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macfrog · 4 months

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sweet child o' mine | pt. ii

hi. this is max's lawyer speaking. please don't get mad at her for this part. she asked me to let you know that she loves you all and hopes that you trust her. sincerely, jimmy mcgill

pairing: neighbor!joel x fem!reader

summary: you're pregnant with joel miller's kid. he's dating someone else. you deal with it.

warnings: reader is literally pregnant so typical pregnancy stuff like nausea (none of the v word, y'all are safe with me), ultrasound scene set in a hospital, anxiety and guilt surrounding pregnancy, description of body change/growth, brief and i mean brief discussion of abortion, joel is dating someone who isn't reader, age gap (late 20s reader, late 40s joel), reader has no physical description save for hair, cursing, genderless use of buddy when referring to baby, joel kisses someone who is not his partner, mention of alcohol, disturbing & semi-graphic nightmare about being involved in car accident, reader has a panic attack, discussion of dead parents, fluff and the beginnings of angst DISCLAIMER: this series covers some issues which i know may be sensitive and possibly triggering to some. warnings will always be as thorough as possible, but if there's ever anything you feel i've missed, please let me know. feel free to drop by my inbox anytime.

word count: 9.2k

pt. i / series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist | follow @macfroglets w notifs on to be the first to hear when i post 🩵

“I know, I know,” Joel holds a palm up, “it’s nine thirty. I know. But I had to lug all this wood over here, and it – You okay?”

You realize when he pauses that you’re gaping at him, wide-eyed and frozen in place behind your front door. Your jaw hinges shut, a gulp like carpet burn down your throat. You didn’t hear a word he just said.

How does he know? He can’t possibly. Did he sense it, from two lawns away? Dream about the binding of cells, the furnace left lit in your body from that night? The embers still floating, just waiting to catch to life again?

Did he do the fucking math, the way you probably should’ve? How does he fucking know?

The minute the question leaves your mouth, you regret it.

Joel’s eyebrows drop. “How did I know what, kid? That you need new closets? Like you ain’t been nipping my ear about ‘em for weeks?”

Your eyes unlock from his and shift to the slats of wood leaning against the balustrade. The toolbox hanging from his fist. The worn jeans and the white dust marks on his thighs. He doesn’t fucking know, you idiot.

Joel steps forward. Takes your wrist. One grounding, steady hand around your thrashing pulse. “You’re freaking me out. What the hell’s –?”

“Nothing,” you chirp, remembering. The closet. The deal. The fucking – the deal. You withdraw your arm. Hidden up your sleeve, quickly slipping out of his grasp, is the news that his life is about to change forever.

Maybe. You don’t fucking know.

“No,” you continue, blinking the burn of sunlight from your vision, “I just – I forgot. Sorry. Come in. Sorry.”

“Quit sayin’ sorry,” he mutters, eyeing you suspiciously. He lifts a foot and hovers it over the threshold, hesitating. Like the first step across a minefield; instinct telling him to tread carefully.

And you swear an oath to yourself, swear it on your own life: if he doesn’t put the heel of his boot in your hallway, if he turns around right now whether because his instinct is razor sharp, or because he forgot his lucky screwdriver, or purely because he needs to take a fucking leak before he gets started – you will never tell him. He will never know.

If his intuition is that good, he’ll turn around and never show up on your porch again. If he has any sense, he’ll forget any of this ever happened. Deal off.

“How’s the stomach?” Joel asks, sole still three inches from wood.

“What?” you bleat, your heel knocking against the bottom stair. It’s a little more panicked than you intended.

“Yesterday,” a crease forms between his brows, “you said you had a weird stomach. That any better?”

Oh, you think, and as you open your mouth to reply, his foot hits the ground. No answer needed. He was coming in whether you tried to deter him or not.

“Oh, yeah. It’s – Well, it’s better than it was. I think I worked it out,” you grimace, tongue curling under the tinge of anxiety and – well. “Thanks,” you add, noticing the brisk cut of your replies.

The heavy thud of his footsteps follows you upstairs, blunt on the carpet as you lead him up. Joel sets the toolbox down and casts your room a quick glance, snapping back to you as soon as you notice him.

You tug on the corner of the bedsheets, a heat bubbling beneath your cheeks. Something shy and self-conscious, all of a sudden. The reality that you don’t feel close enough to this man to share the anatomy of your room with him, mixed with the knowledge that the two of you are, now and forever, bound by the anatomy of something a little more significant than dirty laundry and dusty wardrobes.

A little closer than most humans get, let’s say.

“You want a coffee or something?” you ask, crossing your arms and leaning back against the window sill.

“You havin’ one?”

“Sure. Wait – actually –” Can you have coffee whilst pregnant? A woman at work quit it altogether when she fell pregnant with her son. Fuck. “I’m – No. I’m good. But let me go make you one.”

Joel shakes his head, amused. Screwdriver burrowing into a door hinge already. He flashes you a tickled grin. “I’m good just now, kid. Wait until you’re makin’ one. Thanks.”

You lift a shoulder. “Welcome.”

His eyes flit from the twist of silver to your hunched shoulders, your arms crossed protectively over your chest. “You gonna stand there ‘n watch me all day? You my foreman now?”

“Sure,” you reply, and he laughs. You sniff, twisting your foot into the carpet. The plastic test itches against your skin; you can feel the two lines ripping into your wrist like tiny burns. “I can go, if you want.”

His lip turns, musing. A quick flick of his jaw. “You’re good company, all in all.”

Metal clanking against metal; fingers knuckle-deep in the toolbox. You can hear the harsh sound across your body, like the point of screws and bite of rust are actually scoring your skin. The groan of a near-fifty-year-old man rising to rip a decades-old door from its home. The creak of wood as it splits.

Everything so heightened that it’s actually painful.

Joel straightens up and pauses, turning his screwdriver between his fingers. “Are we –? We’re good, right?”

“Good?”

“Yeah. You’d tell me if things were weird?”

“Why would things be weird?”

His answer scrawls itself across his face. Your response scoffs from your lips.

“I just,” Joel sighs, “I feel like something might be off with ya. Maybe you just ain’t feelin’ too hot. But you’re quiet.”

“Quiet,” you whisper, palms locking heavily against your biceps. More defensive than convincing.

“Yeah. You usually annoy the hell outta me.”

Over your shoulder, Alice Brown waddles down her driveway, eyeing her flowerbeds. She pauses when Diane’s station wagon pulls up across the street; stands motionless as she watches the round figure climb out and totter to her own front door.

“Just – not in a very annoying mood, I guess,” you offer, staring at the white head of hair fluttering in the breeze. The glint of a trowel in her hand.

Joel’s chin lifts. He studies you, tongue tracing the ridges of his teeth. And then he’s nearing you, turning until you’re shoulder to shoulder, two silhouettes stood against the bright square of blue sky inside your window frame. His arms crossed; his stare fixed.

The words begin to boil in your stomach. Violent bubbles against the wall of your midriff. Rising like steam, fading into nothingness over your tongue, the sting of heat where your voice won’t collect them.

Joel moves from foot to foot. It feels like some kind of merry dance, some choreographed moment between you – like a skit in a comedy show. I know something you don’t know.

“What happened – at the wedding,” he murmurs, addressing the polished gold of your bedframe.

Some small sound passes your lips. An affirmative. You’re on the same page.

“We didn’t use – you know. And with you not feelin’ well, it’s…” A deep breath. Chest full of a ghostly bravery. And then he asks, “Are you –?”

Silence swallows the end of his question whole. You didn’t need it, anyway. The stiffness of his frame, his stare shooting straight ahead. The lack of oxygen between you – both holding your breath for fear that something might tear loose from your lungs. He knows. He knows he knows he knows.

You gulp. “…If I was?”

His head cranes upwards, focusing on the cracked plaster of your ceiling. The realization slowly trickling down over his skin. It hasn’t seeped through, hasn’t bled into his brain yet. “Then,” another breath, “then it’d be a conversation…” His voice is halved, split somewhere between knowing and – what is it? Hoping?

Your eyes slip over to the worn sleeve of his T-shirt, stretched around the swell of his bicep; scaling up to his shoulder, the tight set of his jaw. He’s so much taller, he’s so much older. There’s so much life lived and so many lessons learned behind his eyes that you wonder how much the news I’m pregnant would actually crack him.

Your eyes meet. You whisper, “Then – talk,” and his expression softens.

He blinks away whatever’s left of his trying, his polite attempts to skirt around it. He sheds probably a good three decades – turns back into some doe-eyed boy, wonderstruck and terrified. His voice is quiet, and at the same time, the heaviest with emotion you’ve ever heard it. “Are you?” he asks, and immediately, he blurs behind a wall of tears.

Your sentence gets caught in your teeth. It made no sense to begin with. Tangled between your molars, latching at the back of your tongue. Your hand slowly pulls free from your sleeve, the little white test between your fingers.

Joel’s eyes instantly drop, staring at the pale stick with a fraught expression you understand to mean the message has finally reached his brain. The same words now ringing between his ears: She’s pregnant. She’s pregnant. I got her pregnant.

You hold the test out, quivering in the daylight. He takes it in his thumbs, instantly soothing its tremble. Everything muted, every movement steady and considered. And suddenly the sight of that positive test feels less scary, in his hands. Feels like a smaller problem, if that were ever possible.

And he says nothing, and it’s almost unbearable to watch the shape of his lips thin, the shadow beneath his brows darken. Agonizing to stand here and wonder what the next words over his tongue will be.

He stares at it a moment longer. You count the beats of your pulse in your throat. You wrap your arms tighter around your body, holding your skeleton together.

Joel’s lips part. Your breath freezes. Whatever he says, you don’t want to miss a syllable.

“Are you –” he blinks, “– are you feelin’ okay?”

You stare blankly. His eyes finally lift.

“What?”

“Are you feeling okay?”

Your head jerks. “I’m – I’m fine. I mean, I’m fucking shocked.”

He nods. “How long have you known?”

“Took that right before you showed up,” you say, eyes diving to his hands. “Twenty minutes, maybe.”

He’s still switching between you and the test. Checking those two lines are still there, as if they might fade to nothing, and then checking you’re still there – as if you might, too. Might be swept off if he’s not keeping an eye on you.

His face pales. He sinks back against the window ledge. “Jesus,” he breathes, a hand down the scruff of his chin.

And it feels like relief, like a mirror sat before you, presenting the honest truth: you’re fucked, and Joel thinks so, too. It embeds the shock into the cushion of your brain, the weight of it absorbed and laid bare for every particle in your body to pay it a visit. What the fuck do we do now?

“Yeah,” you sniff, “Jesus.”

But then his arm wraps around your shoulder, reminding you you’re still solid. Still whole. He holds you to his side, and when you turn into him, he takes you in the other and pulls you flat against his chest. His lips to your hair. His breathing slowing yours.

“We’re gonna work it out,” he says into your hair. “We’re gonna – Jesus, I did not expect…We are goin’ to be fine, alright? You are goin’ to be fine.”

You’re nodding, the prickle of tears flooding across your eyes again. They’re doing nothing, his words – blunt against your skin and insignificant to the fear swelling around your heart – but it feels better to be afraid with someone. Feels better to hold onto something stronger, something bigger, while you feel yourself beginning to shrink.

“What do we do?” you ask into his shirt.

Joel loosens his grip, pulls away until you’re staring at one another. “What do you wanna do?”

“I don’t…” Your head’s shaking, lips moving quicker than your voice will offer the words over. “I don’t think I want to get rid of it.”

He nods, a hand coming up to hold your cheek. “Alright. Then you don’t have to. You don’t gotta do anythin’ you’re not comfortable with.”

“But,” you sniff, guiltily averting his gaze, “this fucks everything up. Everything’s about to change.”

Joel takes a long, slow breath. “It complicates some things, that’s for sure.” He looks out to the street; Alice Brown now hauling weeds from the edge of her lawn. In his exhale, he breathes a name.

“V…What?”

He looks down. Eyes dance around your damp cheeks. “Vanessa,” he says, clearer now.

“Vanessa?”

A nod. His nose wriggles with an awkward sniff. You push off from his chest.

“Who the hell is Vanessa?”

Joel lets you go; lets you step back. He watches as you brace yourself against the ledge. Runs a hand through his hair while he fixes the right order of words. He’s thinking. Carefully.

Too fucking carefully. He’s taking too long.

“Joel. Who’s Vanessa?”

“She’s…” He sighs. “She’s my ex. From Tommy’s wedding. Vanessa Hart.”

Your jaw slackens. The purple dress. The hair like silk, a halo around her head where the light kissed her perfectly. Her plump lips; the way her head tipped back to laugh. The amount of air you felt her take up the second you laid eyes on her, the second you saw her, arm on top of Joel’s.

“Vanessa,” you whisper, your eyes descending his frame. The memory feels menacing now: her sweet giggle a sneering cackle, and you’ve no idea why. The bulky jewels around her neck, her clawed fingers on his arm.

Joel’s hand sits inches from yours on the wooden sill. Alice is walking back inside.

“We, uh…we swapped numbers the morning after the wedding, at breakfast. I didn’t think much of it, but we’ve seen each other a couple times since.”

This isn’t the time for another it’s a date, it’s not a date argument. What the fuck does he mean by –

“Seen each other?”

“Mhm.” He owes you better than that. He reckons so, too. “Dates,” he clarifies. “We’ve been on a couple dates.”

“Oh.”

Your heart falls to the pit of your stomach. Plummets, dragging with it your breath and your nerve and any other words you can think of. Your chest gnaws at the edges of the cavity left behind. It hurts. It stings.

Though you’ve no right for it to hurt or sting: as far as you were concerned, as far as you think Joel was concerned, that night was a one-off. It meant as little as the alcohol draining from your glasses, the vacant buzz of love and hope loose in the air. Equally as intoxicating as each other.

Cataclysmic, for the first little while. So heavily awkward that you would wait to watch Joel head out in the morning, clear of your path, before you’d set off for work. It felt like the aftermath of some natural disaster – the cleanup of debris and mistake.

But oh, it feels like a punch to the gut. Low, unexpected; a foul move by someone who never meant to hurt or not hurt you. Someone ignorant to every move he made, right up to this moment.

Your arms wrap around your body again, as though tending to the bruise left by the sucker punch shaped something like that tall woman named Vanessa.

Joel scratches the back of his neck. “We were…we were seein’ about starting things up again. Me ‘n her.”

“Yeah,” you nod, “I got you. That’s – I mean, I’m – I’m sorry, Joel, I –”

“Woah, woah,” he’s stepping forward now, “hey, no. No way. This wasn’t you. Well, shoot – it kinda was you. But it was just as much me, right?”

You smile, your face back in the safe hold of his hands. Tears roll down your cheeks, collecting in the corners of your mouth. His thumbs swipe them away.

“This was just as much me,” he repeats, voice soft and soothing.

“But, you know – if you wanted to – just ‘cause I don’t want to get – so if you didn’t wanna have to – that’d be okay, you know that, right?”

His head snaps back, brows low. It’s the first time he looks like his cool has broken all morning. It’s the first time he looks…downright offended. “Are you kidding me?” he asks, and then, “Tell me you’re kidding.”

“I just – I know this ain’t ideal. It’s even worse if you’re tryna make it work with Vanessa. So if you felt like it was too much, then…”

Joel shakes his head. “Shut up,” he says, edged with some kind of groan. “Stop talking, right now. Stop. You gotta take a deep breath, alright? I’m here, ‘n I mean I’m here. We’re in this together. I am not running out on you.”

“Joel –”

What was a mere crack in his cool before, rips through it now like lightning spreading across the sky. He closes his eyes, a sigh escaping between his teeth. “If you think I would leave you right now, to deal with this on your own –”

“I don’t,” you tell him, his vexation powering your sudden animation. You wipe your tears away, shaking your head. “I’m just saying, it’s a fucking lot. I don’t want you to feel trapped. I’m giving you an out, man.”

“I am not interested in taking it. Enough. Conversation over.”

“And what about Vanessa?”

“What about her?” he asks, the question dripping in something akin to anger. He catches himself, draws it back in. “She’ll just – We’ll talk, I’ll explain it. The hell else can we do? One thing at a time, okay?”

“Right,” you nod, “okay. One thing at a time.”

“Let’s just build these damn wardrobes. I sure as hell didn’t lug all that timber over here to not do ‘em.”

“Okay,” you repeat, making for the door.

“Ah.” He clicks, and you turn back. “Where the hell do you think you’re goin’?”

“To get the timber.”

“I don’t think so,” he says, pointing to your bed. “Sit down. Relax. You ain’t getting a damn thing.”

Joel calls it a day at six o’clock.

The skeleton of the closet is up: a smooth, tan frame lining one wall of your room. Much bigger, much sturdier than its predecessor.

You’re in the same spot he left you in: lying across your bed, admiring his handiwork. He’s good at what he does. You told him twice, and the two of you almost heaved both times. Compliments aren’t something you’re used to handing one another.

He left, maybe, three hours ago. Said he had to shower; said he’d be back first thing to finish the job. You sat up to see him out, got struck by a wave of nausea so bad that you fell back to the bed with one hand on your stomach and the other over your lips, and Joel had insisted – demanded – that you stay where you were.

I’ll be back later to check on ya, he assured, setting a glass of water at your bedside. And then he told you to call him if you felt even remotely off – sick, or panicked, or had a tickle in your throat that you couldn’t clear – and that’s when the two of you realized that you don’t even have one another’s numbers.

And you laughed, the both of you; laughed at the absurdity of you carrying his child when you don’t even carry his contact details in your phone. Laughed at how quickly everything has turned one hundred and eighty degrees in the few hours since you woke up. It felt like some form of release, the only way to clear the blockage of tension in both your throats. So, you laughed, until you felt sick again, and Joel swept the hair from your shoulders to cool you down.

The attentiveness is…new. It’s interesting. It’s kind, in the same way that being told to say hi to whoever your grandma is talking to in the grocery store, is kind. Sweet, the same way that answering the door on Halloween to a bunch of kids you don’t know from a street you don’t recognize the name of, is sweet.

Whatever. It’s fucking weird, alright?

You’ve never seen this side of Joel. You didn’t know or even think, in your wildest dreams, that he existed. Let’s face it: you two have spent the entirety of your inhabitance next door to one another, antagonizing each other. Your favorite hobby has always been pissing Joel off – teasing him for having backache, seeing how far down his porch you can launch his newspaper and he’ll still go get it. Playing the same kind of music you heard him playing on his guitar that one time, full-volume from your kitchen window just to fuck with him.

And, likewise: his favorite hobby has always been…well, ignoring you. Doing everything he can not to engage. If it weren’t for that fucking cat lady and her jittery green Chevrolet, none of this would’ve ever happened. She was a catalyst where one was neither needed nor wanted. You would’ve gone about your life, pinning your underwear only slightly more carefully to your clothesline, and Joel would’ve gone about his, doing – whatever the fuck he does.

Sure, it’s weird. But it’s nice. It’s nice to have him on your side, turning to check on you rather than snap at you for something. Nice to have him talk – actual, rounded words in place of grumbles and mumbles and groans and sighs. Nice to hang out with him and watch him work and ask questions about screws and power tools and pretend to be interested just to distract from the weight of queasiness in your stomach.

Your hands trail down, cupping around your navel. Your stomach still feels like your stomach: still soft, still spongey under your touch. If not for the two more tests you’d taken this afternoon, perched on the bathroom counter waiting for Joel to unstick his gaze from his watch and announce, That’s three minutes – both also positive, by the way – you’d have no fucking clue.

You hold the bottom half of your tummy, fingers rubbing gently over the skin that will soon enough grow and swell and protect.

“Hey,” you whisper, staring at the stationary ceiling fan overhead. A pause. An awkward inhale. “…hey, little buddy. I don’t – know you very well, yet. I figure you can’t even fucking hear me, but whatever. Just wanted to say hi. I’m – Ew, no. I’m not Mom, yet. What the fuck. I don’t know who I am right now, so just…maybe go easy on me until I figure that part out. And after, too. Alright? Are we…we cool?

“You can’t tell me, I know. I just have to assume we’re cool. Okay. Well. Keep growin’. Keep…doing your thing. You’re doing great. We’re doing – we’re doing alright.

“Good job, kid. Good job.”

Joel tells Vanessa two days later. She takes it…about as well as you might hope.

He says they talked for four hours. Three cups of coffee and a drive to Taco Bell later, she agreed to meet you. Properly. Not across the cluttered dancefloor of Tommy’s wedding.

She –? Is – is that a good idea?

I don’t know, kid. It’s the best I’ve got.

Meet me? Like, come kick my ass for sleeping with her boyfriend?

Joel had sighed and deadened his eyes on yours. Not her boyfriend, he corrected, passing you a sweater folded a little slapdash for your liking, and wasn’t her boyfriend when we slept together.

You shook the sweater straight again and fixed his work, muttering to yourself that at least he’s a better builder than he is a folder.

Joel heard you, and let it go. Passed you another – unfolded – sweater to sit in your wardrobe. Let’s just see how it goes, alright?

Alright.

We’re really trying this again. It’s only been a couple weeks.

Okay.

And neither of us have had much luck in that department since we broke it off, y’know?

Joel. I said okay.

He held your gaze a moment too long. Okay.

You’re on your porch when he strolls over, wrist blocking the six o’clock sun from his eyes. Newspaper in his fist, wind licking the corners. “Forget somethin’ today?” he asks, meeting you at the top of the steps.

“Came out to get it,” you brace yourself on the railing, “felt sick. This is me workin’ up to it.”

“You want me to toss it back onto my lawn so you can go fetch me it?”

You smile, eyes screwing shut. “Was coming over to ask what time for tomorrow.”

The reminder snaps him from his happy daydream. He says, “I was comin’ to ask you the same thing. Seven work?”

“Seven’s good. Are we getting food?”

“You wanna get food? I figured maybe you wouldn’t be up for it, what with the, uh…” Joel gestures to your hunched position, your head low between your shoulders, your deep, deliberate breaths.

“Maybe just drinks,” you utter, gulping back the sharp taste of bile.

He nods. “Drinks it is. You okay? You need anything?”

“I’m good. Thanks. See you guys at seven.”

Four minutes early, there’s a knock at your door. You pull it open, and there they are. Picture-perfect, like they might be posing for a holiday card. A bottle in his arm, a bunch of flowers in hers. A timid but genial smile between her cheeks, a twinkle in her eye. That same circle of shining light around her head, brunette tresses curled into bouncing waves.

“Howdy,” Joel says, stepping into the space you create. He dips his head, kisses your cheek, whispers a brief, Y’okay? in your ear. You nod quickly, gently shifting him out of the way.

Vanessa lingers for a moment in the doorway. She glances from Joel to you again, blinking in the porch light. Her pale skin lit in an ethereal glow. She’s prettier up close.

Joel addresses you, hand brushing the small of your back, “…this is Vanessa.”

“Hi,” she says, and pushes the flowers towards you – a small bouquet of gypsophila and eucalyptus. Bright, polite. Each sprig laden with the burden of appearing simpatico, but important. Meaningful, in the airiest sense of the word. “Hi,” again.

“Hi,” you echo, and then feel stupid for having nothing more to offer. You can feel Joel’s eyes on you, hot on your shoulder.

But Vanessa takes the weight from your chest. “It’s nice to meet you – officially. I saw you at Tommy and Maria’s wedding. You looked so beautiful.”

“Thanks,” springs from your tongue sooner than the rest of the sentence. Your brain scrams to find more words. “You looked – you looked great, too. Do you wanna –? I mean – Sorry. Come in. Obviously.”

She clicks over the threshold, her pale dress floating into your hallway like she’s part of a dream. She’s just as beautiful in this light, relaxed form – pastel blue and the glimmer of golden jewelry – as she was in the sleeker, more dramatic form you saw her in before. An aura about her which captures and tends to your attention. Intense, captivating, but not intimidating.

