#then i guess you could call someone in their twenties middle-aged?
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Ok but doesn't middle-aged start at like 25??
(⚆ᗝ⚆) NO
#please i'm on my knees#the emotional damage reading this caused asdfghjkfhs#middle-aged means something between 40 and 60 yrs#maybe if you lived in the 13th or 14th century with a life expectancy of 40 years max bc you had to fight the plague and whatever#then i guess you could call someone in their twenties middle-aged?#not every blorbo can be a middle-aged man and that's fine really#or a dilf while we're on that topic#just enjoy them as they are ok#and when YOU are in your thirties we'll talk again lmao#lale.ask
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Abstaining Game
Pairing: dbf!Joel x Reader
Summary: The only thing worse than an anti-sex retreat is an anti-sex retreat with your former fuckbuddy and dad’s best friend. Especially when sharing one cabin.
Warnings: 18+. IF HE AIN’T GRAYIN’ I AIN’T STAYIN’ 🗣️ [Age gap]. Unprotected p-in-v. Forced proximity. Joel making you fuck just his middle finger when he’s mad. Daddy kink. Overstimulation. First-time squirting. Angst.
Translations: ‘Don’t piss down my back & tell me it’s raining’ is a fun Southern phrase for, ‘Cut the bullshit’ or ‘Don’t lie.’
Sequel to Waiting Game & Hating Game (last rhyme I swear)
October 26, 2024
Dear Joel,
Roses are red,
We’re a couple of sluts,
Abstinence camp is awful,
I miss you rearranging my guts.
You were just about to put your pen back down to paper and add the finishing touch, signing an equally lascivious farewell, when the letter was snatched out of your hands. A tyrant in khaki capris and an artichoke-colored polo eyed over your words with a pointed look and frowned.
“Letters to the boyfriend have to be G-rated,” Marlene said, crumpling the thing in her fist before chucking it.
“He’s not my boyfriend,” you returned shortly. Then, “That was actually meant for my dad’s friend.”
You sat tight a moment as the dots came to connect in the woman’s parochial and prudish mind—waiting for the wince of disgust to twitch at the corners of her eyes when she put two and two together. Once it did, you grinned. Even when she plucked the pen out of your hand and told you to sit outside, if you can’t participate in this one simple activity, you smiled bigger and strolled at a comfortable pace out the canteen door.
Anti-sex ‘summer camp’ wasn’t bad at all when you didn’t give a fuck what your counselors told you to do.
It was ridiculous, really. Absurd. Tommy Miller catching you sucking his brother’s dick under the table at your father’s birthday dinner, losing his shit with you both, then threatening to tell your dad everything if you didn’t agree to this stupid retreat and stop seeing each other. You’d barely been trapped in the shithole for twenty-four hours, and you already knew this angle wouldn’t work.
What many of your fellow campers affectionately called the ‘Firefly Fuck-Free Zone’ or the ‘Federal Dickriding Response Agency’ (F.E.D.R.A.) was in fact a secluded enclave south of Austin where khaki-clad monsters forced you to reckon with your sexual urges like one might treat a mutated strain of the Cordyceps fungus. You weren’t meant to keep them for long, and if you did, someone like Marlene would surely shame you for it.
Frankly, Tommy was dumb as shit if he thought this anti-boinking boot camp would have an effect on either one of you—Joel wouldn’t ever bang you again after what happened that night, but it wouldn’t be because of some arts and crafts bullshit he did out on a FEDRA ranch.
He just didn’t want your dad to find out and kill him.
That was a fair concern to have. You didn’t blame him.
Presently, you kicked your feet up on the porch outside the cafeteria, where the rest of the group was finishing up letters to their loved ones—this latest activity was meant to be ‘making amends’ to the people in your life—and you tipped your head back to survey the landscape.
Nothing but sweetgrass and gently rolling hills as far as the eye could see. Somewhere across the plains there was another cluster of cabins, though you couldn’t quite see it, and someplace within that minuscule cluster, you knew there was a middle-aged man. Dark grey eyebrows furrowed in concentration and chest heaving gently. Likely hunched over an old oak desk about five sizes too small for his frame as he gripped a pen and scribbled:
Dear Tommy,
Fuck you, you fucking fuck.
Sincerely,
Joel
You grinned again just thinking about it.
If anyone had a reason to be ticked off and terrified, it was Joel. And you, you guessed. You still hadn’t gotten your period—but that wasn’t due for another few days.
For now, you’d settled on worrying yourself over what would happen after the retreat had ended; what would you and Joel do once you went back to school? What would become of his life back in Austin with a supremely pissed off brother and a best friend who didn’t know his kid had been fooling around with a man twice her age?
Silently, you thanked your lucky stars Joel’s part of the camp was kept separate from yours, because you didn’t think you’d be able to keep a straight face if you saw him.
The whole thing was sickening, if not slightly funny.
You slipped Joel’s old pack of American Spirits out of your boot and fished in your back pocket for a lighter.
Then you crammed both back when you heard a boom:
“LAKESIDE GUIDED MEDITATION STARTS IN FIVE.”
The tinny intercom rang a deafening pitch in your ears. You clamped a palm over the left side of your head and winced, having forgotten this exercise in mindfulness was supposed to be the last event to wrap up your day. You just wanted to slink back up to your cabin and sleep. Or eat. Or slip your fingers between your aching legs and indulge in some much-needed Joel Miller reminiscing.
Then you recalled how masturbation was also off limits to all would-be sexaholic campers—if there was any time to sneak off and get busy by yourself while your counselors were otherwise occupied, now would be it.
Just as you cast a glance over your shoulder to see if a stealthy exit was even possible, a voice trilled overhead.
“On your feet, skank.”
You looked back fast, and damn did Tess look smug.
Your bunkmate crossed her arms over her chest and leaned against the doorframe, seeming to feel your thoughts before they’d even been fully processed.
“If you skip meditation, I think Marlene’s gonna take you behind the rec and shoot you in the head,” she added.
“How kind.”
“Yeah? Certain death?”
“Better than the dick deprivation,” you grumbled, only half-kidding as you dragged yourself back to your feet.
Theresa Servopoulos was no avid fan of penis herself—she much preferred women when she had her pick of it—but she grinned all the same and clapped a comforting hand over your shoulder before the two of you started walking down the mess hall’s front steps. Then she only laughed a little bit when you almost ate shit treading down the winding rocky trail to the lake and cursed your present lack of intercourse for causing your clumsiness.
“You realize it’s only been, like…a day, right?” she said.
“Might as well be a million,” you muttered, “I feel like I’m never getting laid again.”
“Oh?”
Tess gripped your elbow when a root protruding from the path nearly sent you flying again. She tried not to smile.
“Well…my fake brother’s mad at me for going behind his back and fucking his brother,” you explained, coolly.
Stupidly.
“Wait—you fucked your brother?!”
That stopped Tess in her tracks. The two of you were approaching the cusp of a clearing, just feet away from where the forest gave way to the shoreline of the lake. Folks were already congregating at the water’s edge.
“Any day now, ladies,” Marlene called through cupped hands. Tess was still regarding you with eyes the size of saucers as you traipsed across the way to that voice.
“Not my brother,” you hissed.
“You said your brother’s brother. That makes this guy your brother, too,” Tess whispered—still far too loud.
“Not my actual brother, he’s just— fuck—”
Suddenly, two scraps of red fabric were catapulted in your direction. Tess caught one. You caught the other.
“Tie ‘em over your eyes.” Marlene ordered.
“The fuck?” you mumbled, but ventured nothing more as you were ushered to join the group sitting cross-legged on the ground in front of you. Everyone else was tying bandanas around their eyes like all of this was normal.
“Another trust exercise,” Tess’s voice was low as you dropped your asses one after the other on the sand. Speaking like a seasoned veteran of the anti-sex retreat, she helped you get yours on and shot you one last ‘You-better-not-have-actually-fucked-your-sibling’ look before letting you help her secure her blindfold, too.
Just as Marlene began describing in great detail what this blind, guided meditation in self-love and elemental trust was meant to look like, your friend opted to give voice to her concerns the second the opportunity arose.
Still seated side-by-side, still blind, Tess leaned over.
“Please tell me you’re not here for bangin’ your brother.”
You had to stifle a laugh.
“I am not.”
“Then explain, Cersei!”
Just then, a throat cleared behind you. Evidently another camp counselor at your rear was telling you, wordlessly, to shut the fuck up and listen to the instructions. You and Tess just scooted closer and lowered your voices.
“So this guy, Tommy…he’s been like a big brother to me for years. Worked with my dad and always had my back for the wild shit I did back in high school,” you began.
“Uh-huh.”
“His big brother, Joel, is like…old as shit, but wildly hot.”
“Dangerous combo.”
“And Joel’s my dad’s best friend. Drove me back from college over fall break when he was visiting Boston, we took a little motel detour on the road trip home, and bam—” You snapped your fingers for effect, “We fuck, right?”
“Right.”
“—imagine you’re standing at the edge of a waterfall—”
Marlene couldn’t be serious with this hippy dippy shit. You tuned out the rest of what she said and continued:
“It’s incredible. But the condom busts open at the end—”
“Oh shit.”
“—deep breath in…and release…and again, we—”
“Freak the fuck out, right? I’m poppin’ Plan B like candy.”
“As you should.”
“—hold that breath in right there—”
“A week later, me and Joel hook up at my dad’s birthday party. Only we fuck up, ‘cause Tommy catches us, and—”
This time, the counselor who’d cleared their throat to shut you up took to nudging you both in the back with the toe of their shoe. You straightened up, tilted your head back, and scowled at them through your blindfold.
“Do you mind?” you said, turning in place but unable to see anything behind you. You imagined whoever had just butted in on your conversation was probably frowning. They said nothing in return, just huffed like a child.
“Anyway.” You pivoted back to Tess, “Tommy flips his lid, tells us he’s gonna snitch on us to my dad if we keep fucking around like that, and then he…sends us here.”
You heard your friend fight back a chuckle beside you.
“And abstinence camp is supposed to cure you of this awful disease? Wanting to fuck daddy’s best friend?”
Oddly, you wanted to giggle too. You weren’t sure what was so funny, or why Tess’s tone made you want to say something equally out of pocket and lewd, but then you were leaning over before you could even think twice:
“That old man’s dick is like a fuckin’ drug, dude.”
You wished you could’ve seen her face when you said it. But you didn’t need to catch a single glimpse to know she was grinning big and dumb when she whispered,
“Prehistoric cock must’ve been pretty nice, huh?”
You choked. She snorted. You returned, next, shortly,
“Best senior citizen schlong I’ve had in my life.”
You weren’t sure which one of you burst out laughing first. Maybe Tess. Probably you. Either way, both of your sides were splitting in seconds, as the ridiculous and just marginally offensive descriptors for Joel’s dick trembled at the tips of your tongues. You felt like a teenager again, telling your friend your filthiest desires for the DILF-next-door—except this time, you’d actually fucked him. Small perks to seeking out middle-aged men in your twenties. You had to clamp your hand over your mouth to rein in the peals of laughter as Tess wheezed quietly beside you.
Then you felt hands.
Two palms under your armpits, yanking you up.
You stumbled back, graceless and still staving off half a laugh as your back struck the counselor’s chest.
“Just…take her back up.” You heard a female’s voice to your left, low and not sounding particularly amused.
Take you where? Was this the part where Marlene dragged you behind the rec and shot you in the head?
About damn time.
Whoever had grabbed you grunted in acknowledgment. You swayed in their arms, trying to regain better footing, but the grip tightened up in a second and thrust you sideways. You staggered, cursing your captor.
“Fucker,” you hissed.
Fucker said nothing.
Their hands slipped from your pits to one of your wrists, leading you away from the lake in long strides. You were moving so fast you scarcely had the chance to pull the blindfold back, so you just kept walking. Marching.
“Can you slow the fuck down, please?”
You imagined the face of the person leading you forward might’ve twisted in a scowl. Their lips didn’t stir, though.
In a matter of minutes, your feet were crunching on the flat, gravelly terrain you knew to lay under the cabins. This person was leading you back. Likely to throw you off to your room in the next several moments—but not before ripping you a new one for disrupting the peace back down at the lake. You weren’t stoked to hear it.
“Alright, just—” You tripped as you were led up the rickety steps, cursing again, “—just leave me right here.”
A set of knuckles at your spine thrust you forward.
“No? Okay. Fine. Whatever.”
You shook your head as you entered the cabin and heard footsteps follow you in. It occurred to you then that now was probably a good time to take off the blindfold.
Before you could, though, it was ripped off for you.
“Pack your shit.”
Dude.
You spun on your heels.
“DUDE!”
Your eyes moved up the very khaki shorts you despised, the puke-colored polo, the neatly embroidered camp logo, and a nametag strangely labeled ‘Lucien Flores.’ Everything in the ensemble screamed ‘camp counselor.’ But the face above it—it wasn’t one of their own at all.
It was far too lax. Fresh with an easy, shit-eating grin.
“Sweetheart—”
He started to speak, only to get the wind knocked out of his chest when you threw your arms around him.
The barrage of kisses came without you ever really intending to place them at all. You were just so stunned, practically overcome with joy to see Joel Miller in all his ruggedly handsome glory, then confused. What was he doing here, and why was he dressed head-to-toe as a counselor? And why were you so into that on him?
You doubted you could even ask the questions, and he was barely more able to answer the longer you stayed latched to his neck, kissing him everywhere your mouth could get to. You’d just stood on tip-toes to press your lips to his when you realized he wasn’t reaching back.
His hands hung limply at his sides. Still, he smiled.
“Abstinence camp ain’t taught ya much, has it?”
You parted your lips to drag your teeth along the grey-spattered scruff on his cheek—biting but not quite. Begging him to kiss you back, grab your ass, anything to quell this anguish twisting low in your stomach at the lack of contact. Joel didn’t seem keen on answering to it.
“I’ve learned plenty, Miller,” you panted against his jaw, before moving below it to sink into the skin of his neck, “Lemme show you all the stuff FEDRA told us not to do.”
Yes, you sounded desperate. No, you didn’t really care. You were much too busy fiddling with the front of Joel’s shorts to concern yourself with anything but his cock. It made it all the more gut-wrenchingly horrific and disconcerting when you felt his hands push yours away.
“No,” Joel said, simply. Then, nodding to your luggage at the foot of your bunk, “Pack your stuff, sweets. C’mon.”
He was seriously trying to break you out?
You admired the cojones on the man, but you wanted to fuck real quick to get it out of your system. Needed it.
“Joel, I—” You swallowed thickly, shaking your head.
What your mouth couldn’t finish, your eyes said clear as day: I want you to take me right here. Quick and dirty. But, again, Joel seemed completely impervious to your pleas. Almost callous in the face of such a desperate request made from your eyes to his. He moved over toward your suitcase when you didn’t want to budge.
Luckily for you, you’d never unpacked. All that was left were the clothes on your back and a water bottle on the nightstand. Joel grabbed the latter and turned around to snag the suitcase on his way to the door, when he was met with you. Obstructing his path and frowning a little.
“Joel?” You raised a brow.
“Mm?”
The man in front of you straightened up, rolling a nonexistent kink from his neck before regarding you.
His gaze was alarmingly sedate.
“Y’know, you’ve got quite the knack for makin’ shit difficult—”
“Just a quickie, Miller—”
“I ain’t fuckin’ you here!”
The sudden boom of his voice should’ve startled you. But then a broad, warm palm came to rest on your shoulder, and Joel’s expression dropped immediately. There was still a tightness to it, somewhere deep within, and you couldn’t quite work out why he seemed so…off.
Then you caught sight of something steely in his gaze.
It just might’ve clicked if Joel didn’t reach for your face and elucidate things for you himself, eyes narrowing.
“I know my old man dick is like a fuckin’ drug and all…”
Shit.
Cheeks squished between his two big hands, you had only to stare. And blink. And silently regret being so loud when you were talking to Tess before. It didn’t look good.
“Joel—”
“No, no, my senile brain must be mistaken—it was actually that prehistoric cock that did it for ya.”
Your face heated with shame. You blinked again.
But just as you tried to shake your head between Joel’s hands, he pressed his palms tighter and drew you closer.
“Senior. citizen. schlong?” he intoned, painfully slow.
“Joel, I just—”
“Need to fuck someone your own age, it sounds like.”
The man in front of you released your face just as fast as he’d grabbed it, and when he stepped back, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of desperation. That wasn’t what you’d meant! It sounded so puerile and cruel coming out of his lips like this, but you had to tell him it was a joke.
“It was a joke.”
No time to mince words now.
“Real fuckin’ comedic genius,” Joel snorted.
He rolled his eyes and tried to sidestep you, but you mirrored the movement. When your hands flew to his chest to keep him from moving, please, just listen to me, Joel, he pretended not to hear it, or feel it, against him.
“Alright. Enough,” he muttered, “‘S’time to go home.”
“No!”
“No?”
“No.”
For the first time, you saw Joel’s nostrils flare. You pressed into his sternum again, hoping to hold him in place so you could explain yourself, but it seemed he wasn’t planning on staying stationary. Joel dropped to your bunk—or Tess’s, technically—and situated himself comfortably on the bed before shooting you a look. You barely had had a moment’s time to contemplate your next move when he yanked you onto the cot with him.
Joel didn’t try to kiss you. He didn’t attempt to remove one article of clothing from your body or his. He just sat there, staring, while you straddled his hips staring back.
“If you wanna fuck me so bad, go right ahead,” he said, motioning indistinctly in front of him, “Be my guest.”
When you stilled, he added, “That is all y’want, right?”
With your palms laying flat on his chest and a head full of conflicting thoughts—you did want to bang him, obviously, but not before you’d gotten a chance to set things straight, not when he was looking at you like this—you chewed your bottom lip. Certainly you couldn’t continue while Joel still believed you were embarrassed by his age, his lips downturned and humorless as ever.
“C’mon,” he tried again, a touch more venom laced in his words as he spoke, “Show me how much ya want it.”
You needed time to think.
“Why are you…dressed like this?” you said, stalling.
But Joel wouldn’t be kind enough to give you that time.
“Stole the uniform so I could sneak out and over here and get you out. Are we gonna fuck now or what?”
His hands moved over your own to guide them to his lower half, just above where your clothed core was touching his. Your fingers moved mechanically, almost reluctantly, to undo the button and zip of his shorts.
Was that a flash of hurt you saw in his eyes?
You’d never been good at this communication bullshit. Neither had Joel. The two of you would probably just have sex now to hash out your feelings, as was par for the course for a pair of emotionally stunted individuals. It still pained you to see him look at you like that, though.
“Tess and me were just kidding, baby.”
You palmed the bulge in his boxers and heard him grunt. When you nudged his cock out of the fabric to stroke him, his eyes fluttered shut and he sucked in a breath.
“I would never say those things to hurt you,” you added.
“Didn’t hurt me none,” Joel returned instantly. Then, feeling you flick the pad of your thumb over the head of his cock, he exhaled and held his face firm in place. Like he didn’t want you to see the effect you had on him.
You let go of his cock to take off your socks and shoes. Then your top. Then your shorts. Then you slid down his body a little, unsure if this was the time to be trying something new. Or even doing this kind of stuff at all.
At first, you just sort of lowered yourself to Joel’s groin, his dick resting comfortably between your tits. Then you started to move, and your hands were cupping either side of your breasts to push inward on his member. Before you even fully knew what you were doing, you were squeezing Joel’s dick with the soft, supple flesh and stroking him gently. Gaze glued to him all the while.
His eyes cracked open to catch you watching him. Evidently, Joel couldn’t contain all of his reactions, because he audibly groaned when you got going.
Sliding your tits up and down his shaft, feeling him pulse between them. Sensing a warmth pool in your own lower half but being too focused, and slightly ashamed, to act. You just wanted to make Joel feel good, even if your words weren’t able to do the trick with apologizing.
“Come here,” you beckoned him with just one finger as you slid off the bed, to the floor. Joel sat up, and you kneeled obediently between his legs. The two of you shared a tense, sexless look for a second before you lowered yourself back down and resumed the position.
