#CHAPTER TWENTY! HOLY SHIRT!

[joelsgreys]

fall into temptation | one

Post Outbreak! Joel Miller x Preacher’s Daughter! Reader

series masterlist l next chapter

summary: Of all the women to catch Joel Miller’s attention—it just had to be one of the goddamned preacher’s daughters.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. JACKSON ERA. SLIGHT PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION OF READER, mentions of her hair which she can put up into braids as well as her style of clothing. despite the nickname Joel gives her, it does not speak to her body type or size. AGE GAP (reader is in her 20’s and Joel is 56, i know, i know but this is self indulgent because my birthday is next month idk just let me have this one) canon language, canon violence, several mentions of religion, terms pastor and preacher are used interchangeably here and there, mentions of the bible and religious symbols (cross), innocent/virgin reader, very brief scene of attempted sexual assault, no explicit smut (yet). asshole Joel, protective Joel, hints of softish dom Joel (if you squint). reader has two sisters, the only physical description for them is their hair, which they can also braid as well as their style of clothing.

MOODBOARD FOR AESTHETIC PURPOSES ONLY, NO MENTION OF RACE OR BODY TYPE.

word count: 8.4k

Jackson, Wyoming

Fall 2024

Joel had seen him around the community before. 

He’s an older man in his late sixties or possibly his early seventies with thinning, snow white hair and silver, wire rimmed glasses that always seemed to be perched on the tip of his pointed nose. He was a good, kind man from what Joel could gather—offering up warm smiles and friendly waves to anyone who happened to cross his path, stopping to greet and say hello to familiar faces. The hem of his starched white shirt is tucked into pressed black slacks and even from where he stood across the road near the horse stables, Joel noticed the book clutched in his right hand, old and bound in supple, worn black leather with the words Holy Bible etched into the cover in flaked gold lettering.

Jacob, he thinks his name is. Or was it Josiah?

Something biblical—a name fit for a man who was so fucking clearly devoted to the big man upstairs.

Joel knew his own name was a biblical one, but he was the furthest thing from a man of God. After all that he’d done in the past twenty years, there was only one place he was going and that place wasn’t exactly known for its pearly gates or sweet cherub angels playing harps.

Joseph? Was that it? 

He couldn’t be certain.

Not that Joel really even cared to know his name. 

It’d been a couple months since Joel arrived back in Jackson with Ellie after Salt Lake City and the truth of the matter was that he preferred to keep to himself whenever it was possible. Joel had zero interest in getting to know the people of this settlement, not unless he had to for the sake of patrol duties—and that’s only if he hadn’t been able to weasel his way out of getting assigned with a partner who wasn’t Tommy or Maria, the only two people in the whole fucking community Joel could stand being around. Minus his kid of course, but even he and Ellie could really only take each other in small doses lately. Perhaps it was their tense, strained relationship that was to blame for the fact that Joel Miller walked around this place with a standoffish attitude and a permanent scowl plastered on his face. 

Most people were smart enough to scamper off in the opposite direction when they saw him coming. He was never offended by it. It’s what he wanted. He wasn’t here to make friends.

In fact, the closest thing he had come to a friend outside of his brother’s wife was Esther, the woman Maria and Tommy had tried setting him up with when he first got back to Jackson. He wouldn’t go as far as calling her a friend, either. That’s a little too generous. Friend? No, more like a good fuck when he couldn’t drown his bitterness with Seth’s barrel aged bourbon and he was in need of a different kind of distraction.

But there was a reason this particular man piqued his curiosity. Actually, there were three reasons he managed to garner Joel’s attention and all three of those reasons were trailing behind him in an orderly, single file line, each one more fucking gorgeous than the last. He was positive he’d never seen them around before—because how could he possibly forget the faces of the most beautiful women in this town?

They’ve gotta be sisters, Joel thought to himself, his hand resting on the neck of the horse that he’d ridden out to patrol that morning, a dark, chestnut mare named Willow. Although he was supposed to be walking her inside the stables and back into her stall, he found himself far too distracted. While the three women weren’t identical to one another, the similarity in their traits such as hair color and their skin tone confirmed his suspicions that they were related. They all styled their hair in neat halo braids and wore slightly different color variations of the same getup—pressed, long sleeved blouses tucked into knee length floral printed skirts and worn, leather oxford shoes.

Clutching the brown leather strap of his rifle in his opposite hand, Joel leaned himself against Willow and squinted against the bright afternoon sunlight in an effort to get a better look at them. 

The first two were slightly on the older side. If Joel had to take a shot at their age, he would guess the women were in their thirties—a man of fifty six, he still had about two decades on them, easy. Joel let his gaze shift, his dark brown eyes flickering to the last one. His breath audibly hitched in his throat and part of him wondered just how fucking dumb he had to be to be drawn to the youngest one of the three. It couldn’t be fucking possible—you couldn’t be that much older than your mid twenties, if that. 

Joel’s grip on the strap of his rifle tightened. 

All three of you were beautiful beyond words—why the fuck did it have to be you who held over his interest?

“Take a picture,” Maria remarked with a tiny laugh. She dismounted her horse and peered at Joel over the black stallion’s back. “It’ll last longer.”

She’d led that morning’s patrol, her first time back on duty since she had given birth to her son in the spring. Joel had returned to Jackson right on time to meet his one month old nephew, Noah. 

He cleared his throat and shrugged. “Just tryin’ to figure out what their deal is, that’s all.” He paused, then remarked, “Didn’t know polygamy was a thing around here.”

His comment must have struck a nerve in his dear sister in law—fiercely protective of the people who were under her leadership, Maria hadn’t found the sister wives implication the slightest bit amusing. 

“Watch it, Joel,” she admonished, shooting him a warning glare. “He’s the town’s pastor and those girls happen to be his daughters. So let’s keep our wise ass cracks to ourselves, shall we?”

His daughters? He almost couldn’t believe it. Surely the girls must have taken after their mother because they sure as hell didn’t get their good looks from their old man. They hardly looked anything like him.

“Pastor,” Joel repeated with a small hum. He then remembered her pointing out an old church house back during the winter when she’d given him and Ellie the grand tour of the community. “So he ain’t got a real job like the rest of us?”

Maria rolled her eyes. “His job is a real job, Joel. It might be hard for you to believe, but there are still a lot of people of faith around here,” she explained to him. “He provides them with comfort and with hope—”

He snorted sharply through his nose. “Hope?”

“Yes, hope,” she snapped at him. 

“Hope for what, Maria? That things will go back to fuckin’ normal? That the end of the world is temporary?”

Maria crossed her arms over her chest, jutting her chin. “Some people never lose hope, Joel. There’s a lot of people who need this man and he serves a much bigger purpose than what you’re giving him credit for.”

“And what about the girls? They have it easy too? Do they just stand there lookin’ pretty on Sundays while their old man reads verses out loud from the most useless fuckin’ book known to man?”

“If you must know, they work in the schoolhouse,” she answered, tossing him another glare. “They’re teachers. The oldest one, she teaches Ellie’s class. The middle one, she teaches the primary school aged children and the youngest? She takes care of all of our little ones. She prepares our preschool kids for her sister’s class by teaching them numbers and basic literacy. Shows them how to start counting, reading and writing, things like that. She also helps run the commune’s daycare.”

“At least they have real jobs,” Joel mumbled under his breath. 

“What was that?”

He feigned innocence. “Nothin’. Nothin’ at all.”

“That’s exactly what I thought.” Maria pointed her finger at him. “Come on, let’s get these guys back into their stalls. It was a long ride this morning, I’m sure they could use some rest.” Taking her stallion by the reins, she started leading him over toward Logan, one of the stable hands who helped take in the horses coming back from patrol. 

Joel took Willow’s reins in his hands—but before he could even think of moving another muscle, he glanced up and saw the preacher leading his three daughters past the stables and right past Joel. His self control faltered. All that he could do was stare at you, his eyes fixed on you so blatantly that one of your sisters had taken notice. Grinning, she turned back towards you and lifted a hand to her mouth. She used her palm to shield her lips from Joel’s view and whispered something to you over her shoulder.

Shit. 

He’d been caught gawking.

He thought about making a beeline for the stables but it was too late. 

Perplexed by whatever it was that your older sister had just said to you, you gave her an odd look, but then followed the subtle nod of her head. 

Glimpsing over in his direction, your lips parted in complete surprise and you came to an abrupt halt in the middle of the dirt road when you found your gaze meeting that of the much older, rugged man standing there with a gun slung over his shoulder.

Unsure of what else to do, Joel simply offered you a polite nod of his head. The gesture was innocent enough but it startled you. He could tell by the way you let out a small gasp and turned away from him, your eyes falling to the ground as you scurried to catch up to your father and sisters like a spooked little mouse. 

Joel couldn’t help but shake his head and laugh.

“Is the preacher aware that his precious little daughters pay frequent visits to The Tipsy Bison at such late and ungodly hours?” Joel quipped. He gestured to a booth nestled over in a corner of the dimly lit bar with a subtle jerk of his chin. “S’gotta be the third or fourth time I’ve seen them here in the last couple of weeks.”

Tommy’s eyes followed his brother’s gesture. “Oh man, not again,” he said with an exasperated sigh. He shook his head. “Those girls, they ain’t got no fuckin’ business hangin’ around this place and much less at this fuckin’ hour. But the middle one, she’s a whole lot of trouble.” He paused, just long enough to nod at one of the three sisters, the one who was wearing her hair loose around her shoulders, twirling a lock of it around her finger as she made flirtatious fuck me eyes at the group of drunk patrolmen sitting a few tables away. “She’s somethin’ of a rebel, that one. Likes to drink a lot, get herself involved with things that she ain’t really supposed to be messin’ with. She’s the one who convinces the other two into sneakin’ out and comin’ to the bar when their old man goes to sleep.”

Joel chuckled in disbelief. “You fuckin’ serious?”

“As a heart attack. And then there’s the older one. I know she likes to drink too, but she’s a lot calmer than the other one. Ain’t gotta worry about her all too much, y’know? She tries to be the chaperone—it don’t always work out that way, though. Her halo ain’t exactly perfect either.”

“What ‘bout the youngest one?” Joel asked in the most nonchalant tone he could possibly muster. “Where does she fall on the scale between angel and devil?”

You’re carefully perched on the edge of the booth, your pretty features twisting in disgust with every sip of the rich, amber colored liquid in your glass. Unable to stomach the burning alcohol, you set it off to the side, abandoning it in favor of a glass of water instead.

“Her?” Tommy grinned, leaning back into his chair as stated, “Oh, she’s an absolute angel. She’s just ‘bout the sweetest fuckin’ thing you’ll ever see in your whole damn life, big brother. She’s gotta be the kinda girl who all the little birds and woodland critters sing to when there ain’t no one around,” he laughed. “She’s real good. Too good. Wouldn’t surprise me if the lord sent her down from heaven himself.”

Joel tossed him a skeptical look across the table.

“She really as innocent as she seems?” 

“I don’t think she even knows what it’s like to hold another man’s hand,” his younger brother laughed again and reached for his beer, taking a generous swig. 

Joel hummed softly and lifted his glass of whiskey to his lips. The mere thought of you being so pure and so innocent—untouched by anyone else—caused something to stir deep in his lower belly. 

“She’s the old man’s pride and joy,” Tommy continued, breaking into his train of thought. “Kind. Polite. Behaves. Doesn’t get herself into any kinda trouble—I mean look at her, she can’t even choke down a glass of whiskey. She’s just too good of a girl.”

Joel proceeded cautiously with his next question. “Any of them taken?” 

Surprised, Tommy raised his eyebrows. “Joel, don’t fuckin’ tell me—”

“No, I ain’t interested,” he interjected, rolling his eyes. “Just a curious motherfucker, that’s all.”

He didn’t seem too convinced by Joel’s answer. “They’re all single from what I know. To be honest, there ain’t a whole lot of men around here their old man would approve of,” he remarked. “Don’t get me wrong, he’s a nice man and all, but when it comes to his daughters, he’s real strict. Not that controllin’ has done him much good, though.” He lowered his voice as a fellow patrolman walked past their table. “The middle one’s fucked her way through this entire town and then back again. She even made a pass at me while Maria was pregnant with Noah, if you can fuckin’ believe that.”

Amused, Joel snorted into his drink. Ballsy. “How goddamn drunk was she?”

Tommy ran a hand through his jet black curls. “Wasted. Oldest one ain’t exactly the Virgin Mary, either.”

“And the old man doesn’t know?”

“Nope. Ain’t nobody gonna snitch on grown women in their thirties.” Noticing the amused expression on Joel’s face, he adds, “By the way, just in case you haven’t figured it out, this stays between us, Joel.”

He smirked. “Which part?”

“All of it. And take it from me, those girls? S’best you keep your distance from them,” he warned as he stood up from the table. He picked up the blue denim jacket draped over his chair, shrugging into it. “Don’t go gettin’ any dumbass ideas, alright?”

“Look, if the wild one makes a pass at me, I ain’t gonna turn her down. S’not like I’ve got a pregnant wife at home.”

“Joel, I fuckin’ swear. If you even think ‘bout it—”

He held up his hands to stop him. “Relax. Was just a joke.”

“Right. M’sure it was.” Tommy snorted. “Listen, I gotta get back home. Don’t wanna leave Maria on her own with the baby for too long.”

“How’s she been holdin’ up?”

“She’s been so tired. Jugglin’ motherhood, runnin’ this place, and bein’ back on patrol duty. I keep on tryin’ to tell her to slow it down, but she just won’t listen to me.” He let out a small sigh and waved a dismissive hand. “But anyway. If you’re all good to head out, I can walk you back to your place since it’s on the way to mine?”

Joel looked down at his glass, still half full. “I think I’m gonna hang back for a while longer. I’m on the roster for evenin’ patrol tomorrow, s’not like I’ve gotta be up at the ass crack of dawn.”

“Suit yourself.” Clapping him on the back, Tommy bid him goodnight and started towards the door. 

As soon as he was gone, Joel looked over towards your booth. He watched as you whispered into the ear of your eldest sister who nodded her head in understanding. You stood up and said something else to her, then spun around on your heel, long skirt flowing along with the movement. Head down, you hastily made your way across the bar, being careful so as not to bump into anyone along the way.

You were leaving. Alone. 

In the middle of the fucking night? While drunk morons poured in and out of the bar?

She’ll be just fine, he tried to convince himself. 

Joel frowned to himself, gripping his drink tightly in his hand as he scanned the room.

Sitting at a nearby table was Kent, some idiot he’d been stuck with a time or two for patrol. He clocks the smirk that crossed the younger man’s face, his eyes following you all the way to the door. Leaning forward over the table, he whispered something to his buddies, his smirk widening. His comrades, all who looked and behaved more like teenagers rather than grown men, lifted their beers to him, nodding in encouragement. Drunk off his ass, Kent drained the rest of his own beer, slamming the glass bottle down onto the table before clumsily stumbling to his feet. 

Joel momentarily froze as soon as he realized what was happening. 

Kent was going after you. 

Joel’s lips pressed together into a tight, thin line.

Setting his drink down, he stood up from his table and slipped on his jacket before following suit.

Joel stepped out of the bar and into the night, the chilly evening air nipping at his face. He took a look around. 

You were nowhere to be seen. Neither was Kent. 

That couldn’t fucking be good. 

“Where the fuck did you two go,” he muttered to himself under his breath.

That’s when he heard it. 

The sound of muffled screaming coming from the side of the building. Joel didn’t hesitate. Following your smothered cries for help, he whipped around into the dimly lit alley nestled in between the bar and the commune’s mess hall. You’re pinned underneath Kent with your skirt bunched up around your waist. One of his hands was covering your mouth while his other hand clawed its way up your bare thigh. 

“Aw, c’mon now, sugar,” Kent slurred his words together. “It’d be a fucking shame to let someone as cute as you stay a fucking virgin. Don’t be coy—I know you’re just like your stupid slut of a sister. She’s got no trouble spreading her fucking legs for me, y’know.”

Red.

It was the color that flashed in Joel’s mind. It was all he could see as he went up behind Kent, letting his hands reach for fistfuls of his leather jacket. He lifted him off of you with ease, slamming him hard against the brick wall of the mess hall. Pulling him forward, Joel slammed his body into the wall once more, knocking all the wind out of his lungs. 

“Miller, what the fuck are you doing!” Kent gasped out, frantically pawing at the older man’s hands in an effort to break free. “Get the fuck off me!”

“Takin’ advantage of an innocent girl?” Joel hissed at him, tightening his grasp on the collar of Kent’s jacket. “Think that makes you a fuckin’ man?”

Though he was still intoxicated, the sheer terror of being caught in Joel Miller’s hands sobered him just enough that he started sputtering an explanation. “I wasn’t fucking taking advantage of her! Her and her whore sisters were making eyes at me and the guys all fucking night! She fucking wanted it! She asked me for it, couldn’t even wait long enough to get back to my place—”

The lie came straight through his chattering teeth. The same teeth he would be picking up off the ground in the next minute or two. 

Joel knew he didn’t need to ask. Still, he turned to you, his rage only intensifying when he took in the sight of you lying there on the ground, the hem of your light blue floral skirt hiked around your waist. 

“That true?” He questioned you. “You wanted it?”

You stared at him with wide and fearful eyes.

A single tear slipped down the side of your face.

“Answer me, darlin’,” he prompted. “You wanted this?”

“No. I didn’t.” Your voice was small, barely audible.

But he’d heard it loud and clear. 

“She’s lying!” Kent tried to tell him. “She’s—”

Joel delivered the first punch, a blow so hard he’d felt the younger man’s nose crack underneath his curled fist. He struck him again and again, the blows coming in harder and harder, turning Kent’s face into a bloodied pulp.

If Joel didn’t get a grip, he would kill him. Part of him wanted to fucking kill Kent for putting his hands you—and more so for accusing of you wanting it. Pathetic fucking bastard. 

Holding Kent up by the throat with one hand, Joel pulled his switchblade from the back pocket of his jeans with the other. Fingers curled tightly around the hilt, Joel held up the knife into Kent’s view. He had left his eyes purple and swollen, but judging by the pitiful little pleas for mercy, it was clear that he could still somehow see the sharp blade being held an inch or so away from his face. 

“If I ever catch you anywhere near her again, I ain’t gonna be so fuckin’ generous,” Joel growled warningly. “I ain’t gonna let you walk away next time, boy. That understood?”

He nodded. “Un—Understood.”

“Good.” Joel released him, stepping backwards as he fell to the ground. “Get the fuck outta my face. Now.”

Kent managed to scramble to his feet and staggered off, disappearing from the alley. 

Chest heaving, Joel inhaled a deep breath through his nose, then exhaled it through his mouth before turning to you once more. 

Petrified, you still hadn’t moved a single muscle.

You looked fucking terrified. Whether it was from Kent’s assault or the way Joel had nearly beaten him to death right in front of you, it was hard to tell.

Crouching down beside you, Joel caught your subtle flinch. He proceeded to move slowly as he reached for the hem of your skirt. Delicately, he gripped the soft, flowing fabric and pulled it down into place. Joel then held his hand out to you. 

You hesitated for a split second, but accepted his hand and allowed him to help you up to your feet. 

“You alright, little dove?” The nickname had fallen from his lips before he could even think to stop it. 

“I think so,” you replied, nodding your head. You’d started to tremble and even though it had nothing to do with being cold, Joel took notice of it and he shrugged out of his camel colored jacket. He gave it to you, draping it over your shoulders. The scent of him instantly enveloped you—a mouth watering masculine mixture of clean soap, woodiness, and musk. It was far more intoxicating than the scotch you had tried back inside the bar. He didn’t utter a word to you as he wrapped his jacket around your body, both of his hands pulling gently at the lapels to bring them together in front of your chest. That was when you glanced down and saw he’d injured his hand. You gasped lightly. “Are you okay?”

Maybe it was the adrenaline, but Joel hadn’t even noticed that he’d split his knuckles wide open. Giving it a light shake, he assured you gruffly, “M’fine.”

Without thinking it through, you gingerly grabbed Joel’s hand, holding it in both of yours. “It doesn’t look like nothing,” you countered. You inspected it as best as you could in such poor lighting. “You’re bleeding.”

“Trust me, I’ve had a whole lot worse,” he deadpanned.

Ignoring his remark, you asked, “Can you move all your fingers for me? Just to make sure that it isn’t broken?”

Joel felt a strange warmth radiate in his chest. 

Fucking hell, Tommy had been right about you. 

You really were too good.

“Darlin’ I already told you m’fine—”

“Please?”

That word, and the way you’d said it, sent a shiver up the length of his spine.

Joel started wiggling his fingers in your palms. He winced slightly at the soreness. More than that, he knew his cuts and bruises would be all the fucking proof Tommy and Maria would need to know that he had been the one who rearranged Kent’s face. 

“See?” He spoke after a minute as he continued to move his fingers up and down. “Ain’t broken.”

“Let me clean you up,” you offered. Looking up at him, you cradled his hand as if it were a fragile baby bird you wanted to take home and nurse back to health.

“That really ain’t necessary.”

“You just saved me from—it’s the least I can do for you,” you insisted. Seeing him open his mouth just to protest again, you cut him off. “Please?”

There it was again.

Christ. That word sounded too good coming from those plush, pretty lips of yours. 

Joel sighed out in defeat. “Alright then,” he relented. “I s’ppose there ain’t no harm in lettin’ you clean me up a bit, little dove.”

Pleased that he had finally accepted, you carefully let go of his hand and took a step back, beckoning for him to follow you. “Come with me,” you said to him. “I know somewhere private we can go.”

When you came to a stop at the old church house, Joel shook his head and took a step backwards. 

Puzzled, your brows knitted together. “What is it? What’s the matter?”

He backed away further. “I ain’t goin’ in there.” 

You tossed him an amused glance. “It’s a church.”

“Yeah, I know that. I ain’t exactly a man of God.” 

You couldn’t help but giggle. “So? What does that have to do with me taking you inside to clean your hand up for you?”

Shuffling his weight from boot to boot, Joel shrugged. “Just don’t think I belong in there, that’s all.”

“Do you think you’re going to melt if you step foot inside?” you teased him. After a minute, it became apparent that he was being serious about it. Joel’s discomfort about going inside the church wasn’t some kind of joke on his part, it was real. “Don’t be silly. It doesn’t matter that you’re not a man of God. That doesn’t mean that you’re going to explode or burn into a pile of ashes for going inside, you know.”

“After all the terrible shit I’ve done?” He looked up at the building, shaking his head again. “I just might burn, little dove.”

You bit back a small smile. You’d already grown to be quite fond of his sweet nickname for you. 

“There’s a first aid kit inside I can use to patch you up,” you told him. “It won’t take long, I promise.”

His lower lip rolled in between teeth as he thought it over. “I ain’t too sure about this—”

“It’s only going to take me five minutes to get your hand cleaned up and then you can leave. Okay?”

You were as stubborn as you were sweet. How the fuck was he supposed to say no to you?

Reluctantly, Joel finally agreed to it. “Okay.” He followed you up the creaking, wooden porch steps towards the double doors. He’d just started to wonder how the two of you were even supposed to get into the building after hours when you leaned down, lifting the old mat on the floor to reveal a set of keys. Unable to help himself, he scoffed, “Serious?”

“Doesn’t everyone keep a key under their mat?” 

“Yeah at their fuckin’ house. Not their church.” 

“Well to be fair, this is kind of like a second home. I spend quite a bit of time here,” you confessed.

Joel raised an eyebrow at you. “So much time that you’ve decided to keep a set of keys under the mat?”

Sheepishly, you nodded. “Sometimes when I can’t sleep at night, I’ll come here alone and sit with my thoughts for a while.” You shrugged. “Maria let me have the spare set of keys. She knows I come here and so does the rest of the council. I trespass with their full permission,” you kidded with a small grin. 

Unlocking one of the two doors, you stepped over the threshold and waited expectantly for Joel. But he stood there, making no move to join you on the other side. 

“This place gives me the fuckin’ creeps,” he admitted. 

You laughed. “It’s only the outside that’s creepy, I promise.”

Grimacing, Joel finally walked inside, his back and shoulders stiff with tension as he stepped into the place of worship. 

You closed the door and flipped on the lights, then opened a second set of double doors with another key from the ring. 

“Whoa.” He was pleasantly surprised. For as old as this place was, the interior of the church was quite nice. He could tell that it had been well cared for in its lifetime—the former contractor in him had little choice but to appreciate the high ceiling, the large windows, and the satin finish of the white paint on the rustic, wooden panel walls. 

There were a total of twelve pews, six on each side of the church. There was an older, antique piano in pristine condition nestled over in one corner of the room and in another, there was a large chalkboard propped up on a wooden easel, biblical verses that had been the focus of the congregation’s previous gathering still scribbled across it in white chalk. 

“See?” You nudged his arm with your elbow. “This isn’t so awful, right?”

“S’ppose it ain’t all that bad,” he muttered. 

Your eyes twinkled with pure amusement, adding, “And you didn’t burn into a pile of ashes.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Joel grumbled out in response. “Can we just get this over with so I can get outta here?”

You tossed him a playful little eye roll then nodded towards the pews. “Go ahead and just have a seat anywhere,” you instructed him. “I’ll be right back.”

You disappeared down a short, dimly lit corridor.

Letting out a heavy sigh, Joel slowly made his way down the aisle holding his injured hand against his chest. Now that the adrenaline had started wearing off, it’d started throbbing with pain.

There was an altar at the front of the church—if he could even call it an altar. 

It was a plain oakwood table with a white fair linen cloth draped over it and nothing else. 

Above it, bolted onto the wall, was a wooden cross.

He averted his eyes, turning away from it. 

Of all the shit to be intimidated by in this world. 

A fucking slab of carved wood. 

Joel’s attention shifted over to the chalkboard. He squinted at it, silently reading the verse to himself.

God is faithful, and he will not let you be tempted beyond your ability. 1 Corinthians 10:13

“But with the temptation, he will also provide the way of escape, that you may be able to endure it,” you recited the rest of the verse from behind him.

“No offense darlin’, but it sounds like nothin’ but a whole lotta gibberish to me,” he remarked to you over his shoulder. 

“No offense taken, Joel.”

Whirling around on the heel of his worn boot, Joel blurted, “How did you know my name?”

“You’re Tommy Miller’s brother. Everybody in this town knows your name.” You held up the white tin box in your hands. A big, red cross had been spray painted onto the lid. You sat down in the first pew and patted the seat right beside you. “Come sit.”

He sauntered over and dropped down next to you, watching as you opened up the box and started digging through its contents. “You know my name,” he stated after a few seconds of silence. “Sure would be nice for me to know yours.”

Smiling politely, you told him your name.

Joel repeated it. It rolled almost too sweetly off his tongue.

“S’real pretty, little dove. Just like you.”

His compliment nearly knocked all of the air out of your lungs and for a split second, you have to remind yourself to breathe.

Cheeks burning, you murmured a small thank you and plucked a bottle of saline solution from the kit along with a piece of clean cotton. You tried not to think about the way his eyes were fixed intently on you as you unscrewed the cap and poured a bit of the liquid onto the cotton. “It shouldn’t sting,” you reassured him, reaching for Joel’s injured hand. It was rough and calloused, a stark contrast against your own soft and smooth. You set his hand down on your knee, a strange sensation fluttering in the depths of your lower belly when the warmth of his skin seeped right through the fabric of your skirt. 

Comfortable silence fell over the both of you like a curtain as you started cleaning the blood off of his knuckles and his long, thick fingers. 

“You really believe in all this stuff?” Joel spoke, his question echoing off the bare walls of the church. 

You continued dabbing at his cuts, thinking it over in your head for a moment.

“I honestly don’t know,” you admitted.

Your answer took him by complete surprise.

“What do you mean you don’t know?”

“I have always been taught to believe in God, Joel. It’s all that I’ve ever known. I grew up in a religious community,” you explained to him, making sure to keep your eyes focused on his hand. Tossing aside the bloodied wad of cotton, you picked up another piece adding more saline to it. “After the outbreak, things changed, of course. I couldn’t imagine how He could let something like this happen. When we lost our mother to infection about five years ago, I stopped praying. I finally stopped holding onto the ounce of hope I had that He would make the world right again. I refused to believe in God. Sometimes I still do,” you confessed quietly.

“You said you spend a lot of time here. Why come to church if you’re not even sure you believe in any of this shit anymore?”

“I’m always here because there’s still a part of me that thinks there’s a chance for me to believe again. When I told you I come here when I can’t sleep at night, it’s true. It’s my time to be here completely alone, the time that I use to mend my broken relationship with God. Or at least, I’ve been trying to mend it.” Taking a little glass pot of homemade antibiotic ointment one of the women in the town made and traded, you took off the lid and scooped out some of the salve with the tip of your finger. You applied it carefully to his cuts and continued, “But lately, the more that I try to pray and talk to Him, the more foolish I feel. It’s just not working. It hasn’t been working for a long, long time.”

“Then why keep tryin’ if it ain’t workin’ anymore?”

“Because I don’t really have much of a choice.”

“Your old man?” Joel guessed, wincing slightly as you went over a particularly sore spot on his hand, right over the torn up knuckle of his index finger. 

“Mhm.” You nodded. “My father never lost faith in Him. He knows how I feel, but he refuses to let me give up on God. He won’t ever let me miss church or go to bed without reciting my nightly prayer. He won’t let me abandon our faith. Not until the day he is cold and buried in his grave.”

“So what I’m gettin’ is that he forces you?”

You finished applying the ointment and wiped the remnants lingering on your finger off on your skirt.

“Force is such a harsh word. I wouldn’t say that—”

“He’s forcin’ you,” Joel said, flatly. 

“Joel—”

“You can twist it however the hell you want, sweet girl,” he cut you off. “But if you’re tryin’ this fuckin’ hard to make yourself believe in somethin’ just for the sake of appeasin’ your dad because he can’t or won’t accept how you really feel ‘bout all this, well I hate to break it to you, but you’re bein’ forced.”

Your eyes widened ever so slightly at his words. 

You had never thought about it like that before.

Placing the lid back onto the pot of ointment, you put it back into the first aid kit and then set the tin box down onto the floor. You sat back and clasped your hands together in your lap, not knowing what else to say to him. 

He was right, after all. 

Joel’s fingers lightly squeezed your knee. “Hey.”

You brought your gaze over to meet his. “Hm?”

“Can I ask you somethin’ ‘bout your dad?”

“What is it?” 

Joel chose his words carefully. “Has he ever—he ain’t ever done anythin’ to hurt you, has he?” he asked you, earning himself a perplexed stare. He continued to elaborate. “What I mean is, he ever put his hands on you or anythin’ like that?”

Oh. That’s what he meant.

“Never,” you assured him quickly. “He would never lay a single finger on me or my two sisters.”

He gave your knee another squeeze. “Just needed to make sure of it, sweetheart. Back in the day, I used to hear and see awful things on the news ‘bout—”

You were quick to cut him off. “Look, my father isn’t perfect, but he’s not like that. He’s a good man who only wants what is best for us. He’s strict and he can be tough, but it’s only because he cares. He just doesn’t want us running down the wrong path.”

“The wrong path?”

You shrugged. “Life here in Jackson is decent, but there’s a lot of temptations he doesn’t want any of us falling into. He wants to protect us.”

“By controllin’ you.” 

It had been a statement, not a question. 

Giving him a wry smile, you assured him, “Joel, it’s really not as bad as you’re making it sound. I could be a whole lot worse off than this, you know.”

There was another short bout of silence.

Joel’s dark eyes fell to your blouse, noticing how a couple of the top buttons had come undone. 

He caught the slightest glimpse of the soft curves of your breasts—all it had taken was just a peek at them for his cock to twitch against the zipper of his jeans.

Don’t you get hard in a fuckin’ church, Miller.

His gaze wandered down a little further and that’s when he caught sight of the cross hanging from a delicate gold chain clasped around your neck.

Joel expected the sight of it to calm the straining in his jeans. Somehow, it only made it worse. 

“Earlier, when we were standing outside,” you had started to say, “You said you might burn if you came inside the church because of all the terrible shi—things that you’ve done.”

“S’right.”

You peered at him with curiosity. “So what exactly have you done, Joel?”

Joel leaned back into the pew, shaking his head at you as he finally pulled his hand from your knee. 

“You really don’t wanna know, little dove.”

“Why not?”

His answer was honest.  “Don’t want you to be scared of me.”

