#i may or may not have spent five hours writing this

[asgardian--angels]

Hi, I’m also a NH resident - what can you tell me about the native bees that are here?

I know it’s a pretty general question, but I’ll take all the info dumping you’re willing to do

Thanks!

Readers, this is a long post, so feel free to press J and skip it if it's not for you. But if you live in the northeast it may be of interest!

Hiya fellow New Hampshirite! I could talk oodles about our native bees, especially since I did field research on them in undergrad and continue to work with native bees in the northeast, first for my MS and now in my job (upstate New York currently). The things I say here are broadly applicable to all of New England, as 1) this region is relatively homogenous in its bee fauna (melittofauna) given that it's temperate and has similar habitats (particularly in its high cover of hardwood forests and few grasslands), and 2) New Hampshire is poorly studied in terms of its bee diversity relative to other New England states, which I'll get to.

A bit of bee background

As you may or may not know, wild bees are nothing like honeybees. The vast majority of bees are solitary, not social, so they live singly in nests - either underground tunnels, or excavations in stems or wood, occasionally human structures - and in our area are generally univoltine, meaning they have one generation per year (this changes as you move further south in the US, sometimes even the same species switches to multivoltinism given a longer growing season). Solitary bees include everything from mining bees (Andrena), leafcutter bees (Megachile), mason bees (Osmia), cellophane bees (Colletes), longhorned bees (Melissodes), masked bees (Hylaeus), and many others. Our social bees - which comprises a wide spectrum from weakly social to primitively eusocial behavior (honeybees are 'advanced' eusocial) - include groups like carpenter bees (Xylocopa virginica, Ceratina), bumble bees (Bombus), and many metallic sweat bees (e.g., Lasioglossum). Many others are kleptoparasites, or brood parasites - a higher diversity than social bees actually. These do not collect pollen or build nests, rather they target a specific host bee species and lay their eggs in the host nest, where their larva eats all the pollen provisions meant for the host. These 'cuckoo bees' as they're called include nomad bees (Nomada), cuckoo sweat bees (Sphecodes, sometimes called blood bees though this is a misnomer as there are actual blood-feeding bees in the tropics), cuckoo leafcutter bees (Coelioxys), longhorn cuckoo bees (Triepeolus, Epeolus), and several others that are much less common.

Eight-toothed cuckoo leafcutter bee, Coelioxys octodentatus. It targets the nests of several species of leafcutter bee.

Bees collect pollen for their offspring. Most are generalists, visiting and collecting pollen from many families of flowering plants. But in our area, around 15% (this number is much higher in the southwest and other ephemeral/highly diverse habitats) of our bees are diet specialists, also known as oligolectic. They evolved to feed their young pollen from a specific group of plants, anything from one family (e.g., Asteraceae) to, commonly, one or a few related genera (e.g., Solidago) or rarely even one species (e.g., Macropis nuda on Lysimachia ciliata). In our area, these 'monoleges' are typically so because there's only one suitable representative of that plant group present in New England, but they may use more hosts further south (though, not always! We still have much to learn about the true specificity for these species, it's difficult to really know how specialized they are). True monoleges are more frequent in arid regions where there is a high proportion of endemic plants, and with it, endemic bees. Specialist bees often have adaptations to make them more efficient at collecting pollen from their hosts, and they tend to be more rare than generalists because they are only found with their host, which may have a patchy distribution, and are only out for a short period of time - as little as two weeks, when their host is flowering. A full list of known specialist bees in the eastern US and their hosts can be found here. Fowler (2016) is the peer-reviewed journal article version of this that is specifically for the northeast.

Bees in New Hampshire

New Hampshire probably has somewhere between 300-400 species of bees, based on estimates from surrounding states, the region as a whole (which is around 450), and museum records. I curate an ongoing project on iNaturalist to list all known bee species in the state, which you can see here. That has around 300 species (only 78 have actually been observed in NH on iNat), which is a hefty handful more than the few contemporary published surveys have found - entirely done by the Rehan Lab (now at York University), where I studied and worked for two years. Those surveys were centered in the southeastern portion of the state (Strafford Co, at and around UNH), the White Mountains, and in the Ossipee Pine Barrens. I helped with all of these surveys! They produced several new state records. The vast majority of historical bee collections by past naturalists were focused in the Durham area as well, making our idea of bees in the state very skewed and leaving vast swaths of the state, and many habitats, unexplored. This matters, because our state may seem a monolith of forest but it isn't!

Bee communities differ by geography, habitat, soils, and specific local plant composition. While New Hampshire doesn't quite have the diversity in ecoregions or plant species that some other states have (the southwest has around 800-1200 bee species per state), things do differ, and what we do have is special in its own right.

Geography: We sit at a boundary of north and south in terms of insect species, with northern New England representing the (current) northernmost range for some 'southern' species, and the southernmost range for 'northern' species in North America. In southern NH, you will likely find the same sort of bees that you'd find in Massachusetts, most of those also being found in New Jersey or even North Carolina, or as far west as the central states. That's how you end up with bees like Agapostemon texanus in New Hampshire! But in the north country, the composition of bees starts to change, with many more traditionally Canadian species becoming common. This is well-observed in bumble bees - around and north of the White Mountains, you really start to see more of the tricolored bumble bee (Bombus ternarius) and northern amber bumble bee (Bombus borealis, aptly named). The majority of our remaining population of the yellow-banded bumble bee (Bombus terricola), a regionally declining species, is in the White Mountains.

Yellow-banded bumble bee, Bombus terricola. One of several bumble bees in North America to decline severely in the last 30 years due to pathogens spread from commercially reared bumble bees along with habitat loss, pesticides, and climate change.

Habitat & Soils: While many bees are habitat generalists, many others are associated with specific habitats due to pollen preferences or nesting substrate preferences. We have plenty of forest bees, which may have been the predominant bees prior to historic land clearing - a good proportion of our specialists only visit spring-blooming flowers on the forest floor, like Andrena erigeniae (spring beauty miner) on Claytonia (spring beauty), or Andrena distans (cranesbill miner) on Geranium maculatum (wild geranium). Others like woody forest plants common to our area, like the rare Andrena kalmiae which visits sheep laurel (Kalmia angustifolia). Many bees even visit wind-pollinated trees and spend time in the forest canopy! Several species of bumble bees also rely on forest or forest edge habitat for nesting, and forest wildflowers are important resources for newly emerged queens. We also have a handful of solitary bees that nest in logs, thus depending on forest, like Augochlora pura and Lasioglossum coeruleum.

Other bees are specialized, or at least prefer, habitats like wetlands (which we still have many of, because our rate of historic wetland destruction is one of the lowest in the country), fields (which we never had many of, and these species are likely more common now, though they probably peaked in the farming era pre 1850s), alpine/montane habitat (found in either the Whites and/or the Mt. Monadnock area), coastal dunes (which we've mostly destroyed), heath (which New England has lost a lot of), and others. Most of these species are poorly documented in New Hampshire, because - in all places - bee surveys skew towards open habitat like meadows. There's likely a lot of hidden diversity locked away in these habitats, including many of the region's rare bees. A 2014 study (Wagner et al.) of power line rights-of-way found not only nearly half of the region's bee fauna along this one multi-state stretch of transmission line, but in NH, documented what is often considered North America's rarest bee - Epeoloides pilosulus. Not too shabby for humble New Hampshire! Power line ROWs are some of NH's only maintained early successional, and particularly native shrubland, habitat, making it immensely important for our bees as well as many wildlife.

Above: Dufourea novaeangliae, a pickerelweed specialist bee only found in freshwater emergent marshes. Very poorly documented in New Hampshire but easily recognizable and probably all over the place.

Soil also affects what bees live where. Much of northern New England has a highly sandy soil type, which differs vastly from nearby New York and even Vermont (thanks, granite!). Because of this, our plant communities are noticeably different from these states - plants that thrive here are those that do well in harsh conditions, i.e. our poor, sandy, acidic soils. This means oaks and pines, winterberry holly, and a lot of ericaceous plants, aka blueberries, laurels, rhododendrons, partridgeberry, huckleberry, maleberry, leatherleaf, and many others. The understory composition of those forest floor plants is also quite different as well, favoring things like starflower, goldthread, wintergreen, and fringed polygala rather than the squirrel corn, hepatica, and foamflower that need richer, moister soils. Thus, we may not have all of the specialists that need those rich forest flowers, but we have many specialists on those ericaceous plants - and there's a LOT - that are rare in those other states. You probably know just how common lowbush blueberry is in New Hampshire. There's nearly a dozen specialists on blueberry. Sand in general also produces unique bee communities, as many bees (and wasps) are specialized to nest only in sand, thus those are likely more prevalent here than elsewhere.

Colletes validus, the blueberry cellophane bee. Nearly absent in New York but likely quite widespread in NH - there's a nice nesting aggregation near my house where I took this photo. As the name implies, they primarily collect pollen from blueberry.

Lasioglossum vierecki, a sandplain specialist. Highly abundant in this specific habitat, but entirely absent anywhere else.

Documenting New Hampshire's Bees

Sadly, New Hampshire is lagging far behind other northeastern states in documenting our bee fauna. As I mentioned, our existing surveys have only covered a small portion of the state and there have been no statewide standardized survey efforts. New York and Vermont have recently completed gigantic, statewide atlases of their bee diversity (linked), and Massachusetts has so much going on I couldn't possibly link it all here, including many grassroots initiatives by towns to go pollinator-friendly, from large-scale habitat restoration to pesticide-free pledges (I recommend signing up for the Mass Pollinator Network newsletter). I do work on Martha's Vineyard, where they're conducting the Martha's Vineyard Atlas of Life, including bee surveys (a great paper by Goldstein and Ascher 2016 details a comprehensive bee survey of the Vineyard, showing all the cool rare bees they have! Such is the way with islands). Not to mention the hub of bee research for this region is in Ontario, at York University. That place has been surveyed to death in comparison to us.

Thanks to the efforts in these neighboring places, we have a pretty good idea of what bees should occur here. But much work needs to be done to actually find them and update decades-old records of species that haven't been formally documented in a very long time. Getting a handle on our bees is very important, across the country and the world, because long-term monitoring is the only way we can track declines. There are a handful of bees that may be extirpated from New Hampshire due to changes in land use, diseases, and pesticides. A big example is the rusty-patched bumblebee (Bombus affinis), which used to occur in NH, but was last seen in the early 90s and is presumed extirpated. Another is that yellow-banded bumblebee, which used to be found throughout the state, but due likely to climate change among other factors, it has receded into the mountains where it is colder and it has less competition from other bumble bee species. It may disappear from the state entirely within the century (this altitudinal range shift has been found in many bumble bees across the world due to climate change). Other bees are becoming more common, like the common eastern bumble bee, while others still are moving north into NH, or have been introduced from Eurasia (like wool-carder bees or rapidly spreading giant resin bee, Megachile sculpturalis).

Giant resin bee, Megachile sculpturalis, introduced to eastern North America in the 1990s. It can outcompete and displace native wood-boring bees like carpenter bees.

So what work is being done in New Hampshire currently to document and protect our bees?

UNH used to be the hub of bee research in the state, due to the Rehan Bee Lab, but even though that lab has moved to Canada, a lot of work still goes on through the Cooperative Extension, including on their research farms where optimal pollinator habitat restoration techniques are being studied. There is some information on their website, such as resources for planting meadows and native plants for NH gardens, though admittedly not all of it is easy to find, and much of the research that's been done in the past few years doesn't appear to be on there at all (unless it's somewhere I'm not seeing).

Lately, much of the attention for pollinator conservation in NH has been directed at our local NH Audubon chapters. In particular, the McLane Audubon Center (Concord) has been undertaking a massive effort to install a native pollinator meadow from seed in the past couple of years, experimenting with different site prep methods. They have been hosting an extensive webinar series which are all available to watch for free, many of which are about our native pollinators.

Apart from this, it's mainly been up to individual nature centers and preserves to create resources and install pollinator habitat, which many have done! But we lack a centralized effort at the state level. There are unfortunately still very few native plant nurseries in NH, and there is no organizational effort to help the public find them. I've been trying over the years to compile a list but many of them are wholesale only. A few dedicated retail nurseries are Bagley Pond Perennials in Warner, Foundwell Farm in Pembroke, and NH Native Perennials in Madison. Wholesale nurseries (meaning you can request them at your regular garden center) are Van Berkum Nursery and American Native Beauties. Otherwise, local nurseries may sell a varying selection of native plants if you hunt for them. You're likely better off finding nurseries in Massachusetts if you live in the southern half of the state - there's many more, or ordering seeds and plants online from the Wild Seed Project, based in Maine, Prairie Moon Nursery, or Ernst Seed. See more at the end of the post.

So how else can we work on documenting our native bees? Until we do a statewide atlas, it comes down largely to citizen science observations. New Hampshire residents are strongly encouraged to record bee sightings to websites like iNaturalist, Bumble Bee Watch, Beecology, and BugGuide. I'm a reviewer on three out of four of these sites so if you post in New England I'll likely see it. While a lot of our native bees cannot be identified from photos, even good ones, plenty can, including some rare and specialized species, making it valuable to go out and look for them in likely habitat, or even just to document what's in your yard.

You can encourage more species of bees to your yard by planting native wildflowers, shrubs, and trees. Keystone species in our area include goldenrods, milkweeds, black cherry trees, willows (not weeping willow), red maple, blueberries, asters, brambles (e.g., black raspberries), shrubby dogwoods, Joe-Pye weeds, sumac trees, wild strawberry, serviceberry, and many others. To support butterflies and moths, and by extension birds, the best thing you can plant is an oak tree, as they support over 500 species of caterpillar in our region. It's also great to plant native grasses, like little bluestem, purple lovegrass, poverty oatgrass, and panic grass, that thrive on our poor soils, instead of large turfgrass lawns that do not do well in these conditions. New Hampshire lawns rarely look healthy! A native lawn of wild groundcovers, forest plants, moss, ferns, sedges, or the above grasses would do much better.

A wet meadow in south-central New Hampshire, featuring Joe-Pye weed, goldenrods, and asters.

Further Resources

In addition to the links throughout this post, there are many more resources to learn about pollinators and native plants in our region.

Online:

Grow Native Mass - a wealth of resources

Wild Seed Project - another wealth of resources

Vermont Wild Bee Survey - user-friendly guide of Vermont's bees

Cornell Danforth Lab; Creating a Garden for Specialist Bees - comprehensive guide for supporting our region's often rare and imperiled specialists

UMass Dartmouth Gegear Lab - resources on supporting locally imperiled bees

Xerces Society - ample resources on establishing pollinator habitat in their Resource Center and Publications Library

GoBotany - user-friendly key for identifying New England plants

Landscape Interactions - behind some of the region's largest and most comprehensive pollinator corridor planting plans, mostly in Massachusetts. Download their master plan documents for free and see how municipalities are implementing these designs.

Heather Holm's website - lots of plant lists and info sheets for native bees, wasps, and plants (some are outside the northeast)

Pollinator Pathway - a ton of broadly applicable information

Bees of New York - great profiles on many northeastern bees

Homegrown National Park - put your native yard on the map and learn more about plants to support the most species

Print:

Bringing Nature Home, by Doug Tallamy (and any of his other books)

Pollinators of Native Plants and Bees: An Identification and Native Plant Forage Guide, by Heather Holm (and any of her other books)

The Northeast Native Plant Primer, by the Native Plant Trust

Deer-Resistant Native Plants for the Northeast, by Ruth Clausen and Gregory Tepper

... plus many others that I cannot all name here. Check your local Audubon gift shop, Barnes and Noble, Toadstool Bookshop, or nature center to find these regionally specific books. One last great book is The Nature of New Hampshire, by Dan Sperduto and Ben Kimball, which covers every natural community in the state. A must-have for lovers of our good old granite state.

I hope this sated your curiosity! And I hope this can be of use to many of you who live in northern New England. As always, feel free to drop me a line anytime on here if you have questions or want to chat about our native pollinators. All photos in this post are my own. Now go out and find some bees!

#tauriel-of-moondoor #bees #pollinators #new england #new hampshire #native bees #wildflowers #i may or may not have spent five hours writing this #but it's worth saying #sorry for posting at 4am but that's when i finished writing it lol #i will reblog again tomorrow #your local pollinator ecologist speaks

[redgoldblue]

hiiii, for the random wip ask game: 💖🍖❌

❤️

💖 [Heart] What is your favorite moment in this WIP?

look....... I expected this to be a difficult question to answer and it is possible my answer would change depending on mood bc there's some solid runner-ups. But it's their kiss after Steve is diagnosed in chapter 5. it's short but it's all very soft and sweet and mutual h/c and emotions-thinly-covered-in-banter and also they still haven't realised/acknowledged they're together. I would put a snippet but I want to keep it somewhat a surprise whenever I finally post it

🍖 [Meat] How many fictional people were harmed in the making of this WIP?

I wanna say... two? Steve and an OC. So far. Also Danny if we're including mental/emotional harm. I promise this is essentially a sweet and fluffy fic

❌ [Cross] What would your WIP get cancelled on Twitter for?

problematic: this author thinks cath is just kind of a cool person who can hang out in a mcdanno fic and care about steve

problematic: this author has too much medical description and some of it's poetic-licensed what is this a house md fic

problematic: this author whumps steve and then turns around and spends half their time comforting danny about it bc characters are complex and relationships should be balanced

wip asks!

#state of disrepair #writing #mine #itwoodbeprefect #Hawaii Five 0 #fanfic #ask games #spent (query wasted) an hour tonight reviewing hypertensive emergency guidelines trying to figure out specifically which drug they'd be #giving him. for the purpose of one (1) line that danny doesn't even really understand. when there are multiple valid options #and i think i may have wound up back at the first drug i had in there anyway #but it's also the most i've worked on it this week

[elumish]

In the wake of what's going on in the world, I see a lot of rhetoric that basically boils down to the idea that everyone has a responsibility to watch every bad thing that's going on in the world all the time. That awareness itself is a responsibility that everyone has always.

I'm not going to say that people do or don't have a responsibility to be aware of things, but I want to talk about how to take care of yourself and others while doing so.

For some context, I spent close to a year and a half reading about every terrorist attack in the world as part of my work on the Global Terrorism Database. It was 2015/2016, so this was the height of ISIS/Daesh, it was a major time for Boko Haram, and it was when there was a lot of political violence that we weren't sure how to classify in places like Yemen, Crimea, and Libya (stuff the GTD didn't know how to classify had all of is information recorded, and then it went into purgatory until someone above my paygrade decided what to do with it). What this means is that I was spending 10-20 hours a week reading about hundreds or thousands of attacks a month and, in my case, recording infomation about the type of attack and the type of weapon. Much of my life was reading terrible things.

Limit what you do in isolation. One of the worst changes for me during that time, mental health-wise (even though it was great for my commute) was when I went from working in-person to working remotely. With other people, there are ways to diffuse the pain. A burden shared is a burden halved and all that. That may mean talking about it, or joking about it, or finding some other way to engage with it that isn't just reading about the most horrible things in the world and then stewing in your own thoughts about them.

Find something to do that's totally unrelated. I highly recommend finding something to do with your hands, if you can (knitting, Lego, cooking, whatever), but regardless of what it is, you should have some time when you entirely switch away to something different. During a fair amount of my time with the GTD, I was also doing my undergrad thesis about terrorism on TV, so a huge amount of my life was about terrorism in some way. The only other thing I watched was Great British Bake Off, and I would just rewatch the episodes, over and over.

Be compassionate about how you share information and with whom. Use trigger warnings, and consider using consistent tagging on places like Tumblr so people can blacklist it if they need to. Also consider whether it's appropriate or necessary to share photos of bodies or other results of horrible violence. What is it accomplishing, to show that? Can that goal be accomplished other ways that don't require the equivalent of jumpscares of unexpected photos of dead or brutalized people? Are you just showing it because you think that everyone should have to see it? If you are showing it, are there ways to mitigate against harm it may do?

Do what you can to avoid an echo chamber. Sometimes, when everyone around you is upset or angry about the same thing, it just amplifies itself, and you all get angrier and more upset in perpetuity without accomplishing anything.

Work towards action. Watching terrible things happen for the sake of saying that you haven't looked away isn't as meaningful as taking action in some way. Write to your Congressperson. Donate. Do whatever is appropriate for the thing you want to stop. But penance via watching terrible things happen doesn't accomplish anything.

Recognize compassion fatigue and do what you can to mitigate it. If you spend long enough doing this, you start to lose context, and you start to become less able to have compassion about things. If you're reading about attacks with dozens or hundreds of deaths regularly, five can start to not seem like that many. If you're reading only about the worst suffering in the world, "lesser" suffering of those around you can start to seem unimportant and petty. Do what you can to mitigate that.

Be kind to yourself. You do nobody any good if you burn out. Look away, if you need to. Take a break. Do things so you can enjoy life, because otherwise you are just another person suffering in the world. Other people's pain isn't a hair shirt for you to wear.

#elumish blogs #compassion fatigue #activism

[casuallyawkardd]

Close Encounters of the Spiderkind

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x Single Mother!Reader

Summary: When reader refuses to go on a mission, Miguel decides to pay a home visit to figure out why 

Warnings: SLIGHT SPOILERS FOR ATSV! fluff, slight hurt/comfort and angst if you squint hard enough, Miguel is a softie around kids, it’s giving slow burn/platonic vibes, not fluent in Spanish so feel free to correct my wording/punctuation

A/N: This is kind of my way of dipping my toes back into the world of fanfiction writing, if ya’ll end up liking it I was planning on making it a little series of sorts. Not necessarily a multipart story, rather just little moments following the same general characters. I took the liberty of assigning a gender and name to the reader’s daughter since that sounded like it’d be easier in terms of writing, the rest is still like any Y/N story. Reader is also a spider person, but I’m not married to the idea for future oneshots? Drabbles? I don’t know what you kids call them nowadays...

MASTERLIST | TAGLIST

It had only been a couple months since you had joined Spider-Society and, while you were still trying to find your footing, things were going a lot better than expected. There was a comradery with being around other people with the same abilities, who had experienced the same losses, victories and all that came with wearing the mask. You had found some good friends among the other Spiders, particularly with Peter B and Jess, as there was a common ground there that you had yet to share with them; something that the three of you had in common.

That commonality was currently asleep in the other room, your daughter Vada. For once, it had been a day where the radios were quiet. No calls from HQ to go on missions, no worrying chatter on the police radios, so you had taken the day to spend time with your daughter. The three year old was going through a phase where she was having nightmares almost every night, so the day was spent at home relaxing. From watching movies, to cooking meals together, Vada had been your little shadow all day and you had enjoyed every second of it.  While your toddler had tuckered herself out, you were restless, curled up on the couch watching TV at a low enough volume that only you could hear, thanks to your heightened senses. It may have been almost midnight, but that was still considered an early night for you. Used to the regime of patrolling until early in the morning and crawling into bed to get a few hours asleep before Vada came in to ask for her breakfast. Just as you were starting to feel the pull of sleep on your eyelids, letting the quiet calm sink into your bones, the moment was then yanked from you. When the beeping started the first time, you had acted on instinct to silence the noise. Your hand practically slapped the Gizmo on your wrist, the same Gizmo given to you by Miguel when you had joined his Spider-Society.  Ugh, Miguel. It was a damn shame that such a pretty face was wasted on a sourpuss like him. While being the leader of an elite group of Spider-People sounded like no easy task, there were times the man definitely took it too seriously. Sure, he had a great work ethic and was a respectable leader, but that all came with the downside that you couldn’t stand being around him for more than five minutes. You two hadn’t gotten off on the right foot and it seemed like he wouldn’t let you live that down. Ever the stern, cold-hearted leader, barking orders and chewing your ass out if something went wrong. He hardly ever smiled and when he did it was condescending, almost smug as he questioned just how intelligent you actually were. A waste of a pretty face indeed.

That pretty face came to mind when you looked down at your Gizmo, which was beeping once more, finally processing that it was Miguel who was trying to contact you. Shit.

“Hello?” your voice is quiet, wary as you answer him finally; trying to keep quiet for the toddler sleeping in the other room. Also because of the worry that you’ve pissed him off once again.

“Why aren’t you answering?” his voice cuts through the silence, monotone and firm. “An anomaly was detected on Earth-616, go take care of it. Ben Reilly and Peter Parker from Earth-13122 are already en route.”

“I....can’t,” you cringe as the word leaves your mouth. The pregnant pause that follows feels like an eternity.

“What do you mean you ‘can’t’?” He spits the word back at you, like you offended him with just the one syllable. More silence follows, Miguel waiting for your answer and you not knowing what to say. “...Is something wrong?”

“I have to go,” you end the call, not even registering the concern that had slid its way into his tone. With a heavy sigh, you lay your head against the back of the couch, regretting how you handled the situation, but thankful it was dealt with. That is until the familiar sound of a portal opening and closing disturbs your precious quiet once more. 

It makes you almost jump out of your skin, physically lurching off the couch, the warm hues from the light of the portal filling your living room and disappearing as quickly as they came. In their place is Miguel, clad in his spidersuit from head to toe. A wave of emotions goes through you, the look of shock, confusion and anger crossing your face in less than a second. He doesn’t seem to have noticed you yet, glancing around the space and disengaging his mask when he doesn’t register any immediate threats.

