#but it's just a little series—just a three parter | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

macfrog · 10 months

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mile high sex on fire chapter three

we're going overseas baby! (this is gonna be a three-parter cause i hyperfixated and couldn't stop myself so BUCKLE UP) author's note: i absolutely do NOT condone the use of private jets. they are GROSS and terrible for the environment and just fucking fly commerical ok? but in this ceo!joel ficland, private jets are fuelled by delusion and emit only clean, pure oxygen. thank you for reading. now, with that in mind, please enjoy reader being railed in a plane cabin. i love u all to paris n back 🤍🥐

pairing: ceo!joel x fem!reader

summary: you accompany joel on a work trip to paris, to eat good food, drink expensive wine, and…get to know each other a little better

warnings: 18+ (minors dni!!!) environmental crime, plane sex, fingering, handjob, unprotected piv sex, daddy kink, joel being a fucking exhibitionist menace, creampie, more gf representation, showering together, softdom!joel, sugardaddy!joel, heavy on the flirting, age gap (reader is late 20s, joel late 40s), cursing, very ridiculous spending on very ridiculous things, workplace relationship and therefore odd power dynamic yadda yadda yadda

word count: 6.3k

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Joel’s fingers squeeze your hips, his pace quickens even more. “Louder.” “They’re gonna – ah – they’re gonna hear.” “Who?” Joel asks. He knows damn well who. You’re only separated by a thin paneled wall. You’d be fucking surprised if the flight attendants haven’t been hearing you for the last twenty minutes. “Baby,” Joel’s voice coos as he bends forward, sweaty chest flat against your back. His lips line with your ear, his breath hot on your skin. “They get paid not to hear.”

You’ve never been on a work trip with Joel. Usually, he likes to take them alone. Martha told you once about a time a couple years before you started when Joel took an intern to a conference in Canada, and the kid spent the entire first night in the hotel bar, missed the conference the next day, and only just made the flight home, scruff of his neck between Joel’s knuckles.

He racked up a bill of nearly a thousand dollars just on liqueur and finger food. Joel had sworn he’d never take anybody anywhere with him again.

But there’s this client over in Europe he’s due to meet – an annual thing where they sit on the terrace of some luxurious hotel, drink expensive wine that tastes like piss, according to Joel, and have a cock-off over their money and status.

Sounds like fun, right?

You’ve a pretty good idea why he asked you. And he made a pretty convincing pitch: he’d promised you a relaxing weekend. You didn’t have to sit in on any meetings, he’d let you amble around the city by day, take you for a fancy dinner or two at night. All expenses paid. You barely had to lift a finger.

As per the deal, Martha organized the travel documents. Printed them, collated them, handed them to you in a neat little folder with a paperclip on top and a Post-It note with Have fun! written in red ink. You’d slipped it into your bag and followed Joel to his car, nodding to Rand as you ducked under the starlit ceiling.

Joel’s left hand sits around your thigh – because where else would it be? – his right clutching his phone, thumb scrolling as he absentmindedly reads some document. You’re watching the city soar by from behind tinted glass. Before long, it’s the dark green of trees flickering by, and then, canvased by the clear blue sky, an air traffic control tower in the distance.

The Rolls saunters past the main entrance to the airport. You watch it roll by, leaning forward in your seat.

“Wait, what…?”

“What, baby?” Joel asks, looking up from his phone.

You usually knew every fine detail of the plan by heart. It was your job to. But with Martha being in charge of arranging your flight, you’d missed one crucial speck of information this time. And that is –

You’re travelling by private fucking jet.

The car drives across smooth tarmac toward a pointed white plane, bold against the brilliant blue sky behind it. There are four people standing at the bottom of the steps leading into it; what you assume are the two pilots, and two smartly dressed flight attendants.

“How did I never know you had a…?”

Joel smirks. “Never showed you it. C’mon.”

He gets out, strolls around to your door and opens it for you. You’re still gawking at the jet.

“Jeez…” you whisper, hopping out of the car.

“What is it?” he says through a chuckle, leading you across the tarmac.

“I feel so…Everyone looks so…I’m in my fucking sweatpants, Joel.”

He looks at you under low brows, like he can’t believe what he’s hearing. Like he doesn’t want to hear one more word of it. He holds an arm out; his pinkie bumps into your tummy.

“I think you look beautiful, darlin’.”

It might’ve stopped you in your tracks. Might’ve crumbled the entire airport to dust. Might’ve made the sun drop out of the sky. You’re not sure. You wouldn’t notice if you dropped dead right now.

His words, his soft voice when he says them, send a pang of white noise through your ears, echoing around and bouncing off the walls of your head.

You swallow. Digest what he just said. And do your best to forget all about it.

Joel takes your hand and leads you to the plane steps, helping you up. He follows at your heels. “Thanks, Jerry, Lisa,” he says. You give both pilots a nervous smile as you pass.

The airconditioned cabin chills your arms when you reach the top, twisting around to look back to Joel.

“Go on.” Joel nods, palm ushering you inside.

You step forward and turn right, standing in the doorway to a pristine, white-walled, wooden interior cabin, leather seats dotted against the walls, dark brown glassy tables between them, soft gray carpet at your feet, vacuum cleaner lines still visible. There’s a long plush couch on the left wall, today’s newspaper on the side table next to it.

You feel Joel’s body shell around yours, his chin dips against your ear.

“Like it?”

“Not really. Feelin’ pretty guilty about all the air pollution.”

“How many trees you want me to plant to make up for it?”

You tut. “What are you doin’ in business? You’re so funny.”

You wander off without looking back, heading for one of the window seats.

“Uh,” Joel clears his throat, “there’s a separate cabin up back, too, if you want it.”

“Separate cabin?”

He nods. “’s got a bed. It’s cozy.”

A bed. Of course this asshole has a fucking bed in his private jet.

The pilots file in behind him, dipping into the cockpit. The flight attendants follow, and begin preparing for takeoff. Joel strolls over to the seat opposite yours, giving your legs a nudge under the varnished table when he sits down.

You both click your seatbelts into place, relax, and look out the window as the jet rolls by the airport, heading for the runway. The engine fires up properly, a deep hum you feel rattling up your spine, and then you’re pulled forward, body pushing heavily into the soft leather of your seat.

The plane races down the runway, the grass and trees blurring into a mix of dark and light green, before you’re lifting off the tarmac and into the air, your tummy flipping a little from excitement and maybe some nerves, and…Joel’s gaze on you.

When your eyes meet his, he scans down. Your little black t-shirt, skin tight. The way your breasts rise and fall with your breathing. Down to the waist of your sweatpants, then further down your legs. You know exactly what’s going through his mind.

And, honestly…being on a private jet on your way to a free weekend in Paris, accompanied by the best sex you’ve ever had…? Goes against a couple of your core beliefs about the world, but you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t on your mind, too.

The flight attendants let you guys know you can unbuckle your belts now, and, like a hive mind, you both unclip them and stand.

“Was gonna go check out that, uh–”

“I’ll show you to it,” Joel cuts in, taking your bag and leading you down the aircraft. He dips his head as he walks, the cabin too small for him to stand straight. You follow like a fucking dog, trying to hide the spring in your step.

Through a door concealed to look like part of the wall is a small room with a double bed, soft white sheets untouched. There’s a little TV on the wall opposite, a small table with another comfy chair by one of the windows, and a rail for hanging up clothes. The shades over the windows are pulled almost all the way down, sunlight splintering through and lining the soft carpet.

Joel wasn’t wrong. It is cozy.

He sets your bag down on the floor and closes the door behind you. You notice he locks it.

The corners of your lips tug, your eyebrows raise. “Might be classier than my bedroom.”

He scoffs, and you turn, falling back onto the bed and kicking your shoes off.

“Alright,” you announce, flat-out on the sheets, “I’m gonna get some shut-eye.”

Joel looks surprised. Almost – offended. “Sh…You’re gonna sleep?”

“’s why you got a bed, ain’t it?”

He narrows his eyes, runs his tongue along the bottom of his teeth. Steps forward. Sticks a knee between yours. “Not exactly.”

You smile up at him. He’s pulling the jacket from his shoulders, plain white tee underneath. He looks so fucking good. The man always looks so fucking good. He tosses the jacket to the floor and bends down over you. Hands pressing deep into the bed either side of your head, torso hovering over yours. Hips just too far away for you to lift yours up to meet them.

You take hold of his wrists. “Then…show me what it’s for.”

Joel looks from your lips to your chest, then back up to your eyes, grinning like a devil. He lifts one hand and his fingers come down to play with the drawstring of your sweatpants, tugging painfully slow on them. You want to whine, but that’d be letting him win too easily.

He loosens the waist and his fingers find the hem of your tee tucked beneath.

“You gonna show me those pretty tits, baby?”

You nod, biting your lip as he peels your top from your body, your back arching, arms splaying out on the bed. Joel uncovers your chest and slips the top over your head, discarding it to the side and leaning back to take the view in.

You didn’t wear a bra today. Wanted to travel in as much comfort as possible.

One of your wiser choices.

“Fuck, darlin’…” he breathes, eyes set on your perky tits, your round, hardened nipples. His reaction sends a fleet of electricity down to your core.

“C’mere,” you whisper, taking his shirt in your fists and dragging him down against your naked torso. And then his hips are there, right against yours, and you grind up into him, feeling his bulging crotch between your legs.

Your fingers dance along the hem of his shirt and he lifts off of you, letting you tug it over his head before his chest is pressed back against yours. You part your lips and he fills your mouth with his tongue, hands in your hair, body grinding against your own. He’s pushing you further up the mattress until you’re both in the center, disturbing the sheets and shifting the cushions decorating the bed.

Joel’s hand trails down your naked stomach and under your pants, cutting past the lace of your underwear to cup your mound, middle finger daring ever lower. You moan and drag your hips forward to edge his fingers further, until they’re dipping between your folds and your body’s rolling with pleasure.

“Yeah,” Joel murmurs, “that’s it, huh? That’s what you want?”

“Uhuh,” you nod, bottom lip between your teeth, eyelashes batting in a plea for him to keep going. Keep fucking going.

His mouth dips between your jaw and your shoulder, teeth picking up your hot skin to suck a bruise while two fingers push inside of you, lifting your back from the mattress and into Joel’s rock-solid body. Some noise escapes his lips, something caught between a laugh and a groan.

“So tight, baby,” he murmurs, drawing a smile across your face.

And then your hands are messing around at his waistband, fingers fumbling with the button. Wanting him in your hands as much as he has you around his own. Needing to feel what you’re doing to him, since he’s well aware of what he’s done to you.

Joel’s hand slips gently out from under your pants and his weight lifts off of you. In the slivers of light streaming through the cabin windows, his silhouette steps back off the bed and shoves the denim down his thighs. His jeans hit the floor and as quick as he left you, he’s back pressing into you again, hard outline of his length nudging against the top of your thigh.

You slip a hand under the elastic of his underwear and take hold of his cock, while he picks up where he left off between your legs. Your lips connect, breathing laughs and pants and desperate moans into each other, hands working to push each other closer and closer…

Joel’s fingers pump in and out, curling just enough to hit your G-spot every time. His thumb’s bumping at your clit, pushing waves of pleasure with each circle. He adds a third finger when you start to gasp, the movement of your fist around his shaft becoming messy and staggered. You’re trying to focus on him, trying to get him there as fast as he’s getting you, but he’s so fucking good at it, and you’re starting to fade out of the cabin.

Your eyes roll shut; head falls back against the bed. You’re still trying to fucking jack him off, as if he’d even let himself cum in your hands before he’s been inside you. But you’re desperately trying not to give him the satisfaction of having you unfold on his hand less than ten minutes into this. Desperately trying not to give in to him and his stupid private jet.

“It’s okay, baby,” Joel whispers in your ear, pressing a delicate kiss to your hair, “you can cum. Do it for me.”

“F-uck you,” you whisper, and you cave.

Let’s put it down to the air pressure when you’re this high up. In fact, let’s just say: you’re on a plane, and you’ve never had anything remotely close to sex on a plane before, and that’s why, when your orgasm bursts through, you cum harder than you think you’ve ever done before. It’s because of how fucking insane this is.

Let’s just say.

You come to with your face buried in the crook of Joel’s neck. His chest is vibrating, Adam’s apple bobbing. You pull back and notice the dimples in his swollen cheeks, the crow’s feet by his eyes, and then…the wide smile spread across his lips.

“That feel good, darlin’?” he asks through a laugh.

You curse at him again, eyes screwing shut. His hand’s still between your legs, slowly moving in and out, lulling you through the tail end of your orgasm. Your hands have deserted their original job; they’re clutching Joel’s shoulders. You don’t even remember grabbing onto him.

“Got somethin’ that’ll make you feel even better,” he breathes, and before you’re fully awake, his hands are on your hips, flipping you over. He drags your pants down your legs, discarding them to the floor beside his.

You sigh when he pulls your ass up into the air, resting your ear on your folded arms. Accepting defeat, or maybe just…letting him do what he does best.

Joel slips your panties to the side and runs his cock up and down your dripping cunt. You flinch, still sensitive, and feel him slow down.

“Gonna make you feel real good, alright?”

“Mhm,” you reply, eyes closing again as he lines up.

It sounds like a bit of a dumb thing to say. Joel makes you feel good every time his hands are on you, without question. Even that first night, in that dive bar, before he’d ever really done anything. His hands sent electricity through your body that you failed all weekend to rid yourself of. But you hear what he’s really saying.

You haven’t had each other yet without someone on the other side of the wall, waiting for one of you. It’s always been a rush, always been about that race to the finish line just to satisfy your needs, and then return to Earth as soon as you’re done.

There’s no need to rush to that finish line this time around. Nobody’s waiting. Joel can do whatever he wants, can fuck you however he likes, and have you under his hand for as long as he wants. As long as you both last.

The bed makes sense now, doesn’t it?

He pushes inside you, thick, hard, full. You gasp, face burying into the comforter, legs spreading to accommodate his size. Your fingers grasp onto the sheets, nails digging into the soft fabric as he fills you up, pulls halfway out, and rocks back in.

“Fuck, Joel,” you cry, and his hips slam into yours.

“Huh?” he asks.

“Daddy,” you correct yourself, still gasping.

“Better.”

Joel pounds into you, strong grip on your waist, pulling you up and down his cock at a punishing pace. His grunts match your whines. Your hand stretches out to grab something – anything – to hold onto, to steady yourself as your body begins to collapse.

“Daddy,” you mewl again, muffled by the cotton of the sheets, like it’s the only word coming to mind. “So – fuckin’ – good.”

“Louder, baby,” he replies, groaning when you tighten around him.

You whimper. “F-fuck, daddy.”

Joel’s fingers squeeze your hips, his pace quickens even more. “Louder.”

“They’re gonna – ah – they’re gonna hear.”

“Who?” Joel asks.

He knows damn well who. You’re only separated by a thin paneled wall. You’d be fucking surprised if the flight attendants haven’t been hearing you for the last twenty minutes.

“Baby,” Joel’s voice coos as he bends forward, sweaty chest flat against your back. His lips line with your ear, his breath hot on your skin. “They get paid not to hear.”

His hips crack into yours again once, and then halt. You cry out, the sudden feeling of him in his entirety, filling you up, pushing right up against your cervix, too much to bear. Too much to be muffled by the mattress beneath you.

“Let – them,” Joel’s hips drag back, slow, leaving you empty, “hear – you.”

He thrusts forward again, painfully, and you moan. Loud. “Ah, daddy,” you cry out again, and you swear Joel’s chest rumbles behind you with a laugh.

“That’s it, good girl. Tell ‘em how good it feels.”

You feel your mind start to slip, the cabin going with it. Your eyes roll closed, your mouth falls open. The only sound escaping your lips a whine, over and over, shaped just like the word daddy, daddy, daddy.

Joel’s forehead rests on the crown of yours, his voice a soft hum at the nape of your neck.

“See? Sound way too pretty to keep quiet, darlin’.”

He’s panting, words spilling out of his mouth between gasps and grunts. Hips are snapping at a grueling pace. You reach for his wrists again, planted in the bed either side of your head, and squeeze as if it might relieve the building tension in the pit of your stomach.

But he’s going so fast, so hard, fucking you dumb. And you can feel him start to falter, when your walls hold him snug, tightening around him as you reach your high.

He cums when you do. You feel him empty inside you as you hurtle through your own orgasm, rippling bliss all around your body. You both cry out, filling the tiny room with groans of pleasure and release together.

Your hips give, fall flat to the mattress, Joel still inside, slowly rocking back and forth, pushing his cum deeper and deeper inside you.

His elbows sink into the bed at your shoulders, caging you under his body as the remnants of your highs wash away. He’s running soft, wet kisses from your neck down the top of your spine. When your body stills, the pulsing of your cunt a mere flutter, he slips out from between your legs and pushes up off of your body.

Joel collapses alongside you atop the tangle of sheets and pillows, skin sticking, bodies thrumming with energy. You roll over to lie next to him. Chests rising and falling in unison, fingers intertwining at your sides. You’re staring at the ceiling, head tilting to rest on Joel’s shoulder, and he places a soft kiss to your hair.

You glance up to look into his brown eyes, lit by the thin rays of bursting sunlight seeping through the windows. The way the light moves across him as the plane turns, brilliant rays sweeping over the horizon and reflecting every angle of his face.

When he notices you, he dips his chin, and you prop yourself up, pressing your lips to his. Joel holds your jaw softly, thumb grazing over your cheekbone. His other hand scoops around your back, holding your body close to his.

“Sleepy,” you mutter, and he nods.

“Get some rest,” he tells you, but you’re already laying your head down on his chest.

Your heavy eyes blink the jet out of view; Joel’s hand stroking your hair sends you off to sleep.

----------

You wake under the white sheets, still wrapped up in Joel’s arms, to the sound of voices on the TV. Some comedy movie. Sounds like Adam Sandler. Joel mutes it when he notices you stirring.

“Afternoon,” he mutters, voice husky.

“Hi,” you reply softly, and his hand runs through your hair. “How long was I out?”

“Only a little while. They’re probably getting ready for lunch. You want me to head out first?”

You nod, suddenly feeling ashamed…and hungry. “Yeah. ‘n can you…make sure they don’t ask?”

“They ain’t gonna ask,” he groans, laughing as you roll off his body and let him up.

You watch as he dresses himself, toned arms pulling his tee over broad shoulders; tan legs slipping back into neat jeans. He slings his jacket over his arm and bends back down over you to let you kiss him again – slow, deep. Something of a thanks, a you’re welcome, maybe. A marker, anyway. A prelude to this weekend.

And then he slips out front. You lock the door behind him and start collecting your clothes, hopping around the cabin as you pull them on.

Before you leave, you grab a hoodie from your bag, feeling a little more exposed than you did when you first boarded. You toss it over your shoulders and open the door.

“Couple more hours,” Joel tells you as you sit opposite him, propping your ankles on his lap. His hands run over your socks, brows furrowing when he notices the pattern. “Bart Simpson?”

“Comfiest socks I own. Good plane socks.”

“Alright.”

“Go on. Make fun of ‘em.”

“I didn’t say anything. You want somethin’ to eat?”

You smirk. “Sure.”

He pours you a glass of water from the metal jug on the table between you both, and one of the attendants appears as if by magic on your right.

“Got you gluten free stuff,” Joel says as you gulp at the ice water.

You almost choke. “Seriously?”

His face twists, confused. Mirroring your astonishment. “Yeah. You think I’d let you starve?”

You almost laugh before you hear it, and realize how sweet it is. You didn’t even know Joel noticed this stuff. Didn’t think it’d be on his radar.

“Thank you,” you whisper, lifting your glass to mask the blush burning across your cheeks.

Joel nods once. Then turns to the attendant and asks for a burger, side of fries, side of onion rings. “We got sweet potato fries, Len?” he asks.

“Think so,” Len replies. “Want them instead? Or both?”

Joel thinks it over for probably two seconds, before he shrugs and says, “Both. Thanks, man.”

Len turns to you, but you’re still staring at Joel. “Unbelievable,” you mutter.

Joel holds his hands out. “I’m hungry.”

You give Len a smile. “What’s…What can I have?”

“We got gluten free flour, bread, pasta, uh…garlic bread for sides, too. And a couple desserts.”

“What the f…?” You stare at Joel. “You didn’t have to–”

“Just order, baby,” Joel says, palm facing you, stopping you from going on.

“I’ll, uh…You do fried chicken?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I’ll have fried chicken, side of fries, and coleslaw, if you have it, please.”

Len nods curtly and heads back up front, leaving you and Joel on your own again. You finish your thought.

“What the fuck?”

He’s chuckling. “What?”

“You…This is…Nothing, you just…you blow my mind, every time.”

Joel shrugs, grinning. “Blow your back out, ‘n all.”

“Alright.” You snatch your ankles from his grasp – Bart’s toothy smirk slipping from between Joel’s fingers – and sit up straight, looking out of the window to the dazzling sky; bright blue on top and fluffy white clouds beneath.

Your food arrives shortly after and the pair of you eat in comfortable silence. Joel checks through his emails, you sit back in your seat with your headphones in. It’s nice, not having a phone to answer or Joel’s schedule to fix. Nicer, still, having him feet away from you, giving you all the attention you could possibly want at the drop of a hat.

You land in Paris at 10PM local time. Straight off the plane and into another sleek, black car, driven by a gray-haired, sharp-suited man named Denis whose hand Joel shakes before climbing in beside you. He slides into the leather seat and you fall against one another, your head on his shoulder. Partition wound up, though neither of you feel much like doing anything that’d require privacy. Your eyes are tired, heavy, you smell like eight hours’ worth of plane, and you’re basically salivating at the thought of collapsing into a huge, soft, clean bed.

Which is exactly what the pair of you do when you reach the hotel. You’re in some extravagant suite picked by Joel; you manage two glances around the dark place before he’s leading you by hand off to the bedroom, cases still parked at the front door.

And before you know it, you’re sinking into the plush sheets of a king-size bed, limbs entangled with Joel’s, city lights twinkling through the window into your sleep-glazed eyes as you drift off.

----------

Day breaks across Paris around seven in the morning. You wake with the blue glow of the sky, dusty pink on the horizon bleeding upward as the sun rises higher. When your eyes open and adjust to the light, you glance over Joel’s still sleeping body and notice the view behind him, split in half by the silhouette of the Eiffel Tower.

The curtains are still pulled back – neither of you noticed nor had the energy to shut them when you arrived. You’re both still in your clothes from yesterday, too. Joel managed to kick off his shoes, and you remember him pulling yours off before he fell into the bed next to you. You didn’t even sleep under the bedsheets.

You push yourself up off the bed, stretching your back and glancing around. This room is fucking nuts. Gold accented – gold handles, gold light switches, gold frames. Pretentious modern art decorating each wall, an upholstered headboard that almost touches the ceiling in front of you. Marble-topped nightstands with spotless silver lamps, glinting in the light.

You roll off of the bed, Bart Simpson socks landing on soft carpet, though his face has been awkwardly twisted around your ankle in your sleep. You shuffle off to a door on the left, leading down a small hallway – past some fancy ornate vase – to the living room: a wide, open space with the same floor-to-ceiling windows as the bedroom, looking out to the same view.

Two velvet couches sit opposite one another, a white marble coffee table sat between. Behind them, a dining table with eight chairs. Gleaming varnished wood. And then, through a couple more doors, a kitchenette with modern white cabinets, a coffee machine, a microwave.

Fucking. Nuts.

You hear Joel stirring in the bedroom and wander back through, dazed with sleep and amazement at this place. He’s rubbing his eyes when you walk in and spring down on top of him on the bed.

“Mornin’,” he grumbles, voice thick and husky. His hands fall onto your thighs, sat either side of his waist, and his eyes flutter open. “You’re energetic.”

“Have you fucking seen this place?”

“I have. Stay here every year.”

You press further into him, feeling a swell in his jeans and doing your best to ignore it.

“Can we go explore?”

“Outside?”

You nod eagerly, despite the way his face screws up.

“Baby,” he sighs, “I’m still in my damn jeans.”

“So, go shower. Get dressed.”

He’s not done protesting. “We travelled for, like, nine hours straight yesterday.”

“’n now we’re here and we ain’t here long, so let’s go do something. C’mon.”

You lace your fingers through Joel’s and pull him up toward you, sitting in his lap on the bed. He buries his face in your chest, mumbling something incoherent into the cotton of your shirt.

You giggle. “Huh? Can’t hear you.”

Joel pulls back with a sigh and rolls his eyes dramatically. “Alright,” he says, “go get ready.”

You leap off of him with a quiet squeal of glee.

As you pace around the suite, dragging your case into the bedroom, fishing some clean clothes and your toothbrush out, practically skipping into the marble-tiled shower room, Joel lays back in bed watching your every move. Smiling, eyebrows lifting with encouragement anytime you look over to him. Head resting back in the crook of his arm, sleepy eyes taking in all of your excitement.

You’re rinsing shampoo out of your hair when he slides into the shower behind you, a quick kiss to your shoulder.

“No sex,” you tell him with a pointed finger, squeezing the lemon scented gel into the palm of your hand.

“No, ma’am,” he says with a smirk, dipping his head to let you lather up the suds in his salt and pepper hair. “So, where we goin’?”

You shrug. “Wherever. Lots to do in Paris.”

“Wanna get you somethin’ nice,” he says, eyes screwed shut as he runs his head under the flow of water, “a thanks for comin’ with me.”

“I think maybe the private jet, the hotel room, plus the free trip in itself is thanks enough, Joel.”

But Joel disagrees. Heartily, apparently.