Angling your body towards him, you placed one of your hands on his thigh. Your fingers burned right through the dark blue denim of his jeans.

Joel’s lips parted slightly, taken aback by the bold move and the sudden shift in your demeanor.

Were you the same girl who’d nearly had a fucking heart attack a couple of weeks ago when Joel had nodded at you back at the stables? 

“I’m not scared of you,” you murmured, softly. You gave his leg a squeeze, pulling your plump bottom lip between your teeth. Between that and the wide innocent doe eyes that you were giving him, it was taking every last ounce of strength Joel had inside him to keep a straight face, to pretend you weren’t driving him absolutely wild with desire.

He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d felt such an incredible need to have someone. 

Want, sure. 

He had wanted Tess. He had wanted Esther. 

But Joel didn’t just want you. 

He fucking needed you. 

And he didn’t know why.

“I’m not scared of you,” you repeated, trailing your hand further up his thigh, setting a fire neither one of you would soon be able to contain. 

Joel leaned forward, bringing his face dangerously close towards yours. His warm breath fanned over your lips. It was still laced with bourbon. “You sure ‘bout that, darlin’ girl?” 

You tried to answer him in the steadiest voice that you could muster, but it was impossible for you to hide the effect this man had on you. 

You breathed out a shaky, “I’m sure.”

Lifting his uninjured hand, he reached up to tuck a loose lock of hair that had fallen out of your braids behind your ear. As his hand fell away, the palm of it grazed against the silkiness of your cheek. 

Though brief, the contact sent an electric current through each and every last single nerve ending in your entire body. 

Exhaling sharply, your eyelids fluttered closed. You nearly whimpered out his name. “Joel?”

“What is it, babygirl? What do you want?”

“I—I want you to kiss me.” 

Joel leaned in even closer, stopping only when his mouth was less than an inch away from yours. 

You heard him chuckle softly. 

“Y’know, I’d expect better manners from a good girl like you,” he tsked lightly, his nose skimming near the corner of your mouth. Closer. “What’s the magic word, little dove?”

“Please.”

“S’much better.”

Your heart pounded with anticipation.

It was almost too much for you to handle. 

Joel closed the remaining gap of space, capturing your lips with his own. He remembered his brother talking about you at the bar—how he had told Joel that you had never even held a man’s hand before.

It occurred to him that he was giving you your first kiss. Him. Joel Miller. The town’s resident asshole and a man who was well over twice your own age. He was the one giving you your very first kiss. 

The guilt suddenly started to creep in, sinking into his bones.

What the fuck had he been thinking? 

And what about you? 

Where the fuck had your common sense gone?

Probably ran off together with Joel’s.

“Sweetheart,” he murmured, pulling away slightly in an attempt to stop it from going any further. He tried again, mumbling against your lips, “We gotta stop. This ain’t right—”

You were having none of it. 

None. 

Clutching fistfuls of Joel’s denim shirt, you swung your leg over his thighs and straddled his lap. Your knees rested on either side of him on the bench. 

“Please,” you nearly pleaded. “Just kiss me. I want it—I want this. I promise you that I do.” You placed both of your hands on his broad shoulders, sliding them around him as you slowly sank down further onto his lap. “I want this, Joel.”

Suddenly, he realized that you were asking him for more than just his kiss. 

Now he knew for sure that all common sense had left that pretty little head of yours. 

“Baby, y’need to think real hard ‘bout this—”

Desperate, you uttered one final, “Please.”

Joel bit back a groan. How could he deny you? 

He couldn’t. Simple as that. 

“You sure ‘bout this?”

Your fingers toyed with the curls at the nape of his neck. “Yes. I’m sure.”

“C’mere then, darlin’ girl.”

Joel cupped the side of your face in his large palm and tilted his head up towards yours. Your mouths fused together and although he tried to be gentle, it was proving to be much too difficult—how could he be gentle when you were practically clinging to him? Holding onto him with fervor as if you’d been holding onto dear fucking life itself? 

Temperatures rising, you quickly shrugged out of his jacket, letting it fall to the floor behind you with a soft thud before wrapping your arms around him once again. You melted against him as your mouth molded to his in a perfect fit. 

His teeth nipped at your bottom lip, silently asking for permission to explore the cavern even further. 

Eagerly, your lips parted, granting him access. His tongue slipped past them, meeting yours in a slow and sensual heated dance. 

You breathed him deeply into your lungs, a little moan vibrating at the back of your throat. 

Joel’s hands went to your waist and he yanked the hem of your blouse free from your skirt. 

“Can I feel you, baby?” he asked, breathlessly. His mouth abandoned yours and he began to trail hot, open mouthed kisses underneath your jawline. 

Dazed, all you could do was nod in reply and utter, “Mhm.”

Joel’s hands slipped under your blouse and he slid them up the length of your sides. “Fuck, you gotta be the softest fuckin’ thing,” he cursed against the delicate, tender flesh of your neck. His lips latched onto your pulse point, suckling at the skin there as his fingertips dug into your hips. He needed to feel more, but he forced himself to wait. The last thing he wanted to do was make a wrong move or move too fast and scare you off.

“Joel,” you mewled his name. “Joel, I need—”

You trailed off, moaning when his mouth released your skin with a loud, wet popping noise. 

“Tell me, sweet girl. Tell me what you need and I’ll give it to you,” he promised. “Anythin’ you need or want, I’ll give it to you. Just say the fuckin’ word.”

“You, Joel. I need you.”

His hips involuntarily bucked upwards and you let out a startled gasp the moment you felt his bulge, hard as a rock, brush against your clothed cunt. 

Tearing away from him, it suddenly hit you. You’re in a church, straddling a much, much older man in a pew—and if that wasn’t sinful enough, the warm and slick arousal pooling between your thighs only proved that you were ready to fall into temptation, give into the lust and give your body to Joel. But it was none of those things that worried you. It was something else. 

You pulled yourself out of his arms and jumped up off his lap, nearly tripping over your own two feet.

“Darlin’ are you—?”

You didn’t even hear the rest of his question.

Knees trembling, you somehow managed to make your way up to the altar. Heart pounding and head spinning, you planted both of your hands firmly on the table and steadied yourself. Part of you hoped that Joel would just get up and leave. But a bigger part of you hoped he wouldn’t. 

Joel rose to his feet. “Listen, ain’t nothin’ wrong if you changed your mind, alright?”

“I didn’t,” you choked out. “That’s—that’s not it at all.”

“Then what’s the matter?”

Embarrassed, you tried to explain yourself. “I have never done anything like this before. I’m a—”

You couldn’t even bring yourself to say the word out loud. 

“You’re a what?”

Blazing heat flooded your face. “Joel, please don’t make me say it,” you groaned. “For the sake of my sanity, don’t make me say it.” You heard the sound of his brown leather boots as he walked up behind you, one heavy footstep after the other.

“Turn around, sweet girl.” 

Joel’s command was firm but still gentle. 

Swallowing dryly, you obeyed and did as you were told. He stood close and you found yourself at eye level with his chest. 

“Look at me.”

You tried, but couldn’t. 

“I said, look at me.” Joel gingerly took your chin in between his thumb and index finger. He lifted your face, forcing your gaze to meet his own, timid and submissive meeting bold and dominant in a sweet and tender exchange. “Never known the lovin’ of a man, have you little dove?”

He backed you up against the table, pinning you in between it and himself. Planting both of his hands on either side of you, he caged you in and brought his chest flush against yours, pressing your bodies together.

Close, but somehow not close enough.

Joel lifted his hand to your cheek, cradling it in his palm. His thumb swept over your quivering bottom lip.

You reached behind you, clutching at the fair linen as you tried with every fiber of your entire being to remind yourself that you were standing at the altar where your father preached and delivered all of his sermons to the faithful people of Jackson. 

The very same altar where your father encouraged you to kneel and pray in effort to mend the broken relationship you had with God. 

You couldn’t help but to think if you were to get on your knees tonight, it wouldn’t be for prayer.

“I asked you a question, darlin’.” Joel’s voice broke into your train of thought. “Need you to be a good girl and give me an answer, alright?”

“My father loves me,” you stammered out in reply. “He loves me and my sisters—”

“C’mon, babygirl.” He chuckled and shook his head at you, lightly pinching your cheek. “That ain’t what I mean and you damn well know it.”

Sighing softly, you finally answered, “No, Joel.”

“No, what?”

“No, I’ve never known the loving of a man.”

Joel slipped the tip of his thumb between your lips and leaned into you, his hardness pressing against your upper thigh. Even through all the clothes, you could feel every inch of him. “Do you wanna know how it feels, baby? What it feels like when a man makes you his own?” 

You nearly moaned around his finger. “Yes.”

“Yes, what?” he prompted, pulling his hand away.

“Yes, please.”

“I can show you.” Joel paused. “But not tonight.”

You stared at him in disbelief. Both of you were so clearly riled up and he was going to take a pass?

He almost laughed at your expression. 

“C’mon, don’t give me that face.”

“But Joel—”

“Just don’t wanna rush it, not with you,” Joel said in a tone so soft it nearly threw you for a loop. “M’gonna need you to be real patient for me, just for a little while, alright? You think you can do that, little dove? Think you can be patient for me?”

Your answer came without an ounce of hesitation.

“Of course,” you breathed.

You would wait an eternity for Joel Miller.

#joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x y/n #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller series #joel miller story #joel miller self insert #the last of us fic #pedro pascal characters #fic: fall into temptation

[ramhaiba]

𝖯𝗈𝗌𝗌𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗏𝖾 (𝖸𝖺𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝖠𝗍𝗌𝗎𝗆𝗎 𝗑 𝖱𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋)

𝒸𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝑜𝓃𝑒, 𝓇𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓃𝑔𝑒

a/n: this is a rewrite of one of my old (and incomplete...) stories! the original

chapter contains: blackmail, kita x reader (side) series contains: college au, sexual themes, violence, kidnapping, tea

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

You hated Atsumu Miya since your freshman year of high school. You don’t think you can name one good thing about him. From his annoying voice to his stuck-up personality, you hated it all. 

It wasn’t like he was your biggest fan either- you still remember his dramatic reaction when he found out you’d be going to the same college as him. 

To quote him, 

“Jesus Christ- you obsessed with me or something? Gotta follow me all the way to college too” 

You can barely believe that you used to be his friend before high school, sharing some of your best childhood memories with the former nice boy.

Now, he’s just a scumbag who likes to go out of his way to make you miserable.

But yesterday, was the last straw…

Everyone knew you had a crush on Kita…well- everyone but Kita. 

And Valentine's Day was the day you were gonna man up and finally make a move. You spent all night making chocolates for him…which turned out well- it was edible at least! 

You knew that there was a big possibility that you’d mess up on your words if you verbally tried to confess to him, that’s why you settled for a love letter. You spent hours trying to write that one-page letter. There are at least twenty crumbled-up failed attempts of you trying to write a love letter. However, you settle for the best one, keeping it safely in your pocket. 

Unfortunately, on the day of Valentine's Day- you had a class with Atsumu Miya. At least you also shared that class with a good friend of yours- Usagi. 

You loved that girl but she was one of the girls who fanned over Atsumu. She probably gave one of the hundred Valentine’s chocolates that lay on Atsumu’s desk. 

You walked over to your desk, trying to ignore Atsumu’s bragging about all the love letters he’s received. You settle the chocolates that you made for Kita on your desk, praying that they won’t melt before you give them to him.

“Holy shit what’s that?” Atsumu asked, voice annoying as always, propping his hands on your desk, and leaning over. 

“None of your business” you responded, trying to move the chocolates away from him. 

“She’s going confess to Kita!” Usagi spoke up, the chance to talk to Atsumu being too exciting for her to remain quiet. 

“Usagi!” you yelled, turning your head to look at the embarrassed girl. “S-sorry it just came out” she mumbled. 

Your attention fell back to Atsumu as you heard him laugh. 

“Oh man- I feel so bad for Kita, he’s going to have the ugliest girl on campus confess to him? Talk about social embarrassment am I right?” Atsumu teased, wiping away a tear from laughter. 

“Fuck off for once, Atsumu” you scoffed.  Atsumu paused his laughter, eyes narrowing as he looked at your pockets. “What you got in there?” he questioned. 

“Nothing that concerns you” you replied, shoving your hands into your pockets, probably crumbling the love letter. 

“Well good luck on your little confession, Y/n. You’re gonna need it” Atsumu commented, a sinister smile on his lips as he walked away. 

God- what was he planning? 

---

During lunch, you were walking to your usual table, holding your tray of food in your hand. Just in a few hours, you’ll be confessing to Kita and god you’re nervous. You keep repeating the same phrase in your head,

The worst thing that can happen is that he says no. 

The worst thing that can happen is that he says no. 

The worst thing that can happen is that he sa-

Suddenly, you felt a strong force bump into you, almost everything that was peacefully lying on your tray spilling onto your shirt, hissing in the uncomfortable feeling of your drink drenching your shirt. You looked up to see that Atsumu was the one responsible for the mess. 

“Asshole, watch where you’re going” you huffed, trying to wipe away the food on your shirt. 

“Wow, I am just so sorry, Y/n” Atsumu commented, giving you a passive-aggressive smile as he tried to help you clean off your shirt. 

“God- I hate you” you replied, slapping his hand away as you stormed away. 

Thank god, your dorm wasn’t too far away- however, you did miss your next class because of your sudden need to change your shirt and shower. 

----

The clock struck three- it was finally volleyball practice..AKA the time that you’d be confessing your feelings. You stood in front of the gymnasium, chocolates in one hand, the other reaching into your pocket for the letter

Wh-where is it? 

You panicked feeling your empty pocket. Then you heard Atsumu’s voice in the gymnasium, causing you to slowly open the door, and take a peak. 

“Kita, I’m not sure where to start with this letter. There are just so many things I feel for you. Every time I learn more about you- you just manage to make me fall deeper for you. I just get so nervous when I’m around you but excited at the same time. Is this what love is? And I really hope somewhere in your heart you- 

Jesus Christ! this is the comedic goal” Atsumu burst into laughter, holding a letter in his hand that he seemed to be reciting. You felt your heart stop, your blood going cold as you listened to all the laughter in the gym.

Everyone was laughing at you stupid- stupid letter, well...everyone but Kita.

“Who wrote the letter?” you heard Suna asked Atsumu. 

Atsumu looked around the gym, finally making eye contact with you through the gap between the door, 

“Oh, don’t worry ‘bout that, it’s ain't anyone important” Atsumu responded, a smile across his face as he crumbled the paper before throwing it into a trash can.

----

You ran- you ran all the way back to your dorm room, the tears in your eyes making it hard to see as you crashed on your bed, cursing out Atsumu through the pillow shoved in your face.

The chocolates you made for Kita were crushed and thrown out in your trash can. 

It wasn’t long til your sadness morphed into fiery unstoppable rage. 

You needed revenge- so you came up with the perfect plan.

Unlike most students on campus, Atsumu and Osamu lived in a house nearby- god they were lucky to have rich parents. 

You showed up in front of their house night- it was so late at night that the whole neighborhood was silent. In your hands was a crowbar- 

You thought to yourself, holy fuck this is crazy. But you were so fucking exhausted from all the harassment Atsumu has given to you for years. You had to do this. So you sneaked into their garage, prying it open with a crowbar. 

You knew there was only one thing that Atsumu loved almost as much as he loved himself.

That damn stupid orange car he got for his birthday. 

You remember the countless times when he would drive that expensive car around your house his deafening trashy music blasting from his car. The painful memories of the gas from his car would blow into your face and give you a nasty cough.

You shoved your hands into your pockets, taking out your silver key to your dorm room. 

You hovered your key in front of the door of his car, hands shaking.

“Fuck it” you mumbled, dragging your key across the orange vehicle, leaving a white line on the paint. 

It made your anger and sadness disappear…for a second.

You were painting his car with the scratches done by your trustworthy key for at least ten minutes, getting lost in high of your revenge. 

The sound of footsteps descending downstairs interrupted your high, causing you to dash out of the garage, slamming the door behind you, hiding behind a tree as you heard

"WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED TO MY BABY"

Atsumu’s response causes you to laugh back home. Who cares about forgiveness? Revenge is truly the best feeling in the world. 

---

You were discussing yesterday’s event with Usagi- you told her almost everything besides… your very illegal form of revenge. 

“My beloved, Atsumu did what?” she cried in disbelief. “You mean that monster, Atsumu?” you corrected her. 

“I’m sorry that happened, are you okay?” she asked. “Oh, I am “ you replied, smiling while thinking of the event from last night. 

“Y/n.”

You turned your head, expecting Atsumu who came to annoy you…instead, it was Kita. “I’m sorry if you’re busy but may I talk to you for a moment?” Kita politely asked. You glanced back at an eager Usagi who was waving you off to shut up and go with him. 

“Y-yeah, sure” you replied to Kita. 

Kita held your hand as he led you to a more secluded part of campus, unaware that you were screaming in your head at the gesture. 

“What did you want to talk to me about?” you asked, praying to god he didn’t find out it was you to write that embarrassing letter.

“Well, I didn’t see you yesterday. So I didn’t have the opportunity to give you this” Kita responded, opening his bookbag, gently taking out a piece of chocolate wrapped in a pink transparent bag. 

I-is this what you think it is? Is this a confessio-

“Y/n, I wanted to tell you that-”Kita said, snapping you out of your flustered thoughts. 

“Oh, Y/n, I found you!” Atsumu sang, waving his hand as he ran up to you. You cringed at the feeling of Atsumu wrapping his arm around your shoulder, “Kita, I need to steal sweet Y/n for a moment. It’s important” Atsumu confessed. 

“If it’s important then I suppose it’d be selfish for me to say no” Kita responded. “Great, she will be back in a flash” Atsumu beamed, tugging you away to a different section of campus.

“What the fuck is wrong with you? Couldn’t you see I was busy” you huffed.

“There is nothing more important than spending time with me” Atsumu replied. “You’re such a narcissist” you insulted. 

“And you, sweetheart, are a car wrecker,” Atsumu remarked, stepping closer to you with every word, arms crossed to emphasize his biceps. 

“What? I don’t know what you’re talking about” You laughed in disbelief, trying to act dumb. 

“Ain’t I the luckiest man in the world to have security cameras?” Atsumu confessed, a smile on his lips as he waved his phone, a video of you committing the crime on the screen. 

Fuck-fuck- Fuck you’re so screwed. You’re going to get charged with trespassing and Destruction of property. You’re so going to get kicked out of school. 

“W-why haven’t you shown this to the police already” you stuttered, voice cracking, hands shaking at your side. 

“I wanted to give ya a better option” Atsumu hummed. “What are you trying to say” you replied. 

“You’re going to be my sweet girlfriend for a month”

“What? You’re not serious. You hate me like I hate you” you scoffed in disbelief. “Are you going to question me or be a smart girl and take what I’m offering?” Atsumu uttered, leaning over to your ear, his breath heating your neck. 

“Only for a month?” you repeated, hands forming a fist to your side, sucking up your pride. 

“Only for a month” Atsumu confirmed, pulling away to show you his smile. “Fine” you huffed. 

---

You walked back to Kita, still shaken up from what had just occurred. “Y/n, are you okay? You look worried” Kita questioned, reaching over to hold your hand in his. 

“Yeah, I’m fine. You wanted to tell me something?” you laughed away his concerns. Kita adverted his eyes, a faint red appearing on his cheeks as his lips turned into a subtle smile, 

“I just wanted to know if you had feelings for me…because I admire you. I want to be with you. If you’ll allow me to” Kita confesses, finally having the courage to look back at you. 

You couldn’t believe it, your heart was about to bounce out of your chest until you saw the demon- Atsumu Miya behind Kita, 

“Reject him. “ he mouthed.

Why couldn’t Kita confess next month? 

#yandere x reader #miya atsumu #atsumu x reader #yandere haikyuu x reader #yandere haikyuu #yandere atsumu #atsumu miya x reader #yandere atsumu miya x reader

[narcissarina]

Darkened Desires

Prologue and Chapter 1: The sun || Chapter 2: The moon ||

Pairings: Mafia!Scaramouche × Barista!Reader

Word count: 873

Tw: praise kink, degradation, kidnapping, tourture, dub/non-con, forced breeding, dismembering, gore, deaths, age-gap, corruption, use of force, trauma, use of drugs, stalking, mentions of human trafficking on the near chapters, slowburn.

Warning: This fanfiction may contain kidnapping, torture, dub/non-con, forced breeding, dismembering, age-gap, corruption, vigilante Scaramouche, use of force, trauma, use of drugs, stalking, and more. This fiction will continue grow darker as chapters goes by.

Your mental health matters.

CHAPTER 3:

THE MOON

I sat on my chair, legs crossed and seeing Mr. Parfez all beaten up, nose damaged and a severe cut on his legs. As far as I could count, my men stabbed him twenty-eight times on his thigh, used a knife and cut his cheeks—making his smile much wider and disturbing. Blood all over the tiles and how he is pleading for his life. Cigarette in hand, I puff out a smoke and stood up, using the end of my shoe—I lift his chin up.

Holy shit he looks horrible, this would be very horrifying for my girl.

I puff out another smoke and tilt my head to the side, his eyes met mine and I tap an excess cigar on him, he yells in pain and I push my remaining cigar into his eyes as he bleeds out in my hand—he tried to back out, lift my feet up and step on his chest to make him fall back in to the cold tile full of his blood. His screams can be heard in every corner of this fucking torture chamber of a room. I love how it’s also soundproof, no one can hear his cries for help and how much he pleads for mercy.

But I show neither sympathy nor mercy.

This if the price he must pay after making a fool out of myself, after scamming and breaking our contract like that. He fucking deserves it.

After pushing my remaining cigar to his eyes, he neither moves or struggles. He was dead, I killed him and I don’t feel a thing.

I stood up, and oh my fucking god. Blood all over my attire, fuck!

“Clean this up, and if you all fucked up cleaning this corpse, you all will ended up dead like him.” I snapped and they started moving.

Snapping my finger and one of my men came to me, “Report.” I spoke, he has a mullet cut and ash blonde hair, his tone flat as he speaks, he tells me her full name first and I smiled wickedly.

A beautiful name equals to a beautiful lady.

“She just recently graduated college and with her and her friends family support, they put up a café. She also has two siblings, she’s the middle child.” He reported, his tone loud and clear. I gave him a nod as he handed a file to me, I flip and turn pages full of her personal background.

Her birthday, her hobbies, favorite colors, pets, names of family members, her exes, what degree she graduated, who are her enemies, and more. A picture of her when she’s a child captured my attention, my fingers glide to it as if I were caressing a little girl that grown to be a wonderful and carefree woman.

Too bad she wouldn’t be carefree when she discover who I am.

Hacking one of her cameras are too easy, her surveillance in the café and her own home. She lives in a butt-fuck nowhere where forest surrounds her house. In her papers, it said that she has deep love for nature and how the smell of the leaves brings comfort to her.

Naughty girl, doesn’t she know that many people had gone missing because of houses like this? Tortured, raped, harassed, and more. Tsk, tsk, luckily she’ll have my protection every now and then. I don’t want someone lying their hands on my girl, no one.

There she is, lying on her bed with phone in hand—she doesn’t know that I’m watching her. Why did she install a camera in her bedroom? I laugh on how oblivious she is, hackers can easily hack her cameras then they either can sell her or their footage on the dark web.

I see her, in only in her thongs and fitted shirt, she walks around almost naked in her own home—well, she is surrounded by the green trees, no one can see her—she thought she is free exposing herself in just thongs.

My eyes lingers on the screen, I could feel my cock twitch and throb under the fabric of my pants. How it begs to be buried deep in her pussy, how much I want to penetrate her—to fuck her senseless.

Lost in wild thoughts, a voice came into my small earpiece, “Sir?” it called, I turn away from my computer screen, lean back and light up a cigar.

“speak.”

“I have reports on the missing children, and a leaked video.” He spoke, my attention snatched and my body stiffen, “leaked video?” I repeated and he confirms.

“These fuckers are sick in the head, even targeting helpless women aren’t enough.” I curse under my breath, my blood boils knowing that they even target little kids.

Sick wild motherfuckers.

“There is also an update for sir Niro, would you like me to send it to you?” he asked, I sigh and clenched the light up cigarette in my hand. It burns but it didn’t hurt I have my gloves on.

I nod and turn back to my computer screen, I nodded and have my mind relax when I see her lovely face in the screen, checking the surveillance.

I should probably keep my distance… for now.

Link:

Chapter 4: THE SUN

#genshin impact #scaramouche smut #scaramouche fanfic #scaramouche x reader #scara x reader #scaramouche #Mafia!Scaramouche #Mafia!Scara #genshin smut #Darkened Desires Series #dark romance #Sorry if the this chaoter is short TT #I'll try harder next time:(

[letsgetrowdy43]

Chapter three— in all fairness

Au Masterlist!!

Philippe sat on the couch, the stubbornness of his daughter racking his brain as he tried to give her a bottle, his attempt lasting nearly twenty minutes and was fuelled with agony, “Flo, baby, you gotta eat my girl” he whispered as he bounced her on his knee, “your mama makes this look so easy.” The little girl stared at him for a second, her eyes glossing over as she stared at the bottle in his hand, her bottom lip wobbling as Phil tried to work the nipple of the bottle past her lips, “please no tears baby,” he mumbled to her as she whisked her up into his arms loud wails coming from her as he rubbed her back. “Where’s my smiley girl?” he asked while pulling her away from him to look her in the eyes, the cries slowly dying off as her tiny hands find the plush of his cheeks and squeeze, a smile growing as he pulls her back into his chest to places kisses all over her face, “There she is,” he says in between kisses.

“I get why people say you get your stubbornness from me,” he said grabbing the bottle again to attempt to feed her once again. “It's easy,” the young woman said from the doorway, startling Philippe, “You just have to let her hold it herself, she’s recently discovered independence” “Oh thank god you’re home,” “Yeah yeah,” the girl smiled as she dropped her bags on the ground to grab Flo from the man who was now in a hurry to get to campus, “go to class, have a good practice tell the media team I miss them” “I owe you my life,” he said as he kissed his daughter on the cheek before handing her over, then he placed a quick kiss to her mother's temple before searching for his car keys. “What's new” the girl mumbled as she sat down on the couch with Flo resting against her chest.

She grabbed the bottle off of the coffee table and smiled as she sat Flo up on her lap and placed the bottle in the little girl's hands, “now little Miss, time to eat” she said as they watched Phil triumphantly find the keys and run out of the house in a rush to make it on time class. Her phone lit up, a notification reminding her about an essay due the next day that she had completely forgotten about, “Oh shit” anxiety grew in her chest as she reached for her phone to look at the assignment, “fuck, okay” she groaned as she hiked Florence up on her hip to go and grab her computer and textbooks.

“Hey, sweets!” A voice behind her startled her as she entered the kitchen. “Holy fuck Jay you scared the shit out of me,” she said breathlessly as she looked at the three boys who all smiled back at her. Her eyes travelled down from Jay’s face to his shirt, her brows furrowed at the ‘I love hot moms’ in big bold writing across his chest, “you like my shirt, I wore it with you in mind” the man smiled innocently as Nolan high-fived him, the two of them ignoring the woman’s loud scoffs. “This is why Nick is my favourite” She pointed to the quietest guy who now sat on the couch as the group of four found themselves working their way towards the living room, Nick looked up from his phone with a small grin and waved at the baby who reached out for him, “see how he sits there smiling and stays quiet?” Nolan put his hand over his heart and pretended to act wounded, going limp and falling into the couch dramatically, “Is this what betrayal feels like?” He questioned as he looked at the woman, hoping she would say something to make him feel a little appreciated. “Suck it” Nick mumbled as she passed him the baby.

“You look tired,” Jay said in a serious tone as he passed her the coffee they had picked up for her on the way over, “Here.” “I just remembered that I have a paper due tomorrow in my child development class” She frowned and stood up from the couch in search of her laptop that she had meant to grab before they showed up, “I'm stressed, but Flo is due for a nap so I'm hoping to start it then,” the woman gave a defeated shrug as she settled back onto the couch “Hey, we will take Flo with us to practice, make Truss watch her while we all practice,” Nick said softly as he took the baby from the mat on the floor and placed her on his chest as he took her little hands and started to play with her. “That’s not fair to him.” “The idiot is out on an injury and still has to go to the mandatory practices if anything you’re doing him a favour and relieving him of boredom,” Nolan said with a scoff, the boys loved when she visited, it kept morale high so her visit would help the team and Jacob out a lot more than they let on.

“Can you at least text and ask him first before I send my child off with him? I don’t want to just assume he’s okay with it” she asked as she looked over to Jay who was already on it. “Give me two seconds,” he said walking into the kitchen to call him.

Nolan smiled as Nick handed him the baby, a smile on her face as she ran her chubby hands over his moustache, “I think that's a sign to shave” “She loves it” he smiled as the baby yawned and rested her little head against his shoulder, “do you need anything before we go?” “No no, I just need some quiet” she grinned watching as they pretended to be offended by her words. Jay came into the room and gave everyone a thumbs up, pointing to his phone to let the boys know that they needed to leave in order to make it to practice in time, “want us to drop you off at the library?” Nolan asked as the woman stood up to help them get Flo ready, she shook her head and grabbed a warm set of pyjamas from Florence's freshly clean laundry basket “Okay, let us know if you need anything and we'll make sure Phil gets it”

“Thanks Jay” she smiled as she scavenged for a clean pair of baby socks. “Anything for my fav Milf” he joked “Choke,” she said in a dead tone, lightly hitting him in the chest as Nick passed her the baby to change. Jay smirked and watched as she ignored his laughter, “You love me, I know it” 

Nick opened the front door, “where’s your car seat?” The girl looked up from the babbling baby, Flo was squirming making it hard to change her “You’re a hundred percent sure that he’s okay with it” “I wouldn’t lie to you about this, read his texts” Jay said as he grabbed Flo’s snowsuit and maize Michigan hat, or her ‘rink fit' as mum liked to call it. “Okay the car seat is in my car, let me go and get her dressed quickly” She started to change Flo before Nolan swooped the baby and her clothes off the couch. “You stay sat, I will go get her little diaper bag and the necessities, don't worry I know the drill” The girl frowned before opening her mouth to interject, “Don't try to cut me off and say you can do it, I'm aware you’re capable, I just want to help you out, I've decided to be kind” “You guys all suck” she closed her mouth and folded her arms over her chest as she death stared Nolan. “Hush”

Once the boys are ready and Flo is in her car seat the three of them stood at the door with proud smiles, “You guys call me if anything happens,” she says sternly as they all nod, “and tell Truss that if anything happens to my baby on his watch I will break his other arm.” Nolan laughs at her threats as he lifts the carrying to make Flo wave her little hand to her mum, “Yeah sure, anyways, we love you go do your assignment.”

-❀-

The woman smiled at her phone, three texts from Mark popped up on her screen, two little photos of him on the ice holding the baby in his arms, Flo’s little hands on the flushed skin of his cheek as she smiled up at him. the baby raise hat on display as she giggled, it was merely a photo but the woman could hear her baby’s laughter through the image. The other photo is of him hugging her against his chest, her little hands now wrapped around his neck and pulling at his long strands of hair, as she placed a kiss on his cheek. Mackie stood on the other side of him and placed a kiss on Mark's other cheek, mirroring Flo’s actions. It is impossible to stop her face from warming up as she reads the tiny caption “Always knew I was her Favourite”.

She stares at the two photos for a few seconds longer, she doesn’t even know why, it's like she’s trying to pick apart every aspect of the photo, trying to decipher what about these images are making her stomach feel fluttery and her chest tight. Convincing herself that it's just the cute way her daughter smiles in the photos, the happiness displayed on her daughter's lips as she hugs the boy.

She highly shook her head, squeezing her eyes shut and dropping her phone back into her lap so she could return to her work, the essay had been coming along very easily as she finished finding her sources and her outline. The intro paragraph wrote itself and now she just had to finish the bulk of the work.  

Her phone began to ring in her lap just as she went back to staring at her computer screen, her eyes stinging from the brightness of the screen. Philippe’s contact photo pops up on her phone as she looks back down at her phone. “I’m about to ask you a question, and feel free to say no if you’re too stressed,” he said, the girl was able to hear his smile over the phone as the boys in the background all chatted in the locker room. She smiled as she heard Duker softly singing to Taylor Swift in the background, Flo squealing in the distance, “What’s up?” “The seniors are having drinks at their house tonight and I was wondering if I could join them?” he asked, his voice wavering on guilt and desperation for a yes.