“What are you doing here!?” it takes all you have not to shout the words at him, instead resorting to a sort of hiss to keep your voice down. Miguel doesn’t seem to take the hint.

“This is why you couldn’t come? Because you’re too busy lounging around and watching trash TV?” he isn’t shouting per se, rather his tone makes him sound louder. That and the quiet of your apartment probably amplified his voice even more. “I know the weight of keeping the multiverse intact might go over your head, but the least you could do is be there for your teammates. I don’t allow slackers in my-” “Shh!” you’re moving towards him without even realizing, motherly instinct telling you to silence the noise that dared try to wake your daughter. Your hand reaches to cover his loud mouth and Miguel takes a step back to avoid your touch, the frustration reflecting in his eyes turning into red, hot anger. 

“Did you just ‘shh’ me!?” he sounds as if he’s in disbelief, his voice now actually rising in volume. You stumble over your words, trying to apologize and explain yourself all at once. Now it’s his turn to step towards you, his imposing frame towering over you and you can’t help but shrink back, “I don’t know who you think you are, but if you don’t get your ass in your suit, I’ll-”

“Mama?” Vada’s little voice cuts through the air, both Miguel and you freezing. When you turn to look at your daughter, who’s standing in the doorway to her bedroom, it feels like everything around you fades away. The static of the TV, Miguel, everything until all you can focus on is Vada. She’s clearly distressed, as you come to kneel in front of her you can see the tears in her big round eyes, the redness around them and on her nose, the slight tremble in her bottom lip. You know what’s wrong before she even has to explain.

“Sweet girl, another one?” you ask calmly, a hand going to stroke her hair. Vada nods, confirming your suspicion that she had been roused by yet another nightmare. The creak of the floorboards alerts you of Miguel taking a step closer and you’re suddenly very much aware of his presence once again. However, your eyes don’t leave Vada’s crying face. “Let’s get you back into bed,” you try to coax her into heading back the way she came, your toddler only resisting and shaking her head firmly.

“I want Mama’s bed,” she demands, sounding groggy as the sleep she had just risen from had yet to fully leave her. Vada doesn’t even let you respond before her tiny arms wrap around your neck, face pressing into the junction of your neck and shoulder, “Want you,” she mutters against you, the exhaustion and distress in her voice making your heart ache for her. “Vada,” you sigh heavily, exhausted as well. Exhausted from the heavy workload of being Spider-Woman not just for your universe, but other universes as well. Exhausted from the fact your child couldn’t get a wink of sleep and seeing her frustrated made you frustrated as well. You cave, scooping your daughter up in your arms and standing. Her body molds to yours, relaxing against your frame like it had done so many times before. As you rub her back and kiss her temple, you’re forced to turn and deal with the elephant in the room. Or rather the spider. 

You expect Miguel to look annoyed, as usual, but he isn’t. In fact, the anger he was prepared to unleash on you moments ago seems to have vanished, replaced with a look of curiosity, intrigue and dare you say....awe? He’s looking at Vada, who’s about to pass out in your arms, with a softened expression, the sight of the small girl seeming to tug the corners of his mouth up just slightly.

Huh.

Miguel seems to catch himself staring, shaking his head to clear the fog and meeting your gaze once more. “I...didn’t know,” is all he can say, not as confident in the way he stands.

“No one knows,” you reply in a much harsher tone than you intended. After a deep breath, you adjust how you speak, “I’ve only been on the team for a couple months. It’s not that I don’t trust the other spiders...I just want to be careful, yah know?” Miguel nods along with what you say and you can’t help but keep talking to fill the now awkward silence, “Usually I have someone to watch her, but it’s been so long since I’ve had a day to just give her all my attention- I promise, it won’t happen again. I know that I should answer if you call-”

“Cállate,” Miguel cuts you off and you’re almost grateful he’s saved you from rambling. There’s another moment of silence before he sighs, “You don’t have to explain yourself, really. If I had known,” he waves a hand to indicate to your daughter, “this was the reason you were ignoring my calls, I wouldn’t have been so hard on you. Your daughter comes first, I get it.”

His words hit harder than they should. Every Spider-Person had heard the story. How Miguel was willing to put his own duties aside to live in a universe where he had a daughter of his own. Replacing the him of that universe, who had died tragically, to live the life he had always wanted; only to have that universe crumble around him. Literally. It explained his cold demeanor, you’d probably be a bitch too if your daughter died in your arms, but that coldness you had become accustomed to seemed to melt away the longer he took in the sight of you holding your daughter.

“You said her name’s Vada?” he asks, stepping a little closer. Normally, you would probably keep your distance from him, maternal instincts in overdrive with an imposing figure like Miguel so close to Vada, but you stay in place. Not bothered by his presence for once. He’s looking at you, expecting an answer, and you nod your head. He hums, “How old?”

“Three,” you answer and he hums again. “...Is everything okay? Regarding the mission?”

“Huh? Oh,” he clears his throat, adjusting his stance and taking a small step back. When had he gotten so close to you? “I think those two should be fine on their own. Earth-13122′s Spider-Man knows what he’s doing and-”

“You know, you can just call him Lego Spider-Man. Everyone calls him Lego Spider-Man.”

“That’s not his correct title.”

“Uh-huh,” you smile, holding back a laugh at how serious Miguel seemed to be about the subject. “...Well, I think it’s time we go to bed.”

“Right, right,” Miguel moves like he’s about to walk out the front door, seeming to forget that he had come via portal and catching himself as his hand grasps the handle. Has he always been this socially awkward? He turns to look at you again, “Should I just...?”

“Yes, please open your noisy portal outside.”

“Claro que sí,” he nods in understanding, opening the door. Just as he’s about to leave, he pauses again, turning to look back at you, “Even if you’re busy, you should still answer when I call. I was worried about you.”

“Worried about me?” you repeat, a bit of teasing in your voice.

“Worried as in the normal amount of worried.”

“Sure, sure, O’Hara.”

“I’m leaving now,” he huffs, turning to leave again. Yet he can’t help but stop one more time, “Goodnight.”

He finally leaves, door shutting with a soft click. You go to the door to lock it, carrying Vada into your room for bed. It seems that she had managed to fall back asleep despite your little interaction with Miguel. As you lay down and pull the comforter over the two of you, Vada snuggling impossibly close to you once more, you lie there thinking about what had just transpired. 

Maybe his pretty face wasn’t a waste. 

Tags:

@l0sert0wn​ @deputy-videogamer @arctic4life @sasaleleselfships @autismsupermusicalassassin @snert-bees @qundadedingle11 @uniquelyabnormallyoriginal @fangirlreice7 @mouse-teagreat @andr3wgarfieldsupremacist @yellieeeee​ @thesrtuggleisveryreal @escherichiacolli @sweeteaacorner @marvelouslovely-barnes @meeom​ @candlewitch-cryptic​ @iwanttogohomeandtakeanap​ @melovetitties @ilovemycat6808​ @vegas-writing-den​ @pippethealien @shibble​ @mommyhange1​ @chiikasevennn @pokhouu @jenniferdixon05207​ @m0sscr3ates​ @momos-peaches​ @insanelycrazyanddelusional @miggyoharaswife @justtnat​ @imliquidesmooth @thedevillovesflowers @mvc2019  @starrynightnight​ @risinglightmoon​ @charming4u @whitetearx @blueparadisecollection16s @idontknowwhatimgoinghere @ziyahshinez

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara headcannons #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara #across the spiderverse #spiderman 2099 #close encounters of the spiderkind #miguel o'hara x single mother!reader

[coolshadowtwins]

SVSSS fanfic that I will never write-

LBH post canon accidently goes back in time. How? I don’t know, it isn’t important. If I had to pick a stupid reason, then in PIDW had a storyline where LBH went back in time to a wife’s past to like… learn more about her? To help her in the trauma? IDK but what I do know is that Peerless Cucumber would have ranged for hours about Airplane adding in the concept of time travel and then doing nothing else’s with it.

And guess who the subject of the wife plot is now??? That’s right- SQQ. Except the wife plot took the body and not the soul, and now Binghe is back during SJ’s disciple days.

LBH somehow, as the main character, manages to convince the peak lords of the time that he’s of Qing Jing! He is, really! He really laid on the charm here.

Previous Sect leader: I don’t know if I believe you, but since you look like such a polite young man-

LBH gets escorted away to a room by the head disciple. And who is the head disciple of the sect leader peak??? It’s Yue Qi, sad and depressed and lifeless because LBH managed to find himself in the period of time where YQY thinks SJ is dead!

LBH: I want to meet my young Shizun. Shen Qingqiu- Shen Jiu I think now?

YQY: …. Xiao Jiu is dead?

LBH: Maybe in the future for like five years but not right now!! He’s my super awesome Shizun! …. Do you want to drop everything to go look for him?

YQY: Oh boy, do I!!!

So the two bounce from the sect with no warning, looking Shen Jiu. Luckily, now knowing that he is alive and didn’t die in the fire, it’s pretty easy to follow the line of gossip that follows WY and SJ. And of course, the entire time, LBH is praising his Shizun.

Now, he hasn’t said that he was married to his Shizun. He didn’t want to spoil that just yet! He’ll reveal that to his younger Shizun himself when they find him. But until then, he can still tell YQY how awesome his Shizun is, and how nice, and how close he was to SQH and LQG and even to YQY himself! (That last one was a bit of a fib, of course. SQQ was always a little uncomfortable around the sect leader. But YQY was eating all of this up, being so happy that his childhood friend was so happy and well liked, and well…. It was only a small fib)

They finally catches up with them, and quickly dealing with the other guy, YQY and SJ have a nice reunion, having both think the other was dead! And of course, it was incredibly clear that YQY had been looking for SJ this whole time, which does wonders for his abandonment issues. SJ may yell at YQY for leaving the sect so suddenly and risking everything just for him, but on the inside, he is bursting for joy, trust me.

LBH is not bursting for joy. Like, at all. He had been so excited to see his Shizun but young and now that he’s here…. Something inside of him and screaming that this wasn’t his Shizun.

He had no reason to believe that. This was very clearly SQQ at 14~. But of course, he’s the 200 IQ protagonist and figures it out quickly that his wonderful Shizun/husband took over his body when LBH was 14 and that this was his shitty Shizun that made his early years in the sect awful.

He’s fully ok with that. If his husband needs to possess another man to be with him, than who is LBH to judge? Only the best body for him! The problem is, of course, that he has spent the entire trip over ranting to YQY about how good of a teacher SQQ was to him, and now YQY is excitedly telling everything he said to SJ. LBH can’t just…. Back track now! That would be weird, and if they think that someone will possess SJ later, then what if his husband never shows up??

So he goes along with it. It isn’t hard- he doesn’t hate SJ, not like PIDW him would. He was only under him for three years~ and a lot of what happened to him was still being justified in his head. So it’s just… whatever, to him at that point. He confirms what YQY had been saying, spins a charismatic lie to the sect about why they left and how GREAT SJ will be as a disciple in the future, and then he leaves. Just, fades away in front of everyone.

And now this is SJ’s life. He thinks he’s a good Shizun in the future, even if he can’t stand kids. He think that he becomes friends with SQH and LQG, which is oddly hard to do?? LQG angrily wants to fight him every time he sees him, which is super annoying, and SJ is 88% sure that SQH is talking to demons but, you know. If another version of him managed to become their friend without future knowledge, then he has to do it now! He has a head start on the race here, no way is he losing it!

He does become friends with them, and is still incredibly close to YQY as they grow up. He’s still… him, but his major heart demons- the abandonment by his Qi-Ge and being unsafe even in the sect- aren’t there anymore. He even manages to be an ok Shizun to a young LBH, somehow. He’s pretty sure that he’s sucking at that, btw, because the little brat gets on his nerves when they are in the same room for more than five minutes, but he’s being mostly polite! He had to wonder what the other version of him did to get such a glowing review from the future version of his disciple, because it has to be more than this.

Ironically, because I think it’s funny, this is the timeline that our LBH finds himself back in. The time travel was always meant to be a stable one timeline kinda thing, so anything he changed in the past affected the future. I imagine in PIDW that LBG didn’t do much of anything but maybe comfort his future wife, for Airplane’s fear of making a confusing paradox for himself. But this Binghe? Oh no, he did so much!

Because he saved SJ some heart demons, and helped him make friends despite his trauma, he’s not as prone to Qi divinations! Which means that he didn’t have a fatal one when LBH was 14! Which means when LBH gets back to his time after all of that, he takes one look at his ‘Shizun’ and knows that this isn’t his husband. Which means that his husband never possessed SJ!

He’s horrified, and spends a whole day moping around the peak, trying to think of ways to fix this. He has just gotten himself worked up to go and do something drastic when NYY finds him.

NYY: There you are!! Shen-Shidi has been looking for you all day!

LBH: H-huh?

NYY: Why are you moping around, huh? Did you and Shen-Shidi have a fight? Don’t worry! He’s your husband, I know he’ll forgive you-!

LBH: WHAT.

And that’s how he learns that while he isn’t married to his Shizun in this timeline, he is married to his Shixiong, Shen Yuan! Shen Yuan, who got shoved in Willy nilly when the system realized that SJ wasn’t going to die when he was supposed to.

There’s probably some sequel where LBH has to fake that he has memories of what happened in this timeline, which I imagine is somewhat close to Svsss? The system was still running around, even if a major player has changed. And LBH would just be so bad at faking it in front of two people and two people only- SJ and SY.

SY: Binghe, don’t you remember our first date? :)

LBH: …It wasn’t the water prison!

SY: ….that statement is correct but also the wrong answer.

And

SJ: Beast, you’re not coming to this Immortal Convenance. Don’t you remember meber what happened last time?

LBH: …. You didn’t push me into the endless abyss?

SJ:… That statement is wrong and I was also going for the HHP tag alongs you obtained.

#svsss #svsss au #time travel #fanfic concept #luo binghe #shen yuan #shen jiu #shen qingqiu #yue qingyuan #liu qingge #shang qinghua #ning yingying

[ryker-writes]

Hiiiii thanks for making my day your the best, I give you so many hug (or high fives if you don't want hugs!) If I may ask can you write a broken relationships with malleus pretty please with a cheery on top? ( Also can I be lizard anon please! 🦎)

I would gladly accept any and all hugs! And I will devour that cherry while I write this-

Malleus I feel would be one of the ones that actually would be a good sibling so it's difficult to think about how a broken sibling relationship with him would be lol

Note: I haven't read any of Chapter 7 yet

Request Rules and Masterlists

Broken Sibling relationships

Malleus as a sibling (Broken relationship)

To say that you and Malleus were different would've been an understatement.

Even as kids, you two were very different. He was always treated as the best and the golden child, seen with much love, and he was naturally talented at just about anything. He had no problems with magic, no threats, and no flaws. He was the perfect heir for the throne of Briar Valley

And you? You were his younger sibling.

Compared to Malleus, you were never anyone's priority

Of course, you had servants and knights helping you just like him, but anything Malleus needed always took priority

Your help could be taken away at any moment for the sake of Malleus getting help

In the beginning, it didn't bother you as much because you and Malleus were together a lot of the time! He would spend a lot of time with you, and the two of you had so much fun together

You two would spend hours together in the library, and Malleus would read to you books on magic and history, but he got really passionate when he read about gargoyles. The two of you even ran around the castle once, trying to identify each gargoyle, both of your laughter echoing through the halls for guards and servants to hear

But as the years went by, things changed. Malleus had to become more of the heir he's meant to be. He spent most of his time alone or surrounded by guards

You started to get used to being in Malleus' shadow and not taking priority. Your brother had helped you feel less alone and more equal in the past, but he was too busy for you now

everything only got worse once you two had gone to Night Raven College

Malleus was praised from the moment he got there of course. He was recognized as one of the greatest and best of everyone there. He even had knights in training with him here, and a personal greeting from the headmage. You however...

"Who are you?"

You weren't even recognized or known. Not to the headmage, not to anyone. Why would you be? You aren't the heir of Briar Valley. You aren't the great wizard that Malleus is. And you aren't nearly as important.

Even after explaining who you were, people would just go "Oh." and ask about Malleus

To them, you might as well not even have a name. You were barely noticed. Barely recognized. And even when you were, you were simply known as Malleus' sibling. Nothing more.

And to top it all off: You weren't even invited to things

If people couldn't remember to invite Malleus, there's no way they remembered you. They probably didn't even know you existed. You're just in the background

You saw all the games he played in, all the praise he got, heck one of his knights practically worshiped the ground he walked on, but not when it came to you

People avoided him, they didn't notice or ignored you

Eventually, your birthday came around, and of course, no one noticed. Malleus didn't even see you at all, and didn't say anything

Your own brother didn't remember your birthday...

Are you cursed or something? Cursed to never be seen? Cursed to forever live a life that no one will notice? It's so cruel...

It's not like you wanted anything grand. You didn't need some big fancy party for your birthday

You just wanted to be acknowledged. For one day.

But compared to Malleus, you might as well be insignificant. He shone too brightly for anyone to even see you, hidden in his shadow

Even on a day that should be dedicated to you, he was the one being praised and followed around. He was the one everyone adored. Malleus, the prince of Briar Valley...

You were insignificant, unimportant, ignored

At this point, you can't even help but wonder if even Malleus himself forgot about you completely

you had assumed that was the case

that is, until you opened the your door the next morning. Sitting outside was a neatly wrapped gift box, and inside, a small gargoyle statue

#twst #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #malleus draconia #malleus x reader #malleus draconia x reader

[joelsgoldrush]

swore i heard you whisper that you preferred us like that

joel miller x f!reader / 5,8k words

summary: you ask joel –the quiet, distant joel– to teach you how to ride a horse. they say the eyes are the window to the soul, and it must be true, because when he really sees you, it´s like he finally understands what you feel for him.

warnings: smut 18+ let’s pretend joel never left jackson, porn with plot, no use of y/n, age gap (reader is in her late 20s, joel is 56), grinding, oral (f receiving), fingering, masturbation, pet names, unprotected p in v (don't try this at home ok), dirty talk, soft!dom joel (sort of???), a bit of angst/feelings, joel gets all babygirl around reader, ellie appears for like a minute, mediocre attempt at recreating joel's southern accent (sorry in advance)

a/n: hello??? well this is my first fic ever so bear with me, i'm still new to all this. also english isn't my first language so i'm afraid there may be mistakes (mostly when it comes to collocations bc i hate them and they confuse me), buuuut i'm learning obviously and if you find anything that should be corrected PLEASE TELL ME thank you :) i'd appreciate if you told whether you liked this story (idk what to call it tbh) but if you don't it's more than fine! anyways thank you so much for reading if you come across this fic, i hope you like it! i've spent a week writing it bc finals season is killing me <///3

here's my masterlist in case you want to read my other works :)

"Oh, my drunken southern star / How you tried to hide in darkness / Slipped from orbit / Now you’re dangerously close / Come out, come out from all your hiding out / We’ll dig in our heels, salute the battlefields / Where our broken hearts were born."

What is it that he has?

You used to ask yourself that question every night as you went to bed. On some occasions, you couldn't manage to come up with an exact answer. There were too many reasons that disclosed why a man like him lingered on your mind, even in those moments that were supposed to be for you and only you. Sleeping more than three hours a day was definitely something you needed tremendously, but still, the not-so-rational voice inside your head kept on bringing his name up without fail, disturbing your rest.

Joel Miller. Was it possible to feel like this? Like you knew somebody without having exchanged more than five words with them? Sure, there wasn't a single person in Jackson who wasn't aware of his existence. From whispered rumors in the streets to stories that intended to give his reserved personality an explanation, Joel became a real talking-point among those in the commune. Years ago, when the world was still just a floating ball in space, he would’ve frightened you, being the kind of person your parents used to warn you about as you started to grow older.

He walked a certain way, as if he were holding the suffering of many lives in his hands. Always on guard, prepared to fight those who defied him. Hidden knives in his pockets, a gun between his fingers, the trigger too tempting to be pulled at any time given. His hair was a mixture of brown and gray, and you swore that the latter was only becoming more prominent as days went by. 

Suddenly, your pillow felt too uncomfortable, your hands fisting the fabric of your t-shirt while you kicked the blanket resting on top of your bare feet. A sigh escaped your lips, the taste of something you couldn't even distinguish on your tongue, your unsteady breath being the only sound to be heard in that noiseless night. 

You were having a hard time figuring out how you felt about Joel (if there was anything to feel in the first place, since he barely remembered your face and there you were, fantasizing about him instead of sleeping.) Maybe you liked how he presented himself, how bossy and persistent he looked the times you caught him patrolling around the zone. Or perhaps it was his character what charmed you in the first place, and the fact that, deep down, a different side from him remained completely unseen.

He was handsome, too. Tall, broad shoulders, aquiline nose. His arms looked majestic in every single piece of clothing he wore, his tanned skin shiny enough to reflect the very same sun. And his legs… you were sure they were muscular like the rest of his body, because of all the physical effort he did. You had  heard that he worked as a contractor before the pandemic, which made a lot of sense. Once or twice you had paid attention to his hands and–

Then, a familiar feeling sinked in. Warm began spreading through your belly, your thighs involuntary clenching together. “Fuck,” you muttered in a low tone, keeping your hands glued to your sides. Another motive not to think about Joel: he made you feel… things. Certain things that you hadn't felt for anyone in a very long time. You preferred to think that it was probably due to the fact that you were touch-starved, and not because you found yourself deeply attracted to him. Never had you ever been a sexually active person, so why now? Why did the mere image of Joel in your mind turn you on? 

He’s strong. I’m alone. I feel the need to find someone who’s willing to protect me. That’s it. No other reason.

Your internal monologue was lacking in arguments, but it was definitely something you could work with. As if on cue, you found it hard to keep your eyes open, your limbs not feeling as if they were yours anymore. Next thing you knew, you were asleep.

That night, you dreamt with Joel.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★

In a small cabin, you taught children how to paint and draw. Maria believed it to be helpful for their psychological development or something like that, and you had agreed to do it. A good way to spend your free time– that’s what it was. Plus, you liked children; some would even choose to include you in their drawings, and that small gesture just warmed your heart.

There, you met Ellie, a teenager whose basic vocabulary consisted mostly of profanities. 

And boy, you loved Ellie.

It was hard not to, actually. She was like a breath of fresh air, with her jokes and instant charm. You two became attached in a short time, and she reminded you of a younger version of you, just a lot braver. Although in this world it brought her benefits, you sometimes wished she wouldn’t have gone through all that shit. Those eyes, which squinted as she laughed if you tickled her sides, were the cemetery of many buried memories. You wondered how she managed to put a smile on her face despite her past and the horrible things she had seen, hoping it was genuine and not a mask.

“Look!” her voice brought you back to reality. Blinking in her direction, you realized the amount of paint you had dropped onto the floor, a red stain already forming on the carpet. “Are you okay? You seem off.”

“I’m fine! Just a bit sleepy today, that's all,” you got closer to where she was lying down, her fingers moving the brush you had gifted her in different directions. Squatting a bit, you placed a strand of hair that didn’t make it into her ponytail behind her ear. “So, what are you painting?”

She smiled warmly, and her teeth catched her lower lip momentarily. “It’s not finished, okay? Don’t freak out. I know you’re a perfectionist.”

“I’m not…” you tried to explain yourself, but ended up choosing to be defeated. “Maybe you’re right. Anyway, may I see it?”

The canvas was in your hands a few moments later. Ellie spoke beside you, her words mixing together in a sign of embarrassment. “It’s for Joel. Figured I could do something nice for him, you know? I don’t– I think I need to start over. His eyes look kind of strange, don’t they? They’re so close he looks like a cyclops.”

“Don’t say that, kiddo. This is… it’s beautiful,” your index finger traced the lines framing his jaw, the shades of his skin perfectly achieved. You held the painting even tighter, afraid of breaking it for a second. He wasn’t frowning like he normally did; Ellie had painted him smiling, and the crinkles by his eyes matched his age. Surely you must have spent more time than necessary staring at it, ‘cause then Ellie continued talking.

“Well, you know what they say: The student has become the teacher.” 

You handed the canvas to her, a smirk taking place on your face. “Yeah, I guess I’ll stop teaching you if that’s the case.”

An hour or so later, someone knocked on the door. As both of your hands were occupied (a more formal way to say that they were dirty with paint), you screamed “Come in!”, and Ellie covered her painting with an old, muddy curtain you used to clean the tables in which the children worked. You were about to ask her why she had reacted in that way, until you turned around and saw him.

Joel was there, as every other Wednesday. In your cabin, standing right in front of you. And you didn’t even look presentable. His hair looked messy, a couple of locks stuck to his forehead with sweat. “Hi,” he said shortly, meeting your gaze and attempting to shake your hand, but you avoided contact.

Showing him your hands, you held your palms in the air as an indication of the still fresh paint on your skin. “Sorry. If I were to accept the gesture, I’d leave you a stain.”

He retrieved a bit, adjusting his glove. “It’s okay. Safety first.”

That was supposed to be a joke, you noticed tardily. The silence in the room persisted until Ellie appeared from behind your back, already putting her coat on.

“You were supposed to pick me up in half an hour, asshole.”

His mouth snapped shut for an instant. “I missed you too. How was the class?” 