He takes your hand and helps you out of the car on a tree-lined street, tall cream buildings on either side. It looks like a movie set. You’re following Joel’s lead, spending more time craning your neck to look up at the huge, ornate windows guarded by black balconettes while he guides you across cobblestone toward the smoothly paved sidewalk.

You’re not even paying attention to where he’s taking you until you’re stood in the middle of a glistening store, plush rug under your feet, lavish chairs in the center of the room, a rainbow of fashion surrounding you.

“What…? No, Joel.”

“Hm?” he asks, eyes scanning the room. He takes a step, and you tug on his arm.

“I can’t fucking afford Gucci,” you whisper, pulling his body back against yours.

He hands you a bemused smile, eyebrows low, corners of his lips pulled. “All expenses paid, baby.”

Your arm falls limp and he drags you through the store, past mannequins in patterned gowns and silk shirts, past shelves of obnoxiously huge purses and accessories gleaming in the spotlights from above.

Your fingers stay locked around Joel’s hand, your head swiveling so much you worry it might fall off, looking from the vibrant floral wallpaper down to the spotless tiled floor, glancing politely at attendants and then dipping your head and wandering by them behind Joel.

“See anything?” he asks, turning to you at the opposite end of the store.

It’s ridiculous. This entire trip…is ridiculous, and you’ve only been here twelve hours. Following around at Joel’s heels like a puppy, watching as he clicks his fingers – no, before he even gets the chance to click his fingers – and everything and anything either of you could dream up just…happens. Right in front of you.

He won’t let up. You know him. If you tried to pull him back outside onto the street, he’d buy you something for the hell of it.

You know him. So, you decide to use that to your advantage.

“Gucci…I dunno…” you muse, squinting at him.

“Not your thing?” he asks, and he seems curious, but – you know him. You know that behind that polite mask is a smirk thick enough to make your knees wobble. He knows what you’re doing. “Where to, angel?”

You lead him out of the store. Feel his shadow behind you, watching as you thank the doorman and take a left around the corner, passing under the shade of the gently rustling trees. Arm in arm, you arrive before a huge archway, pristine windows surrounding the door to…

“Dolce & Gabbana…” Joel looks up at the stone writing atop the arch. “Alright. Classy girl.”

You giggle, pulling him past the wrought-iron fence and inside.

It’s sleeker, moodier. Less in your face. Suits you a bit better, though you can’t quite swallow back the guilt that sticks in your throat as you saunter around, Joel right behind you. It catches you when an assistant touches your arm, snapping you out of your daze, and asks if you need anything.

“No, thank you,” you reply, mirroring her smile. “Thank you.”

She nods and floats off.

Joel’s frame shells around yours, dipping his jaw to lean against your shoulder. “What about that one?” His eyes flit up to a mannequin just past a lit table of purses.

“The black one?”

“Mhm.”

“You like that?”

He repeats, a little more exaggerated: “Mhm.”

You shrug. “I do look good in black.”

“Look better in nothin’.” Joel steps forward and takes the tag between two delicate fingers, deliberately hiding it from you. He turns back, lifts his eyebrows in question. “Buy you it if you promise to wear it tonight.”

You smile. This man knows how to barter. And you take no convincing at all.

“Alright,” you accept, “deal.”

----------

Three hours later, you’re strolling down another cobbled street with an ice cream in your hand. And not much else, by the way. Joel’s taken all the shopping bags back to the hotel. He slapped your hand away when you tried to lift one of them from his clutches.

The wind sifts gently through your hair, cooling your face and neck, toying with the hem of the oversized shirt you’re wearing. It flutters the French flags overhead, red, white and blue blowing in the breeze. Cars roll by, engines humming as they weave in and out between one another, horns calling out in the distance.

Joel hadn’t let you come up to the counter to pay with him, had insisted you stay right where you were standing, and when he finished up and laced his fingers through yours, it was like a surge of energy had shot through him.

He led you out of the store and into another, and another, and another…until his hands were wrapped around, what, six bags? All carrying different components of your outfit for tonight.

And then he’d noticed the time – unlocked his phone with a curse under his breath, and kissed your temple. Midday. He was meeting Jean-Marc in an hour.

“You wanna come back with me? Chill at the hotel?” he’d asked, dialing his chauffeur’s number.

“I’m good,” you said, smiling sweetly as he squeezed your shoulder. Then, he pulled his wallet from his back pocket and handed you his card.

“’case you see anything else you want.”

“Joel,” you protested, but he’d shut you up by clicking his teeth and walking off, leaving you to follow after him, shamelessly beaming.

He’d apologized another three times before Denis had pulled up, then once more as he loaded the trunk with your bags.

“See you later. Enjoy your meeting,” you teased, laughing at the way his face twisted into a grimace as the car rolled off.

It’d been a pretty nice afternoon. You’d dipped into a couple more stores – though, without Joel to impress, the low-cut dresses and short miniskirts were somewhat less exciting.

That is, until you passed by a lingerie store. You stood outside for a second, peering by your reflection in the window to study what lay behind. Suddenly lace and satin – and the idea of Joel seeing you in them – seemed a lot more enticing.

You’d pieced together an entire getup: bra, panties, garter belt, even a pair of stockings, and a silk robe to go over the top. You handed over Joel’s card, ignoring the way your cheeks began to heat and focusing instead on how smug you felt, and skipped out of the store, bag in hand.

You’d called Denis five minutes ago to ask for a ride back to the hotel. He called you Madame, he said Nonono every time you apologized for bothering him again, and he promised he’d be there in less than ten minutes.

You pace back and forth along the curb, waiting for the shiny black Maybach to pull up. You’ve checked your phone, like, five times already, kinda hoping there’ll be a text from Joel. You swing the bag between your fingers.

A door swings open behind you, giggles filter out into the street, and you turn to see a couple bounding out of a jewelers, hand in hand. She flicks her left wrist up, tilts it in the sun. It’s hard to ignore the light bouncing off of her ring finger. You feel nauseous at the sight.

Suddenly the Parisian street dissolves, and what sweeps over in replacement is a long, empty lawn, maple trees swaying menacingly in the distance. There’s a blur of bright blue sky, sunrays bursting across your vision. Your hand comes up to shield your eyes, and there he is. There he was.

He was on the grass. You told him to stand up; his suit trousers would be stained green. He did it anyway. Trembling hands, expectant stare. You stuttered and stammered your way through a sentence fueled by shock and horror and…resentment.

And then you did it anyway, too.

The crackle of tires coming to a stop on the road in front drags your fraught gaze from the couple, now strutting off down the avenue. You reach for the door handle, but Denis is already out of the car and leaning down, hand on your back as you duck into the backseat.

----------

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sulieykte · 1 year

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𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 // 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 ✧˚ · . 𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝒊𝒊

‣ Pairing: Adult!Neteyam (20) x Fem!Omatikaya Reader (19) ‣ Warnings: mentions of bruising and biting, mean Neteyam yet again & a little bit of slut shaming ‣ Word Count: 2.4k ‣ A/N: Did I mention there might be smut in part two? We're not quite there yet it's coming don't worry. This fic has truly taken on it's own life and what was meant to be a two, maybe three parter is looking like it's going to be much longer. I'd like to thank you all on your love for the first part and I hope you all love this part just as much. This was proof read at nearly midnight so if you see any errors, no you didn't. English is in bold italics all other dialogue is in Na'vi. ‣ Na'vi word bank: parultsyìp - term of affection for children

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“Slow down Parultsyìp.”

At Jake’s words, you inhaled a deep shaky breath, attempting to steady yourself and give the explanation he demanded of you. He had said those words to you many times, but now they lacked the softness they had had when you were a child, and his fluency was not developed enough for the hastiness of your speech. His tone was now laced with disappointment that sank into your chest like a knife.

It had taken nearly an hour to get to this point and much negotiation on Jake’s part. While he hadn’t been able to convince you to remove yourself from where your back was firmly planted against the wall of the tent affording you as much distance from Neteyam as you could manage short of leaving the family’s home. You had considered your escape momentarily, but you knew you had no chance of doing so with the three Sully men in between you and the exit.

He had practically had to pry your hand from where it covered your other, clearly concealing an injury that you insisted you didn’t have. Until then you’d been clinging to hope that you could take the fall for the whole ordeal, take your licks and leave. Unfortunately, your shaking frame and wild eyes that couldn’t go more than a few seconds without tracking Neteyam had given you away. Jake had gently pulled your arm towards him, his eyes widening as he saw the imprint of his son’s hand impressed onto your skin in purple and navy.

The Olo’eyktan didn’t have time to comment before he had to intervene as his youngest son barrelled towards his eldest. With a shove out of the Marui, Lo’ak had been sent to the Tsahiks tent to get his nose looked at and to send his mother and sister to tend to the two he declared as “Dumbasses.”

So, you found yourself still pressed as far as you could away from Neteyam, Kiri tending to your bruise as Neytiri tended to her son’s injury, Jake crouched in front of you with his eyebrows raised as he waited for your retelling of the events. “Slow down, try again.”

You took a deep breath, not seeing much of an out for yourself. Whatever marks Neteyam had left on your body, and whatever else he was going to do to you if he had reached you, you had intended to break curfew and inflicted a much worse injury on him. Neteyam had been awfully quiet since his fathers entrance, seemingly finding some spot on the ground more interesting than his father’s questioning of you. You were sure it was only a matter of time before he took his opportunity to drop you in it, so you found no point in lying.

“I was going to stay out past curfew.” You saw Neteyam’s eyes flicker to you from the edge of your vision and tried to stay focused on the man in front of you, nodding for you to continue. “Neteyam tried to get me to come back, but I didn’t want to, and he grabbed me.” You winced, as Kiri pressed a little too hard as she applied the healing balm to your wrist, uttering a quick apology before continuing with a gentle hand.

When you returned to look at Jake, you noticed Neteyam had finally lifted his head and his eyes were on you, his jaw tightened as you met his gaze before he looked away. “I don’t know what happened, I panicked.” You continued. “I just wanted him to let go so I bit him… and I ran.”

You failed to add that for a moment, you felt like you were running for your life, or that you weren’t entirely sure what would have happened if you hadn’t found Lo’ak.

Jake sighed, his hand coming to press against his brows for a moment before he shared a look with his mate.

“Kiri, go check on Lo’ak.” The girl nodded, giving your shoulder a gentle squeeze as she left to follow her father’s order.

Jake rose to his feet, turning to his son. “All that true?”

“Yes sir.”

There’s a silence that sets your teeth on edge. He should just get it done, whatever punishment he could throw your way could hardly be worse than the atmosphere of the Marui right now.

“You two need to grow the hell up. This is starting to get really old.” Jake didn’t look at either of the offending parties, pacing the tent with one hand on his hip, the other pinched at his brow. “Are you guys not tired of this by now? Because I know I’m exhausted.” You sniffed, blinking back the tears that threatened to fall, determined not to cry in front of Neteyam even if it broke your heart to hear the expression of Jake’s disappointment in you.

Jake, along with Neytiri has been a constant in your life from the moment you were born. He was a second father figure to you and when your own father returned to Eywa while fighting alongside him, he was the only one you had left. It hurt to see him look at you with such shame in his eyes.

“You. You are to be Olo’eyktan after me. Do you think this is the behaviour of a clan leader?” He turned to Neteyam, his eyebrow raised as his son struggled to meet his eye. “Indulging in petty little rivalries, causing harm to clan members out of rage?” He gestured to your arm, Neteyam’s gaze following. “To family?”

Neteyam’s eyes met yours, he wanted you to know he meant what he was about to say. “She’s not my fa-“

“Boy don’t even finish that thought.” Jake warned. Neytiri hissed, pushing at her son's forehead. He shook his head, his gaze leaving yours after successfully having lit a fire in you.

“And y/n. Panicked or not, you took it too far. That’s going to leave a scar.”

“All mighty warriors have scars. I did him a favour, maybe now he can stop trying so hard to convince everyone.” The disapproving look you received from Neytiri was worth it to see the tensing of Neteyam’s shoulders as he tried not to react.

“Geez, I don’t know what we’re going to do with you two.”

As it turned out, it didn’t take long for him to figure out what to do with you.

You and Neteyam had received matching punishments, starting with no Ikran for two weeks. It had been the longest you’d been away for Anì since you bonded. You had tried to argue the cruelty of this only to be threatened with a Lo’ak ban being issued if you didn’t stop.

At the suggestion of your mother when she’d joined the other parents’ deliberation, you’d also been stripped of all your duties as warriors during this time and placed on clean up duty for the entire clan each night. It was only a week in and your will to live had begun to slip away, the only solace you found being in the presence of your best friend.

Of course, it had only been fair to punish you equally, but you could not yet be trusted to be left alone together without supervision. Kiri was too busy working alongside the Tsahìk as the raids they had been barred from continued, and Lo’ak had picked up some of Neteyam’s responsibilities, an unspoken reward from Jake for his intervention. Tuk had outright refused, bursting into tears and exclaiming how it was unfair for her to be punished just because they couldn’t get along. That left Spider, whose desperation to be useful to the clan and Neytiri’s personal request – a good move on Jake’s part you had to admit – could not refuse.

You didn’t miss the irony when the three of you received your orders for the day. You were to map out the unoccupied areas of the cave systems, documenting which areas were suitable for expansion. The current layout of High Camp was liveable, but the clan was in need of room to breathe.

Staying several paces ahead of your companions, you tread lightly over the stone path, skipping over the familiar areas you knew from your previous explorations were not suitable. Spider’s presence between you and Neteyam created a distance you were more than comfortable with. Your parents may have had hope that the time you spent with each other would push you closer to one another, or at least closer to tolerating one another but it had been a failure thus far.

If anything, it had proved Spider had a promising future in mediation, having managed to keep the two of you civil.

You had been walking for an hour before you reached your intended destination. A cavern you had come across with Lo’ak in the early days of High Camp. Its walls lined with vines and bioluminescence, a spring at the centre. For a moment you considered that maybe you shouldn’t have brought them here, that you should’ve kept this place a secret between yourself and your friends, but you shook off the doubt.

“Oh, come on man, I’ve seen how Tsani looks at you. There’s no way you haven’t tapped that.” You had tuned out Spider and Neteyam’s conversation for most of the journey, a good choice you found once you started listening in again. Rolling your eyes you walked further into the cavern, running your fingers through the vines.

“I’m not Lo’ak, I don’t have the luxury of passing myself around the clan.” You snorted at that, Neteyam pausing at your interruption, the first sound you’ve made the whole journey. His eyes narrowed as he followed you into the cavern. “Something to say?”

You shouldn’t, you really shouldn’t. It’s not like Spider’s supervision would do anything if you really pissed him off again, but you couldn’t resist when faced with his blatant lies. Girls talked, a lot. And of course, when it was the future Olo’eyktan, there had been some bragging involved.

“I mean of course you don’t but you’ve had the luxury of Tsyal, Kyuna, Yina…” You drew out each name, pleased as Neteyam’s face dropped. You were ready to declare yourself another win when a smirk crossed his face, your stomach sinking at the sight.

“The same luxury you’ve given to Ralu, I’m sure.”

A sharp intake of breath was heard from the cavern’s entrance, and you looked to see Spider open his mouth, his face melting into worry as he attempted to intervene, his hand wrapped around the vines at the mouth of the cavern as if he were holding on for support. You held your hand up, quieting him before he could speak.

“You are wrong.” You bluffed, and badly at that. It was not something you expected him to know. You had only told Lo’ak and Spider and you were sure they would not share the secret of the intimacy you had shared with the hunter after the second successful raid you had been paired with him for. Neteyam laughed, his face emanating the most joyful look you think you’d ever seen on his face in your presence.

“Oh, I’m not sure, I think I heard him right. What was it he said?” He pinched his chin, fake pondering for a moment. “Insatiable… Like a Palulukan in heat.”Heat pooled at your cheeks, the humiliation bringing back that sharp stinging sensation at the corner of your eyes as you tried to keep your promise to never cry in front of Neteyam again.

“Seriously bro? Too far.” Spider moved towards you, struggling to detangle himself from the vines he’d been clinging to in his rush to move towards you and give comfort. You turned to tell him it was fine, to stay out of it because you were more than ready to wipe the smirk off of Neteyam’s face.

That’s when you saw the crumbling rock land by Spider’s foot. “Shit!” Looking up at the mouth of the cave, your fears were confirmed as more, bigger rocks followed the path of the first, detached from their original place by the pull of the vines. There was no time to warn Spider, not in words at least, and your body could move faster. You lunged forward, pushing Spider’s body away from the path of the collapsing cave entrance, not missing the crunch and his cry of pain as he hit the ground.

There was no time for you to react before you felt hands wrap around your waist, your body yanked back with a force that took the wind out of you. Your back hit a hard surface as your legs were knocked out from under you. All you could do was lie there for a moment, chest rising rapidly as you tried to regain control of your breathing.

Blinking rapidly, you tried to sit up, finding resistance against your middle that pulled you back down. Neteyam’s hands squeezed tighter around your middle as he groaned in pain, he’d had a much harder landing than you had when he twisted you out of the way of the falling rubble, his body hitting the uneven rocky ground as you landed on top of him.

Your body froze as the current position you were in registered in your brain, the hands pressed into your waist were not half as bruising as the grip around your wrist, but the rush of your heart and your body screaming at you to get away once more had you scrambling out of his grasp towards the cave exit.

Except there was no longer an exit. “No. No. No.” You shook your head, refusing the reality before you. The wall of rock where the exit had once been, where Spider had just been standing, could not be real. You moved closer, pushing against the blockade with as much force as you could knowing before you had even touched it that it would not work.

Turning back, you faced your fellow prisoner, now sat rubbing at his neck with a grimace. “Please tell me you brought your comm with you.” He didn’t need to answer, even without the look on his face you could see the absence of the device from his neck. Crumpling down to the ground against the newly formed cavern wall, you called out to your friend. “Bro, you good?”

“Yeah.” Spider coughed, his voice quiet from outside of the rock prison. “Thanks for the save.”

“Thank me by getting us out of here.” Your eyes met with Neteyam’s, his holding a similar panic to your own. “Quickly.”

tag list: @inntercreationflower, @lili-of-the-dream, @arminsgfloll,@strawberryclouds22,@aliceantalus,@afro-hispwriter,@gretesstuff

#~ lys writes ♡‧₊ *#action // reaction #avatar #avatar twow #atwow #neteyam #neteyam te suli tsyeyk'itan #neteyam sully #neteyam x reader #neteyam x you #neteyam x na'vi!reader #neteyam x omaticaya!reader #neteyam fanfiction #neteyam angst #avatar fanfiction #avatar x reader

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thesoftboiledegg · 6 months

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"Unmortricken" was a lot. In fact, it might have been a little too much.

To start, I loved the glimpse of what exists outside the Central Finite Curve. The visuals were stunning and reminded me of M.C. Escher's drawings. The Jetson-like family was a nice touch--if anything can happen, who says they can't have different animation styles? All those colorful portals make me wonder what's lurking just out of sight.

It's also funny that the space outside the Curve is full of Rick's favorite thing: crystals. If he took a trip there, he'd come back with his pockets stuffed with gemstones.

Evil Morty's reappearance gave us a decent character study. Since he wasn't the antagonist, we saw him interact with the C-137s as a regular person. Morty's a little impressed, and Rick has a grudging respect for him. Others have called Evil Morty the Rickest Morty, and I agree: similar intelligence, similar technology and similar bloodthirst.

I was glad that he left in the end because that's what his character arc is about anyway. He doesn't want to be part of anyone else's story, not even another Morty's.

However, that's also part of the issue that I had with this episode. Seeing Evil Morty was great, but it was also a little...pointless? You could've had the same story without him. He's not working with Prime, and he has no ties to C-137 after "Rickmurai Jack," so it felt like the writers just said "Hey, you know what would be cool?"

I'm not against writers having fun and giving the audience what they want. "Spider-Man: No Way Home" (yeah, groan at me, Marvel haters) is fan service in blockbuster form, and it was one of the best theater experiences I've ever had.

Still, if Evil Morty came back, I think he should've had a separate episode. The episode juggled C-137 Rick, Morty, Evil Morty and Prime Rick pretty well, giving them satisfying interactions with each other, but no Evil Morty would've meant more relationship development for the C-137s.

Evil Morty's backstory also didn't reveal much about him. I mean--yeah, we all figured that he had an abusive Rick and got fed up. The fact that he had a "regular" Rick instead of a deranged lunatic does make a point about the banality of abuse. Monsters aren't always raving maniacs who torture people in their basements. Ordinary people can wear you down with a slow drip of toxicity and neglect.

I enjoyed this episode, and Evil Morty's return was exciting, but cramming the series' two biggest antagonists and storylines into twenty minutes was a little overwhelming. New plot developments kept showing up, too: Rick found Prime! Prime's various lairs! Omega device! I would've preferred a two-parter.

I'll admit that if you told me that we'd see Evil Morty and Rick Prime in the same shot, I never would have believed you, but here we are.

On that note, Prime's characterization was perfect. No attempt at a cutesy, sad backstory; he's a laughing monster until the end. And is it really the end? He has regeneration abilities, but C-137 acts like he's dead and even gives up the search. This leaves us with a few options:

C-137 killed him.

Prime fooled C-137 into thinking that he's dead when he isn't.

C-137's keeping him alive for later use.

Hopefully, this is more complicated than it looks because I'll be disappointed if this is the end of Prime. He's a brilliant reflection of C-137: the Rick he'd be without his tiny shred of humanity.

And Prime's a maniac, but he tells C-137 the truth. Rick broke into Prime's house. He pretended he belonged with this group of strangers. He latched on to Prime's grandson because he never had his own. His brutal, violent streak never went away no matter how long he tried to play house.

Prime says "Admit it! You would have been me!" In season three and parts of season four, Rick was close. His love for his family--love that he pretended he didn't have--and desire for their approval just barely pulled him back. But what kept that spark alive? How close was he to becoming a cold, unfeeling shell?

In the end, C-137's not satisfied after he destroys Prime--and weirdly, I'm not satisfied, either. Beating Prime to an unrecognizable pulp doesn't bring Rick's original family back. It doesn't erase the atrocities that Rick's committed. It doesn't make his grief go away. It doesn't change the fact that Rick teetered on the edge of turning into the monster that he despised.

What's more satisfying is that Rick didn't turn out like Prime. His Morty doesn't give two shits about Prime, but he loves him. He hugs him in relief (come on, Rick, hug him back already!), cries out "Rick? Rick!" and shakes his body when he thinks he's dead, and talks excitedly as they return home.

Rick's going to therapy, which Prime would have mocked. He went from having nobody to living with FIVE kids if you count Morty and Summer. Even he and his Jerry are pretty tight.

Rick knows this, but he still feels empty all the time. Vengeance doesn't work, drinking doesn't work...wouldn't it be easier if he just switched off his humanity and laughed at everything, even his own death?

But now that he knows how it feels to be loved, especially by his hypothetical grandson, I think he'll always find himself at the Smiths' doorstep.

#rick and morty #rick sanchez #morty smith #prime rick #weird rick #rick prime #evil morty #boy that's quite the collection of tags #unmortricken #season seven #review

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astroph1les · 7 months

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all in a day’s work [h.c]

summary: being spider-woman is going pretty well for hazel. that is until you notice these cuts and bruises appearing on her skin. she’s just a little clumsy, though, right?

pairing: hazel callahan x fem!reader

contains: mature language and content, shower sex (very little detail), spider!hazel, mentions of hazel’s transformation since becoming spider-woman, slight violence, cannabis mention, mentions of the avengers events, josie is hazel’s guy in the chair.

word count: 4.4K

a/n: it’s here. i’m beyond excited for you guys to read this short series. it’s going to be a four parter, uploading each part every week for the month of october. thank you and enjoy <3

one | two | three | four

Hazel hated criminals.

The ones who stole purses from innocent old ladies who were just trying to buy groceries. The ones who harass and assault women for rejecting them. Or in this special Brooklyn norm, a guy who had hotwired a BMW who was now involved in a high speed chase with four cop cars and a special hero following him.

Normally, she would be more than pleased to arrive at the scene. On any other day, she wouldn’t have promised to meet her girlfriend — sweet and patient you — at the bodega that your uncle owned. But some dumbass just had to hotwire a car when she had to meet you in an hour.

Hazel swung in between buildings, following the sirens of the police cars and the map inside of her mask, her eyes darting from car to car to find the one that was described. A dark purple BMW speeding down Tillary Street, turning down Gold Street. Once she had spotted the vehicle, she launched herself faster in the vicinity before landing on a U-Haul truck that was a few cars behind the BMW.

This guy was swerving and weaving through cars like a maniac as Brooklyn’s finest were hot on his trail. Hazel shook her hands out as a nerve-releaser, her gloved hands stretching in and out. She then sprinted across the top of the truck before launching a web at a tall building to maneuver her way onto the back of the BMW.

The breeze felt nice, though, after swinging around for so long. Her hands were gripping onto the sides of the vehicle to keep her balance.

“Excuse me, sir!” She tapped on the back window, waving a hand to get his attention.

The man’s eyes flickered to his rear-view mirror, eyes visibly widening at the sight of Spider-Woman hanging from the back of the stolen car. His response was to step on the gas. Hazel groaned as her lower stomach thumped onto the trunk, but quickly regained her posture as she hoisted herself onto her feet.

“Incoming text from honey with the white heart emoji and bee emoji,” Karen told Hazel, her Siri-like voice echoing in her ears. “Are we still on for sandwiches, babe? Semi-colon. Parenthesis.”

Hazel smiled at the message from you as she crawled to the top of the vehicle, mentally pumping her fist at the sight of the sunroof. The man had left it wide open. So he was an idiot in many ways. Hazel slipped in quickly, her bottom landing in the backseat. She’d tell Karen to reply as soon as she finishes with this nuisance.