You usher them to the living room, offer them a space on the couch while you take Vanessa’s flowers to the kitchen. Joel follows you through, sets the bottle on the counter.

“Nonalcoholic,” he says, unscrewing the cap.

Your eyebrows jump. “Great. Thanks.”

“She’s nervous,” he murmurs, leaning in. “I know you are, too. Y’all are similar like that.”

You slot the stems into a vase of water one by one, carefully organizing a display. “She seems sweet,” you assure him. “She shouldn’t be nervous.”

“Neither should you.”

“Is this…totally weird for you?”

Joel breathes in deep, filling three glasses. “Yeah,” he says, eyes never lifting from the sparkling peach.

“Sorry.”

He angles his jaw. “Stop sayin’ you're sorry. I’ll kick your ass.”

Your head drops between your shoulders, eyes lifting only to his elbows. “Sorry.”

He scoffs, swiping the glasses and stepping back to let you out first.

“I’m trying not to make it weird,” you offer, slipping by.

“I don’t want you to try anything.” He kicks your ankle lightly and follows you back into the living room.

Vanessa sits forward and clasps her hands around her knee when you sit back down, shifting as though to reach for you before she stops herself. “How are you feeling? Joel said you’re a little…worse for wear, right now.”

“I’ve been better,” you say, smiling. “Just morning sickness. Which lasts – all day.”

She nods sympathetically. “My sister had it rough with her first. I actually…” She twists around, reaches for her purse, fishes out an orange packet. “I brought you some ginger tea. Kate told me it helped her a lot, so.”

She holds it out in almost trembling fingers. Likewise, you steady yours to take it from her, thanking her with a shy nod of the head. “That’s so kind,” you reply quietly, eyes darting to Joel. He’s staring at the pack in your hands, watching as you turn it over to read the back.

“And – listen,” Vanessa continues, the acceptance of her offering clearly fueling her assuredness, “I don’t want anything to be weird – between you and I, between you and Joel. I know this situation is…new. It’s, um…”

“It’s kinda weird,” you say, humoring. “It’s okay. I know.”

She breathes a relieved laugh. “It is. Thank God you said it.” She glances back at Joel, who smiles at her, slips his hand onto her knee. “But I guess,” a deep breath, “I guess it is what it is. And we’re all adults, you know? We can make it work, right?”

Your head switches rapidly between nodding enthusiastically and shaking enthusiastically. “Yeah. Yes. No, absolutely. And, you know, me and Joel – there isn’t – we’re not at all…”

“Oh,” she bats the idea away, “I know. I know that. He told me everything. It’s – You know, it’s just a timing thing.”

Joel’s staring down at his hand locked around her leg. Unblinking. Unmoving. His expression doesn’t shift until the two of you settle back into your seats; until Vanessa asks if he’d mind making you a cup of ginger tea.

You barely notice his absence, the way she takes you up in conversation. Like twirling you off in some kind of dance, each sentence strung safely to the next. There are no lulls, no awkward pauses. She asks about work, asks about your family. She tells you stories about her niece, who’s three now, and compares how you’re feeling to how she remembers her sister feeling.

Then her work, and the IT guy her friend hooked up with, and her class at the gym which she’s trying to convince Joel to come along to, and Kate’s hot yoga class every Thursday night, and the new sushi place which just opened downtown and You gotta try it some day; the nigiri is divine.

And you nod along, and you laugh at her anecdotes and tell your own, and Joel tells her to tell you about the jazz band who were playing at the restaurant they visited a couple weeks ago, and you offer to top her drink up and she says she’ll do it herself and she leaves you and Joel alone for the first time all evening, and – it’s weird.

Because – behind the veil of conversation you’re doing your best to uphold, sits an image of this very night – only, in Joel’s house. In Joel’s house, on Joel’s couch, drinking nonalcoholic wine with Joel’s brother. Joel and Vanessa leant against one another on one couch, Tommy and Maria on the other.

You can’t help it – you’re wondering what Maria thinks of Vanessa. How long they knew each other, if at all, before the breakup. Whether they hung out, whether they discussed sushi and yoga, or the housing market, or their Miller boyfriends and their annoying Miller habits.

Maria would’ve liked her, you think. Would’ve found her as lovely as you do. And the idea, the image of them giggling together at family parties and being Tommy’s Maria and Joel’s Vanessa – presses a firm, bullying finger into the bruise you thought had faded some from the other day.

And once they’re gone, once you’re left alone again – lying in still silence, closed in on yourself by the thick darkness of your room, nothing but you and your thoughts and your unborn child for company – it slips out.

“Fuck her, right?” You hold your hands out, addressing your stomach. “She was so fucking nice. Did you like her? Fuck me, I liked her. I hope they break up.”

And then, realizing who you’re talking to: “No. Sorry, baby, no. I don’t hope they break up. I want your dad to be really happy. But – Goddamn. She was so sweet. I thought she was gonna slap me, and she just – she brought ginger tea! Fuck. They look good together, don’t they?”

It’s just hormones. Just the emotional trip that is being four weeks pregnant. Everybody feels like this when they fall pregnant – sensitive, vulnerable, clingy. Right? Right?

Your words sit stagnant in midair. You swear you can see them, heavy and intruding. Awkwardly lingering someplace they don’t belong. Because none of it even matters – the hormones, the emotions. The weird knot burning a hole in your chest, shaped like a clenched fist, knuckles branded by the heat of longing. It can’t matter.

You’re where you are, he’s where he is. A pillow in your arm, Vanessa in his. Feet apart, bricks and mortar and something like twenty years and two dates too late separating you.

Both staring up at the ceiling, wondering who the other’s thinking of.

“At eight weeks, your baby is roughly the size of a raspberry.”

Your knee bounces, breath coming and going in shaky ripples. The rubber sole of your shoe cries against the sterilized hospital floor. Your chest hums anxiously and your throat catches when you swallow and are the lights too bright? The room too hot? You’re sweating. Why are you sweating? Can you breathe right now?

Joel nudges your arm and your eyes roll to the pamphlet in his hand, his finger tracing the words. “C’mon,” he utters, leaning in, “how can anything the size of a raspberry be scary?”

You squint under fluorescent white. “A raspberry that grows into the size of a watermelon, can break my ribs, make me throw up, make me lose hair, and then tear my vagina apart on its way out? That’s pretty scary.”

He smirks. “Not to me it ain’t. My vagina stays perfectly intact the entire time.”

“Oh, fuck off,” you reply, whacking him.

He laughs, swatting your palm away, keeping ahold of your fingers inside his own. “Speaking of – we gotta talk.” He elbows you, waiting until you’re looking again to speak. “We gotta cut the language.”

“Cut the language?”

“Uhuh. Rein it in. And by we, I mean you.”

“Uh,” you scoff, “I don’t think so. When you do the growing, then you can rein your own swearing in. Leave me alone, asshole.”

“Charming,” Joel says. “You know the baby can hear you? You want it to come out swearin’ like a trooper?”

You grin, tipping your head to him. “If it comes out and says anything, we’re rich. So – yeah. Let it.”

He opens his mouth to reply when a nurse emerges from a nearby room and calls your name.

“You’re up, kid,” Joel says, standing beside you.

You turn back, speaking before your brain settles on words. “I’m scared.”

“Hey,” he says, taking your hand. He squeezes it gently, uses the other to keep you facing him. “This is the easy part, right? We’re just going to meet them.”

“Oh, fuck,” you breathe, and wander over to meet the nurse. Joel’s hand a vice grip around yours.

She leads you into a similarly washed-out clinic room, only slightly dimmer with the lights turned out, and yanks a roll of paper across the bed. Tapping it twice, she smiles. “Hop up, darlin’.”

You settle into the crinkly paper, leaning back until you’re blinking up at the speckled ceiling. Another door opens and a woman in a white coat floats in, and you swear that if it weren’t for Joel’s Evenin’, ma’am when she greets the two of you, you’d believe she were a figment of your imagination. Another character in this fucking insane dream.

“Not often I do these past five o’clock,” she says, clicking her mouse and typing on her keyboard and fixing a hair grip back into her bun. Casual. It’s not even a thing to her, introducing parents and children. She does this all fucking day.

Joel tosses half a glance to you and then realizes you’re not currently in the room. He pinches your hand again. It grounds you for all of two seconds.

“Yeah, uh,” he clears his throat, “work commitment. I couldn’t get away any earlier, so we’re havin’ to do this a little late.”

“What do you do?” she asks, staring at her screen. Her glossy brown eyes and rich, dark skin.

“I’m a contractor,” Joel replies, thumb stroking your shoulder.

Something bubbles in your stomach, something akin to jealousy, an urgency to tell her that right now, in this room, he’s mine. No more questions. Something which quickly dissipates when you remind yourself to quit being fucking ridiculous and that right now, in this room, he’s someone else’s, and the thumb on your shoulder is merely to hold you back from fleeing. Nothing more.

The sonographer nods. Her name badge reads Freya. Pretty name. Stop picturing what your kid would look like as a Freya. You are not naming them after the first sonographer you meet.

“Shouldn’t be too long, then y’all can get home for the night. You live nearby?”

“Twenty minutes’ drive. Not far, are we?” Joel asks you.

Your eyes shoot down to his. “No,” you push your cheeks up, telling Freya, “not far.”

She flattens her lips against one another, lending you a sympathetic smile. “You got nothing to worry about, honey. Promise. Gel might be a little cold, that’s about as scary as this gets. We’re just gonna make sure everything’s looking good, check your dates, check your measurements. You’re doing great.”

“You hear that?” Joel murmurs, settling down into the chair by your side. His hand hasn’t left yours. His voice is low, meant just for you, when he repeats, “You’re doin’ great.”

You huff a laugh, some nervous release from your lungs.

Freya smiles, face lit by the faint glow of the screen in front of her. “We ready?”

You roll the hem of your tee up when she motions, bunching it under the wire of your bra. She squeezes a bottle over your stomach, which tenses solid when the frozen bite of gel curls right below your belly button. Freya smiles apologetically when you wince. Told you, she murmurs, and your breath escapes in a slightly more comfortable laugh. Lighter, easier. Scariest part over.

She presses the probe to your skin and spreads the gel, coating the bottom of your tummy in a slippery slick which tickles with each inch she covers. Two buttons pressed, and a dark image appears on a screen opposite you.

A gray fan, speckled like the ceiling above your head. Dark, black shapes growing and shrinking at the turn of Freya’s wrist. She pauses, two blobs onscreen: the larger, black, round, home to a smaller, misshapen one. Flecked with white and silver and moving slowly, gently, but – right there.

“Mom, Dad,” she grins, “meet your baby.”

You and Joel move forward at the same time, drawn closer to the crunchy image as if by some kind of natural magnetism. Eyes never blinking, lips agape. The shapes flutter, the smaller dipping in and out of view.

“You see right here, right in the center?” A white cross appears over the blob’s middle. “That little movement? The kinda – pulsing?”

You each nod. Your nails dig so deep into Joel’s hand that you risk drawing blood.

“That’s the heart. Ticking away.”

“The heart?” you ask, watching the rhythmic flicker in the center of the screen.

“Yep. Perfect, too.”

She hits another key and suddenly the room is filled with a muffled thudding; a steady, energetic pulse in your ears. It matches the movements onscreen, the tiny throb of the baby’s chest, the shape of your womb moving like waves before you.

And suddenly, it's real – all of it: the screen and the room and the sonographer and you, and Joel’s hand encasing yours, holding your knuckles to his lips, and –

And the heartbeat. Right there, right in front of you. Shy, probably as nervous as you are to introduce themselves. Feeling your eyes on them, curled up somewhere safe inside you. Right there.

You turn to Joel, and his illuminated face is staring straight at the screen. Eyes soaked with tears, blinking as they form, cheeks dappled with wet. He draws his eyes from his child only to look back at you, only to mirror your stunned smile, your disbelieving laugh, more tears dripping down into his beard. He sits up, presses his damp lips firmly to your forehead.

Freya mutes the heartbeat, pauses the scan where the image is clearest, and sits back. “I’ll give you guys a moment to yourselves,” she says, wheeling back in her chair. “Take all the time you need. I’m right outside.”

“Thanks,” Joel mumbles for the both of you, sweeping hair from your face.

The door closes on your little bubble – you, Joel, and the grainy image of your baby. The evidence that – yeah, that night happened, and yeah, you’re forever changed because of it. The evidence that you’re about to become a mom, for real, no matter how much the thought makes you feel like your stomach is kicking around at your ankles.

And the evidence that, no matter how scared you might be, how unprepared and unworthy you feel – you fucking adore that little blob already.

Love it as much as Joel does, stood over you, kissing your hair and whispering words you’re only half-listening to. A quiet thank you, a shaky I can’t believe it. Something about showing his brother. And when you look up at him, blinking at one another, inches apart – he takes your jaw in his hands and lowers his lips to yours.

Different. Softer. No want laced through. No urgency. Nothing needed, nor requested, that isn’t already right here in this little bubble of yours.

He kisses you slowly, eyes closed, holding you until you pull away for breath. His nose bumps against yours and you laugh, heads together, eyes low.

“Still scared?” he whispers.

“Terrified,” you tell him.

“Me, too,” he says, and kisses you again.

You lean back against the bed, relief settling your bones and soothing your heartbeat. The notion washes over you that, if you could, you’d stay in this room forever. Staring at the screen, holding Joel’s hand. Whispering fears into his mouth and letting him swallow them in a kiss.

He hands you some paper towel and helps you drag it across your stomach, your eyes still fixed on the little shape opposite. He hooks his chin over your head – the fresh, woody smell of his cologne infiltrating your lungs and throwing you under the haze of something you’re not quite sure how to define.

“Duck,” he says, voice vibrating into your skull.

“Huh?”

“Start saying duck. Make the baby think we’re saying that, then you can say –” he lowers his voice, “– fuck, all you want.”

“The hell would I have to say duck for?”

Joel stands upright and shrugs. “I don’t know. Think of somethin’. A nickname, maybe.”

“Duck?”

He nods plainly, glancing over to the screen.

The pillow beneath your head sighs as you turn from Joel back to the ultrasound. “Baby Duck,” you offer, and he smiles.

Smiles in a way you don’t think you’ve ever seen him smile. Eyes glistening, cheeks swollen. Something innocent and earnest about it. Something pure.

He agrees. “Baby Duck it is.”

Joel insists that you spend the night at his place.

“It’s been a big day,” he reasons, fixing the bed in his guestroom. “Just – let me run around after you for a little bit.”

You fight your corner as much as you can be bothered – I gotta maintain my independence, I’m gonna be a single mom soon enough, you know – but, truthfully, you’ll take any excuse to have him rush around at your beck and call. Some days you open your mouth and he hears the wet click of saliva between your lips, and grabs a glass of water for you before you’ve even voiced the request.

He orders takeout, settles shoulder-to-shoulder with you on the couch, and lets you pick whichever movie you feel like putting him through until the food’s gone, he’s out of beer, and you’ve abandoned Heath Ledger and Julia Stiles for an argument about the best part of pizza.

You don’t like the crust?

Nope.

What fuckin’ age are you?

If it ain’t stuffed, it’s just not worth it.

At eleven, you bid him goodnight and wander upstairs, falling into a sea of navy-blue sheets to be delivered to sleep by the serene silence of Joel’s home. It takes no time for your eyes to flutter closed, the soft sheen of moonlight painted across the wall, sweeping from your view to be replaced in a whir by –

Lights. Overhead and all around and so bright and so close that you swear they’re etched on the inside of your eyelids.

You’re in the backseat, watching them soar by in blurs of white and red and amber and green, and your pulse is rattling through your veins and throbbing between your temples and you can’t focus on any one object for longer than three seconds, before your eyes roll and your head dizzies.

A word, slung from your lips in a half-wakened attempt to stop it. A word you barely recognize at first, don’t understand the meaning of. It’s been years. Why now? Mom.

You’re not sure why, or who you’re even reaching out to. There are two figures in the front seats, heads facing forward. She’s not turning around. She’s not even fucking moving, not reacting to the speed or the lights or your voice. Mom.

You scream it, the syllable ripping violently from your throat, and your tiny fingers reach for her swirls of hair. You pause, staring at the chipped polish on your stubby, kiddy nails. Mom, I’m scared.

The distorted blast of a horn scoops the car up in one motion, hurtling over itself along the freeway. You’re thrown to the roof of the car, plummet back down to your seat; the seatbelt throttles you, rips a burn deep into the skin of your neck. Back up again; your head hits the spongey roof of the car. Your stomach somersaults.

Mom, please, you wail, swiping for her hand. It’s lying limp by her thigh, dark droplets on her wrist. Mom Mom please Mom I’m scared Mom please I’m so scared I –

“Baby.”

His voice is low, earthy. It chews apart the high-pitched squeal of brakes and screaming. The glass smashing. The metal crunching.

You lift from the bed like it’s ice water, gasping when you finally surface back on Earth. Your chest heaves, it’s not sucking in enough breath; you can’t breathe you can’t breathe you can’t fucking breathe.

Joel whips the cover from your legs and you roll from the mattress, feet planting on the floor. You bend forward to grip onto the sheets, a choking rising up your throat, closer and closer until it tugs on your tongue.

“Icantbreathe,” you pant.

Joel’s body curves around yours. “You’re alright,” he’s telling you – urging you; one hand between your shoulder blades, the other holding your wrist for fear you might collapse. “I’m here, you’re okay. You’re at my place, you’re safe, but, kid – I need you to slow down. You’re hyperventilating.”

You work your breathing to the strokes of his hand up and down your spine: in out in out in and out and in and out and in, and out, and in, and…out…and in…and…out.

“That’s it. Keep doing that. You’re good, baby, I got you. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

In – and out. In – and out again.

The room slowly desaturates back into boring, moonlit blue. Feeling sputters back into your hands, clawing at the sheets once the sharpness dissolves. The cotton pets back, smooth under your quivering touch. Your lips stop tingling, your ears stop ringing. One after another, until your blood settles back to a steady stream and you straighten up.

“Can you sit down for me?”

“No,” you whimper, and Joel nods.

“That’s alright,” he says. “I’m gonna get you a drink, that okay?”

You grab his T-shirt. “No. Don’t leave me. Please. Sorry.”

He cups your frozen cheeks. “I ain’t goin’ anywhere. Just downstairs. You can come.”

He settles you at his kitchen table and shuffles over to the cupboards, rubbing his eyes. You feel the heat of embarrassment and guilt, watching as he settles down with a groan minutes later.

“Ginger,” he tells you, voice rounded by his mug, sliding one of your own over to you.

“Sorry,” you mumble, lifting it with two hands. The smell sharp, cutting up the remnants of gasoline and smoke.

“Many times do I gotta say it?” he asks dryly. “Quit sayin’ you’re sorry.”

You gulp nervously. “You got work in the morning. You’re gonna be exhausted.”

“And if I hadn’t let you keep me up watchin’ chick flicks, I’d be rested. That’s something I can deal with later. I got you to worry about right now.”

You shake your head; the ceramic hits the table with a sharp thud. “I don’t want you to worry about me.”

“Well,” Joel sniffs, “you’re carrying my child. I’ll always worry about you.”

You sit back, the curve of the chair cradling, your heart beating lamely against the wood. Joel’s jaw rests in the cushion of his palm, staring back at you.

“What time is it?” you ask, and he glances over his shoulder.

“Three. Take a sip.”

“I’m fine.”

“Sip.”

You obey, lifting the tea and swallowing harshly.

He watches every move, every shift reflected in his dark eyes, decorated by a tense, stony expression. “Does this happen a lot?”

“Never,” you say. “This never happens.”

Joel cranes his jaw, cracks his neck. “Alright,” he sighs, “that’s okay. Breathe again. You’re doing fine.”

But you don’t feel fine. The dregs of panic sizzle into something thicker, hotter. Anger. Frustration. “Why the fuck is this happening?” you hiss, fingers prodding into your eye sockets. “What the f–?”

“Easy. I don’t know. Hormones? Stress?”

“You sound like my fucking doctor.”

Joel smiles. Amusement, before concern wipes over it again. “Let’s just give it some time to pass, okay?”

You nod, hanging over your drink, the silhouette of your reflection staring back at you. The steam snakes up, seeping into your skin, bubbling under the surface. Wiping clean any memory of freeway or nail polish, like coating over a bathroom mirror. The shapes still visible behind, but blurred. Gone.

“How’s Vanessa?” you ask, an attempt to distract yourself.

Joel adjusts a little awkwardly in his chair. “She’s good. She loved the scan photo. Showed it to her sister. They’re sure it’s a boy.”

“Ha. Joel Jr.”

“Joel Jr.,” he agrees, and then attempts to distract himself. “So,” he says, “Allandale.”

“Mhm?”

“Wonder if I ever saw your mom or dad. When I was there visitin’ Sam.”

You shrug. “Doubt it. I mean, they always lived right next to the elementary school, if that helps. My mom was a first-grade teacher. The two of us used to walk there ‘n back together, every day.”

“First grade, huh? Best one.”

“Yeah. Yeah, and she was the best of the best. She used to go all out for her kids; used to go to Michaels and get all this crafty stuff so they could spend all afternoon making little houses or zoos, or – whatever she could think of. And she’d always keep some aside, bring some home for me to make one, too. One time, she came home with all this blue tissue paper and little foam fish, and we made an aquarium together.”

“That’s pretty cool,” Joel says.

“Yeah,” you say again, nodding eagerly. “She was so cool. And fun, y’know? I just remember her being so much fun. I always felt safe with her, felt loved. I actually used to think she hung the sun every morning, just for me.” You take a deep breath, replacing it with a broken sigh.

“What about your dad? What was he like?”

You frown. “He was…fine. Real quiet, reserved. A little grumpy, I guess. I always got the idea he couldn’t be bothered with me, young as I was. Always wanted to be left alone. I think my mom overcompensated a lot.”

Something flashes across Joel’s face that seems to say he knows – or, at least, he understands. Almost imperceptible, a quick flicker of annoyance. “You miss her?” he asks, switching back.

“My mom?” You almost laugh, gripping onto your mug. Staring at the slow swirl of ginger. A shrug which presents more like a flinch; an animal swatting a fly away. “I miss those parts, when I think of them. The aquarium, the walking to school. Miss the memories. But I don’t think I knew her well enough or long enough to miss her.

“I’ve lived way longer without her than I ever had her. Done everything without her, like –” gesturing down, “– this. But, sometimes…sometimes, I bundle the sheets up behind my back in bed, and I pretend it’s her. Pretend I have a mom, and she’s cuddling me to sleep. I dunno. Maybe that’s what missing her feels like.”

Joel soaks in every word you say, letting the shape of each one settle on the table between you before he speaks again. Letting them be spoken into the dead of night, collected by no one, and letting them fade into silence. Secrets sweeping off into starlight. Nothing you would admit in the daytime.

“What was her name?” he asks, voice timid and gentle in the dark kitchen.

You almost choke on your tea. “Shoot – I’m sorry. That was a lot. Sorry. She, uh – Her name?”

It brings the first genuine smile to your lips; the memory of your mom now clear behind your eyes. Her round cheeks, her fluttering earrings. The deep, dark curls of her hair, thick ringlets twisting and lighting in the sun. The gap between her front teeth, the purse of her lips as she kissed your cheeks, your hands, your tummy.

Her name like a melody in your head; a safe word, a calming mantra when the world becomes too noisy, too saturated, too sharp to bear. Two syllables. Two little beats, like a piece of her still lives in the sound of her name.

“Sarah,” you tell Joel. “Her name was Sarah.”

