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macfrog · 11 months

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greetings from austin, tx cowboy like me chapter one

alright hwfg. first part of a dbf!joel series i'm gonna be working on. i hope you guys enjoy 🤍 please feel free to send in any requests or ideas, i'm constantly writing this so would love to know your thoughts!!!! love u all thank u sm for being the best

pairing: dbf!joel x fem!reader

summary: you return to austin after graduating to find everything as it always was. well, most things...

warnings: age gap (reader is 23, joel is 48), little bit of alcohol consumption, and lotsa flirtin and allusions to...something more

word count: 2.3k

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The doorbell rings and your dad jumps up. “Ain’t got no cash ready. Be right back.” He jogs off past you down the hall, but your eyes remain locked on Joel, who notices you once your dad’s gone. Or so you think. “Rude to stare, darlin’,” he tsks, bringing his beer to his lips. “Wasn’t starin’.” “No?”

Summer. Texan summer. One of the few things drawing you back halfway across the country to your hometown: bright, sunny, so hot the car bonnets burn your fingertips. It had become a running joke between you and your dad: he’d send a picture of Austin’s scorching sunshine, and you’d reply a picture of New York’s grey skies.

You were ready to come back home.

That is, until your flight landed onto saturated wet tarmac, during the rainiest month of the year. It hasn’t let up in the five days since.

You stumble off the bus into a torrential downpour and throw your hood back up, but it’s no use. By the time you arrive at work, your clothes are soaked through, your hair is plastered to your shoulders, and your mood is worse than ever.

Sal hands you a towel from the back when you walk into the office, but not before giving a hearty laugh from his desk.

“You oughta be gettin’ yourself a car, anyway, lady. Now that you’re back home.”

You give him as sincere a smile as your cheeks will allow. He’s your boss, sure, but he’s also a buddy of your dad’s. Gave you a part-time job for some extra cash when you were still at school, and has taken you back on now you’ve graduated. It’s in your best interests to keep him sweet.

The hardware store is the same as it always was. A little dim, a little dusty; same old tools and same old customers, but homely. You get to work unpacking this morning’s delivery, hauling boxes off of the trolley and filling the shelves. The day passes quickly enough, and you’re folding up empty cardboard boxes to waste the last half hour of your shift when a voice hums from behind you.

“Well, hello, darlin’.”

You stand up straight and spin around to find Joel Miller before you, trademark flannel and subtle-but-still-there smile on.

“Hey, stranger,” you reply, smiling back, before he opens his arms and pulls you in for a bear hug.

Joel Miller. Same as always: tall, rugged, handsome, dark hair and beard singed with grey, warm and sweet-smelling, grumbling, mumbling Joel. His chin rests on top of your head for a second before you pull away, and he looks you up and down.

“Been meaning to come over to see you since you got back, your dad said you were pretty busy unpackin’. Thought I’d give you a few days. Everything alright?”

“All good,” you reply with a nod. “I accumulated a lot of crap in New York.”

He smirks, shoulders jerking a little with a laugh. “Didn’t realise you’d gotten your job back in here,” he looks around, “you likin’ it?”

You shrug. “It’s money. And I know how things are run. Sal’s a good guy.”

Joel nods. “When do you get off?”

You glance down at your watch. “Five minutes.”

“You want a ride home?”

You take a deep breath and breathe out a, “Yes, please,” with a sigh. It’s been a long, damp day.

“I’ll just go grab these,” he holds up two boxes of nails, “meet you outside when you’re done, kid.”

He brushes past your shoulder heavily as he passes, something he always used to do when you were younger. You snort when he mutters, “My bad.”

Joel Miller and your dad have been best buds since, like, the eighties. Your dad has a few years on Joel, but they’re as close as can be. Grew up on the same street, saw each other through girlfriends, marriage, children, divorce. Never one without the other, all that.

Joel’s daughter, Sarah – four years your junior – is a freshman out west, somewhere in California. Another of the reasons you thought it was time to come home: your dad and Joel must feel pretty lonely having both of you gone.

When you’ve grabbed your hoodie and bag and made your way back out front, Joel’s being served by Anna, a girl you went to school with. She stayed here in Austin, has some side hustle selling makeup and perfume. She flutters her eyelashes at Joel as she rings him up. You cringe as you find place at his side.

“Ready?” he murmurs, looking down at you.

You nod.

“How’s things, anyways, Mr. Miller?” Anna asks, even as he’s turning to leave.

“Uh, good, thanks. Good luck with the…makeup.” Then he gives a low grunt and makes for the door.

“Not much of a talker,” you mutter to Anna, and flatten your lips against one another in the form of a goodbye.

Joel’s sat out front in his truck, looking down the receipt.

“Girl charged me for three boxes. If she wasn’t talkin’ so damn much about her perfumes…”

You pull your seatbelt over your shoulder. “Why don’t you go back in there and get your money back?”

“What, and subject myself to her battin’ eyelashes again? Almost blew me off my feet.”

Your head falls back against the headrest with laughter. “You know, you were the first thing she asked me about on my first shift back.”

“I bet I was, baby,” he replies, switching the ignition on and reaching an arm behind your seat as he reverses back.

You spend most of the drive home catching up, telling him about New York and listening to what antics he and your dad have gotten up to since your last visit home. It’s easy talking to Joel, easier than with your dad. He hums and grunts, lets you ramble, tells you what he thinks, then the pair of you fall back into comfortable silence until the next conversation sparks. No judgement, no lectures. Just Joel.

When you pull up in your drive, Joel casts you a meaningful look and says, “He’s really missed you, y’know. We both have.”

“You both have?”

“Sure. Gets quiet ‘round here at times. And with Sarah gone…It’ll be real nice to have you back again.”

“I’ll keep you on your toes, Miller.”

“Holdin’ you to it.”

“Joel? Hey, buddy.” Your dad’s voice breaks apart your conversation and you both turn to see him approaching from the garage. “Hi, kiddo.”

“Hey. Joel came in to get some stuff, gave me a ride home.” You hop out of the truck, and Joel wanders round to meet you.

“Well, thanks, man. You say thank you?” he asks.

You glance awkwardly at Joel, muttering a thank you like some little kid. He shakes his head softly in return, giving you a look that your dad misses, but you understand.

“C’mon inside, I was just tidying up. Stayin’ for dinner, Joel? I bet this girl’s been chewing your ear off about NYC…” Your dad’s voice fades away as he wanders back into the garage, and you and Joel begin to follow.

“Ain’t no need to thank me,” he whispers, leaning into your space.

You nod appreciatively. “My presence is thanks enough, I know.”

He nudges you toward the house.

Your dad orders in pizza and you set the table while he and Joel sit to discuss a potential new client. Joel sits at the edge of the table, turned outward to face the sliding doors, elbow hooked over the back of his chair. As you maneuver around them, placing mats down, you can’t help but note how fucking good he looks.

Tousled hair, unshaven beard. A broadness that even his own shirt can barely hold in; from where you’re standing, you can see where his neck meets his toned shoulders, skin tanned from the sun and the tiniest burst of chest hair over his collar…

The doorbell rings and your dad jumps up. “Ain’t got no cash ready. Be right back.”

He jogs off past you down the hall, but your eyes remain locked on Joel, who notices you once your dad’s gone. Or so you think.

“Rude to stare, darlin’,” he tsks, bringing his beer to his lips.

“Wasn’t starin’.”

“No?”

“Uh-uh. You got a stain on your shirt.”

His brows furrow and his head instantly snaps down to his chest. “Where?”

You snort, wandering over to put his plate on the mat. “My bad,” you whisper, leaning over, “must’ve been the light.”

Joel’s breath wavers only for a second, before your dad re-enters the room and he’s forced to compose himself.

“Alright, let’s see…Pepperoni, bleh, keep that one on that side of the table, please, and plain cheese over here.”

“See you haven’t improved Dad’s taste in pizza,” you say to Joel as you pull your chair out beside his and sit down, cross-legged.

“He – he’s immune to change,” he replies, then, only once he’s regained composure, adds, “or improvement of any kind.”

“Hey,” your dad protests, lifting a slice. “Cool it on the insults, here. You’ve been back six days,” he points a greasy finger at you, then steers it in Joel’s direction, “and you’re the one who turned down Lois last month. Talk about improvement, she could turn your life around, son.”

“Who the hell is Lois?” you ask, mouthful of pizza, aiming for chill, but coming across overly interested.

Joel shakes his head, only looking at you briefly from the corners of his eyes. “Receptionist at Clark’s Plant Hire. And I didn’t turn her down.”

“She asked you out?” Your knee brushes against his waist. He feels it; you know from the way his body tenses.

“She…said she’d like to go for a drink, sometime. I said yeah, maybe…some time.”

“Ouch. Poor Lois.”

He turns to face you now. “Don’t give me the same spiel your dad did, alright? I can decide for myself when I’m ready to be…datin’.”

“Wouldn’t he be nice with a receptionist from a plant hire on his arm?” Your dad fades into the background as you and Joel back-and-forth.

“If you don’t think you turned her down, why say you’re not ready to be dating?”

“Ha! See, my little girl,” Dad waves his slice of pizza around, “she got a degree, Joel. She’s smarter ‘n us. She’s got you on that one.”

“What is your degree in, again? Law?” Joel speaks through his teeth.

You beam back, happy to have riled him. “Film.”

“Film. My mistake. Must’ve felt like I was bein’ interrogated or som’.”

You decide to pull it back then. Enough discussing Joel’s love life – it doesn’t interest you much, not for the right reasons, anyway. The conversation shifts naturally to your degree, your graduation, and the year you spent living in the city afterward.

When most of the pizza is gone, the three of you sit idly chatting; the last Rangers game, the neighborhood barbecue coming up, the weather. Right as your dad voices concern about a job he has next week, his cell starts to ring in the living room.

As hasty and tactless as ever, he jumps up and almost knocks his chair flying. You and Joel laugh quietly as he bounds off in search for his phone.

You turn back to Joel, who’s playing with the label of his beer bottle.

“Hey.” You nudge him with your knee. He grunts in response. “Hey,” you say, clearer, this time pulling your legs up and over onto his lap. “Didn’t mean what I said about that Lois lady. I’m sure you had your reasons, and it’s none of my business. Or my dad’s.”

He stifles a laugh, sucking a breath in until his chest meets his chin. Then he lifts his head to look over to you. “Sorry I snapped. Wasn’t all serious, but I don’t want you thinkin’ I’m mad with you.”

“You can be, if you want.” You lean forward. “Just not for long, okay? It’d be a long summer with just my dad to hang with if Sarah’s gone and you ain’t talking to me.”

This time he laughs. For real. You mirror his swollen cheeks, glad to see you’ve amused him. He puts the bottle on the table and his hands fall to your ankles, where he gently rubs with his thumbs.

“When does she get home?” you ask him.

“Couple weeks. Still got finals and all that to worry about.”

You nod knowingly, muttering, “Rough.”

He gently lifts your legs from his lap and stands, towering over you, your chin inches away from his belt buckle as you look up at him. He doesn’t move, just brings a hand down to cup your jaw and tilt your head back ever so slightly with his thumb under your chin.

You can feel your pulse in your throat. You know Joel can, too. You clench between your legs, an ache forming there, and the only thought behind your eyes is him remedying it.

You bring your hands up to settle behind his thighs, trying desperately to send him a message through your doe eyes. Something in the way the corners of his mouth rise almost imperceptibly tells you he hears you loud and clear.

Your dad bursts back into the room like a bat out of hell, and the two of you spring apart.

“Supplier had some trouble with directions,” he mutters, tossing his cell onto the counter.

Joel grumbles in response, then, like nothing at all out of the ordinary just happened, begins gathering the bottles and gestures to you to grab the pizza boxes. You follow him over to the sink where you set the boxes down and he runs the bottles under the faucet, filling them up and pouring the dregs of beer down the drain.

Your dad’s busy clearing the placemats from the table, babbling to himself about work, when you feel Joel’s shoulder lean into yours.

“Trouble,” he murmurs.

You tilt your head and furrow your brows in response.

“You,” he breathes, “are nothin’ but trouble.”

You smile back at him gleefully.

Trouble, indeed.

#joel miller #joel miller fic #dbf! joel miller #dbf!joel #joel miller x reader #the last of us #tlou #tlou fic #dbf!joel miller #joel tlou #pedro pascal #joel miller pedro pascal #cowboy like me

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lovebugism · 6 months

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hiiii 😊 i LOVE your writing, especially shy!reader!! i heard you wanted more spooky/angsty requests, so...

maybe one with eddie where they're camping with the group around halloween and everyone is telling scary stories around the campfire, but reader gets really scared and doesn't wanna hear any more, but she can tell eddies having so much fun that she doesn't say anything. eventually eddie notices something's wrong but reader won't tell him what, then he figures it out and comforts her?

ty lovie! hope you like it! — eddie comforts you when your imagination runs too wild, maybe a little more than best friends are supposed to (shy!reader, friends to lovers, hurt/comfort, 1.5k)

fictober leftovers (㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ)

You know you shouldn’t be as scared as you are, but you keep torturing yourself anyway.

Robin Buckley, as it turns out, has about the same storytelling abilities as Edgar Allan Poe. She spins a web of horror with nothing but a couple wretched words and a wild imagination. Lit up orange by the simmering campfire, you listened to her in wide-eyed horror — like a child just learning about the boogeyman.

She’s stomping out that fire now, laughing loud and pretty after telling Nancy some dirty joke, and acting like she didn’t just get done telling the gnarliest ghost story of all time. You’re frozen on the rickety bench that overlooks the pitch-black lake, too busy convincing yourself that there’s a figure in the treeline — a Jason Vorhees equivalent on his way to murder you in your sleep.

Eddie’s sitting beside you, though. The warmth of his presence puts you at ease, like a belly full of food or a warm bed. You nearly jump out of your skin when he rises from the picnic table.

“Me and Steve were gonna go smoke,” he tells you, pulling a smushed carton of cigarettes from his jacket pocket. “You okay here?”

You blink at him for a moment. It takes you a second too long to hear him, having been so stuck in your own head. You don’t trust your voice, so you just nod and try your best to smile something convincing. It’s a grimace, at best.

Eddie sees right through you. You’re rarely so passive with him. He’d only asked ‘cause he doesn’t like to smoke around you much. He knows you don’t like it. Now he’s scared he might’ve offended you in some way.

“You sure?” he presses, bushy brows pinched in concern.

You nod again, much slower this time and far more dramatic.

Eddie smiles down at you, pink and lopsided. This quiet, sarcastic version of you is much more familiar. “Well, are you gonna speak, or are you gonna do the not-talking thing for the rest of the night?”

He flicks a strand of your hair. You squint. What not-talking thing? you’d argue if he didn’t know you so damn well. Instead, you just tell him, “I’m okay,” in the firmest tone your mousy voice can muster.

“Do you wanna come with?”

He cocks a thumb over his shoulder, where Steve’s brave figure ventures up the darkened trail to his dad’s lakehouse. You cower under the weight of his chocolate stare, wringing your clammy hands in your lap.

“Is that okay?” you ask in response.

Eddie scoffs. “Of course, it’s okay! Want you everywhere I go.”

You try not to get all flustered about it. Friends aren’t supposed to burn up like a stove-eye when their best friend is nice to them. It’s impossible not to, though, when Eddie’s leather-clad arm wraps around your shoulders — to keep you close, maybe, or to keep you warm.

Your stomach is in knots about it either way.

You lean further into his warmth. He smells like cologne and boy and a weekend on a lake. You wrap your arms around yourself when a crisp breeze prickles your skin. You clench your jaw to keep your teeth from chattering.

Eddie sees everything you hide from him and holds you tighter. “Told you to wear a jacket.”

“It was warmer earlier!” you retort without missing a beat.

“Well, that’s why you listen to me.”

“I didn’t have a jacket big enough to wear over my sweater!”

“I told you to borrow mine, you loon!”

“But then you would’ve been cold!”

The married couple arguing fills the darkened woods, illuminated only by a dim moon and some amber lanterns hung every couple yards. Something rustles in the pitch-black, and the bickering ceases.

Your heart lurches into your throat. You gasp, almost cartoonishly so, and your sneakers scuff along the gravel when you freeze.

Eddie laughs it off like he always does. The warm, honeyed, boyish noise doesn’t comfort you like it usually does. “It’s okay,” he tries to assure you through his chuckling, squeezing your shoulder with a warm hand. “It’s probably just, like, a rabbit or something.”

You remain frozen and unswayed. “Sounded heavier than a rabbit…”

“What? You are, like, an expert on wildlife now?” Eddie teases, if only to make you smile. You do, but just barely. He holds you tighter and juts his chin back to look down at you, grinning wide to make up for the lack of yours. “You spend one weekend in a cabin, and suddenly you’re a know-it-all on nature?”

You start smiling wider despite yourself. The sparkly feeling Eddie swirls in your chest is much more powerful than the tiny, lingering fear in your tummy.

“I just know what footsteps sound like, dork.”

The rustling returns, louder now. Tree limbs crack when they’re broken beneath the weight of something definitely heavier than a rabbit. When two figures appear from the blackened forest, you stumble into Eddie on instinct. He presses you closer to him without thinking, pulling you backward from the lanky silhouettes across the trail.

One step closer, and the shadows have faces. Jonathan and Argyle stand shoulder-to-shoulder in the tall grass. They’re starry-eyed, gazes rimmed red. The latter lifts the hem of his t-shirt, forming a bowl of something you can’t see.

“Hey, brochachos!” Argyle greets, perhaps a little too loud for the late night.

Jonathan is the only halfway sober one of the two, so he notices the fright dancing in your features before his best friend can. He mumbles, much quieter in comparison to his brightly-dressed counterpart, “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“The hell are you guys doing out here?” Eddie wonders with a partly forced laugh.

“Scavenging for mushrooms,” Argyle answers like it’s obvious. He brings down the bottom of his shirt and flashes the makeshift bowl of mushrooms he’s collecting there.

The brunette boy nods. Slow, dumbfounded, and a little impressed. “That is a… totally normal thing to be doing in the middle of the night… We’ll, uh— We’ll leave you to it, I guess.”