Ellie lifted her shoulder in a half shrug, looking in your direction and proceeding to jerk her thumb toward Joel. She didn’t want him to see the painting. “Fine as usual.”

“Can I see what you’re–”

“No fucking way!” she accentuated the word fucking, drawing him closer to the door. 

“Why not?”

“Because it’s not done.”

“But–”

“No more questions, Joel. Let’s go! Say bye!” Ellie handled him like a baby, which made you giggle.

Though you saw Joel raising his eyebrows, so you stopped laughing. 

Soon, they left and the cabin returned to its familiar quietness. A sigh erupted from your chest, and you allowed yourself to fall on top of a chair.

At least you could say you had actually talked to Joel for once.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★

It didn’t surprise you that you wanted to see him again.

Not in the “you-turn-me-on” way, but in the “you-seem-interesting-and-i-need-to-find-out-why” one.

He had something. Something so magnetic and indecipherable that kept pulling you towards him. Something that made you look for his presence in every crew, and not sensing what it was only made your wishes to dissect him grow bigger. There was a tiny probability that he was an idiot with a pretty face. Who knew? You definitely didn’t, and that needed to change. You deserved to know if pining over that man was worth it or not.

That chain of thoughts led you to look for him the next day, almost trembling with eagerness as you asked him the most stupid and unexpected question you could have imagined.

“Would you teach me how to ride a horse?”

He looked at you as if you were out of your mind, opening his mouth a few times and then closing it before he actually replied to you. “You’re tellin' me you don’t know how to ride a horse?”

“Tried it a few times, but failed and now I really want to learn to do it properly,” you swore his eyes were trying to decipher if you were saying the truth or not. “Ellie told me that you could probably make some time to teach me?”

“So Ellie's in charge of my schedule, I suppose?” you froze on the spot, and he must have noticed it because then his expression dulled. “Sorry, sweetheart. It was a joke. I've been told I'm not the best humorist.”

Sweetheart. You could’ve died a happy girl.

“Look, why don’t we meet up tomorrow after lunch? I'm sure it won’t take us much time. Not a difficult task, y’know?” he stroked his beard, apparently thinking you understood what he was talking about. 

“Sure. Thank you, Joel. My name’s–“

He didn’t let you finish. “I do know your name,” and before leaving, he repeated: “I’ll be here tomorrow. You know where to find me.”

To say that you slept without interruptions that night was an understatement. Each hour seemed to become longer the more you glimpsed your watch. Your heart drummed inside your chest violently, and you feared that someone else would be able to hear it if they got close enough to you. 

After having lunch in the same spot as every other mundane day, your legs took you to the stable. You took a shaky breath, expecting him to appear out of thin air, but fifteen minutes went by, and there was still no sign of Joel. Pressing your forehead against the wooden door, you wrapped your arms around yourself. “What was I even thinking?” 

“Hey.”

You looked to your side and– there he was, already getting inside the stable and inviting you to follow him. Joel petted one of the horses, clicking his tongue. His fingers caressed the animal’s back, and when he shot a glance at you, he didn’t ignore your disturbed expression.

“Don’t tell me you’re afraid of horses.”

“I’m not afraid of them,” you laughed awkwardly, eyeing the horse, which stared at you with those big and strange eyes. You raised your hand to mimic Joel, but that just made the animal move further away from you. “I guess it’s mutual. We don’t like each other.”

Joel smirked, guiding you outside. “It’s a damn horse. I don’t think you can tell whether he likes you or not. You gotta change that attitude of yours,” he murmured as he got on top of the horse, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Treat him well and he’ll be nice.”

At first, Joel taught you the basics: how to position yourself for balance, get your legs in the right position, hold the reins properly. A little bit of help coming from him was needed for you to mount the horse. He got down on one knee, patting it as if it were a mounting block. “Come on. Step on it.”

No need to ask me twice, you thought as you did what you were told, and once you were grabbing on those reins for dear life, you observed him with curious eyes. “Now what?”

“Now…” he pressed his hand into one of the horse’s sides, and afterwards, the horse began to fucking trot and you cried out, a high-pitched shriek slipping from your mouth. Joel laughed maliciously, almost hypnotized by the scene. “Now is when you learn how to ride a horse!”

“This isn't funny!” you screamed, the horse still very much entertained with the way you were jerking on top of him. “Stop!”

You couldn't believe how he kept… cracking up. Joel touched his stomach, shaking with laughter. “You’re a natural, can’t you see it? I’m havin' the time of my life here.”

“What I can see is that you’re an idiot! Cut the cackle and help me!”

But he didn’t move a single muscle. Instead, he remained still, that smug look never abandoning his features.

The bastard. “You’re gonna make me beg? In this situation?”

Crossing his arms while teasingly grinning at you, he added: “Wouldn’t hurt to try.”

“Joel Miller, will you help me? Pretty please?” your hair was getting in the way, and you could taste it as you insisted. “Is that enough for you?”

It was, actually. He helped you get down from the horse, his thick fingers digging into the mushy skin of your waist. It shouldn’t have felt that good, but it did. You were supposed to be angry at him for setting you up and still, by touching you for a microsecond, he had transformed you into something malleable.

Sadly, that feeling didn’t last much longer. “Didn’t know you were a man of manners. Should’ve told me beforehand.”

“Didn't know you could scream like that. I hope you didn’t freak anyone out.”

The two of you continued to practice until nightfall. A thing you also learned, apart from horse riding, was that Joel was a determined man. Everytime you tried to quit, he stopped you, making it impossible for you to rest. You stared at him, rubbing the back of your sore neck with a grimace. “I’m tired. Can we go back?”

“One more time.”

“Joel–”

“Trot a couple of meters just one more time, and that’s it for today. Can you do that for me?”

You tried not to pay too much attention to his choice of words, although it was basically non-viable. He looked sinful, and you longed to shut him up with a bruising kiss. Again, a hopeless option. Your hands itched to touch him, to feel his stubble, rough and coarse under your thumbs. How could you stay focused when the man you had been daydreaming with for the last couple of months was bossing you around? 

Despite your inability to clear your head of any of those thoughts, you managed to accomplish what he had asked you to do. “Well done,” he offered you his hand to dismount the horse and you accepted it, sighing as you stretched out your arms. “We should take him back to the stable,” Joel suggested, giving you the impression of being pleased as you told him you were coming with him.

Inside the stable, he relocated the horse into one of the many stalls. Unbelievably, the place didn’t smell like absolute shit, which was what you were expecting from a barn. “Thank you for the lesson,” you told Joel once he was done with the horse.

“Anytime,” he scratched his jaw, the dim light making his dark eyes look, if possible, even darker. “It wasn’t that bad, was it?”

“No. You were right,” your heart thrummed with every word that he blurted. His presence was addictive. You were never the one to have any bad habits, but deep down, you recognized that he easily could develop one. “I thought you were less talkative.”

“So did I,” for an instant, he pressed his lips together, forming a tight line, as if he had said something he shouldn’t have in the first place. “I think I didn’t ask you this before: but why now? I mean, why did you wait so much time to learn how to ride a horse? Everyone in Jackson seems to know how.”

You cleared your throat, his piercing eyes peering at your movements. “I guess I thought it wasn't necessary back then, before all this. It's one of those things that you don't even consider until it becomes inevitable. I used to believe I had a lot of time left when I was younger,” you had never talked about this with anyone else. There was something so intimate about this conversation, how Joel stood seemingly tongue-tied in front of you, as if he were taking notes of what you were confessing to him. “I remember being a kid and not wanting to use my toys sometimes because I kept waiting for the right moment. But then…”

“You realize there’s no such thing as the right moment,” he finished the sentence for you, and you bowed your head. “Life can end at any moment, especially in a world like ours. That’s why you always gotta do what you wish to. We never know what’ll happen tomorrow.”

“Live for today, hope for tomorrow? That’s your creed?” you tried to mock him, the tension in the stable far from evident, but he didn’t move.

“It’s the way I try to live my own life. I don’t like being left with the desire to do somethin’ I could’ve done earlier. Too old for that.”

Maybe you were gradually losing it. Perhaps just a little. It couldn’t be a coincidence, right? Had he noticed how you acted around him? Were you that obvious?

“So, you would advise me to just…”

“Do whatever you feel right, sweetheart.”

That raspy sweetheart made you give in.

His eyes. His penetrating, gleaming eyes scrutinized your face at the same time you closed the distance between your bodies. From there, you were able to see every freckle, every small detail that you hadn’t previously acknowledged. He parted his lips, as if to speak, but no words other than your name came out. One of your hands made its way up to his cheek, cupping it, feeling the warmth his skin radiated. His head immediately leaned into your touch, like a moth into a flame. 

You kissed him, unable to keep waiting. It took him what felt like ages to kiss you back, his fingers tangling in your hair. He absorbed your whimpers, pressing your back against the nearest wall. Maddening– it was the perfect word to describe how being kissed by Joel felt like. When you thought he was going to draw away from you, he just held you tighter until your lungs implored for some air. Your knees had never felt this weak, and you found yourself grabbing onto his shoulders, already feeling the places where his stubble had left its trace in flames. 

“Joel…” you mumbled against his lips, detaching your mouth from his. Your erratic breaths seemed to sync together like a melody, and you tugged at the collar of his jacket. 

He knew, could see it on your features. “Wanna go to yours?”

Joel took you home. The moment you set foot in the cabin, he closed the door behind him, his hand lingering on the handle as he contemplated you from a distance. You took your coat off first, starting to unzip your pants. There was silence long enough to hear crickets in, the moon up in the sky being the only bystander of your meeting. His eyes roamed the newly exposed skin of your legs and you observed him gulp. 

“Did something happen?” you asked him, a flush crepting up your face. Taking a step forward, one of his hands came to rest on top of yours.

“No, it’s just that– Are you sure you want this?”

Crinkling your nose, you uttered: “Why wouldn’t I?”

“I’m just too old for you,” he warned you, running a knuckle down your cheek. “You should be with guys your age, y’know? Not with an old man like me.”

“I want you,” reassuring him, you got rid of your t-shirt, and the fact he was still dressed up from neck to toes lit some kind of fire inside you. His calloused fingers fiddled with the strap of your bra until it slipped off your shoulder. “This is what I want. Please, Joel.”

It turned out that Joel Miller certainly was a man of manners.

You couldn't help but moan as he grabbed you by the waist, dragging you to the couch by the window and straddling his lap, his hard-on finding its place beneath you, pulsing and in need of more. His tongue brushed yours ever so often, and your eyes rolled to the back of your head as his teeth latched onto the skin of your throat. Joel groaned, the sound, low and primal, having its desired effect on you, your hips involuntarily grinding against his in a delicious but tormenting rhythm that already had you on the verge of tears.

“Joel, please,” you managed to plead, not knowing precisely what you were asking for. His hands cupped your ass, imprinting his fingerprints on the soft flesh, forcing your hips to go harder and harder. The harsh fabric of his pants was definitely going to leave a mark on your cheeks, and thinking that helped you realize that you were the only one –almost– naked. You reached for the buttons of his denim shirt, your lips hovering over his. “Take your clothes off?”

He did the rest himself, throwing his jacket to the floor. When he got to his jeans, he cocked his head. “Why don’t we move this to the bedroom, if you’re so goddamn needy?” The few guys you had been with had never been very talkative during sex; there was even this one specific boy who had asked you to not make a sound while he fucked you. 

But Joel wasn’t like them. It was just starting and you had already realized that he had a dirty mouth, an expectant look on his face every time he waited for your reaction to his words. “Now you’re quiet, huh? Thought you wanted me to fuck you, darlin',” one of his fingers pressed down on your clit, stimulating it through your underwear. He sighed, stopping his movements and pressing the damp pad of it against your lower lip, urging you to taste yourself. “You’re wet, baby. So fuckin’ wet. Have you been like this all day? Bet you would’ve let me take you right there in the forest.”

“Oh my God,” you whined next to his ear, your whole body trembling with desire. “Take me to bed,” you begged him, and next thing you knew, he was grabbing you as if you weighed nothing and heading towards your room. 

Not knowing how, you kept your hands to yourself until he placed you on top of the bed. Joel shoved his jeans down and you didn’t think twice– you stroked his length, the fabric of his boxers only making the slow drag of your hand more satisfying. His long fingers circled your throat, and you moaned as you kept eliciting exquisite noises from him. “Let me take care of you,” his dilated pupils carved holes in your being, his grip doing nothing to cease the ache between your legs. “Please, baby. I need to make you feel good. Been thinkin’ about this for so long.”

“What?” you slowed down your pace, looking up at him through your eyelashes. “You wanted me?”

“Why do you think I began to pick Ellie up from your classes, huh? Because I’m a good, generous man?” Joel parted your knees, getting closer to where you required him the most. “I’m sorry to ruin this, but I’m far from good. Just wanted to see you and your pretty face. Didn’t know if we were on the same page until you came lookin' for me, askin' me to teach you how to ride a damn horse,” you hadn’t noticed your bra was missing till he cupped one of your breasts, flicking your nipple between his fingers. “I’m sure there were many other people you could’ve asked to teach you, but you chose me, didn’t you?”

“Don’t want anybody else,” your lips chased his, a drop of sweat already rolling down your temple. “I didn’t– didn’t know you noticed me.”

“How could I not? If you could only look at yourself like I’m doing right now… You’re a sight, sweetheart, all spread out for me,” removing your panties, he kissed the skin where your inner thighs met, his tongue darting out to draw imaginary figures on your flesh. His mouth was just inches away from your cunt, and you had to tell him.

“Joel?”

“What’s wrong?”

“I’ve never– nobody has ever done that for me.”

He seemed to understand what you were referring to. It made you tense a bit, despite the fact that you were completely naked in front of him, basically begging him to tear you apart. Still, the realization that you weren't as expert as him hit you out of nowhere. Yeah, it was all fun and games, kissing and touching probably the hottest man you had seen in your almost three decades of life. But said man was a lot older than you, and he had lived his best years in the real world, not this fucked up version you grew up in. You were sure he had been with many different women, which wasn’t a problem– you two were nothing.

“Nobody has ever tasted ya’? That’s what you’re tryin’ to tell me?” you nodded quickly, shoving a strand of his graying hair back away from his eyes. Joel chuckled languidly, squeezing your hips. “Do you want me to? It’s okay if you don’t. We can try somethin’ else.”

“Please,” you’d have time to embarrass yourself later, thinking about the amount of times you had repeated that word. But certain moments were to be lived only once, and though you hoped it wasn't the case, you had to take the chance. “I want you to.”

Four words. It took Joel four words to disappear between your legs, licking a hot stripe up your folds. You nibbled on your bottom lip, a loud moan filling the void of your dorm. He drew sweet patterns in your cunt, discovering a part of you that no one else ever had, and you couldn’t help but to grind against his face as he dipped the tip of his tongue into your entrance. Breathing wasn’t a necessity anymore. You felt as if all the air in the world was being punched out of your lungs, the knot in your belly growing tighter the more Joel spent his precious time keeping you entertained.

At some point, he focused his attention on your clit, circling it over and over again, making you shudder. Suddenly, the pad of his middle finger tested the waters, and he slowly slid it into your cunt, earning a strangled whine from you. Burying your hands in his hair, your glossy eyes looked for him for a second. You shouldn’t have done that, because as you took in the sight of Joel with his own eyes closed, browns knitted, your nostrils flared, and you wondered if it was even possible to want somebody that much.

“Joel, wait, I’m– fuck,” your jaw went slack and you scrunched up your face, two of his thick fingers nudging that spot that made you see stars. “I’m close.” 

“That’s a good thing, sweetheart. Don’t know why you say it in such a dry tone,” his mouth curved into a smile, his chin and stubble shining with your slick. 

Your chest rose and fell with rapid breaths. “I don’t want to come yet.”

“But you will.”

A thing you also learned, apart from horse riding, was that Joel was a determined man.

“Joel–“

“I’ll make you come with my mouth, and then with my cock,” dizziness was starting to blur your vision, your eyelashes fluttering with every hard thrust of his fingers. You glanced up to the ceiling, tears filling your eyes. “Think you can do that for me, be my good girl and come twice?”

You bobbed your head. It was official: he was going to make you come.

Drawing in a long breath, you could feel the unbearable pressure in your core. His name sounded like a prayer on your lips, chanting it in the same way some people expressed their devotion to a certain God. You had your own personal deity, whose tongue accomplished to push you to the limit, licking every drop of your release as if it were a special kind of forbidden elixir.  

Your shoulders sagged and you relaxed under him. Joel kissed you, an open mouthed and filthy kiss crowning that moment as you panted. Through the cotton fabric of his boxers, you felt his hard-on poking your thigh. Shoving his underwear down, you took him in your hand, hot and just big, stroking him for real this time. You twisted your wrist at the tip, and he slumped forward, almost crushing you with his entire body weight, his breath dampening your neck. “Wanna fuck you, baby,” he croaked, his hips chasing your touch.

Out of all the scenarios you had ever imagined, none of them included being split open by Joel. You had a very vivid imagination, but no amount of creativity would’ve prepared you for what his cock would feel like inside of you. He bottomed out, his arms shaking where they rested on each side of your head. Joel’s breath quickened as he pulled out, just letting the tip, and then thrusting into you again.

“Fuck,” you didn’t recognize your own voice. It was even hard to decipher if you were still alive or dead from how magnificent he felt.

“So good, sweetheart. You’re so good, such a good girl,” he groaned, fucking deeper into you. His cock pulsed inside you, your cunt squeezing him. “Can’t believe how– how tight you are. You’re gonna make me lose my f–fucking mind.”

It was just too much. You hadn’t even recovered from your last orgasm before Joel started pounding into you like his life depended on it, the obscene sound of skin slapping skin ringing out in the room. 

“You gonna come, huh? Gonna make a mess?” you could sense he was also close, his pace faltering as seconds went by, words slurring together. He pressed his forehead against yours, clenching his fists and taking in a sharp breath. “Fuck. I’m not gonna last much longer, baby.”

Come inside, you wished to tell him, to feel his seed dripping out of your greedy hole, painting your walls. But you weren't on the pill; it was also the first time you were sleeping with Joel, and you didn’t know how he would take the… suggestion. “Close,” you yelped instead, tears shimmering in your eyes as Joel’s body hovered over you like the most perfect eclipse. 

His thrusts became more frenzied, if possible. “That’s it, darlin’. Come for me,” your gaze fixated upon him, his eyes flickering with hunger. “Wanna see you when you soak my cock.”

Your body went limp, your orgasm hitting you like a truck. Soreness took place in your throat as you moaned his name through the aftershocks, fireworks exploding behind your eyelids. Going rigid, you let go of Joel’s shoulders. He pulled out, mumbling something you didn’t quite catch. You fisted his cock, trying to give him the release he so yearned for. Joel kissed you, messy teeth and saliva taking part of it. Heavy on your hand, his dick twitched as you squeezed the base, roped of his warm cum splattering your belly. The scene reminded you of a painting; he was the talented painter, and you his blank canvas, waiting to be signed with his name.

It was the turn of silence now. None of you said anything for a while, until Joel used his boxers to clean up his cum from your stomach, smiling apologetically at you. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” your fingers delicately traced the contours of his chest as he reclined, enveloping you in the embrace of his strong arms. “Will you stay?”

Please say yes.

“Only if you want me to.”

Moral of the story: learning how to ride a horse can actually be nice if your teacher happens to be Joel Miller.

#joel miller #the last of us #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #the last of us hbo #joel x reader #joel tlou #joel the last of us #joel miller x you #Spotify #tlou series #joel x y/n #joel x you #pedro pascal #pedro pascal joel miller #joel smut #tlou fic #tlou hbo #tlou joel #joel miller x y/n #joel miller pedro pascal #the last of us joel #pedro pascal the last of us #pedro pascal fic #joel miller story #joelmiller #joel x female reader #joel x f!reader

[tangledupinyellow]

Conference | Joel Miller X Teacher F!Reader

authors note: Ah!!! I took an unintentional hiatus, it's been so chaotic in my life lately which doesn't need any details. But I am so so so happy to get back to writing and posting my little dumps here, especially now that life's calmed down I can get some more out for the new year!

summary: You are Sarah’s sixth grade teacher and you see Joel show up for the teacher parent conference. It’s your last meeting of the day and of course Joel being Joel, he’s late due to work and he came there in a rush and is still in his dirty little work clothes, which doesn’t leave a good impression on you.

warnings/tags: 18+, no use of y/n, no outbreak au, very slight praise kink, parent/teacher relationship, fingering, desk fucking, nicknames (good girl, darling, baby girl), unprotected piv, spanking, slight breeding kink, creampie

word count: 4.4k

 In annoyance, you look over at the clock once again. It feels like the fifth time you’ve done that in the past five minutes. You rubbed your eyes with a groan and lined up the papers on your desk yet again as if you hadn’t already done that ten times before while you’d been waiting.

You tapped your fingers on your desk, trying your best to stay patient. You had decided that you would stay here for another ten minutes or so, making it twenty minutes of waiting in total, before you would call it a night and head back home.

It was the end of the second-semester conference, and you had spent your evenings sitting down with the parents of your students to discuss any concerns you may have about their child. And with this next conference you had coming up, you had more concerns about the parent than the child itself. You had more complaints about them, as well. And being incredibly late was one of them.

Being even five minutes late would have been something you would let slide, but for something that has gone on for nearly twenty minutes, you weren’t sure if waiting would be worth it anymore. You could just give him a call that you would assume would bring you straight to voicemail, and you’ll give the one-sided conference there. 

What made you even more irritated was the fact that these meetings never took more than ten minutes, and you couldn’t understand why a parent couldn’t take a measly ten minutes out of their day to check up on how their student is doing while they’re at school.

But after checking who you were supposed to meet with at this very moment, you couldn’t help but be surprised.

Joel Miller was supposed to be here nearly an hour to talk about his daughter Sarah, one of your favorite students. You knew you weren’t technically supposed to have a favorite student, but you made an exception for Sarah. She was very wise beyond her years and quick-witted, almost like a mini adult. You couldn’t help but have a bit of a sweet spot for the kid.

You would have thought that with a kid like that, a parent would look forward to meeting with their teacher just to hear about how wonderful their child has been doing. But apparently, with Joel Miller, it was a different story.

You gave yourself an extra five minutes before you would just pack up your things and leave. You didn’t have time for this, and you already gave this man more than enough of your time this evening.

Your eyes shot over to your classroom door when you heard a knock followed by a man walking in and closing the door behind him.

“I wanna start off by apologizin’,” He began immediately and walked over to the empty chair on the opposite side of your desk that you had reserved for the parents, “Had’ta work a bit of overtime, but I came as fast as I could. Don’t wanna know how many stop lights I ran on my way to get here.” He chuckled and shook his head before taking a seat across from you.

“It’s nice to see you made it, Joel.” You greeted him before pulling out Sarah’s files from your desk to go over with him.

You could tell he had just gotten off work and clearly didn’t get the chance to stop at home first to freshen up or get changed. There were still dirt stains on his denim jeans, and his hair was a tousled mess. But then again, this was how you were used to seeing Joel. Out of all the years you’ve been teaching his daughter Sarah, you’ve rarely seen him dress up more than a flannel and a pair of jeans. 

You’ve only seen him dress up three times for as long as you knew him when the two of you went on a few casual dates. That was before you started teaching his daughter. While you had a genuinely good time with Joel those three times you went out, you didn’t know if you could continue seeing him after finding out that you would be teaching his daughter. Even though you did like him and wanted to continue the small relationship that the two of you had blossomed, you felt it would be too awkward with the whole ‘you being his daughter’s teacher’ thing.

So, you had to cut it off with him and keep the relationship between the two of you strictly professional.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Joel grinned and got comfortable in his seat, scooting it closer to the desk while you set Sarah’s files down.

“Almost left. I wasn’t sure if you were going to show up or not.” You laughed quietly with a shake of your head and opened up the folder filled with Sarah’s worksheets and essays she had completed the previous semester.

“Again, I wouldn’t miss it,” Joel repeated, “I’ll take any chance to get to be able to see ya again, even if it’s just you telling me how Sarah’s been incredible these past few months.” He chuckled, a hint of flirting in his voice that you tried to brush off.

It wasn’t unusual for him to flirt with you, for you were the one who cut things off even when he didn’t want to. There were still some feelings there that he had for you, and he hated that he couldn’t express them. He almost felt like a teenage boy. The fact that he couldn’t convey his feelings towards you made him want to do it even more, just to see if you’d crack one of these days.

You gave him a knowing look with a tilt of your head, almost acting like a playful warning, before pulling out one of Sarah’s most recent science essays to review with him.

“Well, I’m sure you wouldn’t be surprised to hear that Sarah’s at the top of my class this semester. She’s tested very high, and her writing skills are well above average for her grade level.” You give him a smile and nod before pointing out some of the highlights you found in her essay.

Joel listened with a permanent smile on his lips as he listened to you compliment his daughter, all things that he’d heard many times before from past teachers. He didn’t even know how Sarah was his daughter or how she was even related to him at that. He was never anywhere near as intelligent as she was when he was in school, and she was much brighter than he ever was. He was incredibly proud of her, as proud of a daughter as a father could be. 

“You’re right. I ain’t all that surprised.” Joel said through a chuckle and a shake of his head. 