#*hits post*#*throws laptop from bridge*#joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #the last of us #tlou #macfrog #neighbor!joel miller #neighbor!joel #babydaddy!joel miller #babydaddy!joel #tw pregnancy

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smrsxx · 9 months

Text

Legends Are Made | Lewis Hamilton x Female Reader

Summary : 9 months after Ayrton Senna's fatal crash , Y/N Senna Da Silva was born in Rome , Italy and was defined by destiny carrying the same talent as her father's . At the very young age of 2 Y/N developed an interest upon her father's job and then entered the fascinating world of F1 . Growing up and moving from F3 to F2 her dream to bring back her father's legacy seemed to finally come true , when she joined the Mercedes AMG Petronas team , becoming the first woman on the F1 grid . What she did not expect was that she would fall in love with an 5 times world time F1 champion , Lewis Hamilton .

TW : Mentions and descriptions of Ayrton Senna's fatal crash from the autopsy , Max is super mean upon the reader ( Red Bull is an absolute shit in this ) , anxiety and panick attacks , a lot of angst(y feeling's ) , tears ( both of sadness and happiness ) , Ayrton visit's the reader ( I was crying when I wrote this ) , but extreme fluff towards the end .

This idea came up to me back in May 1 of this year , and while I was listening to the song above Legends Are Made by Sam Tinnesz , I could not help myself and think of all the things that could have happened if Ayrton had a daughter with the same talent . After 3 months working on this I finally finished it .

Just remember that English is not my first language , so if you spot any mistakes just bare with me . ( It is a tw on it's own ) .

PS : I do not usually pour my entire heart and soul on every imagine that I write , but I actually did in this one - and I am proud of it - I hope you like it . I was literally crying the whole time .

Edit : Still crying .

19k words - i got reallyy away with this one

______________________________________________________________

May , 1 1994 Imola , Italy - San Marino Grand Prix

Lap 7 . . . the car left the racing line at Tamburello and ran in a straight line off the track and struck an unprotected concrete barrier .

He tried to brake down .

He really did .

The car hit the wall at a shallow angle, tearing off the right front wheel and nose cone with 211 km/h .

" Ayrton Senna crashed after the Tamburello corner and smashed with the barrier . Red Flag . The safety car is on it's way . We may need an ambulance for this . " The presenter said with an anxious tone in his voice .

Ayrton tried moving his head but the pain was insufferable .

After that he lost his vision and everything turned black .

" Ayrton Senna Da Silva , a truly staggering talent is dead at the age of 34 years old , after crashing his W16 on the concrete barrier . We lost without any doubt one of the best or maybe the best F1 racing driver." The same presenter said after a couple of hours after the incident .

Ayrton Senna Da Silva - your father - was dead .

_____

January 8th 1995 , Rome , Italy

It was a sunny but cold day when your mother gave birth to you .

Y/N Senna Da Silva . . . the one and only daughter of the F1 champion Ayrton Senna .

You did not know it yet but you would grow up without your dad .

Although you carried something very special within your heart .

His talent was passed over to you , something that your mother tried desperately to avoid .

At the young age of 2 , after watching for the first time a F1 race , one of your dad's , you could not help but wonder about all these fast cars that were racing in big circles .

You were amazed by the colors and the sounds of the engine's .

Your mother did everything in her power to keep you away from F1 and she thought she had succeeded , until one day when she picked you up from the Kindergarten you were crying and sniffling your nose.

When she asked you what happened the only answer you could give was more tears and the phrase " The other kids say that I don't have a dad , because he left me . "

That phrase still keeps you and your mother awake at night .

After that incident she decided to show you one of your father's races.

You loved it .

Little did she know that you had the same talent as your father and she could not keep you away from it .

After a couple of months , you entered the F1 worlds by going into karting .

_____

By the time you were 15 years old , you were able to perfectly drive a F3 car . Your coach said that it would be too easy for you to move from karting to F3 and then F2 .

" You are just like your father . " Your mother said to you on your first big crash .

You had a few big scratches but nothing that could stop you from raicing .

" What do you mean ? " You asked her back trying to convince your mother on telling you more .

After a few hours of you talking you found out more information about your father's tragic death .

" I saw it live on the TV . He was motionless . He had so many injuries ih his head . There was so much blood . You could see it from afar . Thereafter he did not move again . He called me before the race saying that he had a feeling , that something bad will happen to him."

" How ironic " She thought .

__________

' The resemblance is almost scary . ' You thought while you were looking at your debut photo , that the Mercedes AMG Petronas team had published .

It was 100 % sure that you were your father's daughter .

You had the exact same curls at the end of your hair , big honey color doe eyes , that cute little nose and those same full dark pink lips .

You even had the same stance .

Same fashion style . Heck even some clothes of his where now on your closet .

You were practically the same .

But you were not on the same F1 team .

While your father had the best time in McLaren , you joined the Mercedes AMG Petronas team in 2015 .

Being 25 years old you became the youngest amongst everyone , but what made it even worse is that you were the first woman on the F1 grid .

The night before your first public appearance you couldn't sleep .

You were worried and anxious .

Thinking about people's opinions made it even worse that it already was .

Getting up you decided to go to the kitchen at take those sleeping pills your doctor prescribed for you .

And before you knew it you entered the dream space - or so you thought .

" You know that you can not go on like this for long right ? " A man's voice spoke from your left side of the bed .

A voice you have heard before but can not pinpoint exactly where .

" This is not a dream Y/N you can answer me . "

Y/N .

He knows my name .

' I know his voice . ' You thought .

And then it hit you right in the face .

" Dad ? " You asked tears on your face while you where slowly turning to his direction .

He smiled .

He smiled to you .

Your dad smiled to you .

Suddenly you felt someone embracing you - a soft kiss on your forehead .

You hugged him back .

Your dad was here - hugging you and telling you he loves you .

" I am always with you , you are safe . " He told you .

By now you were crying uncontrollably .

" I love you so much Y/N . "

" Do not leave me alone dad . Please . " You begged him through sobs.

" Never Y/N . I love you ." He said to you one last time before you fell asleep .

And he was right .

He never left your side .

You woke up after 8 hours of sleeping , with his cross on your nightstand beside the photo you had of him .

You were safe .

__________

One year had passed since you first saw your father for the first time .

Everything was going great with the team - almost .

You and Lewis Hamilton were practically best friends by now .

' The best duo on the whole grid ' . Everyone said .

Fans going crazy on Twitter shiping both of you .

You had become great friends with Daniel Riccardo and Carlos Sainz.

You had a good relationship with Fernando Alonso and Perez although you did not talk much , but you respected each other .

You and Valtteri Bottas became buddy's through Tiffany and you had the best time pranking Lewis .

Sebastian Vettel was something else entirely .

He respected you and helped you in any way possible . Being the oldest one in the grid helping others with his own ways , made him the father of the grid .

The only one who did not speak to you was Verstappen .

Max Verstappen .

He looked at you with such hate .

Did not talk at you .

Even when you had to sit net to him in interviews he always switched seats with somebody else .

Atleast you were thankful that nothing ever happened .

__________

Two years had passed by .

The best two years of your life .

Your relationship with Lewis was stronger than before .

At least that's what you thought from your part .

You liked him .

Actually you liked him even more than a friend .

God you even loved him at this point .

But you desided to keep it to yourself , not wanting to mess up your frienship or even worse jeopardize your partnership .

Valtteri joined Mercedes and for once you though that they would ask you to transfer , but Toto Wolff would never do it . Especially after watching you getting close to Susie an having the best time babysitting their kids .

In the Brazilian GP of 2017 you finished first place earning the respect of Kimi Raikkonen and becoming close buddy's .

You were always sending food posts and memes in each other and you even died from laughter when you first watched Jackass while babysitting his kids .

Everything was going great until the Abu Dhabi GP .

Valtteri finished first , Lewis second , Sebastian third , Kimi fourth , you fifth and in the sixth place Max .

You had overtake him in last possible minute earning your place in your father's hometown - something that Max did not like at all and decided to make it show in the press conference later .

__________

" My name is Joseph from the F1 Magazine and my question is for Miss Y/N Senna . Y/N you were so good today and I am a 100 % that next year you will win the Championship . I can not help but wonder though and it is something that a lot of people are asking - today you came in the grid with some of your father's clothes . Is there a particular reason ? " He asked you .

" I actually do it all the time since some of his clothes fit me and I believe that he had the best style back then and since now Lewis has stolen that place I need to bring it back . " You answered smiling and making a little joke about Lewis that alot of people loved .

Especially him .

" That is great . My next question is for everyone and it is about what cars do you drive . Can we start with Mr . Vettel . " The interviewer asked with a smile .

" Well I have a Golf . " Carlos said and everybody laughed .

" And you Max ? " The guy asked him .

" I drive a Ferrari , not like someone else that drives a Golf or an almost 30 year old car . " Max said hating on Carlos and you .

You drove your father's famous red Honda NSX and actually own a really big percentage of the Honda NSX cars and you were extremely proud about it .

" Okay . See you on Twitter . " Carlos said know full well that Max is going to get so many new haters .

Sebastian was not proud , Kimi was laughing at Max's stupidity , Daniel was embarrassed and Lewis was furious .

" Y/N what do you have to say about this ? " The guy named Joseph asked you .

" First of all I agree with Carlos and second I am proud of driving such a car . Actually you can ask Mr. Mibe the CEO of Honda and he can assure you that my 30 year old Honda's are far more better that just a plain Ferrari . Thank you . " You answered making everyone in the room speechless .

" Well I totally agree . " Sebastian said laughing .

" She owns the division of the Honda Acura , she can buy all the Ferrari's he owns and plenty more . " Kimi said making everyone speechless again .

Carlos was right , because Twitter was going wild after the press conference was published .

__________

To say that you were mentally drained was a statement .

You were currently crying your eyes out .

Lewis and his dog Roscoe were on your side .

" I just wished the season didn't end like this . " You said while Lewis was hugging you .

" It's okay silly , everyone is on your side . Look even Kimi talked after a really long time . " Lewis said and you both laughed .

Suddenly you were both looking at each other in the eyes and before you noticed it Lewis had capped your face in his palms and pressed his lips at you .

You were so shocked that you did not realize that you had not kissed him back .

Your unresponsiveness made him believe that he was getting wrong .

'' I am so sorry Y/N I kno that you did- " Lewis said but you interupted him .

" Why did you stop ? " You asked him making him froze in his tracks .

It is safe to say that he kissed you back again something that went on about hours and hours on end until Roscoe got jealous of it and started to bark in your faces .

You stayed in Lewis hands for a while , until a scared Toto stormed inside the room .

" Next GP ? Imola , San Marino circuit . " He announced for both of you to hear , but was looking directly at you .

Imola , San Marino - where your father had lost his life .

__________

May , 1 2018 Imola , Italy - San Marino Grand Prix

"Today's atmosphere is heavy . We are in San Marino , Imola circuit where Ayrton Senna lost his life . Now we are waiting for the race to start as we have Y/N Senna Da Silva driving for the Mercedes AMG Petronas team . Toto Wolff specifically asked for the press to not be outside of the Mercedes pit . Y/N is already anxious and worried enough . We hope and pray for the best . In my opinion she is the best driver of this generation . " The same presenter that witnessed your father's death , spoke about you .

' 5 minutes till the race start's ' . You said to yourself .

You were inside your car , wearing your father's famous yellow helmet, his cross on your neck inside of your clothes .

Lewis had begged you not to do it .

Daniel and Carlos were totally afraid .

Kimi had retired .

Sebastian knew that it was dangerous but you wouldn't badge .

Your boyfriend - Lewis - was looking at you , pleading you with his eyes from his car to not do it .

Valtteri did not intervene .

You started from P4 , Sebastian in P3 , Valtteri in P2 and Lewis in P1 .

And the race started .

__________

You don't know how many laps you had done , you weren't counting them .

Everytime you approached the Tamburello racing line until you pass it , your heart was dropping on your stomach , you had trouble breathing .

You were thinking of him .

You thinking about your father .

Your mind was your enemy at this point telling you to 'look at the corner' .

You heart your companion was telling you 'do not look at the corner' .

'What if I lose control of the car and smash into the barier ? '

' What if I die ? '

' Mom is going to be devastated . '

'Lewis . . . oh my Lewis . . . '

' What if ? '

But despite your heart telling you to not look at the corner near the racin line in Tamburello , you did it and what you saw made everything stop .

__________

It is like you were watching the scene unfold it's self from afar .

You were back in 1994 .

Your car was on the other side of the road parked - you standing at the side of it .

Suddenly your father's car ran off the track and was struck an unprotected concrete barrier at 211km/h .

You could hear everything .

You could see everything .

You could smell everything .

Blood -

Your father's blood -

Tears streamed on your face like falls , your hands trembling while you were running to your father to save him .

But Death was far more powerful .

Before you could go and grab him , a hand engulfed your right wrist .

Your dad was standing besides you - his unconscious body still inside the car .

You started panicking , blindness covering your eyes - head dizzy .

" Y/N breath for me come on honey listen to me . " Your dad instructed you .

Trying to concentrate on your father's voice , you did not see his body getting lift out ofthe car , bones broken , blood everywhere .

After a while your father took you back to the side of your car , watching himself being lifted into a helicopter .

" What was the last thing you felt ? " You asked him .

" The taste of blood in my mouth and pain . " He answered calmly .

" I love you dad . " You said to him and hugged him again searching for his embrace .

You cried again .

" I love you too . Stop unsettling your mind with uneasy thoughts and go finish that race . Okay champion ? " Your father said to you before placing a soft kiss on your forehead .

Suddenly you were inside you car racing at 211km/h passing the Tamburello racing line - with your father's voice saying that he loves you watching him with tears in your eyes waiving at you from the corner .

__________

" AND Y/N SENNA DA SILVA IS THE WINNER OF THE IMOLA GRAND PRIX AND THE F1 WORLD CHAMPION OF 2018 " . The presenter scream in his microphone when your car overtook Sebastian's and finished in 1st place .

Your team was screaming , but all you could see and hear was your father saying ' I love you ' and ' I am so proud of you ' .

Only when Lewis hand landed on your shoulder you looked up - at him with tears in your red eyed from crying .

He helped you to get out of your car , took of your helmet and your balaclava , staring at you .

He grabbed your face - " What happened love ? " He asked you .

" I saw everything Lewis . I saw my dad . "

__________

You were currently standing with the Brazilisn flag on your shoulders , trophy on your hands , closed eys and head looking up , while everyone - even the fans - were all silent .

After you rised for your national anthem you asked for a minute of silence for your father .

The wind was blowing - and when something made you shiver but feel safe at the same time - you knew that your father was sitting besides you .

After one minute tears of happiness fell from your eyes .

__________

2023

You are now 28 years old , married with Lewis from 2019 with one beautiful baby boy .

You were still racing .

But today was a special day .

It was your son's birtand he was turning 3 years old .

You've desided with Lewis to go and wake him up , since you've prepared his favourite breakfast and after you would let him open his gifts .

" Goodmorning Ayrton Happy Birthday honey " You both said to your son to wake him up .

Mom's and Dad's and Thank you's could be heard all over the apartment as your son was driving his toy car around the house while holding a cookie .

Chocolate was plastered all over his face .

You were both happy smiling at him .

And then suddenly you heard your son screaming in the leaving room-

" I woak up in a new Ferrari . "

" I swear I am going to kill Carlos and Charles the moment I see them." Lewis said to you while you were uncontrollably laughing .

--------------------

@unimportantbabymilksharkte

@k----a27s

#f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 x female reader #f1 x oc #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton fanfic #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton x you

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from-the-clouds · 1 year

Text

texas sun - joel miller x f!reader - vol. xi

series masterlist | series playlist | writing masterlist | previous chapter |

chapter summary: I'm not even gonna be poetic about this: Joel and reader lie to themselves and others about their feelings for 5.6k words. pairing: joel miller x f!reader words: 5.6k chapter warnings: ANGST. Description of panic attacks/anxiety. Referenced death of family members/romantic partners. Implied bisexual reader. Alcohol consumption, hangovers. smoking. Canon-typical suffering. As always please dm if you have questions. a/n: Wanted to give game Joel a little love with the gif choice, ya feel me? I've been excited to write this chapter for months and I ultimately feel like it flopped so hard, it just did not come together the way I envisioned. It's also my last week of work for awhile I'm honestly feeling very burnt out so I'm in a 'fuck it, i don't have the energy to make it perfect' mood, BUT - It’s a lot of backstory/development that I do think is necessary. Next chapter shit will go down tho so get ready.

**ALSO! I got rid of my taglist. Please follow @ftcwriting and turn on notifs if you would like to be notified when I update my works :) **

-April 10, 2024-

Joel reaches out to clutch the patio railing. His chest is tight, like someone’s stitched his ribs together so they won’t expand fully every time he tries to inhale. Each breath wheezes in and out of him, and his head spins.

None of this feels real. It can’t be real. And if he’s asleep, he can’t decide if he’s in a dream or a nightmare.

That’s until he hears his name.

“Joel!”

Her voice is like a jolt of electricity, shocking his body back into equilibrium. He finds Ellie standing behind him when he looks over his shoulder, Tommy walking up the pathway to the front door, brow furrowed.

“We literally only got here like one week ago, you can’t die already,” Ellie scolds him, and he knows that the jab is meant to be playful. “Woah, are you okay?” she asks when they lock eyes.

Joel straightens, squaring up with Tommy, fully prepared to give him a piece of his mind, for throwing him into the deep end with nothing to stay afloat.

“Who was that?” Ellie is completely oblivious.

Even if he wanted to answer the question, he still probably couldn’t. It had taken him a moment to even recognize who you were, that’s how long it’s been. And he hadn’t even really gotten a good look. It only clicked when you’d taken off your glasses, and when it’d registered, and then he’d seen the kid next to you, he’d panicked. Joel brushes past Ellie, shoving his brother with one hand in the center of his chest.

“What the hell were you thinking?”

Tommy recoils at the contact, something pained and confused crossing his expression. “I…. I thought you’d be happy to see that she’s still alive.”

Joel doesn’t answer, just glowers at him. He’s still unable to make sense of the questions swirling around in his mind, each one seemingly more important than the last.

Of course it’s good that you're alive. At one point, he had tried to find you. It was after Sarah, after he’d tried to- he can’t even think about how foolish that had been. At the time, the thought of seeing you again was the only thing that provided him with even the slightest bit of hope for the future. But the search had been fruitless.

After a while, Joel decided that you were dead. It didn’t matter whether or not you were. He’d seen the unspeakable pain humans were capable of inflicting on each other and then when he’d gotten involved with some hunters, became the cause of all that pain. If you were alive…it meant those horrible things were happening to you. You were better off dead.

It also kept his conscience clear. After he’d done what he had done, he knew if he ever saw you again, he wouldn’t even be able to look you in the eyes. And he was right. You knew a version of him that no longer existed.

“Joel,” Ellie interjects. He’d nearly forgotten she was there, still lost in his shock and rage.

“Ellie, go inside,” he quips.

“Can’t I just-”

“Inside. Right now. ” Joel hasn’t used such an aggressive snarl with her since they first left for the Boston QZ, and he turns to look at her just in time to see her face crumple, before she turns and marches up the stairs. He immediately feels bad, but unfortunately, this is just how things go with every person he cares about these days. He hurts them, then they hurt him, and it equals out, only ending when one of them decides to leave.

“Jesus, Joel,” Tommy scolds, but he doesn’t care.

“How long?”

“What?”

“How long have you known she’s alive? That she has a fuckin’.....” Joel feels something get caught in his throat. “...a fuckin’ kid.”

“That’s her nephew,” Tommy says matter-of-factly, as if it was supposed to be obvious. As if Joel wasn’t just grappling with the idea that he had a twenty year old son he’d never known about, and feeling guilty that you’d been alone with him this whole time. “But I guess I can see where you’d think that.”

Now that you’re on Joel’s mind, he does recall you mentioning your nephew a few times. Maybe you even had a picture of him hanging on your fridge, and he had pegged how you had the same smile. He’s a little embarrassed for jumping to conclusions, but it doesn’t mean he’s done being angry.

“Shit,” Tommy rubs his beard. “They’ve been here for like three years. It’s been awhile.”

“Three years?” Joel asks, a whole new wave of anger reappearing. “And you didn’t think to fuckin’ tell me all this time?”

“You know the rules. We aren’t allowed to use the radio.”

“What about when I was here in the winter?” Joel asks stiffly.

“I just…figured it’d be a shock-

“And why would you think that, Tommy?” Joel raises his voice.

Tommy holds out his hands, lowering them slightly as if to tell Joel to settle down. Then he nods towards the house. Ellie. “You had a lot going on with that whole situation. I didn’t want to distract you.”

Joel would never admit it, but that was probably a smart decision for Tommy to make. He remembers how uncertain and scared he’d been when he first stopped in Jackson. But Joel still tries to think of a way to keep the argument going, because he doesn’t want to give Tommy any sort of props for how he’s chosen to break this news to him.

“I thought you’d be happy she’s alive, really, I mean you both-��

Joel holds up his hand. “Enough, Tommy. It was so long ago…I barely remember.”

Tommy frowns, gives him a knowing look. “Really?”

Joel sniffs, crosses his arms.

“Well, I remember,” Tommy says. “And she was always good to you.”

Joel doesn’t answer, because he doesn’t have anything else to say, and at this point, he just wants Tommy to leave.

“Work through whatever you have to,” Tommy says. “But don’t be an asshole. You should work on that, in general. Or else I’ll have to keep explaining your behavior.”

“Glad I’ve got you looking out for me,” Joel says dryly. “Don’t know what I would do without you.”

“Fine.” Tommy shakes his head, backs away.

His brother doesn’t say goodbye as he stuffs his hands in his coat pocket and walks down the street. Joel stays in place, alone on the front porch, until his hands relax from the fists they are clenched in and his anger turns to shame.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

-April 19, 2024-

You close the locket and place it back inside the old lunch pail full of tchotchkes and other memorabilia. It’s a fairly empty box, over the years you’ve found that the things you hold onto are either lost or left behind, not unlike the people you’ve met. You swipe away the tears in your eyes.

Bea had always said it was important to give yourself the space to grieve, to let yourself feel whatever it was that you needed to. It’s advice that you don’t want to take from her right now because you’re pissed at her for being gone. Not that it had been her fault. And also because you know if you don’t stick to a routine it’s very easy to backslide.

In the bathroom, you hurry to splash cold water on your face, taking a look at yourself in the mirror. Before the outbreak, there was nothing more terrifying than getting old. Now, as you study the new lines and wrinkles on your face, the scar on your bottom lip, the gray strands in your hair, it doesn’t scare you at all. It seemed frivolous that looks were something you’d been so concerned about when you were younger. But you suppose you didn’t have much else to worry about. There was something pretty freeing about being older, that you can be content without being concerned about whether or not someone will find you attractive. And really, getting old means you’re still alive. That’s all that matters.

You are concerned with the red in the whites of your eyes, but hope they’ll fade by the time you get to Maria’s.

Grappling with the fact that Joel is still alive has dredged up a lot. Since it had been about a week since your reunion – if you could even call it that – on your front porch, and you’d seen him one other time. The first time, you’d sort of understood why he’d ran off. But you guessed you kind of expected him to come around eventually. He didn’t.

Just a few days earlier you’d been walking through the town square, and he’d been headed your direction with that teenage girl who Tommy has since told you is named Ellie. She was giggling at something, and Joel even had a slight smile on his face, but when he saw you, it disappeared, and he pulled Ellie to the opposite side of the street. It was clear now that he was intentionally trying to avoid you, which….didn’t feel great.

That was an understatement. Having Joel back made you realize just how lonely you were. It had taken some time after arriving in Jackson for you to grieve your partner of nearly ten years, so it hadn’t really dawned on you that at some point you might crave a deeper level of intimacy that your friendships couldn’t offer. But you had already had it twice, so you supposed that was better than nothing at all. Plus, your number one priority had been, and always would be making sure Ethan was provided for.

