t going anywhere today.

“Darlin’?” His Southern twang calls out.

“In the bathroom, baby,” you respond, rubbing in the last of your face cream.

With a soft knock to your door, he’s entering, a crooked grin at the sight of you. You can’t help the grin that breaks across your face—no matter how long you two have been married, the bashfulness of two teenagers crushing on each other will never go away.

“Good mornin’, beautiful,” his gruff voice rasps, walking up behind you to wrap his arms around your waist, his lips ghosting the sweet spot below your ear.

“Good morning, handsome,” you reply, leaning your body into his large, warm form.

“Come back to bed,” he whispers, his face burying itself deeper into the crook of your neck.

“Where’d you go?” You ask, not particularly liking the fact that you didn’t wake up with him this morning.

Joel turns you in his hold so you’re facing him now. “I’m sorry, my love, I thought I’d be quicker than I was,” he tells you, catching the tone of disappointment in your voice. “I went to make you some breakfast,” he admits. “Nothin’ fancy, I just- I wanted you to eat.”

You narrow your eyes at him, flashing him a small smirk. “What’s your motive, Miller?”

“Uh-” he stutters, not expecting that from you. “No motive, baby. What, a man can’t make sure his lady eats?” An exaggerated offensiveness evident in his inflection as he speaks.

“Please,” you giggle. “Every Saturday, like clockwork, I either wake up with your tongue, cock, or fingers inside of me,” you state matter-of-factly. “Why breakfast now?” you ask, your eyebrow quirked up, his signature look. You cross your arms over your chest for good measure.

Damn, you’re good. And damn, he’s so fucking in awe of you. “Fine,” he relents. “The last few times… after we’re done… you get super jittery and lightheaded. Like your blood sugar is low or somethin’. I dunno, I just, I don’t wanna be pulling so much energy from you, especially on an empty stomach.”

Your jaw would be on the floor right now if it wasn’t attached to you. Oh. My. God. You knew what you were getting into, marrying a Southern gentleman and an older one at that; and you knew just how considerate a lover Joel Miller was, but it never fails to leave your heart—and your pussy—fluttering at how attentive your man is. You are so damn lucky.

Going back to the room and settling on the bed, Joel climbs up beside you and feeds you your breakfast—one of your absolute favorite combos: a greek vanilla yogurt, your favorite granola, and chopped up fresh strawberries. You make this almost every morning, but something about him making it just makes it taste a thousand times better—leaving your body energized for what was next to come… because shit, did you need it.

“Joel,” you sob, tears falling from your eyes as they fight to stay open.

He lifts himself off your cunt, bottom half of his face shiny with your arousal. “Gimme one more, darlin’, then I’ll give you my cock,” he tells you, his heavy breath fanning across your spent center.

“Joel, I-” you whimper, “I can’t.” Your hips bucking into his face says otherwise. He taps your hip three times. Safe word? He silently asks. One tap for green, two taps for a yellow, three taps for red—an immediate stop. Your hand nearly ripping his curls out of his head softens, tapping his neck once as you attempt to gain your breath back, soft whines blessing his ears.

He nips the inside of your thigh before he speaks again. “You can,” and then he’s diving back in, tongue breaching your entrance as his nose rubs perfectly at your clit, hurtling you towards your third orgasm of the morning.

“Oh, fuck-” you nearly scream, head pushing into your pillow with your eyes clamped shut, back arching off the bed. Joel throws his arm across your lower belly, keeping you down and open for him as he licks you through your high.

Finally, he relents with a satisfied smile, placing a chaste kiss to your clit. “Knew you could give me another, my darlin’ girl.”

“Mmm, baby, please,” you say, reaching for his jaw to bring his face to yours. Not yielding to your touch completely, he brings himself up slow—the tip of his nose dragging up your naked body, Joel placing open-mouthed kisses up your belly, up your sternum, all the way to your lips, your arousal lingering with his own flavors in a deep, needy kiss.

“Tell me what you want, baby,” he says into your lips, nipping your swollen lip before pulling away to let you speak.

“N-need you,” you breathe, desperate. You bring your hands down to his boxer-clad bulge, your fingers causing him to twitch.

Joel tuts, pulling your hand away and bringing it up to the side of your head, his large hand holding it down. “And I need you,” he says, biting your lip again, “to use your words, baby. C’mon,” he urges. Outside of the bedroom, you are very outspoken—this morning’s interaction as evidence—yet, when you find yourself a writhing, moaning mess underneath him, all words are stolen from your brain, all the breath is stolen from your lungs.

“Please,” you start, more determination this time. “I need you inside me, Joel, please fuck me.” You hike your legs higher up, your thighs hugging his waist as you shift your hips, your wet center rubbing against him.

“Such a good girl f’me,” he praises, sitting up to guide his boxers down, leaving you with a complete unobstructed view of his tanned and toned naked body, his soft tummy turning the pupils of your eyes into hearts. He’s so fucking sexy, and, well fuck, you just said that out loud.

Joel blushes, leaning back over you to kiss your forehead and your lips before he’s lining himself up with you, his sensitive tip breaching your entrance at a slow pace, his girth thick enough to stretch you every single time in all your years of marriage.

Your eyes slowly shut as he kisses at your neck. The depth he’s able to reach as he slowly pumps in and out of you, the pubic hairs at his base rubbing against your clit, his deep groans making butterflies erupt in your belly—everything is utterly consuming your body, forcing your already sensitive body to your fourth orgasm of the morning fairly quickly.

Joel is rocking at a steady pace, one hand underneath your lower back while his other cups the back of your head, his fingers rooting themselves into the base of your hair and applying a slight pressure, knowing the sensation drives you absolutely wild. The moan that floats through the air is enough for Joel’s cock to twitch inside of you, threatening to release at any moment. With all his strength, he lifts his head up from your neck to hover above your own, reveling in the furrow of your brows and the needy gasps coming from your throat.

“Darlin’,” he rasps.

“Mhm,” you squeak, unable to form any words.

“Look at me,” he tells you, hips speeding up. He knows he’s only making it harder for you.

Your eyes slowly peel open, but your eyes immediately roll back, the pleasure making your mind go numb.

At your action, Joel is slowing, his hips coming to a near halt. That gets your eyes open. “J-Joel? Baby?” you call, your voice quivering with frustration. You were getting close.

“Need those pretty eyes on me, darlin’,” he explains, his hips only starting back up because of your eye contact.

“Y-yes, baby, okay,” you reply shakily, wanting to do anything for him to continue.

He moves in and out of you again, incorporating a delicious slow grind with every push in. The pleasure is too fucking much, and your eyelids are slipping again even though you’re trying with every ounce of your strength to keep your gaze fixed on him, you fail.

Again, his hips come to a painful stop. “Darlin’,” he warns. “You stop, I stop.”

“I-” you cry. “Joel, I can’t.” Tears pool at your waterline.

His hand comes to your face, his thumb catching the runaway tear. “You can, baby, and you will.” It isn’t a request.

You wrap your arms around his neck, keeping Joel as close to you as possible, his breathing keeping you grounded as you attempt to keep your eyes on his. Satisfied with your attempt so far, Joel starts moving, and this time, he completely lets go. Thrusting into you not too fast or not too slow—and he’s going hard, every push would make you slide slightly up the bed if he weren’t holding onto you the way that he is.

Your eyes flutter, not shutting completely but not staying open, and Joel makes a warning sound, his mouth spewing filth to keep you focused on him.

“Need to see those pretty eyes while you flutter ‘round me.”

“Don’t you wanna be filled? I know you want it—crave it.”

“Keep them eyes on me, babygirl. I’ll give you what you want, just lemme see you.”

“Fuck, Joel, please-!” you scream, your hips thrusting on their own accord, your climax shattering throughout your entire body.

“Thaaat’s it, baby, atta girl,” he moans out, the sensation of you sending his eyes nearly to the back of his head. “Fuckin- give it to me, baby, just like that.”

“Sh- shit, baby, fuck-” you cry, “please, Joel, please.”

“Please what, baby? Use your words,” Joel rushes, chasing his own release as he pushes you through yours.

“Please- please cum inside me, daddy, fuck- needa feel you,” you sob, your fingers gripping onto his back muscles, leaving bright red scratches in their wake as he rails you into the mattress.

“Yeah, baby? I’ll- oh, fuck-” he whines, his balls pull taut, his tummy muscles clenching, and within seconds, he’s cumming inside you, the sticky warmth covering every inch inside of you, leaking out of your entrance as he continues his movements, slowing himself down to a stop.

You two lay there for a moment, your chests heaving against each other. Joel places a kiss to your nose, then your lips, then he’s lifting himself off you, heading to the bathroom. You hear him start a bath.

He comes back after a minute, guiding you to sit up and make your way to the bathroom. He kisses your shoulder. “You alright, darlin’?”

You nod your head yes, a content smile across your features, eyelids heavy. He pulls your chin between his thumb and his forefinger, making you look at him. His signature scowl, the playful version, is on his face. Those damn words, baby, he’s telling you.

“I’m more than alright, baby,” you finally verbalize. “I love you.”

“I love you more, baby,” he kisses your cheek. “My darlin’ girl,” another kiss to your forehead. “My beautiful wife,” your other cheek. He continues on like that until he’s peppered your face in kisses, consuming your body with a love quite like no other. You’re a giggling mess by the time it’s over, begging for him to give you a second to breathe.

Only then when you two settle against each other in the warm, bubbly water, does he ask his burning question.

“Did, uh… did the breakfast help you?”

You take a moment to register how your body feels. It feels light. Not light as in lightheaded or weak—like previous weekends. No, you feel light, warm, content—you feel energized, like you can take on the world right now despite the fact that your legs are still made of jello. You feel good.

“Yeah,” you say. “Helped a lot.”

“Good,” he replies in success, kissing the top of your head before he starts massaging every part of you he can reach.

End note -

I love you, you beautiful humans 🫶🏼

Also, please check out the links highlighted in red on my pinned post to learn about the situation in Palestine and also learn about some ways in which you can help 🇵🇸. Reading and interacting with those links takes 5 minutes of your time at the bare minimum.

divider in middle of fic made by me, vine graphic at top & bottom made my @/saradika-graphics

@pedrostories

2K notes · View notes

dollwrites · 7 months

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𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 ∣ smut ( minors dni ), fem!heartslabyul!reader, established relationship, biting, blood, marking ( all consensual ), lilia is a tease, groping ( clothes on ), all characters featured are aged 18+

𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁 ∣ please reblog && leave feedback. not proofread so there’s probably mistakes. thanks for reading < 3

𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗸𝘁𝗼𝗯𝗲𝗿 𝟮𝟬𝟮𝟯 ∣ day twenty-one [ lilia vanrouge + marking ] // two of three very special kinktober fics for very special people in my life 💚 @stellarmagu 🥺 thank you for being the bestie !!!

because Lilia has a marking kink he loves to sink his sharpened fangs into your neck, or drag them in jagged lines over your clavicle. he could write his name with the tip of his tooth, daubing it ever-so-gently in your crimson ink. and it feels good— much too good.

“I have to get back to the dorm…” you breathe out, but make no attempt to move away from him. tucked away in a darkened nook, you can hear your dormmates talking amongst themselves as they head to the hall of mirrors. Trey and Cater’s voices ring out to you, and your face is on fire with a heated blush. if only they knew what position you found yourself in, right on the other side of the wall. “I’m going to be late…”

“You most certainly will. Your Housewarden likes to dole out punishments for everything, I assume tardiness is no exception.” Lilia murmurs, his velvety words muffled against the heat of your flesh. “Hm, speaking of… I wonder what punishment Rosehearts would conjure up if he were to see you like this. Needy and squirmy, being touched all over, kehehe…”

you roll your eyes, but you can’t help it that Lilia’s breathy, little chuckle close to your ear always sends a shiver down your spine.

“You enjoy the idea of me being punished just a little too much.”

you mewl, because Lilia bites a fresh section on your collarbone— one deliberately higher than the last, and you suck in a breath. “I won’t be able to cover that one up…” it was almost a whine, but you smile afterwards, “you did that on purpose, didn’t you?”

Lilia chuckles again, kissing the two, stinging pin-pricks. he couldn’t deny it, even if he wanted to ( which he didn’t ). “I don’t know why you cover them in the first place,” Lilia teases, his smirk tinted with rubies. “Especially not because you get so wet when I leave them on your sugary-sweet skin. Why not wear them like trophies? Your awards for being such a deliciously good girl.”

svelte, dastardly fingers slip beneath your uniform skirt and Lilia presses two firm pads against your damp panties as if to prove his point, rubbing the lingerie against your core until you let out a breathless whimper.

“So you’ll make me show them off? Bite where I can’t possibly cover them, and let all of Nightraven see how you own me, Lilia Vanrouge?”

Lilia grins deviously, pulling back to press his lips to yours. your eyelids flit at the metallic taste of your blood on his lips, and coating his tongue as he flicks at your couplet, his voice warm and rumbling, breath tickling your countenance. “I would never make you, my dear. That would make me a villain. But, encouraging… I suppose I am encouraging you to wear your marks out where everyone can see whose mouth has been all over you. After all, what is the fun in signing your name if no one gets to marvel at the penmanship?”

#lilia vanrouge #lilia vanrouge x reader #lilia vanrouge x you #lilia Vanrouge smut #lilia #lilia x reader #lilia x you #lilia smut #twisted wonderland x you #twisted wonderland smut #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland #twst #twst x you #twst smut #twst x reader

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jinnie-ret · 1 month

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cigarette duet

poly!stray kids x ninth member!reader

genre: angst, fluff at the end

content warnings: smoking, mentions of rehab, mentions of recovery

word count: 3k

summary: you get hounded by your boyfriends after they catch you smoking. how will they react when you disappear and go off the radar?

requested: @ihrtlix

It has been a while since I've written! I'm sorry it's taken me so long to get around to the requests for this event but I'm getting back into the swing of things! Hope you enjoy! Please don't take offense to any opinions presented in this imagine. Enjoy! And if you want to be tagged in anything I write please lemme know! <3

1K FOLLOWERS PLAYLIST 💚🖤

MAIN MASTERLIST

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Perhaps you had smoked one too many cigarettes last night. Waking up the next morning after battling your stresses with the addictive feed of nicotine, your throat felt dry, hoarse, scratchy even.

"Baby, are you sure you're not sick?" Felix fussed, placing his hand delicately on your forehead to gain an idea of your temperature. "I mean, you don't feel hot, but maybe you're coming down with something?"

"I'm fine, love, just need some water," you kiss his hand that was pulling away from your face, offering a reassuring smile after clearing your throat.

And in your mind, that was enough. You didn't notice the little things that your boyfriends did however.

"Binnie, what are you doing? You look like a perv haha," Hyunjin giggled at the sight of Changbin rummaging through the laundry basket and sniffing your hoodie.

"Ssshhh, keep it down. And plus, it's not being pervy, people in relationships do it all the time. It's comforting smelling each other's clothing," Changbin righteously pointed out to his boyfriend, puffing his chest before adding, "well, normally it is..." he sighed.

"Woah that's mean, you can't say our girlfriend smells," Hyunjin pushed Changbin's shoulder, laughing again but with wide eyes this time round.

"No, no, you've got the wrong idea anyways. I think... I think Y/N's been smoking. I can smell it on her hoodie," Changbin sighed, tossing the white hoodie of yours back into the washing basket that was full to the brim. He was about to continue his spiel of conspiracies until he jumped when your arms wrapped around behind him.

"Aw, babe, are you doing the washing? Thank god for that, I was worried it would never get done," you squeezed him tightly once more before kissing him on the cheek and continuing your venture into the kitchen, Felix trailing behind you.

"I think she's getting sick, I'm gonna see if we have any meds in the cupboard, or some throat sweets at least," Felix pouted as he walked past his two boyfriends, Hyunjin ruffling his hair on the way.

Changbin threw a meaningful look at Hyunjin, alarms going off in his head because it only added more fuel to the blazing fire of thoughts in his head.

"Look, we don't know that she is smoking for sure. Maybe she's just been around some friends that are?" Hyunjin whispers hurriedly, yet this caught Seungmin's attention, and his ears too.

"Huh? What are you talking about?" Seungmin casually stood between the two, grabbing laundry detergent and capsules from the cupboard to act natural yet because practical at the same time.

"I'll explain later, to all of you. I'm just a bit concerned," Changbin sighed, rubbing his hand across his face before actually making a start on the chore at hand.

It was an escape for you, much like it was for other people who smoked cigarettes. And plus, you hadn't been doing it for long. You thought what could the harm be when you didn't do it a lot? Plus, it was handy that none of your boyfriends batted an eyelid in the studio when you said you wanted to go outside for some air. In fact, it gave the opportunity for Changbin to lay out his thoughts to the rest of your boyfriends who hadn't yet heard his observations.

"Y/N... I don't think she'd do that, I can't picture it," Jeongin shook his head, shaking his hands in confusion because the picture being painted in front of them seemed very unlikely and it wasn't a nice one to think of.

"And she knows it's too risky. First of all we're idols. I hate to say it but we have to think about that first in situations like these. Even when we're drinking we've got to be careful. If you're right about this, Binnie, then..." Chan groaned, leaning back into his seat with a huff.

"But she did just go out 'for some air'," Han added on, brows furrowed as he thought what Changbin was saying was quite plausible.

"Ok. We'll go check then," Minho shrugged as he stood.

"What?" Felix too stood up.

"We can't sit here and keep worrying. Let's go check and see for ourselves. If we're wrong... And I hope we are... Then it's fine," Minho grabbed his phone and shoved it into his pocket, scanning around the room for his boyfriends' reactions.

"And if we're not wrong, then what?" Hyunjin voiced his concerns.

"Let's just hope we're not," Chan was first to walk out the door, the rest of Stray Kids following along after him like ducklings and their mother. Apart from this time it wasn't the cute, adorable scene you'd hope for, especially because they could smell the smoke and see your lax figure as soon as they rounded the corner to the back of the building.

"No. Y/N you've got to be kidding me!" Chan snatched the cigarette out of your hand and immediately stomped it out.

"Chan I-" you fumbled on your words, eyes wide as you had all eight of your lovers stood in front of you. And the way they looked at you made you stomach twist into knots you were sure you'd never felt.

Disappointment. Anger. Concern. Indifference.

"Let's talk about this inside," Changbin wrapped an arm around your shoulder as he spoke quietly to you.

Your heart was racing faster. They were going to think the worst. But you had a way out of this. It wasn't even that bad. Sure, over the past month maybe you'd have been spending more money on packs of cigarettes, yet on the inside you felt as if there were worse things you could be doing to yourself.

"Sit," Minho bluntly said, face unreadable, tone void of emotion.

And so you did.

"We'll just have a conversation about this, nice and calm, ok?" Felix nudged Chan in particular with his leg.

It seemed however that it wasn't a conversation, but more of an intervention. A heated one, at that.

"I can't be nice and calm, Lix! Our girlfriend is destroying her body, and for what?" Chan's voice rose ever so slightly, hands squeezing the arms of the chair he was tensely sat in.

"It's just a cigarette," you feebly replied. That backbone of yours was slowly wearing away the more and more anger you felt radiating off of your partners.

"Don't be ridiculous," Seungmin scoffed, "think of the damage it's doing. Think about your career."

"It's more than just the odd cigarette, right?" Changbin prodded, wanting answers to the millions of questions he had. After all, he was the first one to notice how you gradually stopped voicing your concerns to him but still sometimes had the habits that showed your anxiety.

"Well, yes, but-" you began but were cut off.

"No buts. That's... It's, you're hurting yourself, hurting your lungs. Why are you doing this, baby?" Jeongin took your hand in his, concern not the only thing glistening in his eyes, which broke your heart.

"It's just a nice distraction, that's all. It won't go on forever, I'll just stop when I want to," you shrug your shoulders, squeezing his hand to show you meant what you said.

"It's not that easy. Nicotine. It's addictive. You think you can just stop like that?" Hyunjin frowned, shaking his head.

"I know I can," you firmly said, urging them with your voice to trust you.

"I don't know what planet you're living on," Chan shook his head.

"Channie..." Felix bit his lip, feeling torn. On one hand he didn't want your boyfriend to be so tough with you, but he also disagreed with the choices you made, the ones you were making.

"No I'm sorry but Y/N, babe, you've made one of the stupidest choices you could make! Seungminnie is right, Jeongin too. It's damaging for your body, let alone your career. You keep this up, you're not going to be able to sing as well as before. And then it'll get to the point where you can't breathe as well anymore," Chan ranted, fiddling with the bracelets adorning his wrist as he didn't take his eyes away from yours, not once.

"I just told you it's not going to go that far!" your face contorted to one of disbelief.

"That's out of your control," Minho sternly redirected your attention to him.

"Wow. It's like you don't even trust me. I'm not some kid. I can make my own decisions. So what if I'm doing this for a little bit of stress relief? For a bit of fun. It helps me," your voice almost turns to pleading, wanting them to hear you out, hear your reasoning.

"It hurts you, baby. And when it hurts you, it hurts us as well," Han bit his lip after shakily speaking up. He didn't like this situation, not one bit.

"I'm not doing it to hurt you. I'd never do that," your voice wobbled, throat feeling as if it was closing up from the sob that was lodged down there.

"Too late. I mean just look," Chan emptied your handbag, empty packets of cigarettes and some not, falling out onto the floor of the studio.

"Y/N, that's a lot," Hyunjin gasped, clutching a hand on his chest.

"It's not. It's not that bad..." you denied as you knelt on the floor and tidied up the mess.

"You're in complete denial," Seungmin rolled his eyes.

"I'm not! I'm well aware of my actions thank you very much!" you shouted suddenly, causing everyone to freeze at the volume you had just reached.

The guilt set in. It was never meant to go this far. It was just meant to be for stress relief. Something to distract you from the aches and pains, physical and mental. It wasn't long until you'd be performing a special fanmeeting and relearning old choreographies and a cover had you feeling like you were being worked down to the bone. Even iconic dances like God's Menu were hard to remember, and you felt like you had no chance. No choice. It was like it fell into your lap so easily.

The first time you had stood outside to catch some air, it was for that genuine reason. And you weren't alone. You didn't know if the person worked at your company, if you knew them, whatever. But their hand offering you something that could bring you temporary bliss was a solution you were grateful for. Only now, you were seeing that it was short term.

"You need help. Seriously..." Chan spat, grabbing his backpack and storming out of the studio.

"Find a way to end this, Y/Nnie," Felix mumbled, stroking your hair gently before following Chan out with a rush.

"You're all just going to go?" your voice cracked. Were they leaving you now?

"We just need some time," Changbin sighed. And then he was gone too.

"You're leaving me?" you sniffled, standing up to face your boyfriends that were still in the room.

"Not like that, baby. We're just giving you time to think about how you can stop this, ok?" Han stroked your face as he made sure you knew this wasn't the end. And then he left too, Minho, Hyunjin, Seungmin and Jeongin leaving too.