You laughed along with him and tucked her essay back into her folder before setting it back down on top of your desk, “And I’m sure you’ve already heard this before, but Sarah really is a pleasure to have in my class. Helps keep me sane sometimes.” You joked, laughing a bit more with the man before you.

Even though you had to cut things off with Joel, you were glad that it didn’t make things awkward in meetings like this, which was something you worried about once you found out that you were going to be teaching his daughter. Thankfully for the both of you, you were able to get along just as well as you had when you first met.

“Every single one of these conference things I go to I hear the same ol’ thing,” Joel laughed and ran a hand through his messy and disheveled hair from a days worth of hard work, “Sometimes I don’t know how that girl is related t’me. Makes me proud every damn day though, that’s for sure.”

“I’m glad to hear that. She talks about you often.” You mentioned and organized her folder with all of your other students.

“She does?” Joel asked with a curious eyebrow raised.

“Mhm,” You hum, “She loves talking about you. You have a bigger impact on her life than you may think, Mr. Miller.” You smile at him and stand up from your chair, giving a silent end to the conference, for you didn’t have much else you had to tell him. You both knew his daughter was an excellent student and absolutely thrived in your class. There was nothing much else to discuss.

Joel couldn’t help but smile at your words, feeling his heart warm up in his chest as you spoke. He loved his daughter so much, but knowing that she even still liked him in her tween years was a big deal to him. It made him feel that even though he was a single father and that was as hard as all hell can be, he was succeeding at it. He watched you stand up and slowly followed your actions.

You cleared your throat and inhaled, grabbing your purse as you prepared to say your goodbyes. You didn’t want this conference to be awkward, but just being in the same room with him made you feel vulnerable, and you weren’t sure you could hide that very well from him.

“Well, Mr. Miller, it was very nice to see you again.” You nodded in his direction.

“You can call me Joel, y’know,” He chuckled with a shake of his head, “Just because we had to end things in the past doesn’t mean you need to be all formal.” The smile never left his face as he spoke, but you could feel your heart sink in his chest the moment he had brought it up.

You were hoping that the two of you would be able to move past it or not mention it at all during this little parent-teacher conference meeting. And right when you thought it was all going well and you said your goodbyes, he had to go right ahead and make it awkward for you.

“Right, my apologies, Joel,” You corrected yourself, the tense feeling in your chest still not disappearing, “I’ll see you around.”

Joel watched as you turned to leave towards the door but quickly stopped you before you could make another move, “Wait.”

There was that tense feeling in your chest all over again.

With yet another deep breath, you slowly turned to face him, “Do you have any questions for me, Mr- ..Joel? Any questions about Sarah, or..?” Your voice sounded weaker than you intended it to be.

“Well, there is something that I’ve been meanin’ to ask ya. Not about Sarah. I already know that she’s been doin’ just fine in this class.” He began.

“I’m only here to talk about Sarah and give you her progress report for the semester. I’m sorry.” You tried to cut him off before he got too deep into it. You had a gut feeling that you knew where he would be trying to get at if you didn’t stop him ahead of time. And you have already made yourself a personal vow that you would never mix your love life with your professional life. Even though Joel Miller made that so damn hard to do.

Joel furrowed his eyebrows as he stared at you in silence for a moment, almost as though you had said something wrong. And by this look he was giving you, you were kind of worried that you had. But that worry was quickly washed away once a chuckle escaped his lips.

“Darlin’, I’m more than just Sarah’s father. And you’re more than just Sarah’s teacher. I think we both know that now, don’t we?” A smirk crept up on the corner of his lips while his hand rested on top of yours.

“Mr. Miller, I don’t need you to be talking to me like I’m-”

He cut you off with your name. It shuts you up almost immediately.

“What I’m trying to get at here is that I miss you. I miss being with ya. Don’t think you can punish me for that, sweetheart.” Joel shook his head and gave your hand a squeeze before moving it back down to his side.

You took a deep breath, trying to collect your thoughts before speaking, “Joel, it was fun being with you, but I can’t-”

“Why not.” He interrupted yet again, knowing just what you were about to say.

“You know why. Because of Sarah.” You kept it short, for he already knew the reasoning behind your rejections.

“What about Sarah?” The man was persistent, “Sarah loves you. She adores you as a teacher and talks about you and this class all the damn time,” He couldn’t help but chuckle as he spoke, “Now tell me, why would it be so bad seeing me?” His eyes bore into yours.

“It’s unprofessional..” you tried to reason.

“Unprofessional, hm?” Joel repeated and gave you a small smile, “Alright then. If you really don’t want me anymore, I won’t push it. But it was really nice seein’ ya again, sweetheart.” He winked in your direction before heading over to the door.

“Wait.” You surprised even yourself by speaking up.

Joel hummed and looked back over at you, his hand on the doorknob while waiting for you to start talking.

Your breath was shaky as you tried to calm your nerves, looking between down at your lap and over at Joel, “Come.. come here, please.” You stuttered over your words and motioned your head over to the empty seat across from your own.

Joel gladly did as you said and filled that empty seat.

The two of you stared at each other in silence for a moment, both of you anticipating to see who would speak up first. You never broke contact with his eyes, the hazel specks bringing you back to the few days and nights the two of you spent with one another. And you hated to admit it, but having him alone in a room like this made you want to rip off that dirty flannel right off and claim his lips with your own. Somehow, you had managed to keep it all under control. But the longer he stayed, the harder it was to resist that urge.

“Yes?” Joel responded simply before continuing, “Is there more of Sarah’s papers that you want to go over with me or…?” his voice trailed off with a slight raise of his eyebrow, seeming as though he already knew the answer but just wanted to play this little game with you.

And what got to you was that he was right. Both you and Joel knew that you didn’t call him back over just to go over a couple more of Sarah’s papers.

You weren’t sure how to respond. But thankfully, Joel took care of that for you just fine.

“That’s not it, is it?” Joel’s voice grew quieter as he stood up from the chair once he saw you shake your head slowly.

The tension in the room was growing so thick that you could cut it with a knife as he walked over to your chair, leaning over so his breath was just hitting the skin on the back of your ear, “You want something a little more, don’t ya..” he whispered, the hot breath on your ear causing shivers to go down your spine.

All you could do was nod as you involuntarily leaned your head back and fluttered your eyes shut. He still knew how to get such a reaction from you.

“Yeah, s’what I thought.” Joel grinned with a soft tone in his voice.

His hand slowly moved down to your shoulder, goosebumps arising underneath your blouse. You never thought you would miss the feeling of Joel Miller touching you on the shoulder so much. Especially when all he did was touch you on your covered shoulder.

“We really shouldn’t be doing this, Joel,” You tried to talk some sense into him, more trying to talk some sense into yourself. You knew that you wanted this. He knew that you wanted this, based on your reaction that you would give him with every little touch of his hand, “We shouldn’t…” you tried repeating, your voice cracking just slightly when his hand moved down from your shoulder to your right breast, giving it a firm squeeze. Your mind was working against itself, debating over right or wrong. But when his strong hands gripped you like that, as if you were all his, you couldn’t resist.

You couldn’t help the moan that left your lips as he fondled your breast, “Just tell me if you want me or not, sweetheart, simple as that.” he whispered in your ear. His breath on your sensitive skin was enough to get your heart rate going.

“Keep going.” You mustered out, taking a deep breath and watching your chest rise and fall.

Joel couldn’t help but smirk at your words as he moved his hand away from your breast and lowered to your stomach, “Are the doors locked?” He whispered, glancing over at the door that attached your classroom to the hallway.

“I’m already past hours. We should be fine.” You whispered. That was enough of an answer for him as he pushed his hand down your leggings to cup you through your underwear, making you gasp at the contact.

“Already so wet for me?” Joel chuckled and shook his head as he rubbed circles around your clit through your underwear, “Such a good girl, just like I remember.” He praised, placing kisses on your jaw and your neck.

You moaned at his words. Hearing him call you a good girl made your panties even wetter if it were possible. Your mind kept screaming at you, trying to remind you why you had stopped seeing him in the first place. You were his daughter’s teacher, for crying out loud. You didn’t want to complicate things anymore. But when he kept circling your clit with his two fingers, all of those thoughts seemed to disappear in a cloudy fog. All you could focus on was the sensation.

You bit down on your lower lip to try and hide in your moans, your hips bucking up to his fingers at the same time. The motion of your hips caused a low chuckle to escape from Joel’s lips as he continued to rub you at the same pace, savoring how much you seemed to be enjoying his delicate and practiced touch.

Joel never broke eye contact with you as he slid one of his fingers, then two, into your now soaked pussy. He groaned quietly and closed his eyes for a short moment at the feeling of your tight pussy, just imagining how it would feel like to have you squeezing around his dick.

A gasp turned moan left your lips as he started moving his fingers in and out of your pussy. He stared into his eyes, trying to ignore the fact that his jeans were currently restricting his near painful erection. Just the sight of you staring up at him from your chair with your mouth slightly agape made him want to just bend you right over your desk and fuck that sweet pussy of yours. The image of you screaming his name and looking up at him while he fucked you from behind over your desk burned in his brain. Why keep it just a little fantasy?

“Stand up.” Joel demanded and swiftly removed his now wet fingers; the emptiness was soon followed by an intense yearning for something more.

Your mind was hazy with lust while you did just as he directed. You stared at him, but his eyes were focused on your chest, which was moving up and down slightly in both anticipation and excitement.

“Take off your shirt.” Was his next demand, very much to the point. But his heart was going just as fast as yours.

You didn’t waste another second as you removed your shirt over your head while he unbuckled his belt at the same time, his eyes watching you the entire time. Knowing that he was practically watching your every move made you tingle in excitement.

Joel licked his lower lip as he watched you, letting out an involuntary groan. You could hear the zipper of his pants when he zipped them down, and he slowly walked up behind you. His calloused hands gently unhooked your bra, his touch surprisingly tender. 

He caressed your sides, slowly moving down to your ass. His touch remained gentle, and you felt like you were in the arms of a loved one, a husband you’d been married to for years, perhaps. You were quickly taken aback, however, when he gripped onto your hips and bent you over your desk. You held onto your desk and let out a moan of both pleasure and surprise. 

“Can’t wait to fuck this pussy.” Joel mumbled under his breath, but just loud enough for you to hear.

“I need you inside of me, Joel,” You practically begged him, your head resting on its side on your desk, “Need you so bad.” Your voice was nearly a whimper at this point.

Joel couldn’t even help but smirk as he heard your pleas, which were all for him and no one but him. The sound of you begging for him made his cock throb in his jeans. He quickly let himself free, pulling his jeans and underwear down and letting them fall down to his ankles. 

He pulled down your leggings just as fast, pushing your underwear off to the side to reveal your glistening pussy, wet and ready just for him.

“So, so pretty darlin’..” Joel praised with a shake of his head, admiring the sight for just a moment as he stroked his cock, giving it a few good pumps before pushing himself inside of you.

His fingers gently dug into your hips as he slowly and carefully slid his entire length inside of you, whispering quiet praises of how you were such a good girl for him in your ear. With how wet you were for him, he was able to get inside of you relatively easily. The feeling of his dick finally being inside of you was indescribable. He wasn’t able to stop imagining what it must feel like ever since he first walked into your classroom.

“That’s it.” Joel cooed and rubbed your hips before slowly entering in and out of you, starting his thrusts at a slower pace to ease you into it a little bit more.

Soft and strangled moans were caught in your throat as he took control, your eyes slowly starting to flutter shut at the feeling of being so full. Gradually, his thrusts became faster and faster as his breathing increased. His own groans overpowered yours, much to his dismay.

A quick smack was laid on your bare ass, earning a quick and loud moan from you, one that was much louder than you expected.

“I want to hear you, baby girl. Want to hear how good I’m makin’ ya feel.” Joel said between huffs and groans, his thrusts never slowing down but increasing in speed and intensity.

You let your mouth and throat relax at his request, not even bothering to hide your moans and whimpers. The building was completely empty at this point. Nobody in their right mind would still be here at these late hours of the night except for the two of you.

“Mmm..” Joel groaned and nodded, keeping a rhythmic pace with his thrusts while he held onto your hips, “Love hearing you like that..” he grunted, his voice staggered as he thrust in and out of you.

“Love you fucking me like this, Joel... Goddamn, I love it so much.” You moaned and let out a quiet yelp as he spanked your ass again, the slap of skin against skin echoing in the room. You moaned even louder at the contact.

“Me too... Fuck! Me too..” Joel repeated, his words weakening as he felt himself getting closer to the finish line. He bent his body forward while holding onto your hips, resting his head in the crook of your neck, leaving messy bites and kisses all along your skin, “So close, mmm... So fuckin’ close, baby..” He whispered, his thrusts getting messier with more fervor.

He slowly looked back at you, taking a good look at your messy hair that covered your face while you were being fucked by him. Your mouth was agape, your eyes were closed, and soft moans left your soft lips. And it was all for him... All of this was all for him…

“Fuck!” He squeezed his eyes shut as he came, pulling your hips in closer to him to get as deep inside you as he possibly could.

That was what brought you over the edge. You were surprised to have finished so quickly, or even at all, for that matter. But the way he grabbed your hips to be as close to you as possible, to fill you up as much as he could, sent you waves of euphoria. Loud moans of his name filled the room, followed by a lot of heavy breathing.

His sweaty body hovered over yours as he slowly removed himself from inside of you. That feeling of emptiness in your pussy was there once again. 

Joel kissed the top of your head and stood back up to put his jeans back on, leaving you over the desk to try and recover from your orgasm, your heart still pounding.

“Fuck..” Joel whispered breathily as he buckled up his belt, looking over at you as you tried to recover yourself from off of your desk, your legs struggling to keep stability.

“Yeah..” You chuckled in agreement and took a deep breath, slowly sitting back down in your desk chair.

“So,” Joel began and leaned over to get closer to you, his elbows resting on the desk, “Are you free this weekend? Sunday?”

You couldn’t help but smirk, already knowing where he was trying to go with this request, “Are you trying to ask me out on a date, Mr. Miller?” You inquired knowingly.

“I may be,” He smiled charmingly and stood up. “Depends on your answer.”

“Well, in that case,” You paused and stood up from your chair, pressing a cheeky kiss to his lips, “I’ll see you on Sunday. Don’t be late.”

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel tlou #tlou #the last of us #the last of us hbo #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #18+ #female reader #writing #fiction #joel miller smut #tlou smut #the last of us smut

[dirtytomatoedwrites]

Preludes and Nocturnes - Part 1

Paring: Rafe Cameron x InnocentPogue!reader

Summary: Rafe discovers your hidden talent and now he has seen it, you have his full attention.

Warnings:  18+ Smut. Dark!Rafe. Virgin!Reader, Romance, Angst, Dub-Con, Fingering, squirting.  Not Proof-Read so mistakes are my own.

Word Count: 9k words (Yo it took me months to write but I finally did it) 

Author Note: Hello lovelies! So this is an original idea I’ve had for a while now... and this is the longest fanfic I’ve ever written for a character. Who did I write this tale about Rafe motherfucking Cameron of course. HA!  I may do a part 2 but we’ll see based on the response it gets.  Love you all and thanks for reading and listening - there’s music in there too so if you can listen to the tracks as you read it’ll heighten the experience. 🫶 Enjoy!

Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Please don’t steal or copy bits of my writing or any writing from other writers cause karma will get ya.  

Rose, elegant and poised as ever, fiddled with Ward's bowtie. It was a futile attempt to straighten it, and you wondered if the Kooks knew how ridiculous they looked, their privileged lives spent fussing over trivial things.

"Do you play?" Ward's voice was casual, but his eyes betrayed a glimmer of interest. He had seen you eyeing the piano in their opulent living room before, and it was clear he suspected you had a musical inclination.

"A little," you replied, shrugging nonchalantly. You didn't want to give too much away. The Kooks had a tendency to pry, and you had learned the hard way that it was better to keep your guard up.

The Camerons were pleasant enough, but like the other Kooks on Figure Eight, they didn't really care about the Pogues. You had grown up being told that Pogues were different from Kooks, but as you got older, you realized it was more complicated than that. The Kooks were narrow-minded, lacking empathy and understanding. They saw the Pogues as nothing more than servants, there to cater to their every whim. It was a toxic dynamic and one that you had learned to navigate with caution.

The key to survival on the Outer Banks was invisibility. You had learned that early on. The less you revealed about yourself, the safer you were. So you didn't tell Ward that your father had started teaching you piano before you could even walk. You didn't tell him that music was your escape, your solace, your everything.

"Well, a bit of something is better than nothing," Ward chuckled, his eyes flickering back to you. "I bought it thinking it would be nice to have music in the house that wasn't rap or pop, but you know how kids are." He chuckled again. "No one seems interested in learning how to play it. If you want to try it out, our door is always open."

The Kooks were the quintessential chameleons, expertly donning the cloak of benevolence and charity. But behind the facade lay their self-centered motives, concealed in plain sight. In their company, you had to be just as duplicitous as them, your true self lost in a sea of artifice. So you donned your own mask of deceit, feigning a grin while burying your true feelings behind a veneer of politeness.

As the grandfather clock in the hallway struck six, Rose and Mr. Cameron stepped into the warm North Carolina evening, dressed to the nines for their elegant black-tie affair. You were left behind in the kitchen with Wheezie, chatting aimlessly about everything and nothing. A comfortable silence settled between you.

"Want to watch a movie, Wheezie?" you asked, but you already knew the answer.

"Maybe next time? I'm having a Stranger Things watch party with my friends. We're on season three, actually," she replied as she pulled out her phone and began texting.

"Oh, that's cool. Sure, let me know when you're hungry and we'll order in."

A few minutes later, you were left alone in the kitchen, grappling with the void of the next five hours stretching before you. Your gaze was inexorably drawn to the open double doors of the living room, and a force beyond your control tugged at your heartstrings.

There, in the corner of the Camerons' living room, stood a magnificent black Steinway & Sons piano. A work of art that you had only seen in fleeting glimpses on the internet, played by virtuosos with mastery beyond compare.

The Camerons' piano was an exquisite piece. Valued upwards of forty thousand dollars, it was a show-stopper that begged to be played in a prestigious concert hall. And yet there it sat in their living room, untouched and unloved.

With a fluttering heart, you approached the baby grand piano, drawn by an unconscious force beyond your control. As you lifted the fallboard, a heady scent of wax and mahogany wafted into your nostrils, creating a longing you could barely contain. Your fingertips brushed against the smooth, pristine ivory keys, unable to resist the urge to touch. As you pressed down on one, a crystalline note filled the air, flawless and true. Before you could even think, you were seated on the bench.

Back straight and feet planted firmly on the floor, you thought about all the classical pieces you had practiced over the years and loved to play. How each piece would sound hollow on your cheap, antiquated piano in your small family home. Music was your first love, and you longed for the day to play on stage accompanied by the New York Symphony Orchestra.

Closing your eyes, you allowed your mind to wander, imagining a sea of faces, a packed audience hanging on your every note. In your mind's eye, you saw your dad sitting in the front row, his gaze filled with pride and love. The thought of his reaction, a validation of all his sacrifices over the years, filled you with purpose.

Driven by your distant dream, you let your fingers glide across the keys, effortlessly weaving a tapestry of sound that flooded the Camerons' living room with music.

With meticulous attention, you listened closely to the dynamics of the piece. You noticed the way the Steinway amplified the subtlest variations in volume, imbuing the composition with a melancholic mood. Your fingers moved with practiced ease, executing intricate runs and arpeggios with fluid grace.

Enraptured by the music, you let the notes wash over you. Every facial expression was a reflection of the emotional journey unfolding before you. As the piece reached its crescendo, your fingers moved faster, striking the keys with greater force, a physical manifestation of your emotions. Your hands flowed in flawless harmony with the rhythm, pouring your soul into the music. And with the final notes, you laughed breathlessly, basking in the afterglow of your musical outpouring.

But your blissful moment was cruelly interrupted as you suddenly sensed you weren’t alone. Your eyes snapped open, and a cold wave of fear washed over you.

“Shit! I am so sorry,” you stammered, your voice trailing off in a rush of apologies as you gingerly lowered the piano fallboard.

“You know,” Rafe’s words were laced with honey, each syllable slow and sweet, yet there was no mistaking the menacing undertone to them. “We don’t take kindly to people touching our things,” he drawled, his intense gaze locked onto yours, a warning glimmer lurking within his dark eyes.

“I… I had permission from your dad,” you insisted, your words barely audible above a whisper as you tried to defend your actions.

His response was a dismissive chuckle. The atmosphere was taut with tension as he nonchalantly propped his golf bag against the wall. Leisurely slow, he sauntered over to you, his hands casually tucked away in his pockets.

“What were you playing anyway?” he inquired, his tone deceptively relaxed.

“You mean the name of the piece?” you swallowed hard, fear palpable. “It’s called Nocturne in C-sharp Minor.”

The tall blonde squinted at you, and you could not decipher his expression. Wanting to avoid further irritation, you slowly rose from the piano bench and dusted it off.

“What kinda name is that?”

“I… I…” you stammered, blood surging in your ears from fear as Rafe suddenly leaned in and lifted the fallboard. He scanned the keys, perhaps checking for any scratches. You took a deep breath. The scent of his expensive cologne and freshly mown grass overwhelmed your senses.

“I don’t know. It worked for Chopin, I guess.” You said quietly.

“Chopin…” he said with his lip jutted.

“He’s the composer. He wrote it and-”

“I know Chopin,” Rafe interrupted, his eyes suddenly locked on you. Up close, you could not deny that they were a striking shade of blue, if not for the death glare he gave you. “Chopin, Beethoven, Einaudi, Bach…” He backed away and sat in a nearby chair. “Brahms… I’ve been to enough of those long-ass concerts to at least know their names.”

You felt a confusing mix of awe and jealousy as you listened to Rafe’s words. The pit in your stomach proved this. You had never been to a proper symphony concert, and the school concerts you had attended were barely amateur. The thought of your dad’s broken promise to take you to one was a constant source of frustration. However, Rafe’s casual disdain for the very concerts he was lucky enough to attend seemed to be a new addition.

“Well… I’m not getting paid to mess around on your piano,” you said with a wry smile, as you tried to mask your emotions.

“You’re right. You’re not,” Rafe retorted while he twisted the gold signet ring around his index finger with his thumb. Head tilted to the side, his eyes raked over every inch of you, from your hair, your oversized sweatshirt and jeans to your worn knockoff Converses. You felt self-conscious under his intense scrutiny. He made you want to crawl into a hole and hide.

“I… I should check on Wheezie,” you whispered, eager to escape the tension in the room.

“Why?” Rafe asked, halting his twirling of the signet ring. His face appeared bemused until a sly grin tugged at his lips. “Weeze is a big girl, right? Might as well… play Chopin while she’s doing her own thing…”

As you babysat for the Camerons, you occasionally spotted Rafe in the vicinity. Sometimes, he was accompanied by a striking beauty, while other times he hung out with his friends. Even when he was alone, his body language was a clear warning: "Keep your distance." His piercing gaze made you feel diminutive and unimportant, as if any attempts at interaction would be met with cold indifference. In his presence, you felt like you were navigating hostile terrain, just a misstep away from a precarious situation.

"Well?" he said, leaning back in his chair and tapping his lower lip with a finger. The gesture seemed to carry a message, but what message you weren't sure. What was certain was that his expression of amusement made it evident that the outcome was secondary—he was simply enjoying watching you squirm.

Your tongue darted out to moisten your parched lips, while anxiety twisted in your gut as you stared nervously at the grand Steinway piano and Rafe. The weight of his words lingered in the air, causing you to hesitate and consider the potential consequences of your answer.

Every which way you looked at it, you were fucked.

Rafe was bound to tell his parents, and you were sure enough about to lose your job once they found out. Despite Mr. Cameron's outward kindness and willingness to accommodate, you knew very well that playing their piano without supervision was not within the bounds of your permission. And he certainly would not appreciate you lying about it either.

Still, you were determined to make the most out of a shitty situation. You weren't trying to prove anything to Rafe, but if this was going to be your last time playing a Steinway, you would go out in style.

You had chosen a haunting, evocative melody,  a tale of lost love and longing. The notes rang out, clear and true, as your fingers danced over the keys. 

Closing your eyes and shutting out the world and Rafe, you allowed the music to flow from your fingertips, guided by instinct and emotion. Your touch was delicate yet confident, breathing life into the haunting melody.

After the last notes of the piece hung in the air like a delicate mist. You held your breath, waiting for some kind of response from Rafe, but all you got was a deafening silence. The room felt like it was closing in on you, and you couldn't help but cast a quick glance in his direction.

Rafe's eyes bored into yours with an intensity that made your heart stop. You shifted uncomfortably, feeling exposed under his scrutinizing gaze. When you finally lowered the fallboard, the tension was so thick you could practically cut it with a knife.

"I should check on Wheezie," you whispered, breaking the silence.

Rafe made no reply, and you took that as permission to leave. When you returned downstairs a half hour later, Rafe was nowhere to be seen and you sighed in relief.

In the best-case scenario, Rafe would keep your little transgression to himself. In the worst-case scenario, you could explain to Mr. Cameron that curiosity got the better of you and seek his forgiveness. Either way, you vowed never to touch their piano again.