So what exactly were you expecting from Joel? Not that, of course. But maybe some kind of closure after all those years spent apart. Some kind of acknowledgement of your time spent together.

When the outbreak first happened, you had spent a lot of time being angry. With Joel and Sarah, the possibility of being normal had been dangled in front of you. You realized you had wanted to be loved after being convinced by your father – and yourself – that you didn’t deserve it. Then, the second you acknowledged that you wanted it anyways, the world had literally ended. It was a little egocentric, but it sort of felt like a sign that your dad had been right all along. Some women aren’t meant to be part of a family.

Of course, Bea had proved that wrong. But losing the people you loved became a pattern. And you even to this day, you alternated between believing that it was the unfortunate reality of life, or that it was your destiny to never get what you wanted.

Regardless, even if the way Joel is acting has caused you more turmoil than you are willing to admit, you’re not going to follow him around and beg to get back into his good graces. That’s never been your style.

You’re tidying up the kitchen, getting ready to leave, when Ethan shuffles into the room. It’s nearly noon.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” you say to him as drags his socked feet across the hardwood.

He grumbles his greeting and tilts his head at the bag you’re adjusting over your shoulder, as if to ask where you’re headed.

“I’m going to Maria’s,” you say. “Then I have to meet with Eugene.”

He makes a noise of affirmation, still half-asleep, and slumps into a kitchen chair. When you look at him closely, you see the dark circles beneath his glassy eyes, his face pale.

“You alright, honey?” you ask, putting your bag back on the countertop and approaching him. “Do you have a fever?” when you reach to press the back of your hand to his cheek he swats it away weakly. He doesn’t feel warm.

“I’m fine,” he says, crossing his arms on the countertop and burying his face in them. “I just have a headache.”

“Yeah?” you say. “You were out late last night.”

“Derek and I went to the Tipsy Bison,” his voice is muffled.

Everything clicks into place. “Oh. Were you overserved?”

He turns his head, but doesn’t lift it. With how long his hair has gotten, most of his face is obscured. “Maybe. But before I get a lecture, don’t worry – I’m never drinking again.”

“I’m not gonna lecture you,” you’re almost offended. “Is this really your first hangover?”

“I mean….probably not. But it’s definitely the worst.”

“Well now you know your limits,” you say, crossing the room to pour him a glass of water and get some ibuprofen from the long-expired bottle you keep in a cabinet.

“Maybe if we were allowed to drink when we were with Bea, I would’ve learned that sooner.”

You let Ethan’s get his dig in at the last community you’d lived with before Jackson. The more time you’d spent here, the more time he’d had to convince himself that what you’d gotten yourselves into was terrible. Because you had more of a complex perspective on it, it was the one subject you avoided speaking to each other about.

Ethan is similar to Vincent in that while he’s very sensitive, he also seems to enjoy being an instigator. Of course, spending all of his life fighting to survive in a world that wants him dead has only intensified that. Bea had been good at helping him manage his temper when he was a teenager and it became too much for you to handle. But besides that, he doesn't get into much trouble, so you aren’t going to chastise him.

“Drink this, and take these.”

He groans, but reaches out for the aspirin and water, nursing it down with small sips. You bite back a smile. The both of you have endured much worse than a hangover, but there’s something cathartic about seeing him experience the plights of a normal twenty-something.

“Are you hungry?”

“If I eat anything, I think I will vomit,” he lays his head back down.

You consider asking him if he wants you to stay so you can look after him, but decide that you don’t want to encourage the habit too much. Instead, you reach out and brush a strand of hair off his cheek so you can see him more clearly, and he closes his eyes. “I bet you’ll feel better in a couple hours. Drink water. It’ll help.”

He blinks up at you, seemingly unconvinced. “I saw that guy yesterday. The weird one.”

“What guy?”

“Tommy’s brother. What’s his name?”

“Joel?” you ask, and pretend that saying his name doesn’t almost make you shiver.

“Yeah,” he says. “He was with Tommy at the stables. Guess they’re making him a ranger.”

“Hm.”

“I know you knew him before or whatever, but he’s definitely a weirdo. And I’m not just saying that to make you feel better.”

The whatever in his sentence is doing a lot of heavy lifting. You roll your eyes, but not maliciously. “Well, he did just get here.” You definitely don’t owe Joel anything, so you surprise yourself by defending him.

Ethan almost ignores your response, winces, turns his head back into his arms and grumbles something to the effect of I’m dying.

“Rest up,” you ruffle his hair and kiss the top of his head, like you’ve been doing since before he could walk, and it’s hard to stop even though sometimes it annoys him. Right now, he doesn’t protest. “I’ll bring you home some soup from the mess hall. Take it easy.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It’s Tommy who lets you in once you arrive at Maria’s. She’s upstairs with the baby, he says, and tells you to wait in the living room, before you hear her frantic voice calling out for him to come help her.

His footsteps retreat up the stairs, and you hover in the entrance to the living room, your eyes inexplicably drawn to the chalkboard with

You glance at the little memorial that Tommy had made for Sarah and Kevin, Maria’s son. Even though you’ve seen it a million times at this point, the sight of her name, the date of her passing – the same day as Joel’s birthday – makes your stomach sink.

That’s when you notice that you’re not alone. Sitting in a chair in the corner is the girl that you’d seen accompanying Joel. You hadn’t actually been properly introduced, you realized, and she’s staring at you like she doesn’t know what to do. She’s a cute kid, a teenager if you had to guess, her dark hair pulled back into a ponytail.

Based on how he’s been acting, you can’t imagine what Joel has told her about you. Probably nothing good. So you give her a nod and a small smile, before crossing your arms and leaning against the doorframe.

Surprisingly, the bit of sincerity seems to warm her up a little. “I’m Ellie,” she says.

You nod again, and give her your first name. “It’s nice to meet you, Ellie. Sorry I didn’t get the chance the other day.”

She shrugs. “It didn’t seem like that was your fault.”

You let your arms drop to your sides, straighten up. “Did you uh…come to see the baby or something?”

Ellie shakes her head no. “I’m waiting for Tommy. He’s gonna take me to see the school.”

“Oh, that’s nice.”

“Not really,” she says. “I think school is fucking stupid. But everyone says I have to go, because all the other kids in town do, too.”

Ethan was grown when you arrived in Jackson, and you didn’t have children of your own, so it was the one place you didn’t really frequent. “Well, you probably should but….I hear you.”

There’s an almost imperceptible smile that crosses her features. You turn your head back to stare at the staircase, waiting for the sound of Maria’s footsteps, but all you can hear is her and Tommy whispering with frantic energy as they try to put their son down for a nap.

“You know Joel won’t tell me anything about you,” Ellie’s voice cuts in, and you turn back towards her. “But you knew him before, didn’t you?”

You’re not sure how to take this information, or…how to respond to it. So you keep your response simple. “I mean, we were neighbors.” But even that feels like a lie, and a useless one to tell. Maybe it’s a little petty, but you don’t owe it to Joel to keep his secrets, especially not after he’s treated you so poorly. So you tell her the truth. “I guess he was also…my boyfriend for a little while.”

Ellie seems taken aback by this. “What happened? Did you break his heart or something?”

“No,” you snort. “We got separated before the outbreak.”

“Oh.” She ponders for a moment. “So then why is he so mad?”

You shrug. “I’ll let you know if I find out.”

“Well, he’s an asshole. But I bet you already know that,” Ellie says.

Based on the time you actually spent with Joel, you would’ve never described him that way. So if that’s really how he’s perceived, even by the people who care about him, it makes you a little sad. Losing Sarah must have changed him more than you could imagine.

You’re already sick of thinking about him so much, so you change the subject to something that’s at least a little lighter. “How did the two of you end up together, anyways?”

“Long story,” she answers, and you get the sense there’s something she’s holding back. Because you just met, you don’t press her any further.

“As I’d imagine.”

You hear boots coming down the stairs, and Tommy rounds the corner, holding a stack of photos. “I’ve been meaning to show these to you, I went home a couple years back…to Joel’s old place and mine. There wasn’t much left, but I found these.”

He passes the pictures to you, and you look down at them. You don’t think much about your old house at all. It was another thing you lost, but almost everyone did, so it didn’t really make you feel special. Still, sometimes you thought of your cozy back patio and your old friend Martini, and had accepted you’d never see them again.

The first photo in the stack is a photo of Joel and Sarah at one of his soccer games. As sweet as the gesture is, you are pretty sure you can only confront so much of your past at once, and with Joel being back in town it’s starting to get suffocating. Also, when you study the picture and realize that your memory has gotten some of Sarah’s features wrong, you’re overwhelmed with guilt.

Hesitantly, you place the pictures down on the coffee table, and Ellie reaches for them immediately, flipping through him. “Woah,” she says. “He looks so different without all the grey hair,” she flips to a photo of him and Tommy, and glances up at him. “You look pretty much the same.”

When you agree with her, Tommy grins, playfully tucking a piece of hair behind his ear bashfully before growing serious. “You better not tell him I showed you these.”

“I won’t,” Ellie assures him.

“Look at this one.” Tommy pushes another photo across the table towards you, and you peer down to look at it. “He fucking adored you.”

You remember taking the picture vividly while on vacation with Joel and Sarah, and at one point you’d had your own copy framed on your dresser. There are flowers peppered in his hair, and you both look so young, and so happy, and so oblivious, his arms around you, his lips pressed against your cheek. At the time, you really had no idea that everything you knew was about to be destroyed.

“Nice,” you say flatly, and in an effort to keep from getting emotional, push it back across the table, and retreat to sit in a chair across the room.

After some time, and some convincing, Tommy and Ellie leave to go on their tour of the school. When the door closes behind them, you swipe the photo from you and Joel off the table and slide it into your back pocket. You tell yourself it’s so Tommy can’t show it to Joel, but really it’s because it’s one of the only memories you have of yourself before the outbreak, when everything felt perfect.

Just as you back away from the pictures, Maria appears at the bottom of the steps. She looks exhausted, and before either of you can speak, you wrap her in a hug. Partly because it looks like she needs it, but also because you just want to feel close to someone you trust, even if it’s only for a few seconds. “How are you holding up?” you ask.

“I finally get some peace and I’m using it to work,” she says, leading you into the dining room, where all the paperwork is spread out. Your plan had been to write a new amendment to the town’s constitution, which then had to be approved by the council.

Maria hadn’t stayed away from her job as the leader of the community for very long after having their son, despite your encouragement for her to take it easy. She had experience with her previous son, Kevin, but you imagined it didn’t make life with a newborn any easier. So you tried to help her out with any chance you got, especially because you knew she’d do the same for you. it was just how things between you worked. She knew even more about you than Tommy did, and you told each other everything. Well, almost everything….

“You should take a nap or something.”

“Don’t tempt me.”

“I’m serious,” you insist. “I can write a draft while you sleep and then you and I can do the revisions together.

She seems reluctant, but after making you swear you’d wake her if the baby starts fussing, she lies down on the couch and you begin working.

Like your old job, you don’t really like doing this. The only job you have in Jackson that actually excites you is the work you do with Eugene, and going on patrol. But this work makes you feel the most useful. And despite the fact that you had always been skeptical of authority – you believed in her ability to keep things in Jackson running smoothly.

About an hour later, you’d drawn up the draft and Maria stirs from her nap. The revisions don’t take very long, since you both are usually on the same page, but when you start packing your things up to go, she seems surprised.

“Are you hanging around until dinner?”

“No, I have to meet up with Eugene,” you say. “Plus, Ethan’s at home hungover so I told him I’d make him soup.

“Do you think he’ll be up for dinner tomorrow night?” she asks. “Tommy keeps pestering me.”

“Well he’s still too young for his hangovers to last two days,” you smirk. “So yeah, I think he will.”

“He invited…..Joel, and Ellie,” Maria says hesitantly, watching your face. “Is that okay?”

“I mean….it’s not my dinner party.”

“You can say no. Or not come,” she offers. She hadn’t been there the day you’d seen Joel again for the first time, but it sounds like Tommy has given her the rundown.

You shrug. As much as you don’t want to admit it, being forced into the same room as Joel is a little exciting. “I’ll go.”

“Are you doing okay with that?” she asks. “I told Tommy not to surprise you, but he didn’t listen.”

“It’s all fine,” you say, which isn’t entirely a lie. At the end of the day, everything would be fine. The stakes weren’t life and death. When Maria seems unconvinced, you continue. “I mean, it feels like he’s being a little rude…but it’s nothing I can’t handle.”

Maria lowers her eyes, pauses. “Has Tommy’s ever told you about any of the stuff Joel got him into when they were on their own?”

“Not really,” you say. “But I know they were on bad terms.”

“I didn’t know you back then,” Maria begins. “So I don’t know what you saw in him, or what he was like. But….I don’t think he’s….I don’t know if it’s worth getting emotionally invested again.”

“Oh, bummer. As you know, reconnecting with an ex is my main priority right now.” you deflect with a smirk, but Maria doesn’t seem as amused.

“Fair,” she says. “But be careful. I saw what he did to his own brother. I don’t want it to happen to you.”

“You don’t have to worry about me,” you assure her. “Whatever he’s done, I’ve dealt with worse.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

-April 20, 2024-

When Joel and Ellie arrive at Tommy’s, it’s clear immediately they aren’t the only people that were invited.

Seeing the life that Tommy had built for himself here – a thriving community, a wife, a son – fills him with a certain level of envy. But mostly….he’s ashamed. Back when they were hunters, Joel was adamant that it was the only way they could survive, despite the horrible things they were doing. The worst part was, Joel really believed it. Now, the nightmares still chasing both of them, he realizes he was wrong. Even if Tommy won’t say it out loud, Joel knows he resents him for those days, how he’d been forced to trade away so much of his humanity. For Joel, violence came easily – shockingly so – an outlet for all his anger after losing Sarah. But Tommy had always struggled. And even though there will always be love between them, the tension was still there.

He’s still adjusting to life in Jackson, only leaving the house when Ellie drags him out, and when Tommy trains him to go out on patrol. It’s hard to accept that he’s not on the run anymore after the chaotic nature of the last year. Only Tommy knows his darkest secret, and he intends to keep it that way.

While Ellie does seem somewhat hesitant to leave him alone, she does seem a lot more enthusiastic about life in Jackson. Joel knows it’s a good thing, and once again, he feels like he’s let her down by not leading by example.

Tommy greets them both once they step inside, and Joel is polite — something he’s been trying to do more of lately. Maria gives him a tight-lipped smile, one that tells him she’s trying to be civil despite her reservations. God only knows what Tommy has told her about their time together. At least he can understand where she’s coming from. Had they met twenty years ago in Austin, they probably would’ve gotten along. Nowadays, he’s not surprised when people don’t like him, because he hates himself, too.

But Maria still entertains them with general pleasantries and questions about how they are settling in, despite looking incredibly flustered. Ellie is more apt to answer them then he is, Joel standing by with his thumbs in his belt loops.

Over their shoulder, Joel sees you, standing in the corner of the front room with your back turned to him, deep in conversation with your nephew. He’s smiling and telling a very animated story, at one point clapping his palms on your shoulders and shaking them violently while you giggle. It makes him think of you and Sarah. Therein lies the problem. He’s become a little more comfortable discussing his past with Ellie, but there’s a limit to what he’s capable of, especially after repressing so much for so long.

The oven goes off, and Maria excuses herself to the kitchen, inviting Ellie to follow along. Joel and Tommy are left standing in the entryway together.

“You invited her?” Joel asks, not bothering to hide the venom in his voice.

Tommy steps back, giving him incredulous once-over. “It’s my house, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know what game you’re trying to-“

Tommy shoves Joel into the dining room before he can finish his thought, out of eyesight from the rest of the people in the house. “I’m not playing games, Joel. She’s family. Maybe not to you, but definitely to Maria and I. And she’s never shown you anything but kindness. So grow the fuck up.”

Before Joel can think of another objection, the sound of a baby crying cuts through the air. Tommy freezes at the sound, until you call out from the other room. “I got him.”

“Come on,” he says. “Maybe you can muster up the courage to hold your nephew.”

He wants to tell Tommy that he’s trying, even if it doesn’t look like it. But it almost feels better to allow himself to be the black sheep. It makes things easier. If he keeps that door closed, he’ll never need to worry about the problems that lie on the other side. Still, he begrudgingly follows his brother in the other room.

When he enters the front room, you’re holding Maria and Tommy’s son in your arms.

After Joel had learned that Ethan was your nephew, he was unsurprisingly relieved. What did surprise him, however, is that some small part of himself was disappointed. Sure, if you actually had his child while you were separated it would have been devastating. But before all this, all he had wanted was a future with you, would’ve gladly given you children….really, anything you wanted.

He tries not to let his eyes linger on you too long, lost in the daydream of what could’ve been, but you meet his eyes and give him such a sterile, polite nod that it’s almost painful.

Dinner is uneventful. Joel ends up seated directly across from you, Tommy’s doing, no doubt, but you do a good enough job of engaging in conversation that you don’t spend much time looking in Joel’s direction, and when you do, he doesn’t recognize your expression. It does give him the chance to study you up close, which he hadn’t done yet, and immediately regrets.

He’s still just as attracted to you as he’d always been. Sure, you’ve aged, but so has he – although you wear it much more gracefully. When Tommy offers to pour some bourbon into Ethan’s glass, he refuses, and for whatever reason, you stifle a laugh, the wrinkles around your eyes more prominent than they used to be.

After dinner, when the plates have been cleared, you disappear. He can feel himself growing overwhelmed, so he steps outside onto the back patio for some air. You’re sitting on a porch step looking out at the yard, but when he steps outside, you turn.

When you register that it’s him, you return your eyes forward again, and Joel remains silent, even considers walking back inside without a word. But he stays there so long, contemplating, that you’re the first to speak up.

“You know, if you stay here….at some point, you are gonna have to acknowledge me.”

Joel knows he’s the antagonist right now. He’s well aware. But he can’t help himself. Despite that, there’s no malice, and no bitterness in your voice. But you are direct.

And, because he’s never been good at refusing you, he gives you something in return. “I guess I’m just surprised to see you here….” He recalls a conversation you’d had long ago, curled against his chest, staring up at the stars together. “Being a city girl and everything.”

You turn to look over your shoulder, gaze making him feel warm, a small smile on your face. For a split second, you’re looking at him how you used to, and then it’s gone. “It is sort of a miracle, isn’t it?”

He ponders this, and you continue.

“It’s good to see you, Joel,” you say softly. He wonders how you can make general pleasantries sound so sweet, and is surprised at how easily you betray yourself with the words. Though he had noticed a pattern at dinner. You weren’t nearly as guarded as you used to be. He wonders how that’s possible, if you’ve made it this far.

“You too.”

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ivystoryweaver · 2 months

Text

Spectre

A Moon Knight Halloween Love Story

Event #9: Little Shop of Horrors

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Summary: Steven is pulled to the front, but for once, it's not Marc panicking. You venture into town in search of a certain disappeared shop.

Pairing this chapter: Marc Spector x f!reader, Steven Grant x f!reader (Jake is mentioned)

Word count: 3.5k

Content: angst, nightmare, anxiety attack, hurt-ish/comfort, domestic fluff-ish, romance, cuddling, kissing, mentions of death and dead body, exposition galore, not beta'd

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PREVIOUSLY on Spectre…

Only you were here, with him.

“I’ve got you,” he promised again, and again.

You remained. You were real.

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You fell asleep on top of Marc in his favorite chair. The passionate interlude between you literally wore you out. He held you, contentedly, for a long while. The weight of your body - the solid realness of you soothed him like nothing else could. Not after these empty, aching months without you.

In your sleep, you started to shiver. Feeling like he should warm you up, he decided to carry you up to bed. He pulled the hoodie back over your head, which roused you slightly, before tucking you securely under the covers. Finding his joggers, he pulled them over his hips before climbing into bed beside you.

Marc wasn’t tired at all, but he wasn’t about to leave your side.

An hour passed. You slept the whole time.

“How are you here?” Marc whispered, unable to tear his eyes from your profile - from the petal softness of your lips as you drew each breath of life.

Finally, he decided to creep down to the kitchen for a glass of water, and to retrieve Jeremiah. He remembered that you seemed to want the little guy in your presence at all times.

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You were dreaming.

Marc crying at your grave.

Steven taking tea with a sweet little lady on Main Street.

Jake banging his fists against his steering wheel in anguish.

It had to be a dream, because only dreams could conjure images so bizarre.

Steven was somehow now…in the fish tank? Unable to breathe. Trapped.

Marc fell into the earth, inside a waiting casket.

No!

Jake lit a cigarette - he hadn’t smoked in years - and pulled his cap down so low it almost covered his dark, accusing eyes.

“You didn’t tell me,” he spat. His car filled with a dangerous amount of smoke, burning your lungs, as if the whole car were catching fire.

“You didn’t even tell me you were coming to see me!” He growled, flinging the still-burning cigarette at your face…

…which pulled a scream from your lungs and woke you up.

In reality, your dream scream was only as loud as a whimper.

You were in your bedroom. Alone.

No.

Were you trapped here again?

Frantically touching yourself all over, you tried to convince yourself that you were here, that you were real. But where was Marc?

You called for him.

“Marc!” You screamed, scrambling out of bed, but feeling the covers tangling around you, holding you captive.

“Marc? Marc!”

You started gasping for air, your chest heaving as you hyperventilated.

"I’m here!” He called, sprinting into the bedroom with Jeremiah under his arm and a glass of water in his hand. Carefully placing the items on the night stand, he practically leapt across the bed to gather you into his arms. “I’m here, I’m right here,” he soothed, his heart shattering as you struggled to regulate your breathing.

Grasping your arms, he knelt with you on the bed, staring directly into your eyes. “Sweetheart, listen to my voice. You’re having a panic attack. You’re okay, you’re safe.” He nodded encouragingly, his handsome face the very essence of empathy and tenderness. “I’ve got you. I know how these feel. I know you’re scared, but you’re safe.”

He looked for any indication that you were understanding him.

Gripping your hand, he pulled your palm flat against his bare chest. “Breathe with me, okay? Gotta slow down. Remember you’ve done this with me a hundred times. Breathe in…” He watched you hiccup and gasp to take a deep breath in, finding a new appreciation for you, having never experienced this side of an anxiety attack before.

“That’s my girl,” he soothed, nodding at you with the softest smile. “Now out, blow your lips like this.” Tears streamed down your cheeks as you shakily exhaled. “There you go. Now in, with me… And out.”

The two of you worked together to slow your breathing until you sagged against him, sobbing.

“I’m so sorry,” he soothed, rocking you back and forth as you slumped into his lap. “I was only gone for a minute. Just long enough to get Jeremiah and a glass of water. I was here the whole time.”

What you couldn’t explain to him just yet was - you didn’t mind crying. The flood of panic and tears made you feel alive. The way he held you protectively against the heat of his bare chest was reason enough to live.

“It’s okay,” you whimpered several minutes later, murmuring against his throat as he held you securely. "I'm not upset with you. I-I had a nightmare and I woke up really confused. I was just hoping I’m really still here with you.”

“You’re here with me,” he assured you, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. "You're here. I've got you."

"Please just hold me," you whispered, nuzzling into his neck, feeling like you couldn't get close enough to him. After several encounters as a spectre, you simply could not get your fill of feeling your partner warm and close to you. "Talk to me - I want to hear your voice."

Easing down, Marc pulled you with him, keeping you half on top of him, pressed and molded to his body at every possible point. Your legs tangled together as his mouth sought yours out.

Fully aware that you'd asked to hear his voice, he gave you the warmth of his breath and the heat of his tongue instead. You melted into his kiss as he tasted you.

You went limp in his arms - his strong embrace such a comfort even as your body bloomed alive with desire. His hand cupped your cheek as your lips parted, granting you a gentle smile as he stared deeply into your eyes.

