#i live in the south though so like. all of it is gone by now

[golden-cherry]

deal - cl16 (18/?)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Series Summary: Your whole life has gone to shit. Your boyfriend broke up with you, you just lost your job and the Monegasque, who suddenly stands in your doorway, claims that it’s his apartment.

Chapter Summary: Canned soup always works wonders.

Warnings: cliffhanger (whoopsie), angst (duh), Lando is a cutie, swear words

Word Count: 3.6k

series masterlist

previous part

A/N: not 10k words, but I did my absolute best. thanks for always having my back. I love you.

 "Fuck!" You cross your arms in front of your face and exhale deeply. "FUCK!"

How hard can it be to find an apartment in the south of France? An apartment that has a shower, a bed, and a stove top? A window would be ideal, too, but you have to cut back somewhere, after all. But even a single room in a shared apartment costs almost 2,000€ - how much do you have to pay for an apartment where your privacy is not disturbed?

Although that didn't bother you much in this apartment either. After all, you even shared the only bed with Charles. Voluntarily. The longer you think about it, the worse your headache gets.

After slamming the door in his face yesterday and then wallowing in your misery for hours, you decided to tackle the apartment hunt this morning. You don't want to spend a second longer than necessary in these four walls, which is why you briefly considered asking Kika if you could move in with her and Pierre at short notice and only for a short period of time.

But then you would also have to explain what happened. And since both of them are Charles' friends first and foremost, you don't want to get in the way, even though he's been acting like a huge asshole.

Meanwhile, you're neither sad nor angry - you're just disappointed.

Of him, because he's gone to so much lengths in the last few days to make you feel at home in his company and presence. He showed you the place that is most important to him, told you about his father and showed you his vulnerable side. He has indirectly supported you financially by getting Joris to pay you back and waiving the accruing rent. By God, he even took you to dinner with his friends so you could meet them because he thought "you'd fit in quite well."

And then he ditches you, showing his coldest, rudest, nastiest side by using what your last relationship failed at against you.

But you are even more disappointed in yourself. There has been absolutely no reason why you should trust Charles so much after such a short time. You told him about Raphael, that he left you because you wouldn't sleep with him, and that he cheated on you. You took his compliments without even a thought as to whether he meant them. You had even had a fucking - hot - sex dream with him. 

You trusted him blindly. And that's getting back at you now.

Lounging lazily on the couch and looking at apartments that are definitely beyond your budget isn't an approach to making you feel better either, so you decide to pack your suitcase already.

If you can't find a place to stay in a hurry, you'd move to a hotel first. Or a hostel. You wouldn't have any privacy there, but at least they are so cheap that you could stay there longer and thus have more time to look for something reasonable.

And anything is better than staying here.

You open the suitcase you've kept in the closet for months, spread it out on the bed, and start putting your clothes in it. Sweaters, jeans, gym clothes, underwear - the stuff you don't want to leave home without. When it's filled and locked, you put it next to the door of your room. But only to realize that your whole life doesn't fit into one suitcase.

You put your hands on your hips. 

You still have a few days before Charles returns. Theoretically, you would still have enough time to get another suitcase, because you haven't packed your shoes or bathroom utensils yet. And you can only fit a few things into your gym bag.

A ping sounds from the living room, and as you poke your head into the room, you see your cell phone light up on the coffee table. You pick it up to read the message.

Lando: Hi. I wanted to check in and see if you're feeling a little better today. Been worried about you all night.

You're chewing on the inside of your cheek.

Yesterday at noon you sent a message to Lando saying that you were feeling unwell and so unfortunately you couldn't go out with him. Aside from the fact that your eyes were swollen from crying and no ice cube in the world could have helped you with that, it didn't feel right to have dinner with him.

Charles had thrown it at you that Lando only wanted to go out with you to get you into bed. How much truth there was to that, you don't know. After all, Charles said some things that hurt you. But whether you can take them at face value is another matter.

Charles has known the Brit for much longer and, above all, better than you. And the way he has courted and flirted with you since you first met, there may be some truth in Charles' words.

But even if there were, Charles has no right to judge. To judge how you handle the matter, whether you like going out with Lando or not. And if you were to go out with him, it could be on a purely friendly basis. Maybe you would have dated and immediately realized that you would be better off as friends. 

But you can't find that out now without worry. Now that Charles has hurt you so much and pushed you away. His words are burned into your mind, which is why you answer Lando carefully.

You: I'm feeling better already, thank you. I'm sorry I had to cancel our dinner.

His reply comes immediately.

Lando: You don't need to apologize. I'm just relieved that you're feeling better. Have you eaten anything today?

As if on cue, your stomach is growling. Yesterday your mood was so low that you lost your appetite and, apart from a few cornflakes, you couldn't choke down anything. And that's exactly what you answer him. 

Lando: All right. Give me half an hour and then I'll be with you, okay?

Indecisive, you type a reply, delete it, and start again. Does it make sense to let Lando into the apartment while you're in the process of packing your bags? If that's exactly what Charles was addressing?

Charles can go to hell.

You merely give Lando a thumbs-up in response before putting your phone aside and going to the bathroom to get ready for a bit. You may not care how you look right now, but you still don't want Lando to think the worst of you. You comb your hair, wash your face, and slip into more appropriate clothes than your sleeping clothes before cleaning up the living room a bit.

When the doorbell rings, you flinch. 

You open the apartment door and a smiling Lando stands in front of it. He is wearing a black sweater with a zipper on the collar and black sweatpants. In his hand he holds a white bag.

"I didn't know which canned soup was your favorite. And that's why," he raises the bag next to his face, "I brought a selection." Grinning, he pushes past you and enters. 

You close the door behind him. "You didn't have to do that."

As if it were a matter of course and as if he were here every day, he takes off his white sneakers and heads toward the kitchen, which of course he finds immediately because of the size of the apartment, and takes the cans out of the bag. "I know," he replies to you, setting the soups side by side before turning to you and resting his hands behind him on the edge of the counter. "But I'm someone who cares about his friends when they're miserable. So," he rubs his hands together. "which soup do you want to try first?"

The selection the Brit brought with him is limited to chicken, beef or vegetables, with the picture on the can of the former looking the most appealing. While he heats the soup in a small pot on the stove, you sit at the dining table and watch him. 

"May I ask why you weren't feeling well yesterday?" he asks, wooden spoon in hand, stirring the soup.

Indecisively, you look at him. 

Lando is Charles' friend. And you don't want to tell him about how Charles treated you yesterday any more than you want to tell Kika or Pierre. Because even though he hurt you so much, you don't want his friends to think badly of him. 

Lando hands you a bowl of soup before sitting down across from you in the seat that actually belongs to Charles. An image flashes before your eyes of you eating croissants for breakfast with your roommate. Sitting across from each other, eating pasta, even though you've only known each other for half an hour.

You barely noticeably shake your head to get rid of the image. A movement that Lando takes as an answer to his question. 

"Okay. But if you need to talk to someone, I'm here for you."

You smile at him. It's the exact same phrase Charles said to you in the most beautiful place in Monaco when you were feeling so bad about Raphael's call. It feels like a lifetime ago. 

"Thank you," you reply to Lando. "I really appreciate that."

As you comfortably spoon up your soup in a slightly better mood, the Brit tells you about his plans for the coming Christmas. He wants to fly back to England to be with his parents and siblings. He shows you pictures of his niece Mila, who steals the show in every photo, but you can't blame her with the chubby cheeks. 

"I can't wait to see everyone again," Lando says as he puts his phone in his back pocket. "Are you spending Christmas with your family, too?"

You shake your head. "Nope, I'm staying here." 

Lando looks at you, confused. "Alone? What about Charles? He'd take you to see his family for sure."

He would. In fact, he offered when the two of you sat at Jori's dinner table a few days ago. You remember how the two of them joked around, even though Charles had been busting his best friend's chops just minutes before. You thought that you wouldn't do anything that would risk that friendship. 

A thought you had often. 

"Where is he, anyway?" asks Lando, stretching to be able to see the rest of the apartment from where he's sitting, which isn't difficult when the apartment itself isn't particularly much bigger than a shoebox. 

You look into the empty bowl you're clutching tightly. "He has meetings in Italy," you reply curtly, setting it on the table in front of you before pulling your knees up to your chest. 

Your friend raises an eyebrow. "Are you going there too?" As you shake your head in confusion, he points to a spot behind you with a nod of his head. "I'm just asking because there's a suitcase there."

As you turn around, you immediately realize what Lando means. You've left the bedroom door open, and from where he's sitting, he has a perfect view of the doorstep. Right to where your suitcase is. 

"It's not for that," you reply. 

"What for then?"

You stand up to stall some time, and to avoid looking Lando in the eye. You rinse the bowl slowly, hoping you'll think of another good excuse to give him. But you don't want to lie to him either. After all, Lando doesn't deserve that. 

And that's why you don't say anything as you reach for the kitchen towel to dry the bowl. You rub over each spot at least three times, and even though it's already completely dry, you keep wiping over it. 

When you suddenly feel a warm hand on your shoulder, you wince. 

"What did he do?" Lando's voice is calm and gentle as he takes the bowl and cloth from your hand and sets both down on the countertop. 

"Nothing," you reply curtly, and are about to grab a glass from the cabinet when his large hand clasps yours and stops you in your tracks. 

"Come on, Y/N." Lando pulls lightly on your hand to make you turn in his direction. You keep your head lowered, however. 

If you were looking at him right now - you just can't lie to him.

"I know Charles," he says softly, before placing his index finger under your chin and lifting it to make you look at him. When you look into his worried blue eyes, you've lost the fight. "What did he do?"

You can't stop the tears that gather in the corners of your eyes. Nor can you stop them from rolling down your cheeks as you try to blink them away. Lando thinking badly of his monegasque friend is the last thing you want. 

But if you move away from here, you certainly won't see Lando again either. And then, theoretically, you may as well not care what he thinks of his friend. And after all, it's not like Charles didn't deserve it, the way he treated you. Charles brought it on himself. 

You tell Lando everything. 

You start with the fact that Raphael cheated on you and dumped you. That you lost your job a few days ago and Charles was suddenly standing in your - his - apartment. You tell him about your agreement to share the apartment because he still lets his ex-girlfriend live in his first apartment and that after four days he grew so close to your heart that it made you dizzy. 

You tell him about Raphael waiting for you in front of the apartment on the day of the dinner with your friends, and that's why you had to spend the night at Kika's, and that Charles called you in a panic and after that you shared the bed for the first time. How you were so unsure about your feelings, because Charles is Charles, and that he had you completely wrapped around his little finger, even though you've only known each other for a few days. 

You tell him about yesterday morning. What he threw at you, even though he knew exactly how much it would hurt you. How he talked about his own friend to make you feel even more insecure. And you tell him that you told Charles that you were going to move out. 

Lando stays silent the whole time, but doesn't take his eyes off you. His eyes follow every tear that drips from your chin onto your sweater, and in between he gently squeezes your hand as a sign that he's following your story. 

When you fall silent, he says nothing at first, but pulls you toward the living room, where he places you both on the couch. You worry that you've told him too much, gone a giant step too far, but it all just poured out of you and you couldn't stop the torrent of words. 

But Lando doesn't seem to be angry with you. Quite the opposite. His gaze seems softer as you look at him. "I'd like to offer you the guest room in my apartment," he finally says. "But I don't think you'd accept the offer."

You tighten your mouth into a thin line. "I think it would be best if I just moved away. There's nothing keeping me here. No job, no responsibilities. I can go anywhere." You wrench your arms in the air. "Maybe I'll get a job in the United States. Or in Australia. Just really far away from here."

"That would be a possibility, of course," Lando replies. "But that can't be what you really want, can it?"

Puzzled, you tilt your head. "Why not?"

Lando leans against the back of the sofa. "You could have moved away when you were fired. Or when Raphael dumped you. But you stayed."

You shrug helplessly. "But now I have a reason to leave."

"Do you?" he asks. 

"Obviously."

"Then why didn't you tell me everything yesterday? Or when I was just outside your door? Or warming up your soup?" he counters. You don't like the direction this conversation is taking. "You could have told me all about it right away. But you didn't, because you didn't want me to think badly of Charles."

You shrug, trying to express your indifference towards your still-roommate. But Lando isn't buying it. Not one bit of it. 

"Come on, Y/N. You can't tell me you don't care about him at all. If you did, you wouldn't be so upset by all this that you'd want to leave the country. And then you wouldn't have tried to protect him in the first place."

You hate that he's right.

"I didn't realize you were so emotionally mature," you reply to him, slightly flippantly, and no sooner have you said it than you're sorry. "Sorry. You're not the person I'm mad at." You pucker your mouth into a thin line. "Are you mad at him? At Charles?"

Lando shrugs. "I'm not thrilled, of course, that a friend of mine would talk about me that way. Especially since he knows none of it is true," he explains. "Charles is good at pushing people away who mean something to him. I just don't know if he's doing it to protect the person or himself."

"Definitely himself." You shake your head. "You don't do something like that to protect someone! That's complete bullshit!"

"Are you sure about that?" Lando rubs his palm over his cheek. "Weren't you planning on sleeping on the couch and breaking your deal?"

You raise your index finger. "Nuh-uh. That was to protect myself."

"So you haven't been telling yourself the last few days that a friendship between you is better? After all, your ex cheated on you and left you because you wouldn't sleep with him. You got fired, Y/N. Your emotional baggage is higher than the Eiffel Tower." He puts a hand on your shoulder. "You know I don't mean that in a bad way, or to hurt you. But I'm sure you're trying to protect not only your heart, but Charles' heart as well."

You feel tears welling up in your eyes again. But this time you don't even try to stop them. "He deserves someone better. Someone who won't lie to him. Someone who doesn't carry around so much baggage." You shake your head slightly and wrinkle your nose. "He deserves someone great."

Lando's hand moves from your shoulder down their arm until he can intertwine his fingers with yours. He squeezes them gently. "I know someone who's been hurt so much, but still sees the good in people." He smiles at you. "I don't know anyone more great than you."

Lando stays with you for the rest of the evening, trying to distract you, which he clearly succeeds at with the miserable rounds of Uno in which he cheated at least twelve times. As you part with a tight, friendly hug, he presses a kiss to your cheek.

"You're still allowed to be mad at Charles. What he did is absolute bullshit," he says as he slips on his shoes. "But wait a little while before you move out. Maybe he'll come crawling back and apologize. Besides, for selfish reasons, I don't want you to move to the United States. Or Australia. Or anywhere else." He gives you one last squeeze. "If you need anything, call me. I'll be right over."

"I know," you smile, "and thanks again for the soups." 

He raises his index and middle fingers to his temple, a joking goodbye. "You're always welcome. See you around. Here in Monaco."

You close the door behind him and actually feel a lot better. Lando's presence was comforting and warm, and he's someone you definitely wouldn't want to miss as a friend. 

After brushing your teeth and combing your hair, you settle into bed. Your suitcase is still at your bedroom door, but the decision to move out isn't as set in stone as it was just a few hours ago. Perhaps you would look for a hotel for the time being to gain some distance. And then seek a conversation with Charles to have his behavior explained to you. 

Friends don't treat each other like that. And he's definitely going to have some work to do to straighten that out. But there needs to be distance between you to make it work, which is why you're looking for hotels in the area to check into tomorrow. 

A violent knock on the front door startles you. It's the middle of the night and you're not expecting anyone, so you carefully tiptoe towards the door. Maybe it's Lando, who left the rest of his soups here, or maybe he left his cell phone and can't call you to let you know he's coming by. Or maybe it's just a neighbor who got the wrong door. 

It could have been all of these possibilities. But it's none of them when you open the door. 

And you immediately regret that you didn't move out yesterday.

next part

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[dazed--xx]

SKZ Reaction: He hurts the reader II (Hyung Line)

A/N: this is for @slayhyunjin one of my favorite followers and I’d like to say a friend now. Merry Christmas hun you wanted them to make up and I did what I could but please remember in part one Minho was a Yandere so his is technically a good ending in his mind but I will have the Maknae line out soon so get the cutest most fluffy Jeongin pics ready cause that was what was promised 😭😂 but anyway I hope y’all enjoy this and it makes y’all a little happy to see that I’m alive and still writing.

Masterlist Part 1

Chan:

Your phone had been ringing off the charts since you had left your shared apartment with Chan. You stared at the waves of the ocean as the sea breeze kissed your tear stained cheeks. Your fear had dwindled in the hours you had been sitting here on this empty beach. You bite your lip, maybe you did misunderstand. You knew Chan almost better than you knew yourself; which is why you know he’d never cheat on you. You know that she probably did fall or even if she purposely fell Chan was probably innocently helping her up because that’s the type of person he is. Well, you thought he was…that is until that lamp whipped past your head and was sent crashing against the wall. Guilt filled you as you remembered the way Chan pleaded with you not to go. He knew you had nowhere to stay, you weren’t from South Korea though you had lived here for almost 5 years it wasn’t easy for you to make friends as a foreigner wether you fit in or not. You didn’t fit with most of the things that happened around you in this country and without your relationship with Chan though, living here was apart of your dreams growing up, you would have never made the leap into moving here without him and his support. Tears filled your eyes once again as you remembered the only people you have to talk to would probably immediately send Chan over to your location. You hate yourself for wishing he was actually here, you hate how much you feel like you need his insight in what you should do but you did know he’d probably think of an answer logically without including his own emotions into whatever advice he’d give you. You sigh heavily as you lift yourself from the sand and make your way back to your car. Your phone in hand as the special ringtone you had set for Chan blared through the speaker. You almost chuckle to yourself at the irony; he finally called you right after you thought about how much you needed his help. You were relieved to see the comforting texts from his members after they had called but for those few hours you had been gone Chan hadn’t once called you. Pressing the green button you lift the phone to your ear hesitantly as you sit yourself in the drivers seat. .

You almost let out a sob as you heard his tear laced voice ring through your phone “Y-Y/N?” He questioned as he sniffled. You hear him struggling to catch his breath between his sobs “Y/N if you’re there you don’t have to say anything but please just listen..” he pleads, you could tell he was trying to calm his breathing “I-I’m so sorry, I know what you saw with that trainee looked really really bad…b-but I swear I don’t even know that girl. She is—was just a backup dancer for the Case 143 concept but since she made you and me uncomfortable we all agreed she can work with Itzy or Twice.” Your heart clenches at his caring nature which is why the girl still had a job in the first place. “But Her actions and my behavior wasn’t okay and I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have done that and I don’t want to make any excuses like I was angry because that doesn’t make it okay. I should have never gotten that violent, I should have just let you cool off and came to talk to you when we both had calmed down and. For that I’m so sorry and if you don’t want to be with me anymore I’d completely understand honestly I think you shouldn’t be with me anymore because what I did isn’t okay and I know that and i deserve for you to leave—ITS NOT LIKE YOU HIT ME OR ANYTHING!” You exclaim almost fuming at the way he was describing himself “it doesn’t matter. What I did was wrong and I don’t want you to justify it either. I was wrong to do that it makes me sick to my stomach knowing I could have really hurt you. Thank god I didn’t but what if I did? I wasn’t paying attention Y/N you could have gotten seriously hurt what would have happened if it hit you—but it didn’t” you cut him off once again, as tears rolled down your cheeks “Chan are you breaking up with me?” You hear a whimper release from his lips “Why would you want to be with a guy that almost hurt you physically?” He questions “you even said you wanted to get your stuff and leave me because of all this” he cries “why wouldn’t I want to protect you even if it’s from myself? I love you more than anything in this world and that’s why I don’t want you to forgive me because the idea of you getting hurt by my own hand makes me disgusted I can’t even look at you without feeling like shit knowing I really fucked this up” your heart cracks at the pain and guilt laced in his tone “you want to know why I do want to forgive you?” You ponder “You do?” He asks bewildered you give yourself a small sad smile before answering “yes, because if you were really the type to hurt me physically you wouldn’t feel like breaking up would be the best option, you think about things rationally and always put how I feel or could possibly feel first. You genuinely show that you care about me and it makes me know you’re a genuinely good person and that’s why I love you that’s why I want to be with you. Things were…intense to say the least but I do want to work things out soon maybe not today maybe not tomorrow but I do want to work things out with you and move on from this with you as your girlfriend” the line goes silent for a second “okay..b-but can I ask you something?” He asks hesitantly “yeah anything..” you reply instantly. “C-can we move on from this with you as my fiancé? I really didn’t want to propose like this but I really really want to marry you and I can’t imagine us breaking up without me at least asking you s-so that y-you do know my intentions” You can hear the hesitation and love in his words the question really throws you for a loop “C-can I answer you when I’m ready to come talk? I do want to be with you but I’d like to be proposed to properly I don’t want to remember the way we got engaged like this even though the answer is and will always be yes but for right now it’s a maybe later I love you Channie I’ll see you in couple days I promise..” you reply lovingly. You can almost hear the smile on his lips as he responds “I’d wait for you forever don’t worry I’ll see you soon my love and I’ll do it right next time I promise..”

Minho:

The smell of mildew filled your nose, the feeling of your bed is different. Your eyes are burning as they adjust to the fluorescent light, your eyes widen in shock. This isn’t your room. You look around in a panic as you throw the foreign blanket off you. You look around the room, you didn’t see a single window. The only furniture that was there was the bed you were seated on and a chair across the room facing where you were once sleeping. Where were you? You lift yourself from the bed and make your way toward the door, noticing your lack of pants and shoes you rush toward the door trying to twist and pull on the knob before slamming your fist into it repeatedly “HELLO?! HELLO?! IS ANYONE THERE?” You call as you continue to pound your fist on the door. Panic filling your body in a tidal wave you hear footsteps coming toward you “HELLO?! Who’s there?! PLEASE HELP ME!” You hear the person stop infront of the door as you try to open it again. “Hello?!” You call once more to the stranger finally realizing how much of a bad idea it was. You had no clue who was on the other side of that door. It could be the person that put you here. Were they going to hurt you? What did they want? You questioned to yourself, bile rose in your throat as you heard the slight ‘click’ from the lock and see the knob turn “W-wait!” You shout the door doesn’t move “A-are you going to hurt me?” You question pressing your ear to the door only to hear silence in return “please answer me” you plead the stranger knocks once “d-does that mean yes?” You question fear filling your tone. They knock once again “Does that mean no?” You hear two knocks in response “O-Okay…why am I here? Where am I?” You hear a heavy sigh on the other side of the door before they force it open.

Your eyes widen in shock and relief washes over you, as you’re greeted by your boyfriend. “Minho!” You exclaim tears almost streaming down your face as you rush over to him and wrap your arms around his neck burying your face in his neck “Thank god! Why did you do that why didn’t you answer me I’m so scared right now and you couldn’t just tell me what was going on? What happened why am I here how’d I get here? Where are my clothes?” You question as you pull back noticing the stoic expression on his face “I took them” he states matter of factly. “W-why?” You question slowly removing yourself from from him “so you can’t leave of course” he smiles sinisterly. Your mouth hanging open in shock “what? You did this to me so I can’t leave?” He smiles once more the light that always sat in his eyes now gone their almost soulless. “Min what’s going on? Something seems off” you question nervously as you take a step back away from him “you think it’s okay to break up with me? I think it’s quite okay that I prevent that. You told me to not come back to see you anymore. I can’t just let that happen, it’s okay you just have to stay here; I’ll take care of you baby, don’t worry.” He says taking a small step toward you as he placed a pout on his lips “can’t you hug me again? I wasn’t ready so I really didn’t get to hold you like I wanted” his hand caresses your cheek “what do you mean I just have to stay here? What about my apartment? My job? My friends and family?” You question. Minho smiles sickeningly “That’s the best part baby everyone already thinks you’re either dead or missing at the very least. It’s okay I made everything look very believable and it won’t be linked to me or anything I am really sorry that I did have to collect your blood a little, I know you’re scared of needles that’s why I put those pills in your drink so you would sleep through it cause I know you’d be scared but, because I needed everyone to think you’d died in the ordeal but you can’t even feel it can you? I really did a great job right baby? Now we can be together and nothing is wrong anymore everything is fine. I mean it will suck to have to act really sad around my members knowing you’re alive but I have to so they don’t think something is wrong didn’t I do good baby? I’ll always do great things for you and now you can be free from those burdens, I’ll take care of you. You can live here it’s a house I know about that’s underground you can walk around it as you like. I’m sorry I locked you in here but you were sleeping and I didn’t want you to possibly sleep walk or anything because that was one of the side effects—you’re fucking crazy” you cut him off in shock at his admissions. “What the hell is wrong with you?” You growl. Fear grows in your stomach as his façade drops the smile quickly gone from his lips turning into a straight line.

“Fine then I guess you can’t go around as you like. And if you try to run I’ll cut your Achilles tendon look I don’t want to have to do it this way but you’re not giving me a choice so go lay on your bed and think about what you said to me and fucking fix it when I come back with food for you. I love you so I don’t want to have to leave you in here for too long, but I am an Idol you know? things like random world tours can come up and be there for months on end so who would take care of you if I decide to leave you here while I go? Either figure out if you want to be truly like the old you and die in a bloody gory death. If you be good and listen to me like you used to then I’ll be just as good to you. I don’t want to hurt you nor does the idea appeal me honestly it makes me nauseous but I’ll do what I have to. Be good lay down and just let me love you the way only I can. There’s no one else for you anyway it’s us for the rest of our lives babe and if you have a problem with that, well I’ll take Stockholm Syndrome even if it’s your own brain tricking you into loving me again just so you can dissociate from this. I’ll take it but if you act like this again we will have an issue.” He threatens tilting his head to the side taking a step toward you “Do you want there to be an issue?” You shake your head in response “O-of course not, Min I-I was just surprised by what you said. I’m just mad you had to use a needle on me but I really appreciate all the effort you went through, y-you did well I promise. Im not mad at you im sorry for trying to break up with you I won’t ever do it again but Min I don’t want to stay here let me go with you.” You force out, you felt like throwing up at the softness of your tone. “I’m sorry baby you have to stay here but if you’re really not mad come here give me a kiss let me hold you.” You pout at his words “p-please min I don’t want to be left here don’t leave me here please I’ll be good ill listen to your rules can’t I just be with you all the time? C-can’t I just live with you? I’m scared please Min” you plead, you felt disgusted with yourself begging him but you could tell he’s unstable and you didn’t know what he was truly capable of but you knew this was not going to end well if you didn’t listen to him. Bringing yourself closer to him you place your lips on his feeling his arms wrap around you and you could almost pretend like things were how they used to be.

