#he went home after his first day and just stared at the wall for 20 mins

[apomaro-mellow]

Wrong Number 2

Someone said they liked when authors put their super-specific jobs in fics so I hope ya like Steve havin a (kinda romanticized) past job of mine.

For the first time in his life, Steve felt like the stereotypical young person who was always glued to his phone. Every time it made a noise or vibrated, his arm shot out like lightning, hoping with every fiber of his being that it was the mystery number.

It had been about five days since he'd sent that first message and he'd been worried about their conversations being stale. But that wasn't an issue. The only times their talks lulled was when they went to bed.

And even that was after texting late into the night. Steve would watch the clock go from 9 to 10 and promise to get to sleep at a reasonable hour. And then it would be midnight and what was a few minutes after that? Then he'd look up and it would be 2 in the morning.

Texting this guy had become the highlight of Steve's days. To the point where he didn't even realize Friday had come until one of his students mentioned it.

Then, purely out of habit, he asked: "Any weekend plans?"

"I've got a soccer game", Zach answered.

"My parents are having date night", Belinda said.

And normally Steve himself would be thinking about going out and finding someone for the night. But the idea hadn't come to him for once. He knew why, but he didn't fully process it until he got home to Robin, who was in the middle of cooking breakfast for dinner it seemed.

Steve was in the middle of replying to a text sent during lunch.

(12:15) I just realized you know about my off the wall job (12:17) But I have no idea what your 9 to 5 is (12:18) Your legally required to tell me if ur famous (12:18) Not bc im a clout chaser (12:19) But bc I might not have a clue who you are

[4:13] Not famous. Don't worry. I'm a teacher.

(4:15) As a former student I apologize

Robin opened the cabinet, looking for pancake mix. “Are you and that girl still texting?”

“Me and the who?”, Steve looked up from his phone.

“That girl? I assume you're finally setting up a date for this weekend?"

"She-" Steve racked his brain for a good excuse. But it was hard to do when the person who knew him the most was staring right at him.

"Whatever flaws of hers you're about to make up, I'm gonna call bullshit because your phone hasn't stopped pinging for days." She started mixing the pancake batter.

Steve looked down at the words on his screen. The one flaw of this guy was that they couldn't meet in person. But maybe it was time to close the distance just a bit.

"She's shy. Might just text a bit more before she's ready."

[4:19] No need for sorries. All my kids are great. But that's probably because I teach their favorite class.

(4:21) Oooh their favorite? (4:21) It's gotta be something like art rite? (4:22) Or are you being a smart ass cuz you teach like calculus or something?

[4:23] I teach cooking 😛

(4:23) Oh shit. (4:24) You're actually the favorite

[4:25] Toldja. Hey quick question and then possibly many more questions.

(4:26) Go ooooon

[4:27] How would you feel about spending the night playing 20 questions? Like are you free tonight?

Eddie bit his lip as he looked at Steve's words. He had picked his shifts this weekend to make sure he had plenty of time to talk to Steve. Which meant he was in fact free tonight. He replied as such and Steve said he wanted a little time to take a shower and then he'd be ready.

And because he was a little shit, Eddie took advantage of him being away from his phone.

(4:35) Since you're in the shower, I'm taking the first question. Boxers or briefs?

[4:54] Cheater. And I prefer boxer briefs. My turn?

(4:55) Go for it

Eddie was curled up on his couch, tv low and in the background as he waited for Steve's question.

[4:55] What's your name?

(4:56) THATS your first question? (4:56) Wait we've been texting for days haven't you saved my number? (4:57) What do you have me as?

Steve bit his lip, wishing he could lie to this guy, but he couldn’t. Instead he sent a screenshot of his phone.

(4:59) Misty? That’s the name of the chick?

[5:00] Yeah. But I guess I should put your actual name now, right?

It was a gamble. But this guy already knew Steve’s name. And by this point they’d been texting for nearly a week. He just wanted to know his name. He pushed back the part of himself that said he needed to know.

(5:00) It's Eddie.

Eddie. The guy he'd been talking to was named Eddie. Eddie with the long curly hair and the chunky rings who threw axes for a living. He was a far cry from the soft girls he usually dated. Or the preppy guys he usually dated.

(5:02) Favorite bug?

The question threw Steve for a moment but he decided to humor him.

[5:04] Bees 🐝I like how fuzzy they are. And I like honey. [5:05] What rings do you have?

A couple minutes later, Eddie replied with an image. It was taken from above and showed his hands lying flat on a coffee table. Steve zoomed to make out the details of each ring. He was also able to see a watch and a couple of wristbands on him.

[5:08] How did you take that picture? With your mouth? 🦭

(5:09) Did you did you just compare me to a seal???

[5:09] What other animal catches things in their mouths?

'I can be an animal with my mouth'. Thankfully, Eddie's fingers weren't as fast as his brain and he didn't send that to Steve. Eddie had in fact put his phone in his mouth the take the picture, having a real 'no thoughts, head empty moment' when Steve asked about his rings.

Steve was letting his own mind wander as he gazed at the picture. Eddie's hands were...his hands were...well they were-

(5:10) Favorite youtuber?

The adoration of Eddie's hands were interrupted by Eddie himself as their question and answers continued. The picture continued as well. Steve sent pics of his favorite pair of shoes, his hair products, and of his neck when Eddie said he didn't believe he had all these moles.

Eddie had sent pictures of one arm, covered in tats, his acoustic guitar, and a super worn copy of Peter Pan.

The hour was growing late and both of them were feeling more bold but at the same time hesitant because it felt like they were close to crossing a line.

Needing an outside opinion, Eddie consulted with The Council (the discord server with his band mates) about whether or not he should shoot his shot. Gareth told him to go for it, what harm could it do? Grant said to do it because it could potentially be the funniest catfishing story. Jeff agreed that he should, if only because their guitarist getting murdered would be a great back story.

With their unanimous approval, Eddie decided to start actively flirting with Steve.

(8:37) Soooooo ya like jazz?

[8:38] I do actually. I really love the piano.

Okay, that one was just practice. Be smooth. Be suave. None of that was in Eddie's wheelhouse but thankfully nothing he said turned Steve away. He always seemed just as eager to reply back.

(9:10) What's your oldest piece of clothing?

Eddie was thinking of his own oldest article a t-shirt that had started out overgrown on his tiny eight year old body but he'd grown into and kept over the years. It was super faded but filled with the memory of the first time he spent more than a couple of days with his uncle.

[9:12] I'd show you, but I'm wearing them right now.

Steve had closed his bedroom door before sending the text. There wasn't anything scandalous but it seemed like it could very quickly veer into that territory. All Eddie had to do was ask. If he wanted to see them, Steve would show it.

'I would like to see it.'

(9:12) I would like to see it

Eddie knew it could be anything. Maybe a holey sock. Or maybe he also had a super faded t-shirt with deep sewn-in memories as well. Maybe he was wearing a class ring?

[9:14] image.jpeg

Eddie was treated (and goddamn what a treat it was) to Steve Harrington's bottom half, barely covered in shorts with a school's logo on them. Thick thighs covered in hair. And a bulge that was there. It was very there. Eddie couldn't overstate how there it was.

He palmed his own crotch before remembering he was looking at a guy's junk and about to jerk off to it in his living room. And he had yet to answer. What was the most respectful way to say 'humina humina humina-wolf whistle-awooga'?

(9:16) Are you trying to kill me Steve?

[9:17] Do you like it?

'Awooga.'

(9:18) ❤️‍🔥 🔥 🥵

Eddie tried to think of any other way to tell Steve how hot he made him but it felt like typing words just wasn't enough.

(9:19) Can I do something insane? (9:20) And feel free to ignore me if it's too much

Steve was lying in his bed, phone of his charger now. Nothing Eddie could do would be too much. He could knock on his door and he would let him in.

[9:21] Go ahead

A second after he sent that, Steve's phone started to ring. It was Eddie. He stared for about five seconds before picking up.

"Hey."

"Hey."

If possible, Steve melted more into his bed. Eddie's voice...he didn't know what he expected but it wasn't that. He said one word and Steve wanted to wrap himself in it.

"That was pretty naughty of you, sending me that pic. I could show up to your school."

"You'd be a few years too late. These are my oldest shorts, remember?"

"Tiniest shorts maybe."

Steve laughed and Eddie was on cloud nine. He was so lost in bliss, he miscalculated and fell off the couch.

"What was that?"

"I uh, I fell. Off my couch."

"Did you fall hard?"

Eddie beamed as he got up and turned off the tv. Now that he had his voice, all he wanted to hear was the man on the other line.

"Oh super hard."

Steve let out a sound from the back of his throat and he wondered if Eddie had heard it. It was honestly amazing how the smallest things got him going. Or maybe he was just that into Eddie.

"You still there Steve?"

....."Yeah. I'm still here."

Part 4

Tag Team (closed)

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#apo writes #stranger things #steddie #i wanted this out this past weekend #but had other things #anyway i used to work as a culinary instructor #it was for summer camps and after school programs #but my dream was to do it full time at a nice school #ohh the dreams we have in our youth

[joelscruff]

for what it's worth (joel miller x reader) 18+

part 3 of the soft!dom joel collection has arrived! this one tackles some backstory; it's time to see how they met and how exactly their little "arrangement" came to be. i hope you guys like it, your feedback means the world to me. i also have a kofi if you'd like to give me a tip (but of course this is completely optional). previous parts: you know i don't mean it & don't think we could help it summary: your relationship with joel has always been complicated, but it's about to change drastically, for better or for worse. rating: 18+ explicit (mdni) warnings: fem!reader, smut, age gap (reader is mid 20s, joel is mid 50s), mutual masturbation, praise kink, dirty talk, dom/sub dynamics (joel is dominant but not degrading or aggressive), mentions of porn (specifically magazines) word count: 10k (it's a doozy) | ao3 spoilers: this contains vague spoilers for part two of the video game (and most likely for season two of the show). nothing too major but i figured i should warn for it anyway.

To say that your first day in Jackson is alienating would be an understatement.

You feel like everyone is staring at you (they are) and no one will let you out of their sight (they won't). You understand immediately that there's a lack of trust which will need to be formed as soon as possible, otherwise you'll never be able to create a home here.

"They're wary of you," Maria explains in your brand new living room - you still can't believe you just went from having barely any possessions to having your own house - and gives you a weak smile, "It'll pass, they just need to make sure you don't have any ulterior motives."

You get it, but it still hurts. Especially that night when you join your new community for dinner and find yourself sitting alone in the corner of the room, poking at your food and trying not to let your emotions betray you. You're determined not to show weakness, even though you've never felt more isolated. You can feel their eyes on you constantly, like they're waiting for you to pull out a rifle and start picking them off like a shooting gallery.

There's only one person who seems to be consistently minding his own business, a middle aged man who sits in the opposite corner of the room. He's hulking and broad, kind of intimidating, but there's a softness to his jaw and the grey scruff covering it that makes you see something else, something kind. He takes large bites and seems lost in his own thoughts, eyes fixed on the wall to his left but unfocused, like he's looking through it. He's by himself too, mirroring you, but you can tell by the way people move around him that he's been here for a long time. He must just enjoy his solitude.

"That's Joel," Maria tells you, sitting next to you and following your gaze, "He's my husband's brother, came down here a few years ago."

"He doesn't stare at me like everyone else does," you say, still looking over at him, "Does he just not care or...?"

To your surprise, she laughs, and everyone who's giving you dirty looks suddenly seems to soften. You're grateful for Maria then for bothering to talk to you, to try and trust you.

"Don't ask me to explain the things Joel does, I wouldn't be able to tell you," you notice that she has a full plate of food with her and that she's decided to sit next to you for dinner, an attempt to alleviate the mistrust for you in the room. You can't help but smile, thankful.

"He's a closed book," she continues, "Even Tommy finds him hard to read and he's his own brother."

She changes the subject then, wanting to know more about you and what you've been through, a not so subtle way of trying to get some information for the council. You humor her; you have nothing to lose.

Your eyes still stray to the man named Joel every so often as you speak, but you're not sure why. After about ten minutes he gets up to leave, and you watch him place his empty bowl in the dishwashing area and give the woman working there a small smile. She smiles back, says something to him. He laughs, and you can almost hear it over the bustle of the dining area. You watch as he says something else to her in parting, gives her one more smile, and turns and walks out the door. He doesn't look at you, not even once.

-

Over the next few weeks, things get better. Less people are looking at you and more people are actually trying to talk to you, get to know you. You have some nice conversations and answer questions about yourself - mostly appropriate, save for the one teenager who kept asking how you got the different scars along your bicep, the long one on your neck, the one on your cheek, stories you really didn't want to recount. After hounding you for a few minutes, her friend had pulled her away with an apology, "She likes scars," she'd said sheepishly, tugging the girl's arm, "Come on, Ellie, leave her alone."

You meet everybody, shake hands and even hug a few people. You start getting invited to things, asked to suggest films for movie night, help set up some games for the kids, Tommy even asks you one evening to help him herd a few sheep that had gotten loose. They trust you, and it feels good.

You still see that man, Joel, every night in the dining hall. But that's the only place you see him. You're not sure where he goes during the day or after dinner; he must just be a bit of a recluse, which you can't blame him for. The people here are nice but a lot are overbearing and a bit too friendly sometimes, plus it's hard to find time for yourself when everyone has tasks to complete and always likes to help each other out. You begin to wonder if he'll ever notice you, which leads you to wonder why it even matters to you that he does.

-

Your patrols start around the three month mark. Tommy takes you out with a small group beyond the borders of the community and shows you the ropes, points out where most of the patrol spots are with a pair of binoculars and goes over the routine. Your first assignment is simple: manning the watchtower with Maria. You spend most of the patrol getting to know her, hearing about her past and telling her more about yours. You like her a lot, she's easy to talk to and has a strong spirit akin to your own. The conversation gets pretty personal around the seventh hour, and you end up telling her how exactly you got the scar along your cheekbone. She listens deeply, thoughtfully, nodding along as you detail the more difficult things you've had to deal with in the past, the things that have made you stronger.

"You're tough," she says near the end of your shift, nudging your shoulder, "You don't really belong on watchtower, do you?"

You shrug, "I mean, if there's somewhere else I'd be more useful..."

"How'd you like to head out to the ski lodge with Joel next week?"

Your ears prick up at the name and you nod quickly, unsure exactly why, "Yeah, that'd be great!"

"He knows the area well," she adds, then grimaces, "I have to warn you though, he might not talk very much. He keeps to himself, I'm sure you've noticed."

You wonder why she's so quick to put you on patrol with someone who might not even speak to you, but it starts to make sense as you're walking back from the watchtower in the early hours of the morning. Tommy exits the dining hall and walks over to the both of you with a smile, pressing a tender kiss to Maria's cheek.

"How's my girl?" he asks flirtatiously, and she bats him away playfully.

"Was just telling the new recruit that she's gonna go on patrol with Joel next week," she replies, and Tommy stops in his tracks, raising an eyebrow.

"Her? With Joel?" he appraises you and bites his lip, "I don't know, honey, wouldn't she be better off with someone who'll actually talk to her? I thought she was on watchtower with you."

"Tommy, I never see you anymore," she gives him an exasperated look, "The weekends used to be for us and ever since the Kingstons left-"

"I know, I know," he looks at you again, twisting his mouth in thought, "I've been, uh, a lot busier than usual lately. We had this family here for a while, big family, they helped out with the patrols. But they decided to go south a few months back, so-"

"So Tommy's been filling in for every shift he can," Maria finishes for him with a sigh, "And I never see the damn idiot anymore."

You smile, "I'm totally fine with taking over for you, really."

Tommy raises an eyebrow, "Seriously? You sure?" Maria slaps his arm lightly and he gives her a look, but then shrugs, "I mean, okay, if you wanna give it a try. It won't be all the time or anything, maybe just every other weekend, but it would actually be a big help."

"It really would," Maria adds, "You have no idea."

"But... you gotta understand, my big brother, he's.... he's complicated," Tommy's expression is serious now as he looks at you, "He's not very talkative these days, not since..." he shakes his head and you don't push it any further, though you do wonder what's changed.

"So you'll do it?" Maria asks, eyes bright.

"Even if he doesn't talk to you?" Tommy adds with a grimace.

You nod, somehow believing it won't actually be that bad.

-

It is that bad.

The first time you're officially introduced to Joel he doesn't even bother to shake your hand, just nodding vaguely to you as you stand there like an idiot with your palm outstretched. Tommy makes a face at him and then looks back to you with a reassuring smile.

"There's not usually much trouble up at the ski lodge," he says kindly, ignoring Joel's ambivalence, "The trek back and forth is arguably the worst part. The lifts were already damaged beyond repair when we got here so it's a bit of a hike, 'bout an hour to get up there and the same back."

You begin to wonder if maybe this really isn't the best idea, eyeing Joel silently as Tommy explains what you should expect. You've seen this man smile, know he's capable of making some kind of small talk, but it's clear that you're not an ideal candidate as he stands there stiffly and lets Tommy do the talking. Tommy had told you earlier that if the patrol didn't go well he wouldn't make you do it again, and you're already thinking this might be your first and last shift with Joel.

Tommy walks with both of you to about the halfway point, still going over the routine as Joel trudges silently ahead of you. He hasn't said a word, not one word. It's honestly starting to piss you off.

"Well, I gotta head back," Tommy says, giving you another smile of reassurance, "I'll talk to you tomorrow, see how it went, see if we might make this more permanent." He seems doubtful but you can't blame him.

A few moments later it's just you and Joel, hiking in complete silence save for the sounds of nature. The cogs in your head frantically turn, trying to land on something you can say to make things less awkward.

"So, when's the last time you saw infected up here?" you settle on, hoping it'll be enough to start some kind of conversation.

"'Bout a month ago," he replies immediately, voice gruff but quiet, "Weren't too many."

He's got an accent like his brother but it's fainter, less obnoxious, like he's spent more time with non-southern people in the later years of his life. Tommy had said they'd grown up in Texas and lived there 'til he was in his late 20s and Joel his mid 30s, then somewhere along the way they'd separated. You don't know much else about him other than that.

"It's the people you mainly worry about though, right?" you ask, quoting something Tommy had said a few weeks back, "Tommy said you've had more run-ins with raiders than infected."

"Tommy's tellin' you too much," he replies with a grunt, "Don't know what he's even thinking sendin' some kid up here."

You feel anger rise in your chest immediately, "I'm not a kid, asshole."

He stops then, turns around and appraises you with his eyebrows furrowed. It's the first time he's actually gotten a good look at you, his gaze catching on your face for a lasting moment before his eyes fall to your gun. You feel slightly vulnerable, intimidated by his heavy stare.

"How old are you?" he asks, genuinely curious.

"Twenty seven."

His brow furrows even more, "Coulda sworn he said you were seventeen."

"Well, I'm not," you reply awkwardly.

"No, you're not," he acknowledges, "I'm sorry," He seems to mean it, giving you the smallest of apologetic nods and then turning around again to keep walking.

"You thought Tommy sent a seventeen year old up here with you? I thought you had to be eighteen to patrol outside the border."

"You do, I just wouldn't put it past Tommy to send a kid up here with me," he grumbles, "Wouldn't be the first time."

"...Why?"

"None of your business."

"Okay, but now I'm just thinking you're some kind of pervert," you say it in a joking manner but he doesn't laugh. Instead, he stops again and spins around, looking at you with what you can only explain as pure rage. You flinch backward, eyes widening.

"Do I look like a fucking pervert to you?" he asks, voice hard and angry.

"I was joking," you say immediately, shaking your head frantically, "It didn't land."

"No, it fucking didn't," he starts walking again at a faster pace, leaving you standing there completely floored.

Yeah, it's bad.

-

"Ellie's not speaking to him," Tommy explains to you the next morning in the dining hall, hands gripping his coffee mug. You've just told him about your patrol with Joel and the horrible impression you've already managed to make. "I really shouldn't be telling you this but with an outburst like that...I need you to understand why he reacted the way he did."

You look at him, bewildered, "Ellie? That teenager who plays guitar down by the stream?" And the one who'd relentlessly bothered you with questions about your scars, but you keep that part to yourself.

"Yeah, she's...well for all intents and purposes, she's Joel's kid. And she stopped talking to him a while ago, maybe six or seven months back now," he takes a sip of coffee, "Don't ask me why 'cause I have no idea. I've asked both of them and neither'll give me any kind of explanation. All I know is they ain't speakin' and he's heartbroken over it."

"Must've been a bad argument," you say, scrunching your nose in thought, "I mean...seven months? That's a long time to not speak to someone, especially your dad."

"Eh, you haven't met Ellie. She's one of the most stubborn people I've ever met. They both are," he shakes his head, "Anyway, you calling him a perv probably pissed him off 'cause Ellie's real special to him, a surrogate daughter. He wouldn't like someone misunderstanding that, seein' somethin' dirty or wrong there."

"I wasn't-"

He puts a hand up, nodding, "I know you weren't, I get it, no worries. It's partly my fault anyway 'cause he's right, I have tried to send a teen or two up with him, thought it'd do him good to mentor somebody again. But he doesn't want it, I know that now. He doesn't want it if it's not Ellie."

"Well, he doesn't seem to like me anyway, no matter how old I am," you sigh, leaning back in your chair and crossing your arms, "I mean, he didn't talk to me once after that, not for the whole shift. It was bad. I don't know if it's gonna work, Tommy. I'm sorry."

He nods and gives you a small smile, thumbing the handle of his mug, "It's okay, I didn't think it'd work out anyways." He tries to hide the disappointment in his expression but fails miserably, and you leave the dining hall feeling bad about your failure.

-

A few days later you're back in the dining hall finishing up dinner, chatting with a few of the community members who you've warmed up most to. There's not many, but you are starting to find yourself feeling more and more comfortable around people as the days go on, more like yourself. You're caught up in a story about an infected you'd encountered in a gas station when their gazes suddenly divert from you and instead fix above your head. Confused, you slow your words and turn around.

"Oh, hi," you say, voice a bit breathless when you see Joel standing there, hands in his pockets, "Did you need something?"