“I’ll make sure to save you some!” the Californian boy promises as the two of you head up the trail.

Eddie’s hold on you doesn’t waver. His leather arm is firm in its grip and its delegation to keep you close to his side. You’re halfway stumbling to keep up with his longer strides, but you don’t mind it. You’re just happy to be held.

“You can breathe now, you know?” he teases.

You manage a trembling laugh. You know you have nothing to worry about, but you’re still high-strung and worried without cause. “Sorry. I just… I don’t know— I got a little scared.”

“Yeah. I can tell,” Eddie scoffs. “Feels like I’m hugging a rock right now.”

Your laugh is more genuine this time, but still a bit forced. Eddie can tell. You’ve been quiet all night, reserved and a little standoffish. You’ve always been a little timid in your way, just more than he’s used to now.

“Was it those dumb ghost stories everyone was telling earlier? ‘Cause I said we shoulda just played Spin the Bottle instead.”

You lean further into him to nudge him with your shoulder. “It’s fine. I’m just a baby.”

“No, Robin is just the second coming of Stephen fucking King.”

“Yeah, that’s also probably true,” you concur with a shrug, feigning a sort of nonchalance despite your racing mind. “My imagination is just… a little crazy sometimes.”

“Trust me, I know,” Eddie sighs, then slows down so he can face you more. His features are softened beneath the amber glow — more so when he gazes at you with a honeyed fondness you’re not entirely sure two friends are supposed to have for each other.

You’re cold when he unwraps his arm from around your shoulders — warm again when he holds your cheek in a calloused palm. You hope you’re not burning him with how hot your face has gone.

“I wanna know what’s going on in here,” he murmurs quietly, tapping a ringed finger to your temple.

“It’s a scary, scary place,” you joke back. It’s mostly true, but you figure it’s easier than saying that your brain is so often filled with thoughts of him.

“Well, I’ll protect you from whatever nasty horrors your mean ol’ brain conjures up,” Eddie promises, nose scrunched and dark eyes sparkling.

Your chest swells with a foreign warmth, so hot it burns. “Thanks, Eds,” you mumble, trying your hardest not to melt into a puddle at his feet. The two of you fall into stride once more.

“I’ll even let you sleep in my bed and put your cold feet on me if you want.” He offers it begrudgingly. Like it’s some kind of burden. He doesn’t mind it, though. He’d beg you for it if you wanted him to.

You scoff and roll your eyes. “How chivalrous.”

“You’ll have to put up with Harrington’s snoring, though.”

The two boys are sharing one room while the rest of you girls share the other. You pinch your brows and flash him a pointed look. “Eds, you snore.”

His face screws up in offense. “I do not!”

#published by bug #eddie munson x reader #stranger things x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fluff #st drabbles #eddie spaghetti drabble #event: fictober!

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chaotic-mystery · 6 months

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Pairing: dbf!Joel miller x f!reader (no outbreak)

Summary: You kissed Joel after you had that terrible fight with your dad and you have no idea what Joel’s thinking now. Did you just ruin everything or will he finally admit he likes you just as much as you do him? What about Michelle?

Content warnings: my blog is 18+ so mdni! Eventual smut, age gap (readers in her twenties and Joel is in his 40s) dads best friend, enemies to lovers, slow burn, infidelity, family issues and daddy issues, talks about emotionally absent parent and effects it has, reader not feeling good enough for someone to love them, talks of healthy father daughter relationships, as well as a brief mention of being drunk. Let me know if I’ve missed anything!

|| wc: 4.2k || notif blog @chaoticnotifs || I love u ||

Within a few short moments, Joel was pushing you off him, his breaths shallow and the look on his face was already telling you something before his words did. “Darlin’, I-” He started, and he sighs deeply, great.

“Baby, I think you’re a little drunk. We can talk about this tomorrow, okay? Cmon, let’s getcha inside and get some sleep, lord knows you need it after all that cryin’. His hand smooths down his jeans over his thigh while his other hand takes yours gently, giving it a slight shake. You were sober as one could be but there was no more fight in you to argue, especially not with him.

“Yeah, probably right. Thanks for today, Joel. I appreciate it, more than you’ll ever know.” A soft smile grew on your lips before climbing out of his truck, walking to your front door. You wanted to turn around so badly and follow him into his house to his room, climb into his bed and just be held by him. Instead, you were faced with your cold, empty bed you dreaded laying in because Joel wasn’t there. It didn’t even dawn on you about Michelle until you noticed the last clean shirt you had with the bar logo on it that was hanging in your closet. The last you knew he wasn’t really with Michelle, more so on a break after everything at White Pony.

All night you tossed and turned, constantly looking out your window to Joel’s bedroom window who had a lamp on each time you glanced over. Your dreams were flooded with him, he suddenly consumed your every thought, awake or asleep. He was haunting you, the ghost of his fingertips on your skin, the way his soft lips felt on yours before he pushed you away. To be in the truck again and do it over, to kiss him longer and touch him, feel his skin and how his strong hands felt around your waist, to sit on his lap and just have him hold you right against his chest until he was content.

–

“Sarah cmon, you’re gonna be late, girl!” Joel shouts from the porch and you're awake, eyes fluttering open slowly to look at the ceiling. Sarah climbed out of who you assumed was her mother’s car and shut the passenger side door, running up the sidewalk.

Dad, stop! I’m coming, don’t eat all the pancakes!” Her giggle echoes between your houses and up your window, causing you to smile subconsciously.

Joel went inside before she made it to the porch, and her laugh got quieter as she shut the front door behind her. Soon enough it was quiet once more and you were left alone with yourself. Before you left to come back to Texas, one of your good friends mentioned to you about journaling and how healing it can be for you. With every intention of making it work, you started to dig through your drawers to find the little dyed green leather journal you got from the book store. It’s been through a lot, the way the pages are wrinkled from when it fell in the bathtub one night, some of the corners burnt from sitting next to an open candle flame for too long. Everything on its pages are things from being a kid you’re trying to process, doodles, everything you wish you could say to your dad. Journaling was sometimes helpful but most of the time it left you feeling empty.

If you didn’t harbor the feelings inside and constantly think about it, what were you supposed to feel? Is it normal to feel this empty on a day to day basis and was that something you really looked forward to? You sighed and tugged on your hoodie and pants, walking out into the hall to go downstairs and start your day with a cup of coffee. Ever since Joel watched you make coffee once at work, he hasn’t let up since. Every time he sees you with a travel cup he asks if it's hot or iced, knowing what the answer will be and he’s disappointed every single time.

With your glass almost empty by now and four pages scribbled on, you finally felt comfortable to stop. It was almost like you blacked out writing, not really sure what exactly you wrote down but it brought you that same empty feeling once more so that must’ve meant you were done for the day. A knock on your door takes you from zoning out and you’re met with Joel’s face, a plate of pancakes, and a glass of orange juice.

“Before you start, the orange juice was Sarah’s idea. I know you hate eating breakfast when you first wake up so I figured you’d nibble on these until you’re hungry enough to eat them normally.” His small smile makes your heart skip a beat and you reach out to grab the plate from him, along with the orange juice and you take a small sip, tipping the glass to him with a nod.

“Give Sarah my thanks, yeah?” The awkward silence was killing you and you were hoping he’d bring up last night. He just shoves his hand in his pocket and clears his throat, looking around at the neighbors homes as Joel racks his brain on what to say.

“Joel I-” you start but he cuts you off.

“Darlin’ it’s fine, you were drunk. We’ve all been there before.”

You groaned in annoyance and walked to the kitchen island with the front door wide open, signaling him to follow.

You leaned your ass against the counter top and folded your arms across your chest, glancing out the window above the sink to the left of you. “I wasn’t drunk, okay? I was perfectly sober. I wanted to kiss you, I’ve thought about it a lot and it was something I wanted. I’m sorry if you didn’t feel the same way. I know you’re with Michelle and I know she doesn’t trust me around you and I just gave her all the proof she needs to keep thinking that.” You were rambling out of nervousness and he just stood there and listened, his hands were on his hips while he looked at the floor. The bundle of anxiety was growing in the pit of your stomach and you were worried you just fucked everything up even more by bringing up Michelle.

“I-I just…I needed to know what it’s like to kiss you, Joel. I’m sor-”

“Honey, jus’ stop,...’kay? First of all, Michelle not trusting you isn’t because of you, it’s because she caught me one too many times checkin’ on you at work and she didn’t like it. You are a smart, funny, sarcastic woman and you’re beautiful but baby, you’re so much younger than me, not to mention my best buddy's daughter. This would never work, you and I.” Joel barely whispers the last part of his sentence and his shoulders drop, eyes finally meeting yours. The same rejected feeling crept up and bit you in the ass once more, a common feeling for you from almost every person you’ve met in your life.

“Not to mention you slept with Tommy, couldn’t do that to him.”

You roll your eyes and scoff, shaking your head at Joel. “Oh suddenly you and Tommy care who you share and pass around between the two of you? That’s really rich, Joel, considering he dropped that little nugget about you two tag teaming a girl while his drunk ass had to come get yanked out of my bed?”

Joel’s jaw clenched together and his nostrils flared slightly, the anger in him rising the more you called him out.

“Be careful if you’re gonna run your mouth about shit you don’t know.” The look on his face gave you a slight jumpstart to your heart and excitement in your tummy. He’s sexy when he’s angry but telling him that right now would only make him even more upset.

“So are you saying if I didn’t sleep with Tommy, wasn’t my dad’s daughter, and about twelve years older, I’d have a shot with you?” You wiggle your eyebrows at him and walk over to him slowly with your arms behind your back, trying to look innocent.

Joel however, sees right through your bullshit and chuckles at your attempts to get more answers from him. “Did I say that?” He cocks his head to one side and watches you get close until you stop right in front of him.

“I might be reading between the lines, but oh well. Was I at least a good kisser?” You smirk at him and see the sparkle in his eye, Joel tries to fight back the corners of his lips from curling upwards.

“Why is it so easy for you to piss me off and then you wanna be sweet? You’re a damn sour patch kid.” The annoyance in his tone was only masking the laugh he was containing.

“That doesn’t tell me if I was a good kisser or not, Mr.Miller.” You grab the collar of his flannel and fix it so it laid flat and Joel’s breath hitched when you brushed against his skin.

Joel cracks his fingers in nervousness and hesitates before answering quietly, “I don’t remember, honestly. It was short.”

“Aw, is the age catching up to you, old man?” You tease, batting your eyelashes up at him.

Gently but firm enough to feel it, Joel’s hands meet your hips and squeeze firmly as he leans in, lips ghosting over yours. Now it’s your turn to have your breath hitch and the nervousness bubbled in your stomach.

His eyes close for just a moment before he grumbles,”Yeah I bet you wanna kiss me again. Does it get you all excited, baby? Kissin an older man like me when you’re not ‘sposed to?” He pulls back, standing up straight this time with the evilest grin on his face.

Joel could see you panicking to find an answer, an excuse, something. Without waiting for your answer, he turns on the heel of his boot and heads for the door, leaving you speechless and heart racing in the middle of your kitchen.

“What’s wrong sweet girl, cat got your tongue?” The door was shut before you could come up with a smart ass response to retort. Even worse than a cat having your tongue, Joel Miller had your tongue. If he wants to play this game with you, he’d soon be figuring out how much better at it you were than him. With the warm plate of pancakes calling your name from the marble counter behind you, you pulled back foil and watched the small amount of steam roll up into thin air.

Tearing into the fluffy pancakes, you rip a piece off and put it in your mouth, the butter soaked into the layers but still present. It was good at first and it had been a long time since you had a homemade breakfast. Before you can understand what’s happening, your fingers grip quickly and pull apart piece after piece and shove it in your cheeks as you close your eyes and feel the tears sting. To be cared for by a man who’s old enough to be your dad but isn’t your dad will always be hard for you. Why was it so easy for them to do kind things for you without a second thought but it was like pulling teeth for your own blood? For just a second you felt the jealousy of never having what Sarah and Joel have, that connection and inseparableness of father and daughter. The hot tears fall down your cheeks as your arms drop, no more soft pancake shoved in between your teeth as your brows furrowed in sorrow… anger, confusion…jealousy. It was almost as if a switch flipped and you were yanked out of your dark mindset over a kind gesture from your neighbor.

You grab a napkin from the holder in the middle of the counter and quickly spit out the mush, your vision so blurry and fuzzy from the tears. Your home was quiet with only the fridge buzzing softly and your runny nose sniffling subconsciously. Cold fingers wrap around the orange juice and you bring it to your slightly puffy post-cry lips, taking a small sip and letting the tangy liquid roll down your esophagus. You try to swallow your feelings and bury them deep inside once more to hide away the things you don’t dare talk about with anyone.

What little bit of jealousy still inside you causes you to push the plate away from the end of the counter, groaning in frustration at the meltdown you thought you had controlled.

Weeks go by and you haven’t heard much from Joel. His truck was gone when you got up early in the mornings trying to find a new job and his driveway was still empty by the time you were going to bed. Not a single phone call returned to you from him, your red landline phone he made fun of you for buying at a garage sale hardly rang unless it was someone trying to sell fake insurance. Thanksgiving came and went and it was like nothing happened between you and your dad, or at least no one brought it up when you gathered with the rest of your family at his house. They were all surprised to see you since you left years ago with your mother and never visited for the holidays but no one wanted to ruin the day of pretending you were a big happy family. The only people you called while you were away were your grandparents. They were like your best friends, always knew what was going on with you and they wanted better than what you got, they even knew their son made many mistakes when it came to the way he parented you. Even at your age now you still need them how you did as a little girl, clinging to their side when you felt overwhelmed by all the people swarming you asking millions of questions while you’re trying to get a plate of food. You sat in the corner in an uncomfortable chair while you ate your food but all you could seem to think about was Joel, where he was or who he was with, was he even celebrating today? He was probably with Michelle and her family, talking away about how great she is to her parents while the reality was that she was still upset with him over Halloween. They were just like your family, everyone pretending to be something they weren’t. Luckily it went okay without anything bad happening this time but there was still Christmas to come.

With the holiday just passing a couple days ago and still no sign of Joel, you decide to call him just to check up on him. Three rings into the call and you were praying to the universe he didn’t answer, not because you didn’t want him to be okay but you didn’t even know what to say if he did pick up. Just as the fourth ring starts, Joel’s deep voice fills your ear canals.

“H-hello?” He sounds confused at first but then it fades to irritation quickly.

“Joel..? Hey..” You stutter out as you shove the red handset into the crook of your shoulder and ear while you fiddle with the cord.

“What do ya want, kid? Somethin’ wrong?” You can hear muffled voices behind him but all you can focus on is Joel and the way his voice sounds like velvet over the phone.

“N-no, no nothing wrong I just..” your voice wavers for a moment and something inside your mind tells you to be honest with him even if it’ll blow up in your face. “...I miss you..and you left without saying a word…was it something I did-” You stop yourself from babbling on and cut the risk of looking even more dumb to him. Joel’s end was consumed by the muffled voices and laughter, a door being shut silenced the noise and it was just you and Joel.

“It’s kinda hard to talk right now, honey. I went with Michelle to her parents in Kansas for Thanksgiving. You didn’t do anything wrong. I'm just trying to get all of this sorted out, okay? You gotta remember I’ve been with her for a long time and it’s not just somethin’ I can just leave out of the blue.” Joel sighs deeply and your heart starts to get heavy inside your body, the phone cord tangled in your fingers.

“Okay, sorry for bothering you. Have fun and have a safe drive back, guess I’ll still be here waiting for you.” It wasn’t your goal to get annoyed with him but this was how you coped. You’d shut down as soon as something bad was happening and acted like it didn’t hurt. Like it didn’t make you want to curl into a ball of embarrassment when he didn’t say he missed you back. Before he could respond you hung up on him and unplugged the phone line from the handset so he couldn’t call back, not that he even would.

With the kitchen clock reading almost nine o'clock at night and your head in a mess, you figured it was more than needed for you to go to bed. Your bedroom window seemed so incomplete with the safe sight of Joel’s lamp lighting up the window it sat in. Before getting into bed you thought you’d feel better if you put on the Wizard of Oz, your favorite childhood movie. Tucking yourself right between your pile of blankets and pillows, you laid there watching the house spin and spin in the tornado but you couldn’t resist not looking over at Joel’s house every two minutes like he’d suddenly be back and throwing rocks at your window like those corny rom coms. Even imagining it seemed too crazy, you and Joel could never be like that. The ruby shoes were sparkling on your eyes as your lids got heavy and you were asleep within seconds, dreaming of Joel once again.

You wake up hours later to the DVD menu on loop and your front door being pounded on. With your heart racing you look out your window and see Joel’s truck in the driveway with the engine still running, driver's side door wide open. You wrap the throw blanket around your shoulders and practically run down the stairs to look through the peephole. A messy haired, sweaty, disheveled Joel was leaning against the door waiting on you to answer. Swinging open the front door, he yanks back the screen door that was separating you two and stepped inside, grabbing your face and walking you backwards.

“What the hell do you think you’re doin’? You unplug your phone after throwin’ a tantrum and I can’t call you back, don’t know what’s goin’ on with you?!” Joel’s voice rattled you even though it was caring, it was still coated in frustration.

“I’m sorry I went to bed, I meant to plug it back in I’m- I’m sorry..” You look at his face and it dawns on you just how freaked out he was. He drove ten hours straight just to come see if you were okay.

“What did you think I was gonna do? Hang up and just go about my time in Kansas not knowing what happened to you? Bein’ a goddamn brat making’ it hard for me to get in touch with you.” Joel’s jaw clenches as his hands tighten on your face. His eyes haven’t relaxed yet and it’s almost like he’s searching in yours to find some truth to your actions, to find some reason.

You were speechless at him. Every time he did something it surprised you even more that someone cares about you that much to go the mile for you.

“Did you really drive all night to come back and check on me?” The hint of excitement in your voice makes Joel roll his eyes and a small smirk grow on his face. His face finally softens and he pulls you against him with his hands rubbing your back.

“Of course you wanna hear me say I drove ten hours just for you, crazy brat. Don’t ever do that to me again, understood?” Joels scruff softly brushes against your ear and you finally feel safe again, even if your relationship was up in the air.