Changbin:

Waking up in a panic you look around the room, almost worrying when you didn’t find Changbin sleeping beside you. The events from the night previous replay in your mind as you lift yourself from the bed. A sharp sting spreads throughout your back. You groan in pain, the door shooting open at the sound. “Y/N, are you okay?” Changbin rushes into the room in a frenzy. You stare at him bewildered, “yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?” You question almost sarcastically. You finally notice his disheveled state, the ghost of the trails of tears that streamed down his face. The scabs and bruises on his knuckles, you’re eyes widen in shock seeing his hands. Almost like a reflex you rush out of bed and grab his hand “What happened?!” You question worriedly taking his hand in yours .“I’m an asshole….” He states with a pout on his lips. “What? What happened to your hand Binnie? Are you okay?” He removes his hand from your grasp. “I’m a disgusting person…I was mad that I-sigh- I was mad that I hurt you s-so I punched the wall” you’re eyes widen “YOU PUNCHED THE WALL?!” You exclaim. “I fixed it after I made a hole in it. I have to paint it but it’s fixed” he murmurs. “DO YOU REALLY THINK I CARE ABOUT THAT FUCKING WALL? ILL DEMOLISH IT IF I WANTED TO WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT?” You growl at him anger growing in your gut at the idea of him hurting himself. “I deserved it.” He states matter of factly. “Honestly I deserve worse. I’m sorry, but when you were sleeping I checked on your back and put some ointment on it but it’s a really big bruise. S-seeing it….I wanted to die. I hate myself for doing that to you. I got really mad at myself and it just happened. I’m so sorry, you don’t understand how much I said it when you were sleeping but I need you to know I’m really sorry and that it won’t happen again because-sigh-Y/N I think we should break up.” He sobs. You stare at him. “What? You want to break up? W-why? I won’t be clingy or harass you anymore I love you I don’t want to break up” you cry.

It was his turn to be shocked “Y/N I hurt you. I gave you a huge bruise on your back. I put my hands on you which is something I never thought I’d do. I can’t be with you knowing I did that and honestly I’m disappointed you would just let it go. Don’t make excuses for me, don’t try to justify it because there is no justification. I can’t redeem myself from this—yes you can—No I can’t you may be able to forgive me but I won’t be able to forgive myself. Look at your back Y/N! Actually fucking look at it I look like a domestic abuser. It makes me fucking sick!” He snaps. Your heart feels like it’s being ripped right from your chest and dangled infront of you. “Bin I love you I don’t want to break up we can figure things out. We can fix this. My back will heal” you go to grab his hand again “but the trauma from it won’t. Not right away.” He states sadly as he takes a step back. You let out a whimper “please we can work through this I love you. I know you’re going to be disappointed that I want to forgive you. But look at you right now I know you wouldn’t do it again you look like you hate yourself right now. You are beating yourself up already why would I pour salt on that wound I’m sorry but you’re not breaking up with me I’m the one that got hurt I’m the one with the bruise on my back so I’m the one that gets to make this decision and we’re not breaking up.” You see the disappointment on his face “Y/N.—no we’re not breaking up if that’s what you want to say then I don’t want to hear it” you argue placing your hands on your ears. A pout etched onto your lips as you stare at him with tear filled eyes. You shake your head at him. A small sad smile spreads across his lips. “Okay. You win we won’t break up. Im happy you’re quite stubborn and strong willed when it comes to people you love. But I am disappointed you would forgive someone that hurt you physically…” His tone is soft and caring. You feel the anxiety of a break up dwindling as you wrap your arms around Changbins neck placing soft kisses against his cheek. “I love you, you’ll forgive yourself in time with me by your side okay?”

Hyunjin:

“It’s just a sprain. Rest it for 48 hours and take your anti-inflammatory. And keep the splint on for a week or two as it is only a Grade 1 sprain. Come back if the pain gets any worse or if it seems like the swelling isn’t going down.” The doctor informed as he handed you your discharge paperwork. You nod along before making your way out of the hospital. You’re not excited about going home, the drive here was excruciatingly painful but at least your wrist is splinted. You couldn’t believe how Hyunjin reacted. How could he hurt you like that? The thought of the events earlier in the afternoon made you fee nauseous, how could the guy you loved for the past year choose his crazy ‘best friend’ over you? You had allowed Yerim’s antics to go on for too long based on her friendship with Hyunjin. Pulling into your driveway you’re quite pissed to see Hyunjins car still there. Meaning they were both still here. Your blood boiled as you forced yourself out of your car locking it behind you as you make your way to the door. Before you could enter your code into the pad, the door is forced open. You’re greeted with the sight of a disheveled Hyunjin. Tears streaming down his face, his sobs growing worse and worse with the glare you had directed at him. You roll your eyes as you shove past him, seeing his suitcase that was once under your bed now in the living room right beside the couch a complete lack of Yerims presence lingered. “W-wait! Please…” his whimpers between his sniffles as he wipes his face on his sleeves. “Wait for what Hyunjin? You weren’t supposed to be here when I got back remember? It seems your friend knows how to listen properly but you can’t.” You growl your mouth pulled into a harsh line, as you clenched your jaw. “I-I know but how could I just leave? I tried okay? I tried to listen to you I packed my stuff even though I didn’t want to I just—I couldn’t leave knowing you’re hurt. I couldn’t leave knowing that I may never get to see you again and I know it’s selfish but I have to try to fix this. I didn’t know what Yerim said but if it’s anything like what she tried to do then I’m sorry I never realized. I’m sorry I never knew the things Yerim did to you…b-but I do now! I swear I know the truth now and I’m sorry I should have never pushed you I should have listened to what happened.. a-and I would have probably done worse to Yerim if she said the things to me that she said to you.” He cries as he makes his way over to you stopping right infront of you he tries to caress your cheek. You flinch at his action, and a pout forms on his lips as he hesitantly places his hand back at his side “how’d you find out?” You question your eyes finally meeting his “cause there’s a reason I never told you”

His eyebrows scrunch together “does it matter how I found out? And why? Why would never tell me? How long has she been harassing you with that bullshit because that’s what it is. It’s bullshit! I never once slept with her. I never once told her I loved her, she was my best friend and I saw her like a sister and when she tried to throw herself on me when you had left I just lost my shit and realized what was going on.” He explained with tears streaming down his face. A heavy sigh is released from his lips and his current state is enough to send your heart into the morgue. “Jinnie—She was fucking pissed that I supposedly was choosing you over her but she doesn’t realize how many times you probably feel like I chose her over you. You should have told me but that doesn’t excuse what I did to you and I’m so fucking sorry Y/N. I really am, a-and if you let me I’ll make it up to you. Yerim is gone she’s out of my life she means nothing to me if she could try to ruin something that she knows I’ve dedicated myself to. She knew I wanted to marry you. She came with me to pick the ring for when I proposed but in the end even her attempts didn’t ruin anything. You knew she was bullshitting. In the end, I ruined everything but I will fix it. I’ll make it up to you I want to be with you I love you and I’m so fucking sorry” He cut you off dropping to his knees and holding your good hand in both of his “if you forgive me for this it will never happen again. I’m so sorry that I pushed you. I’m so sorry I let my anger get the better of me because you are right I heard her tell you those things and I heard you defend me and I don’t know I couldn’t think and I got mad. But if it makes you feel any better I pushed her too probably a lot worse than I pushed you and I told her I want nothing to do with her anymore I think she got the message cause she slapped the shit out of me and left” you’re eyes widen at his confession your hand instinctively lifting his face inspecting his cheek seeing the fading red mark. “I’ll fucking kill her she did what?!” You growl “she hit you?” You rush past him grabbing your keys only to be halted by Hyunjin grabbing your hand “it’s fine I deserved it for what I did to you” he comforts, your eyebrows raise “yeah and if anyone deserves to hit you it’d be me not her and I didn’t nor would I want to hit you let alone allow some slut to do the same thing to MY boyfriend. Don’t try to stop me cause I’m going to fuck her up Hyunjin” you notice the way his face lit up “Am I?” You shake your head at him in confusion “are you what?” He bites his lip as he stared at the ground “Am I still your boyfriend? What I did was really really bad…and I don’t feel like I deserve to call myself that anymore since you told me to leave” you look at him feeling a little guilty, whilst you did indeed tell him to pack his shit and leave you are kind of relieved he didn’t listen. While you didn’t enjoy the fact that he pushed you, his loyalty and the love he has for the people around him is what drew you to him in the first place. If Yerim wasn’t such a bitch and didn’t antagonize the issue then this wouldn’t have happened and yes, while he shouldn’t have pushed you he thought he was protecting his childhood friend.

“I’d like to think you still are…I-if you still want to be—more than anything I want to be your boyfriend more than I want to be an idol at this very moment” he cuts you off looking at you with hope. You bite your bottom lip and wrap your arms around his neck. You hear a sigh of relief release from his throat as he holds you against him as if you’d disappear when he let go. “Thank god….I love you so much I’m so sorry you won’t regret this I promise” he cries as he buries his face in your neck. You smile slightly pulling your head back to look at your sad puppy of a boyfriend pressing your lips against his. He kisses you passionately before you pull away “But if I ever see Yerim it’s on sight. She doesn’t have the right to put her hands on you just for rejecting her. She’s going to get her ass whooped and you won’t be able to stop me…”

#stray kids angst #skz angst #stray kids fluff #hyunjin angst #stray kids smut #bang chan angst #skz bang chan #bang chan fluff #skz changbin #skz hyunjin #hyunjin make up #stray kids hyung line angst #skz minho angst #SKZ Minho yandere #changbin angst #SKZ Minho fluff #changbin fluff #hyunjin fluff

[oncasette]

𝗟𝗢𝗩𝗘 𝗕𝗜𝗧𝗘𝗦 (𝗦𝗢 𝗗𝗢 𝗜)

KINKTOBER ACT II, eric northman x fem!reader

summary: 2.7k

“You smell fucking amazing,” he groans and his teeth drag against your pulse point. Before you can make any sort of comment on that, you feel his teeth puncture into your skin just as two of his fingers sink into your cunt. His incredibly long and devastatingly thick fingers that are already stretching you out as they slowly thrust in.

or the one where eric has a specific taste for blood. yours.

warnings: not beta’d, smut, significant age gap (eric is like 1000, r is early 20s), dub-con, mind control on the low, blood drinking, high sex (eric's blood/v), smoking

masterlist | taglist | kinktober

When vampires had first come out of the coffin, you’d been barely above the age of seventeen, and their integration into the mainstream had been a whirlwind you’d been utterly unprepared for. Being from the south, your parents had instilled a deep sense of distrust in your fanged counterparts. Or, in your own words, fear. 

Your parents had nearly tried to keep you out of college because of it, claiming you’d be much safer here at home, but you’d nipped that in the bud fairly quickly. Still, that didn’t mean you were going to let it slip to them where you were going on your evenings spent at home over the summer. All they needed to know is that you’d be home in the morning. 

Your friends had been begging you to go to this bar across town with them for ages. They’d been going for years, but, being the only one in the group not willing to get a fake ID, you’d been left out of all the fun. Now, though, that you were over the legal drinking age, you figured it wouldn’t hurt to check it out seeing as your friends seemed to like it so much. Or, as you came to find out, seeing as they apparently liked the owner so much. 

“You’re gonna freak when you see him,” Rachel says, looking over at you from the driver’s seat. You’d been friends with Rachel for forever, longer than you can remember. She’d gone off to school somewhere in the northeast–a liberal arts college with less than two thousand total students–and it’d been ages since you’d last seen her. 

“I don’t get what’s so special about him?”

“Are you kidding me?” Rachel squeaks. “About Eric fucking Northman?”

Anyone who’d been west of Baton Rouge knew the name Eric Northman. It was undeniable. Someone could whisper the name in a corner of a packed ballroom, and a hush would fall over the crowd. 

And, yet, somehow, despite living in Shreveport since your conception, it hadn’t crossed your path. 

“Yeah?” you drawl. “He’s probably just some guy.”

“Some guy,” Gina scoffs. 

“He’s quite literally the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen,” she says as she fiddles with her engagement ring. “He’s a fucking god.”

“Sure,” you say, rolling your eyes. 

It isn’t much longer before you’re pulling into a shady parking lot behind a vacant liquor store. There’s a couple other cars in the lot, mostly what your father would call shit-boxes that have either been sewn together with duct tape or have bumpers that have been left to drag the ground. Slamming the passenger door shut, you reach into the pocket of your jacket to take out the pack of cigarettes, stamping one on your bottom lip as you dig further in the pocket to find your lighter.

Your friends have already walked across the lot to step into line when you finally get a light, shoving your materials back into your jacket as you jog over to where they are at the back of the, thankfully, fast-moving line. 

“Really?” Rachel asks. 

“Just be glad I didn’t do it in the car, okay.” You offer a squint of your eyes in a pseudo smile. 

“Whatever,” she sighs. 

The bouncer lets the three men in biker jackets ahead of you in and stops to examine you. She seems to recognize your friends and nods at them to follow the men, only to stick a manicured hand out in front of your chest as soon as you take a step. 

“I’m with them,” you huff, tapping the ashes out of your cigarette. 

“Sorry, sweetie. I’m gonna need to see some ID,” she drawls. The sweetie comes out in a sharp bite that has you taking a step away from her outstretched arm. She grabs the butt from between your lips and stamps it out beneath her stiletto’d heel.

“Fine,” you say. Digging in the other pocket of your jacket, you grab your wallet and hand over your driver's license. You’re thankful you’d just recently gotten your ID updated and have the horizontal one now, or you’re sure she would’ve kept you back. Where, you’re also sure, your friends would have left you to sit for the rest of the night. 

“Have a good night,” she says, handing it back to you and allowing you to step into the crimson bar. As soon as you’re through the door, you dig your pack out and light a new cigarette. Bitch. 

Your eyes gravitate toward the stage. A very large throne sits to the side of it, flanked by two overgrown men with their eyes scanning the small dance floor at the foot of the stage. The man in the throne is bigger. Much bigger. Large to the point that he dwarfs the chair you think would swallow you whole. You watch as he sits up, spine straightening as he looks the crowd over. 

You don’t think anything of it until his gaze falls on you. He seems to smile, and it’s then that you see the sharp canines extending out of his gums. 

You suppose coming to a vampire bar should’ve made you mentally prepare to come into contact with a vampire or two. 

The man on the throne appears before you in an instant, fangs retracted as he gives you a softer smile than he’d had previously. It unnerves you, still, with the way his eyes seem glazed over and his body hovers over yours. You glance back at the stage, eyes flickering nervously back and forth as if it’d just been a trick of the lights and you’d catch him lounging there again if you blinked hard enough. 

“You are… a pretty thing, aren’t you,” he says, voice growling in a register lower than you’d been expecting. It sends a shiver down your spine. He’s tall. Frighteningly, inhumanly tall in a way that has you cowering beneath him. Even seeing him on the stage before, it’s much more shocking up close. “It’s a shame you feel the need to taint it with that.”

He gestures to the stick between your lips with a flippant gesture, plucking it from your mouth to stamp it beneath his boot. What’s with everyone stealing your cigarettes tonight?

“Hey-”

“Still,” he leans down until his nose is inches away from your jaw and inhales. You don’t have the time to push him back before he’s returned to his full height. 

“Who the fuck are you?” you ask, attempting to take a step back only to bump into one of the bustling–and fairly sweaty–bodies behind you. The man raises his brow in surprise. 

“My, my,” he says. “Coming all the way out to my little bar and you treat me this way?”

“Eric,” you exhale. Your friends were right. He’s beautiful. 

“And you are?” You give him your name in a huff. 

“Follow me,” he says.

“I don’t know-” His fingers come up beneath your chin to tilt your face so that you’re like him in the eye. Something swirls within them, something you can’t place. You do your best to ignore the dull throb emanating beneath your dress. 

“Follow me.”

Your legs seem to move of their own accord, hand reaching up to take his as he leads you across the dingy floor towards a door beside the bar. You dodge bodies crumpled together between tables and chairs and slink behind him as he nods at a bouncer guarding the door. Once it’s open, he gestures for you to enter first. 

It’s a small office looking room. Various pictures and files line the walls and every surface is drowned in boxes and other small objects. You don’t have the time to get a good look at any of them, though, before Eric is spinning you to face him once again. 

You can see the way his lips twitch as you meet his gaze, nostrils flared. His hand lands on your shoulder, dragging down the side of your arm as goosebumps sprout in its wake. You want to blame it on the fact that he’s freezing, on the fact that he’s got fangs. On the fact that he owns this whole bar and now you’re standing in his office with the door locked. Not on the fact that he’s probably got decades of experience. Or, god forbid, centuries. 

“Why did you bring me here?” you ask. It comes out in a whisper, voice hoarse from swallowing hard. Breath hitching, your knees do their best not to buckle as Eric steps into you, forcing you back until your ass hits the edge of his desk. His leg comes to press between your thighs. With a nudge, his knee would be pressing directly against you, and you’re thankful he gives you the space. You inch up the desk until you’re halfway sitting on it. There’s no reason for you to be as hot as you are right now, and less of a reason for him to know about it so soon. Honestly, he can probably smell it on you. 

“Why do you think I brought you back here?” he asks, hands falling against your thighs. There’s no pressure, just their presence. 

“I don’t fuck random guys in bars,” you say. 

He stalls, hands crawling up to rest on your hips. 

“I’m the owner.”

“So I was right,” you say. “You lured me back here just to fuck me.”

He hums. You can’t tell if it's in agreement. His knee presses into you fully and you hope he chooses not to comment on how you’re pulsating against it. 

“Would you like that?” he asks. He brings his hands down again, this time to the hem of your dress. He begins to push up. Slowly. Oh, so slow, you barely register it until it’s bunched up at the tops of your thighs. You’re not sure why you nod. You think if asked you at a different time, a second before or after, you would have shaken your head and allowed him to lead you back out to the patrons, to your two friends who would lose their minds if they knew where you were right now. 

His mouth finds yours as he pushes your dress the rest of the way up. You can feel the way you’re leaving a damp spot against his pants and try not to whimper as he applies more pressure with his knee. You don’t succeed in that venture. He tilts his head to deepen the kiss. It’s not nearly as rough as you had expected it to be, but it’s far from soft. His tongue is in your mouth, licking at the flats of your teeth. His fingers dig into your skin as he thumbs at the seam of your panties, pressing it to the side enough to gather the wetness coating your slit and drag it up to your clit. Your hips jump against him. 

He disconnects your lips to trail his kisses down the dies of your face and down your neck. Pulling back, he draws your eyes up to look, and the dark swirl from earlier returns. “Don’t scream,” he says. “Unless it’s my name.”

Before he re-attaches himself to your neck, you watch as his fangs click out, and you feel the cold rod of fear as it slides down your spine. 

“You smell fucking amazing,” he groans and his teeth drag against your pulse point. Before you can make any sort of comment on that, you feel his teeth puncture into your skin just as two of his fingers sink into your cunt. His incredibly long and devastatingly thick fingers that are already stretching you out as they slowly thrust in. 

“Eric,” you squeal. You’re already dizzy, his tongue laving at the skin of your neck. Finally, he pulls back and you feel seconds away from passing out. His fingers are still inside of you, massaging your walls. His free hand comes up to his mouth, and you watch as his fangs pierce the skin there and he’s holding his bloody palm up to your mouth. 

“Drink,” he says. You oblige and suddenly you’re dizzy in an entirely different way. Every touch feels heightened, every item in the room seems to glow, and Eric truly, honestly, looks like a fucking god. The open wound on your neck stops aching and you swear you feel the holes close up. 

“Eric, please,” you whine. He tugs your panties down first, balling them up in his fist and tossing them somewhere behind his desk. Then his belt comes undone and he’s yanking his pants down just enough to pull his cock out of the confines. And if you thought his fingers were big before. 

“That’s not gonna fucking fit,” you gasp. He jerks himself until he’s fully hard. 

“Trust me, sweetheart. It will,” he says as he notches himself against your entrance. 

“No, I swear, you’re gonna rip me in half!” “Trying hard not to do that, already,” he says. He pushes in with one solid thrust. Even only halfway in, you can feel him in your throat. “Feel even better than you taste.”

Your ankles link around his back and your feet dig into his ass in an attempt to get him to move, to push into you until you can feel his pelvis against yours. He does. One thrust, then an agonizing pull back before he slams back in. 

Every part of you trembles as his pace picks up. 

“Oh my god? Oh my god,” you squeak. 

“Just me,” he quips and his head falls back. He’s fucking you at a superhuman speed, hips snapping into yours with so much force you think he’s close to bruising your cervix. And still. It feels good. It feels so fucking good. Every touch leaves you tingling and you think you’re going to explode with his hand finding your clit again. He pushes your legs open wider, allowing him to press into you further. 

You’ve never been this wet in your life. Not with your vibrator, not with any of your boyfriends, not even with the one you swore you were in love with when you were a sophomore in college. The squelch of his cock driving into you rings in your ears and you don’t think you’ll ever forget the sound. A coil within you begins to wind tight, your body on the precipice of turning into jelly in Eric’s hold. 

“I want you to cum for me, sweetheart,” he growls and it’s enough to send you flying. You clench around him, walls fluttering and throbbing as you feel his dick twitch in you. 

As soon as you’ve regained your consciousness enough to offer him a weak smile, he’s pulling out of you and spinning you around so that the front of your hips are against the desk. He thrusts into you swiftly once more, never once faltering from the ruinous pace he’d started up previously. Your back arches into the desk. Your pussy feels raw, overstimulated, melting into the pleasure he’s driving into you. Another orgasm is sure to follow. And quickly. 

“You are mine, whether you agree to it or not,” he growls. His thrusts begin to grow sloppy, cock twitching with every pump of his hips. With a final push in, he cums and offers you the first bit of warmth he’s been able to give you all night. You fall down the same rabbit hole moments later. Your entire body twitches as you do and you can barely feel anything as he pulls out of you. 

He gives you a minute to catch your breath, to gather yourself and spin around to face him as you tug your dress back down your thighs. You’re panting, still, as he wipes the semi-dried blood off of your neck and brings it up to his lips to lick clean. 

“No more cigarettes,” he says. “I can’t wait to see how you taste when you’re… pure.”

“I don’t know if I can promise that,” you say. 

“You will.”

He grabs your chin between his thumb and forefinger. 

“Sweet dreams, sweetheart,” he says. “I’ll be seeing you.”

He’s gone before you can ask what he means by that. 

#eric northman #eric northman x reader #eric northman smut #alexander skarsgard #alexander skarsgard x reader #true blood #kinktober #kinktober 23

[cooliestghouliest]

PUTTY, chapter one

(chapter one), (chapter two), (chapter three)

PAIRING: virgin!Eddie/former cheerleader!Reader

SUMMARY: Eddie has a little brother. Eddie’s little brother has a babysitter.

SERIES TAGS and C/W’s: mutual pining, experienced!Reader, inexperienced!Eddie but he’s eager to learn, mostly sub!Eddie, insecurities and self doubt, narcissistic and/or absent parents, jealousy, mean basketball players, hurt/comfort, they smoke weed, eventual smut (18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI), uniform kink, dirty talk, foot jobs, hand jobs, oral (f!receiving and m!receiving), public sex, sex toys, unprotected PiV. more to be added as this progresses!!!

WORD COUNT: 3.7k+

A/N: hi, my friends!!! this is a rewrite/repost and has been edited for a (hopefully) smoother, more enjoyable read. fun fact that this was one of the first Stranger Things fanfics i ever wrote. it was originally titled She Was Straight From Hell, But You Could Never Tell, and featured Eddie alongside an OC. i’ve changed it to be reader-insert, because that seems to be more in my writing wheelhouse nowadays. this fic will be multiple parts — it begins with backstory, but will eventually branch off into a universe of little smutty ficlets where Reader will corrupt virgin!Eddie as much as humanely possible.

—

Eddie hadn't known about the existence of his little brother until two months ago, when Al Munson showed up in the middle of the night with a small child in tow. Eddie didn't even know his dad was out of prison again, and yet here he was, in the flesh, a little boy with a mop of black curls resembling Eddie's own cradled in his leather jacket-clad arms.

Al was lucky Wayne was working or else this family reunion would have gone south fast.

While Wayne wasn't Al's biggest fan, Al was Eddie's dad, and Eddie would always hold onto as many moments with his father as he could get, no matter how sparse, and no matter how much of a self-serving piece of shit asshole Al Munson truly was.

But Eddie didn’t see it like that. Eddie saw it like this: His dad lived a hard life. His dad struggled with addictions. His dad lost a wife, just as Eddie had lost a mother. His dad tried his best with what he had.

Deep down, Eddie knew these were all just sorry excuses, but he kept that truth tucked away, not wanting to deal with the reality that Al truly only cared about himself.

He already had one dead parent. If he cut his dad out of his life, he’d basically have two.

"When'd you get out?" Eddie asked, stepping aside so Al could enter. His eyes followed the child, brows furrowed. The trailer was always Al's first stop on his freedom tour and the older man had always brought some sort of baggage along with him -- never a little kid, though. What the hell kind of trouble had his dad gotten into this time?

"Few days ago," Al replied, heading for the living room. He placed the sleeping child down on the worn sofa, then straightened and faced Eddie. "Listen, son, you gotta do me a favor. I'm not out long this time. I might've robbed an ATM or two last night. I'm kinda on the lam."

Al didn’t even have the decency to look sheepish at his wrongdoing.

Eddie was used to this. Even when Al was a free man, he was never a free man for long. He didn't think his dad knew how to coexist among non-inmate citizens. Eddie didn't think his dad even wanted to. Prison was a creature comfort for the elder Munson. Eddie wasn't necessarily mad at that fact. He was happy when Al was locked up, because then at least he knew where his dad was. Otherwise, Eddie worried his father would eventually get himself into a situation he wouldn't be able to get out of, and Eddie would really never see him again.

Eddie was also used to Al showing up after months and months, sometimes even years and years, such as now, always asking for favors.

"Who is that?" Eddie asked, pointing towards the couch, not being able to ignore the other human in the room any longer.

"Yeah, that's kinda what I need your help with.” Al rubbed at the back of his neck. "Well, no way to do this other than to just say it. That there's your little brother, Eddie. His name's Oliver. And I need you and Wayne to look after him while I'm gone."

"My... what..." Eddie stammered, face scrunching up. He expected Al to burst out laughing and admit he was just fucking around, and that this tiny sleeping stranger was actually just the kid of a fellow convict buddy. Maybe it was said convict buddy’s turn to rob ATMs tonight, leaving Al the babysitter. Irresponsible. Unlikely. And, turns out, untrue.

With Al's silence, Eddie knew his dad’s admission wasn't a joke.

Eddie was beyond confused now.

"Dad, how... you've been in prison for six years!"

"Conjugal visits," Al answered with a bit of a smug shrug.

Eddie shook his head in disbelief. "What the fuck? Wayne can't afford another kid that's not even his... and I'm in school still, I can't watch him... this isn't... I don't know how..."

But Al was already making his way to the door.

"I know you'll figure it out. I can always count on you, my boy," Al prided, tone cheery as if the favor he'd just asked of Eddie was to give him a quick ride somewhere or find an old family recipe.