“C’mon, dude, high-speed chase? What? Was stealing an old lady’s purse too cliche?” Hazel quipped with a cheeky attitude.

The man didn’t say a word but instead attempted to throw a punch in the backseat, letting out grunts of annoyance. Hazel blocked every swing with a sigh, wondering why the hell he was even trying.

“You know, you’d punch way better if you weren’t driving, sir.”

As the man continued to speed between cars, Hazel stares up ahead to see an empty alleyway in an upcoming street. She needed to get him off of the street so that innocent people wouldn’t be in the way of danger.

Hazel shoots a web at the man's eyes. He grunts at the sticky feeling and temporary blindness, releasing the wheel entirely. Hazel reaches over from the backseat, hands gripping onto the wheel to turn sharply into the deserted alley. She mutters a string of curses as the side of the car scrapes against the brick building.

She’ll tell Mr. Stark about billing that to the owner later.

Cars honked and came to a sudden halt at her illegal moves but the car was now in the alley, away from the public. She releases the wheel to quickly crawl out of the open sun-roof. Mid-way out, she feels the glass begin to close on her torso.

Hazel groans out at the squeezing pressure and looks down into the car to see that the man had hit the sunroof button on the roof of the interior. One of his hands gripped onto her spandex covered calf, trying to tug her back down.

“I have a girlfriend, dude. Let go,” Hazel grunted, wriggling in his grasp.

Hazel threw her foot back into his chest and jaw before jumping up and out of the car. She landed on a metal fire escape balcony. From that distance, she shot multiple webs at the end of the alleyway, creating a makeshift trap for the car to run into. Her wrists were beginning to ache but she kept her movements flowing, releasing the web as he was reaching the end. The car hit the large web with a loud thump but had stopped, which is what Hazel was aiming for.

The thief had stepped out of the car and began to book it.

“Karen, send a text back to honey reading,” Hazel stood on the fire escape and walked on the side of the building as she aimed a web at the man. The substance wrapped around his legs causing him to trip and hit the ground. “Of course. See you soon. With two x’s and o’s.”

“I am sending the text to honey.” Karen alerted Hazel to her mask.

Hazel swung over to land right next to the criminal's head, tilting her body to the side to grin at his scraped up face. She knew he couldn’t see her shit-eating grin but it brought her some sort of badass feeling. Like an ‘I-just-did-that-shit’ feeling.

“The cops will take care of you so if you’ll excuse me,” she shot her web around his wrist to keep him down and held them behind his back. “I have to see my girl.”

The man grunted loudly to which Hazel responded with a: “Bye, Mr. Criminal!” as she launches herself out of the alley and around the corner of the building.

You were browsing the shelf of snacks and candies in your uncle’s bodega. You had just gotten off your shift at the Build-A-Bear in the mall and you were absolutely starving. The array of chips and gummies made your stomach grumble, sighing as you were waiting patiently for Hazel to arrive.

Her Stark internship had consumed a lot of her time lately. Of course, you were incredibly happy and proud of her to be working under Tony Stark: a billionaire industrialist, inventor, and the Iron-Man.

You didn’t mean to seem clingy, but you missed her when she was gone.

“Bee, here you go.” You hear a voice coming from behind the counter.

There stood your uncle with your turkey club sandwich wrapped — no tomatoes. You let out a groan of relief as you walked up to the counter to take it from him. You reach into your tote to grab a five dollar bill.

“Bee, you’re not paying.” He began to walk around to avoid you giving him cash.

“Uncle Karter, take it now. I’ll hop over this counter and shove into the register,” your threat was playful, but you meant every word.

“You’re hungry so I’m giving you food. It’s just like having lunch at home.” Your uncle insisted as he pointed at you, resting his arms on the glass display of the different kinds of sandwiches and deli meat he had to offer.

You sigh, giving him a wary look. Yes, he was your uncle, but you felt guilty just being handed sandwiches that you could easily pay for. You have a job. Your uncle wouldn’t let you pay, though, so you reluctantly slip the dollar bill into your bag.

“Thank you,” you give him a small smile before taking a bite of the fresh sandwich.

“It’s nothing, kiddo.” The man shakes his head as his eyes flicker behind him at the front door. The bell rings and he jerks his head to whoever was walking in. “Your little girlfriend is here.”

You whip your head around mid-bite to see Hazel panting as if she had run here with a wide, charming smile. Her hands were holding something behind her back as she approached you happily with her brown broken-in leather backpack over one shoulder, her keys that were clasped onto a loop of her jeans jangling loudly.

“Hey,” she breathes out, her gaze flickering between both of your eyes. Hazel raises her hand to wave at your uncle. “Hi, sir.”

“Hazel, I told you to call me Karter. None of that ‘sir’ shit, dude. I’m 36, not 50.” Your uncle replied teasingly, causing you to chuckle. Hazel nodded, muttering a ‘right’. Her eyes locked with yours as your uncle began to attend to the other customers.

“How was it today?” You tilt your head as you take another bite of your sandwich.

Hazel shrugged her shoulders, scoffing out. “Boring science shit but it was good. New scientist named Dr. Connors that Mr. Stark introduced me to.”

You deadpan at her, nodding your head. Sure, the subject wasn’t your favorite but you always wanted to hear about Hazel’s day. You brushed off the short response as you swallow that bite of your sandwich.

“Okay, well, that’s good. What are you hiding?” You try to peer over her shoulder but she only leans to the same side as you.

“Grabbed something for you on the way here.” Hazel beams as she pulls out the present from behind her back.

It was a small bouquet of an array of flowers for this time of the year. It was fall in New York, so the array of white roses and yellow sunflowers brightened up your mood. Forest Hills blossomed during the chilly season; a beautiful orange hue washed over the neighborhood in Queens as the decaying leaves fell from the tree branches.

Your eyes softened at the simple yet sweet gesture. Hazel grinned awkwardly, hoping you loved them.

Ever since you two had started dating half a year ago, Hazel has always felt like she had to be the best girlfriend she could. You were her first girlfriend and she was absolutely crazy about you, as you were about her.

Other people haven’t been the kindest to you and she knew that. Lying and cheating were a main factor as you’ve told her.

The guilt ached in her chest everyday having to lie to you about being Spider-Woman. You were her entire world. Tony insisted it was for the best if she didn’t want anything to happen to you.

“You are too sweet, I swear. Thank you, baby,” you lean in close to kiss her lips quickly and take the bouquet in your free hand.

Hazel flushed so easily, making your smile widen. It was a good feeling to see after so many months that she still got flustered when you kissed her.

“It’s nothing. You deserve it.” Hazel replied as if it was something you should know.

You don’t respond to that, only blushing like Hazel was moments ago. You sniff the soft flowery scent for a moment before taking another bite of your sandwich.

“You wanna head to mine?” You offer with a flirty smile.

“Uh, yeah, sure.” Hazel nodded, eyes warily darting to your uncle who was occupied with his line of customers that appeared out of the blue.

“He’ll be here for hours. C’mon,” you loop your arm around hers. “Bye, Uncle Karter. See you later.”

Your uncle simply waves his hand mid-conversation with the middle aged woman in front of him. Hazel leaned into your touch for a second before letting herself get dragged out of the bodega by you.

A fresh autumn breeze brushed against her, hitting her pale skin. You leaned your head on her shoulder as you talked about all the adorable children that had come into the Build-A-Bear.

Hazel loved these small moments with you. Well, she loved every moment but little things like this clouded her brain when she wasn’t focused on keeping her identity a secret. Watching your eyes light up when you spoke about how happy these children looked when you handed them their bear made her heart grow tenfold.

When the two of you had arrived at you and your uncle's apartment, you reached into your bag to grab the house keys.

“You hungry?” You ask as your sliding the key into the slot.

Hazel shook her head, placing a hand over her stomach. “I’m okay. Thank you, though, honey.”

You place a gentle kiss at her cheek as if to tell her that you asked her questions like that to show that you cared. You frowned, though, as you noticed a bruise and cut on her top lip that you hadn’t really seen before.

Hazel noticed you paused and furrowed her brows.

“What is it?” She whipped her head around to see if there were any potential threats. She was tempted to check her watch that Tony had given her to get Karen to scan the area.

“Babe, did you hit your lip?” You raised a hand to graze over the reddening area.

Hazel’s eyes widened once she realized what you were talking about. Earlier this morning, Hazel had a guy hit the butt of his gun at her face when she had dealt with a smoke shop robbery. She actually got free weed from the guy working the register which she plans to give to PJ.

“Oh, yeah. May was opening a cabinet up top and it hit me straight in the lip. I kind of forgot about it.” Hazel easily lied through her teeth, letting you caress the outline of her lips.

“It doesn’t hurt, right?” You ask her softly, eyes flickering up to her freckled under eyes.

Hazel shook her head with a hum, her smile growing as she admired your worried features. You looked away with a flushed grin as you pushed open the front door. The faint aroma of pumpkin and cinnamon filled Hazel’s nose, warmth filling her chest.

It wasn’t the largest apartment but it was home to you. You and uncle didn’t need much more than this.

“How is May?” You asked as you hung your keys on one of the Smurfs wall mounted key hooks that you had found at a thrift store.

“She’s good. Working at the hospital right now so she’s hoping that‘ll pay well.” Hazel explains as she traces the knick knacks on the shelf’s in the living room.

You can’t help but smile at the thought of Hazel’s Aunt May. She really was one of the kindest women you’ve ever met. May had a tendency to call you her ‘future daughter in law’ in front of Hazel just to tease the girl, watching her cheeks and tips of her ears flush a deep red.

“That’s good. I don’t want her overworking herself, though.” You sigh as you set your bag down next to the arm of the couch.

“Yeah, me neither.” Hazel sighed. “So, what did you wanna do?”

You hum in thought, bringing your single braid from behind your head to over your shoulder. You began to untangle the twisted hair as you thought about what activities you and Hazel could do now that she was free.

A certain idea came to mind.

“Well, I do need to shower so,” you say nonchalantly, hoping Hazel would get the hint.

“Oh, okay. Yeah, I can wait out here. Take your time, honey.” Hazel nodded and went over to take a seat on the couch.

You stared at her grabbing the remote for the TV, turning it on and flicking through the channels. You release your hair to allow it to sit on your shoulders, waiting patiently for Hazel to realize.

“Oh, do you wanna watch Foot Loose when you get out of the shower?” Hazel’s gaze floated back to you.

Her excitement to watch the movie dropped when she noticed you tilting your head and looking at her like that. You had only given her that look when you were insinuating something sensual. Your body was swaying back and forth as your smile grew when she set down the remote.

“Sorry. I didn’t— I thought you meant by yourself.” Hazel rushed out as she turned off the TV, chuckling nervously.

“At first, yeah. But, hey, we’re conserving water if we shower together and you know I’m all about keeping the Earth green.”

Hazel couldn’t help but nod, standing up to walk up to you. “That— yeah. That’s true. Conserving water conserves energy that reduces greenhouse gas pollution.”

Her brain shouldn’t have turned you on as much as it did.

“Yeah? What else does it do?” Your fingers hook onto her belt loops, tugging her closer into your body.

Hazel allowed you to manhandle her as she would truthfully let you do anything to her. She knew how much her ability to retain and cite facts turned you on. It was obvious by how you were drinking her in like you could devour her.

“It can… oh, protect aquatic life and extend water supply to areas that lack and ensure agricultural production to thrive.” Hazel rambled out, her flush growing as your thumbs brushed past her hip bone.

“Oh, those poor sea creatures.” You frown, smacking your lips.

“Don’t you need to shower?” Hazel asked, suddenly overwhelmed with impatience.

Your smile only grew, a giggle falling from your lips. You intertwine your hands with Hazel’s as you hurriedly walk over to your small bathroom. Hazel made sure to remove her watch and set it down on the porcelain sink, not wanting any sort of message from Tony to interrupt her time with you.

You turn to shut the door and turn the lock with a ‘click’. Hazel is caught off guard by you removing your work shirt, blushing at the sight of you in your bra. She felt like such a virgin. She’s seen you naked at this point and still was a flustered mess around you.

“Can’t take a shower with clothes, Haze.” You raised your brows as you were unbuttoning your pants.

“Maybe I can. I can do laundry that way.” Hazel quipped back with a chuckle.

Nonetheless, she began to slip off her sweater. You walk over to her, hooking your fingers underneath the thick fabric to help her. Her sports bra came into view as you tugged the sweater up and off, tossing it onto the blue and white tiled ground.

You both messily kissed, clanking teeth from how rushed your movements were. Soft laughter released from you as you removed the rest of your clothing and underwear, Hazel following by copying your actions.

Hazel hoisted you up with ease by your plush thighs, causing you to let out a yelp at the sudden movement. You lazily kissed her jaw as you held onto her neck, listening to her soft hums as she stepped into the shower. You never understood how all of a sudden, Hazel had this strength and toned body. You’d never seen her hit the gym once since you’ve been together.

Not that you were complaining. Just confused.

“Alright, let me down,” you hum against her skin, “I really do have to shower.”

“I’ll, uh, help.” Hazel offered as she released her grasp from your thighs, carefully watching you step onto the tiled ground.

You simply give her a soft kiss, whispering a ‘thank you’ onto her lips. Hazel hums back before grabbing the hydrating shampoo from the shelf. You turned on the shower, letting out a soft ‘fuck’ at the cold water. You hurriedly turn the knob to the red ‘H’ symbol, leaning back into Hazel’s body.

Once the stream of water began to heat up, Hazel squirted out the correct amount of shampoo into her palms. She massaged the product to your scalp as you tilt your head back with a sigh. Her fingers work into your scalp, sending you into a domestic bliss.

“That feels so good.” You practically moan as Hazel continues with the shampooing.

Hazel chuckles with a blush, leaning down to press a gentle kiss onto your naked shoulder. Your mind practically turns to mush but you force yourself to continue the rest of your routine.

You and Hazel bathed each other after a few heated kisses. That’s all. (You had gone down on her and she fingered you until you came twice.) She had told you how much you resembled a beautiful Renaissance painting with every curve and dip of your body. The words squeezed at your heart, feeling yourself fall more and more in love with her — if that was even possible.

Now freshly bathed and spent from the day, you and Hazel settle down, remaining in just underwear with an oversized tee. The sun had been long gone — the only light source being the city lights from outside of your bedroom window. You were cuddled up in your bed on your sides Hazel was running one hand up and down the fresh and lotion-covered skin of your arm as you twirled her wet hair around your fingers.

“I wanna stay here forever.” You yawn and rub at your bare face.

“Yeah?” Hazel hummed.

You nod with a chuckle. “Oh, yeah. If I didn’t have to work or worry about stuff like the apocalypse and aliens taking over, I would stay here forever.”

“Aliens?” Hazel’s brows arched at your words, chuckling along with you.

“Well, I mean, you saw what happened with Avengers in the city a few years ago. That was terrifying, you know?” You mutter, zoning out as the memory flooded back into your mind.

You had been just a few streets down when Loki had sent an army of aliens down onto the city. Who knows what could’ve happened if you had been just one more street closer to the destruction.

Hazel only nodded because how can you forget an event like that? Lives were lost and changed forever. Hazel, at the time, was just like you; a normal girl in the city just trying to live day by day. She wasn’t able to save people as she could now.

“Let’s just… lay here a-and not think about that, honey. Okay?” Hazel whispered as she tried to reassure you while reassuring her own scattered mind.

“Okay. I’m sorry.” You whispered back with a self-deprecating chuckle as you felt that you had ruined the mood.

Hazel shook her head as she moved her hand from caressing your arm to cupping your bare cheek.

“No, no, no, it’s okay. I just don’t want you to worry about all that stuff that hasn’t happened.”

Hypocrite, Hazel’s mind echoed after she had continued to utter soft and kind words to you. That’s all she ever did. Worrying about the unknown or stuff she couldn't control.

You ultimately felt your worries fade for the time being. Hazel caresses the length of your back until your heavy eyes shut, allowing sleep to take over. Not too long after Hazel knew that you were sound asleep, she did the same.

Hazel was awakened by the sound of a loud alarm echoing throughout the space of the room. She had shot up quickly from the bed, looking down at her watch to see it was a call from Josie — her only friend from Stark Industries.

Hazel checked the time to see it was 7:04 in the morning; way too early to be calling her. She glanced at you tangled up in your bed sheets next to her, mouth slightly hung open as you were knocked out. She carefully got up from the mattress, trodding over to the bathroom to get some privacy.

Hazel groaned at her reflection, her hair a tousled mess and her shirt half-way off of her shoulders. She reluctantly answered the call on the watch, squinting her eyes as Josie came into view.

“Hi Hazel!” Her cheery voice threw her off guard.

“It’s seven in the morning, Josie.” Hazel grumbled, trying to fix her hair.

“That didn't sound like a ‘oh, good morning, Josie’ so I’ll pretend you said that.” Josie quipped back, adjusting herself in her cubicle. “Anyways, Mr. Stark told me to call you because he needs you here, like, immediately.”

Hazel’s eyes shot open. “Wait really?”

Josie hums as she types something on her laptop that was lighting up her screen. “He said in his email, and i quote: ‘call Underoos and get her here immediately. No’ and this is in all caps ‘questions’.”

Hazel rolled her eyes at the nickname. Within the first few days of working under Tony, the nickname came to mind and never left. As much as she wanted to stay in bed with you, she knew she had to see whatever Tony needed her there for. She scrunched up her nose and yawned, nodding and scratching the back of her head.

“I’ll be there soon. Probably 10-20 minutes.” Hazel stretches her free arm, releasing some tension in her biceps and upper back.

“Alright, cool. Oh, wait,” Josie muttered as she stopped typing on her keyboard, leaning back into her roller chair. “Ah, shit. Son of a bitch, dude.”

“What?” Hazel responded as she was about to leave the bathroom so she could hang up.

“No, nothing. I lost at Solitaire against Happy.” Josie shook her head, groaning before typing again on the laptop.

Hazel furrowed her brows before hanging up with a: ‘See you soon’. The last thing she heard was Josie angrily typing as she whispered: ‘Filthy cheater’.

Josie took Solitaire extremely personally.

Hazel slowly crept out of the bathroom as she had forgotten that your Uncle Karter was now home, if not, awake. She tiptoed back into your room, grabbing her bag from the small carpet strawberry right next to your bed. You had adjusted once again in your sleep, snuggling into the plush of your pillow.

You were a fidgety sleeper but she found it adorable. Watching over you right now almost made her stay but she couldn't risk Tony being angry with her. She quickly changed into her suit, walking over to your window to unlock it and crack it open.

Taking one more glance at your unconscious body, Hazel tugged her mask over her face before she shot a web out of the window at a building across the street. She threw her bag over her shoulder as she swung to the apartment building next door all the way to the Stark Tower.

Mid-way there, she suddenly remembered that she didn’t leave a note for you like she usually would when she left so suddenly. She brushed it off and told herself she’d send you a text as soon as she left.

Nothing to worry about.

Right?

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#hazel callahan #bottoms movie #hazel callahan x reader #bottoms 2023 #ruby cruz #hazel callahan x you #spider hazel #spider woman #hazel callahan fic

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vauxxy · 4 months

Text

the moon ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

ECLIPSE- PROLOGUE, PART ONE, PART TWO

luke castellan x reader

ABOUT - luke invites you, the strange dionysus girl, to spar with him. luke makes a revelation, and you invite him to hang out.

A/N - hey y’all! it’s been a while!! so here i am, with an introductory chapter to a three parter luke x reader series called ‘eclipse’.

there’s not a lot happening in this chapter, but it’s important to the next chapter me thinks :P

also i think i’m sooo funny 😭 the title will make even more sense soon ok

WARNINGS - swearing n alcohol mention and that’s it

to say luke castellan didn’t like you would be a big understatement. but it would also be untrue.

the reality of his feelings towards you were much more complicated than simply ‘liking’ or ‘hating’ you.

his feelings towards you were completely incomprehensible. and he hated it.

you were just… so strange. the eldest daughter of dionysus, a talented actress, a rebellious girl with a sharp tongue and an even sharper blade. you were everything all at once; and it perplexed him to no end.

maybe that’s why your rivalry persisted throughout all these years. you made no sense, and luke needed everything to make sense. he needed everything to be predictable and understandable.

and you were neither of those things.

but there was also a comfort in the way that you consistently confused him- a sense of irregularity that provided him with the same comfort he would receive from those who were less strange than you were. maybe a bit more comfort, it fact.

it was truly comforting; the fact that you were always there to annoy and pester him when he was training, or at the campfire, or when you asked him to spar.

it was comforting knowing there was always someone there to challenge him- someone there to make him feel the same feeling over and over again… until the feeling changed.

“y/n, i need to talk to you.”

his voice echoed throughout the training grounds, alarming you enough to whip your head around fast to find the source of such commotion.

you were standing in the middle of the grounds, the remains of the practice dummies you were throwing your axe at scattered around the premises.

luke watched your hair move with the soft summer wind as you turned around to face him, no doubt in his mind that you knew exactly what he wanted.

“yeah? ‘bout what?”

your face was a little red and your arms were a little tired from your undoubtably taxing training session. if luke saw you like this a few months ago, he’d chuckle at how disheveled you looked.

but it was not a few months ago.

to distract himself from your appearance, his eyes trailed down to your hands as you tightly gripped your axe. it always freaked him out seeing you with that gnarly axe- throwing that thing around like it weighed nothing.

“hello? about what?” you asked again breathily, swinging your axe back and forth aimlessly as you tried to get his attention.

it seemed as though he had been distracted by something. something strange and pretty and unusual. and whatever it was, he needed to snap out of it before he went crazy.

“i need a sparring partner,” he stated blankly, leaning his back against the nearest pillar and letting out an exasperated breath.

“you’re the only one in camp who can give me somewhat of a challenge. anyways,” he took a good look at you, tapping his fingers against his forearm.

“i’m bored. wanna fight?”

you shrugged your shoulders, recklessly tossing your axe to the side and unsheathing your sword.

“yeah, okay,” you said dryly.

your hair fell over your face as you looked up at him, groaning in irritation at the minor inconvenience.

“hold my sword for a minute?” you asked blankly as you offered your sword out to luke for him to take.

luke looked down at you, amused by how easily you were able to ask him for a favour- even if it was just a minor one. it seemed like you were growing a lot more reliant on him these days. or maybe more comfortable with him? who knows.

“yeah, okay,” he said reluctantly, taking the sword from your hands.

he watched you in silence as you took a step back, running your hand through your hair.

“you really aren't much of a talker, are you?” he asked, smiling smugly as his eyes followed the flow of your hair.

you pulled a hair tie off of your wrist, quickly tying my your hair into a lazy ponytail.

“oh, i’m a big talker. just not with you,” you said bluntly, your voice playful and smug as you flashed him a mischievous smile.

luke liked it when you smiled. he liked to imagine that all the stars in the sky got together on the night you were born, and decided to use their stardust to construct ever feature on your face. your dainty freckles, the shining bright whites of your eyes- the pure magic of your little smile.

‘the fuck is wrong with you? stop being weird.’

you quickly took back the sword, your fingers grazing against his during the little exchange.

“i can tell,” luke commented breathily, raising an eyebrow. his eyes narrowed slightly, before he raised his sword as well.

“you ready? or are you just gonna keep standing there looking pretty?”

“i’m always ready, castellan,” you hummed, taking a few steps towards the middle of the training grounds, and getting into position.

“whatever,” he rolled his shoulders and followed suite. “on three?”

you nodded, and let your body tense up as he started counting down.

“one, two, three-“

Luke lunged forward, stabbing his sword towards your chest. He made good use of the length of his blade, keeping as much distance between you and him as possible.

despite this, you managed to quickly dodge him, your sword clanging against his as you bit down on your lip. you quickly attempted a shot at his waist, your eyes locked on his sword as you shuffled around.

Luke smirked as the two blades clashed together, you going for his legs and him going for your chest. he attempted another stab at your chest, and when you evaded, he kicked out to try and trip you- something he figured would throw you off, or at the very least, off-balance.

you seemed to not fall for such cheap tricks. as he backed away to create some distance between you and him, he smiled. this was exactly what he wanted.

a challenge.

he heard you groan, offering a sly smirk before watching you attempt a sneaky stab at his arm.

your hair bounced with every movement, your technique airy and light- almost unpredictable enough to make him second guess his own strategy.

you speed caught luke off-guard, taken aback by the sudden stab. he definitely wasn’t expecting that.

your fast and swift movements, paired with the excellent control of your blade made him sweat a bit. he had no choice but to back away, before lunging forward with his sword once more.

you quickly dodged his attack, the sound of blades clanging echoing throughout the area as your breaths got heavier and heavier.

you moved forwards, attempting another attack at his chest.

he quickly blocked your sword, moving in with a stab at your neck- but you were too quick. you resisted the attack, hitting his sword with yours. you shuffled around again, attacking his other arm as you took a second to study him and his movements.

you attacked him yet again, moving his blade to block. the same sounds of metal clashing against each other continuing.

your attack at his arm was successful. he’d taken a little step back at the sudden pain.

luke raised his sword for a stab at your side, attempting to catch you right in the gut—this would put you on the defensive for sure… right?

you quickly blocked his attack on my side, left with a little cut on your forearm.

luke was shocked at how easily you were able to defend yourself against him. you had been training and sparring and competing against him for years- obviously you were a talented fighter.

but luke had grown accustomed to winning. now? he felt intimidated.

like knew his arms were his weak spot, but he hadn’t expected you to realize this yourself. your counterattacks came quicker now that you’d discovered the most effective way to get him out of commission.

the two of you were now evenly-matched in the sense that neither of you could land an attack at the other, and this was starting to get exciting.

you started trying to take cheap shots at his arms and legs, pissing luke off further. it was like you cracked the code.

you were winning.