“Would you maybe wanna stay with me, just until I fall asleep?” It kind of came out of your mouth before you thought about it but there was no more hesitating.

“I can, yeah. Let me go shut off my truck and I’ll be back in a second.” He kisses your forehead softly and walks back outside to his driveway, pulling his keys out of the ignition and locking the door. His black suitcase rolls against the pavement behind him on the walk back to your house. The sun would soon be up and shining through the tree branches but you had a hard time accepting this wasn’t a dream. He leaves his suitcase by the door and sits on the couch, sighing as he gets comfortable. Joel’s eyes watch you closely as you walk back to him with a water bottle directed to him to grab.

“Just try to be quiet when you leave, okay?” You mutter as you lay your head on his lap while tugging the blanket over you as you curl into a ball like a cat. Joel chuckles and rubs his chin slightly as he adjusts and gets comfortable with the pillow behind his head. It came as no surprise to yourself that you were already preparing for the heartbreak you’d eventually have to feel when he left while you’re fast asleep no matter how much you tried to enjoy Joel being there in the moment.

“I’ll try my hardest, baby girl.” He teases, softly running his fingernails against your scalp. Joel’s breathing slows to soft snores that fill the living room, the only sound that was audible as the sun came up and soon drowned the room in warm rays.

Joel’s watch on his left hand read just a little after eleven and the house was still, your light snores getting his attention as he rubs his eyes of sleepiness. You looked so peaceful to him and he didn’t want to leave you just yet.

He grabs onto your shoulder and shakes you awake gently, brushing the hair out of your face that fell during your nap.

“I’m starving and I know you don’t have enough food here to feed the both of us. Cmon, let’s go eat…I’ll buy.” Joel was trying to bribe you and you hated that it was working. You sit up and look at him with barely opened eyes.

“Really?”

Joel stands up to stretch and his midriff is exposed by his shirt, causing your eyes to glance at the skin you hadn’t seen until now.

“My offer is good for another thirty seconds, clock is tickin’.” The playfulness in his voice makes you grin and you grab your house keys from the bowl of clutter near the front door. Your head nods towards his truck and he strolls outside, shaking his head at your outfit.

“You really gonna wear that? Don’t think the waitress would take too kindly to a shirt that says, “Cougars” with a heart…” His fingers pinch the fabric and he lets go, a small indent left on the shoulder piece.

While you both buckle in, Joel looks around for anything you could use to cover what he thought was a god awful shirt. He tosses a black hoodie at you to wear and you begrudgingly tug it on when you notice his company’s logo on the back.

“There’s nothing wrong with showing cougars love, Joel. Would you rather it say dad’s best friend?” You can see his eyebrow raise as he cocks his head slightly to glance over at you.

“Don’t push it.” He mutters and starts to head to the diner.

You both decide on a booth and look over the menu before ordering and Joel sips his coffee, taking in the strong notes of the blend to prepare clearing his throat.

“So uh- think it’s pretty obvious I can’t leave you alone no matter how hard I try. I need to get some stuff sorted out but I’m really not trying to string you along, kid.” His brown eyes flick up to meet yours and he extends out his hand to grab your arm across the worn table.

“I know I just…I hate not knowing if you’re with Michelle or not. We need to be careful around everyone, ya know- pretend that we still hate each other..” You lead on and cough slightly at the hand laying on your arm.

Joel nods understandingly, knowing exactly where you’re coming from.

“No, I’m not with-“

“Michelle, hi!” You finish his sentence as your eyes meet her piercing stare as she stands behind Joel. Her arms were crossed and nostrils flared, not understanding entirely what she walked in on.

“Michelle..”

fuck.

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munson-blurbs · 5 months

Text

Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!ReaderSeries

Day 10 of TUI-Mas

Warnings: pregnancy, a Harris tantrum, working through tough feelings

WC: 1.5k

Divider credit to @saradika

October 1999

“I don’t wanna go!!!”

Harris’s wail reverberates throughout the apartment and pierces your eardrums. You reflexively squeeze your eyes shut, shaking your head as though clearing away the sound.

“C’mon, Har,” you coax him, gently kicking his Skechers in his direction; bending down and picking them up is currently out of the question. “Don’t you want to see Ettie? Auntie Viv told me that she wants you to push her on the swing again!”

Your appeal to his love for his little cousin is fruitless; he sulks away and slams his bedroom door shut with a bang. Frustration and confusion lodges in your throat, and you walk as quickly as your new center of gravity allows. “Harris, what’s going on?” Your hand massages your lower back as you lean against his door. “You know you can’t just go around the house slamming doors.” When there’s no response, you huff out an irritated sigh. “Har–”

“I hate you!”

The three words form a heavy pit in your stomach. You’ve had a student or two declare the same–usually when you announce it’s time to clean up their toys or inform them they can’t have a second cupcake–but you can’t deny the internal sting when Harris says it.

Being eight months pregnant certainly doesn’t help, either.

Heat burns in your chest; you’re trying to bring him to the park, and he’s slamming doors and screaming at you like you’re inflicting torture upon him. “Harris Wayne Munson!” you snap before you can stop yourself.

“I hate you and Baby Brother!” He punctuates the statement with a stomp of his foot that’s sure to have your downstairs neighbors filing a noise complaint.

You take a deep breath, mustering up all of your patience. “I’m gonna count to three, and then you’d better open this door.” Your socked foot digs into the carpet, composure difficult to maintain. “One…two…”

The door swings open. Harris stands before you with tear-stained cheeks, sniffling and struggling to catch his breath as he speaks.

“I d-don’t wan-wanna go t-to..to the playground!” He begins crying again, even more hysterically than before. Mucus streams from his nostrils in rivulets, and you instinctively wipe it with your jacket sleeve before it reaches his lips.

You lead him to his bed so you can both sit. “Why not? Did something happen when we went last week?” There were a few children there besides him, but he hadn’t really interacted with any of them. When Harris nods, you pose your follow-up question. “With the other kids?”

“N-No,” he shakes his head, “with you.”

“Me?!” There’s no hiding the shock in your voice. “What did I do?”

He inhales shakily. “You d-didn’t play with…with me!” His eyes land on your bump, and your heart sinks. You remember him asking you to chase him, but given your newfound pregnancy waddle, you’d had to decline.

“Not until after Baby Brother is born,” you’d told him, watching as he’d walked away, dejection written all over his face.

“Oh, Har,” you say now, tongue thick as you search for a way to reassure him. Nothing bothers you more than being unable to solve a problem. “I’m so, so sorry. I know we usually play together, but it’s not safe for me to be running around right now.” You pause, desperate for a solution. “But I can watch you play?” It comes out like a question, not definitive enough to be convincing.

Harris stares down at his feet, swiveling his body back and forth. “That’s not the same,” he laments, and you know he’s right.

“It’s not,” you agree, “and it can be hard when things aren’t the same. But there are good changes, too.”

He wipes his eyes with the back of his hand, looking at you with intrigue. “Good changes?” A gentle wrinkle in his nose emphasizes his curiosity. “Like what kind?”

You ponder for a moment before landing on an idea. “Like…going for a Mommy-Harris donut date after we go to the playground.” Nudging his shoulder with yours, you grin and add with a whisper, “Em and Abi’s has a new apple cider-flavored donut that Baby Brother has me craving all the time.”

Harris giggles at this. “Okay.” He turns slightly to face you, holding out a pinky. “Promise?”

You hook your little finger around his and grip it tight. “Promise.”

The donut shop is filled with people, typical for a Saturday afternoon, but you and Harris manage to snag a table in the corner. You pinch off a piece of apple cider donut and drop it into your mouth, cinnamon and sugar and nutmeg seeping into your eager taste buds.

“You know,” you say, licking some crumbs off of your thumb, “we can still have Mommy-Harris dates even after Baby Brother is born.”

Harris’s eyes light up at this news. “Really?” He smiles wide, taking a bite of his chocolate frosted confection, sprinkles tumbling onto the sheet of wax paper below it.

“Mhm. Daddy can stay home with him while we hang out together. Just the two of us.”

He licks icing from the corner of his mouth before chowing down again. “Yeah, and maybe Baby Brother can come with us sometimes, too.” He furrows his brows and hurriedly adds, “but not all the time.”

You hum in acknowledgment. Harris continues eating, unaware of the way you’re studying his movements. The little boy who sat at your kitchen table and struggled to recall letter sounds now reads nearly at grade level. Pizza Wednesdays are still a weekly tradition, but he’s no longer just a visitor in your apartment. And now you’re his Mommy; an equal to Eddie when it comes to parenting. Which also means…

“So, Harris…” you give him a look that can only mean one thing, “we need to talk about you saying that you hate me and Baby Brother earlier today.”

He nods. “I don’t hate you and Baby Brother,” he mumbles, lightly kicking his feet against the table’s underside. “I was just so mad.”

“I know. But being mad doesn’t mean you get to hurt someone’s feelings.” You sip from your cup of herbal tea. “And you know how to tell me when you’re angry.”

“Yeah.” He sighs, nervously chewing the inside of his lip. “Am I in trouble?”

You bite back a laugh; his pleading gaze is almost cute enough to get him out of a punishment—but not quite.

“I’m afraid so.”

“Oh. His face falls as he eats the remainder of his donut, mouth full of cakey goodness. “Like, big trouble?”

You hold your fingers a few inches apart. “Medium trouble. No TV for two nights: one night for saying you hate me and Baby Brother, and one for slamming the door.”

Harris purses his lips in contemplation, but there’s no sign of the trembling that precedes his tantrums. “Fine,” he grumbles, though you’re fairly certain he’s only conceding because he won’t be missing any new episodes of his favorite shows. He glances at you with wide eyes. “Do you still love me?”

“I’ll always love you, no matter what,” you reassure him. “Don’t you ever forget that, okay?”

“Okay, Mommy.” He manages a little smile. Everything’s okay, if just for this second.

After dinner that evening, you’re squeezing a bottle of Dawn over a sponge while you scrub dishes. You’re waiting for that little tug on the hem of your shirt that’s accompanied by Harris’s trusty puppy-dog face as he begs to watch TV for just five minutes, but that never happens. Curiosity gets the best of you and you shut off the water and flick your fingers over the sink.

Eddie and Harris are in your bedroom, both hunched over something, though you can’t see what it is.

“Looks good to me, Har,” Eddie muses, looking at his son. “What do you think?”

Harris crossed his arms as though delivering a professional opinion. “Looks good to me, too,” he confirms. “I think he’ll like it.”

“Who will like what?” you ask, drawing their attention from the mystery object.

Eddie smiles, reaching over and holding up a mobile. Teddy bears dangle from threads, and when he winds up the crank, it plays a soothing melody. “One of my guitar students bought this for the baby, and Harris helped me put it together,” he says. When Harris stares at him, he sighs. “Okay, Harris put it together while I supervised.”

“I figured that’s what happened,” you laugh, walking over and ruffling Harris’s hair. “Baby Brother is going to love it. Especially since you’re the one who built it.”

Eddie anchors the mobile to the crib where your newest son will sleep in just over a month. “Thoughts? Opinions? Criticisms?”

“Perfect.” You squeeze Harris’s hand in yours.

He nods and flashes a gapped grin. “Yeah. Perfect.”

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

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upsidedownwithsteve · 1 year

Note

Smut blurbs yaaaas. We gotta talk about Steve trying out a new position for the first time. Like, I feel like the first time he went from standard missionary or backseat car sex to having you there before him face down in the pillows he had a revelation.

18+

“Steve,” you groaned, his name nothing more than a filthy rasp as you clutched at his shoulders, his waist, claw marks left from the way your nails scraped against his skin. “Fuck, babe— baby, deeper, please.”

The boy huffed out a laugh and a gasp, lifting his head from your neck to push himself onto his hands, hovering over you, grinning. The chain he’d put on for meeting his parents for dinner - suit and tie a creased heap on the floor - caught your lip, pout brushing over warm gold.

“Shit, honey, I don’t think I can get any deeper,” Steve smiled, one wide hand spanning over your thigh, keeping it against his chest, your leg sling over his shoulder. He throbbed inside of you, cock big and hard enough that it was nudging the space under your belly button. “You want more?”

You nodded, whining, needy about it. You did want more, you did. But Steve had come to yours after a half eaten dinner and an argument with his mother over the white cloth covered table, shoved at his dad in the parking lot before he could finish his main meal. He was rippling with unspent energy, something he couldn’t talk out, couldn’t let settle until he did something about it.

So you’d stripped him off his suit jacket, slid his tie away from his neck and kissed him until he was panting. You told him to be rough about it, but down on his neck and his bottom lip to punctuate your point and Steve had laughed, breathless, amazed, before he’d thrown you over his shoulder and made his way to your bed.

“Yeah,” you said, eyes wide and doe like, begging. “Want more, please, babe. Wanna feel you in the morning.”

You grinned when Steve’s lashes fluttered, eyes rolling and jaw slack when he moaned. He slid out of you, making you both hiss and whine at the loss, but he gave you a soft slap to your ass in return.

“Get on your knees, baby, yeah? Wanna try somethin’.”

You burned, chest flushed, heat rising to your face, ‘cause you hadn’t tried this with Steve yet. Still early enough in your relationship with the boy that you craved face to face contact with him, chests pressed together and legs wrapped around his waist, able to kiss him whenever you wanted. But you did as you were told, bottom lip tucked between your teeth as you scrambled to your knees and turned around.

“There you go, fuck,” Steve groaned appreciatively. “That’s it honey, bend over for me, yeah? Little more, be good.”

You obeyed, tits pressed to the mattress as you dipped your back, ass up and waiting. You squirmed under Steve’s gaze, a stare hotter and heavier than an Indiana summer.

“Fu-ucking Christ,” Steve rasped out, his voice shot. He whispered your name, hands grabbing at the soft dough of your ass, handfuls of it so he could spread your cheeks, cunt put on show for him. “I’m gonna lose it just lookin’ at you, baby, shit.”

You laughed into his pillow, everything smelling like the boy, his cologne, his laundry detergent, his shampoo and your perfume. You wiggled in his grasp, heard the shlick as he pumped himself once, twice, before lining himself back up with your entrance and sliding back in.

You both swore, gasping, chests heaving as you tried to gain a little control over yourselves. Steve’s grip moved to your hips, fingers splayed wide over your skin and you knew you’d feel his touch there long after he let go. His cock throbbed inside of you, suddenly closer to the edge than before and he chuckled, almost laughing at himself.

“I dunno if this was the best idea or the worst idea I’ve ever had,” he told you, and his voice was hoarse, dirty, low. It made you clench around him and you got a swift slap to your ass in retaliation. “Baby, be good, c’mon.”

You didn’t listen. Instead, you pushed yourself back, ass slamming into the cradle of the boy’s hips, the hard length of him kicking up inside of you in response. He cried out, a pretty, dirty noise and it made you moan back.

“Steve.”

“Christ, you’re gonna kill me.”

You grinned into the sheets, hands fisting them, legs spreading when Steve hooked a hand around one thigh and coaxed it wider. You felt so fucking full, wet and tight and warm around Steve’s cock and the boy wasn’t sure he was able to handle it.

“C’mon, Stevie, move,” you encouraged him with another wiggle, hiccuping over a sigh when he pulsed inside of you. You could feel him in your fucking stomach. “Want you to fuck me.”

Steve swore, hands running soft over your skin, fingers creating a sweet trail over your spine, up and down and back again. His hands curled around the nape of your neck, squeezing just slightly. You groaned for him.

“Yeah?” He asked, sliding out of you until only the tip teased your entrance. “Gonna take it? Like my good girl?”

You nodded, panting, cheek pushed to the sheets as you tried your best to look back at him, all wide eyed and flushed cheeks, lips still kiss swollen and reddened. Steve wasn’t sure he’d seen anything prettier than the sight before him and he was losing his goddamn mind.

“You asked for it, baby,” he reminded you softly, hands palming at your hips once more before he slammed back into you, giving it to you exactly the way you’d wanted.

…

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington smut #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington x reader smut #steve baby blurb

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h0unds-of-h3ll · 30 days

Text

Shades of cool

Instances where your best friends dad tried to seduce you.

Big daddy Elvis Presley x reader! Sexual situations.

Word count: 5k.

Warnings: As you read it’s your best friends dad seducing you. Major age gap. Naive reader. Kissing. Manipulation, gaslighting. Swearing. Obsession. He’s a cocaine user. Talk of male masturbation. Female masturabtion. Objectification. Sexy Polaroids. Sacrilegious. Detailed description of perversion at the end. Perverted E. All parties are legal!

A/n: “I wanted to try something a little different than I normally do. I wanted to write something a little darker. I also wanted to write something and this is what came out. Let me know if you like this version of my writing!”

Before the instances

It started, well, it was always in motion ever since he saw a little you with Lisa back in the late 60s. Nothing more than a lil ole schoolgirl. His friends talked about you like they did when he was with Priscilla all those years ago. It struck the same vein-alighted that same hunger. His micro aggressions towards you though, where he grew overtly affectionate and fond over you. Was the summer in 1985. He was older, much older, thirty-two years to be exact and you didn’t know why but his age never affected how you thought of him. If anything it drew you to him. He was older, more mature than the guys you’ve hung around. He was the father figure you needed whether you wanted to admit it or not. By God, Elvis was smart and he knew he’d never have a greater opportunity than now helping your own self, mature into a fine young (co-dependent) woman. You just had graduated high school the previous may with Lisa who was still a little younger than you. Since school let out you practically lived at Graceland. Much to her and her daddy’s satisfaction.