Al wasn't acting like he was ditching another Munson offspring off on his older brother. He was treating this like an issue of minor importance, just a little speed bump on an otherwise flat road.

Al Munson was not an upstanding person. Never had been, never would be. Because of this, Eddie shouldn't have been surprised or appalled, but here he was, standing with his mouth agape. Surprised. Appalled.

His dad was out the door with a lighthearted, "See ya 'round, son," and Eddie was left speechless in the middle of the living room.

𖤐 ֪ 𖤐 ֪ 𖤐

Wayne got over the new addition to the Munson household fairly quickly.

While he'd been livid at first, calling up all of Al's old friends he'd still had the numbers of to try and find out where his dumb shit of a younger brother was, Wayne eventually became resigned to the idea that he now had another little boy to rear and mold.

What else could he do?

Wayne took care of his kin, especially if they were innocent bystanders and had no say in being born in the first place. He'd raised Eddie, and although he knew the boy had his struggles, he didn't think he'd done too bad of a job.

Eddie never went hungry, always had clothes to wear, a bed to sleep in, and Wayne was the one who haggled Eddie's van down to a reasonable price so the boy could pay for it with his lunch box salary.

Wayne knew about the weed and the pills, but so long as Eddie stayed smart about where he was selling and who he was selling to, he didn't much mind Eddie's unconventional line of work. It helped his nephew stay somewhat social, and Wayne knew how important that would be for Eddie's future. If the boy was nothing but a lone recluse his whole life, he'd probably end up just like Al. Nobody wanted that.

Eddie was just about grown now. Sure, he was rearing twenty and still in his senior year of high school, but Wayne had an inkling that '86 would be Eddie's year.

Wayne had always thought about selling the trailer and buying an RV with retirement money once Eddie was out on his own. He wanted to travel the country for the remainder of his life.

The idea that he'd have to raise up another wild Munson for the next fifteen or so years caused a knot to form in his stomach.

Would Wayne even be around for that much longer? He may have been relatively healthy, and he was only in his mid 60's, but Wayne wasn't an idiot. He knew anything could happen at any time.

Wayne knew he needed help this time around. He figured he could count on Eddie here and there, but Eddie needed to focus on school this year if he planned on finally walking the stage. Because of this, Wayne decided to enlist the help of someone on the outside. Someone with experience.

So, he posted an ad in the Hawkins Post, looking for a full-time nanny for a five-year-old boy to start as soon as possible, and waited for a response.

𖤐 ֪ 𖤐 ֪ 𖤐

Wayne didn't have to wait long.

Two mornings following the job post, shortly after he'd returned home from work, he heard a knock on the trailer door.

When he answered, he saw a pretty young thing standing on the front stoop.

"Hi!" you greeted, then immediately began to ramble. "Are you Mr. Munson? I hope it's okay I just showed up... there wasn't a number listed, only an address, and I didn't know if you wanted me to write a response and mail it, but the ad seemed maybe a little urgent, so I thought, hey, what's the harm in just... showing... up..."

You trailed off, feeling silly for word vomiting during your first impression. He was watching you with a small smile, eyes flickering with what looked like amusement, especially as your cheeks began to color to the soft red of embarrassment.

Listing no number on the ad was intentional. He hadn't owned a rotary phone in about ten years, after having tried to cut back on bills, and he knew not just anyone would make the trek to Forest Hills for a potential job offer. He’d figured only committed applicants that wouldn't waste his time would follow through.

"I have a lot of experience," you continued on at his silence, almost as if you couldn't help it, compelled to divulge all the information you could in the first three minutes of meeting. Wayne found it endearing. "I used to babysit for three different families when I was in high school. And I have two little sisters. My mom and dad worked a lot growing up, so I spent a lot of time with them. Didn't get paid, but... I made sure they didn't die or anything..."

From their brief interaction thus far, Wayne knew he succeeded in his method of weeding out flakes. You were obviously serious about the position. He felt he was a decent judge of character, and he'd learned in life that sometimes over-explaining was synonymous with caring.

"Sorry," you said, forcing out a little laugh. "I guess I could have just introduced myself. You didn't really need to know all that." You shot your hand out, giving your name. "I'm here about the nannying gig. Um, obviously. That is, if I didn't already scare you off."

Wayne took your hand in both of his own, shaking it. He placated you with a grin. "It's a lot harder than that to scare off a Munson, sweetheart. Let's go inside and meet Olly."

𖤐 ֪ 𖤐 ֪ 𖤐

Although Oliver Munson was only five, he had a spectacular vocabulary and a limitless imagination. Wayne knew the boy was a little charmer, quite like how Eddie was when he allowed himself to be, when the teenager wasn't drowning himself in existential teenage angst and nonsense.

You fell under Olly's spell almost instantly.

And it seemed the little boy had fallen under yours as well.

Oliver didn't stop talking to you while you were there, and didn't stop talking about you after you’d left, asking when you’d be back and if next time you could take him to the trailer park's playground and maybe you two could watch G.I. Joe or He-Man together afterward.

Wayne had taken your number down before you’d left and had told you he'd be in touch soon.

Later that evening, after Eddie had gotten back from his club meeting at school, Wayne took the trip into downtown Hawkins to use the payphone and ask you if you wouldn't mind starting as early as tomorrow.

𖤐 ֪ 𖤐 ֪ 𖤐

You were far from struggling for money.

Your father was a sought-after criminal prosecutor for the entirety of Indiana. Your mother was a real estate agent for high profile clientele who came from old family money; her father was CEO of a day trading business, and his father before him had been the same.

Although you likely would have never had to work a day in your life and could live a comfortable existence off of inheritance alone, handouts and the humdrum of an All-Play-and-No-Work lifestyle was never a dream of yours. That sounded so cookie cutter, so monotonous, so boring.

You liked to feel a sense of accomplishment. You liked setting goals and reaching them. You didn't want to freeload off of money that was gained from the capitalistic professions your parents were a part of. You wanted to be in control of your own finances and be the author of your own future, not have it already be etched into stone simply by being just another rich kid from Hawkins, à la the likes of the Carver's or the Cunningham's or the Harrington's.

You were ecstatic when you got the call from Wayne, asking you if you’d be willing to start the following day. He left for work at 2PM, so you’d have to be there before then, and would need to plan on staying until Wayne's nephew got home around six.

If you were to be completely honest with yourself, you felt a bit nervous, but the job itself wasn't the reason why that writhing feeling accompanied your excitement.

You had more than ten years of babysitting experience under your belt, and you were eager to get back into a job you actually enjoyed as opposed to trying out different careers to see what stuck and what didn't. Having graduated the spring before, you’d been taking an off year to save up money by working odd jobs around Hawkins to be able to buy your own apartment.

You’d worked as a florist for a few weeks, but it turned out your thumb was pitch black instead of green.

You worked as the personal assistant for a group of lawyers from a local law firm, but it turned out they just needed office eye candy and not someone to actually get any sort of work done.

You worked as a veterinary assistant, but it turned out the job was much more than just petting cats and dogs. You couldn't handle it when a sick animal would come in and there would be nothing anyone could do. Your heart broke more at that clinic than it had your entire life.

You were in between jobs when you’d decided to peruse the classified section of the Hawkins post. There, in the shortest blurb on the page, was a listing for a needed nanny, a full-time position offering negotiable pay.

The next bit was where the excitement wavered.

The listing was published by a Wayne Munson of the Forest Hills trailer park.

That had to be Eddie Munson's uncle. There was no way there were two separate Munson families living in the only trailer park in Kerley County.

You couldn't believe that you’d stumbled across this ad, that the geeky metalhead you’d crushed on since your freshman year of high school had a little brother you could be the potential nanny of.

You were two years younger than Eddie, but that hadn't stopped you from losing periods of time to daydreams about the way the wind ruffled his wild mess of curls on breezy days or the way his band tee sleeves always clung perfectly to the soft muscles of his biceps or the way his cheeks dimpled when he teased the other boys he sat with at lunch.

You’d always wanted to introduce yourself, but you didn't run in the same crowds -- you being on the cheer team and Eddie blasting Black Sabbath in the parking lot after his Hellfire meetings. You could never muster the courage. He seemed so carefree, so full of life, so effortlessly funny. Chrissy Cunningham, your best friend, had spoken to him once or twice and had told you how different he was than what other people said about him. He wasn't scary or mean or threatening, and instead was warm and silly and genuine.

But you knew how the people you spent your time around treated people like him. You knew your group of "friends" referred to him as a freak, a Satan worshipper, and did everything in their power to try to bully him into becoming a shell of himself. Thankfully, he never did -- it was almost as if Eddie absorbed the hatefulness and spent it tenfold by mocking the hilarity of the jock hierarchy that ruled the school, as well as using it to strengthen his own ability to embrace every misfit that walked the halls of Hawkins High.

You never introduced yourself because you were afraid he’d think you had an ulterior motive, that you’d be trying to talk to him as a joke or a prank. You knew the company you kept. You were sure Jason Carver had once or twice suggested you do just that, lead Eddie on and make a fool of him in front of the whole school.

You figured it'd be best to just stay away.

But now, you thought finding this ad was possibly a sign from the universe.

Maybe you were getting a second chance.

𖤐 ֪ 𖤐 ֪ 𖤐

Eddie was running late.

He was supposed to be back home half an hour ago to relieve whoever Olly's new babysitter was of her duties, but the campaign had taken a shocking turn and Hellfire couldn't disband until it had commenced.

The night finally ended with Will's character decapitating Dustin's, and Eddie had to thwart an actual attack when Dustin leapt across the game table at Will in a bout of rage. Dustin was small but mighty, and Eddie had to physically wrestle the boy off of Will's neck, threatening to banish Dustin from the next few campaigns if he didn’t chill out. Henderson had huffed and puffed but had admitted defeat and apologized to Will for the attempted murder.

By the time Eddie arrived back to the trailer park, the sun had almost set. He pulled his van into his parking spot to the right of the trailer and shut it off. Stepping out, he swung his backpack over his shoulder, but came to a halt when he heard Olly's scream sound from behind the trailer.

Dropping his bag and beginning to run toward the noise, Eddie's heart fell to his stomach. Horrible images of what could possibly be pulling that sound from his little brother pervaded Eddie's mind. He had an overactive imagination to begin with, and something like this verbal cue only egged it on. "Olly!" he shouted, panic raising his voice. "Olly, are you okay?! What’s going on, where are --"

Eddie came to a halt when he found the boy in the backyard with a huge smile spread across his small, sweaty face. Olly had a fake crown on, one made of twigs and leaves, and he was carrying one of the biggest sticks Eddie had ever seen. He had a blanket tucked into the back of his shirt, the cloth a makeshift cape. A thin piece of metal, probably from one of the cars Wayne and Eddie sometimes worked on, was wrapped around his center, acting as armor.

Olly had just been playing.

Letting out a heavy breath of relief, Eddie noticed your frame just off to the side. His eyes started from the ground up, noting the shiny red Docs donning your feet, moving up bare legs that were covered mid-thigh by a short black skater dress, one that hugged your curves in a way that had Eddie’s mouth going dry.

By the time he reached your face, your eyes were wide with amusement.

You’d been watching as he slowly drank you in. He didn't mean to ogle. He had to shake his head a few times to clear it, and when he did so, the face before him started looking more and more familiar.

"Wait," he started, head tilting. He spoke your name, tone riddled with confusion. "From high school?"

You were about to answer when Oliver cleared his throat, obviously not wanting to be ignored or to have his playtime interrupted any longer. You looked down at the boy, who pointed up to his head at his crown. You got the gist -- Olly wanted the game to continue. You could indulge him. You’d been doing it all day, and honestly you’d been having the most fun you’d had in a while.

You turned your attention back to Eddie, fixing your posture and jutting your chin out slightly. "I don't know who that is," you began, voice lilting. "I am Princess Guinevere of Kerley County and this here,” you brought your gaze back down to Oliver, “is my most loyal servant, Sir Olly of Castle Munson."

Eddie couldn't help the grin that broke out over his face at your announcement. He then took a moment to fully take in the rest of your appearance. You, too, had on a makeshift crown, this one made up of cherry blossoms and daisies. You had a flowing blanket tucked into the back of your dress, cascading down your back like a veil.

No fucking way were you, last year's cheerleading captain and prom queen, standing in his backyard playing fucking knights and princesses with his little brother. No fucking way.

Olly broke the silence by shouting out, "Hey, Eddie! Who are you gonna be?"

Eddie tore his eyes from you to focus on his brother. He pursed his lips to one side in thought, trying to come up with a character. He was usually quick on his feet when it came to creative play, but he had just spent the last three hours DM'ing a month-long DnD campaign. His brain felt shot. He was pulled from his introspective reverie by your soft, suggestive voice — no, sorry — the soft, suggestive voice of Princess Guinevere.

"Wanna be my dragon, Eddie?" you asked.

Eddie wasn't exactly sure why that made his breath catch in his throat.

He nodded dumbly, silent, then forced himself to speak because he didn't want to look totally lame in front of a Princess. "Okay. Yeah, I'll be your dragon."

You graced him with a smile before Oliver's tiny but booming voice cut through the air of the darkening night. "HEY! Dragons don't talk!" the boy stomped his foot and hit his stick against the muddy ground in annoyance.

A laugh bubbled from your throat and Eddie grinned, jumping into a wide-legged stance before outstretching his arms, tilting his head back, and roaring.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x you #stranger things

[mytheoristavenue]

TMNT 2012 Raphel Hamato x Reader - Give Me a Chance

This was a commission from @virtualdonutenemy, thanks for the work! For any questions regarding commissions, go here.

Summary: After Raph watches your date with a classmate go south, he makes sure not to waste you getting all dolled up.

Warnings: Inuendo, angst, fluff, lime, possessive!Raph, overprotective!Leo, sheltered!Reader, rebounding, lust, sad/desperate!Reader, perv!Raph

You weren’t capable of letting down your smile. There was just no way, you were too excited. After months of subliminal flirting, bashful compliments, and loaning pencils, the cute guy in your comp sci class had finally asked you out and you couldn’t be happier. 

Carefully, you drug the felt tip of your lipgloss wand across your bottom lip, pursing and puckering to spread the shimmer evenly. Glancing down at your phone, you read the time and beamed again. You’d have just enough time to put on some earrings and shoes before having to leave. After doing so, you did a once-over in the mirror, twirling and giggling at the way the hem of your dress flew outwards. Suddenly, as if to rain on your parade, your phone began to buzz, shimmying around in its spot on your bed.

You were expecting to see the name of the gentleman you were meeting tonight, probably calling to cancel your evening plans. The name of your ‘eldest brother’ scrolling sideways across the screen brought you little relief, though. If the boys found out about your date, no doubt they’d try to interfere.

“Hello?” you answered cautiously, pacing through your living room.

“Where are you right now?” Leo’s stern voice rang out through the speaker.

“Home, why?” you asked, secretly impatient as you checked the time. Now you were definitely going to be late. 

“Hang tight, I’m on my way.” The announcement was so sudden that you hardly had time to react but blurted out a flustered opposition.

“N-No, I have a date!” Silence befell his end and you began to wonder if the line had gone dead or he’d maybe lost signal somehow. 

“A date?!” Leo furiously sprang back to life. “With who?!”

“The guy I told you about the other day…?” you murmured, hoping he could recall the conversation well enough for you to avoid elaborating.

“You didn’t tell he’d asked you out!” He pressed further, irritated at your lack of communication. 

“I knew you’d freak out!” you reasoned, a distressed tremble in your voice. “And besides, I didn’t think it was your business!”

“Your safety is our business,” Leo argued, stony as ever. “(Y/N), you know the rules.” The ‘rule’ in question forbade you from doing most things that required you to leave your home unless for school, or to visit the lair; on the few occasions you were allowed to, you were to wear bland clothes. Nothing attention-grabbing like the low cute, crimson red spaghetti strapped cocktail dress you now wore. “There’s no way you can be discrete in that dress, what if someone sees you and follows you home or worse-”

“Please, Leo!” you suddenly interjected. “I rarely ever leave get to do anything and I really like this guy! Please just let me do this one thing!”

The eldest sibling paused for a moment as if taken back, before finally sighing and pinching the bridge of his nose. “Do you promise to be careful? Call us if anything- and I mean anything- goes wrong?”

“I swear, Leo!” You promised, holding your fists tightly to your chest, likely to keep your heart from beating out of it as you waited for his response. 

“Fine,” he reluctantly submitted, shaking his head on the other end. “Have fun and be careful, okay?”

“I will, thank you so much!” You squealed, excitedly stomping in place before abruptly hanging up, presumably to be on your way.

Rolling his eyes and pivoting to return to his training in the dojo, Leo froze when he noticed Raph standing in the doorway to said room, peridot eyes zeroed in on the exit. Before the older knew it, he was being passed by as the other turtle prepared to leave. “Don’t follow her,” Leo warned knowingly, crossing his arms as his younger brother bustled about the room to gather his things. “This is a terrible idea and you know it.”

“Leo’s right, Raph,” Don piped up, exiting the lab and trekking to the kitchen, empty mug in hand. “You know how she gets, there’s no way this is gonna end well for you.” The first pair both glanced up at the new player in the conversation before going back to it. “I’m just sayin’ I speak from personal experience,” the brainiest turtle continued, pouring his umpteenth cup of coffee for the day and stirring additives into it. “Give her some space, man.”

For just a moment, the hotheaded brother halted, taking his family’s advice into account, before ultimately deciding that, he wouldn’t heed it. “Yeah, whatever. You guys don’t know what you’re talkin’ about,” he grumbled, continuing his descent down the stairs toward the exit of the lair. 

Obviously, the others didn’t know you the way he did, he thought. They didn’t know how clumsy and gullible you could be, how badly you needed his guardianship. That's what he told himself anyway, it would be much too embarrassing for him to admit that the real reason he was following you out on this date was to pretend that the guy you were going out with was him.

—--

You stifled a giggle, kicking your legs beneath the table and clenching the rusty satin of your dress in your fists, all in an attempt to calm yourself before your date arrived. Admittedly, you were a tiny bit disappointed to find that your date was nowhere to be seen, even though you were five minutes late yourself. Nonetheless, you got a table for the two of you, ordered a pair of waters and an appetizer, then waited. The tantalizing smell of garlic bread enticed you as it sat untouched in the middle of the table. You thought it was probably bad etiquette to start eating without your date.

Minutes ticked by as your throat became more and more parched- no doubt a product of your constant nervous swallowing. Surely, it wouldn’t be too rude to sip your drink while you wait. Before you realized it, your glass was nearly empty and a waitress was at your side offering a refill. She glanced down at you with a sympathetic smile that you didn’t quite understand at the time before turning and hurrying away. Another check of the time revealed your gentleman caller to now be nearly fifteen minutes that, though to you it felt more like thirty. Screw this, you were hungry.

One basket of bread and another refill later and you found yourself obsessively checking your phone for any word from him, only to find yourself sorely disappointed every time. You were very rapidly beginning to lose hope, when suddenly, your phone vibrated, dancing about on the table. You hastily checked it to find a text from the man of the hour:

“Sorry, can’t make it tonight. Sick.”

You hadn’t even noticed the tears well up in your eyes until you felt them roll off your chin. Even though he’d excused himself as ill, you still felt so…unwanted, so cast aside. Shuddering, you instantly flagged down the waitress, desperately trying to conceal your hurt. You just wanted to pay out and go home.

—--

From a nearby rooftop, Raph watched the entire scene unfold with glossy eyes. It almost reminded him of the pilot to a show you’d made him sit through last summer, only this wasn’t a sitcom. This would likely have a lasting effect on your self-esteem. 

He was a little relieved when you finally stood up and stormed out of the restaurant, frantically wiping tears away with your wrist. You were a bullet train now, racing down the avenue needing to get home as fast as possible. Startled, Raph jumped to his feet, seeing his time to intercept you being diced into seconds. In the blink of an eye, he was on the wet pavement of a sketchy alleyway, stalking behind as your figure darted between cars and tall structures. 

Suddenly, he halted in his pursuit of you- what would you say if you found him following you? There was a good chance you wouldn’t just fall helplessly in his arms like he hoped you would. Was there a way he could surprise you and sweep you off your feet without letting you in on his possessive tendencies?

—--

Wailing, you barged into the lobby of your apartment complex, face hidden in your shoulder as you blew past the doorman, cutting his greetings short. Too embarrassed to sit in anyone’s presence long enough for the elevator to arrive, you burst through the stairwell door, clumsily speeding up them, tripping all the while and crawling back up yourself. After falling up four flights, you finally reached your floor and bolted for the exit, fantasizing about the way your plush bedding would envelop you in security. Still sniveling, but with sanctuary within reach, you shoved your key into the lock and threw the front door open, only to fall forward into the apartment dramatically, catching yourself before gravity could take over.

Exhausted, you haphazardly tossed your belongings onto the floor, shedding layers and accessories as you traversed the space. Heels in the hall, purse on the couch, and earrings on the kitchen island, you finally reached the bedroom in only your red cocktail dress, dainty necklace, and smudged makeup. As your fingers gripped the door handle you stopped, smelling something smokey, possibly with a floral hint. Alert to a possible intruder, you raised your guard and prepared for the worst before gently pushing the door and letting it creak open on its own.

Beyond the door, Raph lounged on your bed, waiting for you to arrive home. Surrounding him were throw blankets and pillows, an open take-out box with a steaming pizza, piled with your favorite toppings, and a rose-scented candle burning on the nightstand. Illuminating it all was your television, set on the menu screen of your favorite childhood film, the remote control resting on his chest. “Welcome home,” he said cooly, voice full of gravel, but a languid smile speaking volumes. You couldn’t hold back the sobs that poured from your throat as you lurched forward, collapsing against him.

Raph went rigid beneath you, having been concealing his anxiety about your reaction for quite a while. As you heaved and wept against him, he eased back into you and slowly wrapped you in his arms, hushing your woes. “Dollface, what’s the matter?” he asked carefully as if he didn’t already know.

“Leo was right,” you shuddered. “I never should have gone out with that stupid prick!”

“A date, so that’s where ya been?” Raph asked lightheartedly, pushing you away by your shoulders so he could see your face. “No wonder you’re all prettied up.” Your heart skipped a beat at his words and blood rushed to your face. “Now tell me who that asshole is and what he did to you.” 

“H-He…” you sniffled, sitting up fully on your knees and in between his. God, you looked so vulnerable in that position, and the way the ruching of your dress pulled your waist in- That wasn’t the point. “He just never showed up…” you muttered weakly. “He didn’t tell me he was sick ‘til way after he was supposed to be there…” You couldn’t keep yourself from crumbling again, falling back into his arms. 

“Shhh…” he cooed, scaly hand caressing your shuddering back. “I got ya, babe, it’s okay.” What seemed to be hours passed with him simply holding you as you cried when you finally spoke again, albeit in a quiet and broken tone. 

“R-Raph, do you think I’m pretty…?” 

“My God, babe, is that even a question?” he suddenly snorted, prompting you to erect yourself to gain distance from him. He could plainly see the hurt in your eyes as you loomed over him, though his eyes were elsewhere- darting all over your body and eating you up. “Like seriously, how honest do you want me to be, 'cause we’ll be here all night.”

“I don’t want you to lie…” you answered, anxiety bubbling up in your blood. 

“I mean where do I start?” he laughed, hands ghosting over your hips, but never actually making contact. “You got these perfect hips and that pretty face, tight ass,” he smirked as you flustered more and more above him, eyelids becoming heavy with want. “You’re a total fox baby.” he dazzled, finally laying his hands on you. “I always wanted to make you feel pretty, just give me a chance baby and I swear, you won’t ever doubt yourself again.” You felt dizzy under all his attention. You’d always had a feeling Raph had a crush on you, but you never would have thought him so passionate. Gradually and instinctually, you leaned closer to him, hazily sealing your lips against his, humming lightly. Kissing him felt so natural, and so necessary, neediness taking you whole.

“(Y/N), I love you,” he confessed, eyes trained on your lips as he parted from you. You weren’t entirely sure whether or not to believe him, as everything around you moved so fast but you felt so special… “So whadaya say, dollface? We got food, your favorite movie, and all night…” he persuaded you, pulling you closer into his lap. “I can help ya get changed into something a little more comfy if ya want...”

Finally, your painted lips curled into a beaming grin and tears pricked your eyes once more, this time for overwhelming joy. “Okay, let’s do it.”

Taglist: @sunshinesdaydream @helpyaw @thelaundrybitch @momii @camillahorne26 @turtle-babe83 @fyreball66 @sharpwindow @roseygardenfan @witchofthenorthstar @pheradream15 @post-apocalyptic-daydream @hyunonion @killmewithafanfic @virtualdonutenemy

#tmnt #tmnt 2012 #x reader #headcanon #txt #tmnt x reader #raph x reader #tmnt lime #tmnt smut #tmnt fluff #raphael tmnt #raphael hamato #raphael x reader #tmnt raphael #tmnt raph

[mrchiipchrome]

Parents

W.C. - 3 k

“Fuck!”

“Language” Lucy replies.

Joining Barcelona at the age of 14 last season had changed your life for the better, sure the balancing of schoolwork and professional football was difficult to say the least but you had the most amazing women around you helping. You moved from a small club in the south of Spain to the giants during the summer transfer window, over the moon as soon as you got the call that they wanted to sign you. Your parents gave you the ‘okay’ for the move, though their jobs were too important to leave so you would get placed with a teammate as a solution.

So when you had packed up what little you needed from your childhood bedroom in your backpack, you set off for the train. One tearful goodbye with your parents later and you stepped foot on the train taking you to the city of dreams.

When you arrived, you got picked up by a member of staff and directly to the training grounds where you would meet the team for the first time and sign the paperwork. It felt like it took 1000 years to sign all the papers but when you were finally done, you could feel the excitement coursing through your veins. 

Meeting your teammates was a success and the prospect of living with any of them had you excited. You instantly got the hint that you would live with the two English women when they were asked to stay after practice. Not making too much of a fuss when they realized they had a teen to take care of was good for you, the two of them already having known that you would join their residence for a couple weeks. And so you moved in, creating an unbreakable bond by the end of the first week with the two women.

—

“Can we go out for ice cream after training? I finished all my assignments.” No one could ever resist your puppy dog eyes, infamously adorable, so when you threw them into the mix you were sure that you would get your sought after ice cream. Lucy slings her strong arm around your shoulder, walking a little faster than she normally would to be able to keep the pace of your long lanky legs. Keira slips her arm around your waist at your other side, the two older women sandwiching you between them as they ‘think’ about your offer.

“Sure, but only if you promise to brush your teeth extra carefully tonight. Wouldn’t want you to get cavities-” Your cheers cut her off as you suddenly take off in the direction of some of the younger players, happy that you would get your sweet treat. 