This time, Joel could—and did—stir his hips to create some friction between your tits. His brow pinched inward with a muted concentration, and you wanted to say it looked handsome on him, that you were sorry for saying those stupid things to Tess and making him doubt your affection for him, but you kept your mouth shut. You had to remind yourself that emotions had no place between two needy, unfeeling people who just wanted to fuck.
Maybe that was how it should’ve been from the start.
But watching Joel’s face twist and contort in pleasure nearly wiped the thought clean out of your brain forever.
You felt many things for him, whether you liked it or not.
You really wished you hadn’t said the things you’d said.
Joel braced his hands at the edge of the bed on either side of him, hips working a steady pace to fuck your tits. He was staring mostly at the spot where the head of his cock was poking up through your cleavage with each thrust, entranced by the sight, and in a second, a full-throated moan was fighting its way out of his chest. He spit in his hand and paused to smear the stuff on his shaft, on your tits. Spit again and rubbed even harder.
Seeing him so cold and detached, you wanted to apologize again. Maybe beg him to say something kind.
Instead, you mumbled, “I love it when you fuck my tits.”
Joel scarcely acknowledged the remark, just letting you work yourself over him, meet his shallow thrusts, look sweet and wait patiently for him to cum all over you. When it seemed he might be ready to do it, though, Joel withdrew from you the next second and moved back on the bed. He pulled you into his lap, straddling again, but this time situated over the side of the bed—him sitting up, you perched on the flat, sturdy expanse of his thighs facing him. In the space between your bodies, Joel slid a quiet and almost careless hand to your heat, flicking the sheer fabric of your panties to the side in one go.
The moment his fingers made contact, you flinched.
It wasn’t that you were opposed to his touch, you just felt unfairly balanced in this situation. Joel appeared so stoic; you, a complete and utter wreck. Fighting fifteen different emotions at once and feeling unusually vulnerable spread open to him now, you almost didn’t register what he was doing—or what his hand might find.
Joel’s groan brought you back, though. When he rubbed his knuckles over the seam of your cunt and practically choked out twice his lung’s capacity, you had to look.
Aloof as he tried to be, the man’s desire was painted all over his expression. And his crotch. And his hand.
Well, actually, that last bit of arousal was yours.
“Fuckin’ soakin’ me, sweetie,” Joel breathed.
You perked up at the term of endearment. Watching one glistening fist of his make its way back and forth against your body, smearing sticky wet pleasure all over your mound and your folds, you found yourself gnawing your lip once more, this time for entirely different reasons.
Joel seemed to soften—even if only for a glaring carnal need, you didn’t care. You sank into this gentler touch.
“Khakis kinda suit you, Miller,” you said, off-handed.
Really, Joel looked almost as comical as he was sexy in that camp counselor getup: tan shorts stretched tight over even tanner legs, polyester top sitting pretty on wide, hulking shoulders, that silly stitched logo for the camp emblazoned over his left pec, and, of course, the nametag that didn’t belong to him but to Lucien. The whole thing was so alien to his lumberjack-chic demeanor that he nearly seemed boyish. Endearing. Some spearmint-scented hottie you might’ve had a crush on at camp years ago. You couldn’t help but smile.
Joel tried not to hold your gaze for too long.
“Don’t go pissin’ down my back and tell me it’s rainin’.”
When he slid one finger to your entrance, you tensed again, but smiled just the same and let out a breath. You felt him prod at the warm, wet skin and thumb at your clit, and something told you that he’d wanted to grin too.
“I’m serious,” you said, “Scout’s hon—ohfuckfuckfuck.”
Joel pushed one finger inside you. In spite of the ease with which he slipped between your walls, that gentle sensation made it wonderfully snug. He gripped your hip and started moving his single digit in and out, and in spite of yourself, you squirmed a bit. Joel never failed to call you out for doing that; today would be no different.
“Easy, sweet pea,” he hummed when you jumped again.
But you couldn’t help it. Your hands quickly anchored themselves to Joel’s shoulders, your legs spread wider, and your hips started stirring—bucking, really—against each teasing touch. It was still just one thick finger of his.
You glanced down and saw that it was his middle finger, in particular. The double meaning wasn’t lost on you.
“Another,” you pleaded.
“Nuh-uh.”
“You’re a mean ol— mean man.” You tried to correct course when you felt a mention of ‘old’ slip back into your vernacular, and inwardly, you cringed at your words.
Joel had already heard it. He cocked one eyebrow.
“Mean ol’ man?” he scoffed, still fingerfucking you softly. When you bucked against it, he nodded as if to say ‘fair enough.’
Then, before you could chime in, he nodded some more.
His expression was hard.
“Fuck my hand,” he said.
“What?”
“You heard me.”
You weren’t quite sure what he meant for you to do. When he nodded a third time, the gesture was accompanied by a quick dart of his eyes to the place where your cunt was being penetrated by his one finger. He curled the finger inward, and when you twitched at the hot throb of pleasure that followed, he grunted.
Fuck my hand.
Nails still searing tiny half-moons into his shoulders, you acted more out of impulse than by command. The look from Joel sure didn’t hurt, though. The second you started rolling your hips, he nodded again. Holding onto his praises for now and simply showing approbation.
“Like that,” he murmured.
All you were doing was rocking back and forth over his finger, whimpers percolating quietly in your chest, but the act alone made you feel desperate. And Joel smug.
It was like he wanted to see you getting off to this one, comparatively smaller part of him without being filled. Bucking plaintively to find that fullness and coming back empty every time. Your whimpers turned into whines.
“Need more,” you keened.
“Yeah?” Joel replied gently.
“Yeah.”
A beat, then:
“Tough shit.”
But he said it so goddamn sweet you had to do a double take to make sure you’d heard him correctly. When you met Joel’s eyes, you saw a hint of amusement lingering behind them. Then he squeezed your hip again and started helping you move into his hand, up and down.
“Only givin’ more fingers to good girls, y’hear?” he said.
“What about your cock?” You couldn’t help it.
Joel just breathed out through his nose. In a second, he went from camp counselor to disapproving father figure.
“Greedy little thing, ain’t ya?”
That was all he needed to say, but the firm plunge of his middle finger certainly put a finer point on it. He curled the digit again and, upon grazing that spongy surface inside you, saw another desperate plea in your eyes.
And pleasure.
The pleasure ran almost as intense as the desperation.
Your head fell back when Joel got to making those ‘come hither’ motions again and again, thumb circling your clit, eyes trained on your figure with a marked concern. Like the prospect of not drawing an orgasm out of you in the next two minutes might very well ruin the man’s night.
“‘S’alright, honey,” Joel said quietly.
Then, finding your gaze when your head tilted back,
“Be a good girl and let go for me. Let go for daddy, hm?”
Fortunately for him, that one low hum and another flick of his middle finger and thumb were all you needed to find your release. You came on his hand with a sharp, pitiful cry and a ‘Fuckthatfeelssogooddaddyplease,’ hips working feverishly against his hand as you rode out your high. The sight of you bouncing up and down on his open palm and the way your eyes rolled back, begging him to fuck you full of his cock next, felt wildly obscene.
Joel loved obscene. Needed obscene. Hot. Febrile. Raw.
He nodded again.
Before you’d even descended fully from those staggering heights, his finger was moving too—joined by two more. Joel stuffed his index and ring fingers inside your still-pulsing hole and pretended not to hear your soft cry.
After all, you’d asked for more before. Joel was just sating your desire; your overwrought body would be fine.
“Joel,” you hissed, seizing his wrist.
“Too much?” he returned.
You tried to verbalize some answer but were cut short by a punishing stretch—all three fingers plunging in and out of your sensitive, drooling cunt and making it full of him.
“Too soon?” he tried again.
“I—”
“Too fast?”
“N—”
“Too…old?” Joel pressed after a beat.
There was an air of feigned condescension in his tone as he took on a faster pace gliding his thick, calloused fingers between your walls. You might’ve screamed if you hadn’t found your forehead pressed to his and the warmth of his irises boring into yours while he did it all. At this distance, you could discern a trace of hurt again. Something needing to be soothed inside Joel Miller.
You rutted your hips and shook your head, skull still stuck to his as you did so. Whimpers coming low.
“I didn’t…mean it,” you managed at length.
“What? That I’m ‘old as shit but wildly hot’?”
Joel wedged his fingers straight down to the knuckle and nearly tore a shriek out of your body. His eyes were surprisingly soft. Making sure your pleasure was all there.
“Hyperbole,” you choked, voice hoarse.
Then your jaw grew lax when a hand cupped your chin. All you wanted to do was melt into Joel, but you sensed something brewing again behind those honeyed eyes. Blinking was all you could do to keep your composure.
“You’re right, darlin’,” Joel said, “I am too old for you.”
Right after a clench in your tummy, a hurried word leapt up to your tongue, ‘NO!’ and you had to swallow a moan to keep from succumbing to the pleasure Joel was bringing with his fingers. Sandwiched between two orgasms was no time for a serious argument to take place, but there you were, fighting against it anyway.
“N-No,” you stammered. Stupid.
“I am.” His voice came softer somehow, more resigned.
When outright rejection of the claim seemed futile, you tried to pivot. Climax still closing in as fast as ever.
“I don’t care about that,” you hissed, exhaling hard when the first ripples of bliss crept up toward your stomach.
Joel watched you with careful eyes.
“Yeah? And Tess?”
“Joel—”
“Or Tommy.”
“I don’t—”
“Everyone else?”
Almost against your will, those minuscule ripples turned to waves of full-blown euphoria, and then you were clenching again on Joel’s hand and crying out in climax. You willed your gaze not to stray from his, but it was tough. Especially when the eyes beneath your own seemed so fucking morose and removed from you.
Don’t do this to me, Miller. Don’t do it, don’t do it.
In the wake of what should’ve been consummate satisfaction, you found yourself retreating to a place more akin to starvation—suddenly eager to get your mouth over his and start kissing, tonguing, and scraping your teeth like you’d missed out on a full week’s worth of meals. Feeling selfish but also uncertain how else to proceed—was Joel Miller breaking up with you here?
You couldn’t be sure, because he kissed you back. Joel kissed you and cupped your cheeks, then chased your frame all the way down to the coarse, scratchy sheets of the bed, where he was quick to climb on top of you.
Hell, it seemed breathing was too tough to accomplish with your frenzied pace and the continuous stream of open-mouthed kisses placed anywhere and everywhere. A groan from Joel trembled between your lips as you helped him get his shorts and boxers the rest of the way down his legs—all but dragging them with your heels—and he tightened a fist in your hair when they were off.
“I shouldn’t’a come here,” he mumbled.
“But you did,” you panted.
Both of you got lost in another onslaught of kisses, and you tried not to sigh. Joel was still battling something.
Even as he peeled your panties off and lined himself up with your entrance, he seemed resolved to stay quiet. Holding your gaze and not saying what had to be said.
He was a lot like you in that way.
You kept kissing him anyway.
The events that followed seemed to you little more than fleeting, happy scenes from a film you’d always wanted to see—an eager Joel, a caring Joel, an I-don’t-think-I’m-physically-capable-of-holding-you-any-closer Joel. The weight of his cock a welcome friend and the kisses somehow far too intimate to be considered friendly at all. You’d almost forgotten you were at a camp designed to prevent this very thing from happening between two stupid, impulsive people like you, and you didn’t care.
All you knew was a yawning stretch—that aching, empty void filled to perfection by Joel’s member—and the shockwaves of pleasure that vibrated in bands all the way down to the balls of your feet. You felt safe and secure caged between two muscular arms, and you reveled in a warmth that spanned every inch of your body touching his. The weight suffocating and somehow not oppressive; Joel cradled your head to make sure of it.
“Ain’t…hurtin’ ya, am I?” he said when you winced.
You shook your head against his sweaty palms to say that he wasn’t; you were just adjusting. He scanned your face for any trace of insincerity but found nothing.
In this tender position, your brain was ready to burst—whether from guilt, shame, ruthless self-loathing, or a sobering sense of closeness, you weren’t sure. All four seemed to form the impetus for the words that came next, which were soft, repeated apologies against Joel’s mouth. He swallowed each one without a second thought.
“Quit sayin’ it,” he rasped, low.
“I’m sorry, Joel, I’m sorr—”
Soft lips again. ‘S’okay, honey.’
You weren’t sure why, but your face felt extra hot.
Joel pressed his thumbs on either side of it while he kissed you and went deeper. Then he squeezed even more, and your breath hitched quietly in your throat.
Aw, shit, he could probably feel your heart running amok in your chest and thrumming like crazy right now.
“Ain’t nothin’—” Joel paused to send one measured thrust along your cervix, “—to be sorry for. Nothin’.”
Your legs tightened at his sides when his hips started to snap in quick, stuttered motions, desperate for more friction and depth. He got both, and he groaned feeling you tighten around him as he filled your cunt to the brim. The silky warmth of your walls drawing him in was almost too much, and every now and then he’d have to slow to mutter some, ‘’S’fuckin’ chokin’ me, honey, ya feel that?’ or ‘This pussy’s just made to take me, huh?’
Joel asked like he actually needed the reassurance. As if the slick, dripping arousal coating his length and the sounds of your whimpers mixed in with those wet slaps weren’t enough—as if he had to have deeper consolation.
He was splitting you open and looked guilty as he did it.
Still shaking with each thrust, you helped him slide his shirt over his head and bring him bare, chest-to-chest with you. You couldn’t ignore the tension any longer.
“Joel, I fuckin’ love— I need you inside,” you managed.
“You do?”
“Uh-huh.”
His face softened.
“‘S’mine, isn’t it?”
He said it so fast you couldn’t make out if it were really a question or a simple statement of fact. His balls routinely smacking your ass, eyes searching yours, always gentle.
“Say that you’re mine.”
No, Joel—don’t do that, don’t say it like that.
Your visceral reaction was to recoil. You couldn’t because he had you pinned, but damn did you want to—not him, not this, not now, Joel, why would you fucking say that?
The look in his eyes now surpassed the hurt from before. It was open and aching, even as he drilled your body in two at a near-ruthless pace. Asking you so sincerely.
The obstinacy inside you was almost laughable. Damn near sent your head spinning in a fit of hysterics at how much you wanted to say but wouldn’t; how much you sensed lay waiting to fly off Joel’s tongue but couldn’t. If you were any more emotionally pent-up you might’ve ruptured a blood vessel and lost all ability to think.
It didn’t help that you were both about to cum.
Or that Joel’s right hand was fumbling for your clit.
His expression was steady as ever when you jumped, made a whining noise below him, and grabbed his wrist. You looked down to where your bodies were joined and got a dizzying glimpse of that sight: cunt swallowing Joel’s cock repeatedly, pleasure pooling between your two bodies, then a digit at that little bundle of nerves.
He kissed your hairline and hummed.
“C’mon, pretty girl. Whose pussy is this?”
His thrusts sped up, along with his thumb.
“Don’t.” Not an answer but a warning: tread lightly, Joel.
He kissed your forehead again. And again. For a second you thought he might stay that way until you both came, but then his lips were finding yours, mumbling softly,
“Say no one’s gonna fuck you but me.”
“But—”
“None of those pencil-dick douchebag Delta Sigma whatever-the-fuck ya call ‘ems—” Joel continued, unfazed, “—not your lab partner, not your hallmate—”
His cock was gliding in and out of you at a punishing pace now. Wonderfully slick with sounds obscenely piercing to your ears. You could feel Joel digging in the depths of your tight, throbbing cunt, could see his expression contort with much the same pleasure you were experiencing yourself, and could very well smell the faint aroma of American Spirits still staining his breath. Joel Miller was a sick fuck for what he was doing to you, and he knew it. You nipped at his lower lip in between tender kisses and quietly-spoken words, and whimpered.
“—not your TAs, not your professors—” he pressed on.
You opened your mouth to let a lewd moan escape when Joel lifted his hand to shove a thumb inside. Instinctively, you sucked the whole thing straight down to the knuckle.
“Nobody but me, y’hear that?” Afforded better leverage with his finger wedged between your teeth, he shook your head a little as he fucked you. Watched you bob and nod a wordless ‘yes’ in doe-eyed complaisance while his cock drove shockwaves of pleasure straight through you.
He rubbed his thumb back and forth, and you let him.
You drooled all over that man’s finger like it might’ve been supplying oxygen to your lungs, and when Joel leaned in and said, ‘Ya like that, sweet pea?’, you answered in the affirmative. Or at least as close as you could get while Joel was filling up his two favorite holes.
Your orgasm was maybe two strokes away from shattering bones, it seemed. Now was his chance.
Swiftly, Joel retracted his touch just far enough to drag a string of saliva out of your mouth—then deliver a taut but gentle slap to your cheek. The soft thwack, combined with the sounds your bodies were making down below, served only to elevate the pornographic pitch of your moan:
“Joel!”
“That’s right.”
Joel’s mouth hovered an inch over yours, half-smirking, as if waiting to suck the words clean off of your lips. You whined when his thrusts got quicker and the mouth that was grinning got to kissing your own again. Talking dirty, too.
“Show me who this cunt belongs to. Say it,” he grunted.
You clenched, kissed him back, were just barely aware of the words you were trying to form when you stuttered some unintelligible, ‘Y-Y—ohfuckdaddyjustlikethatoh—’
Oh.
Your eyes widened to Joel’s, and before you could even begin to process what was happening to your body, his name just snapped off your tongue like a shot. A shriek. Some blissfully half-strangled moan that Joel captured between his teeth as he fucked you into the mattress and held your body tight to his own. His palm was wet.
Your legs were wet.
The soft, heaving juncture between your bodies was wet.
You were only dimly aware of the sensation as you dug your heels in Joel’s back and let out a series of cries and moans, but then that fluttering feeling inside made you flinch. A pulsing between your thighs and a…warmth.
You were still blinking through a post-euphoric haze when you felt a soft heat simmer and sink within you.
Did Joel just…cum inside you? Again?
“You dumb motherfucker,” you hissed without hesitation.
You’d just managed to shove him away—not far, but away—when you scrambled into a sitting position and slapped a hand over your stomach. Expecting to feel a churning and an awful pinch as you came to make out some vague sensation of Joel’s seed painting your insides, you were surprised when you didn’t get it at all.
In point of fact, Joel had just sprayed a full Jackson Pollock onto your stomach and was blinking, still fisting his cock as you quickly made your way back to your feet.
Where was that wetness coming from?
You stood and stared down at your stomach. Your legs. The translucent, trickling something that had paved a clear path between your thighs and all over Joel’s front. It didn’t make sense, unless—
“You fuckin’ squirted!” Joel cheered.
Your first instinct was to make a face.
That shit only happened in poorly produced pornos and movies based on books by Colleen Hoover, not real-life human beings. What the hell was this man on about?
“Be fucking serious,” you scowled, reaching for a stray shirt on the floor. Before realizing it was even yours, you hastily swiped several big globs of Joel’s cum with it. Your face grew even more enflamed, and yourself, oddly…ashamed. You couldn’t quite make sense of why Joel was grinning so big, or why you felt so embarrassed by what appeared to be a natural bodily function, but you suspected it probably had something to do with the state of sex education in Texas. Those fuckers definitely skipped squirting in favor of abstinence-only rhetoric.
Still weird. Still gross. You wished Joel would stop smiling.
“Lose the look or I’ll slap that fuckin’ grey off your head.”
Admittedly, neither aftercare nor communication was your métier. You started throwing on clothes, annoyed.
Meanwhile, Joel was swiping moisture off his abdomen three thick fingers at a time and wiggling the residue up for you to see—‘All it is is a sign of good lovin’, sweets, ain’t nothin’a be ashamed of!’—and you gave him just one finger in return. You were sliding your shorts up your legs and attempting to scrap the jizz off your FEDRA top when Joel started shrugging on his stolen clothes, too.
Your back was turned to him, eyes scanning the almost too-calm outdoors through the window a minute later, when you felt an arm snake close around your waist.
“Tastes a little like honey,” Joel crooned in your ear, doubtlessly smirking as he swayed you, “Only sweeter.”