Graduation night

The first incident happened after graduation night. You were over at Graceland (shocker.) It was dinner, congratulations and gifts mostly from Elvis but others in his circle came and gave you a pat on your back as well. You were just excited to be done with it and to have done it with Lisa by your side. After the grand dinner everyone departed in their respective areas. You and Elvis however went outside in the darkness of night and sat by the kidney sized pool. Lisa wanted to take a nap so she could stay up later and so it resulted in just the two of you staring at the blue light that illuminated the chlorinated water. Elvis nursed a little Roi-Tan cigar. His infamous orange sunglasses still pressed against his chubby face. He puffed those cheeks with every draw of his cigarette. He uses it as a crutch. In his youth it was biting nails or the wiggling of a leg, now it’s just the burning inhale of tabcco. The two of you stared at the stars. He pointed some out lazily. Explaining their relationship to the other stars along with the spirituality behind them. He told you to pick any star your little heart desires and he’d buy it for you. You giggled at his playful jest but when you looked over to his face you saw no hint of humor. He was dead serious. So, you pointed to the biggest and brightest one there was. That one, you said. He chuckled darkly to himself. You’re gonna make me go bankrupt, pretty baby! Then he huffed on his cigar more with a hint of a grin, and your cheeks burned. The cigar embers burned his thick golden fingers. His other hand laid flat on his blue track suit covered thigh. He took his index and drew stars by his knee. You spread your denim daisy duke legs out and relaxed into the chair. Lifting your hips up, your shirt raises up your pretty hips. He stared without abandon. God cursed him. Elvis was nothing but a devoted Christian and God cursed him. How did God curse him? God cursed him by being infatuated with a teenage girl. Even worse, his daughter's best friend. No, it wasn’t God’s curse. It was the Devil's temptation. He can’t wrap his head around you being nothing but an angel. He often told you how your soul was the prettiest thing to him. Your soul is older than your body. He wished that you had grown up with him, met his mama and daddy. Gotten married and settled down with him. When he told you that you weren’t sure how to feel, should you feel grateful that in an alternative universe that you could’ve been Lisa’s mother instead of friend or that it might still happen in this reality if given the chance. You knew of his exs, Lisa told you about them. You knew of his player status of objectifying women and not taking no for an answer. Whatever he wanted he got it. He stopped officially being with women in ‘77 after his engagement had broken off. He doesn’t talk about it much. Sure, he still has girls hang off his wide arm on occasion but it’s nothing serious. It was like he was saving himself for something. Something to grow older. He takes a long draw, tilting his head up and the smoke billows out like a cloud into the sky. His soft jaw and lips puckering when he does. He stares at the side of your face through his shades. Admiring from afar. He leans over to the ashtray on the table beside him and stuffs the cigar in the marbel where his initials are. You watch as his tracksuit starts to rise and the soft pudgy skin of his back starts to emerge. You treasured all the times you got to see his skin. He never showed it off like he did when he was younger. The only time you were blessed was when he wore normal shirts or felt a little scandalous by unzipping the jacket to his sternum, making sure to not show his round belly. You nibbled on your lip and cut your eyes to the North Star, making sure that he didn’t see your wandering eyes. It's silent as he huffs to turn around. He looks at your face again. Nothing but a little ole baby in a woman’s body. That- that very dangerous thought is what spurs him on.

“Are you a virgin?”

You choke, eyes wide, mouth dry. You can’t look at him and your body is stiff and straight. Begging the North Star for guidance.

“W-what?”

He chuckles. The wrinkles on his face deepening as he smiles.

“Ya heard me lil darlin’.”

You nod and blink slowly, trying to find a way to divert the conversation.

“Why do you ask?”

His wide shoulders shrug and he pushes the bridge of his sunglasses down, you see the bloodshot veins in his eyes.

“Sometimes when I see you around my friends’ boys you don’t care ‘bout ‘em, like yisa does,”

He pauses. His hand on his thigh moves to his face and he scratches his chin and rests his face in his palm. His elbow on the armrest of the lawn chair.

“Ya couldn’t be more bored in ‘em.”

His fat tongue swipes over his plump lip. His eyes flick across your face, baiting you for a reaction.

“But when your ’round me you act like you’ve never been ‘round ‘nother man in your entire yittle life.”

Movie night

Elvis rented out a theater in Memphis near Graceland to watch The Way of All Flesh his favorite movie. Often he would do this. It didn’t matter how many times he saw it or forced you and Lisa to, he’d visit it again. Lisa complained about not watching something different like the goonies or the breakfast club, and you were just happy to be there. He didn’t care about Lisa’s cries of protest and change. He liked his 1927 black and white movie, he wouldn’t hear anything else about it but praise. He sat between you and Lisa in the back below the projector as it ran. He had his arm around Lisa’s shoulders, hugging her to his own. She yawned watching the banker find his life flipped upside down. As for you? He had his fat palm on the inside of your bare thigh. The warmth blistered your skin. The rings were heavy on your soft skin. His orange sunglasses were tucked into his white tracksuit zipper. You didn’t watch the movie as his hand danced along the inside of your thigh. You watched his broad face. Your lips pouted as you wondered what his game was. What was he trying to do? He wasn’t trying to do anything which resulted in you over analyzing the situation which ultimately is what he wanted. He wanted to get inside your little head. Wanted you to think of him. Obsess over him. You trail your eyes over the dips and curves of his plump aged face. His blue eyes catch your own and the gaze is held between you for a few minutes. He doesn’t speak a word and all you do is breathe. His hand doesn’t move and the unspoken power is acknowledged, along with his shit eating grin.

The kiss

You hadn’t visited in two weeks. You called Lisa and told her work had gotten in the way of your visits and she understood. She tried to emphasize that to Elvis but he didn’t care. You were being a ghost and he couldn’t handle it anymore. He’s been so gracious to you, so loving and you decide to abandon his family? He was going to lose his mind. He became short with everyone, the mafia, the maids, even being short with Lisa. He was a grumpy old man. While you were at work your parents had paged you at least a hundred times over. You were confused, exhausted, and frustrated. All you wanted was to lay down and get some sleep. You went to the bathroom and read the slow news.

“Urgent...”

“Elvis…blowing..up..phone..”

“Hurry..home…”

You sighed. When you did get home, you asked about whats wrong with Elvis and your parents told you that he’d rather talk to you in person. You nodded and packed an over night bag, ate dinner with your parents and bid them goodbye before getting in the cherry red Audi Coupe GT Elvis had gotten you and drove to Graceland.

It was dark and hot in the summer heat when you arrived at the gates. You didn’t have to mutter your name to the guard since you’ve visited so often. You pull up in front of the white stairs and your stomach drops. Anxiety flashes over you. What if he’s mad? What if he prohibits you from ever seeing Lisa again? Ever seeing him again? You breathe cautiously. Turning the car off and grabbing the duffel bag you packed and walking to the door. Before you raised your closed fist to knock the door swings open. You hear Lisa watching tv in the living room. It’s Growing Pains. He’s wearing a black tracksuit and his sunglasses are a baby blue like his eyes when they’re not bloodshot. He holds the door open with one of his hands and just stands in front of you like a wall. He’s staring at you. Eyes glossy. One of his nostrils dusted white. You open your mouth to apologize but before you could utter a word he takes the sides of your face in his hands and places his lips onto yours. He cranes his head down and tilts your face up. His gut pushing against your stomach. Your eyes are wide and you drop both your keys and the bag outside Graceland’s door. His lips are so much softer than you anticipated. His rings catch on your hair, but the slight pull burns into your stomach and makes your heart beat faster. He doesn’t press his tongue into your mouth, the pressure of his lips is enough to drive you into a frenzy. You can’t. When he finally does move away, it’s slow and staggered. His eyes are closed and his breathing is unsteady. He’s winded from kissing. He sweeps his thumbs over the bones on both side of your cheeks. Watching the burning sun in your eyes. You open and close your mouth like a fish. He just smiles lopsidedly, his smile lines and crows feet deepening. He presses a chaste kiss onto your lips.

“Don’t tell yisa.”

His lips brushes against yours as he speaks before pulling himself away completely. He crouches with a moan to your feet and picks up your keys and bag and walks up the foyer. You stand there puzzled, and sexually frustrated.

The picture

It was a blistering hot day in June. Elvis hosted a barbecue for his family and friends. For no particular reason other than to reminisce about the old days of his career. He’s been out of the performing business since ‘77 and now just produces his own recording company, giving kids like him a shot at making music. He wore a red tracksuit, with golden sunglasses. (One of those special occasions where he had the zipper down his sternum.) He didn’t go outside much that day since it was so hot, so he stayed inside Graceland with some of the older musicians and family who didn’t care to be outside either. He stayed by the window that looked the pool though. Watching you sunbathe and Lisa talk to some boys while swimming. Little kids ran throughout his property with water guns and balloons. Some of his colleagues tried to talk to him, he’d just mumble mhm. Never leaving the sight of you in a swimsuit top and a little denim skirt with bare feet. A boy came over to you, trying to talk and you didn’t care. Mumbling mhms. Priscilla visited and tried to talk to him about Lisa and doing things as a family and he didn’t care.

At 5, nearly sundown everyone gathered outside with three picnic tables pushed together as dinner was served. Crickets crowed and frogs croaked. He didn’t get a say who sat by him on the arrangement, he’d rather have you and Lisa sitting next to him than just Priscilla. They prayed before eating and he prayed that God would stop this little crush he had on you. He looked up from his bowed head and saw your breasts pushed together in that stringy bra and bowed his head to pray harder.

“Amen.”

The dinner was good and prestigious. He made jokes and smirked small, laughing mostly at Charlie’s jokes. Priscilla’s little hand was on top of his thigh and he couldn’t care, he watched you eat a hot dog like no other. His burger was a bit charred which was fine, but he only took a couple bites before retiring it. He watched you and Lisa whisper and giggle over some boys Lisa stared at. Droplets. Nothing more than a couple drops of ketchup fell on your bare chest and he felt himself throb. The tracksuit tightening around his burly thighs. He sips on his canned Pepsi. You don’t notice the smeared ketchup on your breasts as you move to look around and talk. Priscilla looked to her side as she talked with some older married woman about life. Priscilla’s hand cupped the side of his cock and he jumped. Letting go of his can of Pepsi.

“Jesus!”

He cut his eyes over to Priscilla and she took her hand off of his thigh and he groaned. He crouched down onto the grass below the table. Looking for the can. He pauses like a kid finding cookies. Finding snatch. His heart hammers and he adjusts his growing bulge. He pushes his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose to the bulbous tip to fully look at the situation. His mouth nearly dripping with drool.

“No pannies.”

His thick drawl comes out as he whispers the revelation to himself. You spread your legs out wider and his breath stops. Hairless. Glistening. Untouched. He nearly sticks his wide tongue out to lap a fat stripe down and up your wet cunt. He wonders who did this to little miss darlin’? How’d her little pussy get so wet on his bench? How’d just looking at it gets him higher than any Miami coke. Then his heart strikes out. He sees Lisa’s head pop out on the other side of the bench a concerned look written across his face.

“D’you need help getting up, daddy? I know how bad your back is!”

He chokes and snatches up the can. He pushes up his sunglasses and sitting upright and the small of his back begins to ache. He looks at you and you smile dumbly.

“‘M fine.”

Priscilla looks at him then back at the soda can he threw on the table with a scoff. He sighs asking God for a blessing.

“Picture time, y’all!”

He stands in the back with more of the taller men and ladies were. He morphed into the back, not caring to be seen. Priscilla stood up front as well as Lisa. You stood in front of Elvis and he took your hips in his meaty hands. You jumped before realizing who it was. He whispered a husky. Jus’ me, pretty baby. He rested his chin on the top of your messy hair. He pressed his front up to your back and you raised on your tiptoes and he nearly came. The pressure of your firm ass pressing against the tucked head of his dick was enough for his eyes to roll back in his head. He needed to get one of his sleeping pills after. The rush of coke and the adrenaline of sex is too much to bear. He’s sweating bullets. You smile wide at the announce of cheese. Slapping his squeezing hands on the sides of your hips.

“Say cheese, big daddy.”

He smirks a little and swivels his hips so his hard on is pressed right up against the cheeks of your ass. For the first time in months he smiles to the point where his wrinkles are creased and he looks young, taking pictures in front of Graceland.

“Cheese.”

Fast food

It was a lazy Sunday after church. Elvis didn’t want to wait until he got to Graceland to eat so he took Lisa and you out to eat at McDonalds. He was starting to get a headache from only doing a milligram of coke before church. He asked before getting to the intercom what each of you wanted before Lisa and you decided to share an order and get a couple of large Coke’s. The only time he wore anything other than a tracksuit was to church and his recording company’s meetings. It was a simple black suit with no tie and a few of the buttons at the top unbuttoned. He was sweating profusely with the skin tight fabric. He thought he’d be able to fit in the old suit. It hadn’t been since a couple weeks since he last put it on. He was going to have to get on those weight loss pills again. He sighed and order a couple McDLT’s with no onions, no mayonnaise, mustard, or ketchup and a large Pepsi. He was content with not having to deal with being asked for autographs or pictures anymore. Occasionally there’d be the oddball who’d recognize him and asked for a memento and he’d graciously give it to them. He doesn’t miss the constant paranoia of who knows him and who watches. He listens to the conversation between the two of you talking about musicians and media. Lisa talks about Madonna and you talk about how Cher is still relevant. He pays and pulls up to the next window. It’s another twenty minute wait. He looks up through the rearview mirror through his black shades, watching you gush over Cass Elliott. Admiring the way you talk with your hands and the sheer white sundress you’re wearing. How Lisa matches your enthusiasm. The young clerk finally hands the food over and he leaves in the passenger seat as he drives to a nearby parking lot that oversees the traffic. He often liked sitting and watching the people and making up stories for them. Where they’ve been and where they’re going. He pulls to a stop and the chattering stops. He looks back and sees two sets of grabby hands luring him to give food away. He smirks softly and grabs the tray of large drinks and hands it to you. The banter continues as Lisa shoves your shoulder and you dump the drinks onto his lap. He freezes.

“F-fuck!”

Posture straight, hands up, shaking. It’s deathly quiet, not a word spoken. You’ve only seen Elvis angry a handful of times. Him pissed was a different situation entirely. Both you and Lisa utter apologies without abandon. He starts picking off the huge ice cubes and as he does you lean over the arm rest and start wiping off the Coke and ice off his fat thighs into the floorboards. His paunchy stomach tightening as you brush over his flaccid (hardening) cock. He watches your bare tits hang loose in your sundress. The perky nipples coming through. He thanked God for the no bras movement and watched you lazily hang onto his thigh. You smile like a bimbo when you’re done and rifle through the bag for napkins and press them down onto his soaked lap. After you felt like you did all you could do you leaned back and kissed his aged cheek. He apologized for getting angry and swearing. He went through the paper bag and handed out food. While unwrapping his first burger, his face scrunches and he throws the burger on the passenger window. He whips the car into the reverse and spurs out of the parking lot. As you look to the window you see onions, mayonnaise, mustard, and ketchup splattered on the window.

Pool Side View

He sat in one of the lawn chairs in a his DEA tracksuit, white bucket hat, and golden sunglasses. He was coked out and barely functioning. July was one of his busiest months and he couldn’t keep up with it all. He’s trying to read one of his spiritual books while smoking one of his cigars. He kept a prying eye on you and Lisa swimming in the pool. You had left for a couple days, to get some clothes which he resented. He simply would’ve bought you more. You had your own room at Graceland for fuck’s sake. He made you quit your job after the instance where you ghosted him. He never wanted you to leave. The swimming suit was big on you. He had bought you a swimsuit that was two pieces and a little big on you since he didn’t know your exact size. You guessed he did it on purpose. Lisa proposed for you to wear one of hers but she was a little skinner than you so you politely declined. Lisa and you were performing ungraceful water aerobics. Going underwater and kicking your feet up in the air and kicking them. Both of you kept chirping at Elvis to watch you perform. However one of the times you went under and came back up, your top had untied. You didn’t realize it until Lisa told you with a giggle. You were mortified, your mouth dropped open as you grabbed the floating article of clothing. You looked at Elvis and his sunglasses were perched lower as his strung out eyes watched you like a hawk. He couldn’t figure out if the coke was bad and he was having a hallucination or if what he did see was real. Did he see dirty little pillows with pretty nipples or did he dream that? He doesn’t know and he doesn’t question it. The stream of smoke by his head and he puffs. Taking his book back into his palm as Lisa ties your top back on. He pushes his palm over the base of his dick trying to push the blood elsewhere. I like that trick, do it again. He smiles to himself at the cynical joke. If only it wasn’t just a joke.

Polaroids

More than once Lisa reassured you that her dad wasn’t a creep, he was just overly sentimental and affectionate. It was just southern hospitality she reiterated over and over. It was late at night and Lisa and you were in your nightgowns in the living room, wrestling and laughing loudly. Watching Saturday night wrestling and reenacting some of the positions. Some nights you both would sleep in the living room to scare the maids when they first come out to work. The tv was the only light on, other than Elvis’s lamp light that he used to read one of his spirituality books. He was in his satin emblem pajamas. He wore reading glasses with the chain necklace around them. Every now and again Lisa and you would ask him to watch and you’d accidentally flash him. He’d blush and his stomach would start to stir. The thing that made him get his Polaroid camera was when you straddled a pillow between your little thighs and started to hump it. Intentionally or not, he didn’t care. He went into his room, grabbed his wallet where he kept the film in and the camera itself and went back into the living room. You were laid diagonal on the couch, your nightgown off and just in little cotton white with pink bows on them bra and panty. Your head was hanging off the couch and your legs were kicked up on the headboard. He got on his knees in front of your face and you smiled. The click and motor of the camera blinded you momentarily before he asked you to model which you replied attentively to. He asked you to pose in various positions. Running his fingers and palms over your body to smooth out the rigidness of your body. You watched Lisa stare into the tv, ignoring the photoshoot happening behind her. You wondered if this was appropriate and you remembered what she said about southern hospitality. He made you sit on his lap where you can feel the pressure of his bulge up against your clothed pussy. He lightly cupped the front of your throat and pushed your head back into his shoulder and your back pressed up against his chest. You feel his glasses pinch at your back. His rings biting into your neck. He raises the camera in front of your faces and it clicks. His lips brush over the shell of your ear as his voice drops to an octave lower. The tone where he used to sing.

“Wancha ta hump me like you did the piller little miss.”