"What do you want me to talk about?" He gently questioned, tracing your lips with his fingers before dragging them down over your throat. Before allowing you to answer, he pressed his fingertips to your pulse point. "Your heart is racing."

"I know," you breathed, smiling at him sweetly. "I just keep trying to believe I'm here - that we're here together."

“You’re here, and Jeremiah’s here. And the three stooges are here too, just downstairs in the tank,” he gently teased, referring to the rest of your fish. “And they’re not the only ones here.”

Easing back, he swallowed, considering his next words. “Steven almost confused your anxiety attack with one of mine so he’s…well, he’s here too.”

“Steven?” You whispered, your eyes shining with love and awe. “He can hear me?”

Marc nodded. “It…well, it doesn’t usually happen like this, but…he really wants to…I-I’m not trying to leave you - "

“It’s okay,” you eagerly nodded. “Whatever you and Steven think is best. I trust you.”

Almost imperceptibly, the wrinkle between Marc’s eyebrows relaxed as his brown eyes went wide.

“Steven?” You breathlessly whispered, brushing your fingers over his cheek.

“What’s all this then?” Steven blinked, trying to get his bearings - to understand how you could possibly be here, in his arms. He had witnessed some of the interaction between Marc and you already, but actually feeling you against him was quite another thing. “Not back in the Duat, am I?”

“No,” you tearfully laughed out. “No, we’re here, at home. I’m here with you, somehow. I don’t know how. I woke up this morning with Marc.”

"Alive as you ever were, it seems," he breathed out, running his fingertips over any skin he could reach - your cheek, your lips, your throat, warm brown eyes shining with wonder. "Bloody amazin'. Can't believe I'm not dreaming."

"I know," you agreed, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him into a fierce hug. "I can feel you, Steven. Just like we wished."

Eagerly accepting your hug, he kissed your hair. "Missed you so much, my love."

You held onto one another for a few indulgent moments as Steven pressed sweet kisses to your neck and jaw, making you shiver with desire and your heart burn with love.

"You're not hurt though, darling?" He murmured. "Thought Marc was panicking there, but - it was you?"

As he eased back, his eyes darkened with worry, raking over the contours of your face, remembering every single inch that had threatened to escape his memory in the months you were departed.

"Just had a little nightmare. Much better now," you sweetly smiled at him.

You spent the next several minutes in Steven's arms, simply trying to explain the last several hours between you and Marc, and possibly sort out how you could be here.

He filled you in on the odd happenings - anything Marc hadn't already shared, including the mysterious Ms. Marjorie and her disappearing shop.

While Marc had taken care of you physically - easing you into your first moments alive with gentle, adoring touches, taking care of you as you cleaned up, dressing you, cooking with you and finally giving in to your desperate desire for one another -

Steven was there for you to talk things through. It wasn't that you desired Steven any less. It was only about timing. You had only been alive for the last few hours, and you weren't entirely sure if you would stay that way.

Steven was there to puzzle it out with you, patiently, eagerly and sweetly. He suggested that the two of you venture into town. He honestly wanted to see if Ms. Marjorie would be there. He had no reason to believe she would be, but since you had reappeared, maybe there was a chance. He felt like she might have some answers.

And even if the elder woman wasn't connected to you in some way, he still wanted her to meet you.

You and Steven shared a brief discussion about what you might tell the townspeople, who thought you were dead and buried in Green Lawn Cemetery. Most of them had attended your funeral, mourned you, and had spent weeks and even months looking after Marc, Steven and Jake.

You decided to cross that bridge when you came to it. There might be no time to wait around the house only to disappear again. So you grabbed Marc's favorite black baseball cap, pulled your hood over your head and - hand in hand, you and Steven made the short trek to downtown.

"Must be overwhelming for you, love," Steven sympathized, sweetly squeezing your hand as you walked together.

"Marc said the same thing," you let him know, smiling over at him. "I feel okay right now." Even as you courageously shuffled along beside your partner, you gripped his hand, your anchor.

Autumn breeze swirled around you, kissing your cheeks with its faint sting - the aroma of cinnamon and clove invading your senses and making your mouth water.

"You'll let me know, though, won't you? If it's too much? If we need to go back home?" Steven slung his arm around you and hugged you close, understanding how out of sorts you must feel. He'd felt something similar a hundred times at least - being forced to front with no notice.

You assured him that you would tell the truth if you felt overwhelmed. But nothing more happened before your stroll came to an abrupt halt - interrupted by the hand painted sign of the most adorable shop.

"Mystic Delights and Other Charming Novelties"

"I knew it," Steven gasped, making a beeline for the shop's door, pausing long enough to practically drag you by the hand to a little old woman leaning against the counter, reading a paper.

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"Ms. Marjorie, is that you?" Steven asked, clearly shocked to see her.

Ms. Marjorie, however did not look surprised in the least. She slowly lowered her newspaper, adjusting her glasses before carefully eyeing the couple before her. A blind man could see you two were in love.

"Mr. Grant - what a match you two are," she almost neutrally observed, as if stating a mundane fact.

Steven glanced at you curiously before turning back to the mysterious woman. "Ms. Marjorie, why...how are you here?"

The older woman smirked slightly. "Why, Mr. Grant, I work here, don't I?"

"Um, no, actually. I mean, I've been looking for you and you haven't been 'round here. No one was." Steven sheepishly shrugged, realizing he wasn't making much sense. Clearly the woman was here, and so was her shop.

"Wait a minute. Is this shop even...real? And does your presence...have something to do with her?" He gestured toward you before reaching for your hand. "This is my partner. The one I told you about. But you don't seem surprised at all to see either of us."

Ms. Marjorie finally cracked a smile. "Clever boy. I figured you would be the one to puzzle it out. Perhaps you'll have some tea and biscuits with me while I explain a few things."

"That would be nice, Ms. Marjorie, thank you," you finally chimed, with a warm smile, thrusting out your hand and reciting your name.

"What a pleasure to meet you, my dear."

After ushering the two of you to the back office kitchenette, Ms. Marjorie showed you and Steven to the small table where he’d shared tea with her before - the first day they met. Without a hurry in the world, she started the kettle and rummaged around for her mother’s tea set before finally speaking.

“Now I suppose you'd like to know why your partner is here with us, in solid form - but I'm not going to tell you just yet.” She opened a cabinet door, reaching for a tin of biscuits and three small plates. “My story begins months ago - on an unusually warm spring evening.”

“The night I died,” you ventured a guess, eyeing Steven sympathetically as he squeezed your hand.

“Murdered, weren't you?” Ms. Marjorie curiously questioned.

“Yes ma’am, I was.”

“By an evil man, if I'm not mistaken,” she confirmed, with a nod. “But here I've gone and gotten ahead of myself.” The older woman quieted as she distributed a few biscuits to each plate, removing the kettle from the flame just as the whistle blew. She spoke not another word until the tea was poured and the table set with sugar, non-dairy cream and even a few cucumber sandwiches.

“You and I have a bit of ancestry in common, my dear,” she informed, pouring each of you a cup of tea.

“We’re…related?” you inquired, taking a bite of your biscuit.

Ohhhh, man, did that taste good. You shoved the whole thing in your mouth, reaching for the second before Ms. Marjorie even finished serving the tea.

“It’s not so much that we’re blood related,” Ms. Marjorie answered. “No, it's much more…mystical than that. You see,” she chuckled, wiping her hands on a cloth napkin, “Well, I might as well come out with it. I'm a witch.”

Steven looked at her like she had three heads, but it was you who spoke up. “A witch? Ms. Marjorie, really.”

“It's okay, love, let her talk,” Steven gently prompted, squeezing your hand across the table.

“Yes, that's it, I'm a witch,” she repeated, situating herself in the table’s third chair and taking a sip of tea. “And you, my dear, have witch blood running through your veins.”

Oh, well, that pretty much explained things for Steven. He'd seen tons of paranormal happenings in his life. He knew witches were real and that magic could hurt people, although not all witches had magic powers. Some were simply children of nature. His guess was that Ms. Marjorie must be a magical witch.

You, however, glanced incredulously between Steven and the strange woman who just informed you that you were part witch.

Ms. Marjoie took Steven’s nod of encouragement as a sign to continue. “My dear, your grandmother dabbled in a bit of witchcraft herself, if you can believe it.”

You gasped. “You knew Grandmother?”

“I did. You see, she was my cousin. Well - my second cousin. Our mothers were cousins.”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. You had a living relative? After thinking you were completely orphaned in the world after your parents died and you came to this town to live with your grandmother, who had now also passed.

“Y-you mean…that would make us, um - "

“Distant cousins,” Ms. Marjorie replied, moving the story along. “At any rate - the night you were…well, attacked, I was summoned.”

You shook your head, confused. “Summoned?”

“My dear cousin cried out to me for help and I answered,” she responded, as if her answer was the most sensible thing in the world. “I saw you on Main Street, stopping to walk into the drug store when a man grabbed you.”

Ms. Marjorie shook her head ruefully, setting her teacup back in its saucer. "My family were church-going folks and did not take kindly to the thought of witches and magic and such. So I never became much of a practicing witch. But the power was so strong in me - you see, I knew I was different from a young age. That night, as I watched you struggling for breath, I cast my first spell. Or - my first life-or-death spell, of that magnitude."

She laughed, pointedly looking toward you. "My apologies for royally messing up your afterlife."

"I-I don't understand," you murmured, completely entranced by this woman's tale.

With a deep breath, she pressed on. "I cast a spell to keep you from harm; I wished for you to have a long and happy life with someone who would truly love you. I believe I used the phrase, 'your one, true love.'

"What I didn’t know is that you were already dead by the time I chanted the words. My amateur spell had just enough power to keep you from passing into eternity, but not enough power to bring you back to life. That's why you’ve been stuck all this time, just like Sleeping Beauty, waiting for her prince to come to the tower and rescue her."

"Ms. Marjorie, a-are you saying that Marc, o-or Steven or even Jake brought me back to life?" you questioned, your wide eyes blinking curiously.

"Indeed I am, my dear. Once true love found you, you were saved, just as I had wished those months ago."

"But she’s been gone for months. Why did she not come back to life until now?" Steven curiously inquired.

"A very good question," Ms. Marjorie answered. “Perhaps this is the time of year when the veil between the living and the dead is the most…accessible. Halloween, Day of the Dead, All Saint's Day, All Souls Day - any way you slice it - souls roam freely for these few nights.

"I can only assume that you saw her and she was drawn to you when you were both ready," the elder woman went on. "As soon as you realized it and embraced it, she was able to come back to life but only the next time she appeared. The spell was broken and you are as alive as you were those months ago."

"I'm sorry, darling," Steven breathed, his eyes darkening with sorrow. "I'm sorry I couldn’t see you before."

You smiled sympathetically, rubbing your thumb over his knuckles. "You've given me the most beautiful gifts, Steven - life and love. You have nothing to be sorry for."

"But I should have known…and then you would have - "

"No," you shook your head. "Don't do that. Everything worked out.”

Ms. Marjorie watched the two of you with admiration, pouring each of you another cup of tea from the kettle. "What you just said is more true than you know.," she informed. “My dear, their love brought you to life and you'll stay alive as long as they live, and as long as they love you."

Steven gasped, unable to believe what he was hearing. "Are you s-sure? I mean, what if - what If I live a really long time? Or die next week?"

"I'm sure," she said, with a reassuring nod. “Her witch ancestry can give her a long life, not to mention the spell I cast. You two are stuck together, literally, until death does you part. Hope you don't mind, my dears."

But Steven was bursting with questions.

"Ms. Marjorie, why does she look the same? What happened to her body?”

"When I cast the spell on her," Ms. Marjorie explained, leaning forward on her elbows, "It's like I froze time for her. She is exactly the same as the night she died, except no longer in her old body."

She turned to you, smiling softly. “Their love essentially made you…materialize, just as they perceived you to be. I really don't know a better way to explain it. I'm certainly no scientist."

"So my body is…out there somewhere?" You questioned, feeling a bit queasy at the thought of your own corpse. "Ms. Marjorie, you said that you witnessed my murder, isn't that right?" you added, your brain switching gears.

She nodded.

"So, what happened after I, um…died? What did the man do? What did you do?"

“Exactly,” Steven chimed, a bit accusingly. “Why didn’t you come forward? Why didn’t you notify the police?”

She smiled wryly. “The answer to that question is beyond the scope of this conversation. But if you think on it - it’ll come to you.”

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

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wolffwish · 1 year

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More Than Just A Short Time

Warnings: Distressed reader, miscarriage, mentions of anxiety, panic attack, soft!Toto x reader,

A/N: Personal experience used here, so please be understanding. 2022 was the worst year of my life, losing a baby and my fiancé within 3 months of eachother. I’ve been wanting to write something for months, to try and help me cope with my emotions. This hasn’t been spell checked, I literally have finished it and pressed post. So please bear with me if there’s any mistakes or it’s not that great, or sonically cohesive. It’s literally a coping mechanism. I’ve also tried to incorporate Taylor Swift’s “Bigger Than The Whole Sky” as that song has bought me a lot of comfort. Thank you so much for reading and I hope soft Toto brings you comfort if you need it ♥️ my inbox is open to anyone if you need to talk about anything.

It’s been a long 5 days without Toto, and your physical health was declining by the hour. Your period was the heaviest it had ever been, but you didn’t want to tell Toto, because everyone has periods and usually, they’re nothing to worry about.

Toto knew you were struggling physically, and had been the ever-supporting husband that you could’ve dreamed of. Virtually working instead of heading into the office, skipping races and rescheduling meetings or holding them online— to the point where he’d be sitting on the bed with his laptop perched on his lap on Zoom with people at Brackley, with you sleeping next to him and him not taking his hand off of your head once, constantly stroking it to ease your pain.

He was away in Bahrain for first race of the season and it was the longest amount of time he’d been for a few months. You hadn’t been feeling that great in the lead up to him leaving, a bit run down and not your usual self, extremely tired and incredibly nauseous. You just assumed it was your birth control playing up again.

It was Sunday. Race day. You were feeling rough, and after yesterday’s ordeal in the ER followed by a strict instruction for bed rest and preferably someone with you, all you wanted to do was curl up on the couch, watch the race and wait for your man to come home.

You hadn’t been contacting him much over the past 4 days, mainly just good morning and good night texts, as you knew he was going to be flat out busy with media, meetings and all the other stuff that goes with the job he’d worked so hard for.

11am. You heard your phone ping, with his specific text tone and notification lighting up your screen.

💬 1 New Message: Toto🐺♥️ — Liebling, I have a free half hour. Can you talk? We need to talk.

“We need to talk”? You read it three times, making sure you were reading it right. Need? Panic sets in. Usually, when anybody receives a message of “We need to talk.”, ending abruptly with a full stop, that’s never a good sign, right? Right.

Before you could even start typing, he was ringing. Accidentally, you pressed the green answer button, steadily putting the phone to your ear.

“Hello?” - your voice broke as you awaited his response.

🐺 “Schatzi? Is that you?”

“What do you mean, is it me? You rang my mobile?”

🐺 “Oh. Thank god. I had a missed call from the hospital, they left a message asking me how you were after yesterday. I didn’t— what happened yesterday, I didn’t know you wen—“

“Oh my god, are you kidding?! They rang you?”

Anger that started in your stomach was slowly making its way up your body, flushing your red cheeks and making your hands grip the phone tighter. You were checked into the ER yesterday after having what you thought was a 3 day long, heavy and extremely painful period. You had to call the ambulance because you were bleeding so heavily you couldn’t control anything, and started to feel dizzy and weak. With nobody around, and Toto working, you had nobody to call.

🐺 “Come on baby, talk to me. Why did you visit the ER?”

You paused. You didn’t know what to say to him, but neither did you want to lie. You knew as soon as the ER nurse asked if you’d had any morning sickness or previous experiences of dark red heavy periods that this wasn’t just a period. You were having a miscarriage, not even knowing you were pregnant.

🐺 “Liebling? Whatever it is, you can tell me. It doesn’t matter that I’m here, ok? You are my priority, just let me in.”

“I can’t tell you over the phone, Toto. I’m sorry. Just concentrate on the race, and I’ll see you later. I love y—“

🐺 “No Schatzi, baby please, I can’t concentrate unless you tell me what’s going on.”

You knew that he wasn’t going to give in. Tears started filling your eyes and the pit of your stomach started knotting. Emotions got the better of you, your breathing started to get shorter and faster, even though you were trying to disguise every bit of it, so you didn’t make him panic even more. But you just couldn’t do it. You fell apart. You needed him, now more than ever.

“I’m sorry, Toto. I didn’t know. You know I’m on birth control, it was just a heavy period, and then the nurses started asking all these questions about morning sickness and the colour of it and they rigged me up to the machine and started doing all these scans and I was really scared and I didn’t know what to do and then they kept apologising to me and I was in such a state I didn’t know what they were talking about until they— until they said it wasn’t a heavy period, and I’d lost—“

That was it. Uncontrollable tears streamed from your eyes as you relived the worst day of your life all over again, for the millionth time. Hysteria creeping in and your adrenaline winning, you began to shake. You’d been reliving every second of it since you got home, and it took a lot of persuasion for you to the nurses to let you home on your own. But they all knew your situation, they all knew Toto and who he was, so they made an exception. You didn’t think they’d call him.

🐺 “Oh my go—, baby, I’m so sorry. Shit. I should’ve been there, I knew you weren’t right when I left, but I had no idea it could be this—“

“Don’t apologise Toto please, it’s not your fault, I just, I can’t wait to see you later. Please try and just do the race and I’ll be here when you get home.”

🐺 “I don’t care about the race Schatz, baby. I’m coming home now. I’m walking to Rosa right now, she’ll get me on the next flight darling. Hold tight for me, ok?”

You didn’t want to ruin his day like this, especially the first race, but you were done fighting with yourself.

“Ok.” - through tears streaming and sniffles of your nose to try and control your breathing, a simple ‘ok’ was the last thing you said to Toto before dropping the phone on the bed. You’d almost been in denial about the whole thing, and saying it all out loud made it more real. You pulled your legs to your chest, your body still screaming in pain from miscarrying, back pains so intense you feel like your spine is on fire and a headache strong enough to make you squint at any view of light.

You could hear the television in the background, the race build up had started and you began watching it hoping it would distract you from everything that was happening in your head at that very moment.

The grid walk started, and Martin Brundle was desperately searching around for Toto to ask him where he thinks the two Mercs’ we’re going to finish today’s race. He eventually came across Shov, who was ready for an interview.

MB: “I was hoping to talk to your boss, any idea where I can find him?”

AS: “He’s had to rush off, personal matter, so won’t be able to watch the race today, but I can answer any questions you may have - just not with as much Austrian flare as he does!” he tried to laugh and distract from the situation- but you knew social media was about to blow up.

A few hours passed, and the sheer emotional state you were in made you fall asleep at some point during the race. You woke up as the podium ceremony started, that damn Dutch national anthem again. You flicked over the channels and started watching some random nature show about birds. Anything but that damn podium.

Anxiously waiting for Toto to arrive, you kept drifting off to sleep, losing track of the time, until you heard a key in the door and footsteps running up the stairs.

“Schatzi, where are you baby? I’m ho—“

The bedroom door swung open and there he was, still dressed in his white button down shirt and black trousers, so damn handsome. Your man was home.

“Toto, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Tears streaming, you sat up on the bed, trying to adjust your body to a position you weren’t in pain.

“Baby, it’s okay. Come here, little one.” Toto softly sat down in front of you, cupping your face in both hands and softly brushing the tears on your cheeks away with the pad of his thumbs. “I’m so sorry, baby. I’m so sorry.” He brought his lips up to your forehead, pressing the most gentle kiss just above your left eyebrow, muffling the words “Let go baby, I’m here now. Just let it all out.”

The reassuring words from Toto meant every single emotion waved over you like a tsunami, and you fell apart in his arms. The tears came streaming down your face as you leant forward into him. You adjusted your body so you were sitting side aways on his lap, legs resting on the bed and head resting in his shoulder. His arms wrapped around you like he was protecting the world, his gentle touches making you feel safer than you’d ever felt.

“Let’s get you into bed properly, baby, get you more comfortable.” Without hesitation, Toto stood up with you in his arms as he gently walked around the bed, making sure not to walk into any furniture or make any sudden movements. He slowly leant down, to lay you on his side of the bed. He grabbed a blanket, took his shirt and trousers off, walked round to the other side of the bed and got in with you.

“Are you comfortable? Do you need to move?” He asked as you started rolling over as he got into the bed beside you.

“I can’t get comfy, it’s so frustrating, everything hurts and I can’t move without feeling like I’m making a mess everywhere, it’s horrible.”

“Hey hey baby, it’s okay, don’t cry. It doesn’t matter if there’s mess, we can clean it up, okay? Come here, lay here.” He perched himself up on the headboard, his bare chest gleaming in the night light that was the only light on in the room. The smell of him just felt like home. Lightly tapping his torso, he helped you lay your head on his chest, right on his heart. You moved your arm over his toned tummy, slightly tapping your fingers over the grooves of his muscles.

“There we go baby, you just lay there and relax now. It’s okay, I’ve got you my girl.”

A few minutes of silence passed as Toto gently run his fingers through your hair, up and down your back and over your shoulder.

“Toto?”

“Yes, baby? What is it?”

“We’re never gonna meet her.”

You didn’t know if it was a girl or a boy, but your initial thought was it was a girl. You don’t know why. It’d been playing on your mind all day whenever you caught yourself thinking about what would’ve been, what could’ve been and what should’ve been.

A deep breath came from the pits of his stomach as he saw your heart break in front of him.

“I know darling, I know. But look…” he pointed out towards the night sky, a sky full of stars. A sky so beautiful, that you would’ve thought you’d made it up.

“She’s up there. She knows you’re looking at her. Hey, she’s that really bright one, look” he points to a specific star, that is, quite literally, the brightest one in the sky. “She’s bigger than the whole sky, isn’t she?” he looks down at you, as you’d cocked your head to see the star he was talking about. Making eye contact, one side of his mouth turned into a slight smile, as he leant down to kiss you on the lips. “I love you, little one.”

You kissed him back, finally feeling like a weight had been lifted off of your shoulders now he was home.

“I love you too, Papi.”

He smiled down at you again, bringing his hand up to the side of your face and gently guiding your head to lay on his chest. You heard him snuffle, and felt a teardrop on hairline where your hair meets your forehead.

“Toto?” You looked up at him, tears in his eyes as he looked out of the window.

He responded immediately. “It’s okay, baby. I’m okay, I’m just so sorry I wasn’t here.”

“Don’t be sorry, I’m sorry for not telling you when it happened. I just didn’t want to pull you away from work and—“

“Baby listen to me. You are my world, ok? Nothing is more important than you. I would sail the seven oceans to be with you in a heartbeat. Don’t ever think anything is more important than you, Schatz. I love you so much it hurts.”

He looked down at you again, kissing the top of your head and stroking your hair. “You can rest now, baby. Daddy’s got you.”

You closed your eyes and felt your entire body relax into the indentation of his body, and sunk into the bed with him. The soft strokes of his hands over your arms, hair and back brought you more comfort than you’d ever felt before, and the sound of his slow controlled breathing meant your breathing started syncing with his. You both drifted off to sleep, holding each other close. His arms wrapped around you, you laying on his chest.

This was home. He was home. He is your home.

——

#toto wolff #f1 x reader #toto wolff x reader #toto wolff fic #daddy wolff #f1 #soft toto for once #soft toto wolff #toto wolff fluff

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bunnylovesani · 3 months

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Confused as to how you can criticise me for giving you a panic attack and anxiety by trying to privately talk to you but then making a public post saying ‘fuck you’ and encouraging people to send hate.