He grunted, breathing heavily. he was struggling to move against each of your quick attacks, trying to match the sheer speed and agility of your balde.

and to his surprise; he was starting to get tired.

as soon as he tried attacking you, you blocked it- hard. this caused the sword to fly out of his hand.

disarming him was much easier after he was tired and distracted.

then, you lunged at him.

you held your blade against luke’s neck as you pushed him to the ground, straddling his hips as you looked down at him.

“do i win?” you asked smugly, restraining his movements.

you had giving luke a run for his money. the best swordsman at camp was now at the mercy of your sword.

while you two were similar in skill across all aspects of fighting, you had rarely ever beaten him in a sword fight.

“yeah, sure, sure you win,” he growled, attempting to shove you off of his lap.

“now get off me.”

he looked up at you, noticing the proud smile plastered across your face. it wasn’t cocky, or smug- it was proud.

and as much as he’d hate to admit it, he was genuinely impressed with you.

you finally lifted your body off his, standing up as you twirled your sword around.

“huh. i didn’t know i was this good with a sword…” you mumbled, looking down at the blade.

luke stared up at you, rolling his eyes as he got up.

“still obnoxious as ever, though,” he mumbled dryly.

luke glanced at your sword for a moment before turning his gaze away. he walked over to his sword, picking it up off the ground and sheathing it as he turned back around to face you.

“you’re not bad. obviously,” he said bluntly, his cheeks red and his face sweaty from the challenging sparring match as he walked back over to you.

“your attacks are unpredictable. quick, agile. you have a good technique.”

you furrowed your brows, a little confused by his kind comments and praises.

“technique? i just kept my eyes on your sword and tried to get you tired enough to disarm you,” you explained, sheathing your sword.

“i’d hardly call that technique. you’re much better than i am,” you added.

that was unexpected. a compliment? or… was that sarcastic? what the fuck is going on?

you were probably just tired; that’s why you were downplaying your achievements. that’s why you were offering him praise despite his shortcomings.

“i’m probably stronger than you, but you’re much faster. agility is just as important as strength,” luke replied, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly.

you shrugged your shoulders, smiling smugly as you took out your ponytail.

“well, i gotta make up for my lack of raw muscles somehow,” you retorted breathily, your tone playful and your voice light as you smiled at him.

you were a child of dionysus- you weren’t supposed to be a fighter, you were supposed to be an actress. but it made sense for you to go against the grain like that. you were an unpredictable, hotheaded, arrogant, theatrical girl… who could also somehow take him in a fight.

luke tried not to gawk at how your hair fell over your shoulder as you shook your head.

as much as he hated noticing it, your hair was really pretty.

it was probably one of his favourite things about you.

luke stared into your eyes as you spoke, his gaze unwavering as he admired your sheer confidence- even when downplaying yourself.

and there it was. the same feeling that had been fucking him over everyday for the past 2 months. a feeling that he was starting to get uncomfortably familiar with recently; fondness. admiration. adoration.

you were the moon. constant, yet always changing. bright, yet most comfortable surrounded by the confines of the dark.

you were his moon.

and you were beautiful.

‘ew, stop.’

luke didn’t appreciate the new soft spot he was harbouring for a certain dionysus girl. he hated how his heart was constantly making space for her. and he hated that his brain was just as complicit.

“i mean, you don’t need to ‘make up’ for anything. muscle isn’t really that important in a sword fight,” he said, crossing his arms as he finally pulled his eyes away from yours.

you nodded lightheartedly, idly running your hand through your hair as you turned your head away from his.

gods, he could watch you play with your hair all day if he could. of course, he’d prefer to play with it himself, but watching you do it was almost as good.

“hm. i guess you’re right,” you sighed, stuffing your hands into the pockets of your shorts lazily.

“anyways, sword fighting is way too much effort. i prefer throwing axes at people.”

luke smirked, rolling his eyes playfully and he looked over at you.

“i still can’t believe you’d choose an axe over a sword.” he couldn’t help but laugh a bit, “you’re so… eccentric.”

“what do you expect? mr. d is my dad,” you said playfully, earning a reluctant chuckle from luke.

“i guess i shouldn’t be surprised,” he replied. “but seriously, who chooses an axe as their primary weapon? why not a bow or something?”

you rolled you eyes, shaking your head at the boy in disagreement.

“the arrows are too flimsy. i prefer wielding something with a bit more weight,” you explained. luke shook his head in disbelief, chuckling dryly.

“you’re so weird… who else uses an axe for their weapon of choice?” he asked out of genuine curiosity, a hint of sarcasm laced in his tone.

“and don’t say something like ‘oh, tons of people’ or something.”

“oh, tons of people,” you repeated, mocking him playfully as you took your hands out of your pockets. you tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, letting out a smug chuckle.

“shut up,” luke scoffed, his usual smirk plastered on his face.

gods, it felt like his feelings were becoming more evident by the minute. he was going insane.

‘you like her, don’t you?’

the thought popped into his head again.

‘shut it out, or else it’ll get awkward.’

he wasn’t about to ruin the fun you were having.

and besides, he didn’t like you. he couldn’t like you.

you were literally the daughter of the camp director. and you were insufferable. or… well- that’s a lie. you used to be insufferable.

it seemed as though age had provided you two with a new sense of maturity; letting your rivalry calm down and allowing you two to finally get along.

and as much as luke hated to admit it, he kinda liked getting to know you. he liked spending time with you. but he always did- that’s why you two spend so much time fighting, right?

luke was suddenly snapped out of his head by the sound of footsteps hitting the floor of the training grounds. he looked up to see your back as you walked away, his eyebrows furrowing at your silent departure.

“where are you going?” he called out.

you turned around quickly, quirking your head to the side.

“the campfire, obviously?” your said, your hands stuffed in your pockets again.

“aren’t you coming?” you asked, staring him down playfully with a friendly smile.

luke’s eyebrows rose, his body freezing as he thought it over.

‘she’s mocking you.’

‘no she isn’t- you’re the leader of the hermes cabin. you have to come to the campfires, dickhead.’

‘can’t be bothered, nah.’

“i have better things to do, thanks.”

He scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest as he stood in the middle of the training grounds.

you raised your eyebrows, a little smirk emerging on your face.

“you sure? because as soon as the younger campers head back to their cabins, us older demigods are going down to the lake,” you said, crossing your arms to mirror his defensive stance.

“… and i’ve got a bottle of wine and half a bottle of vodka hidden under my bed,” you whispered as you took a step forwards, shooting him a mischievous wink.

vodka? that was enough to pull him in, even if they were supposed to have a little rivalry going. but then again, they were barley rivals anymore.

it’s not like he was big on drinking, but he was big on discarding his responsibilities- even if it was just for a few hours.

he paused for a moment, staring at you as he contemplated whether or not he should come to the campfire.

luke didn’t even care if you guys didn’t like each other that much, he still wanted to spend more time with you. besides, he didn’t see the problem in exploiting the way you guys were being a lot more civil to each other recently in order to get a little tipsy.

“yeah fine,” he mumbled, “i’ll come.”

#ECLIPSE SERIES VAUXXY #luke x reader #luke castellan drabbles #luke castellan #luke castellan fluff #luke castellan fic #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan imagines #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x dionysus!reader #luke castellan x y/n #luke castellan x you #luke castellan pjo #pjo x reader #pjo tv show #pjo series #pjo disney+#charlie bushnell #percy jackson

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fandomxpreferences · 1 year

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Guess You Really Did It This Time (Part 2 of Heartbroke Bitch)

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Ex!Rafe Cameron x Female!Reader

TW:ANGST, honestly I think thats it?

Summary: Rafe confronts you after you sleep over at his house, but it goes so much worse than he imagined.

Word Count: 2.6k

A/N: This was supposed to end fluffy, but It wasnt realistic so it'll be a three parter (maybe 4? who knows.)

You blink a few times as your vision adjusts to the blinding sun rays pouring through the curtains directly into your eyes. Your throat is hoarse as you groan; this is the worst comedown you've experienced so far.

It takes a second for you to place your surroundings, and the events of last night come rushing back when you do. The bed is empty and you hear the shower running, a hushed "thank you" falling from your mouth.

You take the opportunity gratefully, hastily ripping off Rafe's sweatshirt and squeezing back into your dress. Your phone and bag are on the nightstand, and you grab them before turning the handle to his room as quietly as you can.

You've never been so happy to be familiar with the layout of Tannyhill as you creep down the stairs and toward the front door.

You freeze when you register Rose staring at you with a knowing look. Your hand lifts with a short wave and you let yourself out before she can start asking questions.

You pull out your phone and call JJ, aware that he's the least likely to judge you. He is your best friend after all.

It only rings once before the blonde's voice rings out and you breathe a sigh of relief.

"Well, well, well. If it's not the woman, the myth, the le-"

You cut him off, not in the mood as you fight a violent case of the spins and try to keep from dry heaving.

"Shut it, JJ. Can you come get me? I'm at -"

This time he cuts you off and your eyebrows pinch together.

"Yeah, I know where you are Y/N/N. Give me five."

With that he hangs up, leaving you with more questions than you originally had. Number one being how the hell does he know where you are?

You don't even have your shoes but you can't bring yourself to care as you bolt down the yard and start your trek into town.

You know JJ will find you and the last thing you want is to be caught waiting by Rafe.

A few short minutes later you hear the dirt bike and stop in your tracks. You turn so your body is facing JJ and you give him a disheartened look.

"You have to be fucking kidding. JJ I'm wearing a dress and I'm three seconds from puking!" You complain and he gives a boyish smile while reaching into his backpack.

"That's why I brought these," he answers while offering you a pair of his sweatpants. You take them hesitantly and slip them on as he continues.

"As for puking, at least you don't have to worry about it getting in a car."

You groan as you kick a leg over his bike, careful to keep your bare feet away from the hot exhaust and wrap your arms around his torso.

"I literally hate you."

He chuckles as he revs the engine and twists to look back at you.

"Love you too."

Back at Tannyhill, Rafe's heart drops when he comes out of the bathroom to an empty bed. His hoodie is crumpled on the floor and he sighs.

He gets dressed quickly and bolts down the stairs, praying you're just getting something to eat the way you normally would.

When he finds the kitchen empty, his eyes flutter shut as familiar loneliness overtakes him. His thoughts are interrupted by Rose clearing her throat.

"She left a little while ago. Before you ask; no she didn't say anything."

He nods while grabbing his keys and your shoes before racing toward his truck. He already knows where you'll be.

The ride back has you clutching your pearls, literally and figuratively, as you barely keep consciousness.

Your headache has escalated to a migraine by the time you reach the chateau and you're pretty sure you could drink one of the Great Lakes all on your own.

You ignore the rest of the group teasing as you stumble inside, rummaging for some painkillers. You find them quickly and pour a handful into your mouth, not caring enough to check the dosage.

It can't be any more dangerous than what you've been doing anyway. You don't even bother with a cup, and JJ tsks behind you as you put your head in the sink and gulp water straight from the faucet.

"This is the most chaotic thing I've ever seen, and that's saying something. You're like a feral dehydrated animal."

Your only response is a middle finger as you pass him, clambering your way into the guest room you've claimed as yours.

Your familial situation is pretty similar to JJ's, without the violence, and up until the breakup you'd stayed with Rafe.

Now all your belongings are littered around the chateau. You grab a shirt and change quickly, paying no mind to your best friend, before plopping down on top of the comforter.

"How'd you know I was at Rafes?"

Jj rubs the back of his neck as you look up at him expectantly, already knowing you won't like the answer.

"He texted Sarah a picture of you sleeping on him when she asked him if he'd heard from you."

You take in his words and scoff in disbelief.

"Of course he did."

You collapse onto your front with your head buried into a pillow, craving relief from the ache in your body. JJ sits next to you and rubs your neck to ease your migraine, and you let out a content moan.

It's not even an hour before you hear a car pull up outside and you release a whine. You already know who it is, and you're decidedly not in the mood to deal with it.

JJ feels you tense under his large hand and sighs.

"Want me to get rid of him?"

You shake your head as you sit up and run a hand down your face.

"He'll just keep coming back. Might as well rip off the Bandaid."

He kisses the top of your head and stands, sending a sharp glare at your ex when he passes him in the hallway.

Rafe assumes that JJ left the room you're in and knocks on the door frame before stepping past the threshold.

His eyes take in the mess before landing on your tired figure. You look like hell with sunken bloodshot eyes and clammy skin.

He holds your shoes up to show you he brought them back before dropping them in the pile of other heels on the ground.

His brows furrow as he turns to you, taken aback at your sudden collection of designer items.

"You didn't have any of this when we were together. Where'd the sudden influx of Louboutin and high-end fashion come from?"

You stare at him blankly for a second before shrugging.

"Does it matter?"

He runs a hand through his hair, a telltale sign of his stress, as he takes in your defensive tone.

"I'm just curious."

He doesn't like the way your lips curl up into a vicious smile as if you take pleasure in the answer you're about to give.

"Gifts from my male suitors."

You don't give him time to respond before brushing past him and walking straight out of the chateau. He heaves an irritated breath when you let the screen door slam in his face and wrenches it back open.

He follows hot on your tail as the rest of the group watches the impending WWE smackdown.

"Come on, baby. I just want to talk."

You let out a loud laugh while continuing on your path and he hates how indifferent you're acting.

"You can talk all you want, but no promise I'll listen. And don't call me that."

You pretend not to notice your friends wince at your snarky reply in your peripheral as they try - and fail- to act like they aren't eavesdropping.

"So that's it? You don't want anything to do with me? What the hell was all that last night, then?" He shouts and you stop abruptly, causing him to slam into your back.

"A lapse in judgment."

He scoffs and you close your eyes, trying desperately not to let him get a rise out of you.

"Seems like you've been having a lot of those lately."

At that, you whip around on your heel, your hair smacking him in the face with the ferocity of your movement. He's got an arrogant smirk painted on his lips and your eyes narrow.

"I wasn't doing anything you weren't! If memory serves me, you're the one that walked out! Not me!"

Your voice is shrill as you scream in his face, tears starting to pour as you shove him back. All the pent-up hurt and rage are finally rearing their ugly heads, and it only makes you angrier. JJ moves to intervene, but John B stops him with a hand on his forearm.

"No, let them get this out. She's only going to continue on her bender if they don't resolve this."

JJ looks to Sarah for help but she only nods, agreeing with her boyfriend. The blonde sits back down with a huff, clearly unhappy at the situation unfolding in front of him.

Rafe shakes his head with flared nostrils, and it brings you a tinge of happiness to see him as upset as you. His chest is heaving as crimson crawls up his neck and cheeks.

"Because I was scared, not because I don't love you!"

As soon as the words leave his mouth, his eyes go wide and your mouth drops open in shock. You vaguely register Sarah gasp off to the side, and if you looked, you're sure you would find JJ with his jaw clenched hard enough to break teeth.

"Oh fuck off Rafe, what is that supposed to mean? You toss me aside like trash and then come back a month later to confess your love? What the fuck is wrong with you?"

Your voice is significantly quieter now, your face scrunched up into a deep scowl.

"Y/N, even if you tell me to fuck off and never speak to me again, I need you to know the truth. The past month has been miserable and I hate what I did to you. I'm not judging you for how you handled it, I have no right."

You interrupt him with a scoff and stick a hip out.

"No, you don't."

He gives you a pointed look before continuing and you take a deep breath.

"I didn't leave because I don't love you, or because you're a pogue, or whatever else you might believe. I left because I do love you, though I didn't realize it at the time. Y/N, I'm fucked up. Like, something isn't right in my head. I didn't want to keep hurting you over and over, so I thought I'd let you move on and be happy with someone else."

You mull over his words and run a hand through your messy hair.

"I know."

Confusion washes over him and you rub your temples.

"I know you're fucked up, Rafe. I know everything, we were together for a year. But that doesn't mean you get to make the choice for me. I know you don't believe you're worthy of love, I get it. I've been in love with you since Midsummers, but I'm not going to stand here and beg you to let me in."

You wipe aggressively at the tears that are now rapidly cascading down your cheeks and off your face, ready to be done with this.

"I'm not asking you to do that. If anything, I'm begging for you to let me in. Please, I can't stand the thought of you out here putting yourself in harm's way. I haven't been with anyone else, and I don't want to be."

The rest of the group might as well have popcorn as their eyes dart back and forth between the two of you, unable to look away.

"No, Rafe. You're lying. I saw you that night with Missy!"

Everyone's head turns to look back at Rafe to gauge his reaction to your outburst.

"Yikes, not looking good for him." John B remarks and Sarah kicks his leg.

"Shut up, maybe there's an explanation."

John B is about to argue when Kie glares at them.

"Shut the fuck up, I can't hear!"

Rafe shakes his head, his hands coming up to cover his mouth before they drop back down to his sides. He takes a step closer and his heart plummets when you immediately move backward.

"No, I know what you think you saw. Nothing happened, I swear. We went back to my place and she slapped me because I moaned your name!"

"Oh shit." JJ snickers and the rest of the group sends him daggers as he raises his hands defensively.

"That's nice, Rafe. It doesn't change the fact you brought a woman home to the bed we shared less than a week later with the intent of fucking her."

He tilts his head back and stares at the sky, growing more frustrated by the second.

"I didn't though! You actually fucked god knows how many dudes!"

It's a low blow and he knows it, he can see you shutting down by the way your face drops and your shoulders tense.

"Yeah, I did. At least I got shit out of it. Besides, I brought them back here or went to theirs. I never would have brought them someplace that still smelled like you! That space was sacred Rafe, and you defiled it. My fucking clothes were still there."

Rafe's lip quivers as the gravity of the situation crushes him. He doesn't know how to fix it this time.

"How do I fix this, Y/N? Please, just tell me and I'll do it."

You sniffle as you shake your head, another tear falling into the dirt below.

"No, Rafe. I think you should leave."

You look away as he drops to his knees in front of you, literally pleading with you as he cries freely now.

"Y/N, please. Please, I know I fucked up. Please."

You stifle a sob as John B and JJ pull him to his feet and drag him away. You watch as he fights against the two men, too focused on you to care about being pushed around. He screams out as he thrashes, his voice breaking from the sheer volume and pain.

"Baby, please! Y/N, don't do this. I'll fix it, okay? I promise I'll fix it! I'll be better for you!"

You collapse into Kie and Sarah when their arms wrap around you, every emotion you've repressed suffocating you at once.

Sarah presses your face into her shoulder, her own tears falling as she keeps you pointed away from her hysterical brother.

Rafe is all but carried back to his truck against his will, and JJ pins him against the door.

"Rafe," He begins, but he's cut off by a particularly hard shove from the man. He leans his weight forward, using it as leverage, and puts his arm across Rafe's throat to still his movements.

"Look, man! I know you're upset, but so is she. You need to get the fuck out of here, okay? I'm trying to be nice about this, but you're testing my very thin patience."

Rafe finally admits defeat and slumps down as he watches your knees hit the ground, heavy sobs wracking your body. This is exactly what he was trying to avoid, he never wants to be the source of your pain.

John B watches as the older Cameron drives away, releasing a breath he didn't know he was holding. Maybe now you'll start to cope in healthier ways.

Rafe cries the entire way home, memories of your relationship flashing like movie scenes every time he blinks. He's going to fix this if its the last thing he does. He just needs a game plan.

Taglist for those who requested part 2!

@brooklynscherry-z @joselyn001 @writtenwordslover @craftyalmondghostflap @malfoytargaryen

#rafe cameron #Rafe Cameron imagine #Rafe Cameron fic #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron angst #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron fic #outer banks angst #outer banks imagine #outer banks fic #outer banks #outerbanks #outerbanks fic #outerbanks imagine #outerbanks angst

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theragethatisdesire · 11 months

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꧁ rage's library ꧂

hello there, this is the best attempt at a masterlist i have been able to keep even halfway updated. there are lots of little ramblings and musings on my blog otherwise, but all the big chunks of writing are catalogued here. thanks for stopping by<3

DISCLAIMER: all of my writing contains MATURE CONTENT that is intended only for those over 18. if you are a minor or ageless blog, please kindly leave my page.

Eren Jaeger

ti penso ogni giorno (a collection)

a collection of one-shots set in a modern au that spans nearly 10 years of your relationship with the cute boy you met at a party in college.

much ado about nothing (ongoing series)

plug!eren enters the life of our stressed out, literature student reader just when she least expects him. in true shakespearean fashion, chaos ensues. strangers to fwb to idiots in love.

scary dog privilege (one-shot)

you enlist eren as your fake boyfriend for connie’s birthday party, unable to face your ex, jean, without the help of your best friend. you forgot one crucial thing, though: where jean’s all bark, eren’s all bite.

quick bright things (two-parter)

part 1 - spending your summer sweltering in the uppermost regions of italy with your wealthy friends, you stumble across a man who seems straight out of a shakespeare play, and who seems to be completely fascinated with you.

Jean Kirchstein

pretty girl (one-shot)

your new boyfriend jean is pretty much perfect, except when it comes to your incredibly vanilla sex life. you make the mistake of underestimating him.

Reiner Braun

a girl is a gun (canon-divergent series, ao3 only for now)

after years of bloodshed and distance, evin finley reconnects with her childhood friend, reiner braun. they’ve both changed over the years, but the string that ties them together seems to have survived the wars they’ve faced. when secrets about evin’s past start to come to light after eren jaeger’s raid on liberio, reiner finds out whether or not love truly is the death of duty.

Multi-Character

aot faves as dads (headcanons)

just my favorite boys with their precious little ones in another, happier life.

three’s a… (poly!erejean uni)

you and eren have been getting more adventurous in the bedroom and roping jean into your adventures. jean’s way too in his head about the whole thing.

show off (poly!erejean uni)

eren notices that you and jean have a bit of a crush on one another. he helps you act out your fantasy.

cabin in the woods (poly!erejean uni)

you and the boys head up to jean's mountain cabin to celebrate the one-year anniversary adding jean into your relationship with eren

drabble masterlist

sometimes i literally just never shut up and sometimes i play ask games so find the result of both of those things linked here.

#rage.writing #masterlist

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itsgrimeytime · 1 year

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Maneater (Part One) || Rick Grimes (TWD)

AVAILABLE ON AO3

Dialogue Prompts: "Don’t play friendly with me." + "Try me."

Summary: You and Rick Grimes had a backstory, one no one knew except you and him. It's one you refused to share, you never really wanted to get into it. All anyone needed to know was you hated the man. When you're in a rough spot, and you could use the shelter the question is... does he hate you?

TWS: Blood, gore, mentions of death, gun violence (just violence in general), swearing, angst, a touch of abandonment, grudges, and all things typical of TWD.

[[A/N: y'all ever heard of TENSION?? Or enemies to lovers??? Because I'll tell you what, I have :))) Lowkey, you have a good reason to hate Rick, but like... you'll see. also I am living in delusion for what Rick looked like in the Alexandria timeline, so just know I picture the gif, okay? Thx <3 ]]

Before you go thinking this is another long series, this is just a two/maybe three-parter. There was more to this idea than what I felt I could naturally convey in one one-shot. So, let me know if you want to be tagged for the continuation.

"Shit."

This really, truly, was never supposed to happen. This was the worst-case scenario, the kind of thing that plagued your dreams with things that were so not probable they shouldn't be scary. And yet here you were, in nightmare territory.

"Y/N? Really, is that- is that you?" the familiar face spoke -Glenn, you realized now.

God, it had been so long, you'd thought for sure at least half of that group had vanished.

Well, maybe they had. You weren't exactly sure, but Glenn hadn't really looked worse for wear. He suited the lifestyle well, actually, which you were a little impressed by -the pizza delivery guy had come a long way.

"We thought you..." he faltered off, still a bit in disbelief.

"Died? Nope," you finished, bitter, sure, but you'd never really had the chance to get over it, "-despite your wonderful leader's best efforts, I remain unscathed."

Glenn frowned.

The joy from moments before dissipated in the now fairly tense air between the two of you -others you recognized weren't there, but you imagined they were wherever he came from. Which you were currently trying to keep in the very back of your mind -you'd never follow him to them, you just couldn't.

"I should've..." he began, words seeming to come to a stop, "-Any of us should've stuck up for you. It wasn't right."

There was a bit of pleasure hearing that, somewhere deep in your chest, you appreciated it. But while the idea was good, it was very much too late. The resentment that had developed in your chest, had only solidified there -unbreakable and set in stone. You hadn't trusted a soul since, not fully anyway.

This world was filled with broken hearts, and yours was one of them.

And that was something Rick and his group had to live with, whoever they were now because that... was their fault.

You hadn't meant to hate Rick Grimes specifically, above everyone else, but the words came out of his mouth.

'Get out of here, we can't... we can't have a group this divided.'

You could still see him now in your head, clean-shaven and dressed in his uniform, taking the world by storm despite not knowing what the fuck he was doing. You were different then, scared but ready to do what you needed -hell, the first time you'd ever even held a gun was against a walker. It was with that group, they'd taught you.

You swallowed down the bile in your throat, and pushed through the rubble -your feet ached from being on the move for so long. You couldn't remember the last time you slept, or even sat down.

You couldn't not in this world, it was all about motion, about survival, about getting through the next few hours at a time.

"Look, I know you're upset, and you have every right to be," Glenn began -following you close behind, "-but we have a place... It's safe, you could sleep. You could eat. There are houses, hot water-"

You froze in place, the idea spreading a sort of warmth in your chest, something you'd forgotten somewhere along the path. Hope. Yet, there was still a sting there -deep under your skin, "Glenn-"

"It doesn't have to be forever," he added, and now that you looked at him, he did seem clean -his clothes washed and the desperation that dusted your skin was so distant you could hardly see it, "-just for a few days."