"What's on your setlist today, piano girl?" Rafe's voice caused your heart to skip a beat, and you nearly spewed out the orange juice pooling in your mouth. A mere week had passed since your previous babysitting job at the illustrious Cameron residence. Yet here you were once again, feeling a pang of anxiety at the mere sight of him. You had desperately hoped to avoid any interaction with Rafe for the remainder of your shift, but fate had other plans in store.

There he was, sauntering into the kitchen, sporting an obnoxiously bright salmon polo shirt that clashed horribly with his teal shorts, and finished with a backwards baseball cap. Despite his frat boy appearance, you couldn't help but admit that he looked undeniably handsome. The realization hit you like a brick and left you feeling inexplicably uneasy.

"Excuse me?" you sputtered, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

Rafe's gaze shifted towards the living room, where the Steinway was waiting behind closed doors.

"No, I don't think it's a good idea," you said, your voice trailing off as you watched Rafe roll his eyes.

"Whatever," he drawled with a dismissive flick of his wrist, exuding an air of nonchalant superiority as he strode out of the kitchen.

You parroted his words under your breath, feeling frustration boil inside you. Despite his insufferable demeanor, you chose to let it slide. After all, you needed this job, and with a week of smooth sailing under your belt, you suspected that Rafe had kept your little piano incident under wraps. You weren't about to jeopardize your livelihood over a petty disagreement with Rafe Cameron of all people.

Just as you were considering taking refuge in the kitchen to avoid Rafe, the sound of a key being struck on the Steinway echoed through the kitchen, beckoning you towards it.

You stepped into the living room, a bundle of nerves and anticipation, only to find Rafe sprawled in the same chair as before. The piano's fallboard was already raised. Its ebony and ivory keys gleamed in the warm light of the setting sun. Rafe's piercing gaze locked onto yours, then flicked towards the piano.

"Do you want me to play something?" you asked softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Rafe shrugged, looking uninterested. "Do you want to?" he asked, his voice dripping with boredom.

"I don't mind, I guess," you replied, chewing your bottom lip.

If you were to be completely honest with yourself, you were desperate for another chance to play the Steinway. There was a piece that you couldn't get out of your head, and you knew it would sound magnificent on it. You did not need to be asked twice. But at the same time, you were no fool.

You had heard whispers about the "Kook King." Infamous for settling disputes with his fists, not for acts of kindness. You had no idea what was taking place here or why Rafe was suddenly allowing you to play the Camerons' prized possession. But despite your internal warning bells that this could be a trap, you put your glass of orange juice on the floor next to the bench. Consequences be damned.

Taking a confident breath, you aimed to kill.

As you hit the final notes of the composition, the silence was shattered by Rafe's ragged breaths. Your eyes locked onto his, and you saw a flicker of something in his gaze that was gone as quickly as it appeared.

"I've been working on that one for a while," you said, trying to sound nonchalant despite his stare. "I know it's not perfect, but I-"

"No, it's good," Rafe interjected with a croak. "You're good."

His words validated your talent, and a rush of excitement surged through you, causing a grin to spread across your face as you basked in his praise. But the moment was short-lived as Rafe pulled out his phone and started scrolling, his demeanor shifting from impressed to cold indifference. Without warning, he abruptly rose from his seat, an air of superiority emanating from his towering frame.

"Tell Rose I'm having dinner at Top's," he drawled, his voice dripping with aloofness as he looked down his nose at you.

"Sure, okay," you stammered, still reeling from his sudden change in behavior.

Without another glance in your direction, he strode out of the room, leaving you to wonder what the hell just happened.

It became routine. A ritual. Embedded in your weekly visits to the Cameron residence.

Each time you babysat Wheezie, the air would fill with the soothing sound of classical music, as you took your place at the Steinway and brought the keys to life. Rafe, either in the background or seated nearby, listened intently. His brooding demeanor was a stark contrast to the beauty of the music.

As the weeks went by, playing the Steinway became a treasured routine, and it wasn't just the music that captivated you. With every note played, the invisible barrier between you and Rafe seemed to thin. Despite his reserved exterior, there was a subtle shift in the room when he was around, a magnetic pull that drew you closer to him until one evening, a simple question from him sparked a conversation that would change everything.

"Where did you even learn to play like that?" Rafe asked as the sun cast its final rays of light into the opulent living room, painting the space with a breathtaking array of orange, pink, and purple hues.

You had just finished playing a piece by Bach. The air was still thick with the lingering notes of the Prelude as you closed the Steinway lid.

"There's barely electricity on the cut. Far less for piano classes, and even if there was, you can't—you can't teach this, know what I mean? Well, not the way you play it anyway." His tone shifted, taking on a new quality of—dare you think it?—admiration. You couldn't help but wonder if the beer he was drinking had anything to do with his slip of the tongue and the emotions that seemed to seep through in his words.

You cast your eyes to find Rafe leaning forward in his chair, said beer bottle in hand, his hair falling into his face and his eyes laser-focused on you. There was an intensity in his eyes that made you feel like you were being seen, truly seen, by him. But as much as you were flattered by his attention, something lurking in the depths of his gaze made you feel uneasy, and you weren't entirely sure why. You brushed the stray thought aside.

"My dad taught me." You said with pride in your voice. "Did you know they used to have jazz nights at the Wreck?" You turned your body towards Rafe, eager to share this piece of history. "Back then, it wasn't called the Wreck. Anyway, my dad used to play there every night from seven until midnight until the Carreras took over. Now he works on the big oil rig in Burnsville."

"Does he still play?" Rafe asked.

You hesitated for a moment, realizing you were oversharing with Rafe Cameron of all people. But something about his presence made you feel comfortable enough to continue. "No, after my mom left," you trailed off, suddenly feeling vulnerable. "He just gave up on music altogether."

Rafe looked down, his expression unreadable.

"I guess I'm trying to keep the tradition alive, in my own way. It's not jazz, but he approves." You smiled softly. "Anyway, what about you?"

Arresting blue eyes flicked up at yours, and your stomach flipped.

"What about me?" he asked, his voice low and husky, dripping with curiosity and challenge. He leaned back in his chair, the rattan creaking beneath him. He lazily ran a hand through his blonde hair, revealing his chiselled features. You weren't sure why, but the gesture felt calculated. As though it was meant to entice you. And yet you couldn't help but feel a flutter in your chest as you drank in the sight of him.

"No offense, but you don't look like the type to be into..." you waved your hand towards the piano, trying to deflect his gaze and lighten the mood.

"Yeah? What do I look like I'm into?" Rafe purred seductively, his tongue swiping his top lip. His eyes fixed on you. You didn't miss his tone. The double entendre just beneath the surface, if you were bold enough to respond to it. You were sure the alcohol running through his veins had something to do with his sudden flirty behavior. Tomorrow, he'd probably forget the whole thing. But it still didn't stop the butterflies from dancing in your stomach.

"I...I..."

"Go on, don't be shy," Rafe coaxed, his eyes dark and intense, almost daring you to take the bait.

"I don't know," you breathed out a laugh, suddenly feeling flustered and self-conscious.

"Yeah, you do." Rafe said, his tone low and teasing. "Saying I don't look like the type means you have a type in your head. So, let's hear it. What kind of man do you think I am, Y/N?"

You were certain this was not about music anymore, and you felt way out of your element. What were you supposed to say about that? You decided to keep the conversation neutral and err on the side of caution.

"Okay," you nodded as you shifted on the bench. "You look like the type to be interested in other types of music, you know like rap or hip-hop, rock— even country and western, anything but this."

Rafe looked away with a chuckle, a deep rumble that made your skin tingle. He nodded slowly, pondering your words.

"Does that sound bad? I know it sounds awful. I'm sorry." You cringed.

"Nah, it's pretty tame actually... innocent even..." Rafe murmured more to himself than to you. You shivered as his piercing blue gaze met yours, then slowly traveled down to your lips, neck, and every inch of your oversized t-shirt and cardigan to your jeans-covered body.

He cleared his throat, his voice low as he spoke. "And you're not wrong. Classical music was my mom's thing. She loved it." He said taking a swig of his beer.

"Oh," you breathed out, taken aback by the unexpected answer. Suddenly, the pieces of the puzzle started to fall into place. Why Rafe was always so engrossed in the music each time you played. The wistful expression that crossed his face whenever he heard familiar pieces of music. It was like a window into his soul, a glimpse into a hidden part of him that he kept from the world. And just as you pieced together your thoughts, Rafe spoke, confirming your suspicions.

"We used to go to the mainland to see 'The Four Seasons' or 'Carmen' or some other shit like that. I don't know, it reminds me of her, I guess. Takes me back to happier times." Rafe shrugged, a hint of sadness in his eyes as he sipped his beer.

"I'm sorry..." you whispered.

"Nah, don't be. She was sick for a long time, and now she's... Anyway, It's all good now." Rafe replied with a forced nonchalance, a fragile façade attempting to conceal his true emotions.

"So, you listen to classical music for nostalgia..." you whispered, your voice tinged with a touch of melancholy.

“I guess you could say that,” Rafe said thoughtfully, tilting his head from side to side as he considered your words. He scrunched up his face, eyebrows drawn together as if he had tasted something bitter. “But I'm not a classical music aficionado or anything. It’s not like I’m requesting it in the club. Can you imagine that shit? Right after 21 Savage fuckin’ Mozart on blast. I’d get jumped.”

"I don’t know, you might start a trend," you smiled.

“Sounds like you want me to get jumped”

You outright laughed at that one. “Well, it depends, do you deserve it?”

“Oof” Rafe countered, clutching his chest faux wounded. “That was good.”

You shrugged with a smile, feeling an unexpected kinship with Rafe of all people. Here was this tough, brooding guy who, beneath the surface, was incredibly sentimental and even had a sense of humor. It was a sweet and surprising discovery.

"What about you? Why do you play?" He asked, his blue eyes roaming across your facial features slowly, curiously, when your laughter had died and all that was left was contented silence.

"Good question. Why do I play? Well, I guess for me... it's about the emotion," you replied, your fingers tracing the Steinway keys without pressing them. "Each note, each chord, each composition tells a story. It's like I'm a part of that story, and I get to bring it to life. You don’t need words you just… feel it.”

Rafe nodded, understanding. "I get it. You're the storyteller. The piano is your instrument channelin’ that shit.”

"Exactly!" you said, touching your nose and pointing to him with an earnest laugh.

"Exactly," Rafe repeated with a soft chuckle, his gaze fixated on you.

“Hey, how come I never see you at bonfires?” Rafe asked, a mischievous glint in his eye one sunny afternoon when Rose and Mr. Cameron went out for drinks with friends, leaving Wheezie in your care.

“Bonfires just aren’t my thing,” you replied with a shrug.

“What, no friends to hang out with?” he teased.

“I have plenty of friends!” you retorted, a hint of a smirk playing at your lips.

“Friends that I’ve never seen you with,” he pressed.

 “What do you mean ‘friends I’ve never seen you with’ are you stalking me around town?” 

“Maybe I am...” he shrugged a small devious smile curled his lips. “Whatever. Well, my friends and I clearly hang out when you’re not around,” you shot back, a playful smile lighting up your face.

“Sure you do,” he drawled, a chuckle rumbling in his chest.

Rafe leaned forward against the piano, the sun casting a warm glow on his handsome features. You couldn’t help but notice the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he laughed, and how the muscles in his arms flexed under his t-shirt while he absentmindedly tapped his index finger on the piano lid.

“You know, there’s more to life than playing music,” Rafe said, his voice low and smooth, as he turned the words over with his tongue. His finger tapping the lid, became slower, more measured.

“Oh, I know that,” you replied, rolling your eyes. “I have plenty of other things going on.”

“Yeah? Like what?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Like studying,” you said, trying to keep a straight face as Rafe scoffed and rolled his eyes. “I’m actually quite serious about my grades.”

"I wouldn't expect anything less from a good girl," Rafe chuckled. Once again, his comment caught you off guard. Although you knew he wasn't mocking you, it still felt strange that he felt the need to mention what he perceived was good girl behavior. “Seriously though, you should have some real fun too. Do some shit you probably shouldn’t do. Life’s too short to be cooped up not living it.”

You shrugged, unsure of what to say. Rafe had a point, but you weren’t sure if bonfires were the kind of fun you were looking for. Still, there was something about the way he looked at you that made your heart skip a beat, and you couldn’t help but swallow nervously. As if reading your thoughts, Rafe leaned closer.

“You know, I could show you a good time if you want.” Rafe’s voice was low and husky as he leaned in close, his minty breath fanning your cheek. While he had flirted before, this time there was a sober earnestness to his words that made your heart race. But before you could even formulate a response, the front door's slam cut through the thick tension.

Rafe straightened himself, briefly glancing towards the hallway before fixing his gaze back on you, his jaw tightly clenched in irritation. With determined strides, he purposefully walked away, the sound of his long steps resonating down the corridor, while you unintentionally caught snippets of his familiar argument with Sarah.

It seemed Sarah had developed an interest in John B, a guy you had seen around town, but Rafe vehemently disapproved due to his “pogue” status. You couldn’t fathom why he held such strong opposition, especially considering that you, too, were a Pogue. Had he conveniently forgotten? Or did he consider you an exception?

As you closed the lid of the Steinway, an inescapable curiosity filled your mind about what set your relationship with Rafe apart. Maybe he only saw you as a friend rather than a romantic interest the way Sarah felt about John B.

Reluctant to admit it to yourself, the thought pierced through, leaving you with a confusing mixture of disappointment, anger, and self-annoyance for even entertaining the idea that Rafe could ever feel that way about you.

As Rafe persisted in berating his sister, you dismissed any contemplation of what might have happened between the two of you if she had arrived just a few minutes later.

“Hello?”

“I'm in here.” Rose’s voice, sharp as a razor’s edge, resonated through the foyer of the Camerons’ residence. As you entered the kitchen, you discovered her gingerly picking up the remnants of a shattered vase from the tiled floor. You offered to help her, but she brushed you off with a dismissive gesture.

“No need, honey. I wouldn’t want you getting hurt.” She said, smiling unconvincingly.

Mr. Cameron burst into the room a few seconds later. His dominating presence charged the atmosphere, his eyes glinting like ice. It was only when his eyes landed on you that his demeanour changed.

“Oh, Y/N. Thanks for coming on such short notice. We’ll only need you for two hours. Sarah should be back by then.” He smiled, though it did not reach his eyes.

“Uh, sure. Of course.” You replied. You scurried out of his path as he snatched a file and car keys from the kitchen table.

“I’ll be in the car.” He informed Rose tersely, eliciting a stiff nod from her.

Feeling Rose’s disquiet, you intervened to clear the shattered vase. “I can pick these up for you, Rose.” You said warmly.

“Really? Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.” You assured her with a nod.

“Thank you.” She murmured, her smile returning. “Wheeze is upstairs doing her homework. I’m sorry about all of this. Things are a bit crazy today.” She said, her grip on her bag and sunglasses tightening as if she were holding onto her sanity by a thread. And with that, she vanished, leaving you alone with your thoughts and the shattered pieces of the vase.

Having cleared the wreckage, you climbed the stairs to find Wheezie immersed in her studies in her room, her headphones firmly in place. You inquired if she needed anything or was okay, but she appeared blissfully unaware of the chaos that had unfolded. You marvelled at her ability to concentrate amidst the turmoil, yet you couldn’t dispel the nagging suspicion that the Camerons hid a dark secret beneath their façade of rich superiority. With a sigh, you left Wheezie to her schoolwork and descended the stairs as the sound of the living room door being opened roused your suspicions.

As you passed the living room, your heart sank at the sight of Rafe. He was sitting on his usual chair, swaying back and forth, lost in a jumble of incoherent words. His eyes were bloodshot and streaked with tears. You hurried towards him, your mind racing with worry and fear. You sat down on the floor in front of him, your heart pounding in your chest.

“What happened? Are you okay?”

He responded with a roar that shook you to your core. The words that spilled out of Rafe’s mouth were like knives, cutting deep into your soul. He berated himself with a ferocity that was frightening, how he was a failure in his father’s eyes, how he was nothing but a disappointment. You placed a comforting hand on his knee, giving it a gentle squeeze, trying to offer some solace amidst his torment.

His eyes flicked to your hand, then to your face, as if seeing you for the first time. Rafe’s jaw tightened, his eyes raw with emotions you couldn’t decipher. There was anger there, yes, but there was something else too – something deeper, more primal.

“Play something.” He suddenly demanded.

“I can- I can get someone for you. Do you want me to call your-”

“No. I don’t want that. I want you to play.” He almost sneered at you.

“Okay.” You whispered tentatively.

You made your way to the piano, your fingers trembling with anticipation. As you began to play, the haunting melody flowed from your fingertips.

As the tender notes from the piano enveloped you, the outside world ceased to exist. Within the protective cocoon of the Cameron's living room, you hoped your music might be a balm for Rafe’s pain. But this sanctuary of sound was violently shattered when an aggressive tug at your hair ripped you from your reverie.

Suddenly, Rafe was there, his fingers cruelly ensnared in your hair, exerting a force so savage it wrenched your head backward, choking off your breath and stilling the music in one brutal tug. The once harmonious room was now charged with an electrifying tension, your eyes captured and held hostage by the ferocity in his.

This was not the Rafe you knew.

The Rafe towering above you appeared utterly transformed. Unrecognizable in every way. Gone was the Rafe who had shared countless evenings filled with laughter and sharing stories. Gone was the anchor that made you feel connected and safe.

Instead, frustration etched itself onto his face like a battle scar, while his dilated pupils revealed an intensity you had never witnessed before, oscillating between your fear-stricken eyes.

His gaze dipped to your parted lips as you let out the breath you were holding, and before you could react, before you could appease him, Rafe captured your lips with his.

You froze. Paralyzed against Rafe's lips. Shock stole your breath away.

Time stopped in an instant as you grappled with the thought that this was a dream, a surreal nightmare. But that fragile notion shattered like glass as Rafe's movements became evident. His lips melded against yours like clay taking form. Hard and desperate, his kiss abruptly catapulted you back into the chilling reality that this was, without a doubt, happening.

Your instinct for survival surged as your fight-or-flight response kicked in. You attempted to push him away, but Rafe tightened his grip on your hair and yanked harder, forcing your submission, his tongue plunging into your mouth when you whined in protest.

The taste of alcohol on Rafe’s tongue was bitter and overwhelming. You tried to convince yourself that this was the reason behind Rafe's behaviour. Any moment now, he would realize his mistake, any moment he would let you go. But instead, Rafe's fingers sank into the hollow of your jaw, holding it open while his tongue explored the warm interior of your mouth.

You whimpered softly as his tongue twirled against yours with ferocity. Rafe adjusted his hand in your hair and gripped tighter, making you cry out as pain surged through your scalp and neck. The sound didn't deter him, as he forced your head back drinking from your mouth greedily.

Discordant notes rang out as you lashed out wildly, reaching for anything you could hold onto for balance. Your hands found Rafe's bicep and you dug your nails into his skin, trying to pull his hand away as he kissed you like a man possessed.

Your entire body was inflamed with sensations you had never experienced before as pleasure and pain bled into one. Your scalp ached yet your body felt hot. Your nipples were suddenly sensitive to your sweater's scraggly wool while you ached between your legs for something you had not experienced before. The whirlwind of sensations new and overwhelming within you made your eyes flutter shut on their own, your hands sliding up Rafe's wrist as you held on for balance.

Rafe's mouth worked over yours with an intensity so raw that your protests turned into breathless moans and frantic gasps as you succumbed to his kiss.  Your tongue tentatively meets his stroke for stroke.  Rafe growled in approval and you could feel him smile into the kiss, his tongue stoking the fire deep within you and just as quickly as it started, Rafe abruptly pulled away leaving you shaking and struggling for air.

Your heart raced within your chest as you abruptly pushed yourself off the piano bench, nearly causing it to tip over in your haste. Hand clutching your chest, you struggled to catch your breath, hastily wiping away tears that had unknowingly streamed down your cheeks. 

A fleeting glance at Rafe revealed his heavy breathing, his mouth agape in quick, shallow pants, and his pupils dilated, tinged with a faint hint of blue. Yet, it was the expression etched upon his face that sent a wave of terror crashing over you. 

Rafe's eyes showed no remorse.

Instead, you saw an overwhelming hunger within them that made your blood run cold. Rafe’s gaze moved down from your stunned face over your trembling body.  The danger that emanated from him made your knees buckle.

You took a step back, your mind whirling with fear and apprehension. But Rafe stepped forward, his eyes locked onto yours with determination.

"I-- I need to check on Wheezie. See what she'd like for dinner," you whispered, your voice shaking as you inched backwards toward the door. You turned to run but it was too late.

Rafe reached out and snatched the hem of your sweater, yanking you towards him. You struggled to break free, twisting and thrashing like a scared kitten in his grip but Rafe was relentless. His other hand reached for your waist as he pulled you close.  His nose and lips trailed the back of your neck and into your hairline and he groaned as he breathed you in. With a jab of your elbow into his rib you wriggled free.  It wasn't enough to wound him but it gave you the head start needed to run.

You dashed from the room, Rafe's pursuit relentless. His outstretched fingers grazed your sweater, narrowly missing its mark. It wasn't until you sprinted up the stairs that he abandoned the chase. You didn't need to glance back to feel his gaze on you.  The tendrils of his breathless laugh reverberated down the corridor.

You burst into Wheezie's room, a hot mess of tears and fear. You made up some excuse about feeling unwell and had to go home immediately. After calling Rose and arranging for a replacement babysitter for Wheezie, you sat in her room and waited for the sitter to arrive.

You didn't see Rafe when you left, and you thanked God for that. You knew that if you saw him, you would break down crying, and you couldn't bear to show him any more weakness. But the tears came anyways, hot and heavy, as soon as you got home. How could you have been so stupid? You knew all the rumors about him, knew that he wasn't a good guy, and yet somehow, you thought in your warped mind that he was different. A decent human being who was simply misunderstood.

It wasn't like you didn't see the signs. They were always there, staring you right in the face. The blatant flirting, the staring, the way he undressed you with his gaze. You dismissed every red flag, thinking he couldn't like you in that kind of way because you were not the type of girl Rafe Cameron would go for and you certainly weren't the type of girl Rafe Cameron would kiss.

And it wasn't just the kiss that scared you. It was the fact that Rafe had no intention of stopping. It was the way he held onto you, the way he made you feel like you were drowning in a sea of desire. He was a predator, relentless in his pursuit of you, and as you thought about how he grabbed onto your clothes his lips tracing your neck even as you protested you couldn't help but cry even harder.

No. There was no way you were setting foot in that house again. Not after the way Rafe kissed you, not after what he was determined to get out of you.

Over the next few weeks, Rose's texts kept coming, each one more insistent than the last. But you knew better than to give in to her demands. You couldn't go back to that house, not after what had happened with Rafe. It was too dangerous, too risky, and you couldn't afford to let your guard down again.

You thought about telling her what had happened with Rafe, but the thought of it made your stomach turn. How could you explain what had happened without sounding like a fool? That you had been hanging out with her stepson for months, that you had let things get out of hand?

You had every intention of never setting foot in that house again. But then Rose sent you a text, asking if you were available on Saturday. They were desperate, she said, and willing to offer triple what they usually paid. Rafe and Sarah were going to a game and the lady who was supposed to look after Wheezie had a family emergency.

You were going to turn them down, again, but the truth was that since you had dropped them as a client, it had been difficult to find other work. So, against your better judgement, you agreed, but only after Rose confirmed that she and Mr Cameron would be home long before Sarah and Rafe returned.

As the day of the babysitting gig approached, a sense of foreboding settled in the pit of your stomach. You knew that you shouldn't go, that it was too risky, too dangerous. But the promise of easy money was too tempting to ignore. And so, against your better judgement, you found yourself standing in front of the Cameron's house once again, your heart racing with a mix of fear and anticipation.

As you approached the front door, you couldn't help but feel a sense of unease. Rose had texted you on your way over, telling you that she would be getting ready and to let yourself in. But when you rang the doorbell and received no answer, you began to worry. Still, you didn't think anything of it when you turned the door handle and found that it was unlocked. You stepped inside and called out for Wheezie and Rose, but the house was silent.

Making your way to the kitchen, you put down your bag and pulled out your phone. You texted Rose and Wheezie to let them know that you had arrived and were in the kitchen, just in case Wheezie was plugged in. But as you waited for a response, your heart sank.

Something wasn't right. You could feel it.

You had been to the Camerons' house many times and had let yourself in on a few occasions when they were too busy to answer the door. None of this was new but it felt different. An ominous feeling washed over you. But just as you began to worry, the sound of footsteps in the hallway interrupted your thoughts, and you sighed in relief.

As you called out for Rose, a sudden hush fell over the room, broken only by the sound of footsteps approaching. You looked up, hoping to see Rose's familiar figure, but instead, your eyes met the last person you expected to see: Rafe.

His presence was jarring, like a thunderclap on a clear day. Your heart pounded in your chest as you tried to make sense of his unexpected appearance. But before you could utter a word, Rafe's murmur cut through the silence like a knife.

"Nah, not Rose," he said with a smile.

Fear took hold of you as you realized that he must have had something to do with Rose's texts in the first place. You stepped back, fear making your knees buckle.

"Where's Rose?" you whispered, wrapping your arms around yourself protectively, as if shielding yourself from him.

“Don’t worry about it,” he drawled, his voice low and dangerous.