There was something so familiar about this occurrence, the conversation felt like it had happened at least a hundred other times. A constant loop of Phil asking for lenience and her letting him live the life he had pre-Florence. This conversation was happening almost every other weekend, him asking to do things that normal twenty-year-olds do and her letting him go off and experiencing life, the way it was before their daughter. She couldn’t say no to him, because she had held a lot of pent-up guilt about their situation, like his new way of life had all been an accident and all of the blame falling onto her shoulders.

The girl's smile faltered as she looked at the time and the amount of work she had finished so far, annoyance wracked her brain as she let out a short sigh, followed by a “yes.” Phil profusely thanked her and apologized as Steve and Jay cheered in the background. “How are you getting Flo home?” she massaged her temples, remembering her daughter was stuck at the rink. "Mark and Eddy offered to drop her off on their way home,” he said shortly. 

"Can you give Mark the phone?" She asked as he silently agreed and handed the phone over to his teammate who stared at the man who ushered for him to put it up to his ear. ”Everything okay?” he asked as he was met with silence on the other end. The woman softly sighed as she shut her laptop and got up to retrieve her sweater, ”I can go pick her up, Phil shouldn't be putting his responsibilities on you" she said the ending bit in a hushed tone as she searched for her keys in her bag. “It's fine really," Mark shook his head, the phone now balanced between his shoulder and ear as he snatched up Flo from her spot on Luke's lap and put her back into her car seat,” besides, if he’s putting the responsibilities on anyone it's you, I'm just driving her home" Mark reasoned as Flo ripped her hat off of her head and giggled.

"He needs a life too,” she felt like a broken record, that sentence seeming to be the only words ever leaving her mouth. “You deserve a life just as much as he does,” he paused to let it sink in for a moment, "me and Ethan will be over with her in 20 sounds good?” She softly frowned on the other end “perfect”

-❀-

Mark and Ethan had come and gone, staying for a bit to help Mum with the bulk of getting Flo settled and ready for bed. Ethan had left the two of them for a brief period of time to go and pick up Dylan, Adam, and Luca from the party that they had deemed boring.

The boy sat with Flo in his arms as he feed her one last bottle before bed, “I don't get how she is so perfect” he whispered as she closed her eyes, lazily drinking from the bottle as she fought off sleep. “she gets it from me” the woman joked as she reached forward and took the bottle out from Flo’s mouth. Mark looked up at her seriously, “She does” his tone held not a single ounce of humour as he handed the now sleeping baby over to her mother, the woman softly murmured to the little one as she cradled her to her chest. 

He watched with soft eyes as she smiled down at her daughter and then back up t him, he was always there in moments of need, or even the softest of domestic moments so far in her journey of motherhood.

“I wasn’t meaning to tell you how to handle yourself earlier, I know I sounded harsh,” he said as she looked back up at him with confused eyes, completely forgetting their phone call earlier, “It's just that you treat yourself so unfairly, he gets all the freedom at your expense” Her lips formed a straight line as she shook her head, “it’s fine, no harm done,” it was now his turn to frown, she was always so dismissive to her own emotions.

“When was the last time you went out with the girls, or even just joined us for drinks while he stayed in?” She shrugged her shoulders and thought for a second before the answer came up as nothing, “never I guess.” “That’s not fair to you” he reasoned, a sad expression on his face as he watched her look away from him, blinking back tears, “I love Phil, we are teammates, brothers even, but that’s not fair to you.” 

Mark’s phone began to ring, startling the both of them as he looked down at the caller and back up at her with soft eyes, “the boys are here so I'm gonna head out,” he ushered out the window to Luke’s car. “Thank you” she whispered as he placed a kiss on the side of her head, a sad but knowing look on her face as she stood up to walk him out, the baby still on her chest as her eyes began to water, chalking her burst of emotions up to exhaustion. Mark put on his sneakers as she opened the door and waved out to the boys in the car who smiled back at her, “call if you need anything” Mark whispered as he ran his thumb on the soft skin of Flo’s cheek as a sort of goodbye, “promise?" She gave him a soft look and nodded, he stared at her waiting for verbal reassurance, “Yes Mark.” “Good.”

It wasn’t long after she was awoken from her bed, a slightly tipsy Philippe stumbling into her room with an expression of worry on his face as she sat up in her bed. “Phil?” “Yes?” He mumbled as he laid himself across the bottom of her bed, letting out a soft sigh as she sat up, her pyjama top was twisted and her hair a mess as she wiped the sleep out of her eyes, her arms folding over her chest as she turned on the lamp beside her.

Phil groaned at the light as he propped himself up to look at her, a soft smile on his face as his vision travelled over to the crib next to her bed, “Where are the boys?” She asked pulling him back into reality. “Still at the seniors,” his hand found her shin, drawing shapes on her skin to occur himself from staring at her, “I needed to come home.” Her brows furrowed as, “Are you okay?” “I’m fine” he started,  “but we need to talk” “We do?” “yes.”

He slowly stood up the shut the door, just in case someone came home, a frown on his face as he stared down at his sleeping daughter, “Have you ever thought about us?” “In what way Phil?” She groaned, squeezing her eyes shut to fight off the exhaustion creeping back up on her. “Like together, a couple?” “I’m confused?” “I think I'm in love with you!” He blurted out loudly gaining a soft cry from Flo who was awoken, the woman sat frozen for a second, staring at Phil as he waited for an answer.

She then stood up from her spot, not daring to blink as she walked around the crib to retrieve her crying daughter, her heart was loudly beating in her chest as she read an unreadable look on the man's face. His eyes were hazy from the booze, his cheeks flush from the heat of the party and what she assumed to be the sprint home. “Phil, you’re drunk,” she bounced the baby on her hip to settle her as she made her way back under the covers of her bed, he sat back down on the bed. She shook her head as he grabbed her hand to make her look him in the eyes, “I'm not, I’m nearly sober,” she frowned at him, pulling her hand away from his grasp to run it over her face, not believing his lies.

The woman let out a sigh as Flo went silent once again, her face cradled in her mother's neck as the rocking continued, “I don't know what you want me to say to this Phil” she whispered, tears welling up in her eyes as she shook her head, vision blurring with tears as his hand re-found hers. “I just wish I could understand how we can do this,” he motioned between them, the baby, their current life, “ we literally created a life, and you still have not an ounce of love for me” he whispered back, tears now rolling down his cheeks as his thumbs wiped away hers. “Philippe, I love you so much, so deeply” Her sentence got caught in her throat as she placed Flo down on the bed in front of her. Her cries were so intense that her body shook, and trembling hands reached out to wipe Phil’s tears away, “I promise I do love you, I just don't love you in the way you want Phil.”

“I think if you really loved me, I think if you really loved this family you would at least try to,” his tone was so serious and so cold that she backed away from him, her hands letting go of his as she physically moved away from him.

Her jaw dropped as she let go of his hand, “That’s not fair to me, to you, or to her” “I'm not being selfish, I just want our daughter to experience parents who love one another,” his voice now less a drunken whisper and more an annoyed tone.

“That’s such bullshit, Phil,” she said numbly as she stood up from her bed to find her phone and the baby’s diaper bag, “I think it's really shitty of you to show up to my room, confess your feelings and then tell me I'm basically failing my daughter cause I don't love you in a romantic way” her voice grew venomous as she found an old hoodie on the floor of her closet and slipped it on “That’s not-" She cut him off by opening her bedroom door and motioning for him to make his exit, “no you don't get to speak to me right now, I'm done listening” she wiped her tears again and ushered him out of her room, before shutting the door and rummaging through Florence's drawers for some spare clothes.

She dialled her phone and waited as it rang three times before a tired voice picked up on the other end, ” Hello?” “Can me and Flo come and stay with you for the night?” “I'm on the way”

-

I feel like the reader needs a nickname, so please lmk what you think fits her :)

Also sorry (kinda, not really) for the update literally taking a month. I've been through it with adulting and shit, so we are just gonna pretend that this didn't take me an entire month to finish...

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#mylittlestlovesau!! #mark estapa #mark estapa fic #mark estapa x reader #philippe lapointe #umich boys #umich hockey #umich imagine #luke hughes #ethan edwards #dylan duke

[theferrarieffect]

jealousy, jealousy - chapter 6: after one too many gin tonics

f1 fanfic: lestappen (max x charles)

previous chapter | next chapter

chapter summary: still in melbourne, still that bar. now hear what happened that night, only this time from max…

chapter 6: after one too many gin tonics

Back in his hotel room, Max ran a hand through his crusty-with-champagne hair, the high of the podium celebration having long worn off. His phone buzzed in his back pocket.

Checo Perez Postrace @ Lui. Meet team downstairs in 20?

Max sighed heavily. Normally he’d already be drunk by now and well on his way to getting Lando sloshed as well. But he felt too anxious to go out; in fact, he wanted nothing more than to braise his body in the shower, order fries from room service (he highly doubted they’d have mashed potatoes), and play mindless video games until he felt like he could sleep.

He wasn’t sure what scenario he dreaded more: one where Charles WAS there, or one where he wasn’t. Actually, he knew what the worst possibility was. Charles, arm in arm with Danny and Carlos, giggling like girls. Maybe he’d dance with his teammate. Maybe at some point his uncoordinated floundering and Carlos’ smooth motions would bring their bodies together, somehow gently instead of the hilarious mashing that usually ensued. And maybe Carlos would notice that Charles’ lips started in a perfect Cupid’s bow, and realize how fucking amazing it might feel to have them on his own full ones.

Max shook his head.

Was he seriously thinking about Carlos Sainz’s fucking lips right now? How did he even know they were full? And then he realized it wasn’t Carlos’ lips he had been imagining on Charles’.

Holy shit. He was actually out of his mind. Maybe what he really needed was enough gin to obliterate his fucked up brain cells. If he was going to spend the rest of the night alone with his thoughts, he was fucked beyond all hope.

He picked up his phone.

Me I’ll be there.

Then he stripped his clothes off, showered as fast as possible, and spent the entirety of his 13 remaining minutes picking out an outfit that did not involve a Red Bull shirt. Definitely not because he was thinking of a certain someone who liked fashion a lot more than he did.

Max was well aware that he was pushing the pace a lot harder than usual. His angry three shots of whatever the fuck Lando had brought over had earned him a concerned look from Checo and some excited whoops from Oscar, who was gleefully riding his P4 high. Max had never seen the young driver so visibly happy, and he briefly remembered how he felt driving F1 as a rookie, albeit masked by the thick haze that already threatened to fill his brain.

Alex materialized behind Max. “Just so you know,” he shouted over the thumping bass, “Lando is currently telling the DJ to queue up Super Max.”

“Fine by me,” Max said carelessly as Pierre hoisted Yuki onto a table and told him to “dance, you little piece of shit”. And then followed him up on to the same table. He couldn’t stop watching them—laughing maniacally and jumping to the beat. So what if Pierre and Yuki’s antics were closer to seizure activity than a sensual slow dance? They had someone to dance with…and were having a lot more fun than he was at the moment.

He made his way over to a ring of sofas, currently occupied by George, Danny, Zhou, and a small crowd of twenty-something girls. Zhou already had his arm around one, and she was laughing at something he said.

“SUPER MAX!” Danny grinned, moving to give him space to sit.

Max accepted the open seat and turned to the girl on his other side. She blushed when he made eye contact with her. He extended a hand. “Max.”

“Taylor,” she smiled, tucking blond hair behind her ear as she accepted his handshake. Her eyes could be the same shade of green as Charles’, he mused, although it was a little hard to tell in the dark club.

No. None of that.

An unknown number of drinks later, Max had managed to maintain some semblance of conversation with Taylor, judging by the way she was still next to him. Zhou and his girl was long gone—Max vaguely recalled seeing him kiss her hand like he was some kind of medieval prince, and somehow making it look suave as fuck. Truth be told, Max was pretty terrible with girls, especially ones that didn’t have any idea what he did. It was his fault, of course—he spent most of his waking hours thinking about racing and not much else. But he did like listening to others, and the millions of different things they could be interested in, and luckily Taylor had no problems talking. He stretched in his seat, accidentally grazing her leg with his.

“Sorry,” he apologized quickly.

Taylor’s eyes lit up. “No no! No problem at all.” She scooted just a little bit closer to him. Max could tell she’d be pretty receptive to an arm around the shoulders right about now. He just couldn’t bring himself to do it.

A flash of red caught his attention. Charles was weaving his way through the crowd with a winning smile on his face. Taylor said something else, but Max heard none of it.

Danny’s faint whoops floated through the air. “Ki, ki, ki, ay ay, rrrrra!”

Max suddenly found himself on his feet. Taylor looked up at him, bewildered. Muttering some semblance of an apology, he jostled his way through the sea of bodies, towards where he saw Charles go. His mind was totally blank, and his body felt like it was a puppet whose strings were pulled by someone that was decidedly not him.

Two bodies in red. One with his arm around the other. Max saw Carlos throw back his chin laughing, run his hand through his luscious hair, and smoothly pluck the cap right off of Charles’ head and place it on his own. Charles turned to face him, and even by his profile Max could tell his eyes were crinkled in a smile infinitely more genuine than the grin he’d contorted his face into earlier while wandering the club.

And then, in an instant, the smile wavered and was gone. Charles had noticed Max standing in front of them. A tiny wrinkle appeared between his eyebrows, and that disastrous Cupid’s bow flattened as he frowned. At Max.

Carlos, on the other hand, beamed even more brightly, other arm already reaching out towards the newcomer.

Max couldn’t speak, couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything of his own volition at this point. He drunkenly reached towards Carlos, stumbling directly into his open arms.

“Dios, amigo,” Carlos laughed. “Someone’s had a lot to drink.”

“Carlos,” Max slurred, “I was so right about your lips. Pillows, amigo. Pillows. You could get a full night’s rest on them.”

“Why were you talking about my lips, Max?” Carlos smirked.

Charles gaped, open-mouthed, at them.

“Dance with me, Carlos,” Max begged. “But not like Yuki and Pierre. Dance with me like you mean it.”

Carlos looked more concerned than amused now. “Max? You good buddy?”

“What?” he shouted, a little angrily. “Can a guy not dance with his mates?”

In the very back recesses of his mind, Max was vaguely aware that he was acting extremely aggressive and extremely gay. But the dumbfounded look on Charles’ face spurred him on.

“Okay, mijo,” Carlos shrugged, and allowed Max to drag him to the cluster of moving bodies. Charles didn’t move. He stood like a statue, mouth still slightly agape.

“Carlos,” Max said, swaying into him. “You are a beautiful man.”

“And you are piss-drunk,” Carlos responded smoothly. “Although, I must say, Max—I had no idea you were so affectionate.”

“Carlos,” Max repeated. “I need you to tell me, what would it take for you to kiss another guy.”

It was about then that little corner of Max’s mind realized how incredibly screwed he was, because Carlos leaned in until their noses were almost touching.

He said, softly, “What does it matter to you, Max? Because I think I am not the person you would really want to be asking.”

And Max’s vision went black.

Max could feel the sunlight searing his eyelids, but knew that if he opened them, he’d be met with the worst headache of his life.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.

Super Max. Zhou flirting with a girl. There was some girl of his own, he was talking to…

Yuki. Yuki on the table. Carlos and Charles.

Charles.

Charles looking devastated. At him. At Max.

Where the fuck was he? He forced his eyelids open. He was utterly right about the headache; the room took at least 30 seconds to stop spinning and come into focus. Somehow, he had taken out his contacts before passing out. Unfortunately, he seemed to have passed out in a bed other than his.

A red cap was perched on the nightstand. Suddenly, a sick feeling invaded Max’s stomach and worked its way up his esophagus. He stumbled out of bed, flung open the bathroom door, emptied his stomach in the toilet.

Someone cleared his throat behind him. Max whirled around.

Charles was staring at the floor. In his outstretched hand were Max’s glasses and a water bottle.

“Checo brought me your glasses this morning.”

Max couldn’t look Charles in the eye. “Thanks.”

“You were really drunk last night. Checo says you took three shots the second you walked in. Carlos was actually scared.”

“I’m sorry,” Max muttered.

“Maybe you should be telling Carlos that.” Was that a twinge of bitterness in Charles’ voice?

Max opened his mouth to speak, but Charles was already walking away. Max felt like his insides were crumbling to dust.

He heard someone enter the suite, then Carlos’ voice asking if he was awake. And then the sound of someone sniffling and being patted on the back, Carlos murmuring “I’m sorry” and “it’s okay”. By the time Max left the bathroom, Charles was gone. And Carlos stood over him, rather menacingly.

He looked Max directly in the eye. “Alright, amigo. You have, how do you call it, some explaining to do.”

Max felt like a little kid in the principal’s office. He blushed angrily. “So I got drunk. I’m sorry. I don’t really remember what happened—tell me what I did and I’ll apologize for it.”

He realized he had never seen Carlos truly upset before. Carlos took a deep breath. When he spoke, his tone was measured. “Well firstly, you passed out on the dance floor. Charles carried you to the car and up to his room. He made you change and held you while you puked your guts out and remembered to make you take your fucking contact lenses out. He and George were going to take turns checking on you to make sure you didn’t die, but Charles said he couldn’t sleep. And he stayed up the entire night watching you.”

Max’s stomach twisted into a knot.

“And I would love to think that you do not remember this, but you came over to us, and acted like you wanted to fuck me right there in the club.”

Oh god.

“Carlos, I am so sorry, I—”

“Oh no you don’t,” Carlos snapped. “The fact you were hitting on me wasn’t a problem. The problem was that you did it staring, directly at Charles—the entire time.”

Max’s entire body felt numb and cold. He shook his head, closing his eyes. He wished he had just ceased to exist in the club last night the moment he blacked out on the dance floor.

“I don’t know what is going on with you,” Carlos continued, “and this is between you and me, but I can tell you that in all the time we’ve been teammates I have never heard Charles cry until last night. Fuck man, I’ve never heard anybody cry the way he did. And I can imagine some things maybe are not easy, I have no business prying into your personal life, but I cannot imagine wanting to hurt someone. Like that.”

“Carlos,” Max croaked. He cleared his throat. “Carlos…I am so fucked up. I don’t know what to say. Charles…he’s hated me and he still does and he always will!” He felt his voice rise shrilly on the last words, and to his horror, felt a tear escape his eye and land on his chest.

Carlos regarded him steadily. “You need to figure a lot of things out, mate. But I’ll tell you this. You don’t get to say how Charles feels about you. Only he does.”

Max started to cry. Carlos wrapped his arms around him. “You’ll be okay, amigo. But maybe next time pick someone else to use as your seducing jealous object. If I’m being completely honest…it was a little bit weird.”

And despite how incredibly, absurdly, fully fucked up this entire situation was, Max couldn’t help but laugh.

notes: ohhhhh, shit. at least max has admitted how he feels about charles, even though their friendship might be fubar for good...

i have mixed feelings on the whole alternate pov thing so…hope it wasn’t too repetitive of a read. if it was, feel free to tell me 😜

taglist @fangirl-dot-com @spacegirlstuff @vroomvroomgang @perfectlyrainywerewolf

#f1 fanfic #formula 1 #f1 #f1 fic #f1 fanfiction #f1 fluff #f1 fandom #f1blr #scuderia ferrari #lestappen #max verstappen #charles leclerc #george russell #lando norris #alex albon #red bull f1 #red bull formula 1 #max x charles #charles and max #mv1 #mv33 #cl16 #ferrari #oracle red bull racing #formula one #yuki tsunoda #pierre gasly #carlos sainz

[fourthwingfan]

Madness - Chapter 9

I will not die today.

—Violet Sorrengail’s personal addendum

to the Book of Brennan

I’m so completely screwed.

Xaden steps forward—all six-foot-everything of him—dressed in midnight fighting leathers and a tight-fitted short-sleeve shirt that only seems to make the shimmering, dark rebellion relics on his skin seem like an even bigger warning, which I know is ridiculous but somehow true.

My heartbeat kicks up to a full gallop, as if my body knows the truth my mind hasn’t quite accepted yet. I’m about to have my ass kicked…

“You are all in for a treat,” Professor Emetterio says, clapping his hands. “Xaden’s one of the best fighters we have. And Aelin is one of the best among first-years. Watch and learn.”

“Of course you are,” I mutter and roll my eyes.

A corner of Xaden’s mouth rises in a smirk, and the gold flecks in his eyes seem to dance. The sadistic ass is enjoying this.

„A little out of her league, don’t you think?” Dain argues from the side of the mat.

What the hell? I stare at him in desbelief. He doesn’t even like me.

Ahh, I see. Violet is beside her. Probably that’s why he’s being „nice”.

“Relax, Aetos.” Xaden looks over my shoulder, his gaze hardening toward where I know Dain is standing, near Violet. The look Xaden gives him makes me realize he’s been taking it easy on me in the glaring department. “She’ll be in one piece when I’m finished teaching her.”

“I hardly think it’s fair—” Dain’s voice rises.

“No one asked you to think, squad leader,” Xaden fires back as he moves to the side.

“Shut the hell up, Dain.” I snap at him. “Don’t pretend you care about me.”

Xaden starts discarding every weapon on his body—and there’s a lot of them—and handing them to Imogen.

The bitter, illogical taste of jealousy fills my mouth, but there’s no time to examine that particular oddity, not when there are only seconds before he’s in front of me again.

“You don’t think you’ll need those?” I ask, palming my own blades. His chest is massive, with wide shoulders and heavily muscled arms alongside. He will be a though opponent.

“Nope. Not when you brought enough for the both of us.” A wicked smile curves his mouth as he looks at me.

“Oh, no. In this case I won’t use them either.” I argue and hand my daggers to Liam for safekeeping. He’s lethal without a dagger, I can see it clearly. And I don’t want to give him the opportunity to use my daggers against me.

“Do as you wish.” He stretches out his hand and curls his fingers in a come-hither motion. “Let’s go.”

My heart beats faster than the wings of a hummingbird as I take a fighting stance and wait for him to strike. This mat is only twenty feet in either direction, and yet my entire world narrows to its confines and the danger within.

He’s not in my squad. He can kill me without punishment.

We start circling each other and I try to find his weakness. Everybody has, I just need to find it. And I figure it out almost every time.

“Are you not going to attack?” He clucks his tongue.

“I thought you’re an initiative type.” I mock him.

In the blink of an eye he moves toward me and I awkwardly stumble backwards to avoid his leg. He wanted to sweep off my legs.

Holy shit he is fast.

I have to be faster. That’s my only thought as I move forward in a swipe-and-kick combo. He artfully dodges my every attempt to reach him and then captures my leg. The earth spins and I slam onto my back, the sudden impact driving the air from my lungs.

But he doesn’t go for the kill. He just stand there and looks at me with raised eyebrows and a second later, when air squeaks into my lungs, I lunge up going for another hit targeting his head.

He blocks my strike with his forearm, then grips my wrist with his opposite hand, leaning down so his face is only inches from mine. “Going for blood today, are we, Sunshine?” he whispers. It seems as he doesn’t want to hurt me, he’s just playing with me.

My blood boils.

“My name is Aelin,” I seethe.

“I think my version fits you better.” He releases my wrist and stands, offering me a hand. “We’re not done yet.”

My chest heaves, still recovering from the way he’s knocked the wind out of me, but I’m not a fool.

I reach for his hand, pretending that I allow him to pull me up, then I yank him toward me hard, my weight supports my strength.

His eyes widen in surprise and he losts his balance, but instead of faceplanting on the mat, he turns in the air and his back hits the mat. I use his movement to straddle him and I bring my forearm to his throat.

“Hm. Not too bad, Sunshine.” He smirks at me. “But not enough.”

He suddenly moves his legs in a movement I can’t see, and he’s easily pushes me off.

I land on my side and when I turn to look at him, he already stands on the other side of the mat and gives me an indecipherable look.

What the hell? How is it so easy for him? He makes it seem as if I’m the weakest fighter in the quadrant.

I feel my anger rising. And then I attack. I try to kick his legs out from under him, but he easily sidestapps and grabs my hand which was aimed at his side, then twists my arm behind my back and yanks me against his hard chest, pinning our joined hands before I have a chance to get my balance.

“Damn it!” I snap.

He brings his forarm to my throat as his chest rests against the back of my head. His forearm is locked across my ribs, and he might as well be a statue for all the give there is in his frame. There’s no use slamming my head back—he’s so tall that I’d only annoy him.

“Don’t trust a single person who faces you on this mat,” he warns in a hiss, his breath warm against the shell of my ear, and even though we’re surrounded by people, I realize he’s quiet for a reason. This lesson is just for me.

“Even someone who owes me a favor?” I counter, my voice just as low. My shoulder starts to protest the unnatural angle, but I don’t move. I won’t give him the satisfaction.

“I’m the one who decides when to grant that favor. Not you.” Xaden releases my hand and steps back.

I whirl, punching for his throat, and he knocks my hand aside.

“Good,” he says with a smile, deflecting my next blow without so much as a hitch to his breath. “Going for the throat is your best option, as long as it’s exposed.”

Fury makes me kick out again in the same pattern, muscle memory taking over, and he captures that leg again, showing that he can easily do it before he lets me go, cocking a disappointed eyebrow at me. “I expect you to learn from your mistakes.”

Putting my hands up defensively, I begin to circle him, and to my absolute annoyance, he doesn’t even bother facing me. He just stands there in the center of the mat, his boots planted and his arms loose as I move around him.

“You going to prance or are you going to strike?”

Fuck him.

I punch forward, but he dips and my stomach drops as he grips my arm, yanking me forward and flipping me around the side of his body. I’m airborne for a heartbeat before I smack into the mat, my ribs taking the impact.

He cranks my arm into a submission hold and white-hot pain shoots down the limb and I push away the feeling. I can’t afford to lose focus.

But he’s not done. No, his knee is in my ribs and, he leans closer. “Taking out Violet’s enemy before the battle is really smart; I’ll give that to both of you,” he whispers, his warm breath brushing the shell of my ear.

Oh gods. He knows what we’ve been doing. The pain in my arm is nothing compared to the fear at the thought of what he might do with that knowledge.

„Problem is, if she isn’t testing herself in here”—he puts more pressure on my back—“then you’re not going to get any better.”

“You’d rather we die, no doubt,” I fire back, the side of my face pressed into the mat. This isn’t just painful, it’s humiliating.

“And be denied the pleasure of your company?” he mocks.

“I fucking hate you.” The words are past my lips before I can shut my mouth.

“That doesn’t make you special.”

The pressure releases from my chest and arm as he leans back a little and I use it to my advantage.

‘Either it will hurt like hell and break or he will release me.’ With that thought I swiftly begin pushing myself back with my one free arm. The other is still in his grip and it makes so much more painful for my shoulder. But I just won’t lie here and listen his insults. I can’t bear it.

“What..” I hear him mutter as he finally losens his grip and I buck my hips and he tilts to the side.

I quickly turn around and with my arm he had in his grip I punch him in the face.

Unfortonately he jerkes his head away so I only able to split his lips. But that’s not so bad either.

I gain my feet and his lips curve into an approving smile as he too stands up. “You have a few tricks I admit it.”

“Then come closer, I want to hit you properly this time” I retort.

“That remains to be seen.” He backs up two steps, putting a little space between us before crooking his fingers at me again.

“What do you want from me?,” I snap loud enough that I hear Imogen gasp. “Why do you do this? I understand, you’ve made your point.”

“Trust me, I’ve barely gotten started.” He folds his arms and leans back on his heels, clearly waiting for me to move.

I don’t think. I just act, going low and kicking out the backs of his knees.

He goes down like a tree, the sound more than satisfying, and I pounce, trying for a headlock. Doesn’t matter how big someone is—they still need air. Catching his throat in the crook of my elbow, I squeeze.

Instead of going for my arms, he twists, grabbing ahold of the backs of my thighs so I lose my leverage and our bodies careen into a roll. He comes out on top.

Of course he does.

His forearm rests against my throat, not cutting off air but definitely capable of it, and his hips have mine pinned, my legs useless on either side of his as he lies heavily between my thighs. He’s unmovable.

Shit. We were here once.

Everything around us fades as my world narrows to the arrogant glint in his gaze. He’s all I can see, all I can feel.

And I can’t let him win.

I try to go for his face again but he seizes my wrist and pins it above my head.

Shit. Shit. SHIT.

Heat rushes up my neck and flames lick my cheeks as he lowers his face so his lips are only inches away from mine. I can make out every speck of gold in his onyx eyes, every bump and ridge of his scar.

Beautiful. Fucking. Asshole.

My breath catches and my body warms, the traitorous bitch. You are not attracted to toxic men, I remind myself, and yet, here I am, getting all attracted. I have been since the first second I saw him, if I feel like being honest.

My still clenched fist is trembling in his hold as I try to break free from his grip. His fingers curl over mine and fire races along my skin at the feel of his fingers lacing with mine. My hands uncionsciously opening.

Toxic. Dangerous. Wants to kill you. Nope, doesn’t matter. My pulse still skitters like a teenager.

“You’re trained I admit it, but you easy to rile up.” He says it like an insult. „You need to control your emotions.”

“Well aware.” My eyes narrow.

„You have good instincts, use them.” He looks deeply in my eyes. „When you lost control over your emotions, you stop thinking and that’s when you lose. You’re average height if not smaller so stop going for bigger moves that expose you.” He drags my hand down his side. “A rib shot would have worked just fine.” Then he guides our hands around his back, making himself vulnerable. “Kidneys are a good fit from this angle, too.”

I swallow, refusing to think of other things that are a good fit at this angle.

He leads our hands to his waist, his gaze never leaving mine. “Chances are, if your opponent is in armor, it’s weak here. Those are three easy places you could have struck before your opponent would have had time to stop you.”

“Do you hear me?”

I nod.

“Good. Because you can’t let Violet poison every enemy she come across, you need to teach her how to protect herself, or find someone who can” he whispers, and I blanche. „And you need more practice too. You’re good but not the best.”

“How did you know?” I finally ask referring to Violet. My muscles lock, including my thighs, which just happen to still be bracketing his hips.

His eyes darken. “Oh, Sunshine, you’re good, but I’ve known better poison masters then Violet. The trick is to not make it quite so obvious.”

My lips part, and I bite back a retort.

“I think she’s been taught enough for the day,” Dain barks, reminding me that we’re far from alone. No, we’re a damned spectacle.

“He always that overprotective?” Xaden grumbles, pressing up from the mat a few inches.

“I don’t know, actually we don’t like each other.” I stare at him.

“Good. And don’t worry your little poisoning secret is safe with me.” Xaden arches a brow as if to remind me that I’m the keeper of one of his secrets, too.

“You’re not going to make me yield?” I challenge as he releases his grip and pushes up more, removing his weight from my body. My ribs expand as I take my first full breath.

“Nope. Defenseless women have never been my type. We’re done for today.” He stands, then walks away without another word, taking his weapons from Imogen as I roll to my knees.

“You all right?” Liam asks as I reach his side. I nod, my fingers slightly trembling as I rearm myself. He had every chance, and every reason, to kill me, and now he let me walk away twice. What kind of game is he playing?

***

“So how do we start?” Liam asks as he pushes open the door to the library.

“Start what?” I glance up at him from my desk where I’ve been sitting since dinner was over.

“The studying, what else?” He raises his eyebrows “Or you want me to teach you how to fight properly against Xaden?”

“Why? You can?” I ask with a surprise evident in my tone.

“Who do you think was the one who teached me how to fight?” He smirks.

“What? But…how?” I blink at him.

“We were fostered together. I think a mentioned that.” He sits beside me and pulls out his books from the bag.

“You said you have someone who is like your brother but you never named him.” I glare at him.

“Hm. Maybe I forgot.” He laughs.

“Of course, because it’s something you forgot.” I say grumpily and stare at the book in front of me. I need to learn a lot tonight. We have a history exam tomorrow. And I’m totally hopeless.

„Do you want to talk about what happened at the mat with Xaden?” He looks at me curiosly.

„Not a chance.” I quickly reply.

„Then I drop the topic.” He says. „For now.”

I shot him a glare but he doesn’t seem fazed. He knew me too well to know I didn’t mean it.

“Now how can I help you?” He looks at me expectantly.

“You…You’re really going to help me?” I ask hesitantly, observing the book in front of me.

“Aelin.” He starts and pulls away the history book. “I told you. We’re friends.”