"I, uh, wanted to talk to you," he says it softly, kindly, completely the opposite of how he'd talked to you before, "When you're finished, of course."

"Oh, yeah, sure," your words are broken and awkward, "Uh, I'll meet you...?"

"I'll be outside the main doors," he says quickly, "Take your time."

"Okay, I'll be out in a few."

He nods to you and then to your friends, then turns on his heel and walks out through the big double doors at the end of the dining area. You watch him go, bewildered.

"I thought he hated you," one of your friends says, voicing exactly what you're currently thinking.

"Yeah," you reply, furrowing your brow, "So did I."

You finish your story much quicker than intended and shove away from the table, waving goodbye to your friends and bringing your empty dish to the cleaning station. You push past the double doors and scan the outside area for Joel, eyeing the picnic tables where a few people are enjoying their meals in the fresh air.

"Hey," you hear behind you, and you turn to see him leaning against the left side of the building, arms crossed, "Over here."

You walk over, trying to plan out exactly what you're going to say so you don't end up making some stupid joke again that'll push him further away from you. It turns out you don't need to, because he speaks first.

"I just wanted to tell you I'm sorry," he says it seriously, a soft and genuine look in his brown eyes, "I treated you horribly the other day, you didn't deserve that."

You raise an eyebrow, "Did Tommy put you up to this?"

He frowns, "No."

"Are you sure? 'Cause if he did...I mean, I get it. It's nice of him to look out for me like that but you really don't have to apologize. You didn't do anything, I'm the one who said the tactless joke."

"Tommy didn't say anything to me," he seems to mean it, kicking the toe of his boot against the building, "And I know you were joking, I knew it then too but I'd just..." he takes a breath, avoiding eye contact, "I was havin' a bad day. Doesn't excuse my behavior by any means but it...you just..." he finally looks at you again, expression pained, "I wasn't expectin' you to be there. Tommy only told me you were takin' over for him about ten minutes before you showed up. And then I thought you were a kid and-"

You put your hand up, silencing him, "Joel, it's okay. You don't have to explain."

"I didn't even shake your damn hand," he says gruffly, sounding genuinely ashamed.

You extend your hand to him immediately, splaying your fingers out into the cold air, "Here, shake it now." He stares at it, unsure, and you wiggle it a bit in response, "Seriously, it's okay. Let's start over, clean slate."

He slowly reaches up to take it, his much bigger hand enveloping yours completely. His grip is strong and firm and you can feel calluses along his fingers, showing you exactly who taught Ellie how to play that guitar.

"Clean slate," he repeats, and it begins.

-

He's annoying, but you kinda love it.

He's grumpy most of the time, hates when you don't obey his orders, isn't afraid to give you shit, and gets irritated with you very easily. But it goes both ways. You're stubborn and set in your ways, you hate being told what to do, you dish it just as much as you take it, and it doesn't take much to get you riled up. And somehow, as much as you'd both probably hate to admit it, you work well together.

After your little conversation with Joel outside the dining hall, you'd flagged down Tommy and told him you were willing to try again with Joel on another patrol. He'd looked at you like you were crazy but hadn't shot the idea down, telling you that if it's what you really wanted, he'd keep the schedule the same.

You've been up on the mountain with Joel three times now, and while there's certainly been challenges and a few arguments, it's starting to become a routine. He doesn't talk about himself - it's a bit of an unspoken rule that you dare not break - but in return you don't tell him much about you either. Your main conversation points are usually tied to your interests, not your pasts, and you find yourself discussing movies with him, as well as music and books. He's surprisingly well-read for someone in an apocalypse, but you suppose he could say the same thing about you.

-

The fourth trip is what sets things in motion.

"Did you catch the movie last night?" you ask nonchalantly as you hike beside him, almost to the ski lodge. It's early morning, around five, and the sun is just beginning to crest the tree line, "I don't think Maria knew about the sex scene."

He groans, reaching up to rub the space between his eyes - you've noticed that he does this a lot, a quirk you've become rather fond of.

"Yes," he replies, wincing, "I heard her givin' Tommy a piece of her mind afterwards."

"The way she was yelling for him to turn off the projector was so fucking funny," you grin at the memory, still fresh in your mind, "And listen, I get it, sex is taboo, yada yada yada, but it's not like there were any little kids there last night, it was just the teens. And it's not like it was a porno or something, it was one little sex scene."

"Oh, I know, but I think Maria's trying to keep 'em as innocent as possible for as long as she can."

"Good luck with that," you snort, "I think we all lost our innocence a long time ago, for better or for worse."

"For worse," he replies instantly, "Definitely for worse."

"You're probably right," you grimace, "Although, you know what? I've actually never seen a porno."

He raises an eyebrow at you, "Seriously? Never?"

You bristle slightly, suddenly a little self conscious, "Well, it's not like there's an adult video store in this town, is there?" You can remember them existing when you were a kid, before everything happened, but it's not like you'd had any use for them at that time.

"No, you're right," he turns away from you, lost in thought for a moment, "They do still exist though. Pornos, I mean. Just in other forms. There's a stack of magazines up at the ski lodge, actually."

Your eyes go wide, "Wait, really?"

"Yup."

"Could I maybe..." you trail off and stop speaking, realizing that you should definitely not be asking what you're thinking.

"Look at 'em?" he finishes for you, not looking behind him as he keeps walking, "And you call me a pervert."

The conversation ends there, and you don't dare try to continue it.

-

The day is spent keeping watch along the ski lodge balcony, binoculars passed back and forth as you trade shifts and chat here and there about irrelevant things. Your main objective in this patrol spot is to keep watch of the main watchtower's blind spots, keeping an aerial view of the border perimeter in case people - mainly raiders - decide to make themselves known. You'd thought early on in your admittance to Jackson that infected were their main concern, but you've come to learn that's not the case at all. When Joel had said they'd come across infected up here he'd been lying to you; they'd actually come across a group of raiders who'd tried - and failed - to murder Joel and Tommy during their watch. Not the most reassuring thing to hear now that you've taken over, but you needed to know.

"It's why we got the trip wires down near the entrance now," Joel had explained to you during your second patrol with him, "We won't get snuck up on again," he'd made a face, "Not unless someone decides to disobey my orders."

You'd given him a weak smile, remembering how you'd decided not to heed his warning about going outside the ski lodge after light's out and ended up almost getting your leg shot off by a booby trap, "My bad." He'd rolled his eyes and grumbled to himself.

Now that it's your fourth watch you've gotten the hang of things and have learned to enjoy the semi-solitude of being on the mountain with Joel. He's got a battery operated radio and a box of cassette tapes that keep you from being bored out of your mind, plus a few containers of books that he and Tommy had carried up over the course of a few patrols. Now that you really think about it, you don't remember seeing any of the aforementioned porn Joel had spoken of in any of those crates.

It's midday when you decide to glance through them again out of curiosity, handing the binoculars over to Joel and slipping past him as he traipses out onto the balcony. You head for the boxes immediately and start to dig through them, not sure exactly what you're even looking for. Someone naked, you guess.

"They're not in there," Joel calls to you after a few minutes and you stiffen, turning to look at him through the glass where he can very clearly see what you're doing. He's got a shit-eating grin on his face and you feel your skin flush red.

"I don't know what you're even talking about," you call back, walking away from the books and plopping yourself in the chair by the unlit fireplace, which has somehow become your chair via another unspoken rule, "I was looking for a tape."

"Okay, well the 'tape' you're looking for is in the back of the supply closet," he sounds like he's fighting back laughter and your skin burns even more, "Underneath a box of cleaning supplies."

"I'm ignoring you," you yell out, "Get back to work."

You swear you hear a muffled laugh through the glass.

-

When he comes in from his shift he barely looks at you, just pushes past you lightly and heads for the supply closet. You follow behind him, heart pounding a bit harder in your chest the closer you get to the stash. He opens the closet door and you watch as he yanks out the cleaning supplies, then digs a bit deeper and reappears with six or seven magazines in his arms.

"Here," he leans them toward you and you hesitantly reach forward to take them from him, "They're mostly from the 90s."

"And you know this because....?" you raise an eyebrow and you swear his cheeks go pink.

"I'm a man," he shrugs, trying to be nonchalant as he passes you again to head back to the living room.

"Perv," you call after him, but he doesn't turn around this time.

"You got ten minutes."

-

You've never seen so much nudity in your life, which is saying something considering you'd seen your fair share of it back in your QZ when life had been a bit easier. But seeing it on paper, in photographs that have somehow lasted through years of this shitty reality, it's something else entirely. You stare with wide eyes at the onslaught of naked bodies, most of which are posed in extremely graphic sexual positions, and feel your heart continue to pound in your chest.

Without much thought you'd opened the first magazine right there where Joel left you standing outside the supply closet, and you now find yourself sitting in said closet with your flashlight aimed at the pages, breathing heavily and trying to comprehend exactly how you feel about what you're looking at. A lot of it feels kind of fake, especially the looks on the faces of the models, but there's enough sexual energy there that makes you start to feel a bit wet in your underwear, a feeling you haven't experienced for quite some time; not since a few a years ago in the QZ when you'd been in your last relationship.

"I gave you ten minutes," you suddenly hear Joel say from the other room, and you quickly scramble to your feet and frantically shut the magazine, "In case you forgot, it's your turn."

"Fuck," you trip out of the closet and dash to the living room, clutching your brand new collection of media to your chest, "Sorry, I got distracted."

He stands by the balcony door and looks you over quickly, eyes scanning from the magazines to your face and back again, "Enjoy yourself?" his expression is unreadable and it makes you self conscious.

"Oh please," you reply, making a face, "Do not start."

-

"So which was your favorite?" he asks you casually once darkness has fallen and you're both safely settled in the lodge for the night.

"Which what?"

He looks at you from over his book and gives you a look, like he's questioning your sanity. You stare for a moment and then slap your hand over your eyes when you realize.

"Oh for fuck's sake," you groan, "I'm never gonna hear the end of this now, am I?"

He laughs and you look over at him again, laying there on the couch with a smug look on his face. You retaliate by grabbing the pillow behind you and tossing it at him, making him drop the book he's reading.

"Hey!" he reaches down to pick it up again, "I showed them to you, I'm allowed to ask."

"False," you say, flipping your hair, "And for your information, I only managed to look at one of them."

He chuckles to himself and returns to his book, "Okay, okay, I'll leave you alone. I was just kiddin'."

"Joel Miller? Kidding?" you make a faux-shocked face, "I fear we've entered the Twilight Zone."

"Don't even pretend you know what that is," he says it seriously but his smile betrays him, "You didn't know about the Twilight Zone 'til I told you about it last week."

"That's just what I wanted you to think."

He rolls his eyes and keeps reading, letting the silence take over again. You watch his eyes scan the page back and forth, taking in the story - whatever it is - and transporting himself to another world, away from the ski lodge. He does this every patrol once it's too dark to see outside, sets the battery powered lantern to its highest setting and reads until he falls asleep. You wish you had his concentration and focus; instead, you curl up in the red armchair and force your eyes shut until your thoughts quiet down enough to let you sleep. Which is difficult tonight especially, seeing as all you can think about are those damn magazines.

After about five more minutes of silence you take a deep breath, then quietly say, "The one with the blonde girl in the bunny ears."

You don't dare look at him, waiting for his response and focusing instead on the empty fireplace beside you. You hear the crinkling of paper as he dogears the page of his book and then the gentle thud as he places it on the floor.

"That's a good one," he says just as quietly.

Another moment of silence passes, and your skin feels like it's on fire as you whisper, "I like the page where she's like...bent over."

"I can't remember the pages, if I'm being honest," he replies, "I haven't looked at them in a while."

You nod to yourself, "Well, there's this page where the guy has her bent over a table. And he's like...pounding into her from behind." You wait for him to say something else but he doesn't so you continue, "It's one of the only pages where she actually looks like she's enjoying herself."

"Hey, uh, I really was just kiddin'," he says awkwardly, "You don't have to tell me, it's okay."

"Oh," you can't help but sound dejected and embarrassed, your fingers trembling a little bit as you push a loose strand of hair behind your ear, "Sorry."

"I mean, if you want to, you can," he corrects, sounding slightly embarrassed himself, "I know you probably....you probably want to talk about it."

You bite down on your lip and sigh exasperatedly, placing your hands over your face, "Kinda," you mumble against your fingers, "It's all I can think about right now."

"Did it make you uncomfortable?" he asks, voice still gentle, "A lot of people are offended by that kinda stuff, you wouldn't be the first person to find it weird."

"It's definitely weird," you take a shaky breath and drop your hands, "But no, I'm not uncomfortable. It was....I mean, it was hot," you bite your lip, "I haven't even thought about sex for a long time so it made me...uh..."

The silence is deafening and apparently neither of you wants to break it as you sit there without speaking, letting your words hang in the dead air. You suddenly feel like you want to crawl out of your skin for saying anything to begin with, for even asking about the magazines in the first place.

"Wet?" he suddenly says, voice breaking a bit, "It made you wet?"

"Very," you reply, relieved that he's not freaked out and trying to change the subject.

"Well, that's normal," he says, voice stiff.

You can't help but laugh, finally peering over at him and seeing that he's just laying there, staring at the ceiling, "I know it's normal, Joel. It's not my first time being turned on, trust me."

"Well, what am I supposed to say?" he grumbles, looking at you in exasperation, "You can't just say that and expect me to give you a casual response. It made you wet, you got turned on, congratulations."

You stare at him, watching as he reaches for his book again, "Wait," you clamor out of the chair and reach beneath it to grab the magazine you'd looked at earlier. You shuffle over to him, thumbing through the pages until you find the right one, "Here," you open to the correct page and show it to him, "This is the one I'm talking about."

His eyes assess the page, his Adam's apple bobbing heavily in his throat as he takes in what you were referring to. He nods slowly, "Okay yeah, I see what you mean. She's about to come, that's why she looks like that."

Your brow furrows, "You can tell that from a picture?"

He shrugs, eyes still on the magazine, "Well, see, he's rubbin' her clit," he points to it and your face goes hot again, "And he's fuckin' her pretty hard. So yeah, I'd say she's either already comin' or about to." his gaze shifts back to you, noticing that you're staring, and he awkwardly pushes the magazine back toward you, "What?"

"I just..." you swallow, shaking your head apologetically, "Sorry, it just sounded really dirty hearing you say that."

He suddenly looks uncomfortable, shifting on the couch and leaning away from you as he crosses his arms, "Well, you asked."

"I know, I don't mean it in a bad way," you step back and realize you're suddenly throbbing in your jeans, feeling that familiar wetness again, "It just... hearing you say it out loud like that, it makes the picture hotter, somehow."

He looks at you, gaze trailing from your eyes to your lips. You suddenly feel like you've said too much, exposed even though you're fully dressed, and you walk back over to the chair and quickly plop back down in it. You give him another look and see his lips parting like he's going to say something else. Instead he takes a breath and drops his eyes from your face, twisting around on the couch to face the opposite way, "It's late, we should sleep."

"Y-yeah," you breathe, crossing your legs, heart stuttering as your clothed core presses wetly against the denim of your jeans. "You're right."

You curl back up in the chair and try to calm your breath, slow your heart, try not to focus too much on the fact that hearing Joel of all people say the phrases he's rubbin' her clit and fuckin' her pretty hard has made you start falling to pieces. Do you even see Joel that way? Has there ever been a moment where you found yourself thinking about him like that? You want to tell yourself the answer is no, that your body is simply experiencing some pent-up sexual frustration and he has nothing to do with it, but you know you'd be lying to yourself.

He's hot. It's not some shocking revelation or something you've realized over time. There's a reason you'd felt so drawn to him that first day in the dining hall, a reason you'd watched out for him every day and hoped he'd notice you. Hell, there's a reason you're still doing patrols with him despite him being a pain in the ass. You're not an idiot, you know yourself well enough by now to know what these things mean.

You're attracted to him. You've been attracted to him this whole damn time.

You shut your eyes tight and curl up into a ball, holding your knees to your chest. He's rubbin' her clit, his voice echoes in your mind, and your cunt begins to ache.

Stop thinking about it, you shake his words away and try to focus on falling asleep. There's no way you're gonna touch yourself right now, not with him in the room, and you're not gonna excuse yourself either like some horny teenager. You can do this, you can get through it, it'll go away soon.

-

It doesn't go away.

About twenty minutes later you're still sitting there with your eyes shut, trying your hardest not to touch yourself. But it's so fucking difficult. His words are playing on a loop in your head, over and over, soft yet rough, kind yet sexy, his southern drawl making it all the more hotter:

She's about to come, that's why she looks like that.

He's rubbin' her clit.

He's fuckin' her pretty hard.

I'd say she's either already comin' or about to.

You squirm in the chair, imagining what he'd sound like whispering that in your ear with his fingers pumping in and out of you as you came undone beneath him. Rubbin' her clit, his voice breathes in your mind, fuckin' her pretty hard, she's about to come.

You're ten seconds from breaking your own rule and heading back to the supply closet to find some release when you hear an unfamiliar sound coming from a few feet away. Your eyes flutter open, thoughts stopping momentarily as you try to figure out what it is. You turn slightly in your chair to see if Joel hears it too, and you feel your breath stop completely.

He's turned off the lantern so you can't see him properly, but you can make out the shadow of him in the moonlight, see the long shape of him directly mirrored against the floorboards and his hand stroking himself up and down, quick and rough. Your lips part in disbelief, realizing the noise you're hearing is the sound of his palm slapping against the base of his cock as he jacks himself off.

You've gotta be fucking kidding me.

Here you've been, desperately trying to push away any and all sense of desire so you wouldn't make a fool out of yourself, wouldn't make him uncomfortable, and here he is doing that exact thing. Angrily, almost out of spite, you sit up in the chair and stuff your hand down your jeans.

Two can play at that game, asshole.

Your finger goes straight to your clit and you begin to rub it furiously, eyes trained on the dark outline of his hand moving up and down. You can only vaguely make out the shape of him but it's enough to make you start dripping, the base of your palm getting slick as you stimulate yourself continuously. He's well endowed, that much is obvious, and you watch his silhouette as he releases his large cock for a moment to bring his hand to his mouth and lick a stripe along his palm. You have to bite down on your lip to suppress the moan that threatens to bubble from your throat at the action, watching through lidded eyes as he brings his wet hand back down and fists himself once more.

Without much thought you slip your middle finger inside yourself, eyes trained on him as you pretend it's his cock pushing past your entrance. It's pretty difficult to imagine though, considering his cock is probably five times as girthy as your one finger, but you make do. You can kind of make out the shape of the tip, wide and shiny, disappearing and reappearing over and over. You slip a second finger inside and bite back a whimper.

The only sounds in the room are the slapping of his skin and the sudden wet squelch of your fingers; you don't even bother to try and make it softer, you're getting off now whether he knows or not, the fullness overwhelming you as you lick your lips and furrow your brow. You haven't masturbated in a long time; you know it won't take you long to get what you need.

"Are you-" he suddenly gasps into the darkness, and your head snaps up to look at him again, heart pounding when you see that his hand has stilled on his cock and he's looking over at you with an expression of pure disbelief.

You should probably be embarrassed, apologetic, but instead you can't help but feel a rush of pride, of spite, as he realizes what you're doing.

"Like you're not," you hiss back, practically spitting as you continue to fuck yourself, "I'm not deaf."

"Thought you were sleepin'," he says back, and you can see his fingers clench around his length, like he's doing everything in his power not to stroke himself.

"And that makes it less weird?"

He groans and lets go of himself completely, sitting up slightly on the couch and shaking his head like he's trying to wake himself up from a dream he isn't having. When he looks at you again his eyes fall to where you're still getting off, not bothering to be sneaky about the way he practically bores a hole in your jeans with his gaze.

"So what are you gonna do about it?" he challenges gruffly, eyes coming back up to meet yours, the hint of a cocky smirk twitching at the corner of his mouth.

Oh, he's proud of himself, isn't he?

You glare at him, "I'm not gonna do anything about it, Joel. I'm gonna keep going," you mean it too, fingers not even slowing down as you pant breathlessly in his direction, "And you can stay here or you can go, doesn't matter to me."

It does matter, actually, it really does. If he was to get up and walk out... it would basically be a rejection, something you're not sure you'll be able to deal with. You don't break eye contact with him, staring him down as you give him your own challenge.

He swallows, gives you one last look, and then flops back down into a horizontal position as he reaches for himself again. He returns to his quick strokes, almost purposely more heavy this time as he mutters, "No talking. Let's just do it and forget it even happened, deal?"

"Deal," you reply immediately, and add a third finger.

It doesn't take long for you to find your release, a particularly hard slap of skin from Joel on the couch pushing you over the edge. You don't try to stifle your moan this time, focusing completely on enjoying your orgasm as your hand stills in your pants and you begin to shake in the chair. Your hips buck pathetically, eyes shutting tight as you whimper and cry out in pleasure.

"Jesus Christ," you hear Joel pant a few seconds afterward, followed by a long groan as he starts to come too, "Fuck."

You manage to catch a glimpse of the way he twists his wrist, aims his cock against his button-down and stains it with his release. You wish you had a better view, that it wasn't so dark, but just hearing him come apart is enough. It's exactly what you hoped it would be.

You lay there in silence for a few moments, both of you panting breathlessly from your orgasms as the weight of what you've just done starts to creep in. You're suddenly slightly afraid of what he'll say, what he'll do. Will he get mad? Will he say he doesn't want to patrol with you anymore? You decide immediately that you don't want him to have the first word.

"What were you thinking about?" you ask, barely a whisper.

It takes a few moments for him to reply, and you start to worry that you've already ruined everything, but then he answers.

"Bunny ears," he says quietly.

"What?"

"I was thinkin' about the bunny ear girl," he's still breathless, "From the magazine. Weren't you?"

You figure you can't dig the hole any deeper.

"I was just watching you, Joel," you breathe, feeling butterflies tingle in your belly at the words, "Didn't have to think about anything else."

He doesn't say anything for a moment, then mumbles something to himself that you don't understand. You can't fully make out his expression but you swear you see him frown in the moonlight, not exactly the response you were aiming for. He suddenly turns on the couch again to face away from you, exhaling loudly, "Go to sleep."