Ava has written about fratboy!Anakin and ceo!Anakin even though she wasn’t the first to come out with these ideas. But has she given credit to the original authors? No and she shouldn’t be expected to because these are SUCH COMMON FANFIC TROPES, as is the idea of a stalker. They do not belong to anyone. To say you’ve created an au requires some character and world building that makes it niche and different to the other ones out there.

If you had written about Anakin as a dyslexic redneck astronaut then that would be uniquely specific and an original idea that shouldn’t be used without permission. The mere idea of a stalker doesn’t cut it- especially since our ones have completely different plots and personalities. You did not CREATE stalker Anakin, he’s been around for years on the internet.

It goes without saying that I condemn plagiarism and claiming other’s hard work as your own. If I saw real examples of that I would call it out and support the affected authors. But sharing commonly played out and overused ideas is not plagiarism. I’ve been reading psycho/obsessive/stalker fics for various fandoms since I was a teenager.

James Kelly is a literal mechanic so of course the plot was going to have something to do with cars, not to mention the fact that my dream car is a Sakura pink Porsche 911 Gt3. My reader has always been a self insert pink-loving girly girl so it felt natural to include that. The type of car is also mentioned literally once.

I will however say that I hear and understand that point of criticism more than the others and I apologise if I subconsciously took inspo from her illicit affairs series. I can assure you it was not on my mind when I wrote my fic but I can see that the detail of the car is reflected in both our writing. But the car is where the similarities end. A billion books and stories in the world have harmless overlaps.

While we’re on the topic of plagiarism: I’ve seen people on here write fics where it’s clear as day that they took inspiration from my work. Never once have I minded because I understand that as long as my direct words and hyperspecific details aren’t lifted, I don’t lay claim to general / vague ideas. I have a degree in literature so I’ve studied the legality and boundaries surrounding plagiarism and ‘inspiration borrowing’ - which is why I decided to take a stand rather than take the easy route and pacify you. I wanted to make a point that you do not own such a vague idea or trope and every publishing house in the world would agree with me there.

Beyond the concept of internet etiquette which half the time is just pandering to entitlement, you don’t have a leg to stand on. If you want to become a published author, start acting like one.

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 11 months

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Do you think that Malleus would’ve had a different/harsher reaction to someone other than Silver being “awake”?

Also on a less serious note, that entire interaction gave me the vibes of an older sibling getting mad at a younger sibling for playing a game “wrong” which is odd bc I don’t really see Malleus and Silver as having that dynamic usually. I doubt it was purposeful but it was all that was running through my mind when reading the translations.

On the contrary, I feel like Malleus is madder that it's Silver who is "awake" and openly defying him than if it were anyone else doing it. (Yes, Yuu and Grim are also present but it is Silver and Silver alone who willfully turns down Malleus's manipulative tactics to get him to stay there in bliss and also "wakes" Sebek to join his cause.) I still think Malleus would be upset and try to force anyone else that was awake back into a slumber (as we see with Malleus attacking Silver, Sebek, Yuu, and Grim at the end of part 3 update), but the fact that it's Silver confronting him hits a particular nerve.

Firstly, Silver is someone that Malleus has known for years (even if it's a relationship of a prince and his knight), so it hurts close to home that this person with whom Malleus shares a bond with is disagreeing with him on such a big issue. It feels like a betrayal, especially considering that knights are supposed to be loyal to their masters. And even more importantly, Silver has also known Lilia--the character that triggered Malleus's initial anxieties regarding loneliness and the loss of loved ones--for years as well. In this way, they are all connected in a “found family” sense. Of all people, Silver should be the one who understands how Malleus is feeling and would theoretically support him, yet Silver instead denies and actively opposes Malleus's way of thinking, calling it "just a bad dream". Consider also that Silver rarely, if ever, raises his voice--so when he does yell, it's significant and big deal. Yeah, he'll raise his volume to like, call out for Malleus if he's looking for the young master, but Silver does not usually shout to the point where his voice breaks. The only other instance I can think of when Silver gets legitimately upset and yells is during Endless Halloween Night when he was concerned about the safety of Malleus and Lilia and also rightfully mad that it turned out to be an elaborate trick. The second instance is here and now, in book 7. In the scene where Silver rejects the happiness of being able to stay in his childhood home in the forest with Lilia forever and ever, he becomes a foil character to Malleus, the metaphorical light to his darkness. Both Silver and Malleus have a personal connection with Lilia and are deeply saddened by Lilia's departure (and potential death). The difference between them is that Silver is accepting it as an inevitability even if it hurts his feelings and he'll miss his father greatly... whereas Malleus stubbornly refuses to accept it. At that moment, Malleus is looking at a "mirror" (a common motif in Twisted Wonderland) of himself, at someone who IS able to deal with reality, no matter how cruel or harsh it is to them or what joy reality deprives them of. They are both fiercely demonstrating their love for Lilia in just as fierce(ly) opposing ways.

Here is Silver, staring his master right in the face and declaring that the dream Malleus is forcing on them is twisted and wrong, and that he won't have Malleus violating the final request Lilia made to them: to see him off with a smile. This dream isn't what Silver's father wanted, so he's willing to defy even his lord and make himself go through saying good-bye to Lilia to see that the wish is fulfilled. The nature of Silver’s UM even stands in direct opposition to Malleus’s. Silver is, quite literally, the sword to Malleus (the dragon).

WHAT'S CRAZY IS YOU CAN HEAR SILVER'S VOICE CRACKING BEFORE HE REJECTS THE DREAM'S VERY TEMPTING OFFER. Silver even confesses that he would like nothing more than to take Lilia's hand and to live out the rest of their lives together. It would be so, so, SO easy for him to embrace this convenient world where all his dreams come true and his father never leaves. But Silver would rather take the hard route and live "awake" being aware of life's difficulties and experiencing pain than live in denial and blissful ignorance (a route which Malleus has chosen to pursue). That's the thing with book 7; Malleus may technically BE "awake", but in reality he's (metaphorically) still dreaming, because he's constantly averting his eyes away from the truth, from reality, and from genuinely "waking".

... Anyway, that was all to say that I think Malleus is more upset that it's Silver--someone whom he has an established relationship and extensive history with, someone who is so alike him yet also different in very glaringly obvious ways--opposing him instead of another person.

#twisted wonderland #twst #Diasomnia #Lilia Vanrouge #Malleus Draconia #Silver #Sebek Zigvolt #disney twisted wonderland #spoilers #twst analysis #twisted wonderland character analysis #twisted wonderland analysis #twst character analysis #question #notes from the writing raven #Yuu #Grim

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0nlythrowharrybeaux · 11 months

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Hey :) this is a bit if a sensitive topic… but i got an idea for a request and i don’t know if you’d be willing to write it? I’ve been struggling with anorexia for a very long time and i’ve been thinking what if y/n was in the love band and she has an ed and body image issues and you know the outfit the band’s always wearing? For me personally, it’d be so triggering to wear because i know i’d feel so fat wearing it (don’t know why tbh)…Anyway, what if she hasn’t really told anyone about her struggle (maybe they saw signs but don’t know for sure) and she’d agreed to wear the outfit but then before a show she has a huge panic attack and Harry finds her crying backstage…

And also like i just want to say that there’s nothing wrong with being bigger and that "fat" is not a feeling but i just can’t help my brain 😣

Sorry for the long ask.. and I also hope you’ll feel better!!🙂

Hello friend! First off, thank you for sending this request and for trusting me and this online space to share your struggles. That can be really challenging, especially on the internet where you don't know how people will take things or react sometimes. Especially with eating disorders, there's so much guilt and shame that comes with this kind of mental illness to begin with and it can be a hard thing to admit to as well.

I will also share with you anon, that I've struggled with an ED for many years and was finally diagnosed with EDNOS in 2016. EDNOS stands for eating disorder not otherwise specified and you can receive that diagnosis for many reasons. I won't elaborate on my case in this post (I don't mind talking about it anymore so if ppl have questions you can ask), but anyway.... all this to say that I totally understand your struggle. And lately, I've been struggling to not fall back into those harmful ways after some comments my mom made a few weeks ago. It's been a tough few weeks for me for many reasons. But anyway, thank you so much again, for sending this request. Writing this is definitely going to be cathartic and therapeutic for me as well and I hope that it is for you too and anyone who struggles this way.

LAST THING! If you or anyone you know struggles with an eating disorder or shows concerning disordered eating patterns, please consider getting help. Some resources are linked HERE including helpline contact info.

And of course, the content below can be triggering for people who struggle with any E.D.

This was quite literally your dream come to life. You had been asked by Harry himself to join the Love Band in Ny-Oh's place for the final leg of Love On Tour. This all seemed insane and unreal as you thought about how you'd just met him around 2018. You'd been brought in as a session musician for Harry's last 2 albums and started a nice little friendship with him. But you didn't know that he considered you enough of a friend to ask you to join his live ensemble. Sure, you talked regularly enough and had graduated into hugs over fist bumps during the making of Harry's House, but still...it just seemed so insane. You were excited though, getting to see him perform every night knowing how hard he worked to make this music...it was like a full circle moment.

There'd been plenty you'd done in preparation for your travels. Including getting your measurements taken for the little love minion jumpsuits you'd be wearing every night. None of that really seemed to trigger you or your concerns over your weight and body image. You'd been doing so well, you'd been managing your eating disorder well the last few years without any major setbacks and you were proud that you were healthy enough to do this. Proud that you felt comfortable accepting this gig and knowing that you had the stamina and health to make it through the entire leg of the tour. It was huge! But none of that really seemed to matter when you got a look at your uniform hung up just a few inches away from you and felt this sudden rush of anxiety crawling through your body. Why did it look like it'd be so tight on you? The material obviously wasn't too stretchy so how was this supposed to fit on you? You weren't exactly sure what about the look of it suddenly had you feeling this way, but all you knew was that you didn't feel good about it.

The logical part of your brain reminded you that you got fitted for this - it was custom made to your measurements. And you tried to keep that in mind, but you soon realized that you had been fitted for this about four months ago. Maybe you'd gained tons of weight? Your days of obsessively weighing yourself were past you, so you had no idea if you had or hadn't. You had body dysmorphia so your mind wouldn't know the difference. And it was maddening to you that you had been feeling OK about yourself until you'd entered the little temporary changing room and saw the outfit on the hanger. Your heart started to beat a bit faster as your anxiety started to grow.

"30 minutes to show time!" you heard someone call as they walked down the corridor and then they shouted the same warning into the large dressing room a few of you shared and you just exhaled sharply and decided so just ignore this feeling and suck it up. If you didn't wear this what would you wear? You had no choice, you just had to get over it.

However, now that something about this outfit had triggered the obsessive and intrusive thoughts about your body image you started to feel uncomfortable looking at your reflection. You tried to avoid looking at yourself right now because you knew that you'd see things that weren't accurate. You tried to slow down your breathing as you turned away from the mirror in there and folded up your clothes before turning back around and looking at the outfit once again before taking it off the hanger. It felt suspenseful to undo all of the little buttons lining the seam to join the two sides together. But soon you were pulling it off the hanger and getting your legs into it and doing up the buttons, avoiding the mirror again until it was fully on so that you wouldn't freak out before you fully were dressed. Of course, you had no issues with getting it on, it felt just fine, a little loose if anything. But when you looked up the feeling of the fit didn't really matter. You had no idea if it was the cinched in waist that felt restrictive even if you had some wiggle room. Or maybe it was the way the fabric bulged a bit at your stomach and made you feel like you were carrying a lot more weight there than you realized before? But as you turned to the side to see how you looked from that angle your frown deepened as your fears rose tot he surface. It looked a little big on you and that somehow made you feel even worse because it wasn't like flattering/comfy baggy. This outfit somehow accentuated just how thin you actually were and then a new fear came into your brain: They're going to know I'm anorexic.

You felt that you did well enough to keep your eating disorder speculations at bay. People closest to you knew, but you were very private about it because like any illness, there is sometimes an element of shame involved. It wasn't something you advertised, especially as you recovered! But most people just knew you were into health and wellness, but they didn't know the dark side of it; that you struggled with obsessing over quantities and ingredients and portions because you were terrified to look bigger than you were, terrified to gain weight, terrified of feeling fat. You couldn't tell anyone why you felt that way, but you just did! And sure, you were a lot better now than you were years ago, but you had just been massively triggered that you looked sickly and that, that would arise suspicions of your health. The fans might start to say things and ask questions and if they noticed other people would too...the crew, the rest of the band...Harry...

As you stared at yourself for a bit more your eyes started to tear up and you silently fanned at your eyes to try and dissipate the tears, but your vision was only getting more and more blurry. You just needed some fresh air to calm down. You peeked out and saw that you were alone in the dressing room so you rushed out before anyone could stop you and you headed out back behind the stage. They were in the middle of changing the setup after the openers so the crew and roadies were closer to the structure helping change things out and unloading. You had the space and privacy to pace around and let your tears fall. But the audience was so loud...there would be so many people and they would look at you and see you in this outfit and just know that something was wrong with you. Obviously they would be scrutinizing you since you were the new person! And suddenly everything just built up inside of you and you started to panic.

You found a place to sit down when you felt your breathing catch in your throat. This couldn't be happening.... you were just minutes before the show! But you were hyperventilating now as your tears cascaded down your cheeks. You felt like you were going to crumble apart. This was a huge mistake... you should've said no...you weren't ready for this. There was no way you could do this. You were sat off to the side as you sobbed and tried everything you could to calm down and get through this panic attack so you didn't notice Harry's car pulling up across from you until you heard the stadium cheering loudly and when you glanced up you saw Harry wave quickly before he headed backstage. You didn't want anyone to see you like this so you stood up and went to hide behind one of the trailers, but you didn't notice that he'd seen you rush off.

********

"Y/N!" Harry called after you but you didn't seem to hear him and he frowned a bit. He could've sworn you were crying...maybe you just got really nervous or maybe it just hit you now that you were on tour. It could be exciting but nerve-racking. So he decided to just check on you and maybe give you a little pep-talk. "Hey, I'll be right in, just gonna make sure she's OK." Harry said to Tommy and Brad.

"I've got it, H. You should really go get changed. You're on in 15." Tommy advised.

"It'll be quick. I'm sure she's just a little nervous." Harry said and they sighed as he jogged off to where you'd taken off. When he rounded the corner to where the trailers were he immediately frowned when he saw you gasping for air, choking on your tears as you sobbed uncontrollably. "Y/N, oh my god." he said as he hurried over to you.

You felt mortified as he rushed up to you and reached for your hands. You started to cry harder because this was so fucked up. You felt so stupid and ridiculous for crying over an outfit, but you just felt so awful. Worse than you had in a long time and it was scary to be triggered so intensely. When he wrapped you up in a big hug you started to calm down. His voice and touch and scent helped to ground you a bit, enough to help you breathe properly.

"What's the matter?" he asked you softly as you continued crying. You cough as you tried to answer him and he gently rubbed your back to help you out a bit.

"S'fine. I'm fine." you choked out and he sighed.

"How can I help if I don't know what the issue is?" he asked you and you sighed.

"You can't help Harry, this is me. This all me and I...I don't think I can do the show." you finally said and he pulled back with a big frown as he looked at you. You couldn't bear to see his disappointment for more than a second before you looked back at the ground.

"What do you mean? Are you nervous?" he asked you as he rubbed at your arms with his ring clad hands and you sighed.

"I-it's the outfit. I can't wear this outfit. Like...I'm not...able to wear this." you said to him and he looked a bit confused.

"Is something wrong with it?"

"Yes! I...don't know w-what it is..." you gasped through your sobs, "But I just...don't like how I look or feel in it." you explained.

"Love, you look great!" he said with a small smile and that made you feel worse because it was a testament to just how insane you actually were, "And well, I'm not really sure we can change the uniform at this point-"

"Exactly, this is my issue! So I can't go up there." you cried.

"Well what's the issue you're having? Maybe there's something we can do about it right now?" he asked and you bit your lip for a moment before looking into his eyes and then just turning your gaze away from him. You couldn't bear to see his face when you said this to him.

"I...I have an eating disorder." you said softly through your tears, "And something about this outfit has triggered me into this psychotic episode. I feel...really awful physically and in my head too...and I'm trying... I'm trying to get it together but I haven't felt like this in years and just one look at me in this and everyone's gonna know something's wrong with me because I look sick!" you sobbed, "And that's why I can't do this. I'm so sorry, Harry. I just can't do the show." you blubbered and his hands slid down your arms and grabbed your hands.

"I'm so sorry." he said softly and you sighed.

"It's not your fault...how were you supposed to know that this would trigger me? I didn't even know until I was staring at the fucking thing." you shook your head as you looked up at him again and he sighed.

"I mean, yeah but like I... I noticed stuff before, like when we first met that made me wonder if...maybe you were anorexic or struggled with something like this. So I'm sorry that I never checked on you." he said and you sighed.

"Well, it't not really something I like to talk about." you explained through a sniffle, "And I've been doing really well the last couple years, I swear I'm like eating regularly and stuff. I wouldn't have agreed to do this if I wasn't well enough to do it." you said quickly, "But something happened back there and for my own wellbeing I just feel like I can't go out there like this." you explained through your tears. "Like...at first I thought I looked fat or maybe the cinching made me feel really restricted....but like I had this...moment where when I looked at myself f-from the side I just...looked like a fucking Tim Burton character...." you chuckled through your tears, "and I just...know that people will notice that I'm anorexic. And the audience is gonna see and start saying things about me... and things are just going to get worse and I'm gonna lose control again! And I don't want to lose control again. I can't lose control again." you vented through your tears and he just listened attentively with a slight frown. When he saw you were finished he squeezed your hands gently.

"I get that. And I also want you to be healthy and feel healthy and to feel good about yourself." he assured you, "You being safe and healthy and happy, that's all I want for you! But you're also a fucking brilliant musician and friend and I don't want to do this without you." he said to you and you sniffled, "I'm willing to figure something out to make sure that you feel comfortable and confident enough to perform if you want. We can get with Harry real quick and see what we can come up with." he suggested.

"The show starts in a little bit...it's fine. We can work on it tomorrow. I can perform from backstage today or even just sit this one out." you said and he scoffed through a laugh.

"I'm not gonna make you perform from backstage! We're just gonna run a bit late, that's fine." he said to you and you shook your head.

"Seriously H, I don't mind it a-"

"Seriously, Y/N." He cut you off, "I don't want to hide any member of my team, ever. I want to work with you to figure this out, OK? You mean a lot to me, and having you up there with me and Mitch, like that's so huge! You've been there for a lot of the work on these songs...you brought my vision to life in the studio and now you're here, getting to see it play out! And you do not have my permission to experience this magnificent and magical moment for the first time from behind the stage, all alone. There's no fucking way." he said and you chuckled softly through your tears as he squeezed your hands reassuringly again. "You deserve this. Let's figure this out." he offered again and you sniffled and nodded.

"OK." you agreed softly and he smiled.

"Yeah?"

"Yes." you sniffled and smiled at him before he hugged you tight and you relaxed in his embrace.

"Perfect. Just gonna hold you for a bit, OK?" he said and you just hummed.

Your eating disorder had robbed you of tons of incredible experiences in your life. Either because you weren't well enough to show up or because you felt ashamed...but the buck stopped here. Not anymore. Harry was right, you deserved this and you wanted this, so you were gonna do it with his help and other Harry's help. After a few moments he let go of you and pulled back to wipe away the slightly smeared makeup beneath your eyes.

"If you don't mind not saying anything to Harry about why I-"

"Of course not." He said right away.

"Do you think the band'll mind that I might not be in the uniform?"

"I doubt it, but if someone has any issues I'll take care of it, OK?" he assured you and you nodded.

"Thank you, H."

"Course, love." He smiled kindly, "And I know that for now we might scramble a bit but what if we get you a tour shirt or sweater to wear on top and you can just tie the jumpsuit sleeves around you or something so that you just have the pants on?" he suggested.

"Yeah, I think that's good. I can't very well go out in my spandex shorts, that’s what I came in." you giggled and he chuckled.

"Yeah, sorry not happening. This is kind of about me so...." he joked and you laughed softly, "There she is." he said, his thumb swiped over your smile line for a moment before he pulled it away, "Sorry." he said softly.

"It's alright." you assured him and he smiled.

"Let's get this figured out then." he said and you nodded and headed back.

Of course, Harry had been right about not wanting you to miss the first show because you were hiding backstage. It had been one the best experiences of your life so far. The crowd were so loud and happy to be there. Hearing everyone sing the songs with you all, specially getting to sing Matilda and seeing how much it meant to everyone was amazing. It had been absolutely magical, you had even teared up. And when Harry spared you a glance at the end of the song and saw you wiping a tear he shot you a thumbs up and you returned the gesture. You guys started to wave at the fans at the barricade as you headed back to the main stage. You felt someone come up behind you and then Harry's arm draped over your shoulder.

"Alright, love?" he asked against your ear.

"Yeah, you were right though." you said to him, "I'm glad I'm not stuck in the back and missing this." you smiled up at him and he smiled.

"Me too." he assured you.

Of course, hundreds of fans had recorded this little interaction between the two of you and the only thing that people were obsessing over was how protective and soft Harry seemed to be with you and in turn it made the fans even more gentle towards you during the next shows. With each show the cheering for your introduction grew louder. By now you had talked to the other Harry and the band about what you were struggling with and they were all so kind and supportive. And now, each night when you were introduced you had that incredible support from the audience as well. No one was paying attention to your flaws or your issues or your body, they were just showing you the love and acceptance that you so often failed to give to yourself. Being built up that way gave you a new motivation to stay on track, to take care of yourself, and to keep getting better.

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greenunoreversecard · 7 days

Note

Hi! ^^ Can you do lloyd garmadon x reader? Like literally anything. Im so starved for fics it isn’t even funny 😭

A/N: this came to me in a dream

This is a drabble.

TW: DEATH, SUICIDE.

Each line break to Hamilton means new memory/setting btw

Wait for it

Theodosia writes me a letter every day

The hardest thing about being in love with a huge political and slightly governmental figure is the fact their always gone.

But there was a simple fix; writting each other.

Normally we text, but because he's always in such high altitudes and other dangerous areas, it's been easier to write letters.

I'm keeping his bed warm while he's away

And it's worked well enough. When I do get to see him, we both joke about how our relationship is just 'victorian style'.

Luckily, the other ninja have let me live in the monestary, so I get to see as much time with Lloyd when he's back. The only condition is that I do upkeep- the chores and all that.

Love doesn't discriminate, Between the sinners and the saints

"How did you and Lloyd even meet?" I hear Jay ask from behind me, slurping the last of his drunk from his straw. "I don't think you guys ever really told us"

I feel a hand slide onto my waist, and I startled lightly before realising Lloyd's finally woken up. He hugs me from behind figure encasing me in his post-nap warmth and his head lolls into my shoulder.

"We met at Doomsday. They were a new employee" Lloyd turns his head to the right to look at Jay as he speaks.

"Typically nerd stuff. Should've expected it" Jay replies rolling his eyes.

I can sense Lloyd's eye roll, but don't see it as I'm busy cooking. I do feel his head turn back into my neck, and his soft press of kisses.

It takes and it takes and it takes And we keep loving anyway

The last time I spoke to Lloyd in person there we got into a... Disagreement, of sorts.

I never meant to stir up anything.

I had asked why every ninja needed to go on every mission, instead of just sending 2 at a time.

I mean, all of them are exhausted, and could use the time to themselves, switching out shifts with each other or something.

That was the wrong thing to bring up apparently.

One thing led to another and the debate got heated, to the point I left the monistary and went to go live with my friend for the time being.

I couldn't handle it at that moment.

its been about 3 weeks since then.

We talked over phone but decided it's best to live separately because the close quarters was giving him anxiety, due to the fact their already at risk of being attacked and he didn't wanna drag me into it.

I understand that. It just hurts because he let all of it out onto me, all because of a suggestion. I can understand how worn thin he is, maybe it wasn't the best time. He had, after all, just gotten back.