The two women left walking look at each other with a certain softness expressed through their eyes. They hadn’t been expecting to be thrown into ‘parenthood’ so suddenly but life works how it does for a reason, and to be fair Keira did have a bit of experience, dealing with Georgia and all.

Later that day, Lucy’s followers are blessed with a picture of you sitting across from them at the ice cream parlor eating your ice cream before a picture of her and Keira doing the same. It was a sweet moment between the small family, you had really found your true parents in the two women.

—

Trekking around with a knife and an apple was not an uncommon feat at the Walsh-Bronze household, especially not recently. Keira had banned you from using knives after you had accidentally cut off the tip of your pinky while cooking and had to go to the hospital to have it reattached to the rest of your finger. So now you were stuck with the ugly bandage on your hand and another reason for Keira to not let you do something, but you’re sure that she’s been looking for a reason to ban your use of knives for a while now.

You had already looked everywhere for the midfielder, Lucy had gone out to grocery shop so Keira was the only choice but you had exactly no idea where she was. Just as you’re about to break the hard imposed rule she had set and cut the apple yourself, you hear talking from the living room.

Walking into the room, you immediately spot Keira sitting on the couch talking to someone. At first, you don’t know who’s on the other line, but that is before you hear the heavily accented raspy voice of Keira’s best friend. Leah Williamson.

Both Keira and Lucy think your obvious crush on the defender is hilarious, always teasing you and speaking about introducing the two of you. Yet you had always been able to escape the premises before Keira had ever pressed the button under Leah’s name, going over to Vicky’s or in dire cases your captain’s house.

Your eyes widen drastically, but with Keira not noticing your obvious presence you slowly start to back away and out of the room. You see how Keira’s head snaps up in your direction as you accidentally step on one of Narla’s squeaky toys, producing a sound akin to that of a dying pig. Looking down at your feet and the offending device, the only thing you can think about is how the next few minutes are going to be pure hell and embarrassment for you. The next time you look up at the redhead she’s staring back at you with a teasing look in her eyes and a smile full of mirth, and you just know she’s thinking of ways to torture you.

“Y/n, just the person I was looking for! Come say hi to the people” Her eager movements indicating she wanted you to come closer simply don’t give you another choice, especially now that they know it’s you who entered the room. Walking over to the couch which she sits at, you’re careful with the knife still in your hand as you flop down beside her.

“Need help with my apple, please.” Without even responding, she hands you her phone while taking the things from your hands in a swapping gesture. The first thing you notice is how Leah's face only takes up half of the screen instead of the whole screen, clueing you in on what Keira meant by ‘the people’, it wasn’t a facetime call but an instagram live.

“Hi Y/n, I've heard a lot about you, all good things I promise” The wink she throws you isn’t a flirting one by any means, it’s one of those you throw out haphazardly at the end of one of those sentences like the one that just fell from her lips. And like anyone would in your situation, you stutter out a reply all while a blush overtakes your face.

“H-hey Leah” You pair with a wave as you hear Keira sigh beside you at your obvious awkwardness around people you thought of as attractive. “Keira talks about you all the time, so I’ve heard a lot about you too.”

“Keira was just telling me about her new habit of banning things around the house-“

“I have nothing to do with that-“ Keira cuts you off before you can continue lying about your clear involvement in doing things that you later get banned from.

“Excuse me, wasn’t it you who just had to spend nearly two hours in the ER to reattach the tip of your pinky after an accident in the kitchen? Wasn’t it that whole ordeal that made me ban your use of knives in the first place?” Her exposing you had the blush on your face turning a deeper shade of red as you relent, holding up your non-dominant hand covered in bandages from your wrist up to the tips of your pinky and ring finger. 

“To be fair, it wouldn’t have happened if Luce hadn’t distracted me in the first place. She’s too good at that.” If Lucy hadn’t made you look up by calling your name, then you wouldn’t have sliced through your finger instead of the cucumber and Keira wouldn’t have needed to pick up the bloody piece of flesh to put on ice while the distractor herself wrapped your finger tightly in a kitchen towel.

“What about the time before that, huh? The oven incident? Who’s fault was that?” She speaks as she hands you the now cut up apple and takes her phone from your unsteady hand, the phone displaying Leah’s clearly amused expression at the bickering happening in Spain.

“Gracias Kie” You cut yourself off as you take a bite of the juicy apple you’ve waited for so long before continuing what you were about to say. “That was mostly my fault, but how was I supposed to know that the baking sheet had been in the oven when there were no indications of it being hot” Keira just rolls her eyes at that, having told you multiple times before you picked up the metal that it was hot.

“As clumsy as Alessia then, are you?” Leah reminds you of her presence with the rapidly strung together sentence, and while you just look on confused as you hadn’t ever met any of Keira and Lucy’s national teammates she understands exactly what the blonde means.

“No, Alessia’s more clumsy clumsy while this one” She points at you with her thumb, “is dangerous clumsy. Less trips and falls over her feet casually, this one is barely allowed to use the butterknife ‘cause she might accidentally cut herself. Yeah, them two together would be chaotic. We would need double the manpower to keep them from injuring themself.”

Just as you’re about to retort, you hear the front door open and Lucy calling out for you. Sighing, you begrudgingly say goodbye before taking your leave to help Lucy with the groceries. You hear Keira say a quiet “She has the biggest crush on you” to Leah, but you simply can’t be bothered to react.

—

“Lucy, Luce, Roberta, wake up damnit” 

Being shaken awake by a frantic 15 year old is not something many do, usually at that age you’re more sophisticated and careful as you wake people if you do at all. And yet, Lucy finds herself in the predicament of having to decide whether to wake up or not, but as she hears the fast breathing and feels the hands on her still she decides to wake up.

“Hey, hey, calm down. I can’t help you if you don’t calm down, you know.” Now sitting up and more alert, Lucy pulls your shaking form down onto the bed she shares with the other English woman who has miraculously managed to stay asleep through all the ruckus. Holding you in her arms, she feels you calming down little by little until you’re completely still in her hold. She’s nearly convinced that you’ve managed to fall asleep as your steady breaths puff against her neck, but as you speak her assumptions are proven wrong.

“Had a bad dream, I wanted to make sure you and Kie were alright. If it’s not too much to ask for, could you tell me the story of the moon and the sun again?” Lucy had to hold back from letting the exclamation of adoration out at you immediately looking for her and Kiera after experiencing a nightmare. She remembers telling you the story her own mother had told her when she was a kid.

"Of course I can, it’s no problem” She waits for you to stop shifting around so much and to find a more comfortable position in between her and her girlfriend. When you finally still, she starts retelling the story she’s heard so many times before.

“Before there was anything, before me and you and everyone else on this planet existed there was a moon and a sun. Every night right before the moon would go to bed, it would notice the sun lighting up the sky with its incredible glow. As the moon woke up, the sun would go to sleep and its shine would be gone, the moon would miss the very thing it so longed for. So the moon devised a plan, a plan to not miss the bright light of its long lost love, a plan of great excellence and intrigue. And so the night of the plan came, the moon waiting for the rays of sunshine to overtake the dark of the sky it had been so used to. As the sky lit up with soft rays of orangey yellow, the moon couldn’t think of anything other than how much more beautiful everything was when it was lit up by the sun.” 

Lucy felt the way you had slumped against her halfway through the story, now sure about your unconscious state.

“You’re good with her” Keira speaks from the other side of your body and Lucy smiles at the sound of her voice.

 “Thank you”

—

When you heard that team bonding would take place at the zoo, you couldn’t have been more excited. On the contrary, both of your team moms were less than happy about the choice of location for the activity knowing they were going to have a hyperactive Y/n on their hands. But as luck would have it, the kiddie leash they had ordered for these occasions had come in the week prior. It was one of those backpacks with the leash attached to the back of it that you would see parents with unruly children use. 

After a bit of bribing, they got past the initial protests of you not being a child and got you to put on the dinosaur backpack, they tightened it to make sure it wouldn’t fall off before walking out of the house together.

They made sure to use the backpack function as well, stuffing it with your drinks and snacks. You’re nearly at the zoo when they realize the absence of the memory of you taking your medication that morning, and at that moment they are incredibly thankful for making you wear the backpack.

Watching as you flip Mapi off for making fun of your new accessory, they don’t have the heart to tell you off for the obscene gesture. Not when it was their fault you were getting made fun of in the first place. 

Like always, you gravitate towards the younger members of the team while Keira does the older ones. This leaves Lucy to go with you to your friends and Keira to walk over to hers. 

“Vicky look at my backpack, isn’t it cool?” You skip over to her, clutching onto the fabric hanging over your shoulders as Lucy tries to keep up with your overly energetic self.

“It’s really cool Y/n” Vicky’s words mean a lot to you, her becoming a close friend and a sisterly figure for you with her being so close in age. 

When everyone is rounded up, they buy their tickets one by one and wait on the other side of the gates for the rest. Once inside, you’re rushing around buzzing to see all the animals that you can’t see normally. Like the saying goes, time goes faster when you’re having fun, you soon find yourself eating lunch with half the day being spent with different animals. You and Lucy are throwing teasing comments at each other like usual when an innocent comment starts an onslaught of funny statements.

“Y/n when I was your age-” She doesn’t get to finish her sentence before you start.

“Luce, when you were my age I wasn’t even born yet. In fact you made your senior debut for Sunderland a year before I was born.” That shut her up, not knowing that you had done your research on her. 

The rest of the day goes off without a hitch and as you walk home, you can’t help but wonder why life has been so good to you lately. But you don’t think for too long, instead being happy with the course your life has taken.

But everything everyone can talk about when the pictures of the day are released is how you had to wear the kiddie leash. 

—

Lately you’ve been using TikTok a bit more often, not much more than before but there was a difference. This meant that you had discovered new trends and edits of your teammates, you had even followed a couple of accounts making videos of your teammates to show them later. 

But when you saw the video on your recommended page, you just knew it would be perfect for you to use with Lucy and Kiera. The perfect opportunity to strike comes up when they ask you to join them for a walk with Narla later that day, to which you agree. 

You let them walk in front of you as you slow down, TikTok open on your phone ready to record the interaction. You hold your thumb on the red button as you start by recording yourself mouthing the words before turning it to them and recording them in time with the sound.

Slipping your phone back into your pocket, you decide to edit the clip later and enjoy the walk you currently were on. 

Arriving home, you go to your room and type out the in video caption of ‘when they take you out on walks with their dog’. Before posting the video you type the usual caption, ‘walks with Robert and shaKeira (narla was there too)’.

An hour later the two victims barge into your room and unexpectedly hug you, expecting them to be ‘annoyed’ at you but that wasn’t the case.

“You think of us as your parents?” You see Lucy discreetly wipe a tear from her eye, but you pretend not to notice it.

“Well yeah, you guys have been more like my parents these last few months than my biological ones have been all 14 years they had me around.” The two just embrace you harder at that, and you can feel their love seeping through their actions.

“So I take it you like my mama y papa video then?” The two of them just press a kiss to either side of your face, and you feel truly happy for the family you have gotten since you moved to Barcelona.

Nearly took longer to post this, my hand is burnt. Hope you enjoyed, this was a pretty shit one. Promise the next one is Lessi

#woso x reader #woso imagines #wonze #keira walsh x reader #lucy bronze x reader

[justagalwhowrites]

Lavender - Ch. 1

Went a bit sideways yesterday with my wandering mind and started a TLOU fanfic. Here's chapter 1 of "Lavender," an age-gap grumpy/sunshine friends-to-lovers (and eventually friends-to-lovers-to-enemies-to-friends-to-lovers) fanfic that starts pre-outbreak.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Length: 8.6k

Warnings: Not much yet! Whole fic will be very NSFW so minors DNI. This chapter is very basic. Mild violence, mention of masturbation.

Synopsis: You're a college student in Austin, Texas, who gets a summer job nannying Sarah Miller. It's not long before her dad sees you as more than a babysitter - or more than a friend.

Austin, Texas, April, 2000

You couldn’t believe you were doing this. You closed your eyes, tilting your head up toward the Texas night sky, air surprisingly cool for April in Austin, trying to keep the tears that were building in your eyes from actually falling. Like that would make a damn difference. You took a deep breath and looked down at your phone. 

You only had a few numbers saved. You hadn’t made many friends in college, the only girlfriend you had was in the frat house behind you, hanging out with her boyfriend. She was out. Your grandmother was across the country, so she was obviously out. The handsy guy who’d brought you to this damn party was a big hell no. Which pretty much left…. Joel Miller. Your boss. You winced, thumb hovering over the call button for a moment before pressing it. 

“Kid?” He answered quickly. That somehow made it worse. But at least he didn’t sound half asleep. “What’s going on, you OK?” 

“Hey Joel,” you sniffled a bit. “Sorry to bug ya, I know it’s real late…” 

“Kid,” his tone changed, almost warning you. “I told you you could call if you needed somethin’, what’s goin’ on?” 

His accent got stronger when he got keyed up. You’d noticed that over the year you’d known him. 

“Could you…” Shit, you were really going to have to do this. You sniffed again. “Could you come get me?” The words all started coming out of you in a rush then, you couldn’t really stop them. “I’m so sorry, I know it’s late and I think I can walk it if you can’t but I went to this party with this guy and he’s not really what I thought he was and I just can’t stay here with him anymore and…” 

“Kid,” he cut you off. “I’m coming to get you right now, are you close to campus?” 

“Yeah,” you sniffed again, looking back at the frat house and reading him the house number. 

“I know where that’s at,” he said. His voice was calm, soothing. “I’ll be there in less than 10, you safe?” 

“Yeah,” you nodded even though he couldn’t see. “Yeah, I’m fine, I just need to get out of here…” 

“Stay put,” he said. “I’m comin’ to get you.” 

“Thanks, Joel.” 

You flipped your phone shut and put it in your purse before smoothing the back of your sundress down and sitting on the curb, hoping the plethora of cars on the street blocked you from easy view. Your feet - in platform sandals that you’d been stupid enough to paint your toenails for earlier that day - were in a puddle, but it was hard to care. 

You were just finishing up your junior year of college and this was only the fourth guy you’d gone out with so of course he had to be a massive jerk. It was just your luck. 

You’d expected a bit better when you moved to the Lone Star State to go to school. It had been a change of pace from your small town in upstate New York where you’d lived with your grandmother all your life. You wanted something bigger, to actually get out of that little town and see some of the world before you settled into whatever life had in store for you. And the south was supposed to be nice. That’s what everyone said, southern hospitality and all that. But it hadn’t been very nice. 

You’d tried to make friends with your roommate freshman year and you kind of had. She wasn’t mean or anything, you just had very little in common. She was an athlete so the demands on her time were many. She was studying music when you’d rather jump off a bridge than try to perform anything for anyone. She had a lot of friends there already - she was from Houston, so plenty of her high school classmates were there, too. You’d probably spent a little too much time trying to fit in with her. By the time it was apparent that you were fine as roommates but not friends, everyone else seemed to have friends, too. 

Which wasn’t the end of the world. You’d only had two close friends back home, anyway. You’d never been very social, preferring to be on your own and quiet instead of with people. Too much time with anyone else exhausted you, unless it was the RIGHT person. 

But there was a difference between alone and lonely and you found yourself lonely here a lot. The dating scene was, somehow, worse. The first guy you’d gone out with since coming to school hadn’t even made it past date number one, he was so self absorbed it was like you had been taken to dinner just so he had someone to talk at. Number two ended up asking for your roommate’s number when he walked you back to your dorm that night. Number three had made it as far as date number three but got a little ticked that - when his hand traveled up your shirt to your bra - you’d asked him to stop. He left you at a gas station and you’d had to call a cab to get back to your apartment. 

The guy tonight had been looking a bit better. Or so you thought. He’d pressed you against the wall in the hall outside your front door and kissed you at the end of your last date, his hips against yours, his tongue dipping into your mouth. You’d liked it, for a moment, until he pinned your wrist to the wall and tried to put his hand down your pants. He’d stopped and apologized, though, when you asked him to stop. That, you’d thought, was a good sign. That he was respectful, kind. So when he’d asked you to go to a party with him tonight, you’d said yes. 

But when you actually got there, he kept trying to get you to drink whatever concoction had been mixed directly in coolers in the middle of the room, pressing red plastic cups into your hand at every opportunity and getting more and more frustrated when you insisted on sticking with bottled water instead. 

Eventually, his hand had gone up the back of your dress as you threw a ball in beer pong, his fingers brushing against your lower lips before sliding up and groping your ass. You whiffed the shot, practically jumping away from him. 

“What the fuck, Jeremy?” You asked, tugging your dress down on instinct. 

“C’mon baby,” he’d said, all but stalking after you. “You gotta give me something…” 

“No, I don’t,” you glanced around you. There wasn’t much help to be had here. “I’m going home.” 

“Don’t be like that,” he said, reaching for you. You stepped back again. Then there was a change in his face, like a switch flipped. He was no longer the nice boy who’d, for your first date, asked to take you to the art house movie theater in town. He was a hulking man, one who had six inches and at least 100 pounds on you, who felt he could take what he wanted by right. “I just want to make sure you have a good time, let’s get you a drink…” 

His hand closed around your wrist and he started pulling you toward him. 

“I don’t want a drink,” you curled the hand in his grip into a fist and covered it with you other hand, yanking it free. “I’m going home. Don’t call me again.” 

You stalked out of the party, trying to keep your cheeks from burning. 

The 10 minute wait for Joel seemed like an eternity. You kept glancing to your watch, feeling like ages had gone by when it had only been a minute or two. Only eight minutes had passed when you heard your name being called from behind you. You winced, hoping Jeremy wouldn’t find you where you’d tucked yourself away to wait. 

No such luck. 

“Hey!” He prowled over to you, his lips curled into a snarl. “Who the fuck do you think you are, embarrassing me like that?” 

You stood up, instinctively backing into the truck behind you before you realized that you probably should have fucking moved somewhere else before you were cornered. 

“I wasn’t trying to embarrass you…” 

He grabbed your wrist again, firmer this time, his fingers digging into your flesh, pulling you sharply against his body. 

“Well, you did,” his breath smelled like liquor and cigarettes and his body was hard. You squirmed, trying to get away from him. “You really fucking embarrassed me…” 

“Hey!”

A car door slammed and your head whipped around. Joel was storming across the sidewalk toward you, wearing pajama pants and a t-shirt - he hadn’t even stopped to put on shoes. 

“This isn’t your business,” Jeremy snapped before turning his attention back to you. “Stay out of it.” 

“The hell it ain’t,” one of Joel’s hands went over your shoulder, pulling you back from the other man’s grip and putting you behind him. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll leave her alone.” 

Joel looked to you, his brown eyes wide as they looked you over. 

“You OK?” He asked. You nodded. “This the guy?” You nodded again. His jaw clenched but he nodded toward his truck. “C’mon Kid, let’s go.” 

“Nah man, I don’t know you,” Jeremy came around you, grabbing your wrist again and yanking on you. “You’re not just gonna take off with my date…” 

Joel punched him, hard, across the face before catching you around the waist so you stayed up while Jeremy fell to the ground, groaning and clutching his face. Joel set you down gently before standing over Jeremy. “Touch her again and I’ll kill you,” his voice was oddly calm. You just stood there, holding your sore wrist to your chest. You hadn’t realized when you’d started almost hyperventilating but you were almost gasping for breaths. Joel turned back to you. “You’re OK, Kid. You’re OK.” 

He put his arm around you, pulling you into his side and steering you to his truck. He helped you up into it, watching as you buckled yourself in before getting into the driver’s seat. 

“That asshole know where you live?” He ground his teeth a bit, flexing his hand he’d punched Jeremy with on the steering wheel. 

“Yeah, he picked me up,” you were still holding your wrist. “Is your hand OK?” 

Joel glanced over to you before looking down to his hand. 

“Been in worse fights than that,” he said. “How’s your wrist? Need to take you to the hospital?” 

“Oh God, please don’t,” you groaned. “It’s just going to be a little bruised…” 

“Should report it to the cops,” he muttered. “That fucking asshole…” 

“And, what, get you arrested for laying him out?” You asked, brows raised. “It’s fine, Joel, really…” 

“Well I’m not taking you to your place,” he growled. “Not safe, not with that… You can stay with us for a bit. You said you’re moving soon, anyway, right?” 

“I really don’t want to put you out…” You began but he cut you off. 

“You half live there in the summer anyway,” he said. “I’d rather know you were safe. ‘Sides, Sarah’s at a friend’s house tonight. You can sleep in her room, don’t even have to put anyone on a couch. When do you get into your new place?” 

“Three weeks,” you sighed. “It’s really not that big a deal, this kind of thing happens all the time…” 

“Don’t make it right,” he glanced over at you again before putting his eyes back on the road. “You can stay with us for a few weeks, we’ll go get some of your stuff tomorrow.” 

You watched him for a moment. There was blood on his knuckles, the streetlights outside catching on the shaggy curl of his hair, his eyes narrowed on the road in front of him. 

It was lucky that you’d ended up working for Joel Miller. You’d know that before, too. He’d put an ad in the paper a year before, looking for a nanny for his then 9-year-old daughter, Sarah, and you’d been looking for a way to not take out more student loans. A simple enough arrangement. 

You’d met for the first time at a coffee shop near campus. You showed up a few minutes early - you always did, being late made you anxious - and Joel showed up a few minutes late. You’d recognized him by the look of general discomfort on his face, a look that made you smile a little. He was clearly out of his element, interviewing nannies, looking around a coffee house filled with college girls so that he wouldn’t even know which one to approach. You saved him the trouble. “Mr. Miller?” You asked, brows raised. You’d worn a sundress that day, too. But you’d put on the only blazer you owned with it, trying to look somewhat professional. Not that you really knew how. “Hi, I’m here for the interview?” 

“Hi,” he looked relieved. “Sorry I’m late, got held up on a job… Can I get you a coffee or… somethin’? I’m gettin’ somethin’…” 

“Sure,” you smiled. “Thanks.” 

You stood awkwardly beside each other in line, Joel insisting you order first which made you feel bad when you got an iced lavender latte and he just got a black coffee. 

“Sorry, I’m such a sucker for lavender,” you smiled, somewhat sheepishly, over your cup. “There’s a lavender farm down the street from where I grew up, could always smell it on the air at the right time of year…” 

You were babbling. You set the cup down. 

“Sorry,” you smiled again. 

“No, no, you’re good,” he smiled a little too. “I’ve never done this before, so…” 

“Me either,” you said quickly. “I nannied for the kids of some friends of my grandma’s but they already knew me, so didn’t need an interview.” 

“So, you’ve got experience watching kids?” He asked, turning his paper cup absently in his fingers. 

“Oh yeah,” you nodded. “I love kids, I started babysitting when I was 13 and have nannied in the summer since I was 17 but I’m staying here this summer because of my lease, so I need something local.” 

“You’re not from here then?” He asked. 

“No,” you shook your head. “I’m from New York? Not like.. the city. The state. The boring part.” He laughed a little at that. You smiled. “I came here to go to school. I’m studying to be a teacher.” 

“A teacher?” He asked. You nodded. “You must like kids. What do you want to teach?” 

“High school biology?” You asked more than answered. “Really, I’d love to be a pediatrician but the loans… But teaching high school would be great. There were some teachers I really connected with in high school, the ones who believed in me and trusted that I could become something. That’s what I want to be for someone else, you know?” 

He nodded and took a sip of coffee. You tried to not watch his throat as he did. Mr. Miller was almost weirdly attractive - way hotter than any dads you’d worked for in the past. You didn’t want to blow this interview just because it felt like you could write a book of poetry about the man’s jaw alone. 

“Can you tell me about your daughter?” You asked after a moment. “I think you said she was nine?” 

He nodded again. 

“Yeah, Sarah,” he said. “She’s a good kid, smart as a fuckin’ whip.” He noticed that he cursed, his eyes going wide. “Shit… sorry, no…” 

“It’s fine,” you smiled. “I’m a big girl, I can handle some adult language.” 

He looked relieved. 

“Thanks,” he said. “Sarah’s… I don’t know what I did to deserve a kid like her but it had to be somethin’ in a past life because it sure as shit ain’t this one. She’s such a sweet kid, so smart - way smarter than me, not a clue where she got it from - funnier than hell. You’ll love her, everyone loves her. She’s easy to watch out for, part of why I’ve never had to do this before. We had neighbors who were happy to look after her for me during the summer but they moved to Dallas about a month ago.” 

“Could I meet her?” You asked. “I mean, assuming you’re interested in potentially hiring me, I’d like to meet her, get to know her a bit…” 

“Well,” Joel looked awkward again. “You’re… the only interview I got. I must not be offering enough, didn’t get any other takers…” 

“I’m not opposed to being a last resort,” you smiled. He laughed. “And I’m fine with the pay. It’s enough that I won’t need to take out another student loan.” 

“That’s good,” he sighed. “Because I’d love to offer more but…” 

“I get it,” you said. “Will I be meeting Sarah’s mom?” 

“No,” he replied. “She hasn’t been in the picture in years. Her loss, but still. It’d be nice to have a… female presence in her life.” 

“That’s hard,” you leaned in a bit closer to him. “I’m really sorry. If it helps, I know a bit about what that’s like. My dad left before I was born, my mom not too long after. I grew up with my grandma. She’s great, I love her more than anything and she’s done so much for me but… I dunno, I guess I was always wondering why I couldn’t be enough for them to want to stick around.” 

“Speaking from experience,” he replied. “It ain’t got shit to do with you, Kid.” 

It was the first time he’d called you that. Now it was practically all he called you, you couldn’t remember the last time he’d said your name. You kind of liked it. Your grandmother had been the only person close enough to you to have given you a pet name, it was nice to have a term of endearment from someone. Even if it was a bit infantilizing. 

You realized Joel must have been fucking flooring it to get to you as fast as he did. It took almost 15 minutes to get back to his place and the TV was still on when you stepped into the living room, a horror movie you didn’t recognize playing. 

“C’mere Kid,” he jerked his head toward the kitchen. “Should ice that wrist.” 

You followed obediently, still cradling your injured arm as he rifled around the freezer. He pulled out a bag of frozen corn and dropped it on the counter before squeezing it a few times to break it up. He wrapped it in a towel. “Hop up,” he patted the counter and you obliged. He held his hand out and you put your injured wrist in it. He turned it over gently in his hands, examining you. 

“You’re already bruising,” he growled. “Should’a fuckin’…” 

“You got me out of there,” you cut him off, voice gentle. “I don’t even want to know what might have happened if you hadn’t come to get me…” 

“Me either,” he muttered, gently pressing the frozen vegetable bag to your arm. You winced. “Sure you don’t want to go to the hospital?” 

“Positive,” you replied. “Nothing’s broken. I broke my arm once when I was a kid, it was way worse than this. They’d just send me home with some Tylenol right now.” 