The words strike you hard, lips parting in surprise. You obviously hadn't expected him to completely reciprocate, to jump into your arms and kiss you, but that? "Go to sleep"? What the fuck kind of a response is that? You stare at him, hoping against reason that he'll turn around again and apologize, say something different, but he doesn't.

"Yeah, sure," you mutter, curling back up into a ball in the chair and hoping sleep finds you as soon as possible so you don't have to think anymore, "Asshole."

You hope he hears you.

-

You wake the next morning to the sound of someone rummaging nearby, and you open your eyes blearily to see Joel crouched near the door, packing his bag. You stretch and yawn automatically, momentarily forgetting what had transpired between the two of you last night. His head tilts up to look at you and it all comes flooding back when you see that familiar frown on his face.

"Do you ever smile?" you say, voice rough with sleep.

He rolls his eyes and goes back to his pack, shaking his head, "Like you're so chipper."

"Well, at least I have a good reason to be annoyed," you snap, sitting up in the chair and stretching your legs, "Asshole."

"You love to call me that, don't you?"

"Just calling it like I see it," you mutter, pulling yourself up and heading past him to the door, "I'm taking a piss."

"Watch out for th-"

"The trip wires, I know," you interrupt coldly, "I'm not an idiot."

He doesn't say anything else but you feel his eyes on your back as you walk out onto the balcony and down the steps. You both have to pee in the woods when you're out here - the ski lifts aren't the only things that don't work properly anymore - so you've managed to each figure out your own designated area. You feel relieved once you're out of his eyesight and beneath the thick layer of tree branches that keep your makeshift bathroom secluded.

You really shouldn't be so pissed at him, it's not like he owes you anything. You know you're projecting your own feelings onto him and that it isn't fair, but god, him telling you to go to sleep after you'd essentially confessed your attraction to him makes your blood boil. He'd really had nothing else to say? Couldn't have come up with something a little softer, a little kinder? Let you down easy?

You grumble to yourself on the way back up the steps, questioning whether or not you should keep ignoring him or just get over it. Is it really worth an hours hike of hostility? You already know this is your last shift with him, there's no way you can come back from this in any way that will keep your dignity intact. It's over.

"You say you're not a kid but you sure do act like one," Joel says the second you re-enter the ski lodge, and you stop dead in your tracks. He's got his arms crossed, nose flaring in anger, "I'm sick and tired of the silent treatment, the cold shoulder, all that shit. What happened to people just talkin' to each other?"

You shut the door behind you and shake your head, "I'm not giving you the silent treatment Joel, calm down."

"Don't tell me to calm down," his voice is firm but you can hear some emotion there, something deeper. He doesn't like being ignored and you know why, but it doesn't soften your resolve.

"I'm pissed at you, yeah," you admit, shrugging, "But I think I have a pretty valid reason."

"And what is it?"

You stare, scrunching up your face in confusion, "Are you serious? Jesus, Joel, I thought you were smart."

"Oh, fuck off," he grumbles, rolling his eyes again, "I ain't a mind reader."

You shake your head again, inhaling deeply, "I'm not asking you to read my mind, Joel," you exhale and try to calm yourself, feeling the angry tears begin to sting your eyes. God, you hate how emotional you get when you're angry. You hate showing weakness like this.

"Then tell me," he groans, "Is it about last night? 'Cause I thought we made a deal that we're not gonna talk about it."

You laugh at his words, cold and hard, "Right, yeah, sorry. Deal's a deal, right? My bad," you couldn't sound more sarcastic if you tried, stuffing your roll of toilet paper back in your pack and zipping it up, "Come on, let's just head back and forget about it." Your voice cracks on the last few words and you bite down hard on your lip, feeling the tears spill over.

"Are you crying?" his voice falters, and you hear a twinge of kindness in his tone, something you'd desperately wanted to hear last night.

He crosses the room before you even have a chance to reply, striding over to you and placing his hand on your shoulder firmly, making you turn around. His face softens immediately when he sees the tears streaming down your face, the tears you're already trying to wipe away.

"Fuck," he says, brow furrowing in concern, "I'm sorry."

You snort involuntarily, shaking your head, "I'm just stupid."

"You're not stupid," it's almost a whisper, "I'm the stupid one, believe me," he brings his hand up like he's going to touch your face but seems to think better of it, bringing it back to your shoulder again, "I shouldn't have... I don't know what I was thinkin' last night, I'm sorry. You showed me that magazine and-"

You put your hand up to silence him, "I don't care about why, Joel. I don't even care that you did it, it's not like I told you to stop."

His brow furrows deeper, "Then what...?"

You close your eyes, breathing deeply before putting on your best impression of him and mumbling, "Go to sleep," like he had the night before, opening your eyes again to see if he understands.

He stares at you for a few seconds, confused, but you watch as it suddenly dawns on him, realization spreading across his features. He suddenly lets go of your shoulder and takes a few steps back, eyes falling to the floor.

"You can't... you can't think of me that way," he says it gruffly, swallowing and shaking his head.

You stand there without saying anything, waiting until he finally looks back up at you to speak. When he does, you make sure to look directly in his eyes.

"Why not?"

His hand comes up to touch the back of his neck and you swear you see patches of red begin to bloom along his collarbone, like he's embarrassed...or flattered? You take a step forward and he quickly takes another step backward.

"If it's because of the age thing... I really don't care, Joel," you say earnestly, heart beginning to beat heavily in your chest, "I think you're..." You can't believe the words are even coming out of your mouth, the tears on your face already beginning to dry as you try to process this new situation you've found yourself in, "I think you're sexy."

His brow furrows again, not in anger but in confusion. He doesn't take another step backward when you move toward him this time, staying rooted in place as you peer up at him, waiting for him to speak. He remains silent, his eyes trained directly on your face, lips set in a firm line.

"You don't believe me, do you?"

He shakes his head slowly, "I don't."

"Why?"

He doesn't reply, just keeps staring at you like he has absolutely no idea what to say. You suddenly feel the need to reassure him, comfort him. Your hand moves upward, aching to cup his face in your hand, feel that grey scruff beneath your palm.

He pulls back before you get the chance, shaking his head again, "Don't," it's barely a whisper, voice breaking as he says it, "Just...gimme a minute."

"Okay," you nod, dropping your hand, "I'm sorry."

"Stop apologizin'," he breathes, still not breaking eye contact, "Just let me think, please."

You swallow, teeth tugging on your lip as he continues to stand there motionless. He's still looking at you but his thoughts are miles away; you can practically see the wheels turning in his head, calculating exactly what he's supposed to do in a situation like this. Part of you wants him to kiss you, part of you wants to kiss him, part of you wants to wait until he makes a decision. You settle firmly on the third option.

"I lied," he finally breaks the silence, jaw tense and firm, "I wasn't thinkin' about that fuckin' bunny ear model."

Your lips part; you hadn't been expecting him to say that.

"Then...what were you thinking about?" You already know the answer before he replies.

"You," his voice is strained, broken, like he's holding himself back, "I was thinkin' about you and the stupid magazines in the supply closet."

You feel your skin flush, a tingle trailing up the back of your neck as you try not to show him how pleased you are, "W-what?"

"I couldn't stop thinkin' about you in that closet, lookin' at those pictures, getting...." he trails off and swallows, then whispers, "Wet. Gettin' all wet in your panties from that girl getting fucked."

His words send an immediate throb to your core and you can feel your heart in your throat, pounding relentlessly as he continues to speak, continues to say exactly what's been on his mind as you stand in front of him, so much smaller than him, letting his words get lost in the sudden warmth of your body and the buzz of your thoughts.

"I couldn't stop thinkin' about it," he repeats, voice rough, eyes dark, "Your wet panties, your big eyes, your..." he practically chokes then, "Your pussy, all wet and aching."

"Oh my god," you whimper, crossing your legs involuntarily as you feel an immediate surge of wetness in your underwear, "Please, keep talking, please."

"Wanted to see it and touch it," he murmurs, his breath ghosting across your face as he peers down at you with desire in his eyes, "Wanted to fuck it and make you come."

Without hesitation your arms shoot up to wrap around his neck, burying your face in his warm chest and tugging at the collar of his coat, "I want you to," you practically moan, clawing at the material, "Joel, I need you to fuck me right now."

To your absolute dismay he reaches up and removes your arms from him, taking a step back so neither of you are touching. His eyes are so dark, pupils blown wide and that red blush of heat now spread all over his neck and cheekbones.

"I can't," he says, shaking his head, "I'm sorry, I can't."

You're about to protest, whine and beg if you have to, but his eyes fall to your groin. You watch with wide eyes as he goes for his belt, begins to unloop it and remove it.

"Take your pants off," he groans, and you don't need telling twice.

-

You end up masturbating together again, this time in the light of day. You find yourselves laying on the couch where he'd slept last night, the memory of what he'd done there fresh in your mind as you pump two fingers in and out of yourself steadily and watch him stroke his cock to match your pace. He watches you behind hooded eyes, his lips parted as he pants and gets himself off to your pleasure, watches you do the same thing to him.

"That's it," he murmurs, eyes scrunching in arousal as he scans your face, watches you come undone, "Rub your clit, nice and fast."

You whimper, unable to hold on for much longer as you eye his cock and see the way the fat head of it drips for you, slicking his hand and allowing him to stroke faster and faster. You want to say something to help get him off too but your words are completely lost in the sensation; you couldn't speak even if you wanted to.

He knows you're about to come, can see it in your face the way he saw it in the face of the model in the picture. He swallows heavily and fucks himself impossibly faster, harder, silently asking you to match his pace. You do it, thumbing your clit and feeling the tense coil in your belly snap as your jaw drops and you let out a long and ridiculously loud moan. Your eyes shut tight and you throw your head back, feeling your body begin to shake from the stimulation.

"There you go," he grunts, and you hear the slapping of skin stop as he rides out his own release, coming into his fist, "Fuck." Your eyes open at just the right time to see his jaw go slack, eyes practically rolling into the back of his head from the pleasure. It somehow makes you ache for more, even though you can't possibly imagine being any more overstimulated than you already are.

You both lay there, chests heaving, hearts pounding, completely undone. It goes without saying that you've both just managed to each have one of the best orgasms of your lives.

"New patrol rule," you whisper to him, legs still wide and cunt dripping with your release, "We do this. Every time. Please."

"Yes," he replies immediately, still catching his breath, "I can do that."

-

"It can't be any more than this," Joel says to you quietly as you hike down the mountain a little while later, the sunrise cresting the trees again the way it had yesterday when you'd hiked up; it's like nothing has changed, but you both know that everything has.

"Okay," you say just as softly, though part of you aches to reach for his hand, loop your pinky through his and have some degree of touch between you. But you can tell he means business, that there won't be any more discussion on the matter today.

"Just this," he whispers, glancing at you with a meaningful look, eyes soft and tender as he peers at you, knowing what he's done, what he's started.

"Just this," you agree, but you don't really believe it.

You hope, deep down, neither does he.

thank you so much for reading! there will be more in this collection coming very soon. i'd like to do some short fics of certain nights they've had, especially the first time he calls her a good girl. that was originally going to be in this part but it was just getting wayyy too long and i have so many ideas i need to flesh out more lol. i'm also going to continue where they left off in "don't think we could help it", and yes, eventually they will do the deed, i promise. among other things....

if you liked it, please let me know! and again, if you'd like to give me a tip you can do so on my kofi 💖

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #* #fic: soft!dom joel

[bedsyandco]

𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐄

🫧 — {fem!bsf!reader x dad!brock boeser}

🫧 — my first time writing for brock!! I hope you like it, as always feedback is appreciated !!

🫧 — in which your Brock’s best friend and the lines are blurry because you act like more both to him and his son.

🫧 — content: sfw, a little person, fluff

🫧 — wc: 2.35K

You were staring out the window, watching the raindrops slide down the glass of your coffee shop. The place was buzzing with people only minutes earlier, everyone wanting a hot drink to shield them from the stretch of bad weather that impacted the city these last few days, although that’s quite normal this time of the year. The buzz had died down and you were grateful since you just cleaned the floor, and didn’t look forward to having to do it again if someone else entered through the door with their wet shoes, the welcome mat at the entrance seeming to not do its job very effectively.

Your attention quickly shifted when you heard your phone ring and grabbed it out of your back pocket, heart beating a little faster when you saw who was calling.

“Vancouver Academy Preschool”

You had spent hours teasing Brock about how uptight this school sounded. It was preschool for crying out loud, and both you and Brock went to public school and turned out just fine, but he wasn’t budging. Only the very best for his boy. You didn’t feel a single trace of amusement seeing the name now though, only anxious as to why they could be calling.

“Good Afternoon, is this Brooks’ mom, YN speaking?” a woman's voice echoes over the speaker.

“Uh- that’s me but I’m not-”

“Oh thank goodness, we weren’t able to get in contact with his father, I’m glad I could at least reach one of his parents.” she continues, interrupting you before you could correct her that you weren’t Brooks’ mom. Brock was still at the rink, that’s probably why he wasn’t answering. “I’m Brooks’ teacher and I’m calling because there was an accident at school today and we were wondering if you would be able to come pick Brooks up from school?”

Your throat constricts a little at what she's saying, not being able to comprehend the words Brooks and accident in one sentence. “An accident? What accident? Is he hurt?” you ask frantically, questions flying one after the other.

“He’s perfectly fine ma’am. He had a little fall and bumped his head. There was a little scratch but we had our school nurse clean it up and check him out, but we thought since there were only a few hours left of school anyway and he seemed a bit upset, it may be better if he just went home for the day.”

Your eyes flickered to the clock on the wall, seeing that it was only noon. You had another four hours to work at most, but you also knew that Brock probably wasn’t going to see the school’s messages before then and you couldn’t leave Brooks at school until then. The thought of him hurt and upset was enough to make you remove the apron from your waist and say, “I’ll be there in 20 minutes.”

“Sounds serious,” you hear from your left seeing Lydia, one of your waitresses standing there.

“It was Brooks’ school. I need to go pick him up. I know it was your day to leave early but do you think you can stay until closing time? If you really can’t we’ll just close up early today,” you ramble, moving to grab your coat and searching for your keys.

“Of course, don’t even worry about it, I’ll close up.” she says

“I’m so sorry-”

“Don’t even try to apologise. You do what you need to for your kids, I get that.” and she did. Having two kids of her own.

“I know but he’s not even really mine. Not biologically at least. It’s not the same and I know this was your Friday to leave early,” you say remorsefully.

“Stop that. He’s yours in every way that matters. If I’ve ever seen anyone be a mom to that little boy, it’s you.” she says and your eyes sting a little and you have to blink up at the ceiling for a minute to stop them from falling.

“Thank you. I owe you one, I’ll see you Monday?” you ask and make your way out the door when she nods.

How you ended up in this situation, you honestly had no idea. It hadn’t been your intention to end up having your name registered as a parental contact. But you did feel an immense sense of warmth that Brock trusted you enough to do it.

Brock had been your friend for many years, and when Brooks came into the world, he only brought you closer. You would have never wished for Brooks’ mom to abandon him and Brock, and you would forever hold resentment in your heart for her because of that, but it did create a hole in their lives that you had somehow filled.

When you pull into the parking lot at Brooks’ school, you clench the steering wheel tightly and let out a big breath, releasing all the confusing thoughts about your role in Brooks’ life and the confusing relationship you had with his father. One day maybe you’d address those thoughts, but today isn’t that day.

You step out of the car, pulling your coat tighter around you to shield from the cold and take a little jog up to the front entrance. The receptionist immediately glanced up when you entered and sent you a quick smile.

“Hi I’m here to pick up Brooks Boeser,” you say and her eyes widened significantly, looking a lot more interested when she heard that last name and called through to the classroom. That almost would have been amusing had you not been preoccupied by your nerves about Brooks. You knew Brock paid a lot of big donations and checks that ensured him and Brooks were treated well here, and it looked like that treatment extended to you.

A door buzzes open and through comes Brooks, his hands tightly clasped on the straps of his backpack, his feet shuffling against the ground.

His eyes were red, cheeks flushed, a little bandaid on his forehead where you assumed the little scratch was. As he neared you his eyes teared up and the bottom lip started to wobble.

“Yn!” he yells, picking up his pace when he sees you and tripping into your legs, wrapping his arms around them.

“Oh my little love, did you get hurt?” You ask bending down and pushing his hair away from his forehead and gently running your fingers over the bandaid, as he nods.

“What exactly happened?” you ask his teacher who was only standing a few feet away observing the interaction.

“Brooks was playing outside with a friend and when he came back inside his shoes were wet and he ran, slipped and fell. He hit his head against a table and there’s a little scrape but as I said on the phone our nurse checked him out and he seems to be just fine. I can contact the nurse to talk with you if you’d like” the teacher says 

“That won’t be necessary, I trust that everything was handled as it should be,” you say in a tone suggesting that anything else would be ridiculous since Brock spends so much money on this school.

“Brooks was so excited when he found out his mom was coming to get him,” his teacher redirects the conversation and you smile tightly at her, that word causing your throat to squeeze tightly.

You squeeze Brooks tightly, the little boy still clinging to you as if his life depended on it. You pick him up, throwing his bag over your shoulder and making your way to the door when the teacher holds it open for you.

“Thank you,” you say politely and she smiles back at you.

“Have a good weekend. I’ll see you on Monday Brooks,” she says as you make your way to your car.

When Brooks is tightly secured in his car seat and you’ve let the car warm up a bit, you make your way to the arena.

“Wanna go visit daddy at work?” you ask Brooks, reaching back and squeezing his foot when you reach a red light.

“Yes!” he yells and you smile at his excitement.

“He’ll be happy to see you,” you say, focusing your attention back on the road.

“Happy to see you too,” Brooks replies and you glance at him in the mirror seeing a teasing little smile on that face.

“You think so?” you ask and he nods

“Uncle Petey told dad he’s happiest when he sees you,” Brooks says matter of factly

“Have you been listening to your dad’s conversations again?” you ask and he smiles guiltily

“No. They thought I was sleeping,” he admits softly and you smile, shaking your head at him. He’s sneaky. 

“Do you love my daddy?” Brooks asks and you swallow thickly thinking about it for a second. You knew Brooks was going to be asking about your friendship with his dad sooner or later, you’d just hoped it was later and that Brock was the one being asked.

You didn’t know how to say it without giving Brooks the wrong idea, and you definitely didn’t need him running back to his dad and telling him about your feelings for him. You weren’t entirely sure Brock was over what happened with Brooks’ mom. You didn’t think he was in love with her, but the way she just left and abandoned both of them still had an effect on Brock. He still hadn’t gone back to dating even after all these years. 

“Of course I love your dad. He’s my best friend in the whole world.” you tell him and he smiles happily.

“Do you think my dad is pretty?” Brooks asks curiously 

“He’s very pretty, just like you,” you say to Brock’s mini-me.

“My dad thinks you’re pretty too. He told uncle Quinny while you were making noodles,” Brooks says, referring to a few days ago when you cooked pasta for Brock and a few guys at his place.

“Are you two going to get married?” Brooks asks and you nearly swerve off the road.

“What made you have that idea?” you ask more calmly than you feel

“A girl in my class said that if two people love each other and think they’re pretty, they get married,” Brooks explains

“It’s a bit more complicated than that bud,” you say gently, relieved as you finally pull up to the arena.

You walk into the arena, Brooks’ hand clasped tightly in yours and wait in a little room you were directed to while someone called for Brock. You were sitting on a couch, Brooks cuddled up in your lap when Brock finally entered the room, closing the door behind him. Brock observed the two of you for a second, a strange emotion clouding his face. 

“Dad! Look, I have a scratch on my head!” he says as you stand up and walk towards Brock, Brooks still on your hip. 

Brock’s panicked eyes find yours before brushing Brooks’ hair away so he could inspect the little scratch more carefully, his other hand falls to your waist, pulling both of you close.

“He had a little fall, scraped his head, he’s okay. I took care of it,” you reassure him, and Brock’s shoulders relax a little bit.

Brock nods, pressing a kiss to Brooks’ forehead before moving to kiss your cheek, and your breath hitches at the intimate gesture. Brock had always been affectionate but lately he’s been doing a lot more often and openly. 

“I’m gonna go grab my stuff, I’ll be back in a sec. Do you need anything?” Brock asks, his hand caressing the skin at your waist lightly.

“No, we’re fine. Go finish up,” you say and he smiles, giving you both a peck again before leaving the room again. 

Later that day when you’ve got Brooks passed out in his bed, Brock joins you in the living room taking a seat on the couch, sitting as close to you as he can without actually touching you.

Brock leans his head back, letting out a trembling breath. 

“He’s okay Brock. It’s just a little scratch. You know that if I suspected he wasn’t okay I would’ve taken him to-”

“I know. It’s just that you shouldn’t have to. It’s my job to take care of him and I wasn’t there.” Brock says and you sigh, moving even close to him.

“Look at me,” you insist softly, and he does, his gaze so incredibly soft and fond it makes your heart feel like it’s going to burst.

“You’re a great dad Brock. You love that little boy so much, and he knows it. You’re doing the best that you can and it’s okay to ask for help sometimes.” you say and his hand falls to your upper thigh, caressing it softly.

“It’s not fair to you,” he argues

“I love that little guy and there’s nothing I love more than taking care of him. Of both of you.” you say and Brock looks at you for a moment.

“I love you,” he confesses and you can feel a ball forming in your throat.

“I love you too,” you reply and Brock shakes his head.

“No, I love you. I’m in love with you. I always have been” 

“Brock-”

“I can never bring myself to regret being with Brooks’ mom. You weren’t available back then and I was convinced you never would be, but somehow your ex managed to mess it up and you were single and I was so happy because I was finally gonna get my shot. And then Brooks happened and I love that kid to death, so I could never ever regret it, but it’s always been you.” he says softly, framing your face with both hands and kissing you softly. 

“This family isn’t complete without you. I hope you know that.” Brock says, gently caressing your face when he pulls away. 