You look at the back of Lisa’s blonde head. Your body is scorching hot. Your clit throbbing as his dick bobs with every buck of your hips. You move quicker, more desperate. Click. The Polaroid falls to his feet. You feel his stomach bounce with every gyrate. Click. If he could he’d hump back up into your wet little snatch. But his poor achy old back isn’t used to his 20yr old libido. The 50yr old man’s body isn’t adept to pleasing a pretty young 18yr old, but in this moment. The moment where your panties are soaked and catching on the outside of his pajamas pants, he thinks it doesn’t matter. Lisa shouts if you saw that move and you choke out a yes. Whether it was to Elvis’ fat fingers constricting your airways or the fact the friction is going to make you cum. Click. Your body starts to shake and pulse and he pulls you back to his chest. His thick stomach pushing into your back as he holds his palm over your mouth.

“Don’t say a word.”

He places the camera on the seat beside this thigh, running that hand flat over your stomach and to the hem of your panties. He plays with it. Running the fabric in his palm. Closing his fist and letting his gold rings run over it. He sticks his hand flat and into your panties. His palm flat on your mound, his middle and ring fingers play with your throbbing clit. The sight is ungodly. His big hand between your legs causing your panties to stretch out on your thighs. He whispers pretty words into your ear as he huffs. Your body spasms and shakes. Your cunt tightening over nothing as you cum. He pats your clit a couple times before removing his hand and wiping it on the your stomach by your belly button. He turns your head to the side and presses his lips to the side of your head. He pulls you off of his lap, picking up his camera and the fallen Polaroids up. He walks up into his room to finish what he started.

A couple days later you and Lisa decided to go to the mall to find some WWE shirts for an upcoming show. You told Elvis about the event and how you needed some money as he ate a peanut butter, banana and bacon sandwich. He nodded as he read the news, only half listening. Telling you to make sure that you have a driver and couple of the mafia guys to escort you and that his wallet was in his room. You giddily kissed his cheek and he smiled softly. You bounded up the stairs and into his room, finding his wallet where it normally was on his dresser. You opened it and as you pulled out a wad of one hundreds you gasped. The Polaroid of you on his lap fell out as well as pictures of him, Lisa and you at the aquarium. You grabbed at least a grand and shoved the Polaroids back in where you found it. Going to Lisa’s room and announcing that their allowance came early. Southern hospitality, you reminded yourself.

The letter

It was Sunday afternoon once again. Sometimes Elvis would get in this religious frenzy that church couldn’t even soothe. You and Lisa sat in front of his feet as he sat on the couch preaching. He had gotten to this one verse that he couldn’t seem to remember which was strange because he could remember a book start to finish as soon as he was done reading it. You watched as his bare bloodshot eyes wandered everywhere, searching for his words. He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. He’s disappointed in himself. He’s not as good of a Christian as he wants to be. He reaches down and holds your hand, staring into your eyes with such a softness that not even a cult member could obtain.

“Would you be a doll and get my Bible from my nightstand by my bed?”

You nodded eagerly and with an of course. He kissed the back of your hand as you stood up and walked to the stairs. He resumed his preaching to a different sermon to Lisa while you found his Bible. You walked into his room as you have a thousand times before and looked in his nightstand. Religious books and notes, medications. His coke. Nothing about the Holy book. You looked at the bottom drawer and you found it. Saying to yourself a little aha. However when you picked it up you found an envelope addressed to you. Your eyebrows were furrowed as you placed the book on his bed and picked up the letter. You had a moral confliction within yourself whether to open it or not. You finally decided to when you realized that he must’ve wanted you to read it eventually, right? You tore open the top of the envelope and took out the orange paper that he used for his notes and began to read.

“Dear little miss darlin’

“I don’t even know where to begin. I can’t even hardly see with how much I’ve sniffed. My hands are shaky and I’m nervous honey. For the first time in twenty years I’m nervous. I’m nervous about our encounters and if little yisa would find out. God, please don’t let her find out. I love you both too much for that to happen. I’m perverted and vile. I’m too far gone to be saved, I realize this now. I’ve prayed to God countless nights on my knees for him to fix it. To make me see you as nothing as my daughter’s friend, but pretty baby. Every time I look at you, or think about you, those sinful feelings start bubbling from my stomach and I can’t help them. I ain’t a strong man. I wish I could be so I can stop torturing myself with the thought of you. The thought of burying myself inside you and never leaving. Every woman I’ve been with, every woman I’ve fucked. I thought of you. I can’t get there anymore without thinking about you. I need help yittle one. I need your help. I need you to drain me so I can be whole again. I need you, I need you, I need you. God help me.”

“To be carnally minded is death; But to be spiritually minded is life and peace.”

His voice jolts you. He stands at the foot of the bed. He looks like a kicked dog. He’s ashamed.

“Romans 8:6, that is the verse I couldn’t remember.”

He shakes his head. Chuckling lightly, he runs a hand through his messy dark hair. You stare at him. Glancing back and forth at the letter and him.

“When did you write this?”

“After the Polaroid instance.”

You nod, speechless. Tormented. You want to be with him. You love him, but you know it’d never work. It’d have to be a secret for eternity. A secret that’s going to tear both of you from the inside out.

“So what are we?”

You ask shakily, dreading the answer. His face is grim and his eyes are glassy.

“Star-crossed lovers.”

#xreader #fanfic #smut #elvis presley #elvis presley x reader #elvis #elvis presley smut #elvis presley x reader smut #dark smut #dark Elvis #elvis x reader #elvis smut #70s elvis #80s #80s Elvis #dark themes #big age gap #big daddy elvis

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nsharks · 1 year

Text

bleeding blue | apocalypse au

part seven —other parts

pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!reader words: 3.3k tags: death. blood. zombies of course. reader menstruates. single dad ghost. there will be sex but it isn't here yet. slow burn!!! enemies to lovers. summary: After losing your companions, you run into a skull-masked man and his daughter. They are your last hope for survival. a/n: some chill stuff before more angst ya know

The next morning, it is your turn to slip a treat into Blue’s hand.

You can tell by her expression that the Twix bar is like gold to her. Her teeth sink in. She stifles a moan. She hisses a swear you haven’t heard yet— Fucking noodles.

It reminds you of the time Paul found a Cadbury egg for Joseph. You smile as you watch, the kind where your teeth manage to poke through and your cheeks have to do some stretching. Ghost is chopping wood somewhere on the other side of camp, but still, you decided to close the shed’s door.

Last night, you were too worn to stay in the cabin for long. You left just after Ghost shucked on some large helmet with two strange eyepieces attached to it. To see in the dark, Blue explained in a whisper. Of course he would have that. When you asked him where he was going, he’d mumbled under his breath, Gonna make sure you didn’t have any bloody followers. You hadn’t even thought of that. He must not have thought of it until you actually showed up, either. He expected you not to make it.

You don’t know how long he was out there, but by the fact that you’d woken up to his axe chopping wood instead of heads, you figured the territory was clear.

“Better than Nutella?” you ask Blue.

Grey light streaks through the shed and over her face. The smell of potential rain looms in the air.

“That’s a tough question,” she says, licking the residue from her lips. She’s eaten half. She folds the wrapper over to cover the rest and hands it to you. Sweets like these are rare. You told her you’d keep it in your bag until she wanted the rest.

“I think it’s a strong tie,” she decides and then groans, moving her chin to the dip of her folded knees. “I wish chocolate could be hunted.”

“Me, too.”

“Are you sure you don’t want the rest?” She sounds guilty. “It is your Twix.”

“No, really. It’s a thank you.” Your knee gives a nudge to hers. “As if you haven’t given me food that is yours before.”

The guilt turns into a smile.

“You know,” she then says, eyes flicking to your pillowcase bag of looted goods. “When I was looking at your clothes last night, I got an idea of how you could fix them. Can I—” she tilts her head, “Can I show you something?”

She leaves Grim with you as she departs to collect whatever it is she has to share. It turns out to be a magazine of all things. She clutches it to her chest, rolling her lips together before turning it around to show you. The bright ink is faded a little. The corners bent and worn. The date of the issue reads March 2018. There is a woman on the front - some model you can’t remember the name of - clad in a tight blue dress.

The sight is just as weird as the abandoned streets and homes. For a moment, you look down at the skin of your hands, abraded from your bowstring, and press your lips.

“Remember how I told you Ghost and I went to a military base once?” Looking back up, you nod. “Well, we were mainly there to get ammo but we also went through the barracks— that’s where they slept.”

She explains it as if you have no clue, which you don’t. Never in your life did you care about the military, except for that first day when you hoped they might come to find you in some big tanks or something. They didn't.

Blue giggles. “I found this in one of the men’s old dorms.”

When she sees your expression, she says, “It’s okay. I’m not stupid. Ghost told me his old teammates liked to look at pictures of pretty women sometimes when they got bored. Anyway, I’ve looked through it so many times. I like all the fancy clothes people used to wear.”

She begins to flip through the pages and points out a few things. Where before you sometimes zoned out, your mind distracted by survival, this time you listen fully. One page has an ad with lush grass in the background and she informs you that the shade of green is her favorite color.

“Not blue?”

“That is my name, not my favorite color." Her nose scrunches. "What is yours?”

Do you even have one? You think for a moment. What comes to mind are the flowers your mother used to grow at the house in Norbury.

“Violet,” you softly say. “Like the flowers.”

“Huh?”

“They are like… a bluish purple.”

“Oh! There are some flowers like that by the pond sometimes. Hopefully, they come back this year."

Another page she points to has people laying on a white beach with crystal-like water. Blue says she hopes to go there someday. Not to just any beach. That beach.

When she passes an ad with a young man’s face on it - someone about your own age - she pauses for a moment and looks up.

"Do you think he is cute?" she asks. A tender curiosity.

"Um," you can't remember the last time you saw a man's face besides Paul. Ghost is always covered. She holds the page up so you can see it better. A sharp jaw. Dark hair and a strong nose.

"Yeah, he is very cute. Do you think so?"

She nods and bites her lip. "Did you… have a husband before shit happened?"

"What?" You frown. "I'm not that old."

"A boyfriend, then?"

"I had," you search the memories. They feel unimportant. Buried. "I had a few people who I enjoyed spending time with in uni."

"Like sex?"

You almost choke. "What?"

"I am not stupid," she says again. "The rabbits. They do it all the time. Ghost told me that's how they have their babies, and that is how him and my mum had me."

Oh. This is the first time Blue has ever mentioned her mother and you don't know why, but it makes your stomach tight. But she doesn't add anything else about her, as if she'd just told you the sky is blue or Grim is her friend. Something so casual. Brushed aside. As if, she hadn't mentioned it at all.

You don't pry about it.

Not to a kid. Trauma, grief— you can only imagine what a young brain has decided to do with them. But for a moment, your brain tries to imagine what kind of woman it could have been, what kind of woman Ghost enjoyed spending his time with. The only thing you can picture is Blue's eyes. She clearly didn't get them from him.

Blue moves on from the picture of the man. The page she really meant to show you is of a woman wearing jeans with a belt around them. She points to it and explains you could try something like that for the jeans you found.

Right. Jeans. Along with the blouse you grabbed, you got an ugly pink sweater and some jeans that won’t fit you.

"That’s called a belt," you say. “I don’t have one.”

“I have an old shoelace,” Blue says. “How about that?”

“That could work.”

Blue tells you bluntly that you need to bathe first. You smell like those fucks, no offense. You take your new clothes and she finds you a rag. In the bathroom, you harshly scrub your skin to erase the smell of rot. You wash your hair which is slick with sweat.

On your wrist, you notice a light bruise growing where that Grey had grabbed you. Luckily, you were too tired last night for your brain to conjure up any nightmares, otherwise, you probably would've had one about it biting you. Even a bite to just your hand - to a finger - would be enough for the virus to enter the bloodstream. You don’t want to admit it, but with that revolver, Ghost saved your life again.

After bathing, you slip on the blouse and a pair of too-big jeans. Blue gives you the shoelace. You feed it through the belt loops. It works well enough. The pantlegs fall past your ankles so you roll them. You tuck the large blouse so the excess fabric won’t get in the way while you hunt. The sweater… you don’t bother with it for now. It’s not warm enough. You will stick with Paul’s old coat when you go outside.

You look in the mirror again.

You stroke your own cheek, looking yourself over. You smooth your hands over the clothes. Underneath, you feel the plush of your breasts. The muscles of your stomach. The curves of your ribs. You are almost back to your normal weight, but it is still evening out. Under your eyes, the skin remains grey. Floorboards and stress will do that to a person.

"Let me see," Blue says on the other side of the door before you open it. You can still hear Ghost chopping wood outside.

“It’s not as bad as I thought it would be.” She touches the sleeves. “These are pretty long. They will get in the way when you shoot arrows, right?”

You nod. “Can you bring me the scissors?”

After you cut the sleeves down to your wrists, Blue picks up the scraps of fabric. “Hey, you could tie your braids with these. Like ribbons.”

"I could," you shrug and give a smile. "But I think they would look nicer on you."

The shyness returns as she nods. Gently, you guide her in front of the mirror and begin working your fingers through her hair, just as you do most evenings.

You notice her staring in the mirror with studious eyes as if she is trying to understand exactly what she sees. You wonder if she ever compares herself to those girls in the magazine. An eleven-year-old you certainly used to.

"You look very pretty, Blue."

"It doesn't matter if I do," she shrugs. "It's not like anyone will ever actually get to see me."

"Well," you swallow, "I get to see you right now, and I think you are pretty."

"Thanks.” She accepts the compliment with a puckered expression, before it softens and she adds, "I think you are, too, Twix.”

Twix?

But before you can question it, you hear the front door shut and realize that the sound of chopping wood has been gone for at least a minute. It is clearly Ghost entering the cabin.

You drop your hands before you can finish the braids, stepping back.

He calls out her name.

Recalling the rifle he pointed at you yesterday, you whisper to Blue, "Maybe you should go out before he—“

But of course, his heavy boots approach. The dark shadow of him materializes in the bathroom's doorway, consuming the space with his head dipped down to fit.

You turn around to face her father at the same time Blue does. His brows are drawn low and in one hand he carries the axe. You notice a sheen of sweat at the bridge of his nose where his mask begins.

The thing is, you try to avoid being spotted alone with Blue like this. She talks to you in your shed. You interact when he is busy with things.

Ghost reaches for Blue’s hand. He gently tugs her to him. He cups the back of her head and bends down to meet her level, though he is still much taller.

"Remember what we talked 'bout?”

What did they talk about?

"I remember," she mumbles. She tugs her arm away. "I was just helping her with her new clothes.” Smoothly, she changes the topic. “What do you think? The shoelace was my idea."

Blue. You almost groan, feeling his dark eyes slowly shift over to you. You think you would rather him press the axe to your throat than share his opinion about your clothes— they aren’t exactly like what the models in Blue’s magazine wore. His stare rarely does anything other than burn holes through your skin, so it is no surprise when you feel the heat through your blouse, up your neck, and all the way to your cheeks.

You look down at your feet.

Then, a bitter memory comes to mind.

You look like you're one 'em already.

That is what Ghost said once.

For a brief moment, you wonder if he still thinks it.

He doesn’t give an answer. All he does is clear his throat. Your strange curiosity fades as he stands and looks down at his daughter.

"C'mon, kid. Start the fire with me."

"No, not yet. She needs to finish my hair, Ghost."

He allows it, but remains in the doorway, watching as you finish her braids, using the fabric as floral bows to tie them off.

It looks nice.

It rains just like you thought it would.

Not too heavy, but enough to cut your hunt short for the day, earning you only one squirrel.

When you return to camp, you find Blue crouched over the wood planter as she covers the sodden soil with a layer of mulch. Apparently, Ghost had her plant some cabbage seeds before the rain. The mulch is to stop the seeds from washing away, she explains.

Spring will soon arrive. With it, some crops to add to their meals. Good for them. Maybe you can convince Ghost to lend you a seed or two to plant for yourself.

After dinner, you sit by the fireplace with your boots off in order to warm your toes. The soft drum of rain against the cabin's walls lulls you into a trance as you listen to Ghost quietly read to Blue. Sometimes he points to words for her to try.

Tonight it is a book you recognize.

The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe.

Your father read it to you once. A younger version of yourself told him it was too boring. But now you find yourself quite liking the story about a magic wardrobe where kids can escape to another world.

Blue falls asleep on the couch. Ghost carries her to bed like usual. It is your time to leave. The rain has died down some but you already know the water has probably leaked into your shed. Lovely.

But again you are stopped by a hand around your arm.

You turn to see Ghost. He clutches the map in the other hand.

“Um. What is it?”

You slip your arm away, his grip allowing it. Is he mad about you hanging out with Blue? Did he discover your secret exchanges? Is he going to finally kick you out since you didn't die like he probably hoped?

“Sit with me.”

You raise your eyebrows. He motions for you to follow him to the table so you sit down, hands in your lap, and pick at the skin of your knuckles. He spreads the map open. He also has a pencil in his hand. Between gloved fingers, he fiddles with it before sliding it over to you.

To your surprise, he demands, “Show me where you went.”

Although confused, you abide, making a small mark over the village. Ribchester.

His eyes narrow. “Not jus’ that. Show me which way you went.”

“This way,” you say, annoyed by his tone. Faintly, you draw a line through the forest all the way to the highway. “Then I followed the road.”

He takes the pencil from you and slides the map back in front of him, sweeping his eyes over the marks you’ve made. Under the black fabric, you detect the contour of his lips pressed into a straight line.

“How many were there?”

“Not many, really,” you admit. “Do you… Are you wanting to go there?”

You furrow your brows as you recall what Blue said. They don't make trips often. It is not like Ghost has much need to.

“No.” Not looking at you, he draws a mark some kilometers south of the one you made. “I want to go here.”

“Why?”

“I need ammo.”

His voice is clinical and gruff. You definitely prefer it over threatening. As he continues, it officially becomes the most words he has ever spoken to you.

“Went to a base over here two years ago.” He points a gloved digit to a spot on the east side of the forest. That must be the trip that Blue was talking about. “Wasn’t much left. Took what I could.”

“You’re all out of ammo, then?”

He gives you a flat look. “No. But I’m runnin’ low. I don’t want to wait until I am all out to go. Need some ammo to make it there, don’t I?”

“Why haven’t you gone sooner?” you pry slowly. “Why do you want to go now?”

“Got a bit more to lose than you do.”