You looked at his hand. 

“You’re sure you’re OK?” You frowned. He glanced down. 

“Definitely,” he said, going to run his hand under the faucet. He glanced up at you. “You know how to throw a punch?” 

“I think so?” You replied. “How hard can it be?” 

He shut the faucet off and dried his hands before stepping in front of you.

“Let’s see,” he said. “Make a fist.” 

You obeyed, using your uninjured hand. He shook his head, taking hold of your fist. 

“Your thumb has to be on the outside of your fingers,” he said, gently opening your hand and freeing your thumb. He nudged your fingers closed again and brought your thumb over the top of them. You’d never noticed just how large his hands were until you saw them contrasted with yours. “Like that. You’ll break your thumb if you do it the way you had it. When you go to punch, bend your knees a bit. It’ll stabilize you. All your power is going to come from your lower body, start there and carry it up. Strike with your middle knuckle and then follow it through.” 

“Thumb outside, knees bent, start low, follow through,” you repeated, your hand still in his. You tried to ignore the electric current that ran over you where his skin touched yours.

“Right,” he said, releasing your fist. “So next time some asshole puts his hands on you, do that at his nose, OK Kid?” 

“Something tells me it won’t be as effective as when you do it,” you smiled, your eyes meeting his. 

“Maybe not,” he shrugged. “But it’ll still hurt and give you a chance to run. Which is what you do. And you can always call me. OK?” 

“OK.” 

He helped you down from the counter. 

“Don’t know about you,” he said. “But I’m a bit too keyed up to sleep quite yet. Want somethin’ to drink?” 

“Is it weird to ask for a beer?” You almost winced. 

“Not like you’re workin’,” he said, going for the fridge before turning back for you. “Wait, you turned 21 last fall, right?” 

“Yes, Joel,” you smiled, rolling your eyes a little. “I’m fully legal. Well, except to rent a car.” 

He laughed as he got two beers from the fridge, opening them with a bottle opener that was attached to the counter. He passed you one and you both went to the living room, the credits rolling on whatever horror movie he’d been watching. 

“Sorry I made you miss your movie,” you said, sitting on one end of the couch and taking a sip of beer. 

“It was shitty anyway,” he shrugged. 

The TV switched to a commercial break before teasing “When Harry Met Sally.” Joel went to change the channel but you stopped him. 

“What, don’t tell me you like that… romance crap,” he was almost teasing you. 

“Have you ever seen ‘When Harry Met Sally?’” You asked. He made a face. You rolled your eyes. “Joel. C’mon. It’s one of the best movies ever made.” 

“No,” he scoffed. 

“It is!” You insisted. “The dialogue? The pacing? The acting? Ugh, so good. It’s one of my favorites. Give it a try, pretend there’s a heart somewhere in there.” 

He was still looking at you, skeptical. You’d somehow closed the gap on the couch, your arm brushing against his. 

“I will lose all respect for you if you just refuse to even try it,” you challenged. 

“Oh because you’ve got so damn much of that,” he snorted. You elbowed him playfully. “Fine, Kid. We’ll watch your little romance movie. But only because you had a bad night and I’m not a total asshole.” 

“You’re not?” You clutched your chest in mock surprise. 

“Don’t tell anyone.” 

You kept glancing over at him as you drank your beer, your legs tucked up beside you as he leaned against the arm of the couch. He was actually paying attention, you’d give him that. 

“Well?” You asked during the second commercial break. 

“It’s… not bad,” he looked over to you. 

“You like it!” You twisted to face him. 

“No, I do not,” he fought to keep from smiling. “I just don’t… dislike it.” 

“Joel Miller: father, contractor, rom-com lover,” you smirked, taking a sip of beer. He just shook his head, a twitch in his jaw. “Don’t worry, I’ll get you tickets to opening night of the next Meg Ryan movie, it’s the least I can do.” 

You caught him stifling a laugh more than once and, about an hour into the movie, checked your injured wrist before taking the still half frozen corn back to the kitchen and coming back with two bottles of Shiner, passing one to you. 

The beer made you bold - and tired. Your head drifted onto his shoulder and he didn’t stop you, your blinks becoming longer and longer until your eyes stayed closed and you fell asleep against him. 

*** 

You’d been right about the movie. Joel shouldn’t be surprised. You had good taste in most things. The books and music you brought around, the food you invented on nights where he worked late and you made Sarah dinner. Your taste in men left something to be desired, though. 

Joel ground his teeth, glancing over at your sleeping frame, the almost empty beer bottle still in your fingers. He gently took it from you, setting it on the side table to not disturb you. You sighed happily and pressed yourself closer to his side. His eyes trailed down your body. You were wearing one of your damn sundresses again - seemed like that’s all you wore this time of year. He thought you were going to be the death of him the summer before, him coming home every night to see you in one of your damn sundresses or cut off shorts and a tank top, looking soft and sweet and beautiful as you made dinner or did a science experiment with Sarah. 

He’d never known a person as kind as you. That he was sure of. The first time he called you on a Saturday morning to ask if you could come watch Sarah on your day off - there was an emergency at a job site and he was desperate - and you made it sound like he was doing you a favor, not the other way around. 

“Of course!” You sounded actually excited. “Do you think I could take her to the zoo? There’s a cool program there on Saturdays, I was thinking of asking to take her sometime, anyway…” 

He’d tried to pay you for it but you waved him off. 

“I’m just hanging out with my best friend at the zoo, why should you pay me?” You looked at him like he was crazy. Sarah was glowing. 

You were everything bright and good and the fact that someone had put his hands on you… He ground his teeth again. He was surprised that you weren’t more upset. He’d have expected you to be crying, at the very least. It sounded like you had been when you called. But, by the time you got to his place, you were your usual self. Like somehow one asshole wasn’t going to ruin your outlook on the world. 

Joel hadn’t realized how strong the drive to protect you would be. He’d never needed to before. He’d told you pretty early on to call if you ever needed something. He’d even told you to call if you were drunk at a party and needed a safe ride - didn’t want you getting in a car with some idiot college kid who’d had a few too many behind the wheel. You’d rolled your eyes a bit but said thank you all the same. But he wasn’t expecting you to ever need to take him up on it. At least, not like this. 

He hadn’t realized that he’d run out of the house without shoes on - without even locking the damn door - until he was halfway back with you safely beside him. You’d sounded so hurt and so scared, he couldn’t get to you fast enough. He’d had to keep himself from beating the shit out of the man who’d been holding you. 

And now you were asleep on him. 

There was so much wrong with what he was thinking about you. There’d been so much wrong with what he thought about you since the day he met you. He called you Kid as much as a nickname as to remind himself that you were far too young for him, closer to Sarah’s age than his own. It didn’t matter that you were an adult, you were barely out of your teens when he met you. Men who preyed on young women disgusted him. He wasn’t about to become one just because he could spend all damn day just watching you exist. 

He sighed, closing his eyes and leaning his head back on the couch. Was it fair to even have you work for him this summer if he felt this way? He was going to, regardless, he just wasn’t sure how shitty he should feel about it. Offering you his home as a place to stay for a few weeks wasn’t a smart move, though. He was already around you all the damn time when Sarah was out of school - and pretty regularly outside of that, too, you coming by a few times a month to keep an eye on her when he needed to take care of something on evenings or weekends. You even tutored her in math and science when she hit a rough patch back in February, you figuring out her stumbling blocks and reframing it so she could wrap her head around it. Sarah had been so excited when she got an A on her test, the first thing she wanted to do after telling Joel was call you. He’d heard your excited yell through the phone from a few feet away, Sarah beaming with pride. You, in his space, with your damn sundresses and your CDs and your books in fucking French were going to kill him. 

He tucked your head tighter to him, slipping an arm below your waist before maneuvering you into his arms. You sleepily mumbled something - totally incoherent - and he carried you to Sarah’s room, setting you gently on her unmade bed. He took off your shoes before tucking you in and paused. You’d painted your toenails red, the same shade as the cherries on your sundress. You’d painted your fucking nails for the asshole who’d put hands on you. He clenched his jaw for a moment before pulling the blankets over you and closing the door behind him. 

Joel tried to think about anything but the way your breasts looked in that dress, knowing you were just down the hall, as he fucked his own hand before passing out alone. 

He woke up before you the next morning and stood awkwardly in his kitchen, wondering what he should do. If you were a woman - well, a woman he’d fucked - he knew what he’d do. He’d try to make you breakfast, something that was good enough that you might want to come back and fuck him again. What did he make for his babysitter who he rescued from a bad date and then fell asleep on his arm? 

He started with coffee and waited, standing there awkwardly leaning against the counter where he’d had your hand in his the night before. Thankfully, you woke up not long after him, shuffling into the kitchen in bare feet, your hair mussed and mascara on your cheeks. You’d put on an oversized zip up hoodie that Sarah had stolen from him and never given back, the sleeves pushed up to your elbows, the sweatshirt not that much shorter than the dress below it. 

“Morning sunshine,” he teased you. It took you a moment to register that he was there, looking almost surprised when you did. “Coffee?” 

You wordlessly nodded, shuffling to the kitchen table and sinking into a chair before putting your head down on the table. He smiled and shook his head, pouring you a cup of coffee and adding some milk and sugar before putting it in front of you. 

“Not a morning person?” He asked, sitting beside you. You shook your head, lifting the mug to your lips and taking a long drink. You looked surprised again, looking from the mug to Joel. “Use your words, Kid.” 

“How’d you know how I like my coffee?” Your voice was still scratchy with sleep. 

“Took a guess,” he shrugged. “Didn’t quite have the materials for a lavender latte.” 

You glared at him before taking another sip of coffee and sighing happily. 

“How’s the wrist?” He asked, nodding to your arm. 

“Fine,” you said, stretching it out in front of you. There were black and blue fingerprints on it. Joel clenched his jaw. “Just a bit sore. How’s the hand?” 

“Fine,” he said, voice gruffer than he’d intended. You just nodded and drank more coffee for a moment. 

“So,” you said, setting the coffee cup down and crossing your sweatshirt-clad arms on the table. “Did I fall asleep on you last night? And if yes, how embarrassing was it?” 

“You did,” he replied, half smiling at the memory of you against him. You groaned, putting your head down on the table again. “Not embarrassing though. You only snored a bit, sounded like a very small chainsaw…” 

“I snored?” Your head shot up from the table, eyes wide. He just laughed, taking a sip of coffee. You narrowed your eyes at him. “Cruel. That’s what you are, you’re cruel. Such a weird trait for a man who’s favorite movie is ‘When Harry Met Sally’ but what do I know…” 

“You hungry?” He asked after a moment. “I could make you somethin’. Not sure what you might want…” 

“You have to get me to my apartment today, right?” You asked, fidgeting with your mug. He nodded once. “Well, there’s this great diner around the corner from me, makes the best waffles you’ve ever had in your life…” 

“Not a Waffle House is it?” He asked, quirking a brow at you. You glared at him. 

“No, Joel, it’s not a Waffle House,” you shook your head but you smiled a bit all the same. “I could take you to breakfast? It’s the least I could do…” 

“I know what I pay you, Kid,” he said. “I’ve got breakfast. But yeah, let’s go get these famous waffles. I gotta grab Sarah this afternoon, was thinkin’ of calling Tommy and having him meet us at your place…” 

“Why?” You frowned. “I’m just grabbing some clothes and stuff, hardly need a team for heavy lifting…” 

“Because if that asshole comes around again, I’ll need someone to keep me from kicking his ass,” Joel said wryly. 

You rolled your eyes but went along with him, finishing your coffee and walking barefoot to Joel’s truck, your shoes from the night before dangling from your hand. You rolled the window down on the drive, hanging your head out with your eyes closed until Joel got closer to your apartment. 

“Turn right here, instead of left,” you said, pointing to a place with red and white awning up ahead. “It’s just up there, on the right.” 

You led the way inside, the small restaurant bustling for early on a Saturday. One of the waitresses did a double take as she saw you with your face all but pressed against the dessert case. 

“Girl, what are you doing here this early?” She asked, snapping her gum.

“Just getting an early start,” you smiled. “How’s your morning going so far Luce?” 

“Oh you know how it is,” Luce looked you up and down. You were still wearing Joel’s hoodie from Sarah’s room. “You doin’ a walk of shame?”

“Luce!” You swatted her arm. “C’mon, give me SOME credit. You know I’d tell you immediately how it was if that ever happened.” 

The waitress barked a laugh and shook her head. There was a bell at the kitchen window and she looked behind her before going back to you. 

“Sit tight for like three minutes,” she snapped her gum again. “I’ve got a table that’s ready to cash out, let me run this food and take care of them and you can sit with me.” 

“You’re the boss,” you gave her a small salute before turning back and smiling to Joel. “Prepare to have your life changed, Joel. I’m telling you, these waffles? Will ruin you.” 

“Nah, you’ve built them up too much,” he shook his head, frowning. “Can’t be that good.” 

The waitress you’d talked to before brought you to a table and put menus in front of you before leaning in conspiratorially to your ear. 

“Thought you said this wasn’t a walk of shame?” She looked Joel up and down. 

“Luce, this is my friend Joel,” you gestured across the table. “I look after his daughter in the summer. Joel got me out of a tough spot last night…” 

“He could get me out of a tough spot any time,” she winked. You gaped up at her. Joel just laughed. “Sorry, sweetie! We’ve just been dying for this girl to actually come in with a man at some point. She’s been on dates, never seems to go anywhere! She’s too cute to die alone, if she doesn’t have hope none of us do.” 

“No, you’re right, this restaurant is life changing,” Joel smirked at you. You went red. 

“Thanks Luce, I’m going to just die here now, appreciate you,” you smiled sarcastically up at her. She just laughed. 

“Usual drink, babe?” She asked. You nodded. She turned to Joel. “And for you sugar?”

“Just coffee.” 

“A purist,” she snapped her gum. “Be back.” 

You watched her go before groaning and burying your head in your arms. 

“I really should have known better than to bring you here,” your voice was muffled. “This is really on me.” 

“How often to you come here?” Joel asked, smiling as you emerged from your makeshift shelter. 

“Every Saturday,” you said. “Usually like an hour before close when it’s a bit slower. I sit in….” You twisted and pointed to a small, two-seat booth in the corner. “That booth so I’m out of the way and I just people watch and have coffee and waffles and catch up with everyone here. They’re all really sweet. Plus they’ll sometimes send me home with stuff from the display case that’s getting tossed that I then use to bribe your daughter with during the week.” 

“That explains the sugar highs,” he said dryly. 

Luce returned, putting something frothy in front of you and a coffee in front of him. 

“Whatcha eatin’?” She snapped her gum again. 

“Can you do me just the hugest favor,” you bit your lip, eyes wide. Luce sighed. 

“Tell me,” she said. 

“Can you make the sampler for my friend here?” You asked. “He’s never been here before and he absolutely HAS to understand the depth of affection I have for the waffles.” 

“Only because it’s you,” she shook her head. “I just let you get away with murder…” 

“It’s because you love me,” you smiled. She just sighed. “And I’ll do… the chicken and waffles please.” 

She turned to Joel. 

“You’re getting a bunch of waffles sweetie,” she said. “Whatcha want with em? Eggs?” 

“Scrambled.” 

“Any meat?” 

“Bacon.” 

“Done,” she took your menus. “Don’t let her run roughshod over you like she does over me.” 

“Yes ma’am,” Joel smiled. 

“I’ve made so many mistakes in the last 24 hours and this might just be the worst,” you sighed, taking a sip of… whatever it is that you ordered. 

“You just make friends with everyone, don’t you?” He asked, watching you across the table. Your face turned serious for a moment and then you smiled again. 

“I try to,” you shrugged. “But I end up on my own most of the time. Which is totally fine, by the way, I like being by myself. Lots to do and solitude is a good way to do it.” 

He nodded slowly. 

“What about you?” You asked, stirring your drink with a straw. “Haven’t seen you bring many friends around. Except Tommy but family doesn’t count.” 

“Not a lot of time for friends,” he shrugged. “Got work, Sarah….” 

“Rescuing hapless college students.” 

He smiled. 

“I stay busy.” 

You stirred your drink again, bobbing your head slightly, in time to a song Joel could barely hear over the buzz of people in the cramped restaurant. 

“You really tell them all about your dating life?” He asked, half smiling at you. 

“Oh God,” you groaned and then laughed. “Yes. But only because it’s basically non-existent and I have almost no one else to talk to about it. Luce is convinced she’s a matchmaker. Maybe I should listen to her, she’s been right every time I’ve told her about a guy I’m seeing.” 

“Every time, really…” Joel’s jaw twitched a bit. He didn’t like thinking about you with other men. But he did have fun making you squirm a bit in your seat. “How many times is that, exactly?”

“Are you asking me about my love life, Joel?” You teased, leaning across the table at him. 

He matched your stance, his face ending up only a few inches from your own. Even now, you smelled good. Sweet, floral. A bit like lavender. 

“Curious about your track record,” he replied. You laughed. 

“It’s real bad,” you said, sitting up straight again. “Jeremy was the fourth guy I’ve gone out with since I came to Texas. He’s the only one who made it to date four and we saw how THAT ended. The others weren’t QUITE so awful. One came close to being that bad but otherwise, just run of the mill not working out. Believe it or not, there aren’t a lot of guys beating down the bio-lab door to get at the teacher in training.” 

Joel sat back in his seat, too. 

“Men are idiots,” he shrugged. “Especially when they’re in college. They wise up when they get older.” You bit your lip for a second before shaking your head to yourself. “What?” You scrunched your nose and shook your head. “C’mon kid. What were you going to say?” 

“They get better when they’re your age?” You blurted, blushing as you asked it. 

He watched you for a moment. 

“Like to think so.” 

Luce had been right. You’d ordered him a mountain of waffles. There were three of them, each quadrant a different flavor, topped accordingly, looking like a rainbow of food in front of him. He gaped at you and you shrugged, smiling as you cut into your own. You were right, too, though. They were the best waffles he’d ever had. And he wasn’t even that crazy about fucking waffles. Luce whispered something in your ear when she gave you a hug as you were leaving and it was enough to make you swat her on the arm before going to the truck, still smiling and shaking your head when you buckled up. 

Tommy asked few questions when Joel had called to ask him to come to your place and he’d beaten the two of you there, leaning against his truck. 

“Hey Tommy!” You hopped out of the truck and waved. You always sounded like whoever you were greeting made your day just by being there. It never seemed fake, either. Joel didn’t understand it. 

“Hey Kid,” Tommy smiled, hugging you briefly. “Heard I’m here to run interdiction.” 

“Your brother is paranoid,” you rolled your eyes, absently fidgeting with the sleeves of the hoodie. Tommy noticed the bruises at your wrist in the brief second they were exposed, grabbing your hand and shoving the sleeve up your arm. 

“The fuck is this?” He looked to Joel. 

“It’s nothing, really,” you took your hand back and Tommy didn’t fight you on it. “Just a… misunderstanding that Joel got me out of last night, that’s all.” 

“Misunderstanding my ass,” Joel muttered. 

“Some guy do that?” Tommy demanded. “What, he your boyfriend? Where is he?” 

“No!” You closed your eyes for a second and crossed your arms, Joel noticing the first traces of pain on your face since he’d picked you up last night. So you weren’t as OK as you looked, you were just damn good at hiding it. It passed quickly. “No, it’s just a guy I’d gone out with a few times and it just… didn’t go the way he wanted is all, it’s fine, it’s a misunderstanding, it won’t happen again, it’s fine. I promise it’s fine.” 

It didn’t look settled for Tommy. Didn’t feel settled for Joel.

“That’s why we’re getting some of her stuff,” Joel said. “He knows where she lives, she’s gonna stay with Sarah n’ me until her new place is ready. Wanted you here in case he showed his face.” 

“Afraid you can’t take him alone?” Tommy smirked a little. Like he knew the real reason. 

“Somethin’ like that,” Joel muttered. 

“OK so if the dick measuring contest is done, can we go inside and stop making a scene?” You fished your keys out of your purse. Joel’s eyebrows went up. He didn’t think he’d ever heard you say the word ‘dick’ before. Or be quite so blunt. 

“Sure Kid,” Tommy said. “We’re at your service.” 

“Such gallant gentlemen,” you smiled a little, leading the way to your apartment. It was on the ground floor of the small complex, a neighbor saying hi to you as you passed and giving a cagey look to the men trailing behind you.

Joel had never been inside your apartment before but, when he stepped inside, he imagined it was what it would be like to step into your mind. 

Everything was light and bright with soft things everywhere - a blanket draped over the back of the couch, pillows on a beanbag in the corner. There was a small cluster of plants on your windowsill and Christmas lights framing your bookshelves which were loaded down to the point that the boards were sagging in the middle. 

“Give me like five minutes to get changed?” You said, setting your purse down on the small breakfast bar that looked to serve as your only dining space. “Make yourselves comfortable, help yourself to anything…” 

You disappeared down the short hall and Joel took a minute to indulge his curiosity. He started with your bookshelf, the most worn copies. “Pride and Prejudice” looked like it was hanging on by a thread, the spine barely readable. He almost laughed. That fit you. “The Bell Jar” was also particularly worn. He hadn’t read that one, so he pulled it off the shelf and looked at the back, frowning. This seemed less like you. Or what he knew of you. He put it back. There were a lot of books on your shelf he didn’t know, and a lot that were in French that he may have known something about but fuck if he could tell what they were. 

You didn’t have many pictures, something he found oddly disappointing. There was one photo you’d framed of you with a girl who was the same age but it was years old, you couldn’t have been more than 15 in it. The few others there were looked to just be photos of you with an older woman, who must be your grandmother. There was a painting on the wall next to the bookshelf, almost too big for the space. A lavender farm. Of course it was. 

“I painted that.” 

Joel hadn’t noticed you come back in. You were still tying your mass of hair on the top of your head, wearing jeans and a threadbare t-shirt and the canvas tennis shoes you wore with fucking everything - the damn sundresses, the shorts that drove him crazy. He looked back to the painting. 

“It’s good,” he said. He wasn’t lying. He’d have never guessed you hadn’t bought it somewhere. 

“It’s that lavender farm, near my grandma’s place?” You stood next to him, looking at the painting. “Anyway, safe to say that can stay for now. Is it OK if I bring my plants? I don’t want them to drop dead because I’m not watering them when they need…” 

“Sure, Kid,” Joel smiled a little at you. “We’ll find a spot for them.” 

You looked relieved, finding a big, plastic tub to pack the plants in before going back to your bedroom. Joel followed you there and you handed him a worn duffle bag as you started to grab things to pack. Your bedroom, like the rest of your home, was you personified. There was a quilt on the bed that had to be about as old as you, tiny flowers covering the thing. The windows had frothy, white curtains, your bed had about six too many pillows. Stack of books on the nightstand, pressed framed flowers on the walls. All sweetness and softness and light. 

“Can you…” your face scrunched. “Close your eyes for just a sec?” 

Your hand hovered by a dresser drawer. He laughed. 

“Sure, Kid,” he obeyed, closing his eyes. “Pack your underwear without this old man watchin’.” 

“Not that old,” you muttered. He smiled, resisting the urge to sneak a peek at what it is you wore under those little dresses. 

It didn’t take long for you to gather your things, you turning in circles in each room a few times, muttering to yourself before nodding once, a sense of finality to it. 

“We can always come back if you forget somethin’,” Joel said. “But that’s a ‘we,’ no comin’ here on your own.” 

“I know,” you nodded. “But still, trying to avoid leaving stuff for school behind. I have exams soon, I need to study… Think I’m good, though.” 

You grab your purse and one of the three bags you’ve filled with the things you’ll need to survive a few weeks with Joel and Sarah. Joel grabs the other two, Tommy the box of plants and you fill up the bed of Joel’s truck. You’re about to get in your old car - a beater from the early 80s that Joel is still amazed made it from upstate New York to Texas in the first place - when a late model Ford F-150 that’s never done a day of work in its life pulled into the lot, closing your car in. You froze, a deer in headlights, as the fuckin’ guy from the night before stalked over to you and threw you against your car. 

Joel was over to you before he even realized he was moving, pulling the man away from you and shoving him to the ground. 

“What’d I tell you, boy?” He growled, pulling a fist back and bringing it down on his face. “Told you I’d kill you if you touched her again, didn’t I?” 

Joel hit him again, the man trying to protect his face, and he pulled his fist back to hit him again when you caught it, pulling him back. 

“Joel!” You were yelling it, like you’d been screaming it for a minute. Maybe you had been. Tommy was on him then, too, pulling him off the man on the ground. “He’s not worth it, Joel, he’s not worth it…” 

Joel got to his feet, breathless, the man on the ground curled in on himself. He turned to you, your eyes still wide. He wanted to hug you, hold you close. Instead, he just looked at you. 

“You OK?” He asked after a moment. You nodded once. He turned back to the man on the ground. “Take your truck and get the fuck out of here.” 

The man scrambled to obey and you watched, your body stiff, until he was out of sight. You deflated a bit when he was gone, the hint of a tear at the corner of your eye. 

“You’re OK Kid,” Joel said quietly. You looked at him, your eyes wide, trusting. “I’ll keep you safe. You’re OK.” 

You looked at him like you believed him.

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x oc #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller father figure #joel miller fluff #fluff #f!reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader

[yuitoru]

aaaaaa just the characters I like the most ksnsksj thanks for creating this blog by the way<\3, so I wanted to ask for some soft relationship headcanons when their mc fem prepares them adorable bentos with messages to cheer them up during the day sjjs~ for cozmez and hajun , that would be all thank yuu and have a good day ^^)/

a/n: jenjef thats good! im glad you already like the blog &lt;3

ʚ ₊˚✧ ⠀⠀⠀ BENTO BREAKFAST !!

incl : h.yeon , k.yatonokami , n.yatonokami

₊˚✧ HAJUN YEON

hajun was a busy man, usually neglecting his own needs to ensure that BAE had the best opportunities to succeed in the hiphop industry. more often than not, he forgot to eat in the mornings, his only meal of the day being dinner with allen and anne

but, his sweet girlfriend couldnt let this unhealthy habit continue. the night before, you would end up in the kitchen cooking him a breakfast to pack the next day. it always consisted of some aspects of south korean cuisine to remind him of home, something that he silently appreciated.

it was almost like his routine now to save each of the adorable messages you would write for him, every single one being put in a box under his bed. whenever he felt stressed or like he was useless, hajun would read each of the notes one by one; it never failed to bring a smile to his face at how much you loved him

₊˚✧ NAYUTA YATONOKAMI

whilst nayuta always wanted to be self sufficient and independent, he tended to skip out on meals when he could. it was partially due to him not wanting to stress kanata out, but mostly, it was just him forgetting that he had to eat sometimes

obviously, you hated this habit he had and always reminded him to eat throughout the day, going to the point of cooking him his breakfast and handing it to him when you visited his and kanata's apartment in the morning. nayuta's face would light up each time at the cute bento and even cuter notes, happily giggling to himself like a child as he ate the delicious food

whenever nayuta had a bad day, he would reread the messages you had attached with the bento and a red hue tinted his cheeks and the tips of his ears. kanata often teased his little brother about how giddy he would get when you handed him his bento for the day, but in reality, he was just happy that his little brother had someone that loved and cared for him and his wellbeing

₊˚✧ KANATA YATONOKAMI

on the other hand, unlike the other two, kanata would almost be embarrassed when you insisted on making his meals for the day and it might make him feel even more insecure about his living situation - it makes him feel like he's being pitied, something he hated. so, more often than not, he would refuse the offer of you making his food

however, if you had already gone to the trouble of buying, cooking and preparing the food for him ... he just might take it from you; of course, not without complaining and huffing. he would never admit to you that he thought it was one of the cutest things in the world, though

when kanata would return the empty bento box to you, he would never directly say that he absolutely loved it. it would always be something like - "i guess it wasnt awful" or "it was edible at least". he just isnt able to openly show his appreciation, but he really does appreciate that you want him to look after himself more

© yuitoru™ — dont copy, plagiarise, repost, modify and/or translate my works.