All alone. Perhaps it was what you deserved. You relied on the cigarettes more than your boyfriends. And they were all you had left for the moment. That was when it sank in. You had to make a change. You had to stop this habit form taking over your life, from pushing away the people you love most, and from taking your life away.

•••

"She's sorting herself out at least... that's got to be commendable."

"I guess so. Let's just hope it doesn't get out that a JYP idol is at rehab for smoking."

"It won't. And she's doing well from what I've heard..."

This was the only time Han was grateful for the staff gossiping. Immediately, he felt calmer. Considering the boys had spent the last few days blowing up your phone and worrying where you went, it was an oddly relieving feeling hearing you were at rehab. They had tried asking JYP himself, asking the manager of the company where you were but all they said was that you were safe.

"I know where she is!" Han bursted through the apartment door, slamming it shut behind him as he panted out of breath.

"Woah, woah, ok, deep breaths, let's sit down," Chan, with the darkest circles around his eyes yet, gently sat Han down on the sofa. He felt awful. He thought he had driven you away from them all. From the group. From the relationship. And that had been eating him up inside. It was a wonder he could act so calm with the news of you going into rehab.

"Rehab? For smoking? I didn't even know that was a thing," Seungmin hummed in thought, his arms crossed.

"I didn't either, but I overheard the staff. They say she's doing well. It's a good thing, right?" Han's eyes stared through the souls of everyone gathered in the lounge, begging for some sort of confirmation that things would get better.

"I mean, at least we're a bit more in the know then our own fans about why our girlfriend is on hiatus," Changbin brushed his fluffy, dark hair out of his eye.

"Can't we go and see her?" Felix wondered, lifting his head up from where it rested on Minho's shoulder.

"We shouldn't," Minho quietly sighed.

"Why not?" Jeongin quickly turned to him, mouth parted in shock that he didn't want to see Y/N.

"No, he's right. She's gone there for a reason. To get better. It's what we all said to her, isn't it? We'll see her soon. And when we do... It'll all be better," Chan helped everyone see sense. He was right. You had listened to them. You went and got help and were solving the problem. If they suddenly ambushed you and got in the way of that... You'd be back to square one.

•••

Today was the day, you were finally going back to the boys. You spent a good 3 weeks at rehab, and had been advised on some good coping mechanisms to take your mind off of smoking and how to create some healthier habits. You had shown good progress and it was deemed acceptable for you to leave and spend time back with your loved ones. And you couldn't lie, you were incredibly nervous. You had dropped a text without reading the spam that littered the groupchat, notifying your boyfriends what time you'd be returning, but after that you once again did not read anything else that was sent.

"Oh my baby, I've missed you so much," Han was the first one at the door, pressing kisses all over your face as he took you into his arms, holding you lightly.

"I've missed you too," you cried immediately, despite the weight off your shoulders.

"You're good now, right, darling?" Seungmin softly tugged you away from Han, both of his hands cupping your face whilst his thumbs wiped away your tears.

"I'm better," you nod through tears, Seungmin pressing a kiss to your head and giving space for your other boyfriends to soothe you and reunite with you. It had only been three weeks, yes, but 21 days had never felt so long.

"I'm proud of you, come here," Changbin scooped you into his arms and lifted you slightly, making you giggle before your feet touched the ground once more.

"Thank you... I'm sorry. I didn't realise what I had done... How far it went, you know?" you began, looking down at the floor as Hyunjin came and wrapped his arms around you from behind, his long arms securing you to him.

"We're just happy to see you here, honey, healthier," he whispered into your ear soothingly.

"And please talk to us in future. We had time to think after that, moment, and we know you were doing it as an escape. But we're here for you," Jeongin pecked you on the lips, your heads pressed against each other for a moment before he too moved away.

"Always, we're always here," Felix reiterated what Jeongin preached, and kisses you as well, noses rubbing against each other as he moved away, a cute expression on his face.

"Come here," Minho opened his arms, and you reluctantly left Hyunjin's arms only to be happy again in the warmth of your other boyfriend's embrace.

"Thank you for waiting, all of you," you swayed with him in his hug, until you pulled away and it was only Chan left.

He stood a few metres away, back to you, shoulders shaking ever so slightly.

"Channie... babe," you sighed, tugging his hand to turn him and face you. His words had hurt you the most but it was also a huge wake up call. "Please, look at me, I'm not mad. I'm so grateful."

"I was too harsh with you," he bit his lip, hard, not wanting to let any tears escape.

"I needed it. Look at me now, I'm here, I'm better, and I've got habits I can stick to instead. Ones that won't hurt me. And they won't hurt you guys either," you looked up at him, one hand running through the hair at the nape of his neck and the other cupping his face.

"I'm so glad you're back... We were worried... Lost without you," Chan admitted, staring up at the ceiling before kissing you deeply, expressing all the emotions he had held back whilst you were gone.

"It's all good now. Plus, you should all be proud of me-"

"We are proud of you, baby," Jeongin cut you off stroking your hair.

"Well, be even prouder because I know how to bake an amazing carrot cake if I say so myself," you laughed, sharing a new skill that had occupied your stress and been taught whilst you were away.

"You can bake with me now! Oh my gosh! It's a miracle!" Felix cheered, tugging you into the kitchen as the other boys chuckled from behind you both.

"I didn't think you meant this very second!"

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

tagged: @skz-streamer @kiraisastay @hannahhbahng @kpopmenace143 @sakufilms @kailee08 @arloo00 @dunno-wut-to-do @splat00z @cheesemonky @his-angell @turtledove824 @2minstan @royal-shinigami @yangbbokari @skzoologist @crabrangoongirl25 @atinyniki @writingforstraykids @minholing @lilmisssona @astraysimp @lixie-phoria

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munson-blurbs · 7 months

Text

Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!Reader Series

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20

Summary: June brings the end of Harris's preschool career and the official beginning of your new life as a family of three--with a little help from your friends, of course.

Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI), oral (f! receiving), p in v, mentions of phone sex, grief and loss

WC: 7.8k

Chapter 20/20

A/N: With the official end of Trapped Under Ice, I am now opening up requests in the TUI universe. Thank you all for taking this journey with me as I processed my own grief. As long as you keep requesting, I will continue writing for our little family 💚

Thank you to @rip-quizilla for making that scene stronger. Ily, bb.

Divider credit to @saradika

The diner is bustling with customers, happily chatting over stacks of pancakes and overstuffed omelets. Coffee carafes clink against chipped mugs as the waitstaff pours refill after refill.

You weave through the rows of tables, careful not to bump into servers balancing trays of food or busboys carrying the used dishes and silverware. A small yellow gift bag is clutched in your hand, and you hold it to your chest to protect its fragile contents.

Harris spots you before you can see him; his little arm shoots up from where he’s tucked into the booth next to Wayne.

“Ms. Sweetheart!” he frantically waves, his grin wide enough to stretch off of his cheeks. “Over here!”

You laugh, watching as Eddie scoots from the middle of the seat to the end, making room for you to sit down. There are two steaming cups on his side of the table, centered on little saucers that are likely older than you are.

“Morning, baby,” he greets you with a smile, leaning in to give you a small kiss—no tongue, of course—as you slide in next to him. “You sleep okay last night?”

You nod sheepishly, remembering the phone conversation the two of you had had, well after Harris fell asleep. Eddie’s sultry voice had guided you through touching yourself; the next-best thing to having his own fingers inside you.

“Wish I could be there right now,” he’d murmured into the receiver, so low that you could barely hear him. The faint sound of his own fly being lowered punctuated his words. “Wanna make you feel so good, Sweetheart, but I know you’re being a good girl f’me tonight, aren’t you?”

You bring the coffee mug to your lips, hoping to blame the heat creeping up your face on the drink, and take a hearty sip. It’s a little sweet, but mostly bitter. Just how you like it.

The crinkling tissue paper as you lean back in the booth draws your attention to your company and away from your indulgent memories. “Happy Father’s Day, Eddie,” you kiss him on the cheek, your lipstick tinting his stubble pink. “This is from me and Harris. Be careful with it.” There’s a deliberate vagueness in your warning, not wanting to spoil the surprise.

Eddie cocks his brow, clearly not expecting any sort of present from you. Shocking, considering you’d taken Harris to the Paint-n-Play on Wednesday during your usual tutoring session time, and you’d figured he would have spilled the beans as soon as he and his dad had a moment alone. He rustles around the bag with dramatic flourish, trying to build anticipation but only succeeding in testing Harris’s patience.

“Open it, Daddy! Open it!” Harris bounces up and down in his seat, mouth sticky and teeth tinted purple with grape juice as he urges Eddie to stop dragging out the process. Wayne discreetly places his palm behind his grandson’s scalp, protecting his head in case he rocks too far back. “Me an’ Ms. Sweetheart did it together!”

“You did, huh?” Eddie chuckles, pulling out a ceramic mug. It’s painted sky blue, and Harris had insisted on making purple polka dots, splotchy as he’d haphazardly dunked the brush in paint and pressed it to the plaster. Written in bright orange blocky letters is DAD; you’d helped him sound out duhh-ahhh-duhh, his little tongue poking out in complete concentration. Your only visible contribution is the tiny green 1997 painted along the handle, marking the first year you’d celebrated Father’s Day together.

The multitude of complementary colors and mismatched designs should clash. The dots look more like disfigured spiders than circles. The 7 you’d carefully written with a fine-tipped brush is slightly smudged from where Harris had picked up the mug before it had fully dried, and there’s an extra curving line extending from the first D in DAD after he’d started writing the letter backwards.

To Eddie, it’s perfect.

“I love it.” Brown eyes find his son’s hopeful gaze that eagerly awaits his father’s reaction. “This is the best present I’ve ever gotten.” He places the mug on the table next to the coffee-filled one in front of him, tipping its contents into his gift. A few drops dribble down the side, but most of it ends up where it should. A success, in his opinion. He takes a hearty gulp, not caring that the hot liquid singes his taste buds. “Is this magic?” He holds the mug up to his face, studying it like it’s a precious stone. “Because, I swear, it makes this coffee taste better.”

The little boy beams, exchanging an elated glance with you. “Ms. Sweetheart, did you put magic in it?”

Eddie chimes in before you can respond. “I bet she did. She’s sneaky with it; always sprinkling it where you least expect.” His empty hand finds your thigh underneath the table, silently claiming it as his own. “I don’t know how she does it,” he muses wistfully, adding another sugar packet to the mug and swirling it with a spoon until it’s dissolved. Like it was always part of the coffee from the jump.

“Speaking of presents,” Wayne chimes in, unearthing a tiny, newspaper-wrapped package from his jacket pocket and handing it to his nephew. “‘S, not much, but it’s a Father’s-Day-slash-housewarming gift for ya.”

“I thought we agreed on no gifts,” Eddie shakes his head, suddenly self-conscious about arriving empty-handed.

“Well, I lied.”

Wayne watches as Eddie tears into the paper. Whatever home run or double-header had made the front page of the sports section is irrelevant compared to the mystery item that is snugly tucked between baseball stats and the upcoming game schedule.

A small gasp leaves his mouth as he unwraps a wallet-sized picture frame; the word family is etched into the wood right above the plastic-protected photo.

It’s from Harris’s bowling party; the one Wayne had taken of you and Eddie on either side of the birthday boy. Happiness radiates off of the three of you with such intensity that it seems impossible for it to be captured in a still frame. He’d forgotten that Wayne had even snapped it.

“Wayne, I…” Eddie struggles to find the words he needs to properly convey his feelings. The tip of his nose burns with the anticipated influx of emotions. “I’m gonna put it right next to my alarm clock, so it’s the first thing I see every morning.”

You lay your head on his shoulder, the edge of his lips finding your forehead in a half-kiss. He soaks in the comfort you bring, absorbing it through every pore as he exhales and feels himself relax.

The waitress comes over with a notepad and a smile. “You folks ready to order?” She clicks her pen, poised to jot down what the four of you want to eat.

“Chicken fingers, please!” Harris announces, perching up on his knees and leaning his elbows on the table. “With French fries!”

The waitress, whose name tag reads Bee, offers a sympathetic smile and a soft click of her tongue. “I’m sorry, buddy. We don’t start serving lunch until 11:30.”

The boy’s lower lip quivers at the news, having his heart set on eating his favorite food. You can see his perfectly curated routine begin to crumble, taking his excitement with it. “But…but I even said ‘please!’” he insists, voice cracking.

You step in quickly, wanting to salvage the Father’s Day celebration before Hurricane Harris can brew up a storm. “Hey, Har, I know you’re disappointed about the chicken fingers, but I have a super special idea.”

“Wh-What?” Misty eyes indicate that tears still threaten to spill over his lashes.

“When Grandma used to take me to the diner, we used to split silver dollars. They’re pancakes, just smaller.” You take a deep breath and smile, hoping and praying that your plan works. “Would you like to share some silver dollars with me? And we can come back and get chicken fingers another time.”

Harris considers your proposition, rubbing his hands together along his knuckles to soothe himself. Finally, he says, “Can we eat them with syrup?”

“That sounds delicious.” You lean over and ruffle his hair, careful not to let any loose strands land on the table. “You wanna tell the waitress?”

“Mmkay,” he nods, turning to Bee and smiling. “Me an’ Ms. Sweetheart are gonna have the, um, little pancakes.” He frowns, unable to remember the dish’s name. “The dollars?”

Bee laughs and nods, jotting it on her notepad. “An order of silver dollar pancakes, coming right up. And for you gentlemen?” She brings her attention to Eddie and Wayne.

The older man clears his throat, ordering a Western omelet with home fries and rye toast. Eddie asks for the same but with white bread. “And a refill on the coffee,” he adds.

Bee promises to be back shortly with the food, and the four of you resume your conversation.

“We’ll get to take a new picture next week at someone’s graduation,” you say with a smile, looking in Harris’s direction. “Are you excited, Har Bear?”

Harris takes another messy sip of grape juice. “Uh-huh. I’m gonna go to kindergarten soon! But first is summer.”

“Summer first, then kindergarten,” you agree, sipping your coffee before it gets cold. You’re no stranger to it, often setting down your to-go cup at work and forgetting about it until well after morning circle time, but you relish any chance you get to enjoy it while it’s still warm. “I was thinking: once you and Daddy are all moved in, we should make plans for this summer. Like the zoo, or the pool…”

“Yeah!” Harris claps his hands together and grins. “Or Disney World!”

Eddie’s ears perk up at his son’s suggestion. “Not this year, but maybe soon.” If he can continue moving up the ranks at the record store, coupled with the two of you splitting rent, it might even happen next year, but he doesn’t want to make a promise he can’t guarantee he’ll keep. “And we’ll drag Grampa Wayne with us.”

Wayne responds with a shake of his head. “You’re outta your mind if you think I’m goin’ on any of those roller coasters.”

“You’re gonna sit and ride It’s a Small World the whole day?” Eddie teases, leaning back in his seat.

“Damn straight.”

The food comes out ten minutes later, steaming plates carefully placed on the table. You cut the silver dollar pancakes into bite-size pieces, pushing half to the side nearest Harris and the other half closest to you. A glass syrup carafe waits to be used, its handle sticky with residue.

“Say when,” you tell Harris, drizzling it back and forth across the plate. He waits until the pancakes are drenched before stopping you.

You watch as he uses his fork to spear some pancake, pops it in his mouth, and chews thoughtfully. “It’s yummy!” he declares triumphantly, already scanning the plate for his next piece. “This is my favorite food ever!”

You, Eddie, and Wayne share smiles; none of you take his declaration too seriously, knowing he changes his favorite anythings on an hourly basis. Still, a win is a win, and avoiding a chicken finger-induced tantrum is no small feat.

Eddie spreads a pat of butter over his toast, but his eyes never shift from you and Harris sharing breakfast. You’d asked him whether he prefers blueberries or chocolate chips in his pancakes, and the discussion quickly devolved into a competition to see who could come up with the grossest pancake addition.

“How about…” Harris wiggles his nose, “broccoli pancakes?”

“Ew!” You stick out your tongue in disgust. “That was a good one, but I think I can top it. Would you eat…” you tap your chin in contemplation, “fish stick pancakes!”

Harris squeals, far from an inside voice, but no one wants to correct him. “That’s super yucky! Fish stick pancakes?!”

Eddie smiles, tucking into his own food. He wants to savor the joy, the warmth. The twinkle in Wayne’s eyes, the upturned corners of Harris’s lips, the trill of your laugh. He wishes he could capture the feeling, but a mental image will have to do.

He inhales and allows himself to be wrapped in the unconditional love he had once convinced himself he didn’t want nor deserve.

The Hawkins Preschool cafeteria has once again been transformed. The custodians folded the long tables, propping them against the wall, and set up rows of folding chairs, leaving a small aisle for the graduates’ families to find their seats.

Other parents stare as Eddie walks in, perspiration prickling under his arms as he hears them whispering about the kid who ran away. It’s audible enough for Wayne to hear; he rests his hand on his nephew’s shoulder and gives it a small squeeze before they take their seats.

Jeff and Dustin arrive a few moments later, noticing Eddie and Wayne in the small crowd and shuffling over. Eddie pulls them each in for a quick hug, and Wayne does the same.

“Glad we made it,” Dustin says with a sigh of relief. “My flight got delayed half an hour, but we made up the time in the air.”

Jeff rolls his eyes. “It didn’t help that we had to stop at a payphone so you could call your precious Suzie-Poo,” he huffs, but there’s a glimmer of a smile on his lips, proud of the way his friend cares so deeply for his partner. “Anyway, we’re here now.” He takes a seat next to Wayne, shifting so he can speak to Eddie. “Is Harris excited to graduate?”

“Oh, yeah,” Eddie laughs, shaking his head at the recent memory of his son prancing around the apartment that morning in his cap and gown, small body drowning in the flowing green fabric. In that instant, Eddie could picture him as a young man, crossing a much larger stage to receive his diploma from Hawkins High. If Higgins is still the principal, Eddie might have to teach Harris the family tradition of flipping him off.

Sue Sinclair makes her way up the small staircase to the podium, adjusting the microphone so she speaks into it easily. “Good morning, parents, siblings, and other special guests. Welcome to Hawkins Preschool’s Moving Up ceremony.” She beams, holding for applause. Eddie eases back into his seat; he’s known Principal Sinclair for years, since Lucas had joined Hellfire, and she’d recently stepped up to take over teaching Harris’s class for the remaining weeks of the school year. After the little boy had given his statement to the police, Marion and Paula’s teaching licenses had been immediately terminated, and negligence charges were currently pending.

“Before we get started, I’d just like to make an announcement.” Sue Sinclair looks over to where your class is standing, patiently waiting their turn to receive their sticker-laden diplomas. “I am pleased to announce that our very own Mr. Will Byers,” she extends her hand in Will’s direction, “will be our newest head teacher starting this fall.”

Though everyone in attendance is clapping, it’s obvious that Eddie, Wayne, Jeff, and Dustin cheer the loudest. Will blushes red, unused to being the center of attention, but the smile on his face shows how excited he is to take on this new role. You wrap your arms around his shoulders from behind and pull him in for a proud hug.

“Our students have worked incredibly hard this year, learning their letters, numbers, and how to be a good friend,” the principal continues. “And though we will miss them dearly, we are thrilled to send them off to kindergarten with these new skills. So, without further ado, let’s bring out our graduates!”

The ceremony begins, starting with your class. You stand at one end of the stage, sending each student off to where Will is waiting at the other end as Principal Sinclair reads out each of their names. They take their certificates and pose with baby teeth on full display while their parents snap photos from disposable Kodaks and bulky Nikons. All the seemingly endless days, the menial fights over sharing toys; every moment was worth it if it led to this.

You usher the kids to their seats in the front row after your final student’s name is called, spotting Eddie in the crowd as you sit down. He winks, the corner of his eye mischievously crinkling. You smile, taking full advantage of the other parents’ distractedness and give him a little wave; the exchange a private love letter.

Both of you bring your attention back to the stage when Sue Sinclair calls up the next class. Harris stands towards the center of the line, excitement buzzing through him at a rate that cannot be contained. He rocks from the balls of his feet to his heels, back and forth as he awaits his turn. His brown ringlets poke out from underneath his cap, grazing just above his eyebrows.

Principal Sinclair pauses, looking directly at Eddie when she speaks. She understands the gravity of this accomplishment, her lipsticked smile reaching her eyes as she leans in towards the microphone.

“Harris Munson!”

Eddie jumps up, hollering as loud as his vocal cords will allow. Harris accepts his diploma and smiles wide, both at his accomplishment and at the sound of his dad cheering him on. His expression further brightens when he sees Wayne, Dustin, and Jeff beside him, and he waves while jumping up and down.

He’s supposed to walk from stage left to stage right, just as all the students before him have done; in typical Harris fashion, he takes the road less traveled. With a mighty leap, he catapults himself off of the stage and makes a beeline straight for you.

Two little arms wrap themselves around you, squeezing you as tight as they can. The brim of his cap is flush against your cheek. “I did it, Ms. Sweetheart!” His words carry a lightheartedness that only a child’s joy can bring. “Did you see?” He picks his head up from where it was nestled against you and giggles, dimpled chin brushing your bicep.

You tilt the mortarboard slightly upward and press a kiss to his forehead. “I saw, Har,” you tell him, using your thumb to wipe away your lipstick print, “and I am so, so proud of you.” Readjusting his cap, you usher him over to where the rest of his class is standing, a garden of happiness blooming within you.

You look back at where Eddie is sitting, wishing you could sit next to him, fingers laced together while his thumb caresses the side of your hand and grasping your hand tighter when Harris’s name is called. For now, it’s enough to know that you’ll be by his side throughout all of Harris’s future endeavors and accomplishments. A team.

Eddie’s palms press into his slack-covered thighs as he peers over at you and grins. Bright, adoring eyes meet yours, speaking every thought that his mouth can’t say right now. I love you. Thank you. We couldn’t have done this without you.

You accept the wordless praise with a smile, one that reaches beyond its usual confines.

Dustin notices the small exchange, and he nudges Eddie’s ribs with his elbow. “She’s the one, huh?” He cocks his eyebrow knowingly.

“Oh, yeah,” Eddie murmurs, no longer paying any attention to the remaining names being read aloud. “You ever think you’d see the day I settle down?” His tone is teasing, but there’s an ounce of insecurity behind them.

To Eddie’s surprise, Dustin nods without hesitation. “Always knew you would.” Carol Perkins shushes him from the row ahead, but he just flips her off and rolls his eyes.

“Don’t you remember that time in high school when we got sloshed—sorry, Wayne,” Jeff cuts in sheepishly, “and you went on a rant about how you secretly wanted the whole wife, kids, picket fence deal?”

“And I believe I threatened to kick your ass if you told anyone,” Eddie points out, embarrassment turning his face red, apparent even under the light stubble covering his cheeks.

Wayne chuckles softly. “I already knew. About the dream and the booze.” He laughs a bit harder at Jeff and Eddie’s shocked expressions. “If you keep replacing vodka with water, eventually, it’s all just water.”

“Ya don’t say.” Dustin’s sarcasm bleeds through his whisper.