It is a harsh truth, inviting a sharp breath through your lungs. What he means is he has someone he loves, unlike you. Someone he can’t just leave behind on her own.

You realize that Ghost probably avoids leaving this haven he has set up for that very reason, and maybe it is also why he is particularly conservative about their supplies. Whenever they end up running low, he has to drag her along with him to get more. The threats out there can be hard to predict. You’d been lucky.

Ghost continues.

“But if you could make it through here,” he gestures back to the marks you made. The route can act as a way to the military base, but he would still have to go further, maybe 10 kilometers past the village. “Then I can make it that way with her.”

You nod slowly as you begin to wonder why he is telling you this. But then, it sinks in, a pit settling in your stomach. If they leave, where are you supposed to go?

Ghost must read the expression that takes over your face. You don't wear a mask.

“You’re comin’ with us.”

“What?” You stand up, shaking your head as you hiss through your teeth. “No. I don’t want to. I just fucking got back.”

“You’re not staying here on your own,” he growls quietly. “I’m not askin’ whether you want to go or not.”

You catch his eyes. Black glass reflects the dim glow of the fire.

Of course.

He doesn’t trust you enough to stay here.

You have no choice.

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley #ghost #cod #zombies

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specialagentlokitty · 1 year

Text

Derek Shepherd x Daughter!reader - making it up to you

Derek Shepherd with a teen daughter plss? i have no specific storyline but i’d lovee to see a hurt/comfort between them! - Anon💜

Sitting with your uncle in the hospital cafeteria, you looked around as you tried to find your dad but there was absolutely no sight of him anywhere.

“What’s up kid? You look more upset then that time I didn’t let you push me in the pool.” Mark chuckled.

You cracked a small smile but it quickly fell as you looked to the table at the food tray that your trash was sat on waiting to be tossed.

Mark frowned a little but he didn’t say anything as he waited for you to reply.

“I was actually supposed to have lunch with dad… I couldn’t find him or call him though so I called you because I was already here…” you mumbled.

“Ouch, I’m hurt you never even thought about me little shepherd.”

This got a small laugh out of you and Mark smiled, pulling your tray over to his side and he stacked it on his gesturing for you to get up and follow him.

So you did, he got up and you did the same, following him around the hospital.

He gestured for you to wait while he went into a staff only room, and he came out about 10 minutes later holding his hand out to you.

“What?” You asked.

“Well if you’re dad isn’t going to be a dad to you, I will. Let’s go, we’re gonna grab some snacks, and watch that crappy Tv show you like so much.”

“You don’t have to uncle, I know you probably want to sleep.”

Mark rolled his eyes, placing his hand on your head as he gently pulled you next to him, arm around your shoulder as he started to walk.

“I have a week off kid, I couldn’t care less about missing a day of sleep. Plus you’re more important right now, and I want you to tell me everything that’s going on with your dad, got it?”

You nodded and he grinned down at you.

Derek saw you leaving the hospital with Mark, and he went to walk over when he was stopped by Meredith calling his name.

He looked at you before turning back to Meredith.

You were with Mark so he knew you were safe, he’d see you after his shift when he got home anyways, and he was sure if it was important you would’ve called him.

Walking over to Meredith he smiled as he pulled her in for a hug.

You spent the whole day at the apartment with your uncle watching tv and laughing and joking you were still excited for when your dad finished his shift, you were supposed to be going to dinner with him.

As the time ticked by you felt your happiness slowly fall and this was something mark noticed.

“(Y/N)?” He asked as he grabbed his jacket.

He stopped leaving and turned around as he heard your heavy sigh.

“His shift ended an hour ago and he’s not home… he’s not even bothered to call but I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised…”

“Let me call him, okay? I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

You waited for Mark to return and when he did he seemed angry, but he kept his temper as he walked over and sat next to you.

“He’s not coming home tonight.”

“It’s because of her? Right?”

He nodded his head.

Of course it was because of her, ever since you two moved here it was all about that Meredith.

You couldn’t even go live with your mom because she moved away, and you didn’t want to leave your school and friends again.

Tears burned your eyes and mark placed a hand on your shoulder.

“Come on, pack some of your stuff you’re coming to mine for a few days, you shouldn’t be abandoned like this.”

“What about when dad comes back?”

Mark shrugged and gave you a grin.

“I’ll fight him if you want me to, I’m adopting you now, you’re a sloan now kid.”

You laughed and rolled your eyes.

“Alright dad.” You sassed.

“That’s weird, don’t say that.”

“Hey, you said I’m your blood now. That makes you my dad!”

“No! I’m still your uncle!”

“Nope! I’ve adopted you. You’re my father now. There’s no escaping.”

“Oh yes there is.”

Mark bolted from the apartment with your packed bag in his hand and you laughed chasing after him, only stopping to lock the door behind you.

Derek called you the following day, but seemed to be happy when you told him you were spending time with Mark.

Even after Marks holiday ended you stay with him, you practically lived with him at this point and Derek finally realised you’d been gone a long time.

You weren’t feeling well, and Mark had taken the day to look after you, and that’s when he realised it wasn’t getting any better.

Your fever was going up, and you were getting worse and worse and Mark started to panic.

“Come on, we’re going to the hospital. Come on.” He whispered.

He helped you pull your favourite hoodie on over your head to try stop your from shivering, then he wrapped you in the blanket next to you and picked you up.

You were dazed, barely making any sense when you talked.

He didn’t bother locking his door, he didn’t care if he was robbed or not, you were far more important.

He rushed you to the hospital and upon seeing you in the surgeons arms the nurses wasted no time in rushing you away to start preforming tests on you.

“Sloan? Why are you here I though you had the day off?”

Mark turned to Meredith and he scowled at her.

“Tell Derek to remember that he’s a damn father!” He snapped before storming off.

All Mark could do was pace while he waited for you to return, and he didn’t see or hear from Derek while he did.

After what felt like days Mark was escorted to your room and you were half asleep when he walked in.

He closed the door and walked over.

“Mark…?” You mumbled out.

“Hey kiddo, I’m here.”

“What.. what’s wrong with me…”

Mark sat up on the side of your bed and let you hold his hand as you wheezed for breath.

“You caught the flu, you’ve got a real bad cause of pneumonia, but you’re going to be okay.” He whispered.

You nodded your head and closed your eyes, taking a shallow breath.

“Where’s… dad…?”

“He’ll be here soon.”

You nodded again and fell asleep.

Mark didn’t actually know where Derek was, he didn’t even know if he was at the hospital today or not.

He didnt bother trying to call his friend either, if he was there, if he wasn’t answering the hospitals calls then that’s Derek’s fault, not yours.

Mark had fallen asleep while sitting with you, what woke him up was the sound of someone trying to quietly close the door.

He peaked an eye open and closed it again.

“So you remembered you’ve got a daughter?” He asked.

“I was in a meeting, I didn’t know. My phone was off, and no one came to find me.”

Mark scoffed.

Derek walked over and stood at the edge of the bed as he looked down at your pale form.

“How is she?” He asked.

“If you were here you would’ve known, or you can just get her chart and read it.”

“Mark just tell me how my daughter is. I’m her legal guardian not you.” Derek growled.

Mark got up and pushed Derek out the room, closing the door softly behind him and spun around to face Derek.

As mark spun around he punched Derek in the face, sending him stumbling back.

“Her legal guardian?! Where were you when she waited for you to come home to have dinner with her?! Or when she was crying her eyes out because she missed Addison! That’s right, you were banging Grey!”

“I wasn’t with Meredith! I was busy with patients and (Y/N) seemed happy staying with you for a while!”

“Yeah, well she was pissed with you and didn’t want ti be alone. I’ve been more of a father to the kid in the past few weeks then you have been in months!” Mark hissed.

His went back into your room while Derek brought a hand up to cover his bloody nose, glancing at all the people who stopped to look at him before he walked away.

Derek tended to his nose, and he started at himself in the mirror, tears filling his eyes.

Was he really pushing you away?

The door to the on call room was pushed open and quietly closed and Derek turned around to find mark standing there.

“Here to punch me again?“ Derek snapped.

“No, look I’m sorry. It’s just (Y/N)s been really missing you man. She needs you.”

“I know.. I’ve fucked up Mark… big time..”

Mark walked over, placing a hand on his best friends shoulder.

“And you can still make it right, she’s asking for you.”

Mark pulled Derek in for a hug, patting his back before he pulled away and pushed him towards the door.

“Now go, I’m going to grab her phone charger and some food, but she wants you.”

Derek rushed to your room and made his way inside to see you had fallen asleep again.

He walked over and sat where mark had been sat not long ago, and he wrapped his arms around you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head as he laid with you.

“Dad…?” You mumbled.

“I’m here sweetheart, just rest.”

You made a noise and cuddled yourself into his side, a soft smile on your face as you did

#greys anatomy x you #greys anatomy imagine #greys anatomy mark sloan #greys anatomy x reader #greys anatomy #greys anatomy derek shepherd #derek shepherd imagine #derek shepherd #Derek shepherd x reader

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jae-sch-writes · 3 months

Text

Fruity Confessions

Characters: Sam Winchester x Reader, Dean Winchester

Word Count: 1,584

Genre: fluffy goodness

Summary: After a hunt, the Reader gets very drunk. What will Sam do?

Warnings: alcohol consumption (like, a lot of it), mention of murder (nothing out of SPN norm), mention of smut (in a book), hinted at smutty thoughts

A/N: What's up Tumblr? It's been a while. Writing is gonna be all over the place because I have a kid now! (crazy, right?) But as a SAHM, I have a lot of free time to write, so here's to (hopefully), getting back into it. Edited by Grammarly, but any and all mistakes are no one's fault but me, myself, and I.

Want to read more? SPN Masterlist Full Masterlist

You were a fruity drink kinda girl. While the boys had their variety of beers, you preferred Smirnoff Ices or a seltzer of some kind. When the situation called for something a little harder, like at the end of every hunt, the Winchesters drank whiskey, and you enjoyed a bottle of wine.

With each state you’ve gone to, you made sure to find a winery from that state, and if they had a fruity-flavored bottle, you were definitely getting at least one. This time- Wisconsin.

A hunt had brought you to Green Bay: at Lambeau Field to be specific. Home field Packers’ games were canceled after eight different fans of the Detroit Lions were found dead after their game. It didn’t take long to find out it was a ghost, however, finding out who the ghost was was a different story. After lots of research, Sam had determined it was Bart Starr, the Packers’ quarterback during their first Super Bowl win.

“The dude’s buried in Alabama, so how the hell did he make it here beyond the grave?” Dean asked.

“One of Starr’s jerseys is at the Field. That’s definitely what he’s being tethered to, but it’s gonna be difficult getting it out of its case. Lambeau has all of their memorabilia in cases with alarms,” you said, not looking up from your book. After some moments of silence, you looked up to see Sam and Dean looking at you like you had three heads. “What? I know things.”

“Yeah, but about football?” Dean was shocked. “Not even the game itself, but the fact you just happened to know one of these random player’s jerseys was in their museum? It’s weird.”

“Dean, leave her be, she literally just told us what we’ve gotta burn.” Sam was impressed. While he had never been interested in sports, he was pleasantly surprised by your knowledge, however niche of a topic it may be. “But, I gotta know,” Sam turned to you, “how did you know that?”

“I’ve been to a game or two at Lambeau Field. My dad was a Packers fan.”

You happened to be the one to go to the jersey to burn it while the boys were your backup. The faded green jersey with the number 15 on it was lit up in its display case. You all knew it had to be in and out. Break the case, burn the jersey, and get the hell out.

The sound of shattering glass came with the sound of an alarm, alerting the guard at the entrance to the museum portion of the stadium. Bart Starr was throwing around Sam and Dean like they were footballs.

You had just barely been able to get a match onto the jersey before security was able to see you. Luckily, the small flame was enough to distract him and made him run in the opposite direction to get a fire extinguisher.

The next morning, as Sam and Dean were packing up, you drove to a state business called Festival Foods. There, you found their selection of state-made wines. You opted for a couple of labels all made of cranberries. If you were grabbing wines made in Wisconsin, you might as well grab ones made with one of the state’s bigger industries.

You spent the twelve hours from Green Bay back to Lebanon in almost complete silence. You and Sam reading your books, and Dean humming along to whatever song was playing on the radio.

The minute you got home, you grabbed the cooler and went to the kitchen. Your only thoughts were on the wine you had got and how you needed to try it.

“Y/N, you didn’t even grab your-” Sam’s sentence was interrupted by seeing you grabbing a wine glass from the cupboard. “I’ll go put your bag in your room.” Sam knew better than to get between you and your wine. The last time he tried that, he ended up on the floor from trying to cut you off for the night. Your love for wine and need for a drink after a hunt had given you the drunken power to somehow take him down, despite the size difference between you and him.

Sam retreated from the kitchen to his bedroom. You took your bottle, glass, and book to the library and settled yourself into the loveseat you had picked for nights like these.

About 3/4ths of the bottle in, you had abandoned the thought of a wine glass and just started drinking straight from the bottle. Your mind was wandering from the fantasy-romance you were reading and to thoughts of Sam. When you reached a smutty part of the story, you couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to be with Sam in that way.

You were now a bottle down, and made your way back to the kitchen to open up another one. It really didn't take long for you to finish the second bottle. You were stumbling to the kitchen, with the intent to grab your third bottle, when you were stopped by the table in the library, not at it, by it. You had walked right into it, almost like you forgot the large oak table was there.

Getting to the kitchen truly was difficult for you, your drunken version of a marathon. Sam heard all of the commotion going on and took a guess on where you were heading. Usually he would leave you be, but being able to hear you walk into things, he decided to risk you being mad at him.

He stood in the doorway, blocking the entrance to the kitchen, and let you walk right into him. It took him everything to keep him from laughing at your face when you were met with the wall of muscle.

“Sammy, whaddya doin’ here?” Your words were slurred, but not incoherent.

“Preventing alcohol poisoning,” Sam grabbed your hand and guided you down the hall. “Come on, let's get you to bed.”

“Can I sleep in yours?” Your drunken state left you with no filter. The words just came out of your mouth.

“Ya know, given you walked right into me like I was invisible, that might actually be a good idea.”

Sam’s response invoked a giggle from you, and he couldn't help but smile. Even though you were stumbling down the halls of the Bunker, bumping into Sam every couple of steps, he thought you were adorable. You were usually pretty reserved and in control, but like this, you’re care-free, not calculating your every move.

It took almost twice as long to get to Sam’s room as usual with how many times you bumped into him or tripped over your own feet resulting in him having to catch you. Sam told himself after the fourth time if you fell one more time, he was just going to pick you up and carry you the rest of the way. Much to his dismay, that did not happen. He would have loved to know your reaction in the morning if you remembered him doing that.

When you finally reached Sam’s room, the first thing you did was flop on the bed, or attempt to anyway. Thankfully, you fell just short of landing all the way on so your head never hit the floor. Sam chuckled and helped you up. Before laying back down, you took off your shirt, leaving you in just your bra and sweatpants.

This wasn't the first time Sam had seen you without a shirt, or the first time the two of you shared a bed, but this time was different. This time you were drunk and didn't really know what you were doing. In your drunken state, you were just getting ready for bed, for Sam, he couldn't help but think that you thought of him as someone safe. Why else would you have asked if you could stay with him tonight?

Sam got you comfy on the bed, all the while you were giggling up a storm. Sam looked at you and smiled. “What? What's so funny, Y/N/N?”

“Nothin’. I just think you're cute. And tall,” you looked at Sam with big eyes and a goofy grin. “Oh my gosh you're so tall.”

“Yeah, okay,” Sam chuckled. “Let's just get you to sleep, alright?”

You nodded as he helped you make sure you didn't smack your head against his bed frame. Sam grabbed the small trash can sitting at his desk and brought it to your side of the bed. You usually held your liquor really well, but given your state, he didn't want to take any chances.

“Sammy?” you say quietly.

“Yeah?”

“I love you,” your voice got serious. Sam knew you'd be falling asleep soon, you always stopped being goofy towards the end of the night.

“I mean it. I really do,” Sam knew you weren't just saying that because you were drunk. If you were talking, your filter may be going, but you mean every word that comes out of your mouth.

“I know you do,” Sam smiled softly before crawling into his bed behind you and pulling his blanket over the two of you. He let his arm fall over your side and rubbed his thumb in small circles over your stomach. He hated not knowing if you were going to remember this in the morning.

He waited to hear your breathing become slow and steady before whispering, “I love you, too, Y/N/N.”

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add yourself HERE

#fanfiction #fanfic #one shot #imagine #oneshot #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural #supernatural fanfic #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester fluff #sam winchester fanfiction #sam winchester fanfic #sam winchester oneshot #sam x reader #sam winchester #spn #supernatural fluff #spn fluff

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mvltisstuff · 7 months

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Heyy, i love your fics so michh, can u make Buck x reader, they have a newborn girl and reader is stressed because the baby won't stop crying and buck helps her. Take your time!💋

close to you - e.b

summary: request

evan buckley x reader

gif

a/n: this is such a great idea, and i’m so happy you asked me to execute it <3 madeline is also inspired by the name maddie, as i feel like that’s so cute for buck :((

madeline was a gift from the moment y/n took time off work because of her pregnancy. she was a gift the moment they decided on a name. she was a gift the moment she entered the world in the small hospital room.

however, y/n despised herself for thinking part of it was a curse. she loved her daughter more than anything in the world despite the short amount of weeks that she had arrived. buck had gone back to work, but y/n needed more time to recover from the birth. she got the pleasure of staying home with her baby, and she genuinely thought so.

it wasn’t until the constant screams came through madeline’s mouth that y/n started to get more and more tensed. her head was pounding, her body was sore and she just wanted to give her baby peace.

she felt like the worst mother in the world, not being able to comfort or secure her baby girl. she figured it would come naturally. in reality, it’s never been harder.

she cried when she was hungry, needed a diaper change, sleepy, or she just cried. it seemed like it was always that she just cried and screamed. it burned in y/n’s ear painfully as she listened to the squeals of her daughter. she just wanted her to be happy, and buck wasn’t there to help.