You rolled your eyes. No cunt tasted like a honeycomb.
And you tried to say as much when he stroked over the strip of exposed skin between your shorts and the hem of your shirt, squeezing you tighter, but Joel was too good. He spidered a teasing touch over your tummy and yanked you back into his chest when you squealed and tried to break free. Then your sides, your ribcage, your shoulder blades—anyplace Joel could tickle, he tried to—and most spots, you were squeamish as hell. You clamped a hand over your half-open, giggling mouth, and when you felt him flip you around, you didn’t protest.
Suddenly, Joel’s hands were on either side of your face. He wasn’t smiling quite so big anymore but nevertheless maintained a kind glint behind his eyes. They were soft.
“‘M’sorry,” he said.
Then, pausing as if to consider his words, he said,
“You did great.”
He stopped again to press a kiss on the tip of your nose.
“So good.”
When he saw another smile twitch at the corners of your lips, as though asking him for more, he kissed those too.
“If that was your first time with…that…I’m, uh…”
“What?”
Another beat. Another stupid, stubbled grin.
“The luckiest…senior citizen sonovabitch, I guess.”
At the tail end of that, and once Joel had punctuated his sentence with another tender peck, you met his gaze again. Somehow, it had only gotten softer. His thumbs were searing the gentlest of imprints in the apples of your cheeks, his breaths were even and warm, and if you hadn’t known any better, you might’ve thought the man was contemplating saying something else to you then.
He didn’t.
The bridge to an old Billy Joel song made sure of that.
“And when she’s walkin’, she’s lookin’ so f-i-i-i-ine.”
You heard gravel crunch outside the cabin.
“And when she’s talkin’, she’ll say that she’s m-i-i-i-ine.”
Footsteps bounding up the half-rotted, cedar steps.
“She’ll say I’m not so tough just because I’m in love wi—SHIT.”
Tess’s face went blank the second the door swung open.
Thankfully, both of you were clothed. You and Joel leapt apart like she’d just caught you in doggy, though. And Tess looked like she might’ve seen an asscheek or two with the way she was staring at you both, letting the screen door slam shut, and a wordless ‘what-the-fuck’ caught somewhere in the tepid air between you three.
You stared at Tess, and Tess stared at you. Joel peered over her shoulder for the arrival of any more onlookers or folks just wanting to sing ‘Uptown Girl’ in your general vicinity. Fortunately, no one else appeared behind her.
But Tess looked awestruck enough for fifty people. She blinked and visibly swallowed as her gaze shifted to Joel.
“So FEDRA does dick appointments now?” she hissed.
“No!”
“I’m not—”
“He’s from the other camp.”
“You’re shitting me. Absolutely shitting me right now.”
You brought both hands to your face in a stifling, quiet desperation, unsure what to do. Joel just blinked back.
“I’m—we’re—” he started.
“Fucking!” Tess bit back, “You are so fucking. Raw.”
She wasn’t wrong. Her sixth sense for knowing who was having clandestine sex in her bed was kind of insane.
But, where you expected a look of horror to crawl into those taut, too-smart-for-her-own-good features, you found your bunkmate starting to raise her eyebrows.
Then laugh.
Tess threw her head back and laughed because she thought you were boinking a FEDRA camp counselor.
Joel shared a similar look of surprise but didn’t laugh.
“Yeah, I’m uh…J—” Again, he made as if to speak, to introduce himself, but Tess cut him off. About to wheeze.
“Lucien Flores, you dirty dog!” she cackled.
Joel glanced down at his nametag, started to shake his head, and probably didn’t anticipate Tess smacking him on the shoulder in a semi-congratulatory sort of way. Given a little more muscle to the playful punch, she just might’ve knocked him over. Joel was then trying to pry the pin off his polo just as you stepped closer to her.
“Tess, he’s…” You considered spilling the beans en masse but quickly decided against it. You’d have to stick to the barest of bones if you had any hope of escaping this place. So, resuming, you squeezed her arm and just said:
“Flores is gonna bust us out. Get your shit and we’ll go.”
Theresa Servopoulos didn’t need to be told twice.
And when she scrambled over to her sex-stricken bunk, inquired with a hurried but patently grossed out expression about who the fuck had wet the bed while she was gone, Joel didn’t hesitate—he said it was him.
“FEDRA man with a piss kink. I like you already, Lucien.”
#ONE CABIN 🏚️#ONE BAND#ONE DREAM#ONE DIRECTION#IF YOU THOUGHT I WAS GONNA BE NORMAL ABOUT THIS YOU WOULD BE MISTAKEN HAHAHAHA#joel miller#joel miller tlou#joel miller smut#joel miller imagine#joel miller one shot#joel miller x reader#joel miller fanfiction#the last of us#tlou#the last of us fic#joel miller x you#dbf!joel
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The Younger Kind Part 9 | Rooster x Reader
Summary: After he gives you the best time of your life, you wonder what exactly you mean to Bradley. Your heart sinks when he asks you to babysit again, and you realize you can't keep letting him do this to you. You brace yourself for another night of waiting for him to get home from a date, but you're in for a surprise when you arrive.
Warnings: Angst, swearing, fluff, and age gap (18+)
Length: 4500 words
Pairing: Single dad!Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x babysitter!female reader
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Bradley realized on Thursday morning in the hangar that he had been avoiding Nat at work when she handed him a cup of coffee and said, "Oh, look, you do still exist. I've barely seen you all week. What's going on? You okay?"
"I'm fine, Nat."
"How's Noah? And how's it going with your babysitter?" she asked, raising one eyebrow at him.
The look on his face must have given him away. He could feel his cheeks flushing as he struggled to meet her eyes. "Pretty great," he muttered, and Nat gasped.
"You fucked her!"
He managed to meet her eyes now. "I mean, everything but."
"Bradley! You got off with her?" Nat asked, eyes wide. "You needed it to be special. Was it special?"
He swallowed hard, his eyes closing as he thought about your mouth on him and his mouth on you. Then your face and your laughter were right there, along with your books and bags of Skittles. "Yeah, Nat. It was."
The screeching sound coming from his best friend was obnoxious, but when he reached into his pocket when his phone vibrated, he felt sick.
"Nat. It's Meredith."
She was immediately grabbing for his phone, but he pulled it away from her. "Let me answer it. I'll set her straight," Nat snarled, instantly angry. Bradley loved Natasha Trace for so many reasons, and her protectiveness of him and Noah was just one of them. "She doesn't have the right to call you!"
Bradley ignored the call and turned his phone off. "She does this every year around Noah's birthday. I don't know if it's out of guilt or what exactly, but I should have honestly been expecting it."
But he hadn't been expecting Noah's mom to start trying to contact him, because instead, Bradley had been completely distracted by you. When you were at his house watching Noah, that's where he wanted to be, too. And when you weren't there, he was wondering what you were doing. And when he was there with you, he couldn't keep his hands off you.
"She gave birth to Noah, and then she left. She doesn't get to keep doing this to you," Nat whispered, running her hand along his arm. "She has no guardianship rights."
"I know, Nat," Bradley replied, "but I'm always afraid she will try to petition for it."
When Nat wrapped her arms around him, Bradley let her hold him for a moment. "So what are you going to do about the babysitter?" she asked, smirking up at him.
Bradley shrugged and closed his eyes. "Keep her away from Jake, I guess."
She laughed and punched him in the middle; hugging time must be over now. "I'm serious, Bradley."
"So am I, Nat. And she's too young for me." And then when Bradley was called to his aircraft, it was with thoughts of you soaking his face while you moaned his name on his mind.
After work, when he pulled into the parking lot at Noah's daycare, he turned his phone back on. There were a number of missed calls from his ex and several texts from her as well.
Meredith: Please call me back. I just want to talk for a minute. I just need to know how Noah is doing.
He couldn't let her keep doing this. It would be too confusing for Noah as he got older and realized who she was. But instead of writing back, Bradley scrolled down to your name and tapped his screen.
He was supposed to have a date with someone named Eliza from the app on Saturday night, but what was the point? It had been less than twenty four hours since Bradley made you cum all over his face, and he was craving you in every way. He needed your fingers in his hair and your taste on his tongue as much as he needed to eat and breathe.
Princess, can you come over on Saturday night?
----------------------------
You had been turned on since last night. Even when you left Bradley's house and got home, your skin was tingling and there was a soft buzzing in your ears. You'd been up half the night, thinking about his mouth and getting yourself worked up.
The truth was, you wanted Bradley so much, you didn't know if you could be around him if you weren't allowed to touch him. The memory of the strands of his soft, wavy hair was still present on your fingertips as you pressed them against your own clit. You were finally caving, touching yourself now, even though you were half afraid it would override the feel of his mustache on you.
But it didn't. Not at all. As you fingered yourself, you thought you could smell him in your bed. And when you came around your own fingers, they felt like his. You wondered if you'd ever be able to squirt like that again, because he had liked it. He had told you it was hot, said you were a Princess who should be worshipped.
You were probably going to be horny for the rest of your life.
But when you hadn't heard from Bradley by Thursday afternoon, you were starting to feel awkward. You had sucked his cock; he said it was the best blowjob of his life. He had eaten your pussy; it was the most intense orgasm you'd ever had. And he still paid you for babysitting. You groaned as you walked back to your car after class. Why did you let him pay you? You should have refused.
You were looking at your phone, reading a new text from him before you could even process what was going on.
Bradley Bradshaw: Princess, can you come over on Saturday night?
Your heart felt elated. You were typing back to him, immediately agreeing. But then you almost dropped your phone down a storm drain. He probably had another date. Someone else from the app. You were going to get jealous again, and he was going to come home early again and tell you that he couldn't stop thinking about you. He was going to keep doing this over and over, and you were so afraid that you were going to let him.
When Greyson called you a minute later, you answered without really looking at your phone.
"Hey. You wanna come over?"
"Um," you mumbled. "I just got out of class, and I have a lot of homework."
"Come do your homework here," he said, and you could tell he was smiling.
You'd been avoiding Greyson a lot lately, and you knew it was mostly because of Bradley.
"Come on," he whined. "I'll feed you dinner."
You laughed. "What's for dinner? Hot cheetos and cheap beer?" you asked. You instantly thought about the filet mignon you'd eaten at Bradley's kitchen table last night and all of the expensive coffees he bought for you. Because as funny as it was to pick on him for supposedly flirting with the baristas, you knew he was buying them for you because you liked them.
"Maybe on Sunday, Grey," you told him and then hung up a minute later. You'd give Bradley one more chance, otherwise you needed to be done.
----------------------
Bradley spent most of Friday evening and Saturday morning thinking about what he should do about Meredith in between thoughts of you. He had cancelled his date with Eliza on Thursday, and now he was counting down the hours until you would be here with him and Noah.
He wanted so badly to spend the evening here, just the three of you, but he hadn't told you about the plan ahead of time. His brain was telling him this was a mistake, but his body and heart were overruling everything he thought.
When he put Noah down for an afternoon nap and tried to figure out what to wear for the night, Meredith called him again. You, you, you. He wanted to focus on you. He ignored the call again, realizing he was going to have to deal with her eventually, or he might run the risk of her showing up here on Noah's birthday.
Frustrated, Bradley pulled on a soft tee shirt and some comfortable sweatpants. If he was going to indulge himself in his fantasy of spending an evening at home, eating popcorn with the right girl, then he was going all in. Then he pulled out another soft shirt and another pair of pants and left them on this bed along with your purple paper crown.
It was nearly dinnertime when Noah woke up, and Bradley was expecting you soon. He was so antsy, and by the time he heard your car in the driveway, he and Noah were both running for the front door to see you.
"Hi!" you said a bit breathlessly, taking in the sight before you. Bradley was clearly not dressed for a date, at least not the kind he'd been going on before. And Noah was holding up a coloring page of a princess in a castle that he and Bradley had worked on for you. "Is that for me?" you asked, eyeing both of them with a soft smile.
"It's a princess," Noah informed you. "Daddy helped me use all the colors so she's as pretty as you."
You took the page in your hand and looked at it before bending to kiss Noah on the top of his head. Bradley's heart was pounding in his chest as you looked him up and down curiously. "You're not going out?" He thought your voice sounded hopeful, and the way you were nibbling softly on your glossy lip was enough to make his cock twitch.
"No, Princess," he told you, and you released your lip from your teeth and licked it. God, he wanted to push you down on the couch and undress you. Taste your pretty pussy again. "I thought the three of us could have a night in."
"Oh," you whispered. You looked and sounded surprised. He should have figured you would, since he'd been seeing a multitude of women over the past few weeks, all while knowing he just wanted you.
"Daddy said we can order a pizza," Noah said, hugging your leg and pulling you toward the kitchen.
"Is Daddy going to make popcorn and watch a movie later, too?" you asked, grinning at Bradley.
"That's the plan, Princess," he whispered, running his knuckles along your soft cheek while Noah led you to the kitchen table. You stopped when you saw two cups from his favorite coffee shop next to each other. When you read both of them, you laughed and picked up the one that had Princess written across it.
"This one must be yours." You picked up the cup that said peasant and handed it to Bradley as you took a sip of your vanilla latte.
"It sure is," he agreed as he drank his hazelnut coffee. "I left more pajamas out on my bed if you want to change. And I'll order whatever kind of pizza you like."
You were looking up at him in awe. He should have done this with you weeks ago. "Okay," you whispered and told him what your favorite kind of pizza was. Then he sat down to color with Noah and watched you walk out of the kitchen and head to his bedroom. He immediately thought about following you. He could push you up against his dresser, wedge his knee between your thighs and listen to you make the noises that he thought about when he touched himself while he kissed you.
But instead he colored a knight in armor with a blue crayon and sipped his coffee. He wasn't sure what you wanted from him. He wasn't even really certain about what he wanted with you. But the more time he spent around you, it was going to become increasingly difficult to keep his hands to himself.
---------------------------
You stood next to Bradley's bed and looked at the soft Top Gun shirt and the lounge pants he had left out for you. Your crown was there too. What exactly was happening here? You felt like you had missed something. He wasn't going on a date. He was staying home all evening with you and Noah. Maybe he was feeling things ever since you and he had spent some time together on his living room couch. You definitely were.
Without bothering to close the door, you took off your shoes and socks and stripped down to your underwear. The well worn lounge pants were way too long and needed to be rolled at the waist, but the fabric felt nice against your skin. Bradley's shirt was too big as well, so you tied the bottom of it in a little knot that showed off a bit of skin at your waist.
You ran your fingers along the paper crown before picking it up and setting it on your head as well. Then you grabbed the yellow crown from Noah's room and took it with you.
When you were standing in the kitchen doorway and saw Bradley with Noah sitting on his thigh while they colored, you felt a little dizzy. "The knight can match the Princess," Bradley was telling his son. "And then we can color the dragon."
"An orange dragon," Noah said, locating the correct crayon. You didn't get to see them interact like this too much, since Bradley was usually leaving when you got here. But you thought you could watch this all night.
Just as Bradley was pressing a kiss to Noah's hair, you heard his phone ringing. He pulled it out of his pocket and frowned, ignoring a call before looking up at you. And then his expression changed completely. His eyes were a little wide, and his lips parted as he looked at you.
You thought you'd feel a little self conscious in his clothing, but the way he was looking at you was making you feel bold.
"Princess," he rasped as you strolled the rest of the way into the room. The urge to sit on his other thigh and press soft kisses to his cheek and Noah's was almost overwhelming. His eyes were glued on the little spot of your skin that was on display above the lounge pants, as if he hadn't had you spread out on his couch with his face buried in your pussy a few days ago. As if he hadn't seen nearly everything before. As if you hadn't squirted on him when you came.
But his cheeks were flushed now, and you felt need thrumming through your body as your nipples tightened. When the doorbell rang, you jumped a few inches, and Bradley stood up, setting Noah down in the seat.
"Probably the pizza," he muttered when he brushed past you, his knuckles brushing your skin. You moaned softly, and you turned to see him running his fingers through his hair as he retrieved dinner.
You stood at the table next to Noah, and Bradley came to stand behind you, guiding a pizza box and container of salad over your head and setting them down in front of you. "Here you go, Princess," he whispered, and you felt his lips brush your ear while Noah colored. You turned your face toward him, and his lips met your cheek. You brushed your body back against him, and he grunted; you could feel his cock through his pants where it rubbed along your butt, and he was definitely a little hard.
It was all so domestic and sexy, just like the morning after you'd slept alone in Bradley's bed. He was giving you goosebumps. You swallowed hard as he backed away from you. "Wait. A salad. I feel like this is a test," you told him as he gathered some plates and utensils.
Bradley chuckled as he opened two beers and set one next to your plate. "Go ahead," he said, nodding at the salad container.
You tried not to smile as you added some salad to your plate and covered it in a copious amount of the salad dressing. "Thank goodness," Bradley muttered, fixing his salad up in a similar fashion as his knee bumped your thigh.
You started cutting up a slice of pizza into smaller bites for Noah, and the way Bradley whispered, "Thank you," had the hairs on the back of your neck standing on end. "You always take care of us."
You looked him in the eye. "You're not paying me tonight, right?"
His eyes dipped down to your lips as he slowly shook his head. "No."
You put the plate of pizza in front of Noah and asked, "Should we make a crown for your dad, too? Look how sad he looks without one." When Bradley pouted at both of you, Noah started laughing.
"He needs a green one," Noah informed you, and as soon as you were finished eating dinner, Noah was in Bradley's lap and you were standing behind him. You let your fingers trail through his hair while you measured his head with a piece of green construction paper.
Bradley was leaning into your touch while Noah tried to help you. After you cut out the crown and Noah colored it, you taped it together. "Here you go, Noah. Set it on his head," you told him, and you watched him place the silly paper crown on his dad's head. It was completely crooked, and Bradley's wavy hair stuck out around it, but he looked impossibly adorable when he glanced up at you.
"Am I a prince now?" he rasped, and you wanted to kiss him. You even thought about doing it in front of Noah, but you held yourself at bay.
"No, Daddy, I'm the prince," Noah said with a laugh grabbing him by the nose. "You're the knight."
"Ah, that makes sense," Bradley told him, kissing his plump little cheek. "Who wants to watch a movie and eat popcorn?"
"Me!" you and Noah said in unison, and you scooped him up from Bradley's lap.
"You need to get some pjs on first, like me and your dad," you told Noah.
"Daddy doesn't have pjs on. He doesn't wear shirts at night," Noah insisted, and you turned toward Bradley and shook your head.
"By the time we meet you in the living room, you better be in dress code," you scolded him playfully, wondering if he'd take his shirt off like he had the other morning.
Bradley just smirked at you. "Sure, Princess. Whatever you want."
You changed Noah into race car pajamas and carried him to the couch while Bradley popped a bag of popcorn, and you dug your bag of Skittles out of your tote.
"Which movie do you want?" you asked Noah as he settled onto your lap. You scrolled through his collection of animated movies, and he chose Sleeping Beauty. You had the movie queued up and ready to play when Bradley walked in shirtless with a gigantic bowl of popcorn and two steaming mugs, his crown still crooked on his head. He handed you the mug that said Getting high is part of my job and you laughed.
"Thanks," you whispered as he settled down next to you. You pushed play, and Bradley took the remote from your hand since Noah and your fresh coffee were an armful at the moment.
"You're welcome," he replied, his warm bicep resting against your shoulder. Every time you reached into the bowl of popcorn on his lap, you glanced at his naked torso. Bradley was so pretty, you didn't think you'd ever get used to looking at him.
You wanted to kiss him, but instead you shoved fistfuls of popcorn into your mouth. Noah was making a mess, dropping it on Bradley's lap and the floor. But you didn't seem to mind, and neither did Bradley. And the whole night felt perfect. Bradley took your empty mug from you and set it on the floor along with his and the empty popcorn bowl.
When he settled against the back of the couch, he let his arm come to rest around your shoulders. You smirked up at him, and he smirked down at you, and then you reached for the bag of Skittles you had hidden on your other side.
"You want some?" you asked, dangling the bag in his face.