“Will you stay the night?” he asks and you smile.

“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be,” you answer, and a few weeks later all your things were in that house, knowing you were never leaving again. 

#brock boeser fic #brock boeser x reader #brock boeser imagine #brock boeser x yn

[imaniwriting]

Can you write an imagine where jj is seeking refuge in his girlfriend’s home and she cleans his wounds and comforts him?

(This is so cute)

𝐁𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐤𝐧𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬

Warnings : Luke, abuse, mentions of blood, angst, swearing (let me know if i missed any)

Summary : after jj encounters his dad he has nowhere to go and chooses to pay his girlfriend a visit who is more than willing to take him in for a few days

Genre : Angst, Fluff

“You are a piece of shit!” Yelled Luke while taking another hit at his so called son. JJ was hunched up against the wall not having the energy to fight back.

He took one last hit at JJ’s face before spitting on him making JJ flinch. “You’re the goddamn reason why your mother left.” Luke gritted out while picking up a beer from the floor. JJ stood up and stormed into his room profusely crying.

He pulled his hair in anger feeling like he was a pet that his father could control whenever he wanted. He picked up his phone staring at the popped up message that was sent 20 minutes ago.

“Hey JJ, John B told me you were going home and i just wanted to make sure you’re okay”

He read the message over and over again shocked that someone really cared about him. Meanwhile you were sitting anxiously at home biting your lips staring at the message you sent 20 minutes ago. Usually JJ was a fast replier never did he leave anyone on read for more than 10 minutes especially you.

You sat up on your bed when you saw that he had opened the message waiting for ‘typing’ to pop up on your screen. But it never did. Not after 5 minutes not after 10.

You were about to leave your house to check on him when there was a knocking on your door. “Coming!” You yelled skipping down the stairs to answer your door.

And there he was, the love of your life standing with bloodied cuts on his face and hands. You placed down your keys and quickly embraced him in a tight hug.

JJ wrapped his arms around your waist and gently moved you so he could step into the house and escape the coldness of the night. “God, JJ what happened?” You asked while closing the door and turning to him.

“Nothing that hasn’t happened before” he chuckled but there wasn’t any humor to it, it was a cold chuckle. You frowned and quickly took his hand in yours to guide him into the bathroom.

“Sit down” you ordered in an instant taking out the first aid kit he followed your command and sat down at the edge of the bathtub that was standing in the back of the bathroom.

You walked up to him and took out a cotton ball and alcohol to clean his wounds. “This may sting” you informed him but he just kept on staring at you nodding absently.

He hissed when you made contact with his wound making you look into his eyes apologizing quietly “sorry”. You went to kiss his cheek softly before turning to the cut on his lip.

JJ kept staring at you completely lost in love. He often found himself staring at you loving every aspect of your body. You quickly finished with all the cuts he had and discarded the now dirty cotton ball.

“Thank you, baby” he said softly while gently grabbing your face to kiss you. The kiss was a loving one not lustful or harsh. You kissed him back careful not to hurt or open the cut on his upper lip.

You slowly pulled away making him whine at the loss of contact. “JJ don’t go back there” you said staring into his ocean blue eyes. “I won’t” he replied making you smile lightly.

You went in for another comforting kiss and another one before deciding to go to sleep.

JJ had his hands comfortably wrapped around you in bed while you were sound asleep he hummed a tune happy to be in the presence of the only person who he knew would always stand behind his back.

#jj maybank #outer banks #obx #imagine #fluff #one shot #drabble #blurb #smut #outer banks fanfiction #jj obx #obx fic #jj mayback x reader #jj mayback imagine #cute #jj maybank x you #jj maybank x pogue!reader #jj maybank x y/n #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x routledge!reader

[boldlyvoid]

Carpet Burns

18+ Eddie Munson x Fem!reader

Summary: after a long week apart, they can barely make it through the front door without ravaging each other

warnings: PDA, making out, alcohol use, eddie doesn't wear his seatbelt, fingering her in the passenger seat, finger sucking, wall sex, table sex, floor sex... dirty talk, daddy kink rough sex, carpet burns

word count: 3.4k

The plan was to meet Eddie at the bar on Friday after a long week apart, both with steady jobs and living in different parts of town, it was hard to meet up daily like they wanted. 

They craved each other deeply. 

Sure, he calls her most night and she hears his deep voice in her ear as he tells her all the nasty things he would be doing to her if he was there. He hears her pleasuring herself with a smirk on his face and his cock in his hand the whole time… but it’s not the same as being together. There’s something so satisfying about feeling all 200 pounds of Eddie on top of her, under her, behind her— you name it, they’ve done it, and she wants more. So, so much more. 

She’s able to have 1 drink before he shows up, something about a transmission on a Chrysler kept him a little later at the shop and then he went home to shower the grease off, which sucked for her… there’s something about him when he’s sweaty and smells like work that makes her go feral, but the smell of his cologne draws the essence back out of him. She smells him before she sees him, turning into his chest as he wraps his arm around her and kisses the back of her neck. 

“Hello there,” he says between kisses, “didn’t mean to keep you waiting.” 

“It’s okay,” she smiles, standing on her tip-toes and leaning in for a real kiss, she purses her lips and meets him halfway. 

The first kiss after a long week is always the best kind. It's the way his grip tightens on her hips and pulls her in closer so they’re chest to chest… she settles, dropping back to her normal height and bringing him down with her 'cause he can’t let her go, he breathes her in like this is the last kiss he’ll ever get from her, savouring every second. 

They’re both wide-eyed and bushy-tailed as they stare at each other, catching their breaths and smiling, “hi?” She couldn’t believe how intense that was, “how are you?” 

“I’m good, hot stuff,” he says, his hand following the curve of her body down to her ass and grabbing a fistful. “Been here long?” 

“About 20 minutes,” she shrugs, it’s nothing too bad. “You want a beer?”

He nods, “yeah, maybe just one… I don’t want to be out too long tonight.” 

“Oh no?” She can’t fight off her smile, “and why’s that?” 

“You fuckin’ know why,” he all but growls in her ear, “this dress? Really?” 

She giggles and leans in closer to his ear, “I’m also not wearing any panties…” 

“Yep, no beer for me, lets go,” he smacks her ass and attempts to lift her up so he can walk out with her but she laughs and puts up a fight until her feet are securely back on the floor. 

“I have to pay my tab first,” she smacks his chest. “We have all night, seriously, why can’t we have a drink and tease each other a little first?” 

“Is that what you want?” He asks, looking down at her with his big doe eyes and his bangs falling into view. He looks her up and down again and shakes his head when he realizes she’s serious, “okay, just… I’m not responsible for how feral I’ll be when we get home.” 

“Oh, no, that’s fine… that’s actually exactly what I wanted,” she teases and pushes away from his chest slowly enough for him to take her hand and walk with her towards the bar.

They get a drink each and he orders some food for them too, they take a booth in the back corner and it’s perfectly secluded enough for him to sit real close to her. He keeps his hand on her thigh, caressing her skin with his thumb while she talks about her day and the shit she had to go through at work. He watches with such an intent face, nodding along and asking questions, he’s so into her she can feel it radiating from him. 

“And how was your day, big guy?”

“Eh?” He shrugs, “nothing big to report, I think my night is going to be the highlight…” 

“Yeah?” 

He nods, eyeing her up while his hand goes further up her thigh and under her skirt. “I really hope we're on the same page right now baby… I want you so bad, as soon as we get home I want you. I need you.” 

His voice is so deep and his eyes are so dark as he talks directly to her deepest desires. She sits up straighter as a shiver runs through her body and goes straight to her clit, she stutters on her own breath and swallows sharply, she nods lightly, “yeah, oh, yeah, same fuckin’ page…”

“Are you done here?” He references their empty plate and her mostly finished drink. She nods, not even looking at the table, she just wants to go home. So Eddie takes her home. 

She didn’t live too far, she was able to walk over to the bar knowing that Eddie would drive them back to her place. He loves to open her door and help her step up into his van and into the seat, he buckles her in himself and kisses her forehead before he closes the door. Once he’s in his seat he starts the van and puts his hand right back on her thigh, up higher than before, he slips right under the skirt of her dress and gives her skin a squeeze. 

“Were you serious?” 

“Yeah, I want to fuck you too, Eddie,” she laughs, he’s always double-checking. 

He chuckles as his hand goes up higher, “no, no… I meant were you serious about the no panties, sweetheart?” He cups her cunt with a content groan, he slips his middle finger between her pussy lips to find out just how badly she wants to fuck him too. “Oh, fuck, you’re so wet?” 

“Mhm,” she bites her lip and balls her hands into fits and keeps them at her sides. She doesn’t want to buck up into his touch or ask for too much, she knows he has to drive soon but his finger glides against her clit and her eyes flutter, her heart speeds up and her breathing changes. 

He takes his hand away from her and brings it right to his mouth to suck on his middle finger, tasting her for the first time in too long. He just needed a clean hand to put the van in drive and leave the parking lot, once they’re on the road, his hand will go right back. And thank god. She unconsciously spread her legs in his absence, her pussy pulsated with want, calling for him to come back. She watches his face as he pays attention to the traffic, he’s concentrated and a good driver but she needs his hand back. 

She takes a leap of faith and lays her left hand on his bicep, he’s just wearing a plain black t-shirt so his tattoos are visible and his muscles look good while he grips the steering wheel. She just likes to be touching him all the time when they’re together, and if he can't have his hand up her skirt right now, she was going to play with the hem of his shirt and tease him the way she knew he liked. His forearms broke out in goosebumps and his hair stood straight up, making her smile to herself. 

He finally reaches out and puts his hand back on her thigh but she redirects him up to her cunt. “Eager, are we?” 

She nods, “please?” She holds his wrist with her right hand and wraps her left around his bicep again, holding onto him as his finger makes contact with her clit once more. “Oh, thank you,” she moans, relaxing into her seat finally. 

He smirks, watching the road but he can see her head lulled back in his peripheral vision. “Let me hear you, baby, it’s just us…” 

“I’ve missed your fingers,” she admits through bated breath. “Oh my god, Eddie,” she pushes her hips up into his touch for more, feeling him press into her harder, he uses his forefingers to rub her clit now. She’s so fucking wet he can hear it alongside her whimpers and moans for more. 

“You’re gonna soak my seats, princess,” he teases, not really caring if she left a puddle behind… it would actually be really fucking hot. 

“Feels, oh god, feels so good, I— oh,” she bucks her hips up against his hand he knows she’s close. She grips onto his bicep harder, “I wanna cum, please? Please? Can I cum?” 

He smirks, turning onto her street, he could either let her cum now or make her hold off until he’s inside her… “cum, princess,” he lets her go. She’s going to be so much more pliant and overstimulated once he gets her through the door, if she cums now, and she does. 

With her head tossed back against the headrest and her hand over his, she pushed his hand against her harder and cums with a shout. Her legs tremble, her pussy quakes, and he can feel her empty hole flutter as she craves more. He lets her ride it out on his hand, he gently rubs her clit through it and lets her hump his hand until she settles again. 

She barely notices that he’s parked outside her apartment now. “I need my hand back, baby…” 

She grips his wrist with both hands and brings it to her own mouth, tasting herself just to egg him on. She sucks on two of his fingers at once, and he can’t help himself from turning more toward her and watching her tongue swirl around his fingers, cleaning them up. He reaches out with his other hand and cups her cheek, fucking his fingers into her mouth, her eyes roll back and she moans. 

“Baby,” he coos, drawing his fingers back from her, he notices the pads are all wrinkled from her wetness, he rubs them over her newly swollen lips, getting some of the residual cum on her lips before he dives in and kisses her on an impulse. His wet fingers are now around her throat, she moans into the kiss, wanting to climb the centre console and sit right in his lap but she’s still buckled in, unlike him. He barely buckled up, no matter how much she told him it wasn’t safe. 

She starts to whine into the kiss, making grabby hands at his shirt, she needs more than this. He pulls back with a shit-eating grin, “what? Still not satisfied?” 

She shakes her head, “you know I’m not… and it’s your fault I’m like this, to begin with.”

“Is it?” He was surprised she was so testy this time. She never normally bites back. “I’m sure you were already an insatiable whore when we met I just let you get away with it… I could stop?” 

“No, no, no, please? Come inside with me?” She begs, “I need it, I want you to fuck me so hard tonight, like so, so hard.” Her eyes get impossibly big as she begs, her bottom lip sticks out in the sweetest pout and he caves. 

“Okay, come on,” he pulls back and rips the keys from the ignition. 

She’s quick to take off her seatbelt and push the door open, she hops out of the van and fixes the skirt of her dress so that she’s all covered on her walk to the door. Eddie meets her around on her side and wraps an arm around her on the walk-up. He has a key to her apartment, it’s for locking up when he leaves early on Monday mornings and times like these. 

He unlocks the door, gets them inside and pushes her up against it the moment it’s closed again. With her eyes closed and his mouth on hers again, she feels up the door and locks it again so they don’t have to worry about that later. His hands go under her dress and cup her ass, he mumbles something that sounds like “jump,” into her mouth and so she does. She wraps her legs around him and he holds her there against the door, the bulge behind his jean zipper collides with her cunt and she moans into his mouth at the feeling. 

He holds her there against the door, kissing her neck and jaw while she tries the get access to his belt buckle, “ed, Eddie, I can’t,” she complains, tossing her head back cause his kisses feel too good, she can’t get him out of his pants and she wants him inside of her like yesterday. 

He turns them away from the door, ready to carry her blindly through the little apartment, past the kitchen and back to her bedroom but he bumps into the table and just lays her on top of it. She has mail and placemats under her, but it’s steady enough to hold her while he takes his shirt off and she can pull his belt from the loops. His lips are back on hers in no time, she gets a hand in his boxers and starts to stroke his cock as he sucks on her tongue, moaning into her mouth. 

He runs his hands over her hips and grips her little dress, he feels around her back to see if it has a zipper or anything but it doesn’t so he just starts to tug it up. He pulls away from her enough to get her dress over her head and off of her so she’s just in her bra now. She pushes down his jeans and his boxers until they’re at his knees and she strokes his cock while looking him right in the eyes. “You gonna fuck me on the table?” 

He shakes his head and tugs her off of the table and back to her own feet, he spins her around and brushes her hair off of her neck so he can kiss her shoulder and up towards her ear, “is that what you want?” 

She nods, “show me how much you missed me… you talked a big game on the phone this week—” 

He pushes her chest down against the table and taps his cock on her ass cheeks, “did I?” 

“Mhm,” she pushes back against him, antagonizing him further. 

He grips her ass and spreads her cheeks, watching her pussy open, glistening with slickness, he takes his cock in his other hand and teases the tip over her hole, covering himself in her juices. He presses against her hole, teasing her but never going in no matter how much she pushed back against him and whines. He slips his cock between her pussy lips and squeezes her legs closed again, engulfing his cock in her heat, he rocks his hips gently and mimics what it would be like to fuck her right now. He loves to watch her get desperate and needy and he wants to hear her beg. 

She straightens up, standing with his chest to her back, he kisses her shoulder and she reaches back to hold his hips and keep in locked there, “please?” She turns her head to see him and catches his lips in a kiss. He cups her tits with one hand and soothes his other hand over her lower stomach while he thrusts his hips lightly, the head of his cock nudging her aching clit, making her breath heavier. 

She moans into his mouth and grips his hips tighter, pulling away before he can stick his tongue down her throat anymore, “please?” 

“Please what?” He teases her more, pushing her back down against the table and fucking her thighs with a bit more intent. “Say it?” 

“Fuck me, please? I’ve been waiting all week, daddy, I need your cock.” 

There it is. That’s all he’s been waiting for. He knew she was ready when she called him daddy. Thats when he knew she was really gone for him. Without warning, he pulls his cock out from between her lips and pushes himself inside of her, slowly but surely. He feels her tighten and gasp at the same time, her hands now gripping the edge of the table and attempting to push her back against him so he’d bottom out quicker. There’s nothing she loves more than feeling him fully inside of her and pressed up against her. 

“Move, please? Oh my god,” she begs again, arching her back and pushing back against him and her legs wobble… she’s not going to be able to keep herself upright for this. 

With his cock still fully inside her, he wraps his arm around her middle and picks her up, bringing them down to the floor and onto his knees. She is so shocked but she goes with it, face against the carpet and ass in the air, he uses her love handles to manhandle her into the best position before he starts to fuck her… really fuck her. 

She’s usually loud, but the pure shock of his thrusts makes her scream with each pound against her cervix. He’s so deep inside of her, he pushes one of her legs up and goes even deeper. He drops down against her back, and she feels him absolutely everywhere, all his weight on her back, he kisses her shoulder and grazes his teeth against her skin, “fuck baby, oh I missed how well you take me, sweet girl. So fucking tight for me.” 

“Oh my god,” she pops her head up and turns to kiss him. His hand rests against her throat to hold her in place while he keeps pounding into her, surely she’s going to have carpet burn in the morning but they didn’t care. He just fucks her harder while she sucks on his tongue. 

She doesn’t often cum from just penetration, but this… this was so much more than that. He was nudging her cervix with each thrust, sending shockwaves through her body she felt like she could cum any second and then he pulls away from the kiss. He pushes her down against the floor again and pounds her even harder, she moves on the floor, almost getting away from him from how much force he fucks her with, panting and sweating, he has to pause to push his hair out of his eyes and when he does that, he turns her on her side and pushes one of her legs up to her chest before fucking back into her. 

Her knees, chest and shoulders are red from the carpet but it just turns him on more. She cups one of her tits and the other hand lays flat against the floor. Her eyes are closed, her mouth fell open and tears start to fall down her cheeks. “Holy fu— oh my god,” she gasps as he starts to rub her clit again, wanting her to cum with him. 

“Come on, princess, I know this is what you wanted,” he speaks through his teeth, holding back as best as he could but she’s so wet and so tight and it’s been a long week, he can’t go on like this much longer. “Cum for me, soak my cock, baby.” 

“Oh, fuck!” She arches her back, closer now with the verbal permission, she loved being told what to do. 

He fucks her faster now, sprinting to the finish line, she sucks him in tighter and he feels her start to flutter again. She is right there… “right there!” She encourages. “Oh my god, oh fuck, daddy, Daddy I’m cumming!” 

The sound that comes out of her is a pitch he’s never heard her reach before, it’s so fucking hot that he buries his cock inside of her and cums with a grunt. He drops down on top of her, the two of them breathing so heavily and sticky with sweat, she wraps her arms around him and holds him there. 

He bites her shoulder gently and then covers it with a kiss, he props himself up after a second, still inside of her, still breathing heavily… he brushes her hair off her face and smiles at her, “that what you wanted?” 

She giggles, smiling like a fool, “yeah, yeah, that was everything…” 

General Taglist 

@ncsls0515 @stevesmunsons @reidsbookclub @sweetyyhippyy @manuosorioh @mrs-dr-reid @k-k0129 @squishyturtle @katsukis1wife @babybisexual

Eddie

@fightingdragonswithwho @kyomito @reidselle @venomsvl @nomajdetective @girl-with-an-orange-cat @blairscott @princesseddie @luna-munson83 @ches-86 @manda-panda-monium 

#eddie munson #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem reader #eddie munson smut #stranger things #eddie munson imagines #eddie munson imagine #stranger things imagine #stranger things season 4

[evadoupixii]

➸ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: (18+) Smut, cowboy, Mutual masturbation, riding. 

➸ 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒: All these twitter art posts are just inspiration at this point: Art credits: Niharikajetty twitter  ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

Cowboyeren! Who consistently reminds himself to avoid you at all costs. His brother Armin had  invited over you to stay at the farmhouse the summer of freshmen year of college. Armin had told him you were in a not so great situation at home and wanted help in anyway he could which Eren applauded his little brother for. But god why did it have to you? The day Armin picked you up from the airport and brought you back home Eren could barley look hold a conversation with you without staring at your lips. You were so cute, so sexy. He knew those words meant two different things but he didn't care, he wanted to call you every name in the book if he could. Late at night after he came back to the house from putting the animals to bed in the barn. He would pass by your room and see you in a white cami nightdress that clung obscenely tight to your body, water droplets sliding off your skin as you just had gotten out the shower. You were bent over with your suitcase open on the floor adjacent to you as you placed your clothes in the dresser. You looked up feeling the presence of someone in the door way, to see nothing. 

Cowboyeren! Who that night for the first time in a long time had trouble sleeping. His mind re-playing the image of you bent over in your room replaced with the image of you bent over in other scenarios. With the nightdress nowhere to be found of course. 

Cowboyeren! Who silently scolded himself for staring at your legs too long whenever you would help him and Armin out with the farm. You would wear these little jean shorts that practically rode up your ass, and a white tank top that made your chest look godsent. It didn't matter what you wore to be honest, you were godsent. Who made it a mental note to himself when he caught you staring at his dick print one morning when he went downstairs shirtless, with some gray sweats that hung low off waist. Who made it a mental note to himself your interests whenever you talked about something that you liked or something that you in your words “Gave you an ick.” Who placed his hand on your thigh when you got emotional telling him about your family situation, opening yourself up to him. A little fucked up voice in the back of his mind being grateful that your families hatred and unforgivable behavior towards you, drove you to him.

Cowboyeren! Who touched himself one night when he could hear your soft moans on the other side of the wall. You had said an early goodnight to him and Armin after playing a round of uno and watching star wars. Not soon after he had gone up to his room as well to pass your door and hear the soft buzz of what sounded like a vibrator. He stayed still for a moment feeling his body tense up as he slowly walked toward the door and put his ear to it. You probably thought you were being quite. Oh boy were you wrong. Cut to now, he had came in his hand about four times listening to you touch yourself. The crazy thing is, you didn't even last that long. You had stopped about 20 minutes later to which Eren couldn't help himself but to keep stroking himself. Imagining him fucking you while you were bent over after a long day working at the farm house. 

Cowboyeren! Who imagined the way your pretty mouth would look filled with his cock. Your moans and whimpers growing as he took a handful of your hair and fucked your face harder and harder.. Who closed his eyes and rubbed the tip of his cock as he imagined how your mouth would feel. Fuck, how your pussy would feel.  The image of your tits boucning as you rode his cock. Him taking your love handles into his hands and drilling his cock into you as you screamed for him to slow down. 