Principal Sinclair reads the last student’s name with the same enthusiasm she’s given all of the other kids. “I now present to you, the Hawkins Preschool class of 1997!” She mimes tossing a cap in the air, the students’ cue to do the same.

The fervor of the cheers and applause could shake the cafeteria. Whistles pierce the air and reverberate off of the walls, none louder than Wayne Munson’s. You stand up, smoothing the pleats of your dress to soak in the achievement of completing another academic year; for you, this one in a brand new school with more challenges than you’d cared to endure.

You and Will take in the sight of nine cherubic faces looking up at you in admiration, though they’re beginning to shed their baby fat. This was certainly a journey, and you couldn’t have asked for a better teaching assistant to walk beside you through it all.

“I’m gonna miss you next year,” you say, squeezing him in a tight hug.

“I’ll be right down the hall!”

Begrudgingly, you let go of him, not losing the pout on your lips. “That’s way too far for me.” The two of you both know that you’re serious; it won’t be the same without having him in the classroom with you. “Can we try to match up our breaks and eat lunch together?”

“It’s a date,” Will laughs, then juts out his chin to motion behind you, “but it looks like I might have some competition.”

Before you can turn around, Eddie’s arms wrap around your waist. He tugs you in close so your back is flush against his chest, the buttons from his shirt pressing into your spine. “There’s my girl,” he murmurs in your ear, lips so close that they brush the lobe. “Are you ready to start your summer?”

You kiss his cheek, adjusting your stance so you can walk hand in hand to get Harris. He torpedoes himself into Eddie’s stomach, shrieking with laughter as he’s lifted into the air.

“Har Bear, you’re a preschool graduate!” Eddie smacks a kiss to his son’s temple. “How should we celebrate, hmm? Ice cream? Chuck E. Cheese?”

“Ice cream!” Harris decides easily. “I’m gonna get cotton candy with rainbow sprinkles and—Uncle Dusty!” He squirms out of Eddie’s grasp and races over to Dustin.

“What? I’m not an ice cream topping!” Dustin teases, crouching down to ruffle Harris’s curls, matted to his scalp from being hidden underneath the cap.

Harris giggles. “You’re so silly!” He glances back and forth from him to you, and you realize he doesn’t know that you’d met in March at Will’s birthday party. “Uncle Dusty, this is Ms. Sweetheart. She’s my almost-mommy.”

“Ohh,” Dustin replies with a smirk, raising his eyebrows and nodding. “I think she needs to be your dad’s almost-wife first–”

“All right! Ice cream time!” Eddie hurries to cut him off, glaring at Dustin for bringing the idea to Harris’s attention again; he has constantly been hounding him about marriage ever since he found out about his newest living arrangements. The idea of marrying you, however, eases his tension and has a smile tugging on his lips; a slight switch in expression that his uncle spots easily.

Wayne’s gruff whisper is in Eddie’s ear. “Sounds like it’s time for an almost-proposal.”

“Shut up!”

“I think that’s the last of them!” Jeff calls out, lugging the final cardboard box from his car into your apartment. He wipes his hands on his jeans and closes the door behind him, careful not to wake up his sleeping daughter in Viv’s arms. He looks over at where you, Robin, and Jess have begun unpacking, laying Eddie’s clothes in one pile and Harris’s much smaller clothes in another.

Jeff places a kiss on the crown of Viv’s head, then plants an identical one on Ettie’s. “Where are the guys?”

“Harris’s room,” you say; bittersweet taste tinging the new label. It feels better than Grandma’s old room, but part of it will always belong to her. You hear Harris giggle as Eddie and Dustin re-assemble his racecar bed, spreading warmth that gently softens the sadness until it resembles sentimentality. “I’ll come with you; I have to put this away, anyway.” You grab the pile of Harris’s clothes and tuck it under your arm.

Eddie and Dustin sit on the floor, rogue screws spread around them as they intently study their project.

“I think this piece,” Dustin muses, picking up one of the sides of the frame, “connects with this one like that…”

Eddie shakes his head. “Nah, it’s the other way around.” He takes the screwdriver and twists the metal into the slot triumphantly. Your breath catches in your throat as his bicep flexes with the motion, perfectly displayed where his t-shirt sleeve had been cut into a makeshift tank top. “There we go.” He looks up and realizes you’re there, perfectly still as you watch him. “Hey, Sweetheart. Y’good?” There’s a mischievous twinkle in his eye; though it was inadvertent, he knows what he’s doing to you.

You only nod, the movement dragging you out of your momentary stupor. He chuckles as you place Harris’s shirts and pants in the dresser, fingers clumsily slipping over the knobs. It’s the same unicorn-covered dresser that had sent Harris into hysterics a few weeks ago, but you’d painted over it before he could see. It’s now a dark navy blue, no evidence of what once lay beneath.

Eddie’s amused by your reaction and subsequent embarrassment, running his tongue over his teeth and chuckling to himself, but his victory is short-lived.

“Hey, Casanova,” Dustin’s exasperated voice cuts in, pointing to the section Eddie just assembled, “you put the piece on upside down.”

Harris crinkles his nose. “What’s Casanova?”

Eddie buries his head in his hands as Dustin scrambles to explain. “It means your dad is trying to show off his handyman skills for your almost-mommy.” He winks in Eddie’s direction before leaning in and exaggeratedly whispering in Harris’s ear, “but he’s not doing a very good job.”

As soon as Harris distracts himself with setting up his toys, Eddie is saluting his friend with a quick flip of his middle finger.

You crouch down, brushing a lock of hair behind his ear. “Don’t worry; I’m very impressed.” He blushes when you kiss his cheek. “Your uncle’s going to be here with dinner in a few minutes, if you burly men want to wash up.”

Eddie nods, turning to his friends and his son and speaking in a deep baritone. “You heard the woman! Let us refuel so we may regain our strength for hunting and other masculine activities.”

Harris’s brows pinch together in further confusion while you and Dustin share an eyeroll, but the three of you follow your fearless leader out of the room. Eddie lets the two of them pass and waits for you, sliding a coy hand in your back pocket and murmuring against your hair. “Man and woman make fire in bedroom later?” He continues using the deepened voice.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“That’s…that’s not a no, though, right?”

The summer sun is still high in the sky when Wayne arrives at the apartment, three pizza boxes still warm in his palms. He’s barely able to put them on the table before Harris is racing towards him, ready to give a full report of the goings-on of his day.

Jess sits at the table, baby Ettie laying in her arms while she gives Viv a break and feeds her from a bottle. You place a piece of pizza on the paper plate in front of her, and one in front of Robin, who adoringly watches her girlfriend dote on a baby. Wayne sits in the third seat, thanking you with his kind smile as you pass him a slice.

You join Eddie and Harris on the couch; Jeff plops down in the La-Z-Boy on the other side of the coffee table, motioning for Viv to sit atop his legs, while Dustin has seemingly been relegated to sitting cross-legged on the floor.

“Uncle Dusty, come sit next to me!” Harris chirps, nearly knocking your plate out of your hand as he bounces onto your lap. His curls tickle your chin as he leans over to take a bite of his dinner, dragging the cheese halfway off of the crust before Eddie holds it in place.

Dustin obliges, squishing in next to you with an apologetic laugh, but you don’t mind. Dialogue melds together, with people seamlessly leaping from one conversation to another. Robin poses the question of what everyone thinks Ettie’s first word will be, which prompts Wayne to tell the story about how Eddie tried so hard to get Harris to say dada, only for the boy to scream out “SHIT!” in the middle of Bradley’s Big Buy.

Jeff looks across the room at his tiny daughter. “Please don’t let that be your first word,” he jokingly begs her, picking a greasy pepperoni piece from his slice and dropping it in his mouth. While he’s preoccupied, Viv steals a bite of the crust.

“Are you all going to the July 4th carnival next week?” Eddie asks through a cheesy mouthful.

Everyone except Dustin answers in the affirmative. “Flying back home tomorrow,” he says, a round of booing from the group forcing him to pause mid-statement, “but Suzie and I are—hey, not cool!” He swats at a crumpled napkin that Eddie lobs at his head. “Suzie and I are going to try and visit for my mom’s birthday in August,” he finishes with a pointed look.

Harris tilts his head back so you can see straight into his flared nostrils. “Ms. Sweetheart, you’re coming to the carnival with us, right?”

“Of course! What rides are we gonna go on?” you ask, his little feet kicking at your calves as joy flows through his body.

“The Ferris Wheel! Me an’ Daddy always go on that, an’ now you can come with us!”

He and Eddie always go on the Ferris Wheel. It’s a tradition that they share, and now they’re allowing you in. Now you’re part of it.

You smile, kissing his forehead in a celebration of belonging and delight. “That sounds like a lot of fun,” you agree. “Do you think Daddy will play the games and win a prize for us?”

Eddie groans at your suggestion. “Those booths are all rigged. Every last one of ‘em.”

“I dunno,” Jess says teasingly, wiping Ettie’s chin with a cloth bib, “I won a stuffed animal from the whack-a-mole last year—”

“Oh, yeah! And I beat the Test Your Strength one,” Jeff adds slyly, getting a rise out of proving Eddie wrong.

Eddie throws his voice to a falsetto, mocking his friend’s words. “I beat the Test Your Strength one,” he echoes nasally, chuckling when Jeff scoops up the napkin previously thrown at Dustin and hurls it towards Eddie.

The rest of the evening continues like this, silly banter and recalled stories that end up being cut short or watered down for the impressionable ears listening in. It’s love in its many forms: between partners, between parents and their children, between friends. Each peal of laughter, each shared smile, each memory made adds to its foundation; brick by brick, layer by layer.

The pink hues of sunset darken to indigo and eventually settle into a night sky, the moon shining brightly and unobscured by clouds. Eddie, Jeff, and Dustin finally manage to put the race car bed back together—and just in time. Harris’s yawns become more frequent until he can no longer fight sleep, dozing off with his cheek pressed against your chest. Soft snores leave his slightly agape mouth.

“I feel the same way,” Wayne jokes, standing up from his chair and stretching his back with a grimace. “It’s been a long day.”

The group nods in agreement, quietly gathering their belongings and saying good-bye.

“Thank you all for helping today,” you say, handing out hugs while keeping Harris sound asleep. He stirs but doesn’t fully wake up, even with all of the commotion. “We really appreciate it.”

Eddie seconds your sentiment. “It means a lot to us. We know we owe you a lot more than just dinner—”

“You guys are family,” Viv interrupts with a smile, gently rocking a sleeping Ettie in her arms. “This is what family does.”

A calloused hand rests on your shoulder from behind the couch; you lean your head on Eddie’s forearm and give it a small kiss. The delicate hairs brush against your lips, and you relax into his touch.

Your guests file out, already making plans to meet up at the carnival. Eddie closes the door behind them, insisting that he can beat Jeff at the Test Your Strength and demanding that his friend buy him a funnel cake when he does.

There’s a soft murmuring coming from Harris’s room, and Eddie walks as quietly as he can. He watches silently, shoulder pressed against the doorframe, as you place his son’s head onto the pillow. The crisp sheet is draped over his sleeping body, followed by the Buzz Lightyear comforter you’d bought at Kmart especially for him. Harris stirs for a moment to grab onto the blankets, tugging them to his chin and scrunching up his legs to assume a cozier position. He lets out a content sigh and slips back into his dream.

“Good night, kiddo,” you whisper, kissing his mop of curls. You look around the room, so different from when it belonged to Grandma. It seems larger, his race car bed taking up much less space than her queen-size bed did. A Lego set lies where her shoe rack once stood. The top of his dresser is covered in Hot Wheels, rather than the makeup and jewelry that Grandma had on hers.

But it’s a good kind of different, one that comes with the natural ebb and flow of life. It brings inevitable change, and it’s your choice whether to embrace it or run away.

“You’re a natural at this bedtime thing, y’know.” Eddie’s voice, low and soft, places you back in the moment. He holds his arms out for you to nestle into them, holding you as close as he can. His thumb caresses your shoulder blade. “It normally takes a couple of stories, half a dozen pee breaks, and a horse tranquilizer to get him down.”

“I think being completely exhausted from moving helped,” you laugh into his chest. “And I’m right there with him. Man and woman might have to postpone their fire-making.”

Eddie’s chuckle vibrates against you. “Yeah, it wouldn’t be my best performance. Wanna make this one really good, since it’s a special occasion and everything.” He closes Harris’s door and leads you to the bedroom you two now share. “We gotta christen this bad boy.”

“We’ve had sex on this bed a million times.” You recall the ways his lips traced over your body, eager to memorize every inch of skin.

“But that’s when it was only your bed,” he points out. “Now it’s ours.”

Ours. Our bed, our home, our family. Ours.

You can barely change into pajamas before you’re falling asleep; Eddie manages to slip off his jeans and shirt, clad in plaid boxers and nothing else, before crashing down into the bed you now share. His arm slips around your waist, fingers reflexively dancing up your shirt, while he buries his head in the nape of your neck.

When daylight breaks and the sun streams through the gaps in the blinds, Eddie has assumed a starfish position, blankets flung to the edge of the bed in what must have been a middle-of-the-night move. You’re still dozing, but he knows he has to wake you if he wants to sneak in some alone time before his son wakes up.

“Morning, gorgeous.” His breath tickles under your earlobe, pulling you close to him. You hum, not quite awake but no longer dreaming. “C’mon, wake up, pretty thing.” He licks his lips before kissing the exposed skin of your shoulder blades.

Wiping sleep from your eyes, you turn over and face him. Your mouth lazily finds his, the cotton fabric of your pajama top fisted in his grasp. The outline of his morning wood is visible through his boxer shorts; it presses into your thigh as though greedily searching for your warmth. “You always wake up this hard?” you tease, fingertips already fiddling with the worn elastic waistband and dipping towards the treasure beneath. The scruff of his pubic hair grazes your knuckles.

“Only when I dream of you,” he mumbles with a cheeky grin, climbing on top of you while shedding his only clothing article. The boxers fall to the floor unceremoniously.

“Smooth.”

“I thought so.” Both hands cup your cheeks; you expect him to kiss you again, but he just gazes into your eyes. “Love waking up next to you.”

It draws a memory of the first morning you’d spent together; an inadvertent sleepover that culminated in one poorly-crafted lie and two broken hearts. He looks at you now, tired and yet still beautiful. How could I have let her slip by? How did I almost miss all of this?

You take the lead this time, arching your back so your torso melds into his, connected by desire. Eddie has your tank top off in a heartbeat, tongue swiping over your nipples the instant they’re visible.

“Perfect,” Eddie groans, making his way down your abdomen. He places your legs on top of his shoulders, lips delicately fluttering over your clit so he can lick a broad stripe up your labia. “I know we should be having a quickie, but I can’t turn down breakfast in bed.” His face is buried in your pussy, inhaling your scent and committing it to memory.

You giggle at his phrasing. If you question it, you know he’ll make a comment about you being good enough to eat. You give in instead, letting him ravish you just the way you both crave.

One finger, then two, slip into your waiting cunt while his mouth focuses on your clit. You’re dripping with your arousal and his saliva; you bite your lower lip to stifle the noises begging to be heard.

“Eddie, Eddie,” you croak, trying to keep your voice down. “I’m so close, s-so close…”

Eddie says nothing, continuing to worship the taste of you. You can feel his victorious smile as you cry out his name in orgasmic bliss, toes flexing just as he brings you down from the high.

“Need you, fuckin’ Christ,” he breathes, tempering the stimulation pulsing through his cock with a few short tugs.

You nod, already electrified at the prospect of being split open on him. He sinks into you with a muted moan, savoring the way you envelop him within your warmth. “All mine, Sweetheart; you’re all mine.”

“Mhm,” you manage. Your fingernails dig into his upper back with a force that will surely leave crescent indents in his skin. “I’m all yours. Always will be.”

His thumb runs along your jaw and he smiles. She’s all mine.

The ridges of his dick form a delectable friction along your walls. Each thrust is a mutual give and take, an exchanging of selves with every breath.

“I love you.” Eddie’s impossibly beautiful like this, hands holding your hips steady while sweat drips from his forehead onto yours. He brings your fourth finger between his lips; you can feel his tongue claiming it as his own. “And I’m gonna put a ring on this pretty little finger of yours, okay? Just want it to be perfect for you.”

You weave your fingers into his sleep-mussed curls and kiss him. “Don’t need perfect. I’ll marry you without a ring.” Whatever elaborate fairytale wedding you’d been crafting in your head is suddenly wholly unnecessary; all that matters is that you and Eddie commit to one another. But you know him well enough to not question his devotion to you. If Eddie Munson wants to give you the proposal of a lifetime, then that’s what he’s going to do.

There will be no unkept promises this morning, no shattered hearts to mend.

He can’t hold back any longer, spilling into you with punctuating grunts. You receive every last drop gratefully, a part of him within you, and you finish for the second time today.

“I meant it.” He gently withdraws from inside you, both of you mourning the loss of the other’s body. “When I said I’m gonna marry you, I meant it.”

“I know.”

“Good.” Eddie grins, laying on his side and propping himself up on his elbow. Sweat glistens along the sparse hairs curling over his bare chest. “Are you hungry? I know I worked up an appetite.”

You kiss his nose, biting the end teasingly. He yelps in mock pain, so you kiss it again. “I am, but I have to be honest—between all the unpacking and sex, I don’t have the energy to make breakfast.”

“Me neither,” he admits with a laugh. “Why don’t we shower, wake up Sleeping Beauty,” he nudges his head towards Harris’s room, “and go to the diner.” He stretches and stands, eyes drawn to the nightstand, where the framed photo from Wayne leans against a porcelain lamp. Happiness captured with the click of a Kodak.

You’re smiling, thinking about sharing silver dollar pancakes with Harris again just like you used to do with Grandma. Somewhere along the way, you grew from the child to the adult in that scenario, passing on a tradition you never even knew had been started.

“That sounds amazing.” As you say it aloud, something in addition to hunger gnaws at your stomach. You’ve been putting it off, hiding from the truth, but you want to stop pretending. You want to feel everything that comes with accepting reality. Without sorrow, you would never recognize joy. Without grief, you won’t understand the depths of our love beyond the physical plain.

“Could we make a quick pit stop first?”

Though it’s still morning, the late June humidity has your shirt clinging to you, sweat beading along the collar and around your bra clasp. You close the car door behind you; Eddie shuffles to open the back door for Harris. The little boy unbuckles his seatbelt and hops out of the booster seat, glancing between you and his dad. You take his left hand and Eddie takes his right as you walk over to the stone.

“Hi, Grandma,” you whisper, crouching down to better see the engraving. Gently, your fingers dance over the etched words: Beloved wife, mother, grandmother, and friend. “I know I haven’t been by to visit you yet, but I’m here now.” You muster up a small smile. “And I brought Eddie and Harris with me. They…they loved you, too.”

You falter for a moment, unsure how to proceed. Eddie’s hand rubs your upper back, not caring about how perspiration-soaked it is.

“Do you want some privacy?” he murmurs. “Harris and I can wait by the car. You take as long as you need.”

You nod, watching them walk hand in hand to give you your space to grieve. Filling your lungs with a deep breath, you speak what’s been in your heart.

“I need to thank you,” you start, talking directly to where her name is engraved, “for a lot of things. But I guess, um, the most important is how you taught me to forgive without taking shit—can I swear in a cemetery?—from people.” Your laugh is heavy with the weight of remembrance.

“I miss you. A lot,” you continue, tears now spilling freely from your eyes. “I miss doing puzzles together. I miss cooking together. I’m going to try and make your applesauce for Thanksgiving this year. I think Harris will really like it.” You swallow thickly. “If you’d met him before you got sick, you would’ve adored him. He’s got the biggest heart of any kid I’ve ever met.”

You’re finding it easier to talk; everything you need to say is coming naturally and without hesitation.

“He’s…he’s living in your room. I guess, technically, it’s his room now. But a little part of me will always consider it your room, too. And I think that’s okay.” You nod, confirming to yourself that it’s all part of the process. “He keeps asking me and Eddie when we’re going to get married. To be honest, I’m kind of wondering the same thing.” You smile at the thought of marrying Eddie, maybe even legally adopting Harris, if that’s something they also want. “I’m not in a rush, though, but I really do believe that Eddie’s the one. He’s my person, and I’m his. So, yeah, I’m definitely hoping that he proposes sooner rather than later.

“I’m sorry it took me so long to visit. I always thought losing you wouldn’t be as hard as it was, because it felt like I had already lost you to dementia.” It feels silly to admit aloud, but it’s the truth. “I should’ve known that it wouldn’t be easy. But I promise, I’ll stop by more often, and I’ll have plenty of cute Harris stories to tell you.”

There’s just a bit more that you need to share before you can go. “I love you, Grandma. And…thank you for loving me, too.”

You stand up, pressing on your knees to ensure your balance. Taking one last look at the stone, you run your fingers over the jagged marble and turn back towards Eddie and Harris.

The little boy is perched on his father’s hip, squinting into the sunlight to make out your form. “You ready, Ms. Sweetheart?”

You blink through misty eyes, staring at the two people in front of you. Ten months ago, if someone had told you that your one-night stand at a dive bar would end up being the love of your life, you would have laughed in their face. But the universe does what it must to remain in balance, and it doesn’t humor any arguments.

Inhale, exhale, repeat. This is where you’re meant to be. This is who you’re meant to be: a partner, a friend, an almost-mommy.

“Yeah,” you say finally, the tears clearing from your vision and a genuine smile forming on your lips. “I’m ready.”

💚

#eddie munson #eddie stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie x you #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #fanfic #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things #tui

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accio-victuuri · 2 months

Text

okay, you know what, i will talk about it now before i get buried in watching the show and editing. plus i also work to do lol. anyway, what cpfs are screaming about is this portion of the live stream where the host said : wish the both of them can stand side by side on top of the snowy mountain ; referring to the characters on the show, wei ruolai and shen tunan. it’s actually fine of you think about it, this saying is not all exclusive to bxgs and bjyx. maybe she was just saying it since it applied to the conversation and her hopes for the characters.

but what gets us 👀

1. the host’s reaction lol. how she went out of frame like she is embarrassed or maybe realized what she said. but i don’t think it was said with malicious intent. i hope she doesn’t get attacked.

2. WANG YIBO’S SMILE WTF. Dude. I’m out here poker face-ing my way when this was said but he was all obvious and 😏😏😏 like he knows and appreciates what was said. he was smile-y and sort of talkative and gracious in the live, but this smile was something else. it was so freakin sweet! helppp! he is not making it easier for us. you can say he appreciates it and that’s why he smiled but this is someone who definitely knows what that phrase means and it’s relation to him. cpfs took light signs of that phrase in CQL fanmeets and beyond — so it’s not impossible for him to understand. and remember that TTXS episode? he said that phrase too. lol.

for all the insinuation ( from haters ) that he doesn’t appreciate cpfs or even his time during cql, this smile says different. no words are needed. and that’s what yibo is as a person, he is more about actions.