“Don’t come near me,” you said firmly as Rafe rounded the kitchen island towards you. Immediately, you moved in the opposite direction away from him.

“I… I just… I needed to talk to you, like, a little bit. Is that okay?” he said, opening his hands to placate you.

“Did Rose actually text me?”

“She did,” Rafe soothed. “But then I, uh… I heard you’d be here tonight instead of Pat, and well… seeing you was more important to me than some game.” His eyes trailed over your face, studying your every reaction.

“Where’s Wheezie?”

“With Sarah.”

You shook your head, your mind reeling with disbelief. How could Rafe have orchestrated this situation for you to be alone with him without any of the Camerons noticing? But as if he heard your thoughts, a sly smile curled his lips and he chuckled softly.

“I told Rose I’d watch over Wheeze so she could catch an early ferry,” Rafe explained, his hands moving in slow, deliberate gestures, connecting invisible dots as he spoke. “After Rose left I gave my ticket to Wheeze.”

You felt like you were going to be sick.

“Look, I know the last time I was a little… a little intense…”

“Intense!” You choked. You would have laughed if the whole thing wasn’t so heartbreaking.

“Yes, and I’m -- I'm really sorry about that, okay? I really am.”

"You tried to ra-”

"No! No, no, I would never..." Rafe rushed towards you and you immediately backed away. He froze mid-step as you cowered, his hands still raised in surrender.  "I’m sorry things were confusing and it looked that way but I wasn't trying to hurt you. God, I- l’m-" Rafe sighed, deflated his hands landed on his hips, he looked away as he pressed his tongue on the inside of his cheek.

"You're sorry it looked that way?" you whispered your voice trembling. Rafe's words echoed in your mind while memories of that day in all its menacing glory flooded back. You looked at him flabbergasted.

"Rafe...you... you were kissing me-”

“I know but I-”

“And touching me--"

He breathed out a laugh "Come on, you know I was only-,"

“Without my consent, Rafe.”

He was silent with that and you hoped your words had finally sunk in, had finally made him understand how terrifying he was in that moment.

“Then you chased me.  You chased me like some...” you couldn’t even finish the sentence.  You didn’t know how to finish the sentence.  You were so hurt and confused.  That your friend could do something like that to you. “I don’t even know who you are. I- I don’t think I ever did,” you whispered.

Rafe's eyes landed on yours with that. His gaze was dark and intense, and for a moment, you thought you had gotten through to him because he nodded slowly. But then he let out a humourless chuckle, reminding you of the one he gave post-chase, and any hope of reaching him dissipated.

"You know, it’s funny ‘cause you say that...” Rafe said coldly, a hand gesturing to you as if trying to grasp his own thoughts “But you’re not entirely innocent in all of this, are you?” 

“I don't-- I don't understand."

“Do you have any idea what you're doing to me, huh, Y/N?

"Raf—"

"What kind of mental shit you put me through? Nah, you don't. You don't think about that, do you?" he asked, his hands gesturing toward you as his eyes narrowed and he stared you down. You felt a shiver run down your spine as you realized the gravity of Rafe's words. It was as if he was confessing to a darker truth, a mental anguish that he had been helplessly consumed by, something unintentionally sparked within him by your actions.

"I have my dad on my back talking about legacies, our family business and preparing me for that shit meanwhile Sarah’s running around town doing god knows what with some loser fucking up our family name. I have real shit to deal with...” he gave out a bitter laugh his hand clutched to his chest as he confessed.

“But even with all of that all I can think about every minute of every fucking day, is you.” Rafe's voice was raw and anguished. His hand moved up to his ear as he slowly walked towards you.

"It's like you've crawled into my brain, you know? Like I’m under some fucking spell with your music and your voice and your-" His eyes trailed down your body just as his hand followed the motion, and you shuddered. He was consuming you with his gaze every sinful thought etched across his features.

"Nah, you made me do this…” he said bitterly, his jaw clenched tight.

“Rafe--”

“You did and now I'm the bad guy because I had a moment of weakness. But you know what? Fuck, it.” he shrugged nonchalantly. “Fuck it, i’ll take responsibility for my part in this--”

“Rafe--”

“That’s what real men do, right? Take responsibility for their shit and I’m all about being accountable, so yeah, I kissed you.” He said nodding slowly. “But I’m not sorry.”

His words made you recoil, disbelief etched across your face as you stared at him.

“Yeah, you want me to pretend like I am. Act apologetic but I won’t. I'm not sorry and you should quit actin’ like you didn't enjoy it."

His words were like a punch to the gut, and you could feel the weight of his accusation settling in your stomach. Stunned, you opened your mouth to protest, but no words came out. A dry, humorless laugh left you instead. Rafe simply nodded slyly as he resumed his steps towards you, and as you stepped backwards, your back collided with the kitchen counter.

“That’s- that’s not true.”

“No?” he asked faux confused.

“It’s not- that’s not fair”

“Isn’t it?” he tutted.

"Rafe, listen to me," you whispered shakily, but he was already leaning in, his eyes dark and clouded.

"No. No, no, you listen.”  he rasped, circling in and looking down on you, his lips pouted as he leaned into the shell of your ear, “You were moaning Y/N- No, don’t do that.  Don’t shake your head, and act like you don’t know what I’m talking about. Don't stand there and pretend this whole fucking thing is one-sided. You were moaning into my mouth… and you...you held on to me, yeah? I didn’t force you to do those things."

"Rafe--”

“That was all you princess. So you gotta ask yourself. What kinda girl are you to be into that, hm?” Rafe whispered as he leaned into you.  “What kinda girl would moan like a whore when a guy manhandles her…”

“I didn’t- I wasn’t. I wanted you to stop Rafe and you-”

Rafe chuckled before you could even finish your sentence.

“Is that what was happening while you were kissing me back? Nah, see I know what your problem is. I know, I know, I know…” he repeated softly, as he gently rested his hands on your hips. “I know why you ran when deep down you wanted it.”

You opened your mouth to protest only for Rafe to push his body up against yours.  The hard wall of his body renders you speechless. “We eye fucked each other for months,”  he whispered, as he looked down at you.  His eyes darted to your lips as he licked his own.  “You wanted it.” He said coldly.

"But I get it. It was overwhelming... too much... too soon... hm?" he murmured as his nose grazed yours. "I should have approached you more patiently. I realize that now," he acknowledged with a slow nod. "I should have been gentle with you, and I had every intention to. But I -- I wanted you so bad that day that I couldn't think straight. I'm thinking straight now, though."

“Rafe...” you breathed out, your hands on his chest to push him away but not quite having the strength to do so.  Rafe must have picked up on this because he leaned in, his lips close to yours.

“You keep saying my name but you’re not telling me to stop...” Rafe whispered as his fingers caressed your cheek.  With a gentle touch, he lifted your chin, and you willingly yielded. His caress made you sway, your mind growing hazy and confused. To regain your balance, you closed your eyes.

“Why aren’t you telling me to stop, hm?” he whispered.

You could feel the electricity between you as Rafe leaned in, lips hovering over yours and you tilted your head up slightly, closing the distance, only to be met with nothing. When you opened your eyes, you were met with Rafe’s hooded ones a victorious smile creeping across his lips.  

“Come on” Rafe whispered, and before you could protest Rafe laced his fingers in yours and gently tugged you towards the living room.

Seated at the piano, Rafe smoothly lifted the fallboard with ease.

"Play something for me," he husked, gesturing for you to take a seat beside him on the bench. You felt a flutter of nervousness as you perched yourself next to him, unsure of where to start. You couldn't comprehend how you had gone from rejecting his advances to this moment of willing compliance and acceptance.

Rafe watched you intently. You had been up-close to Rafe before, but never this close. Not this intimately. Your mind became blank, overwhelmed with the prospect of playing for him.

"I...I don't know what to..." you stuttered.

"Anything, anything at all," Rafe whispered, his eyes studying your every move.

Taking a deep breath, you steadied your trembling fingers on the keys and began to release the notes,  slowly at first, but gaining confidence with every passing moment.

“I noticed you, you know,” Rafe rasped. His knuckles suddenly grazed your cheek, and you flinched. “The first time you came to babysit Wheeze, I noticed you.” Rafe followed his knuckles as he moved them across your jaw.

“I remember thinking you were beautiful… shy… innocent…” Opening his hand, his fingers trailed down your neck, and your breath hitched.

“You were wearing this exact sweater…” His fingers splayed over your collarbone as they moved slowly down to your chest.

“What are you hiding under here, hm?” he asked softly. “What are you hiding under these baggy clothes?”

You shied away from his touch, your hands withdrawing from the keys of the piano.

"No. None of that. I’ll tell you when to stop,” he said his voice stern yet soft.  Your eyes glanced at his as Rafe inched closer.  “I’ll tell you when to stop.” he iterated slowly. “Start again.”

Swallowing you placed your hands on the keys while the music resumed from your fingertips.

Rafe shifted closer his leg flushed against your own.  He wrapped his arm over the back of you and hooked it to the other side of the bench. Leaning in, his nose ghosted your neck.

“Raf-”

“Shhhh…”His nose nudged into your hairline.  His other hand on your chest continued its exploration.  It moved lower cupping your tit over your sweater.  The gasp you make made Rafe breathe even heavier, a deep pur coming from the back of his throat.

“Please-” you whispered shakily.

“I’ve always wanted to touch you, you know that?  Every time you played I’d think about what you’d feel like... what you’d look like, moaning for me.  I wanna hear you moan for me.”  

Determined Rafe’s hand moved lower until it dipped under your sweater. Deftly he fumbled under your t-shirt and you gasped when his warm fingers brushed the skin of your stomach. His other hand let go of the piano stool and was now under your sweater squeezing your tit through your bra.

“Rafe--”

“Keep playing” he whispered against your neck and you did. His hand at your stomach moved lower, finding the button on your jeans he unbutton it with one deft move and your hands falter.

“Keep playing” he murmured, face nudging into your neck, his lips pressing soft kisses to your throat.  “I wanna hear you play while I touch you”  

The sensation of Rafe's hands on your body was almost lost in the overwhelming numbness that had taken over you. His strong hand leisurely tugged at the waistband of your panties seeking to touch what lay beneath, while his other hand snaked under your bra. He caressed and teased your nipple until a soft sob erupted from you as pleasure surged through your veins.

Rafe moved his hand lower, slipping it between your wet folds and pushing his middle finger inside of you. You cried out, the intensity of sensation causing you to clutch onto Rafe's arm for support, music abandoned.

“It’s okay “ Rafe breathed deeply into your neck, as he roughly peppered your neck with kisses.  “You're okay. Just breathe...” and as he said those comforting words he gently wormed another slender finger passed your slippery folds and into you.

You hissed, trying to move away from the burning stretch of his long fingers. Your nails dug into the flesh of his wrist with enough force to draw blood but Rafe determined as ever slowly moved his fingers in and out of you, each time inserting them a little deeper until it reached his signet ring.  

"You've had more than one finger before?" he asked hotly against your neck. You shook your head no, gritting your teeth in an effort to endure him stretching you further still. Rafe groaned and nipped softly at your jawline, "Fuck, I can tell. I can barely move them. But you're a good girl, aren't you? You're taking them well and afterwards, I'm gonna train you to take all of me."

Rafe's lips trailed tender kisses down the length of your neck, then his mouth closed hungrily around the sensitive skin. His two fingers moved inside you and each slow thrust drew a soft moan from your lips.

With surety, he curled his fingers in a come-hither motion, barely grazing your clit with his thumb. The sensation was overwhelming and foreign, causing you to gasp and cum embarrassingly fast. Your pussy contracting around his fingers, milking them for all they were worth.

“Oh Fuuckk…” Rafe hissed. “You liked that, I can feel it.“ He sighed utterly mesmerised. “Well, if you like that...” Rafe groaned resting his forehead against the side of your face and planting soft kisses on your cheek. “You’re gonna love this.”

With his bottom lip caught between his teeth, Rafe's probing fingers started their relentless hunt for something deep within you. Suddenly, those searching digits found what they were looking for - a spot that caused you to arch over and clutch his hand as you cried out despite your best efforts.

“Oh- there it is” he chuckled softly, shunting his hand and hitting that spot over and over again with a speed and force that knocked the breath out of you, while his thumb expertly rubbed your clit and the fingers of his other hand mercilessly pulled and twisted your nipple.

“OhmyGOD!” you cried.

“That’s it, baby. Fuck my hand. Just like that.”

Rafe kept at it, even as your nails scraped along his wrist and arm for purchase.  Even as you screamed and tried to scissor your legs closed to shut him out. None of it mattered as your eyes crossed and you felt your orgasm raw and violent crash over you. 

Bucking violently into Rafe’s hand, you could feel your release seep through your jeans and onto the piano bench. Pooling and overflowing you could hear it trickle onto the hardwood floor like raindrops and still, Rafe kept going, kept finger fucking you.

Lost in a sea of agonising pleasure you could do nothing but slump against him and take it, your hips stuttering, your mouth sagging as you whimpered and gasped.

Rafe moaned against you, planting soft kisses on the column of your throat. He stilled his hand, his fingers buried deep inside while you desperately tried to catch your breath.

"Seems my fingers are just as talented as yours, hm?" he said with a breathless chuckle. His nose trailed along your neck, while his tongue darted out to capture the perspiration nestled there. 

Gently, Rafe removed his digits while you gazed in shock, unable to voice a single word as he brought the wet fingers to his lips and ravenously lapped up your fluids with a contented hum.

“It’s too much.” you said hoarsely  “I can’t-- I can't do this. No more, Rafe. No more,” you said weakly, trying to remove his hand from your breast and move away from his hold only for Rafe to seize your wrist painfully in his grasp.

"No more?" Rafe chuckled darkly, his gaze fixed on you with dilated pupils. "No more?" he repeated, inching closer as he shook his head. "Nah, baby. No. We're just getting started..."

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Thank you for reading.  Thanks for liking and reblogging. PART 2 / MASTERLIST

#rafe cameron x you #rafe x reader #dark!rafe cameron #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron imagine #rafe x you #rafe fic #outer banks fanfiction #rafe obx #rafe cameron x reader #dark!rafe #obx #obx rafe cameron #selfreblog #timezone reblog

[vivwritesfics]

Military Flyover

The dagger squad don't want to do a military flyover of the Las Vegas grand Prix. None of them really knew much about and, those that did only really knew about Nascar.

She hated the Vegas Grand Prix as much as those doing the military flyover. But the cute WSO there to support his friends was making it bearable.

Robert 'Bob' Floyd x F1 driver!reader

5.6K

a/n: yes a military flyover doesn't make sense for vegas buuuut let a girl dream lol - i'm hoping I've managed to write this for an audience that might not really know f1 but idk how confident i am in my abilities lol

Bob couldn't quite believe what the two time Top Gun graduates were having to do. They had completed an insanely dangerous mission and returned to be permanently stationed in San Diego, except from when they were called away for deployment.

They were a part of the military, why were they doing this?

Well, at least Bob didn't have to actually fly. He was a Weapon Systems Officer, he didn't have to take part in this. But he still went, more to morally support his squad.

Nat wasn't happy about have to do a military flyover of the Las Vegas Grand Prix. She, Bradley and Jake were constantly complaining. None of them knew anything about Formula One, not enough to appreciate doing the flyover.

(May I just say, even if they did know about F1, they still wouldn't appreciate it. They'd train for years to be in the navy and now they were having to waste their time on this.)

The flyover was on the Sunday. Only Natasha, Jake and Bradley were taking part. Bob didn't have to go, didn't have to visit the track on the Friday and the Saturday with the three of them.

But Natasha had begged him. "Drive up with me," she'd said to him. "It's five hours and I could use the company."

So, Bob agreed. His dad had sometimes watched Nascar while he was growing up. He didn't know much of anything about motorsport but, if Nat wanted him there, he'd go.

The navy pilots didn't know they'd been invited to meet the drivers. Bob followed Natasha through the paddock. "Getting to meet the drivers might be the only good thing thing to come from this," Nat mumbled as she led the way.

The paddock was buzzing with life. There were cameras following people around, interviews happening as they walked through the paddock. Fans stopped men in team shirts and hats for pictures before letting them continue.

There was a familiar whistle, just loud enough for Natasha and Bob to hear over the crowd around them. They turned and saw Rooster and Hangman striding towards them.

"Where are we meant to be?" Asked Hangman as Rooster pulled off his aviators and looked around. The three of them (Natasha, Jake and Bradley) were in their overalls, looking proper in their uniform. Bob, though. He was dressed down, wearing jeans and a sweater (Vegas really wasn't that warm this time of year), his military issued glasses sitting on his nose. He looked cute, even if he didn't know it.

"Cyclone said the Ferrari garage, right?" She said as she looked between the other aviators. Bob, who had studied the itinerary, nodded his head and the four of them set off towards the red garage.

***

The Las Vegas Grand Prix was a joke. All of the drivers thought so.

The Ferrari drivers weren't happy about it (just like the rest of the grid). They had spent the season struggling behind the Red Bulls and driving on an unknown track wasn't going to help that.

She needed a lot of mental preparation for this one. Just like the other drivers, before the first practice session her only experience on the track had been through sim racing. She was nervous in a way she hadn't been before.

She donned her red fireproofs, the overalls hanging from from her hips. She pulled her cap onto her head when there was a knock on her driver room door. "Yeah?" She called and the member of Ferrari staff walked in.

"The navy pilots are on their way," she said and went to back out of the drivers room.

"What?" The Ferrari driver called suddenly, her brows furrowed. "What navy pilots?"

The member of staff gulped. "They're doing a military flyover before the Grand Prix," she said. "They're on their way here to meet you and Charles," she said.

The driver let out a huff. She grabbed her drinks bottle and marched out of her drivers room, heading to find her teammate.

Charles was doing an interview for Sky Sports when she walked through the garage. She didn't much care, though. She powered on, her hand on Charles's shoulder as she stood at his side. "Chuck," she said, looking at her teammate.

Lawrence Barretto moved his microphone back to his mouth. "Is that his official name for the Vegas Grand Prix?" He asked and moved the microphone towards her.

"Yes," she said as Charles shook his head, repeatedly saying 'no'.

She stood beside him until the interview was over, answering any question Lawrence sent her way. As soon as they were done she grabbed Charles and pulled him away, pulling him further into the Ferrari garage.

"What's up?" Charles asked. He was a brilliant teammate, one of her best friends. They'd known each other for yeas and were close enough for people to think they were together at one point. Brocedes 2.0, many commented on the pictures of the two of them posted on the Scuderia Ferrari Instagram account, as if they were a disaster waiting to happen.

"Did you know we're having to meet the navy pilots doing the military flyover?" She asked, hands on her hips.

Charles furrowed his brows. And then his face relaxed as he shook his head at her. "Start checking your emails, please," he said.

She gently pushed him as a member of the Ferrari staff, the same girl from before, approached them. "They're here," she said and left them to it.

Charles led the way back through the garage, heading to where the navy pilots were standing around his car. Three of them, the three that looked the part, chatted with Fred while one, one that was dressed down, stood to the side.

Suddenly, she pulled Charles out of sight. "What is it?" He asked quickly, concern written on his face.

She looked back around the corner at the pilots for just a second. "Holy shit, Cha, I think I'm in love," she said and Charles just laughed.

"Do you need a wingman?"

She furiously shook her head. "Don't you bloody dare."

She steadied herself and followed Charles over to the navy pilots. Fred spotted his drivers first. He gestured over to them as he back away from the pilots, letting the drivers take over.

Charles held his hand out towards them introducing himself first. She went next, giving them her name as she reached out to shake the woman's hand.

"Natasha Trace," she said with a smile as she shook her hand. "Callsign Phoenix."

She moved on to the man with the moustache. "Bradley Bradshaw, or Rooster," he said and shook her hand, his grip firm. He wore a smile, but it was respectful.

Unlike the man next to him. She could tell who he was from the moment she looked at him, wearing that flirty smile. "Jake Seresin," he said, pulling her hand up to his lips to kiss the back of it. "You can call me Hangman."

The smile dropped from her face and she pulled her hand away, clearly unimpressed. She looked past him, at the guy in the sweater and the glasses. "How about you?" She asked, completely ignoring Hangman. "Are you in the navy too?"

Bob blushed bright red as he stepped forward. "Robert Floyd," he said and shook her hand. "I'm a weapon systems officer."

"Oh," she said. Just that one word and she sounded incredibly fascinated. "Do tell me more."

She'd asked Charles not to wing man her, but he did it anyway. She might not have been aware as Charles spoke to the other navy pilots, doing the job for both of them. (Charles didn't know if Bob was the one she had fancied, but it was easy to guess. He looked like her type).

They spoke for a good twenty minutes before the drivers were told to wrap up the conversation. "You got a call sign?" She asked Bob as she crossed her arms over her chest and leant against the wall.

Jake had been wrapped up in the conversation he, Rooster and Phoenix were having with Charles until that point. Upon hearing her question, he placed his arm around the WSO's shoulders and grinned at the driver. "This is Baby On Board," he said with a grin, going to pinch Bob's cheeks.

Again, his cheeks were flaming as he stepped away from Jake. "It's Bob," he said. "Just Bob."

"Just Bob," she repeated as she smiled at him, completely ignoring everything Jake had said (something that Bob was grateful for). "It's simple, I like it."

Her engineer called for her. She turned and put her thumbs up before turning back to Bob. "Are you staying for the free practice?" She asked and Charles couldn't stop himself from answering.

"Sorry," he said to the pilots. "She doesn't read her emails."

She sent a glare in Charles's direction. The drivers said a quick goodbye to the navy pilots (although she hoped it wasn't for the last time), and got themselves ready for the first practice session in Las Vegas. They pulled up the red and white overalls and placed the balaclavas over their faces.

Bob watched as she pulled her helmet on, hiding her undeniably pretty face. He really did think she was beautiful, and she seemed interested in him, but he wasn't going to read too much into that.

He couldn't see as she gave him a smile from beneath her helmet. When she climbed into the red car with the number 53 on it, Bob knew which one he had to look out for.

The track wasn't ready, everybody knew it. But they didn't know how bad it was until they shower of sparks coming out the back of her car. "What the fuck was that?" She said to her engineer down the radio. "I just hit a fucking manhole cover."

The pilots were leaning forward as she stopped the car. The session was stopped, the other drivers coming into the pits. She jumped out of the car, waiting for it to be lifted onto the truck so that she could look at the extent of the damage beneath.

As the car was taken back to the garage and workers surrounded the manhole cover, she climbed into the medical car and was taken back to the pitlane.

Bob watched as she stormed into the garage, pulling off her helmet and balaclava. "Nine fucking minutes!" She heard her say to somebody in a Ferrari shirt. "I officially hate the Vegas Grand Prix."

She looked around the garage, eyes focusing in on the pilots. They were watching her, too, and she forced her expression to soften as she walked over. "Sorry you had to see that," she said, unzipping her race suit.

Bob shook his head. "'s no worries, ma'am," he said before he could stop himself. When his fellow aviators looked at him, his cheeks flushed red.

"We're just glad to know you're okay," Natasha said for him.

The driver smiled at them. But the interaction was short lived as she was called over to her wrecked car. (It looked fine on the top, but everybody knew the damage was beneath, invisible).

The nine minutes of practice wasn't enough to help the aviators get into F1. Rooster, Hangman and Phoenix wanted to head back to their hotels, but Bob wanted to stick around.

"My dad was into Nascar," he explained as the others left. They nodded, but they knew better. Their Baby On Board had a crush.

She hadn't expect him to stay, that much was clear. She'd seen the other aviators leave and had gotten on with what she needed to do, speaking to the mechanics about the parts they needed to replace and speaking to Fred about the potential consequences.

"Oh!" She said when she saw Bob still sitting there. "I thought you would have left."

Bob gave a polite smile and shrugged his shoulders. "I wanted to learn more."

The smile she gave him matched his own. "Well, you're not gonna learn much here," she said. "Let me get changed and we can get dinner."

Bob didn't expect dinner to be in the Ferrari hospitality suite. He'd didn't exactly think he'd be going out to dinner with her, but he didn't expect this.

She sat Bob down at a table and got a selection of food for them to share. "I can't exactly go crazy," she'd said as she sat down opposite him, placing the single plate in between them. "I still have a car to drive later."

Bob grabbed something from the plate. "Why does that mean you can't go crazy?" He asked curiously, innocently.

Every question Bob had, she answered. He told her that his dad watched Nascar while he was going up but he couldn't get into it. Didn't have the time once he joined the navy.

She asked him all about that, just as curious as he was about her job. Bob knew she was meant to be this big celebrity, but she was normal with him, and he really appreciated it.

He hadn't known who she was going into this weekend, but he heard the way the fans screamed her name. She was so famous, and he was just a boy from Montana.

"Are you and your friends watching anything else of the Grand Prix weekend?" She asked as she ate a piece of lettuce (literally just holding a big piece of lettuce to her lips and crunching on it).

Bob shook his head as he looked down at the table in front of him. "'Friad not, ma'am," he said, looking at her over the top of his glasses. Bob didn't know what compelled him to do it, but he took them off.

"Aw," she said with a pout. "I liked them."

"Really?" Bob couldn't hide the surprise in his voice. "I used to have ones with slightly thicker frames, but these are military issued," he explained, putting them back on his face.