Cowboyeren! Who laid in his bed sweaty and sticky with own cum heard little footsteps outside of his door. Who’s breath caught in his throat as he watched the doorknob of his door twist and heard the slow aching creak of his door open.

stay tuned for part 2!

#eren x reader #eren x y/n #Cowboyeren! #Cowboyeren x reader #Aot x reader #Aot drabbles #Attack on titan x reader #AOT smut

[jhnyluvr24]

just for the night

in hopes of having a good time, toji takes home the perfect whore to fuck her brains out. but how will he react when he finds out she’s a virgin?

a/n: this was my first requested fic! i hope you like it 🥺 once more, feedback is always welcome

word count: 2.5k

warnings: "teaching" corruption, age gap (y/n is in her early 20s, while toji is mid 30s), virginity loss, size kink, fingering, rough sex, manhandling, unprotected sex, MINORS DNI

it was friday night and the club was even more packed than usual. bright lights flickered off the walls, the bass blared through the speakers and people all around were dancing.

toji leaned against the bar nursing a can of beer. he tuned out the background noise, focused more on eyeing every woman that sauntered past him. on nights like this, he went to the club to wind down after a long day of work. and what better way to release pent-up stress than to take a not so innocent girl back to his house and fuck her senseless?

but tonight, none of the girls in the club caught his eye. they all looked too preppy or their lovers were close by. who the fuck brings their boyfriends to the club anyway?

he was just about to take his leave until he saw you and your friend group walk into the section. it was like you knew he was watching with the way your hips swayed. you were wearing the shortest, tightest, black dress. the fabric leaving little to the imagination as it deliciously hugged your curves, your tits bouncing with every step. you walked past toji, unbeknownst of his lingering stare. he caught a whiff of your perfume and right then and there, he was hooked.

he watched as you let loose with your circle of friends, taking shots and grinding on each other on the dance floor. it wasn’t until you made your way towards the bar that he knew he had to make a move. you stood next to him ordering some fruity drink.

“‘s on me, beautiful” he slid his card towards the bartender, taking in your beauty up close.

your lipgloss sparkled, dazzling lights reflected onto your lips as you smiled up at him. he could only imagine the remaining gloss from your lips staining his dick while you sucked him dry.

wasting no time, he leaned into your ear, “you look so fuckin’ sexy in that dress. wanna get outta here?”

after a brief exchange of names, you both left the club, his arm wrapped around your shoulders.

__________________________________________

within moments of stepping into the threshold of his apartment, toji had hoisted you into his arms. you wrapped your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck as he carried you into the dimly lit room.

he eyed the couch and gave you a devilish smirk. he was fully prepared to rip that flimsy fabric off and pin you against the nearby surface, fucking you until you couldn’t walk the next morning. you shuddered underneath his glare, the air thick of sexual tension.

the couch cushion creaked as toji sat down. he gripped the meat of your ass, forcing you to grind down onto the protruding bulge that poked through his pants. “you feel that princess? that’s how hard you made me with that fuckin’ dress” he whisperer into your ear before sucking love marks into your neck, littering red and purple kisses into the area.

you twitched on top of his lap in nervousness. you didn’t think the nights events would lead to this. you loved your friends dearly, but you were a homebody at heart. you had no desire of going out tonight, hoping to spend the evening in bed and binge watching your favorite show. eventually you gave into their pleads on going to the club. and of course you had to dress the part, borrowing your best friend’s little black dress that was one size too small. what you didn’t expect was to be in a grown man’s lap with said grown man tonguing at your neck. it was only a matter of time before he found out that—

“i-i’m a virgin…”you propped yourself up to look at the man before you.

his lips twitched at your words. did he hear that correctly?

“wait what are you—hold on, how old are ya anyway?” he asked raising an eyebrow. he gripped your shoulders, slightly pushed you away so that he can look at you clearly, as if he could confirm your age just by looking at you himself.

“i’m 21” he stared back in disbelief, and then he puffed in frustration. as old as you were and you were a fucking virgin? you looked down in shame, tears welled your eyes in embarrassment.

“fuck,” toji let your shoulders go and he ran his hands through his hair with a sigh, he couldn’t believe what he had gotten himself into. the last thing he wanted to do was to waste his time with some young, dumb, inexperienced girl. he was just about to kick you out when you grasped at his swole arm.

“c-can you teach me? i’ll be good! just please don’t kick me out,” you begged, tears threatened to fall as you looked up at the muscular man.

“you’ll be good eh?” the thought of corrupting your pure little mind made his cock jump in his trousers, but he played it cool and rolled his eyes, “fuck, fine. just don’t look at me like that”

toji leaned back into the couch, taking in your appearance; bright, inquisitive eyes stared back at him, quick breaths escaping your full and plush lips. he was eager to know the sounds you’d make as he pleasured you, which touches would make you squirm, and the faces you’d make when he’s impaling you with his cock.

“have you ever kissed a man before?” he explored your deep irises, your lips quivered in nervousness.

you shook your head, “n-no, never,” you already admitted to this man that you were a virgin, but to also say that you never even had your first kiss? that was shameful to say the least. you looked away in defeat, however this only intrigued toji even more. he grasped your hair, moving your head so that he pushed your face closer to his. “just follow my lead,” he whispered before locking his lips with yours.

the kiss was nothing you had ever experienced before. the amount of pressure he forced onto your lips, every swipe of his tongue and quick nips to your bottom lip, it was perfect. wet smacking of your lips filled the room.

the longer you kissed him, the more toji yearned to take control. he pushed his lips harder against yours, no longer in the mood for gentle kisses. the grip on your hair tightened as he forced his tongue into your mouth, his lips muting your muffled moans as an unoccupied hand snuck it’s way between your legs. dressed hiked up to your waist, toji rubbed his fingers against your moistened lips through your panties.

“shit, you’re already so fuckin wet,” he whispered against your lips. his thick fingers teased at your sodded panties. nimble fingers flicked at the hood of your clit before going back down to caress your lips. he wanted to see just how needy his innocent girl really was. with skillful fingers, he slid the frilly cloth aside and slowly dipped a finger into your wet heat, getting little to no resistance as his middle finger slid in to the third knuckle. he bit down into your neck before soothing the area with quick licks of his tongue.

“t-toji—” you moaned at the intrusion, grasping at his shoulders. it’s not like you haven’t touched yourself before. in the late nights, you’d be found getting off to the numerous nsfw videos on your twitter page. you’d lay in your bed, one hand holding the illuminated phone while the other would tweak at your swollen clit. none of those times could compare to how toji was touching you now.

toji slowly split you open with his finger, exploring your gummy walls before adding a second. he cooed into your ear, “you’re doing s’ good angel. ‘m gonna make you feel so good.”

you responded deliciously to his praise, soft whimpering pleads leaving yours lips, nails digging deeper into his shoulder as you ground your hips into his palm. his fingers twisted and coiled in your soaked pussy, eagerly looking for that one touch that had you spiraling in his lap.

“found it” he grinned, gummy walls convulsing around his fingers as he abused that same spot over and over again. you arched into his chest, nails scratching lines into his back.

his fingers moved swiftly within your pulsing walls. toji whispering dirty praises and kissed at your ear. it was all becoming too much for your poor little head. you didn’t know whether to push him away, or to pull him in closer, that familiar heat building up in your lower tummy. toji answered this for you when he suddenly pushed himself away. you whined at the absence of his fingers, pouting at the older man before you.

“how did that feel, pretty girl?” toji asked, popping two of his fingers into his mouth, groaning at the sweet remains of your needy pussy.

you met toji’s glance with hazy eyes, “i-it felt so good” you sighed, still riding the waves of your pending orgasm.

“mmm i know it did” he hummed, grabbing at your hips and flipped you over, your cheek smushed against the couch cushions. from behind, sounds of rustling fabric met your ears as toji unfastened his pants, pulling his cock out in one swift motion.

toji hoisted your waist so that it was leveled with his. he stroked his member lazily, pre cum leaking at the tip. he took in the view, cock twitching at the sight of your dripping folds, your slick trickling slowly down the back of your thighs.

“it’s gonna feel so good baby,” he slapped his dick against your sodded folds, you moaned in response, slightly twitched underneath him. he aligned his hips, placing a hand on your lower back, before slowly pushing the tip inside.

“a-ah shit,” he gasped, “you’re greedy little pussy’s suckin’ me in, you’re grippin’ me like a fuckin’ vice,” he barely had the tip inside and yet you were squirming so much underneath him, lips shaped in an “o” as you whimpered underneath him.

“t-toji, i-it hurts”, you looked over your shoulder at the older man with teary eyes.

god the way you were looking at him, it drove him fucking crazy. with those innocent eyes and the way you gripped around him, he couldn’t hold back anymore, he was going to fucking ruin you. he grasped your hips and gave a deep thrust, sheathing his thick girth inside your poor little hole.

you wailed loudly, eyes rolling and back arching as you took in the stretch of his cock splitting you in two.

without a moment to rest, toji slid out to the tip, “you’ve been a fuckin’ tease all night,” he punctuated the last word with a deep thrust, forcing his way back inside your velvety walls. you clawed at the cushion below. “you deserve to get fucked like a little slut” with that, he had pressed his chest against your back and pounded into you at a brutal pace, the sound of wet slaps of his thighs ramming your ass and the creaks of the couch hitting the wall filled the room. every slide of his cock was so deliciously sweet. the way toji filled your insides left you babbling underneath him.

“please please please please” you whined in a high pitch mantra, “i-i’m your slut, feel so so good! p-please give me more!” you fucked yourself back onto toji’s dick, mind empty and only needy for the feeling of him stuffing you full.

“oho, my pretty girl isn’t so shy when she’s being fucked like a damned whore eh? i’ll give you what you want, since you asked so nicely”

he let his hands roam to you puffy clit, resuming the ministrations from before. your walls fluttered around him at the additional sensation, the familiar warmth bubbling in your core.

“this pussy’s so fuckin’ good,”

he purred into your ear, never slowing down his brutal pace.

“you love me stretching your tight little pussy open? no ones ever gonna fuck you like me, remember that angel”

it all became too much, your body trembled under his touch as he groaned more dirty things into your ear.

“you’re so cute, fucking yourself on my dick like a damned slut. you’re doing so fucking good baby.”

he felt it before you, the way your walls convulsed around him, he knew you were about to cum. he leaned back and rolled his hips,

“you’re getting close, i can feel the way you tighten around me. come on my fucking dick, mmm that’s right angel”

a particular thrust had pushed you over the edge, eyes rolling back and mouth hanging in a silent scream as you squirted on his dick, making a mess on the couch below. the powerful orgasm had you twitching in his arms, you legs felt like jelly and your knees could collapse at any moment

as if reading your mind, he briefly pulled out. you whined at the loss. he flipped you onto your back and practically folded you in half, your knees knocking the sides of your head. pussy on full display, glistening from the aftermath of your orgasm.

“fuck, you look so good like this. maybe next time i’ll eat that sweet pussy of yours until you’re crying out for me. i bet you’d like that huh?” he teased at your cunt once more, rubbing your clit with the swollen tip of his cock

you barely comprehended what he said. you laid there in a heap, still coming down from your previous orgasm. you were reduced to a blabbering murmur of stuttering moans and pleads, no longer able to form complete sentences. your poor fucked out body couldn’t take anymore, but from the way toji fisted at his cock above you, you knew he wasn’t finished with you.

toji gripped the back of your knees, sliding his dick back inside, reveling in the feeling of you slick pussy. in this position, it felt as if toji was rearranging your guts, toes curling as you weakly grasped at the cushions. he was already close, his hips stuttering against yours as he fucked you into the couch.

“you did so fucking good, beautiful. you’re gonna be a good girl and take all of my cum”

he pumped once, then twice, before shooting his sticky load deep inside. your overstimulated body twitched beneath him as he shallowly fucked his cum into you, eventually pulling out. he leaned back and watched how his cum mixed with your juices, pooling out of your spent pussy, completely ruining the couch. the way you were laid out underneath him, sweat streaks running down your face and your hair disheveled, you were properly fucked out. your eyes dropping before slipping into an unconscious slumber. he just couldn’t send you back home. the least he could do was have you stay the night.

he waddled into the bathroom, coming back with a warm washcloth and gently cleaned off your body. he retrieved an old shirt from his room and replaced the now forgotten black dress. he eyed your frilly panties, slyly looking over his shoulder at your sleeping frame before snatching the garments,

“and a special gift for me,” he smirked to himself, already making plans to cum in your panties later on. he carried your sleeping body into his room, gently placing you on the opposite side of the bed before climbing into his usual spot. he pulled you closer, muscular arms encasing your smaller frame, before falling asleep.

#jjk smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #toji smut #jujutsu kaisen #toji fushiguro smut #toji x reader #jjk #toji fushiguro x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut

[astrophysicist-guitar-god]

Behind the scenes pictures of Queen on iconic I Want to Break Free music video gives extraordinary glimpse into closeness of the band

The fascinating pictures show the band fooling around on the video shoot 

By DAN SALES

Published: 03:42 EST, 24 September 2023 | Updated: 04:20 EST, 24 September 2023 (x)

Never-before-seen pictures of Queen making the trailblazing I Want To Break free music video shows the incredible bond between the band members. Candid images - all shot by veteran photographer Simon Fowler - show the sheer joy and fun of the group during the now-legendary filming of the promo. The video stunned music fans when it came out and had the rockers dressed up as housewives in a suburban home. In one of the newly-revealed pictures the band are shown in hysterics, with one crewmember wiping away tears of laughter as Freddie Mercury fools around behind a bewigged John Deacon. Freddie appears to be pretending to be a hairdresser as John chuckles in his seat, as Brian May beams by a back wall as they stare into the mirror at their new look. Later Brian can be seen clutching his curlers as he gazes into the distance as he is captured on film. Roger Taylor also looks to be having a ball in one of the archive pictures, pouting in his schoolgirl-style costume. Photographer Simon, who took pictures of the group throughout their career, opened up his archives to allow MailOnline to publish some of the incredible shots.

The band are seen having a great laugh backstage as they get ready to shoot the video promo

Roger Taylor in costume pouts as his picture is taken on the set of I Want To Break Free in 1984

He said he had no idea the theme of the video before he had turned up at Limehouse Studios in London to take the pictures. Simon recalled: 'On Break Free I didn't get any idea of what it was going to be. I turned up and saw them and thought "Whoa, what is going on?". 'It was obviously a pastiche of Coronation Street. I remember on the day everybody was just fooling around laughing. 'It was so much fun that I was amazed that they actually got a video done. 'They had no concerns about doing anything that was unusual - they would just do it. 'They were just messing around in between the filming. I remember one funny moment when they were trying the stuff on and asking each other "what do you reckon of this wig?". 'That was the great thing about it, you have got Freddie with his big old 'tache, giving it all. 'It was without doubt the most fun shoot I have done. 'Every time I think about it I smile, the day just went so fast because everyone was having such a good time - it just whizzed by.

Simon revealed that the band preferred to be photographed all together for their promo shots

Brian May looks like he has awoken from a deep sleep with the curlers in this of Simon's shots

'When you get there I didn't know the story and the PR told me and I thought "that sounds great". 'I went backstage and the first thing I saw was them getting all their clobber done.' Simon had photographed the band before after getting a phone call during the recording of their Hot Space album. That record spawned the Under Pressure anthem and at first the photographer admits he had no idea who he would be going to shoot. He recalled: 'I got a call out of the blue to do a job and originally thought they had said Cream at the time, which I thought couldn't have been right. 'Back in those days you would get millions of calls. I only realised later it was Queen and I was told I would only get ten minutes with them and it turned into three hours. It was for the album Hot Space. 'I think we just got on pretty well - I wasn't expecting much time at all and it was brilliant. 'Roger actually got me to do a bit of tapping when they were recording. I like to think I'm on Hot Space somewhere. It just went from there really.' The band loved his work so he was invited back and ended up doing numerous shoots with them.

John Deacon - whose character in the video was miserable - laughs in a moment of down time

Freddie Mercury poses up on the set, leaning on a cabinet as he looks to the side of the room

But he counts his work on I Want to Break Free as one of the most exciting jobs of his career. He admitted: 'I knew when I got called in for it, that it was going to be interesting. 'They wouldn't scrimp on stuff with the videos, they were big productions. If CGI was around then I am sure that would be what they were doing. 'When you were on set you would have to have eyes in the back of your head in some of the bigger productions, where there were cranes and stuff going round.  'When we went for lunch Brian was on the catering bus talking to me. He was still in the outfit with the curlers. 'I remember thinking "that's Brian May opposite me". It was so surreal. 'At the end of the day we saw the cut and it just looked great. 'I remember John taking a nap during the day, which he would have needed because the reality is they would have got there very early. 'They were trailblazers with videos, they really were. Queen were so unique in whatever they did. Brian with the sound and the guitar. I loved every minute of it 

Veteran music photographer Simon Fowler is selling prints in aid of the Mercury Phoenix Trust

'Freddie was a trooper right up until the end. One of the things people don't notice about pictures of Queen is that you could never often get them out of the line-up 'They would not often move out of all four of them together for pictures. 'I think that's because they were a band but they were also incredible close friends too. 'They all had each others backs, none of them thought of themselves as the star - they were all equals.' The behind-the-scenes pictures were brought back into the spotlight as Simon as he compiled Fine Art Prints of Freddie, Brian, Roger and John from The Miracle shoot. They are being sold to help the fight against HIV and AIDS, with 50 per cent of proceeds going to the Mercury Phoenix Trust. Simon added: 'I was thrilled to do this and just give something back and help a really great cause. 'I was delighted by the response and hope it can keep helping people.' (x)

Prints of Freddie, Brian, Roger and John from The Miracle shoot can be found here 

#Brian May #my guitar god love #before anyone gets too excited .. this is from 2023 #found this while I was *hoping* to find the unreleased pics mentioned the other day #GOOD ARTICLE! #Roger Taylor #John Deacon #Freddie Mercury #Queen #Queen: Academia #once again I am wishing for a time machine

[sebsbarnes]

a house is not a home || tangerine

tangerine x f!reader

summary: for months now you lived two separate lives. existing on two completely different orbits, the distance between you growing into lightyears

warnings: angst, lovers to strangers

word count: 930+

masterlist

a/n: tbh i threw this together in about 20 mins, apologizes, in case, now. i'm sure there's grammar errors sorry!!

as the moon exchanged places with the sun and the streetlights woke up, the unsettling feeling in your stomach did not fade. the apartment felt still despite its walls now surrounding two bodies. moments ago the door opened and tangerine shrugged his jacket off, tossed his gifted watch onto the oak table, and sighed his way over to the bedroom. his eyes did not wander towards your waiting body and his mouth uttered no words. you felt the burning sensation of tears line your eyes and your thumbnail dug deeper into the soft spot between your pointer finger and thumb.

you heard the shower turn on and off, the sliding of a dresser drawer opening and closing and the sound of his heavy-footed steps exiting the bedroom and into the living room. your longing stares went unnoticed as he sat down on the couch farthest from the chair where you had your knees tucked under your chin.

'hi' is what you wanted to whisper out to him but it was as though an invisible hand had pressed its palm harshly to your lips. some inner voice screaming and shaking you telling you to wake up, that tangerine doesn't love you anymore. life lately has been a constant cycle of tangerine busying himself with work, disappearing for days, only to reappear and pay you no mind. as if your presence wasn't there or as if you weren't human, but some mere statue that sat idly in the living room every night.

you no longer knew the man that sat at great length before you. the physical distance in the room was an exact mirror of the emotional distance the two of you have. it hurt to even look over at tangerine. it stung, it burned. you've simply faded into the busy background of tangerine's life that he doesn't even acknowledge when you are in his presence.

with shifting eyes, you looked around the room. memories flooded back. you peered at the doorframe of the house, the first place you had ever kissed tangerine. it was after a date and he had walked you back home. you felt nervous not knowing if he wanted to see you again but all worries subsided when he gushed about the lovely time he had and that if you allowed, a second date would follow soon after.

"of course," you whispered, your face warming up. you saw the way tangerine paused, soaking in your features as if you just told him you never wanted to see him again.

"may i kiss you?"

you looked away from the door frame, the bitter memory of your first kiss being too sad. your eyes cast a glance towards the floor and raked over the pattern on the rug beneath your seat. the small blue stain stared back at you, mocking you for the once beautiful memory it held.

"darlin'- i'm so sorry," tangerine pleaded as he walked into the kitchen. you sent him a quizzical look as he gripped your hand and guided you back to the living room where he came from, "i accidentally knocked the paint over, i- i tried cleaning it up the best i could bu-"

"what were you painting?" you asked completely befuddled. tangerine was not a crafty man. he sheepishly grabbed a small canvas off the side table and handed it to you.

"happy early birthday," he smiled, placing the canvas in your hands. a small painting of a river stared back at you, a river you were familiar with. it was the place where tangerine finally asked you to be his girlfriend.

"i don't care about the stain, this is absolutely precious tan," you grinned, gently resting your hand on his cheek.

the memory made you nauseous and you rested your head back onto the chair forcing your tears to sit in your eyes.

tangerine's work became overwhelming once he made a name for himself. he devoted his life and his love to his work and not to you. he treated you as secondary in his life when you once were his reason to smile, to laugh, to love. you simply became small and insignificant as the jobs became big and powerful. you fought so hard for so many months to reason with him, make him understand how you were suffocating in a sea of loneliness while he continued to climb some invisible ladder to professional greatness. tangerine dismissed every argument claiming his professional pursuits were pertinent if "we want to live a good life".

each time you pleaded that you didn't need to live a life filled with financial security because, to you, tangerine was your security. any hardships you would face in life were manageable and could be overcome, as long as he stuck by your side. for tangerine, love wasn't enough.

so for months now you lived two separate lives. existing on two completely different orbits, the distance between you growing into lightyears. quiet walls, empty chairs, unmoved bed sheets, single-serving dinners. the wood floors of your home turning into a battlefield of quiet resentment and unmet expectations.

you stood, the sound of your bones cracking into place bouncing off the walls. you stepped behind the couch tangerine occupied and peered at his phone. his thumb scrolling through a long email chain of what could only be work. you placed your hand on the doorknob, opened the door and waited a few minutes to see if he would turn his head. when he didn't, you gnawed at the inside of your cheek, slipped the silver ring off your left-hand ring finger, and walked away.