3. IQIYI deleted this part in the playback of the live. LOL. they are saying it has to be removed because the line is from CQL, trademarked by Tencent. but i have a different take. they don’t wanna anger some people — a lot of them, watching the show. they don’t want a cotti coffee incident. it’s fine. i’m not gonna argue with toddlers who frequently have tantrums. i’m gonna be the adult here and let it be. 😌😌😌

i hope this doesn’t go on HS. i would rather this one below stay up, just to avoid drama.

we know the truth, we always did. thankful for this very sweet candy from our captain today and will continue to support WoF. 🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼

并肩于雪山之巅 // stand side by side on top of the snowy mountain // BJYXSZD ❤️💛💚

#yizhan #bjyx #there is no science here i’m just clowning like i always do

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sanjisprincesswifey · 5 months

Note

Happy Holidays!! ❤️💚 Can I get Law, Ace, or Kid for Secret Santa and a female reader? I LOVE your Law content btw 😌

happy holidays to you! thank you so much for enjoying my content :)

you’ve received law + christmas lover x grinch character

❆ : plotless, law is geeked over you<3 female reader, 800+ words.

the rounds of repetitious holiday songs echo off the wall, truly the cherry on top of what was the most obnoxious alliance ever. no matter how far law had tried to hide, the sound followed him so he settled for resting in the crow’s nest.

he thought luffy was a nuisance on the regular, but while he was pumped full of christmas cookies and eggnog? it was a migraine waiting to happen. the strong, overbearing scent of pine and cedar from the newly added christmas tree certainly did him no favors in alleviating his pain.

it’s not that law hated christmas, he just…could do without all the joy sometimes.

his two fingers rub his temples in a circular motion, eyes following the migraine in question bouncing around, carelessly throwing glass ornaments on the tree.

someone then catches his eye, your adorable smile drawing all the attention away from luffy.

he watches franky lift you up, placing the star on top of the tree though if he was being honest, your beauty is far more radiant than any star they could’ve picked.

law drops his smile as soon as he realizes what he was doing. this was the fourth time this week he caught himself staring at you, talking to you more than he probably talked to his own crew, or thinking about you so much he swore his head would explode.

he didn’t realize forming an alliance meant enduring the biggest distraction he had ever met. especially not one so pretty…or smart…or funny…

a ring from his miniature transponder snail breaks his train of thought, a visible red tint flushing his cheeks. the embarrassment that overwhelms his body is painful even in his own company.

“watcha doing up there?” your silky sweet voice calls from the other end. he curses himself for how quickly the smile reappears across his lips, too busy feeling his swooning heartbeat to be embarrassed any longer.

this playful banter had ensued the minute he joined the sunny, and though he hoped it to be a subtle requiting of his affection, law decided to opt for sanity.

she’s flirty with everyone, her and the cook act the same way, and related excuses brushed away the ridiculous idea of reciprocated feelings.

“loosing my mind,” he jokes, thanking himself for his occasional sense of humor when he sees the corner of your lips perk up.

law can hear your laugh in his head, the sweet sound traveling like the melody of his favorite song. his lip nearly bleeds biting back a smile that would hurt the apples of his cheeks.

“i miss you,” you admit.

if the droop of his jaw and widening of his eyes weren’t any indicator of his surprise, when he mutters a “really?” that had to have given him away.

“of course i do, now come down here.”

his eyes roll to the back of his head as response, masking the tug at his heartstrings knowing you longed for him to join you.

by the indicator in your tone, it was clear that you were not asking; it was a demand, and law never took demands. but as your arms drag across your chest, bottom lip puffing out as dramatically as you could, he finds his mind near empty as he pathetically stands from his seat and makes his descent.

a sparkling grin is plastered on your face the minute he steps onto the lawn of the sunny and it takes everything in him not to return the gesture, and act annoyed like he would had it been anyone else.

“here’s this.”

grabbing his arm, you place a bright red santa hat in his hand. he stares at the festive headpiece with knitted eyebrows, avoiding his original instinct to decline the offer.

“you wear it,” you clarify after a couple seconds of silence.

law examines the item with hesitance, though everyone was decorated with similarly, flashy attire, this seemed a bit unbecoming of him.

“it’s easy,” you pander, removing the white mushroom on his head and replacing it with your gift. “see! you look so—“

“hey, traffy! getting into the holiday spirit, huh?” luffy laughs, gaining everyone’s attention along with him.

as the rest of the crew joins in both complimenting and teasing their friend, law can’t help but fixate on the fact that your hand is still holding onto him. your fingers are snuggly gripping onto his left bicep, while you managed to link your arms together.

the lump in his throat feels so heavy, he can’t even reprimand all the playful banter he would normally hate recieving.

your free hand goes up to cup his goatee covered chin, giving him no option other than to face you.

when law turns to you, eyes so soft and half-lidded, he swore he could’ve kissed you. he didn’t care that all these people were here and would observe him adhere to such juvenile tendencies of romance.

“don’t mind them, you look really cute,” you affirm, eyes delicately flicking between his own and his lips.

now he knows there was no way he could’ve misread that.

all it took was simply joining you in your crew’s festivities and you were already all over him? if that’s all it took, law could easily fall in love with this holiday.

likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated! (✿◠‿◠)

#trafalgar law #trafalgar law x reader #law x reader #one piece #one piece x reader

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lokideservesahug · 1 month

Text

For How Long!?!

Chapter 5: A private and a public celebration

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Pairings: Logan Sargeant x reader, Oscar Piastri x reader (platonic), Arthur Leclerc x reader (platonic), Mick Schumacher x reader (platonic)...

Warnings: One indirect mention of a dead body. Y/N is down bad for Nico Rosberg (honestly that's so real). Oscar being a pain as usual!

Notes: So this quite self indulgent due to the fact that Y/N has a huge crush on Nico Rosberg. I apologise if that's not your thing though.

Summary: During the Chinese GP, a certain Y/N Y/L/N's long time celebrity crush arrives to the paddock...

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☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

Yourusername

Yourusername: Today I experienced one of the greatest things of my life. I spent time with the person that I value most in the world and had an overall spectacular time. That and I had my 6th anniversary with my boyfriend...

But jokes aside. Today has been truly spectacular from meeting my idol to having one of the most enjoyable and intimate evenings with the love of my life. I couldn't have asked for a better day.

Liked by logansargeant, Oscarpiastri, Nicorosberg and 1,298,567 others

View all 3,678 comments

Nicorosberg: It was a pleasure to meet you.

↳ Yourusername: Thank you Mr Rosberg sir. I can't pit into words how much of an honour it was to finally meet you.

↳ User 1: Y/N met her biggest idol/celeb crush and still manages to keep her cool. Respect.

↳ Yourusername: Only externally. I am still shaking!!!

User 2: Y/N's bf must be punching the air that he still managed to be on the post when Y/N finally met NR...

↳ User 3: Honestly I don't blame him. I think it's astounding that he managed to get her away from Nico to have a nice, romantic dinner

User 4: NICO × Y/N CROSSOVER FINALLY!?!?!? I CAN'T BELIEVE IT!!!

↳ Yourusername: I know. I myself still can't believe it tbh

↳ User 5: Honestly so true queen. I wouldn't be able to keep myself together if I met Britney either.

Logansargeant: I'm so happy that you finally got to make one of your dreams come true 💙

↳ Yourusername: Couldn't have done it without your constant twitter checking💚

↳ User 6: The hearts omd.

↳User 7: Y/N is stronger than me cus if Logan Sargeant sent me a heart, I'd be dropping everything to be with him bf be damned

↳ User 8: This is so sweet and the fact that Logan helped her to reach something she's wanted for so long is adorable

Yourusername, Logansargeant liked

User 9: Does anyone think that her bf looks like logan in the last slide

↳ User 10: No need to be delusional xoxo

↳ User 11: Wait why does it actually look like him though

↳ User 12: Miss Y/N do you have something to tell us?🤨

Liked by Oscarpiastri

User 13: Again!?!? Oscar what are you doing here!?!

-°•°•°•°•--•°•°•°•°--°•°•°•°•--•°•°•°•°-

Thank you for reading and the copious amounts if support on this series!

As always, likes, rebligs and especially feedback is always welcome!!

Taglist: @nikfigueiredo @mysoulispainted @leclercings @d3kstar @hiireadstuff @a-beaverhausen @nichmeddar @lozzamez3 @stinkyjax @littlesatanicassholebitch @insanedeathwish @a-disturbing-self-reflection @ems-alexandra @marymustdie

#f1 #formula 1 #f1 x reader #logan sargeant #f1 fanfic #logan sargent x reader #logan sargeant fic #logan sargeant smau #logan sargeant x you #f1 x you #f1 smau #logan sargeant x reader #nico rosberg #not really but also #nico rosberg x reader #ldah's writing

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bratzforchris · 2 months

Note

Hi! I hope this isn't too weird, but I was wondering if you could write a fic where Matt is autistic? I see myself a lot in him and the podcast episode where they kept calling him "Miserable Matt" made me think about myself a lot. So maybe a fluffy hurt/comfort fic where he just gets tired of it because it's something he can't help and reader helps him through it with his special interests? It's okay if not! Thank you 💞

My Person, M. Sturniolo

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*

Summary: In which the best cure for everything is cuddles and special interests<3

Pairing: Matt x gender neutral reader

Warnings: Mentions of autistic meltdown, going nonverbal, Nick and Chris lowkey suck here 😭

Word Count: 1.4k

A/N: Thank you for the request! Please remember that my writing is fictional--I am not saying or assuming that Matt is autistic and I definitely don't think Nick and Chris would act this way in real life. It's just a story :) Now, please enjoy 💚

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*

“Miserable Matt” this and “Miserable Matt” that. It was almost sickening the way he was constantly the target of Nick and Chris’s jokes. Deep down, Matt knew his brothers didn’t really mean any harm, but that didn’t make his feelings any less hurt. He never purposely tried to be sad or depressing when they were filming, it was just kind of the way his natural personality was.

Being autistic, his voice tended to have a flatter affect than most people’s. Even when he was filled with autistic joy, his voice rarely got louder or higher. Usually, his brothers were quite understanding of his disability, always standing up for Matt and making sure he was treated fairly, but then there were days like today, where they were filming an episode for Cut the Camera, and Nick and Chris just couldn’t stop the jokes from rolling off their tongues.

“I dunno,” Matt said quietly, but with a smile, fidgeting with his hands. “I just like to be alone sometimes. It gives me the creative freedom that I don’t always get from other people, y’know?”

“Oh here we go again,” Chris snorted. “Miserable Matt back at again with his depression poetry.”

“That’s not poetry.” Matt grumbled, trying to hide the hurt in his voice.

The triplets were currently discussing where they got their video ideas from, and how they stayed motivated to make content, even when they didn’t feel like it. Of course Chris and Nick had ‘normal people’ answers, like going out with friends or going on vacation. But being autistic, Matt didn’t recharge that way. He preferred to be alone to gather his thoughts and reset his mind. So of course, that was made fun of.

-`ღ´-

“So, what do you guys think about the edits people make of you?” Nick asked. “Love or hate them?”

“It depends,” Chris shrugged. “Some of them make me think ‘Damn, I’m fine’, but others are kinda…weird. No offense, guys!” he threw his hands up quickly, smiling at the camera.

“I like them. I think it’s sweet that someone takes time out of their day to edit me.” Matt smiled.

“Yeah,” Nick groaned. “Cause yours are all sad and depressing and ‘poor baby Matt’ while a song from folklore plays in the background.”

“That is so not true.” Matt protested.

“‘Poor Matt and his autism’ while some sad song plays in the background. You like it because it validates you.” Chris chuckled.

“That’s not true!” Matt was starting to get teary eyed, but he couldn’t help it; he was sensitive. “Some of them are nice.”

“Miserable Matt’s gotta watch sad edits of himself to fulfill his aesthetic.” Nick laughed.

All was silent for a moment, until Matt finally spoke, looking at his brothers with watery eyes. “Why are you guys so mean to me?”

“Matt, come on. We’re joking.” Chris rolled his eyes.

“But it’s not a joke,” Matt whispered, avoiding their eyes. “You guys use me as the butt of the joke all the time. ‘Matt’s too quiet’, ‘Miserable Matt’, ‘Matt and his anxiety’. It’s annoying, okay?”

“It’s just a joke, Matt,” Nick tried to explain calmly. “We don’t mean any harm.”

“Do you? Because last time I checked, making fun of someone’s disability or mental health problems is harm.”

“Don’t be like that, bro.” Chris tried to put a comforting, ‘olive branch’ hand on Matt’s shoulder.

“No,” Matt stood up, throwing his headphones off. “I’m done. Finish recording without me.”

The boy quickly exited the room, leaving a stunned Nick and Chris in his wake. Matt didn’t usually lose his cool like that when he knew the camera was rolling, but he hadn’t been sleeping well lately and the last thing he wanted was a recording of him bordering on a meltdown. Even if it could be edited out, he really didn’t want that immortalized forever. They were embarrassing enough as it was.

Matt retreated to his room, anxiously playing with the tangle that he kept in the pocket of his hoodie for when he needed a fidget toy. The calm, woodsy aesthetic of his bedroom relaxed him somewhat as he stepped inside his safe haven. It wasn’t enough, though. He needed someone who got it, who knew it was like to feel different. And so, he pulled out his phone, quickly texting you.

Matt: babe, can we go to the park?

You looked up from your book when Matt’s text came through. As an autistic couple, you had set up a ‘code word’ for when either one of you felt like they were on the verge of having an autistic meltdown, and that was Matt’s. You quickly gathered your things, speeding over to the triplets house as Matt sent you a flurry of texts, somewhat describing what had happened.

When you let yourself in with the key they had given you, Nick and Chris looked up, surprised by your entrance. “Where’s Matt?” You asked.

“In his room.” Chris mumbled, not looking up from his phone.

You didn’t have the energy, nor were you in the mood to deal with the boys right now, so you quickly pushed past them, hurrying up the stairs. “Can I come in, sweetie?” You asked when you reached Matt’s door, knocking softly.

You were quite worried about the silence until your phone pinged with a text of mhm from Matt. You realized that meant that he was probably nonverbal at the moment, and you hastily let yourself into the dark room. Matt had drawn the curtains, turning on one small lamp with a soft, orange glow. Your boyfriend was huddled up under his weighted blanket, headphones on and softly stroking Mr. Wrinkleton’s fur. You let out a breath when you noticed that he seemed much more relaxed than when he had first texted you, but that didn’t stop you from missing the tear tracks on his cheeks.

“Hi sweet boy.” You spelled into his palm as you softly set down on the bed beside him.

Matt grabbed his communication cards off the nightstand, riffling through them for a moment, before he showed you the one that said ‘Can I have a hug?’. Without another word, you pulled your boyfriend into a deep pressure hug, knowing they were his favorites. They made his body feel perfectly aligned and usually helped calm him after a meltdown. After a moment, Matt pulled out of your grip, slipping his headphones off.

“We don’t have to talk about it, hun. We’ll work it out with Nick and Chris later, okay? You just relax, baby,” You said gently. “Are you hungry, hun?”

Matt shook his head, grabbing your palm and spelling out ‘I just want you’ in your palm since he didn’t have a card for that. You smiled, placing a kiss on his cheek. This was one of your favorite parts about being a neurodivergent couple. You just got each other in a way that other people didn’t. You could sit in companionable silence and never feel awkward or bored. In your embrace of him, you noticed that Matt had slid a card towards you that read ‘Can we watch nature videos?’.

One of Matt’s special interests and overall favorite things, was nature, but especially the forest and woodland animals. He could watch the soothing videos of the forest in its natural state for hours and not get bored, which had led you two to make a special card just for that when you were making his communication cards together. Your boy smiled as you stood up, grabbing the remote for his TV, before flicking it to one of Matt’s favorite, ten-hour-long videos of the forest and its animals on YouTube.

“I love you, babe.” You told him as you both got comfortable under his large weighted blanket.

‘I love you!!!!!’ Matt explained, showing you a card.

The extra exclamation points had been at his insistence. He insisted that he loved you more than anyone else and needed you to know that. You couldn’t lie when you said that that had made you smile. You were each other’s first significant other, and Matt made you feel so completely special. Even now, as you laid here together, not speaking but cuddling as you watched videos of chipmunks and deer, you knew that Matt was your person.

tags ♡: @aemrsy @jake-and-johnnies-slut @oobleoob @mattsfavwh3re @melguilbert @idek3000hi @faygo-frog @mayhem-72

note ♡: if you'd like to be added to my taglist, click here <3

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devilevlls · 19 days

Note

May I request a #2 barbatos and mc? Also take care of yourself!

Heey! Thank you for the request 💚 Hope you like the quick drabble!

Please tell me, this is not why you woke me up 🍨

Barbatos is caught off guard when MC unexpectedly wakes him up in the dead of night with a surprising request.

"Barbatos…" The soft murmur was the first thing the demon heard before being jolted awake by a sudden weight on his chest, followed by a flurry of movement.

Before he could fully process what was happening, MC had thrown themselves on top of him, wrapping their arms around his waist in a tight hug and nuzzling against his neck with an eagerness that was both endearing and perplexing. Barbatos, still groggy from sleep and not fully awake for all this commotion, blinked in confusion.

"You know… I'm craving some sweets…" MC's voice was a mixture of playfulness and longing as they pouted, shaking his body gently to keep him alert. "Please make one of those hellish Parfaits for me…"

Barbatos let out a soft sigh, his voice low, raspy, and still heavy with sleep. "Please tell me, this is not why you woke me up,"he murmured, his brow furrowing slightly as he struggled to fully wake up.

The demon butler looked at MC for a long moment, trying to discern whether their request was a joke, but the excitement in their eyes told him otherwise. With a resigned sigh, he reached for his DDD to check the time, his eyes widening when he saw that it was 3 AM.

"MC, you shouldn't be awake at this late hour. Humans need their rest," Barbatos advised gently, concern lacing his words as he shifted to sit up in bed.

"Pretty please…" MC's voice was soft and pleading as they continued to nuzzle against his neck, their warmth seeping into his skin.

With a reluctant smile, Barbatos relented. "Alright, alright. But you must promise me that you won't be too loud. We wouldn't want to wake the young lord," he said, reaching for a warm robe and slipping it on before extending his hand to help MC up.

Taking his hand eagerly, MC nodded with excitement, their eyes shining with anticipation as they walked hand in hand through the dark corridors of the demon lord's castle, guided by the soft glow of torches lining the walls.

As they made their way to the kitchen, Barbatos couldn't help but feel a warmth bloom in his chest at the sight of MC's infectious enthusiasm. Despite the late hour and the impending task of preparing a devilishly decadent dessert, there was nowhere else he would rather be than by their side, indulging in their sweet cravings and savoring the moments of quiet intimacy that bound them together in the depths of the night.

Drabble prompts you can use in your requests!

#obey me #obey me shall we date #omswd #obey me one master to rule them all #evllsposts #obey me writing #obey me drabble #obey me barbatos #barbatos obey me #om barbatos #obey me fluff #obey me scenarios #evllsasks #This one made my heart warm up #💚#he is such a gentleman

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theyhavetakenovermylife · 5 months

Note

hiii are you by chance writing a part 3 for anger?! you write so well for 2007 and it makes me so happy because no one write for them anymore 😭

BUT IF YOU ARE IM SUPER EXCITED FOR WHAT YOULL COME UP WITH and there’s just so much suspense… CLIFFHANGER😹💋

Anger: part 3 (18+) (Angst)

2007!Raphael x reader x 2007!Leonardo

Part 1 Part 2 / Leonardo's Ending Raphael’s Ending

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A/N: Thank you so much!💚 I’m so happy that you like it💕 I’ve been wanting to make a part 3 for sooo long, but I’ve had no idea how to finish it. I’ve now decided to make two different endings; one for Raph and one for Leo, because I can’t choose one myself, so I don’t expect anybody else to be able to pick😂 Anyway, Raph and Leo’s endings will probably first be posted on the other side of Christmas.

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After the events on your roof, you, Raph and Leo are shaken. You need time to think, and Leo and Raph try to come to terms.

Warnings: Feelings of betrayal, feelings of guilt, emotions of sadness and regret, memories of sex. Spelling

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Raph ran as fast as he could, getting him as far as his feet could get him. He leaped across roofs, jumping over alleys, fighting the prickling feeling in his eyes. His mind was spinning, his thoughts in a chaotic mess as he remembered the look in Leo’s eyes, and fear upon your face. It hurt him to think of it. How angry he was. How he had wanted to hurt Leo. The words he had said to him. All of it came together and made his chest and stomach hurt. He felt nauseous and lightheaded. He had hurt Leo, his own brother. And he had hurt you, the girl he loved, the girl he had spent so much time dreaming about. He had fucked up.

Caught up in his running thoughts, Raph didn’t notice the bump on the roof, before stumbling his foot against it. He fell to the roof’s surface with a veil of agony, landing on his side, his arm slamming against the hard surface underneath him, causing a piercing pain to erupt through his elbow. The fall broke the barrier he had fought to keep up, finally letting a sob he had held back slip out. After the first came out, the rest came like water bursting through an open dam. Tears fell down his face as he slammed his fist against the roof, sadness and anger flowing through his every being, with no clear way to direct them at.

Ignoring the pain coursing through his foot and arm, Raphael stood up, before hurrying in the only direction he could think of. Home. Even with all the anger and confusion that stormed through his body, Raph just wanted to go home.

—

The silence Raph had left behind on the roof was heavy. Neither you nor Leo said a word, still shaken from the events that hand just transpired. Your legs shook as you sat down on the roof, your head in your hands as you took in a shaky breath. It was as if the world came crashing down on you. You did not know what to think, and you did not know what to believe. It was as if the world around you was shaking on its own, and you were just being thrown around, unable to stop it.

Leo sat up, breathless, unsure of what to do with himself. What to think… What to say… What to do… He felt heavy and cold, his body shivering and his head slightly spinning. But then he heard you, your rugged breath and the subs that were threatening in your throat. He felt a sudden need to comfort you, just like he had done before he left for South America. Hold you close against him while whispering sweet nothings into your ear. But he hesitated, unsure if you would welcome him if he did so. As much as he wanted to comfort you, he could not deny the small pain in his chest. He felt betrayed. But the sight of your tears softened him enough, to the point where he dared sit down beside you.

His throat knotted together when you looked up at him, tears down your cheeks as you sobbed. “I’m sorry, Leo. I thought you were gone”.

“You… you have nothing to be sorry about”, Leo managed to get out of his closing throat. His fists tightening and loosening in his lap, as he tried to calm his own breathing. Though Leo felt betrayed by you, he had to collect himself and remember, you knew nothing. He was the one that stopped writing to you and his own family. He was the one that left you all in the unknown, with no clue about his well being.

But yet, there was one thought that kept pushing its way forward to the front. The words Raph had yelled at him. They taunted him and did exactly as Raph had intended for them to do; make Leo question. Make him unsure about himself and his own abilities. It was a selfish thought, he knew that, but he just had to ask. He just had to know.