He leaned in closer, and you thought he was going to kiss you. "Have I earned the privilege?" he whispered.
His voice made you feel weak, and your fingers shook a little bit as you ripped open the package. "I think so. But you only get a twenty five percent cut, remember?"
"Oh, yeah. I remember," he told you, eyes half lidded as he looked at your lips when you placed a green Skittle there before biting into it. "I earned that right for kissing you so good."
You bit back a moan as Noah repositioned himself on your lap. "Yeah, Daddy," you agreed, and now Bradley was the one actually moaning. He watched your every move as you dumped out three more Skittles into your palm, took the orange one, and fed it to him. When your thumb caught on his lip, you scooted even closer to him. Then you dumped out four more and fed him one of them. "You're getting exactly one quarter of them, and not a Skittle more."
He ate every single one you placed between his lips, and finally he asked, "What if I do a really great job again? Do I have the potential to earn more?"
You almost dumped Noah on the floor by accident as you leaned in and kissed Bradley softly on his lips. When you pulled away, he chased you for another, and your lips willingly returned to his. You traded soft nudges and shared smiles, lips teasing gently as the movie played in the background.
"Princess," Bradley whispered against your lips as his hand came up to caress your cheek. His crown slipped down his forehead and you giggled. Noah shifted on your lap and turned to face you while he yawned, and you pulled away from Bradley as his hand dropped down to his lap.
"Are you getting sleepy?" you asked Noah softly, and he nodded. "Do you want to finish the movie?" He nodded again. "Come here, we can snuggle."
You pulled him against your chest and glanced up at Bradley before you stretched out on the couch and let your head rest on his thigh. You were sandwiched between Noah's tiny body and even breathing as he fell asleep in front of you and Bradley's solid warmth beneath your head. When he brought his fingers up to brush a pattern along your neck, you shivered and closed your eyes. You were melting against him while his big hand came to rest on your shoulder, stroking your collarbone through his soft tee shirt.
------------------------
You were asleep in Bradley's lap with your arms wrapped around his son, and he fucking needed this. Your skin was so soft against his fingers, and your lips looked pouty in your sleep. Tonight had been perfect. Better than any other date he'd had using the app. Probably better than any other date he'd had, ever. He couldn't even really remember his first date with Meredith, and he'd had a fucking child with her.
You moaned softly as the end credits played, and you nuzzled your cheek against his thigh. Bradley gently removed his own crown followed by yours and Noah's and set them on the end table. He didn't want to disturb you, but he needed to put Noah in his bed. So Bradley gently slid out from beneath you and eased your cheek down against the couch cushion. When he knelt in front of Noah and tried to untangle your arms, you jolted awake and pulled Noah closer to yourself, as if you were protecting him.
"Oh," you sighed, "it's just you." You looked pleased to see that Bradley was the one scooping Noah up off the couch.
"It's just me, Princess," he promised, watching you sit up and stretch, your arms pulling his shirt higher, revealing more skin. "I'll be right back."
As gently and as quickly as he could, Bradley carried Noah to his bed and tucked him in with a kiss. He could still picture the way you had been holding him, and he couldn't get enough as he rushed back out to the living room.
You were cleaning the mess of popcorn off the floor and picking up the Skittles wrapper when he said, "You don't have to do that."
"I don't mind." Then you turned to face him and dumped out four more pieces of candy into your palm before putting the trash in the empty popcorn bowl.
He slowly closed the distance between the two of you, saying, "According to the rules, exactly one of those Skittles belongs to me."
You pressed your lips together, and he could tell you were trying not to laugh. When he reached for the candies in your palm, you closed your fingers around them and pulled your hand away. "Not so fast."
He crowded you in with a smirk until you were backed up against the wall. "Rules are rules, baby," he whispered.
"And what if I give you two of them? Make it a fifty/fifty share of the final four?" you asked, looking up at him as he rested one forearm on the wall next to your head. "What would you say then?"
He grunted, placing a kiss on your cheek. "I'd say you were giving me a green light, Princess." He kissed your lips softly, adding, "And I'd say I'm extra thankful I cancelled my app date to spend time with you instead. Because a girl who gives me more than my fair share of Skittles is the only one I want."
You tipped your head back against the wall. "Did you really cancel to spend the night here with me and Noah?"
"Yeah."
"Do you remember what her name was?"
"No."
You giggled. "It's better this way. She probably hates salad dressing." You parted his lips with your thumb and gently fed him not one but two of the Skittles before crunching the other two between your teeth and smirking at him.
"Come here, Princess," Bradley growled, wrapping his hands around your waist and pulling your body against him. He inhaled your sweet wildflower scent and said, "Tell me what you want."
You dragged the tip of your tongue along Bradley's lips and whispered, "I want you, Daddy."
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Now that's more like it, Daddy! Princess wants you...will you let her have you? Enjoy your babysitter fic @beyondthesefourwalls
PART 10
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#bradley rooster bradshaw x reader#rooster x you#rooster fanfic#rooster x female reader#rooster x reader#rooster bradshaw x female reader#bradley bradshaw fanfiction#bradley bradshaw fic#bradley bradshaw imagine#bradley bradshaw x reader#bradley bradshaw x female reader#bradley rooster bradshaw#top gun fanfiction#top gun maverick fanfiction#top gun imagine#bradley rooster x reader
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Hiii!
I was wanting to request a fic where eddie and femreader! are best friends and roommates, eddie is in love with her but is too afraid to tell her in case it ruins things and she doesn't feel the same. so he naturally is quite jealous when he sees her with other guys, but what he doesnt know is reader feels the same way about him. one day eddie was meant to be at band practice all day but it finished early as gareth got sick, so eddie comes home and he walks by readers room and all he hears his her making sll sorts of moans and groans, and the door is open just a little so he can see her touching herself but she also is moaning his name. maybe he walks in or she sees him either way it could end up with some sex and a confession maybe?
let's get back into it with a smutty slow burner? 😉
'Best Friends Lend a Hand'
"Y/n, c'mon. Really? He's stood outside like he's taking you to fuckin' prom" peeking through the blinds that were being held open with a thumb and index finger, just enough to see down onto the street below, Eddie stifled his laughter "Look at him, he's got a fucking flower on his blazer. Wait.. Wait.. There's not even a button hole. It's just pinned on man.. No, stop it. Wait. Is that fucking sticky tape?" The curly haired metal head threw himself back down onto the sofa, holding his stomach as he erupted into fits of roaring laughter.
"You really need to stop calling it sticky tape Eddie, you're 24 and let me guess, you'd turn up on a date in a raggedy pair of jeans and your battle vest?" with a peek through the blinds yourself, your eyes widened. A short man who looked a little older than 25 like you'd been previously told and yes, as plain as day there was a wilted flower stuck to his blazer with the so-called 'sticky tape' attaching it.
"I'm so gonna get Harrington back for this." grabbing your bag off the arm of the sofa you pointed an outstretched finger at Eddie with narrowed eyes "You too!! you're both gonna pay so fuckin' bad for this!" with a slam of the door behind you, you lingered on the stairwell for a moment then sloped off to meet the blind date. The fucking horrible idea Harrington had concocted because he just wanted you to shut the fuck up about the lack of touch you so badly wanted. The few previous dates you'd been on were ok, nothing to write home about, there was no spark, they weren't thrilling, they weren't Eddie.
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"Yeah man, she left about twenty minutes ago - ish and she did NOT look happy" passing Steve a beer Eddie leant his hip on the kitchen counter "..We're gonna pay for this, she insisted on it actually. 'You're gonna pay so fuckin' bad'" mimicking your voice in a high pitched tone he laughed taking a big gulp from the cold bottle.
"You can fuck right off Munson if you think she's getting me back for this as well. I was doing alright, firing out the best people i knew for these dates. You.. You picked this one, who the fuck is this man?"
"Michael, you remember him right? few years older than us, his brother Tommy was in Robins science classes"
"MICHAEL? MICHAEL COOPER? Eddie he's at least 30 now. A few years older? Jesus CHRIST. She's gonna go mental. How did you even ask him?
"Saw him in the 7-Eleven parking lot"
Eddie knew what he was doing though, he wasn't just being a prick to his roommate, his best friend of 20 years for no reason. Seeing Steve organize all these dates for you and watching you go off with the jock looking buff boys made Eddies insides twist. 20 years is a hell of a long time to be crushing hard on someone right? But from the age of 4, you and Eddie had been completely inseparable. Kindergarten, first school, middle, high, college, work, roommates, the full lot, together. So let's be honest a crush for 20 years? No. That boy was completely in love with you but he'd never tell you. No way. But you wouldn't tell him either, he'd never know you felt the same, fuck he could never know. Ever.
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"I swear Eddie that date was traumatizing, you and Steve are in for it, just you wait. I don't mind an older man but 30 and already balding? You're both assholes for that" placing your cereal bowl in the sink you frowned crossing your arms, the previous events from last night whirling around in your head making you cringe. Pulling on his trainers Eddie hid the smirk that spread across his face as you told him all about the disastrous date.
"So lemme get this right, the sticky tape fell off and the flower fell riiiight into his soup?"
"Eddie i was so embarrassed, he was speaking so loud and people were staring and.. and then.. he fucking ate the flower swimming round in his soup, i wanted to die" slumping down into the sofa you looked over toward Eddie who was now chuckling to himself. God, if only the man who was stood in front of you would take you on a date.
"Wait.. Where you going anyway? I thought we had a movie marathon planned?" he better not be blowing you off for a date you thought, he did that once before and it didn't end well. You didn't speak to him for days and he did a bit too much groveling after that.
"Corroded Coffin rehearsal sweetheart, fuck. I thought i told you?" Grabbing his keys off the side, he looked at you with his big ol' puppy dog eyes "I'll make it up to you, i promise.. i gotta go"
"Asshole"
Eddie swung the door open and glanced back to you "Laters princess" flashing his teeth with a grin and finishing with a wink.
Fuuuck. If only he knew what those simple words did to you. That knot in your stomach tightened.
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Hey, Doc! we better back up.
We don't have enough roads to get up to 88.
Roads?
Where we're going we don't need no roads.
"I will never get tired of that film" pressing the off button on the remote you sighed happily. You'd taken yourself to bed and curled up in your covers to watch yours and Eddies favorite film, even though he'd ditched you for band practice. The smell of his cologne wafted up to your nostrils from his band tee you wore. It's not like it was unusual for you to wear one of his t-shirts, in fact, it was more unusual for you not to be wearing one.
Boredom took over. The apartment was relatively clean, the laundry was done and you'd already picked at snacks throughout the film.
16:27 flashed on your alarm clock, Eddie had been gone for hours and he'd probably be gone a few more. Resting your hand on your stomach you tore your stare away from your ceiling toward your nightstand. A photo of you and Eddie from 2 years prior. Nancy had suggested a walk which sounded like a good idea at the time but it was a cold autumn morning and Steve did absolutely nothing but complain about the temperature the whole time. Nancy had bought her camera with her and caught the exact moment Eddie threw a big pile of golden orange and yellow leaves at you, he had his head thrown back laughing while the leaves fell around you. So as grumpy as you looked it was developed and placed in a frame for your 22nd birthday.
God, you were so in love with him. His hair, eyes, smile, neck, the dip in his chest, down towards his toned stomach which had his little trail leading towards.. towards..
"Mmm, fuck." your hand had found itself tucked inside your thin cotton panties, your finger drawing circles around what was now a wet pulsing bud of nerves as you thought about your best friend, the best friend you were absolutely madly in love with.
Closing your eyes and tilting your head back you slipped a second finger and applied more pressure wishing it was Eddie that was taking care of you, making you feel good.
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Placing his keys on the small table next to the door Eddie scanned his eyes around the living room searching for you but nothing, he thought that you'd probably gone out to meet Nancy. He'd come back much earlier than expected, Gareth wasn't feeling great so they decided to call it a day.
"Oh Eddie."
His gaze quickly turned towards your bedroom door, faint squeaks and mewls coming from inside. Eddie gingerly made his way closer to the door, the faint orange hum of light from the bedside lamp shining through the slight crack of where it was left open.
"Feels so good, Eddie"
Hearing his name a second time he peeped one eye through the ajar door, eyes widening at what he could see in front of him. Sprawled on your bed with the covers no longer on you and Eddies tee bunched up just above your chest, one hand in your panties and the other caressing your breast with your hard, sensitive nipple rolling between your finger and thumb, your back arching every time you went a little faster. Eddie automatically palmed his now painfully hard erection through his jeans. Should he be doing this? This is wrong, that's my best friend he thought to himself but another moan of his name from your lips stopped that thought abruptly. He watched you gather your own slick on your index and middle finger letting your legs fall to the side and giving him a very clear view of what he wanted needed so bad, slowly sliding your fingers into your aching cunt a moan dragged from your throat which made Eddies breath hitch and palm his erection faster.
Eddie couldn't take it any longer, watching you take care of yourself like this, he needed to help. He needed to take care of you himself.
"Need a hand sweetheart?" gently pushing your bedroom door open his eyes darkened with want as he took a slow pace towards the end of your bed. You stopped what you were doing, you weren't nervous or even embarrassed. Looking up at him with big doe eyes you gave a simple nod and that was more than enough for him. Eddie walked round to the side of your bed while unfastening his belt, letting his jeans fall down to his ankles, followed by his boxers. Your eyes widened as his hard dick slapped against his stomach on release. Holy fuck he was gifted.
"I'm gonna take care of you now, 'kay? Just relax baby. M'gonna make you feel so good" Eddie climbed on top of you, pushing your legs apart with his knees. Nuzzling his way into your neck his teeth nipped at your skin, grazing down to your collarbone. You watched his every move not wanting to miss his perfect fucking face making its way over your torso.
"You miss me princess?" his voice muffled as his mouth enveloped around your nipple, the connection rapidly sending your hands to his mass of curly hair with a soft moan flowing from your lips, Eddie pinched your nipple between his teeth as he dragged a hand across your thigh, gripping the inside. Letting your nipple go from his mouth with a pop he gave you the biggest shit-eating grin you've ever seen.
"I’ll take that as a yes?" Taking his bottom lip between his teeth he edged down toward the end of the bed, hooking his arms under your knees, pulling you towards him.
“Eddie, wait!!” You called, Eddie let go of your legs in a panic, you watched his face drop as you knew every kind of thought would be running through his head.
“I don’t think it’s fair Eddie” you pouted your lips, dropping your head ever so slightly
“W-we can stop? If that’s what you want princess? We don’t have to do this, I don’t wanna ruin our friendship”
“Well.. I just kinda mean.. like.. you still have your top on” it was your turn to wear the shit-eating grin now and watch the relief wash over Eddies face. In a flash he removed his top and flung it over to the side. His toned body in all its glory, right there in front of you, begging to be touched, every single part of it, you wanted to cover with your lips.
“Is that what you wanted, Sweetheart? Is that better now?” A breath you didn’t know you were holding escaped and Eddie leaned forward and pushed his lips on yours, snapping you from your stare. Slow, wet kisses at first switched on what felt like lightening dancing in your stomach which quickly turned to messy, open-mouthed kisses, tongues circling in unison, trying to find each other at every opportunity. Eddie pulled away breathless, leaving nothing but a string of saliva between you. Sitting up he resumed his position and hooked his arms under your legs pulling you closer. You bit your bottom lip in arousal and anticipation as Eddie looked down at you giving you a quick nod and the most beautiful smile, you nod back confirming the go ahead and be didn’t hesitate.
“Just relax sweetheart, if you wanna stop.. tell me.. ‘Kay?” He slowly pressed against your soaking wet opening with the tip of his dick, rubbing up and down gathering your wetness on his end.
“Oh f-fuck, you’re fuckin’..” cutting himself off from his own sentence he slipped inside of you, feeling your gummy walls clench around his length almost immediately. Your head threw back and a moan of his name left your lips pronto.
“Jesus fucking Christ, Eddie” gripping the sheets and throwing your head back at the bliss. Eddie pushed in to the hilt and picked up a pace rather quickly which earned groans from his direction.
“Sweetheart, you’ve no idea how long I’ve wanted this”
“Eddie, shut up and fuck me” you giggled breathless. Deep and hard, faster and faster. The fire in your stomach was unbearable and the taste of sweet release was moments away.
“Eddie. I- I’m gonna..”
“Cum for me, there’s a good girl.” Those words tipped you over the fuckin edge, as you clenched your walls around him waves of euphoria washed over you, knuckles turning white from the sheets in your grasp, your mouth hung open but no sound was audible. Your body shook as your reached your ultimate high.
“There it is, fuck. Such a good girl for me” Eddie praised as he reached his own high, burying his warm seed deep inside you. Your name and curses rolling off his tongue.
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What felt like hours passed and somehow the covers had found their way onto you both, Eddies arms wrapped around you and your head on his chest while it gently rose and fell with every breath. You didn’t know what was to happen next only that you both didn’t want this to end, you and Eddie had waited for this moment and no one was going to take it away. Your eyes slowly closed as tiredness took over as it did for Eddie.
“I love you, Sweetheart”
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Oh please I’ve been fucking working on this for months and the last few paras are SO fuckin rushed because it was just sitting in my drafts.
Love you all😩🥰
#eddie munson#joseph quinn#joe quinn#stranger things#eddie munson smut#eddie stranger things#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x you#eddie fanfic
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Zuko clenched his fists so tightly, he worried that he might pierce the skin of his palms. The Dai Li agents were walking slowly up and down the bazaar looking for...well, for him. Zuko pulled the musty smelling robes closer around him, doing his best to keep his face hidden. The lack of activity around the stall might draw attention itself, but he didn't know what else to do. He had no wares to pretend to sell, and the agents were getting closer. Panic caused his heart to speed up as he scrambled to come up with a plan- any plan- to make his cover stick.
"Fortunes!" he called, trying to change the distinct rasp of his voice. "Fortunes for a copper!" The response was almost immediate. Customers wandered over- mostly young, well-dressed women- to have their fortunes told. The crowd of mostly giggly young women had the desired effect. Zuko saw one of the agents glance in his direction, then almost immediately turn away. His mouth was twisted as if he'd bitten into a peppercorn. They didn't leave right away, though, suspecting (not incorrectly) that the troublemaker they were looking for was still there somewhere. So, Zuko, rolling his eyes to himself, settled in and spent the next hour predicting love, success, the downfall of enemies to seemingly every female between the ages of fourteen and twenty in the lower and middle tier. The cheap price of a fortune made him even more popular.
As the day drew on towards evening, Zuko thought he saw the last Dai Li agent leave the bazaar. He sighed with relief. He could finally make his way home. His uncle would be worried, but Zuko thought the sizeable purse he was bringing home. He'd stop and exchange the copper pieces for silver and gold on his way home. By his count, he had probably made enough to exchange for at least ten gold pieces. Maybe he should quit the tea shop and go into business as a fortune teller full time, Zuko though. Of course that would mean spending hours and hours talking to strangers. The thought left a sour taste in his mouth. As if the tea shop patrons weren't bad enough.
"Excuse me, are you still open?" Zuko was about to turn the new comer away, but his tongue froze. The Avatar's Waterbender- Katara- was standing before him, giving him a friendly smile. She didn't recognize him, Zuko realized. He pulled the robes tighter around his face and motioned for her to sit down. He didn't know what kind of information he could pull from her, but he'd hate himself if he didn't at least try.
"What do you wish to know?" he asked, pitching his voice down. A faint blush stained Katara's cheeks, and Zuko thought he had an idea of her question.
"I feel a bit silly asking this," she hemmed. "But I guess I'm a bit desperate- oh, not that I doubt your abilities, Mr...." No one had asked Zuko his name the entire time he'd been there, and he hadn't thought to come up with one. Now he scrambled for a response.
"I am...the Great and Powerful Seer," he said ponderously. Katara blinked owlishly at him.
"Um...okay," she replied slowly, trying to bite back a smile. "Mr. Seer, then." Zuko bristled a little. So he wasn't a great improviser. She didn't have to be so condescending.