#tangerine #tangerine bullet train #tangerine x reader #tangerine x y/n #tangerine x oc #tangerine x you #tangerine imagine #tangerine imagines #tangerine bullet train imagine #tangerine fic #tangerine fanfic #tangerine fanfiction #tangerine bullet train fanfic #tangerine fluff #tangerine angst #tangerine blurb #tangerine headcannon #tangerine oneshot #bullet train imagine #bullet train fanfic #bullet train oneshot #bullet train x reader #bullet train #aaron taylor johnson imagine #aaron taylor johnson x reader #tangerine headcanon #sebsbarnes

[bloomingdog]

𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐑𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐬 — 𝐇𝐨𝐛𝐢𝐞 𝐁𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐱 𝐅𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

data: your basic florist au, bit of angst, identity reveal, all that stuff. 4k words, no use of Y/N.

You know him, you know what the looks like at the very least. Once a week—the day never stays the same—him and a group of other instrument-carrying people go into the small venue in front of your shop at nine in the evening, an hour after closing the shop, when you’re about to head home. One early morning, out of curiosity, you checked the schedules adhered and covering the roller shutter in a poor attempt to find who this mysterious guy was. You found no useful information in that regard, you did foind, however, that the club opened at ten and most concerts held there started at least half an hour later. With that new gathered intel your best guess was that they came early to get everything set or a rather quick sound-check.

The venue is on one of the corners that limit the four way pedestrian crossing, the two corners on either side both hold pubs, and diagonally there’s you. “For the Roses” is a name given by its old owner, a sweet lady—and Joni Mitchell fan—you had worked for since you were seventeen, and four years later she had decided it was time to retire. For the last five months it’s been just you, it was easier to take care of it when you were two people working, that much is true, but having to close the shop has given you staring privileges. Years ago, when you first started working here the placement of the shop seemed rather odd, between clubs, pubs and the many other forms of amusement, this, however, was a strategical position. A big part of the clientele consisted of repenting boyfriends and enamoured halves of a first date, and they kept the business afloat.

You recognise him the moment he walks in.

“Hello! How may I help you?” The clock ticks away the last minutes before closing as you try to put on your cheeriest voice.

“Hi, sorry about comin’ in so late. My mate’s playing a gig, I just want some flowers to throw on stage, whole dramatics and all.” His voice is smooth with only the slightest rasp to it. He’s a fun last client.

“Do you want the classic roses then?”

“Nah don’t bother, give me the leftovers.” There are one or two extra cuttings and a bouquet that never got picked up you wouldn’t mind getting rid of. 

You excuse yourself to pick out the best leftover flowers you could in an attempt to make a half-decent bouquet. He’s oggling your shop, he’s particularly eye-catching inside your light coloured, slightly old-fashioned establishment. He likes it there, it’s cosy, the floors are filled with different types of flower arrengements and the walls display an amalgamation of different decorations gathered throughout the years, his inspection is only interrupted by your coming back behind the counter.

“Here, I tried to make it as cohesive as I could.”

“It’s alright, love, it’s gonna get thrown anyway.” Oh, that pet name went straight to your chest.

“It felt unprofessional not to give you at least a small sample of my usual, better, quality.” He gave a side smile as a response.

“How much do I owe you?”

“It’s on the house, no worries, I wouldn’t make you pay for only scraps.”

“That’s quite nice, take this as a tip, then.” He slid a twenty pound note on the counter, right before turning around a saying his goodbyes with a single wave of his hands.

Spinning the sign at the glass door so it reads “Closed” you turn to sweeping the floor and leaving your workplace as neat as possible, you hum along to the song playing from your phone on the counter. The 20 dollars he gave you felt a bit too much, not that you’re going to complain, not with the cost of everything, a flower shop isn’t a luxurious job to have, so it’s much appreciated. 

Drawing the curtain-like metal you spot a group of people walking into the club, one of them must be his friend.

A mere day later, he’s back, making the dainty bells above the door chime.

“Hello! Got another show you need to throw flowers at?” You quip and he chuckles.

“Nah. Only wanted to get actual flowers to have a good reason to ask you out.” He’s confident, maybe overly so, and Hobie is well aware of that, it’s not often that his confidence fails him, though. You look surprised before laughing, it’s ridiculous.

“And what were you thinking of getting?”

“I was hoping you could recommend me something.”

“Roses are usually the go-to flower, although I much prefer freesias.”

“Sick, I’d like a single freesia, please.” He says it in an overly polite manner, the whole situation is laughable.

“That’ll be two pounds.” You say as you hand him the flower.

“Here you go.” You mutter a thank you for an answer. “My band’s playing tonight, at ten, just on the other street, you could come and we could get a drink after.”

No way you’re attending a club on a Wednesday night, with a stranger nonetheless. 

“Sure.” 

“Sweet, I’ll see you. My name’s Hobie by the way.”

And it sounds like proper fun, really.

You’ve managed to avoid the biggest wave of people going home during rush hour and, thankfully, your ride home is as pleasant as the tube allows it to be and yet, you’re restless. His invite plays around in your mind. He’s handsome, that’s for sure, and it would satiate your curiosity on the other side it would also make you tired for work the next day, you’re too old for that, you think and softly laugh at your own joke. The walk home gives you time to ponder on wasted opportunities and the best years of your life, your flat instead greets you with the promise of a reheated dinner and an eight-hour-long sleep which for a moment makes you think about ditching him. 

The commute back feels longer than it usually does. You ate in a rush and got ready far too fast after your flatmate complained about needing to use the bathroom. Your phone marks 10:05PM, fashionably late. You’re thankful the show hasn’t started by the time you sit by the bar, ordering a beer. You still haven’t decided if it���s brave or cocky to ask someone out to your own show.

The whirring of a guitar being plugged signals the beginning of the show.

“Hello, we’re The Spider-Slayers! One two three!” Is your only warning before they start playing. They’re quite good, you have to admit, Hobie, as you’ve recently learned he’s named, exudes power and confidence while on stage, he’s rather skilled. It’s enjoyable, half of the audience is too plastered—it's only ten in the evening—to pay attention to the actual music and are merely glad to have a loud noise playing for them, but they’re well-liked, no doubt an established part of the community. It passes faster than you had anticipated, not even an hour later he’s walking your way while another band prepares to play.

He’s sweaty as he sits down and orders a rum and coke, he looks at you questioning if you also want one. “Make it two.” He indicates the bartender. “Did you like it?” 

He’s tall but not intimidating in the slightest, the metal in his face a contrast to all of his warm side smiles. 

“Yes!” You’re quick to answer. “It was really nice, you guys are good.” He fully smiles at the compliment, he’s got a pretty smile.

“Thanks. I forgot to ask your name earlier, sorry about that.”

“No worries, it’s Y/N.”

“Pretty.” It’s flirty. 

“Did your mate like the flowers?” You ask as the man behind the bar hands you your drinks.

“Totally, made a mess on stage and everything. She was grateful, seriously, funny and praising in equal parts, the bouquet was beautiful too, such a shame it ended like that.” You laugh at that. “How’s it working at a flower shop?”

“Good, actually, better than one good expect, I’d say it’s one of the better retail jobs out there.”

“Seems hard.”

“It is at the beginning, you should’ve seen some of my first arrangements, they were bloody awful, I’m still wondering how we didn’t get any complaints.” It’s Hobie’s turn to laugh.

“You’ve made some improvement then, your shop’s beautiful.” You beam and thank him, you’re proud of the way it’s looking these days. “How’d you end up working there? Do you need a degree to be a florist?”

“Not really, no. I’ve taken a couple courses but for the most part I was trained by my old boss.”

“Hm.” He nods. “Strange place to set up a flower shop, innit? I see you closing all the time and wonder who in their right mind would think of opening it at a nightlife epicenter.” Good to know you’re not the only observer.

“You’d think so! We get a lot of our clientele thanks to that, not all flower shops open until eight either way. Flowers make both great apologies and gifts, you can only imagine the kind of people who walk in there.”

“What, like me?” 

“No way, I’d put you in the normal bunch.” He quirks an eyebrow, an invitation to tell him more about yourself. And that you do. You talk for the two hours that the club remains open, he’s fun, you’re both chatty, you’ve got a multitude of things in common, he tells you about his bandmates, you exchange numbers, he’s a cat person by the way. 

“You want me to walk you home?” The underground closed an hour ago, it wasn’t that big of a trek to your place, you could say yes if not for the stranger—acquaintance—danger middle school talks flashing in your memory. The bus, though taking longer than the tube, was still an option.

“It’s fine, really. I’d rather take the bus.” 

“Got it, I can wait with you if you’d like.” Yeah, yeah, you’d like that. The two of you walk close to each other to the nearest stop. The pavement is damp, it gives you another reason to be glad that you wore your trusty old, slightly dirty, converse instead of a more sophisticated option.

“Thank you for inviting me, I had a nice time, you’re fun.”

“So are you, love.” How could an overused term like that have such a big effect on you when he says it remains a mystery.

You sit in a comfortable silence until the right bus gets there and as you bid your goodbyes you’re unable to contain the big smile you give him, blame it on the drinks. You send him a quick text noticing him that you got home safe and sound before falling into deep sleep.

Your phone rings and vibrates from the bedside table, it always goes off at the same time and yet today it manages to scare you awake. The trip to the bathroom and coffee making is accompanied by a string of curses: music, bad choices, the opening hours of your business and pretty boys all fall victim to your vulgarities. The lack of proper sleep makes your day go by twice as slowly, nodding off and almost missing your stop and doomscrolling during work hours to pass the time, even turning to reading an article from The Daily Bugle, it’s laughable, it’s says something something Spider-Man, something juvenile delinquent something menace for the city.

The chime of little bells half an hour before closing wakes you up better than your alarm had done earlier in the day. Looking up from your phone you spot the same bright eyes and confident stroll that kept you company last night.

“You need to stop coming in right before closing.” You scold him. You’re confident he’s aware that it’s an invitation for him to keep showing up.

“My bad. Do you like food?”

“I-What?” Indeed, what? “I like food, yes.”

“Peng. You want to grab dinner?” And he also needs to stop proposing last-minute plans.

“Where?”

“What do you fancy?”

“Thai?”

“Sure.” 

“I close in half an hour, you can stay here if you want.” Not that you’re expecting any more costumers.

He asks if he can help with anything and you hand him the broom and dustpan that hangs in the back of the shop, he laughs and takes it as payment for having you get out earlier. The floors aren’t dirty per se, it’s mostly leaves and bits of cutting that have fallen. He sweeps while you get everything ready for tomorrow and put away what’s been used today. Half an hour later you hang your work apron and close the shutters. 

There’s a nice restaurant a couple blocks away you’ve got food to-go from before. You order a spicy noodle soup, khanom jeen nam ngiaw, and he settles for stir-fry noodles. It’s good, warm and comforting, you take a bite from his plate and he follows suit with a spoonful of your broth. The conversation picked up while cleaning and it has yet to die down, he tells you about his hobbies—you can't help to make fun of him by saying Hobie's hobbies—and you share your love for museums with him, ‘We should visit one.’ he says to which you agree in excitement. 

You don’t let go of his hand until your bedroom door is closed and you softly push him into bed. Taking only a short break to take off both of your shoes you don’t waist time in straddling him, his hands on your hips as you return to kissing. Soft moans mark the tempo for your exploring hands and you stare at his bare abdomen with much less shame than you think you should have. His hands are slightly calloused and scarred, it doesn’t matter with how skilled they are. It feels like you’re drowning in him, you hope he feels half as good as he’s making you feel, if his breathless mutters of ‘fuck’ and ‘good girl’ are any indicator you can pat yourself on the back after it’s over.

The dinner is paid for, the night chilly compared to the warmth inside the restaurant. He offers to walk you home again, this time you agree because you’re no longer strangers, right? You make it half of the way before puts his hand on your lower back, you don’t make an effort to move it, it’s comfortable.

You make it three quarters of the way until you start kissing, your back against the wall of a mildly busy street, you feel like a horny teenager. You climb up the stairs to your flat two-steps at a time, your hand holding his and praying that your flatmate has confined herself to her room so you don’t have to introduce one to the other, not right now at least.

The morning after your alarm not only scares you awake but it also makes him sit up in bed with a jolt.

“Sorry.” Sleep is still evident in your voice.

“S’okay.” He replies before giving you a chaste kiss on the lips, you don’t think either of you wants to deal with each other’s morning breath, it’s a tad early for that.

You offer him breakfast. Your flatmate has left for work but she won’t forgive you if you don’t tell her of last night’s events. At least it won’t make this morning awkward, or more awkward than it already is, it happens with first breakfasts: sleepy, a mess, cranky from waking up, it’s not anyone’s best look. 

You take the underground while he chooses to walk home, it’s not crazy far away from yours, apparently. In the meantime, the work day is spent looking up frantically every time the bells over your door chime, hoping that it will be him at some point. He does come over, at ten past eight, and he has to knock on the door to catch your attention. Your strange arrangement goes on for the better part of the next two months, he comes over when you’re about to close, you eat together multiple times per week, he’s quite a skilled at making exactly seven different dishes, he invites you to his shows and you’ve met his bandmates, you’ve had every cliché date imaginable: the park, the cinema, the natural history museum, markets, the full deal. You don’t call them dates though, you’re not a couple even with all the kissing and sleeping together—literally and figuratively—he’s told you he doesn’t like labels, but he’s being exclusive with you so you’re okay with it. 

He shows up with little cuts and bruises, you attributed to being clumsy at first but it’s become more common lately, he excuses it as a protest that went south, a moshpit or just a friendly scuffle with his mates. It doesn’t ease your nerves. But you're soon to forget all about it once you’re outside, walking hand in hand and sharing headphones, he’s incorporated bits and pieces of your music to his playlist and he makes sure to show you the songs he thinks you’ll like first than anything.

Your phone lights up with a text notification from Hobie, he’s coming over soon. It shouldn’t be, but it reads as ominous, he doesn’t usually tell you in advance and would rather showing up unannounced.

“Hey pet.” He greets, it’s his latest nickname for you, you’ve always thought it ridiculous but he’s making you grow fond of it.

“Hi Bee” An animal-related nickname you gave him after he tried calling you ‘duck’ that has stuck. “You want to do something or should we head home?”

“Home’s fine, I’m tired.” It’s fair, he’s always running around doing things, you’re okay with a night in. 

He sweeps the floor, it’s his assigned task, you feel bad but he says he doesn’t mind and likes helping you. The ride back to your place is quieter than usual, he seems pensive. You’re about to open the door to your building when you notice him stuck a meter away.

“Are you okay?” Your heart is picking up speed.

“Listen, love.” Oh no. “I don’t know if it’s a good idea for me to come up.” You’re on the second and final step of the stairway while he’s at ground level, he looks smaller than he’s ever been. “I’ve had a lot of fun, really, but I don’t think I can go on with our thing, you know? I’m not good at commitment anyway.” Your lack of a response get’s him speaking again. “I’m truly sorry, I just don’t wanna go on with this and end up hurtin’ you.”

“Okay.” Is the only thing your brain is able to formulate.

“Okay.” He replies. “I’ll be leaving now.” He says as he kisses your temple, turning around and giving you a single wave of the hand for a goodbye.

You feel the tears beginning to fill up your eyes, your vision blurry, at least you were able to hold them until he left, it’s already embarrassing as it is. You don’t bother re-heating dinner that night, choosing to go straight to bed and waking up with puffy eyes in the morning. For the first time in a while you’re sure you won’t have any visits at work, it’s terrible. You feel stupid. He told you enough about himself to know that the two of you weren’t in for a long-term relationship and still you held onto some sort of hope of being an exception. 

That was two weeks ago. You’ve seen him two times since, while leaving for home. He waves your way and you wave back, out of politeness more than anything. Two weeks of radio silence that break your established routine and fill you with a sense of expectation during the last hours of work. 

It’s nine-twenty on a Sunday, it’s usual for you to stay until late at the end of your work week, Hobie knew that and would make sure to keep you company and take you home those days. The early November weather has made it so it’s already been dark for hours, the city is rather calm, you don’t suppose there’s much to do on a cold November night. A series of knocks on the door alerts you of the presence of someone outside, it startles you as you hold the broom you were using against your chest.

Nothing could have prepared you for the sight outside the door. Spider-Man was doubling down and leaning against the glass of your shopfront, electric guitar strapped across him and hanging in his back, clad in his usual metal decorations while his suit had been torn. You let him in a hurry, it’s not ideal to have an idol of the working class dead on your welcome mat. He limps to the back of the shop, in your current state of panic you don’t stop to wonder how he knows the way so well, until he’s sitting on the floor and leaning against one of the walls, guitar forgotten besides him. You follow him and crouch at his side just in time for him to take off his mask. 

“Fuck off.”

“Hi pet.”

You were so excited to be done with work and head home to watch a film, lucky for you, your ex-situationship still has a habit of coming in right before you leave. 

“Bloody hell Hobie.” 

“Please don’t be shocked right now, we can talk about it tomorrow.” He can’t be serious. “I’m knackered.” I wonder why, you think. He looks like proper shit.

“Hobie you’re bleeding.” You’re trying your best to be helpful and not panic.

“It’s fine love, it’ll heal in no time, I kinda have superpowers.” You’re choosing to ignore that and get up to retrieve your first aid kit, it’s far too basic to be useful right now, only equipped to help with cuts and minor injuries.

You can feel his eyes on you and your whole body is shaking as you kneel by his side. You try your best to keep your hands steady while pouring rubbing alcohol into a cotton pad.

“You don’t have to, I’ll be fine.”

“Let me clean it, please, so it doesn’t get infected.” He lets you, wincing at the alcohol making contact with his open injuries. He knows you're doing it more for yourself than him. “Sorry.” He shakes his head as a way of saying ‘no worries’.

You reach for his face with your bare hand once you’ve considered him clean enough, you cradle his cheek and can’t hold your tears from spilling.

“This is why I cut thing off with you, you know? Don’t wan’ you getting hurt.”

“I don’t care.”

“Don’t say that.” He pleads. 

“What about you getting hurt? Does that not matter?” He laughs and winces right after.

“You’re a sweet thing. I don’t have a choice but you do.”

“And what if my choice is to stand by your side?”

“You can’t.”

“Yes I do!” You’re reaching tour breaking point and can’t help but raise your voice. “I didn’t know I loved you as much as I do until these last weeks without you. It’s been torture.”

“It’s been torture for me too.” His words soften you, and it’s only then you realize what you said, you don’t dare acknowledge them, maybe he didn’t notice or the head trauma will make him forget it.

You’re crying now and it feels awful because you should be the one comforting him, he’s hurt not you. He holds you as you shake and places a kiss to your head.

“Can we sleep here?” He asks once you’ve calmed down. The tile floor is anything but comfortable and still you nod yes.

You fix a make-shift bed consisting of your bunched up jumper and apron for pillows and your big coat, that barely covers his upper body, for a blanket. Not that it matters, you chose to turn the radiator up and it’s hard to get cold while curled up to a human heater. You’re careful while laying with him, both out of fear of hurting him and prudence of this hurting you even more. He doesn’t care and brings you closer, your head on his chest and his hand drawing shapes on your back over your clothes, you can’t help but worry about the state of his back in the morning. 

You find sleep easier than you have since your “break-up”, his rhythmic breathing lulls you and his caresses calm you down. You’re in the before-falling-asleep-limbo when you hear his voice, he says “I love you too” like a confession secret, you’re not sure if you were even supposed to hear it. It’s too late for you to react, his words mix with the beginning of your dreams into a spiralling nonsense.

🕷 i really enjoyed writing this! i was thinking of maybe doing a part 2? tell me your thoughts if you dont mind too! i haven't written anything that isnt academic in years and i feel rusty

#hobie brown x reader #hobie brown x y/n #hobie brown x you #hobie brown fanfic #hobie brown fanfiction #hobie brown drabble #hobie brown blurb #spider punk x reader #spider punk x you #spider punk x y/n #florist au #atsv x reader #hobie brown fluff #hobie brown imagine #hobie brown angst #hobie brown x fem!reader #spiderpunk x reader #spiderpunk x you #spiderpunk x y/n

[mxtantrights]

Bounded by shadow and blood (20)

azriel x magic!fem!reader

Time passes by very quickly you find when you don’t have to deal with your grief alone. It’s happened before with the death of your parents. Your brother and Cyril helped you through it, as they were also going through it. And suddenly it was almost a distant memory about a year after.

Now, things are different. You’re grieving the deaths of Cyril and your brother, the people who knew you the most. The people who you had the most time with in the word. 

Some days were okay. You could walk around the palace that is filled with memories and hold your head up. You could talk with Amren in a room and not feel the walls closing in.

Those days were easy.

But there are other days. Where going on without them is an insurmountable task. It feels like pushing a bounder up a hill only to have it roll back down at the end of each day.

Every room held a memory that you wanted to desperately cling to. A smell that you knew would fade with time. 

On the bad days you don’t leave your room. You go hours without moving. It’s only when you miss a meal that Amren comes in. Or Azriel.

He’s there on your good days. But he’s also there on the bad ones.

Like today. 

The sun is going down and you haven’t left your room since breakfast. It just hit you like a wave. All of a sudden you were fine. You were eating breakfast with Azriel and Amren. When they left to do their daily tasks you were fine.

Then you got a letter. A letter from Elias telling you that news had gotten around about your healing abilities. And that news has left the winter court and traveled far and wide already.

That’s when you felt it. Surprisingly in contrast of more people knowing about you, you felt it. The loneliness. 

As the day went on your mind couldn’t stop running with possibilities. How you had managed to put the people in the village in harms way. Just because you did the right thing. You fell for Kynas’ trap, whatever it was.