#paradox live x you #paradox live x reader #paradox live #paradoxlive #hajun yeon #hajun yeon x reader #hajun x reader #hajun x you #hajun yeon x you #cozmez #cozmez x reader #cozmez x you #kanata x reader #nayuta x reader #kanata yatonokami #kanata yatonokami x reader #nayuta yatonokami #nayuta yatonokami x reader #nayuta yatonokami x you

[darling-i-read-it]

Reunion

Trevor Philips x fem!reader

Word Count: 5k

Warnings: smut, unprotected smut, gta5 story spoilers, 

Author’s Note: I am very aware this is the randomest thing to post. I have been replaying gta5. I am in love with Trevor. He’s my best friend, he’s the funnest to play, and I need him (nefarious motives). I unironically have a part 2 to this I’ve half written where the reader and Trevor meet up with Michael so let me know if anyone is invested <3 This is partly inspired by me going into the strip club to go to the atm and then going batshit insane. i am no better than a man but it is never the women im objectifying.

Summary: The reader did the original heist with Brad, Michael and Trevor. Afterwards, when everyone got split up, Lester told the reader that both Trevor and Michael were dead. After the jewelry store the reader wonders if he was lying about both of them. The reunion is filled with anger and also long lasting tension. 

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director/creator

(not my gif)

“You see him at all? After the incident?” Michael’s voice trailed off into a feign disinterest. Lester and him both knew; this is what the conversation had been leading up to. The conversation had dissipated away from the task at hand, casing the jewelry store. Neither of them seemed to care. 

“I kept tabs on him for a while. Needed to know that he didn’t blame me,” Lester complained, reminding them both of the idicotic ways of their former friend. 

“Yeah, where’d he go?” Michael questioned, trying to be nonchalant. 

“North, south, east, west. Wherever there were liquor stores to turn over and hitchhikers to disappear.” There was a beat of silence as Michael climbed further up the roof to get a better vantage point. The words could have remained in the air, if Michael hadn’t pushed further. 

“Where did they bury him?”

“They buried him? Not as far as I know.” 

He wanted to ask. He knew he had to. 

“You see her?” 

Lester was glad Michael couldn’t see his face. It was a knowing look. Oh God, Michael wanted to talk about her again! Something so familiar that it didn’t even seem out of place, not even after everything.

“No. She left all together.”

“She still…she still around?”

“She’s alive if that’s what you’re asking. Moved, made a better life for herself. Better than he could’ve gaven her. Or you for that matter. Still got the bullet wound to prove she was there though. Physical therapy for months on that shoulder.” 

Michael was hit with a sudden pang of nostalgia. He thought about the pandering, the vein attempts to make himself look better for you. The fight’s he and Trevor used to have all the time, arguments on who deserved you and who would get you. He had hoped you were oblivious. Now he wasn’t so sure he believed that. 

“I told her he was dead.” 

Michael paused on the roof, his movements only momentarily stunned. 

“You feel bad about that?”

“It was the only thing to do. She would’ve found him. They would’ve found you. Bad for everyone.” 

“And especially your cover.”

“Especially that.”

You were living a life where both he and Trevor were dead. You had moved on because it was the only thing you were able to do. He yearned to know what it could’ve been like if things hadn’t gone to hell. The danger was intoxicating but never as intoxicating as you. 

He thought about Amanda. How she had never been you, how that’s the reason he was never able to love her the way he wanted. Clearly she had never loved him quite as much either, as was the case from her tennis performance. You were out there somewhere. 

“I don’t wanna know,” he decided. If Lester told him even the smallest thing, a job, a marriage, a kid…he would go looking. He knew himself better than that. 

“I wasn’t gonna tell you if you asked.” 

Another short beat. He was almost to the highest vantage point. 

“She deserved better than both of you. But you have to know she would’ve always chosen him.” 

“There’s no need to hash up old shit okay? I was just asking to see who was still around. There’ll never be a better get away driver than her.” Even his deflection felt fake and vein. Lester saw right through it but decided to let it be. Michael thought of Franklin, diverging his thoughts. He could have him work, train him, mold him. He huffed as he got to the highest point. 

“Now just to take a picture of the vent up there,” Lester said, evenly. The conversation was over. They wouldn’t talk about you or Trevor again today. 

-

You were sitting at the small dining room table of your apartment. It was more of an island honestly but you called it the dining table because it was the best you could get. Los Santos was an expensive city and you were lucky to have found a place you could afford at all. Not that you weren’t doing well here.  

The television was on to the news, though you weren’t necessarily paying attention. You poked at your mashed potatoes, proud of yourself for making anything tonight. You grabbed the remote with the intention of changing it to a shitty reality TV show when the screen shifted. ‘Breaking News’ painted the bottom of the television in red. A man was speaking but the volume was too low to hear it. You turned it up, out of sheer curiosity. You were reminded of a life before this one, a bang of guilt in your chest that you had desperately tried to get rid of. 

Was it the guilt that brought the nostalgia forward? Or was it the way they reported it to be set up? Was it the cars, the hacking, the timing? Was it the sheer familiarity that made you sit forward? Or was it the fact that looked exactly like a Michael Townley job? 

“You forget a thousand things everyday,” the witness said, shaken, “make this one of them.” 

Your food was forgotten. Your face had gone blank with confusion. 

“That motherfucker,” you muttered. The urge to throw something came back with his face in your head, the funeral you went to, the life you left. You saw his face on a big portrait and cried in front of it, wishing you had been faster. You left before ever seeing if anyone held a funeral for Trevor but now you wished you had stayed. What if you had spent all this time alone when they were out there, somewhere. What if Trevor was still alive? 

The TV was now a ghost. It was now a time long forgotten. It was the bullet wound in your shoulder that now ached, something you hadn’t felt in a long while. That jewelry store was in Los Santos. It was here. Michael was here. 

Lester told you him and Trevor were dead. 

You searched for your phone. You didn’t have his number anymore, you couldn’t. He had changed it. He was too smart to keep the one he had years before. You recklessly searched anyway, knocking over the chair you were sitting in, tossing your pillows aside. Finally you grasped the phone in your hand, frantically searching in your contacts. His name remained, under L, and you called the number. It rang and rang and rang. You were already starting to think about how you would find him when the line picked up. Your breath caught. 

“Y/N.” 

“You fucker. You motherfucker. You fucking fucker.” You almost didn’t recognize the voice coming out of your mouth, you were so dedicated to the rage you felt. It was almost Trevor’s, almost the same cadence that you had picked up from him. It was amazing how fast all of that came back to you. How, just like that, you were her again. You weren’t her anymore, even when you took a turn too fast or knew the fastest routes out of an issue. 

“What are you talking-”

“You know what I’m talking about,” you seethed. You failed to think about how he had kept the phone just for you, just in case you needed him one day. It didn’t even cross your mind that Lester had loved you too, that they all had. You were friends in the purest sense of the word. You were all each other's people. Now, you hadn’t heard or talked to Brad since he was arrested. Now you were a different person. 

Lester was laying low but he still answered your call. 

“I don’t know-”

“Is he dead?” You couldn’t say his name.  

“Michael? “

“No.” 

“I don’t know.” 

“I don’t believe you.” There was a bitterness in your voice you almost didn’t recognize. Her, her, her. When did you stop being her? “Lester tell me the fucking truth.”

“I don’t know. I used to follow him but there was no use.” 

“What do you mean you used to follow him?” There was a long pause. Too long. “What do you mean?” You sat down slowly on the chair by your island. You grabbed the edge of the counter. Your knuckles were strained. “Did he live?” 

Silence. 

You were gonna kill Lester. You were gonna kill him and you were gonna enjoy it. 

“Where did you see him last?” 

“Sandy Shores. But that was ye-” You hung up the phone. You should’ve asked about Michael, you knew you should’ve. You wanted to but the anger was too much. If you saw Michael now, you’d kill him with your bare hands. Sandy Shores was not a large place. And you were a determined person. 

-

Trevor looked in the mirror at the tattoo he had for Michael Townley, his dead best friend. His formally dead best friend. On his other arm was a tattoo for the only girl he had ever really loved. She was supposedly dead too. 

He broke the mirror with a fist. His knuckles started to bleed from the glass cuts. He ignored it. Ron was standing in the doorway, shaking, leaning over. Trevor almost made a shitty joke about his posture but for some reason, he didn’t. He had already sent Wade to find Michael Townley but he had kept you to himself. He wanted to find you but he’d do that with his own two hands. No one else needed to know you were out there. If you were out there. A Townley job did not mean you were still alive. Just because Michael lived didn’t mean you had. 

“What the fuck do you want Ron?” 

“Sorry boss.” He moved out of the doorway, down the steps outside. He looked around eagerly, glancing back at Trevor but not holding eye contact too long. Trevor followed him outside and walked past him. “Bikers had been scoping out here while you were gone.” 

“Did you tell them to fuck off?”

“No?” 

“Well next time, tell em to fuck off!” Trevor approached his truck with the intention of going to the city himself to find Michael. Michael would know if you were alive. 

Trevor thought about that time little. He thought about leaving his friend, about the bullets that flew past him, the moment he knew he would never see you again. He thought about the bullet wound in your shoulder, the one in him, the wounds that will never fully heal. A constant reminder of the near death experience he lived through and shouldn’t have. In drunken nights he always wished it had been you who was in his place. You would’ve made a life. Had you made a life? Had you done it without him? 

He hopped in the truck. He needed more booze. 

“Where ya going boss?” Ron questioned. 

“Bar.” He started the engine. It rumbled to life underneath him and it was already hot from the heat. He turned his head to Ron. “Get lost Ron.”

Ron nodded eagerly, already starting to stumble away. Trevor needed to clear his head. He needed to cloud his head some. He pulled away, mentally going through the map closest to him. If he went to a strip club, he was extra sure not to think about anything else. But the better booze was always cheaper at just a bar. If he went all the way to the city he could search for Michael at the bottom of a bottle. 

All of those options seemed like good options. He wanted to beat the shit out of somebody. He should probably stay in Sandy Shores to do that. But where’s the fun in doing what you’re probably supposed to do? He made a sharp turn, almost running over a girl crossing the street. 

“Hey don’t you see I’m driving here!” he yelled, feeling better already knowing he had probably ruined someone's day with their near death experience. 

“Watch where you’re fucking going! Jesus Christ, some people don’t know how to fucking drive,” you called, anger lacing your voice.

The cogs turned at the same time. 

You were standing on the side of the road, in the dust of the truck. You stopped walking completely, replaying that voice in your head again like it was your favorite song. The familiarity ached at you. You knew it the second you heard it. 

Trevor had gotten about half way down the road when he hit the brakes. Hard. He was in the middle of an intersection. People were honking at him but he just sat there, both hands on the wheels, eyes squinted in confusion. 

With ease he put the car in reverse. Much to the dismay of the few drivers around him, he backed up. You were staring at the truck as it did so, not sure if you should laugh or cry or yell or have any reaction at all. 

He stopped beside you, head turned. You stared at each other for a moment. Eyes so familiar it was like coming home after a long time away. Like the feeling of your own sheets but someone else had made the bed. 

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost sweetheart,” he hummed, his voice as cocky as it had always been. “Which can’t be true because if I remember, you’re my ghost.” Your lips parted. You approached the truck and he let you, wordlessly. You were in shock. You were stunned. There had to be a word for seeing a ghost from your past you thought was dead. You wrapped your fingers around the edge of the door. 

“You motherfucker,” you whispered, in awe. 

“I’m the motherfucker?” 

“Yes.” 

“I’m not the motherfucker.” You wanted to hit him. You wanted to kiss him. You wanted to slash his car tires. You wanted to take him home. 

“I thought you were dead. I mourned you, Trev.” The car behind him honked. Neither of you had even noticed they were there. You both turned and it was like you were possessed by your respective ghosts. 

“Can’t you tell we’re having a fucking moment?!” Trevor yelled. They honked again. Trevor pulled out a handgun. You watched him wordlessly. He shot the window. He missed. The car quickly diverged around and was gone in the dust again. You opened up the car door, his gun still smoking. He watched you, eyes curious. He thought he had memorized your entire body but now that you were there in front of him he realized his memory had never done it justice. You shut the door behind you and turned to him. The hand with the gun was slung against the passenger seat. 

“I need a drink,” you muttered. He chuckled lowly. 

“My girl.” He started to move forward again. Closest bar would do, he decided. 

-

Lester wasn’t sure if he should even tell Michael. It was probably for the best that none of them had any contact for a while after the robbery. He had set that rule himself. They would lay low, stay straight, stay away from each other. Still, after the phone call with you it seemed stupid to not let Michael know, in some capacity, that you were going to be looking for him. Maybe he was more worried about you finding Trevor and then dealing with the aftermath of the havoc the two of you could bring. 

Lester stared at his phone. He could text Michael. He could call. He could drop a place to meet. He knew that his friend would come if he asked, ever the rulebreaker. If you and Trevor remerged together that would be bad for everyone. That was bad for this whole thing. 

Lester finally picked up the phone. He decided a text would do. 

She knows. 

Michael picked up his phone. He had been desperately attempting to hide from his kids and Amanda. He was glad for it, honestly, that the life he had chosen had chosen him back. But when he saw the text from the number with no photo with it, his jaw tightened. He had told Lester he figured Trevor was dead but now a risk was going to have to be made. You were out there and you were either looking for him (which was bad) or Trevor (which was worse). 

Trevor and you were better off thinking the other was dead. The world was better for it. The money, the people, the general crime rate were all better for it. 

“I want the TV,” Tracey said, approaching him. Her voice was muffled. It was like he was hearing her from underwater. “Dad. Give me the remote.” He looked up at her then, eyes still wide from worry. She made no note of his mood. He handed her the remote. He stood up, grabbing his car keys from the side table. 

“Where do you think you're going?” Amanda questioned when he ran into her in the hall. He didn’t come up with an excuse fast enough and the judgemental look in her eyes creeped in.

“Gonna try and find an old friend,” he admitted. 

“Yeah? How old?” Amanda dripped in annoyance. Did he mean a stripper? Did he mean a criminal? Somehow she knew it would negatively affect her. 

“Old.” He pushed past her. Amanda looked at him and knew there were only two options to that answer. Neither were good. 

Michael opened his phone to Lester’s number. 

Where? 

-

You sat beside each other in a bar that wasn’t memorable, drinks in hand you didn’t know the name of. You sat as close to him as you could get, legs touching. You didn’t want to ever not be touching him again. 

“I had no idea,” you told him. “Lester told me you died.”

“Fucker.” 

“I know, I know. Trust me, I’ve got a bullet with his name on it.” You took a sip of your drink. He looked at you, watching eagerly. You looked different. Well, you looked the same, but the clothes you were wearing were different. You must’ve had some sort of office job that required clothes on you he had never seen before. You used to steal his shit all the time, when it was clean. “I’ve got seven bullets for Townley. I’m makin sure that motherfuckers dead this time.” 

Trevor smiled. 

“Fuck girl, I thought you bled out from that shoulder wound. I thought I left you there.” 

“You did leave me.” He glared at you. You had told him to leave and he did, only after you begged. “Lester told me you were gunned down in the escape.” 

“You saw the fucking jewelry-”

“Yup.” You shook your head. “Bold of him. Really bold.” You finished your glass. You pulled down your blouse at the shoulder, revealing the bullet wound scar. He put his hand on your shoulder. He hadn’t touched your skin since seeing you again. It made you shiver. He poked it, making you roll your eyes. “Don’t be a dick.”

“All I know how to be.” 

He rubbed it with his thumb, shaking his head. 

“Looks like it hurt.” 

“Yeah well.” You put your sleeve back up. 

“So you haven’t seen him?”

“Nope. Went to find you first.” 

“I’ve always been your favorite,” he bragged. You rolled your eyes, a sly smile playing on your face. It was true. It had always been that way. “You got any leads?” You were more reliable than Wade. 

“Lester know’s where he is. I was gonna pay him a visit anyway.” “Well there’s no time like the present,” he offered. You gave him a look. He couldn’t read it. People skills had never been something he was particularly good at. You tilted your head. 

“You haven’t seen me in nine years and you wanna go find Michael right now?” 

His eyes went wide. 

“Nine years and she finally admits it.”

“You knew it then. Don’t pretend you didn’t.” He did remember it. He remembered all of it, every second of it. He leaned in. 

“I’ve got a shitty trailer with a shitty bed.”

“That sounds like heaven right now Trev,” you said under your breath. He had been wanting to kiss your lips as long as he had known you. It took so much of him not to do it all the time when you saw each other regularly. After he thought you were dead, he regretted not doing it every chance he had. 

You threw money at the bartender, too much he noted, and piled into his truck. Your lips were on each others before the car even stopped. You crawled over the middle of the truck, wondering if you would even make it to the bed, wondering if you even needed to. 

Ron came rushing out of the front door, talking before he registered, “Boss the bik-” He stopped, literally putting a hand over his mouth. It wasn’t odd to find Trevor fucking a girl in his truck but Ron knew he didn’t like to be interrupted. Trevor left your lips for only long enough to speak. 

“Get the fuck out of here Ron!” He nodded, scrambling away. You popped open the truck door and slid out. You weren’t touching Trevor for a mere moment and he grabbed you again, pulling you towards him. “You’re not getting outta here again,” he promised, voice low and threatening. You smiled brightly. 

Ron opened the door to his place nearby and peaked through the window. You were dragging Trevor behind you, hands interlocked, a puppy dog look in his eyes. Ron was used to seeing Trevor with girls. He wasn’t used to seeing Trevor with girls he liked. He lost the two of you as you entered the trailer. 

Trevor’s lips didn’t leave yours, even when the door hit him from behind. He hugged you close to him. How close could he get to you? How close could he make you so that you never left him again? 

You hadn’t expected Trevor’s lips to taste so good. You expected beer or weed or unbrushed teeth or something shitty but something about them was intoxicating. He had a firm grip on your ass, pulling you closer to him. You tripped over something on the ground. You pulled away to see where you were going. 

The trailer was a mess. There were beer cans littering the ground, half naked girls on the walls, unwashed dishes in the sink. He let go of you just to move shit off of his unmade bed. He grabbed the pictures he had of girls and tore them off his wall. 

“Disrespectful,” he grumbled, kissing you again. And just like that you could have been anywhere in the world and it didn’t matter. You had waited long enough. 

He was clawing at your clothes with one hand while the other dragged up your back under your shirt. You shoved him down onto the bed. He chuckled, falling onto his back. 

“I think I’m in love with you.”

“Think?” You crawled on top of him, cupping his face in your hands. Why hadn’t you done this before? Why hadn’t you done this so many times? His hands reached for your shirt and it wasn’t until then that it hit him. You were alive. You were here. You were in his arms. He had beat the stupid longstanding fight him and Michael would always spat about over drinks. You were here, with him. He took off your shirt. 

“God woman.”  He cupped your breasts, eyes wide like they were gonna pop out of his head. You put your finger under his chin. 

“Eyes are up here Trev.” He kissed you like he would never be able to do it again. He needed to be on top. The rising tension in his sweats were hard to ignore as you sat on top of him. He could feel your every movement. You slid your hands slowly up his shirt and then down again, fingertips electric. You hummed as you trailed kisses down his chin. While you were distracted he flipped you onto the bed. You made a surprised noise that caused him to chuckle.

“My girl.” He took off his shirt. He couldn’t remember the last time he had slept with a girl and wanted to make it last. When was the last time it was less fucking and more something else, something he could barely remember the name to? You gripped his shoulder. There was a tattoo there, your name in faded ink. Your eyebrows softened. He didn’t seem to notice. “My girl,” he repeated, whispering against your skin. 

“Trev,” you whined. He was already shimming down his pants. He kicked them off the bed onto the floor. You could feel his hardness against your clothed core. He fixed his fingers around the loops of your jeans, pulling it down with ease. You raised an eyebrow at his expertise but he was so caught up in the taste of you he didn’t notice. 

“God!” You arched your back, looking up at him with wide eyes. He couldn’t wait any longer. Without warning he was inside you, all of him. You gasped at the sudden change and then eased. He gave you no time to calm down or adjust but he was leaning over you and his lips were permanently on your skin and it was like the room had gotten ten degrees hotter in the span of five minutes. You could probably fuck around all night. Trevor could go again and again but he needed to do this right now. 

He placed a finger on your clit. You gasped, eyes locking with his. He grinned smugly. You kissed him to shut up whatever he was about to say. 

Your breath hitched as he sped up, moving his fingers wildly and without care. Somehow he managed to hit just the right spot. 

You came together, plagued by moans and spasms. 

Still inside you he smiled, self satisfied. 

“Never thought a dead guy would make you cum huh?” You snorted, eyes shut tightly. 

“Fuck you Trevor.” You were laughing through your words. 

“Haven’t gotten enough yet?” 

He collapsed beside you. You found the bed more comfortable now in your bliss. You grabbed a pillow, placing it under your head. 

“Get me a beer T. I can go all night.” 

-

When Trevor woke up you were still in bed. He had a hand on your thigh, now clothed, much to his dismay. He had no idea what time it was. You had thrown on one of his clean shirts, one of the rare ones. You were hunched over your phone, sitting beside him. He rubbed his eyes. You turned your head, realizing he was awake.

“Mornin’ sleepy head,” you said, a pleasant smile on your face. Your hair was a mess of the night. He could still feel it on the tips of his fingers. He could still taste you on his lips. 

It hadn’t been a dream. You were here. You were with him. It wasn’t a wet dream, it was reality. Just the thought made him dizzy.

“Let’s get drunk and get hitched.” You laughed gently. 

“Now that’s an idea.” He sat up and kissed you aggressively, throwing you off but not by much. Your phone fell from your fingers. You turned to him. His girl. His girl. His girl. You pulled away, much to his dismay. “I think I know where Michael is.” 

He groaned. 

“You had to remind me.” He fell back onto the bed with a flop.

“Los Santos. There’s a Michael De Santa with two kids and a wife. Amanda.” He perked his head up. 

“You check the plastic surgery records?”

“I did not but I have a rough estimate.” You stood up. The bed was cold without you. Couldn’t you just live forever like this? Why go find Michael at all? 

And then he remembered his anger.

“They’re living in a mansion, Trev,” you said. You hadn’t taken any money from that robbery. You couldn’t, it wouldn’t make any sense. But Michael was out there and he was using that money somehow. He had taken it all for himself. 

Trevor’s anger intensified. He was here in the slums of San Andreas in a shitty trailer. He had put his life on the line. He had lost everything he cared about. Michael got the house and the family and the life they had all risked it for. He had lost you for nine years. 

He tossed you the truck keys. 

“Start it but don’t drive it,” he said. You rolled your eyes. 

“You think you’re a better driver than me T?” You both sat in the memories of you driving away with money, evading the cops, knowing nothing but the danger in your speed. 

“I’m the only one that drives that truck.” You put your hands up in surrender, backing out. 

“Yes sir.” 

God he wanted you back in bed. 

Part 2

#trevor philips x reader #trevor philips imagines #trevor philips x fem!reader #trevor philips fanfiction #grand theft auto imagines #spicy tag

[zot3-flopped]

Two months prior to its release, would-be doyens of Swift’s Tortured Poets Department have taken its barbed track listing very literally, leading to intense, often nefarious speculation regarding Swift’s six-year relationship with the British actor Joe Alwyn, which seemingly ended in early 2023.

The album’s title, revealed onstage at the Grammy awards, was quickly linked to a December, 2022 interview with Alwyn and Paul Mescal in which they revealed that Andrew Scott started their group chat, the Tortured Man Club. (“It hasn’t had much use recently,” Alwyn said: you wonder if it’s undergone a recent revival.) Swift revealed the leading track list a day later: My Boy Only Breaks His Favorite Toys, So Long, London, I Can Do It With a Broken Heart, The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived, to name a few, sending fans wild with speculation.

Swift, obviously, has every right to sing about her relationships however she wants to (no apologies to Eamonn Holmes). But in the absence of any music, some fans have spread baseless, dangerous and even libellous allegations about Alwyn’s conduct (which, for obvious reasons, I can’t repeat).

Last month, a brief fan-shot video of them dining in a New Orleans restaurant in December, 2022 was recirculated online with AI-doctored audio that made it sound as though Alwyn is saying “you don’t get to tell me about sad,” a line printed on the back of one of the new album’s four physical editions.

When Swift recently told a crowd that she was “lonely” when writing her 2020 album Folklore – some of which was co-written with Alwyn during the pandemic, a lonely time for most – fans took that as further confirmation of their theories. A live medley of three songs that all appear to reference cheating threw petrol on the fire.

Swift could make this stop. She is no stranger to airing her displeasure with the likes of Ticketmaster, Scooter Braun, Spotify and Apple Music, and, occasionally, politicians. Before she released Speak Now (Taylor’s Version) last year, she gave a veiled speech at one Eras tour date effectively asking fans not to go after John Mayer, whom she dated when she was 19 and he was 32 and is understood to be the subject of that album’s Dear John.

“I am not putting this album out so you should feel the need to defend me on the internet against someone you think I wrote a song about 14m years ago when I was 19,” she said in Minneapolis.

But for whatever reason – and obviously, no member of the public has any idea what transpired between her and Alwyn so far – this time she has opted to stay quiet.

Establishing a baseline for conduct is neither commercially risky nor unprecedented: just last week, Ariana Grande said, after the release of her post-divorce album Eternal Sunshine: “Anyone that is sending hateful messages to the people in my life based on your interpretation of this album is not supporting me and is absolutely doing the polar opposite of what I would ever encourage”.