"If you don't have any questions for the Great Seer, I have other places to be," Zuko huffed.
"No, please," Katara said, trying to placate him. "I didn't mean to offend you. I do have a question. You see, my friend lost someone very dear to him, and we've been trying to find him for weeks. We were able to track him here, but we can't find any more clues."
"I see," Zuko murmured. Katara's sharp eyes snapped up and she stared hard at him, trying to see his face through the cloth and shadows. Zuko cleared his throat and spoke a bit louder in his fake voice. "And this missing friend. Is he...human?"
"No," Katara sighed. The suspicious look was gone, replaced with worry and fatigue. "He's an animal."
"He would be hard to miss, I'd think," Zuko said. "Even in a place as big as Ba Sing Se would be a hard place to hide a flying bison." The sharp look was back in Katara's eyes.
"I didn't say he was a flying bison," she said. Zuko felt his entire body heat up in a flash.
"Psychic," he managed to say. "Remember?"
"...right." Katara didn't seem convinced. "So, what else can you tell me?" Zuko once again found himself scrambling for an answer.
"Sometimes the answers we seek," he said slowly, "are found where we least expect. You've checked all the obvious places. Now, maybe you should check...less obvious ones." Katara stared at him for a long moment. Her expression was unreadable. Zuko swallowed hard, and did his best to ignore the bead of sweat rolling down the back of his neck. Finally, Katara nodded slowly.
"That...makes sense," she said, tapping her chin thoughtfully. "We had been considering that maybe Appa is being hidden underground, but... Well, maybe we can check. Thank you...Mr. Seer." She reached into her purse and pulled out a copper coin. She was about to leave, Zuko realized. He'd gotten the tip about the Avatar's bison, but surely he could do better.
"Don't you have any other questions?" he asked. Katara blinked in surprise.
"I thought it was one fortune for one copper?"
"For such a pretty young lady, two fortunes for the price of one." Zuko wanted to bite his tongue off for such a cheesy line. Who was he? Uncle? But Katara's cheeks flushed a pretty shade of pink and she ducked her head bashfully.
"Oh...well...thank you," she said. She was very pretty, Zuko thought to himself. When her eyes weren't full of rage, or suspicion, they were actually very warm and inviting.
Irrelevant, Zuko snapped at himself. "Focus!"
"Excuse me?" Katara asked.
"Er...that is, I'm trying to get a read on you," Zuko covered quicky. "Focus on what you want to know. I sense you have been on a long journey."
"That's an understatement," Katara scoffed. "But then again, Ba Sing Se is full of people on long journeys."
"Ah, but yours has been longer than most," Zuko pressed. "I'm sensing that you...aren't from the Earth Kingdom."
"No," Katara confirmed. "I'm from the South Pole."
"That's a very long way," Zuko said. "You must miss home." Katara paused for a moment and thought.
"Not as much as I thought I would," she said. "I mean, sure I'd like to go back someday, but I...I've met a lot of interesting people."
"And faced many dangers." Zuko leaned forward. "I see that, too." Katara's brows furrowed and she was searching him with that too smart gaze, but this time it seemed more curious than suspicious.
"How do you see it?" she asked.
"...pardon?"
"The last fortune teller I saw used bones," Katara explained. "You don't have anything. No bones, no dice, no cards...How do you tell fortunes?"
"I...I read auras," Zuko said. Katara was a dangerous opponent, even when she didn't realize she was being engaged. Maybe offering her a second fortune wasn't such a good idea after all. He should have gotten her away from his stall as soon as he could.
"What else does my aura tell you?" Katara asked. Zuko cursed himself silently. He tried to remember what he'd heard his sister's friend, Ty Lee say about auras the last time he saw her. The colors had meaning, and the last time she'd "read" his aura, she had listed off the colors she saw and their attributes, but it seemed to Zuko that she was just listing personality traits.
"Your aura is mostly blue and purple," Zuko told her. "The blue means you're insightful and powerful, and the purple means you're empathetic. But I see a bit of red around you, too. You're a very passionate person. I can see bits and pieces of your journey, so far. You've recently achieved a major goal, and you've suffered a loss- that'd be this...Appa. I also see a bit of grey in your aura. Maybe you're feeling...uncertain about something?"
"About a lot of things," Katara admitted.
"Why don't you tell me about it?" Zuko leaned forward eagerly. Perhaps she would let a useable secret slip if he left the question open.
"I don't know," Katara bit down on her knuckle and glanced up at Zuko nervously. "I mean...it's a bit silly."
"Nothing is too silly for me," he assured her.
"Alright," Katara sighed. "I mentioned that I'd seen a fortune teller before-" Zuko nodded and motioned for her to continue. "She told me...she told me about the man I'd marry one day."
It was like a bucket of cold water being dumped on Zuko. He was stupid to think that Katara would let sensitive information slip out to a stranger, but this reminder that she was still a teenage girl was jarring.
"You want more information?" Zuko asked, trying to keep his tone politely interested.
"Sort of," Katara huffed. "You see, she told me that I'd marry a powerful bender someday. Well, my friend is a powerful bender...technically."
"Technically?"
"He...isn't very motivated to practice," Katara admitted. Now, that was something, Zuko thought. She must be talking about the Avatar, and it seemed the Avatar was a lazy student. Zuko didn't know how that was helpful to him, but he stored it away, anyway.
"I see," he said. "So, you want to know how to motivate him?"
"No, nothing like that," Katara waved him off. "It's just that he's a powerful bender, and I know he likes me, but...I don't...
"You don't feel the same way?" Zuko guessed. Katara's cheeks blushed deeper.
"He's so...immature," Katara said. "I know he's just a kid, but sometimes I feel like I'm raising him. I don't know if I could ever like him the same way he likes me. I've tried. I wanted to give him a shot, but it doesn't feel right. Maybe I'm being too picky? Maybe the feelings will come later?"
"There are other powerful benders," Zuko pointed out. "Maybe you're meant to be with a different one." There was relief mixed with uncertainty on Katara's face now. Zuko thought he understood why. The Avatar is the most powerful bender by default, his laziness notwithstanding, and he clearly had a thing for Katara- even Zuko could see that.
"I guess that's true," Katara said.
"It's alright not to return someone's feelings," Zuko told her. "I would hope that you are looking for something more substantial in a husband than just his bending ability."
"Of course!" Katara was indignant. "Of course I am. It's just that...well, it's complicated. If my friend likes me the way I think he does, then...I might owe him."
"Owe him?" Zuko repeated incredulously. Katara clutched her elbows and ducked her head in embarrassment.
"Like I said, it's complicated."
"You don't owe anyone your affection," Zuko said. He was suddenly, unaccountably annoyed. "It doesn't matter what they do for you. If you're not into this guy, you don't have to force yourself to be. You're allowed to make your own choices about your destiny." Zuko froze as the words left his mouth. Katara leaned forward, looking at him in concern.
"Are you alright?" she asked. Zuko blushed and nodded.
"I'm fine," he said. "I've just realized I need to be somewhere soon."
"Oh!" Katara jumped to her feet and bowed her head slightly. "I won't take up any more of your time. Thank you...Mr. Seer." Zuko nodded and waved her off. Katara started to walk away, but after a few steps she looked back at Zuko. "It's okay if I don't return his feelings? Even if he does something major and life-saving?"
"Even then," Zuko assured her. Then she smiled at him. Zuko found himself smiling back, though he knew she couldn't see him. She had a nice smile, he realized. He'd never been on the receiving end of anything other than a challenging smirk from her. Now that he had, he wished vainly that he could see her smile like that again.
The coast was clear. The Dai Li had long since given up on finding him. Zuko shed the musty robes and gathered his earnings for the day, and he made his way home. As he walked, his own words chased him. You're allowed to make your own choices about your destiny. He wondered if he was included in that.
#atla#zutara#zutara month#fortune teller#katara gets a very interesting reading#zutara month 2023#THE YEAR OF CONTENT!!!!
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My Future In You | 1.2 | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader
Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Masterlist
Synopsis: Bradley’s twenty-two years old and not where he’s supposed to be. He’s supposed to be out of the academy by now. Instead, he’s retaking his senior year of college and praying to god that he gets into flight school. Mav’s gone, his mom’s gone. He’s mad at the world. Then, a hook up at a Halloween party changes his future even more than he could have imagined.
Warnings: accidental pregnancy, angst, drama etc etc, enemies to lovers if you wanna call it that, no major warnings in this chapter
…
“No, I dated someone with that name.” Bradley decides, shaking his head as he sips on his Diet Coke. You narrow your eyes at him.
“If we’re going to rule out names because of your love life, our kid is going to end up with a name from the seventeenth century.” You complain, grabbing some fries as you look over the girl’s side of your list.
Bradley chuckles softly, amused by your comment. He squeezes your ankle.
“Fine. Let’s talk boy names first because I have one that I really would like.” He tells you, stroking his thumb tenderly along your calf. You’re both sitting on your bed, you by the headboard and him with his back to the wall, your feet in his lap.
“Okay.” You nod your head at him.
“Nick.” He decides.
You scoff as you grab your drink and sip from the straw, “Sure, if I’m giving birth to a middle aged man with credit card debt and a wife he hates.
Bradley stares at you.
“I mean — that’s an old man name. Baby Nick? — It sounds like he’s balding already.” You reason with him. Bradley’s lips quirk, amused by you trashing the name so much. He knows something you don’t. You stare at him, trying to figure out why he’s looking at you like that.
It hits you.
“Oh shit, is that your dead dad’s name?” You gasp.
Bradley shakes his head and strikes a line through the name, “The world has been without a Nick Bradshaw for like eighteen years, I guess it can go a little more.”
“I’m sorry.” You wince.
Bradley shrugs, lifting his napkin to wipe his hands, “Let me hear your names.”
The two of you go back and forth, sharing names and insulting each of them in turn. You throw yourself back against the pillows, draping an arm over your face, groaning in frustration.
“Our kid isn’t going to have a name, they’re going to be baby Seresin for their entire life because we can’t agree on anything!” You growl.
“Baby Bradshaw.” Bradley corrects you, sipping from his straw, still looking down at his own list. A pillow hits the side of his head, almost making him drop his sprite. He turns his head and raises his eyebrow at you.
“Don’t start something you can’t finish, honey.” He comments, throwing the pillow back, his lips quirking as it hits you in the face. You bolt upright and glare at him.
“Pregnant or not, I’ll kick your ass.”
Bradley’s lips tilt upwards into a grin. He sets his drink down and shrugs his shoulders, “Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve been attacked by a Seresin.”
He’s such a cocky asshole when he wants to be. You set your list down and push up onto your knees, shoving at his chest.
Bradley smiles. He lifts his chin, smirking at you defiantly. There’s a split second where he thinks that you might just take the leap, lean forwards and kiss him.
“Hey…”
Both of you jump apart and turn together. Ryan’s standing in the doorway, one strap from his backpack on his shoulder. He looks between you and Bradley. Both on your bed, notepads pushed to the side. You’re on your knees, your hand is on his shoulder.
A muscle in Ryan’s jaw ticks.
“Am I interrupting?” He says quietly. He’s a pretty patient guy, and he really likes you - he doesn’t want to jump to conclusions. But, at some point, he passed the need to jump and has now arrived to the conclusion all by himself.
“No!” You leap up from the bed. Bradley has the sense to grab both notebooks and pull them onto his lap, then close them both.
“Ryan, how’s it going, man?” Bradley starts to push himself up from the bed. You turn quickly and glare at him. He closes his mouth and remains on the edge of your bed.
He sits silently and thinks about how he should have kissed you and taught your boyfriend to take a hint and back off.
“What’s going on, baby?” Ryan’s voice is soft, tender. Bradley stills, realising he wouldn’t have reacted that way. Bradley’s eyes fall down to look at the sweater covering your developing stomach. He looks back up at the Ryan’s softened expressions.
He just came over to find his girl sitting in bed with another guy, and he’s still giving her the benefit of the doubt.
That’s probably the kind of guy that would be a good influence around a baby.
It might not have been Bradley’s first instinct, but Bradley can be like that too. He’s certain of it.
“Bradley needed tutoring, the idiot failed Public Relations twice now.” You tell Ryan. He looks at Bradley. Bradley smiles stiffly and nods his head — the idiot comment is something to address later.
“You’re… tutoring him?” Ryan looks between the two of you, unbelieving. You nod your head quickly.
Solely in the interest of proving that he isn’t an idiot, Bradley flicks back a couple of pages in his notebook and holds up the notes for Ryan to see. They’re from when Bradley was tutoring someone a while ago, but the different pen colours and comments sell the story.
“Oh.” Ryan nods softly as he looks over the page. His gaze flickers back to you. You smile sheepishly at him.
Bradley stands up finally, “Well, I should go. Thanks for the help. I’ll see you on tomorrow.”
“What’s tomorrow?” Ryan asks, looking at Bradley instead of you.
“Oh, it’s Jake’s birthday — they’re having a thing over at their place.” You explain, watching Bradley step past Ryan and out into the hall.
“You didn’t mention.” Ryan comments. Bradley cocks an eyebrow at you. Kind of odd that you didn’t invite your boyfriend, in his mind.
“Well, you’re invited, obviously. It’ll be fun.” You force yourself to smile at him.
“Guess I’ll see you both there.” Bradley smiles.
The hour drive home gives him time to think. He knows you and Ryan are probably arguing right now, and that it’s somewhat his fault. It’s not his fault that you refuse to tell your boyfriend.
Bradley had a realisation the other day. Ryan has been spending most of his time at your place. Almost every day from what he hears. Sure, there’s a chance that this is because of how much you guys like each other. Bradley thinks otherwise. Your parents still aren’t talking to Jake, which means they absolutely aren’t speaking to you. Bradley hasn’t seen you shed a tear about it since before New Years’.
Ryan’s a distraction.
By the time Bradley’s home, he has a couple of texts waiting to open. Most notably, one from Kenzie - last Bradley heard, she had a boyfriend. Clearly not anymore because twenty minutes later, he’s letting her in and she’s leading the way to his room. She remembers where it is.
Bradley can’t pretend that he hasn’t missed her. Kenzie’s a great friend. But, she and Bradley hook up regularly when they aren’t seeing other people, so she tends to disappear each time she gets a boyfriend.
And each time they reunite, it’s just as good. Bradley groans softly as he runs his fingers through his hair, trying to catch his breath. Kenzie pulls open the top drawer to his nightstand and grabs the box of tissues. She wipes her chest off and moves to put the box back.
She frowns slightly.
“Um… Bradley,”
Bradley lets out a heavy breath, wiping the sweat from his forehead, lifting his gaze to look at the girl beside him in his bed.
“What’s this?”
He knows exactly what she’s talking about the moment that she asks the question. He sits upright quickly and glances down, like he doesn’t know.
Truthfully, he had forgotten that it was in there. The spare sonogram photo that he was meant to pass on to Jake. His is safely hidden behind his driver’s license in his wallet.
“I have no idea.” Bradley decides that’s the best answer to go with.
Kenzie turns to look at him and raises her eyebrows in disbelief. He glances down at her bare chest in a moment of weakness and immediately realises that he has just made the incorrect choice twice in a row.
“Oh my god! — What is the matter with you?” She shrieks, leaping up from the bed and grabbing her underwear from the floor.
Bradley takes a moment before he answers this question.
“It’s not what it looks like,” He tells her, shifting to the edge of the bed and standing up. He grabs his boxers and pulls them up his legs as she searches for her jeans.
“It looks like you got someone pregnant!” She bites back.
“Okay, well… I did, but-“
“Oh my god!” She shrieks again. Bradley winces at the sound. She throws her jeans at him, he narrowly dodges and frowns at her.
“I am not a homewrecker, Bradley! I can’t believe you didn’t tell me this! — I could kill you right now!”
“I’m not dating her! She has a boyfriend! — I barely know her, she’s just Jake’s little sister.” Bradley realises how bad that sounds as he’s saying it, but he commits to the sentence anyway.
“You got Jake’s little sister pregnant and he let you live?”
She’s a cheerleader, she knows about the team and its intricacies. She’s also a lot smarter than people give her credit for, and she knows Bradley well. She knows that he and Jake barely get along at the best of times.
Truthfully, he might make every bad decision he can, but Kenzie loves Bradley. She gets him. She has sat with him in the library more times than she should have. She’s hurt that this is the first she’s hearing about this.
“Just about.” Bradley chuckles in agreement. He lifts her jeans and extends them towards her as somewhat of a peace offering.
She shakes her head and snatches them out of his hands. Bradley scratches the back of his neck sheepishly as she steps into them, knowing that he’s in trouble. Kenzie zips and buttons her pants, then folds her arms over her chest.
“She’s keeping the baby?” She asks curiously.
“Uh-huh. Due at the beginning of August.” Bradley nods his head.
Kenzie stares at him seriously, then raises an eyebrow, “And… you’re going to be involved?”
“Yeah.” Bradley mumbles.
Kenzie steps forwards and wraps her arms around his waist. He hugs her uncertainly. She pulls back and looks up, then presses her index finger into his chest, her face stern.
“You need to get your shit together.” She tells him seriously.
Bradley frowns slightly.
“I mean it, Bradshaw - if you screw up this kid then I’ll personally hunt you down.”
His face softens as he understands what she’s talking about. He leans his head back and sighs, she steps away from him and pulls one of his t-shirts over her head.
“Her new boyfriend has his shit together,” Bradley mutters, reaching for his shorts and stepping into them. His head hangs low, he’s not meeting her gaze. “He’s a photographer, musician - he’s got a job lined up after graduation, here in the city with her. I’m going to be halfway across the country. Even if I was here… I’m starting to think he’d be a better dad than I would.”
“He probably would be.” Kenzie agrees. Bradley lifts his head and frowns at her. It’s harsh, but it’s what he needs to hear. “Well, I assume he would be. Because he’s with her, and you’re still being a little boy, screwing around.”
His lips part. He scrunches his brows together, hurt, “What am I supposed to do? - I can’t come between them, she would hate me.”
Kenzie sighs.
“I’m not telling you to come between them, idiot - because you’re right, she would hate you,” Kenzie explains herself. Bradley shoves his hands into the pockets of his shorts. “But, she might start to trust you a little more if you grow up and stop hooking up with random girls.”
“You’re not rando-“
“Just prove to her that you can give her some stability. I’ve been saying this for months - you’re holding yourself back. Pull your head out of your ass, grow up.” She says sternly.
Bradley nods uncertainly.
“Okay. Now, don’t you dare text me unless it’s an invitation to the baby shower.”
His lips quirk slightly, he gives her a small nod. Kenzie pushes up onto her tiptoes and kisses her cheek, then leaves him.
Bradley spends all night thinking about what she said. He didn’t want to grow up. He wanted to be selfish. He spent twenty years trying to hold it together and be as good as he could for his mom, he didn’t go to the academy - he went to college, he cared for her when she was sick. Without complaint, and he would happily do it again. That’s why he never felt guilty for his behaviour recently.
He had begun to realise that it’s easy to be selfish.
After everything he had been through, Bradley figured he deserved the easy route.
But then he found out about the pregnancy, and he agreed to step up. It’s just that now, he’s starting to realise what that means.
He leans against the kitchen counter as Jake greets his guests. You arrive with Ryan and it’s clear that something’s wrong. Bradley’s brows furrow, your cheeks are flushed and slightly blotchy - you’ve been crying. You split off from Ryan and corner Jake as soon as you arrive.
Bradley watches. Jake doesn’t seem to pick up on it. He grins at you, hugs you, the two of you talk happily for a few minutes. Then, Jake takes the gift bag from you and you turn off towards the downstairs bathroom. He leaves his drink on the counter and follows after you.
“Slow down, hey - hey,” He calls to you. You groan and lean your head back, resting a hand against your abdomen as you slow down and turn to look at him. Bradley’s eyes fall down to your hand placement, then widen. He reaches out for you, “Is everything okay?”
“I’m fine! I just need to pee, really bad.” You shift impatiently on your feet, wondering how you’re going to take almost five more months of this.
“Is something up with you and Ryan? - You look upset.” Bradley says softly, stepping closer to you. You sigh.