“Then… thank you.” I finally look at him with a smile. “And if there’s ever a time when you need something, then you can come to me and I will help you.”

“I knew you were a kind person.” He grins at me.

“No, I’m not.” I deny it. “Only with the few people I care about.”

“Yeah, I know.” He nods. “It’s like you’re fighting for your precious people and trying to hold them together at the same time.”

“Such a compliment. If you continue I might think that you really think so highly of me.” I try to dodge the topic.

“Now where do we start?” He flips through the book.

“Well maybe you could read it out loud?” I ask hesitantly. I’m still not believing it totally. “But only if it’s not a bother. I don’t want to hinder you. Your grades are fantastic.”

“You will not hinder me.” He looks sternly at me. “I need to read it anyway so it’s okay to do what you suggested. We can learn together.”

And with that said we started our first study session. When we finished for the night I felt that we’re closer friends than ever. He really is the most selfless person I know.

#fanfiction #fourth wing #fourth wing fanfic #liam mairi #the fourth wing #violet sorrengail #xaden riorson #oc #the empyrean #xaden riorson x oc #xaden x oc

[writingcold]

Hello!  Welcome to Chapter 7.2 and the Epilogue of CD&FE.  

Pairing: Jake X Female Reader 

Summary: This is an AU that starts with the release of GVF’s first EP, Black Smoke Rising, and follows along life paths over the course of twenty plus years.

Content warnings: A return to smut.  They are reunited and it’s like fireworks.  So, please be aware - mentions of alcohol, adult emotions and relationships, sex, oral, fingering, p in v, maybe some spanking, hair pulling maybe, anal play, language, strong language, you get the picture. Oliver Fucking Reed also makes a 30 second appearance.

Word Count: approx. 6.3K 

It’s here!  The end.  These two - @edgingthedarkness and @takenbythemadness have been so supportive through this whole bit.  Thank you one last time, ladies.  Love you.  And THE scene is finally here.  We were cackling over pet names during sex until it just fucking worked and we all just did a collective “holy shit”.  

CD&FE, Part 7.3:  Jake POV      

      I almost missed the final bow.  Josh belted out for me to stop as I was pretty much racing towards the stairs.  I knew I was rushing, but fuck that.  I had a flight in ninety minutes.  Randal promised he would have a car with my bag and my acoustic waiting and at the ready.  Somehow, he was able to get me on an earlier flight.  My whole mind was set on getting to Y/n.  The daily texts were not enough.  I needed her.  Now.  I needed to know that we were going to finally try.  

      The others were doing their post-show bickering and critique while I handed off my guitar and walked as fast as my rubbery legs could carry me towards the dressing rooms.  I could hear them calling for me, but I didn’t bother.  I was stripped out of my jacket and was kicking out of my boots by the time I shoved my way into my dressing room.  I had laid out clothes ahead of time.  I sped through cleaning up.  God that was a hot show.  I was a complete mess of nerves and stink as I washed.  All I could think of was how I was going to have to really sprint to get to the gate and make the flight.  It was worth it.  I would be at her door well before breakfast.  That was the goal.

      Towel wrapped around me and trying like hell to squeeze the water from my hair, I was startled by a knock on the door.  I grumbled out a ‘do not disturb’, but I knew the moment the door opened, it was my mom.  

      “Mom - what -”

      “Sorry honey,”  she started as I grabbed my clothes and moved back into the shower stall to dress.  “I know you’re rushing but I have a huge favor to ask of you.”

      “Come on, Mom,”  I grumbled, yanking my pants on.  “I was able to get an earlier flight.  I’m leaving.”    

       “I think this one is important,”  she said as I smashed my elbow into the wall in my effort to pull my shirt across my wet head.  “I met her during the set.  She’s a huge fan.  Such a sweet girl.”

       I glared at her as I walked back out to try to put myself together.  “Mom, we’ve talked about this.  We can’t do these meet and greets just because someone approaches you.  The managers…”

      “I know, I know.  But this one is different.”

      “You say that all the time,”  I quipped as I started dragging a brush through my hair.  “But seriously I have… 84 minutes until I’m in the air.  You know-”

       “But this one-”

       “Mom!”

       A look crossed her face that I had not seen since I was maybe sixteen.  Well, twenties, but really?  She opened the door and leaned out.  I knew she called for my dad.  Damn it.  Sure as shit, two seconds later there he was - with his stern ‘How could you do this?’ look plastered all over his face.

      “Jake.”  One word.  One syllable.  And I found myself back to being their child.  

      “I’m forty two years old. When does this shit end?”  I griped as I threw my stage clothes on hangers to be washed.

      “Never,”  my mother replied with a raised eyebrow.

      I relented if it meant they would get out of my dressing room.  I threw the rest of my personals into the waiting backpack and looked around for anything that I may have missed.  In the history of me trying to get shit done so I can leave, this moment was probably the fastest I’ve ever moved.  There was still a chance that I could dodge the fan thing.  Mom did, after all, forget to tell me where to go.  Or had I just not heard.  Didn’t matter.  Out the door and I immediately turned towards the loading bay.

      “Jacob!  Over here!”

      Fuck.  I had been caught.  When I turned towards them, I may have been scowling.  Mom did that thing with the fingers drawing the corners of her mouth into a smile and everything.  Was it too much to ask to get on a damn plane and get to this woman that I…  Loved.  I loved her.  Every thread of my being loved her.  Craved her.  Desired her.  But not just the sex.  It was like we were two pieces of the same map that needed no stitching to be together.  I drew out my phone and held up two fingers, mouthing to her as I passed by - two minutes.

      Everyone was in the banquet style family room.  Odd.  Josh was still bouncing around in his jumpsuit like he was plugged directly into an amp.  There was family all over the place, but it felt off.  I couldn’t identify the sensation beyond it being like a dream.  Everyone was glancing and looking at me but not really acknowledging me.  The frustration of time slipping away ate at my edges and started to piss me off.  I didn’t have the time for this shit and trying to track down a ‘fan’ was not my priority.  We were nearly through to the back side of the room when I threw in the towel.

      “Mom!  I don’t have the time for this shit!”  I blurted out, turning around as she began to argue.

       I was expecting her to really lay into me, but her words were nonexistent.  My gaze first fell on my dad as he was in front of the door, an overly cocky look on his features.  Just before him was Y/n, a shy smile and soft rock from side to side betrayed her unsureness of the moment.  My jaw dropped open and my guts spilled to the floor.  It was like the first time to Disney World, the first time playing Madison Square Garden, and seeing her for the first time ever all rolled into one.  The breath in my chest turned to fire as I felt my mom’s hand land on my back.

       “So totally your girl, Jacob,”  she whispered.

       I struggled through an exhale in a frail attempt to not break down.  “How do you know?”

      “Because Dad still looks at me the way you look at her, forty five years later,”  she said with a gentle push at my shoulder.  “Stop trying to be cool.  We all know it’s about to get mushy in here.”

      At her warm laughter, I found myself untethered from the ground and moving towards her.  All I could see was her and the glint in her eye that was my beacon.  I blinked and she was in my arms.  I blinked again and her lips were on mine.  I didn’t bother to listen to the whoops and hollers that were happening around us.  Fuck that.  The moment was all us.  I felt like I was being stretched and pulled and smashed and pummeled all at the same time.  The sound of her filled me like nothing else.  All I wanted to do was drag her back to the hotel…

      “Oh, shit,”  I whispered.  “I don’t have a room.”

      My hands came down on her hips as she started to step away.  I didn’t need her to move - at all.  It was like she instantly was the air that I needed to breathe.  The grin on her lips as she took me in made my heart quiver.

      “I gave up my room.  I’m supposed to be on a damn plane in-”

      She laughed as she cupped my cheek.  “I have a room.”

      I leaned into her touch.  Life went on around us. I was locked into her and unable to get past it.  I watched as she slipped her hand into mine and pulled it close to her chest.

      “Should we get out of here?”  she asked, a faint blush grew across her cheeks as she looked around at my family as if becoming aware of so many eyes on us.

       “Yeah.  Feeling a little weird with everyone around,”  I sighed with a backwards look at Mom.

       Dad was at her side, both grinning like idiots at us.  I felt like we were at a wedding - that part where everyone suddenly is ready for the couple to race away to get laid, or whatever.  

      “Where the fuck is Randall?”  I suddenly asked, formulating a plan from the ashes of my previous one.

       I located the assistant and was able to get the car to take us to the hotel.  He was also gracious enough to change the plane ticket for me - adding one for her for the next evening.  Perfect.  It was perfect.  I could barely keep my hands from her as we fumbled our way up to her room on the third floor, oddly enough just down the way from my  previous suite.  Nice.

      I fell against her as the post show exhaustion caught up with me.  We slowly made love, accepting it was all I was up to as every ounce of my frame started to ache.  I fell asleep with my cheek on her chest and her hands in my hair.  When I woke up alone, I panicked until I heard her moving around at the bathroom vanity.  An idea came to my brain as I slid out from under the tangled up sheets.  I was half hard by the time I saw her in the reflection of the huge mirror.  I caught her hips as she started to turn my direction.

      “Think you can keep your leg hiked up on that counter, mouse?”  I asked, as I gently pulled her right thigh up to rest her foot on the edge of the long, low slung vanity.

       I wasn’t really paying attention to her answer, just her wide spread pussy that had already started to weep just for me.  I trailed my fingers across the miles of skin of her leg going right to her center.  My eyes traced up to hers in the mirror as I passed a barely there touch to her clit.  The way her eyes widened for a moment made me grin.  I watched my fingers go to work against her folds and nub.  It didn’t take long before she was dripping against my skin and down her thigh.  Her head flopped back, and I made sure my shoulder was there for support.  I kissed along her neck just like I knew it would make her fall apart all the faster.  I hummed as I found the pulse point and she buried her teeth in her lip with a dull whine.  

       “Spray for me, mouse,”  I whispered against her cheek.  “Give it to me.”

       Her hands wrapped back across my hips for support.  She looked amazing with me wrapped around her, lips hung open and the sound...  Goddamn her sounds were making my cock ache something fierce.  I shifted, pressing into the small of her back as I tugged her open all the more.  I slid two fingers into her and was rewarded with a raspy moan that filled every inch of my skin with heat.  My palm filled with her as she hosed down her leg.  Her frame shook hard with her pleasure that I pumped her through hard.

       “Put your hands on the counter,”  I whispered as I kissed down her spine.

       I placed a sloppy kiss on the swell of her ass before sinking my teeth in.  

       “Motherfucker,”  she gasped as I pressed my fingers into her firmly as I tugged my bite to ensure I marked her.

       I lapped at her soaked thigh until I reached her core.  Fuck I missed her taste.  I sucked every inch that I could, savoring all of her.

       “Jake,”  she groaned, pushing her ass back a bit as if moving me to where she needed.

       “Like that?”  I asked before I ground the tip of my nose against her core and nibbled at her clit.

       “Jake,”  she said, this time her voice was off, like in pain.

       I pulled back, trying to catch a glimpse of her in the mirror.

      “Fucking cramp!”  she belted out, her leg coming down off the vanity suddenly and nearly falling back into me.  “Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, fucking hell, ooooooowwwww.”

      I rubbed at her hip and thigh with a grimace.  I apologized profusely as she started to laugh.  Her cheeks were completely blushed out as I helped her to walk back towards the bed.

      “Sorry, sorry!”  she said, hiding her face.  “Oh my god, I can’t believe that just fucking happened!”

      I laughed as I got her to sit down.  “Are you okay?”

     She grimaced something fierce as I pressed my fingers into her thigh where she had been trying to grab and kneed.  I slowly knelt before her, helping her through the steel tightening in her leg.  I bent and planted a kiss on her knee as she blew out a few deep breaths.

      “Better?”  I ask quietly as I look up into her embarrassed face.

      “Yeah,”  she groaned, still trying to hide her eyes.  “I’ll be okay.”

      I smiled at her.  She’s gorgeous even when she is so totally flustered.  I took her hands into mine and leaned back on my heels.  She peeked to find that I was totally soft.  She whispered out a curse as her embarrassment washed across her once more.

     “Just means you gotta work for it,”  I sassed with a raised eyebrow.

     I hummed at the sight of her tongue at the corner of her lips.  She whispered for me to stand up and I was quick to follow her order.  She dragged her hands down my flanks and the fronts of my hips.  She lapped at her lips in a very obvious manner as she hooked my soft length with her thumb.

     “Hmmm,”  she said, her voice full of depth.  “I kind of like ‘em soft for this.”

     She rolled her eyes up to meet mine as she dropped her mouth totally open and fed all of me into her mouth.  Her tongue tickled my balls before she sucked one in, followed by the other.  The sight blew my mind as she vibrated with a giggle.  She dragged her teeth across the ball sack as she slowly let them go with a little bite at the end.

      “Fuck,”  I breathed, practically hunched over her and her dark magic.

      “That didn’t take long,”  she teased before taking my hardening shaft between her lips with a hard pull.

       She pulled me all the way back in and rolled my sack between her fingers.  She bobbed her head a few times before meeting my gaze once more.  She let me go and wiped a line of drool from the corner of her soaked mouth.  It was absolutely obscene the way she sucked at my thigh and pumped my cock.

       “How you gonna fuck me, Jake?”  she hummed before swallowing me down again.  “You gonna treat me like an angel?  Be all gentle and sweet like you did last night?”

       My jaw slacked as she spread my cheeks and passed her fingers across my entrance and twisted her tongue over the tip of my dick.  She was better than porn.  She was better than any other woman. She was mine.

      “Or are you gonna make it hard and rough.  Treat me like a sinner,”  she cooed, working my rim with delicious pressure.  “You gonna fuck me hard into this matress?  Break me.  Ride me.  Fucking mark me?”

       She spat on her finger and pressed beyond the rim to swirl and make me moan like her own whore.  She yanked my cock up to press against my belly while she loved on and bit on my balls and the inside of my thighs.  I nearly shot my load all over her face right there.  She seemed to pick up on it and backed off with a sultry lick from base to tip.  She rained gentle kisses to my belly as she put herself into my hands.

      I grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her up to her feet with a searing kiss.  She was everything in that moment.  Every moment.  All time.  Everything.  I turned her and pushed her down onto her belly.  I wrapped her hair around my fist as I straddled her thighs.  She lifted her hips just enough to expose her core to me to slip into.

      “You don’t want me to be gentle?”  I asked as I bottomed out nice and slow.

      I exposed her throat with a languid tug on her hair to pull her face away from the mattress.  The way her back strained was sexy.  She was powerful as I stayed buried in her depths.  I saw the red mark already forming beneath my shifting palm on her hip.  I slapped her ass cheek with a wicked speed that made her gasp.

      “Please, more,”  she squeaked.

      I couldn’t help the smirk that pierced my lips.  We explored during our times together.  We were by no means shy about sharing ideas or desires.  But damn if this was a boundary that we had not tested before.  I was hooked.  I slapped her other cheek before pounding myself into her at a fast pace, but shallow, teasing depth.  She growled and tried to look back at me, but I tightened my hold on her hair, keeping her right where she was.

      “Don’t fucking tease me,”  she threatened.

      It sent shivers all the way through my system.  I ate it up like fucking candy and needed more.  Immediately.  I pulled myself from her and parted her legs so I could nestle down between and thrust hard into her before I laid down on top of her.  I held onto her wrists as I pummeled in and out and ground down against her ass.

      “Better, baby?”  I asked with my teeth on her ear.

       “More,”  she moaned.

       “More, what?”  I tested, just to see what she would say.

       Another low, deep moan erupted from her chest as I  pushed through her tight folds and felt her constrict all the way down my length.  “BITCH,”  she growled.  “You’re my fucking Bitch!!”

       I lapped and sucked on her ear with a taunting laugh.  “I’ve been your bitch for two damn decades,”  I sighed.  “Try again, baby.”

       Silence.  But I didn’t let up.  I sucked a mark hard into her throat as I dragged myself nearly completely out and slammed back into her.  The sound of our skin slapping against each other was profane.  I felt her spray as I set into another punishing round.

      “Schnookums!”  she bleated out with a hard laugh.

      “What the fuck is that?”

      I couldn’t help but pause for a second to regroup.  I laughed into her shoulder and she actually snorted.  So sexy.  I threaded an arm across her chest and rolled us over so that she was on top with me still buried deep within.  She sat up and rolled her hips a few times before turning to face me.  God, I loved her form.  The deep cut of her hips, the bounce of her breasts.  

       “You going to try again?”  I asked, shoving my hips up to force another hard connection.

       She practically flailed over as I ground up into her.  I watched as she recovered and leaned over me so we were nose to nose.  She made like she was going to kiss my mouth but instead, hovered just above.

       “Captain.”

       I gasped.  Everything blurred as the singular word set my body on fire and my mind to racing.  I grabbed hold of her hips and rolled us once more so that I could properly fuck into her without mercy.  My gaze locked onto her face as I pounded my hips into hers.  She yanked up her legs to give me full access.  I felt myself turning into a feral being as I ground and slapped my body into her.  

       Her eyes twinkled as she pushed herself up to kiss me hard and pull me down into her.  She repeated ‘captain’ over and over, coaxing whimpers from me that filled the air around her like she commanded my every movement.  It was like that poem, but better - it was her own.  She was panting and chirping and her eyes were glazing over like she was about to… oh goddamn.  I swear her pussy clamped down on me as a cry ripped from her mouth.  Everything on her body froze solid. Her whole body buckled and bowed and shivered with her orgasm.  I couldn’t help but to be dazzled as I shot my load with a sound that poured from my mouth that I had never made before.  My heart was racing in my chest and my breath was blowing against her hair as we tried to hold onto each other.  She cooed and caressed me.  I pressed ghostly kisses across her collarbones as if I could drink those last remnants of the love we just shared to stay drunk on her.

     Stillness.  I listened to her breathe as we dozed pressed against each other.  I trailed my fingers back and forth across her shoulder as I tried to gather my thoughts, my words.  There was too much to say to her at this point.  My throat vibrated with the prettiest of sentiments.  But they remained mute as I just took in the weight of the seconds as they ticked by.

      Her phone chirped an alarm that demanded her attention.  My skin screamed out for her quick return, only to be left disappointed.

      “If we’re going to make that flight, we gotta move,”  she whispered, suddenly keeping her distance.

      I frowned.  I knew she was right.  I knew I had just blown my opportunity to quell the bubble of question that was roasting in my chest.  Somehow, just feeling her presence had been more important.  We found ourselves through showers, dressed and taking the elevator down to the lobby before either one of us spoke again.  It was like all we needed to say was in the linger touches we shared; the long held gazes that accompanied a knowing smile.  Randall had a car waiting for us and we were on our way to the airport in no time at all.  I held her hand against my thigh, but it didn’t seem like enough contact.

      We sat in the gate waiting.  It was then I noticed that in our quietness, there was a resolve.  I watched as she talked to Pat on her phone, but all the while, she was touching me - my arm, my knee, holding onto my hand.  She was in the same space as me.  Just to know that she was real - that this moment was really happening.  The flight was not remarkable.  She dozed on my shoulder the entire way.  I breathed in the trust that she gave over to me.  

      Her new home was the embodiment of her.  It was not unlike the house she had all those years before, but this one felt like her whole life was woven into every fabric, embedded into the paint and bones of the structure.  There was nothing hidden - everything of her was on display.  I carried our bags into her bedroom and she cornered me as I was about to walk back out to her kitchen.  Her lips parted as she leaned close.

      “I love you,”  I whispered as our lips hovered over each other.  “I’ve loved you forever.”

      She planted a soft kiss but then leaned back with her fingers tracing the line of my jaw.  “I claim you my safe harbor, Jake.”

      There it was.  The bubble of questions in my chest calmed.  I knew it wasn’t going to be absolutely perfect, but it would be ours.  We would navigate this - the long stretches of being alone and the times where we could be together.  She had made changes, just the same as I had made changes.  The built in breaks for family would tie in perfectly when she would have to be in the office.  The tour dates where we were on the road, she would be able to follow much more freely, working from whatever faraway hotel we found ourselves tucked in.  It was a balance.  It had been a hard fight for balance, but we did it.  We made it work.  And we flourished because of it.    

Epilogue, Her POV     

     My heart was racing, matching the paces of my steps as I dashed through the terminal of Detroit airport.  I had been waylaid by Spring storms and a client that needed a bit of extra hand holding to see the vision of their event.  I stopped just long enough to pee and to get a text out to Ronnie to meet me at the door.  There was no way in hell I was going to miss the big party.

     I pushed my way out the double slider doors and instantly heard the rumble of the ‘Cuda.  Leave it to my escorts to do this running in style.  The air owned a brittle warmth, like Spring wanted to arrive, but had at least one good snowstorm left in her to give.  I pulled my light jacket closer to my frame as I made it to the curb.  Kelly was quick to step out of the shiny cherry red, deep rumbling 1970 Barracuda.  He pulled me in for a quick hug before making way for me to slide into the backseat like it was a get-away car.  He tossed my bag into the trunk and off we went with Ronnie behind the wheel.

      “How you doin, Papa?”  I cooed as I got myself situated.

      Kelly grinned that infamous Kiszka grin over his shoulder.  His dark sunglasses did little to hide the joy in the man’s face.  “I’m doing amazing, sweets,”  he answered, before he started on the usual round of polite questions to catch up.

      It was already after four in the afternoon.  Ronnie had assured me that they could make it home in under 90 minutes.  Once out on the interstate, she flew that beast of a car much to her father’s delight.  We were serenaded by Kelly’s lovely baritone gravel and Ronnie’s smooth interjections of trills.  The intimidation factor of such blatant and latent talent that coursed through the family was still strong, even eight years down the road.  The best I could do is hum, sorta on key, but they loved me anyway.

      The years with Jake had not been easy, but I could not imagine life any differently.  Sure, we had a lot of bumps and bruises as we tried to figure out our balance - together.  Did we regret the resistance that spanned for so long - at times.  Honestly, I don’t think we had the maturity to survive what we are able to now.  I am able to travel with him many times throughout the year.  He comes home to me during tour breaks.  When possible, we divide time between St. Paul and Nashville, and of course Frankenmuth is still home for his folks and Ronnie.  

      “Drop me off at the hall.  The boys are expecting me,”  Kelly said as we crossed the town line.

      It was going to be a huge covert mission sneaking me in under the Kiszka radar.  Ronnie got us into her driveway and we ran inside, dodging kids and toys and all manner of obstacles.  The show was only a few hours away - One Night Only - A Night of Celebration with Greta Van Fleet was a sold out affair at Fischer Hall.  Josh broached the idea of having an all acoustic set, no openers, just a totally stripped down show with their hometown to celebrate the twins’ fiftieth birthdays.  All funds raised from the tickets were going straight to the music boosters and the Autofest to give back to the town that had so nurtured them while they grew up.  It would be just like it had been way back with them setting up, but there were a few volunteers from their formal road tech crew that made themselves available for the festivities.  

     We had just enough time to snuggle down with the nieces and nephews and have a small supper before getting ready and heading in for the party.  Ronnie and her husband, Ethan, expertly corralled their four kids into the side entrance, taking their residence in the roped off area marked family only.  I made sure to stay hidden as Jake was still texting me to see if I was on the way to at least catch the family events for the next few days.  I just kept assuring him that I would be in by breakfast.  

      “WHAT!”  Sam’s sass filled my ears before I felt his hands on my back.

      “Oh hell,”  I muttered as he turned me around and enveloped me in his embrace.

      “I thought Jake said you wouldn’t be here until tomorrow,”  he babbled, rocking me side to side.

      I tried to shush him, but was buried in his chest.

      “Oh my gawd, wait until he knows-”

      “Sam!  No!”  I barked out, trying to keep my voice down but loud enough to be heard.  “It’s a surprise.”

      The glint that overtook his eyes was endearing.  I could count on him to be quick to figure out the puzzle before him, regardless of his own mindset.  He nodded and seemed to step back, as if blocking the doorway.

      “Are you staying here?”  he asked, waving at hand around the side stage area.  When I nodded, he frowned.  “That won’t do.  He’d totally see you with the family…”

      My heart froze when I heard Josh and Jake coming towards the main staging area.  My eyes must’ve been as big as saucers that Sam somehow mirrored.  He pushed me into the curtains and proceeded to the stage with his brothers.  Danny passed by with a perked eyebrow but instantly was in on the scheme when I held up a finger to my lips, no words necessary.  There were times that I so appreciated that man.  The hall was packed and loud as they settled down onto stools and chairs.  

     “A Very Happy Birthday To US!”  Josh shouted out, beaming out across the audience with a million watts of sunshine.

     I chanced a glimpse out, seeing Jake under the stage lights.  His full silver hair shone around him as he slowly ran his fingers across the frets.  His handsome face was full of concentration as he prepared during Josh’s rambling speech about nice to be home amongst faces of so many friends and family.  He talked about their first show in the hall and their last appearance before things took on a much bigger avenue.  I watched as the corner of Jake’s mouth tugged a bit as if his memories swirled right along with his twin.  Sam and Danny were on either side of them, so as to keep the twins together on their day.

      “There you are,”  Karen whisper-shouted from behind me.

      I grimaced as I turned, hoping not to draw attention as they started to play the opening song.  “Hey, Mom,”  I greeted softly as she pulled me in for a hug.

      “Cake’s here - they’re prepping it up now,”  she said, eyes on her boys.  

      It was not hard to see the pride in her eyes.  Even after all the years, she still loved to see her boys play - didn’t matter if it was to something small like the hall, or huge stadiums.  Her boys.  Her treasures.  We watched, hand in hand, for a stretch.  My spirit calmed as I watched my man play his guitar and wear a smile that made me swoon.  I could hardly believe that I had had eight years with him.  There were times that were still rough, but we were happy.  I was happy.  Jake made every moment count.  I loved the man and was rewarded with the good and bad that made him Jake.  

     Karen tugged at my hand as they were nearing the final few songs.  The plan was that I would help her and Kelly push the cart that held the cake out on the stage to surprise Jake.  I cast one glance back towards him as she led me away.  He radiated absolute joy.  It brought tears to my eyes to see him so filled with happiness.  Kelly wrapped his arm around my shoulders as if he just knew that I was struggling.  He held me close without a word as if knowing that just some quiet was what I needed to get back on my feet.  

      “You ready, honey?”  Karen asked without actually committing her words to anyone - she just put her hands on the rolling cart and took off towards the stage.  

      I looked up at her husband and he just shrugged with a smile as if it was answer enough.  I walked with him, his hand wrapped tight to mine.  They were lingering across a song from the latest album by the time we stepped to the edge of the stage.  Karen, in all her boldness, walked right out there, egging the crowd on for cheers that seemed to wash over the stage with cries of ‘Happy Birthday!’  Jake turned and his gaze froze on me.  For a moment, I struggled for breath as his eyes grew glossy and the corner of his mouth pulled tight with emotion.

      Kelly and Karen were busy lighting candles while Josh, Danny and Sam were bent over causing all sorts of theatrics to distract from how Jake set his guitar to the side and slowly stood up from his stool.  I stumbled forward, totally missing how there were cords everywhere and nearly slammed myself into the back of Kelly.  Yeah.  That would’ve been amazing.  Much to my relief, Jake had his hand out for me to take.  He pulled me into him and kissed me hard as his fingers drifted across my cheek.

      “Happy birthday,”  I whispered as the crowd started to sing the happy birthday song.

      He pressed his lips to mine once more, his fingers soft against my face.  “God, you’re beautiful,”  he said softly, his eyes were slow to open as he leaned into me.

      The catcalls and wolf whistles commenced as he kissed me again and his parents finished lighting the massive amount of candles.  The hall hushed as it seemed the twins became overwhelmed with emotions.  Josh held out his hand for Jake to take before they bent over to blow out the inferno before them.  Kelly wrapped his arm around Karen as they seemed to fall together in their golden pride for their boys.  The hall erupted in cheers as they laughed over their struggle to get every candle out.  Of course they yukked it up with clutching each other chests in a mock gasp of breath.  

     Jake reached for me once more.  His eyes sparkled as he brought me close.  His gaze made me feel like everyone else evaporated.  He cupped my cheek and kissed me sweetly.  God, I loved this man.  

     I am unsure if I was caught up in the moment, or if it was the right time, but I leaned into him as he folded me into a tight hug.  The others were already getting back to their stools and Karen and Kelly were pushing the cart away.  I took in a deep breath and whispered a word I never thought I would say willingly.

     “Husband.”  The word clawed its way from my mouth, but it was honest in the moment.  My eyes met his and my chest swelled with emotions as he seemed to realize what was happening.  “I’d like to call you husband, Jake.”

     He paused.  He literally paused all of his movements and just stood there holding me.  I just about started to panic, wondering instantly if I had overstepped.  He kissed the spot just below my ear.  I caught sight of those warm, dark eyes as he pulled away from me.  They twinkled with a love that was mine alone.  Every cell inside my body was jolting with the energy he fed me.  He made sure that I made it over the cabling before getting back to his job.  Karen looped her arm with mine as she just beamed radiance towards her family.  

      “Jake!  I know she’s a looker but did you forget we have this thing we gotta do?”  Josh was joking as he was settling back onto his stool with his guitar.

      There were more than a few laughs and I caught how he swayed a bit, shifting into…  “pRicK, you don’t talk about my girl that waaaay,”  he drawled, his smile was a mile wide.

      “Oliver, you said you wouldn’t do this again,”  Josh pretended.  “Remember the last time you tried to pull this - it ended in fire and thankfully no one died, but still.”

       “Yeah well, Jake’s never gotten proposed to, so this is how he answers ‘yes’,”  Jake joked, looking back at me.

       Karen screeched, echoing the crowd.  My everything became flooded with joy as the brothers congratulated him and threw me air kisses.  Our lives had been one meandering string of run-ins that were always filled with passion and a question of love.  These past years only solidified our need for the other.  Soulmates?  Perhaps.  There’s a power in finding the one who truly understands you inside and out.  As he held me on that stage, I knew one thing - this was no longer the fleeting embrace that it once had been.  It was truly a daily celebration of our life together.  And it was a beautiful, beautiful thing to be beholden to.

The End.

I hope you enjoyed CD&FE as much as I enjoyed writing it.  The original story was actually a version of Best Laid Plans that got scrapped and forgotten until it waved like a maniac at me one day and this was formed.  It really was my first reader insert that was multi-chapter, so that was interesting!  Trying it again with my next story The Dead.  I’m a long way from being done with it, but just know I’m working on something.  See y’all soon.

@lvnterninthenight @doodle417 @luverleaver @jakesgrapejuice @fictional-duchess @milkgemini @positivegvfthings @songbirds-sweet @gretavanbitches @gardensgatedaisy @babyhoneygvfarchive @myownparadise96 @josh-iamyour-mama @starcatcherc @loveisonaroll @jakesstarlight @reesetrippingthelight @builtby-gvf @ignite-my-fire @wetkleenex-gvf @gold-mines-melting @starsasone @mysticalstarcatcher @montenegroisr @takenbythemadness @way-to-go-lad @cal-a-bungaa @thewritingbeforesunrise @leftjudgeempathsuitcase @brokenbells11 @imborrowedshesblue @vanfleeter

#jake gvf #jake kiszka #greta van fleet #gvf #cd&fe #greta van fleet fan fiction #gvf fanfiction #jake kiszka smut #jake kiszka fan fiction #greta van fleet fanfic #greta van fleet AU #jake kiszka AU

[thefallennightmare]

Broken-Sixteen

*credit to me(thefallennightmare) for creating this gif. feel free to use, simply give credit*

Pairings: Barry Keoghan x Reader

Warnings: angst, swearing, fluff, smut, alcoholism, death, slight mention of attempted death, and abusive ex.

Summary: A failed marriage wasn’t in the cards for Reader, she thought she found her happily ever after with Barry. While trying to overcome the heartbreak, a tragic event brings them back together temporarily. Will the devastating loss bring them back together or be what pushes them apart for good?

Authors Note: holy moly it's been a while. Hopefully, this chapter doesn't suck too much.

"You're a fucking idiot," Barry spat through gritted teeth.

I stared blankly at him, unsure how to respond so instead I looked down at my hands that were clasped together in my lap. The familiar bed and the memories that Barry and I shared in it made my stomach flutter and face burn. But then thoughts of if he had someone else in this bed made a sick feeling rise in my throat.

"I want to go home," my voice was hoarse.

Barry shook his head, elbows still resting on his knees. "No, you're staying here. It's not healthy for you to stay in that house with all the memories of your parents."