Feet frozen to the spot, you exhaled -the breath shaking you to the root, it had been so long, but how could you trust him? How could you trust any of them?

You remembered Glenn had looked hesitant, that day, his own suspicion drawn in his eyebrows but it hadn't gone farther than that. He hadn't said a word. No one had. But now, he was here offering solace, safety. And you knew it wasn't just out of pity.

The world had enough of that on its own. You had enough of that on your own, your story spilling to listening ears -they'd all been the same. Still, you could use a break.

And as much as you didn't trust the group, whatever it had become, you knew that if anyone had survived this long -they'd been skilled. Skilled enough for you to breathe, for you to close your eyes and sleep.

You sighed, wiping the sleep from your eyes, or rather the lack of, "Just a few days?"

"As long as you need," Glenn reiterated, somehow conveying that you never had to leave, it was a small thing. But comforting.

"I get to decide when to leave?"

Glenn frowned, his own body almost shrinking in on itself, disappointment. You'd never thought you'd see this, someone from so long ago -the regret, the remorse, "Yeah, of course."

And you were thinking about it. As your joints ached and your throat burned for water, the breeze felt cold against your bones, and you truly couldn't imagine it getting any warmer. The sun setting only meant it could get colder, and you were currently without a roof.

"Okay," you quietly agreed, despite the churning in your stomach saying otherwise.

That was when one of the others, neither of which you knew, spoke, "But, didn't Rick say-"

"Shut it," Glenn exhaled, tone icy and you suddenly realized maybe they were new to him too.

The walk was long, not grueling since Glenn had known exactly where he was going -he'd always had that sense of direction though. You remembered the early days when he'd been the one to volunteer to go back to the city, he'd known so much. Maybe he was just made that way? Or it was some sort of thing they'd invented. It had been a long time.

"There's a few of us that'll be happy to see you," Glenn spoke, casually walking beside you as the other two paired off behind you.

You swallowed the tensing of your shoulders, the last time you'd been in a group it hadn't ended well, and every time before that too actually. You didn't meld well with groups, let's just say that.

"I don't think so," you hummed, remembering so far back in your brain that day -the eyes all set on you, strong and decisive. You couldn't imagine who else survived other than Rick Grimes himself. Because this world wasn't what you expected, you shouldn't have survived more that a week... but here you were.

Glenn didn't say anything else, you assumed he noticed your more pressed tone -as the opposite of an invitation to keep talking. It stung a bit, watching the man's face solemn considerably, but there was also a sick part of your brain that had been waiting for this day.

As you approached the new community, Glenn spread out his hands -with a voice close to an announcer, "Welcome to Alexandria!"

Alexandria was big, bigger than you thought really. When you pictured the homes, there was bordered up windows and broken glass -blood stained into the wood. But these?

They were almost pristine.

Your head spun as you made your way through the gate, Glenn casually guiding you through the space without much forethought. It seemed he'd known this daze, he'd experienced it himself, maybe?

You knew how this world was, Alexandria seemed to be a new wave of something fresh.

Actually, you'd seen signs once or twice but never pursued it. Things like that didn't quite work in this world, you were scared of what it may truly have been. But Glenn had brought you hear with the promise of a bed to sleep in, so you assumed whatever kinks were there had already been worked out.

Or maybe you hoped they would.

In your haze, you hadn't noticed the two other members bump ahead -headed straight for a particular place, you assumed. Nor did you really notice Glenn kind of easily navigating in front of you.

Until, you heard the voice you'd vowed to never hear until the day you died.

"Glenn?" the drawl was deeper now, older and a touch more dangerous, "-The others told me you brought someone back, I thought we talked about-"

"Rick," Glenn interrupted, voice steady and calm -he had been prepared for this, "-it's Y/N."

There was silence there, as you trailed your fingers along the trim of the house ever-so-gently -the dirt stained into your fingertips didn't need to smudge there. It would've ruined it.

"What?" His voice was low, and despite how much you wished you could understand the tone, you couldn't -you didn't know him.

He could be angry, in disbelief, in shock. You had no clue, instead focusing on the ivy running up the sides of some of the houses -rubbing the leaves with your thumb, muttering, "Wow."

"Y/N?"

You blinked out of your haze, stilling at the direct contact with you -it felt odd, hearing your name out of his mouth. So familiar yet, so so far off. Yet, the sting still burned deep under your skin -it would probably never go away.

Without turning around, you acknowledged him simply -direct and without much other force, "Rick."

Then the space grew even quieter, the tension laying thick into the air -you could feel it set the prickling of goosebumps on your skin.

With a heavy breath, you turned around -equipped to set your eyes on his skin.

He looked... different. His hair was much longer, curled at the nape of his neck, and he had a beard -now littered with grey. It suited him, he'd been too uptight back then, now though, he'd seemed more adjusted.

"Y/N, I-" he began, and you could hear it -the pity, the 'I'm sorry'. You couldn't take it, not from him. Not now.

It was too late, it made you want to rip your hair out. And thrash and cry and scream. Scream for all you'd lost, scream for the fear you felt that day, pushed into the woods -separated.

You spoke, pushing back the bite in your tone as much as you could, "Don't play friendly with me. I'm here for a few days, at most."

Rick's mouth snapped shut, jaw setting. He seemed frustrated, but that was hardly your problem, the whole thing was his really. He could die with that regret, aching to give an apology for his wrongdoings... and you would let him.

The area, which you now realized was slowly filtering people in, eyes all beginning to focus on you and Rick. Questioning, mostly, but you figured any pushback on Rick and you'd end up dead. So, you pushed back -the strength of your tone settling and the brush of the cold warming.

You didn't need to make enemies.

And then you heard it, a familiar voice, older than you'd expected, you'd known that voice younger... what was-

"Y/N?"

Your breath stuttered, as you spun on your feet and there he was, taller and older, "Carl? Oh my god-"

You hadn't even thought about it, that where Rick was Carl would follow. You had less than high hopes that he'd even survive this far, and yet, here he was right in front of you.

You'd known Carl early on in the group, he had been so young. Lori needed help sometimes, and she'd grown close to you, so, pretty quickly, she'd trusted you with him. In the early days, he was stuck to your side -playing games with the sticks and rocks you could find nearby, giving him comfort when his Mom seemed too far to touch -she was often like that. Her eyes were far, and her mind farther.

Without much less of an introduction, he ran to you with ease, despite the filth you must've been covered in. Especially compared to him, who seemed to be as perfectly clean as the rest of them. He ran into you, arms wrapping tight around your figure -and god, he was so much taller. You bit back a sob, how much had you missed?

"I thought you were dead," he spoke, muttering into your shoulder and his hands gripping desperately at your shirt.

You remembered the tiny version of him kicking and screaming, 'Why do they have to leave, Dad?!' He had been crying so hard his body was shaking, they practically had to tear him off you. You'd told them you'd leave in the night when he was sleeping, so it wouldn't be so hard on him. He couldn't put up as much of a fight if he wasn't there.

"You've gotten so tall," you laughed, pulling back and wiping at your eyes -gesturing to his stature.

Carl laughed too, wiping away his own tears.

You forgot for a second where you were, and how long it had been. Only reuniting with someone you cared tremendously about. The moment was bittersweet with the eyes of many sliding across your figure, the scar detailed across your arm, or maybe the bandage wrapped around your head. You'd had some run-ins, but you'd taken care of them with what you could.

The next few days were a bit stuffy, the doctor (who you didn't bother to learn the name of) had been keeping a close eye on you -consistently telling you to rest and sticking the one and only sheriff on you when you resisted.

Apparently, she thought that it was the best idea.

The single thread that didn't have you running out of this place wore a sheriff's hat and seemed to relish in your arrival. Carl had been by your side frequently, introducing you to practically everyone (including Glenn's wife, Maggie, what-) -which you had originally been strictly against, but the kid was your soft spot.

You'd felt more at ease after a run-in with two familiar faces, Daryl and Carol. They both did similarly to Carl, and you couldn't seem to fault them too much. Not at that moment anyway. It was midday and Carl had run off with some people his own age, which you refused to separate him from that. It was important, he needed it.

And you needed something too.

The space felt cramped, with someone constantly looking over your shoulder and someone else always in your area. It was a far cry from your previous loner life where your days fell to silence and the slice of whatever your blade was echoed through it. Before Glenn, you hadn't spoken out loud in months.

So, with new energy from the hot water and regular meals, you'd found yourself roaming the streets towards the fence. Just for a sense of normalcy, you needed to taste the adrenaline, feel the blade in your hands, and the urgency in your movements. Dancing with death.

Trying to watch your back, you kept your eyes behind you -ducking behind some of the unused houses that you'd scouted out earlier in the day. It wasn't like you were leaving forever, just a few hours that's all you needed.

"And where are you going?"

You jumped, turning to the sound in front of you, and because god simply hated you it happened to belong to one Rick Grimes. His eyes leveled with you, standing confidently in your way like he'd expected you. And shit, maybe he had.

Stammering, you regained your composure, "Where's Carl?"

"Asleep," he responded with ease.

"Look, I'm not-" you groaned, "-Why are you keeping me here like a prisoner?"

"Doctor told me to keep an eye on ya," he answered, once again too prepared, it infuriated you to no bounds, "-you don't think I'd notice you scopin' out an exit?"

"That's not-" you straightened your posture, pressing your lips into a thin line, "I don't have to explain myself to you. So, kindly, if you would get out of my way, I'll be back in an hour."

Rick chuckled, not in a really joyful way either, neither of you was quite joking, "Yeah, not happenin'."

"Rick," you echoed, tone ice and hand tightening on where your blade rested on your hip -a handmade hilt someone had made you a long time ago, "-move, or I'll make you."

He paused, licking a line across his teeth, and slowly making his way into your space. Your breath caught in your throat, but you stayed strong in your place -eyes set on his and shoulders set in place. He didn't speak until his face was right in yours, a breath away, and his expression remained unchanged -his eyes only betraying the heaviness of his words, "Try me."

Rick didn't reach for his gun, which sat with was at his hip -inches from his hands. You knew he wouldn't pull it on you, it wasn't in his character, but there was a chill in his tone -something new.

What happened to him?

You washed out the worry that settled under your skin for a second, that didn't need to be there. He'd abandoned you -they all had.

Setting your jaw, you exhaled -pulling back and letting your hand fall to your side, "Look, I just need an hour."

Rick stared at you, you couldn't read him -years of age, and most likely tragedy by the missing faces, gracing features you once knew. And even then, he was new -you hadn't known him.

"This place is-" you faltered off, looking back to the houses, where most lights were switched off in the dark -except for just a few spare ones, "-suffocating. I've been on my own for so long, I feel like I'm having an out-of-body fucking experience here. This isn't... I need something familiar."

He still hadn't said a word.

"So," you began, strong, before deflating, "-just let me kill some of the dead, yeah?"

Rick pursed his lips, before sighing deep and heavily, "Okay."

You opened your mouth to rebuttal, before the words set in, "Okay?"

"Just let me tell Michonne and Daryl I won't be around for a bit," he continued, seeming to waltz on past you, and then those words hit you.

"Rick, I don't need a babysitter," you answered, that lick of bitterness slinking through your skin again -your mouth opened before you could stop it, "-you weren't worried years ago, were you? Why now?"

He stopped in his motion, frozen solid by your words. A part of you felt vindicated, he deserved it -it may have been years for him, but that was the way your way in this world had started.

You hadn't expected him to speak, but he did.

"You can't do that."

A flash of frustration hummed under your skin -burning hot and bright -who was he to say anything to you, "I can't do that? Do what? Talk about what you did to me? The day you kicked me to the curb at the beginning of the fucking apocalypse...?"

"I've been tryin' to apologize since you got here-" he started, tone angry in the way of hands shaking not voice raising, "-you won't let me."

Something in you snapped.

"So what?" you started, tone shaky and you'd say it was for rage but you could feel the tears burning behind your eyes, "You think I want an apology from you?"

Rick looked lost then, and something in you begged to keep going. The dam was cracked now, and the water could flood out -who better than the man who hit the nail in the coffin, "What...?"

"You, you don't get the resolution that would get you. You don't get to sleep well at night because you said sorry, no."

He didn't speak.

You laughed, the tears were free now, years of being locked behind something as thick as the shell you wore after that day -your breaths were ragged and you felt like maybe your heart would be out of your chest, "I never wanted to live through this."

"Y/N-"

And there was something there in those words, heavy and gravelly against the cool night air. But you couldn't dwell on it. You had too much to say to him, to all of them really, but just him would do.

"No," you exhaled, taking a deep shaky breath in, "-Rick, I just need to know one thing."

He opened his mouth, assumedly to answer your question, but you still couldn't let him speak. Your brain was going so fast, you had to keep up.

"Did you ever ask them why?"

Rick spoke then, slowly, "Who?"

"Shane," you spoke, the air seemed to get heavier, "-and Lori. Did it never seem odd to you that it came out at the same time? That they'd both seen me that exact same day?"

Rick stilled, and his jaw seemed to set.

That was what had gotten you kicked out, Shane and Lori had alleged you'd taken more supplies for yourself -stolen from everyone. You weren't sure of the specifics, whether it be an extra graham cracker or a tissue to wipe your busted lip, as you didn't let them get too far into it. They'd been egging him on, Shane on some sort of masculine level and Lori using their love as a pawn -you'd seen it clear as day. Rick hadn't.

"I was going to tell you," you spoke quietly, barely a brush over the wind of the chillier nights.

He didn't have to ask what. He knew you assumed he had known pretty much immediately after you noticed their absences. Something had happened, maybe not long after you'd left. You could only assume so much.

"I didn't know," he echoed out, his voice strained in a way you'd never heard from him -pained, regretful.

Without much else, you turned back the way you came -voice steady and strong across the space between you two, "I know."

#rick grimes #rick grimes x reader #its griming time #stuff n' thangs #rick grimes x you #rick grimes x y/n #ricky dicky doo dah grimes #twd #twd rick #rick grimes x y/n fanfiction #rick grimes oneshot #twd twoshot #does that make any sense?#maneater #twd oneshot #angsty

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charlie-lec-stories · 8 months

Text

The Socca Fiasco // CL16 & MV1

Pairing: Charles Leclerc / Original Female Character / Max Verstappen

Summary: Charles feels like he doesn't do enough compared to his partners so he decides to make a traditional Monaco dish for them. What could go wrong?

Warnings: None, just Charles being adorable and two curse words.

Author’s Note: This is a story that it's actually part of a sort of series. Little story time: A few years ago a friend of mine got into a polyamorous relationship with a girl and a boy. He motivated me to add this relationship concept to a longer story I wrote. Since I've never been in one, I decided to write short stories with a domestic vibe to practice and get more comfortable with how to write the dynamics of such relationships as accurately as I can. This is where this comes from. All of the Charles x Max x Y/N stories are part of the same universe, you could say, like they are all stories about different situations the three of them go through. I hope you all like some domestic Lestappen x Y/N. Rate: PG

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

It was a tradition for them to have Max make Stroopwafel for breakfast, it was the dutch's way of showing affection, since he wasn't exactly expressive with words or romantic gestures on a daily basis. He would usually wake up earlier than Charles and Y/N, having been always a morning person, and take command of the kitchen to make sure his parters had a good breakfast. "It's the most important meal of the day", he always said whenever the other two refused to eat in the morning. Charles was the worst when it came to food, he would always complain that eating so early made his stomach feel funny and that he needed some time before he could actually eat something. Max came up with a plan, to make sure Charles would eat, he would make something Charles liked for breakfast, that way the monegasque would never refuse to eat in the morning ever again. His plan worked, and with the addition of the Stroopwafel to their breakfast menu, Charles started to eat every morning without making a single complain. That's how the tradition started and Max loved it, he felt like he could tell his partners he loved them, without having to actually say it, something that made him feel kind of awkward.

To the breakfast tradition a new ritual was added when Y/N started to cook a traditional dish from her country every Sunday. She had traveled back to her parents house for a few days and noticed that she actually missed those Sunday family gatherings that used to occur every week when she was younger. Her family would spent the whole day together, playing board games, watching movies and listening to music. The point of Family Sunday was to create wonderful moments together to remember forever. And she remembered them all with love. With that nostalgia settled in her heart, she decided that she wanted to keep that tradition alive with her new family. Every weekend she would buy everything she needed to make the meal and dedicate the Sunday morning to cooking. Charles and Max had their own roles, Charles taking care of the getting all the board games they had in the house and setting up the table, while Max was the one that prepared the brewages and picked the movie or vinyl that would play in the background. Family Sundays were their favorites because they could manage to celebrate them anywhere in the world, all they needed was a grill for the food, some board game and music. If it was race weekend, they had dinner and if it was a free weekend, they had lunch. They spent some Family Sundays in hotel rooms, simply cooking their meal in the hospitality of Red Bull or Ferrari and then taking it to the room to eat it together. Y/N really liked those moments, it made her feel like they were officially family.

Charles, at some point, started to feel like he wasn't doing enough. Max made breakfast, Y/N made Family Sunday meal and he was always enjoying what they made instead of doing something for them. He wanted to do something, he wanted to give them as much as they gave him. He wanted them to know that he loves them. With this idea in mind, he tried to cook pasta a few times, but it didn't end up well. Max had ended up banning him from the kitchen because he was sure that Charles would burn the apartment down. Pasta was off the table and it was the only thing that Charles knew how to cook, even if he didn't do it well. He expressed this concern to his brothers, who instead of giving him some cooking ideas, suggested him to just simply express his affection with other actions. Charles refused, he wanted to make something and he was going to do it.

"I'm just so bad at this, Maman". He complained to his mother on the phone. "I mean, Y/N isn't that good, but at least she can pull something off! I'm not asking to cook as good as Max, I just want to do something right". His mother could hear the stress in his voice. She actually believed that Charles didn't need to cook anything for his partners, they already knew that he loves them and that he shows that love through different methods. Still, she decided to please her son's wishes.

"Okay Charles, I'll send you a recipe for Socca. It's an easy dish and you'll have no problem making it". Charles' spirits lifted quickly. "It's beginners level of complexity. You'll be fine"

"Thank you, Maman! You're the best. I love you!".

It was summer break and Charles had been practicing the recipe for three months. He did it at the Ferrari hospitality every week and it was his most sacred secret. He wanted it to be a surprise so Y/N and Max couldn't know about it. It took Charles a lot of effort to hide his cooking practices, but he was finally ready to cook Socca at home. His skill with the dish had improved a lot, he had to admit that the first ones he made were so bad he couldn't even eat them. His younger brother, Arthur, even gagged when he tried a piece once.

"Charles, if you feed them this, you'll end up single". The younger Leclerc said as he spit the food in the bin.

"Oh Lord. 'How to loose not one but two lovers in one go'. I can see that Buzzfeed article". Charles glared at Lorenzo, his older brother, who was laughing at Charles poor attempt of Socca while he threw that comment.

But, his Socca upgraded since then and while Max and Y/N were out for a jog, Charles told them that he wasn't feeling like running and stayed home. He had an hour until they were back, more than enough time to cook and surprise them. Only four ingredients were needed: Chickpea flour, water, extra-virgin olive oil and sea salt. Once he had everything on top of the kitchen island, he started to mix everything in a bowl. He whisked until there were no lumps in the mix and then set a timer to let the batter soak for thirty minutes. The oven at home was nothing like the one he used to practice with so he had a few set backs when trying to turn it on, but he finally did it and then placed the pan inside to make sure it'll preheated before pouring the batter on it. In the meantime, his mother called to know what plans they had for that weekend. Charles loved talking to his mother so he sat comfortably on the couch and proceeded to tell her all of his summer break plans while he waited for the batter to soak. After a few minutes, he went to the kitchen for a glass of water and when he looked at the kitchen counter he noticed that the timer wasn't working. Slightly panicked, he took the phone away from his ear and check the time of the call. He had been talking to his mother for twenty minutes and before that he had trouble with the oven, but how long did that took him? He didn't know. It was quite a struggle, maybe it actually took him another ten minutes. With a rushed apology and a promise to call later, he hung up and decided to concentrate on his task.

"Well, I'm sure that has to be ready". He said to himself. Sighing, he opened the oven to take the pan out, he forgot to grab a kitchen towel and ended up burning his right hand. An instant hiss left his lips and he dropped the pan. "Putain!". Charles cursed under his breath, he grabbed the kitchen towel and picked up the pan again. A lot more stressed than he expected to be when he started cooking, he poured the batter on the pan, put it inside the oven and closed it. Twenty minutes later, Max frowned the moment he set a foot inside the apartment, turning towards Y/N who was looking at him with the same expression. There was a funny smell coming from the kitchen and he knew that it wasn't good sign. Keeping Y/N behind him he walked into the living room area, Charles was nowhere to be seen, but his singing was in the air, clearly coming from the bedroom. Max went straight to the kitchen while Y/N went to the bedroom to look for Charles. She was about to turn on the light of the hallway when Max yelled from the kitchen.

"Schat, don't touch anything!". Charles peaked his head through the bedroom door and his eyes met with Y/N's, they smiled lovingly at each other, but Max's dutch curse words quickly caught their attention. Charles jogged to her side and pecked her lips as a silent greeting while the two walked to the kitchen.

"Max, what's wrong?". Y/N asked while the dutchman opened the kitchen window as wide as he could. "Did you find the source of that smell?"

"It's the oven, it was leaking gas". He looked at Charles. "Charlie, you turned on the gas but never lit it up".

"No! I did, I swear!". Max shook his head.

"Don't turn on any light, let's just open all the windows and let the wind from outside renovate the air". Charles went to the living room and sat on the couch, huffing and with a frown on his face.

"I don't get it!". Y/N sat next to him and grabbed his hand. "I lit it up".

"Sometimes closing the door to harsh or an object hitting the oven can kill the pilot light". She explained. Charles remembered the pan he dropped.

"I am stupid!". He said, his accent thick. "I dropped the pan when I burned my hand. That must have done it".

"You burned your hand!?". Max and Y/N asked worried, Max running to stand in front of him and checking on his hands.

"It's nothing". Charles assured them, embarrassment filling his chest. Max kept looking at his hands anyways. There was a small red mark on his right palm. Y/N went to the bathroom and grabbed a lotion for burns from the first aid kit. She gently ran in over Charles' palm, him letting out a sigh of content at the cool sensation against his burned skin. "I am stupid".

"You're not stupid, don't say that". Max looked at him sternly, he hated when Charles called himself that.

"But I am! It took me three months to learn how to do the easiest dish in Monaco, which already proves how useless I am, just for me to fuck it up when I finally try to do it for you!". He was pissed so the other two left him get it all out. "You always cook for me and I can't even make a fucking Socca for you, I just wanted you guys to feel like I love you... I suck".

"We do feel like you love us, Charlie". Y/N said as she caressed his arm. "We know that you love us".

"But I never do anything for you". Charles said looking at his lap.

"That's not true". Max sat criss-crossed on the floor in front of Charles. "You always try to cheer us up when we have a bad day, and you always know what we need without having to say it. I think that's something important to add to a relationship".

"That's right". Y/N agreed. "Who cares if you can't cook? You still took the time to learn how to do it just for us. You spent three months learning something that it's hard for you all to make us happy". She ran her hands through Charles' hair and he looked at her. "That makes me feel really loved".

"You mean it?". Charles asked looking between the other two. They nodded eagerly.

"We do". Max's voice assured him quietly. Charles smiled.

Maybe Charles was doing more than he thought.

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Well, I hope you like this one!

#charles leclerc imagine #max verstappen imagine #lestappen x reader #lestappen imagine #charles leclerc one shot #charles leclerc imagines #charles leclerc x reader #lestappen fic #max verstappen x reader #max vestappen one shot

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soulmate-game · 11 months

Text

Work burned me out, middle management positions are draining. What was supposed to be an angsty oneshot is now… yeah I’m continuing it. Not a full series, just a two-parter… hopefully.

Edit: I DON’T KNOW WHAT THE FUCK THIS CLUSTERFUCK OF AN EMOTIONAL ROLLER COASTER IS, but BUCKLE IN BECAUSE IT PROBABLY DOESN’T PASS SAFETY REGULATIONS! HOOOOO BOY

Part 1

—*—*—*—*—*

“…” she stared at the being in front of her, face frighteningly blank. Next to her, Bruce fidgeted.

“I’m not going anywhere, so you either gotta learn to love me real quick or get lost quicker,” the child snarked from where he was sitting upside-down on the bat computer chair. “And don’t call me Richard, my name’s Dick.”

“I don’t remember you working with a fetus, Batman,” Marinette slowly drawled, emphasizing the vigilante’s name despite none of the three of them being suited up. Dick shot up with a cry of indignation.

“I am not a fetus! I’m fifteen! I’ve been Robin since I was twelve!”

“Nope,” Marinette countered, unmoved. “I started out as Ladybug when I was twelve, and I was never as small as you,” she blatantly lied. Dick was already taller than her, which wasn’t much of an achievement considering that she was five-foot-one-inch tall. “You are six years old, tops.”

Dick let out an almost inhuman screech of complaint. Even as he rambled on angrily about how wrong she was, Marinette only nodded as if he proved her right about something.

“That was a good squawk though. Definitely a birdie.”

It took another twenty minutes before Dick ran off to tell on Marinette to Alfred, giving her and Bruce some alone time. With which she used to whirl to him and immediately hiss in equal parts fury and worry;

“Please tell me he wasn’t—“

“The timeline is gone,” Bruce reminded her, bracing her by putting both his hands on her shoulders. “He doesn’t remember.”

“Still!”

He let out such a heavy sigh that he seemed to deflate with it, his dark circles growing more pronounced.