A knock comes from your door. You look over to it, but you don’t say anything. You knew if it were Amren or Azriel they would know you were inside based on their hearing abilities. 

When you don’t say anything you watch as the knob turns. The door opens a slice and you hear someone clear their throat. Azriel. Amren would just walk right in.

“Are you decent?” He asks.

“No.” You answer.

It’s the first word you’ve spoken since this morning. It comes out groggy and cracked. And you know that he knows you’re lying because he opens the door and lets himself in upon hearing your answer. 

You turn away from him and go back to staring out the balcony. As he gets closer you realize that you’ll have to use more words in this conversation. But if you didn’t want to talk to him, or anyone for that matter, you would have locked the door.

His arm brushes against yours as he places his hands on the railing. 

“I’m failing at my duties here.” He says.

As you turn to look at him you notice that he’s already looking at you. So you pass him a curious look, urging him to go on. 

“How good of a husband am I if let you wither in your grief all day?” He asks.

You can’t help how the corners of your mouth lift. Azriel smiles at your reaction.

“You don’t have to talk. I can do enough talking for the both of us today, if you’d like that of course.” He says.

You nod your head. He turns his body to you. In turn you turn your body to him.

“Well, I’ll start with my visit to the village. A lot of people invited me into their homes today. I am well fed and have more than enough gifts in my room. I took Semaj flying too...” He starts.

You lean against the balcony more and take him in as he keeps going. You did find him attractive when you first met. You wouldn’t have admitted it then, but you will now. And it is more than attraction that you feel around him.

It’s comfort. In a world now where you are the only survivor of your family, you feel home with him and Amren. Amren is different though, you knew her before him and had a different type of bond.

With Azriel it feels like something more. You can’t tell if it’s because of your blood flowing through his veins, or something else. But you do want to find out.

At the mention of your name you tune back in. You have to actually blink away your thoughts. And the sight of that makes him snicker. You can’t help to laugh too.

“I think I might have bored you.” He says.

You shake your head, “No. The opposite actually.”

“Ah,” He tilts his head back, “I don’t know what to say.”

You step closer to him. He doesn’t shy away. Slowly you reach your hand to his face. Your fingers brush against his bottom lip.

“I knew you were lying when I woke up that day. I hit you and you bled from your lip, I could scent my blood.” You admit.

Azriel doesn’t say anything. All you can hear from him is a hum. You don’t know if it’s in approval or disapproval.

“Semaj scented it too. That’s why I sent him away in the woods.” You continue.

You fingers move from his lips to his chin. Then his jaw, and then down they travel to his neck. His pulse is erratic. It makes you look at him in wonder.

Here he is. Shadow singer. Nervous.

"When you sat by the river, I thought to myself that you fit in quite well here.” You say.

“It feels good here.” Azriel speaks.

You can feel his voice against your fingers. It makes your eyes dip just for a moment, from his eyes to his lips.

“I could have lost you. Even though I don’t have any hold on you—“ you start.

Azriel cuts you off. He grabs your wrist suddenly with his opposite hand. You look at where you two are in contact. It’s not a rough action but a soft one. Even though there are callouses on his palm. And the back side of his hand is scarred. You realize he can feel your pulse too. You haven’t thought about how your heart is beating until now.

“You and I both know that is not true.” He cuts you off.

You look back up at him.

“I do have one thing to ask you.” You whisper.

If he weren’t so close to you he probably wouldn’t hear it. Or he would, and he would pretend that he didn’t to spare you. But this, right here in this moment, there is no sparing each other anything. It feels real. It feels honest.

“Go ahead,” he says.

“Do you think there will be a war?” You ask him.

Azriel looks at you for a moment. Then two. And then he lets go of your wrist. All at once you think you’ve said the wrong thing. That you have lost him before you even begun. 

You drop your own hand at the loss of contact.

He clears his throat.

“I’m almost sure of it.” He answers.

The answer isn’t one that does you any good. You wish he had said no. You wish he had said anything but what he actually said because that makes your next decision even harder.

You wring your hands in front of you, “My people will be targets or weapons in this war.”

“I won’t let that happen.” Azriel says firmly.

“It’s too late. Kynas made sure of it when he sent that wounded boy my way. I healed him in front of people, and those people will talk.” You explain.

Azriel shakes his head, “We can track down the witnesses. Tell them to keep it a secret.”

“Azriel, I have to protect my people. No matter what.” You say.

“What does that mean?” He asks you.

You sigh, “I have already asked Thesan if he would help situate some of them in Dawn. But I know some of them will want to fight. And those warriors would take well to learn from the best.” 

“You want to send blood benders into the night court.”

“You can tell Rhysand that I turned out to be an ally after all.” 

“Tell him yourself,” another voice cuts in.

Both you and Azriel break apart further. As if that were even possible. But it is. You and him with about three feet of space between the two of you. 

Amren is standing at the door to your room. She has her arms crossed, and her face looks anything but happy.

“Rhysand is requesting an audience with the empress of the blood benders.” Amren says.

#blood and shadow #azriel x reader #azriel imagine #azriel fic #azriel #acotar x reader #acotar fic #acotar imagine

[haveyouseenthisskeleton]

for funsies because i got covid AGAIN

quarantine is back because y/n got COVID. skeleton house chaos ensues. what happens in those 7 days?

Undertale Sans - He's the guardian of the main door lol. No one has the right to enter, except if they make him laugh with a very good knock-knock joke. Everyone failed. They're doomed to stay outside. No one really knows it's because you have Covid because Sans forgot to mention it lol. You are so confused when one of your best friends calls you to ask you if you're sequestrated by Sans.

Undertale Papyrus - He watched some video of the first confinement and assumed buying a lot of toilet paper was the thing to do. He got a bit confused but went to the store to buy their entire stock of toilet paper. Since he didn't know where to put it, he built a toilet paper fortress in the middle of your living room. You won't have to buy toilet paper ever again you think.

Underswap Sans - He caught it too, but has no symptoms, like most monsters. He is now going crazy inside his own home crawling on the floor because he can't stop thinking about going out. After a week, your house is a war field as Blue had to find new ways to make himself busy. He tried to cook, which he failed, he painted the walls again, but ran out of paint and screamed when he realized he couldn't go out to buy more, he took a soup bath just because he could... Yeah, never again.

Underswap Papyrus - He would not say he's glad you caught it, but look at that, you're stuck home for an entire week with him! He's going to cuddle with you on the couch all day. He doesn't care if he gets ill, at least that will give him another week with you. He's having the time of his life and he wants to live like this forever, watching Disney movies while hugging his S/O in the couch, with a big plaid and hot chocolate.

Underfell Sans - With the fever and you sleeping 20 hours a day, Red isn't sure you're still alive sometimes. So randomly during the days, he's going to poke your ribs with a broom to make sure you're not dead lol. You better show you're alive quick though or he's panicking and calling rescue services. It happened twice already lol. You woke up so confused to rescuers trying to prove your boyfriend you're actually ok.

Underfell Papyrus - You told him no one has to enter the house and it took it a bit too literally. He trapped the garden and the main road leading to your house to make sure no one got close. He caused three car accidents already and a Karen screamed at him because her kid stayed three hours hanging upside down to a branch of his tree. Edge doesn't care, he's protecting. No one will get in.

Horrortale Sans - He's embracing the golden retriever kind of life, following you everywhere in the house, sleeping at the back of your bed, staring into your soul when it's time to eat to make sure you're eating... You barely manage to keep him out of the bathroom lol. Yeah, Oak is a bit anxious about it and kinda thinks you're going to die or something. You keep telling him you're fine but he's not convinced.

Horrortale Papyrus - Your food tastes like hand sanitizer because he's washing everything with it, food included. You feel even more sick now. You're begging him to stop but he keeps telling you it's for your own good. Man... You just want McDonald's right now...

Swapfell Sans - He's using you as an excuse to not go to work with Toriel and he's so proud of him. You swear he's trying to make the quarantine longer because he really doesn't want to go again. He's a bit paranoid about you though. When you're coughing more than 5 seconds, he's running to make sure you're okay.

Swapfell Papyrus - He will call you nothing but "mutant pangolin" for the entire week and will call all your friends and family to tell them you have started your mutation and won't be able to join them for a week. You're going to have a lot of calls asking what the hell is happening to you. Your mother even thinks you're pregnant. Thanks Rus.

Fellswap Gold Sans - He's sleeping in a tent in the garden and refuses to get close to the house lol. You told him wearing an anti-radiation suit was too extreme, but he doesn't want you to contaminate him so he won't listen to you. Wine is maybe a bit paranoid about human viruses.

Fellswap Gold Papyrus - You told him you will sadly not be able to cuddle him all week. He gives you the ultimate offended hurt kicked puppy look. He could never forgive you. He's sulking in his room for three days before daring to get down for food.

#undertale #underswap #underfell #horrortale #swapfell #fellswap gold #sans #papyrus #undertale ask blog #undertale asks #undertale imagines #undertale headcanons

[deliciousdefendorinternet]

I wonder if in the next Christmas special we could see Branch trying to hide his old hermit days from his brothers while planning the perfect family Christmas.

so maybe we see over the course of the next Christmas special Bro zone coming to Pop Village to spend this first Christmas together.

and Branch goes to great lengths to try and hide details of his past from them and just gets too over focused on making sure the Christmas is perfect and has no problems.

like maybe Branch is ashamed or even afraid of being judged as some sorta freak like a lot of the village thought of him as for all those years.

so when the Brothers insist on seeing his home while their in the village he panics and pretty much changes everything about it to make it appear more Troll like.

probably adding lots of bright colours and bright flowers and maybe even stuff like discarded wrappers to imply that he throws parties there often just like everyone else in the village does.

and of course hiding all of his own stuff like the rations and the weapons and maybe painting over the crazy wall writings he had.

and maybe as he's showing them around the village he gets some harsh stares and attitudes from certain people and his brothers question him on why these people would be mad at him.

and Branch thinks back to all the special occasions he ruined for people when he kept warning them about the Bergens only for them to be false alarms.

but Branch just nervously tells his bros he can't remember and awkwardly rushes them along on the tour 😂😂😂😂

just so he can make things appear more normal and perfect for their first family Christmas back together maybe even actively changing the subject whenever the brothers try and ask about his life during the past 20+ years.

but Branch trying to make everything perfect ironically gets to the point where the Brothers get annoyed with him since he was acting pretty similar to how JD used to.

and they finally question him on his odd behaviour although they kinda already know the reason why he's been so desperate for things to be perfect.

but they are still fairly clueless and worried about what he's obviously trying to hide from them in regards to his home and the fact he won't talk much about his life.

and this time when Branch nervously tries to shrug it off they act a bit firmer towards him saying they need to talk about this now as they've kept putting it off.

and when he tries to downplay it maybe just saying something as simple as he was obviously a bit upset and went Grey for a little while but he moved on and lived pretty normally for most of the years afterwards.

but the brothers don't buy it and they point out multiple things they found around the Bunker like weapons and traps and maybe they even uncovered the crazy wall writings he tried to hide.

( plus Gary if we're allowed to include him in this cannon lol )

anyway after all this poking and prodding Branch finally goes off on a bit of an emotional tangent maybe saying something along the lines of "" fine what do you want to hear? that I was some Grey freak who hid underground for years that everyone saw me as some crazy person who ruined everything for everyone else that I practically spent every moment of everyday thinking about nothing but the Bergens and fearing they could come back at any moment well fine you win you happy now? happy I grew up to be some freak who's always going to stand out from everyone else because no matter how much I change people around here are always going to remember and even if they didn't all they'd have to do is look at me and they'd know ""

maybe he says all this and turns away looking down in shame with slightly teary eyes but his bros just Hug him rather than Judge him like he maybe feared.

yep good old angst 😅😅😅😅 tho I'm not exactly 100 percent sure how to end the story but anyway what do you think about this as a concept for a future special?

#trolls #trolls branch #trolls brozone #dreamworks trolls #trolls band together #branch #branch trolls #trolls dreamworks #brozone #trolls 3 #trolls future ideas #trolls headcannons #Trolls #Trolls Branch #Trolls Bro zone

[hyperfixatedoncrimminalminds]

This is a request by @asterio14 hope you like it sorry it has taken me so long to write your request.

Another Spencer Reid X Teen convicted reader.

This is not related to all to my other Spencer Reid x prisoner teen reader completely different.

Request: Both Spencer Reid and Reader are serving life sentences at adult prison. Reader has already served three or four years. is a character who doesn't mind being in prison, perceiving it as natural habitat. He is the one welcoming Spencer into his new home. The reader is put in for Arson but accidentally killed someone.

Third person pov...

In Millburn Correctional Facility a H/C teen sits in his cell, the cell itself wasn't very large but he still had a sink, a usable toilet, small plastic mirror hanging on the wall, a small bed with a thin cover and single pillow.

Opposite another bed but with no one staying in it, 18 year old Y/N had been in this correctionally facility for 2 and a half years for arson and accidental homicide, when he was 16 he stupidly played with matches and accidently set a barn on fire and the owner happened to be inside the barn.

He tried to save them but was already dead when Y/N dragged them out. Since he got sent to prison, he has been a model prisoner and was allowed curtain things others weren't, such as books to read and a sketchbook to draw in.

After a couple of months the teen got used to being in prison, as he was a minor he was sent for a juvenile centre then when he turned 18 was sent to this correctionally facility.

Currently the teen was sketching on his bed, humming a song he liked, his back lent against the wall his knees up so prop up the sketchbook for him to sketch.

A guard knocks on the barred door alerting the teen, he glanced awa from his sketchbook then back just as quick. "Prisoner L/N, you've got company" calls a guard, Y/N just gives a thumbs up to the guard but doesn't move, by now the guards know the teen enough that he wont move when they open his cell.

Once the door was closed, he looked up and saw a man. "Guess your my cell mate then" he says, the guy was young looking with longish curly hair with a young but haunted face, he was tall and lanky around 6ft.

The man just stares at the kid, Spencer was first surprised at how young his cell mate was, the kid didn't look older than 20, he had H/C hair and E/C eyes, he was wearing a white t shirt and the prison uniform pants the shirt was hung up.

Y/N gives the guy a friendly looking smile. "Yo! I'm Y/N, nice to meet you" he says Spencer is glad he doesn't hold his hand out for a handshake, Y/N goes back to his sketching.

Spencer then sits down on the opposite bed, he was glad to be moved into these smaller cells and away from the public ones he was first in, Spencer watches the boy before realising he didn't introduce himself.

"Im Spencer Reid, nice to meet you Y/N" He says, the boy only smiles and gives the man a thumbs up. Over the next few days Y/N and Spencer got to know each other.

Y/N tells him why he was in prison and Spencer explains his story about him being an FBI agent and how he got blackmailed and put in prison, 3 weeks later they had bonded like brothers.

Y/N told his tragic backstory of loosing his Mum at a young age and having an ass hole of a dad, who neglected him and didn't tell him what was right or wrong so he went with anything.

Spencer was sympathetic to the kid and told him about his dad leaving him and his mum alone. Y/N laughs making Spencer look over at the teen. "We both had shitty Fathers then" his words makes Spencer laugh as well.

"I suppose we do" he mutters into the darkness of the cell.

12 weeks later, Spencer has been released from Prison but his team and Mr Scratch is no more, for his last day and night Spencer spends it with his new friend and brother Y/N.

After dinner the two sit in their shared cell, Y/Nsat on his bed and Spencer sat on his own, it is silent until Spencer gets up from his bed and sits next to Y/N on his.

The teen currently had their head in their knees not looking at Spencer, he had been secretly hoping the this day wouldn't come so soon, when Spencer goes he would be alone again.

Spencer fidgets awkwardly before breaking thr silence. "I'm sorry Y/N, but I've been found innocent by the Judge I have to go" he tries to reason with the teen.

Y/N keeps his head in his knees not talking, Spencer sighs and sits suddenly Y/Ns pulls him into a tight hug that he couldn't seem to want to let go off.

Spencer frozen physical contact was not his thing, The teens arms shake as they hug the older man tightly, Spencer relaxes slightly and hugs the teen back.

He will miss the young kid alot and will always be thinking of him.

The end!

So sorry for thr wait I didn't have alot for this oneshot so sorry that it is alot shorter than thr usual 1000 + oneshots, I've been busy with my classes and trying not to burn out from everyone and thing.

As usual so sorry for the grammar and Spelling mistakes.

Requests are open!

Worr count: 960

#criminal minds #fanfic #behavioural analysis unit #x child reader #fluff and comfort #oneshot #light angst #x teen!reader #season 12 #spencer reid x child!reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x teen!reader #prisoner

[bumpkinspice0]

Recovery Time: Chapter 6

Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

No use of y/n

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 4.2k

Summary: You throw Joel a Birthday party... and end the night with a dance

Warnings: Angst soothed away by fluff, verbal fight, Past trauma, Joel has big feelings and some dirty thoughts, mutual pining

Series Masterlist

Previous - Next

AO3

_______________

Chapter 6: Happy Birthday Joel Miller

It’d been 3 days since he let his birthday date slip and you’d been plotting ever since.

You stand nervously in the kitchen just waiting for him to come back home— and you feel like a fucking idiot. The sun had set. He went out to check the traps 45 minutes ago. You’d turned on the generator less than 30 minutes ago and pulled his birthday cake, a bastardized version of apple crisp, out of the oven 20 minutes ago. Now you’re just… standing there. Staring at the door. Like a fucking idiot. 

You’re nervous for absolutely no reason other than this was a surprise. You’d been nervous just thinking about it all day. Your nerves were apparently so obvious that he asked if you were alright a handful of times. You weren’t too good a lying but you managed to get him off your sent. You want it to be perfect, but you don’t even know what that means. This wasn’t really a traditional party. Hell, this wasn’t even a party. It was a night to take a load off. To relax. To forget about… everything. An illusion really. A chance to pretend that everything was okay.

This was Joel’s night, his first since he got here. Whatever he wanted. A ‘thank you for tumbling into my life, I think we’re friends now’ party. 

But maybe this was stupid after all. Childish and dumb. You should quit while you're ahead. Turn off the generator and say you just made some apple crisp for shits and giggles. You should—

Your heart nearly leaps through your throat when the door opens. Gus rushes in first, slowly followed by Joel. He looks… confused. Reasonable reaction.

“What’s… what’s this?” He asks slowly, glancing around at the random strung Christmas lights crisscrossing the ceiling. He’d surely seen the ones strung across the yard too, “You turned on the generator?”

“I did.” You answer with a small smile.

He slowly paces around the living room, blanketed in golden rainbow light.

“For?”

“Your belated birthday,” You raise your hands and give some weak spirit fingers, “Surprise.”

He pauses, facing away from you. You see his shoulders tense, the rest of him almost frozen in place. The telltale sign he was uncomfortable. Oh no. You immediately feel like you need to explain yourself. The words come pouring out of you at lightspeed before you give him a chance to say anything.

“I-I know a lot of people don’t feel like there isn’t anything to celebrate anymore, I did too, but you deserve it. Everyone deserves something. I know it’s not much but I made… Well, it’s not a cake but it’s like apple crisp and you can have the stereo playing as long as you want. The TV too. We don’t have the best movie selection but you can pick whatever you want tonight. I even brought up a bottle of wine. I know it’s not—”

“Stop,” His gravel voice cuts through your stammering in an instant. “Just… stop it.”

Suddenly the air feels heavy. You’d done something. You’ve offended him somehow.

“I– I’m sorry. Did I—”

“I told you,” He turns around, an anger in his eyes you hadn't seen before. Or… maybe it was pain? You instantly feel small. “I fucking told you to forget it.”

You’ve overstepped. Massively overstepped. You fucked up. Oh god, you fucked up.

“I just wanted to—I know you—”

“You don’t know anything.” He spits, taking a step closer. You reflexively take a step back. You know he’d never hurt you, but fuck he was terrifying, “You don’t know a goddamn thing about me. Stop actin’ like you do.”

His voice booms, threatening to shake the log cabin walls. Even Gus cowers behind you. He’s scary. He’s absolutely terrifying. The silence that lingers is somehow even louder than his outrage. You don’t want to say anything else. You don’t think you could if you tried.

Even if you could speak, it wouldn’t matter anyway. He turns to leave almost immediately, slamming the door behind him. 

You fucked up.

________________

Joel stumbles in the dark out past the property, the glow of lights fading in the distance. 

He wants to scream. He wants to find something and kill it. He wants to cut a hole in his head so all the memories can come pouring out and he’ll never have to feel them again. He wants to be numb. He wants to be free of this, even though he knows he never could be.

Her face is still crystal clear in his mind, just like it was every day. That sweet smile. Big curly hair. Those bright eyes you could never say no to– Sarah. His beautiful, perfect daughter. The only person he’s certain he’d ever truly loved. The one who deserved to live. He wants to purge every memory of her but never let them go simultaneously. How could you just forget the best thing that ever happened to you? He tried to. For years he tried.

No parent should ever have to bury their child. The pain never stopped. The bottomless pit he could never dig himself out of. It’s like it happened yesterday. And tonight you brought it all boiling to the surface. Things he fought so hard for years to keep buried ten feet deep.

Fuck you. Fuck you for doing this to him. 

A frustrated roar rips from his throat as his fist makes contact with the closest tree. The pain is instant and only serves as a distraction for a few fleeting seconds. Still, it’s more welcome than the boiling cauldron of other emotions brewing. 

Anger. Betrayal. Sadness. 

Guilt seems to blanket over all of them now that the initial rage is fading. The look on your face while he screamed at you is something that’ll be tattooed on his mind forever.  You didn’t deserve this, him and all the fucked up baggage he came with. You’d been nothing but kind since you dragged him here and tonight he spat in your face.

You were like her in a way— Like Sarah. Stubborn and too damn smart for your own good. A compassionate soul that wanted to share it with others. Someone who always had a positive outlook on life. What did you blurt in the middle of your stammering? 

Everyone deserves something.

If only you knew how wrong that was when it came to him. Joel deserved the early grave he dug for himself, but you came along and pulled him out of it— and this is how he repays you?