My eyes snapped over to him, anger radiating through me. "And you think staying in the house we shared is any better? How many girls have you brought in this bed since our divorce?"

"Stop avoiding things, Y/N," Barry said.

I scoffed while throwing the covers off of me. "Look who's avoiding things."

Looking down at myself, I saw I was wearing one of Barry's shirts and a pair of his boxers. My hair was still damp as I ran a hand through it.

"Did you-did you dress me?" I stuttered.

"You were ice cold after I pulled you from the water. I brought you here and put you in the shower to warm you up." Barry said while running a hand over his face.

Instantly I threw the covers back over me to cover myself in front of him, which made Barry smirk despite his anger.

"It's nothing I haven't seen before, gra."

The heat that rushed through me from being exposed in front of Barry and now the pet name was enough to make a sweat break out on the back of my neck.

"What were you thinking?" Barry asked after a beat of silence.

I twirled the blanket between my fingers as I let out a deep breath. Truth was, I don't know what I was thinking. Everything from the last twenty-four hours had blurred everything from right to wrong and the pain of my parents' death and finding out the things Barry had said about me ate away at me. I wanted it to stop, the voices of doubt and blame to finally be quiet.

As if remembering I relapsed last night, my head throbbed in agony and I closed my eyes with a groan. Barry sighed while standing from the chair and handed me a glass of water and a small pill.

"It's for the hangover," he said.

I took it, swallowing it down with a grateful amount of water. Barry took the glass from me and set it back on the table next to the bed. With his arms crossed over his chest, his eyes burned into the side of my head as he waited for the answer to his question.

"I don't know what I was thinking. I just wanted everything to stop," I whispered, not daring to meet his gaze.

"So you try to kill yourself?"

I gritted my teeth, hearing what came from his lips made my insides churn.

"I didn't-."

My voice faltered because there was no point in denying it. That's exactly what I did.

"You have no reason to be upset with me, Barry." I began again.

"Upset?!" His voice boomed in the small room, eyes widening. "Do you have any idea how destroyed I was watching you sink under the waves?"

I jumped with his outburst, teary eyes locking with his as he continued to scold me.

"I thought you died!" Barry blew out a shaky breath to compose himself and began pacing the foot of his bed.

"Why do you care so much?" I asked through my quiet sobs.

I hadn't seen Barry this upset in, well, ever. It was a shocking sight seeing him run a shaking hand through his hair and doing his best to hold back his own tears. But when my voice reached his ears, he abruptly stopped and stared as if I grew another head or something.

"Why do I care?" His accent was thick. "If you had to ask me that, you're really fucking stupid then."

My eyes bore into him as I kneeled up onto the bed. "Fuck off, Barry. The last thing I need right now is you being a dick!"

Heat flashed behind his eyes as his hands clenched at his sides. I could feel his anger radiating off of him in waves but I didn't retreat; I continued to lay into him about everything.

"You should never have came back! I didn't need you here when trying to mourn my parents. I needed to be alone, not with my ex husband. You wanted the divorce so you don't get to come waltzing back into my life like nothing happened between us!"

"Stop fucking blaming me for it," Barry spat.

My eyes almost doubled in size. "Are you serious? Who's fault was if we divorced? I sure wasn't the one that moved on before the papers were even signed."

"Will you ever stop being upset about that?"

I almost laughed at how stupid that question was; almost.

"You're unbelievable. This is why I can't recover from anything because us being together is toxic," I pointed between us.

"Really?" Barry's brow raised as he cocked his head to the side. "If I remember, you loved being with me. In more ways than one."

I didn't miss the innuendo in his words and I bit the inside of my lip, trying to keep those steamy memories in the locked vault inside my brain.

My hair flew over my shoulder as I quickly shook my head. "Don't flatter yourself, Barry. I've had better."

Something mischievous and dark sparked in his eyes, his lips pulling in a tight line. "Oh, have ya?"

I gulped but nodded, not wanting him to see through my lies. "Yep."

Barry ascended on the bed, crawling his way up towards me until I was flat on my back underneath him. My breathing was heavy with lust and I had to bite back a moan when he pressed his hips into mine. I could feel the hardness between his legs as it glided over my warm core. The thin material of the boxers I wore and his sweatpants did nothing to keep the barrier between us strong.

His warm breath tickled the sensitive skin in the crook of my neck while one hand propped himself up and the other left soft touches against the skin of my thigh.

"Tell me about him."

"No," I said through a shaky breath.

Barry hummed while staring down at me, his hips rutting into mine.

"Shit," I moaned, tilling my head back into the pillow.

Satisfied he was right, Barry rolled off of me and sat on the edge of the bed, staring down at my shocked face.

"Fuck you," I seethed as I lay next to him.

He chuckled, amused at this whole interaction before he stared down at his hands, something weighing heavy on his shoulders.

"I ran into Ian last night," he said after a few beats of silence.

"You did? I asked, leaning up onto my elbows.

"I ran into him outside of Murray's. Fucker had a bloody nose."

The corner of my lip curled up in a small smile when I remembered I punched Ian.

"Yeah, he found me on the beach," I explained. "He tried to, uh-."

Memories of last night might have been hazy but I remember Ian trying to force himself on me until I stopped him. I didn't want to tell Barry that, unsure how he would react when he was already so angry with me.

"Well, if you didn't break his nose, I sure did," Barry muttered while rubbing at the bruises on his knuckles.

I kneeled next to him. "You hit Ian?"

His eyes met mine for a few beats before falling back to his hands. "He deserved a lot more than that."

Silence fell between us and I gently laid my head against his shoulder, Barry stiffening at my action. I hated that no matter how angry I was at him, he always melted away that anger and ease my worries. Even though I told him I didn't need him here with me, Barry was exactly what I needed and he knew that. Which is why through everything, he didn't leave.

The two of us were moths and the way we felt about each other was the flame.

"I'm sorry," I breathed my apology. "I didn't mean to scare you."

Barry rested a hand on my thigh and gave a light squeeze, his touch igniting every cell in my body.

"You need help, Y/N. Wether it's here with me or a facility."

I winced when he laid out the ultimatum but knew that it was something I needed to hear. The thought of staying in an unknown place talking about my problems to a room full of strangers scared me more than being with Barry so I took my first choice.

"You shouldn't have to stay with me and all of my problems, Barry. You got a way out with our divorce," I said.

His thumb brushed underneath my chin as he tilted my gaze up to meet his. There was still a fire behind them but this one differed from before; it was warm and intoxicating.

"You can give me a bunch of different ways out of this but I'm not going anywhere, gra. Alright?" His voice was quiet, but I didn't miss the hesitation in voice, almost as if he wanted to say something else.

"Okay," I nodded.

Barry's eyes darted between mine before resting on the swell of my bottom lip and the coil in my stomach heated with desire. I wanted him to kiss me so fucking bad, to remember how sweet he tasted. The magnetic pull that we always felt between us was heavy and my lips parted slightly, ready for Barry to close the distance.

But a yawn escaped from my throat which made Barry chuckled lightly.

"Tired?" He asked.

I nodded, the exhaustion from today catching up to me once again. I wasn't sure how long I was asleep before but with the way my body ached; I knew it wasn't much. "Yeah, guess so."

"Get some sleep, ya? We can talk more when ya wake up," Barry helped me back into the bed and pulled the covers up to my chin.

When he went to leave my side, I grabbed his hand to stop him. He looked at our intertwined fingers then to my face.

"Will you stay with me?" I gnawed on my bottom lip. "We don't have to cuddle or anything. I just want to feel some kind of warmth next to me.

"Course," he smiled.

Barry stayed on the other side of the bed, not touching me, as we faced each other. The last thing I saw before slumber took me was him brushing away the hair from my face to leave a gentle kiss on my forehead.

#barry keoghan angst #barry keoghan masterlist #barry keoghan fluff #barry keoghan smut #barry keoghan #barry keoghan gifs #barry keoghan x reader #barry keoghan and reader #barry keoghan reader insert #barry keoghan fanfic

[maxverstappensflatbrim]

Show Me Yours | Matty Healy [20]

chapter twenty, act three: so far (it's alright)

masterlist

May 30th 2014

“Is this Catholic enough?”

“We’re Chrsitian.”

“What's the difference?”

He raises a brow and she nervously tugs on the long skirt of the dress while apologising under her breath.

She shifts uncomfortably in the outfit, she has on a pair of heels (a mistake with her two left feet), and a dress that makes her feel like she’s in an old movie about the sixties, not in 2014 meeting her boyfriend's family.

The door finally opens, “Oh, my baby.”

His mother’s hands are pushing his cheeks together, swaying them from side to side, “Hi, momma.”

He grins hugging her tightly as she rubs his back through his shirt, Tommie practises her smile in the reflection of the window a few times as the mother-son duo reunite. When she’s finally happy with one, a little lift of her lips, showing little to no teeth, her eyes just crinkling a little, she turns to get their attention without rudely interrupting.

“Momma, this is my girlfriend, Caroline.”

“Tomm-”

“Caroline,” He interrupts quickly, side stepping the hand that reaches for his waist and taking her hand gently instead, “This is my momma.”

“Hi.”

“Hello, dear, the table is set already, why don’t you two come on in?” She asks, stepping inside to hold the door open.

Tommie squeezes Caleb’s hand tightly and watches her step inside his childhood home, she looks around, smiling softly at pictures of him and his siblings.

“Evelyn! Evelyn, your brothers here!”

She can hear a pair of rushed footsteps come tumbling down the stairs before a small blonde girl is throwing herself into Caleb’s arms, “Caleb!”

“Hey there, stranger.” He grins ruffling her hair and kissing her forehead, “How’s school?”

“Well, my science fair was last week but my magic milk project didn't do that good, but, remember that boy,” She lowers her voice looking back to see their mother walking in and out of the kitchen, “The one from Choir?” Caleb nods, “Well he’s asked me to the face we have at the end of the year.”

Caleb stands a little taller, “Do I need to have a word-”

“Caleb.” The teenager giggles, shaking her head, then her eyes widen when she catches sight of Tommie standing behind him.

“Eve, this is my girlfriend Caroline.”

“Tommie is fine-”

Her eyes widen, “You’re Tommie McDuff,” Tommie smiles and she bounces excitedly on her feet, “Holy-”

“Evelyn Rose Kidwall.” Their mother gasps, “Do not use those kinds of words as vulgar language.”

“Sorry, mom.” She turns back to Tommie quickly, “I love your music, it’s just amazing…” She trails off blushing suddenly, “Do you uh… do you know a lot of celebrities?”

Tommie shrugs a little, “Um, a few I guess.”

“Do you know five seconds of summer?”

Tommie trails off as she thinks, “They the one from X Factor?”

“No, that's One Direction, 5sos are the Australian one.”

Tommie shrugs, “Um, then maybe?”

Eve nods, muttering a quite ‘interesting’ before leaving to help carry the dishes out of the kitchen.

The four settle around the table and when Tommie goes to sit Caleb quickly shakes his head and gestures for her to stay standing.

Miriam, his mother, apologises for Andrew not being there, something about being a pastor or something, Tommie doesn't listen, she’s silently conversing with Caleb as he tells her to wait for his mother to let them sit.

She says a prayer, making them all hold hands and Tommie awkwardly smiles when the woman's eyes fall upon her.

Then after three uncomfortable minutes they’re sitting, Caleb and Tommie on one side, Eve and Miriam the other.

“So, Caroline, what is it that you do?”

“I’m uh…” She hesitates and takes a sip of the wine in front of her, “In the music industry.”

Miriam pauses slowly, “What is it that you do?” She laughs gesturing to Caleb, “I hope you’re better off then Caleb and his whole band idea-”

“Momma.”

“Actually I’m in a band,” She tells her, “I play guitar.” It’s silent for too long, so she fills it with some extra information, “There’s uh, five of us, my cousin Adam- that’s kind of how I’m in the band, he plays guitar too, he’s lead and I’m rhythm. Then there’s our lead singer Matty, he plays guitar sometimes, depending if we need three or not. Then Ross, he plays bass and George is on drums. I’m the backup bassist and drummer, like, if anything was to go wrong I’d fill in, then Matty would play guitar to cover for me… I sing sometimes too…”

“What else do you do?” She questions.

“That’s it.”

“But, just being in a band isn't going to pay the bills, set you up for a future-”

“They’re on the radio, mom.” Eve tells her, “You know that one song from the other day? The City, that's her band.”

“You’re on the radio?”

Tommie nods quickly, sending a smile to the fourteen year old who grins back. Miriam hums, then moves onto her new topic, “What about your family? What do they think of it?”

“Uh…” She adjusts her posture, sitting with her shoulders rolled back a little more, “My mother died a few years ago, so that’s when I joined the band, I moved up to Manchester where the rest of the band are from to live with my cousin. So, I don’t know, I mean I hoped she’d be proud of me but… we didn’t exactly see eye to eye everyday. My grandparents though, they’re a whole different story, they couldn’t be more proud.”

“And your father?”

“Oh, I’m not sure, we don’t speak.”

“Why not?”

“Momma.” Caleb says quietly.

Miriam leans back, “Sorry,” She smiles at Tommie, “I tend to be a little too nosy for my own darn good some times.”

Tommie smiles politely, “It’s alright, I mean, I don’t exactly ignore loud voices in the street, you know what I mean?”

Miriam smiles again, picking at the food on her plate, “What about this band of yours? It’s all men?”

“It’s my cousin and his school mates, yeah, they’re all guys. But they’re like my big brothers, they're my family, my real one.”

She smiles, her cheeks hurting and she purses her lips to try and control it. “Caleb tells me you used to study English Literature?”

“I did it for my A Levels- College,” She quickly corrects, “I could’ve gone to university, but then joined the band instead.”

“You blew off school?”

“Not necessarily, I mean, I already completed my A Levels, and if I want I can always go back to uni, age doesn't stop me.”

She hums, then asks, “How old are you, Caroline? You look young.”

“Nineteen,” Miriam pauses, “I turn twenty on Tuesday.”

Eve grins, “Are you going to spend your birthday here?”

Caleb sits up straighter too now, “Uh, no she’s performing, so, we’re leaving tomorrow.”

“Already?” Caleb shrugs at his mother, “You just got here.”

“I know, momma, but, we have jobs.”

His mother scoffs, “I’d hardly call them jobs Caleb, you stand on stage and make noise. It’s pathetic, quite frankly. It’s time you grow up and get a real job, before it’s too late and you end up like your father.”

Caleb’s head ducks down and Tommie turns slowly, her brows furrowed as she stares at the blonde woman across the table.

“What do you do, Miriam?” Tommie raises an eyebrow, pushing the food on her plate around with her fork, “If you don't mind me asking.”

“Well… nothing. I was a housewife.”

“Was? What are you now?”

“Tommie.” Caleb says quietly.

“Tommie?” His mother says slowly.

“That's my real name.”

“It’s a nickname.” Miriam says.

“No, I go by Tommie, it’s my preferred name.”

She scoffs, “You sound like one of those… those-”

“Mom.” Eve warns under her breath.

Tommie raises an eyebrow, “One of those what?”

“One of those confused gender people on the TV. Your name is your name, Caroline. That’s how God intended it to be. He gave women wombs and men hard working hands.”

“Yeah, he also gave men the most dangerous weapon on the planet.”

“And what’s that?”

“Well, it’s a tough toss up between their audacity and their dick-”

Miriam’s hand slaps the table, “Enough with the language. Enough with the insults, my God created this planet. I shall not listen to you insult him.”

“And I won’t stand here as you insult and belittle your son.” Tommie stares right back, eyes squinted, “Caleb is an amazing man, I came here hoping to meet the reason he is that way. Seems to me he’s become the person he is despite you, not because of you.”

“He is my son-”

“Then act like it.” She snaps back, “Compliment him, tell him he’s doing good, tell him you like his music, his band, say one goddamn nice thing about him. Smile at him, look at him.”

“Tommie.” Caleb says quietly again.

“No, Caleb, I’m not going to let this bitch speak to you like that.”

Miriam scoffs, “Please, Caroline, you can say what you want to me. You’re just another lonely common whore who is insecure enough to sleep with my lousy unemployed son who can;t get over the one girl who was worth something.” She turns to Caleb, “You never should’ve left Emmie go.”

Tommie sighs slowly, eyes moving over to Caleb who’s eyes remain fixated on his untouched food.

She moves the napkin he’d laid out over her lap, tossing it onto the table and clears her throat, “I think I-” She looks at him again, still, no movement, “I think it’s best if I leave now. Thank you for dinner.”

Miriam says nothing, eyes focused on her son too, “I would say it was lovely to meet you, but my mother didn't raise a liar like you did,” She says bitterly, she looks to Eve, smiling softly, “Good luck with your Choir, Eve.”

“Thank you, Tommie.”

“Evelyn.” She sits up straight quickly, eyes moving to her mother across the table, “Go upstairs.”

“Mom-”

“Now.”

Tommie watches the young girl move across the room, then her eyes fall to Caleb once more.

“Caleb.”

“Cal?” She wiggles her jaw, watches him contemplate, close his eyes, then finally meet the eye of his mother. 

“Yes, mom.”

“See her out.”

Claeb nods quickly, rising from his chair, its scrapes loudly causing all three of them to flinch, “I can see myself out.” She says harshly, he reaches for her hand but she hits it away.

He jumps back, hitting the table causing the glass of red wine to fall and spill, staining the horrid dress she’s wearing.

She steps back but his mother screeches, “Look what you’ve done-”

“Mom-”

“I want her out, Caleb, she disrespects us-”

“You’ve brought that upon yourself,” He says, turning harshly to her, “God, nothing I do is good enough for you, mom. You hate that I’m in LA, that I’m in a band, that I’m- that I am fuckign happy, you can’t stand that, because it’s not you. It’s not you that’s making me feel this way. Tommie, she is a wonderful, amazing gorgeous woman, who may not fit your standard of the American Christin woman, but fits my standards. Hell, goes above my standards, because she’s better than I could’ve ever dreamed of a woman to be.”

He grabs her hand shakily moving it to rest behind their backs, hoping his mother doesn't notice his anxieties as Tommie squeezes.

“Is that how you feel?”

“Yes.”

“No it’s not, she’s-”

“Doing nothing. I feel this way because I do, I can’t help it.”

He watches her carefully, “Mom, please, I’m your son, and I just want you to accept one thing in my life, if not the band then my girlfriend.”

Miriam turns her head away, “You stopped being my son when you chose your father’s side over mine.”

Caleb sucks in a deep breath, it’s always the father's comment, always. That’s her go to in arguments with him. The fact he moved to live in the shitty caravan park with his dad so he wouldn’t be alone.

He sighs, “Let’s go, Babe.”

“That’s right walk out and leave us again,” His mother comments from across the dining room table, “This time, when you finally come crawling back, I won’t be welcoming you with open arms. You chose another person over me, Caleb, and you’re never back here, you understand me?”

Caleb pauses, swallows the rising lump of anxiety and then mutters a quiet, “Goodbye, momma.”

Once the door is slammed closed he drops Tommie’s hand and walks on ahead at a pace too fast for even Tommie ‘McSpeeder’, a nickname George gave her in her younger years as she always seemed to speed walk everywhere.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologise.”

She bows her head, straightened hair covering her face, “I shouldn't have said anything.”

“You stood up for me.”

“I’ll apologise, I’ll beg for forgiveness. You can’t walk away, Cal, what about Ev-”

“Don’t apologise.” He says again, harsher, his tone leaving no room for her to jump back in.

He picks up his speed and she finds herself jogging to catch up with him, “Wait, wait, Cal, please-”

He finally stops his march down the street, letting go of her hand and furiously unbuttoning his shirt before running his hands through his freshly styled hair.

“Please, don’t- don’t abandon your sister, you’ll regret it.”

“What like you-?”

He turns away quickly, regretting it the moment he had said it but she nods, “I- every day, every single day I regret what I did. Leaving my little brother behind, I haven't talked to him in years, two years, I have no idea where he is, what he’s doing. That little girl, she idolises you, Caleb, thinks you’ve hung the stars in the goddamn fucking sky, please… please. Don’t abandon her.”

He shakes his head, gesturing back up the street with one hand behind him, his breath stuck in his throat, “She- mom, I just-”

He turns away and she gently steps forward. Hand on his back, he turns quickly falling into her arms, head in her neck as he sobs.

“I know-”

“I just want her to be proud of me.”

“Doesn’t matter,” She tells him softly, “Eve’s proud of you. I’m proud of you.”

⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ

It’s late, three am, Caleb’s asleep beside her and she doesn't want to wake him to talk over her anxieties. Last time she did he was annoyed and it ended in an argument.

So instead she pulls on her hoodie resting on the chair, slips on her crocs and walks out from the front of their tour bus to the back where the second living room/studio is.

She knows Matty will be awake, so she creeps from where she and Caleb have been staying out the front on the pull out sofa, past the other band members who all snore away as if in some kind of competition.

Then she finds Matty, wide awake, glasses on, hair a mess with music playing from his laptop quietly.

He pauses it the moment she steps in, closing the door behind her, “Sorry,” He winces, shoulders pulling towards his ears, “Did I wake you up?”

She shakes her head, “Can’t sleep.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Thinkin’ about Caleb’s sister.” She admits, “He hasn't spoken to any of them, and I… guess I feel responsible or something.”

Matty’s brows furrow and he sets his laptop on the table, tapping the sofa beside him with a quiet ‘sit’.

“It’s not your fault, Tom.”

She nods, “I know… I guess, I just- the guilt of leaving JJ behind is getting to me.”

He wraps one arm around her, pulling her down to rest on his shoulder, “Junior understands, I know he does-”

“I miss him.”

She sniffles, turning to hide her face in his hoodie and he sighs kissing the top of her head, “And now I’m putting Caleb through the same pain, and I can’t help him and-”

“Hey, hey-” Matty shushes her as she hiccups, “Wait, actually, let me go grab something. To distract you, make you feel better.”

He gets up, wrapping a soft blanket around her in replacement of his warmth. She sighs as she waits for him and notices her book again, now sitting with even more book markings.

Glancing to the closed door she sighs and reaches for it, flicking through until a piece of paper falls into her lap. She catches the page by putting her thumb there before she can lose it and picks up the little napkin.

‘You look so cool x’

She smiles to herself then flicks open the page to the very last poem of her book, she pauses, it’s a poem she wrote about her feelings towards him. The one she entered into the competition, the one that got her first place.

There’s load of little annotations of the poem, most of them his little comments of admiration, a few with funny comments.

Emotional affair Overly sincere Smokin' in the car, windows up Crocodile tears, run the tap 'til it's clear Drift off on the floor I drag you to the shore Sweating through the heat You're gonna drown in your sleep For sure

Wake up and start a big fire In our one room apartment But I'm too tired To have a living contest All the bad dreams that you hide Show me yours, I'll show you mine

                         -Tommie McDuff

What catches her eye is the little paragraph he’s written on the next page, the one with only four little words reading ‘the end, thank you’.

Call me when you landI'll drive around againOne hand on the wheel, one in your mouthTurn me on and turn me downBaby, you're a vampireYou want blood and I promisedI'm a bad liarWith a saviour complexAll the skeletons you hideShow me yours, and I'll show you mine

                      -Matty Healy

He’s added his own part to the poem, giving his response to the poem, she giggles at the fact he even wrote his name beneath it just like how her name is beneath all of her poems in the book too.

The door opens, she throws the napkin back in and tosses it back over to the side of the table she grabbed it from as she looks to the laptop instead.

“Here, the song, I finished it.”

He places the laptop between them, handing her the tea he’d gone to make for her as he places some headphones over her ears. Grinning as the large ear muffs swallowed her whole.

“What’s this song called again?”

“Hasn’t got a name, was thinking something twatish… like love me.”

“Very you.” She agrees.

He smiles, watching her facial expressions as she reacts to the song.

“Is it good?” He asks, “I was thinking in the second verse I co-”

“It’s perfect, I like it.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” She nods, “Love it.”

“Love me.” He grins again and he nudges him, leaning against him to support her tired body.

She sighs, staring at the door, hoping Caleb will realise she’s not there and come looking for her. He doesn’t.

“I’ve been writing again.” She tells him.

He closes the laptop and leans back, taking her with him, “Anything I can look at?”

“Not yet, got one I think could work for the band, a few I’ve decided to shove up my sleeve for myself for a while.”

“What’s it called?”

“Haven’t decided,” She says, “Something religious.”

taglist

@thereisaplaceintheheart

@indierockgirrl

@sofaritsalrightt

@julezs-bl0g

@eaglestar31

@sophinthealpss

@noacfemcel

@if-my-heart-bleeds

@befrwime

@fallingforel

@sexorchocolateorpillowsorclouds

@3terna15unshin3

-let me know if you want to be added :)

#show me yours matty healy #matty healy x reader #matty healy x oc #matty healy imagine #the 1975 x oc #the 1975 x reader

[joelsgreys]

wip wednesday

thank you for the tags angels 🤍 @mrsmando @honeyedmiller @mermaidgirl30 @gasolinerainbowpuddles @thelightsandtheroses

here are snippets of some of the many wips i am actively working on. or trying to anyway.

the gold room - dbf!joel x stripper!reader

“Jesus Christ.” Joel stares at you, using every last ounce of strength he has in his entire body not to let his gaze wander past your chin. He’s trying not to look at the way your skintight, neon pink dress hugs every soft, heavenly curve of your body, how the matching rhinestone garter shimmers around your deliciously plush thigh. “Is it even legal for you to be fuckin’ workin’ here?” Rolling your eyes, you cross your arms and shift your weight from one seven inch heel to the other.  “You can dance at eighteen,” you inform him. “And in case you’ve forgotten, I’m twenty one, Mr. Miller. So with all due respect, chill the fuck out, okay?” “You went to college—“ “College is fucking expensive,” you interject with a shrug. “The job market is shit and I don’t plan on drowning in my student debt for the next ten years. Look, I don’t have to explain myself to you. Don’t stand there and judge me. Don’t act like what I do is so terrible when you have been paying good fucking money for girls like me to dance for you and sit in your lap all night long.” “That’s fuckin’ different. None of those girls are my best friend’s daughter.”

flutter - post outbreak! joel x pregnant!reader

As strips of bacon sizzle in one pan on the stove, you crack a couple eggs into another, knowing the kid was on her way downstairs. You can hear the sound of her old, tattered low top sneakers that you have been trying to throw away for almost a year now squeaking on the kitchen tiles just as you finish plating her breakfast. “Morning!” Ellie pipes, the plop of her backpack into a chair prompting you to turn around. “What’s for—whoa! Holy shit!” Her brown eyes widen in shock when she sees you. “Ellie,” you warn, walking over to the table. “Don’t—” “You’re bigger!” With a playful glare, you set her plate down along with her glass of orange juice. “Thanks, you little jerk,” you say, feigning offense. “You’re making your own eggs from now on.” “Fuck, I’m sorry.” Ellie’s cheeks flush a shade of red and she starts to sputter. “I swear, I don’t mean it like that at all. It’s just, your stomach—you didn’t look like this yesterday. You look great, just different.” She’s lucky your raging hormones decided to take the morning off.

chapter 10 for a safe haven

*this is just a short short snippet because it’s being heavily edited rn so i can post it soon!

He peels off his clothes, being careful not to further agitate his sore, inured hand. After changing into a pair of gray sweatpants and an old, faded black t-shirt, he turns around only to find you sitting in bed under the covers.

“Sorry,” you apologize with a nervous chuckle as you rest your back against the headboard. “It just looked so warm and cozy. I couldn’t resist making myself comfortable.”

Joel pads over to the side of the bed. He leans over, planting one hand on either side of you as he dips his head and brushes his lips against yours. “Ain’t got no reason to apologize, baby,” he assures you in a gentle murmur. “This is your bed now too, peach. This is your room. This is your home.”

np tags! 🤍 @sugarcoated-lame @ozarkthedog @amanitacowboy @sp00kymulderr @ilovepedro @ezrasbirdie and anyone else who’d like to share their wips!

#wip wednesday

[ladycamillewrites]

Against the odds

Chapter 6 - Vulnerably Beautiful

warnings: 18+ smuttish, violence (in the movie they're filming), mean press, emotional chaos

masterlist

“Alex?!“ You exclaimed, a hasty hand covering your agape mouth in shock, eyes torn wide open. Your heels clicked on the cold concrete floor of the deserted warehouse as shaky legs took a few steps back. 

It was a fateful, dramatic scene you were shooting right now. Raw emotions were seething and trust bonds crumbling as Victoria followed Alexander’s car to get back an important folder she forgot after the last court date.

She ended in a scary warehouse to find the man she had given her body to, pointing a gun at a guy who was painfully tied to a chair, ten henchmen standing around him like sinister bodyguards. She knew about illegal trades and shady business but seeing him on the brink of killing, showing his real face was disturbing to Victoria.

“Wha- what is… Are you“ You stammered, gripping your handbag for dear life as the camera swiftly swung around your frame.

You had really gotten the hang of acting.

It was actually very demanding and challenging to meet the high expectancies of directors and executive producers but that was nothing foreign to you coming from the harsh model business. On the contrary, filming was a lot more fun than you had expected, maybe replacing modeling if someone would offer you another role after The Moralizer. 

“Darling, that’s not-“ Tom exclaimed, stopping and sighing as he realized that the loaded gun in his right hand delivered a rather explicit image he couldn’t deny. Not anymore.

“Fuck“ his deep voice yelled, a rough stomp on the ground echoed across the empty hall. Your steps backwards became more rapid, your face still contorted in unexplainable emotions.

God, you loved acting with expressions, your eyes and mouth. It felt like living another person's exiting life for a sweet moment.

“Victoria, wait! Damnit“ Tom cried out, the camera focusing on his black dress shoes beginning to run after you. It was all loaded, tense and erratic. 

You turned on your heels the camera switching to your heels making their hasty way across the concrete floor until you stumbled, the fall well trained and painless. Your white blouse was instantly stained, a skilled hand peppered the fake blood on your forehead as the camera angle was changed again. 

Phew, those quickly turning and bending flying cameras would get you dizzy one day...

Tom hovered over your hunched body, heavy pants conducted his toned chest, straining the fabric of the white dress shirt so temptingly. No wonder Victoria was corrupted by this man. He was unbearably sexy.

Or was it become he was Tom? Perhaps…

“He stole some pretty important things from me. I can’t tolerate that“ he rasped, ocean blues looking down at you as if they were loving but chiding you at the same time. A fucked-up mixture toying with your real emotions.

Real goosebumps travelled your bare legs from how easily Tom transferred the increasing tension with only a slight change in the pitch of his voice and a mere gaze. He was an absolute marvel. World class.

“That’s vigilante justice. Liable to prosecution“ you muttered without gazing up at Tom, the impression of Victoria fleeing into her lawyer alter ego to process the situation was easier than you expected. If you were her, you would have the same.

Well, you were her. Still an overwhelming feeling.

“How handy that you, my intelligent dove, are my defense attorney“ Tom chuckled, the camera lined up at his extended hand that reached out for you to grab it.

And that was it.

“Cut! Twenty minutes break“.

A coy smile crept up on your lips as you were finally allowed to take Tom’s hand and get up from the freezing cold concrete. It was hard to still feel your butt at all.

“You did amazing, darling“ the tall man grinned warmly, wrapping one arm around your shoulder as you made your way to the holy coffee machine. A ritual you had developed after all those weeks of filming together. 

Of course no one knew about the lucid dreams that haunted you ever since you laid eyes on Tom’s full glory. It had been an accident nevertheless, a very special one both of you officially handled like adults. Emphasis on officially. Perhaps Tom truly wasn’t disturbed by your bare encounter and those sinful images were only in your lusty mind but it undeniable. Returning to visit you every single night and you weren’t even sorry about it.

If you could only really have him.

“Y/n? Tom? I suppose you might want to see this“ Tom’s personal assistant Maddie asked with a prominent trembling in her delicate voice. Rarely so, what only goaded the instant anxiety rising in your mind.

The friendly woman handed him her tablet, several tabs of big tabloids were opened, brightening both your faces. Then you read the first headline in utter shock.

++ Half a year after a dramatic breakup - Y/n Hemsworth now seducing freshly split up Marvel actor

++ The Moralizer duo seen leaving Hiddleston’s apartment - What does Nate Thompson say?

Tom Hiddleston (Marvel’s Loki) seen with best friend’s hotly debated sister

This was hell.