“Was- was he better than me?”, Leo asked, not being able to bring his eyes to yours. He tried to swallow the knot in his throat, but it just wouldn’t go away.

You hesitated, not sure what to say. Because in all honesty, you did not know. You did not know if Leo was better than Raph, or if Raph was any better then Leo. They were just so different. Two different personalities. Two different people. Each unique in their own way, they both had hurt you.

But was this really all it was about? Who fucked you the best? Which one of them made you cum and scream the most?

Although Leo never made you scream, he kept you close to the edge, feeling your legs shake as you got close to your high, only to retreat, enjoying your whimpering, before continuing whatever he had been doing. Fingering you while watching you intensely, or eating you out with the skilled tongue of his, before finally, after what felt like heavenly torture, he would fuck you with intens passion, watching your face and whisper sweet nothings while you came around him, pushing him to his own high.

And then there was Raph. Rough and hard, making you cum over and over again, telling you all sorts of dirty things that made you cling around him. Forcing your face down into the bed with your ass high up in the air, he would fuck you with intense speed and strength, making you scream in pleasure.

“I don’t know”, you said, avoiding your gaze when he finally looked at you. It took you a moment before you stood up, your legs shaking to give out under you. Leo hurried up, his hands out in an offering for you to hold onto them. But you stopped him with your hand held out in front of you. At that moment, still feeling overwhelmed, you did not wish to be touched, even if it was just Leo who wanted to help you stand. “I… I need to think”. Those were the last words before you turned, heading back to your fire escape, climbing back down to your apartment.

Leo stood back and watched as you left. It reminded him of that day he told you he had to go to South America. It had made you sad, although not like you were right now. You were honest and told him you didn’t like it, but you did not try to force him to stay. He should just have stayed. He should just have fucking stayed. Had he stayed, then this mess would never had happened to begin with.

Leo stayed on the roof, until he heard you shut your window close. That was his que to leave. Back then, after a long night of deep conversations, tender hands, building you before an earth shattering orgasm, Leo would not leave your fire escape before you closed the window. You in turn would not close your window, before Leo had left your fire escape. It was like couples on the phone with each other, refusing to hang up before the other.

Leo went home, his feet feeling heavy as he walked through the sewer. His head was hurting and this throat was still tightly knotted together. He just wanted to sleep for now, and get some time alone. He just wanted to get home and recharge. But when he walked into the lair, he was far from alone. Donatello and Michelangelo were in the living area, waiting for him to come. Mikey sat on the couch, the television blaring in the background, watching Donnie and Leo in concern. Donnie watched Leo walk in with a stern yet worried expression, his arms crossed as he walked to his oldest brother.

“What the shell is happening, Leo?”, he asked, brows frowning in concern. “Raph just came in with a limb and an injured arm, but he refuses to let me look at it, let alone even talk to me and Mikey! What happened out there?!”

Leo thought for a moment, his eyes locked on the closed door that led to Raphael’s room. “He didn’t tell you?”

“No! He just growled like he usually does and threatened to punch Mikey if he took a step closer!”

“It’s true!”, Mikey said, still seated on the couch. “And I wasn’t even near him!”

“I’ll talk to him tomorrow”, Leo sighed after another moment of thought. “A lot happened out there”.

“What happened?”, Donnie asked, following Leo as he started walking towards his own room. Mikey rose from the couch and followed his two older brothers. “Anything dangerous? Are you injured too? Did you see what happened to Raph?”

“No”, was all Leo said as he placed a hand on his door knob. “Don’t worry about it. It’s between me and Raph. I’ll talk to him tomorrow”. And with those words he slipped into his room, leaving Donnie and Mikey on the other side, sharing looks of confusion and concern.

—

Leo could not stand the smell in his own room. Once it had been so pleasant, with soft scents of you and him. But now it was violent, attacking his nose with you and Raph. He could almost see it in front of him. You and his brother, on his bed, doing it in ways Leo never had thought of doing it to you. It made him sad, tired, angry… It was too much for Leo at that moment. He therefore waited for his two youngest brothers to leave for bed, before he went to the living area, so he could use the couch as a bed for the night.

He covered himself with a blanket and stared at the pipes on the ceiling above. His thoughts went straight to you, just like they had done while the two of you were together. Just like they had done while he was in South America. God, why did he stop writing? He thought about you every night and every day, but he still decided to stop writing. Was it because he had been so sure that he had to stay in the jungle, to save those poor women and children, who’s lives would have been cut short if he didn’t? And staying in the jungle meant letting go of you? Yeah, that must have been why. His wish to be a hero had cost him the person he loved the most; you.

Leo turned onto his side, as he wondered what would have happened if he never had stopped writing. Would he had returned after a year, just like had promised you at first, or would you have waited out for him all two years? You probably would, and he would still have you. He would have you comfortably in his arms, and feel as you slowly drifted to sleep. Your beautiful face next to his, your eyes closed in a peaceful expression, feeling safe with him.

Leo continued to think of your face as he fell asleep. Your beautiful smile, your pretty eyes, and the way your nose would wrinkle whenever he teased you, or your blushing cheeks when he kissed you. How you would bite your lip while watching him train, or how your lips would be slightly agape whenever he would kiss your neck. The look of your face whenever you were close, or how your beautiful face would form when you came for him. Leo missed it. He missed you.

The next morning Leo was the first to wake up. Under normal circumstances, he would meditate and train before eating breakfast, but still feeling tired and drained from the night before, he went straight for breakfast. As the morning unfolded, he watched as his brothers woke up. He and Donnie greeted each other warmly, before Donnie went to clock in with his phone service job. Mikey woke up with a smile, before bringing a full bowl of cereal to the living area, where he ate them in front of the television. Master Splinter told all of his sons good morning, before he went to the dojo to meditate.

Leo watched and waited, until he was sure his family was fully distracted, before he went up the stairs to the second level of the lair, where he made his way to Raphael’s bedroom. Once Leo got to his door, he didn’t knock, nor did he try to walk in. Instead he waited with his back resting against the wall.

Raphael woke up in pain. His foot was still hurting and so was his elbow. He sat up and listened to the sound of his family outside in the living area. Raph did not wish to face them. He didn’t want to have Donnie bug him about his arm, and he didn’t want Mikey to come and try to do whatever he thought was helpful. Much less did he wish to talk to Master Splinter, and even less did he wish to talk to Leonardo. If he even was home. As far as Raphael knew, Leo could have spent the night at your place. After he ran, the two of you could have decided to get back together. Or, that was at least what Raph feared.

Raph went out of bed with a sigh, pain shooting through him the moment his foot touched the ground. He groaned as he started moving towards the door. His goal was to get to the kitchen and get something to eat. A quick grab and go before anyone noticed. Just like the ninja he was trained to be. No one would see him, no one would hear him.

Raph opened his bedroom door and slowly made his way out on the floor that overlooked the floor below.

“Donnie said you hurt your arm”.

Fuck.

Raph looked left of his door, where he found Leo standing. Leaning against the wall, waiting for him to come out. How long had he been there?

“Did I do that?”, Leo asked, his expression stoic, his gaze avoiding Raphael all together.

Raph tugged his arm closer to himself, feeling the pain once more. “None of your business”.

Leo didn’t say anything to that. He knew his brother, and that meant no.

Silence fell between them. None of them moved, none of them said a word, their eyes did not meet. The tension was thick, so thick that Raph could puncture it with his sai and Leo could cut it with his katana. They stood like that for what felt like an eternity, before Leonardo finally broke the silence.

“We have to let her choose”, Leo sighed frustrated, his knuckles tightening around the thin air. “No matter how much it might hurt, we have to respect her decision. It is her choice now”.

Raph tightened his jaw, felt the muscles in his arm tense before staring off into the distance. “You know I’ll still be angry if she chooses you”, he said, feeling the air build up on his chest as a knot formed in his throat.

“I know”, Leo said, still not looking at his brother. Raph felt that familiar feeling of irritation grow. The way Leo avoided his eyes, and the way he kept his breath calm as he spoke. That God damn big brother talk, that had gotten Raph so angry in the first place. “I don’t blame you. I would be angry too if she chose you”. He swallowed as his eyes fell to his feet. “I was angry when… when you told me. Almost blinded. For… for a moment I wanted to hurt you”. He finally looked Raph in the eyes, with an expression he had never seen on Leo’s face before. “Is that how you felt? Even before I left?”

Raph almost forgot how to breathe. His fingers began to feel numb, shaking slightly by the sudden shock. He would cross his arms to form a kind of barrier between him and his big brother. He felt his lip tremble slightly, bitting it on the inside of his mouth to keep it still.

“Yes”, was all Raphael said. It came out like a growl, frustration building further as he fought to keep his breath calm. A pressure formed from behind his eyes, threatening to make his eyes water. No! He would not cry! Especially not in front of Leo. But Leo’s next words almost broke him.

“I’m sorry”, he said with a deep sigh, voice trembling as he spoke, his eyes searching for Raphael’s. “I didn’t know”.

“No”, Raphael pushed out. “You didn’t”.

Silence fell upon them again. They heard Mikey laugh at something on the television, and Donnie telling him to keep it down. This time it was Raphael’s turn to break the silence.

“Did… did she say anything after I left?”

Leo sighed. “She said she needed to think. I don’t blame her. It was kind of a lot. She didn’t even want me to help her”.

Raph nodded and tried to swallow the knot that was building in his throat. “Then we should let her think”.

“Yes, we should do that”, Leo agreed. He pushed away from the wall and turned to his brother one last time before leaving. “Please let Donnie look at your arm. Him and Mikey are very worried. I almost had to run from them last night”.

Raph nodded. “I will”. This made Leo give him a small smile, before he turned to leave, but then Raph started to feel that burning feeling. He had to say something. “Hey, Leo?” The blue clad turtle turned to look at his brother, one brow muscle raised. “Welcome home”.

Leo smiled once more, this time a little bigger. “Thank you”.

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justalittledumb · 8 months

Note

May I request a yandere zhongli and Imbibitor Lunae (sepreatly) with a flirty reader who basically flirts with them 24/7 and doesn't mind getting kidnapped cuz no need to pay rent eheee

(♥ω♥*) love your writing keep up the great work

Hiya! Thank you for the request! I didn't have an occasion to write about Zhongli yet so I Hope I did a good job :3

Zhongli

🧡 Zhongli isn't the type of person to get easily embarased, you would REALY try to get him to even have a slight blush.

🧡 You probably wouldn't be able to tell, but he absolutly LOVES you being so flirty, It reasures him in a way.

🧡 Zhongli would be POSSESIVE, and hearing you say those things would make him feel like you belong to him, that you are only his. After all, you don't go around flirting with other people, it's Reserved only for him~

🧡 Tho, it would be advised to keep it down a little, Your constant flirting makes him want to just snatch you right up and bring you somewhere where he can have his little Human all for Himself~

🧡 He is a little confused once he sees you being okay with being kidnaped. Of course, he prefers this you trying to escape but still, he expected some resistance.

🧡 After learning it becouse you won't have to Play rent, he chuckles to himself, after which he tells you that you won't have to Pay for anything when he's around. He would beg Childe for money.

Imbibitor Lunae

💚 He would be a little easier to fluster. Not by a lot, but if you would look closely enough you could see a small blush on his face~

💚 While he enjoys your flirting quite a lot, he would prefer to keep it to when it's only the 2 of you. He doesn't want others to hear your sweet words~

💚 It might actualy cause him to snap and kidnap you, there's just way too many people out there that don't deserve to even see , much less hear you. (That's anyone other than him)

💚 He wouldn't be surprised by you not trying to escape, Considering how much you seemed to love him, he would be more surprised if you did try. He is a little suprsised by the reason why.

💚 He doesn't mind of course, he will happily provide you with anything you want, that includes paying the rent.

I had a LOT of fun while writing this! I Hope that you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing this :3.

Like Always I am open to criticism.

#yandere headcanons #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere honkai star rail #yandere genshin impact #yandere zhongli #Yandere Imbibitor Lunae

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endlessthxxghts · 7 months

Text

You Better Jump... (part 2 of 2)

no outbreak!neighbor!joel miller x afab!reader || W/C: ≈9k

Summary: Your neighbor fixed your lock for you. How can you ever repay him? [read part 1 here]

Warnings: Canon divergent (no outbreak) & mentions of Sarah but we don't see or interact with her (AU - she moved out, lives on her own). Partial physical description of reader (having a thick/curvy body, wears a dress/feminine). Reader is a polyglot but no explicit mentions of race/ethnicity. Feminine pet names (sweet girl, darlin’, etc.). Flirty/awkward interactions and heightened sexual tension. Reader’s unhinged bestie <3. Implied age gap, but no explicit mention as to how big. LATINO JOEL MILLER (😫). An oddly weird amount of sweetness for 2 people who just met LOL. SMUT 18+ MDNI: Joel gets turned on at reader being a polyglot LMAO. Overall dirty talk/vulgar language. Dom/sub undertones (not heavy or established but definitely present). Vaginal fingering, p in v unprotected (I’m not sorry), semi-public sexual activity, thigh riding, bit of exhibitionism kink, oral sex (f receiving), squirting (blink and you’ll miss it), spit kink, choking, hickeys/marking… please let me know if I’ve missed anything!!

A/N: HERE'S PART 2 (THE FINAL PART)! ENJOY, MY LOVES!!💚

MASTERLIST

You and Joel make out like that, with your front door wide open, until you hear a loud meow from what you immediately know to be the neighborhood cat who likes to visit you once in a while. You two break away from each other, breathless, startled from the feline just sitting at the foot of your door.

You look back up to Joel with a cheesy grin on your face, and he mirrors your expression, bringing one of his hands up to run along your red and swollen bottom lip. “Sorry,” he chuckles breathily, “got a little carried away.”

You slowly lean forward into his touch and take his thumb into your mouth, swirling it around your tongue. “Don’t apologize,” you say. You pull your mouth off his thumb and leave a little kiss to the pad of it, “I liked it.”

He groans, his eyes completely black and the grip on your waist tightens, “Darlin’,” he warns, “I need to take you out properly first.”

You slowly back away an inch with a smile full of trouble and put your hands up in a surrendering motion.

His jaw clenches, “You’re trouble, aren’t ya, sweetheart?”

You shrug your shoulders in response, “Maybe.” You fall to your knees in front of him, slowly, and pick up the tools he dropped before your little makeout session. You stand on your knees, head in line with his hips, and look up at him. You reach around and tuck his tools in the back pocket of his jeans, grabbing onto his belt loops to pull yourself back on your feet, “Thank you for fixing my door for me, Joel.”

Before you can break away from the close proximity, his arm snakes around your waist yet again and pulls you in, his other free hand going straight for the underside of your jaw. “Pick you up at seven tonight, hm? Wear somethin’ pretty,” he says, leaning in for a deep kiss that sucks all the air out of you, “Somethin’ that gives me easy access, yeah?”

And with that, he walks out (the cat in tow), shutting the door in the process.

✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

It’s 5 o'clock by the time Joel left you completely speechless at his last words, and it’s 6 by the time you call your best friend to get your ass over here right now and update her on everything that happened, including her stupid ass comment that made it right into Joel’s earshot. Of course, she laughs hysterically at that, slapping the shit out of your arm with every deep breath she takes at an attempt to calm herself.

“Alright, bitch,” she says, wiping the edges of her eyes from any residue tears, “Let’s get ya dressed, so you can jump-”

“That’s enough,” you say, slapping your hand over her mouth.

✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Holy fuck.

All your life, you were never really confident in yourself. You were secure enough in your identity that you knew you weren’t that bad to the average eye, but you also very much knew that you weren’t jaw-droppingly sexy. That is, until Joel made you feel like the hottest person on the planet with how he couldn’t control himself with you. Mix in your best friend’s way of hyping you up, and fuck did you feel unstoppable.

You’re not much of a dress person, but you did have a silk, dark green spaghetti strap dress that you bought on a whim a year back. You were slightly skinnier then, but the way it hugs you now accentuates all the right curves and you’ve never felt so fucking beautiful. The dress is also very flowy, having a long slit on both sides, stopping at your hip. Standing, sitting down, no matter what angle, anyone is bound to see a slip of your underwear. Which is totally the reason why you make the executive decision to not wear any, and not because of Joel’s words ringing in your ear since it left his mouth.

You enter your living room once again, giving your best friend a bit of a show before you kick her ass out, and just as your laughs settle down, you hear a knock at your door.

No fuckin’ way it’s been an hour already, you think to yourself. Your eyes go wide as you look at your best friend, her expression mirroring yours. You frantically look at the clock on your television stand, and, it has been an hour already, fuck.

You tell your best friend to hide in your room for now because there is absolutely no way she’s meeting Joel yet. She frowns, but ultimately she listens and runs to your room while you run to grab the door.

You’re already out of breath from the show you were giving your best friend, and the nerves that were building with Joel on the other side of the door you were about to open is not helping one bit.

You planned on just side-stepping him and making it straight for his car, so he doesn’t come inside, but as soon as the door opens, your breath hitches. Joel is so fucking sexy, Jesus fucking Christ, you want to swallow him whole right fucking now. As your eyes give him a full sweep, you make it down to his sleek black shoes, and in your peripheral vision, you see that your feet are still bare. Shit, there goes your plan.

“Well, aren’t you a pretty sight,” he says, also looking you up and down, matching your energy, wanting to devour you just as bad. You smirk up at him and muster up a bashful thank you, but you’re still in a trance from how good he looks. Finally, you feel the outside air tickle your feet, so you start stepping backwards into your apartment, beginning to kneel down to reach the heels you set aside earlier.

He notices where you’re headed and stops you by gently grabbing you by the hip, “Here, may I?” And before you can even think to decline (which you never would), he’s already on his knees for you, for the second time today, and you can’t help the pooling arousal in your core. Your panty-less core, to be exact, which is now only inches away from him.

He grabs your foot and situates it on his knee while he works to unclasp the strap. When he does, his rough hands are grabbing your ankle so contrastingly soft and situating your foot into the heel. He makes sure the strap wraps perfectly around your ankle, and seeing how big his hands are, you would think he would struggle with such a tiny buckle. But no, he clasps it faster than even you would, and he finishes off by leaving a sweet kiss just above where the strap lays on you. He hears your breath hitch at that, so, like the menace he is, he places three more soft kisses, making the journey higher up your leg. And before you can beg him to keep going, he’s already switching your feet around, and repeating the exact same process to your other foot. Including the three kisses up your leg. He looks up at you, a smug smile and a playful sparkle in his eye, “Ready, pretty girl?”

“Y-yeah, I-I’m ready,” you stutter out, eyes already glossed over. He stands at full height now, his hand falling to your lower back as he guides you to the front door. He pauses, though, and you look up at him slightly confused. “I reckon she won’t be here when we get back, but, uh, aren’t ya gonna introduce me to your little friend?”

Your eyes go wide, “How-?” You begin to question, but his fingers are already at your chin, guiding you to look at the black Jeep, backed into a parking spot next to your car, with a bumper sticker of a half set of butterfly wings. It perfectly matches up to the sticker on your car, making a full butterfly. “Oh,” you say defeated but also impressed he picked up on such a little detail. It makes your heart warm a little.

He lets you go from his grasp, and you turn your body in the general direction of your room and yell, “Bitch, get out he-”

It’s as if she had her ear to the door the entire time, waiting for the moment she could dart out because she doesn’t even give you a moment to finish your statement. She’s already in front of you both within seconds.

You give her the eyes that she immediately translates as please play it cool, but you both know she won’t. “Hi, Joel, right? I’ve heard lots about ya,” she spits out at the speed of lightning as she holds her hand out for him to take, and she quickly follows by introducing her name. Joel chuckles at her eagerness and his date’s obvious embarrassment. It’s endearing. Reminds him of his relationship with Tommy. It warms him to know you have a true ride or die in your life, it’s rare to come across these days.

Eventually the introductions are over, your best friend is headed back to her home, and you and Joel are headed to some restaurant that he refuses to tell you the name or where it is, just that the “Drive is worth it, I promise.”

“A 40 minute drive?” you say jokingly just to rile him up, “This better be the best goddamn thing my mouth is ever gonna taste, then.”

His stare breaks from the road for a moment to look at you, then it’s back on the road. But he has a shit-eating grin on his face. “We might as well turn around then, huh? Because the best goddamn thing that mouth of yours is ever gonna taste is not available in any restaurant, no matter how far or fancy.”

It takes you a minute to register, but when it does, you can feel your cheeks and ears heat up, spreading down to your chest, and eventually his dirty implication forces the heat to settle in between your legs. “Christ,” you say under your breath as you shift your hips in his passenger seat, not wanting your already soaked pussy to get anywhere.

Maybe you should’ve worn some panties after all.

✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

You guys are on the last stretch of your drive, about ten minutes left, and Joel’s hand has found his home on your thigh, thoughtlessly rubbing his fingers up and down. However, your mind is completely racing because fuck you just wish he’d move up a little higher to where you are absolutely begging for him the most.

As if he hears your plea, his hand goes higher and higher, but then he stops. His hand goes rigid, grip gets a little tighter, and his breath gets a little heavier. His hand is high enough to where he should be feeling the hem of your underwear, or at least that’s what he was expecting to feel.

“Darlin’?”

“Yes, Joel?” you say as innocently as possible.

“Are you not…?”

“No,” losing the innocence in a matter of seconds.

“You’re fuckin’ killin’ me, baby,” he grits out as his hand resumes his path to your wetness. The closer he gets, the more your hips try and angle upwards so he can reach you better, and as soon as his fingers are running through your folds, you’re fucking done for.

“We’re not leavin’ this car ‘til you cum at least twice on my fingers,” he says, his voice completely dark now. “Ya hear me?” He questions as he applies pressure to your clit.

“Fuck! Yes- yes, please, Joel,” you whine out. You shift your body slightly towards his direction, and you open your legs as much as his truck allows you to. Immediately, his fingers slide from your clit and come down to your entrance, spreading your wetness all over you.

He dips into your hole, just one finger in and slowly starts pumping in and out. You’re so turned on by him that just one finger is enough to make that wet squelching sound from going in and out of you. You let out a moan at the action, your one hand shooting to grip the handle of your door and the other gripping onto his bicep. “You make the sweetest sounds for me, darlin’,” he says to you, southern twang increasing in line with his own arousal.

“Please, baby-” you mutter as your head falls back. His one finger speeds up at your words, “Oh, c’mon, use those words,” he teases a second finger at your entrance.

He’s only using one finger right now, and you’re already fucked out, unable to speak or think. You so badly want more of him, though, so you will yourself to talk. “Oh, p-please, an- another finger, Joel, please.. n-need you so bad, please,” you beg.

“That’s right, baby, usin’ your words for me,” he slides his second finger in, “Dámelo.” Give it to me.

“Oh my god,” you damn near scream out, his words spurring you on more than you’ve ever felt. More slick leaks out of you at his Spanish command. Of course he’s fucking sexy and has the filthiest mouth, in multiple languages, known to man. His two fingers are coming in and out of you at a delicious rate, the thickness and length of him hits that sweet spot in you without even trying. “Touch your clit, baby,” you barely hear him say with how blissed out your head feels. Slowly, you let go of the door handle beside you and bring your hand to your clit, rubbing messy circles on your center, coaxing your orgasm closer and closer to the edge.