“He thinks I’m lying to him, and I am, and I just feel like a fucking awful person. I need to tell him and I can’t do it. Okay? - Can I pee now?” You groan out, turning away from him before he gets a chance to answer. You lock the bathroom door behind you.
Bradley glances back over his shoulder, finding your boyfriend making himself a drink in the kitchen. He looks back at the bathroom door, and then makes his decision. All of this stress isn’t good for his baby. He’ll do the hard part for you.
He turns and walks into the kitchen, certain in his decision.
“Can I talk to you for a second?” Bradley asks softly.
Ryan rolls his eyes, taking a sip of his drink, “I don’t have anything to say to you.”
As far as he’s concerned, your older brother’s friend has a crush on you and is trying to ruin what you have with him. Ryan doesn’t like Bradley and he isn’t going to pretend that he does.
Bradley narrows his eyes. He doesn’t like your boyfriend’s tone. Nor does he like the look in his eye as he glares at him.
There goes the plan to do this nicely. Bradley changes his mind on how he’s going to deliver this news.
“I was thinking that you and I should probably get to know each other a little bit better,” Bradley explains, leaning his hands against the counter. “Since we’ll probably be spending a lot of time together.”
Ryan scoffs quietly.
“How do you figure that?” He asks. He does not plan on spending any more time than absolutely necessary with Bradley Bradshaw. He’s just here because you asked him to be.
Bradley keeps his gaze on the party.
“Oh, you know — because of the baby.” He explains calmly, clearly. There’s no room for misinterpretation. Bradley makes sure that Ryan hears what he says.
Ryan stills. He pulls back and turns his head towards Bradley, brows scrunching together, in confusion and annoyance. He wants to smack that smug look off of Bradley’s face more than anything and he really isn’t a violent guy.
“What? — What baby?”
Bradley shrugs his shoulders and turns his head, stoic and far too confident for his own good, “Mine and your girlfriend’s.”
“What the fuck did you just say?” Ryan stands up straighter and squares his shoulders. Even like that, Bradley’s still a head taller than him. Bradley’s ego soars as he stands upright and squares his shoulders in the same way, towering over Ryan.
“Oh no, she didn’t tell you?” Bradley says gently, lips quirking upward into a smirk. Ryan’s brows scrunch together. Bradley shrugs his broad shoulders, “She’s starting to show, man — I dunno how you haven’t noticed.”
Bradley says the last part lowly, stepping slightly closer to Ryan. He gets the reaction he wants, Ryan shoves hard at his chest. Bradley smiles at him, silently daring Ryan to make one wrong move here.
Jake, in the middle of a conversation, does a double take. His eyes widen slightly as he finds Bradley and Ryan in the kitchen, glaring at each other, their shoulders squared and their chests pressed together.
“Fuck, hold this.” Jake shoves his drink into someone else’s hands and rushes for the kitchen.
“You’re lying.” Ryan shakes his head, frowning. Bradley pulls his wallet from his front pocket and opens it. Ryan’s eyes land on the sonogram picture, his lips parting slightly. His heart sinks. His gaze flickers back up to Bradley’s. He sets his drink down on the counter and turns.
“Ryan, wait.” Jake sighs.
“Fuck this.” Ryan’s voice cracks slightly as he waves Jake off and heads for the door. Jake turns to Bradley and narrows his eyes at him seriously.
“We had a deal.” Jake whispers angrily.
Bradley shrugs his shoulders and sips at his beer, “He needed to know.”
…
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#bradley rooster bradshaw#bradley bradshaw#miles teller#bradley bradshaw smut#rooster x you#rooster bradshaw imagine#top gun smut
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No longer a secret pt 3
Summary: The one where InternetTM has ideas and the relationship officially goes public.
Pairing: Toto Wolff x fem!reader
W/C: 4k
Rating: PG, age gap
TWs: none
A/N: I didn't expect the characters to grow this much, but I guess we're in it, guys, gals and pals. Also, below you can find a link to a playlist I listen to while writing all of this softness. The songs on it don't apply to either of the characters, just put me in a good mood for fluff. Also-Also - I don't have a clear plan for a part 4, so it might be few days before I'll write it.
Taglist: @crimeshowjunkie, @omgsuperstarg
Series Masterlist | Masterlist | List of tags | Playlist for the series
You hated waking up early, especially alone in bed, but there had to be some cons of being with a man like Toto. Although it was more of a personal preference, than a true inconvenience. And during most mornings out of season, you had him all to yourself...
But today he was most likely either in some early meeting, or still in the gym, and you had your own meeting in about 30 minutes, so it was time to get up and get ready.
You've just finished making a quick breakfast and a second coffee for your guest when there was a knock at the door.
Mr. Zane, or Mark - as he insisted you should call him - was definitely worth whatever Toto was paying him because he was able to find a discrepancy in your contract that not only could void it after 30 days of you not being assigned a "full-length uninterrupted interview", based solely on the word uninterrupted, you could also sue the network based on precedence you wouldn't be able to repeat under any threats.
He already drafted a proper resignation letter mentioning all the legal things, and next to that, there was a letter from his firm stating that a failure to comply would result in legal action. You only wanted to add one condition to the things he prepared - you wanted to be the one to announce your departure from the network first; on your personal social media and without naming specific reasons.
He quickly edited the file to include that condition, and passed the tablet to you to sign, and just like that - everything was taken care of. And as a bonus, he checked a statement you quickly prepared, just to make sure the wording was ok, and after a few tweaks, you had it ready to post as soon as you got a reply from the HR department. And Mark assured you that they should confirm everything when the message will be marked as read since everything was effective immediately.
A twenty-minute meeting saved you a full month of additional work, and with that, you were officially free. And unemployed. You would just have to return all the network-issued gear and vacate the room they paid for as soon as possible, which shouldn't be an issue, since the majority of your things were already here. You also no longer could use your press pass and network ID, but that wasn't going to be a problem, since you had no desire to do so. Sure, it was a dick move to leave your colleagues in the middle of the season, especially when there was supposed to be coverage tomorrow on track. But your resignation was a great opportunity for someone to put to good use.
To your surprise, you got the notification that your Network acknowledges your resignation and accept the terms before Mark left the suite, and you had to make sure three times that it was indeed real because it still felt like a dream. After he finished the coffee, he congratulated you on your freedom, and just like that - he was gone, leaving you alone with your thoughts, and you immediately went into damage control mode, making call after call to your friends in the network, letting them know that you're no longer with the company; you didn’t want them to find out from a company-wide email, or worse - your social media. To those you couldn't reach, you wrote a message, and since all of you were basically in the same camp, there was no one who was bitter or angry; your friends fully supported your decision. Sure, there were a few less-than-appropriate comments, but all were in good faith.
Toto came back from the gym while you were still on the phone, and gave you a quick kiss on the top of your head in passing, because he didn't want to hug you when he was still sweaty, and before he disappeared in the bathroom, you mouthed "It's done, thank you...", and you could almost feel the pride radiating off of him, even though you basically didn't do anything. A question on the other side of the line made you turn around and focus on the reply.
When he came out of the shower with only a towel wrapped around his hips you couldn't help but stare a bit, and Toto just smiled when he caught you, came closer, and wrapped his arms around you, while you put your right hand on his shoulder blade, pulling him closer, so you could rest your cheek on his chest. His skin was so warm after the shower, that you could just melt into it, but you knew you couldn't stay like that long, because he had to get ready, and you had to continue the call session. Well, you technically didn't have to, but you wanted to explain whatever you could in person.
You eventually let go of him, still deep in a conversation with your friend from the weather department, who just asked about your plans for t future. You started telling her a rough idea of the project, and while Toto was getting dressed, you went to the kitchen to make him a coffee and take the breakfast out of the fridge, so he wouldn't miss it. You knew you didn't have to do that, but you enjoyed doing small things like that for him, and he did the same for you.
It looked like he would have a virtual meeting first because he took out his laptop, so you left him at the kitchen island and quietly closed the door to the bedroom, from where you continued your calls. You honestly thought that it would take less time, and after the sixth call, everything became so repetitive, that you honestly started to regret that you didn't make a group chat and let them know by a meme that you quit.
But you eventually finished, and it was almost 11. It's not like you had something else to do today since you were officially free, but that feeling of guilt for not doing anything specific was present in the back of your brain, so you sighed and came into the other room, trying to figure out if Toto was still in the meeting, and when you heard your own voice coming from his laptop, you realized that he definitely wasn't.
You lowered the barstool he was sitting on so you could take a look over his shoulder to see what he was watching, and the sudden movement down made him laugh. You hugged him from behind and rested your chin on his shoulder, because for once you could do that without abysmally tall high heels. He was watching your interview with Lewis from yesterday, and you came just in time to see him walking into a frame and putting his jacket over your shoulders.
- My hero... - you laughed, and you pressed a tender kiss to his cheek. You stayed like that until the video ended, and after it did, you reached under his arm and scrolled down to see the comments, and you immediately started shaking, trying to contain laughter.
- "Y/N is so strong because I simply would have fainted if he did that to me..." - you read out loud the latest one, and he took over scrolling, so you wouldn't have to strain your wrist. - Oh, Mr. Wolff, please catch me in your strong arms if I faint...? - you couldn't help yourself and he shook his head with disbelief.
- It will be hard for me to catch you if you're behind me... - he laughed, and pulled you in front of him, basically switching your positions, so you leaned on him and intertwined your fingers with his on your stomach.
- This one is funny... "Y/N is definitely in a secret relationship with Lewis Hamilton. In this essay I will...". - he read out loud, and you couldn't help but laugh. A quick look in the top right corner told you that you were still logged into your account on his computer, so you hit reply and commented "Where is the essay, OP...?", and he laughed even harder.
- I like this one "A single mom who works two jobs, and one o the jobs is definitely making sure his favorite son won't get sick", it's a reference to a song... - you added and you could feel him smiling, while you typed, but you hesitated before you hit send. - Are we ok with that...? - you made sure, even though it wasn't anything specific, just a slight suggestion. "Ok, but like are we sure-sure he's single?"
- Are you ok with that...? - he flipped the question, and instead of replying you just sent the comment, and you could feel him pulling you closer, so you basically sat on his lap now. - Do I want to know what that means? - he pointed at one of the comments that read "Where is that fan cam of Toto to "big boy" because I suddenly need it to survive.", and you laughed again.
- I don't think I've ever seen this specific one, but people take clips of other people, in this case, you, and put them together to different songs. I suspect in this case they refer to you looking very hot, Neshama Sheli. - he couldn't help but laugh.
- I don't think I'd like to see that... I would be much more interested in seeing fan cams of you, Schatzi. - you shook your head and wrinkled your nose, when he pressed a quick kiss to your temple, while you continued scrolling, and while there were a lot of comments about pet race, Toto's gesture was the second thing people talked about the most, and you both laughed from one more "I volunteer as a headset!", referring to the fact that there were times when he didn't treat his headsets the best.
Only after you saw a comment where someone said that they can't wait for your next interview with Lewis, you realized something.
- Shit, I forgot to post the official information about my resignation. - you immediately grabbed your phone and posted the prepared statement across all your social media.
- By the way, I requested a Mercedes pass for you till the end of the season, so you could still come and go to the tracks as you want. - he said when you finally closed his laptop and turned around so you were facing each other.
- Thank you. - this time you had to lean a bit to kiss him, and you would have lied if you said that you didn't enjoy it.
- Is there anything else I can do for you, love? - he asked, pressing his forehead to yours.
- Actually... - you took a deep breath - I want to get in front of the possible rumors, and I want to announce, well... us. - a giant smile bloomed on his face while he pulled you for another kiss.
- No more hiding...? - he asked more as a formality, but he also wanted to make sure that you were 100% ok with sharing that part of your life.
- No more hiding. - you confirmed, your voice surprisingly confident.
- Then what are you waiting for? - you couldn't help but laugh.
- It's a whole process... You know business and management, I know journalism, but more important - I know social media, and I know exactly how quickly the information and wild theories will spread in this community. – this whole endeavor would require some finesse, and you honestly debated if you shouldn’t leak your relationship to a few drama channels yourself to avoid ripping the Band-Aid yourself, but it would be much messier that way.
- I understand. What do you need me to do...? - he asked and leaned back on the stool a bit, so he could look at you better.
- Take a selfie with me... I was thinking about posting it with information that I will go live and answer questions for about 30 minutes to dispel any craziness that will definitely come up sooner or later. - you explained your plan. All of it still seemed so surreal...
- Sounds good. Is that all you need? - he asked again, closing his knees a bit, and squeezing you between them.
- I mean, I still need to get the rest of my stuff from the other hotel, but I'll do that later today. - you sighed. You had more things to do, but this one had a deadline
- I'll drive you. - he said as if it was the most obvious thing, and it wasn't even a question.
- Toto, you have a race to think of... And I am perfectly capable of doing that myself. - you tried to steer his mind away from taking care of you, but he didn't budge.
- I know... But consider this - I want to. - well, how could you argue with such sound logic? - Do you have any ideas for the photo?
- Not really, but I don't want it super staged, so I guess... just smile...? - he placed a quick kiss on the tip of your nose, and you turned around, sat on his lap, and turned the camera on the two of you, while he leaned a bit forward and rested his chin on your shoulder. You quickly took a few pictures in a row, while he placed another kiss on your cheek and you couldn't help but smile. And when you started lowering your phone, you felt the vibrations in his pocket, but it was to be expected. He chose to ignore them in favor of another few seconds this close to you. - Answer your phone, Meu Tudão... - and with a heavy sigh he did, while you stood up from his lap and started to choose the best of the photos. And the one when he kissed your cheek and you smiled was just perfect.
You quickly cropped it so the proportions would fit the layout of the website, and made the picture a bit brighter, but that was it. The description only read "30 min live AMA at noon, get ready". You turned the screen in Toto's direction, so he could take a look, and he gave you thumbs up and a huge smile, and that was enough for you to post it.
Not even a minute passed and the notifications started blowing up your phone to the point that you had to turn them off for this specific app in fear of it crashing every few seconds.
You still had at least 10 minutes till the live, so you got something to drink from the fridge, because you suspected that 30 minutes of talking might make you a bit parched. You also carefully chose the place you wanted to stream from. Definitely not in front of the window because of the light, and you didn't want to share the view, so you opted for a couch set on the wall perpendicularly to the floor-length windows. You also made sure that there weren't any personal items in the frame, just in case.
Toto was still on the phone, but as soon as you started your live, he moved to the bedroom, because the things he was talking about weren't exactly public.
- Hi everyone... Oh, wow... There are a lot of people here... Jeez... - you looked at a quickly growing count indicating how many people were currently watching you, and the number was significant; you knew that neither of you was exactly anonymous, but it still exceeded expectations. - Ok, I'm gonna give everyone one more minute to join in and then I'll start answering questions... - you explained and leaned back a bit, but still made sure that the angle was good. You slowed down the chat, just so you'd be able to read anything. - How am I...? I'm great! Nervous as hell, but I'm actually great. - you didn't want to be quiet for that minute, so you decided to answer a few general questions. - Where am I...? I'm currently at the Ritz-Carlton... - You saw that the number of viewers started to stabilize, so you knew it was time.
- Ok, time for some serious questions and serious answers. As usual, I won't engage with anything vulgar or inappropriate, so make sure to keep your questions clean. But first some general info, so we're on the same page... - you took a deep breath because it would be the first time you shared that information out of your own free will. - Yes, me and Toto Wolff are together. We've been together for just over a year now... - you couldn't help but smile when you saw the flood of reactions in the chat, and you tried to catch as many questions as you could. - Did anyone know? No, not until yesterday. We decided to keep it private because of my career. Is someone blackmailing me to share that information...? - you couldn't help but laugh. - No, no... I'm doing it out of my own free will, no blackmail involved. - you took a moment to get to another question. - Did my departure from the network was because of our relationship? No, it's not. I keep my work life separated from my private life and there was no influence either way. - another quick break to catch up and read the question. - Why did I quit my job? I didn't quit my job. It was a mutual departure because our priorities no longer lined up and continuing that partnership wouldn't be good for either me or them. - you stuck to the things Mark approved earlier today. - Why am I sharing this now? Since I no longer will be working around the track, there was no reason to keep it secret. - you noticed that Toto left the bedroom, the phone still in his hand, but he was no longer on a call. You didn't ask him to join you, and you were prepared to do the AMA alone, but he sat next to you and wrapped his arm around you, and the chat exploded again. - Say hi to everyone... There are over 20k people watching us now... - you almost instinctively leaned into him.
- Hello everyone! And wow! 20k just for us? That's impressive! - he leaned forward a bit, so the angle would be better.
- Do you want to answer a few questions, Ya Amar? - he smiled, and you could see on the screen that he wasn't looking at the camera, only at you, and that warmed your heart.
- Sure, why not... - he chuckled quietly.
- So how did we meet? - you relayed one of the questions that popped up in the chat with a smile because the mere memory of that afternoon was more than enough to put you in good mood.
- Well, believe it or not, it was nowhere near the track. She actually yelled at me, because I accidentally destroyed the flowerbed in front of a small B&B she was staying at, and that was enough for me to know then and there... - he smiled when you looked at him, and you couldn't help but blush a bit.
- And I did that fully knowing who he was because the older couple put so much work into maintaining that flowerbed and he just... run over it! - you built on top of his story.
- In my defense, I did that to avoid hitting a squirrel! - now both of you were laughing, and it took you a second to remember that you should be answering more questions.
- Where was our first date? - you read the question out loud, and you were preparing to answer it when Toto cut you off.
- Oh, that's easy... Deutsches Technikmuseum in Berlin, and it lasted what... 10, 11 hours? - he replied and pulled you closer.
- Yup, it's a very big museum, and we were there since it opened till it closed, and we still didn't see everything. And after that, we went to a park and just sat on the grass and talked. It was perfect. - you added. You didn't want to share more details like - a much too expensive, very poor-quality dinner you sneaked onto the roof of the brewery on the museum grounds... Or the cheap strawberry champagne with glitter, which you chose only because you thought he would never buy or drink it, and which later exploded in his hands before he even managed to open it, soaking both of you in a pink, sugary, sticky residue; fortunately, neither of you got hurt then.
- Indeed... It was perfect because it was with you... - he leaned a bit and pressed his forehead to your temple, and you looked at the chat again in search of another question.
- Do we live together? Come on guys, that's too personal. What did we do for our first anniversary...? We spent a whole week on a cabin cruiser in Greece, just the two of us... - you could feel his hand gently stroking your back. - Ok, we're over the 30min mark here, so one last question and we're done. Make it a good one, guys... Ok, ok... - you took a moment to actually choose the question. - What are our favorite things about each other...? For me, it's your smile. - you replied, more to him, than to the chat. - I know it's cheesy, but it represents so many things... It makes me feel safe and cared for, it tells me that there is nothing to worry about, and no matter what - everything will be all right. And even when I'm having the worst day of my life, when I see you smile, it all disappears, because you give me the strength to get through everything. - you said and he pulled you in for a quick kiss.
- For me, it's also easy... You make me want to be a better person in every area of my life. You push me to do things I wouldn't even consider before I met you by forcing me to look at things from different perspectives. You have this way of listening to my problems, that makes me realize exactly how to deal with them, doesn't matter if it's about work or about something private... And you make me want to be a better man for you, a partner you could be proud of. - this time you were the one who pulled him into a kiss, not caring how many people were watching you, although currently, they were watching more of the ceiling than the two of you.
- Ok guys... Thank you so much for watching, that's going to be it for today... - you centered the camera on you and Toto again. - Take care, everyone! - and with that, you ended the live.
- That went well. - he said, pulling you closer, and you leaned into his body.
- Actually, better than I expected. But I guess we'll see what the articles will say in a few hours.
- Do you think there will be articles...?