“mad, please.” y/n begged when her eyes started to water again, and the quiet squeaks left her baby’s soft cheeks. “i’m so sorry, i want to help you.”

y/n sighed as she rocked the baby in her arms, the bags under her eyes only getting darker as she stayed up with madeline. buck was exhausted when he came home, so he just went to sleep. y/n was fine with that as he did everything he could for his girls, all the time.

she’d be lying if she said she didn’t miss buck every hour.

he had some type of paternal magic to him that eased madeline. it brought her down to earth, and it gave y/n time to relax. her hormones were all over to place. every time her baby cried, it flooded her body was sadness and exhaustion. she was deeply jealous of buck secretly because of the ease he seemed to have with handling their child.

“hey, dad,” hen smiled, seeing buck walk back into the station after a few weeks with his wife and baby alone. “how’s y/n and the baby?”

“they’re good, i feel so bad leaving them though.”

“it’s hard to leave, that’s the last thing i wanted to do when we first got denny.”

“it’s just- i talk to you about anything, right?”

“of course, buck! what makes you say that, though.”

“madeline cries a lot, and i can just tell in y/n’s face that somethings wrong. i mean, i get that babies cry, but it just seems like it’s taking a huge toll on y/n. i don’t want her thinking she’s a bad mom, and if what happened to maddie happens to her,” buck thinks back to his sister, who went to hell and back trying to be a better mom for jee-yun. it breaks his heart to even consider y/n feeling left in the dark the same way. “i can’t handle that.”

“listen, buck,” hen lands a hand on his shoulder. “it’s going to be ok. you could even go for a little longer off work, you came back really soon.”

“y/n said it’d be good for us, and make me happier.”

“but is it making things easier? you both need to be doing this together. y/n’s saying a lot of stuff she doesn’t mean, and her mind is running at a 100 miles an hour.”

“i know,” buck says. “i’m gonna see her after the shift, i’ll talk to bobby. see what i can do.”

y/n continued to pace around the kitchen for hours, her lower back beginning to ache and her ears hurting from the wails of the baby in her arms. she tried everything from feeding her to rocking her in her swing, but nothing seemed to stop the cries of her daughter.

“madeline, please, i’m begging you,” y/n whines, practically on her knees for her child to stop crying.

the cries quickly started to blend in, y/n realizing that they’ll never go away. she wasn’t sick or anything, y/n repeatedly checked, but madeline still was just simply unhappy. and, y/n swore she was the problem.

buck arrived home late in the night, hours past dinner and inching closer to the bedtime of their casual family. when he opened the door, he just knew that y/n was in there with their baby, struggling to hang on and fix the problem.

“y/n?” he calls out, wandering around their home and finally landing in the nursery. the light purple walls and decorations were darkened, y/n and madeline sitting in the chair together. y/n’s shirt had been pulled down so she was able to feed madeline, but it seemed like no use. the baby in her arms was still weeping and throwing her tiny hands around. “oh, y/n.”

her blank expression told it all, along with the dark bags under her eyes. “she’s so upset, buck, i don’t know what to do.” y/n murmurs slightly over the cries of the baby.

“it’s ok, honey, we’re gonna figure it out.” y/n’s eyes just water with each tear that drops from madeline’s eyes. “no, no, it’s okay, y/n.”

“i’m sorry, i’m just so tired.”

“i know, i’m here now. we can fix this, okay?” y/n swipes under her eyes, taking in sharp breaths and trying to steady herself. “hey, honey, listen to me. you’re ok, madeline’s ok, i’m ok. we’ll be alright.

she nods as his arm touches her side, the baby wrapped in his other arm. “alright. why don’t you hold her, and i’m gonna go see if our noise machine is here yet.”

buck rustles through packages and gifts from their baby shower and tries to find anything that might help their girl sleep, and anything that will bring relief to y/n.

“i found it! it’ll be white noise, which we should’ve tried sooner. i don’t know if it’ll work, but it won’t hurt to try.”

buck allowed y/n to place the baby in her crib, letting her tiny body rest against the soft mattress. they turned the lights off and plugged in the machine, which sang out the staticky white noise that calmed their daughter.

her crying started to come to a halt after a bit of hearing the noise, her adorable little eyes shutting after a bit to finally rest. y/n could feel her whole body relax under seeing her baby finally sleep, as it had felt like days.

she felt like crying, she felt like sleeping, but she also felt like she had so much to do. the house was a mess, her baby had finally gotten to sleep, but she also wanted to sleep. it felt like one thing after another, and buck looked over again to see a y/n staring at the ground.

“what’s the matter? talk to me, y/n.”

“i’m not cut out for this,” her shaky voice comes out, his hands on the sides of her arms.

“what? of course you are!”

“i can barely manage to keep this house together, let alone keep our baby happy and i haven’t even been able to go back to work! i feel like shit and i just want to be happy with my baby, but i don’t even know if she’s happy and-“

“alright, i know,” she allows herself to fall into bucks grasp, as he worries silently for her in his mind. he can feel the exhaustion venting off her body, begging for sleep and somewhere to lay in peace and quiet. “i don’t want you worrying about anything else. let’s go to sleep, and i’m gonna help you, i promise. i’m never leaving either of your sides.”

his arms warmly grasp her body clad in a soft set. he leads her to their shared bed, pulling the blankets out and holding her as she finally gets her deserved sleep.

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ecoamerica · 1 month

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youtube

Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

The American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 broadcast recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by active climate leaders. Watch to find out which finalist received the $50,000 grand prize! Hosted by Vanessa Hauc and featuring Bill McKibben and Katharine Hayhoe!

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lethalchiralium · 8 months

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You should totally not write a part two to Missus dying during birth. Where it's set month later??? Years later??? 😏😉😏

I mean the double angst would be just to much to bare! 😏😉😏

(No.... because side note I'm living for your GIRL DAD SIMON 😭🫶)

oh so you guys are EVIL evil. i partially wrote some of this way back, i was playing with the thought of her death but decided against it. this did get me in the mood to write for ACTUAL happiness, so watch out for that lol

warnings: alcoholism, grief.

happiness au!

Simon found that could never hold anger like he used to. It dissipates as quickly as it festers, he tried so hard to find something to be angry at over your death. He couldn’t be angry at Roach, he was with you in his place. He couldn’t be angry at Price, he was doing his job. He couldn’t be angry at you because you had done the best you could to get in touch with him. You nurtured his children, one sprinting around and one in your once warm belly.

He held his hand over WInnie’s eyes at the end of the funeral, little Mellie asleep in his arm yet still angling her away from the scene - he couldn’t bear to have his daughters watch their mother be lowered into the ground.

He did discover that alcohol makes the incredible pain disappear just a little.

In the month after your death, it was a cycle for Simon and Price to keep Winnie and Mellie afloat while he destroyed himself as they slept soundly. Drinking himself into a stupor and collapsing on his bedroom floor; his hazed mind forcing him to spread out on the hardwood, telling himself he didn’t deserve to sleep in a bed. In your bed. And despite the dozens of pounds he wasted on alcohol for that first month, the thought of you could never quite escape his mind.

You left nothing to direct him, nothing to guide him. Just hazy memories of your smile, dim visions of the way your skin touched his, faint pulses on his lips of what used to be your heartbeat. You had nothing away, no letters or little notes in any nook and cranny of his home - he checked drunk, he checked sober. He wanted to slam his hand into the wall that morning, hungover and wanting to scream - but his little baby Mellie babbled on his bed, little fingers dug into her stuffed dog, completely unaware of the myriad of emotions painted on the walls. It was like Simon had exploded, his emotions were everywhere.

And after one horrible night, Simon found himself on the floor of his room again. But he wasn’t alone - under his blanketed arm and curled into his side was Winnie, her green bear tucked into her own chest. His heart broke again at that, and even with the intense hangover, he picked up his daughter. He took the few steps back to sit on his bed, her gentle eyes slowly fluttering open.

“Do you wanna sleep up here, lovie?” He asked her, trying to keep his voice even as his head pounded.

“Just wanna make sure you’re okay.” His daughter mumbled, one hand wiping one of her eyes as she looked up at him. That made his heart burn like it had been doused in oil and set aflame. He crawled into the bed that hasn’t known warmth since you died, tucking in his four year old and keeping her close to his chest.

“Dad’s gonna be okay.” He whispered to his daughter, tears spilling from his eyes. “I promise.”

After that early morning, Simon stopped drinking and stayed sober for years afterwards. He was proud of himself for that seemingly small feat, but he was still devastated by the loss of you, he felt it every single day since. Teaching Mellie to walk, to talk, and to run were the first times Simon felt your loss again - he cried tears each time, knowing that it should have been you and him teaching your daughter these things. That you and him should have been teaching your children how to ride a bike, help them with their stupid math homework, help them navigate life.

But it was just Simon, trying to fill your shoes that he never had the heart to move from the front door.

He had tried to quit the 141 when you passed, but Price wouldn’t let him. Keeping him on desk duty meant Simon still got incredible pay and benefits, it meant Simon could take baby Mellie with him to base, it meant he could make it home before his kids got off of school when they were older. He never gave his all to the military again.

He had to learn all about periods when Winnie was twelve so he could help her as best he could. He had to learn all about her friends, then Mellie’s friends - he felt that time was always going too fast. He comforted his children through the loss of their beloved cat. He met boyfriends and girlfriends before his daughters finally fled the nest, leaving him alone for the first time in 22 years.

The month after he was left alone again, he opened a bottle of bourbon. He felt the pain creep back into his skin, he needed relief. He needed to not know what pain was. He’d drink when he was alone. He wouldn’t dare to have a drop when his children were around, when his grandkids were ever in his home. But when he was alone? It seemed just a glass of three fingers turned into a bottle, sleeping a couple hours turned into twenty, three missed calls from Mellie and a seven texts from Winnie - all asking if he was alright, that his constant sleeping was making them nervous.

One day, Simon tried to open his nightstand to find his ID tags, he was drunk the night before and woke up without them. He never slept without them, it was his way of comforting himself with something he’s had almost all his life. The nightstand’s drawer wouldn’t budge, wouldn’t pull open. He reached his hand underneath the drawer to try and dislodge whatever was keeping it from opening - a letter falls into his hand. He grew confused, there is no address or writing on the front - it’s obviously old too. He opened the envelope, seeing a date written on the lip in handwriting he’s wished to read for decades.

The day before Mellie’s birth was written clearly.

He ripped the paper from the envelope and fell to his knees, a photo of you in the hospital floated to the floor as he reads the letter. The last picture of you ever taken, one that came from that little polaroid camera he bought you before he left his whole family for the last time.

You didn’t leave him without direction. He just didn’t know where to look.

i love all the happiness asks so much that the new happiness chapter will be coming very soon

#happiness series #lethalchiralium #lethal chiralium #simon ghost riley #simon riley #call of duty #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x f!reader #simon ghost riley x wife!reader #simon riley call of duty #simon riley x wife!reader #simon riley x f!reader

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sixx-sixx-sixx · 25 days

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TEASER: Cooper “The Ghoul” Howard x female!OC - The Trader’s Daughter

I just wanted to hop on here and share a little bit of what I’ve been working on to contribute to the Cooper Howard fangirls 😭😂 Please let me know your thoughts and feedback is always appreciated!!

Synopsis:

Daisy is the daughter of an ex-vault dweller/wasteland forager named Josiah, who escaped the vault when she was only a child. In his time exploring the wasteland for the benefit of the vault, Josiah meets Cooper “The Ghoul” Howard, who becomes a lifelong acquaintance after a few heated run-ins. Cooper pulls some strings and uses his connections to get Josiah a safe place for him and his daughter, where Josiah becomes a trader of chems and anything else you could want from a trading post.

The Ghoul goes out of his way to make sure Josiah and his flower are well taken care of, and Josiah makes sure that Cooper gets the chems he needs to ward off going feral. Throws in some extra when he sees that Coop’s making an effort to get his kid to gain basic survival skills. (There’s totally a “they were roommates” vibe between her dad and Cooper, but I’m not going too in depth on any of that) Daisy’s just thankful to have a fun time when her Coop comes to visit.

As the years go by, Cooper’s visits to the shop become less frequent, stopping completely when our protagonist is 14. Daisy never stops thinking about the man who her dad trusted more than anyone in the wasteland, the ghoul who frequently went out of his way to bring her small trinkets from his travels as a bounty hunter.

Cooper returns to the trading post after over a decade. Except now, the once welcoming community has become more barbaric, with less smiling faces and more fighting and outlaws. By all means, it was your average wasteland town. He’s surprised to walk into Josiah’s trading post and see a breathtaking young woman come out from the back room, the type of woman men would go to war over in ancient times.

Shocked to see her ghoul standing in front of her, seeing him for the first time as a grown woman, with a grown woman brain and a grown woman body. Daisy had spent many years thinking about him, developed a crush in her teenage years that had bloomed in her chest for a decade. She knew that there was nothing there, there couldn’t be, he was her father’s closest acquaintance for years. He’d watched her grow up, essentially. No way she had a chance, but still, it didn’t hurt to yearn for the irradiated cowboy.

- so yeah. That’s like, the gist of what’s going on so far, it’s definitely not fully fleshed out, but I wanted to post some kind of teaser/synopsis of what I’ve got written messily in my notes app 😅 I want this to be multi part, not sure how many parts yet, but I definitely have at least 4 sections of blurbs in my notes that are going to turn into 4 parts. It’ll be slow burn, definitely a little big of dad’s best friend cooper (I’m just a girl, I can’t help it), definitely some daddy issues at some point, and diverges from canon probably a LOT because I’ve got a general idea of the fallout universe but it’s by no means comprehensive. The first part/chapter is probably gonna be her background, why her dad escaped the vault/maybe how he got acquainted with cooper.

- I also haven’t written anything in years, so be gentle with me 😭

#the ghoul x reader #the ghoul x oc #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard fanfiction #cooper howard imagine #cooper howard x oc #cooper howard #the ghoul fallout #the ghoul #the ghoul fanfiction #the ghoul imagine #fallout tv series #fallout imagine

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st4rluvrr · 1 year

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Her

☆ “we can do whatever you want. you can fuck me in the back of your car"

synopsis: you meet ellie in a bar and have sex with her in her car. based on 'her' by chase atlantic.

wordcount: 3.6k

warnings: 18+, daddy issues, mentions of alcohol, sub!top ellie, dom!bottom reader, fingering (r!receiving), thigh riding (ellie!receiving) strap-on-sex (r!receiving), nipple play, tit sucking, hickeys, very little after care, little angst, ellie begging, let me know if i've missed anything

author note: okay so this if my first time writing smut so I hope it's good. i rushed the ending and there was meant ot be a scene where reader eats out ellie but i got too tired. so maybe next time. i'm not sure if there is a part 2 to this, if i think of something i'll write it. hope you like it :)

“I’m gonna get another drink. Want anything?” You asked your friend, and she waves you off, too engrossed with the man next to her. It was part of the reason you had finished your drink so quickly. The other was that you wanted to get drunk. You needed to after the week you had.

Your dad had tried to contact you, spilling some rubbish apology on why he left when you were young. And you didn’t plan to forgive him after everything he did while in your life. But that didn’t stop him from leaving you like hundred voicemails. You had no idea how he even got your number in the first place, but you couldn’t block him either. He always kept his number private, making it impossible to make the calls stop.

You weaved around the bar, swimming between the bodies. The bar was packed with people standing in each corner of the bar. The heat was suffocating, surrounding you from each angle. It was making your hair stick slightly to your neck. You ran a hand along your neck, pulling the hair from it.

You push through the crowds until you are at the front of the bar, and people knock into the back of you, pushing you against the wood. You stand on the top of your toes to try and get the bartender's attention, rocking back and forth on your heels while waiting for someone to notice you.

“What do you want?” A voice comes from your left. It’s smooth and runs along your ears like caramel.

“What?” You ask, hardly hearing your voice of the music.

“What drink do you want?” They ask again, patiently waiting for your answer.

You finally look over at them. Her hair was short, barely reaching her shoulders. She had half of it tied in a knot, small pieces falling and framing her face. Her face was littered with freckles, and you wanted to join them to see what constellations they would make. She was wearing a plaid shirt over a white wifebeater. She has the sleeves rolled up, showing off her tattoo that wrapped around her forearm. You wanted to trace the leaves with your finger.

You look back up at her face quickly, not wanting to be caught checking her out. The smirk on her lips tells you you have been caught, her green eyes scanning up and down your body.

“Tequila,” You say, staring into her eyes. You seemed to be caught in a trance, the words stuck on your tongue.

“Two tequila shots, please?” She gets the bartender's attention quickly, giving your order, and the bartender places two shot glasses in front of you as well as salt and lime.

She pushes one shot over to you, looking you in the eye while she licks the back of her hand. You can only imagine what that would feel like somewhere else. You could feel the heat pooling in your stomach.

You grab a pinch of salt, sprinkling it over the wet stop on her hand. She licks her lips as she watches you lick the back of your hand. You lick the salt off the back of your hand and down the shot, feeling the liquid burn the back of your throat. You watch her throat bob as she swallows the liquid.

You can feel the alcohol warm your stomach, making the blood rush to your cheek. You can see the red colour spreading on her own cheeks as she pushes the sleeves of her shirt further up her arms.

“I’m Ellie,” She says, and you return with your name.

Whether it is the alcohol finally hitting your system or the need for something good, you nod your head toward the exit, “Wanna go somewhere cooler?”

“Yeah,” She says, slightly breathless like she is shocked by your question. As if she didn’t expect you to be that forward. You grab her hand, pulling her through the array of bodies. Her skin feels warm under your hand as her finger interlock with hers.

The cool breeze hits you immediately, blowing back your hair slightly. The sound of the overbearing music dampens the second the door shuts behind her. You feel clearer out in the air and you can finally think, your thought no longer lost in the music.

And you hate it. You came here to lose yourself for a moment, to forget everything and just breathe. You don’t let yourself dwell on it for too long cause you can feel her behind you, waiting for your next move.

You fall against the brick wall, your head tilted back, looking at the night sky. She stands next to you, your arms plastered against hers. Your hands are no longer intertwined, but she plays with the rings on your fingers, spinning them around, lightly brushing over your fingertips.