“Fuck, Joel, your fingers-” you say as he works you open. “My fingers, what? Go on, lemme hear you, trouble.”

Your breathing speeds up to an erratic pace, hot and heavy, “t-too fuck-” your moan cuts you off as your orgasm approaches. He makes his fingers bend in a motion that hits you right where you need it, and- “Oh, fuck, I’m cumming, Joel.”

“Fuck, yeah, that’s it, baby,” he says, his movements slowing momentarily.

In your foggy haze, you find yourself peaking at the time, and- It’s only been four fucking minutes? Never has a man ever been able to make you cum that fast. Your past girlfriends, absolutely, but the men you slept with? They’re not even worthy of the label boyfriend if you’re being completely honest. Whatever the case is, you just know Joel has you absolutely fucked. You knew this from the start, of course, but it’s finally setting in. When he’s knuckle-deep inside you while less than ten minutes out from your mystery date location. Chivalry isn’t dead after all, huh?

You’re brought back from your slight distraction when you feel him pull out of you. You whimper at the loss, your hips raising for more. “I know, sugar, I know,” he comforts, “I just have to get a taste before I lose my fuckin’ mind.” His fingers disappear into his mouth, licking and sucking every last drop on him like you’re some lifesaving nectar he’s been searching all his life for. He lets out a pained groan, “I need to taste ya for real, fuck.”

He gives you no time to react to his words because his fingers are back inside you in no time. This time he pumps into you with a steady pace but a deep pressure that has you unable to take a single breath in. Your eyes are rolled back, and it feels like you’re drowning. Like you’re being consumed in everything Joel, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Sweat is dripping down your neck at this point as the heat spreads from the apples of your cheeks to the swell of your breasts all the way down to your core. The sounds flowing out of you are uncontrollable and pure filth, and it’s riling him up so much that he is in literal physical pain. His hand that’s on the wheel is gripping so hard that his knuckles are ghost white, and his entire face is flushed with the utmost amount of pained self control you’ve ever fucking seen.

“C’mon, my filthy fuckin’ girl,” he grunts out, “almost there, baby, need one more from you,” his pace finally speeding up in the way that he knows, from your first climax, will end you. He tried keeping his pace slow on purpose, so he can draw out all your beautiful moans and gasps and drag you further into that floating state of mind, but you’re nearly at your destination now and he so desperately needs to get out of this car before he drops his gentlemen promise and pulls over to take you right here in his truck. Unbeknownst to you, he pulls into a parking space that is completely excluded from the general population, and he leans over to bring his hand on your jaw to make you meet his eyes.

“You look at me when I make you cum, yeah, trouble?” he asks, though it’s not much of a question. Your eyebrows furrow as you look at him and you try to answer him, but you’re feeling too good that as soon as you starts, “Anythinforyou, Jo-” your orgasm cuts you off and your mouth falls open with the most desperate and needy moans you’ve ever heard yourself make.

He continues his movements as you let yourself fall deeper and deeper, and only until the overstimulation begins to hit you do you realize where you are. “W-when did we park..?” you groan out as he removes his finger from your spent pussy. He chuckles at your cluelessness, “Few minutes ago, sweet girl,” he says as he brings his fingers up to his mouth yet again to lap up your arousal. The action alone has your pussy clenching for something more.

As if he can read your mind, “Later,” he smirks at you. “Let’s eat,” he adds as he gets himself out of the car and walks to your side, opening your door and guiding you out. “Thank you,” you say shyly, unable to look up at him and as you stand on your jello legs.

✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

The restaurant he takes you to is absolutely gorgeous and lively. It’s an Italian restaurant, small and homey, and it seems like a locally owned business. It’s extremely dim, and the main sources of light are purple and red, pointing in the direction of the live music. You two are sitting in a booth in a dark corner, intimate and excluded.

“This place is really beautiful,” you tell him with a smile that makes the butterflies in his stomach flutter. “You eat here often?”

“Y-yeah,” he stutters. Why is he nervous now when he just had you coming apart on his finger merely moments ago? Human emotion is a peculiar thing. “Actually, sorry-” he blurts. You sense his nerves, but you don’t mention it. It warms you that he’s actually nervous. It shows you he’s actively wanting more than just your lust-filled endeavors. You rest your arm along the table, your hand resting palm up near his own, offering him comfort. Silently telling him you’re nervous, too, for whatever it’s worth. He takes your hand in his, lacing your fingers with one another. You can see him physically relax. “I don’t really eat here often, but my daughter has dragged me here once or twice. The food is really fuckin’ good.”

“I’m excited,” you squeeze his hand to reflect your excitement. You’re usually the one making the pasta or any Italian dish you’ve been craving because cooking is what you were bred to do. Cooking is the way to the heart, your nonna always taught you. No matter how traditional the sentiment was, it was one you carry with you always. Naturally, you were a bit reluctant to indulge, but the entire atmosphere here screams authentic Italian culture, reminding you of your nonna and soothing your reluctances.

You both scour the menu for a moment, but you both settled on an option fairly quickly, your waiter comes right on queue. “Ciao! Can I start us off with anything to drink?”

Too enraptured by your food options, you forgot to decide your beverage. Before you can even begin to think, Joel is already on it. “Could we get two glasses of red, your house blend, please?”

“Right away, sir, I’ll be back with those in a moment and take your order, then,” he says as he steps away. Immediately then, another individual appears with two glasses and fills them up with water while you wait.

Joel’s focus is on the water being poured, while you’re still devouring him with your eyes. You and him never had a chance yet to talk about your backgrounds or your interests, but so far he’s doing a damn good job at dissecting you: your favorite food being Italian and your drink of choice always being red wine, and he got that, all unprompted.

Finally, his eyes meet yours and the sultry look you’re giving him makes him immediately heat up, his red flush making its appearance again. “What?” He gives you an amused grin.

“Oh, nothing,” you say as you lean back in your bench seat, “I just- you’re really impressing me. It’s quite the turn on.”

His expression turns from amused to aroused in seconds. “Oh?” He leans forward. “Tell me more?”

Before you can indulge, your waiter is back, placing a wine glass in front of each of you and pouring your glass a little over a third way full before he sets it down to begin taking your order.

“What can I get started for you guys?”

You signal for Joel to go first. The look on your face screams mischief, so he doesn’t question it. He orders the filet mignon gnocchi, tonight’s special. The waiter turns to you.

“Buonasera! Vorrei la carbonara, per favore,” (Good evening! I would like the carbonara, please) you say as you beam up at the waiter. His expression brightens tenfold as he realizes what language you just spoke to him. “Perfetto, la carbonara,” (Perfect, the carbonara) the waiter writes down, then looks between the both of you, “I’ll get these in right away.”

“Grazie,” (Thank you) you say, and you hear a small thank you coming from Joel as the waiter walks away. You and Joel meet each other’s gaze.

“You-” he breathes. He looks really shocked. And utterly turned on. “You speak Italian?” You don’t remember when, but his hold on your hand switched to running his finger up and down your forearm. Chills fall down your spine. “Mhm,” you respond with, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible while you reach for a sip of your wine, as if you don’t know how much you just completely rocked his world.

“Fuckin’ trouble, I tell ya,” he says under his breath as he tries to casually adjust himself under the protection of the table and the dark lighting.

After your meals come out, the next 45 minutes are spent in easy conversation. You ask him questions that prompt responses ranging from telling you about his daughter to him being a single father to his contractor business with his younger brother, Tommy. In return, he asks you questions about your family, your best friend, and the question that’s been burning him all night, “Where the hell did you learn Italian?”

You chuckle at his eagerness. Who knew Joel Miller would have an auralism fetish? You wonder what else could spur him on. “I can ask you the same about your Spanish,” you say as you wipe your mouth from any pasta sauce. “Throwing your words at me while you have me wrapped around your fingers, literally.” You say it so casual yet bold that it does nothing but fire him up more. His self control slips more and more with every flirty and filthy word your mouth utters.

He clears his throat and takes a deep breath to compose himself. “Grew up bilingual,” he offers.

Southern drawl with a Spanish tongue? Yes, please, you think to yourself. You hum in agreement. He picks up on it. “Ah, I see.”

“Not bilingual, though,” you clarify with a smirk, mainly to test out just how turned on he’ll get at the prospect of your tongue being versed in a variety of ways.

One hand of his tightens as if he’s trying to really hold onto the string that’s keeping his self control at bay.

You sit and think for a minute. You grew up in a mixed ethnic household, so you have a few options you could choose to reveal right now, but there’s one in particular that you know will make him snap.

The waiter hands the bill directly to Joel. He’s writing down the tip and total as he murmurs to you, “What else do you know?” The waiter comes back and offers you both pleasantries and bids you goodnight, in Italian to you and English to Joel.

You lift your napkin up off your lap and begin to stand. He starts, but freezes as soon as you begin to speak, “Bueno,” you breathe out. “Me encantó la comida, pero tenemos que ir a la casa, ¿qué piensas?” (Well, I loved the food, but we have to go home, what do you think?) You begin to walk in the direction of the exit, but you don’t feel his warmth radiating from you, so you turn back around. He’s sitting back down at the edge of the seat. You go back to him and put your hand on his shoulder. “Joel…you okay?”

“Yep,” he says strained, “Just, uh- need a minute.” Both his hands are situated on his knees and he’s leaning over a little. Your eyes drift to in between his thighs and god damn he’s hard. Painfully hard. His bulge is so big it has you holding back a whimper at the sight of it.

You can’t help but make this situation worse for him, it’s in your nature. So you bring your mouth down to his ear and in a low whisper, “Faster we get into the car, the faster I can take care of that for you, big boy.”

He stands at full height now, his body completely flush and towering over you. He takes one look at you and his hands are on your waist, spinning you around and guiding you to the car without a word.

You can feel yourself walking faster than you’ve ever done in your life, and thank Heavens you do because as soon as you reach the car, he wastes no time in turning you around and pinning you between the driver’s side door and his body.

His lips meet yours in a frenzy, it’s a clash of hot breath and tongue, and you take all of him in fervently. His tongue passes over yours in a way that has your knees buckling. He clocks it immediately and before you know it, his thick thigh is slotted between yours, nudging your core. You moan into his mouth at the pressure, and he pulls away to grab your jaw, forcing your attention onto him. “Gonna give me another one, baby?”

“Joel-” you start, but he cuts you off. “You’re gonna give me another one, right here, right on my fuckin’ thigh,” he demands, his grip on your jaw tightening with his words, “Am I understood?”

You nod your head frantically as much as his grip allows you, followed by a “Fuck, fuck, yes, Joel, yes, I understand,” and your hips start moving on their own accord. “That’s it,” he chuckles, eyes blown out in his arousal for you. One hand wraps around your waist while the other bunches the front of your dress so he can see the mess you’re creating on him.

If anyone were to walk by right now, they would get a full view of your sobbing cunt rubbing all over his dressed thigh. It’s lewd, it’s pornographic, and it would definitely get you arrested for indecent exposure and disorderly conduct. And even though those reasons should be enough for you to stop what you’re doing and tell Joel you want to just get home first (which he’d be more than willing to oblige to for your comfort), you don’t want to. The prospect of someone walking by to witness what this hunk of a man can reduce you down to is enough to push you to the edge that much faster.

He slightly rocks his thigh back and forth in time with the grind of your hips, the now wet fabric catching enticingly on your clit. Joel’s grip on your waist tightens, encouraging more pressure into you. He lets go of your dress to slip his fingers in between your cunt and his thigh, adding more stimulation to the bundle of nerves as he pushes himself into you to meet you in another wet kiss. His lips leave your mouth and make its way down your jaw to just below your ear, and he bites. Hard. The searing sensation mixed with everything else makes your vision go white, and you’re literally creaming all over his black dress pants. He soothes that part of your neck with more sucking and licking as your hips come to a halt, his fingers still rubbing slowly, ever so often teasing them at your entrance.

Your full weight is leaned against his truck, and the only reason you’re still standing right now is because of his hold on you. He knows this, so keeping his one arm around your waist, he slowly pulls away from you to bend down and bring his other arm under your knees. He picks you up and cradles you to the front seat of his truck. He sets you down gently, buckles you in, and before he steps away to the driver side, he uses his pointer and thumb to nudge your chin up to his level, and he kisses you so sweetly, the butterflies in both your bellies fluttering like crazy at the feeling. “I can’t get enough of you,” he whispers.

“Then take me home, cowboy.”

✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Ironically enough, your car ride back to your apartment is filled with the sweetness of each other’s presence, your main conversation of getting to know each other from dinner picking back up. The first few minutes of pulling out of the parking lot and getting onto the main road was you bringing yourself back down from your orgasmic high. You wanted to take care of Joel, so that’s what you started to do as soon as you gained your consciousness again, but he stopped you.

“Trust me, darlin’, I want you to so fuckin’ bad,” he says as he regretfully puts your hand back on the middle console and engulfs your hand in his. “But, at least, for tonight, I need to get you off before I do.”

You look at him even though he can’t meet your gaze. The gesture is heartwarming, you’ve never had anyone like this before. And although pleasing your partner is equally as pleasing for you, you don’t argue—but you are confused. “You did get me off, though…three times already?”

He smirks and meets your eyes for a moment before turning back. “That was just your appetizer, baby,” he lifts your hand up to his mouth and leaves a kiss to the back of it.

Your eyes go wide, “Oh,” you squeak out. You can’t help the giggle that escapes you, “Okay then.”

✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

As soon as he parks, he’s out of the car in an instant, opening your door and guiding you out again. You walk up to your door, fumbling for your keys to unlock it. He’s behind you, lips hungrily kissing up and down your neck and your shoulder. As soon as you get it open, you turn around to face him, your lips smashing into his and tugging him into the house as you walk backwards towards the direction of the nearest piece of furniture possible. He kicks your door shut and swiftly locks it, his one hand only leaving you for an unnoticeable second.

You were trying to lead him to your living room, but somehow you ended up crashing into your dining table. He doesn’t care though because his hands are grabbing at your hips, hoisting you up. He breaks the contact with your lips and you whine at the loss, but immediately he’s kneeling. Third time today, you think to yourself, could definitely get used to this view.

“Told ya, I needed to taste you for real, sweet girl,” he says as he runs his hands up your thighs. “Spread your legs, baby.”

You gather the front of your dress and let it pool beside you, your bottom half completely bare to him. You spread your legs and bring your hips to the very edge, your core completely at his mercy. His eyes grow completely black at the view, your wetness dripping out of you.

He secures his hands at your hips, borderline grasping at the globes of your asscheeks, and your thighs hooked on his shoulders. He leaves warm, open-mouth kisses up your thigh, alternating between both. Once he reaches your sex, you realize there is absolutely no stopping him until he’s had his fill. Your one hand stays behind on the dining table to hold you up while the other flies to the back of his head, gripping the curls at the base of his neck.

You’ve never felt anything like this before. His plush lips kissing every place vulnerable to you with such a velvety sensation, his tongue pushing into you and nudging areas you didn’t know a tongue could reach, and his nose—My God, his fucking nose—providing life-altering sensation directly on your clit.

The only noises in your apartment are the sounds of his slurping mixed with your high-pitched moans and occasional dirty praise, and you’re sure your neighbors can hear you, but you’re feeling way too fucking good to even care about that right now.

“Just like that, fuck-” your hips start grinding into his face, “-shit, you feel so fucking good, Joel, yes!” You gasp out as his rhythm changes, forcing you to the edge for the fourth time tonight.

He pulls you in impossibly closer and shoves his face impossibly deeper, and at that moment, your orgasm crashes into you. Your arm that was holding you up gives way and you fall back into the dining table, back arching while your thighs tighten around Joel’s head. The feeling of being completely consumed by you eggs him on so much that he can’t bring himself to stop. He continues devouring you like his life depends on it, his moans and whines vibrating you deep within. You don’t know if it’s another orgasm hitting you or an aftershock from the one you just had, but all you know is that your ass is completely off the dining table and he’s holding you into his face drinking every last drop.

You use all your strength to pull yourself back up, both your arms behind you to hold you up. You try and scoot your ass back onto the table, but Joel is still gripping onto you, spoiling the entire area with slow, deep kisses. He gives extra attention on your thighs, sucking bruises that’ll flourish through the night. Loving the sensation but not loving the way your ass is hitting against the table, you softly call his name with a smile full of adoration, “Let’s take this to my room, maybe?”

He stands to his full height while scooting you back to be able to sit properly again. His smile mirrors yours. He grabs your face with both his hands and pulls you in for a kiss. It’s soft at first, but tasting yourself on him is a taste you don’t think you’ll ever tire of. Your tongue caresses his bottom lip, and he opens, pulling you in, his tongue embracing yours in an all-consuming dance.

Your hands begin to roam at his sides, making your way to the buttons of his dress shirt, and it’s then that he pulls away, remembering the question you asked. “Wait, wait,” he says. He opens your legs a little more so he can step in between. His hands are underneath you once again, and he nudges you forward, wordlessly telling you to wrap your legs around his waist. So you do, and he picks up, chuckling at the squeal you let out when your body reaches the air, and he leads you to your bedroom.

He lets you plop onto the edge of the bed and get yourself situated in the center. He finishes what you started and starts undressing himself. His shirt is the first to go, unbuttoning, untucking, and letting it fall to a random place on your floor. Looking down at you ready for him, he takes a step closer, unbuckling his belt, pulling them out of the loops, letting it follow the same path as his shirt.

He’s been catching the way you’ve been admiring all day, so he indulges in your fantasy a little in the way he undresses himself for you. With every article that gets removed, he watches your eyes grow hungrier, your breathing heavier. You’re too occupied at the sight of his body, you don’t make any move to pull your dress off, but that’s okay. Joel wants to be the one to unwrap his dessert.

Joel removes his pants and boxers in one go, and you let out an involuntary gasp at the sight in front of you. He is fucking huge. His length isn’t overbearing, but it’s his fucking girth that’s throwing you in for a loop. Your anxiety starts to rise a little; you have never been with a man as well-endowed as Joel and no strap-on you’ve taken could ever resemble what you’re about to take right now.

You fell into your overthinking, not realizing that Joel has made his way over you. He grounds you with a kiss, stealing all your worries. He grazes his finger over your forehead, pushing a hair away. The action makes you melt. Oh, there goes the butterflies, again. He guides your head to angle down to kiss your forehead, then your nose, and back to your lips once more. He makes sure your eyes are on each other before he says, “We do not have to do anything more if you are not ready, sweet girl.”

He’s been pretty dominating all night, which you don’t mind at all, but this coming out of his mouth at the fire of your anxieties completely distinguishes them. You know you’re safe with him. Your eyes tear up and before you speak, you snake your hand to the back of his neck and yank him into you for another kiss. As he pulls away, a tear falls, but his thumb catches it.

“I trust you, Joel, I need you,” you say as you lean into the warmth of his hand, “Please.”

“Sit up for me real quick then, darlin’,” he says, sitting back on his haunches and pulling you up with him. His hands find the hem of your silky dress, and he slowly guides it up your thighs, up your torso, and you lift your arms off so he can guide it off completely. Now it’s his turn to admire. It’s as if his eyes don’t know where to look first: at your luscious thighs, your beautiful tummy, your full chest. “You’re so perfect,” he whispers, not meant for you to really hear, but it makes you flutter all the same.

“Lay down for me, baby,” he says as he continues admiring you. You lay back down again, reaching your arm up to drag the pillow below your head. You spread your legs, inviting him in, letting him know you’re ready. But what he does next absolutely surprises you. He grabs your leg at the ankle and lays kisses everywhere. Up your calf, the bend of your knee, all around your thigh in the areas he marked earlier. He reaches your mound and makes no move to dive in. Instead, he lays kisses in the area, even a kiss is placed directly on your clit. You moan at the feeling. He mirrors his actions on your other leg. Then, he bends forward and begins kissing your tummy. Kisses in the general vicinity of your belly button, your ribs, making his way up your sternum.

Granted, your body is buzzing in arousal right now, and you’re making a puddle in your sheets, but mentally, the way he is appreciating your body has you feeling utterly content.

Your hand finds its home again in his neck just as Joel reaches your breasts. He continues his journey and kisses all around, his tongue swirling around your nipples. Your back arches at this, and you feel him smile against you as his hands wrap around your ribs, his thumbs caressing underneath your boobs. His mouth makes its way to your neck.

His mouth transitions to longer, wetter kisses, leaving trails of spit on the valley of your breasts and on your neck. The cooling of his spit coaxes a whimper out of you, wanting more of him. Wanting to drink him. His mouth finally meets yours and it’s slow but desperate, your hips lifting to meet his at an attempt for any kind of relief. His tongue massages yours and you can feel the spit build up; you eagerly try and lap it up.

You pull him away for a moment, slightly bashful to ask, but you need it so bad. “C-can you…” your gaze slips from his. His hand on your rib comes up to rest on the lower part of your neck, his fingertips grazing your jaw but also softly guiding you to look at him again. His eyebrow quirks up at you. Go on, he’s telling you. “Can you, uh- I-” you completely fumble. “Words, trouble,” he smirks, the nickname eliciting a sense of comfort within you.

“Canyouspitinmymouth, please?” You rush out with your eyes clamped shut, scared of what his reaction would be. He doesn’t say a thing, waiting for you to come to your senses and open your eyes. As soon as you do, he’s on you again, kissing you like before you pulled away to ask your question. Except this time, his fingertips secure themselves on the hinge of your jaw and nudge you open. Your lips but a whisper apart, his spit falling into your mouth, as your tongues’ tips dance around one another.

The moans you let out for him are sounds he never wants to give up. He’ll let you drink him dry if this is what he hears in his last breaths.

He pulls away, a spit string connecting you both. You lean forward, attaching to his bottom lip for a moment more before you let yourself pull away, then you swallow.

“Fuck, that was so hot,” you breathily giggle. He smirks at your antics, leaning in for another kiss to distract you. He reaches for another pillow above your head, and as your kiss becomes more heated, you grind your hips up into him, giving him perfect timing to slot the pillow underneath your lower back.

You pull back, “Wha-” you start to question, but he’s quick to respond. He sits back up for a sec, “It’ll help,” he says, and he brings both your legs into a bent position, like frog legs, in a way. Your confusion immediately fades as you physically feel your pelvic floor open up. Oh.

“I thought you were a contractor, not a chiropractor?” you tease.

“Watch it,” he warns. “You know, I could just,” his fingers graze your glistening entrance, “force it in,” he slips a finger in, slowly. You gasp, teasing demeanor gone in an instant. “No preppin’ this tight little thing,” he pulls his finger completely out, you whine in response. “How ‘bout that?”

A barely audible please escapes your mouth, unsure of what it is you’re begging for, and you feel your pussy clench at his words.