And you definitely weren’t ready to face all this bullshit again. Maybe you would’ve been strong enough in a few moths or years but right now and first and foremost with Tom it was pure torture.

You looked so gleeful on the slightly blurry pic one of those paparazzis took; a broad grin on rosy lips and sparkling eyes looking up at Tom as if he was your everything. He was. 

“Damn“ Tom whispered, instantly wrapping his protective arms around you, caging you and pressing your face flush against his chest. He just knew you would cry but under no circumstances should everyone see you in such a vulnerable state. What you felt was most private and intimate and so the handsome Brit shielded you from everyone’s curious gazes.

Hot tears began to run down your cheeks shamelessly mingling with the fabric of his dress shirt. Silent sobs accompanied Tom’s soothing “shhh“ as he dragged you into an empty trailer, careful so you wouldn’t stumble under the immense weight on your delicate shoulder.

Weight a cruel world had put on you. Weight that wasn't even your fault.

“How dare they?“ You muffled in his clothed armpit, Tom’s big hand caressing the back of your head so lovingly. “I am so incredibly sorry, y/n“. Low vibrations rung in your ears, fighting against the high-pitched beep disturbing your mind.

It had been perfect the last weeks. You were truly happy again for the first time after leaving Nate and now they wanted to take it from you again. All of it.

“Please know I am here for you. If you need anything, just tell or call. For heaven's sake send me a carrier pigeon. I don’t mind“ Tom continued, the scent of his trademark cologne calming your restless mind just like the thick British accent you had been drooling over so many times. 

And as if naturally, he succeeded with brightening your mood.

A shy giggle escaped your lips, salty from all those tears. “A carrier pigeon?“ You asked with a light smile, looking up at the handsome man whose ocean blue orbs were eying you with an awe-struck expression.

Oh, you loved this look. It made you feel loved and cared about, something primal what had been undated for so long.

His rich laughter echoed through the trailer, shiny white teeth exposed in a symphony of low, thundering noises. Soothing and radiating joy, you’d say if someone asked you to describe those unique chuckles. “If you feel like it, darling. And if you have one, of course“ Tom winked, a loose curl tilting as he coked his head to the side.

He was so handsome and he knew it.

But would he really do it on purpose? With you?

Or was this really 'just' a beautiful, deep friendship?

The keycard beeped, a green light positively flashed as you let yourself in.

The hotel room became quite messy since last weeks press antics which took an heavier toll on your sanity than you expected. Perhaps because it was Tom they saw you with; the man for whom your feelings became undeniable, like cold snow coating a broken heart to keep it from dying.

You needed him but the last week was hard. 'Just the world testing you' you kept murmuring to yourself.

You wished the headlines to be true to a certain extent though. To be his was an old dream theatrically revived during the first time you met him again.

But not like they saw you, not like the cruel, blasphemous world wanted to display you; a lost, slutty woman who wrapped him around her pinky out of sheer despair.

However, this wasn’t the only thing that kept you from finally admitting all those feelings. You didn’t even know if Tom reciprocated them…

Tossing your tote bag on the bed, your heels were next to slip off landing on the carpet with two dull thuds. A rather short day of filming was behind you yet you body was tired, craving sleep or distraction or whatever.

Suddenly you saw a white package placed right next to your nightstand, a little note from the hotel stuff glued on top “delivery for Ms Hemsworth room 23“.

Who the hell sent you a package without you knowing? Chris maybe? But then you shouldn’t open it. Could be an alligator after all. 

Nosy hands did their best to rip off the tape, a luxurious looking second box showed itself. With furrowed brows you lifted it out, undoing the black ribbon with rapt attention. As the cover finally slid down the edge of your bed, beautiful emerald green fabric was revealed; a dress.

Gasping at the unique design you almost ignored the little letter hidden between the silk. 

Darling,

Unfortunately there was no carrier pigeon available to deliver this little gift so I had to make do with the royal mail. My sincerest apologies. 

I won’t lie to myself anymore and admit that I cannot accept the negative feelings that are troubling you hence I would love to take you out for dinner tonight. 

If you feel like joining me, I’ll be humbly waiting in your hotel lobby at 7pm…

Yours truly, Tom 

You couldn’t keep in the childish squeak of joy as you pressed the dress close to your heart. Your heart wanted to absorb it alongside all of Tom's kindness. The broad smile he always summoned was back, lingering on your lips like your guardian angel.

A date with Tom was not what you expected from this little career change but wow. You wouldn’t decline, that was for sure.

“Have I told you how gorgeous you look?“ Tom mused, candle light casting flawless shadows on his sharp features while velvet lips were curled up in an admiring smile.

The handsome Brit didn’t  stop beaming with glee since you happily took his hand in the lobby. It was a dream come true for the man who had been thinking about you day and night, wishing he would see you every morning in his lonely apartment.

It felt so full with you, so complete.

“Tom, you’ve told me about ten times already“ you giggled, enjoying the last bit of mousse au chocolate melting on your tongue. Dinner with Tom had been incredible. You ended up in his apartment eating what he had prepared as if he was a personal chef and damn, you savored every second of this private date. 

“Then make it eleven“ he winked, hungry steel blues traveling down your neck, taking a turn at your exposed collarbone and flashing a quick look at your cleavage.

He was a subtle gentleman but with every minute of you sitting in front of him, smiling brighter than the sun and telling small anecdotes of your thoughts while playing Victoria, it got so much harder to restrain the loving need.

“In one aspect they’re right... you are very charming Mister Hiddleston“

But your small chuckle died as he lavishly licked the last bits of cream from the golden spoon. Tom’s wet tongue flicked and hugged the metal, collecting every last bit with skilled motions. Lewdly.

How would he feel between your legs?

God get a grip!

A decent neck rub should veil your trailed off thoughts but Tom’s irresistible smirk spoke volumes. He did it on full purpose and you proudly stepped in the thirst trap. How very embarrassing, wasn't it?

The blonde man's veiny hand crawled closer to yours, long digits stroking the back of your hand as if you were the most precious diamond that had to be kept safe and sound.

However, there was else lurking in the narrowed blue eyes, something darker and uncharted that pulled you under an invisible spell. “Should I walk you back to the hotel, y/n?“ He asked, the low timbre layered with an obvious hope for a 'no' as an answer.

And you delivered it wantonly.

“Tommy?“ 

“Hm?“ He hummed eyes casted on yours as if glued onto with pure honey.

Was it lust in those eyes every woman dreamed of to wake up to? 

“I have to tell you something…“ your heart missed a beat as you so boldly introduced the most fragile of confessions. Planned or not, it had been only a matter of time until you wouldn't be able to keep shut about it anymore. Now, there was no going back and it should scare you to the core.

But it didn’t. Not in the slightest.

The tall Brit suddenly stood up, hips elegantly weaving past the mahogany table and approaching your tensed self with those tantalizingly long legs.

Sometimes one could think it was Loki all along playing a mischievous trick on the world while disguising as Tom Hiddleston. It could be…maybe?

You didn’t know why but you got up as he reached you, your head tilting up to meet his charming smile that alone could sweep you off you feet. Nonetheless, it was the man behind this flawless demeanor who caught your erratic, skittish heart and kept it safe.

And you were ready to unfold what it harbored. 

“I love you, y/n“ he whispered without any warning of the faithful gravity of his remark, shocking you. A gentle hand sliding in between your styled hair and delicate neck held you and coaxed your body closer.

Wow. Your breath hitched for a second that felt like eternity while your mind opened the makeshift gutter of all those unchained emotions. It overwhelmed you as they ran free but Tom’s soft lips on yours silenced the whole world. 

You grew used to Tom’s film kisses but this was something entirely different. Passionate and feral almost. Like devouring a gratification which had been denied for far too long. Smacking sounds echoed through his apartment, hasty hands were quick to travel each other’s body like starved humans. 

“I love you, too“ you panted between heavy kisses and dancing tongues, your thighs clenching as Tom’s greedy hands unzipped the back of your dress with ease. A second later, silky fabric pooled around your ankles leaving you in admittedly suggesting lingerie you decided to wore just in case.

Well, the case had occurred.

“So gorgeous“ the tall Brit purred deeper than his jet black Jaguar before tossing his jacket to the floor not caring whether it landed where it should or not.

All that mattered right now was you and his long hidden devotion towards the little sister of his best friend. You were the woman he would chose to spend forever with. Even if forever was just a lifetime.

Strong hands picked you up, your shaky legs warped around his waist as your forehead rested against the apex of his strained neck. Primal feelings and wanton lust simmered in both your systems, ready to break free when the time was ripe. Low hums and groans escaped his parted lips, the decent touch of your fingers unbuttoning his dress shirt was almost too much. God, he needed to feel this, you, every single night. 

With loving gentleness Tom dropped you on the bed, the now fully opened shirt was quick to leave, exposing those deliciously defined shoulders and pecks you had been snuggling up against countless times already.

Your co-star’s patience and respect was unmatched, the way he had calmed you down after reckless news or mean messages from Nate was healing those scars in a way you never knew was possible. 

“You have no idea for how long I’ve been wanting this“ he groaned, breath tickling your ear, his hand unbuckling the belt sent an incredible friction down your spine. An unmeasurable level of anticipation and lust you had never felt with your ex.

Nate had been the problem, not you. Tom made it clear as day.

“I need you Tom. Please“ 

“Are you sure? We can wait, darling“ questingly raised eyebrows faced you, the trousers hitting the floor with a small smack of metal on wood leaving both of you in only underwear. And visibly aroused.

Oh, of course you wanted him. More than anyone else in this world and you knew damn well that you couldn’t wait any longer. 

A hasty nod alongside one of your innocent, happy smiles sent Tom over the edge of restrained gentlemanliness. Those big hands began to trail every single of your curves so lovingly while strong hips bucked against your crotch. Sweet sizzles pampered all those sensitive nerves, making you crave more of his intoxicating touch.

“Will you be mine? After all those years…finally?“ The handsome Brit panted, his voice descending in a low growl as you greedily slipped his boxers down, your own panties following.

Someone took control over your lust-drunken actions but it was cool. It couldn’t feel any better than just right. Because that’s what it was; right.

And no one would ever take it from you again, would they?

“Make love to me, Tom“ you moaned wantonly, your delicate voice the most harmonizing sound in his ears. “Oh, darling. Why are you so perfect?“. His deep, purring praises sounded sweeter than dripping honey, satisfied but greedy at the same time. The moment you’ve dreamed of during so many lonely nights finally arrived.

If death had a lovely twin on cloud nine, you just met him. 

“God, how did I deserve you?“ Another one of Tom’s adorable rhetorical questioned escaped his mouth, agape in the raw pleasure your unison bestowed on him.

Feeble candle light flickered through the open door, drowning the Brit’s unique curls in a gingerly orange giving him an ethereal touch. He was the selfless savior of your broken heart after all. Something godly to you who had deemed healing impossible.

“Thomas“ your lewd, little moans were a seething elixir to his soul, his full name fleeing your wet lips was something he wanted to savor so badly. Frame the sound if possible.

It didn’t take any more to spur him on. Your love was more than enough.

Looking unfairly fine, Tom‘s defined torso was strained by hard working muscles as he gifted you the night of your life. The first of hopefully more than 1001 nights of pleasure and passion.

“Darling, I made the pasta you loved so much“ Tom’s soft voice echoed through the apartment.

You had only left for a day of filming or to check out of the hotel you were originally staying in. Since the night of confessions you had spent every free minute with your Tom. Your boyfriend no one yet knew about. The press might took it as a fling, something sexual but no. You were far more.

“Coming“ you yelled back sliding out of his king sized bed, the book you lend from him placed on the nightstand. Shakespeare was written on the cover. Of course it was.

At the moment, it felt like living a dream but you knew sooner or later the romantic coastal road would become a bumpy ride iahend thepublic realized what was going on between the two of you. A matter of time to be exact but the seconds of intimacy you had left were cherished like an ancient treasure.

You had never been happier and so was Tom, the charming smile only leaving his soft lips when he was asleep or worshipping your body. 

buzz buzz

Reflexively, you accepted the video call, a grinning Chris soon appearing on the screen of your phone. Not spending a single thought on your obvious surroundings you greeted him, beginning to talk about the scenes you were filming at the moment until your brother had realized. Your mistake.

“What?! Why are you looking like a guppy?“ You asked confusedly, Tom trying to muffle his laughter in the background. 

“This kitchen… Tom? - I know you’re there“ He suddenly yelled, a wicked sparkle in those baby blues you’ve known for your lifetime. But his voice was ever so rich, the chosen volume almost shattering the speaker of your phone.

Shit you internally cursed, almost tossing the phone across the room as your thumb hastily tried to find the red button. Chris didn’t know yet.

Well, not until now.

“Oh no! The big brother will come for me“ Tom feigned shock, giggling like a child as his strong arms wrapped around your waist to keep you close. Close to home.

As expected, the pasta had been to die for but the constant vibration of your phone became unbearable. Chris‘ nosiness became unbearable. Eventually, you convinced Tom to make the dishes yourself so he could take a shower but it was some alone time you obtained by fraud. Chris would continue to annoy the hell out of you if he didn’t get an answer soon.

You knew him like the back of your hand. 

Stifling your uncontrolled, ashamed laughter in the fabric of your shirt, blood pooled in your cheeks. Chris might look like Thor but oh boy, he was far from the god’s level of decency.

“Y/n?“ Thomas’ whiny voice found his way from out of the huge bathroom.

“Tommy?“ You yelled back, still unable to suppress the sugary giggle in your theatrical question. Your older brother often managed to make you laugh but Tom’s faux childish, hurt pleas and whimpers did an even better job at entertaining your fun side. This man was a whole comedian himself.

“Asgard feels so lonely without you…“ it came promptly.

“Aww my love“ you chuckled “I’m on my way“.

It took you only a few steps and a quick slide out of your knitted dress to open the bathroom door naked and ready to join him in the shower. But it seemed you were too late, Tom’s tall, athletic body already soaking wet and leaning casually against the black wall tiles.

This man was definitely an addictive sight to see.

“Remnants of James Conrad“ he chuckled, ocean blue orbs trailing your curves in complete adoration. You were a holy temple to him and a day without worshiping his goddess was a lost one. The rain shower continued to pepper warm water droplets across the broad shoulders, the shiny pearls running down the deep ridges of his defined abs that flexed as Tom reached out for you.

Longing for you.

“And you’re sure there’s no way I can see the movie prior?“ You complained whiny, feeling the hot water embracing you alongside Tom’s strong arms that pressed you flush against his muscular form. God, he was tall…

“I’m afraid no. But I can introduce you to the Captain“ he groaned in the crook of your neck, ardent kisses and love bites were peppered all across your bare neck and shoulders. His mouth was hotter than the water, reviving those butterflies in your belly and the twitching nerves of your core longing for Tom’s exquisite touch.

He had ruined you and effectively so.

“Thomas… I thought you wanted to shower“ You giggled coyly, anything but averted to what your handsome Brit had planned.

Big palms wandered down your cheeks before he grabbed your thighs lifting you up and pressing your back flush against the wall. “Hmm… What about a little multitasking?“ Tom growled sealing his velvet lips with yours, water pouring along your faces, weaving past the heated kiss and deflected by the light stubble of his beard.

“Thomas William Hiddleston… If I only knew you’re this insatiable“

tags: @crimson25 @kikster606 @huntress-artemiss @123forgottherest @lovingchoices14 @ozymdias @vbecker10 @coldnique @lokixryss @simplyholl @peaches1958 @lokibadguy @jennyggggrrr @stephenstrangeaddictions @holymultiplefandomsbatman @gigglingtigger @mischief2sarawr @mypsychoticlove @mochie85 @muddyorbs @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @simping-for-marvel @lady-rose-moon @goblingirlsarah @kats72 @vickie5446 @buffyfan2833 @12-pm-510 @ladymischief11 @somewiseguy @woooonau @cabingrlandrandomcrap @alchemxx @honeyrydernot

#against the odds #tom hiddleston series #tom hiddleston x you #tom hiddleston fic #tom hiddleston x reader #hiddleston x yn #tom hiddleston x fem!reader #hiddleston fanfic #18+ #hiddleston smut

[evereverest2]

The Serpent — Four

[chapters]: one | previous | next | latest

“Abel Stokes, a priest in the small town of Static, Tennessee, encounters a strange man who would lead him down the path of temptation.”

this chapter will contain panic attacks and religious guilt.

~2.8k words

Four

He woke up late Sunday afternoon with his cheek stinging from having laid on the carpet all night. He felt an ache in his back.

It took him a few minutes to realize that it was just about the time he needed to show back up at church for mass.

Realizing this, Abel was immediately struck with millions of panicked thoughts about the night before and the consequences of going and not going. Paralyzed, his mind filled him with deep terror about his father, his homily, his sin, if he had somehow left behind evidence, and most of all, the stairway appearing before him that was leading him down to Hell.

When finally the paralysis had subsided, replaced by dread, Abel was quick to dress and leave. He normally showed up early anyway, so by the time he got there he was about twenty minutes late. The mass itself would not start for twenty more.

Abel spent most of the time in his own head, trying to prepare some semblance of a homily that would get him through mass, let alone one that his father would potentially overhear. But he could not think; he was still sluggish from sleeping on the floor, his back was hurting, and he kept glancing at the confessional room in worry.

By the time he stood at the altar with dozens of teenagers staring boredly at him, he had nothing. He looked at them; they looked at him. For a moment, there was hesitation amongst them. But before they could start whispering in confusion, Abel finally spoke.

Abel’s words tumbled out of him like an avalanche, though it was mostly a repeat of the story they had just read, where Jesus famously says that he without sin should be the first to cast a stone. He rambled on about judgment, reserving judgment, being judged. No matter the circumstance of what someone is doing, if it is not something harmful or illegal, they should not be judged by anyone other than God. That is what Abel wanted for himself; that his sin be hidden, and only God would punish him.

The rambling nature of his speech was lackluster, he knew, but serviceable, and when it was done he felt relieved that he had not made a fool of himself. He signed the notebooks, turned around, and his father was there. Abel startled, then tried to hide it by shifting his stance.

His dad smiled, “I’ll let you get changed, then we can go. I chose Annie’s, if that’s alright.”

“Uh, yep. Yeah, I’ll just be a minute. How ‘bout I just meet you there?”

“Sounds good.”

Annie’s was the epitome of a small town joint, just down the street from the church. They served homemade comfort food and were known for their pound cake. Abel and his dad went often after late mass when he was a kid with no babysitter and had to go everywhere with him. He liked the food fine, but he hated the cake.

The sun was still shining when he left the church. The sky was cloudy, but bits of brilliant blue showed through the cracks. He had heard it was supposed to rain; the weather seemed perfect, though.

Abel was wearing a white t-shirt and jeans. He did not want to wear his black priest garb whilst “off-duty”, if such a thing existed for a holy man. He wanted to avoid people perceiving him as such. It was less pressure that way.

He could see through the glass before he entered the restaurant. His father, sitting in a booth facing the window, was drinking a black coffee in a white mug, wearing a worn red flannel over a beaten dad rock shirt. He always had coffee before his meal. Always, so that whenever Abel smelled coffee he thought of his dad. Across from him sat a lone glass of water. For him. His dad was looking towards the bar to his left, though with the sun beaming in and casting shadows inside he could not make out that part of the diner.

Abel entered, and his dad stood to hug him. As they embraced, Abel heard the tail end of “—too long,” muffled by his shoulder. To Abel, given that they lived in the same town and worked at the same place, he saw his dad all the time, so he never made a point to visit him any other time. Perhaps, then, it had been awhile since they’d met outside of church. Slyvester clapped him on the back and they both sat.

“How’ve you been, son?”

“Alright,” Abel shrugged, pushing out of his mind the night before. “My back’s been killin’ me.”

Slyvester laughed, “That’s gettin’ old for ya. I liked your sermon, by the way.”

“Thanks.”

And that was all they spoke on the matter. They both ordered and talked about nothing. Abel’s anxiety melted away over time, at ease when his dad never brought up his homily again, more so when he felt his secret was safe. A dinner with his dad; nothing more. They ate and talked some more. His mind was at ease.

“Father Abel?”

He went pale, adrenaline running through his veins. Slowly, his head turned, and there was Anson standing at their booth. He was wearing the same suit he always wore, down to the green tie, giving Abel a look like he knew every dirty secret passing through his mind.

A ball of fur sat on his tongue. He only managed to squeak out a, “Hi.”

“I almost didn’t recognize you without your priest outfit,” He gave him a big smile, eyes boring into his soul. He stayed quiet. Anson turned to Slyvester. “Hello, I’m Anson. You must be Abel’s brother?”

Slyvester laughed, clearly charmed. “No, his dad. I’m Deacon Slyvester. Nice to meet you. Are you new to the parish?”

They shook hands. Abel thought he would be sick.

“Yes, as a matter of fact, I am. I’ve been seeing Father Abel for confession for a few weeks now and he has helped me immensely.”

Slyvester gave Abel an impressed look. He wished he could melt into the vinyl of the seat. His dad said, “Wow. I’m glad he’s supporting the community.”

“Yes, I like to think Father Abel and I have become fast friends. He’s a big reason I keep coming back.”

Again, Abel was choked. He just stared at Anson like he had sprouted horns. Anson had come a sheer fabric away from jerking off in front of him just the night before, and now, he was meeting his father. A gay man with a sex problem. He had the urge to blurt this to his father, who was acting too friendly towards him for Abel’s comfort.

“Excuse my son, he’s always been shy,” Slyvester said after Abel had said nothing for a few awkward beats. “Would you like to join us?”

“I’d love to, thank you.”

Anson subtly nudged Abel to get into the booth. He hesitated, but remembering his father was watching him, he moved aside.

“So what brings you to Static, Anson?”

“Business. I’m a journalist, writing about small towns in Tennessee and why people should visit them.”

Anson’s leg brushed against his own. He moved it away.

“Really?” Slyvester nodded and leaned back in his seat. “Sounds interestin’.”

Abel glanced between the two. Anson was resting his head on his hand, stealing looks back at him. He wore the same lovely smile he always wore, which frustrated him.

Slyvester said, “Maybe Abel here— sorry, Father Abel to you— can take you around town.” Looking at Abel, he said, “You know all the spots.”

Abel opened his mouth to say something, anything, but Anson stopped him.

“That would be great. I’ve been having trouble finding a reliable source.”

“Then it’s settled.”

Slyvester pulled out his wallet and laid down a few bills on the table, paying for the meal they had finished. He stood.

“It was nice catchin’ up with ya bud, but I think I’ll get goin’ now so you and Anson can talk ‘bout it. Have fun.”

“…Bye…” Abel said tentatively, watching him leave. He was setting him up to make friends again. Just like high school.

Anson slid out of the booth and across from him, replacing his father’s spot. “Well, hello there, Father Abel.”

“Why are you here?” Abel muttered.

“Seeing if the food was any good. I was sitting at the bar,” he nodded his head towards the direction, “When I noticed you come in. I didn’t mean to intrude.”

“Well, you did.”

“My apologies. Can I make it up to you?”

“I don’t want to see you again,” Abel hissed. “Not after yesterday. It was inappropriate.”

“More inappropriate than what you did after?”

Abel’s blood turned to ice. “…How—How’d you…?”

“I had to use the restroom and I heard you. Don't worry; I left as soon as I realized.”

Abel felt a knot in his lungs. He struggled to inhale.

“Abel, it’s okay. I won’t tell anyone.”

“…W—Why not?” He choked out.

“It was my fault, wasn’t it? I’ll take responsibility,” He grinned.

Abel wanted to cry. He buried his head in his hands, not believing this moment was real. His image was shattering before him, mirror shards that were cutting his soul. He let this happen. Anson knew both of his secrets— like him, he was a gay, sexual delinquent.

His life was over.

“Abel?”

He hardly heard him. A storm of panic brewed above him, raining down fear and guilt. How could he go on? Anson could tell anyone, especially his father who he had just met. And he knew about these secrets he had been keeping for over ten years, secrets that could break the very foundation he had carefully built his life around.

He felt a hand on his shoulder. He glanced at Anson, standing with a look of worry, who whispered softly, “Hey, let’s get out of here.”

Abel was inclined to follow, despite not fully trusting Anson, because he was feeling on the verge of a panic attack and did not want to make a scene.

They left the diner and went to Anson’s car, a black two-door that looked as inconspicuous as any other vehicle on the road. When Abel got in, he could not stop the tears from flowing, his hands from shaking, his lungs from stuttering. He drew his knees up, covered his face, and erupted into the frenzy of panic and pain he had been experiencing for perhaps his entire life.

Anson was silent, letting him cry without judgment.

They went on a long drive around Static and beyond, driving through rolling green hills and empty dirt fields. The sky had turned grey, and finally, as the weather channel had predicted, it was raining. The gloomy atmosphere was soothing to him, watching it go by as tears kept falling. Anson offered a strong comforting presence, something inexplicable.

Finally, Abel got ahold of himself, and as they cruised down empty roads, Anson spoke gently.

“Are you doing alright?”

“Yeah. Sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

A few minutes passed. He liked the sound of rain on the windows, the gentle hum of the car. He felt the need to say something.

“I’m sorry I lied to you,” Abel admitted. “I still masturbate sometimes. I felt like I had no right to lecture you on how to control yourself when I struggle with it anyway.”

“I don’t think it’s wrong to masturbate,” Anson replied, eyes trained ahead. He was resting one arm on his window sill, the other on the wheel.

“Then why did you come to me?”

“I wanted guidance. And, as I’ve told you before, I’m a lonely man.”

“Right,” Abel rolled his eyes. “A guy that looks like you is struggling to have relationships.”

Anson spoke in a bemused tone. “A guy like me? Do you think I’m handsome?”

“I don’t think it’s sacreligious to say yeah, you’re a stud.”

“Thank you. Unfortunately, that just doesn’t translate into my social life. I travel a lot, meet people, lose contact. I’m not close with anyone.”

“So you wander into every church makin’ friends with priests?”

“No. Just yours.”

Abel felt his face redden though he did not know why. He looked out his side window. They were quiet for a few minutes. Abel watched as they passed horses grazing in a pasture as if it were not raining at all.

“Abel,” Anson sighed. “I have to apologize. For real, this time. I’m sorry I came on to you. I didn’t know that was something you were struggling with. I guess I thought you might be into me too.”

“I’m… A priest…” Abel said slowly.

“I never said it was smart,” Anson laughed lightly. “Guess I was just hoping, because I find you very attractive. But I know you aren’t interested, so I’ll let it go. I just hope we can stay friends.”

Butterflies erupted in his stomach. Nothing like this had ever happened before. All his life he was lonely, with no friends, no love interests, nothing but surface level relationships with the people in proximity to him. To have such a man as Anson say that he was desirable… It filled him with an unidentifiable feeling that thrilled him endlessly.

“I’m a priest,” He repeated to himself. It was weak, quiet. From the corner of his eye, he saw Anson glance at him.

“I know, it was stupid,” Anson said again.

“No… Dammit.” Abel sunk his head in his hands. “I’m attracted to you and it’s wrong. I’m not s’posed to be gay.”

“It’s not so bad,” Anson joked. “The worst part is deciding who gets to propose.”

Abel sighed and laced his fingers together. “I’ve never admitted that out loud before.”

“How long have you known?”

“Since I hit puberty.”

Anson looked surprised. “You still became a priest?”

“I did it to hide it. And to… Make sure my dad never found out,” Abel hesitated, then said quickly, “And because I love God. I do. Really.”

“I believe that God made us the way we are,” Anson mused. “Gay men get to heaven too.”

“Not the sexually active ones.”

“I don’t believe sex is bad either. In fact, I might argue that it's a blessing.”

“The fact it’s a blessin’ is why it should be saved for marriage.”

“Orgasms don’t get better just because you’re wearing a ring.”

Abel blushed. He fiddled with his fingers. “Maybe not. But sex is more than pleasure. It’s about unity.”

“And yet, you’d never know, Father,” Anson jabbed at his title pointedly.

“You’re right,” Abel gazed out the window. “I made my bed, and I’m gonna lie in it.”

“Can I lie in it?”

Abel whipped his head around to Anson, who was laughing softly. “Sorry. You’re too easy.”

Abel groaned, feeling torn. He looked at Anson’s sharp profile, his wondrous face. He could not think of God or Heaven when he was sitting passenger in Anson’s car, feeling like a teenager in the jeans he’d owned since he was an 11th grader and ogling over a man who was out of his league. Young again, imagining a world where he could grow up and fall in love and still be accepted by his father and God. He wanted it more than anything.

“You really wouldn’t tell no one?” Abel asked tentatively.

“Who would I tell? I don’t have a reason to.”

“If… If we… Would you tell anyone… About us?”

Anson looked at him for a second. “God might find out.”

Abel squeezed his fingers together. In a moment of indecision, he asked Anson to take him home.

The rest of the trip was quiet, save for Abel giving Anson directions. It was not until they parked outside his house that Abel wanted to say something.

“Thank you. For letting me… Y’know. Talk, I guess.”

Anson, now able to look at him, gave him a soft gaze that made his heart skip a beat. “I lied to you, too. I haven’t been in love with some other guy. It’s always been you.”

Abel’s eyes widened in shock. He looked away, his mind blank.

Anson reached towards him, his fingers grazing his chin, turning his head to look at him. Anson’s eyes sparkled with hidden flame. Abel could not resist his grasp.

“Will you let me love you?”

Without waiting for an answer, Anson leaned forward and kissed him. Abel’s heart burst with sinful joy.

It was short; Anson pulled away first. They stared at one another, the question hanging in the air, until Abel barely found the strength to leave the car. Just before he left, Anson gave him a smile.

“Goodbye, Father Abel,” he said, spinning his name in his mouth like a poem.

Abel watched him drive away, reaching up to touch his lips in confusion.

[chapters]: one | previous | next | latest

thanks for reading! if you liked my writing consider giving me a reblog :>

#anson omnaiel #worship anson #oc #original character #tiefling #short story #writing

[aylacavebear]

Stockroom Antics - Chapter 4

Maria had changed jobs numerous times over the last five years, more to keep herself safe than anything else. Her mother had told her she was a fairy but she thought it was just her mom being weird. Honestly, though, she had no other way of explaining what had happened to her that stormy day before she'd gone into a coma for two weeks.

Please don't take my work. I'll post warnings for each chapter. Will probably be 18+ I haven't decided yet!

Word Count: 2044

Pairing eventually Dean Winchester x OC

Warnings: Angst, Past Car Accident, Past Coma

A/N: This one's written a little differently than my last one. Let me know what you think. It's the first time I've tried this type of writing. Chapters will alternate viewpoints as well. I also looked into an actual area so this one could feel more realistic.

----------------------------------------- Stockroom Antics Chapter 4

Back at the hotel, a half hour later, Sam was sitting at the table, staring at his laptop with Dean sitting across from him, “Well?” he asked, impatiently.

“Huh,” Sam said, somewhat interested.

“Dude, if you don’t spill-” Dean began, but Sam interrupted him.

“That Maria girl you mentioned. She’s worked at almost all the locations or nearby to every demon hit over the last five years,” Sam explained.

Dean raised an eyebrow, “We’ve never questioned her before. Anything weird about her?” he asked.

Sam read through the numerous pages he had up on his laptop, “She was in a car accident, five years ago and a coma for two weeks due to it. The doctors were baffled because she didn’t have a single injury and then just woke up one day,” he explained, then showed his brother pictures from the police report.

The little car she’d been driving looked like a squished tin can. They had to use the jaws of life just to get her out of the driver’s seat. She had been unresponsive even though she was breathing. She had blood on her as if she had been injured but there wasn’t a single scratch on her, baffling the rescue crews and the doctors.

“I’d say that’s our kind of weird,” Dean mumbled.

“She always quit her job before we showed up to question the employees,” Sam told him, glancing over at the case files from the last five years.

“There’s no way in hell that girl is almost forty-five,” Dean said, shocked when he saw her date of birth. She was the same age he was.

Sam looked at him a little puzzled, “What do you mean?”

“She looks like she can’t be more than thirty-two, if that,” he answered, still reading through the page before him.

“Well, we can either go back to her work and pull her aside, question her alone, or just tail her,” Sam suggested.

Dean sighed and slid the laptop back to his brother, “If we go back and question her, it might make things complicated. Let's just tail her for now.”