You didn’t know. There’s no way you could have— and yet that still doesn’t seem to ebb away any of the anger still simmering just under the surface. ‘Is that all I am anymore?’ Joel thinks. ‘An angry old man?’ He didn’t want it, all this hate. He wanted to be better for you.

You don’t know a goddamn thing about me. That’s what he spat at you— but whose fault was that? You tried. You tried so hard for him to let you in, and he always shut the door in your face.

You saw him like a bird with a broken wing, fallen from its nest. Something innocent that needed help that only your skillful hands could deliver. If only you knew what he really was. 

He wanted to protect you from himself in a way. If you knew everything he’d done, everything that made his brother run from him, you'd never look at him like you do. He’s caught your passing glances a few times, those beautiful eyes peering around the corner— studying him like a bug. But if you knew him, really knew him… You’d probably never want to see him again. Just like Tommy. 

Maybe he’s really just protecting himself in the end. That’s what he’s good at. 

It felt good to be desired. Not for his skills or connections, but just as a man. That faint swell of masculine pride and desire pumps in his chest, he’d almost forgotten what it felt like. You did that to him.

You wanted him. 

He wanted you back. Badly. 

You both spend your entire days together, yet when he goes to bed at night you’re still all he can see when he closes his eyes. He’s not sure when it happened. Daydreams of you he’s ashamed of. Would you be like how he imagines? What would you taste like? How would his name sound lustfully drooled out of your mouth? 

He’s found relief by his own hand one too many times just thinking about it, but he somehow just knows his imagination will never compare. 

And he’ll never find out.

He can’t. He can’t stay here. Someone like him was a cancer in your home. He knew that. He knew it.

And even so, the prospect of leaving you here alone was getting harder and harder to imagine. 

A sharp ruff from behind pulls him from his thoughts. He turns to see Gus standing, all four paws planted and squared for a fight. Joel worries for a moment he’ll have to fight this damn dog off but he doesn’t make a move. If Gus wanted a fight he would have pounced on him when his back was turned. No, the dog wanted his attention. 

Gus sits, huffing an annoyed grunt as he does so. Somehow the message in the animal's movements rings clear. 

Our girl’s upset because of you. Get back there. Get back there and fix this.

Joel groans, sliding down to the ground against the tree he just assaulted. “I really fucked up, didn’t I?” he asks the dog, sighing into his hands. The dog huffs again and cocks his head. ‘Intuitive little thing,’ Joel thinks.

Part of him just wants to stay here. Sleep out in the freezing cold and come back in the morning and pretend nothing ever happened. An unlikely scenario since he knows for a fact you’d come hunt him down eventually and scold him for staying out in the cold so long. It begs the question though, could you both just ignore this? Forget about it and move on. Probably, but he doesn’t want to.

You deserve an apology. You deserved something from him, even if he couldn’t tell you why. He can’t tell you about Sarah. Fuck, he can’t tell anyone about Sarah. He doesn’t owe you an explanation but maybe he could fix the night. Give something back, just say thank you, anything. 

Just as long as you wouldn’t completely hate him, he’d be happy.

Lilly comes wandering up and takes a defensive seat next to Gus and it’s the final kick in the ass he needs.

With your little family sitting in front of him, waiting for him to get off his ass and make things right, he slowly raises back to his feet. 

He sighs, leaning against the tree. He’s not as tired as he used to be a few weeks ago. He can bear some weight on his leg again. You did that. You put him back together again. You fixed him. He can fix one night. 

“Time to be a man, Miller.”

____________________

The tears came so suddenly. It’s embarrassing, which only makes you cry harder. You sit there in the kitchen corner weeping into your hands like a teen girl on prom night that got stood up. Yeah, embarrassing.

You must look particularly pathetic because even Gus didn’t stick around to comfort you.

Why did this bother you so much? You’d been called every name in the book working as an apocalypse medic. You’d seen death countless times, you’d told families they’d never see their loved one again, you’d been through absolute hell at the hands of others, so why did a few harsh words from Joel stab so deep?

Because it was him. Because you wanted something from him. It wasn’t quite rejections… but it was close.

Part of you wanted to scream at him too, find out what his fucking problem is. You offer him home comforts and he does this? Childish. The other part of you thinks he’s right. He told you to forget it and you went ahead anyway, thinking it would all be fine.

 He was right. You didn’t know anything about him. Almost nothing. He wouldn’t let you in. 

But why should he? Why should anyone? He didn’t owe you his life story or undying loyalty because you did what any rational good person should do. Yes, you saved his life, but something like that isn’t weighed in favors and secrets. It doesn’t require repayment.

Joel didn’t owe you anything.

So why did you really try to throw this little party? For you. For selfish, arrogant reasons. You were looking for something to make you feel human again and this was the best option. Everything in your life had to be justified. There can’t be enjoyment just for enjoyment's sake. Everything had to be done for a reason— and tonight he was that reason. Joel Miller was making you feel human again.

When the second realization about his birthday hits you, the pit in your stomach drops even deeper. 

You knew the date seemed so familiar, probably because you wanted to forget it. Everyone did. September 26th, the day the world ended. Joel’s birthday was on fucking outbreak day. Of course he’d want to forget whatever horrors he’d seen that day. Every year a constant reminder. What a horrible coincidence to carry with you. Terrible luck of the draw. 

Still, in the absolute mess you find yourself in, you’re still angry. You’re angry at him. Frustrated he’d talk to you that way. React so callously and scold you like a child for trying to do something kind. Suddenly, it feels like you’re back at square one with him. You want to scream at him, you want apologize profusely— you just want to cry.

You’re not sure how long you sit on the kitchen floor but eventually the tears stop— and then the door opens.

You pop up from the floor, wiping your cheeks one last time with your sleeve as if that would even hide your red puffy eyes.

He stands there in the open doorway, remorse painted on his pitiful face. Good.

“Darlin’... have you been—”

“I’m fine,” You spit, wiping your face in the most threatening way you can manage, “Here to yell at me more?”

“I’m not—” He cuts himself off, turning to close the door. Gus and Lilly scurry in before he does so. They immediately come to sit at your feet. Did they… go get him for you? Well, at least you know whose side they’re on now. Joel scratches at his neck, seemingly unable to make eye contact, “I don’t suppose I’m sorry is enough here.”

“It’s a start,” You cross your arms and lean back against the counter, letting out a heavy sigh of your own. You were angry, yes, but he’s allowed to be angry too. He made a boundary and you deliberately stepped over it thinking everything would be fine. He’s not the only one at fault, “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry too.”

His head instantly snaps in your direction, “You have nothing to be sorry for. I just—you— I didn’t expect— I’m sorry. There are things that I just don’t—”

He stammers and trips over his words but the message is clear. He’s trying. He’s really trying and that counts for something, however small. 

“You wanna… talk about it?” You extend an olive branch.

“No.” he bites out just a little too quickly. You see him immediately kick himself for how harshly it came out. There was more here than met the eye— you decide to drop it. If he doesn’t want to say, then it’s not your damn business. 

Again, You were both at fault here. You for sticking your nose where it didn’t need to be and him for just being an ass about it. You were both being children here. 

Time to grow up.

You start, “I’ll turn this all off. You don’t have to—”

“No,” He cuts you off abruptly, “It’d be a waste to— You went through the trouble I mean.”

You smile, “Would you still like to have a birthday party, Mr. Miller?”

“I–” he pressed his lips together, suppressing some more outrage, “Can we— let’s call it something else. Please.”

“Okay,” you nod quietly. Not a birthday party. That’s just fine. It’s still his party. You take down two glasses and pour some chokecherry wine. You push his glass closer. He’s hesitant at first but eventually comes to the counter. He takes his glass and you raise yours to his. “To an ongoing recovery.”

He huffs a small smile and tinks his glass to yours, “To not dyin’, I suppose.”

You can’t help but cringe when the simultaneously bitter and overly sweet liquid hits your tongue. You notice he does the same. You’d hoped a year of sitting dormant in the cellar would help the flavor calm down— apparently not.

“Wow, that’s... something,” He wheezes, swirling the remaining liquid in his glass.

“Yeah, it is. But like I said—” You exhale before downing the rest of your glass, “It gets the job done and I haven’t gone blind yet.”

You hold your resolve for a few seconds, feeling rather proud of yourself, before breaking into a coughing fit from the burning in your throat. 

“Jesus Christ, girl,” Joel pats your back in an attempt to comfort you, despite the smile plastered on his face. Well, at least he’s smiling, even if you look like an absolute moron right now. 

“Smoothest in the county,” You wheeze, wiping a stray tear from your eye. You feel the heat in your cheeks rising and you can’t help but laugh at yourself a little. He tries to hide it but he does the same.

“You really are something, Darlin’,” He grins, taking another, much smaller, sip from his glass.

 And just like that, the air between you two was breathable again.

“So,” Joel leans against the counter, arms crossed, “What do you usually do on nights like this?”

“Well, this is your party,” you lean next to him, “What would you like?”

He opens his mouth for a millisecond before closing it again. He turns away from you, eyes darting to the ground. What was he thinking about? What was he going to say?

“You said you have music?” He asks. You absolutely know that’s not what he was originally going to ask, but you still gesture to the far corner of the living room where the dusty stereo and cassette collection lay.

He strolls over, taking a cursory glance at the packed shelf. Art may have liked the isolation but he kept a good collection of music to keep him sane. One of the few things you think he loved just for the sake of it. So many things here had to have a purpose, a reason for existing in this well-maintained space. Something to aid in basic survival. Music probably did, in a way, have a purpose here. All anyone had to gain from it was joy. A memory. A feeling. Just another thing to make you feel human again.

Joel makes his selection and places it in the tape player with a defined click. You expect to hear Johnny Cash or something like what he’s been teaching himself to play for the last few weeks. Instead— he’s picked Elton John. Art had a ‘best of’ collection of his work. Admittedly one of your favorites in the tape collection.

The familiar slow, melodic piano rumbles through the ancient speakers. You recognize the song instantly. An unexpected choice but not unwelcome either. 

Don’t Let the Sun Go Down On Me

Joel stands with a small grunt and turns to face you, hand outstretched.

“Dance with me.”

Your brows immediately shoot up, “Dance with you?”

“This is my party, isn’t it?” he drawls, “You said we can do what I want. I want a dance.”

You say nothing, dragging your fingers across the counter before making your way towards him. Every hair on your body stands on end as you approach. He stands there waiting in the center of the living room, bathed in mismatched Christmas lights. 

You suppress a gasp when you take his hand and he pulls you into him, flush against his chest. Hesitantly your hand goes up to his shoulder while he lowers his to the small of your back. You swear the sensation of his massive hands on you sends sparks shooting down your legs. He starts to sway you both gently in rhythm.

“I don’t really know how to dance,” You admit.

“Me neither,” he responds, “Learned a little in high school, though.”

“How long ago was that?”

“Oh, back when stagecoaches were still new.” He scoffs, pulling you away for a slow and somewhat clumsy twirl, “To be fair it was just square dancin’.”

“Oh, well, this is prime square dancing music.” You attempt to joke, hiding your reddening face against his chest. He huffs a small laugh and rests his chin on your head. It’s more intimate but at least you don’t have to look him in the eye now. You just barely hear his heartbeat above it all. Strong and steady, a little faster than you expected. You try to lose yourself in music, hoping it will ease your new anxieties that boil over from just being this close to him.

I can't find, oh, the right romantic line

But see me once and see the way I feel

Don't discard me just because you think I mean you harm

But these cuts I have, oh, they need love to help them heal

Don't let the sun go down on me 

Although I search myself, it's always someone else I see

I'd just allow a fragment of your life– to wander free

The chorus is grand and beautiful, nothing that should be associated with Joel and your awkward side-to-side swaying. And yet… it seemed so right. The two of you were so small, and somehow the only thing that mattered in the world.

In your time living at the end of the world, you’ve found it’s not the acts of heroism and grand gestures that kept you going. It was the small things. A hello. A hug. Drinking the worst wine in the world and having an awkward dance with a practical stranger. A kiss. The small things.

And even though this was his night, you still got what you wanted— you felt human again.

“Happy… recovery, Joel.”

“Thank you, darlin’.”

___________________________

It was perfect. He didn’t want to admit it, but it was. He can’t recall the last time he’d listened to music for reasons beyond getting code from Frank. He can’t even recall the last movie he’d watched. No… No, that’s not true. It was ten years ago on his couch. Has it really been ten years? He does his best to push the memories aside and just enjoy the moment.

Yet here he was in almost the same exact place he was all those years ago when his life changed forever. The irony is not lost on him. And in a way he doesn’t quite understand, it felt… healing. Like he was facing something. Or maybe he’d finally laid some feelings to rest.

You lay there asleep, head resting on his shoulder while some western he’d never heard of played on the ancient little box TV in the background. You’d made a cake. You’d made popcorn, the whole nine yards. It was so domestic. A treat, you called these nights. 

You were right, he supposes. A chance to just pretend everything was okay. To live like normal people used to. A night to not worry about all the challenges tomorrow brought and fall asleep watching some boring movie you’d never heard of. The new American dream. 

A treat.

Even if it was all a fantasy, he’s happy you shared it with him. Just another thing he can never repay you for. 

What could he ever give you that could ever compare to what you’d given him? Himself— he could give you himself, maybe. In a way, his life was already yours. You’d saved it, after all. But if he gave it to you, would you want it? If he took off his mask and showed you the monster that was underneath would you run?

Yes, of course you would. 

Despite everything that happened here, good things didn’t happen to Joel Miller. He was a walking curse, plague and death following in his wake. If he stayed here, he’d drag you down to hell with him. It’s what always happens. 

He can’t let this continue. He can’t let his selfish desires win and take over. 

He had tonight with you, and that’d have to be enough.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller #tlou #the last of us #recovery time

[2-sleepy-for-this]

Something to remember pt.1

alrighty! Finally getting somewhere with my aus! This is one of my favorites and I can’t wait to write more for this, I’ve got a lot planned >:)

this is the first of hopefully many parts so feel free to ask questions! I love getting messages :)

Okokok here it is, the meeting

tw: memory loss, talk of injury, slight fear, confusion

word count ~ 1.7k

It felt like just yesterday when Ranboo went off to college, leaving his childhood home behind and starting a new life for himself. Now, this was what most people did, transitioning into adulthood, and something they also did was reminisce about their old memories. That was something Ranboo couldn’t do. 

Don’t get them wrong, reminiscing sounds great and all, but, well, he just couldn’t remember most of his childhood. The things from that time they remember are blurred and skewed, nothing like how they really happened.

This has been Ranboo’s mind for years and he’d gotten used to it by now. From what he can tell, they’d never had many friends or interesting stories to remember, just a plain life. 

Well, except for his little accident a few years back, that is. He’d had a bad accident that not only does he not remember, but apparently no one else was there to tell them what happened either. To this day, his parents say it was a miracle he was found before it was too late.

That mysterious day was the reason for their bad memory now and since that day, his life had been just as uneventful as before the injury. That’s what his parents tell them, anyway.

But now, his first year of college was over and he’s headed back to his parents' house to visit for a few weeks before their classes start back up.

That’s where he is now, taking a bus to the home they’ve lived in all their life. The bus ride itself wasn’t too bad, only a few hours, but he was still starting to get motion sickness by the end of it. He didn’t have to worry about that though. Once they stepped out onto the solid concrete, their nausea subsided.

Ranboo stared up at his old home. It was the exact way they remembered it, or maybe it wasn’t. He didn’t know.

He walked past the tree carved with years of bored summer days and stepped onto the shaded porch. Ringing the bell, he heard footsteps on the inside, followed by the door opening to reveal his parents. 

The two adults looked not much older than Ranboo themself, he was adopted at 14 by his parents, who were both around 20 at the time. His mom, a sweet lady with glasses and a love of baking, Niki, held her arms open for them. Ranboo took the silent invitation for the hug, although it looked a little awkward from the height difference. As he pulled away, his papa, another short woman with a fiery personality, puffy, gave them a pat on the back. 

“Welcome home ran,”

It had been a while since he last saw them. They still talked frequently, but he hadn’t actually come to visit since the school year began.

“Well, what are you waiting for? Come on in and put your bags in your room. We’ve got a lot of movie nights to catch up on. "

Ranboo made their way up to his old room, looking at the pictures hanging on the walls. They took a moment to stand in front of their door. The last time he was really here was while he was recovering from his injuries, right after he was confirmed healed by their doctor. They left for college, not wanting to fall behind in their education.

He opened the door and walked inside, closing it behind him. The inside of their room was relatively bland. They had a few posters and a desk that looked slightly dusty. Although for as long as he could remember, he’d always had a thing for collecting. Nothing too interesting, they just like shiny things, a few cool looking rocks, maybe some dried flowers and a few acorns. 

His collection sat on his desk and looked pretty impressive for something untouched for so long. But some items looked newer than others. Maybe his parents had added things for him? 

Movement caught in the corner of their eye, and they turned. Everything was still the exact same. He’d probably imagined it. Ranboo never really liked bugs being in his space, so hopefully leaving his room unattended for so long didn’t invite any pests.

They looked uneasily at the floor near his bed, debating on checking for any vermin. Before they could make up their mind he heard his name called by their mom.

Moving his bags a little farther back on the bed to hopefully keep anything from getting in them, he left back out the door and down the stairs to their living room. 

Their parents seemed to be waiting for them with fresh baked pastries and blankets.

“We thought since it’s been a while we could have a movie night tonight. I made your favorite desserts.”

His mom smiled at him, still as genuine as ever before his papa puffy spoke up.

“Pretty sure it was your turn to pick the movie anyway, so you're stuck here. Might as well tell us your demands, grab a pastry and get comfy. "

Ranboo laughed. They missed this so much.

“Alright, alright, gimme the remote. "

They sat down and caught the remote that was thrown with minimal fumbling. It took a long time to get the movie started. A mix of searching for a good film and commentary from both his parents made picking the first movie next to impossible. 

Finally, they were able to start the night off with no further hitches and got comfortable, dessert in hand.

Movie after movie played on the screen, flowing much better than choosing the first film. The first family activity Ranboo was a part of in months was filled with conversation and laughter as well. When they first started watching, it was only around 3 in the afternoon, but by the time the last movie of the night ended, it was well into the night.

Ranboo stretched, joints cracking, and sat up from the laying position he took during the first movie. The food was long gone, and the remote was lost somewhere in the field of blankets on top of the small family.

He hadn’t felt this relaxed in a long time, always stressed for one reason or another. This visit though, was going to be just what they need, no stress, no work, just relaxation and family time.

Saying goodnight to their parents, they went back up the stairs and down the hall. Just like a few hours prior, they stopped at their door, took a breath, opened it, and walked in. 

Nothing seemed different. Their bags stayed untouched, sitting near the wall their bed was pushed against. Ranboo stayed put and looked around once more, not quite crossing the threshold of his doorway. 

It was so strange being back here after spending so much time away, like they were a guest staying in their own room, not sure what they were allowed to touch. But he knew he could do what he wanted. It was still their room, after all. Maybe within these next few weeks they could decorate a little more, make the room feel like theirs again.

Finally, Ranboo stepped inside and closed the door behind them. He was too tired to change or get unpacked, so he just moved the bags to their desk chair, turned off the light and laid down. They’d save the work for future Ranboo’s problem. It didn’t take very long to drift off to sleep. Within minutes, they were out and dreaming peacefully.

The sun was shining over the grassy field behind their house. There was familiar laugher in the air, but where was it coming from? The grass felt so soft under their hands as they sat looking at the flowers. So peaceful. 

“Ranboo!”

That voice. He remembers that voice, but he doesn’t know who’s it is. They start looking around, they can’t find anyone else around. 

“Look at this one, boss man!”

That one sounds familiar too, but nothing changed. Where are the voices coming from? He had to find them. He stood up, still looking around the empty field. 

He had to find them.

All at once, Ranboo was brought from the dreamlands field to their bedroom. His sudden awareness of the dream must have excited his mind enough to force him into consciousness. It wasn’t the first time this happened to them. They often had dreams like that, mostly in different settings, but those two voices always stayed the same.

He had to find them.

In his half-asleep state, he kept his eyes closed, determined not to lose any more sleep over odd dreams. The darkness of his room was quiet as they started slipping back into a now dreamless sleep.

“Get your ass back here, Tubbo!”

That voice. It was much quieter than it usually was in these dreams, nothing more than a whisper. If he wasn’t so good at picking up small noises, he would have missed it completely.

He had to find them.

Ranboo cracked his eyes open, looking around his darkened room from where he laid. Weird, usually their dreams settings weren’t in their room and they weren’t ever this dark. It was like he wasn’t asleep at all.

“Calm down, I know what I’m doing toms,”

He had to be asleep. The voices were here, just like they always were.

He had to find them.

Ranboo sat up quickly, looking around the space for the two phantoms from his dreams. He’d never actually gotten close to seeing them, but he had to try. 

There was a small squeak from his bedside table, not a sound a rodent would make, more of a startled person sound. Their eyes snapped to the table, locking onto the two small figures immediately.

He had to find them.

Without thinking, he lunged, grabbing the small things, one in each fist. They squirmed and hit at his hands, yelling all the while, but Ranboo couldn’t feel it. The only thing Ranboo was focused on was that he had done it. These two..things were what he heard every night in his dreams for years. 

Though, it’s strange they haven’t woken up yet. Come to think of it…did they remember falling back to sleep at all? It all seemed so real…

Wait. This felt too real. He wasn’t asleep. 

They looked down at the figures in their grip once more. He wasn’t asleep.

He had found them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

hope you enjoyed! The next part of this is already being worked on

no set time rn unfortunately but I’ll get it out asap :)

make sure to eat a snack, drink something and get good sleep 💙

#mcyt g/t #dsmp g/t #g/t #g/t community #giant/tiny #giant!ranboo #g!ranboo #tiny!tubbo #t!tubbo #tiny!tommy #t!tommy #Something to remember au #Next chapter may be a bit angsty #For all you angst lovers #It gets better though #I promise #ily guys <3