- Oh, there definitely will be articles... And I can guarantee that at least one of them will be titled something like "Austrian billionaire and his latest, much younger fling" or "A principal and his student". People on my side of the media are vultures... - you couldn't stop the sigh that came out of your chest, but even though you knew that people would take the one thing about your relationship and run with it till the end of Earth, you honestly didn't care. Not when Toto's arms were tightly wrapped around you. - Oh, and an honest heads up - you and your team will definitely be asked about me during media hour... - you closed your eyes, letting yourself relax a little.
- Do you care about how we will be perceived? - he asked with that pure childish honesty in his voice.
- 6 months ago, I honestly wouldn't be able to sleep because of it... But now...? - you smiled and looked up just so you could see his face. - Now I truly don't give a fuck. - he couldn't stop the light chuckle that made his chest vibrate under you. - And I pity people whose lives are so boring that the only entertainment they can come up with is making up lies about two people who clearly love each other... - you leaned back again, savoring this moment, because you could just feel that it will and soon. After all - it was still racing season, and even though positions for tomorrow were already assigned, Toto still had a lot to do before the race.
Part 4
A/N 2: Please don’t feel obligated/pressured to reblog, because I write mostly for myself. A comment would be appreciated though :)
Love,
G.
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Fic Writer 20 Questions
Thanks to @merlyn-bane for tagging me! <3
1.) How many works do you have on ao3
Currently 56!
2.) What's your ao3 word count?
183,482
3.) What fandoms do you write for?
At this moment, it's Star Wars all day every day. Specifically into the prequel era and Star Wars Rebels related stuff.
4.) What are your top five fics by kudos?
Twenty-Two - an Enjoltaire fic I wrote when I was 20 so let's not talk about that
it's a gift to be truly known - skybridger fic, I'm thrilled to see it this high :')
held like a dream - codywan, interesting it's done better than the others
Lost in the Supermarket - another enjoltaire from the wee age of 20, don't look at me
beholder - codywan, I do really really love this one
5.) Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?
Yes, mostly! I don't always because it gets mixed up with my anxiety and I feel overwhelmed and pressured. So I live by a policy of "respond if I am feeling it, if not nbd."
6.) What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?
I genuinely can't think of anything that has an angsty ending. Angsty middles, sure, but I'm a happy ender. I guess it's like poetry, it rhymes (shatterpoint lineage fic) is a little bittersweet?
7.) What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?
Hard to choose? I've written some pretty sappy fluff. I've decided on frame the halves, call them a whole (codywan) because you get a good, way pre-O66 fix it that means no one I like died PLUS force sensitive clones! :)
8.) Do you get hate on fics?
I don't believe I ever have!
9.) Do you write smut? If so what kind?
Haha yes. It's generally queer and pretty tame in terms of kink.
10.) Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?
Nope, never have.
11.) Have you ever had a fic stolen?
I don't think so! My fics are pretty mid-tier at their highest popularity so I don't think anyone really cares to lol
12.) Have you ever had a fic translated?
Yes and I'm still so, so flattered and thrilled by it. :''') I believe I had one (or even two???) old Les Mis fic translated before, but I don't see it linked on ao3. And then there's this absolute beauty:
Comme de la poésie, ça rime
13.) Have you ever cowritten a fic before?
Not technically, but Haley and I have a draft we lovingly refer to as only fan-akin, doc titled (by Haley, credit where due) "the west wing but if sam married the hooker and became president instead of dropping that storyline and leaving after s3"
14.) What's your all time favorite ship?
Maybe probably Billy/Teddy from Young Avengers. They're my boys!!!
15.) What's a WIP you'd like to finish, but doubt you ever will?
Baby girl, I have WIPs you don't even know. I wish I could write the jedi temple epic I wanted to, but my thoughts and feelings have changed so much the whole concept has collapsed and what I have is too messy to use elsewhere. And then there's the courferre soulmate fic I dearly meant to finish and just never will since the interest dried up.
16.) What are your writing strengths?
Dialogue. That's the easiest part for me to write.
17.) What are your writing weaknesses?
Uh well first of all, actually getting myself to write is a big fucking challenge of mine. But really, the spacial stuff and descriptions kill me. Please know that if you ever read non-dialogue, non-thought parts that you like, it probably took me like 10 writing passes to get it just right. I live in a state of editing and reediting.
18.) Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?
I just don't! I am willing to add in as much as I know or easy words-- like a bonjour or, if we're talking Star Wars, sprinkles of words like vode. But if someone is talking in sentences, I will straight up do "Sabine said something in Mando'a" or "Stop that, Sabine told him in Mando'a." Easier for me that trying to do bad translations.
19.) First fandom you wrote for?
Young Avengers!
20.) Favorite fic you've ever written?
This is ever changing. While I probably go back and read it's a gift to be truly known the most, I love a single slow desire for it being the best, biggest world building I've done. Plus it's f/f and I need more of that in my writing life
I think everyone ever has been tagged already, but if not! Tags for you: @afoundling @happybean17 @tired-bshocked @goddammitjim
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( cierra ramirez, cis - woman, she/her ) i took a trip into TOWN SQUARE, crystal cove and ran into ANGÉLICA “ANGEL” SANTOS near town square. was that the TWENTY EIGHT year old CAM GIRL & SUGAR BABY you told me about last week? weird i could have sworn you said they were GREGARIOUS but, they seemed sort of TACTLESS so maybe i got them mixed up. how long did you say they lived in town? TWENTY YEARS ? i guess it makes sense that they’re known as the VIXEN around town, they did kind of remind me of black satin sheets, the scent of niche perfume and cannabis smoke mingling, shimmering mini-dresses sparkling in the multi-colored club lights, spicy cinnamon candies, & red lipstick smudged on champagne flutes. i think they even mentioned they put a STUFFED ANIMAL in the capsule. i really hope they don’t incriminate themselves.
teen pregnancy tw.
basics.
full name: angelica celeste santos. nicknames: angel, angie (parents & siblings only). age: twenty eight. birthday: august 10th. zodiac: leo. sexual orientation: pansexual. occupation: cam girl / sugar baby. faceclaim: cierra ramirez. style: click for pinterest board. piercings & tattoos: click for pinterest board.
aesthetics: black satin sheets, the scent of niche perfume and cannabis smoke mingling, shimmering mini-dresses sparkling in the multi-colored club lights, spicy cinnamon candies, red lipstick smudged on champagne flutes, all black outfits, pupils blown wide behind designer sunglasses, a collection of stuffed animals on your bed, & red bottom heels.
personality.
positive traits: gregarious, adroit, alluring, assertive, candid, insouciant. negative traits: tactless, abrasive, airy, decadent, fickle, possessive. likes: martinis & cosmopolitans, sex with no strings attached, red lipstick, newport 100's, dancing on tables, silk sheets, big dogs, sex and the city, weed. dislikes: prudes, cooking, having no money, bugs, judegemental people. fears: heights, spiders, snakes. phobias: acrophobia: a persistent and intense fear of heights. hobbies: pole dancing, sketching, shopping, clubbing. pet peeves: loud chewing, talking during a movie, leaving the toilet seat up, slow drivers.
favorites.
ice cream flavor: chocolate. time of day: midnight. weather: crisp fall days, has to be at least in the 40's. breakfast food: bacon. dinner food: steak. dessert: tiramisu. colors: silver, crimson, royal purple. coffee order: americano, two sugars one cream. perfume: forbidden games by kilian.
biography.
angelica celeste santos was born to carmen and andres santos at the height of the august heat. the youngest of five - three boys and one other girl - angelica, or angel as she prefers to be called, has never felt like she fit in with her family. her parents, who were very much in love, were perfect role models. a fisherman and his high school sweetheart, a homemaker who occasionally picked up shifts at the local supermarket, were more than content with their simple lives, and it looked like their children would follow in their footsteps - except for angel.
a rebel from a young age, it wasn't uncommon for angel to test her parents strength or faith. rather it was getting into fights with other girls at school or being caught sneaking out of the bathroom at church, angel was definitely not someone to stand in line like her siblings, she was constantly getting into trouble, even as young as six years old.
in middle school some of the more popular girls had started to bully angel something bad. the whole crew decided to pick on her, except one girl refused. marlene whitmore. the most popular of the popular kids. and when marlene stood up for her, in front of all of her friends, and told them to leave angel alone. and of course angel didn't show an ounce of appreciation... for fear of feeling weak. but from that moment on she had an appreciation for her. one that developed into a crush that she would end up nursing throughout high school and well after. she never told marlene how she really felt, and eventually she would live to regret it.
once she entered high school, she had begun to build a reputation for herself. she dated quite a lot, and it wasn't uncommon for rumors to circulate about her and whomever had the pleasure of sharing her company. at the age of sixteen all of her parents worst fears came to fruition as she became pregnant by one of the boys she had been seeing.
but angel held her head high though it all - the looks and whispers were nothing new and she acted as if nothing hurt her, but the looks her parents gave her when she told them she was pregnant is not something she will ever forget. she carried the baby to full term, and put it up for adoption after it was born and moved on with her life.
after graduating high school angel went right into the work force, a string of cashier and shop attendant jobs later and nothing seemed to stick. there was nothing that seemed to make her happy, and her parents were quickly getting sick of her quitting jobs because she was unhappy with them. an online friend of hers had suggested she start cam-girling as a way to make extra cash as a joke... but it seemed like something angel would actually enjoy.
so she saved up to buy a high quality webcam and signed up on one of those seedy little cam sites - and took off. cam websites quickly led her to sugar baby sites and it didn't take long for her to find a sugar daddy in one of the cities outside of the cove. and she's been doing it ever since. within a year of starting to cam she moved out of her parents house and into a nice apartment, payed for by herself, rather than her current sugar daddy. she has little to no contact with her family, as they do not approve of her lifestyle at all.
when marlene went missing and everyone just assumed she had run off with someone, angel got a nasty feeling in the pit of her stomach. and as the years passed... it remained there. she had respected marlene and hoped deep down that one day she would just... come home.
headcanons.
has no known allergies, except cats.
has a rottweiler named serena, after the sailor moon english dub from her childhood.
addicted to reality tv, and her all time favorite is jersey shore.
more to be added!
wanted connections.
best friend. ride or die. platonic soulmate. cam show viewers. daughter/son of her current or previous sugar daddies. high school fling. one night stand. exes on good terms / exes on bad terms. anything your smart little brain thinks up!!
taken connections.
found family - narin boztepe.
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[ priscilla quintana, cis-female, she/her ] — whoa! ZOEY RIVERA just stole my cab! not cool, but maybe they needed it more. they have lived in the city for SIX YEARS, working as a/an SEX WORKER. that can’t be easy, especially at only 28 YEARS OLD. some people say they can be a little bit IMPATIENT and RECKLESS , but i know them to be GREGARIOUS and KIND. whatever. i guess i’ll catch the next cab. hope they like the ride back to BROOKLYN!
Basics
Name: Zoey Rivera
Nicknames: ZoZo, Z stagename: Lola Lane
Age: Twenty-Eight
Date of birth: February 11
Birth place: Bozeman, MT
Occupation: Sex Worker (burlesque performer, stripper)
Romantic/sexual orientation: heterosexual // heteroromantic
About
Aesthetics: Soft blankets, oversized comfy sweaters, baby pink, mood lighting in the form of lantern lights, subtle sweet perfume, multicolored eye bruises from lack of sleep, bubble baths, tears shining like diamonds, listlessness, fog on a Sunday morning, the wind carrying over a wheat field, long drives on an empty highway
History
Grew up in the middle of nowhere with big dreams to be a ballet dancer. Or president. Or a surgeon. Or president surgeon ballerina. The small town eventually boomed as the college started to grow and more opportunities arose from that.
Her father is an oil rigger so they had money honey. Zoey never knew what it was like to go without except on the occassions she was told 'no you can't have dessert before dinner' or she was in trouble for doing what kids do and mouthing off or overall being a brat. Yes, you could say Zoey had a pretty normal life.
But she was a lonely kid. The only daughter to a father who was gone more often than he was home, and a mother who really only put her in dance lessons and pageants and competitions so that she could get both the attention and pawn her daughter off to someone else for a little bit, Zoey found it difficult to feel loved or even truly wanted.
When she was old enough, her mother put her into a private school for girls, where she made friends. At least, Zoey would call them friends. It was superficial and rarely did she feel genuinely included but it was better than being by herself. Surrounded by girls that only wanted her as the scape goat because she was a goody two shoes and never in trouble as a teen, of course she was happy to play the part. After all, it made her popular. Everyone wanted to be her friend, and what's more? She was beautiful. Smart. She also liked to laugh and have fun and who didn't want a pretty piece of arm candy for the night? So the girls used Zoey to have an excuse to not go home and the boys used Zoey as a trophy and Zoey poured herself into these relationships that were fruitless unti she felt empty.
And that emptiness remained through her teens. Through her twenties. And she will be the first to spare you the gory details but after running from big city to big city, bed to bed, and life to life she found herself in New York. Failed auditions, shitty apartments, a crowded ceiling and still incredibly alone, she didn't think she had anything left in her to refill.
And then she found Burlesque.
She could be anything she wanted to be. No rules, no one to tell her she was doing it wrong, only praise for being bold. For doing something different. For doing what she knew. It was the first time her own hands didn't feel foreign to her and the adoration and attention she received was on her terms. Zoey then tried other apparatuses, finding an affinity for aerial silks and pole.
Naturally, she gave her hand at stripping and it worked in tandem with her burlesque. No one touches her unless she says so and no one tells her the way she chooses to express her creativity whether with heels or costumes says it's wrong.
She isn't sure she wants to continue with these outlets the rest of her life, but for now it's building up her long shattered self esteem. It's building up her self-empowerment and allowing her to be creative in ways she never thought. More importantly, she found a community of people that like her for her and expect nothing more than authenticity, and what else can you ask for in a city so consumed by anonymity?
Fast Facts
Grew up learning ballet, pointe, lyrical and jazz. Competed in Contortion, Ballet and Pointe.
Total daddy's girl. While Zoey almost refuses to talk to her mother, she talks to her father a couple times a week. She doesn't tell him about the stripping, but she does tell him about her burlesque shows.
Graduated from University of Washington. Wouldn't move back to Seattle if you paid her.
Currently works at Emerald and does Cabaret/Burlesque around the city.
Bilingual; speaks Spanish and English.
Only a little uppity from her pageant life. Can you blame a girl from growing accustomed to being pampered?
Wanted Connections
Anything and everything!! Zoey is a completely new character so let's see where she lands!
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deancas writing prompt: @twofrontteethstillcrooked asked for the first properly chilly night of autumn!
which kinda turned into dean studies but. hopefully this works... (about 800 words)
--
He’s a jacket guy, he thinks as he tugs at his collar. Layers, y’know, practical. Drilled from age four: if it’s not on you when the house burns down, it’s gone. If you aren’t wearing it when Dad rushes into the motel at three a.m., bloodied, pursued, yanking you out of bed and telling you to get your brother to the car, there’s a chance it’s forfeit.
Summer he’s too hot and he’s never once in his life owned a proper winter coat, but he’s got a couple wool shirts that do the job—largesse from Bobby, the old man fussing about him catching his death in the snow as if he won’t go running off to catch it with both hands on goddamn purpose, sooner or later. After a stint in hell, he ought to know better, but like wool shirts it’s a luxury the Winchesters can’t afford.
The transitional seasons are where he thrives, a denizen of the in-between, though spring is a tease and a liar, too full of promises it can’t keep. He’s always been someone who stands out, awkward and peripheral, in the full roar of July or December’s saccharine twinkling. Those are worlds other people live in. Fall, though, its glut and gradual withdrawal into inevitable conclusion, belongs to him.
There’s a crisp moon hung behind filmy clouds, stars pitched bright in the chill air. Sam’s asleep in the motel room, behind him. He came out here because he heard voices, thought he might bum a smoke and make a little small talk—the dead of night crowd are his people—but there’s not a soul in sight. Kitschy signage glows dull red at the other end of the parking lot, declaring vacancy. What good is loneliness, he wonders, if it’s incurable. Cas might know.
Dean’s breath drifts, visible on every slow exhale, the old craving for cigarettes tingling in his numb fingers. Baby’s trunk is frigid where he’s seated, cold leaching through denim the way everything leaches through denim. He pulls a flask from his inside pocket and takes a long pull.
In his peripheral vision, the motel sign flickers. Oxygen snaps out of the air, there’s a rustle, and his hackles jolt, stiff as a junkyard dog.
But one whiff, and he relaxes. Cas has his own smell: hot metal, a subtle incense burn. Familiar, somehow.
“Hey, Cas.”
“Dean. You’re not sleeping?”
He pulls a breath through his nose and blows out the exhale, pretending it’s smoke. “No rest for the wicked.”
Cas sidles up, perpetual loose slouch in full attendance. The tip of his nose is pink. He peers, piercing blue roving the contours of Dean’s face like an assessing hand. “The nightmares are bad,” he concludes.
“Yeah, well. What else is new.”
“Our frames of reference for ‘new’ no doubt differ substantially.”
Dean blinks. Tenses against a shiver. “Whatever, man. What d’you want?”
And here comes the head tilt, Cas pushing further into his space. “What do you want?”
“You’re tellin’ me you hopped the angel red eye just to come play twenty questions? Doubt it.”
Cas’ squint makes him look like a middle manager who is really, really disappointed in Dean’s work ethic. “You called me,” he says.
His phone isn’t even on him. Sure as hell wasn’t praying. “Don’t think I did.”
“I wouldn’t have mistaken it.”
“Glory glory hallelujah for you, I guess.” Could be worse than a crossed wire on angel radio; Cas could be here to tell him the world is ending. Again. He sucks down another pull from the flask. Out of an inborn sense of obligation, he extends it toward Cas, who hasn’t blinked for at least thirty seconds. To his surprise, he accepts it.
There’s a tentative set to his wide mouth as he sips, the tip of his tongue swiping over his lips before he passes the flask back, grimacing, heavy-browed.
Drama queen. “Look, I know it’s not the million dollar bog-aged, bespoke casks shit, but it ain’t that bad, man.”
“It tastes very...” The pause stretches as Cas crawls the memory banks. “Flammable.”
Dean huffs a surprised laugh, and it evolves into chuckling. “You got me there.” His laughter gives way to a shiver, and he rolls his rigid shoulders, pulling his jacket close. It’s chilly, tonight, their jump north for the case punting them forward into wool shirt territory in one eight hour drive.
Slowly, Cas turns and leans against Baby’s trunk. He radiates, inhuman. Wind gusts dry leaves along the parking lot cement but Cas is an immovable heat shimmer, his eyes turned to the stars.
Behind him, Dean senses a curved, invisible barrier, smelling paradoxically of gunpowder and ice. Near silent rustling wafts something dry and musty; like leaf litter. Earthy sweetness. Nothing touches him, but the warmth drapes there, in stillness. Are angel feathers soft? Are they feathers at all?
Cas’ slouched back flexes beneath the trench coat, working under the weight of his hidden wings.
Fall, Dean realizes, and he swallows, throat thick. That’s what it is. Cas smells like fall.
#prompts#deancas#destiel#spn#writing#thank you this one had lots of possibilities!!#and summer is indeed miserable right now...
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[ phoebe dynevor, woman, she/her ] — whoa! ARDEN LOUGHTY just stole my cab! not cool, but maybe they needed it more. they have lived in the city for THIRTEEN YEARS, working as a/an SERVER AND ATTENDING NYU FOR HER NURSING DEGREE. that can’t be easy, especially at only 25 YEARS OLD. some people say they can be a little bit IMPULSIVE and SARCASTIC, but i know them to be COURTEOUS and PASSIONATE. whatever. i guess i’ll catch the next cab. hope they like the ride back to QUEENS!
tw; alcohol, death
✹ get to know me quick.
name: arden loughty
age: 25
birthday: April 21, 1998
occupation: server & student at NYU
location: queens, ny
✹ bio
Twenty-Five years ago, Arden Loughty was born in Manchester, England, as the fourth and last child to her mother and father. When her mother was in her early twenties, she moved to England for a better career choice only soon later meeting her father and the two falling in love, creating a family and life in her father’s hometown. Growing up Arden didn’t have a bad childhood, she enjoyed school, had many friends, attended church with her family, it was every typical childhood dream you could think. At only the age of twelve, Ardens grandmother had fallen sick, and her mother couldn’t afford to continue flying back and forth, leaving her parents with no choice but to pack up and move the family to New York.