She grinned at him. "They're cute," she said, resting her cheek in her hand. It was undeniably flirty, and her grin was only making it worse. Well, that would have been if Bob could have allowed himself to believe that was flirting with him.

"I could get you tickets, if you'd like," she said. "You and your pilot friends. You can come back back to the Ferrari garage, support us for the rest of the weekend."

Bob gave her a gentle smile. "I'd like that," he said.

They continued chatting until she had to head back to the garage. Bob followed her, walking behind her.

She took him back to the garage, leaving him to stand with the rest of the Ferrari guests while she disappeared into her drivers room. Bob couldn't help but think of her as she got herself ready, getting dressed into her fireproofs and race suit. If Nat was here, he could ask her for advice.

Ten minutes before the start of FP2, she walked over to Bob. He'd seen her dressed down in a Ferrari hoodie and cute cargos, seen her in her race suit, and seen her in her fire proofs, race suit sitting low on her hips.

That was how she walked towards him. He'd seen so little of her, but this was his favourite (and he certainly wanted to see more). "Want to sit in the car?" She asked, hands on her hips.

***

The first thing she did after FP2 was give Bob her phone number. He couldn't quite believe it, and made a mental note to recount everything to Natasha as soon as he got back to the hotel.

"Have you got a way back to your hotel?" She asked, her helmet tucked beneath her arm.

"I, uh..." No, he and Natasha had gotten a cab together.

She waved him off before he could give her a proper answer. "I can drive you, if you'd like," she offered.

That was how Bob found himself sitting in an F1 drivers car, telling her about his childhood as she took him back to his hotel. He told her about his big family and the mountains he grew up around. He told her about when he joined the military, about his first time in Top Gun and his permanent stationing in Coronado.

Before very long they were pulling up outside of his hotel. "Well, here we are," he said, patting his legs. He didn't move to leave the car, but she didn't much mind.

"I really liked meeting you today, Bob," she said as she tapped the heel of her hand against the steering wheel.

"It was lovely to meet you, too," he said.

"Promise you'll text me?"

"Promise."

She held out her pinky finger and Bob wrapped his own around it, sealing the deal. He looked at her one last time and climbed out of the car, heading into the hotel.

Bob couldn't hide his smile as he walked through the lobby and into the elevator. Just days ago he'd hated the thought of a military flyover for the Las Vegas Grand Prix. Now, he couldn't wait to get back to the track, back to the Ferrari garage.

Nat noticed it the minute he walked through the door of the hotel room they were sharing. "Had a good time watching the rest of it?" She asked as she pushed away from the desk in the room.

Bob nodded as he pulled out his phone, clicking on her contact. But, the moment he was there, he didn't know what to say to her. "Nat," he called, looking up at her. "I need your help."

He only needed Nat's help to get the ball rolling. But soon, she and Bob were sending messages back and forth with just a second long gap between. Sometimes Bob took a little longer to reply, but only because Nat was reading the messages over his shoulder and assuring him that she was flirting.

Bob couldn't believe it. As much as he wanted to, he couldn't.

"I'll go with you tomorrow," Nat said as she climbed into her bed. It was incredibly late and Bob was hyper-aware that they were still texting. "Find out if she really is flirting with you."

"Nat..."

"Goodnight, Bob."

Natasha went to sleep, but Bob stayed up. She was still replying to his messages, and he couldn't bring himself to not respond. At least until she turned around and wished him goodnight.

When Bob woke up, she had already texted him. I don't have to be on track until later - wanna get food?

Who was Bob to say no? Natasha grinned as he got himself ready, including his glasses. (He had brought his contacts to Vegas because of how much he hated wearing his glasses. He didn't have time to put them in before they headed to the track the day before, but Nat didn't expect him to wear them now).

He walked out of the hotel, ignoring Hangman and Rooster as they called after him. They sat in the lobby, do doubt waiting for Natasha as they whistled at him.

Bob kept going. He saw her car before he walked out of the glass doors, and had to stop himself from breaking into a small jog. As he approached, she pushed open the passenger side door. "Hey, Robby!" She called, wearing a grin.

"Hey," Bob said, wearing a smile as he climbed into the passenger side.

As soon as he was buckled in, she began driving. "Have you ever been to Vegas before?" She asked as she headed towards the strip.

Bob shook his head. "No, ma'am," he said. It wasn't in the same way he'd said 'ma'am' before. No, those time he had been nervous saying it. This time, it was so fucking cute and she loved it. "I don't get enough leave for that."

"Why do you call me ma'am?" She asked, but she never wanted it to stop.

Bob couldn't stop his smile. "My momma raised me right."

That much she could tell. She parked the car and climbed out as Bob did the same. "Come on," she said, grabbing his hand and pulling him along.

They went to a restaurant. Bob didn't catch the name of it as she pulled him through the doors. Even when sat gave the waiter her name, she was still holding his hand.

They sat down at a table for two. It felt far too intimate, almost like a date. She couldn't order a drink, but insisted that Bob did. He ordered one beer and made sure to make it last through their entire lunch.

She ordered a salad. Bob wanted to do the same, but she could see how conflicted he was. "Have whatever you want," she said, lowering her menu.

So, he did just that. Bob got himself a burger, the cheapest one on the menu (which was still incredibly expensive).

While they ate, Bob couldn't ignore the way her foot touched his knee beneath the table. He gulped as he reached for his beer.

While they waited, she told Bob about how she had grown up. Karting from a young age before moving onto single seaters.

The more she spoke, the more Bob could imagine getting into F1. Watching races, coming to see her in Vegas when he wasn't deployed. He just had to hope she still liked him enough to keep in contact with him.

They spent the entire afternoon together, until she was taking Bob to the track with her. Pictures of the two of them were taken as they walked through the paddock, too close to just be friends.

Once again, Bob stood in the garage while she completed the last practice session. She led, the fastest car until the Red Bulls were released onto the track.

But still, Bob couldn't stop watching the number 53 car. She came into the pits, had her tyres changed and went out a few minutes later.

Bob couldn't help but smile as he watched her climb the leaderboard. When practice ended, she didn't come in right away, doing a practice start with the other drivers.

When she got out of her car, she pulled off her helmet and balaclava, and spoke to her engineers. She had looked so happy when she climbed out of the car, but Bob watched as her face fell.

She walked over to him, unable to keep herself from sighing. The anger dropped from her face, replaced by sadness. "Wanna come sit in my drivers room?"

So, Bob followed her to her drivers room. She led him inside and shut the door behind him, letting out a breath as she leaned against it.

"Everything okay?" Asked Bob as he pushed his glasses up his nose.

She unzipped her overalls and let them fall to her hips. Bob shuffled over on the couch, giving her space. She sat beside him, shutting her eyes as she leaned back. "Because of the parts they'd had to replace in my car, I'm probably going to get a penalty later," she mumbled.

Her head fell onto his shoulder and Bob didn't move. He hesitated before wrapping his arm around her shoulder. That that, she shuffled slightly closer, which Bob didn't mind one bit.

Suddenly, she let out a weak laugh. "You're kinda making me want to stay in the states a little longer, Robby," she mumbled.

He looked down at her. "Would you? Seriously?" Bob could imagine it then, taking her to stay with him in San Diego, taking her to Montana to meet his mom at Christmas.

She shook her head. "I can't," she said and sighed through her nose. "There's one last race before the end of the season."

After that, Bob wanted to say. But he squeezed her shoulder instead.

When her trainer came in, Bob wished her good luck and headed back out to the garage. While he waited, he pulled out his phone and sent Natasha a text. She hadn't gone to the track with him, instead going with Bradley and Jake to the hangar they would be flying from.

If Nat showed Rooster and Hangman his texts, he'd never hear the end of it. But Bob realised he didn't mind. Let them talk, he was here with her.

The first round of the qualifying session was about to start. Bob sort of knew what to expect, she'd explained it to him while they sat in her drivers room, her head on his shoulder. He watched as she walked towards the car, her red, gold, black and white helmet on her head.

She climbed into the car and somebody strapped her in as somebody else spoke to her. She nodded at whatever they were saying and put her thumbs up.

Admittedly, Bob couldn't tell the difference between the practice sessions and the qualifying session. He watched as she went from having no time on the board to being the quickest car on track. But then she was knocked out of the top spot, down in eighth by the end of that session.

Bob had assumed that she was starting the race in eighth position after the eighteen minute long qualifying session. But then she and fourteen other drivers were going back out onto track.

Again she was at the top of the board, knocked out by the same driver. But she stayed in fourth, unable to get a quicker time in before the end of the session.

She went out for a third and final time. Bob heard her calling down the radio as somebody got in her way. But she put an impressive time on the board, finishing third.

It may have been obvious to everybody else in the garage, but Bob had to ask the girl standing next to him. She pushed her dark hair behind her ear and answered with a thick French accent. Bob thanked her and watched as the 53 car came into the garage.

She hopped out, did what she needed to do and came to find Bob.

It was near midnight and she couldn't quite believe he was still there, watching her. They'd spent the entire day together, and she'd loved every minute of it.

"Want me to drive you home?" She asked and Bob nodded his head.

She did just that, driving Bob back to his hotel. "They haven't confirmed if I've got a penalty or not," she said as she drove him. "So, for now I'm starting in P3." She quickly glanced at him and then looked back at the road. "Think you might be my good luck charm, Robby," she said and he blushed a deep shade of red.

She pulled up outside of the hotel, just as she had done the day before. And, like the day before, Bob was hesitant to climb out of the car.

As Bob reached for the handle of the door, she opened her mouth, ready to say something, and he stopped. But she closed her mouth. Still, Bob didn't move.

She sucked in a breath and tried again. This time, words came out. "Can I come up?"

Bob knew what that meant. How could he not? Some part of him had been wanting her to ask something like this for the last few hours. But still, he shook his head. "I, uh, I can't. I'm sharing my room with Nat."

"Oh," she said and looked down at the centre console between them. "Oh, shit. Are you and Nat- I didn't mean to overstep... I-"

Bob quickly shook his head. "No. No, Nat's my best friend, but only my best friend," he said. "But, her bed is a couple feet away from mine, so..."

She couldn't help but let a smile cross her face at that. "Can I kiss you, Robby?" She asked.

He leaned over the centre console. Her arms went around his neck, fingers playing with the short hair at the back of his neck.

Bob kissed her. He closed the gap between them, his arm awkwardly resting on her shoulders as his lips moved against her own. Her nose bumped the lens of his glasses, but neither of them minded.

If the expensive car left room for it, he would have moved her onto his lap. But he couldn't. He pulled away, staring at her as his eyes opened again. "Holy shit," he whispered and she grinned at him.

"I'll come and get you before the race," she said and Bob climbed out of the car.

***

He didn't wake up to a text from her. Immediately Bob's mind played tricks on him, telling him that, after they had kissed, she didn't want him.

He sat in the hotel for half of the day, in a perpetual state of anxiousness. Part of him didn't want to move until he heard from her, until he knew that everything was okay.

"You coming?" Nat asked him. He checked his phone one last time before following her out of the hotel room.

He didn't know what she was currently dealing with, that she had just found out about her grid place penalty. "This is such shit!" She cried as she and Charles walked through the paddock. She'd woken up to the news and hadn't had time to message Bob.

"Well, there's nothing we can do about it now," Charles said, stopping to sign things for fans (signs, hats, and even a packet of oreos). "How are things going with the navy guy?"

She grinned as they kept walking through the paddock. "We kissed, Cha," she said, suddenly much happier.

"Kissed and..." Charles tried to push.

She shook her head. "Just kissed."

Charles nodded as they walked into the garage. "Just kissed, but you wanted more," he said. "Are you gonna see him before we leave?"

"Yeah," she answered. "I'm gonna go and pick him up before the race."

Through the evening, she and Charles did what they needed to do for the race. When she got a minute, she texted Bob, but she didn't have many opportunities to check her phone.

As soon as she had a chance, she ran out of the paddock. She held her phone to her ear as she went, making her way to her car. Bob picked up on the third ring. "Hey," she said, opening the door of her car. "I'm on my way."

Bob hesitated before he answered. "I'm not at the hotel right now."

"Do you still want to come to the race?" She asked quickly.

"Do you still want me there?"

She let out a laugh. "Of course I do, Robby. Give me the address and I'll pick you up."

That was just what happened. She picked Bob up and took him to the track. She promised the other aviators that she would get him there to watch the military flyover and drove off with him in the passenger seat.

"Have you ever been to San Diego?" Bob asked as she drove. It had been playing on his mind a lot since they kissed, his best case scenario (which was currently happening. He could have laughed at himself for being so worried).

She shook her head. "I haven't had a chance to explore outside of the places we have Grand Prix," she answered.

"So, you haven't been to Montana?"

"Nope."

Bob couldn't help but smile. He sucked in a breath, steadying himself. "I don't know when you're gonna have time off, but I could show you Montana, if you'd like."

She grinned at him as she parked the car. "I'd love that, Robby," she said and climbed out of the car.

She checked the time on her watch, grabbed her hand and began running. "I'm late!" She cried. Bob was only happy to run beside her, heading into the Ferrari garage. He slowed to a walk, but she kept going, running to her drivers room to pull on her fireproofs and overalls.

Bob watched it all. He watched as she stood for the national anthem with her fellow drivers, watched as she completed the formation lap from the back of the grid (something he had to ask about), and watched as she raced.

Bob couldn't help but be impressed as she fought her way across the track, racing past most of the grid. She overtook ten other cars, finishing in 5th.

When she climbed out of the car, Bob could see just how happy she was from her body language alone. She did what she had to do, spoke to the team and was interviewed, before she ran over to Bob and threw her arms around him.

"That was incredible!" He cried, smiling down at her. "I didn't realise racing was so exciting."

She grinned and kissed his cheek. "Think you'll watch next weeks race?"

"Definitely," he said.

He hadn't expected her to kiss him in front of all of the cameras. But Bob didn't mind. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her close until she pulled away.

"I leave in the morning," she whispered in his ear. "Stay with me, in my hotel. One last night."

"Until Montana?" Bob asked, his forehead against her own.

"Until Montana."

a/n: ok i loved this and it may need a part two lol

#bob floyd #bob floyd imagine #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd fluff #bob floyd x you #robert floyd #bob floyd smut #bob floyd x reader smut #robert bob floyd #robert floyd imagine #robert floyd x reader #robert floyd fluff #robert floyd smut #robert floyd x you #top gun #top gun bob #top gun maverick

[avoxrising]

The Feral One • Chapter 6

Finnick Odair x Reader

Series Masterlist Link

I love writing pissed off Johanna dialogue!

Content warnings - death (it’s the hunger games)

As much as he wants to chase after you, he can’t. Katniss would kill you and he can’t abandon the plan, not until he can pass off babysitting duty to Johanna.

You spent the evening wandering the jungle, unnerved by every little noise you heard. After you left, you circled back the way you had originally come, hoping the others would carry on in the other direction.

Your arm was still bleeding but you didn’t care. It’s not like any sponsors were lining up to send you stuff. You’ll have to kill a career and steal their supplies using the only weapon you have, the arrow that landed in your arm.

A few hours after dark, the faces of the fallen appear in the sky. None of your allies are on the list so you don’t really care. It’s not like you knew these people.

You opt to go deeper into the jungle, opposite of where Finnick must be. This whole place is starting to look the same, though, and it’s hard to get your bearings.

Hours later, a gong rings twelve times. You don’t have time to ask yourself what it means as the hairs on your body stand up and a large blast of electricity shoots down mere yards away from you.

Lightning.

You have to move. Now. Your ears hurt and panic rises in your throat. They’re here to kill you. You’re gonna die.

Running, you collide with someone, another tribute. They don’t even have time to scream before your arrow is through their neck and their cannon is sounding. Move. Now.

You run until you can’t anymore, scared that something is chasing you. The game makers must have caused the lightning to force you and the other tribute closer together.

There were other canons throughout the night, but you paid no attention to them. You sat under a tree, hugging your knees, trying to ignore the burning in your dry throat and the pain in your arm. Of course Katniss had to shoot your dominant arm.

When the day is bright enough to illuminate your section of the jungle, you decide to head back towards where the lightning was. If another tribute was over there then there may be some food or water close by. Maybe they even had sponsors.

The sun is high in the sky by the time you make it back to where the fight occurred. There’s no trace of it but you know the spot. Your hair stands on edge again and you panic, knowing exactly what this means. The lightning strikes and you bolt, running from whoever must be near.

They’re going to kill you. You’re dead. You need to run faster.

You run downhill, towards what you think is the lake. Despite not being allowed in the ocean for the past five years, you’re probably still the second best swimmer in the arena behind Finnick. If you could lure whoever is chasing you into the water then you could drown them.

Your legs barely make it to the beach, completely drained from your lack of sleep and sustenance. Whoever was following you must have realized your plan and stopped. Maybe nobody followed you at all.

As you make your way out of the jungle and towards the water, you pause, spotting a large group of people a ways down the beach. It’s Finnick and his alliance. Maybe they would give you food, or shoot you. Honestly, who knows?

They spot you approaching and Katniss aims another arrow at you. You’re still clutching the one she shot you with in your hand, ready to stab anyone who comes near.

“Y/N!” Finnick exclaims as he runs over to you. “I was so worried.”

You look over at the group and back at him, silently asking if they’re ok with you being there. He sighs, realizing that Katniss probably isn’t ok with you being there but he needs you with him anyways. He can’t lose you.

“Have you eaten?” he asks. You shake your head no. “We have food and water. Oh! And some first aid stuff for your arm. Katniss is sorry by the way.”

“Skin?” you ask him. Noticing the scabs on his body and the cuts on his face.

“We got caught in some poisonous fog last night and ended up in a fight with some monkeys this morning,” he explains. “I’m alright. Nobody in our group has died except Blight. He hit the force field last night and they couldn’t revive him.”

You hum in response, catching a whiff of the fish Finnick must have caught for the group to eat. He notices your hunger and gently guides you to sit on the edge of the group close to Johanna and far away from Katniss.

“Glad you could join us feisty!” Johanna chuckles as you sit near her. You give her a shrug as if to say that you’re currently indifferent to your existence. She gets the memo.

“Nuts and Volts,” she states. “Have you met fiesty?”

The man and woman look up at the group.

“Yes,” Beetee replies. “I believe we briefly met Y/N at her victory tour celebration in the capital but it’s been many years. It is nice to see you again Y/N, although I wish it was under better circumstances.”

“You guys aren’t letting her stay with us, right?” Katniss asks and you tense up. They need her for their plan. You’re disposable.

“Back off firebird,” Johanna barks. “She’s sticking with us.”

“She tried to kill me!” Katniss exclaims.

“Because you touched her,” Johanna shouts. You flinch at the volume. “Rule numéro uno is don’t touch fiesty. Plus I thought you were a good fighter, Katnip. You mean to tell me you couldn’t win a fight against her? She hasn’t been outside in over five years. She’s practically harmless!”

“Let’s settle down,” Finnick states, noticing you becoming tense due to the yelling. “Here’s your fish Y/N. I’m gonna go grab you some water.” You smile at him in thanks and begin to eat the fish. The smile fades when you notice Katniss watching you eat like a hawk, so you turn around and sit with your back towards her while you eat.

You need to convince her of Johanna’s words. You’re harmless.

Taglist:

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#hunger games #finnick odair #hunger games fic #the hunger games #finnick odair x reader #finnick imagine #finnick x reader #hunger games x reader #hunger games fluff #hunger games angst #the hunger games fanfiction #catching fire #the feral one

[danikamariewrites]

Take Them All Down (part 1)

Rhysand x reader

A/n: with all things I write I don’t really know what part of my brain this came from. I’ve had this story idea for a while I just never had characters to use it with. Maybe one day I’ll use it with my own but until then enjoy Rhys with a depression beard. Idk why but I mated Az and Feyre plz don’t be mad.

Warnings: death, angst, poison, blood, reader buried alive

You came to with a sharp inhale. The first thing you see is Beron Vanserra smirking down at you. You try to sit up but quickly find the male is kneeling on your chest. As you struggle against him he clicks his tongue at you. “Now, now y/n. None of that.”

You gave up. Tired from the brutal hours you spent fighting Hybern’s army. Before you could scream Beron gripped your jaw so tight he forced your mouth open. He dumped a small vial of clear liquid down your throat, quickly forcing your jaw shut so you’d swallow.

Once he let go up you started coughing, gasping for air. “What the fuck did you do to me?” You croaked out. Drowsiness started to take over your body. Your limbs feeling weak and tired. You fight the urge to close your eyes, attempting to flip your body so you could crawl to Rhys.

As your eyes closed you saw Beron’s mouth move but you couldn’t hear his threatening words. You just drifted off into an endless darkness.

——

It felt like you heard years pass as you stayed in the darkness. You heard Rhys cry out in anguish. A priestess and a somber organ and then nothing.

——

It’s been one month. One month without you and Rhys had become a ghost. He rarely leaves the Town House. Amren and Mor have been running the court. Cassian, Azriel, and Feyre are out of ways to help him.

The High Lord has barley said a word since you died. He just spends his days draped in an armchair, a glass of never ending whiskey clutched in his hand. Rhys had stopped shaving. A dark scruffy beard now covering his sharp jawline. And the bags under his eyes deepened as the days pass.

Rhys knows his family means well but it didn’t make him feel any better as he overheard their constant muttering. “What do we do?” “Has he ever been this bad before?” “He wasn’t like this after under the mountain.” “I’m worried he’s going to do something…drastic.”

If Rhys had the energy to move he would’ve left the Town House weeks ago. But this was your favorite place. He couldn’t just abandon it to collect dust. Rhys scratched at his beard and cleared his throat. The conversation in the hall paused for a moment as the family listened for a moment and went back to their whispers.

—

The five of them held their breath for a beat, then let go as the sound of ice clinking against glass breaks the silence. Cassian scrubs at his face with both hands. Amren shakes her head. Azriel speaks up first, “I’m out of answers.” Mor hugs herself and Feyre holds Azriel’s hand.

“What about other friends?” Mor asks. Azriel shakes his head. “I have intel that Helion and Kallias have been dealing with their own issues.” He lowers his voice more, “Day and Winter are in trouble. They may collapse in months, weeks even.” Amren’s eyes widen in shock. “Why?” She spits out. Azriel shrugs. It’s killing him to not have the answer.

Amren let’s out a huff as she voices what everyone fears. “We might be headed for the same fate if something doesn’t change.” They all look to the sitting room, sending up a prayer to the Mother.

——

It was hard opening your eyes. You still felt groggy from the battle. And then you remember Beron kneeling on you. The clear liquid burning down your throat. You jolted up but hit your head on something hard, forcing you down again.

Your eyes fly open. Your breathing fast and hard. It’s pitch black. You feel around the dark enclosed space. It’s getting harder to breathe.

Cushioned siding and smooth wood meet your fingertips. Your mind is racing. Then it clicks. Beron put you in a suspended state. The bastard fooled everyone into thinking you were dead.

Oh Mother, Rhys! Your mate was tricked into burying you.

You felt anger surge through you. Resting your palms against the smooth cold wood. Taking one more deep breath you pull back your fist, throwing all the strength you have into splintering the wood. It didn’t budge.

You switched fists. Willing the wood to break under your knuckles. You kept alternating fists. Punching again, and again, and again, and again.

A scream ripped from your lips and heavy tears started flowing from your eyes in waves. You didn’t yield. Continuing your assault on the coffin holding you back from the world.

Dirt finally fell through a crack onto your stomach. You jerked and felt something metal against your leg. They buried you with your sword. Strapping it to the belt of your dress you went back to breaking open the coffin. Your knuckles were gushing blood, stinging from the loose wood and dirt.

Another wave of strength and anger came over you and started kicking at the lid. The lid splintered in half allowing dirt to spill in. You sputtered as it fell into your mouth and eyes. Willing your arms to move you push the dirt away from you.

You begin to dig upwards. Crawling all six feet to the surface of the earth.

That was the tough part. Punching through the tightly packed ground was harder than the coffin. As your fist broke the ground you spread your fingers, feeling the cool night air.

Punching over and over again you got both arms out. You push the ground apart with what little strength you have left, pulling yourself from the grave. Gasping down air lighting cracked above. You rest for a moment, curling up on the ground.

Rolling on to your back a wail comes up from your chest. More tears run down your face, leaving tracks on the dirt coating your face.

A blood curdling scream of anger comes next.

Rain begins to pelt your face. You breathe a sigh of relief. You feel alive again.

You want to see Rhys but the need for revenge is overpowering. The anger rattles your bones as you begin to shake.

Flipping over you push yourself up on tired and bloody hands. Fingers seeping in to muddy ground. You focus on breathing and your ability to winnow.

As your power flows through you, you focus on getting as close to the Forest House as possible. Wards be damned. Let him know you’re in his court. In his home. Death is coming for Beron Vanserra and you will be the last person he ever sees.

—

Rapid and hard knocks shake the door of the Town House. Cassian rips it open so hard it almost comes off its hinges. A city guard is standing in the rain looking worried and disheveled. Tilting his head at the guard Cassian noticed the male seemed pale.

“What is it?” “I am sorry to disturb at this hour but there is something the High Lord must know.” Cassian’s brows furrowed, his eyes narrowing. “The High Lady’s grave it’s…been disturbed.” Cassian almost fell to his knees. “How?”