His eyes darken, “Oh, she likes that idea, huh?” He’s leaning over you now, kissing your jaw and neck as he grabs himself by the base and lines his tip up to your warmth. “Maybe next time. Right now, trouble, I’m takin’ my damn time with you.”

He grabs himself by the base and guides himself to your entrance, his other hand at the side of your head. He lets his cock grind against your wet folds for a few moments, covering himself in your earlier climax, and then his tip catches at your entrance. You both let out a sharp gasp at the sensation, and he slowly starts pushing in.

“Oh, fuck,” you let out.

“So fuckin’ tight,” he whimpers, “so fuckin’ good, fuck.”

Your pussy clenches at his tone of desperation, and his one arm moves to situate underneath the curve of your back, accentuating it. He’s halfway in you and the painful yet pleasing stretch of your pussy has you closing your eyes at the sensation.

“Baby, eyes on me, need t’see you,” he says, reaching down to nip your bottom lip. Your eyes shoot open and your brows furrow, your pouty face doing nothing to ease his yearn of just pushing completely in you with no remorse.

Finally he bottoms out, both your hips flush with one another, and being completely engulfed in you like this, he can’t hold out any longer. “Look, doll,” he rasps. His hand beside you snakes underneath your head and he’s lifting it for you to look down. “It’s like you’re made f’me, huh?” He says as he begins to pull out of you until only the tip is in.

Your eyes are fixed on the sight below you. Your pussy absolutely stretched out, his dick completely covered in your juices. You don’t have the mental capacity to form anything coherent. Joel knows that, so giving you no time to acknowledge his filthy words, he pushes inside you again. This time much faster and much harder.

He continues that rough and fast pace for a while, kissing and biting everywhere his mouth can reach, relishing in the constant moans and whimpers spewing from your mouth.

“S-so big,” your voice quivers.

“But you’re takin’ it so well, sweet girl,” he replies, voice husky and strained. He sits up a little to stand on his knees, his pace faltering momentarily. His arm from your waist moves down to the underside of the bend on your knee. He pushes your leg higher, opens you up more. The angle makes you flutter around his cock, and he can’t help but speed up.

“Fuck,” he grits out, “not gonna last with that, sweetheart.”

His hand beside your head moves to rest at the base of your neck, his fingers splayed wide across you, giving him more leverage to rock in and out of you. You feel your body wanting to arch up into him, but the hold he has on you and the angle you’re in gives him complete control over you. The thought brings you higher, and you can’t help what spills from your mouth next.

“‘S okay, Joel, p-please,” you moan, “Use me, use my pussy, daddy.”

His hand trails a little higher and now he’s completely wrapped around your neck, his thrusts sloppy, but harder than you’ve ever felt before. “Say that again, sweetheart?” he rushes, hurtling towards his release.

You let both your hands come up to grab ahold of the hand wrapped around your throat. You pulse your grip, hinting at him to squeeze. He gets it, and within seconds, his fingers are right on your pulse points, applying pressure and giving you a yummy dizziness.

Your breath hitches and your voice picks up in pitch, “U-use me, daddy, I want your cum, please.” His other hand reaches for your clit. You gasp out. Immediately then, a lightbulb turns on in your mind, and a dazed smile forms across your face.

“Yeah, baby, that what you want?” he says as his ministrations on your clit picks up, his cock kissing that sweet spot inside of you, over and over again. “Wanna be pumped full of daddy’s cum?”

“Ay, dámelo, papi, dámelo.”

It’s as if you two were really standing on an edge of a cliff, and you pushed him off with just your words. He roars out an addictive moan, and his release coats your walls. The warmth flooding in you and the pulse of his cock mixed with his fingers still circling, and you’re getting pushed off the cliff with him. His fingers begin to slow, and he’s letting go of your throat. He leans back over you to meet your lips, and you take him in. Quite sloppily, though, you’re doing the best you can with the feeling of his hips still slowly rocking into you, the overstimulation milking both of you for all that you’re worth.

You both stay like that for a few minutes longer, basking in the softness of him on your lips, inside you.

But then immediately he pulls away — and pulls out. You both hiss at the feeling.

“Shit! Fuck, I’m sorry-” he starts blabbering, but you cut him off with a finger on his lips.

“Hey, hey, hey, breathe,” you say as you take a deep breath for him to mirror, “What’s going on?”

He takes a deep breath and repeats himself, calmer this time. “I’m sorry, I didn’t ask where you wanted-” he gestures to his cum beautifully dripping from your entrance, “I know how risky that was- and we didn’t even use protection, I-” his panic starting to rise again.

You put your hand on his sternum and put a little pressure, figuring if your anxiety sits there, it’s worth a shot to see if that’s where his sits, too. It does. He looks down at your hand and back up at you, kind of shocked but not more than the situation at hand to question how you know that would help.

“A few things,” you say as you keep your hand on him. “One, I never stopped you, we both took the risks. Two, luckily enough for the both of us, I’m on the pill.” He smiles at that. “And three, even if I wasn’t on the pill” you continue, “I wouldn’t mind picking up a Plan B if it meant I got to feel you like that inside of me again…” your voice trails off and immediately he pulls your hand away from his front up to his mouth to press several kisses on your palm, bursting in lighthearted laughter, his anxiety fading away.

✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

You and Joel laid in bed, tangled up in each other, for a little while longer, but he could sense the mess started to make you a little uncomfortable. He pulled both you and him off your bed, guiding you with his hands on your hips but ultimately letting you take the lead to your bathroom.

He guides you to your toilet and starts scouring your bathroom to find your washcloths. Once he does, he soaks it in warm water, and falls down to your level, so he can clean you. You reach out to grab the washcloth, thinking you’re gonna be the one doing it, but he’s quick to swat your hand away with a smile. He asks softly, “May I?”

Your eyes meet his, and all you can see is a genuine softness and a genuine yearn to take care of you. It makes you breathless. “Yeah,” you return his softness.

Being the pretty kinky and adventurous person that you were, aftercare always existed for you. Albeit, some of your past partners were more tender than others, but none of them treated you in a way that made you feel like you two were endgame. There’s something about Joel and the way he can be so soft, warm, and appreciative. He’s so experienced and considerate that you know he’s probably had his fair share of lovers in his past, but the way he treats you makes you feel like everything back then was solely leading him to this very moment. Like he spent years searching, and now that he’s found you, he needs to make sure what’s his is truly being taken care of in the way it deserves.

The thought and his actions should scare you, but they don’t.

There are people who spend years dating each other, still trying to figure out if they’re meant to be. There are married couples filing for divorce because they learned that they weren’t for each other after all.

There are others who get married after six months because they just know. Then, there’s you and Joel. Obviously you’re not going to marry him tomorrow but as you sit here, letting him care for you in such a way you’ve never felt before, you feel it. The rightness. The belonging. He’s gonna be in your life for a long, long time, and one of the most important people in your life at that. You don’t say any of this, though. You can’t. It’s too soon.

So, for now, you’ll just let your actions speak louder than words, and show him just how much you need him in your life.

“I’m cooking for us next time,” you say, pulling Joel from his own thoughts.

“Okay,” he says without a second thought. Unbeknownst to you, he was thinking the exact same thing as you.

He feels it, too, and just like you, for now, he’ll let his actions speak louder than his words.

He reaches over and plops the washcloth into the sink, his eyes on you.

“Only if we christen the dining table before dinner.”

Your eyes widen and your cheeks go hot.

Yeah, you are absolutely fucked. And so is he.

I hope you guys enjoyed!🥹 As always, feedback, comments, reblogs, etc. is extremely appreciated! Thank you to every single one of you for welcoming me with open, loving arms. I'm giving all of you forehead smooches right now. I love you all. So much.

EDIT: As of the new year 2024, I no longer do taglists!! Follow @endlessthxxghtsnotifs and turn on the notifications to be updated when new stories come out!!

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rataticaisdreaming · 10 months

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here are my favorite moments from the Patton livestream! Sally Face is an absolute favorite of mine, so grateful to watch my internet dad play it <3

shout out to Kenny for helping set everything up and having a bleep button for words Patton didn't want to say!

Virgil was the one to suggest the game, not Remus! he also changed the game because he thought it was safer!

Patton knowing what kind of games Logan likes: "it's like an escape room! Logan loves those"

"we'll go with the D! something Remus always says!" OH BOI 😂

Patton's list of who he loves the most: 1. himself, 2. Thomas, 3. all the sides together! but Virgil and Roman are his kiddos <3

sees blood: "i'm just going to pretend that's Crofters jam!"

it's canon now that Virgil helps Patton calm down and Remus shows horror things to him.

Patton being a dad to chat and Thomas during the entire stream <3

Janus' advice according to Patton: "when you turn 23, just take the whole month to celebrate because you deserve it" self-care goals!

Patton letting his inner child shine through with "can i push all the buttons? ALL THE BUTTONS!"

we learned that Logan is the type of collector to keep things inside boxes.

sweet words from Patton: "take it from me, you focus on the good stuff, focus on what makes you happy in life, put your energy into that!"

"i'm the sweets, Virgil's the scary movies." sweetest thing 💜💙

Kenny bleeps bad word, Patton immediatly after: BUTTHOLES! (Remus is rubbing on him guys!)

wise words from dad: "i'm high on the game of life!"

Patton sees murder scene: "ohh somebody had a spaguetti accident!"

"ok, let's go drug this guy" PATTON-

sees corpse: "this is what Remus shows me!" Remus please- 😂

and now, my favorite moment: "Janus seems like he is always on his last straw with Remus, but there's always a little hint of affection there at the same time, you know? they're buddies on their own way, team rocket vibes" 💛 MY HEART 💚

this was the best stream of my life, thank you so much @thatsthat24 ❤️❤️❤️

#BEST STREAM EVER!!!#sanders sides #thomas sanders #patton sanders #janus sanders #virgil sanders #roman sanders #remus sanders #logan sanders

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wardenparker · 5 months

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Vampire Waltz - ch 13

Max Phillips x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

A mysterious inheritance, sprawling mansion, eccentric roommates, friendly bat, and coven of New England witches are the newest chapter of your life after being unceremoniously dumped and kicked out by your boyfriend. For Max, the biggest change in his life is you, and what exactly he's going to do about the fact that he is stuck living with you as long as his sire continues to punish him for that incident at his last office...

Rating: E for Explicit! 18+ Word Count: 7.7k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series: deceased parents, cursing, food, blood and blood drinking, depictions and references to abusive relationships. Anxiety and trauma responses. Self-worth issues.* References to past sexual encounters, a dash of angst, light gambling (friendly wager on cards), Reference to the Civil War, family drama/angst, brief mentions of blood drinking, tooth rotting fluff. Summary: Off on an adventure to Gilded Age New York City, the train ride has as much excitement in store as you could possibly have expected from the entire trip. Notes: A short but emotionally impactful chapter this week, my loves! Please enjoy a glimpse at a Pullman sleeper car. They're honestly pretty beautiful and comfy and I'd love to travel in one 💚

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6 ~ Ch 7 ~ Ch 8 ~ Ch 9 ~ Ch 10 ~ Ch 11 ~ Ch 12

Your breath is even, making your chest rise and fall slowly against his cool body. Wrapping around him as if you are afraid he would leave this bed while you rest. Even in sleep, your blissful sighs are soft and content, worn out by the endless hours Max had wrung orgasm after orgasm out of you. Learning your limits and everything that you like and dislike when a man has his tongue buried in your warmth. His own smirk is self-satisfied and slightly smug from the number of times you had called out to the gods because of the pleasure.

Hours later, after sleeping the morning and even some of the afternoon away and having an afternoon tea that is the equivalent of a Gilded Age light lunch, Mr. Taylor is loading your trunks onto the carriage that Emmanuel has arrived in to take you all to the train station. While your mother is saying a very sweet goodbye to her own mother, you and Max are standing just at the doorstep with Yayo.

“When you return we will discuss your intent to return home,” he tells you quietly, keeping his choice of words intentionally enigmatic. “For now, enjoy yourselves. I understand the Vanderbilts have offered you their guest rooms so you do not have to stay anywhere as impersonal as a hotel?”

Max smirks slightly and nods. “We have accepted the gracious invitation and will be a sterling example of the Brown name.” While Max is not using the same last name, he understands that his sire has vouched for him and any scandal would fall back on his reputation.

“Enjoy yourselves.” What Yayo has not told you is that he had given Max something of an allowance to be used while you are in New York, making sure that the group of you will be able to dine, shop, and travel as you see fit for your five-day trip. You’re even taking Renee with you, as you and Annie will doubtlessly need the help dressing for your many outings and dinners, and it would put a strain on the Vanderbilt’s staff if they had to supply two young ladies with a suitable maid for almost a week. Emmanuel’s valet has been instructed that he will also be dressing Max during the trip. It’s all…extraordinarily overdone, in your opinion. But as vacations go? It might be the single most luxurious one you’ll ever take in your life. So you intend to enjoy it.

“We intend to.” You assure your grandfather after he shakes Max’s hand and places a very paternal kiss on your cheek. “Thank you. I know this means the world to Annie.”

Max watches the exchange between you and your grandfather with soft affection. The knowing glint in the elder vampire’s eyes was telling and he had been subtly warned to take care of both you and your mother while off on this trip.

“And be sure to call on the Astors just to be polite.” He urges. The Astors and Roosevelts had been welcoming to you at the ball after finding out that you and Max were considered family.

“We’re having dinner there on Wednesday.” Getting that invitation had been thrilling as all hell. Just about as thrilling as when Max came to you seconds later to excitedly tell you that the Vanderbilts had offered you lodging. Max had been very popular last night.

“Very well.” Max’s sire nods seriously and glances at your soulmate. “We will see you when you return.”

Still in an extremely good mood from last night and from this morning, you lend your grandfather a smile before stepping away from the door to get into the carriage. "Enjoy having some peace and quiet."

Cookie slides up to her soulmate’s side and wraps her arm through his with a sly smirk. “We will.” She promises as she winks at you.

The carriage is large enough for the four of you to pile into, and the clear sky of the day means that Renee and Emmanuel's valet happily sit with the driver. The chilly October day is still sunny this afternoon and by the time you reach the train station and are loaded on board, the pinks and purples of sunset streak the sky through the windows of the Pullman car to light up the green and bronze colored interior brilliantly.

“This is niiiiiice.” Max knows none of the others will get the reference, but you will understand the tone as he examines the interior of the carriage with great enthusiasm.

Barely managing not to snort when you laugh, you have to cover your face and clear your throat to get your composure back when Emmanuel looks at you both quizzically. “It is exceptionally luxurious. And very kind of you to share your car with us.”

“This could feel like the elegant parlor in a home.” Max offers, reaching out and touching the pillow that it sitting in a cushioned chair.

“We have teased my mother that she spent more time styling the family’s car than she did choosing names for us all,” Emmanuel jokes, looking around the space with pride. “It is rather splendid though, is it not?”

“I think you could comfortably live in something like this.” Max is fully aware of the future, but it’s still a nice thought. Traveling by rail and touring the country is far more romantic than driving in an RV.

“Perhaps we should.” A squeeze of his hand makes him more than aware that you’re teasing, but you still wink playfully. “Travel the country in a Pullman car to decide where to live? It sounds positively luxurious.”

Max arches a brow at Emmanuel teasingly. “Happy wife, happy life, that’s my motto. Sounds like I might be ordering one from you. What all can go into one?”

The look of delight on Emmanuel’s face is like Christmas two months early, and you can’t help but laugh to yourself as your mother’s soulmate embarks on an obviously passionate listing of all the perks and practical benefits of long-term train travel in these cars specifically. “I think he enjoys talking about his family’s business,” you observe to Annie wryly.

“He is very proud of it.” She murmurs back, pride on her own face as she watches the two of them discuss business. “His dream to is run the company one day after his grandfather passes.”

“I’m sure they will be very proud to have him take over.” Knowing that the man will not survive that long makes you swallow your regret, but there is nothing you can do about it. History cannot be changed. If you interfere to spare your mother’s heartbreak, you will literally never be born.

"With the right woman by his side." She giggles quietly and bites her lip as she nearly vibrates with excitement. Emmanuel had asked to speak to her father just this morning and she's sure that a proposal is coming.

“Give him time.” Not having vampiric hearing, you’re unaware of what happened downstairs this afternoon while you were getting dressed to leave Newport. “Do not be disappointed if he takes a little time.”

"He spoke with father." She leans into whisper in confidence, breaking out into a large, happy grin. "I have a feeling that we will be engaged by the Astor's ball!"

“That will be quite the souvenir to return home with from the city.” It would be a wonderful thing for her right now, obviously, but you dread the idea that she might take your new found friendship so straight forwardly and do something like ask you to be in her wedding party. Something you would have to say no to.

"I think I might die!" She giggles dramatically and collapses against your arm. "He is just so perfect. And I've decided that I will ask him about his scars tonight."

“Then we might have a very eventful trip indeed.” She’s so happy and it’s intense and infectious and so very sweet — you can’t help but hug her as she stands beside you. “I would ask if you are excited to see the Vanderbilts again but I think you must have spent a lot of time with them.”

"Despite my father thinking little of their plans to tear down the cottages and build a bigger home, he quite likes them." She shrugs. "They have been very kind, especially when in social gatherings."

“With six children, I can only think the house must be very crowded.” There were so many times as a child that you had wished for that many siblings, but as an adult the idea of giving birth to six kids makes you want to carry a bottle of Advil out of fear.

"I cannot even imagine." Annie shakes her head and bites her lip. "I don't think I would want that many children myself."

“Neither do I.” Ah. Interesting to know after the fact that you were an only child because your mother very reasonably didn’t want to put her body through that. That sounds very much like your pragmatic mother.

"Although, mother assures me that father has the most delightful pain tonic to help with the pains." She sighs softly. "I was never lonely like some expected me to be as an only child."

“Then you were very lucky.” Before you can say more, which is probably for the best, the conductor comes around to ask the four of you to settle in for the beginning of the journey. There is a table and set of four chairs in the center of the car for you to sit together, and Emmanuel reaches into his pocket to pull out a deck of cards. “Shall we amuse ourselves before dinner?” He offers, putting the deck on the table before holding Annie’s chair out for her to sit comfortably

"Absolutely." Max has learned how gentleman play cards in this time and finds it fascinating.

"Shall I pour you ladies a sherry to enjoy?" Emmanuel asks, motioning to a bar cart set up in one corner.

“If we could have tea?” Annie quickly asks the gentleman before he leaves your car all together. He nods politely and exits. “I…have noticed that your wife does not often partake, Mr. Philips. I would not wish my dear friend to feel left alone.”

“It is true, my wife does not enjoy the taste of alcohol.” Max agrees. “It is not a bad thing, I find that the taste is rather bitter myself and dinners are far more reasonable with tea than a bottle of wine.”

“Then we will all have tea.” Emmanuel offers, once Max has you settled at the table. With the four of you sitting it’s a very happy atmosphere and Emmanuel begins to shuffle the deck.

Max shoots you a grin as he leans back and watches Emmanuel. “Aficionado, hmmmm? We’ll see. Perhaps we might have to make a wager if you are as good as you imagine you are.”

“How much?” The other man chuckles, feeling lively at the proposition.

“How about a nickel a hand?” Max asks, raising a brow playfully. When he had been a broke college kid, it had been quarter poker, but five cents is particularly generous in this time.

“That’s a very friendly wager, Max.” It makes the other man laugh again, and he nods. From the depths of his coin purse he is sure to unearth as many rounds’ worth of nickels as ever he should need. “A nickel a hand it is.”

Max grins and pulls out some bills to exchange for the nickels and divides them but between all of you.

"I'm afraid I'm not much of a card player, but I'm happy to try." Modern poker, or Go Fish, or even a game of hearts on your laptop while you were in college was all fairly standard. But bridge has proven difficult for you to pick up, if a few nights of sitting at the card table with you mother and grandmother are anything to go by.

“Don’t worry.” Max reaches out and pats your hand. “Why don’t we keep the rules simple?”

"Just regular poker will do." Annie's grin is mischievous and instantly you're back at the dining room table with your parents on Sunday afternoons while they played cards and you did homework or colored or read a book. It seemed to be the only time you weren't twirling around the house like a sugared up cyclone.

He arches a brow at your mother and grins. “Regular poker it is.” Emmanuel laughs as he starts to dole out the cards to everyone. “Aces high, Jokers bust.”

It might be the most relaxed and most pleasant way to pass an evening that you’ve had in ages. No television to sit around, not all of you sitting individually on your phones. Just a card game and a pot of tea and friends. Although, it is particularly entertaining to watch Max realize that your mother is an exceptional poker player, which is definitely not what he had anticipated.

“Renee had a sweetheart in the war twenty years ago,” Annie explains through giggles at the table after she wins yet another hand. “He taught her the game after they played it at their camps so often, and she taught me.”

“Really?” Max has always been interested in the other vampire, wanting to know her story, but she’s surprisingly closed mouthed. “They must have had fun playing cards.”

“It was about one of the only fun things they did have.” Annie agrees, swallowing a sigh. “He was a part of a medical unit. The poor man survived the entire war and then succumbed to a fever barely a year after the surrender at Appomattox Courthouse. She accepted being turned rather than continue to suffer, but her sweetheart refused.”

“That’s sad.” Max frowns slightly, not even able to imagine the loss of her lover. “Was he her soulmate? Or first love?”

“Renee’s soulmate was her sister.” Pausing at the appearance of the night’s second tea tray, Annie thanks the steward who brings it in and waits for them to leave before continuing. “He was her first love. But her family didn’t approve. She left home to be with him and still lost him, poor thing.”

“Her sister?” Max tilts his head curiously, knowing about platonic soulmates but he’s never heard of siblings who are soulmates. “Twins?”

“Indeed.” Annie nods, moving to pour tea out for everyone but you beat her to it. “It seems there was some sort of rivalry between her family and his, and except for her sister, they couldn’t see to forgive her for choosing him. They still exchange letters, but the post takes time.”

“Did her twin also become a vampire?” His eyes cut over to Emmanuel but the other man just looks up from his cards curiously. The subject of the undead obviously not phasing him at all.

“Martha wasn’t hit with the same fever that took Johnson and almost took Renee. She’s still back in West Virginia with their family.” Annie stops long enough to thank you for her cup, and fixes Emmanuel’s for him at the table. “They’re God-fearing people, Max. Renee still hasn’t told her sister how she survived the fever. She’s afraid Martha will cut her out, too.”

“No doubt, it would be better if a visit didn’t occur.” Max snorts, still bitter at the lack of relationship with his own parents.

“They would likely notice that she has not aged in twenty years.” This time Annie shakes her head, sipping her own tea to steady herself. “I am sure you know, but most vampires are forced to cut ties with their mortal families at one point or another.”

“Lucky for me, I cut ties before then.” Max huffs with a sardonic grin.

“And know you have a whole other family.” It’s very clear that Emmanuel sees only the silver lining as he sits back and smiles. “And it grows beautifully. Your sire, his family, and now your wife.”

“My wife is worth everything.” Max isn’t just playing to his audience, he means it. Taking your hand that isn’t wrapped around your card and kissing it softly.