It feels like the endgame of a cat-and-mouse act that’s gone too far. Swift’s gestures towards meaning have led every single thing she does to be considered a kind of marketing, a clue to be solved. It leaves a superstar who’s usually hot on her messaging open to misinterpretation: hints about her personal life are turned by some fans into witch-hunts for anyone perceived to have wronged her; her current silence on politics allows politicians to invoke her name, from the New South Wales police commissioner quoting Swift’s anti-haters lines while defending police to Joe Biden joking that the matter of her apparently much sought-after endorsement is “classified” on Late Night With Seth Meyers.

When Swift made a blandly neutral handwritten post encouraging US citizens to register to vote on Super Tuesday, some fans speculated that her unusual left-leaning handwriting was the real indication of her loyalties – suggesting they’re so starved of substance that they’re reading into empty messages because of this dynamic she has established. (The more likely explanation is the insane way she holds a pen.)

For Swift to only direct fans as to her wishes when it suits her, it weakens her status as a truth-teller. If the comparisons with Dickinson mean anything, she might remember that nothing in the world has as much power as a word feels like the endgame of a cat-and-mouse act that’s gone too far.

#taylor swift #anti taylor swift #joe alwyn #travis kelce #the tortured poets department #the critics are not going to be kind to this album #she's too rich & successful to be so bitchy & vindictive #laura snapes

[babybluebex]

kiss kiss | joseph quinn x fem!reader

summary: you had seen it all over your pinterest and tiktok, the white buttoned shirts that girls kissed with their favorite lipstick to decorate the shirts with a unique and loving detail for their boyfriends. it looked good, every attempt you had seen looked different and cute, and you couldn’t help yourself when you saw the white buttoned shirt in the back of joe’s closet... pairing: joseph quinn x fem!reader tags: fluff fluff fluff, memories of your relationship with joe, a brief mention of sex but no actual smut author’s note: yeah so i had a rough go of it for a while and i may not be BACK back yet, but. have this. mwah

“Hey, babe?” you called, carrying the wire hanger out to the living room. Joe had been working all day, and he had his feet up now, watching Succession all over again to relax from his own work, and he furrowed his eyebrows when he saw the shirt. “Does this fit you anymore?”

“Yeah,” Joe answered. “Why?”

You shrugged. “No reason,” you replied, thinking fast for an excuse. “Going through our closets to see what we can donate. I just haven’t seen you wear it in a while, so I was wondering.”

“Are you gonna donate that?” Joe asked. “What else have you decided to get rid of?”

“Not a lot,” you told him. “The itchy pink jumper my mum got me for Christmas, and those shoes that pinch your toes.”

Joe crossed his arms behind his head and nodded, and he said, “You can get rid of that shirt. The sleeves are weird and pull at my armpits.”

“Good to know,” you nodded, and you went back to the bedroom. You already had your favorite array of lipsticks laid out, pink and red and brown and even a daring purple added to the lineup, and you settled yourself on the carpet. All of the pictures you had seen had used red lipstick, and you debated which lipstick to use for the task.

Maybe the Dior one that Joe had bought you to wear to the premiere of Stranger Things? That night had been fun— it was the first time you had ever gone to an event with Joe, even though you had been together for years, and he had gone all out in order to make sure it was memorable for you. He had rented an expensive Dior dress for you, with chic makeup to match, and he had gifted you the tube of red lipstick with an engraved xx Eddie on the cap as a keepsake. You rarely used it, afraid to damage it or ruin it in any way, and the bullet of the lipstick was still firm and crisp, having been used maybe twice in its whole lifetime. That night, you had partied with the cast, gotten pictures taken with your lover, and lived the high life for the first time ever. It was so much fun, but you definitely could not do it more than once a year.

Or maybe you should use the ancient lipstick that you had bought at Primark the night of your first date with Joe. You had been getting ready to meet the cute guy that you had matched with on Hinge, and you had realized in a panic that you had no lipstick. You rarely wore makeup back then, but you wanted to make an impression on this guy for some reason, so you ran to the nearest store and bought the first lipstick you could find. You were late to dinner and apologized profusely to Joseph, age 25, from South London, but he had smiled and said he didn’t care. “M’just glad you showed up at all,” he said. His chocolate eyes had melted over dinner as he looked at you, and, towards the end of the meal, he said, “You look beautiful, by the way. Like, your pictures on Hinge are nice, but in person, you’re so… You’re stunning.” Of course, you had assumed he was just trying to get in your pants, but he had departed the night with a kiss to your cheek and a wish to see you again, and you knew that he was something special. You couldn’t ever bear to get rid of the, at this point, four year old lipstick, and you kept it buried in the depths of your makeup bag.

Or maybe, just maybe, you should use the Maybelline lipstick that you had been wearing the day that Joe landed his job as Eddie. You had had a job interview that day and had read somewhere that red lipstick conveyed confidence, and you had gone to the interview with little hopes of anything. You were somewhat glad that they didn’t immediately offer you the job, and you knew that waiting for a response was better, but you still felt glum as you slumped back to the flat. You felt unaccomplished and worthless, and you couldn’t even settle fully into the door before Joe had flung his arms around you and spun you around. “Oh, Jesus!” you had cried, and Joe giggled as he kissed you hard, smearing your lipstick all over his own lips. “Joe! What’s happened?”

“I got the job!” he told you, his eyes wild and bright as he held your face. “I just got off the phone with my agent, they want me to be Eddie!”

“They?” you asked. You vaguely remembered a few months ago, how you and Wes had helped Joe prepare for a self-tape for a character named Eddie, but you knew very little about the role or project past that.

“The Duffers,” Joe said. “Stranger Things, Netflix, they want me! They’re offering me a role!”

“Netflix?” you repeated incredulously. “Oh my God! You got it!”

The night had ended with Chinese takeaway, passionate sex, and an email that you had gotten your own job. It was the happiest day you had had in months, and, even though you had no reason to keep that lipstick, you saw it as a good-luck charm.

You couldn’t decide. You wanted to use all of them, because they all represented something different, and you finally uncapped the Dior lipstick. You carefully applied it to your lips, taking care not to make it messy with the lack of mirror, and you collected the white shirt in your hands. Then, you pressed your waxy lips to the white material of the collar, inking in the shape of your lips forever. It looked cute, and you smiled at your work. One kiss mark was downright adorable, but you wanted more, like the ones you had seen, and you kissed right under the lapel of the shirt, pushing hard against your lips to really make sure the lipstick stayed.

At the end, there were probably a dozen kiss marks littering the top of the dress shirt, and you couldn’t control your glee. You just hoped that Joe would like it as much as you did. You got up from the floor and retrieved a makeup wipe, and you wiped up your messy mouth as you padded out to the hallway. “Babe,” you said softly, capturing the wipe in your fist. “Can you come try something on real quick?”

Joe nodded and grunted as he sat up from the couch, and he swiped a quick kiss on your forehead as he passed you to the bedroom. You slipped by him to get there first, and you picked up the shirt and held it out to him. Confusion etched Joe’s face as he looked at the makeup-covered shirt, and he said, “What is this?”

“I saw a Maison Margiela shirt a lot like this,” you explained. “And I thought you’d like it, but I also wanted it to be personal, y’know? Like… I don’t know, I feel dumb now—“

“No, no, don’t do that,” Joe said quickly. “You made this? Is this the shirt you just asked me about a few minutes ago?” You nodded timidly, and Joe smiled softly. “I love it. Will you help me try it on?”

“I mean, you know how it fits,” you started, but Joe wrinkled up his forehead and shook his head.

“I wanna wear it to dinner tonight,” Joe said. “And maybe, like, every other day too. Definitely to an event, so everyone can see how cute and creative you are.”

“Really?” you asked.

“Of course,” Joe said. He shucked his t-shirt over his head, mussing up his messy curls, and you helped him into the buttoned shirt, being careful not to smudge or aggravate the lipstick marks. You dutifully did up the small buttons for him, and you smiled at your handiwork as it laid on Joe’s chest and collarbones.

“Here,” you said, steering him towards the mirror. “How do you like it?”

Joe examined his reflection, his fingers lightly ghosting over the red lips, and he grinned like a child in excitement. “I love it,” he said. “It looks so good.”

“But it fits weird,” you mumbled, tugging at his shirt sleeves. “Does it still pull at your armpits?”

“Yeah,” Joe said. “But I don’t care about that. This is my new favorite shirt.”

“Joe,” you cooed with watery eyes, and you pressed your cheek into his shoulder, kissing his neck gently. “You’re lovely.”

“You’re lovelier,” Joe said. “Making me this? You’re adorable. I love you.”

“I love you too,” you said softly. “My sweet boy.”

Joe did, in fact, wear that shirt to dinner that night, and you couldn’t control your smile all night. Your baby was a chronic outfit-repeater anyway, but the shirt became a regular part of his wardrobe, especially when he was traveling and felt particularly homesick. He would call you with tears in his eyes, saying how much he missed you, and the camera always showed that he was wearing that shirt. Finally, it came time for premieres and things, and, even though you declined being on his arm for the Quiet Place premiere, he had a piece of you with him underneath his suit jacket all night, right over his heart.

#joseph quinn x reader #joe quinn x reader #joseph quinn x you #joe quinn x you #joseph quinn rpf #joe quinn rpf

[fitsofdespair]

i have hesitated to say anything before now. in part because i removed myself from fandom discourse and really from actively discussing iwtv a year ago. i consider it all a lose-lose situation.

but also because i’m generally of the opinion that black fans don’t need people to be their white saviors, least of all me. black people have never been saved by white people. they were never just given anything when it comes to strides in equality, they fought for it and still fight for it, against constant violent pushback every step of the way. only instead of the good ole’ days when racists just called those fighting for equality uppity, they’re now “bullies” for daring to call you out on your shit after the repeated condescension and the resulting harassment you’ve exhibited towards them.

in this day and age the word bully has zero meaning anymore. i mean come on, melania trump calls people mean about her husband bullies. elon musk thinks he’s being bullied by twitter users, though he clearly holds all the power and is absolutely the problem. its become a meaningless word that goliaths use to call davids because they won’t use the real word they actually want to say. some of these popular blogs are not being bullied, they’re being held accountable for their own actions.

it’s pretty disgusting the number of you who decided to identify strongly with these users that not only fail to question their own racial biases but have gone so far as to suggest black people don’t face racism anymore. this is so fucked. tbh it can be argued in many ways white people, especially in the deep south where i’m from, are inherently raised steeped in racism, even if its not direct. just because your family aren’t ostensibly racist doesn’t mean they didn’t bake their own little prejudices into your upbringing and being raised in your environment didn’t encourage them. even if you don’t see yourself as racist, you have to unlearn all this shit, even if it never once occurred to you that you are part of it. just cause you believe in equality and don’t hate people for their color or cultural background does not make you free of perpetuating microaggressions against them. this applies to fans across the world of course. (like for you white euro iwtv fans, you may say you have no problem with black people but i’ve heard some wild things some of yall have to say about the turks.)

i understand that probably half or more of you are not usamericans. but no matter what environment you live in, no matter where you were raised, there is no excuse for your behavior. just because YOU don’t see racism in your day to day life or are in the more likely situation, too blindly comfortable in your place in society to notice it right in front of your face, doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist as a constant presence in other parts of the world or isn’t deeply ensconced in online rhetoric.

so for you white iwtv fans who can’t be fucked to mention let alone defend people you, in many cases once called friend, against the absolute horseshit your current comrades are spewing wrapped up in their nice safe cocoons of victimhood, i hope you do some serious soul searching to figure out if this is who you are, a person too cowardly to call out a friend because it might cost you their friendship. a person quick to condemn others on hearsay because you couldn’t be fucked to wonder am i on the right side of this? and if you do manage to get wise and change your mind, remember its not unforgivable to say, you know what? i was wrong. i wrote in an old post that the hallmark of being a functional adult is changing your views accordingly when you learn new information or even just ruminate on what you know (i myself was a little bitch about ep 5 when it first dropped until i had to sit down and ask myself why i was actually feeling some kind of way about it). dying on a hill is not all its cracked up to be. being told you’re wrong is not always a personal attack and its often an opportunity for improvement if you can be bothered to genuinely hear other people out. an alarming number from all walks of life never figure that out. for my part, i am still learning and hope i never stop learning.

while that sentiments all nice and gooey (i mean them, but i understand its still sacharine to put out there), i am still guilty for not having directly written anything about this until now. and thats on me and i earned any flack i get for that. again, i am more of the mindset that black people don’t need white spokespeople, but that doesn’t mean they'll mind allies. and as a sidebar, going out of your way to say you are rising “above the noise” or “ignoring the drama” is absolutely your right, but it does not make you superior. it just makes you complacent with the status quo. i mean as long as you get to squee!! about anything and everything who cares about other people, right?

#and to be clear since i think some people may be a bit confused: i’m admonishing user nalyra-dreaming and their followers #some people who reblogged seem to not understand that #iwtv #interview with the vampire #alex.txt

[blood-grove]

ruffled feathers

avian/harpy! ghost & soap + child! naga reader

tws; broken bones, near death experience, angst, kidnapping?, idk if this would count as DDD :( its jut overall a dark au take on avian and the world they live in, .

a/n; yeah this one is really heavy compared to my other ones stay safe, also my interpitation of harpies are the ones that have normal human arms and a set of wings but everything else about them is cryptid like

I really hate how stupid I was sometimes, I thought if I could just reach the nest get the eggs I'd be done head back down and enjoy the small feast along with all the other things you've foraged today.

The further I went the more painfully exposed I felt glancing around anxiously before reaching the nest digging threw it snatching up the eggs I could grab stuffing a few in my mouth already before starting down the tree a bit unevenly trying not to drop the eggs or fall.

My tail subconsciously wrapping around a branch as I almost had reached the bottom—

Only to have some huge slam into me the bark of the tree digging into my tail as it attempt to try and hold on my brain registering what the hell was going on till there was loud snap and crunch and my own scream of agony till my tail went limp and I was snagged away from the tree a few branches snapping and creak in the process.

Pain radiating threw my body like I had been crushed like a tin can, I was in the air.

I was in the air?

Did I die that quick is this heaven?

"Hope your still alive down there."

That gravely voice was clear indication I wasn't in heaven and possibly in hell.

Simon honestly did not know why he had picked up the small thing he could barely tell if it was still in his talons grip the ragged breaths and tired sobs it started to let out were a great reminder to him.

The thing would barely even be a snack honestly but better than nothing Soap needed that food badly ever since the loveable idiot broke his wing its been critical to nurse him back to health of course Price and Gaz also helped but they also had there own lives own territories so it was usually down to him to help.

Whatever the Owl Harpy could grab he'd bring back ranging from larger to smaller prey.

Small centaurs, hybrids, humans.

You name he's probably killed it.

But right the task at hand feeding Johnny.

Another few eerily quiet wing beats and he was back on track.

Landing on the ground couldn't have been fun from the little snake he hoped it broke or passed on already lifting his talon to examine the snake making sure it didn't look like it was infected the last he needed was to give Johnny food poisoning.

When he saw the little thing stirring out of its unconscious state he sighed rolling his eyes as his talons popped unlocking from around the little snake that started to sob again as I picked it up it weighed decently he hoped it wouldn't put up much of a fight for Soap.

Not his fault the thing decided to keep living usually he aims for the head or body the force of him pouncing and the whiplash of being torn away from where ever they wear would stun them long enough or kill them.

"P-please let me go-"

"What?"

God it was a mess its left arm clearly limp and useless as of now bruises blooming on there body and the few smaller cuts on there tail no doubt either from the tree he yanked it out of.

"Please it hurts—"

Simon just ignored it as he went into the interior of there little nest outpost enough room for wing spans but small enough to conserve heat as he tuned out the Naga's begs and sobs looking to see if Soap was awake finding the man stretching out his uninjured wing perking up at the sight of Simon with a smile.

"Ghost! Ah thought ye'd be gone for a few more days?

"Wasn't findin' much food out South brought ya' a snack though-"

Simon slightly waved the weakly squirming naga Soap grimacing a bit.

"Why is it still alive?"

"Thought it died on the way here guess not, What? Need your food chewed up like a fledgling?"

"Shuddup! Whatever give it-"

Simon grinned as he pulled the snake away out of reach chuckling as at Soap's huff.

"Please d-don't eat me.."

"It can still talk?"

"Yeah?"

"God's Si ye' sick bastard just crush it already you know how I feel about you toying with food- Espcially young ones-"

"Alright alright-"

"Please don't kill me I-I'm sorry!-"

Soap just huffed making a grabbing motion towards Simon as he begrudgingly handed the sobbing thing over.

"God it's barely got any meat on it."

"Best thing I could find when winters coming around the corner soon enough.."

"Can't we just..let it go?"

"And let it just freeze to death up here in the mountains sure-" Simon grinned as he looked down at Soap who just glared back up at him from the nest of pelts loose feathers fallen feathers along with whatever other makeshift bedding they've collected.

"Not what I mean but I guess you make a decent point.."

Soap sighed as he looked a down at the small naga who sobbed and whimpered.

"I- Well I can't kill them Si-"

"Alright I will then-"

"No!- I.."

"Soap..You need food you haven't even in a couple of days and neither have I.."

"Well..can't you get..something else?.."

"..Fine but I'm going to eat them then-"

Soap flinched at this subconsciously tugging the naga closer much to the pain and bewilderment of the child and there broken arm.

"For the gods sake Soap!- Do not make me take that thing away it's a waste of heat and air were already struggling to eat anyways and you haven't been healing well-"

Simon grumbled rubbing his temple as he sighed heavily.

"Please Johnny."

Soap shifted as he looked down at the writhing form in his arms there snake half had constricted barely around his leg in a attempt to force him to let go which did not work as he basically ignored them as he frowned.

"I-..Can't we keep em' Si?"

"No"

"But just look at the poor thing- Look I- Please-"

Simon just just sighed as he turned his feathers ruffling as he picked up a satchel.

"I'm going to go find some more food and some berries or whatever if I can..If you haven't eaten it by then, Then fine you can keep it or whatever but it's not eating our food."

Soap frowned slightly but he took it as a fair enough deal grinning slightly as he looked over to the little naga that had passed out either from pain or shock.

When he looked up Ghost was gone leaving him alone again.

Well not completely.

I could barely register anything that was going on the next time I woke the pain in my arm had gone down surprising a sour tart taste in my mouth either from the lack of water so far or blood.

I was warm,

Like unnaturally warm.

It kept me still the pervious cold that had been biting at my body was gone it made me lethargic looking around I noticed my arm was a in a makeshift sling.

It felt nice..It would feel nice if I didn't feel eyes on me.

"..Ye alive little snake?"

I shifted away slightly letting a raspy hiss.

"Thought so, Y'know ye know A dinnae want tae eat ye honestly yer very small skin an bones"

"I wanna leave"

"You can't really not with that broken arm..You sound parched as hell let me get some water.."

Soap smiled softly shifting a bit as he got up heading over to a part of of the cave coming back with a small bowl full cool clear water.

"Theres a spring that leaks into her..should be cool enough."

Soap sat infront of me as I glared trying to slither back as he pushed the bowl towards me.

"C'mon.."

I just hissed again as I coiled up grumbled ignoring his offer He sighed mumbled before shuffling back to his spot.

This was gonna be a long night.

a/n: WHY DID I MAKE THIS ONE SO LONG ITS SUPPOSED OT BE SHORTER THAN THIS...idk if i wanan make a pt 2 tried keeping it 1st person for reader i default to 'You' a lot bad habit.

#soapghost #john soap mactavish #soap cod #cod #reader #simon ghost riley #ghost cod #child reader #soap x ghost #? i guess #supposed to be a oneshot #call of duty

[avatar-anna]

someone asked for latina reader on the south american leg of LoT, and this has been hiding in my drafts for a while, so...enjoy!

latina reader x Harry universe

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.**.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

“How would I say, ‘I love you all with all my heart?’” Harry asked.

You propped your head up from where you were resting it against his chest. “Los amo con todo mi corazón. Why?”

“I wanted to give the fans a special message tonight,” he said with a shrug.

Grinning, you leaned forward and kissed Harry’s cheek before pinching it affectionately. “You’re such a sweetie pie, you know that?”

“Stop it,” he said, blushing as you continued to kiss him.

“Okay, okay. If you're gonna say it, you have to practice. Repeat after me.”

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Harry was alone in his hotel room, scrolling on his phone. You'd gone out with a couple friends who lived in the city you were visiting, and though you asked your boyfriend to join you multiple times, he declined. After shows, Harry usually went right to bed, so you understood, but he knew you still wished he was with you.

He normally fell asleep the second his head hit the pillow, but that was partially because you were with him. Harry didn't think of himself as the clingy type, but he was missing you quite a bit at the moment.

Harry took a break from Instagram and went on Twitter. Even he realized how lame and embarrassing it was to look up his girlfriend’s name on social media, but he didn't even get the chance, as your name was on the trending page. Curious, he clicked on it.

From what he could gather, fans had spotted you on your night out. You'd taken pictures with some, there were videos of you dancing in a club with fans in another, and in one video you were explaining where Harry was.

“He’s getting some much needed rest before his next show, but I’m gonna try and get him to come out next time. He’ acts like an old man sometimes, I swear.”

“Y/n, does Harry listen to Bad Bunny?”

“Yes! But he doesn't always realize it. I'll just play it for him around the house. It's like a slow conversion process.”

From what Harry could tell, the fans were absolutely loving you. Seeing all the tweets praising and complimenting you made him smile. You could get so caught up on all the negative comments his fans made, it was nice to see them showing you love. Even if some of it was at his expense. Did you really have to call him old on camera?

Switching back over, Harry refreshed his Instagram feed. His eyes lit up at the sight of your profile appearing where recent stories popped up. Clicking on it, he stared at the picture in shock.

yourinstagram

Harry couldn't quite believe how bold you were being. Well, he could, you loved to tease him and test his limits, but usually it was in private. Perhaps it was the assistance of liquid courage, but Harry appreciated the photo all the same. What he didn't quite appreciate was the idea of other people seeing you quite so intimately.

He'd made a promise to himself that he wouldn't text you to come back, only to check up on you and make sure you were safe since you were out so late at night. But now he needed you to come back. Your teasing had been a success, now he needed you to come back and claim your reward.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Bogotá, Colombia

“This is amazing!”

“I’m glad you liked it,” you said, smiling at your boyfriend as he poured himself another shot. Harry didn’t typically drink on tour, but he was gifted a bottle of aguardiente upon arriving in Colombia, and he’d been curious, so now the two of you were taking some pre-show shots.

He tossed another one back without a flinch and proceeded to pour another. Resting a hand on his wrist you said, “Easy, bubba. You still have a show to do.”

Aguardiente was smooth going down, but it was still strong. There was a reason its direct translation was “fire water.”

Nodding, Harry nudged the slender shot glass towards you. “You’re right. I’ll save the next one for the stage.”

Thinking he was done, you capped the bottle of aguardiente. You were about to take the full shot glass when Harry quickly swiped it from you and tossed it back. Your jaw slacked, surprised by his antics.

“Tonight’s gonna be good. I can feel it,” he said. His grin was wide but soft, the effect of the spirits already kicking in.

Leaning in, you kissed his dimple. “I’m sure you can.”

***

“We have a slight problem.”

“What?”

“I’m concerned about standing back up.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at Harry. Running on an adrenaline high and a few shots, he was feeling quite good after the show. He wasn’t stumbling around or slurring, just a little tipsy, and a tipsy Harry meant mild entertainment for you.

And a sprinkle of babysitting.

“You’re not that drunk, are you?” you asked him.

“Maybe...I might have had another shot or two right as I got off stage. And now the room is spinning juuust a little,” Harry said, pinching his thumb and pointer finger together.

“My boyfriend's gone wild,” you said, shaking your head in disbelief. You didn't mind, it was just so unlike him to get drunk while he was on tour. Coming closer, you took his hand in yours. “So are we sticking around here until the room stops spinning or are we going back to the hotel?”

“Let’s go back. I’m worried I’ll fall asleep on this couch and spend the night here. However, I will be needing some assistance.”

It took a couple tries, but you managed to get Harry to his feet and his arm draped over your shoulder. His clothes were slightly damp with sweat, and he kept mumbling incoherently under his breath. He was full of energy now, but the drive back to the hotel would tire him out, and by the time the two of you walked arm in arm up to your room, he would all but stumble out of his clothes and into bed.

“We—We should go out tonight. Dancing, or...or to get dinner, or maybe...Baby...You know I love you babe. Bah...bah bah...”

Harry kept rattling off ideas, some of which weren’t probable at this hour or in your current location. You let him mumble and sing, though, smiling and nodding as you helped him into the car that would take you back to the hotel.

“I love you, baby,” he said kissing the side of your neck as you buckled his seat belt. "So much. Gonna show you just how much when we get back. Promise. Gonna make you feel so good. Break your back with my—."

"Harry!" you said, slapping his arm. The driver kept his head facing forward, but he most definitely heard everything Harry was saying.

Harry only smiled at you, his eyes half closed. "If loving you is a crime, then take me away officer."

You laughed as he put his hands out for you as if you were going to arrest him, and he giggled in his seat too. "Alright, inmate, let's get you buckled in and back to the hotel, hm?"

Harry nodded, but kissed you first, taking your hands and putting them around his neck. You indulged him for a minute, stopping when his tongue began tracing the seam of your lips. He frowned, but let you finish putting his seatbelt on. The buckle clicked, and you leaned back to kiss the tip of his nose. “You’re cute when you’re drunk, you know that?”

Harry's frown deepened as he tilted his head to the side. “I’m always cute.”

You kissed him again. “Of course you are, bubba.”

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

yourinstagram

harrystyles, pillowpersonp, and 347,972 others liked this post

yourinstagram: throwback to harryween 🐍🐍

harryfan4: MOTHER

harryfan9: but the question is did she do the dance for harry 🤔🤔🤔

yourinstagram: ...no comment

harryfan2: HOT HOT HOT HOT HOT

harryfan14: harry better know how good he has it😭😭

harrystyles: love youu xx

harryfan10: harry stays being a respectful king😌

yourinstagram

paulithepsm, harrystyles, and 107,225 others liked this post

yourinstagram: ahora quieren ser latino

harrystyles: pero les falta sazón

harryfan22: HE SAID IT HE KNOWS THE WORDS

harryfan7: y/n has taught him well

yourinstagram: i did not teach him that that's all him😂😂

harryfan14: i don't know who to be jealous of, y/n or harry

harryfan8: does dating y/n give harry a little flavor?

yourinstagram: nah he's still flour

harryfan22: DRAG HIMM

yourinstagram

harrystyles, pillowpersonp, and 21,254 others liked this post

yourinstagram: thank you for all the lovely gifts (they're technically for harry but i love them too!)

harryfan13: i saw on twitter that a fan made a doll dressed like her!

harryfan20: that's so cute i hope she got it🥹🥹

yourinstagram: harry is currently sleeping with it in the hotel :)))

harryfan8: i...i’m passing away now

harryfan22: they need to stop i can't go on knowing shit like this😭😭😭

harryfan13: he sleeps with a doll harry sleeps with a doll harry sleeps with a doll dressed like y/n 😖😖😖

harryfan9: she keeps all the stuff fans throw onstage that's so cute 😭😭

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

“Baby?”