“You see thoses stars,” She points to a spot on the left and looks over to you, “The ones that kinda make a right angle.” You nod your head. You can barely see through your blurred eyes, but you can kinda see the shape she is drawing in the sky.

“That collection of stars right over there is called the coma Berenices. It’s named after a queen in Egypt. When her husband went to war, she was so desperate for him to return home. So she cut off all her hair as a sacrifice for Aphrodite.” She looks over to you to make sure you are following her story. You had been watching her the whole time. The words she was speaking blurred in the back of your mind as you stared at her side profile. Her nose just looked so perfect, and the way her lips curled as they retold this story was making it hard to focus.

Her eyes softened at the sight of you listening to her every word, waiting on her every breath. She has never had anyone listen so intently to her stories before and it makes her want to tell you a thousand more.

“Aphrodite was moved by her sacrifice and made sure that her husband returned home safely. She uses the hair to decorate the sky in a tribute to their love” She has leaned in closer to you now. Ellie's hand was now playing with both of your hands, the top of her shoes bumping against yours. And as she finishes the story, her breath fans lightly over your lips, making your own catch.

You want to reply to the story she just told, but she is so close it makes your brain stop. You can smell the strong scent of a woody cologne mixed with her natural musk, and it’s making the pool in your stomach deepen. You can see the sweat glistening off her collarbones, and you want to nibble at the skin, tasting it on your tongue.

You look back up into her eyes and you can see that she waiting. Waiting for you to answer or to kiss her, you don’t know but you decide to go for the latter. Pushing off of the wall, you connect your lips to hers.

Ellie presses them gently into yours. Her lips are soft and slightly chapped against yours. She kisses you harder, lightly biting on your bottom lip. Your mouth opens as a quiet moan slips out, and she uses this as an invitation to deepen the kiss. Her tongue runs against your lip, and the kiss becomes messier as you become more desperate.

Your head falls against the brick wall, where her hand rest to protect you, as she starts trailing small pecks along your jaw. You can’t help the moan as she bites the skin along your jaw, licking it to soothe the pain. Your hips buck into her when she finds the spot along your collarbone. She pushes your hips down, pinning them again the wall. Her other hand comes up to cup your jaw, scraping your hair back.

“What do you want?” Her thumb rubs gently along the skin showing above your jeans. It sends a shiver through you as your mind goes blank for a second.

“We can do whatever you want,” You don’t want her to stop touching you but don’t want to be caught with her hands down your pants. You put your hand on her chest as you push her back. You say as you feel your head coming back up for air. You weren’t looking for a commitment right now. You just needed someone to submerge yourself in. “Just don’t go falling in love,”

“You think you that good, do you?”

“Oh, I know I am,” You start to walk away from her, only looking over your shoulder to let her lead you to her car. She smiles at your cockiness, excited at the anticipation of finding out.

You follow her over to her car. It is parked in the back of the parking lot, out of sight. Half of it is shielded by trees, and the parking space next is empty. The parking lot isn’t big, so the walk to her car is short.

Once you are there, she opens the back seat. You are starting to feel desperate for her. You want her hands back on you now. You drag her into the car with you so your back is against the seats, and she is laying on top of you. She just has enough time to shut the door before your lips are back on hers and you lose touch with the world.

This time you start to kiss down her neck, and the noises she makes are so pretty. You want to do everything to keep the noises coming. She moans when you suck roughly on the side of her neck, and the noise goes straight to your cunt, dampening the material.

You feel her hands start to rub up your thigh until she is cupping your sex over your jeans. You whine at the feeling and buck your hips when she doesn’t move. The seam of your jeans is being pushed directly into your clit, and you only want more. You continue to lift your hips, and she pushes the palm of her hand harder.

“You like that?” She asks as she sucks on the top of your breast, revealed by the low cut of your top.

You can only moan in response, the feeling of her starting to be too much and not enough, you need to feel her touch every part of your body.

She moves her hand off of your jeans and you whine, wanting to have her hand back. She tries to undo your jean button, struggling with the angle she is in.

“Need help?” You ask, slightly laughing as you watch her struggle. She only glares in response, determined to do it by herself. She finally manages to pull the button and pulls the jeans past your hips and leaves them to rest at the top of your thighs.

You push her short hair behind her ear and grab the back of her neck to pull her into another kiss. This one is bruising and rough, all tongues and teeth. It’s rushed and messy. You can’t kiss her enough, and you never want to stop feeling her lips of yours. But your head tilts back in a moan when you feel the top of her finger slip beneath the lace of your panties. She brushes her hand through the course hair and moves further down.

“Jesus,” Ellie moans, her head falling against your shoulder, pressing sloppy kisses onto the skin. Her fingers dip down and circle your hole, feeling the wetness gathering. “You’re so wet.”

She pulls her finger out and sucks them into her mouth. You feel her moan from where she is sitting against your legs. The sounds she makes after only tasting you are almost pornographic, and you want to commit the image to memory.

“God, you’re so hot,” You say, unable to stop yourself. She flushes under your words and diverts her gaze from your eyes. Your hands are pulling up her shirt and slipping beneath the band of her sports bra. You lightly squeeze the flesh, thumb running over her erect nipple. Her hips jerk against your legs at the feeling. You gently pinch her nipple, wanting to see her reaction. When she keens at your touch, you pinch harder, rolling the hard nub between your fingers.

Her own hands start to wander back down, and her fingers hook into the side of your underwear and pull them down to your jeans. She presses a finger against your clit and makes slow, small circles.

The pressure is torturous, and you moan as she lightly brushes over the bud. She runs her finger further down and teases your entrance, pushing just the tip of her middle finger into you. Your back arches as she pushes her fingers deeper into you.

The palm of her hand bumps against your clit as she curls her fingers up and strokes the rough spot along your walls. She pulls her fingers out before slowly pushing them back in, listening to the wet sound as your clench around her fingers.

“Fucking hell,” She whispers under her breath. She leans forward, pulling your top down to access your boobs. She kneads the skin under her hand and twists your nipple. You hiss at the sensation and feel the pressure in your stomach tightening as she moves her fingers faster. She adds another finger, and you moan loudly at the stretch. Each time Ellie's fingers pump in and out of you, she brushes over that spongy spot that makes your mind go blank.

You hear her moan and open your eyes to watch as she bucks her own hips along your leg. Her own jeans are rubbing against her clothed cunt. She grinds her hips as she uses her other hand to circle your clit again.

The coil in your stomach tightens as she moans in her own pleasure. You lift your own hips to feel her fingers deeper inside of you. Your vision goes white as you feel yourself start to tip over the edge. Her fingers never slow down as she helps you ride out the high. Her hips speed up their movements as she watches you moan and whimper around her fingers, clenching tightly as your juices flow down and stain the backseat of her car.

She pulls her finger out and sucks them clean before grabbing onto the back of the car seat for support. You place your hands on her hips, guiding her movement. She leans forward to catch your lips into a kiss, moaning into your mouth when she feels her own pleasure starts to overtake her. Your grip on her strengthens, and her hips begin to stutter, moving rapidly as she reaches her own orgasm.

Ellie collapses against you and places a searing kiss against your lips. She places her head against your shoulder to try and catch her breath, the thin layer of sweat making your skin feel sticky.

She mumbles something into your collarbone as you watch the condensation drip down the window while you try to reduce your beating heart.

“What?” You ask, craning your neck to try and look down at her. She pulls her head off your shoulder before she talks again.

“Let me fuck you,” She asks, cheeks flushed. Her hair is messy and you run your fingers through it to tame it before cupping her jaw and running your thumb against her cheek.

“You wanna fuck me, baby?” The name slips off your tongue before you can stop it. She seems to like it, her eyes fluttering shut under your touch.

“Yes.” She nods franticly, her blush spreading down her neck the longer you stare at her. “Yes please,”

“Beg for it,”

“What?”

“You really want it? Prove it.”

“Please,” Ellie whines, quickly dissolving to your command. Her pupils are blown wide in desire as her doe eyes look up at you. “I’ll make you feel so good. I need to make you feel good,”

She kisses your neck again, sucking marks into the skin. You don’t think it’s going to take much before you agree, but she’s just so pretty when she begs.

“Please,” She whispers one more time, “I’ll be so good,”

“Okay, baby,”

Her apartment is small but you do really have time to look around. Her hands were groping every part of your body, squeezing hard, as she drags you into her room. Her hands work to pull your top off, breaking the heated kiss for a second before her lips are back on yours. Your hands and working on her jeans, pulling them off her legs before tossing them randomly behind you. You push her down onto the bed, taking off your own jeans before straddling her. You pull off her top, and both of you are left in your underwear.

“Can I?” She asks as her hands wrap around your back to undo the clip of your bra. She tugs at the material as she waits for your answer.

“Yes,” You whine, and she unclips your bra before throwing aside. Your nipples harden in the cold air. She takes your nipple into her mouth, sucking at the bud. You moan as she flicks her tongue.

“God, I love your tits,” She bit lightly on the skin, leaving bruises that are bound to show tomorrow.

Your hips buck onto her as you try to find some friction. Your leg slots hers and feels her dampness seeping through her boxers as she moans when you push her knee against her cunt.

You lean your head down to kiss her, moving your lips slowly against hers. Her tongue brushes lightly against your bottom lip. You ground down onto her thigh the longer you two kiss. You start to become impatient, and your arousal becomes too much to ignore.

“Thought you wanted to fuck me?” She pulls back from the kiss, panting. She can only nod, her mind foggy as she stands up to walk over to her closet. She walks back over to you, strap hanging low on her hips.

She pulls you down to the edge of the bed, pulling your underwear off in one smooth movement and spreading your legs. Your pussy glistens in the light, and she runs her thumb through your lips, spreading them apart. She bends down to lick a strip along your folds, barely brushing your clit before aligning her hips with yours.

She runs her cock up and down your folds, bumping into your clit, before she carefully pushes the tip into you. You can feel the stretch, but you are wet enough that she could just slip in. She keeps pressing forward until her hips her pushed flushed against yours. She slowly pulls outs, thrusting her hips faster the second time.

You flipped the two of you over, and her short hair spread out around her head like a halo. You placed your hand on her chest, using her to help push yourself up. You dropped down slowly, feeling every inch of her cock slid inside of your pussy. The tip of her cock brushed your spongy spot on each thrust. Her hands came to the rest of your hips, helping to guide you as your movement became rushed and shaky.

You ground your hips onto hers, pushing the harness into both of your clits deliciously. You could feel that band inside tightening again. She watches as your moans get louder, and you throw your head back in pleasure, your hair hanging down your back.

You curve forward, kissing her shoulder and biting hard as your orgasm overtakes you, the pleasure blinding your senses as your mind quietens. Ellie helps you through, lifting her own hips to meet yours, and you collapse, muscles useless in keeping you up.

As you come back to your senses, you feel Ellie’s hand rub up and down your back, coaxing you back to down. You roll onto your back, carefully sliding off her cock as you feel your cum start to dry against your thighs. You feel the bed dip next to you and look down to see her cleaning your legs with a towel.

“Are you ok?” She asks when she sees you looking.

“Yeah. God, yeah.” You say, out of breath. “You really were good,”

She smirks at your comment and comes to lie next to you. You roll your eyes when she says, told you so.

You yawn and sit up to put your clothes back on before you fall asleep on your bed. You really do want to stay, but you also want to be back in your own bed and don’t want to deal with sneaking out later.

“You don’t want to stay?” She asks as you finish buttoning up your jeans. She sat up in bed, the covers low on her hips. She looks so hot with her hair a mess, and her lips swollen red. You want to crawl under the covers with her, but you shouldn’t. You don’t plan on seeing her again and the sooner you leave, the better it will be for both of you.

“No, I really should go home,” You say in a rush, mind blank of excuses.

“Okay,”

And you leave before you can see her face, but she is disappointed. She would have loved it if you stayed, would have made breakfast the next morning and seen if you wanted to get coffee sometime. And she guesses she can’t be that disappointed. She doesn't even know you, but deep down she knows she would cut her hair off for you in a heartbeat.

#ellie williams #issy writes #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams smut #ellie williams x you #ellie williams au #modern au #nervous ellie williams

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multi-fandom-things730 · 5 months

Text

Sick on Christmas

Summary: Y/N gets sick during Christmas, and Hook does his best to take care of her and cheer her up.

Warnings: fluff, sickness, medicine, Y/N is depresso espresso

A/N: My sick ass needs this rn🥲 @madhatterbri I finally got a Christmas fic out😂💚❤️ And I will always be giving a special mention to my bestie @99hook , who I will be forever grateful for helping me to gain enough courage to start posting my fics🥹🤍🤍✨

“Y/N!”

“Go away!”

Tyler groaned and leaned his head against the locked door that was separating him from his sick girlfriend.

“Please let me in Y/N” Tyler continues. “Let me take care of you”

“Absolutely not!” She croaks back, her voice getting scratchy from having to be louder. “I already have to miss Christmas with my family, I’m not gonna get you sick too!”

Tyler huffed at her stubbornness. “Mamas…”

“I’m fine-“ she was cut off by a coughing spell that made Tyler want to break the door down.

He knew how her coughing always got bad, and wanted to be with her to do whatever he could to soothe her sickness.

But she had locked herself in her hotel room and wouldn’t come out.

The two of them were supposed to finish up work, and then on the 23rd she was going to head down to see her family and he was going to go see his.

But now she couldn’t go, and Tyler knew how upset she was. Christmas was Y/N’s favorite holiday, and it was very special to her and her family.

She hadn’t missed a Christmas since she was sick as a child.

All he wanted to do was hold her, and tell her it would all be okay.

But that damn door was in the way.

“She still not coming out?” Tyler lifted his head when his dad walked down the hall.

“No” Tyler sighs. “But she just talked to her family, and they’re canceling the Christmas get-together until she’s better”

Taz sighs, he knew that must have been eating her up.

Which was why he pulled the spare key out of his pocket that Y/N had given him in case she left her key in the room for the one-hundredth time. “Open the door”

Tyler didn’t hesitate to grab the key and swiftly unlock the door.

Taz smiled and walked away as he heard Y/N groan.

“Hey mamas” Tyler said softly, sitting down next to her and brushing some hair out of her face.

His eyes shined with concern when he felt how hot her forehead was. “You’re burning up baby, you need to take some medicine”

“You need to go” she grumbles, turning over and pulling the blanket over her head. “You’re going to get sick and it’ll be all my fault”

“Well too bad sunshine” Tyler looked up when his dad came strolling into the room with a bag of food and medicine bottles.

“Dad… no..” Y/N sighed, and despite the situation, Tyler couldn’t help but smile when she called his dad that.

“If you think you’re gonna be sick and we’re not gonna take care of you; you have lost your mind” Taz says. “So get out from under that blanket”

Y/N hesitantly does as told, and Tyler frowns at the red flush on her cheeks, and her glassy eyes.

“Tyler, prop some pillows up for her” Taz instructs, and he does as told. Tyler tries to kiss her head when he’s done but she pulls back.

Taz sits the bag down on the bedside table, and ushers Tyler over so he can sit right next to Y/N. “I’ve got some soup for you, right after I take your temperature and give you some medicine”

Y/N accepts defeat and opens her mouth for Taz to put in the thermometer.

Tyler reaches over and puts his hand on her cheek, and tries to ignore how hot it is.

Taz takes the thermometer once it beeps, and tsks. “101.8. You, young lady, are not getting out of this bed unless you absolutely have to. We are going to take great care of you”

“No Taz” Y/N groans. “It’s Christmas, and you’re both going to end up sick”

“Stop being so stubborn. We’re gonna be fine baby” Tyler comforts, rubbing his thumb back and forth against Y/N’s cheek.

Y/N leans into his hand, enjoying the coolness against her hot skin.

“Don’t worry, the doctor is here” Taz jokes, holding up one of the medicine bottles.

“Uh oh” Y/N mumbles, making Tyler laugh, and Taz huff. “Oh, so you’re sick but you still got jokes, huh?”

“Always” Y/N replies, and Tyler smiles at the little grin on her face.

“Baby..” Tyler calls softly, running his hands through Y/N’s hair to wake her up.

She groans in reply, and cuddles more into the hoodie Tyler gave her.

But this just makes her wince, the body aches flaring up every time she moves.

“It’s time to take more ibuprofen” Tyler says, and leans down to kiss her warm cheek.

“Okay” she breathes out, before slowly sitting up.

Tyler opens the thermometer and hands it to her. “Take your temperature real quick”

She silently does as told, and as the thermometer is doing its job Tyler gets the pills from the bottle.

Tyler sighs when it starts beeping, knowing that sound meant her fever was back up.

She hands it back to him. “100.1”

“Okay” Tyler sighs. “I think we should start alternating Tylenol too”

Y/N nods. “Okay”

Tyler frowns, knowing just how bad she feels. She could barely sit up.

“Here you go mamas” Tyler handed her the pills, and she took them before taking a sip from the glass he held up to her lips.

“Thank you honey” she mumbled with a tiny smile, and Tyler smiled back at her. “Of course baby”

The two sat in comfortable silence for a moment, but Y/N sniffling grabbed Tyler’s attention.

At first he thought it was her nose running, but then he saw her eyes getting glossy. “Hey… baby, what’s wrong?”

“I miss my family” she admits, reaching up to wipe her eyes. “I hate missing Christmas”

Tyler immediately reached over and pulled her into a hug, and for the first time since she got sick, she didn’t pull away from him. He wasn’t sure if it was because she needed comfort, she hurt too bad to, or both; but he was just glad she was finally letting him console her. “I know baby, I know”

“How about this? You and I are going to spend the rest of the night together watching your favorite Christmas movies, wearing those silly matching Christmas pajamas you thought you had hidden from me” Tyler offers.

This makes Y/N giggle softly. “I’d like that. Can we start with Home Alone?”

“Of course” Tyler smiles, and leans down to kiss her head.

“Thank you for taking care of me” Y/N mumbles, nuzzling into his chest.

“I’ll always take care of you Y/N” Tyler promises, sealing it with another kiss to her cheek.

#aew hook x reader #hook x reader #hook aew x reader #hook imagine #hook aew #aew hook #send hook #aew #aew fanfiction #aew x reader

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