They changed into regular clothes, jeans, t-shirts, Dean with a flannel, and then both tossed on their jackets before heading to the Impala. They grabbed some fast food from the Burger King across the street from Ross before they found a decent place to park and watch the store. With the windows rolled up, neither of them could smell the sulfur. They saw her come outside and sit down on the ground between two of the columns out front of her store. She seemed to be looking at something on her phone, smiling a bit, biting her lip at others, and even seemed to laugh. 

They both sat forward when she almost seemed to get spooked by something, looking around the area. They too scanned the area and the people that were going about their business. Sam tapped his brother’s arm, then pointed to a couple that were standing almost twenty feet away from her but out of her view. Dean turned to look as well.

“What do you think?” Sam asked.

“They’re definitely watching her. Question is, what are they,” Dean replied, almost quietly, like he was attempting to guess.

“It’s not like we can just go toss holy water on them,” Sam chuckled, trying to lighten the mood a little. However, he also knew that they couldn’t use a silver knife on them either, not with them in such a public space. 

“She didn’t see you yet. Go inside and keep an eye on her. She’ll recognize me,” Dean told him.

Sam agreed but had to wait until after she went back inside. The store was a bit busier now. Sam made it a point to walk by every customer in the store, pretending to look at things on the racks and shelves. He and his brother had been hunting long enough to catch the odor of sulfur at a demon possession. 

The phone only rang once before Dean answered, “Three inside, then the two outside. Total four males and the one female,” Sam told his brother, glancing around the store.

“Son-of-a-bitch,” Dean grumbled, “Just, keep an eye on her. They might not do anything in such a public setting.”

They hung up and Dean kept an eye on the two who were outside while Sam kept his eye on the ones inside, as well as on Maria. When he did see her, his brows furrowed in slight confusion. Dean was right, she didn’t look like she was in her forties. He noticed the same things Dean did; she always seemed to be smiling, softly singing along with certain songs that came on the speakers, dancing a little to others, helping customers, and stocking shelves. He may have thought her job somewhat boring but he could see how much she enjoyed doing it.

He watched her and Sarah exchange their goodbyes, waited for her to leave, and then noticed the other demons also heading outside, so he followed. They seemed to mingle with the people outside, blending in. Sam watched her go to her truck, smiling a little at it, as it was nice. Once she began driving away, he made his way to the Impala and hopped in before his brother followed her carefully. In this area, his car stuck out like a sore thumb and he had seen her notice it. The brothers also noticed two other vehicles pull out and follow her. They weren’t sure if they were the demons, as there were a lot of vehicles moving around due to it being five in the evening.

Her truck was one of almost ten vehicles on the stretch of road through Avra Valley. Only once did Dean slide the Impala over a bit to take a peek at her truck but quickly got behind the rig again, not wanting her to see him. The drive was long, taking a half hour. He recognized the area, and how it had barely changed in four months. The small glider port with the feedstore across the street from it, then, closer to her place, the Speedway and Dollar General which looked a little busy. So far, they had managed to stay out of sight of her, still behind the rig, which looked as though it was following her.

They followed her down several more roads, staying behind the rig, which headed to a farm after she turned onto her property. Dean pulled off the road and out of sight of any of her windows. The brothers only vaguely remembered her actual place. When they’d come down for the minor tornado incident, her property hadn’t had much damage to it, only some tree branches that had been blown out of the trees. They hadn’t questioned her then. They noticed a small area around two sides of her place that was fenced in and wondered if she had dogs but never saw any.

There wasn’t much for them to see, not with the kind of place she lived in. It didn’t look like much, not from the outside and they wondered why she still lived there in what looked like a run-down couple of trailers. Sam had his laptop and continued looking into her and anything he could find online. Dean had grabbed the files and was flipping through them, still wondering how they’d managed to never question her before, even when they went through the neighborhoods.

Every time the dogs in the area went off or a vehicle drove past, both brothers looked around, still on high alert. With as noisy as the area was, they had no clue how anyone could feel safe enough to sleep, let alone live there. It wasn’t until it got dark that things only seemed to get worse. The dogs went off more often, even sounding as if they were getting into fights with things, an occasional whimper could be heard too. 

“Dude, this place is nuts. How the hell can she even sleep with all that going on?” Dean stated, looking out the window again.

Sam looked over at one of the neighbor's yards, and noticed three stray dogs antagonizing the dogs in the yard, “Seems there are a lot of strays out here. Then there’s the wildlife, coyotes, bobcats, even a mountain lion from time to time,” he explained, wondering if Dean had done any reading from several of the last case files.

Dean groaned a bit and looked back at her place. Once what he assumed was her bedroom light went out, he noticed them, standing just on the outside of her property.

“Sam, look,” Dean almost whispered as he stared at them through the windshield.

Sam turned his attention to where Dean’s was. It was three of the five demons from her store, just standing there, “Why aren’t they doing anything?” Sam asked, perplexed.

That wasn’t normal demon activity and they both knew it. Demons normally took action when what they were after was alone. The brothers knew that they would have to wait a bit for her to fall asleep at least, not wanting to alarm her when the fighting broke out. So, for now, and for the next hour, they watched the demons, who didn’t move. 

“We only need one to question,” Dean told his brother quietly.

“Guns are already loaded with the devil trap bullets,” Sam replied, just as quietly.

They slowly opened the doors of the Impala, and slipped out, closing them as quietly as they could behind them. The night air was briskly cold, causing the brothers to shiver for a moment as they pulled their guns, keeping them hidden for the moment.

“Hey fellas, nice night for a walk,” Dean told the three demons casually.

“Move on stranger,” the first demon told him, not looking away from her house.

Seeing the focus the demons had, they chose to use it. The brothers walked behind the demons, almost two feet between them. Sam pushed one forward while Dean shot the second one, and Sam shot the third. The first demon, though, had crossed the line of her property and went up in flames, causing all four of them to look extremely surprised.

“If neither of you want to end up like your pal there, start talking,” Dean growled, quickly recovering from his surprise. He could figure out what happened later.

The other two demons looked from the burnt-to-ash buddy and then over at the two brothers, “We’re more worried about what the boss will do to us,” the second demon said confidently.

“Alright,” Sam said, then pushed him over the line of her property, letting the third demon watch him go up in flames and then turn to ash.

Lucky for them, the third demon was in no mood to die, “Fine. I’ll talk… just…. Just don’t kill me,” he begged.

Dean pushed him down on his knees, “Why are you following that girl?” he growled.

“The boss… the boss wants her,” the demon replied.

The brothers shared a look before looking back down at the demon, “Crowley? What does Crowley want with her?” Dean demanded.

The demon was visibly worried, he’d already said too much but he also didn’t want to die. He glanced from the brothers to her property line where the ashes of the other two demons had fallen and closed his eyes for a moment. He sighed and looked back at the brothers, “She’s a Peri,” he replied quietly.

Again the brothers looked at each other. They’d never heard of that particular thing before, “What does that even mean?” Dean growled, wanting more information.

“It’s a fairy kind of creature, with magical powers. I’m sure you can piece the rest together,” the demon replied, knowing that either way, he was dead.

Dean shoved the demon over the line of her property, watching as it went up in flames, and then turned to ash, “Time to do some research. At least she’s safe,” Sam somewhat chuckled.

The two headed back to the hotel, knowing they weren’t going to get much sleep that night, partially wishing they had the books at the bunker. Those always held more information than any internet search they could do.

----------------------------------------- Chapter 5

Link to the series Master List

#SPN #SPN FANDOM #spn fanfiction #spn fanfic #spnfandom #spn au #supernatural #soulmates #spn fic #supernatural series #supernatural fanfiction #Supernatural fanfic #supernatural fic #supernatural fandom #supernatural oc #supernatural fanfic series #supernatural au #dean fanfiction #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester fanfiction #sam winchester fanfiction #sam winchester fic #dean winchester x oc #Dean Winchester x femaleOC #dean x female!reader #Dean Winchester x Female!Reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x reader #dean x you

[messers-moony]

Devotion: Chapter Twenty-Three | F.H

Paring: Five Hargreeves X Fem!Reader (Series)

Summary: In which the Hargreeves siblings come together to stop the end of the world.

Disclaimer: I don’t own the Umbrella Academy. All rights go to the creators of the show, the comics and everyone in between. Gifs used in these chapters are NOT mine and are/were found on Pinterest.

Warnings: Cursing, Sex, Nudity, Violence, Gore, Alcohol, Drugs, Smoking, Intense Scenes, and Abuse (if I missed any let me know)

—Skeletons in the Closet

❝I’m sorry in advance.❞

Lila smirked. Y/n leaned her left side against the wall. Diego stared wide-eyed. Lila picked at her nails, “Hello, lover.”

“Holy shit.” Diego cursed, “You really came back.”

“You miss me already? That's too bad. I'm not here to stick around. I'm just doing a quick little drop-off.”

Y/n tilted her head, “Of what?”

She watched Lila move from the wall. Behind her was a kid. He looked younger than Y/n. He had a round face and pale skin. His hair was black and buzzed short. He wore a black shirt, jacket, and blue denim jeans. He looked bored, “Our son.”

“Diego, Y/n, meet Stan.”

Lila pushed Stan’s shoulder, “Say hello, Stanley!”

“Hello, Stanley.”

“Wait. What?” Diego shook his head as Lila grabbed the briefcase. 

Y/n watched her walk toward the elevator, “Hey. Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, this is-“

She stared at the kid while Diego talked. Stan looked her up and down. He had a subtle smirk playing on his lips. Y/n pushed herself off the wall and tilted her head. He fidgeted with his fingers, “So, who are you?”

“I’m Y/n,” She replied, “Diego’s sister.”

“I guess that makes you my aunt?”

Y/n shrugged, “I suppose.”

She stared at him. Y/n saw him begin to get uncomfortable, “You don’t like Diego at all.”

He shrugged. Y/n turned back to Lila and Diego standing in front of the elevator, “I've had Stan for 12 years.”

Lila grabbed Diego’s chin, “It's time for you to do your part. Have fun bonding.”

She walked into the elevator, “Be good for Mommy.”

The doors closed with a subtle creak. Y/n walked to Diego’s side. He stared at Stan incredulously, “So, do you got any food?”

“I’m gonna let you talk,” Y/n said, “I’ll be back with Five.”

Her socks glided on the carpet. It was soft beneath her feet. She still felt uncomfortable in the warm hallways. It took two rights, and a left back into the lobby. Y/n sighed when she saw Luther, Klaus, and Five still at the table. Klaus smiled at her from across the room, and she plopped back into her chair. She grabbed her container and continued to eat. Y/n grabbed Diego’s beer and took a sip. 

“The point is, we did it.” Five said, “We saved the world. We stopped the apocalypse. And made it home safe in time for dinner.”

He dug into his container, “So whatever Dad changed, whatever timeline we're in now, we can handle it.”

Five picked up his margarita, “We won.”

“We won.” Luther nodded.

“Yeah.”

Luther brought his beer to the center of the table. Y/n picked up Diego’s, and the glass clinked against the other two. She smiled and took a sip. It was beginning to get warm, and the liquid slid down her throat with a slight burn. She relished in it. The bottle clicked on the table, and Y/n finished her food. 

At the bottom was still some leftover. She offered it to Luther, who took it gratefully. Y/n crossed her legs and held the beer close to her chin. Klaus smiled, and Five was eating peacefully. Luther was digging at the bottom of Y/n’s Chinese food container. A plastic wrapping was thrown at her. She picked it up from her lap to see a fortune cookie. Five grinned, and Y/n unwrapped it. The fortune was discarded on the table as the cookie was put into her mouth. 

She placed the wrapper on the table and finished Diego’s beer. Y/n put the bottle on the table before jumping off the chair. She walked toward the revolving doors and walked out of the hotel. Her socks hit the concrete, and the sun was setting. She walked on the sidewalk and looked around for a clothing store. The sidewalk was cooling, and it felt good through the thin socks. The restaurants were busy and playing loud music. It felt like being home. But it wasn’t home. 

Y/n walked six blocks before finding a thrift store. It had closed two hours ago. She looked both ways before pulling out the knife in her pocket. She put the blade in the lock and wiggled it around. The lock clicked open, and she smiled. The knife went back into her pocket, and she put her sleeve over her hand before opening the door. Y/n locked the door behind her. 

The building was dark, and she slowly crept to the back of the building. In the back, she shut off the security system. She grabbed a flashlight and clicked it on. Y/n walked over to the bags. She grabbed a black duffle bag and held it in her right hand. She looked around and found clothes for everyone. Luther was tough to find clothes for, and she sighed before shoving triple large clothes into the bag. Klaus would wear almost anything. She found neutral colors for Diego. Allison got whatever she could find. Vanya would probably steal Diego’s clothes or the clothes too small for Luther.

Five was an old man at heart. She threw in multiple different options and zipped the bag. Y/n looked around in the women’s section to find fitting jeans. They were black and had no holes. Y/n unbuttoned her jeans and slid them off. The new jeans were looser, and she grabbed the belt from her old jeans. She wrapped it around the belt loops and tightened the pants around her. She placed the knife back into her front pocket and the wallet in her back pocket. 

The racks were filled with graphic t-shirts and cropped shirts. Y/n sighed before walking into the men’s section. She found a black turtle neck. It was soft and fuzzy beneath her fingertips. She removed the tattered long sleeve and placed the new long-sleeve turtle neck over her torso. She gripped the bag and the flashlight. The shoes were harder to pick out. She grabbed a box that had black converse on the side. Inside the box were green converse. Y/n set the box on the ground and unlaced them. She put them on her feet and laced them tightly. They would work. 

She grabbed her old clothes and threw them in a trash can inside the store. Y/n grabbed the wallet and placed a hundred in the tip jar before walking into the back of the store. She flicked on the security cameras and put the flashlight back. Y/n walked out the back door and walked back to the hotel. The sun had set entirely, and the restaurants were significantly less busy. Y/n felt much better after a nap, shower, and new clothes. It didn’t take long to get to the hotel. She walked through the revolving door to see the lobby almost empty. 

Y/n sauntered into the elevator before clicking the correct floor. The duffle bag was heavy in her left palm. The doors clicked open, and she walked down the hall. She knocked on room nineteen, and the door opened. Diego was standing in front of her. His hair had been cut and slightly gelled to the side. She smiled and walked past him. He closed the door behind her, and Y/n dropped the duffle bag in the center of the room. 

“Have at it.”

Luther approached the bag first and unzipped it. Five, Stan, Klaus, and Diego, stared. She watched him turn the bag upside down, and multiple items of clothing fell from inside. The boys, excluding Stan, started digging through the clothes. They picked through the clothes and set them beside where they were sleeping. Y/n grabbed the remaining clothes and placed them in the bag before walking across the hall to the girls. 

She knocked, and Vanya answered the door. Y/n held out the duffle bag, “New clothes for you and Allison.”

“Thank you,”

“Yep.”

Y/n turned around and went back into room nineteen. She closed and locked the door behind her. Five had shoved his clothes under the bottom bunk. Klaus stuffed his clothes on the top bunk. Diego took off his shirt and shorts. He put on a black wife-beater and laid on the couch. Stan sat in an armchair and flicked on the television. Luther took off his overcoat and leather gloves before laying on the creaky mattress. 

She took the knife from her front pocket and put it on a table. The wallet sat beside it. Five narrowed his eyes at her. Y/n shrugged and unbuckled the belt. She unlaced her shoes and placed them beneath the table holding her belongings. Y/n slipped into the bottom bunk and watched Five kick off his shoes. He had a white t-shirt on and green joggers. She turned to face the wall and pulled the blanket over her body. 

The comforter moved, and someone slipped under it. She felt their body heat, and they gently placed a hand on her shoulder. It slid down her shoulder onto her left hip, and they pulled her to their chest. The arm wrapped around her waist, and the other arm went under her pillow. Y/n felt his breathing against her neck, and his body covered hers. She moved her left hand to interlace with his. Y/n closed her eyes and let sleep take her. 

It was soothing, and everything was calm. Her back melted into the sand, and the stars glittered. The weight of the sand behind her slowed her heart and soothed her breathing. Y/n heard the swaying of distance trees and felt the sand dust throughout the air. She used her fingers to connect the constellations in the air. It felt like seconds, and the sand beneath her back was falling. She was falling down, down, down. 

Y/n jumped awake to see Five standing in the center of the room in a flannel and beige vest. He also had a hat placed on his dark hair. Y/n squinted at him before chuckling. Five turned around to see Y/n snickering quietly. Five looked up to see Klaus dead asleep. Luther was gone from the squeaky mattress, and Diego was sleeping soundly on the couch. 

She swung her legs over the bed and walked over to the table. She put the belt around her waist and tightened the pants. The knife was cold in her hands as she put it into her front pocket. The wallet was placed in her back pocket. Y/n reached down to put her shoes on her feet and tie them in a knot. Y/n flattened her hair and tucked it behind her ears. She gave Five another look up and down before snickering. 

Five narrowed his eyes before walking out of the room. Y/n followed him and closed the door behind her. It shut with a slight click, “You look like an idiot.”

“And you look like a witch.”

She shrugged, “I kind of am.”

“So, what’s on the agenda today?” 

“I dunno.”

Y/n sighed, “Well, I’m getting breakfast.”

She walked in front of him. Her shoes thudded against the carpet as she walked into the lobby. The buffet had many different breakfast foods laid out. She grabbed a plate and started putting some of it on top. Y/n grabbed a mug and filled it with a coffee pot. It was still warm. Y/n walked over to a table and put everything on top before sitting down. 

Diego and Klaus didn’t take long to walk to the lobby. Diego put a green button-up over the wife-beater. Klaus wore a yellow patterned button-up over a black vest, and black flared pants. Y/n sipped her coffee as Diego sat on her right and Klaus across the table. Stan was in the buffet, grabbing food and putting it on a plate. Klaus and Diego had plates. Diego didn’t touch his food. He was staring at Stan. Klaus was picking at his plate slowly.

Klaus stared at Diego, “That little delinquent is your son?”

“Allegedly, my son.”

He laughed, “That's so funny!”

Y/n saw Five holding a mimosa, walking toward the table, “Wait, who’s the mother?”

“Lila.”

“Excuse me?”

“Whoa, Lila's here?” 

“Was,” Diego said, “She dropped him off in my lap last night, then bolted.”

Klaus was fiddling with a fake plant, “I don't much care for that one.”

“Technically, she's family.” Five replied.

“She was trying to murder us,” Klaus squinted, “Like, yesterday.”

“Yeah, like I said, ‘family.’”

Five grabbed a chair from another table, “Diego, is she coming back?”

“Well, she goddamn better be because we have more important things to deal with right now!”

Y/n smacked his left arm, “Leave the kid alone.”

“Calm down. Shh.” Klaus shushed.

Five sat down and grabbed a fork. He pulled Y/n’s plate toward him and started eating. She narrowed her eyes and took another sip of her coffee. She heard footsteps and turned to her left. Vanya wore a plain white shirt and a zip-up jacket around her shoulders. Her hair was much shorter and came just above her eyebrows. Y/n smiled.

“Where's Luther?”

“Who cares? Probably out for,” Diego turned, “A run.”

Klaus hummed, “Love the haircut.”

“So I, uh, talked to Marcus last night.”

“Wait, what?” Diego said, “You talked with the enemy? By yourself?”

Vanya shrugged, “Somebody had to do something.”

“Who elected you, Vanya?”

Y/n held the steaming mug beneath her chin. Vanya hesitated, “It's, uh, Viktor.”

“Shit,” Y/n whispered before putting her cup down.

“Who's Viktor?”

“I am.” Viktor replied, “It's who I've always been.”

It was eerily quiet. Y/n stared at him. She could see Diego, Klaus, and Five doing the same. She bit the inside of her cheek. Viktor looked around the table, “Is that an issue for anyone?”

“Nah, I'm good with it.”

Klaus chuckled, “Yeah, me too. Cool.”

“I- I think it’s great,” Y/n said, “I’m glad that you’ve found yourself.”

“Truly happy for you, Viktor.” Five replied, “But last time I checked, you don't speak for this family.”

“Okay, well, it's fine, okay?” Viktor sat between Y/n and Five, “Marcus totally gets it. He doesn't want a war any more than we do.”

Diego furrowed his eyebrows, “What are you talking about? He tried to homicide us!”

“So did Lila, and you had a kid with her.”

“That's not the point!”

“We made a deal.” Viktor said, “He's gonna give back Five's briefcase. Then we're gonna get out of the timeline. We're gonna meet later today for the, uh, the handover.”

Klaus continued picking at the pancake in his hand, “Oh, thank God!”

“That's a rookie move. Dude is playing you.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah, but maybe we can use this. And we turn it back on them, and then we wipe them the hell out.”

Viktor rolled his eyes, “Diego, stop, please. And you're not gonna, like, do anything today.”

“Except bond with your spawn.” Klaus snickered.

“Alleged spawn.”

“I will get the briefcase, and then we will all go back and fix the timeline.”

Y/n watched Five tense, “Hey, we're not going anywhere! This is a perfectly acceptable timeline.”

“Yeah, why don't you tell that to Allison, who's upstairs grieving her daughter, who doesn't even exist here!”

“Not to mention, we've been replaced by a bunch of blobs and cubes and birds and shit!” 

She snorted. Five didn’t seem amused, “News flash, geniuses! It's not about us! Take a look around. If you hadn't noticed, there's no doomsday. There's no apocalypse. The sun is shining. Birds are doing whatever the hell birds do. That's all that matters.”

“We're done messing with time.” Five raised his drink before getting off the chair, “And I'm officially retired.”

Klaus sniffed, “Is he wearing aftershave? I’m concerned.”

The boys looked at Y/n, “What?”

“Well, aren’t you going to join him?”

“No?” Y/n replied, “He can do whatever he wants. I still have an entire coffee pot to drink before I feel mildly functional.”

Diego chuckled. Klaus rolled his eyes and followed Five back to the buffet. Viktor went to the buffet to grab food. Y/n and Diego sat at the table together. She grabbed her plate back from where Five sat and continued eating. Diego was flipping a knife, and Y/n placed down her fork. She picked up the mug and finished the rest of the coffee. Before she could grab more, they heard yelling. Diego jumped off the chair, and Y/n followed. 

In the main hallway, Chet was grabbing at Stan’s coat, “Let me go! Get your hands off me!”

“I saw what you did!”

“Hey,” Diego called, “What the hell are you doing?”

“Your son stuffed three mini muffins down his pants.”

Y/n snickered and gave Stan a high-five. Diego smacked the back of her head lightly. Stan narrowed his eyes, “And this is a buffet! I can take whatever the hell I want!”

“I got him.” Diego grabbed his arm, “Come on.”

She saw Stan wince, “Wait, take it easy.”

Y/n ripped Diego’s hand from his arm, “He’s a kid, Dee.”

Diego’s eyes softened, and he sat on the stairs. He motioned for Stan to sit beside him. Stan sat on the left, and Y/n sat on Diego’s right, “Time for some ground rules.”

“Our father was a Hall of Fame asshole.” Diego said, “And when I was a little pissant like you, I made a promise to myself that I would never act like him to any kid of… mine.”

“Yeah, stop. I'm gonna cry.”

“But I'm a busy man, with a lot on my shoulders, okay? So I'm not gonna let you slow me down either, all right?”

Stan deadpanned, “Yeah, you look really busy right now.”

Diego smacked the muffin from his hand, “You can stay until your mom gets back, all right? But no more doing dumb shit, or else you and I are gonna have a serious problem.”

“Look at me.” Stan looked up, “¿Me entiendes?”

Stan didn’t answer, and Y/n tilted her head. Diego leaned back some, “Dude, your ear's leaking.”

“Oh,” Stan seemed embarrassed, “Yeah, I forgot to pack my ear medicine.”

“Ear medicine?”

“If I don't drain it, pus leaks out and smells like cat puke.”

Diego grabbed his arm less tight, “Come on.”

He turned back, “You coming with, Y/n?”

“Why not.” She shrugged. 

Y/n followed Diego to the revolving doors. She sighed and felt for the wallet in her back pocket. It was still secure in the pocket. Y/n let her shoes slide slightly against the carpet floor. She perked up at a new voice, “Whoa, whoa!”

It was Viktor, “Where do you think you're going?”

“Kid thing. I'll be right back.”

“No. I need you to stay put and not do anything stupid until I get the briefcase.”

“Yeah, and you're not the boss of him, okay?” Diego smacked the back of Stan’s head.

Y/n blew a raspberry, “I’ll supervise, kay?”

“Fine, don’t let him do anything stupid.”

“Got it!”

Diego had a smirk on his face. Y/n led them out of the hotel through the revolving doors. The sun was bright and hot. Y/n smiled, and Diego ruffled her hair, “Does Viktor know you at all?”

“Apparently not.” Y/n said, “Cause we all know, I’m the one who instigates the stupid shit.”

Stan smiled, “Come on, boys. There’s a convenience store not far from here.”

Y/n let her shoes click against the sidewalk. She could hear Stan and Diego talking behind her. They spoke about Diego and his life. She heard her name mentioned more than once but didn’t care. The sun was on her face, and the wind blew her hair. It felt so lovely. The store was only three blocks south and four east. She was thankful neither boy complained. It took them fifteen minutes. 

The building was white all around with blue accents. It was called ‘Up-Late Drugs.’ Y/n had been inside so many times. She used to get late-night candy and medicine. She remembered visiting with Klaus before watching a movie together in theaters. They hid the candy in their pants. Y/n smiled. The doors opened, and she was hit with the cool air. It smelt the same, like disinfectant and peach. 

“Hurry up. All right?” Diego said, “We gotta get back to the hotel.”

The aisles were long and short. She followed them down the ear and eye care, “Yeah, I gotta find the right one.”

“Just get the no-name shit.”

“Have you tried the no-name shit?”

“No, because my ears don't squirt juice every time I get excited.”

“Yeah, then trust me. I need my brand.”

Y/n sighed, “I’ll pay for it. Get what you need, Stan.”

“And what are you paying with?”

She pulled out the wallet from Dallas, “This.”

He smirked, “You little devil.”

The entrance bell dung, and Y/n perked up, “Jayme, get me munchies.”

“Oh, I found it-“

Diego shushed him. Y/n looked to see Alphonso and Jayme walking into the store. She watched Jayme go to the back of the store. Alphonso went to the styling aisle and started picking through different items. Diego put a hand on Stan’s chest, “Go wait outside.”

“Why?”

“We’re about to kick this fool's ass.”

Stan smiled, “Don't worry. I got your back.”

“Go,” Diego demanded. 

Y/n watched Diego creep around the aisle. She stayed with Stan. He was holding the box of medicine close to his chest. Y/n wrapped her hand around the knife in her front pocket. She couldn’t beat Alphonso with a knife. Maybe Jayme, but not him. Y/n sighed and left the knife in her pocket. She turned back to Stan.

“If you want to help, you can stay.” Y/n said, “Just please be careful.”

His eyes softened, “Okay.”

She heard Diego whistle and crept over to the aisle. Y/n sat on her knees in the aisle to the left. She held her hand out as Alphonso stepped away from the shelf, “Well, isn't this a coinkidink?”

“Only dink I see is yours, tough guy.”

“You followed me here?”

They took steps closer, saying, “Don't flatter yourself.”

“Leave now, or I'm gonna spank you like the little bitch you are.”

“Take your best shot, tubby.”

Alphonso swung, and Diego ducked. He punched Alphonso in the nose, and Y/n heard the bones crack, “Oh shit!”

“I know. Doesn't feel good, does it?” Alphonso smiled. 

She watched Diego swing his leg. Alphonso grabbed his torso and slammed him into the middle of the aisle she was in. Y/n cringed. Alphonso went to step on him, but Diego rolled out of the way. Diego stood up, and Alphonso kicked him in the stomach. He was thrown back into a milk cart. Y/n stopped him from hitting his back on the cart. Diego was placed back onto his feet unharmed. He winked at Y/n. 

Alphonso groaned, “Oh, no.”

Y/n stood up and watched Alphonso roll his eyes before turning back to Diego. Alphonso tried to swing, but Diego ducked and punched his stomach repeatedly. He tried again, but Diego spun and elbowed him in the nose. Diego groaned, and Y/n sighed. Her hands were held out as she watched both boys fight. Diego went to kick him, and Alphonso stumbled back. He kicked the shelf, and everything fell off. 

Alphonso stumbled back into the central aisle with his back to Stan. Y/n looked wide-eyed at Stan. He hid further in the aisle. At the same time, she saw Diego kick the man in the chin before looking stunned at the tile floor, “Dude, your chin.”

“It does that sometimes.”

Y/n watched Diego get thrown into a tower of cans. He fell onto his left arm in front of the aisle with Stan. Y/n couldn’t see and walked out. She couldn’t throw the knife off its course. It slit Alphonso’s pants, and Stan groaned. He fell to the ground, and Y/n slid on her knees to him. Diego had fire in his eyes. 

“Stanley!”

She pulled him into a sitting position as Diego took care of Alphonso. Y/n took his hand from the wound and looked at it through the slit in his jeans. It wasn’t too deep. She sighed with relief. Stan looked concerned, and his face was scrunched up, “It won’t need stitches,”

He sighed, and Y/n turned when she heard Alphonso snarl. He was on the floor, crawling toward something. Diego leaped toward Y/n and Stan, “You all right? Where'd he get you?”

“I'm fine. I'm fine!”

“Oh, you'll be all right.”

Diego held his knee gently, “It's not that bad. Stop crying, all right?”

Y/n gave Diego a look, “He’s okay, doesn’t need stitches.”

He sighed with relief, “Watch out!”

They both turned to see Jayme standing in the opposite aisle. Stan managed to block her black substance with the back of a pan, saying, “That girl was gonna hork on you, dude.”

Y/n watched her try again. Diego moved Stan out of the way. Y/n flung the substance to the ceiling by waving her hand. Jayme smiled. Y/n could hear Diego and Stan bickering behind her. She slowly stood up, and Jayme smirked. Y/n held out her hands, “I don’t think you want to do this, Jayme.”

“Oh,” She chuckled, “I definitely do.”

“I’m sorry in advance.”

Jayme started walking toward them. Y/n held out her hand, palm facing Jayme. She used her other to grab the cans from the aisle. She pushed them all to the middle. Jayme groaned as the cans hit her all at once. One hit her in the head, and she dropped to her knees. Alphonso was reaching for his inhaler. Y/n pushed it further away. Diego grabbed Stan, “Come on.”

“What? No way!” Stan replied, “We were kicking their asses!”

“‘He who fights and walks away lives to fight another day.’ Okay?”

Stan groaned, “That's some lame-ass shit.”

“Yeah, I know.”

Y/n heard the door ding as they exited. She turned back to the two Sparrows. She walked over to see Jayme completely unconscious. Alphonso was heaving. She sighed and walked over to him. Y/n grabbed his inhaler off the floor and placed it in his open palm. He shook it and put it in his mouth. She heard the woosh when the button was pressed. 

He glared at her, and Y/n tucked her hair behind her ears, “Stay away from my family, and I’ll make sure we don’t fuck with yours.”

He didn’t say anything. Y/n cleared her throat, “Your sister might have a small concussion. I didn’t want to cause any actual damage. Bring her to Grace, and she’ll be fine in three hours.”

“Why?” Alphonso rasped, “Why are you doing this?”

“Because I know you really don’t want to do this.” Y/n replied, “And neither do we. I’ve got enough blood on me to fill an ocean, and I don’t want to add to that.”

Y/n watched him stand up. He looked at her up and down before walking to Jayme. Y/n sighed and walked to the medical station. She grabbed a small first aid kit and put it in her other back pocket. She walked to the doors as her shoes clicked on the tile. The doors slid open, and the air was hot. She took the long way back to the hotel. She was tired and needed to clear her head. 

It took twenty-five minutes to walk back to the hotel. The revolving door swung as she stepped inside the lobby. It was cool, and she saw Stan sitting in the common area to the right. Y/n walked toward him. He was holding a napkin over the slit. She sighed and knelt in front of him. She took the napkin from him. 

Y/n rolled up his pants to above the cut in his thigh. He held the rolled-up pants, and she grabbed the first aid kit from her pocket. She ripped open one of the alcohol wipes and started wiping the wound. He hissed. She gave him an apologetic look. She grabbed the gauze and unrolled them. Y/n wrapped the cloth around the wound twice before clipping it together. She took the pants and rolled them back down. 

She closed the first aid kit and put it back in her back pocket. Y/n stood up and looked down at him, “Better?”