“He wasn’t supposed to be,” he admitted softly. “When he turned sixteen, last time, I allowed him to form his own team of teen heroes. Supervised from afar by myself of course, not that they knew that. I had given them the order to stay back and guard their city, but they disobeyed me and snuck onto the battlefield anyway.”

Marinette rubbed at her temples, nodding. “Teenagers have a habit of doing that. This time around, can we ask Bunnyx to supervise them? She has all the energy of a teenager, so she’ll fit in, but the maturity of someone trusted to guard all the timelines.”

Bruce paused, thinking of what little he knew of the pastel rabbit themed hero, and then reluctantly nodded. “That… might be for the best. And giving them more opportunities to train with…” he hummed, hand on his chin. “I might actually change things up, in that case. Instead of jumping to put teens on their own in a tower, the old Justice League headquarters is more protected. And if we started with the ‘sidekicks’,” he gave very purposeful air quotes, “of other Leaguers, it would create a better support system than letting teenagers run around with… really, not enough regulation.”

“Gotta love hindsight,” Marinette agreed with a nod. “The whole teenagers by themselves thing only worked for my team because we were overly traumatized and each saw different apocalypses before we turned sixteen. Bunnyx could fix them herself back then, but still.”

“Best to do better by the new generation,” Bruce agreed with her unspoken statement. “I can still put that old team together again when they’re older, support their development elsewhere in the meantime.”

“Oh, and now that we’re done on that topic,” Marinette snapped her fingers before pointing to the staircase that Dick had disappeared up. “He’s going to make my life a living hell, isn’t he?”

Bruce groaned, offering her a lopsided grimace of apology. “He’s a menace,” he agreed. “He’s scared away any woman I’ve brought to the house, even though most of them are completely platonic. I have to make the press believe the whole playboy thing somehow, and inviting my friends over to chat is the easiest way to do so without breaking hearts for real. Dick hasn’t caught on yet,” Bruce rubbed his forehead. “His antics to scare away Selina Kyle are legendary already, and she’s sapphic. She couldn’t be attracted to me if I was the last man on earth.”

“Could have fooled me,” Marinette teased, suddenly impish. “She’s catwoman, isn’t she?”

Bruce narrowed his eyes, saying only: “Chat Noir. Year one.”

It was Marinette’s turn to grimace. “Point taken. But in my defense, he took way too long to realize he’s gay and watched too much anime at the time.”

Bruce let out one of his unfairly charming chuckles, changing position so that his arm was around her shoulders and pulling her to his side. She fit there surprisingly well, for someone almost half his size. She leaned into him, and the both just soaked in the comfort of one another for a long moment.

“You know,” Bruce started for a while. “If you want to stay in Gotham, we can make you another alter ego so that you don’t accidentally lure Shadow Moth here. Tell that fox of yours to make it seem like you’re in Paris and take some of the weight off of your shoulders for a change. Blackmail Constantine into charming some jars to keep the butterflies in until you can purify them.”

“Hmmm.” She closed her eyes. “Ladybird sounds nice. Fits with the bird thing that Robin has going for him.”

Bruce laughed. “That’ll really annoy him,” he warned, amused. Marinette’s close-eyed smile was pure mischief.

“That’s the whole point. I’m not letting a fetus win against me, bat-boy.”

—*—*—*—*—*

Marinette wasn’t speaking to Bunnyx. Bruce didn’t know what they had said to one another, but he could guess it had to do with Jason.

With his baby, who he just buried. The boy Marinette had thought of a son ever since he first brought him home. She had even smoothed things over between Dick and Jason, which he had considered nothing short of a miracle at the time.

But that miracle was nowhere to be seen now, with Marinette every bit as despondent next to him as he was. He wanted to be angry with her, he did, but he couldn’t. He had seen her blow up at Bunnyx, seen her try to hold her status as Grand Guardian over the bunny holder.

Bunnyx had simply said that she wouldn’t answer to Ladybug until after the grief passed then, and ran away into her burrow.

“Is this the payment?” He heard her whisper, her voice hoarse and broken. “For the do-over? We passed the old timeline. We took down Shadow Moth. Is this the price?” Tears dripped down her face silently, she didn’t seem to notice them. “Was I not a good enough mother? Should I—“ she stopped herself, shaking her head. He didn’t ask what she was about to say. Maybe he should have.

—*—*—*—*—*

Tim was great. He was too much like Marinette at times, which made Bruce’s chest ache, but he was a great Robin. A great son. His experience with Marinette proved priceless when it came to helping curb Tim’s overworking habits and caffeine addiction.

But not even Tim could find where Marinette had disappeared to, even with his detective skills surpassing Bruce’s already.

Tim was the first son of his that didn’t get to grow up with Marinette at all.

—*—*—*—*—*

“It’s fine, Baobei,” she whispered, stepping to the side. Behind her was the waterfall that hid the tunnel to the Batcave. “He’s not the one to blame. He did his best, even now he’s doing his best.”

“Then why does—“

“Because other people need him, and he has too big of a heart to turn them away,” her mouth tilted a little, smile lopsided and sad. “Timothy didn’t replace you. He just forced Bruce to live again. Bruce didn’t kill Joker, because he didn’t want to taint another child with the sight of murder.”

“And you?” The voice was dark, deadly, gruff. Older, and yet… so achingly familiar. She smiled at him again, soft and sad and… proud.

“I don’t have one,” she lied. She had tried, tried so hard. Bruce had gotten in her way first, and then the very same desire to not taint more children with the image of death.

But her baby needed a scapegoat, and she was willing to throw herself on the fire for him.

“That’s why it’s fine,” she repeated. “If this is what you want. Just, please. Let it end with me.”

This time, Marinette made sure she had the Time miraculous safely in her pocket. Nobody would interfere with this.

The bullet sent her into the flow of the waterfall, red flowing behind her like the carpet she used to walk down with Bruce whenever she released a new collection. She felt no regret as she closed her eyes and fell.

—*—*—*—*—*

The shot hadn’t been fatal. Red Hood might have been mad with Pit Rage, but his fondness for his only true mother figure was ever present. He simply wanted to see if she was serious about taking that shot.

His regret was immediate when she didn’t even try to dodge. The bullet had only grazed her shoulder, but she didn’t seem to notice that. She had been so ready to die— to let him kill her— that she had passed out before hitting the water. He dragged her to the Batcave, knowing he had a lot to answer for.

Bruce wished he could have found her sooner, found both of them sooner. But at least they were back.

—*—*—*—*—*

“… I mean,” she rocked on her heels. “You are growing a bit old for Robin…”

Tim glared at her, not appreciating the insight.

“Bruce is stuck in the timestream, and you aren’t doing a thing about it. I don’t hold your opinion very highly right now,” he snipped back. She snorted, glancing away.

As if that little stunt to “kill Batman” could ever fool her. She’d been there for the real thing, thanks, she could spot a fake a mile away. “He’s got Bunnyx going to find him. She owes me big time, let her do the heavy lifting for a change.”

“How many years have you held that grudge?” Barbara asked, eyebrows raised as she wheeled herself towards the bat computer. “Even Jason thinks you should have let it go by now.”

Marinette scoffed at the exact same time as a certain someone tutted next to her, making them look for a moment like a perfect pair.

Crossed arms, a scoff, annoyed glare? If a DNA test hadn’t already proven otherwise, they might have thought Damian was hers.

“Fetuses don’t get to judge me,” was her only argument before she turned on her heel and walked away.

“I am not a fetus! Lady Marinette, I am ten years old!”

—*—*—*—*—*

Bonus:

Jason was curled up around Marinette, despite being told numerous times not to crowd her on the med-bay bed. He argued that he shot her, so he gets to nurse her back to health.

Did she use her blood, tainted by years of use of the Ladybug, to purify his pit madness? Yes. Had he figured that out yet? Nope.

“Love you, Mom,” he murmured in his sleep. Marinette, who had been awake for about an hour already, smiled to herself.

“Love you, Baobei.”

#maribat #mlb x dc #ml x dc #dc x mlb #dc x miraculous #platonic jasonette #platonic daminette #platonic timari #platonic dickinette #brucinette #idk what this is #enjoy anyway

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tyuninthemirror · 11 months

Text

— lie to me: c.yj

— pairing: idol!yeonjun x idol fem!reader — genre: angst — word count: 1997 — disclaimers: not proofread! mentions of eating and drinking alcohol, adding of minor characters (jungwoo) — synopsis: part 3 to bad omens. — series masterlist

— author's note: this ends my bad omens three parter <3 no happy ending, but i think it's for the best :) on to happier yeonjun stories!

"Maybe this isn't a good idea anymore."

Yeonjun froze midway buckling his belt. Never would he have thought that sentence would come out of your mouth. He slowly turned around to see you sitting in your bed, looking at him, sheets pulled up to cover your chest.

"What?"

"I heard from Sakura that Yunjin is waiting for you to ask her out," you said, absentmindedly drawing circles on your duvet. "Looks like you finally get to be with her."

"And you're okay with that?" Yeonjun asked with a raised eyebrow.

You've been a bit distant since that date with Hwiyoung a month ago, but your little arrangement never changed. Of course, Yeonjun still shamelessly flirted with Yunjun in front of you, but for some reason, bitterness grew rather than the usual feeling of distress.

You began to wonder, if you fell in love with someone else, would they do this to you? Flirt with another person while you warmed their bed at night?

You shrugged at Yeonjun's question. It's crazy to think you were the one asking to be used just weeks ago.

Yeonjun expected you to cry, to beg him to never ask Yunjin out. What happened to the girl who begged him to stay? But he should be happy, after all, this is what he told you to do.

And that's how Yeonjun ended up watching Yunjin who sat across him, chatting away about her day. He finally found the right timing to ask her out and when she said yes and gushed about this new place she wanted to visit, so they found themselves at an Italian restaurant in a fancy part of Seoul.

Yeonjun smiled and made little comments here and there as she continued with her story, but something didn't feel right, and he couldn't put a finger on it.

He was on a date, with the girl he's been crushing on for a while, but all he could think about was eating spicy rice cakes and ramen with you at an eatery close to their dorms.

Yeonjun shook his head, mentally slapping himself. No, no time for thoughts like that. He was on a date with his dream girl, this is what he wanted.

Right?

"I'm back," Yeonjun called out as he entered the dorm, taking his shoes off. A few seconds later, he heard footsteps run up to the entryway. He looked up to see Huening Kai's excited face turn into a frown, his shoulders dropping when he realized Yeonjun came back alone.

"Umm, where's Y/N?"

"What are you talking about?" Yeonjun asked, raising an eyebrow. "I wasn't out with Y/N."

"You're never out with Y/N anymore," Kai pouts. "Did she finally get with San?"

"San?" Yeonjun did a double take. "What happened to Hwiyoung?"

"Huh?" Kai responded in confusion. "Last I heard, Y/N told him she wanted to stay friends."

"Wait, so why bring up San?"

"Are you dumb?" the younger boy responded, rolling his eyes. "Do you think Y/N doesn't have admirers? They all lined up trying to ask her out, but she only had eyes for you."

Kai's revelation left Yeonjun speechless. Sure, you were beautiful, but he didn't expect you to have invested so much in him.

"I think you're kinda dumb for rejecting her, to be honest," he continued, knowing Yeonjun was busy pondering over things. "She's a great person and a precious friend to me, I just hope whatever is happening doesn't ruin our relationship with her."

What Huening Kai didn't know was that you were the one that suggested ending things, but Yeonjun's pride got in the way and he never corrected anyone about it, letting himself play the one who pulled the plug.

Debbie Reber, the author, once said: "Letting go doesn’t mean that you don’t care about someone anymore. It’s just realizing that the only person you really have control over is yourself." It took you a cup of coffee and good company to get you to realize that.

Sure, your heart still longed for the same man that knew just how to make you laugh no matter how tired you were and made you feel butterflies just by seeing him, but you came to realize that true love would be wishing someone to be happy even if it wasn't you.

Besides, did you want to keep competing for someone's affection as if you need to prove something when it should be both of you proving you're worth it to each other? That sounded tiring.

"Hey Y/N, Changbin rented a villa for his birthday party this Sunday, do you wanna come?" Minho asked just as you entered the studio to greet him.

"I think I'm free after my salon appointment," you answered after checking your calendar. "Who's coming?"

"The usual," Minho answered dismissively as if he didn't want to get into any more details, but you knew he was hiding something.

"Do you want to just say it, or should I have to ask?"

"About what?"

"Don't play dumb," you snapped, lightly slapping his bicep.

"Alright," Minho sighed. "It's just our close friends, the usual group. But Yeonjun asked if he could bring Yunjin."

You gulped. Minho watched you worriedly, he was up to date with everything going on, and he supported you every single step of the way, but it was still a healing process.

"Do you not want to go?" Minho carefully asked.

"I'm good," you assured him with a smile. "I can't avoid seeing them together forever. At least I'll have you around."

"That's my girl."

Yeonjun watched from across the room as you accepted a drink from Jungwoo. You arrived not more than 10 minutes ago and he's seen nearly a handful of people approach you.

Yeonjun's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Did that many people approach you at parties before?

"Hey, man! Having fun?" Changbin asked, popping out from the crowd of people.

"Yeah," Yeonjun briefly responded, pulling the birthday boy in for a shoulder bump. "Happy birthday!"

"Happy birthday, Changbin!" Yunjin chimed in from beside Yeonjun.

"Thanks," Changbin grinned.

"I'm gonna go say hi to Ryujin, be right back," Yunjun announced, giving Yeonjun a quick peck on the cheek before disappearing to the crowd.

"Ooooh, things are getting serious," Changbin teased, nudging Yeonjun's shoulders.

"I guess," Yeonjun awkwardly chuckled. "Say, did this many people approach Y/N before?"

Changbin's eyes followed wherever Yeonjun was starting and saw you chatting away with Jungwoo.

"Dude, she wouldn't talk to anyone besides you when you used to come to parties together, no one dared approach her," Changbin answered. "Jungwoo's been begging Minho for her number for ages."

You briefly looked around the room and met eyes with Yeonjun who was staring at you. You gave him a small smile and he smiled back.

Yeonjun expected you to excuse yourself from your conversation and walk over to him, but you surprisingly didn't and continued your conversation, even laughing and grabbing Jungwoo's arm at whatever he said.

"Looks like a happy ending to me," Changbin chimed in. "You got your girl and got Y/N off your back. Isn't that what you wanted?"

"Sure."

Before coming, you had set a mission for yourself to stay away and avoid talking to Yeonjun all night.

The night continued and Yeonjun wasn't as distracting as you thought. Though you felt him watching you some parts of the night, you spent most of the night with Jungwoo who made you laugh your ass off, you weren't sure if you were drunk or just high on endorphins.

"I'm gonna grab another drink, do you want anything?" you asked Jungwoo.

"Perfect, I need to go pee while you're at it. I've been holding it," Jungwoo admitted.

"Why didn't you just go?" you chuckled.

"Let you out of my sight for a second to have someone steal you for the night? Pfft, not a chance." Jungwoo scoffed. "I worked for this interaction."

"Kim Jungwoo, did you become an MC with Minho just to get close to me?" you jokingly asked.

"Damn, I thought it was hiding it well enough," he responded with a joking frown. "I'm serious though, I need to pee, I'll be a second. And another beer, please!"

You chuckled as you watched the taller boy scurry away. As you turned around to head into the kitchen, someone grabs your wrist and pulls you into an empty hallway.

You pull your wrist back and look up to see Yeonjun gazing at you with this intense look.

"What's the big idea?" you asked, annoyed. Usually seeing Yeonjun made you feel butterflies, but there was something about how he just treated you that pissed you off.

"Kim Jungwoo your next boy toy?" Yeonjun spat.

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"I've seen you stuck by his side all night, is he about to be your fuck for tonight?" he continued, his nostrils flaring as he cornered you.

Shock came over you as you took a step back, trying to stick as close to the wall as you can while Yeonjun came closer.

"Are you that easy? Who's it gonna be after Jungwoo?" he added once again. You snapped out of your trance, that was the last straw for you.

You raised your hand and slapped Yeonjun.

His eyes widened in shock, his hand coming up to touch the cheek you just slapped.

"You're disgusting," you spat. "How could you say that to me?" Yeonjun realized what he had just said, instant regret overcoming him.

"Y/N, I didn't-"

"No," you quickly stopped him. "I can't believe you would say something like that to me."

"I didn't mean it that way," he blurted out.

"Well, in what way did you mean it?" you demanded. "You're supposed to be my friend, how could you?"

"Y/N, please-"

"No, Yeonjun," you cut him off. "Stay away from me. I gave you so much, I let you go and I thought the least you could reciprocate was my friendship, but you couldn't even be a friend?"

"I know you've only had eyes on Yunjin, you look and give her more than you've ever given me. I thought you at least saw me as a friend. I guess not, I'm probably just no one to you."

Yeonjun didn't know how to respond to that. When he approached you, he just wanted to talk to you and hear you deny what was going on with Jungwoo, but something in him just made him spit out whatever he bottled up that night and then it turned to this.

"Goodbye, Choi Yeonjun," you mumbled, turning to walk away. "I hope you don't regret losing me in your life."

Yeonjun watched your figure walk away, but he couldn't bring himself to say anything.

Tears welled in your eyes as you walked into the kitchen. You still had feelings for Yeonjun, but the way he spoke to you just now made you question what you ever saw in him.

"Y/N, I was looking for you," Jungwoo's cheerful voice called from behind you. You quickly blink your tears away before facing him.

"Are you okay?" Jungwoo asked. "Your eyes are a bit red."

"I just yawned," you lied, picking up two bottles of beer from the ice box.

"If you're tired, I could take you home?" Jungwoo offered, concern evident in his voice.

"Y/N, you're here!"

You and Jungwoo turned around to see Yunjin standing at the other entrance of the kitchen. As usual, her makeup and outfit were on point and she was as gorgeous as ever.

"Yeah," you smiled. "Grabbing a drink?"

"Yeah, just grabbing Yeonjun and me some rum and coke," she grinned, pouring some Captain Morgan into two cups.

"Oh, but Yeonjun doesn't like-" you began to say before stopping yourself. Yunjin looked up curiously.

"Nothing," you smiled. "He'll love whatever you pour him."

"Oh yeah?" she giggled, a small blush forming on her face.

"100%" you assured her. "After all, Yeonjun treats you the best."

taglist: @yxnjvnnie @hihello-pinky @rodricktrolls

#txt imagine #txt fanfic #txt x reader #txt imagines #txt x you #txt angst #txt scenarios #yeonjun x reader #yeonjun #yeonjun fanfic #choi yeonjun #yeonjun angst

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lahooozaherr · 4 months

Text

What Was I Made For?

Part 2

Please note: This blog stands with Palestine. If you are interacting with my account and TLOU related posts, I ask that you PLEASE visit these links. Be critical and mindful while partaking in TLOU content and be aware that creator Neil Druckmann is a Zionist.

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: FLUFFY FLUFF, Joel is very soft and deserves softness, slight angst if you squint?, yearning, “first date jitters”, a smooch!! Honestly that’s kind of it, nothing wild happens in this. As always, let me know if I missed something 🫶🏻

MY WORKS ARE 18+ MINORS DNI. AGELESS/BLANK ACCOUNTS WILL BE BLOCKED.

Chapter Summary: Since your recovery, you’ve settle into town and your routine nicely. Tommy sets you up with a job at the stables caring for the horses after their morning patrol, where you regularly see Joel. The two of you spend a lot of time together and Ellie has noticed. Joel asks if you’ve ever ridden a horse before, and upon discovering you haven’t, asks you take you on a horseback ride.

A/N: I had to rewrite parts of this, sit and contemplate, daydream, etc until I was finally somewhat satisfied with what I wanted to do in this chapter. So if it’s seems kinda clunky I apologize lol. I’m planning to make this a three parter so we’ll get to the fun in the next part! I can’t make promises on when since a lot of my writing is very dependent on my mood and how creative I feel. But I’ve also started my Death Worker apprenticeship and it gives me enough homework to space out for the month, so I have to keep balance! I hope yall enjoy this little installment. It’s a special little project for me, I just want Joel to be happy and to have someone that brings out his ability and need to process his grief.

Joel Vibes Playlist

Series Masterlist | Masterlist | AO3 | My Taglist

Joel continued to visit you as you recovered, bringing you some of your meals and discussing the books you shared interest in. Sometimes you’d share moments of vulnerability with him when you spoke of your past, and he’d do the same. He was guarded over some parts, but you understood. It can be terrifying to share that much about oneself.

You offered him a kind of softness and compassion he hadn’t come across in a very long time. That’s not to say he hadn’t, Tess was compassionate in her own ways, albeit her tough exterior, and he had immense respect for that.

He wasn’t used to it and at times he’d find himself questioning if he’s too harsh around the edges. But you never withdrew from him, you welcomed him with a warm smile everyday. You displayed a genuine interest in his company, it had become a comfort for you. Inadvertently, it had become a comfort for him as well. A balm for his aches that he didn’t know he needed.

Ellie had started to notice the times he had been absent, usually after his morning patrol.

“I haven’t seen a lot of you lately,” Ellie noted as she takes another bite into her breakfast. Joel leans against the counter with his coffee mug and takes a sip before replying, “when I’m not doing patrol I’ve been checking on that woman I told you ‘bout.”

“Oh?” Ellie’s face brightens, the corners of her lips turning upward into a mischievous grin. “You got a girlfriend now, old man?”

Joel shoots a glare back at her, “no.” It doesn’t deter her and she smirks, “if you have to deny it like that then she probably is.” He releases an exasperated huff before taking another sip from his mug, “I’ve just been checkin’ on her. That’s all.”

“Whatever you say,” Ellie stands from her place at the table and walks to the sink beside him to deposit her dishes. Joel gives her shoulder a pat and squeezes with his free hand, she returns the gesture by placing her hand on his and squeezing back.

She heads for the door and turns back to him as she opens it and calls out, “it’d probably do you some good!” Shooting him finger guns as she backs out, he rolls his eyes.

Eventually, you’d meet her and her unending curiosity. Ellie wanted to figure out what drew Joel to you. Eating meals with her and Joel was refreshing, allowing you that feeling of belonging in this world again. Ellie was a firecracker with the mouth of a sailor and you grew to adore her all the same. She enjoyed your company and sensitivity towards her and her interests.

Your recovery was swift, you were in good hands with the town’s doctor. Upon the day she cleared you with a clean bill of health, Joel’s brother Tommy and his wife Maria helped set you up in one of the houses in town. The house was currently being used by a few other unrelated individuals, basically creating a roommate situation. You didn’t mind at all, you were immensely grateful. This was far better than your situation back in your previous QZ.

They took time to show you around town, showing you where everyone meets up to eat in town. Various “shops” in town, trading was “currency” of course. They helped you aquire you some new clothes and essentials

Tommy suggested bringing you on to work in the stables in the mornings, helping care for the horses when they returned from that shift of patrol. After getting to know you and what he’d been told by Joel, he felt that your delicate touch was just what was needed to care for the horses. He also knew how therapeutic it could be to be with them.

His suggestion was met by an immediate ‘yes’ by you. You were mostly excited to start doing your part. You had never worked with horses before but you were sure you’d get a hang of it in due time.

Horses are gentle creatures, you remember hearing of forms of therapy done alongside them from the days before. You could see why, they were calm for the most part. You had slightly worried about being intimidated by them but that subsided when you were introduced to them.

The stable-hands you worked alongside were thorough and patient when they trained you. Teaching you how to feed, brush and even untack the horses upon their returns. You got along with them quickly and with ease. It had been too long since you’d been able to give love and care to an animal.

Being in this position also meant seeing Joel very regularly. Whether that was on purpose by Tommy or not, you weren’t sure. But you didn’t mind, you treasured your bond you’d created with him in such a short amount of time. It had also been too long since you felt connected to another human being.

When he’d return from patrol, you’d welcome him back as you helped him remove the saddle from his horse, Old Beardy, a beautiful and well mannered horse. He’d stick around to chat about what he’d seen that morning as he helped brush his coat as you fed him. When the horse would nicker at you and nudge you with his snout, you’d return the gesture with affectionate scratches and cooing.

Joel would watch you in admiration, an old and almost unfamiliar feeling that had been simmering under the service had started to take root. Everyday it sprouts new leaves and blossoms. Although it was undeniable, he’d been afraid to name it. A while ago he had told himself he can’t let “someone like himself”, rough edges and all, dim your light. He had only recently begun to explore what it meant to be a father again, he wasn’t sure if he was fit to re-explore having something more with you.

He was scared that he would hurt whatever he touched. That he would fail to protect, again.

You, on the other hand, are aware of the crush you’ve been harboring. Although there was that little, nagging voice in your head that would ask how someone as independent and strong as Joel could have those kinds of feelings for you.

You’d sometimes catch the way he looks at you when you’re focused on your work in the stables. Or the warmth he regards you with compared to others. You weren’t sure if he returned your feelings exactly, but you’d caught on to small gestures of his.

It was hard to deny the way your heart sped up in your chest when you’d greet him in the mornings. How it felt to have his eyes on you, his undivided attention. Sometimes guiding you by the small of your back when he walked with you through town, on the way back from the stables or your meals.

But how does one court another in an apocalypse?

—————————————————————————

“Mornin’, Joel,” you turn to see Joel returning Beardy to his stall, back from his morning shift.

He returns your greeting with nod and a smile as he begins to remove the horse's saddle, “Mornin’ sweetheart.”

You turn back to your task of cleaning your brush, hiding how you fight back against a grin that twists your lips and the warmth spreading across your cheeks.