He told me we would talk in person about everything, we'd lay it all on the table after he got back.

From another mission.

I didn't know its be his last.

Death doesn't Discriminate, Between the sinners and the saints.

Its kind of ironic, it ends where it began.

Doomsday comic.

It has been a normal day, until that point, I'd gone into a shift.

It wasn't until 8 hours into my 10 I heard the screaming.

Our glass windows shattered. Some sort of- monster thing breaks in through the window.

It looks decrepit and I can see the dark red dripping from its mouth, the once blue shirt sticking out of its jaw.

The smell is putrid now, and gets worse as it's ink black body creeps closer. I duck down underneath my counter and press the emergency button.

Im covering my mouth, trying to hold down the vomit from the sheer smell of the eyeless creature, and I hear it's wet patters against the floor. It looked like it was made of tar.

I don't get another moment to think before I hear a crash. It's towering over me now.

"Don't FUCKING touch them!" I hear a voice call from behind me and the creature.

A flash of green.

Lloyd.

The monster teeters where it stands from Lloyd's attack, and I make a dash for it.

"N/n stay cl-"

I don't hear the rest of Kai's warning before I turn around.

I wasn't smelling decay, I was smelling acid.

Beams falls. I scream.

A flash of green.

A gush of red.

Lloyd's arms are caged around me, and his scent would be comforting if we weren't stuck in a pile of rubble.

"Hey, baby. Are you alright?" He asks, eyes gentle and searching.

I nod.

"Ok, just uh- I'm sorry I've dragged you into this. And uh, don't look down, k?"

"Dove, I knew what I was getting myself into by dating you and wha-"

I look down.

There's at least 1, maybe 2 beams sticking out. Of his torso, one lighly impaling my leg.

I feel my bile rise again.

My eyes water. I knew what was gunna happen.

"I- I said dont-"

"No. No. No. No-"

My breath picks up.

"I- this isn't real- I cant- this-"

"hey hey hey, look in my eyes baby? Mkay?"

I look at him through my tears, his figure slightly blurry.

"its-...." he pauses, wincing and forcing another breath to enter him. "don't forget what I say next ok?"

I nod quickly.

"Y/N M/N L/N, I love you more than anything. You are my yin, you are my life. You are my everything. And I need you to know, I will always love you."

"Don't- don't speak like your gunna die, Lloyd, please."

I hear the others calling us.

"it's-" he forces another breath. Can I kiss you, one last time?"

"your not gunna-"

"we both know its give or take a few minutes, baby."

I kiss him, like it's the last time I every will.

Because it is.

Life doesn't discriminate Between the sinners and the saints It takes and it takes and it takes

I don't remember anything after that.

I miss him.

I miss my Lloyd.

It's been 6 months since then. The ninja disbanded. And I'm at the tallest tower in ninjago city, debating if I should take a leap.

Life doesn't discriminate

My left foot dangles precariously.

I jump.

Wait for it

#greeny's inbox #ninjago x reader #lloyd garmadon x reader #lloyd garmadon #ninjago lloyd #Ninjago Lloyd x reader #Angst #Hurt no comfort #Lloyd Garmadon x you #Gn reader #Male reader #ninjago lloyd garmadon #lloyd montgomery garmadon

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fukurofanfics · 8 months

Text

Fukuro Part 8: Making It Up The Right Way

A/N: I know it’s been a thousand years since I last posted, but get over it. Looking back, I’ve noticed that this story has mostly been sexual content so far, next chapter picks up with more of the storyline as opposed to Kaito just fucking everyone. Enjoy! (Also thanks for 100 followers. Shoutout to @ggidolsmuts, his reblog of part 6 really helped me)

Warning: This series contains graphic depictions of violence, graphic sexual content, and adult language throughout. It is not intended for persons under sixteen. Reader discretion advised.

(Also, I’m writing according to what I think the characters would be like in real life, so they might not always be in character. Some character traits are made up by me, such as Jiwon’s affinity with computers.)

Chapter 8: Making It Up The Right Way

It was a while before Yiren woke up, she slept for a good bit. Jiwon and I brought her down to my large bed and covered her up. Jiwon went away and I stayed with her.

I felt at peace then, with her slumbering next to me and me sitting there with her, watching over her.

Finally, she stirred drowsily and her eyes opened a fraction.

“Kai?” She mumbled sleepily.

“I’m here, baby.”

She reached out a hand and grasped mine.

“Had a good rest?” I asked gently, scooting closer to her and laying down, pulling the blankets over myself.

“Yes.” She replied. “I was tired.”

“You came four times, I’m not surprised.”

“Was it four?” She chuckled softly. “I lost track, it was so good.”

“I know.” I said. “How do you feel about tonight?”

She smiled and snuggled up to my chest.

“Good. I’m all rested up.”

“You know what we haven’t done in a while?” I asked on a completely random note.

“Hmm?”

“Gone outside. Or done anything outside of this cube.”

“Kaito,” she said, in tones of a mother scolding her child, eyes still shut, “what are you planning?”

“I don’t like the thought of the risk, but it’s been too long since we did anything. We might as well while we can, before we’d be in mortal danger.”

I could literally (figuratively) hear the eye-roll and she smiled.

“What are you planning?”

“What do you say we go out tonight for dinner? Like, real dinner with actual people?”

“Sounds good to me. You sure we won’t get accosted by an eight-foot-tall behemoth with five-inch claws?”

I laughed.

“I can’t be sure, ever. They pop up in the most random spots. They can smell the toxin in my sword, they follow me everywhere.”

“If they can smell the toxin and they know it can kill them, why attack to start with?”

“They view me as a threat and want to take me out if possible.” I explained. “I don’t exactly make it easy for them, and to attack me is suicide. If they attacked one of you, I wouldn’t rest until I’d hunted down every last one or died trying. They’ve already taken my parents, I couldn’t stand it if they took one of you. They’d probably also hold one of you hostage to draw me in. They know I’d come for you, they’re very clever.”

“Well, let’s hope that doesn’t happen, then.” Yiren said.

Her soft, silky hair rubbed along my arm and shoulder and without a second thought I reached up and started stroking her head. She sighed in contentment.

“Maybe. I’ll see what the others think about it. This is very relaxing, by the way.”

I smirked. “It is for me, too. You know petting an animal, like a dog or a cat relieves stress and anxiety?”

“What, am I just your stress toy now?”

“Maybe you are my toy, just a different kind.”

“Oh, so I’m just a fleshlight.”

“Yeah.”

She snorted and slid her bare arm over my stomach.

“Well, since when did a fleshlight want to be used?”

At the same time, I felt her thigh slide over my own underneath the blanket. Some moisture was palpable closer to where her panties were.

“Been dreaming about that ‘usage’?”

She scooted over and settled between my legs, her back to my chest.

“Yes.” She didn’t even hesitate. “I was dreaming about you.”

“Yeah?” I said in a lower voice, sliding my hand over her leg. “What did I do?”

“You fucked me so hard I screamed out in pleasure,” she said seductively, hand slowly drifting towards my waist, further in. “I squirted all over you.”

“It’s not like I couldn’t tell,” I said, dropping my hand lower and drawing a gasp from her, “you were moaning in your sleep.”

“Was I?” She asked. “Makes sense.”

“It’s going to happen tonight.” I said sensually, teasing her already-wet pussy with two fingers. “You, Jiwon, and I are going to fuck. A lot. Both of you are going to squirt all over me.”

She did nothing but moan in reply at the finger swirling her clit. Seeing my opportunity, I plunged my fingers into her already wet pussy, and she bit her lip hard to keep from shouting out, as we could be heard. Among my feelings of intense arousal, it reminded me that I hadn’t seen Sihyeon or Hwang-ja since they had fucked. I supposed that would put an end to my plans to fuck her. I was not sad about not having to listen to Eun-ji’s words earlier all over again.

“Kai,” Yiren gasped, clutching at my arm as I mercilessly rubbed at her g-spot, making her cry out, “Kai, I’m gonna cum, I’m fucking cumming! Oh, I’m so close, don’t stop!”

Her words spurred me on and I pumped her pussy faster, bringing her to her fifth orgasm of the day full on and eliciting a muffled scream from her as she hastily turned her face into the pillow to stay quiet.

Surprisingly, I wasn’t really thinking about the here and now, I was thinking about Eun-ji. I still needed to talk to her, there was no use putting it off.

She was slowly returning to reality by the time I turned back to her.

“Sorry, Yiren, I’ve got to go, there’s some business I have to handle with Eun-ji.”

“You go, Kaito.” She replied, tracing her own abs with an idle finger. “I know what the ‘business’ is, Jiwon unnie told me what happened earlier.”

“Did she?” I muttered, getting off the bed and putting on my shirt, not that it would be needed for much longer. “Well, then you know what’s happening. I’ll see you later.”

My new earpiece suddenly filled my ear with the voice of Joonhon, my head servant and overseer of the entire bunker’s function.

“Mr. Kobayashi, sir, the voice activation in the elevators is fully functional and ready for use. We’ve finally gotten it to work.”

I pressed the speak button on the small device and said,

“Joonhon, if I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a million times. Just call me Kaito. We’re friends, I prefer to be called by an informal name.”

“Sorry, sir. Kaito.”

“That’s better. That’s great, I’m heading to the elevator now.”

Yiren waved after me as I stepped into the elevator, and the last image I saw before it was cut off by the doors closing was that of Yiren’s adorable face looking back at me and winking.

“Floor three.” I said to the elevator, and a small screen lit up with green on black text and a photo of me:

Kaito Kobayashi

Identity Confirmed

Floor 3 Access Granted

“Confirmed.” The elevator’s automated voice replied, and the elevator started moving.

“Good job, Joonhon.” I said into my earpiece. “Very impressive.”

“Thank you, sir. Have a good day.”

“You too, buddy. Pyeonghwa.”

The elevators opened to reveal Yurim and Se-Rim doing their nails.

“Have either of you seen Eun-ji?” I asked, interrupting their giggles.

“Yes, I think she went up to the roof.” Yurim said. “Said she wanted some time to think.”

“A bit odd if you ask me,” added Se-rim, “but then again, we’re all pretty stressed out lately.”

“Okay, thanks.”

I headed back into the elevator and after telling it “roof”, it started to move.

I arrived at the roof and the doors opened to reveal Eun-ji standing there, waiting for it to arrive to her. She gave a small yelp and jumped back, my appearance taking her by surprise.

“Kaito?!”

“Yes?” I said, taking a step towards the exit. “Were you going down?”

“Erm, actually, I was looking for you.”

“Me?” I said, truly taken aback. “Why were you looking for me?”

“I wanted to talk to you.”

I stepped out of the elevator and followed her over to the couch. Maybe I wouldn’t have to do anything, maybe she would do it all herself. I knew what she wanted to talk about, and there was no doubt she was going to want to make it up to me.

“So,” she said, swallowing, “I wanted to talk to you about this morning.”

“Yes, I figured.” I said.

“I said a lot of things that I didn’t mean, that I regret ever even thinking of saying.” She continued. “And I wanted to apologize.”

I remained quiet, waiting to see where she took it.

“I’m sorry, Kaito.” She said, looking me directly in the eye. I spotted tears welling in her eyes as she spoke, and her bottom lip trembled . “I really never meant to say it, I know you do care, that’s why we’re here. I know you care more than anything.”

She got off her seat and wrapped her arms around me, and the sincerity of her words vibrated in my bones. I knew she meant them.

“Forgiven, Eun-ji.” I said into her ear, patting her on the back. “I’ll not pretend I wasn’t hurt by it, but I can’t pretend I never say things I don’t mean, either. Everybody makes mistakes, I can’t fault you for being angry. I know you didn’t mean it.”

She disengaged and sat back down.

“I still feel bad, though, even when you forgive me.” She said, voice choked up, a single tear running down her cheek.

With that she just broke down. She flung herself into my arms and started crying, and to me it felt like some kind of emotional dam had burst within her. It felt like an eternity that she sat there and wailed into my shirt, and I found it very hard not to join her in remorse.

It made me feel awful. Maybe I had been too hard on her this morning, but whatever it was I felt awful.

“I’m s-sorry,” she said, wiping her eyes on her shirt, “it’s just I’ve been so stressed and scared, and the thing this m-morning-“

She couldn’t finish the sentence and lost it again, sobbing into my chest.

“It’s okay, Eun-ji.” I said, making a supreme effort to keep my own voice steady. “It’s alright. I’m here, there’s no need to be scared.”

After a bit she fell into silence.

“I’m sorry.” She said once she had calmed down.It’s been so stressing since we came, I’ve just been keeping it inside. There are so many things I’ve just kept to myself, it just all flooded me. The thing this morning was the last straw, I just couldn’t take it.”

“It’s okay.” I said firmly. “Eun-ji, listen to me. You have nothing to be worried about. Nothing can reach us here. I would give my own life for any one of you, it would be over my dead body that the Fukuri would touch you. You’re safe here. As for the incident this morning; I forgave you. I know you didn’t mean what you said. You are an amazing person, and nothing you do will ever change that. I love you, and nothing you do will ever change that. Don’t keep your emotions away from me like that, it’s not good. I don’t ever want you to feel like you can’t talk to me. If you’re feeling down, talk to me. I’ve been through a lot in my time, I can understand what it feels like.”

She looked up at me, and the gratitude in her expression made me feel much better. She looked adorable, and her vulnerability in that moment strengthened our bond.

“Thank you, Kaito. Thank you so much, for everything. For spending your time, money, and effort getting us here, for saving us, for being so understanding and kind. You’re a really great guy, Yiren is lucky to have someone like you.”

Her words to me were more heartwarming than almost anything I’d ever heard. She sat back from the embrace on her knees and looked at me.

“So how can I make up for what I said?”

I returned her gaze, surprised. “What?”

“I said,” she repeated, “how can I make up for what I said? You’re extremely kind for letting it go so quickly and so easily, but I want to do something to make it up to you.”

“What do you have in mind?”

“Well…” she trailed off, and I noticed a blush growing rapidly in her tear-streaked cheeks. “I had one idea…because of the topic this morning…”

Understanding blazed though my brain and I was shocked, though it was what I came up here for in the first place.

“Wait - Eun-ji, you’re not suggesting-“

“Yes, I am.” She confirmed, starting forward.

“Wait!” I said hurriedly as she reached for my waistband and she paused, one eyebrow raised. “Stop, you don’t have to - I’m not asking you for - you don’t need to do this.”

“Well, that’s the thing.” She said, hooking her finger inside my pants. “I want to.”

What a change from this morning. A comparison from earlier, when she exploded because I fucked Yiren, to now, when she was trying to fuck me herself.

I paused. “You’re sure you want to do this? I don’t want you to feel obligated to.”

“I’m sure, Kaito. I deserve it for this morning,” she said, and put a finger to my lips when I opened my mouth to protest. “and you deserve it for being so understanding.”

“You’re absolutely positive you want to go through with it?” I asked in a last-ditch attempt to prevent it. I didn’t want her doing this because she felt compelled to because of this morning. I had to forcefully remind myself of why I came up here to start with. “If you go through with it, I won’t hold back.”

“Good,” she said lustfully, “I don’t want you to.”

With these words she yanked my pants and boxers down over my legs and to my ankles, releasing my partially-hard cock.

I took a deep breath. If this was what she really wanted, that’s what she was going to get, no mercy included.

She gave a yelp as I grabbed her head by the hair and pulled her face into my crotch. Her tongue nimbly darted out and ran along my balls. She had clearly had some experience with this. It wasn’t on Jiwon’s level, but still good enough that it felt incredible. She hadn’t even started sucking my dick yet.

She let out a moan as she sucked on my balls, rapidly making me hard as a rock. Now that we started down the road, we weren’t going back. I hadn’t been kidding about not holding back. I lifted her head and pushed my cock into her mouth, spearing her lips open and gagging her at the back of her throat. But apparently that was just a taster.

She got up, walked around to the side of the couch, slid off her skirt, panties, shirt, and bra, bent over, and slid herself over my legs in a position that highlighted the curves and rounds of her ass, hips, and thighs.

“I don’t feel obligated to do anything,” she said matter-of-factly, “but I need to be punished. And before you object,” she added, not even having to look at me to know I was about to dispute it, “nothing you say is going to change my mind on that.”

My objection fell dead on my lips and I sat unmoving.

“Well?” Her inquiry rose on the air. “Are you going to get on with it or am I going to sit here all day with my ass out, waiting for you to do something?”

I hesitated still. I didn’t feel like it was my place or my right to punish her for saying something she didn’t mean in the heat of the moment, especially in this way. But her alluring nude body was drawing me in like a fish on a hook, and I was finding it increasingly difficult to resist her.

She looked sideways up at me with a seductive look, turning to her pure sexiness for help.

“I was a bad girl, and shouldn’t naughty girls be punished?” She said, intentionally making her voice lower and more breathy. “This girl needs to be spanked.”

“You know what?” I growled, primal instinct as always winning the battle against reasoning and gentlemanliness. “Have it your way.”

She bit her lip and I gave her ass a hard, sidelong swat with my hand. She yelped in both pain and pleasure and I waited, seeing if she was alright. She gave her ass a wiggle, silently spurring me on. I smacked her three more times before deciding on a different method. There was a cabinet that happened to have a hairbrush sitting on it nearby, so I reached over and grabbed the brush, flipping it so the flat end would hit her.

She uttered a yell as the brush struck her, making her ass ripple on impact. I paused again, making sure she was still comfortable with it before going on.

“Spank me harder!”

I gladly complied with her shouted demand, smacking her ass with the hard plastic again, and again, and again. I lost count of how many times I spanked her, her ass turning redder and redder. She yelped and moaned and shouted out, whether in pain or pleasure I didn’t know or really care. Occasional cries of “harder” or “more” came from her, and I let my instinct hotwire my brain. My hand briefly grazed her naked pussy and I was shocked to see how wet she was. Clearly the spanking was turning her on to that point. Her body quivered and her hands gripped the couch or my thigh each time the brush hit her, and she kept egging me on.

“I’m about to fucking cummm-“ she moaned out, clutching at my leg. I tossed the brush to one side and slid my fingers down her pussy, ending on her clit and circling it swiftly. I ran the fingers back along it until I reached her entrance, which I slowly teased before plunging them inside. No hymen barrier blocked my entrance, so I knew she was not a virgin.

“Not a virgin, eh?” I said while she gave a pleasured whine, thrusting my fingers at a quick pace. “So you are a slut?”

“Only for you Kaito, only for you!” She whimpered. “I’ll be your slut, all of this is yours!”

“You’re fucking right it is,” I growled in her ear, giving her ass a hard slap with my free hand. “You’re mine.”

Something inside her snapped at my words and she climaxed with a scream as I jammed my finger into her g-spot. Her juices splattered my hand and coated my forearm as they sprayed out of her, and the tension relaxed as she fell limp against me, chest heaving.

“That was - fucking amazing,” she said, taking deep breaths, “you’re so good.”

I let her recover sufficiently before moving. I made her kneel on her knees, face resting on the couch. Her shining, sopping wet heat was facing me and I was still horny, so I positioned myself, lined up my tip with her entrance, and pushed in.

Where her face was, her mouth opened and a whimpering moan left it as her eyes closed in pleasure.

I slowly forced my way into her tight pussy, pleasurable resistance meeting me every centimeter of the way, until I bottomed out inside her.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” I groaned through clenched teeth, my head tilting back as the feeling overwhelmed me. She was tighter than Jiwon by far, but not quite as tight as Yiren.

“Oh, it’s so deep,” she gave a soft, blissful hum as I filled her up, juices leaking out around the edges of my cock. She turned around and gave me that seductive stare, biting her lip. “Now fuck me.”

Raw, animalistic lust was the only thing I felt as instinct took over, and I jabbed my hips into her as hard as possible, a wet clap resounding around the roof. She cried out, reached around, and spread her ass cheeks, allowing for further view of my cock disappearing inside her.

I took the cue and started fucking her hard and fast, going for pure power in my thrusts. Her body was like a drug, addictive and inebriating, and I leaned forward.

“I’m going to make you fucking pay for this morning,” I growled roughly into her ear, pulling her head back by her hair to let her hear me over her own cries.

“Yes!” She yelled, turning her head and looking at me with desperate eyes. “Make me pay, punish me! Fuck me like I’m your little slut!”

“You get me wrong,” I said forcefully, her lips brushing my cheek, “you are my little slut, like it or not.”

She gave no reply except a string of mindless moans, unintelligible whispers that still held more meaning than words.

I grasped the ponytail I had formed her hair into and pulled harder.

“Say it! Fucking say it!”

“Y-yes!” She screamed out, fingers holding the couch like a vice. “I’m your slut! Fuck me however you want, I belong to you!”

Funny how just a taste of my cock had reduced all three of the members I had gone after to screaming, moaning sluts who begged me to dominate the. Each had had a different way of phrasing it, but all had the same message. Make me your slut.

I let go of her hair and reached around to her bouncing breasts, squeezing and groping her and heightening her pleasure.

Pulling out, I turned her over onto her back, and she gave a disappointed moan before I quickly plunged back into her, the moan turning to a breathy, satisfied shout. I let myself rest on top of her, driving my shaft deeper and deeper with each thrust.

“Oh my god yes, yes, f-fuck!” She screamed as I bottomed out inside her. “Fucking pound me! Pound my little pussy!”

“Shut up and take my cock!” I groaned through my teeth, knowing she was trying to coax the cum out of me with her dirty talk.

She bit her lip as I gave her breast a slap, eyes closed and hands gripping my back. I felt myself nearing my peak, and she was lasting longer than I thought she would but I could still tell she was close as well.

“Cum in me Kaito,” she gasped into my ear, bucking her hips up into me, thighs flexed around my waist.

I let out a moan myself as her walls clenched around me, but the expression on her face, her eyes closed, eyebrows angled upwards, her mouth open, was what sent me over the edge.

“I’m - fucking - cumming - FUCK!”

I managed three words and one yelled obscenity before slamming my cock into her, as deep as I could, and blasting her walls with my cum, giving a groan through my teeth as one of the most intense orgasmic highs I had ever had hit me like a truck.

I felt her juices hit me, but no sound came from her except a tiny squeak as her voice failed her. Her nails raked my lats and her legs gripped my middle very hard, her entire body trembling in pleasure. Then as soon as it came it stopped. Her thighs relaxed, her hands fell limp to her sides, and her pussy relaxed around my cock, still rapidly pulsing along with her beating heart.

We only got to enjoy the afterglow of our passionate sex for a minute or so before Joonhon’s frantic voice blasted into my ear again.

“Kaito!” He shouted.

“Joonhon, what the fuck!” I said, waving away Eun-ji’s questioning gaze and rising from the couch. “What is it?”

“Sir, you remember Makoto Takahashi?”

“Yes, why?”

I did remember him well, he decided to devote his life to helping the Fukuri a while ago, and had tried to kill me.

“He’s resurfaced; he sent our server a message.”

“What did it say?” I asked warily, knowing that this couldn’t be good.

“He wants to talk to you, in person.”

“Tell him I said to fuck off. I don’t associate with dickheads like him.”

“I’m not sure that’s advisable, sir. He’s threatening you. He has the Fukuri on his side, as I’m sure you know, and he says he’ll bring them to us if you refuse.”

I hesitated. I didn’t want to see him, but by refusing I was risking the lives of myself, Everglow, and everyone else in the bunker. I couldn’t do that.

“Get the guards ready, Joonhon. We’re going to meet this motherfucker.”

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sugar-omi · 8 months

Note

i start school in 12 hours 😧

so to keep from losing my sanity imma ramble about how Cove would make school fun if you hate it, like me!

Going to school with him, rather it's by bus, car, or on foot is always nice bc you guys can just talk and hang out on your own.