The move to a whole new country, let alone New York, was quite the struggle for Arden. Having to try to fit in with everyone, they only ever cared about the fact she had an English accent, nothing more or less, causing her difficulty in finding friends who cared more about who she was not where she was from. In high school, Arden was finally matched with her best friend, Brielle. The two were inseparable, Arden had felt she finally had met someone who had similar interests as her and didn’t care one bit that she might say a word different than her friend. The two made a pact that when they graduated, they were going to attend NYU together and get their nursing degrees. One the things the two shared within each other was the need to always help others, especially someone not feeling well, seeing the brightness of their smile at their roughest times was what Arden dreamed of being able to accomplish.
The summer of graduation, Arden and Brielle were attending a grad party that happened to get way too out of hand. Cops ended up showing up leaving everyone to scatter as quickly as possible while Arden and her friend just hopped in the back of one of their classmate’s cars, begging them to drive. Knowing if they got caught drinking or at a party, not only would they never hear the end from their parents, everything they worked so hard for school would just be thrown away. As their classmate was driving the two girls back home, Brielle noticed them swerving and started to beg for them to pull over to call someone else to pick them up. In the middle of the argument the driver not paying attention, zoomed past a red street light causing an oncoming car to collide right into them. All Arden can remember that night was holding Brielles hand as she took her last breath, soothing her the entire time. The classmate driving ended up with fifteen years in prison for manslaughter and a dui.
Ever since that night Arden made a promise to follow through with the dream her and her best friend promised. Getting a job serving at the Corner Pub, she was able to afford moving out of her parents and owning her own apartment located in Queens. She is attending NYU, as promised, while still trying to pick up as many shifts as she can. After the death of her best friend, Arden has tried her best to keep a smile on her face and always uphold herself with the best manners as her parents have always taught her. Though sometimes she can’t help snapping at somebody who holds the lack of common sense.
✹ Cute little facts
Never had a serious relationship, had flings, but never went too far
She is very family oriented and dreams of having a big family one day
She is very focused on school and her job, and maintaining her life.
She loves reading, whenever she has free time she picks up a new book.
She does enjoy drinking, seeing as shes a server at the pub regularly she will take shots with the regulars.
She doesn’t smoke.
She goes on a morning run every morning to keep herself up and ready for the day.
This is her last year serving as at the end of her school year her internship nursing starts and she will only have more year of school left until her degree.
✹ Connections
Brothers: (Arden is the youngest out of four children and the only girl. Shes very close with them and they are super protective of their little sister)
Close Friend: (Ardens next best thing to a best friend. She doesn’t open up to many people but this person she does more than other.)
Flings: (Just a little hookup on the side)
Coworkers: (Arden has been at her job for five years, starting when she was only twenty so its safe to say she has coworkers shes closer with.)
Students: (Someone else attending school or who just has the same interest in medical like she does.
The One Who Got Away: (Ardens never been in a relationship but if she were to picture her future husband/wife she would picture this person)
#tw ; death#tw; alcohol#˖ ࣪ . ࿐ ♡ ˚ . intro#boroughs.intro#hey yall im ash im so happy to be here!#im down for any connections or what just shoot ur girl a message :)
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New Witch (Curse Words)
This is a Curse Words fanfic. Original story by @derinthescarletpescatarian.
Next
CW: abandonment of a child, mention of parent death, witches.
=-=
It was noon on a hot sunny day, everyone was either helping in the kitchen or doing something that did not require going out under the sun.
Pietro was in the middle of a knitting project he had been putting off for some time now. While he loves this hobby, truth be told, no sane (or insane) person in that city would put a sweater on, still, he was bored of making capes for random objects, so whatever.
There was a weak, fast knock on the door. It could only mean two things, either a client or a new witch. Pietro hoped it was the first, sighed, got up and couldn't help but close his eyes at the strong light after opening the door.
“Hello,” he said, blinking several times and wiping some tears away.
“A-ah, hello…” the woman at the front door said, her shoulders shrinking into themselves while she awkwardly held the wrist of a small girl of whom Pietro tried to guess the age out of habit. Seven years old. She was quietly looking down, not seeming to mind the uncomfortable way the woman was holding her. Pietro stared at the girl’s hand with curiosity, since he had never seen someone wearing gloves for no reason.
A new witch then. “Would you like to enter and have some tea?”
She searched his every exposed skin, before looking behind his shoulders and looking for someone else, “Are there… I mean…”
“Yes. There are witches inside” he said, wondering what would be her reaction upon actually seeing his witch mark and whether this would make her give up. “May I help you with anything?”
“Is it true?” the woman asked in a desperate voice, staring at him with reddened eyes, there were deep dark circles under her eyes.
“What is tru-”
“I swear I'm not the kind of woman would….” she glanced at the girl, “make this kind of… decision. But I have a life too! It was already so hard to lose my sister. I loved her, even after everything, I would even take care of her daughter as if she was mine but…”
“But she got a curse,” Pietro completed, he knew where the talking was going, and truthfully he wasn't in the mood for it. It was hot. He wanted to go back in and drink a glass of water.
“I wouldn't be like this if that was the case, I'm not bad! I wouldn't come here if she had just got cu- this thing into her. I… I don't want to hate a child, much less my sister's daughter but she… that thing in her killed my sister. I'm sure of it, I can't just… I have to let her go. So I implore you… is it true?”
Pietro shouldn't have opened the door. He should've just called Milena and let her deal with emotional people as always, but here we were so he let out a consoling smile, “We will take good care of her, yes. There is no need to worry, she will be safe.”
The woman nodded. Suddenly getting lost in thought, she told herself once again this was for the better, that this was what her sister would want, that she has no choice. She has no choice at all.
Still, what should she do now? Should she talk to the girl before leaving? Should she say something to the man in front of her about her niece? Like things she likes or something? Would she be able to leave her behind after talking about her like this? Should she say goodbye? Should she tell her that she doesn't hate her, but she has no choice. Does she have a choice?
The girl did not complain as the woman unconsciously gripped her wrist harder, nor did she reach out to her when, after taking a deep breath, the woman opened her hand, turned around, and walked away without looking back.
The witch just turned around too and watched.
“She won't be back,” Pietro said to the girl after a minute or so. He really isn't the one who knows the way of words to new witches. “You'll live with us from now on.”
The girl didn't move or say anything, just kept watching her aunt walk away. The trail down the hill was clear so it would take about twenty minutes before the woman completely vanished from sight.
There was no need to stop the new witch from watching, so Pietro walked back in, fetched his knitting tools, and sat down at the front door, not letting on his face how much he hated the sun on his face. He didn't know his way with words, so the least he could do was to stay by her side.
The minutes went by, the woman had long vanished, Milena had glanced at the two on the door once and made sure not to let anyone disturb, the sunlight had fortunately been covered for a passing cloud and Pietro could almost focus on the knitting. Almost.
Is she still waiting for her? He wondered. The girl seemed to understand what was happening, but maybe it was just Pietro's wishful thinking. She was young, there was a limit of how much she can get without someone telling her.
“What does your curse do?” Pietro wondered out loud, like an insensible idiot. “Sorry you don’t-”
The girl raised her gloved hand and slightly touched his shoulder, making him flinch away and dropping the needles. The girl’s eyes widened at his reaction, she took a step back and held her hands close to her chest, trying to look small and harmless.
“No, no. I’m not hurt or scared, don't need to worry,” Pietro tried, carefully not touching the freezing cold spot on his shoulder. “I just wasn’t expecting the cold, that’s all. I’m just surprised.”
The girl looked up warily, making Pietro self conscious about his facial expressions.
“I’m Pietro,” he tried, stretching out his hand for a handshake, which he assumed was the better way to show her he wasn’t afraid of her touch, even when he partially is.
After looking at him for a long while she ever so slowly touched his hand, a small freezing touch at first and in the lack of reaction from the older witch she gave him a freezing handshake. As soon as he was out of her sight he would heat some water for a bath.
“What’s you name?” he asked, grateful the girl had let go of his hand.
“Ember,” she said quietly, her voice was hoarse as if she had a cold.
“Nice to meet you, Ember. Would you like a cup of tea?”
Ember glanced down the hill once again, closing her hands into fists for a few seconds before looking back up and nodding. “Thank you.”
=-=
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Out Of Character |Han Jae Joon|
I literally see no ff on this man go watch Doctor Stranger it’s so good
(Spoiler alert)
I sighed laying on my bed tired from the night shift I just had. Unfortunately being one of the top doctors at the hospital I had to go in more frequently. I got up my hair a mess and my eyes red from lack of sleep. I looked over at the clock seeing that I was most definitely going to be late. I walked to my small bathroom looking myself in the mirror. I brushed my teeth and splashed water on my face to try and wake myself up. I brushed my hair and pulled it into a highish ponytail. I applied a little makeup not much considering how much time I had. I changed into a white button-up shirt with a black skirt. I made sure to wear a pair of spandex shorts underneath. I changed into black flats and grabbed my keys running out of my apartment. I got into my car and drove to the hospital. I groaned realizing I forgot my water bottle, not that it matters I'll probably end up drinking coffee instead. I heard my phone start to ring but ignored it considering I was driving and didn't want to get into an accident. Once I made it I quickly found a parking spot and went straight to my office. I waved hello to some of my fellow workers and made it to my office. I put my doctor's jacket on making sure I was more presentable. I sat on my chair and looked at the schedule. Great booked for surgery in an hour.
"You didn't answer your calls"
I looked up and saw Jae Joon with two coffee cups in his hands. He handed me a cup before sitting down in front of me.
"Good morning to you too" I mumbled drinking my coffee. "I was rushing to get here so I couldn't pick it up."
"I told you to rest," He said concerned. "You'll be the one in the hospital"
"What are you, my dad?" I said.
"I heard you have surgery at 12," He said taking a sip from his cup.
"Yeah I'm looking at the scan now," I said looking at my computer screen. "It looks like an angioplasty, there are only a few values I have to work with."
"Be careful with that one" He said pointing to a part of the scan. "That would be the one to start with"
I nodded making a mental note to myself. I felt a hand on the time of mine and a small tug.
"Come on let's walk outside to wake you up"
"Why" I whined "Don't you have work to do? Plus I have work to do"
"If your talking paperwork for patients no I finished it all last night" He tugged my arm. "It won't be that long 20 minutes"
"Talk about me needing rest" I grumbled as we made our way outside the nice breeze making me relax a bit. "But fine"
"Your good at what you do at your age," He said looking forward there wasn't too much of an age gap he was only in his early thirties and I'm in my middle to late twenties.
"Guess I studied hard enough" Little did he know it wasn't my choice. He doesn't know about the things I've been through or the people I lost. He only knows that I'm looking for my brother who I lost a few years ago trying to escape the hell hole we lived in.
Flashback
"We're cornered," I said panicking trying my best to stay calm.
Everything seemed to have happened in a blur. My brother's girlfriend clinging to life and our plan failing. Hoon managed to get us out of the building but not out of safety. There was nothing we could do considering there wasn't any transportation except for a motorcycle. One motorcycle that can only ride two people. I looked at Hoon and he looked at me. I started to tear up at my brother's frantic look.
"Just go," I said holding back tears. "I can our run them and hide, you take Jaehee"
"I can't leave you behind," He said tearing up himself.
"You have to," I said and pulled the motorcycle over. "I'll find you"
"I can't"
"Hey I'll find you" I smiled crying. "Pinky promise"
"Pinky promise," He said his voice cracking.
"Now go!" I said giving him one last hug as I watched him drive off. I saw cars drive after him and prayed he'd be safe.
"There's one" I heard someone say and looked over seeing a man with a gun.
"Shit" I bolted to a populated place a bullet skimmed through my shoulder but thankfully didn't do much damage. I ran into one of the stores to hopefully get out of his trail. I gulped and watched him pass the store making sure to hide behind the shelf. I sat there until the store closed and walked out having nowhere to go.
"Hello? Earth to Y/n?" I saw a hand wave in front of me.
"Are you okay?" Jae Joon said placing his hand on my back. "Do you want me to do the surgery?"
"No, it's fine I just spaced out" I mumbled. "So what were we talking about?"
"Nothing important," He said taking a sip of his coffee. "Do you need a water bottle?"
"Why would I need a water bottle?"
"I didn't see it in your office and it sticks out when it's there because of how many stickers you have on it."
"I was in a rush like I told you"
"Your gonna be the end of me and I don't say that often"
"Whatever" I smiled rolling my eyes. "You have to admit you love me though"
"I do very much that's why you need sleep," He said seriously.
"You act so out of character when no one's around" I smiled. "I like it"
"I'm just more comfortable around you"
"Look at the time I have to get going now"
"Good luck, remember about that one valve"
"I will" I smiled and kissed his cheek jogging inside to where I needed to go.
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One thing I haven't seen talked about much when it comes to chronic illnesses is how it ages you. By that, I mean making you feel older than you really are, as if you jumped decades all at once. I'm only in my twenties, and yet I often feel like I'm more than double my age, especially when I'm around others my age.
They all seem so, idk, full of life? I've gotten so used to being tired constantly, to getting sick at the smallest change of plans, and avoiding traveling and I guess sometimes I forget that other people just..... don't have to do those things. I wish I could be as adventurous as my friends. It hurts knowing that in some ways, I can never experience life as everyone around me does. It's like I skipped straight over my twenties and went right into my fifties. Some days I think maybe that isn't true, and that I might actually be able to keep up with healthy people my age. But then I try to go out with people, or plan going to an event, or even just hang out at someone else's place, and I'm reminded of how I'll never quite have the freedom of being young and healthy. The "prime of my life" is being living in the shoes of someone far older than what my birth year would imply.
There's just so much about my life that feels......out of place for someone my age. The random pain, the unexpected nausea, the piles of pill bottles, supplements, and injections. Going to the clinic so often that my mom and I are on a first-name basis with the nurses and the doctors. Remembering how to pronounce and spell the names of like 6 different prescriptions. Knowing what a colonoscopy is like, and having had three of them before even being old enough to drink. Having my first priority when job searching be for something with great health insurance. Worrying not about if I will get cancer, but when. Knowing that someday, any day really, I may not respond to medication anymore. That at some point, major surgery may be my only option. Spending several months thinking that I was dying at only 14. Needing to cancel or postpone plans often because I can't leave the bathroom. So, so much that just isn't that common for people my own age. I know that there are lots of others out there with experiences like mine, but I've rarely if ever come across them.
It's hard trying to spend time with anyone. I feel like I'm only going to drag people's mood down and ruin our plans, even if I'm the one that made them. I guess maybe I should try to acknowledge my limits more and accept that I might need to take it easy. But deep down, I want to live like a healthy twenty-something-year-old. I want to make those spontaneous plans, to go out and do something exhausting, to go somewhere in the middle of nowhere with no bathroom to be found and feel confident about it. To party, and fall in love, and take that internship opportunity, and do all the exciting stuff that college has to offer. But I know that I can't in the way that I want to, and that maybe I never will.
It hurts that I will likely never experience the so-called "best years of my life" in the way that I had hoped for before I was diagnosed.
#chronic illness#ibd#ulcerative colitis#autoimmune disease#this came out to be more of a downer than intended :/
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Fuck you all. I saw the this thread in response to a video of a couple laughing about their child bawling her fucking eyes out in the middle of the night because she awoke due to her mother screaming mid sex and when she came desperate to see what was going on she found a locked door. Now cut to some FUCKWITS going from this to saying:
-Oh yeah weird shit happens when you're a child, no way to avoid that haha
-I had no problem in discovering my parents having sex in a situation grossly different from that on the video so...man the fuck up I guess? The kid cannot act like she's five just cause she's five
-Your parents have sex, deal with it
-SOME PRINT OF A GDMM IDIOT SAYING THIS IS JUST LIKE WHEN HE SMUSHED AN AVOCADO DURING HIS CHILDHOOD AND HE COULD NOT STAND THE FRUIT FOR TWENTY. WHOLE. YEARS. AND THAT'S JUST LIFE THEN, TOUGH LUCK FOR EVERYONE ALIVE.
Now that I slept a full hour and processed what the fuck I read, the sheer depth of the stupidity of EVERY single argumment on that post pro fucking kids up baffles me. Like no shit edgelord, everything is new and weird and maybe scary THAT'S WHY THINGS ARE SLOWLY INTRODUCED AS WE AGE. You learn shapes before geometry, because you cannot possibly make sense of the later without shapes. You learn that people die someday, and ideally that happens before you accidentally watch someone be murdered in front of your eyes. AND when the order is inversed, we get a little thing called TRAUMA you absolute doorknob for brains of an idiot. That's the situation where you saw something that you had no logical or emotional tools to process, and now your brain is FuNkY until you work very hard on it.
Much like someone with 1/5 of a working brain and more than two days interacting with humans could say, would happen if when you're five - and peeing in a toilet is one of the scariest things if done to date - and you wake up in the middle of the night to the screams of the person who actually always helps YOU with the new scary things, and you can't even reach that person. Of course, with the added bonus of seeing her laughing at you when you finally reach her. This kid did not know sex, much less hardcore sex. Even violence is still something completely abstract to her (I'm NOT educating dipshits on child psychology to that extent, accept that children learn destruction before violence or go pick up a book, fuck you), and all of a sudden, she wakes up inside what she can probably only interpret as a nightmare.
There's a reason for having a whole tv trope of fucked up adults suddenly remembering they caught their parents on the act without further explanation.
This is also the reason porn fucks up pre teens so much in the head 99% of the cases. Their sexual development gets completely jumbled up because there's no rhyme or reason to the internet, much less to the pornographic industry.
"Oh yeah weird shit happens when you're a child, no way to avoid that haha"
Yes, like eating a bug or using ugly clothes that adults find cute. When you're mocked for thinking the person you love the most on the world is being brutally murdered in the next room because a pair of idiots COULD NOT fuck in silence or just hold it in their pants, that creates trauma for life. That's something to be avoided at all costs and the fact that it happened with so little regard for the child is the reason you call CPS anonymously everywhere on this planet (not because this IS a CPS situation, but bc illustrates so perfectly that having a child in no way, shape or form equates knowing how to raise one, caring and protecting It).
"I had no problem in discovering my parents having sex in a situation grossly different from that on the video so...man the fuck up I guess? The kid cannot act like she's five just cause she's five"
First of all, go die on a ditch. I cannot fanthom being this level of stupid whilst being able to read something as long as this, but I will say anyway that every case used as an example was not ten percent of the scenario on the video. And if someone pops up to say that to them it was, emottionaly speaking, congratulations, learn some fucking empathy then you fucking skinsack of child abuse.
"Your parents have sex, deal with it"
I could agree with you if you were not that thing that clings to the inside of sewage pipes, awakened to life and with access to internet. You can DEAL with that which you UNDERSTAND. A teenager acting yucky because their parents kissed or something is stupid and STILL TO BE EXPECTED. A child scared shitless because she does not know sex nor violence and cannot even UNDERSTAND whats going and therefore panics and cries IS ALSO JUST THE NORMAL FUCKING REACTION. What she needs is conforting, better parents and probably some therapy down the road.
And honestly, I cannot even begin with the avocado guy. First of all, obvious sensory issues there buddy, I'm honestly sorry no one took you to an avaliation. But also, you describe a situation that has 1/1000 of the complexity and psychological impact of what happens in the video, and explains how it took you TWENTY years to process that...and yet everyone should just act like nothing happened and let the child figure it out for herself? Man... It saddens me to think about how far back in the evolutionary history of human kind we would need to go back in order to find your peers.
And that's that. I wish I could continue forever on this site thinking that, except for the nazis, everyone here is cool and interesting and has at least two working braincells. But alas, reality makes a game out hunting out dreams.
#child abuse#trauma#fucking tumblr i guess#that tiktok video of a child crying because she heard her mom screaming during sex
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