You finish up and join Joel at his side, handing him a brush. He takes it from your hand, brushing his against yours in the process. Beardy turns his head towards you and bumps his nose against your arm, he knows what time it is. With a loving roll of your eyes, you remove an apple from the apron you wore, “Yeah yeah boy, I’ve got you, don’t worry.”

Joel truly admires the way you interact with the horses. You move around them with confidence and intention, he’s pleased to see his idea of suggesting this job for you to Tommy seemed to really suit you. You’ve really come out of your shell since your recovery. You were very thoughtful and attentive to the horses you worked with daily.

“I haven’t thought to ask ‘til just now,” Joel begins as he works to brush the horse's shoulder. “Have you ever ridden one?”

You snicker, “ironically, no. I’ve somehow come this far in life without the privilege.”

Joel is almost surprised, people are typically kind of afraid of the animal at first. You acted as if you’d always been around them.

Joel fights to look neutral as he offers, “I could….take you on a ride…”

He pauses and you glance at each other quickly as he almost nervously adds, “I mean, if you want.” To not seem overly dependent on your answer, he gives an indifferent shrug, but the smile behind his gesture betrays him.

With an excited sparkle in your eye, you perk up and smile, “Really? When?” You never shy away from showing your emotions or how eager you are. He also appreciates that about you, it’s helped provide some kind of a balance in his life. Regular connection with someone in touch with their emotions he finds safety and refuge in. “Emotion” is something he just only shows to a select few.

“How about this next day off?”

“You mean it?”

“When have I ever not meant what I said, sweetheart?” He flashes a smug grin and you shake your head with a chuckle.

“That’s very true. In that case, I’d love to.”

Joel finishes his brushing and sets the tool aside on a hook, “Alright, I’ll be at your house first thing in the morning? Before sunrise, I think you’d like seein’ that.”

You remove your apron and hang it, adjusting your coat as you do. You walk up to him and state, “It’s a date.”

He’s caught off guard and slightly frowns, not in disagreement but having trouble processing what you just said. A date.

You frown back and a sinking feeling almost lands in your abdomen, then his lips curve into a smile. A warm, humored one.

“It’s a date.”

Relief washes over you in the form of a big grin you can’t seem to fight off anymore, biting your bottom lip. He tosses you a wink before turning to leave the stables.

—————————————————————————

Maybe calling it a date wasn’t such a good idea, because it’s added much more pressure than you’d originally intended. You don’t date in this kind of world, do you?

You’ve spent a good 30 minutes bouncing back and forth between outfit choices, the very few you own. Pieces that are more about durability and appropriate for weather and not so much…attractiveness. But you wanted to at least try.

One of your roommates, Lisa, passes by your door on the way back from the bathroom you share, noticing you fidgeting at your outfit.

“You’re up early,” she takes notice, she herself is getting ready for her own morning shift. It’s your day off and unusually early for you to be up and about.

Her voice startles you and you turn to greet her, “Morning, Lisa.”

“Morning! You got something goin’ on today?”

“Yes, uh…” you become flustered as heat threatens to take over your face. “I’m going on a horseback ride with Joel.”

Her face lights up, “are you finally going on a date with grumpy Joel?”

“You really shouldn’t call him that. And yes? No? Maybe? What do you mean ‘finally’?”

She smiles knowingly and folds her arms across her chest, “I don’t know, it’s not like you spend most of your free time with him. On top of time you get to see him when you’re working.”

“Is that….bad?”

“Not at all, girl. I just think it’s about damn time.”

You blow a raspberry at her and chuckle as you make final touches on your outfit, she mimics you and taps your shoulder with the knuckles of her fist, “you look good, stop worrying.”

—————————————————————————

Joel approaches the door to your home. He’s nervous, if he’s being honest with himself. He can’t remember the last time he’d even been on a date, even before the outbreak. He was way more invested in being a father and running his business.

He rubs his hands on his jeans, palms slightly sweaty. He takes a deep breath, closes his eyes, and knocks on the door. You open it shortly after, whispering to him a “good morning” before quietly exiting and closing the door behind you. He echoes the greeting in a similar tone of voice, being mindful of your roommates you share the home with.

When you smile it makes his stomach turn over, a weird dance between anxiety and peace plays inside of him. He feels so out of practice, but something about your energy helps ease those worries and grounds him.

The walk to the stables is quiet, something he chalks up to it being so early for the two of you on your mutual day off. But really, his mind is also racing, so it’s just a convenient excuse for him to gather himself on the way there.

When the two of you have Old Beardy prepared and ready, he looks to you, “you ready?”

A glimmer of joy is in your eyes, “absolutely!”

“Alright, let me help you up.”

“Oh, right,” you say hesitatingly, looking over the horse and saddle wondering how this will work. A chuckle rumbles in his chest before he kneels beside you, holding out his hands laced together.

“I’ll lift you up. Just step here and swing your leg over.”

He can still sense your hesitancy and offers you more reassurance, “don’t worry, I’ve got ya. I won’t let you fall.”

You trust him implicitly, you have ever since you’ve built your relationship with him. So without fear, you move as he instructs. When you successfully land on the saddle, you let out a squeak in triumph.

Joel pats your leg as he stands back up. “Atta girl,” he remarks in his southern-drawl.

That embarrassing heat begins to crawl back up your spine. What did he just say? But you love it, can he say it again please?

Joel lifts himself up and settles right behind you in the saddle, caging you in his arms. His broad chest against your back is warm and all encompassing. You haven’t been this physically close to him since he rescued you. It’s electrifying, a feeling you crave more of.

Joel has similar feelings about this, but stays professional. He has to. This isn’t that kind of date, or so he tells himself.

Beardy begins to trot in response to Joel’s whistle and commanding movements. You gasp in amazement and laugh, Joel can’t help but smile to himself as he listens to your small reactions.

Soon, the two of you’re out the gate. The sky is still somewhat dark, but a light in the distance signals that sunrise is on its way. Joel has the perfect spot in mind.

“How’re you doin’, sweetheart?”

“I’m great, this is so fun,” you respond joyously. His laugh in response is deep and rich as he signals the horse to speed up just a little bit.

The surrounding area is quiet, save for sounds of crunching snow under Beardy’s hooves and Joel’s breathing. You debate if you should break it and say anything, but you can’t seem to come up with anything. You don’t really want to. It’s so peaceful, it’s just perfect. If it’s like this every morning, you almost wish you could join him on his patrol.

“Oh, hold very still,” Joel’s voice drops an octave as he lowers his lips next to your ear to murmur, lightly brushing, and it sends shivers down your spine. You hope he doesn’t notice. “Look.”

You look around and see a family of deer, a Doe and her two babies. They don’t notice the two of you, Joel had stopped to a standstill just a few yards from them. The scene is serene and makes your heart swell. It’s amazing how life goes on in the wild despite the outbreak. If anything, it has thrived even more so.

“Beautiful,” you’re careful to whisper so you don’t disturb the moment.

He’s caught himself watching you again, instead of the deer family. It feels like witnessing the world again, through your eyes. You hold an appreciation for the small things that he’s taken for granted before.

Joel nudges Beardy and turns his reins to walk beside carefully, avoiding the small family. They go on eating, undisturbed.

“It’s just right up here,” he states. After a few turns, he brings you to a small hilltop. The sun is just starting to rise as you arrive and Joel gives himself a mental pat on the back for his perfect timing.

“Oh, Joel….” You trail off, the view of the sunrise and landscape leaves you speechless as you take it all in. The snow before you is untouched and smooth. It sparkles in the growing light of the sun rising over the mountains. The sky itself looks like a beautiful painting with purple bleeding into red, pink and orange hues.

“This is…this is breathtaking, I don’t know how else to say it,” you profess to him.

“I know, it makes you just stop, doesn’t it?”

Almost instinctively, you lean back into Joel’s chest and relax. You feel him freeze and almost regret your action until you feel him quickly settle that fear, feeling his chest press against your back in return. You wish you could tell him his embrace makes you feel the safest you ever have.

The tranquility of the moment lingers on until you speak, “thank you, Joel.”

“You don’t have to thank me for this.”

“I mean, for everything. You’ve been so kind and welcoming to me since I came here. You saved me.”

You turn your upper body to face him, he looks back into your eyes with his deep brown irises. Suddenly, you could slice the tension in the air with a knife.

“Thank YOU, also,” his lips purse.

“Me? For what?”

“For helping remind me why I’m here. Why I’m STILL here.”

“Oh gosh, you didn’t need me for that…” you begin to turn your head away until suddenly, his large palm cups your opposite cheek and brings you back to face him.

Your breath hitches in your chest when your eyes meet his. Joel’s eyes are dark and formidable, but you’ve found the hints of compassion and warmth in them recently. This time is no exception, chocolate eyes conveying how genuine he is. He always means what he says.

The initial shock of him maneuvering you to face him subsides quickly, as if it’s natural of him to do this. He wonders if he’s being too forward when you nuzzle your cheek into the palm of his hand. He lets out a quiet sigh of relief.

“That means the world to me,” emotion breaks through your voice, tears begin to break through at the corners of your closed eyes.

Joel wraps his arms around your shoulders and brings you close to him, placing a faint, soft press of his lips to the top of your head. Your quickened heartbeat threatens to expose you to him but you don’t seem to care, because maybe it’s time he knew.

Maybe it’s time he knew what he really means to you.

“Could we get down for a moment? I’d like to stretch my legs.”

“Hm? Sure thing,” Joel agrees. He jumps down from the horse and turns and reaches up to assist you. It seems the tables have turned from you using this moment to confess when he brings you down into his arms, encasing you in his embrace.

He doesn’t move and neither do you, as you search each other’s faces. Your lips part, you try to find the words you need but they’re as lost as you are in his eyes. You watch as his eyes dart down and back up to yours as the tip of his tongue quickly darts across his lips.

A fire is lit in his chest, one that he had assumed was gone for ages. It became an ember when he met you, and now it scorches as he holds you in his arms. He can’t find the words either, but he’s more of a man of action.

His face inches closer to yours and you take the cue and mimic him. When he sees this, he takes the plunge and closes the gap and gently, experimentally presses his lips onto yours.

With butterflies in your chest and a boost of confidence, you take advantage of the angle he has you in. Bring your arms up and wrap them around his neck to deepen the kiss.

His lips are as soft and pillowy as they look, a puff of air escapes his nose as he slowly molds his lips to yours. His aquiline nose pushes against yours, he feels like a puzzle piece made to connect to you. You can smell him, a mix of the smell of firewood, pine and a smell that's unique to him.

You feel one of his hands lift up to grip the back of your hold to himself steadily against you. It’s like he refuses to part and come up for air, continuing to take short breaths through his nose. But soon enough he’s forced to pull away, if ever so slightly.

It’s been too long since you’ve ever shared something so intimate with someone, and surely you’ll be addicted after this. Kissing Joel Miller is sensual and slow, right off the bat. You probably look drunk on his kiss but you don’t care, if your feelings weren’t obvious before they really were now.

“I, uh-I…” Joel stammers, blushed from the cold and being unused to speaking his feelings. You lean in and kiss him again, effectively shutting down his attempt to speak. When you part from him, you look into his eyes smiling as you exhale a breath.

His heart races in his chest and he doesn’t remember the last time it did this in response to something other than adrenaline or fear. He asks himself if you can read his mind when you place your hand over it. But really, you just wanted confirmation.

His smile in return is wide, showing his teeth and exhilarated as he does so. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him exude such happiness.

You cup the back of his head with both of your hands, gently nudging him towards you. You touch your forehead to his and close your eyes and he joins you.

“It’s ok Joel, I’ve got you.”

@nerdieforpedro @joeldjarin @orcasoul

Divider by @saradika-graphics

#Joel Miller #joel miller x f!reader #Joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #the last of us

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triplesilverstar · 5 months

Text

All's well that ends Well

Rating: 18+ Minors DNI

Pairing: Eriks X F!Reader

CW: Grinding, kissing, pining, vaginal fingering, being wet, awkward first kiss, unsure of feelings

Word count: Roughly 5.4K words

A/N: So this was another one inspired by art... plus Vash is not referred to as Vash at any point in this series so the reader just knows there's something a little off about him. This will be a three-parter and I have no idea of a timeline for it or how big it's going to be. So enjoy more of my ramblings.

You had to laugh behind your hand as Eriks almost tripped on the loose floorboard in the middle of the porch with the hamper filled with wet clothes to be hung outside on the line. After this last year of living with the three of you, you had to admit the two-toned-haired man had made more than enough of an impact in your lives.

Lina had a male figure in her life that she could endlessly tease, Granny had someone to scold and fuss over, and you? Well, you had someone to have the occasional beer with and chase after Lina when she got into trouble. Even if you had been apprehensive when Lina first brought the strange man home, which in retrospect was funny given how you had come to live with Lina and Sheryl. Better known as Granny.

Five years earlier you had been a bandit running around causing chaos, and you’d gotten sick before coming to the town. Left to die by the others in the gang as your forehead burned and you watched the world through a haze, barely able to make out two blurry figures that approached you. Waking up several days later in a bed you didn’t remember falling asleep in and feeling better, though a lingering cough would forever plague you. Saved by Lina’s parents.

A debt you felt you could never repay when they were killed. Sheryl had after a few weeks of grieving over the loss of her children allowed you to stay and help her raise Lina. Or at least try too.

It had been different going from being a gunslinger to a, well you weren’t really sure what to call yourself. Looking after the small crops the family grew, a little bit of Tomas raising, and mainly trying to keep Lina out of trouble.

So the day you came back from the field exhausted and seeing a man wearing some of Lina’s father's old clothes and passed out on the couch in the living room left you reeling.

Hours later rubbing your eyebrows after Lina explained how she had found him and she and Granny had cleaned the man up before he passed out. “How do we know he isn’t a bandit or something?”

“Now dearie.” A light scolding sent your way from across the table you and Granny were still sitting around after chasing Lina to bed. “Not everyone has the best beginnings, we don’t judge them for that. Not in this house.” The tips of your ears burn as you let out a few coughs trying to loosen the tightness in your chest.

“I see your point, Granny.” Dragging the back of your hand across your lips to catch any of the spittle. “Here’s hoping Lina has better sense than usual.” Shifting the hand to trail it through your hair and rubbing at the back of your neck.

“Our girl has a good head on her shoulders.”

That night you’d slept light, the lowest creak of the floorboards, or groaning of the house waking you from your slumber. When you finally stepped from your bedroom the next morning the bags under your eyes took up most of your face, moving on autopilot towards the kitchen. Freezing in the doorway you saw the tall man standing at the counter next to Lina following the young girl’s directions in making breakfast. Granny sitting at the table with a tea in hand and watching with amusement.

“You look like you slept well last night.” If looks could kill Granny would have keeled over as you dropped into one of the chairs at the table. Dragging a hand down your face in your exhausted state.

“Very funny.” Snorting before raising your hand in front of your mouth feeling another cough coming. And once you’re done that little fit the clattering of a mug being placed in front of you reaches your ears. “Thank you, Lina” answering automatically before opening your eyes.

To see the man pulling his hand away from the steaming mug.

“You’re welcome.” A soft smile on his face and his voice makes something deep inside of you melt. Externally however you don’t let anything show, taking a small sip of your usual drink.

Over breakfast, he introduced himself as Eriks and claimed he had no memory of his past before Lina found him. You highly doubted that, but the quick kick to your shin from under the table stopped you from saying anything. You were going to need to buy Lina less pointed boots in the future.

Over the next few weeks, you found yourself watching his actions like a hawk, looking for any sign of ill intent toward your found little family. Instead, all you witnessed was a man who seemed almost as out of place as you did except he always seemed to wear a soft worn smile.

One night a little while later sitting there with Granny on the porch in her rocking chair and you on the hanging bench while Lina and Eriks were out in the field. The sound of laughter rang out from around the crops as the pair finished the evening chores with Eriks often stumbling as Lina pulled tricks on the older man. Granny spoke up. “Are you still as worried about him?”

Sighing, you adjust the way you’re sitting so you're leaning forward resting your elbows on your thighs, and watch the man. His hair has grown longer and while you keep getting the sense something isn’t quite right about him you can tell he can be trusted. “No. I guess not. He’s been a big help around here.”

Letting out your own laugh when he trips over a rock landing face first in the dirt and dropping the basket filled with vegetables. “Well, when he’s not being a general nuisance” unaware of the shy smile growing on your face as the tall blond struggles to his feet dusting himself off before rounding up the fallen veggies.

“Hmmm,” Granny just hums, noticing the look on your face. A look she’s seen on Eriks once or twice in the time he’s been here when he’s been watching you as well.

As time passed Sheryl was aware of the subtle shift in your attitude towards Eriks and his towards you. In the mornings when you weren’t up most of the night, your routine had slowly changed, from watching the twin suns rising in the sky by yourself on the porch to having company in the form of the blond. Now having soft conversations over what you needed to do during the day, sitting side by side on the hanging bench with low voices. Both were holding steaming mugs that the vapors curled up and around the two of you.

The older woman also noticed the smallest reaction each of you had to one another as whatever was between the two of you grew. Lingering touches that weren’t needed when passing items to one another, or taking longer than normal while doing the dishes to talk to one another.

When you had a bit of a downturn with your health Sheryl wasn’t surprised at all as Eriks ensured you were wrapped in a blanket and fed you meals in your room. Honestly, the older woman found it all to be rather sweet. But in this moment watching the two of you hanging laundry after you had laughed at him almost falling on his face with the load of wet clothes she knew both of you needed a little push.

Both of you would never act on your own and the old woman could see it as clearly as she saw the pink hue both of you would sport on occasion after your interactions. In fact, sometimes you muttered to the older woman it was because of the sun, not because of a certain long-haired man making you weak in the knees.

And she was going to force the two of you to act and deliver that little push somehow.

“Eriks at this point I’m not sure how you ever manage to get anything done, you’re so clumsy it’s almost funny.” Taking the basket from him to ensure none of the sheets fell to the ground to be covered in dirt and needing to be rewashed.

“Just some bad luck I think.” Laughing along with you and helping you hang the clothes on the line to dry. “I’m not always that clumsy.” Holding one end of a bed sheet while you spread it out across the line and clip it in place.

“Sure, sir. Sure.” Letting your fingers linger over his briefly and feeling the heat from his skin warm your own digits.

“Hey now, I’m really not that unlucky.” Working in tandem it doesn’t take either of you long to get the remaining laundry out on the line before Granny calls out to the two of you.

“Eriks!” Followed by the calling of your own name as you both turn towards the older woman hobbling towards you.

“What’s wrong Granny?”

“The pump seems to be out of water. Could I get the two of you to go into the well and see what might be going on?” Rubbing her hands together with a look of fear clear on her face. “That well is what allows us to live outside of town and look after ourselves. I hate to have to move because we’ve run out of water.” You catch the undercurrent in her words and you know better. Granny has spent her entire life on this little farm, raised her son here, and is now raising her granddaughter here. It’s not just the moving that she’s worried about, it's all the memories locked away in the floorboards of the house. The panels of the wall faded from the sun shining in through the thin windows.

“Of course Granny!” Eriks is quick to answer, nodding as he walks to the porch to return the laundry hamper to the shade provided by it.

“Hopefully it's something silly like the pipe for the pump having shifted out of the way.” Rolling your sleeves up and heading towards the opening of the well near the edge of the field just past where all your crops grew the house while still visible far enough away that you can’t see Granny on the porch and tossing the rope ladder down, pausing as Eriks places his palm over your shoulder.

“Let me go first.” Waving a small flashlight while you chuckle, Eriks tends to be more prepared than you. Or Granny for that manner.

“Are you sure it’s not just so you can watch my butt when it comes down the ladder after you?” Teasing him you see the pink briefly flash across his face.

“Hey now, we both know I’m not that kind of guy.” You might have believed him if not for the clear look of mischief in his eyes just visible behind the sunglasses slipping down his nose.

“Whatever you say Eriks.” Motioning with your hand for him to take the lead and once he started you watched him go waiting for him to call back up to you that it was alright to come down behind him.

Feeling the rough material under your hand woven from the hides of worms, it is a show of just how adaptable humanity has become in this new world. You never grew up with the benefit of a plant, your parents had been marauders and you had followed in their footsteps At least until you saw more of the light and you were glad Granny and her family didn’t have a plant either. It just seemed more at home to you living on the edge of a town and making your own way, it just felt right even if it wasn’t an easy life.

In no time at all you see the bottom of the well, or at least the rock-strewn floor that brought you into the area of the well. Eriks stood to the side waving his flashlight around the open area and you feel your face warm wondering if he had been checking out your ass on your way down.

It’s a little concerning as the soles of your feet land and you don’t hear even the softest splash. Following the beam of light with your own eyes as Eriks looks around the cavern that you know was dug out by Granny Sheryl’s own parents. “Do you know if water is supposed to be here?”

It’s a good question and in the shifting light, you see a brief gleam of metal pointing at it. “Oh, maybe that’s it!” Eriks just chuckles and your blush deepens since he wouldn’t have seen where you were pointing.

“Where?” “There”

“Here?”

“No. Just” you don’t take the flashlight from him instead you grab his larger hand holding the light and guide it before settling on the metal you had seen. Sure enough part of a pipe is visible along the edge of the wall.

“Ah, guess we go that way.” Except neither of you move, both of your gazes settling on your hand resting atop his now. The tips of your ears are burning as you pull it away and mutter a quick apology before Eriks leads the way.

As you both walk you realize the pipe seems to be leading back towards the house and parts of it seem to be going deeper underground. “I wonder if there used to be more people living here after the crash.” You whisper missing the flinch of Eriks' shoulders at your pondering.

“There might have been, water would have been important in the early days for those that survived.” Taking a turn you hear the sound of dripping, walking a little more along you can see where it looks like part of the cave wall has cracked.

“Maybe the wall coming down blocked part of the intake valve?” In the dim light of the flashlight, you turn to Eriks to see him nodding with your question.

“It’s possible. Let's see if we can find it.” Using your ears it doesn’t take the two of you long to find where part of the pump is sitting just under the water and surrounded by a small landslide of stones. Stepping into the pool is out of the question but you find the rocks rather easy to move, and with Eriks placing the flashlight on the floor at an angle both of you make quick work moving the debris from the pump.

Once part of it is visible beneath the water you watch as Eriks leans over more giving it a light tug and pulling it away revealing part of what you think might have been rubber that had been closed up. A few smacks and you let out a noise of appreciation as the pumps seem to whirl back to life and the rubber plumps up as it pulls the water along no doubt refilling the tanks you know are inside the house.

“Well, that didn’t seem too bad.” Standing back up again and listening to the sound of Eriks' footsteps heading towards the flashlight. Briefly blinded as he picks it up once more as you make the mistake of looking at the object. Blinking quickly and hearing his deep chuckle before you feel his hand grip one of your smaller ones and place it inside the crook of his elbow.

“I think this might be best until we can get somewhere a little brighter” leading you back down the path the two of you had followed. This close you can hear the sound of his breathing and what you think is the beating of his heart unsure why it would be racing.

“Thank you, Eriks. I guess that was a little silly of me to be looking into the light.” As the two of you walk in companionable silence and your vision slowly comes back you release his arm even if your fingers feel a little colder without his lean bulk under them. “I wonder what caused those little rockslides.”

A small noise as if thinking from the man before he speaks. “It could have been from a worm traveling nearby. Or maybe the water that fills the aquifer has been running in through a new path!” The sound of crunching then cracking reaches both of you before one moment you’re looking at the Eriks and the next a hole in the ground.

“Eriks!” Darting forward as the blond disappears through the crack in the cave floor “Eriks answer me! Are you alright!” As silence rings out you bite your lip, at least before swallowing and jumping down after him, it might have only been a five-foot fall and you hear the sound of water splashing up around your feet. “Eriks!” Cupping the sides of your mouth as the panic starts to settle into your bones. Where is he?!

A groan reaches your ears and the sound of sloshing water a thin beam of light illuminating the cavern, water is reaching to the ankle of your boots and not far from you is Eriks lying on his back. Unsure how he got so far from the hole you had just jumped through. “Eriks!”

Splashing through the water and rushing to his side as you drop to your knees beside him. Mouth suddenly dry as you take in his appearance.

Eriks shirt.

Is soaked.

The white rough fabric clings to his body like a second skin and the water has made it entirely translucent. Eriks has gone out of his way since his arrival to make sure you’ve never seen any part of him besides his hand and face even though you were aware of Granny helping to clean him that first day while you had been out and about working the field.

Now you understand why.

His upper chest is a mismatch of scars and metal bolts, some of those scars running deep through the muscles along his shoulder and pectoral muscles that you can see with the way he’s lying in the water. Other scars are smaller but you don’t miss the lines of the stitches that had been used to help his skin knit back together. Or the way the light is reflecting upwards through the water is setting a swirling pattern along his body and highlighting the stubble lining his chin.

“I’m alright.” Slowly sitting up and the water is pouring down his chest in rivets and any thoughts in your brain frizzled out. With the way his shirt is wrapped around his body, you can see the shifting of his abdomen and your mind is still spinning. Eriks is watching you in the dim light and the smile on his face is slowly falling away, seeing your blank stare, it didn't take long for him to figure out where you were looking. “I’m sorry you have to see this, I know I’m not much to look at.”

The sound of despair lacing his voice makes your head snap upwards to stare into his eyes, seeing the fear swimming in his eyes behind those orange shades. Sighing as you reach up to remove them to look directly into his eyes. Seeing him blink rapidly as you pull them away. “Your eyes always look so sad, like you're carrying the weight of the world. I hate that you feel like you need to hide them behind those orange shades, they're so expressive. And such a pretty shade of blue." Folding his glasses together and reaching up to cup the side of his face the stubble prickling your palm. “I’d argue the body is very nice to look at. But I prefer the mind and heart inside of it.”