If someone ever tries to start shit w you, he's there and ready to kick ass. (not literally, he's a gentle giant. i mean unless he really has to)

If you get easily burnt out and lack motivation to do your school work, you guys can have study sessions!!! although results may vary when it comes to how much work you actually get done 💀

Sits next to you in all your classes and pouts when your schedules don't line up. Promises to see you at lunch and if you hate the caf like me he makes it soo much more bearable just by being there.

If you're a complainer like me, he'll listen to you and give solutions

his solutions: "let's just skip."

you don't tho. not too often at least

i feel like Cove would definitely be the type to skip for you. Like you tell him you're not going to school and he's already at your window like 'ok so what are WE gonna do then?'

doesn't matter if he was dressed and ready to go, he doesn't wanna be there without you.

UGH HES THE BEST I NEED HIM SO BAD

THAT LAST BIT MADE ME SMILE

school was hard for me socially n I never did the homework, so cove would definitely help you do the homework even if you end up copying some of his answers

socially, like I said before he tries to take thr heat off you. and I agree he doesn't rlly get physical!!! but if someone is giving you a hard time he comes up behind them, puts a hand on their shoulder.. "why don't you stop bothering them?"

or will stand in between you and crosses his arms. cove isn't that scary but he doesn't care abt that, he just wants to protect you

will indulge in your complaints too!!! even shares his own complaints. AND BACK TO THAT SKIPPING THING

okay just to set the scene, let's say you're really stressed and end up having an anxiety attack or feel one coming on before class. cove pulls you to a secluded spot and you end up calming down and crying while he holds you, eventually falling asleep with your head in his lap while he stands guard.

after that, whenever you get stressed or tired. anything like that, he finds a spot you guys can hide and you'll skip class.

you try not to do it often since they'll end up calling your parents, but you treasure those little moments bc he'll share a snack or doodle w you, or even better play more hangman w you <333

will play tic-tac-toe in the middle of class!!!

also I love cove climbing thru your window fully dressed for school and he's like "so, what did you dream last night bc I dreamed I was a SHARK which was rlly cool but then you were a fish n I ate u and I woke up and cried-"

this man is crazy istg

omg if this is like step 3 n youre dating he'll walk you to all your classes and squeezes your hand goodbye bc he's too embarrassed to kiss in front of your classmates n teacher (definitely does it once on the cheek and RUNS AWAY)

yall never live down how lovesick you are I promise

OMG SENDS TERRI AND RANDY TO DELIEVER MESSAGES OR SNACKS N STUFF

once had terri deliever a little sticky note w a heart on it or smth and terri went "omg yall are so CHEESY EVEN WHEN YOURE APART" randy is giggling and teasing you too

omg imagine he's in PE and he sees you. he runs to the door or window and looks back and forth before he steals a hug or kiss (pls kiss him, if not you owe him 2 kisses to replenish his energy fully)

teacher: holden! get back here. stop making out w y/n!

cove: *jumps 10 feet* y-yes! omg.... I'll see you later y/n<3

#olba #cove holden #cove holden x reader

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icameheretoreadstuff · 1 year

Text

I can’t be your friend

Pairings: Archie Andrews x reader

Warning: Angst and Fluff

Summary: You have been struggling holding back your feelings for Archie, so your easy answer as to just ignore him. But him being your bestfriend made it alittle impossible. Suddenly at school he grabbed your hand and pulled you into the music room as he asked you “why are you ignoring me?” So, what do you do?

A/N: masterpost & links are pinned on my tumblr.

He stood there just waiting for you to say something “Please tell me” he began as he walked over to you “why are you doing this?” He asked again “I don’t get it, out of the blue you just started to ignore me completely.” He sighed “I’m not mad but I care about you, can’t you just tell me what’s wrong please?” You just stood there frozen, he noticed so he walked over to you to reassure you with hand on your shoulder. You finally woke up from the warm feeling coming from his hand, you whimpered at the first contact.

He looked confused, “please?” He whispered. Before you looked him in the eyes and prepared you mentally before you finally said: “alright, I’ll try telling you”. He half smiled before nodded “ok.” You took a deep breath “but you have to promise me not to freak out or stop being my friend” you said with a shaky voice. He looked at you with a puzzling look before he nodded “sure, of course” he waited for you to start talking.

You thought about how to start telling him about this. Maybe its good to start with the beginning? Or maybe the end? Or maybe just tell him right out what’s been going on? Or maybe you should not tell him and walk out, or just lie to keep the friendship. But you knew that you couldn’t help yourself anymore, something had to happen.

You sure as hell don’t know what but you knew that you had to come clean. You woke up from your thoughts and just looked at him, and chuckled. “Well, I don’t know how to begin, honestly” you shaked your head in frustration. “There’s so much that has happened between us and I just dont know how to talk about this without hurting you or losing you” you sighed. “Look, just tell me” he gave me a half smile, “you can trust me, we are friends” he said as he sat down on a chair.

You sighed and said “I can’t do this, I don’t want us to be friends” you finally said and chuckled over how that might have sounded “wait, what?” He looked so confused and raised up from his chair. “I can’t be friends with you any longer because” you looked at him deep into his eyes as you walked over to him and kissed him deeply, his hands grabbed your arms and then he lifted his hans to slowly cup your face.

You broke the kiss out of shock and looked at him, waiting for him to say anything but then “Y\N, listen” he sighed, and seemt to struggle with his words. You shook your head and felt your tears coming up, “I’m sorry, I knew it, I’ll Leave and pretend this never happened” you said as you begin to run out the door.

Suddenly you felt his hand stopping you from leaving. “What do you want?” You whispered, he grabbed your neck and guided you close. “This” He simply put and kissed you deeply. “I just can’t” he began as he kissed you once more, “I can’t do this if it means that I will lose you, I don’t want this to end badly and lose you” he said as he kissed you once more, you couldn’t help but chuckle and hug him tightly “I don’t want to lose you either” you whispered as you hugged him tightly and kissed him. “You smell so good” you smiled and kissed him on his cheek as he chuckled. “Lets get out of here” he said and grabbed your hand, on your way to walk out of the music room hand in hand with Archie.

You couldn’t believe it, you had dreamed about this moment for so long. Literally in your dreams, now everyone at school would know that you and Archie are dating, like you were freaking out so much. You thought you were beginning to have an anxiety attack or something, so you stopped Archie from walking out “wait” you said and began breathing deeply, counting to ten.

He looked at you and knew what was going on, he grabbed you and pulled you into a hug before he said calmly “I’m here” he said and smiled. “Do you want to talk about it or do something?” He asked. He knew about your anxiety all to well, he’s been there for you for every attack. No matter how late or early it was.

He looked at you and said “how about some takeaway at pops, go back to my house?” He asked and you finally unfroze and looked up at him. “Yes, I would love too but, listen I’m so sorry-“ you began and he kissed you before you could finish your sentence “from now on I will kiss you every time you apologise of something that’s not your fault” he said with a smile, and you giggled. “It’s just allot, that’s all” you reasured him.

He kissed you once more “I’m here” he reasured you and you nodded, “let’s go” you said to him with a grin, he kissed you once more on your cheek and said “finally” as you walked outside the classroom, everyone stood there looking at you.

He looked at you with a grin and pulled you into a half hug as he kissed you at your chin. Betty and Veronica gave you the happiest smiles and said in unison “Finally!”. At the end of the hallway he kissed you deeply for everyone to see.

#archie andrews #archie andrews x reader #riverdale smut #riverdale #archie andrews smut #Archie Andrews x you

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writersblog20 · 2 years

Text

A different way💜

Chris Evans x reader

Credit to @sudsevans for making the gif

Summary: When you get a lot more than you bargained for, in a good way though, emotions are high and Chris tries to relax you through your inner child.

Warnings: dd/lg dynamic, anxiety, petnames, mention of smut, cockwarming

Words: 3,8K

A/N: So I’m trying to heal my inner child and noticed that this sort of works for me. If this isn’t your cup of tea, than please don’t read it. it’s a way for me to deal, feel comfort, safety and security. Please be mindful and respectful as my page is a safe place for everyone. If you’re not, I won’t hesitate to block. I hope this fic can bring some comfort to others.

A different way 💜

So your dream was finally coming true. You were a multimedia designer in your second year but someone from the biggest festival in your country contacted you. At first you would do some slides for the screen there with warnings. But in your second interview they asked you to be their photographer. You loved to photograph and this was literally your dream so of course you said yes.

They were beyond happy with your designs for the screens but you still had to wait for the graphic designer to give you a thumbs up but that took way longer than expected. He literally kept you waiting for 5 horrible weeks. It had even effected your relationship with Chris, saying goodbye to your sex life. But he helped you out a lot, with the anxiety, panic attacks, nightmares and much more.

When you finally got the receiving word, you didn’t feel happy or at ease by it anymore. Your therapist called it a hangover from all of the emotions. I mean he did gave you very like very small things to change but was mostly happy with your work. You did have follow-up questions for him so, again, you had to wait. Luckily, you weren’t anxious anymore.

So now we're here, awaiting before you could continue and you and Chris made sure to enjoy the time before you would work yourself to exhaustion. Chris was so incredibly proud of you. You did this all by yourself without his help, knowing how scary it can be to follow your dreams. It was unbearably scary and you found out that a lot of people left you out of jealously. They didn’t want you to make it and were definitely not happy. You’ve always heard about it on social media and stuff but never did you think that it would happen to you but than again, you weren’t expecting that your dreams were coming true so soon. I mean, you were still in your second year of your studies for god’s sake! And that was exactly why Chris was so incredibly proud of you.

Anyway, you were just getting out of the heat with Chris. You both let your head fall on the pillow, trying to catch your breath. You turned your head towards Chris and he was already looking at you. You grew shy and chuckled in embarrassment. You turned on your side and hid your face in Chris’s arm. He chuckled and pulled you closer.

Your therapist was trying to heal your inner child and that was where Chris came in. You wouldn’t really call yourself a little because you absolutely would refuse the idea of diapers, pacies and stuff like that. You would never judge someone else over it, absolutely not! But that wasn’t for you. You were more the plushy, Disney movie type. But sometimes when you were so relaxed you would call Chris daddy and he found it so incredibly adorable that he almost couldn’t function. As if he couldn’t love you more, you would prove him wrong every time. Anyway, you needed someone very, very gentle and caring and when you told Chris about it, he helped you out of your comfort zone, so that could become your comfort zone and he was amazing in it. Especially in the aftercare.

“You okay princess?” he asked you and you nodded, a little unable to stop giggling. You heard your phone go off and was expecting it to be one of your friends. You would go to the beach today for a relaxing day. You got your phone and saw your mail with an unknown name. You frowned and opened it quickly because the subject was the name of the festival. You felt your heart start to beat quickly and every muscle in your body was tensing up. Chris noticed the immediate change in your demeanor.

“Baby?” He asked you and you read the email quickly. Chris sat up next to you, softly rubbing your back. He couldn’t read the mail since it was in your language. You looked in an awe at Chris. He knew it was good because your eyes were twinkling and had a lot of hope and happiness behind them. Chris chuckled in your awe state, getting quite curious himself now. “Princess, please share.” He told you, looking intently at you with a big grin.

You just started to laugh and stood up from the bed, jumping up and down on the bed, making Chris chuckle loudly until you let yourself fall on his lap. “They want me to do more!!!! Someone higher from the festival asked me to do more designs for them!!!!” you told him happy and Chris was just as surprised as you were. You flew your arms around him, making him fall backwards on the bed. He was still very much processing what you just told him. He held you tightly and cupped your cheeks, making you hang a little above him with that adorable smile of yours. He laughed with you. “Oh my god baby! That’s amazing news!!! I’m so, so happy for you! You deserve this, really sweetheart.” He told you, placing multiple kisses over your face, making you even giggle more.

“We need to celebrate this!” he told you happy but you waved it off. “No, no, I’m not there yet! I still have to…” Chris cut you off by placing his fingers on your lips. “Sweetheart…. This is a huge win! You are completely titled to celebrate this. This is why people celebrate. Don’t degrade yourself on this pretty princess. You deserve this, maybe even more than others.” He told you the last part softly with his hand besides his mouth as if he was telling you a secret.

You sat up straight on his lap while Chris was still laying down. His big hands on your hips, softly going up and down for comfort. You chuckled at what he had told you and was thinking about it, which gave Chris an indication that you needed help to see that you deserved this too. “Okay that’s it. We’re going to celebrate and you have no say in it because daddy says so.” He told you, it caught you a little of guard but smiled that he was stepping in. You couldn’t stop the smile that grew on your face and kissed him deeply.

Once you got downstairs, you immediately replied to the person that had send you the email. He quickly replied that he would call you in the afternoon and you ran towards Chris, even more excited. You were so happy that you started to jump around him happily. Chris chuckled at your excitement. “He’s going to call me today!!!” You told him and he picked you up, twirling you around and sat you down on the counter. “Okay. Then we’ll wait before he called and celebrate after. How does that sounds?” he asked you and softly rubbed your cheek. You nodded with a smile. Chris mirrored your smile and kissed your forehead. “Let’s get dressed princess.” He told you and helped you off the counter where he was cutting up fruit. He softly but playfully smacked your ass to get you on your way.

You got dressed in your swimsuit and put a pretty dress over it, got the towels and skipped downstairs. You went through a rollercoaster of emotions right now. From feeling really powerful to anxious to happy to nerves. Chris noticed the changes even though they weren’t very obvious since you were a pro at hiding your feelings but he knew you well enough now. You were an open book for him and he was for you.

He didn’t say anything about it though. He knew that you knew that he knew about your rollercoaster, which was perfectly reasonable. But he obviously kept an closer eye on you today. Your friends were on their way to pick the both of you up and you stood outside. You were at your house in your country at the moment because of the festival and so Chris had in a way, vacation and you were actually really happy and excited about it, you, Chris and your friends hanging out together, show him all the cool stuff your country had, the amusement park where your country was famous for called the Efteling and stuff.

Besides, he deserved to get some rest after all those interviews, premiers and stuff from Lightyear to the Gray man. He was extremely exhausted at the end and it showed. I mean he was still very handsome and his stylist should definitely get a higher paycheck but still, he was tired.

You waited outside for your friends and you leaned your head against his shoulder, his arm around you as he placed kisses on your head. Your friends knew about the mail and you knew that they would be there for you besides Chris but would be just as nerves for you but would try to get you to calm down. You’ve been doing this rodeo with them for a long time now so it wouldn’t be new. They came racing through your street, honking their cars.

You laughed and waved at them. You looked at the cars but they were fully stocked. “Don’t worry princess, you can sit on my lap.” Chris told you softly. You knew this was a stunt of your friends, knowing Chris would have you on his lap but they didn’t knew that you both already blew some steam off this morning. Chris put the bags in the trunk of the car and opened the door for you, getting in first and helping you on his lap. You both greeted everyone. Chris placed the seatbelt in front of you and held you tightly against him, his arms locked around you in a loving but protecting manner.

You relaxed your body against Chris and sighed in content, making Chris smile. It didn’t took long before you arrived at the lake. They parked the car and everyone got the bags out of the trunk and walked towards your favorite spot. Everyone got settled down and put some sunscreen on, Chris obviously doing your back before some alcoholic beverages got popped open and music put on.

After the sunscreen got settled in, you got into the water. One of your friends had a floaty and jumped into it while you hang on the floaty, relaxing while you both shared a cider. After a while you got tired of hanging on and jumped on her, both laughing loudly when it capsized to the side and fell over in the water. Your group of friends laughing at the two of you and Chris looked adored your way. He was throwing over the ball with your friends.

After a while in the water, you returned back to the towels, not wanting to be apart from your phone any longer just in case he might call. Chris laying down besides you, his head resting on your lap while you softly played with his fluffy hair. Chris was almost purring from relaxation, making you smile.

The longer it took, the more nervous you got and Chris noticed the small nervous hints from your body. He sat up straight from your lap. “Come lean against me sweetheart.” He told you and opened his legs so you could sit between them, your back leaning against his chest. His fingertips softly caressing your arms while he softly placed feathery kisses to your shoulders.

Chris finally managed to relax you until you heard the familiar tune of your ringtone and all your muscles tensed up. Everyone looked your way as you grabbed your phone to see who it was. It was an unknown number and you knew it was the guy so you quickly picked up and paced around, getting just a bit away from the group. The kept chatting but still held a close eye on you, curiosity taking over. Everyone looked at you when your face lit up with utter disbelieve. Chris sat a little more straight and looked awaiting for what was about to happen.

“Yeah, yeah, sure of course! Let me write it down, hold on.” You told the man on the phone and quickly got your notebook and pen by your side and leaving the group again. When it was over half an hour, the group almost couldn’t contain themselves anymore and wanted to know everything. They saw how your posture changed, the twinkling in your eyes and just the look of disbelieve on your face with the most contagious grin someone could have. They knew that it was very good news.

You walked back to the group, still on the phone but ready to hang up. Everyone got silent and awaited for your information. “Yes, yes, absolutely, no problem! Thank you so much for this chance! Speak to you soon and I’ll see the email appear. Bye.” You hang up in utter disbelieve and happiness which radiated from everything. Chris couldn’t wipe the smile off his face as he looked at you. “And???” one of your friends asked you.

“Ehh well… They want me back next year for sure and I’ll help them design then. But for now, I’m going to make every banner that’s going to hang there, make the passes and more but this is for the next 2 weeks and now my ultimate favorite….” You couldn’t contain your happiness and bright smile while everyone looked in awe, knowing how much this meant to you and it was actually really big. “I get to make their merchandise!” everyone was just as gob smacked as you were. You just started chuckling and giggling uncontrollably. Chris was needed to process it and one of your friends stood up, the rest following and cheered, picking you up and twirling you around while you kept giggling.

“Congratz!!! This is huge!” one of your best friends said to you. “I can’t actually believe it!” you told them, still not believing it. Chris walked up to you and pulled you in the biggest hug, placing multiple kisses on your head, face and lips as you giggled. He cupped your cheeks and pulled you in for a big kiss. “I am so proud of you and happy for you baby!” you smiled and flung your arms around his neck. “We need to celebrate this!” one of your friends turned the music up and popped a wine bottle open.

You celebrated the whole day, drinking, swimming, dancing and laughing a lot. You called your mom and some more people that really mattered throughout the day. When you finally arrived home you were exhausted and even that was an understatement. Chris knew that you were extremely tired from all the built up emotions, the good and the bad. It was a long and emotional day and Chris would make sure that you got relaxed again.

“Let’s take a shower sweetheart.” He told you, making you nod. Tiredness written all over your sleepy face. He helped you out of the clothes “Wait here for a minute.” he told you softly so he could put the dirty clothes and swimwear in the washing machine. You waited for Chris, yawning. Chris walked back naked to you and chuckled when he saw you yawn. “Let’s get cleaned up, pretty princess.” He told you and helped you in the shower. You were clingy again and Chris couldn’t wipe the loving smile off of his face from your clinginess. He washed your hair and cupped your cheeks, placing a kiss on your lips before pulling your head against his chest and softly rubbed your back.

After you got out, he put a towel around your body before he wrapped one around himself and sat you down on the counter. You yawned again and Chris smiled lovingly at you “Let daddy take care of you now.” He told you, trying to make you even more relaxed. You nodded while Chris stood in front of you, putting lotion on your body and you let your head rest against his shoulder. He got your skincare products out “Look up for me pretty baby.” he told you and chuckled when he saw that you almost fell asleep against his shoulder.

He placed his finger underneath your chin and gave you a small loving smile before gently placing the cream on your face. When he was done he smiled at you and kissed your nose. He got you of the counter, held your hand and let you to the bed, sitting you down before going to the closet and getting your satin, pink pajama out of the closet. He put your shorts on and your top and peppered your face with kisses again, earning a couple of giggles from you again. He placed your plushy bunny in your arms and got back to the closet for his own clothes while you waited patiently for him.

He put on a t-shirt and shorts before putting some sock on you and walked down the stairs with you. You followed him everywhere he went but he didn’t minded it at all, holding your hand. He got a beer for himself and some lemonade for you and walked with you to the couch. He put the drinks on the small table in front of him, sat down and pulled you on his lap sideways and handed you the remote.

You got more comfortable on his lap, crawling more against his chest, his hand softly rubbing the soft skin of your legs. You picked out a Disney movie and clang tightly onto your plushy. You chose belle and the beast but the real life remake. Chris just caressed every part of your skin softly with his fingertips as if he admired every part of your body, which he did. He was more focused on you than the movie playing in front of him. When you moved a little to get even more physical contact, he wrapped his arms around you and let his head rest on your shoulder after he kissed your cheek lovingly, his thumb still softly rubbing your skin.

He saw you getting deeper and deeper relaxed and how you fought your heavy eyelids. “Let’s get upstairs sleepy baby, we’ll finish the movie tomorrow princess.” He told you and helped you upstairs before placing you on the counter again and placed some toothpaste on your toothbrush before handing it to you. You tiredly took it from him while you both brushed your teeth at the same time. He looked at you with adoration in his eyes but chuckled when he saw you almost falling asleep with the toothbrush in your mouth, your head already hanging low.

“Okay, let daddy help you with that princess.” He told you, but knew it wasn’t really getting to you. He took the toothbrush from your mouth and helped you with it but it woke you up in realization that you actually drifted off slightly with the brush in your mouth. Once you made eye contact with Chris you felt a little embarrassed and wanted to take the brush from him but he just smiled lovingly at you as he shook his head. “No sweetheart, let daddy do it for now. I know you’re a big girl and want to do it yourself but it’s okay, you’re tired, let daddy help.” He encouraged you to accept it. He could see that you were doubting it but he just smiled at you. “It’s okay baby. We’re almost done either way but trust me. Can you do that sweetheart?” he pushed you further into his care and you gave in because of his last sentence. You nodded and surrendered to Chris’s care.

“Good job baby, such a good girl.” He praised you and you felt proud. “There we go. Here’s the mouthwash baby. Don’t swallow it though.” He reminded you as he took some himself and kept looking at you. When he spat it out he looked back at you. “Spit it out baby, good job.” He knew that praising you got you even more over the edge, feeding your inner child. You did as he instructed and he smiled proudly at you before helping you to the bed. “With or without pajamas baby girl?” he asked you while he straightened the sheets. “Without.” You told him and he nodded, helping you out of silken pajamas before taking his own clothes off.

Chris turned the fan on, giving a nice cool breeze and some white noise before turning back into bed. He gently pulled you towards him and gave you your plushy. You were deep in thought and tried to get even closer against him as if you wanted to crawl into him. Chris went with his fingertips over your head and easily noticed your discomfort. “What’s wrong baby girl?” he asked you softly. “Just want to be near you. Closer.” You softly whispered your last part a little embarrassed. “Want me in you?” he asked carefully unsure if that was what you meant. “If that’s okay….” You asked him softly and he smiled in adoration at you and kissed the top of your head, letting his lips rest there for a minute. “Of course it is princess.”

“Place your leg over mine baby girl.” You quickly did what he asked you while Chris pumped his cock a couple of times but he never had trouble getting hard for you. His hand went slightly over your stomach towards your slit and helped you get a little bit more wet even though you already were, feeling needy and clingy. He placed his cock by your entrance and carefully pushed himself in, both moaning at the feeling. “God you feel so good princess.” He moaned out and you whimpered at the feeling. You wanted to get closer to Chris but he stopped you. “Wait for a second baby, don’t move yet.” He told you and you waited for him to get it under control.

Chris finally pulled you towards him after a couple of minutes and you finally fell sleepy again. You rested almost half on top of him. Your head and arm resting on his chest as he softly massaged your head. “You comfy princess?” he asked you softly and you murmured yes while nodding slightly. “Good night baby girl. I’ll be here when you wake up. I love you.” he told you and you smiled against his chest. “I love you too daddy.” You murmured out, almost asleep but awake enough to hear his heart skip a couple of beats.

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