“Th- Thank you,”

“It’s no problem.” Y/n dusted off her pants, “If you need anything, let me know, okay? I know Diego’s your father, but he has no idea how to care for a kid.”

“Did- Did you have kids?”

She chuckled, “Oh no. But I have common sense.”

Stan smiled, and Y/n thought of a mission complete. She walked away to the bar. She saw Diego sitting in a booth with Viktor on the left side. She slipped in on Diego’s left and leaned on his shoulder. He was muttering about Lila. Y/n grabbed a glass of water from the table. Allison came down to the bar. 

Her hair was back to curly, and she wore all black clothes. She ordered something at the bar before sitting next to Y/n. They sat in silence. Y/n’s eyes were drooping. Allison groaned, “What are you mumbling about?”

“Lila.” Diego said, “Dumping Stan on me after all these years? I mean, that's not right.”

Viktor scoffed, “Hey, man. If you did the deed, don't blame her for the consequences.”

“He’s got a point.” 

Diego pushed her off his shoulder. Y/n groaned and sat up. He rolled his eyes, “That's not the point.”

“Oh, what's the point?”

“He's cramping my style. I need to be able to react to danger on a moment's notice.” Diego snapped his fingers. Y/n watched Allison finish her drink in a gulp, “How am I to do that when I'm playing wet nurse to a 12-year-old?”

“You're his dad!”

“Alleged, dad.”

“Well,” Allison said, “At least you have a kid.

Y/n watched Allison walk up to the bar and ask for another. She blew a raspberry and leaned back. Diego was fidgeting with a napkin on the table. Viktor was staring with annoyance in his eyes. Y/n leaned back on Diego’s shoulder and closed her eyes. She jumped when the revolving door swung open. Klaus and Five were jogging inside the building. Y/n groaned. 

“Okay, gather round, people.” 

She slid out of the booth as Five looked around, “Where is- Where’s every- Where’s Luther?”

“Haven't seen him.”

“Who knows?”

Five sighed, “Okay, you know what? We got bigger problems to worry about right now.”

Y/n stood on Five’s left as he unwound a string from a notebook. It was overflowing with different things stuck on the pages. It looked like newspaper clippings. Klaus was on Five’s right. Diego and Viktor were next to Y/n. Allison deadpanned, “Like what?”

“This.” Five pointed at the pages.

He flipped through the pages, “Who are they?”

“These are our mothers.”

Klaus slapped his hands on a page, “That one's mine.”

“They're all dead.” Five said, “They all died on the exact same day, October 1st, 1989.”

“That's our birthday.”

Y/n bit her bottom lip, “Not anymore, it isn’t. They all died before we were born.”

“That's dumb.” Diego declared, “If we weren't born, how can we exist?”

“Exactly.”

Viktor furrowed his eyebrows, “What are you saying?”

“I'm saying, when we jumped here, we created a time paradox.” Five said, “All right? Not just any paradox.”

“The grandfather paradox,” Y/n said. 

“What the hell is a grandfather paradox?”

Y/n tucked her hair behind her ears, “It’s when someone goes back in time and kills someone important too early on. Like, when we time traveled back to the sixties.”

“But we didn’t kill anyone.”

“Yes, but something happened there that made the dominos fall—something we did caused the butterfly effect that led to our parents dying. So, when we time traveled forward, we’ve made ourselves a part of this timeline despite the rules. We aren’t supposed to be here, but we’ve put ourselves here instead.” Y/n explained, “So, even if Reginald wanted to adopt us, he couldn’t because we didn’t exist.”

She just wanted to sleep. 

#Five x you #Five x reader #Five x y/n #five hargreeves imagine #five hargreeves x reader #five hargreeves fluff #five hargreeves x you #five hargreeves #five hargreaves x reader #Five hargreeves x y/n #number five x y/n #number five x you #number five x reader #number five #tua #tua netflix #tua au #The Umbrella Academy #devotion— Five Hargreeves

[xalygatorx]

A Very Worthy Christmas 4: Adventures in Babysitting

Christmassy bonus chapters for Worthy (posted a bit early because we're sneaking up on that time of year)!

All take place after the main story, so if you don't want spoilers, save these for a cozy, snowy day. x

Summary: Thor, Jane, and their son Erik arrive at Cora and Loki's on Christmas Eve. An impromptu run to the store leaves Loki alone for the first time with his little nephew.

Pairing: Loki x Fem!OC

Warnings: None

Word Count: 3.5k

"It's just fun, okay?!"

"There is no such thing as 'Yuletide Eve,' the concept itself is ridiculous, why celebrate the night before the actual event just because it's before it?!" Loki demanded as he watched her hook the last of the new ornaments onto the tree after spending a good two hours stringing lights and adding on her old decorations. He'd been testy all day because it was Christmas Eve and Thor, Jane, and their son, Erik, were due to arrive at their home today—in less than an hour, in fact, which was likely why his mood had taken a dip within the past twenty minutes.

"Well, there is here, so get used to it!" Cora fired back, cursing as she misstepped on the ladder and stumbled off the rung. Loki had just enough time to growl his exasperation before he snagged her in the crook of his arm and swung her onto her feet. She probably would've been able to catch herself, but it wouldn't have been graceful and she'd been en route to the floor all the same. "Thanks. Besides, Christmas Eve is more for kids than anyone else. Because of Santa Claus and all that."

"Santa Claus?" he repeated dubiously. "Is that a game like Marco Polo?"

Cora started to say it wasn't, but then she thought about it considerately. "…You know, it kind of is. But not quite. Marco Polo is actually a game. Santa Claus is kind of a make-believe thing for kids." Loki stared at her, waiting for an explanation, and she pursed her lips as she thought of how to explain it. "See, when you grow up here as a kid—at least for the most part—you grow up believing that Santa Claus brings you all or some of your presents rather than your parents and family members."

"Why? Then they do not get credit for their gifts."

"No, but children get a lot of joy out of it. There's a whole story about it and you leave a plate of cookies and some milk out for him, and he comes down the chimney…"

"He sounds like an odd burglar. And Midgardian children actually believe this?"

"Mostly, yes. At least in the States, that's how we do it, I'm not very informed on how it's done in other countries and cultures… It's fun. But eventually, usually from each other, kids find out he's not real and then they just kind of let it go."

"So, the lie of Santa Claus is passed down from generation to generation… To end up in disappointment?"

Cora's brow creased and she sighed. "Well, it's still fun for a while… It's worth the little bit of disappointment later…"

Loki grimaced and shook his head. "No. It sounds like a horrendous idea."

"Listen, you, I swear by all that is holy if you say a word to ruin Santa for that little boy when he's old enough to understand, I'll—"

"It would be to save him some grief, I'd be doing him a kindness!"

"Bit out of character, don't you think?" Cora tossed flippantly and Loki was bearing down on her when they heard the doorbell ring. Cora paused before glancing up at him, tentatively asking, "Ready?"

His lips curled a little, more out of frustration with the situation than actual anger. "As I ever shall be."

Cora nodded and stood on her tiptoes to kiss the tip of his nose before she went to answer the door. She smoothed her shirt as she turned the knob and greeted their guests, grinning when she saw Jane holding Erik and Thor standing behind them both. "Hi, guys!"

"Hey, how are you?" Jane enthused back, stepping in and using her free arm to hug Cora.

"We're great, thanks. Oh, my gosh, he's getting so big!" It was true, Erik had grown even more since the last time she'd seen him, even though it had only really been a few months ago. She wasn't completely sure if it was the Asgardian blood in him that was causing him to grow faster or if she'd just been around kids so little she wasn't aware of how fast they actually grew up.

Probably a mixture of both, she decided as she scooped Erik out of Jane's arms, planting a kiss on his cheek. "Oops, sorry, I didn't see you had stuff with you."

Cora hastily moved aside so Thor could come in, his hands teeming with bags, mostly of food. "It is no trouble at all, little sister," Thor smiled, unable to give her a hug and instead leaning down and kissing the top of her head before looking at his brother tentatively. "Hello, brother."

"Hello, Thor," Loki said quietly. Not agitatedly or even somberly, just quietly.

"You can put that stuff away if you'd like, come on," Cora offered before the silence set in, leading the way to the kitchen and the living room.

"Oh, Cora! Your tree's gorgeous!" Jane complimented. "I'm too lazy to do one properly."

"I usually am, too, but Loki insisted we get a real tree."

"Did he?" Jane wondered with a smirk. "Getting into the Christmas spirit, eh?"

"The thing she had was not a tree," he remarked and when he got a laugh out of Jane, he seemed to relax slightly. Thor laughed as well, though he was more concerned at the moment with unloading the bags and not dropping anything. "What is all that?"

"Cookies and mini pies, mostly," Jane replied easily, smiling when she saw Cora making silly faces at Erik and causing him to blubber a few giggles. "Just treats. And presents for you both, of course."

Just then, Erik started to cry and Cora murmured a quick, "Oh, jeez," and hurriedly started to hand him back to Jane. However, Thor swooped in and plucked him up in his huge hands, grinning and lifting him up into the air before bringing him back down to kiss his pudgy cheeks.

The little boy was giggling again in no time and Cora's heart melted a little at the sight. She saw Thor glance to the side and then pause before cradling Erik in the crook of one muscular arm, his enthusiasm calming a bit. "Erik, do you know who this is?" he asked the little guy with eyes like the summer sky, blue and shining and wonderfully new. Cora followed Thor's gaze to Loki, who she realized in that moment had not yet met the child once. Cora had gone to see them alone and only once in the past year or so had they bumped into one another when Loki had been present, and that had been an accident.

Loki's expression was conflicted and landed somewhere between anxiety and uncertainty. He wasn't feigning indifference though, so that was a start. Even so, that just meant whatever he was feeling in that moment was too difficult to hide. He was watching the baby boy calmly, a faint crease between his dark brows that deepened when Thor quietly stated, "This is your Uncle Loki."

His jaw tightened slightly at those words strung together, his gaze only lifting when Thor asked if he wanted to hold his nephew. Loki looked hard at Thor for a moment and then back at the child before shaking his head. "No," he said a bit coldly, which he noticed and attempted to make up for by adding, "thank you."

Cora glanced at Jane, who looked as disappointed as she felt. Maybe with time though. Thor just nodded though and nuzzled his son's cheek before they all helped Jane get organized with her treats, which were arranged around the breakfast bar, and the presents they'd brought, which were stashed under the tree with the rest. They'd all relaxed, assuming they were almost done, when Jane looked aghast and murmured, "Oh, my god."

Cora glanced at her, somewhat alarmed. "What?"

"I forgot your lemon cookies at home…," Jane groaned, running a hand down her cheek. There were these sugar-crusted lemon cookies Jane made that Cora loved—which they'd found out at her baby shower—and ever since Cora had been receiving random care packages via mail and other methods namely containing a box of those cookies and a little note.

"Oh, that's okay, we—"

"I can run to the store and make them here if that's okay! Come on, please? Mom brain or some such, I don't know how I forgot them!" Jane insisted, looking like she felt awful about forgetting a box of cookies, which Cora couldn't quite comprehend. "No, you don't understand, those were going to be your main Christmas present. Otherwise, I wouldn't feel so badly."

Cora pursed her lips. "Could you have put them in one of the gift bags then?"

Jane's eyes widened a bit. "Good idea, I'll go check."

She left the room and Cora glanced thoughtfully at Thor. "You know, I should probably head out to the store anyway for some extra breakfast things. That's not a bad idea…"

"They're not in there," Jane sighed as she walked back in. "I probably left them on the counter at home like a dunce, I'm sorry." She shot a glance at Thor. "I thought I told you to take one more look around before we left." Thor glanced helplessly at Erik, who hiccuped in his arms, apparently at just as much of a loss as his father was. "Doesn't matter, I can head out to get whatever ingredients you don't have here."

"I was thinking I had some things I want to pick up, too, so I'll go with you," Cora offered.

"You can give me a list if you want."

"Nah, I'm not sure I'll know what I want until I see it."

"I will join you both," Thor said, gently patting his son's back absentmindedly. "It is getting late and I do not like the idea of—"

"Are you forgetting how much ass I kicked during that Ragnarök fiasco?" Cora asked dubiously, earning a snort from Loki. "Give me a little bit of credit."

"I give you a great expanse of credit, I would just feel better if I came along," Thor rephrased and Cora couldn't really argue.

Cora's phone buzzed in her pocket and she plucked it out to see what she'd gotten while Jane and Thor hashed out what she'd need to pick up for the cookies. It was from Pepper and the moment she opened the text, Cora burst out laughing. Inside was a picture of a highly unamused Tony Stark, though it was hard to see his expression under the accumulation of red and green glitter on his face and in his hair. Accompanying it was a text that just said, "Got him!"

After passing around the picture and sharing quirky remarks, Cora went to get her coat from the bedroom while Jane and Thor picked up their coats where they'd set them temporarily by the couch. Thor started to pick up Mjolnir as well, but instead left it on the sofa, not thinking he would need it in the next hour or so. He looked at Erik crawling around on the floor, a humble, loving smile crossing his face before he turned to Loki, who was standing in the doorway to the kitchen. "Coming?"

"I do not think so," Loki replied. "I have no reason to and I daresay Cora does not take well to my accompanying her to the grocery store."

Thor smirked. "Jane normally leaves me home as well." It earned a faint smirk from Loki as well until silence fell gently between them again. "Are you well?" Thor asked abruptly, startling his brother a little. "I mean to ask… You are…happy here?"

"I…," Loki began but was interrupted when Jane came in and Cora appeared down the stairs. Instead of finishing, his lips formed a thin line and he just nodded in response, retreating from the almost-moment.

Jane got on her knees with Erik's coat and as much as she tried to put it on him, he kept wriggling his way out of it. After a moment, she looked so frustrated she was on the verge of tears. "Sweetie, I can't take you outside without a coat, now come on."

Cora watched them struggle before a thought crossed her mind. "You know… We wouldn't be gone more than a half-hour, I imagine…" Thor and Loki both looked at her quizzically, but her eyes found the God of Mischief first. "You could watch him for a little while, couldn't you? Since you're staying here anyway?"

Loki looked like she'd stabbed him rather than asked him to babysit his nephew. He floundered for words, but Jane grasped at the straws. "Would you, Loki? We won't be gone long, I promise. It's been such a long day, a long week, actually, and—"

"All right, all right," Loki grumbled as he stepped back from her hopeful advances. "Just…hurry."

"Absolutely," Jane said quickly before nodding for Thor to head toward the door.

Thor looked down at her, letting his tiny wife push him into the hallway even as he glanced at Loki with some worry. "Are you sure you will be alright?"

Loki shrugged. "I suppose I'll live," he said dryly. Thor seemed to bite down a laugh as Jane finally got him past the doorway.

Loki felt a quick touch to his cheek, which turned out to be Cora giving him a light kiss goodbye. "Relax, you'll be fine. I'm sure they appreciate it."

"Sure, sure," he said just a tad patronizingly but added a faint smile to soften his words. Cora smiled and waved after asking if there was anything specific he wanted or needed. Her retreat was followed by the closing of their front door and then silence apart from the tiny thuds and wet sounds from the child on the floor.

Loki's gaze dropped to the golden-haired boy and though he had not joined the family until after Thor was a few years old, he knew that this was how Thor must have looked at just a year of age.

He sighed and sat down on the couch, watching Erik crawl around on the area rug. Loki wore a bored look on his face, his pale hands folded against one knee. "Just us now," he murmured thoughtfully. Erik looked up at him as he sat back on his bum, touching the fabric of the rug curiously and observing his surroundings. "I feel rather sorry for you, having that oaf as a father," he remarked, even while knowing he was lying to himself. Thor was a great father, his actions earlier had only proved what Loki had known for years would be true one day.

Loki watched as Erik crawled quickly toward the kitchen doorway, letting him explore as he would and just keeping an eye on what he was heading toward. "You know, this isn't so hard," he scoffed easily just as Erik smacked his elbow against the doorjamb. There was a thud and then one beat of pure silence before he erupted into a fit of tears, his face and eyes red and wet in an instant.

Loki had a moment of paralyzing panic before he got up and walked over to the child, warily picking him up under his arms and holding him a couple feet out in front of him as he murmured noncommittal noises resembling, "There, there," and, "Oh, calm down, you're fine." He gingerly set Erik upright on the couch and sat at a slight distance in front of him, scrambling internally for a way to fix this. "Erm…," he murmured before trying to pull one of the faces he'd seen Cora making earlier, but that stunt only made Erik cry harder.

Murmuring a small Nordic curse, Loki quickly snapped his fingers and a flash of green light appeared above his hand, an illusioned rose growing from the light. Erik stopped after a moment, his chest still emptily heaving from little sobs as he watched Loki fashion the flower, mesmerized by the light and the intricacy of the formation. "There, see? Not so bad…," Loki sighed with some relief, changing the rose into a tree and the tree into the constellations he'd grown up beneath, above Asgard. Seeing the light of those stars reflected in Erik's eyes stirred something in him and he slowly realized he was being suckered into liking the little one.

"Of course," Loki grumbled, though he had to admit that this development was a rather interesting one. "Someone has got to get you to love books, it certainly will not be your father… Perhaps your mother though." Loki smirked and nixed the galaxy illusion, transferring the light to just above Erik. "Perhaps me," he murmured softly, smiling as he fashioned an illusory, shrunken version of his golden horned helmet onto his nephew's little temper-pinkened head.

Loki chuckled as Erik looked up, seeing the glints from the helmet and marveling at them. "Yes, I could teach you quite a—" Just before he could finish, Erik raised one of his hands to touch what he perceived as a shiny piece of real attire and it dissipated beneath his fingertips—as illusions did—causing him to return to his waterworks and send Loki back into a controlled panic.

"It's just an illusion, you did not—oh, by the Nine…," he sighed, running a hand over his hair and looking down at his lap sullenly. When he looked back up, Erik was still teary, but he'd found something to occupy himself with, which Loki was thankful for until he saw what it was. Erik tampered with the strap at Mjolnir's base idly and Loki could see it starting to tilt faintly from their combined weight on the couch cushions making an indent. "Erik, that is not a toy."

His stern tone earned him a glance from the boy, whose tiny fists were wrapped around the handle of the ancient hammer. Loki was about to warn him once more when the boy pulled and the hammer tipped up into his clumsy grasp. "Oh, no," Loki had time to murmur before attempting to contain the situation as soon as possible. "Erik, put that down, no."

Erik stopped and looked between Loki and the hammer, his lower lip pouting out even as he let the hammer fall from his little hands. Loki felt the couch shudder when the hammer bounced on the cushions, sighing his relief and leaning against the back with a tired glance at the disappointed boy. "Thank you."

Erik sniffled in what was almost a passive-aggressive response and Loki felt strangely horrible for his reddened eyes and tear-streaked cheeks. Children cried all the time—and more often than not, at least when he was present, it was intentionally his doing—however, this one was different. Of course, he was different.

Thor's son rubbed at his eyes, snuffling again and clearly exhausted. Loki watched him a moment more before sighing and picking him up, more carefully this time. The boy weighed next to nothing and snuggled to Loki's chest as soon as he had him in a position to do so. Loki looked down at him with an almost sad expression that branched from something he didn't even understand, but Erik was asleep within moments, breathing evenly after wearing himself out.

Very meticulously, Loki held the boy in one arm and used the other to ease himself back to lie down on the couch, staring up at the ceiling with Erik sleeping atop him. He barely had time to wonder why such small gestures from a boy not even old enough to speak properly yet meant so much to him before he fell asleep as well, the dotting of lights on the Christmas tree casting little spots beneath his closed eyelids like the constellations he'd drawn for Erik.

Cora, Thor, and Jane returned no longer than forty minutes later, as promised, arms teeming with a few bulky grocery bags. They were talking, but when they heard the silence that greeted them, they all stopped, immediately suspicious.

Cora crept in ahead of the others, peeking around the corner into the living room, at which point her jaw dropped at the sight before her. She then grinned and continued into the kitchen, silently setting down the bags she held. She heard Jane and Thor make their way in behind her, both looking shocked, but thoroughly pleased.

"Is there a door we can close?" Jane whispered as she started to unpack the bags.

"Way ahead of you," Cora replied, silencing her phone before creeping up on the two and taking one perfect, adorable picture of Loki fast asleep with his nephew dozing on his chest. She put her phone back her her pocket and just looked at them for a long moment, smiling softly.

"Destroy my ovaries, why don't you…," she grumbled to herself before heading back to the kitchen, very quietly sliding the hideaway door in the jamb between the kitchen and living room shut so they wouldn't disturb the nappers.

"Send that to Jane, would you?" Thor requested quietly and Cora looked up at him. His eyes glistened, and he looked more touched than she'd ever seen him. More touched than she'd ever seen any man, really. It positively tore at her heart.

"Sure thing, big bro."

Next chapter: A Very Worthy Christmas 5, The Proposal

#loki laufeyson #loki x fem!oc #loki x oc #loki fanfic #loki fanfiction #loki fluff #thor odinson #thor movies #thor the dark world #avengers #marvel cinematic universe

[runningwithcoffee]

Play Dates 1: The Street

Timing note: This chapter (and the next two) take part shortly after Ben's section in the 'time hop' for Play Nice, but a few days before Amy's.

Oh, holy heck, where do I start?

Amy sighed and stared around at the bare space that until recently had been her bedroom. It soon would be again, but right now she needed to measure up for furniture, and she was struggling to decide where to begin. Should she replace all of it like for like? Take the chance to rearrange things and try out a new layout and a completely new look? How on earth was she going to fit everything back in?

She’d brought over a few boxes of her things to try and keep the peace with her parents. They’d been very understanding, but the increasing frequency of questions about ‘when will it be ready?’ and the pointed glances at the boxes, piled in their living room, of her stuff that she'd rescued from the flood suggested that they were finding having the three of them all crammed into her childhood home nearly as wearing as she was. She loved them, but they were used to their space, and she was used to hers.

It was lucky that the builders had finished replastering and decorating her room first, since it hadn’t been quite as badly affected as the rest of the flat, which was still filled with paint cans, stepladders, and big plastic buckets the builders were using to mix plaster in. It wouldn’t be long now, but…

But what’s it going to be like when she does move back in?

Amy felt guilty at the thought. She loved her friend, but slightly dreaded the likely weeks ahead of trying to console her through a sort-of relationship that hadn’t worked out. Amy sincerely wished she could do more to fix that, but her friend could be exceptionally stubborn, and she was hurting so much she’d retreated all the way into herself. Two strong-minded people with a tendency to feel things deeply (for whilst Amy had never met Mason Mount, the description surely fit), neither of whom seemed willing to open up to the other, was a recipe for hurt.

These rather gloomy thoughts were interrupted by a ping from her phone, and an alert from the neighbourhood WhatsApp group.

There’s someone wandering about outside, does anyone know him?

Twenty messages underneath indicated that no-one did. She scrolled past a few speculations – delivery man or someone’s ex-boyfriend were the popular guesses – then peered through the window, to be greeted by the sight of a dark-haired man wearing a white T-shirt, orange shorts and a baseball cap on his head backwards, wandering up and down the pavement beneath with a slightly lost expression. Not Mason Mount, she realised, but he does look familiar, where have I seen him? She opened the window and called out “Can I help?”

He turned round and approached the window, and yes, she’d definitely seen him somewhere before. “Uh, hi. Does y/n live here?” he shouted up.

“Who’s asking?” she replied, at the same time as her brain supplied the answer by summoning up an image of him in dark blue football strip and boots. Ben Chilwell, Mason’s friend, AKA that guy she went out with once. Amy could have told her that it was unlikely to work, based on the simple fact that Ben Chilwell was not Mason Mount, but she had thought at the time that it wouldn’t hurt for her friend to get back in practice with someone who wasn’t likely to take things too seriously. What was it y/n had called him once? A fun ride? And let’s face it, the man her friend was interested in had needed a sharp reminder that if he wasn’t going to make a move, there were plenty of other men around who could spot a gorgeous girl when they saw one.

“My name’s Ben, I’m y/n’s friend?”

“Oh, yeah,” Amy nodded.

“Could you come down so we’re not shouting at each other?”

“Okay,” she shouted back, and a few minutes later she let herself out of the main door onto the street.

“You’re looking for y/n?”

Ben nodded. “Is she in?”

Amy was about to reply, then a thought occurred to her. “How do you know this address, did she tell you?”

“No…” Ben frowned.

“Oh. Did he tell you?”

“Who?”

“Your friend, Mason?” She guessed that Mason would know her address, or could find it out easily since y/n worked for his father.

Ben nodded. “Yeah, he said she might be here. Sorry, is that a problem?”

“It’s my home too.” And maybe he could not go round just randomly telling people where I live?

“Ah, yes.” Ben looked up, making eye contact, and he did appear to be genuinely contrite; perhaps he could emphasise with not wanting people you didn’t know turning up at your home unexpectedly. “Sorry, should have thought of that. If it helps, he wouldn’t tell anyone else.”

She relented. “It’s okay… you’re his friend, and you don’t look like you’re secretly an axe murderer or something.”

Ben grinned, and held up his hands. “No axe here! None in the car either, you can check it if you like.”

She glanced behind him to see a sleek dark blue (what else?) car parked a little way down the road. Amy was no expert on cars, but whilst it didn’t look too out of place on the suburban street (he’s probably got different ones for different occasions, this is the ‘visiting family’ car, and the ‘impress girls’ car is in the garage back home, she thought) she would have put money on it containing as many top-of-the-line special features it was possible to fit into one vehicle. Everything about it shouted that its owner didn’t need to care about keeping it clean or how much it cost; someone else took care of all of that. Someone like y/n, she thought, they really do live different lives. Still, Ben didn’t seem like a bad guy.

“Glad to hear it,” she grinned.

Ben grinned back. “Is she home at the moment?”

“No, sorry. Did you call first?”

“I’ve called, I’ve left messages …I’ve got no answer.”

“So you figured you’d turn up in person.”

“Something like that. Maybe I could come inside so we’re not having this conversation in the street?”

Amy mentally pictured the chaos inside her flat, and winced. Ben would be lucky if he could get more than a few steps down the hallway without turning sideways. They could go inside the main entrance, but there was no real lobby, just a tiny space in front of the stairs. Plus a dozen listening ears behind the doors.

“Mmmm, I like it out here,” she smiled, stalling, “the view is nice.”

A tiny smirk played over Ben’s lips, and she couldn’t help remembering y/n’s assessment of him as someone who always finds a girl, or Mason’s rather less flattering comment as reported by y/n to Amy during the post-date debrief, you’ll just be a number to him. (Which was a mean thing to say about your friend, she’d thought at the time, except that it clearly translated as why are you dating him and not me?) Then again… the view was quite nice. The cap didn’t do much for him, but Ben did fill out that T-shirt rather well.

Another thought occurred. “Did Mason send you?”

“Not exactly.”

“That’s a question with a yes or no answer,” she pointed out.

Ben looked slightly annoyed, although she couldn’t tell if the annoyance was with her or just generally. “He’s worried, okay? And she isn’t answering any messages from him, except to say to go away.”

Amy stayed silent, hoping the silence would convey, That’s a pretty clear instruction.

“All I see on her feeds is that she’s out every night drinking. Mase tells me she hasn’t shown up to work in person for days, and all I get when I ask how she’s doing is, ‘I’m fine’, which could mean she’s fine, or ‘fuck off, Ben’, or ‘I’m smoking, drinking a bottle of tequila every night, and crying’. So, yes, he’s worried, and if I can tell him I’ve seen her in person, he’ll at least know she’s okay.”

Amy chewed her bottom lip. She was a little bit touched by Ben’s concern for his friend – and for y/n. Most guys would have dropped out of sight the minute it became clear that sex was not on the cards. She made a quick decision.

“She’s not here right now, but she is coming round in about an hour to help me measure up for furniture.” After all, Amy thought, she would be there too, and if y/n didn’t want to talk to Ben, she could intervene if necessary and get rid of him. Not that her friend wasn’t entirely capable of telling anyone she didn’t want to talk to where to go, but she was in a vulnerable place right now.

Ben’s face lit up, which was quite a pleasing sight. “Can I come in and wait?”

“Ummm….” She hadn’t thought of that, and whilst Ben seemed genuine, she really didn’t know him. Also, there was literally nowhere to sit in the flat, unless you counted the floor. “Sorry – the place is a tip, the water's still turned off. There’s nowhere to sit down, we haven’t even got all the furniture back in yet.”

Ben shrugged. “Okay, I’ll wait in the car.”

“Ah…” Amy winced.

“What?”

“Maybe… not the best idea.”

“Why not?”

“We’ve had some problems with break-ins round here, and everyone’s suspicious of anyone they don’t know hanging around the street right now. If you sit there, I’ll get like 40 WhatsApps from the Neighbourhood Mafia going on about the strange guy in the car, just sitting on the street near my house.” She checked her phone quickly and found a dozen new messages indicated the debate had moved on from ‘what is he?’ to ‘who is he?’ ‘Amy, is he a friend?’ and at least one ‘Tell us if he’s bothering you’.

“You couldn’t just tell them it’s okay?”

“It would get lost in the chatter. Seriously, I think some of them do nothing but sit behind the curtains all day watching for something to happen so they can message each other about it.” Which is actually a good thing from the point of view of making sure y/n’s ex doesn’t turn up here and cause trouble, but otherwise it’s kind of annoying, even though it’s sweet that they care.

Ben thought for a few seconds. “In that cause, I’m gonna go sit in that bar-” he pointed to the neighbourhood bar at the end of the street, “and wait there.”

Amy sighed in relief. Problem solved.

“….are you coming?”

“What?”

He turned a full-force charming smile on her. Oh, that pretty smile has got you what you wanted a few times, hasn’t it? she thought, it was clearly a practised move… but, damnit, it was effective.

“Are you coming? It’s boring sitting in a bar on your own.”

She stalled. “I need to go measure up for furniture...”

“You’re turning me down to spend time with a tape measure?” He gave her a little-boy pout, which almost made her laugh. “Come on. Leave the unpacking for a bit. You can sit in a nice bar, I’ll buy all the drinks, and you can keep me company.”

She was half-tempted to turn him down to make the point that he couldn’t just pout his way to getting what he wanted, but… but he was kind of right. Measuring for furniture was way less fun as a possible way to spend the next hour or so than sitting in her local bar with Mason’s best friend. It’ll be research, she told herself. I can find out more about Mason, get some inside information.

And hey, she would be sitting in a bar with a Premier League footballer, which would at least make for an interesting story, if nothing else. She’d heard y/n’s wild tales of how much Mason and his friends could spend on a night out, the places they’d go, the lifestyle you could have when you earned more in a week than most people would earn in years. Part of the reason she’d encouraged her friend to go for it with Mason Mount – apart from the fact the two of them clearly had the hots for each other, and if he needed someone who wouldn’t blow smoke up his arse, she needed someone who could show her that life could be fun, that it wasn’t all work and disappointment – had been the thought, why shouldn’t you have that? Why shouldn’t a girl like you get to date the hot, rich, very successful guy? Cuz you’re awesome, girl!

The thought made its way quietly into her head, why shouldn’t I have that, too?

“Okay, deal,” she said. “One drink.”

Ben smiled and nodded. “One drink it is.”

“Give me a minute, I need to get my handbag” she replied, ran back up the stairs, then frantically rifled through the boxes to find some clothes and spare make-up. Of course, this wasn’t a date, it was just an unexpected drink, and it was broad daylight in the local bar, not a night out… but she didn’t want to look like a troll, given that Ben was clearly used to the sorts of girls who had thousands of followers and modelling contracts. She found a better bra, some jewellery and make-up, then dug out a small mirror from the bottom of the box. A few minutes later, satisfied that she had hit the sweet spot in between not obviously making an effort since it was not a date, but also looking hot in an effortless kind of way, she grabbed her handbag and picked her way through the clutter to the front door.

She returned Ben's smile as they set off down the street. It wasn’t a date, but it was nice to be going for a drink with a man when both of them were sober to start with, not being hit on by random drunk guys in bars. That last one could be fun… but it could also be disappointing, and she was in the mood to have someone make an effort, even if it was just buying her her favourite drink in her local hang-out. She felt her spirits lift... Stay focussed, girl, she reminded herself. This is research. We have a mission here, pump the best friend for information and report back. Keep your head in the game.

Even if that head was, just slightly, distracted by the fact that Ben filled out the back of those shorts nearly as well as he did the T-shirt.

#ben chilwell fanfiction #chelsea fc #england nt #ben chilwell