The briefest chuckle from him. “Flattery doesn’t always get you anywhere.” While you had been so concerned with checking him over you hadn’t noticed just how close the two of you were, at least until you see his eyes flick down and following that line, you see there is barely an inch between either of your faces.

“It isn’t flattery if it’s the truth.” Your voice is meek even to your own ears, almost like the tension between the two of you has come to a head. Both of you frozen for a moment, Eriks resting on his extended arms in the water and your chest hovering close enough that a deep breath would remove the space and a single hand on his face. His skin is warm and as you stare into his vivid eyes part of you whispers to be brave.

Listening to that little voice you slam your eyes shut and close the distance, pressing your wind-split lips to his sun-chapped ones in the briefest pretense of a kiss before another voice is screaming at you to stop. Pulling back just as quickly. “I, I shouldn’t have done that.” You aren’t blind, or nearly as blind as Granny might think. You know there’s something between you and Eriks, but you also know nothing can come of it. You’re the only two near the same age, the attraction you feel is because of the close living proximity. Someone as kind and wholesome as Eriks can’t feel anything but friendship towards someone like you with your checkered past. Looking down with your eyes closed so you aren’t staring at his drenched body like it’s a feast.

“I’m glad you did.” His voice is low and it makes you do a double take to look at him once more. “At least now I know it isn’t one-sided.” It’s him that moves this time closing the distance and engaging you in a searing kiss that you feel from your head down to your toes. The sound of sloshing echoes around the room and you understand why as one of his hands reaches out to cup your cheek before pulling back. “Or maybe I shouldn’t have done that.”

“How could you say something like that?” Blurts out of your mouth before you can even think about your reaction to his words. “You shouldn’t feel anything for someone like me. I’m not a good person Eriks. Not like you.” It doesn’t make much of a difference as you close your eyes in the dim lighting but you don’t want to see the pity reflected in those orbs as dampness starts to form on your lashes.

A few fat drops slide down your face before you feel his hand on the side of your face once more pulling you closer to him, the brush of his dry lips to your forehead as your name tumbles from the cracked skin like a prayer. “You have no idea how wrong you are. It’s me that isn’t a good person.”

You can’t bear the dejection in his voice, opening your eyes to see his self-loathing floating there clear in the low light and it breaks your heart. Instead of speaking right away, you find both of your hands rising to grip his cheeks tenderly “Then maybe we should work on showing the other what they see because you’re wonderful Eriks.” The tears are still falling down your face as you press your lips to his and this time you don’t pull away, lips working in tandem as you both seem to pour your desperation and longing into the kiss. Hands moving as your bodies shift, Eriks sitting up straighter in the water and pulling you into his lap chests tight together as his hands grope at your ass, his tongue slipping from the confines of his mouth to lap at your dry lips.

A low whine in your throat as you open your mouth and let your tongue race past your lips to brush his. It’s sloppy and messy as the drool lacing both of your mouth swaps and drips down your chin but you couldn’t care less, desperate to keep tasting the sweetness of his sorrow as you take comfort in one another. Your hips shifting so you’re seated better in his lap, straddling him with your hips rolling against his and your hands in his hair now. Nails dragging against his scalp as he chases your mouth wanting that same burning connection as you. The slow roll of your hips has your core rubbing against his tented pants his growing hardness making you pant and Eriks lifts you away, his chest heaving as much as yours.

“You have no idea what you do to me.” Whispered against the point of your chin as Eriks starts to blaze a trail with his lips along your skin and to your neck. Lapping at the soft skin and placing gentle kisses along the curve of your throat. “Or the things I want to do to you.” A small noise catches inside of you at the low growl that seems to reverberate along your skin and you find your hips trying to grind against his tight pants wanting the friction you know it can provide while your cunt throbs.

“Eriks.” A fistful of his hair in one hand while you try and pull him away from your neck wanting to reconnect to his lips while his cock twitches in his pants, your voice desperate as you let all of your pent-up attraction for the handsome man that you had been bottling up out.

“Easy, sweetness. I’ll help you.” One of his hands gives your butt another squeeze before those long digits drag along the meat of your leg and across your thigh and over your covered core. Kissing at your pulse and those dexterous fingers work the band of your pants loose and slip down all while his other hand keeps you in place so you're rubbing against his clothed dick just the way he wants you. The more he seems to work your body the more lost in your senses you become, your fingers growing lax in his hair and on his shoulder, no longer leaving bruises you weren’t aware of.

All thought leaves you as the rough pad of his fingers starts to rub at your clit through your underwear while his cock twitches against the fabric of his pants like mad and you’re a mewling, desperate mess trying to grind harder down onto his length your body moving on its own whims trying to chase that high. “You’re so wet like you’ve thought about me before. Tell me, sweetness, have you used your fingers to get yourself off before pretending they were mine?”

You vaguely hear his words and whine before moaning a “yes” in his ear, not sure what he’s asking you but he seems happy with the answer as he presses harder against your clit. Two wide fingers work in tandem to brush the bundle of swollen nerves, while Eriks looks up at you feeling his sex pulse within the confines of his pants. He knows you have, he could hear the squelching of your sex as your fingers plunged into your body and the lowest whimper of his name. Before today and that brief kiss you initiated he knew you were attracted to him, perhaps almost as much as he was attracted to you but he never intended to do anything with the information. Not even touching himself to your sweet sounds through the shared wall of your rooms, but now? Right now he wanted to watch you come from his fingers on your core, he wanted to see you as your face loosened in ecstasy and your muscles relaxed to let so much of that tension you held in free. All for him. Because of him.

“Almost there, sweetness.” Adding the pressure his fingers have against your clit and letting your weight rest on his crotch again, enjoying the feeling as your hips start to roll faster, more whines and pants from your slightly parted lips. A brief chuckle as he realizes you're already lost in the bliss he’s bringing your body as you respond to more primal impulses chasing that building release. Without removing either hand from your body he shifts you again, so his lips are on yours as his fingers work to pull that invisible thread tighter and tighter. His tongue roams around your mouth as he maps the wet cavern, the wet muscle moving in time with his fingers.

Your hips are jerking against his now, growing more and more desperate as he pulls his lips away. Watching the thin clear lines connecting you spread and break hitting your lips, twisting his hand in your pants, and giving your clit a pinch. A wordless scream as you come for him, and Eriks enjoys watching your face grow lax as your back arches first before slumping against his form. “Such a good girl.” Kissing your temple as he rubs at your clit for a few more seconds to drag out your release while you shudder in his grasp.

Fingers pulled from your pants and raised to his lips, humming as he tastes you on the digits and feels his member throb. He knows what it wants and he’s going to deny it, far more interested in your pleasure than his own. Hand clean of your juices he switches to rubbing your sides, waiting for you to come back to yourself. The seed of doubt in his mind how you would react to seeing his more unique features if the two of you keep going and exploring these budding feelings for each other.

A gentle moan as you open your eyes, blinking slowly as you see the nearly translucent shirt under your cheek. “Feeling alright?” Eyes roaming upwards to see Eriks looking down at you with a tender smile in place, his hands smoothing down your sides.

“Um. Yea.” Feeling a flush rushing up your cheeks as you take in the way you’re draped against his form. Well, and the firmness you can feel between your legs. “That. That was amazing.” Brushing some of your hair from your face as you bite your lip. “Can I. Can I return the favor?” You aren’t sure where this shyness you felt came from seeing as he just made you come the hardest you have in your entire life and he did it with his fingers and grinding.

“No. We need to get out of here.” Something on your face must show your dejection as he kisses the space between your brow. “You’re shivering sweetness, we need to get you out of the water and into some dry clothes.” Blinking you remember what happened and feel the cold wetness that seeped into your pants and up your legs, just how lost in your senses had you been to miss that?

“Right. Sorry!” Scrambling to crawl out of his lap while standing and feeling the shame starting to flood your system. You just came on top of him and he didn’t get anything out of the encounter, you’re still just a selfish ex-bandit.

The sound of water and drenched fabric reaches your ears as Eriks stands, grabbing one of your hands and lifting it to kiss your knuckles. “It’s alright sweetness.” His blue eyes are soft and gentle as he stares at you before letting go of your hand and scooping the forgotten flashlight up from the water. “Next time we can keep going and I’ll truly show you how I feel.”

Granny for her part wasn’t worried, sitting on the deck with her knitting between her fingers and watching the entrance to the well. The sound of the pump had started up some time ago, which meant you and Eriks were taking your time coming back.

“Granny?” Lina asked stepping out into the heat outside of the house. A hum answered her question. “Shouldn’t they be back by now?”

“Oh, I’m certain they’ll be out when they’re ready Lina. Don’t you worry about that, now get back to your chores while I wait for them.” The glint of sunlight on her glasses hid her eyes, otherwise Lina might have seen the mischief there. After all, Sheryl didn’t need her granddaughter to see the two of you coming out looking like you had sex since you both needed a push to act on the feelings she saw brewing between you.

At least she was hoping that was what was delaying the two of you and that you hadn’t gotten lost down in the mess of tunnels.

Well I hope you enjoyed this, no idea when I'll update the next chapter, but I'll link it when I do.

#trigun eriks x reader #trigun smut #trimax #Trimax smut #trigun maximum smut #trigun maximum #vash the stampede x reader #vash the stampede #vash the stampede x you #vash the stampede x reader smut #vash the stampede smut #trigun eriks

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no1mp3 · 9 months

Text

Bewitched • Part One

Description: Alex Turner x Actress! Reader

Being the current It Girl of Hollywood had it’s perks. New friends. An awesome (yet inconsistent) job. Invites to the coolest parties. And meeting lots of new people. One award ceremony to support your cast mate changes everything when you meet the Arctic Monkeys and it seems fate can’t keep you away from their lead singer. And after one kiss goodnight, you find yourself bewitched.

Word Count: 3,598

A/N: Hello to all those who read this! There is so much waffling on at the beginning to build into the relationship, and then kinda goes from there on. If the writing comes off poor, I am terribly sorry for that but school and sickness hates me apparently. Also there is not a set timeline for this series, as I don’t want to have to focus on where the Monkeys were and when yaddaya because that is just added stress. However, if I mention past relationships of Alex’s, I won’t refer to by name though it should be quite clear who is who based off descriptions. This is obviously inspired by Laufey’s song, Bewitched, being the first in a 4-parter series, and also takes direct lines from the song into this writing! I would love to know what you guys think, so please tell me your thoughts!! Thank you, and hopefully you enjoy xx

It was one of your favourite stories to plan in your mind when you were alone, trapped in the memories of the past. You weren’t confident on what point blurred the lines of friendship and romance, nor did you know why it took so long to completely forget about said lines. All you knew is that it did, and you had never been happier. While everyone knew that being the current It actress in Hollywood had severe cons obviously, they also knew that it definitely had several perks as well. One which came in the form of introductions to other celebrities – may that be through various award ceremonies, parties or red-carpet events. This particular night was for some stupid award ceremony that you were invited to in LA, one which you weren’t even nominated in a category for! However, your publicist told you it would be good for you to mingle with a new crowd and be there to support your peers. At first you were hesitant at putting yourself into the spotlight for no reason (you knew someone would take it out of context and you were simply waiting for the world of fame to turn against you) but when your cast mate for The Little Mermaid, Halle Bailey, said that she was going to be there you realised it would simply be fun if you tried. What’s the worst that could happen?!

And so, you got ready when the night finally arrived; your make-up artist gossiping away about the rumoured guest list and how many new people you could meet while applying light shades of purple to your eyelids. After what felt like hours listening to possibilities, you were finally able to leave. You looked gorgeous; you always did when you worked with your LA team. When you met with Halle and her sister Chloe on the red carpet, the paparazzi were quick to note the matching themes to your two characters from the movie — Halle embracing her mermaid beauty for Ariel while you wore purples for Vanessa. Posing for cameras was fun when you had someone with you, and all the people shouting your name for a brief interaction all screamed as you blew them a kiss before going inside linked to Halle’s side while Chloe held onto your hand. Thankfully the host of the ceremony sat you three together, as if understanding that the cast mates and their plus-ones should belong together. You originally wondered why Jonah or Melissa had not accepted the invitation, and it wasn’t until the tables filled up that you understood why.

You have been invited to a music award ceremony. Not an acting award ceremony, but music instead. It’s not like you mind, Hollywood knew of your admiration for musical talent in the industry and your undying support for it especially since working on the Disney live action musical. Yet, it just surprised you to be invited to such an event since you held no significance to it yourself. Perhaps that was why you were surprised when four men sat on the table aside the trio, all murmuring to themselves so that they weren’t overheard about their original topic. Introductions and some small talk later you discovered you were talking to the British band, Arctic Monkeys. They all seemed sweet, though their harsh English accents hard to understand to your posher one originally. While you tried to engage in their conversation, Halle and Chloe babbled along with the band about the music industry and their guesses for each category, you found it harder than normal. You simply sat there attempting to look like you understood, but it was evident it wasn’t true.

The man sitting aside you who you knew was the lead singer of the band redirected his focus onto you, eyebrows furrowed as he asked, “What about you?”

“What about me?” You responded hesitantly, looking confused. You hadn’t been completely paying attention to the conversation, and it appears that he had caught you.

“What award are you nominated for?” Another member asked, longer hair than the lead and you remembered him as the guitarist. Something Cook, if your brain served you correctly.

You cleared your throat, gracefully adjusting your hair with a manicured hand so it fell behind your shoulders just in case the camera snapped a photo of you, “I’m not nominated for any. Just here to support my girls.”

Halle lent over and clutched your hand, squeezing it tightly as she let out a quiet squeal. You turn back to the band, smiling widely. And that was it, the first moment you ever met Alex Turner. Both of you had assumed that night would be the last because it was rare to meet other celebrities over and over if you weren’t fast friends. Having a conversation at the afterparty whenever you were in close proximity to one another, or him offering you a drag of his cigarette while you waited for the limo back to your flat being the full extent of your relationship. It wasn’t awkward, just simply as it was. Two people in the spotlight who met each other at some award ceremony. Nothing more. Nothing less.

That was until you met him again in London. It had been maybe a month since your guys first meeting, but it seemed like whenever you went you heard the mentions of Arctic Monkeys. Maybe it was their new single on the radio, or your fans asking if you were friends because photos of the pair of you had been released after the award ceremony. Whatever it was, it wasn’t going away anytime soon and so when you met him again at another smallish award ceremony, you couldn’t help but joke about it. Conversation flowed easily and you assumed it was because you were both back in your home country, a sense of comfort allowing you to relax. You spoke to the band most of the award night as you were seated at their table again, and then one thing led to another, and you saw him again a week later. You didn’t overthink the situation with the man, simply viewing it as two people wanting to become friends. He could offer advice about dealing with fame due to how long he has been in the media, and you could ramble on about Hollywood and its issues for hours if needed. You just found it nice to be able to talk to someone who genuinely seemed interested in what you had to say.

Yet it wasn’t like that at all. You don’t even remember mentioning work once aside from talking about cast mates, but you talked of them as if you were all old high school friends. You told him about funny moments with Jonah and Halle, or wardrobe malfunctions when you were at your school parties. He laughed at every story of your past, clearly amused with your life. He told you about his own memories with his band, people who he had been friends with since school. You weren’t too surprised there wasn’t much separation from his work and life – you were pretty sure he had been a big deal since he was a teenager. You somehow ended up Hyde Park, stopping at the closest dairy to grab food for yourself and the wildlife. You watched him grab a loaf of bread, stating it was for the ducks.

“Bread is actually bad for the birds,” you told him, eyeing him carefully. Alex looked surprised at your words to which you responded with a knowing smile, “It’s better to give them frozen peas or natural-like.”

“Is Y/N a duck fiend?” He quizzed, raising an eyebrow to show he was teasing you.

You rolled your eyes, a small smile on your face, “I just care about the wildlife. I don’t want to know I was the reason a bunch of ducks died.”

Alex shrugged his shoulders in agreement, leading you to the freezer section in hopes of a bag of peas. Sure enough there was one which you instantly took. Some fizzy drinks, snacks and ice cream, later you were sitting on a bench at the lake of Hyde Park. He handed you a small amount of peas, before throwing his own into the water to bring the birds to you. You watched peacefully as the ducks scurried to the frozen vegetable, gobbling it with their beaks quickly as if worried their friends would take it. They were basically right because it didn’t take much longer for the pigeons to arrive, landing awfully close to you two. Alex shuffled away from a bird that landed on the back of the bench, a pinch in his eyebrows as he held what looked like a staring contest with it.

“Are you afraid of birds?” You asked, looking at him with interest. Alex turned to look at you with your teasing raised eyebrows, frowning as he shook his head, “Really? Because you’re basically on top of me trying to get away from a little pigeon. Why are you more worried of them than ducks?”

“‘Cause ducks are polite. Pigeons would and do steal your food if they got the chance.” He grumbled. You laughed, shaking your head in disbelief as you returned to feeding the birds. Somehow you ended up standing, arms spread in a T pose with your palms flat and facing upwards with piles of peas in them. It took a few seconds, but pigeons flew their way onto your arms, their talons digging into your skin to keep a grip as they scoffed down the frozen peas originally meant for the ducks. Alex watched; his eyes filled with disgust but lips tugging into a small smile at the sight of you laughing at the feeling of the birds on your arms.

When you returned to your seat aside Alex on the bench, he looked your red arms up and down, “That’s gross. The bacterium from their talons is all in your skin now.”

You smile smugly, reaching into your tote bag to pull out a small bottle of clear gel-like liquid, “Good thing I carry hand sanitizer everywhere I go then.”

You guys left each other just before dinner time, being together for nearly four hours just chatting about random topics. It was fun, you had to admit. That’s why when he asked to go out for dinner one night when you both weren’t too busy with work, you accepted it. One dinner led to another. Then another. Then dinner at his flat. Then dinner at yours. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what was going on, you knew it by the third time you two hung out. There was a feeling in your stomach whenever he laughed at your joke, or how you averted your gaze whenever you stared at one another too long. You felt bad about your feelings, just because of the media. What if it just made everything worse for both of your lives? Paparazzi had been following you two around every time you’re hanging, articles of a relationship blossoming being headlines on the Internet.

It Girl Y/N Y/L/N Finally Belongs to Rockstar Icon, Alex Turner?!

You had a fit when you read that, complaining to Halle about the lack of identity you got if you were in a relationship with him. It felt dehumanizing whenever it happened around your male friends, because you knew it wasn’t their fault yet deep down you couldn’t help but blame them for it. Damn Hollywood! Halle was polite in calming you down, telling you exactly what you needed to hear about the article which somehow only ended with you being coerced to spill your feelings on your friend. She said she predicted it from your first meeting, because according to his band mates Alex was never that chatty with strangers. You told her to shut up, but you were unable to contain your smile. Perhaps he felt the same way. Just maybe.

That’s why when he was walking you home from a cute little dinner, you decided enough was enough. On the walk in the late London light, there was a moment where your hands made contact. Brief, but enough to shock you. A few dinners ago you would not have been this bold, but you knew you had to be brave or else nothing would happen. Giving credit to the moment, you decided to entwine your fingers with him — starting off with your pinkies linked. Alex turned to look at you in surprise, eyes wide and a worried you attempted to pull yourself away from him in fear you made a mistake. However, Alex held onto your hand before squeezing it as if to tell you he wanted this as well. His surprise turned into a smile, and your heart soared at the look of admiration. You tried to think straight, but it was like you were coming apart every second you spent around him. It was evident when you stopped in front of your flat, gazing at one another. After a second you whispered:

“This is me.”

“This is you.” Alex repeated in a murmur almost as if teasing the way you weren’t focused, yet he gazed at you fondly. Your heart hadn’t stopped racing, and in an effort to look cool you let go of his hand to start rummaging through the back pocket of your jeans for your flat keys. He lent against the hallway wall, head cocked to the side, “Y/N… Can I ask you a question?”

You pulled out the keys, twirling it around your index finger as you focused your attention on the singer again, “What’s up?”

He was silent, staring at you. You could see his overthinking by the pinch of his eyebrow, and the faint downward tug of the corners of his lips. That got you concerned. Perhaps you had overthought this. But if that was true, then he would not of held your hand this entire time. Okay… You were definitely the one overthinking this entire situation. Suddenly his face relaxed, as if content with what he was going to ask.

“Can I kiss you?”

The words hit you at full force. He spoke them so casually it was as if this was normal, that asking you to kiss was natural. Alex’s face had softened as he studied your surprise; the raise in your eyebrows and the quirk of your lips. You took your time to think over what to say, before you muttered a gentle, “Of course.”

Alex moved forward with such speed that it almost felt like an attack when his lips caught yours, his hands cupping your cheeks. The world froze around you, but you responded with such enthusiasm that you heard him chuckle as you wrapped your arms around his neck to hold him closer. He tasted faintly of wine, you realised, perhaps the red wine he had at your dinner date. You could taste your shared breath, feel the thud of your combined heartbeat as Alex’s hands moved from your cheeks to rest on either side of your neck, his fingers ran through the hair on the nape of your neck. He realised that you fit into him like a glove, your kiss like the beating of a butterfly's wings, soft until it became addictive. He smelt of wine, spice and lust until it all spurred together in your head to form the dizzy scent of familiarity and comfort.

And you knew then that you were completely bewitched by Alex Turner.

༉‧₊˚✧‧₊˚✩彡.˚✩

The first couple months of the relationship were utter bliss, naturally being the Honeymoon period. You both had decided to keep it private from everyone until you were secure with what was happening — and even then, there was no possibility that you were going to announce it to the world anytime soon. The paparazzi and reporters were simply holding onto rumours, not knowing how truthful they were but that was all they were going to get. Confirming the relationship was like adding a newborn into the situation, neither of you were prepared for that stress this early on. Halle was the first of your friends to learn of the update in your love life, squealing louder than you have ever heard. It made you giddy at the response. Apparently, the band had a less loud reaction to the news, according to Alex, but they were all excited to see you around more. That made you feel good, you had to admit, and it only made you feel better when they all sent you a text with congratulations and threats to Alex if he hurt you.

Then there was Alex himself in those first months. You were quick to learn that his love language was physical touch and gift giving, something which contrasted to your acts of service and quality time. It was the small things that he did for you which started making you believe he was trying a new form of witchcraft. He was simply casting a spell on your heart, whether he knew it or not. Every note he left in the pocket of your jacket, or purse pouch when you weren’t looking, entrapped you to his comfort. You were utterly bewildered with the new feeling soaring through your chest as you read them over, a smile unable to leave your face. The time spent together only grew from random meals together to spending the night at each other’s flats watching your favourite movies in rotation, so it was fair – simply coexisting side by side with one another.

Yet that honeymoon phase died suddenly, not because you grew out of the euphoric feelings but because life grew that messier. You had been worried endlessly about this happening, preparing yourself for the conversation but it didn’t make it any easier. When you went over to his place for the night, he murmured the information that the Arctic Monkeys were starting their tours in Oceania soon. You rolled over in the bed to face him, frowning slightly.

“You could come with me Y/N, if you wanted too of course.” His words were so soft, his lips barely moving. If you weren’t so used to the tired mumbles of nonsense with his accent, you would not have been able to understand a word he said. Instead, it only made you feel sick at the idea of you being apart for the fear of the unknown change.

You sat up in the bed, leaning against the headboard as Alex redirected his heavy eyes to gaze up at you with confusion, “I have to go to LA for a modelling shoot and auditions.”

Alex looked away for a brief moment, it hitting him like a train at what this meant. He reached out and grabbed your hand, entwining your fingers like you had done the first time. Bringing your hand to his lips, he placed delicate kisses on your skin in comfort, “It’s okay. We still have each other even if we are countries apart. Calling exists for a reason, right?”

You knew he was right, but it didn’t stop you from overthinking the entire situation. It would be the first time the pair of you weren’t in the same country since starting this relationship, and you hated how dramatically you reacted to it when he fell asleep with his back to you. You had taken a walk to try and gain back some control you were losing, cursing at the moon as tears rolled down your face. It was like you were consumed by fire, fuming with every emotion but it worked in some way. It was some sort of release. When you returned to his flat, the kitchen light was on. He was sitting at the dining table, eating what looked like a bowl of cereal though he had stopped as you attempted to walk into the flat quietly. A sigh escaped his lips, and it took everything in you to not burst into tears again. The moon (and those who would have unfortunately heard your pleas late at night) had already listened to your fears, you did not feel the need to pressure Alex into the same conversation.

Instead, he got up from the dining table and walked over, wrapping you in his arms. You held him around the waist, your cheek smooshed against his chest as you blinked away stray tears while looking at the bare wall. He placed a gentle kiss to the top of your head. You wanted to stay like this forever. Neither of you having to leave for your ridiculous jobs that had you missing him already. You knew it was a fantasy, but you hoped for nothing more. You stayed in his embrace for a couple of seconds, the pair of you lingering onto the feeling even though you had a week or so to fully say goodbye for the small period of time. You felt him lean down, his lips right against your ears as he whispered:

“Keep me in your heart, m’kay?”

Pulling away from the embrace to look up at him, resting your chin on his chest, you said nothing for a moment. His brown eyes were full of pure admiration, and the same bewildered feeling you got every second you were around him seemed to double in feeling. There was not much for you to say to the singer, so you murmured a ‘of course’ back before he led you back to the bedroom.

And you knew then that not even distance could stop you from being bewitched by Alex Turner.

#alex turner x reader #arctic monkeys #alex turner #alex turner one shot #alex turner imagine #alex turner fluff #alex turner fanfic #alex turner x you #alex turner x y/n #matt helders #jamie cook #nick o'malley #halle bailey #the little mermaid

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