While the ring is burning a hole in Emmanuel’s pocket, this is not the right time. He has already planned out when and where to ask Annie to be his bride, and a train car is not at all grand enough for such an important question. “You are very lucky to have found each other,” he observes instead. “To find one’s soulmate is a genuine blessing.”

“Yes.” Max winks at you and then glances at where Annie is fidgeting slightly, looking worried and eager all at the same time. “What about you, Mannie?” He asks, leaning back. “What kind of marks have you made to lead your soulmate to you?”

“Wherever she is, she has remained a mystery to me.” Which is a terrible disappointment, if he’s honest. He had always dreamed of something dramatic and romantic like seeing a shared mark on a lady’s arm at a ball. Since meeting Annie Brown, though, he has been glad that that never happened. The love he feels for her is far too deep to deny. “I have no marks from my soulmate. Only somewhere in the world, she wears the scar on her leg from when I fell off my horse as a boy.”

Max can feel the way Annie’s heart nearly leaps in her chest and your own hand squeezes his tightly. “Interesting. Which leg? I have to say that I am unfortunate enough that I don’t have scars either. Different circumstances, of course.”

“Of course.” Emmanuel chuckles lightly, not thinking anything of it. “It is my left leg. A rather unsightly mark, too. I ought to apologize to the lady for bestowing it on her if I ever were to meet her.” There is a deeply felt — a dearest hope — in his heart that it could be Annie. But he has been too afraid to ask and be disappointed.

She inhales sharply, eyes wide and hopeful and her cards are all but abandoned in her hand. “I am sure it’s not too bad.” She volunteers. “Just a mark slightly larger than the palm of my hand?”

“With a…” He swallows thickly, and suddenly Emmanuel cannot look away from the woman beside him for anything in the world. “A curve on one end…like the top of a cane…how could you…?”

Nodding almost frantically, Annie leans in and drops the cards to grab her beau’s hand. “Please tell me that this is the mark you are describing?” She begs. “Please tell me you are my soulmate.”

“It cannot be.” He has never thought that he could be this lucky. That the woman he had fallen in love with so quickly has found it in her heart to love him back is one thing. For her to truly be the other half of his soul is something truly remarkable. “Are we really to be twice blessed?” He clutches her hands tightly, knowing that to ask to see her bare leg is entirely out of the question but knowing that she recognizes his mark means the world.

Max smirks and looks over at you as you watch your mother look like the sun is shining just for her. “Should be in one of those romance books, hmmm?”

“We should give them some space.” If you don’t, there’s a chance that you might not be able to contain yourself, and that you might give something away by shedding tears instead of being happy for Annie. Watching your mother discover her soulmate is a gut punch that you hadn’t quite expected.

“Come.” Max senses how emotional you are and stands. “Shall we see our sleeping berth?”

You nod, trying your best to keep yourself composed while he helps you up and leads you to the two single-side beds on the far end of the car. Pullman cars aren’t equipped with doubles for married couples, but you’ll barely be a foot apart.

“Interesting sleeping arrangements.” Max ticks a brow up before he turns to you. “Are you alright, Queenie?” He asks, rubbing your arms gently. He knows this is a shock for you.

“I didn’t expect to be here for the reveal,” you admit, tucking into his side and letting yourself drop down onto one of the mattresses indiscriminately. “I’m okay. It’s a lot, though.”

“It’s okay to like Emmanuel.” He reminds you softly, dropping down beside you. “I hate that I would have loved to have him for the dreaded F. I. L.”

“He’s such a nice man.” A few tears break free as you bury your face in Max’s side. “And he makes her so happy.”

“And your father made her happy for the rest of her life.” Max wraps his arms around you and lets you cry. There’s no reason to chide you for it, considering that he feels emotional about it all too.

“I just wish there was a way for her to have it all,” you admit quietly. “Her soulmate, her second love, and her family. Everything that made her happy.”

“She gets to have you again.” Max comforts you softly. “Even if she doesn’t know that she should, she loves you. Just as you are.”

“I’m glad she doesn’t know everything that’s happened.” Knowing that Max will understand why, the best thing to do right now is just to stifle your tears with a handkerchief and try to recompose yourself. “And I’m glad that abuela doesn’t either.”

“I hate that we can’t tell them.” Max admits softly. “Let them change it.”

“I wouldn’t ever be born.” That is enough of a deterrent to keep you in line, but it still hurts your heart. “Or if I would be, I would be a different version of myself.”

“I love you, just as you are,” Max promises softly. “But if you could have not had the heartbreak, it would have been better for you.”

“It would have been better for you, too, love.” If you could have spared Max from suffering in any way you would have, but you squeeze his hands tightly and place a kiss on the corner of his mouth. “But I love you, too. Just as you are.”

The skipping beat of his heart is fleeting and he turns his head to kiss you again, addicted to the sensation. “Too bad kissing other places doesn’t have the same effect.” He murmurs with a teasing grin.

"I was kind of hoping it would," you admit, cheeks immediately burning hot with the reminder of this morning. "It certainly makes my heart beat faster, though."

“I know.” Max leers and his tongue swipes over his lips in satisfaction. “I felt it. Every stuttering, skipping pulse as it throbbed through your sweet little pussy.”

"Max!" You may be on the other side of the train car, but there is still a chance that Annie and Emmanuel might hear him if they ever come up from the way their heads are bowed at the card table.

“What?” He huffs, grinning broadly at your embarrassment. “We’re married.”

"Yeah..." Huffing right back at him, you glance over at the other couple seriously. "And my virgin mother is in the same room," you remind him as quietly as possible.

“She might not be by the time this train goes home.” Max reminds you. “Not the way those two smell right now.”

"Oh gods, I did not need to know that." You poke his side and all but shudder. "I know it's a hundred years too early but she's still...her."

“Mommy had to have some sex.” He teases softly. “She had you. And she’s really old to have been a hundred-year-old virgin.”

“It’s just not something I’ve ever thought about.” There was no need for you to. Not up to age eighteen. And then your parents became frozen in time in your mind’s eye. “You’re right, it’s just never something I’ve spent time on.”

“One day, our kids will have the same revelation.” Max hums. “Unless we are just freely sexual around them and they groan and roll their eyes, talking about horrible their parents are.”

“I know what Yayo said, but I’m trying not to get too excited about the idea of kids,” you admit, eyes dropping from his to your hands in his lap. “Just in case.”

“I know.” Max’s grin drops into a more serious expression and he covers your warm hands with a cool one. “If we don’t, we don’t. It’s not the end of the world. We’ll adopt a little shit and spoil them rotten if you want.”

“You’ve never mentioned having any vampiric children.” And you’ve never asked, so it’s not entirely on him. “I take it I’m not a stepmother?”

“I’ve—”Max frowns and blows out a useless sigh. “All but one was destroyed when— when I was.” He admits quietly. “But I don’t look at them like kids. Or I didn’t.” He snorts. “He’s in California for some fucking reason.”

“You have a son?” He may not look at his vampiric offspring as a child but you certainly do, and your eyes widen immediately. “I don’t even know where to start. I—tell me everything.”

“Okay….” He snorts and shakes his head. “It’s not a very long story, but I’ll tell you.”

“Short stories can still be interesting,” you remind him, finding yourself aghast that he just hadn’t mentioned it.

He shuffles slightly, embarrassed by his past behavior. “The guy who ruined my life? I got a job for the company he worked for.”

“Right.” Trying to conjure up every detail of information he has given you about that situation, you nod along with his explanation. “The telesales company.”

“Yep. I sold myself to management, using the vampirism as a business model. Convinced them sales would increase if they had a workforce of the undead. The company was going under and they were desperate for any Hail Mary.”

“So you…sired people at the office?” It seems more than slightly outrageous, but companies have surely done crazier things out of desperation.

“Yeah.” He huffs quietly. “I wanted to prove there was a better way, better reason to be a vampire.” He huffs. “And get revenge on that little annoying fucker.”

“So one of them is still alive?” The term makes you cringe, though, and you slump apologetically. “So to speak.”

“One, yeah.” He frowns slightly, bothered by all the people destroyed because of his selfishness more than he realizes. Maybe that was why he never truly fought against his punishment as he thought of his confinement to the Newport house. He felt as if he deserved much worse. Realizing now that you were all your grandfather had actually cared about.

“Hey.” One hand flat on his chest brings his attention back to you and you tilt your head at him quizzically. “What just happened in there?”

“Huh? What do you mean?” Max snaps back to you and bites his lip.

“You disappeared into your own head.” Unconsciously mirroring him, you bite your lip too. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to pry. I already pried.”

“No.” The best way to make Max open up is for you to blame yourself for something, even something small. “I just— I realized how many people died because of me.” He admits, wondering if that would change how you feel about him.

“You’re literally a different person than you were then.” You remind him gently. “And you’re living a completely different…afterlife.”

“Still…..” max closes his eyes. “It was seventy-three people.”

“Which is why you drink from donors now and make business deals in ink instead.” It isn’t much comfort, but at least you can show Max that he’s changed. He’s become a better man since his afterlife got upended. “Speaking of which…” You take his hand in yours and squeeze gently. “You haven’t had any blood since we got here.”

“I know.” Max doesn’t want to admit that he’s starting to feel thirsty. “I’m alright.”

“You won’t be in another day or two.” And since the middle of that hunger and thirst will come during a trip away from the steady donor so helpfully supplied by your grandfather — under circumstances you absolutely don’t want to know about — you squeeze his hand again. “But I’m not going to let you go thirsty. I promise.”

Max shakes his head. “No, I’ll— I don’t want you to do something you aren’t comfortable with.” You had shown you were squeamish about it and Max has not brought it up again. You had flinched once when he was going down on you and that was enough to cross it off the list of things he would do with you.

“I’m more comfortable with you drinking from me than I am with the thought of you sharing something so intimate with a complete stranger,” you admit. “You said yourself how deeply the connection can be felt.”

“You flinched.” He reminds you softly, telling himself it’s ridiculous to be hurt by that when it’s a normal reaction to fangs.

“Because I was afraid it might hurt.” The sheepishness — the embarrassment — in your quiet confession is very clear, and your eyes drop down to your hands again because your fear hurt him and you don’t deserve to look him in the eyes. “Not because I don’t want to take care of you.”

“It doesn’t matter if you think you should.” Max sighs. “I don’t want you to ever do something you don’t want with me. If you’re afraid it will hurt, I won’t do it.”

“Max…” You hadn’t expected him to protest, honestly thinking he would been overjoyed at the offer. It just goes to show that you’re not quite as adjusted to this relationship as you thought you were. You had expected him to just take without any thought, but that isn’t Max. Or, at least, that isn’t Max anymore. “Will you at least consider it?”

“If you want me to.” He doubts he would, but your brow is knitted with worry and he hates that.

“I want you to. To consider it and to do it. But not until you’re ready.” And part of That sense to be showing him that you aren’t afraid anymore, so you will do everything you can.

“I love you, Dolly.” Max whispers, offering you his hand. “I just don’t want to fuck up and hurt you.”

“I’d rather have a little bit of hurt from a bite than be hurt because I’ve lost you,” you tell him honestly. Him not feeding is not an option, just like it’s not an option for you not to eat, either.

“You aren’t going to lose me.” Max promises. “If I had to eat someone, I would, just to stay with you.”

"You don't have to, though." Looking back up at him, your gaze is surprisingly steady. "And I can stay with you forever, too."

“Mrs. Phillips, are you proposing to me?” He’s grinning, but he sounds scandalized. “How terribly modern of you.”

“I suppose I am, in a way.” It wasn’t what you had meant to do — not strictly speaking — but at the heart of it is the same conversation. That you want to be with him. Just him. For as long as you possibly can.

“Makes sense.” Max tells you. “Since we are married.” He looks at you softly and reaches into his pocket. “You want to be with me? Forever?”

“I really do.” The certainty is extraordinary. Something you never truly thought would ever happen. It here you are, with his hand in yours, and you know in your heart that you will do anything in your power to stay with him.

Max decides that it might not be the most glamorous thing, but he slides off the bed and kneels down in front of you. “Dolly, Queenie, my soulmate…” He starts, his cockiness fading and there’s a naked, earnest expression in his eyes. “I never thought I would be able to have you. You are perfect, better than I ever dreamed and I am not even worthy of you, but for some reason, you want me.” He takes a small, leather box out of his pocket. “Will you roam the earth with me and experience eternity together?”

“Oh gods…” If someone had asked you the least likely things to happen to you in the entire world, this would have been on the list. Your soulmate, a happy relationship, engagement and marriage — all of these things. They were put on a shelf out a reach and you didn’t ever think your arm would stretch that far for the rest of your life. But here in this train car it’s Max that you reach for, tearing up and giggling softly and feeling your whole self light up brightly with “Yes!”

It’s pure relief that has Max grinning, thankful and happy that someone finally put him first. Someone, the most important someone, believed him — believed in him. “I want— here.” The normal suaveness completely leaves your soulmate and he opens the ring box nervously. Hoping you like your ring.

“Get up here,” you insist, pulling him up to sit next to you on the bed so you can kiss him before anything else happens. The little leather box holds a sparkling diamond set in gold and that is wonderful, but what you want more than ever is to hold onto this feeling of sweet, deep, honest love that’s pounding in your chest.

Like all the kisses before, Max feels his heart move and he knows that is because you love him, not because of the soulmate connection. He cups your face tenderly as he pours himself into the kiss, not putting on a facade for you, just being greedy for your affection.

In this moment it’s all you can do to be mildly cognizant of the fact that your mother is in the room, and even if she doesn’t know she’s your mother it’s still another two people who probably just heard you squeal at Max’s arms wrapping right around you. Thankfully the soft moan he drew out of you just seconds later was soft. Only for his ears.

You’re his. The realization makes his heart thump even more with your lips against his and he groans into your mouth. The scent of you utterly intoxicating and he will be able to have it forever.

It’s so easy to get caught up in him. Caught up in the way that you can always tell when he’s being playful, or teasing, or his most honest self with you just from the way he kisses you. His armor has been tossed by the wayside and all that is left for you to see is his whole heart — which is a privilege you never intend to squander. It’s only the sound of a throat clearing that brings you out of the moment, as Emmanuel glances across the train car with reddened cheeks.

“Oh.” Max is almost disappointed by the interruption, but he grins over at the other man. “I apologize. It’s wonderful kissing your soulmate, isn’t it?” He asks knowingly.

“Wonderful.” Emmanuel agrees immediately, knowing that you and Max are aware that he and Annie have shared more than dances. “We ought to celebrate.”

“Yes we should!” Max immediately agrees, popping up and reaching over and shaking the man’s hand. “How about I make the best hot chocolate you’ve ever had?” He knows the bar cart would have chocolate for the ladies and it will let everyone have something special without popping a bottle of champagne.

“Trust me. Say yes.” You assure them both when Annie looks to you curiously. You had mentioned this quirk of your husband’s before and it had intrigued her.

“Yes.” Annie agrees with authority, laughing all the while. She feels positively light as air and doesn’t want to waste a single moment of this joy.

“I’ll be back in a flash.” Max winks and shoots past all of you fast enough to make yours and Annie’s skirts sway.

“Forgive me.” You smooth your hands over her skirt before getting up and coming back over to the card table. “I seem to have gotten carried away.”

“You are married.” Annie scoffs, waving away your apologies. “I hope that I do not have a dull marriage. I want my husband, my soulmate, to wish to kiss me every chance he gets.” The eyes she makes at Emmanuel are not subtle.

“And I am sure he will. After you are married.” It’s obviously not something you care about — Twenty-first century dating being far different from nineteenth century courting — but you have to pretend. To act like a lady of this time and place. “If your parents found out that you anticipated your vows when I was supposed to be here to stop you, they would never trust us all out together again.”

Annie snorts and rolls her eyes. “I very seriously doubt my parents will mind. You are here to be a show of propriety, as well as dear friends.”

"My only thought is to make sure you are taken care of." Her hand finds yours as you reach across the table, and for a moment you just smile at each other. Just a small moment of sharing in each other's happiness means so much, and you end up shrugging as if you are dramatically giving in. When in fact you have no intention of intruding on whatever historically happened between your mother and her soulmate the first time around. "I'm glad that you're happy. Both of you."

“Thank you.” Annie tugs you close and pulls you in for a tight hug. “You have been such a dear friend so quickly. It feels as though we have always known each other.”

"Like family," you hum, holding yourself to just a smile and making sure your perceptive mother can't see past the necessary lies that have been told.

“Exactly like family.” She beams, happy you seem as like minded as she. “Perhaps we will be one day.” She muses. “Our children could marry.”

"Anything is possible." Is the enigmatic answer you go with, knowing full well that that particular scenario is not in the cards. But that's no reason to ruin your mother's joy. "Sometimes family can be the people you choose, too. Not only marriage and blood."

“Yes….blood.” Annie sighs slightly and then looks towards the soulmate she had just discovered. “My parents will be thrilled, absolutely thrilled.”

"Don't let anything steal your joy right now," you squeeze her fingers again before sitting back, hearing the sounds of someone walking toward the car and hoping that it's Max. "Not anything at all."

“Who is ready for the richest hot chocolate they have ever tasted?” Max asks as the door opens and a large tray is filled with a set of cups.

"I'm intrigued," Emmanuel laughs, watching your very proud soulmate come back inside with his tray. "Where did you learn such a particular skill?"

How does he explain baristas? Max grins. “My nanny taught me.” He decides. “She would make the most marvelous hot chocolate and I always wanted it, so she insisted I learn.”

“How marvelous.” Annie perks up enthusiastically and takes a deep breath, inhaling the scent of the thick, creamy drink. “Oh, it smells divine!” It is an indulgence to be sure, but that is only because of her own mother’s sensibilities. Chocolate is a treat, not to be overindulged in.

Smiling, Max looks like the pet student who is being recognized for their efforts. The fact that he is a praise seeker isn’t new, but this time, having the approval of your mother is rewarding. Even if she doesn’t know about the familial connection.

You already know it’s going to be amazing, but watching your mother and Emmanuel take their first sips and then light up like kids in a literal candy store is amazing. “Your nanny must have been a witch,” Annie declares, sighing openly at the divine taste. “Because this is obviously magic of the most wonderful sort.”

“She must have been.” Max winks at you and leans in to press a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “My wife married me for the recipe, but I have not given it to her yet.” He jokes. “She might run away.”

“Even if I had the recipe, I don’t think I could make it as well as you.” Your first sip comes with a hum on contentment. The chocolate in this time has less sugar, making it taste deeper and richer than when he would make it at home. “Part of the recipe must be love.”

“You know it is.” He hums indulgently and bats his eyes at you playfully. “Only the best for my love.”

The extremely unladylike snort from you causes laughter all around the table. This atmosphere of playfulness so far has been pervasive, like a wonderful warm hug. Right now you want nothing more than for that to last. To last for however long it is that you’ll be stuck in the past — because as much fun as you’re having? You do have to go home.

******

Even though there are two beds provided for you and Max, as any upper class Gilded Age couple would expect, there is only a curtain to give you privacy for the night. So when you crawl into the same bed together in your chemise and Max’s silk pajamas — apparently brand new and all the rage in America — you almost feel scandalous about it. Maybe that’s coming from the fact that you’re all but certain Annie and Emmanuel have crawled in together on the other side of the car, but you’re telling yourself that that’s none of your business. For now, all your focus belongs to Max…and the glittering ring on your finger as it catches the moonlight coming in the open window.

“Do you like it?” He whispers softly. He had worried because modern rings are larger, more simplistic, but he had hoped you would like the elaborate filigree and design on the ring.

“It’s gorgeous.” Tucking yourself closer in his arms, you tip your head back to kiss him. “I love it. How did you even manage to go find one?”

“Your grandfather took me to his jeweler.” He hums, proud of the fact that you like it.

“Conspiring with my Yayo, I’m very impressed.” It doesn’t actually surprise you at all, but you’re glad that they’re getting along in this time as well as in your own. Max’s own family predicament makes you so grateful that your grandparents have welcomed him with open arms. “It’s perfect, baby. I—thank you.”

“You don’t need to thank me.” His body slots against yours perfectly and he pulls you closer. “I know that we aren’t actually….you know.” He lowers his voice so only you can hear. “But I wanted you to have a piece of this time when we go back.”

“Can you imagine?” A little giggle escapes you and you muffle it against his chest. “If I actually manage to get us home again and we just roll up into the house legally married for 138 years?”

He snorts, grinning into the darkness as he ignores the sounds coming from the next bed. It’s too quiet for you to hear, so he pretends he doesn’t either. “Not like we wouldn’t be married for 138 more after we get back.”

“And maybe more.” Who knows what will happen? You’re certainly not going to claim to be an expert on how the world works. Not after discovering that time travel is real.

“Maybe more.” Max nuzzles his nose against your cheek and smiles. “Are you having a good time with your mother, Dolly?”

“I am. I know it’s not the same but it’s so nice to just see her face and hear her voice again.” And if you could do the same for Max, you would do it in a heartbeat.

“I know, Dolly.” Max sighs sadly. “I wish I could have met your version of her.”

“She’s still her. Just less…Mom.” That doesn’t make any sense but you can’t articulate it any better so you shrug. “Though I guess I understand now why she always talked about going to the opera when she was little. That’s what people do in this time.”

“And you are going to get to experience that with her. In this time.” He reminds you, having already been informed that tickets will be waiting.

“If you get bored then just slip out of the box and go smoke cigars with Vanderbilt or something.” For all you know Max hates the opera. It hadn’t exactly been a point of debate when the Vanderbilts had announced their intention to takes you along to the brand new Metropolitan Opera House with them. “I won’t be offended, I swear.”

“No, I doubt I would be bored.” Max shakes his head. “It will be a fine study if the aristocracy in New York.”

“This is like the weirdest vacation in the world.” You snort at yourself slightly. At the odd memory that just popped into your head. “It’s Where in Time is Carmen Sandiago? the real game.”

“Now starring…Dolly.” He intones dramatically, like he’s an announcer. He grins in the darkness when you giggle.

“That will be your career if I can’t get us back,” you tease, light and laughing softly in the night instead of scared or worried. Somehow he makes you so sure that things will work out that you are able to breathe freely in moments like these. “A vaudeville announcer. And then we’ll get you into radio afterward.”

Max snorts softly. “Wouldn’t that be a hell of a note? Live a life back in time and reappear in our own timeline like nothing ever happened?”

“It’s all going to depend on how long it takes me to learn how to get us home,” you remind him gently. The fact is, this could be a very real problem to have, but at the moment it doesn’t seem like the worst sort of very real problem.

“Doesn’t matter how long it takes, my love.” He whispers, rubbing your back soothingly. “We have eternity and as long as I have you, I can live wherever, or whenever, we are.”

______

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My Masterlist!

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Max Phillips #Max Phillips x you #Max Phillips x reader #Max Phillips x female reader #Max Phillips x f!reader #Bloodsucking Bastards #soulmate au #time travel #mysterious inheritance #witches #vampires #it's the Gilded Age bitches!

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