“Yes, bubba?”

“How much do you love me?”

You smiled, turning around on the couch to face Harry, who was peeking around his changing curtain. “Enough to do whatever favor you’re about to ask of me.”

Blushing, he said, “I’ve been trying for five minutes now, but I can’t get the buttons to click.”

“The buttons? On your trousers? Harry, what are you—Oh. I get it,” you said, hiding a smile behind your hand.

“It’s not funny. It keeps pinching my skin,” he said with a frown. “Please help.”

Trying not to laugh, you stood up from the couch and went over to him. His pants were around his ankles, and the jumpsuit he was supposed to wear tonight was only partially on. You knew the struggle of buttoning a jumpsuit well, but Harry had yet to ask you for help whenever he got dressed. Until now, that is.

“Alright, let’s see,” you said, bending down to inspect the situation.

“Thank you,” Harry said quietly. “Probably not the best view.”

You raised an eyebrow at him. You didn’t even have to say anything for him to know what you meant. Harry blushed and lightly flicked your forehead.

“Yeah, yeah. Nothing you haven’t seen before.”

Making quick work of the buttons on Harry’s jumpsuit, you stood back up. “There. All done.”

“Thank you.”

Taking his chin between your fingers, you kissed him. “Happy to be of service. Now come on, you’ve got a show to do.”

Grinning, Harry turned around to leave his dressing room, but not before you gave him a playful smack on the butt.

“Backstage or floor tonight?” he asked, holding your hand as you walked towards the stage, the sounds of fans screaming for Harry getting louder with each step.

“Mm, floor, but I’m not gonna say where.”

Nodding, he kissed the crown of your head. “Got it. I will keep my eyes peeled for the pretty girl in the blue top and white pants. You look fabulous, by the way.”

“Thank you, you do too.”

It finally came time to go your separate ways. With one last kiss for Harry and a wish of good luck to him and the rest of the band. By the time you got to your spot on the floor, he was already dancing around the stage. You wanted where you were watching the show to be a surprise, but it was like Harry could sense your presence.

His eyes locked on yours almost immediately, and his grin widened a significant amount. You blew him a kiss, and he caught it, tucking it into his pocket. The rest of the night, you happily watched him prance around onstage.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Buenos Aires, Argentina

“Harry, where are you taking me? The second half starts in two minutes!”

“Would you stop asking questions and just follow me?” Harry said, tugging you along through the halls of the venue.

You’d been watching the game in Harry’s dressing room all afternoon. You wanted to watch it in the city, but Harry couldn’t leave the venue because the streets were too busy, so you settled for the quiet of the dressing room tucked into Harry’s side. That only lasted for about a minute, though. Once the game started, you were jumping around and yelling at the screen.

Harry was right there with you. He loved watching the World Cup as much as you did, which was a relief. You tended to get tunnel vision when it came to things like this, but your boyfriend was a good sport. He even took all your colonizer jokes in stride whenever England played.

You heard the noise first. It was loud and raucous, an odd occurrence seeing as Harry’s show didn’t start for another couple of hours. But as you rounded a corner and came across the side of the stage.

From your vantage point, you could see the screen was lit up, but it wasn’t until you got closer that you realized it was the Argentina game.

“Did you do this?” you asked.

Harry looked back at you and grinned, his brows rising above his thick sunglasses. “Yeah, so many people were just sitting around. Figured we might as well watch it together.”

Jumping up, you launched yourself at him. He kissed you back wholeheartedly, his hands settling on your waist appreciatively. As you kissed him, you opened your eye to watch the screen, and when players made their way back onto the field, you pulled back.

“It’s starting!”

With one last kiss to your temple, Harry turned around to watch the game with you.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

“Oh, look! It’s Chris!”

“Chris? Chris who?”

You followed Harry’s line of vision, your eyes immediately widening in surprise. “Holy shit that’s Chris Pine!” you hissed.

The way Harry casually mentioned celebrities was something you had yet to get over, even after all these years. Your boyfriend’s famous friends and acquaintances still made you shy. You got pretty good at hiding your nerves, but you didn’t know if you could do it in front of Chris Pine.

“I’m gonna go say hi. You coming?”

"I..."

Even though Harry had been in a movie with him, you never actually got to meet Chris Pine. Only the people who were working on the film could be on set during shooting, and you and Harry made it a point to avoid going out together when there were going to be lots of cameras. You'd been ecstatic when Harry told you who his co-stars for the film were going to be, but now that you were faced with the opportunity to meet someone you grew up watching, you felt frozen in your seat.

"Oh, Harry, I couldn't. He's so—And I'm—"

"I know, I know, he's so dreamy," Harry said, quite used to how you got shy around meeting celebrities. He kissed your cheek and gave you a wink. “Well, I’m going to go say hello. You can wait here if you’d like.”

Before you could stop him, Harry was gone and climbing over seats to reach his co-star. You watched as he conversed with one of your favorite actors, debating in your head if you wanted to go over there or not. When Harry looked over at you with a smile and beckoned you to him with a wave of his hand, you took a deep breath and took a step.

#harry styles #harry styles x latina! reader #harry styles x latina reader #harry styles blurb #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x you #harry styles fluff #harry styles writing #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic

[canaidliafail]

stay grounded pt.7

streamer abby x reader 🌿

its been a while hasn’t it :D anyways part 7 is here now ✨✨✨ has some sad stuff has some spice but hey the girls are seeing each other again <3333 TW: I have never been to renfaire as that sadly is not a thing in my country and haven’t been in the US either so :)))))) shit won’t be the most accurate unless I magically go on a trip next month or smt.

not proof read, probably will never be either

“Treat me like I’m nobody’s daughter

Just put your hands around my throat, Ain’t been to heaven but I’m close”

•••

Your phone was blowing up with notifications and as a result you were shutting down, drowning in pure panic. Why did Abby post that ? No caption no nothing….People already speculated things about you two but for them to now know she had visited you….

It wasn’t that you minded people knowing. Not exactly ? There was a part of you that feared public relationships considering the fact that your previous ones didn’t pan out so well. They all seemed respectful and understanding but the minute things went south they would fill their pages with bitter remarks and shady posts. You wanted to believe Abby was different than that. That she would be better than that or at least would try to be for you.

As much as you loved to delude yourself that you had control over you throughs you knew the gesture had gotten into your head and there a small voice repeating the words like a mantra

“Mine, mine mine”

You didn’t like who you were when you were in love and you hated yourself even more when you dated someone but fuck, you were so ready to go through all that again for Abby. You did love her and the tension when you saw her, the chemistry you had and the heated nights made you dizzy with euphoria. It felt like you were molded to heal and fit each other’s missing parts.

You tapped the reshape button and posted the photo on your story and decided to be a bit bolder than before with the small caption beneath

“I won” and a pink heart.

If she would have an issue with it you would delete it and maybe your career would reach new peaks with a stylized apology video in your lavish living room. If she appreciated the gesture though…that would kickstart a fruitful new bond between you two. Hopefully.

Most likely

_________

“Man it feels…empty over here. Alice is wayyyy too happy to see me though”

“Yeah no shit you’ve been gone for half a month” You said laughing all the way through as you watched Alice bounce all over the place and more from Abby’s left side to her right and bark occasionally. Abby had to shove her face away while she tried to eat a miserable bowl of soup that she cooked with whatever leftovers hadn’t rotted in her fridge.

“Half a month huh ... .Felt like its been barely a day” She said with a melancholic sigh and you just fawned at the sight of her staring at her dog lovingly and giving her a few good rubs on her chin.

“How are you doing over there ? Back to sewing?” She asked and turned to look at you through the camera. Its been around a day since you last talked yet it felt like it had been so much longer and it was a pleasant feeling to see the feeling reciprocated. Abby didn’t hesitate to jump on FaceTime the second she came home reassuring for the first 30 minutes that “its ok you can keep me company while I unpack” and “no its cool you can watch me while I cook my dinner” and so on.

There was a significant change in your attitude and in the way she talked to you. She was comfortable.

It made sense. You had eaten each other out 24 hours ago so to be shy on call would be weird and uncalled for.

“I haven’t done much in that regard but…I did deep clean the house and all. My neighbor brought me cake as well. Was pretty cute”

Abby groaned

“You have a neighbor like that and she never once made her gracious appearance to give cake when I was there ?! Fucking unfair”

“I think your loud moans scared her off Abs”

You said and bit your tongue a second after in shame. Oh you were growing to comfortable

“Fuck off. I know that you like that I’m loud”

She quipped with a shit eating grin and you blushed and buried your face in your palms

“Shut up. I- I don’t know why I even said that”

“Oh come on babe. We are way past that stage” she said calmly while eating another spoonful of her colored liquid.

“You would have a point but I…Give me some time” You mumbled and heard her laugh. You grabbed a wet wipe and started wiping your coffee table from the cigarette ashes. Your heart was beating in your chest content by the fact that she didn’t brush off the fact that you two were entangled like that and more than that, she seemed to want to remind you as well that things were happening between you two

“Ah also about the story sorry I didn’t ask before posting it. I’m not gonna say anything about our relationship yet. Not unless you want me to of corse”

You blinked and pursed your lips. Your brows shot up and your eyes turned to the camera

“Relationship?”

You asked and felt dumb the second the words left your mouth. She looked at you and seemed equally nervous. It didn’t exactly show but you picked up on some signs from the short time that you got to experience her up close. Her tongue rolling in her mouth and that half smile trying to hide a laughter of awkwardness and embarrassment. Her hand at the nape of her neck as if she was straightening the flow of her braid

“Yeah. I mean now that we are a thing I thought I’d ask you how you wanted to handle it regarding our…publicity because we do have quite the platform”

Her words were rushed.. You were quick to realize that this was her way of saying she wanted the two of you to make whatever you had official. And you smiled discreetly and turned to face her

“Let’s take it slow with our audience, yeah? Think we should take our time figuring each other out before we let anyone else do that for us” You reassured and she nodded her shoulders easing. She took in a deep breath visibly relaxed now and took another spoonful of her shitty soup.

_________

Abby got you another gift. You didn’t know when did she even make the purchase but you were woken up a week later from the delivery man with a large box of items from your wishlist with an additional two things that she probably added in there herself. You were used to being the one making such gestures. Being the dominant and the one providing and over endorsing the other person in every way so to receive such…princess treatment was new and made you sit on the floor with the ugliest grin

“You are so fucking creepy now”

June spat with an equally big smile being quick to put two and two together.

“I can’t believe this is my life now. Can you? Like…she is too good. Too sweet”

She rolled her eyes and went back to her phone scrolling through posts and messages. You looked at the package and scratched the cardboard with your fingers,contemplating how to phrase your proposal.

“oh so what if I got her a gift too? Like something big?”

“big like…say tickets to visit her?” she said and cocked a brow

“no june i'm serious-“

“So am I”

you stared long and hard at each other. You weren’t sure when to even propose that to her. Things were going well but you didn’t like the idea that you could possibly seem needy or too eager. Which weren’t bad things per say but they did stupidly bruise your ego. You weren’t one to endorse such games and thoughts but you held Abby to such a high standard that you hated that any “strong” emotion that you would exhibit would scare her off

“As much as I would like to do that, I think I'll take my time. It's only been a week you know”

June shrugged knowing that even if she said something in the moment it wouldn’t change your mind.

You grabbed the box of gifts and made your way to your workshop.

“Hey june wanna come in here ? I could use your help with the chainmail”

“Sure”

“about our stream by the way…I have one scheduled for tonight. You can join and see if you like the whole experience . I remember you mentioning last year that you wanted to get into it”

her eyes opened up in awe and a big smile stretched her lips.

“fuck yeah Im very sure I wanna pursue this thing with you so if I’m not really throwing you off schedule Im in”

“I was just going to catch up with my viewers and have a chat since it's been a while since I last had a stream. Perfect time to introduce you”

You held the box of rings and continued working on the armor grabbing your tools in silence and left June to rummage through your makeup supplies to fix herself up. In truth you saw your friend's light falter while she contemplated her future with her uni and you were equally happy to make a collaborative streaming channel with her. You two were close -obviously- and you had the type of familiarity and humor that would translate well on the screen.

You loved working alone. always being your own model and your own manager. However working with Abby as your model for a change of pace, and having a friend to stream with didn’t sound so bad. In fact you finally felt like you could trust people more in ways other than shallow or superficial.

______

“Just act like Im there” Abby rasped, her tone significantly lower than usual and with the way she guided you throughout the call made it feel that way as well

“Touch yourself for me baby” she whispered tenderness laced with lust, her neediness visible through her voice. Your hand ventured beneath your underwear with your fingers sliding through the wet folds of your pussy with ease that had you blushing in embarrassment . It was relieving to know that Abby couldn’t see how terribly horny you were for her and you felt that she would be dangerously powerful were she to find out about the affect her voice alone had on you

You circled your clit with slow movements, struggling to keep the pace that Abby demanded of you the moment you heard her soft moans. heat pooled in your stomach again and every stroke sent jolts through your entire body as she indulged you with endless praise that eventually escalated to raunchy comments that made your spine arch of the bed

“you are doing so good” turned to “You are such a whore I can practically hear how wet you are from here, oh? You liked that didn’t you?”

You didn’t think you could actually cum from a phonecall. Hell, with your past partners you hardly even got wet when they were present and went down, yet now all it took was two fingers in and you came undone seconds later breathing heavy and covered in sweat.

You checked the time and realized that this whole foreplay had gone on for 40 minutes.

“Damn you…no wonder you are at the top 0.1% on onlyfans” You said mindlessly and heard her huff out a chuckle on the other end of the line

“That’s not what I do there. These one on ones are for you only and…and I'm just glad it went this good”

you rolled on your stomach and held your phone in your clean hand

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve never done this before and I was really nervous not to fuck up”

you smiled. You wanted to see her again. You missed her

“Abs?”

she -mmhd- still too dazed probably from everything that went down a few minutes ago

“I wanna see you” you said and cringed the moment the words left your mouth

“Oh, you wanna facetime?”

“no”

you could hear the “????” as Abby tried to put the pieces together. You despised how much of a coward you were. Abby so far had carried the entire construction of this relationship. You could do this much

“I mean I’d like to see you in person, I..I missed you”

“Me too” her voice softened

“fuck I, I miss you already and it has only been a month I know but…Do you think you’d maybe wanna visit for spring break?”

Your lips stretched and cracked with a smile. You wanted to scream in excitement. It shouldn’t have been that big of a deal that Abby wanted to see you but it was, because she also wanted you to visit her soon. She wanted you

“Yeah that’s what I was going to suggest actually..I have been saving up ever since you left and..I could get tickets by the end of the month”

“Fuck yes that would be amazing and you can meet Alice and since its two months in advance I can look around for events or things you’d like to see?”

your chest swelled and your eyes started to sing. You muffled a whimper and lowered your head to swallow back your tears.

“love? are you alright?”

“ye-ah” you choked out and tried to wipe your eyes with the sleeve of your sweater. You were in love with this woman and you were so content with that feeling that you allowed yourself a few moments to calm down before you spilled your emotions too fast

“Sorry, I'm just happy. Yeah we could arrange to do some stuff”

“alright cool anything that comes to mind right away?”

You looked across your room at your wardrobe with all the victorian gowns and costumes you sewed for class

“Renfaire”

_________

“I got them”

“For how long?”

“17 days as promised”

You heard Abby yell excited and smack her desk

“fuck yeah! I get to be my girl for half a month”

“your excitement is truly adorable and deeply appreciated” you teased while walking down the wet pavement to get to your afternoon lectures

“fuck off you prissy twit. As if you aren’t happy”

“No need to get all hissy at me. I am just as excited”

Abby started rambling about every event she found and asked twice on whether you were certain that making your renfaire costume’s wasn’t too much pressure which you reassured-twice- that you were building a portfolio this year so if anything you needed the extra work

“Not sure if you'd be into that but Ellie will be throwing a party and we were invited” she said not even trying to hide the destate she had for the woman.

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to but I won’t lie, I always wanted to see how you hold parties over there in the US”

“Again, you watch too many movies”

“Let me dream” you whined and she laughed

“Alright Im outside class and late as fuck”

“-as always” abby cut you off

“so I’ll call you later” you said, ignoring her remark

You hung up and walked in quickly making your way to your usual seat on the pattern table.

“Work?” the teacher asked and you raised your brows faking an apologetic expression. work- as in you were too busy double and triple checking the tickets for your flight and that they were on the correct airport and then you had to triple check that the airline company you choose would handle switching your luggage between flights and-

“yeah work” you answered and she nodded in empathy

You slumped in your seat and pulled out your phone scrolling through your list of things you had to finish working on and things you had to buy before leaving. This would have to be the biggest trip you’ve ever planned. not just in the matter of your stay but also regarding the distance of your flight. You chewed on your lip. The tickets required an emergency contact and you had put your mothers number. Someone you hadn’t even told her you were leaving the country yet.

You had to mentally prepare yourself knowing she would pull every fault and harm you’ve done in your 22 years of life to guilt you out of that trip due to her co-dependency issues with you. Such were the struggles of living with a widowed mother.

the role of the father and the “male protector” was forced on you. You started to suffocate and felt angry.

repressed anger that came and went in waves.

what if you were to permanently leave for the US?

Could you afford it ?

Would she support it?

Would you be finally free ?

at what cost though?

you opened your contact list and scrolled far down to your therapist's number that stayed there neglected after months of ghosting. therapy never helped. You doubted one quick session would solve years of abuse and trauma anyways but you were all out of options. You thought of Abby. Could you open up to her about this ?

You were filled with a familiar dreadful feeling of emptiness. Had the two of you ever even talked about anything serious ? You talked yeah, but if you were about to fall apart would she be there to support you while you tried to get back on your feet?

You locked your phone. This endless cycle of self pity was getting you nowhere.

During break you went to the schools cafeteria and got their shitty overpriced coffee for the sake of having limitless time to sit on the bar by the windows.

cottoncandy: Abby can I talk to you?

staygrounded69: Whats up babe? Missed me already?

cottoncandy: No I think I'm having a meltdown

you confessed without thinking twice and seconds later your phone lit up with her name. You picked up the call and raised your phone to your ear

“Abby I-“

“whats going on? are you alright? are you safe?”

she asked and you wanted to cry at how tender and careful she always was with you. You nodded even though you knew she couldn't see you

“I'm safe just…Abby there’s this issue that I'm not sure how to deal with… see my mom…I haven’t told her yet about my trip and she..she is very possessive and protective and Im scared”

abby was silent for a few minutes considering what you had told her

“Can she do something that will hurt you? physically or emotionally?”

“Her words have a strong effect on me abby…if she says something..she can change my feelings about anything. she can make me angry about things I wouldn’t be angry about and she can make me second guess everything. I want to see you and Im scared that if she says something off I will cancel everything and ruin this-“

“hey hey relax love, I got you” she soothed and you started tightening your fists your nails digging in the flesh of your palm deeper and deeper trying to calm your nerves.

why did I say all of this God Im so fucking pathetic and weak

“Sorry ignore everything Ive said Im just stressed with essay admissions and-“

“please don’t shut me out…you do it a lot and..I never want to push you but I notice when your mood changed and when your thoughts get the best of you” she said which caught you off guard and completely by surprise. So she noticed ? she noticed you?

she saw you?

“Does she know you are..dating a woman?”

“Oh yeah. She’s over that much at least. She doesn’t complain about that anymore now her issue will be that Im traveling so far…”

“Are you scared to make a trip like that?”

“No. I love flights and I know I will have a good time with you there” I trust you

you thought

“Then try to remember that when she tries to talk you out of it. These are your feelings. whatever happens after she finds out is about her and not about you”

You nodded and noticed your breathing pattern was starting to even out.

“Sorry”

“Don't be”

“still…”

“I don’t wanna hear it. I'm here for you. Whichever way you need me to”

you nodded silently. Abby probably knew as she trailed on how her day went and complained about Isaac being a bitch which made you laugh and loosen up

_______

ABBY’s POV

the three months that you were apart Abby fell endlessly in different slumps of misery and self loath. Her manager was making it exceptionally hard to continue their partnership

“You can’t post your girlfriend. Your income relies on been everyones sweetheart and you are fucking it up”

“oh am I? Cause I haven’t seen a fall in my profits and if anything things are going better than before. Isaac for once I don’t need to see my therapists twice a week and Im motivated to make more content”

He groaned and rubbed his temples trying to control his anger

“Abby this is insane. Right now things are well because majority of your audience has no fucking idea you are tied”

Abby got out off her chair and paced around the room running her hands through her braided hair and resting them on the nape of her neck. she clenched her jaw in anger. She wasn’t willing to sacrifice this

“Im not renewing our contract”

“excuse me?”

she turned around and stomped all the way to his side making him take a step back intimidated

“You heard me. Find someone else to leech on. There’s a month left right? Enough time for you to find a new pet. Im through with you”

She left his office shaking. Panic clogged her throat. She called Manny repeatedly till he picked up

“pendejo what do you want?!”

he sounded man and Abby guessed that she interrupted him from a date

“Im changing managers”

“huh? Wait, so you left Isaac?”

Manny asked and his tone changed immediately from angry to concerned and confused. Abby got in her car and turned on the engine while putting him on speaker

“Yeah I, fuck I dont know what Im gonna do with finances and all but he suggested I break up with corton or that I straight up break up and I wasn’t having it”

she said in one breath and started driving to nowhere in particular. she wasn’t ready to go home yet so she decided to go on a long afternoon drive till the sun set at least

“I'm with you but are you sure it was worth doing this for her?”

“I did it for me Manny. He has been controlling every aspect of my life for too long”

Manny knew that well enough by now. In fact he had also tried to suggest she switched agencies. Manny worked with Isaac as well but he wasn’t as affected by his antics as Abby was.

“Then you did the right thing Abs”

A week later she received a series of furious messages from Isaac calling her every name in the book all wrapped up with the statement

“I made you and you will be nothing without me like you were before I met you”

Abby took a screenshot and decided to use this as a way to terminate her contract sooner

That day when she went home a parcel was waiting for her. it was soft and heavy wrapped in brown paper. She recognised the sender immediately and ran inside to tear off and see the contents. It was her knight costume for renfaire. You had finished it and sent it to her.

she bared her teeth in a grin. The fabrics were expensive and you had the brilliant idea to make the shirt from feathersilk. A light fabric that looked like water and had the most beautiful flow with every move she made. You had handcrafted chainmail pieces along with leather belts and armbands. She held the pieces that looked like metal only to find out they were made out of leather and painted as well. She admired the finer details and every brush stroke of baroque details that you added.

She carefully put every part and smiled at the handmade page of instructions that you added in the parcel of which part went where. The fabrics had your scent and that alone aroused her to an unhealthy extent. halfway through getting dressed she leaned back against her couch that was facing a mirror and took a topless pic. She could use that later. she put on the remaining pieces and let her hair loose, admiring the complete costume. she hated that she had no idea what you were sewing for yourself. Would you make a dress ? were you also going to be a knight? She didn’t dwell too long on those thoughts as she shamelessly eye fucker herself cause hell, She did look hot.

That's my girls work

she thought proud like a bird puffing out its chest and spun once more watching as the cape dances behind her. Your reply was humble

“Im just glad it fits properly and that nothing got torn yet :’) I tried to add a double stitch to make sure the pieces would be sturdy but I'm still new”

She would have strangled you for your self demeaning attitude and then given you the messiest eating out session to show her gratitude, spit and all

“You are fucking gifted, and your paint job? This is insane”

“You deserve the best <3”

you said and she blushed. she sent you the topless pic where she only wore the pants and shoulderpads. She watched as you typed and deleted your text again and again until you settled for a

“We are fucking before,during and after renfaire. Otherwise I'm tearing your costume to shreds”

and she took that as a win

__________

Abby all but leaped when she saw you and ran to your side wrapping her arms around you in a bone crushing hug. She was scared of many things. There were many ways a trip could go wrong before it even began but now that you were here in front of her she felt at ease. she took her time breathing in your scent and her hands entangled in your hair pulling you in closer. She feared she would cry if she extended the hug any longer so she leaned in to kiss you briefly before cupping your cheeks and asking about your flight

you smiled, lips streched with your cheeks a tint of pink

“It was good Abs. I'm happy that Im here now”

and she nodded biting her lip and leaning down to kiss you again

“me too my love” she whispered between the kiss and felt you slide your hands around her waist and melt deeper in her arms

#tlou2 #abby anderson #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson x female reader #abby anderson x you

[jinkieswouldyoulookatthis]

"Have you and Jared ever gone driving in Baby around Austin because you miss playing Sam and Dean so much?"

"Yes. But not because we missed playing Sam and Dean. Because we're children. And we wanted to go fast in the car that we'd spent so much time in and we thought it would be great to do that. Um. Right now I will say that both the Impalas, the Hero, which.. number one that I have, and the number three, which is the back up to number one, number two was the stunt one that got beat to crap, but number three was that the back up to whatever, uh, whenever number one wouldn't start. 'Cause you gotta remember, these were just picture cars, these weren't like, you know, car show type cars. They were... there was a reason that door squeaked the way it did. It's 'cause they weren't, uh, they weren't like high functioning automobiles. Um, that being said, now that Jared and I own both of those, um, both of those cars are currently in the same shop in Texas right now, getting done to where we can put them in a car show. I will say though , I will say... leaving the squeak in the door though. And not touching the paint job. So every scratch, every dent, every nick, every paint chip that was on the car when it was on screen will remain the same. Um, we're just getting everything underneath it nice and reliable. And because we both live in Texas, we're also putting in air conditioning. And a sound system. Because what they did when Jared and I were there, is they stripped the car of anything that we could annoy the crew with. It used to have police lights on the... gone. 'Cause usually those were high beamed pointed directly into the camera lens and Brad was like, [mimes looking through a camera] "Ow!" Uh, they took the horn out, 'cause that was always fun when somebody was right over the hood, like adjusting a light and just be like HONK! They removed the horn, uh, they removed the stereo system because we kept playing music. So they had to take a lot of stuff out of the Impala just so they could get through the day... with us... 'cause again, we're children. So I'm having to put all that stuff back in now. So that it'll be street legal. But yes, I'm excited to get them back and then Jared and I can race them down South Congress Avenue. And get arrested. Thank you."

#Jensen and Baby #oh baby #Jensen and the Impala #Salute to Supernatural Vancouver 2022