The guard looked like he couldn’t bring himself to say the words. “Speak!” The General commanded. “It’s been dug up, sir.”

Cassian left the door open as he rushed to the sitting room. The Inner circle looked to him with curious faces. “Rhys,” he strode over to kneel before his brother. “Y/n’s grave, it’s…”

Rhys showed his first sign of emotion in weeks. It was unreadable. He shot up from his seat and pushed past the group to the front door. Rhys broke out into a sprint in the pouring rain. They followed and didn’t stop until your grave came into sight.

He halted inches away from the ripped up ground. Dropping to his knees Rhys’s lip trembled as tears streamed down his face. He couldn’t scent another person. Just you. Only one thing was on his mind as he broke out into hysteric laughter.

There had been something off about your death- Rhys just couldn’t verbalize it until now. The mating bond wasn’t gone it was just…dull. Like it was waiting to wake up again. Azriel and Cassian wrapped Rhys in their arms tightly.

“She’s alive,” he forced out through laughter and tears. The group looked at each other concerned. Azriel’s shadows were swirling around like crazy. Covering your tombstone, the hole in the ground, and the ripped up grass around them.

They finally came back to rest by his shoulders. One circling his rounded ear. As the shadow whispered Azriel’s eyes widened at their report.

He looked to Cassian, bewildered. It was true. You are alive. And the shadows haven’t a clue where you went. They needed a plan. And there are too many questions.

—

You ended up at the bottom of the main stairs of the Forest House. The guards didn’t notice you until it was too late. You beheaded them, kicking the doors in.

Stomping down the hall you sliced through each guard you came across. Leaving a trail of blood to the throne room. One of Beron’s sons, you don’t know which one, didn’t care, tried to fight. You brought him down to his knees keeping a death grip around his throat with your arm.

Entering the throne room you climbed up the dais throwing the male down hard, your sword poised at his throat. Guards and other court members rushed in.

You didn’t flinch. Didn’t drop your scowl or lower your sword. You wouldn’t back down from Beron. “Bring me Beron Vanserra or he loses another son!” For emphasis you pushed your blade against the trembling males throat.

#acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar reader fic #acotar reader imagine #acotar imagine #rhysand angst #rhysand x reader #rhysand imagine #rhysand acotar #rhysand #rhysand x reader imagine #rhysand x y/n #rhysand x you

[nincompoopydoo]

Hi! Happy Valentines Day, and may you have a great day! May I request from this prompt ‘ I couldn’t sleep. ’ with Bobby Floyd and shy!reader please? They'd be so cute together. Thank you so much!❤️❤️

OUR TINY APARTMENT

PAIRING: Bob Floyd x Shy!Reader WORD COUNT: 1.3k [i know i said < 1k words but i got carried away] SUMMARY: You're in love with your roommate and after accidentally finding out that he may share your feelings, all you can will yourself do is make an omelette. even if it's 3am. A/N: so damn happy to finally write for my other baby, Mr. bob floyd! thank you for your request and happy valentines! WARNINGS: swearing. TENSION. Natasha snitching. military inaccuracies idk. no beta we die like men. PROMPT: "I couldn't sleep." [from a this prompt list] MASTERLIST

Your apartment is tiny — a two-bedroom and two-bathroom apartment.

Well, it used to be huge when you first moved to gleaming San Diego. So huge that the empty void space made you feel small. From cold, dim, and rustic urban forests, your new job took you across the country to warm, bright, shining beaches. Quickly, the sounds of car honks were replaced with the cries of seagulls.

Alone in a postcard landscape with orange skies for sunsets.

Every creak and every shuffle echoed a little too loudly within these four walls; your home began to feel cold and dim.

Your apartment needed company.

You needed company.

Entered Robert “Bob” Floyd: Weapon System Officer, bespectacled, sandy blonde, responsible, intelligent, and devastatingly cute.

Bob, a naval pilot, resisted moving in with the other pilots because extroverted naval soldiers never understood the privacy inclinations and dwelled in silence for more than five minutes.

He was someone of little words, and so were you. As two introverts, you immediately clicked. Between tight smiles and awkward small talk, you saw yourselves in each other. 

So, your huge apartment became tiny.

Your apartment, drenched with salt air from the sea and bathed in orange from sunset skies, remained silent – a comfortable silence. The kind of silence that lingered between two people who have normalised each other’s presence in a tiny space with an understanding that conversations don’t come as naturally and as often.

Bob understands. He always does.

It’s hard not to love him, and it has become harder to see him as only a friend when your waking days are spent contemplating on how much you want to be more than just friends with Bob.

Your chest aches at that thought.

In the kitchen is where you find yourself rummaging through the cabinets for eggs. The analogue clock ticks at a quarter to three in the morning, and the refrigerator light floods through the darkness as you whisk two eggs in a blue ceramic bowl Bob had gifted you as a peace offering when he first moved in.

Hours before, you bumped into Natasha, Bob’s colleague, at the entrance of the local grocery store. With a wide grin, she excitedly approached as you returned a bashful wave.

“Hey, you.” Natasha chirps with a growing sly smirk.  “So, how did the date go?”

You blink.

“...Date?”

Natasha continues to smile with bright eyes.

“Yeah, the date with Bob?”

Your eyes widen, and your breath hitches.

“What?” is all you manage to say, and you watch her grin immediately vanish at your words.

“Oh, um…” Natasha’s expression reflects yours as her eyes dart around the area. Anywhere but you. 

You’re still trying to process her words. Why would she think you went on a date with Bob?

Unless…

Oh.

“Woah, look at the time!” Natasha croaks while glancing at her watch. A nervous chuckle escapes her lips, and her panicked eyes return to you once more as she promptly waves you goodbye.

“You have a nice day ahead!”

You watched her scurry back to her car, throwing a quick wave at you again, and you’re left at the store doorstep with your heart thrumming against your chest.

And now, you’re in the kitchen, whisking your anxiety away.

With a huff, you reach for the pan hanging by the stove when the handle slips from your grasp and lands on the floor with a loud clang, followed by a flurry of pots and pans that, too, made its way to the ground, crashing.

“Fuck,” you silently curse, gasping at the sight of your sudden accident of massacred utensils on the kitchen floor. While you scramble to clear the mess, you hear the doorknob of Bob’s room rattle, and the door creaks open, revealing an exhausted Bob. Wrinkled shirt and tousled hair, he squints through tired eyes and takes in the scene before him, although, he looks like he hasn’t slept in days.

With a nonstick pan in one hand and the other a fork, you stare at him with wide eyes, brows shooting up like a deer caught in the headlights. He glimpses the blue ceramic bowl on the counter behind you.

He knows it, and you don’t have to elaborate: you were making an omelette.

“I couldn’t sleep.” are the words that leave your lips, uttered with a bashful tone of embarrassment.

You press your lips into a thin line and continue, “I’m sorry for waking you.”

Bob flashes you a gentle smile and waves his hand as if to dismiss your worries silently. He immediately bends down to collect the scattered saucepans and the casserole pot you never use without a second thought. You join him, knees on the floor.

“No, it’s fine. I couldn’t sleep either.” 

Your heartbeat quickens at the sound of his voice, soft and merely a whisper. His drawl is a tad deeper than usual, sending your stomach a flutter. Immediately, your meeting with Natasha returns to prominence in your mind, rewinding her words. At the thought, a sense of sheepishness trails up the hairs of your neck.

A glimpse at Bob, you catch the steady furrow of his brows and the dark circles that line his eyes – a conspicuous facade to his mild distraught that you figured had kept him awake. You wondered if he had been pondering about whatever Natasha had accidentally slipped earlier.

When you find yourself back on your feet, you are immediately faced with Bob already staring at you in all his ragged charming glory, glasses catching the reflection of the refrigerator light. You spot a glimmer in his eye as he takes a step towards you so careful. You watch the way his lashes touch the expanse of his cheeks, blinking whilst attempting to hide his growing anxiety.

The tension in the room shifts as he says your name so softly, as if whatever he’s about to say next is so sacred and so secret, they’re for your ears alone.

You don’t dare say anything.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you something,” he pauses, gaze darting every corner of your face. He’s trying to get a read on your reaction. “I’m not sure how things will turn out once I say it because, well, I… like what we have right now.”

Bob nervously fiddles with the hem of his shirt, and you cannot breathe.

“This,” Bob vaguely gestures to the close space between you. “This has been the best thing that has happened to me ever since I arrived here. I would hate to ruin it.”

A twitch right at the corner of his lip. Your heart melts.

Bob huffs loudly.

“I guess all I’m asking is –”

“Yes.”

Bob blinks, dumbfounded.

You breathe.

“Yes, I’ll go on a date. With you.”

It’s simple, short, straightforward.

You watch him blink again, mouth agape. Still very much silent.

Then, a terrible feeling of dread settles in your stomach. You start to panic.

“I mean, if that’s what you’re asking. I didn’t mean to assume –”

Before you could even further delve into your self-created exaggeration of the consequences of your words, you were brought back to the reality of your apartment kitchen when Bob brings his lips to the corner of your mouth, chapped lips against your flushed cheeks.

Minutes ago, you were about to make an omelette. Now, Bob just kissed you.

You carefully watch Bob pull away from you, his palm still on your right cheek, expression reflecting a sense of an equal astonishment to your own of his actions. You feel the tremble of his exhale against your skin.

His touch lingers, his expression soft, and you finally find the courage to do the right thing.

Your hands find the sides of his face, and you kiss him, nose bumping the lens of his glasses. You feel him smile against your lips, a hand grasping the curve of your waist.  

In this tiny apartment, this tiny space you share, your heart feels so incredibly huge for the first time.

#bob floyd #bob floyd x reader #top gun maverick #robert bob floyd #bob floyd x you #robert bob floyd x reader #bob floyd imagine

[dewdropdinosaur]

Falling for You

VOX x READER

Summary: You are Vox's assistant and maybe tripping isn't so bad in the work place.

Warnings: None. Just Vox being egotistical(I tried to keep it canon but I am sorry if it's not exactly) and lots of pining.

Keep in mind that REQUESTS are OPEN!!

Vox stepped out of a black limo and stood up, revealing his seven foot figure as a crowd of demons rushed over to either take pictures, ask questions, or get an autograph…which he had completely ignored all their attempts to try with a disgusted look on his face. Stepping out of the limo along with him, clutching your pen-pad you strode beside him as he walked into the large VoxTech building. 

You knew he had secretly enjoyed the attention he was getting very much from the crowd. It made him feel powerful. You swore you could have seen him flash a light blue toothy grin at times.

“Sir, Zestial, your 3 o’clock is waiting in the 10th floor lounge to discuss recent sales and advertisements on 666. And your 4 o’clock canceled so your 6 pm is now moved to that slot. Valentino wants you to visit his studio apparently he is pissed and oh Velvette is having none of it—”

“Relax darling, I’ve got it handled.” Vox smirked down at you, cupping your chin in his hand in dominance. You breathe out a heavy sigh once he removes his hand, hiding a small blush that graces your cheeks hoping he didn’t notice. He does though, always has. The way your eyes light up when you look at him, the small tint of color that reaches your nose when he compliments you, he sees it all. And he loves it. 

Entering the elevator, you press the button for the 10th floor; relaxing as the metal doors close shut and you are away from the loud crowd. It continued like this for the rest of the day. Meetings, interviews, coffee break(that was more like a coffee second than the actual 30 minute lunch session), writing reports, adding to Vox’s calendar, writing more reports, making sure Valentino doesn’t blow up another employee…and so on and so forth. 15 hour days were now your specialty after working with Vox for so many years and yet some days still drug on longer than one would have appreciated. 

Sitting at your desk outside Vox’s office, the small light of the lamp illuminated the darkened area. You rub your eyes in exhaustion, peeking at the monitor to see it read ‘1:26 AM’. Deciding that five hours of sleep was better than none, you switch off your monitor and stack your paper reports neatly on your desk for later that day. Flicking off the lamp, you knock softly on Vox’s office door and allow yourself in. 

“Sir, I just finished up. I’ll see you at 7 AM.”

“Mhmm, another late night?”

“Could say the same for yourself boss.”

“Y/N, it’s past work hours. You know how I hate paying your overtime.” 

“And yet, without fail, I see that nifty little add on each week.”

“Well, you are one of the few competent assholes in this place”

“Was that a compliment sir?” 

“Don’t push your luck darling.”

Vox turns his chair around to face you, a large cup of coffee steaming in his hand as he sips it with a smirk. Crossing your arms with the chuckle, you liked this banter. You and Vox had always had a good working relationship, sassing each other back and forth while still toeing the line between professionalism and flirting. Taking a step forward, you stop right in front of his desk.

“You know me Vox, I am always pushing the envelope. So, was it a compliment?”

“Ah yes, always so pushy. Really shouldn’t be a quality you brag about.”

“But it’s why you like me~. The pushing, always getting what I want to know.”

“I will neither confirm nor deny the fact that you may have more tact than most in this shithole.” 

Biting back a laugh at his playful attempt at professional language ruined by the vulgarity, you place a hip on the desk; sitting casually. The large aquarium was a nice backdrop and you could see why Vox spent a lot of time here. Other than working himself to the bone to maintain his image/the company or hunting down the Radio Demon on any available CV camera, looking into the aquarium was a nice activity you assumed he might partake in. 

“Something on your mind Y/N?” 

Snapping your head back to his and reality, you offer a sheepish smile and a shake of your head. 

“No, no. Just admiring the aquarium.”

“It is pretty nice, I built it myself. Should have seen it, it didn't take more than a week.”

“Truly humble boss, truly humble.” 

“Now is that any way to speak to your employer?”

“My apologies. I didn't realize stroking your ego was in my job responsibilities.” 

Standing up from the desk, you accidentally catch your foot on the wires underneath. Bracing for the impact, it doesn’t come. Instead, you are caught as a small yelp leaves your mouth. Looking up, Vox has caught you with one hand; holding you in a dip. The world freezes for a few seconds as you take a moment to look at his face, the feeling of his hands on your hips, it all felt…right for some reason. 

Clearing his throat, Vox pulls you up and removes his hand. You could have sworn you saw a small flush on his screened face before he spoke. 

“Tch, women. Always falling for me.”

“Again…really humble boss.”

Heat still crept onto your cheeks as you long for the feeling of his hands on your waist, how warm they felt, how safe it made you feel. Adjusting your blouse, you excuse yourself and walk home; mind running with all the possibilities and recounting every second of the encounter. 

Little did you know, Vox was doing the very same. Replaying the event on his monitors, reviewing every second and every flush of your skin. The way your eyes widened and looked up at him with such hope, it made his circuits buzz a little. He wouldn’t deny it, he had always found you attractive. Definitely helped in meetings with other Overlords to have a pretty face moderating. But he would be wrong to say that was the only reason. You were hardworking, almost as driven as him and that is saying something. You flowed effortlessly around the office, directing everything to its natural and needed space. And the way you smiled for the camera, gosh he wished you would smile at him like that. That pretty pearly white smile. 

Looks like this might not be the professional relationship it had started out to be. Neither of you wanted to keep it professional anyway. 

#hazbin hotel #hazbin vox #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin hotel vox x reader #vox x reader #one shot #vizziepop #romance #pining #boss x employee #slow burn #vox being a sassy fucker #hazbin hotel fandom

[thatonepersonwhocantwrite]

BackBiter

Platonic May castellan x Gender neutral friend reader

Platonic yandere show version Luke castellan x parental figure reader

Platonic yandere camp half blood x Gender neutral reader

Y/n/n= you're nickname

Idk if I like this one...but spent way to much time writing it

TRIGGER WARNINGS swearing, implied kidnapping, accidental injuries, dark themes

The Castellan's had always been close with your family. You and May had been close from a young age. Although May claimed she sometimes saw things..... " I don't know of you should trust someone who claims to be a God sounds delusional and uptight. " You told your friend to which May just rolled her eyes. One day you found May muttering nonsense to herself in the corner of her house. " Hey hey May what's wrong? I'm here. I'm here. " You said gently helping your friend up. " Y/n??! Oh thank the God's it's you! It's really you!" May said squeezing you tightly honestly it was surprising how tightly she was hugging you. " I've got you May. I've got you." You said hugging her back but not as tight. " Y/n?" May asked. " Yeah?" You replied. " I'm pregnant." May stated.... You're mouth dropped.

You moved in with May to help her with the pregnancy and ended up using the couch as a bed since you both agreed to use the spare bedroom as a nursery for the baby although May did argue about it because you shouldn't have to sleep on the couch. You also made sure May was always comfortable and also worked a few extra hours to make sure there was enough to buy stuff for the baby. " Y/n I can't thank you enough for all you've done for me." May said. " Of course you're my best friend. " You replied. " So if it's a girl I was thinking Lily if it's a boy Lucas." May said. " How about just Luke if it's a boy?" You asked. " Luke...." May smiled softly. " I like that. " May said.

" Luke it is then." You replied. " If it's a boy. " May replied. " If it's a boy. " You repeated back.

................................................................................

" Y/n? Are you awake?" May asked shaking your shoulder. " I am now." You replied sleepily. " Good because I think........ my water just broke. " May said and you sat up alarmed. Somehow the two of you managed to make it to the hospital in one piece. " Excuse me but you'll have to step out of the room." One of the nurses told you. " No wait I want them to stay.....please. " May said. After hours May finally gave birth to Luke. You gently cradled the little baby in your arms as May slept. " Y/n?" May asked a few hours later when she woke up you handed her the sleeping Luke. " My Luke....my perfect boy." May muttered and you smiled softly. " You did amazing May." You said.

................................................................................

Well so you're plan was just to stay a month or so until May got back on her feet however what was not part of the plan was May going insane. Surprisingly Hermes tried to be a happy family with Luke and May so you moved out for like a year but would often come visit and help in anyway possible well that was until Luke turned 1, Hermes was nowhere to be found and May had now gone insane so you moved back in with May and Luke because you didn't want them to see May as an unfit mother and take Luke away from her knowing Luke was one of the only things keeping May from complete insanity. " My baby....." May muttered as you cradled Luke her arms shaking. " Would you like to hold him?" You asked and she nodded as she stopped shaking enough to hold Luke you gently put him in her outstretched arms.

You sighed softly. " I have to go to work tomorrow are you going to be alright with Luke alone for a few hours?" You asked quiet and gently. May nodded softly.

..................................................................................

A five year old with curly black hair and brown eyes came up to you with tears in his eyes. " Y/n/n my mom is doing it again. " Luke said. You sighed softly knowing what he was talking about May was muttering something about a prophecy again while some of it made sense most of it was nonsense. " Come here sweet boy. " You said opening your arms for him. " I've got you sweet boy I've got you." You said hugging him. " We'll let May rest for a bit she's had a ....... stressful day. I'll take you to the park and get ice cream. " You said that put a smile on Luke's face. Someone a little kid made the mistake of calling you pretty/cute/handsome not in a creepy kinda way but little kids tend to be overly friendly yeah Luke didn't like that so he bashed his ice cream cone into the kids face. " LUKE!" You scolded the five year old and turned to apologize for Luke's actions however Luke didn't like that either as he ended up kicking said kids parents although he was only five so it probably didn't hurt.......that much.

" I'm so sorry . He's a little boy little kids need attention......anyway again I am really sorry about his behavior. " You rambled and the kids parents are just like it's fine we understand.

..................................................................................

One day when you came home you found May sobbing in a corner of the house clutching a picture of her and Luke. " May what's wrong?" You asked gently kneeling in front of her. " Lu....Luke ran aw....aw....away. " May manged to stutter out. " Oh May....." You said hugging her.

..................................................................................

There was a knock on your door to the house as you were getting ready for bed. You no longer lived with May but lived a few houses down it had been a couple years since Luke ran away and you'd constantly go to check on May to make sure she didn't spiral any worse. The knocking noise again but this time it sounded more impatient. " Yeah Yeah I'm coming hold you're fucking horses. " You replied walking towards the door. " Who the fu...." You stared but got cut off when you saw three teens and a 7 year old at your door however one teen caught your eye. " Luke....." You muttered.

" Hi Y/n."... Honestly as mad as you were at Luke you started to bond with his friends and him again.

" Hey Annabeth want me to read a story to you?" You to Annabeth. " Bed time stories are for babies. " Annabeth replied. " It can be anything. " You replied. " Anything?" Annabeth questions. You ended up reading her a few chapters of Frankenstein honestly you don't remember buying it but you found it on your bookshelf so.....( Athena cough cough).

" Hey Y/n can I borrow your keys?" Thalia asked. " Urmmmm how old are you?" You asked. " SHE'S TWELVE!" Grover shouted from the other side of the room. " Ehhh that's old enough in my opinion. " You replied and let her drive on the back roads where almost none drives.

" So you like my little forestry area?" You asked Grover. " Yeah nature's beautiful." Grover said. " Yes it is.....sometimes I think we don't deserve nature." You replied

You placed a plate of sandwiches and cookies infront of Luke as the other three munched away at their own sandwiches and cookies. " You know you really should go visit her she's your mother after all." You said but Luke didn't reply. " Luke?" You asked. " Fine if it'll make you happy. " Luke replied.

..................................................................................

1 week later. " Y/n come with us." Luke said. " I can't Luke." You replied. Luke's expression turned into one of rage. " Why the fuck not?" Luke asked angry. " Luke calm down please..." You stared as he slammed his hands down. " You're the only parental figure I have you can't turn your back on me. I'm your son! I WON'T LET YOU!" Luke exclaimed, angry he still definitely had anger issues. Luke stormed out of the room leaving you, Thalia, Grover and Annabeth stunned slightly.

..................................................................................

You woke up in a bed however it wasn't your bed. " They look so......fragile and weak. " You heard a voice say. " Why would they bring a mere moral to camp with them?" You heard a voice question . " Huh? It has a name." You replied waking up groggy. " Oh great it's awake like we need a mortal to take care of when we already have these half blood brats. Chiron take care of it." The voice said and walked of an older looking gentleman with gray hair and brown skin who ended up being very kind to you. Chiron was honestly started to become platonic obsessed with you when he saw the way you tended to Luke, Grover , Annabeth and some of the younger children.

Chiron smiled to himself. " Maybe just maybe having a mortal here wouldn't be so bad..." Chiron thought to himself. " Why don't you stay a day or two? It's dark and wouldn't be safe for you to travel. " Chiron said. " I really should be getting back home....." You replied. " Please I insist. " Chiron said putting a gentle hand on your shoulder. Well those days turned into weeks and weeks into months until you found out the truth about the children being demigods , Chiron being a centaur and Mr.D being a God. Mr.D pretends to hate you but like Chiron he adores you. Honestly you had become a parental figure to all the halfbloods but while you tended to all the children the two cabins that took up most of your time were the Ares and Hermes cabins. Luke came back with the scar and you fussed over him like a worried parent he definitely liked the parental affection.

One time you decided to decorate Thalia's tree for Christmas Chiron nor surprisingly Mr.D had the heart to tell you no. You got some of the younger campers to help you decorate Thalia's tree as well.

" Clairsse put Chris down!" You shouted looking at the boy being held by his ankle. " But he hurt you......" Clairsse muttered that was true Chris and Luke had gotten into an argument about God's knows what you had stepped betten them and accidentally got stabbed in the arm in the process. That set all the camp off especially Luke as Luke stabbed Chris back in the arm and probably would have continued if you didn't pull Luke off Chris. The other campers watched with jealousy and rage in their eyes as you tended to Chris's injuries like a worried parent because they wanted your attention all for themselves most of the time when your reading to the younger campers the older ones will come in and listen as well. Especially Annabeth.

when Percy eventually arrives a few years later Percy shows up it gets worse because how dare this unclaimed himbo steal you and your attention away.....

#x reader #yn #gender neutral reader #percy jackson fic #percy jackon and the olympians #luke castellan #camp half blood #clairsse la rue #annabeth chase #grover underwood #thalia grace #yandere luke castellan #yandere camp Halfblood #yandere Camp Half-Blood #platonic percy jackson x reader #yandere percy jackson

[abbyromanoff]

G!p Mommy Wanda pleaseeee

Here To Help

Pairings: g!p Wanda Maximoff x reader

Word count: 1933

Had to skip a few requests to get to this one as I’ve been wanting to write this for days now, so, I apologize!!

Warnings: mommy kink, little reader, somnophillia, fingering, jerking off, hand jobs, innocence kink, mentions of slapping

Summary: Wanda couldn’t help herself seeing your helpless form all ready for her.

No one is permitted to steal, copy, or reblog my work as their own!!

The moment you mentioned to your girlfriend that you’ve never been camping, she made it her mission to fix that. She planned out everything, where you’d go, the food situation, renting a lodge, anything you could ever want in a trip. She didn’t tell you, she waited till the last minute to inform you that you’d be taking a little trip with her. The day before, you wondered where all your stuff had gone. But Wanda secretly stuffed it into your bag and put it in the trunk of her car. When you woke up to being carried over Wanda’s shoulder in the middle of the night, you were confused but didn’t say anything.

After a few hours of a drive, you both arrived at your destination and Wanda took a moment to admire your peaceful state before waking you up. You were almost immediately greeted by the harsh sun and a wooden cabin, turning to look at your girlfriend, you gave her an odd look that she chuckled at before bringing you inside.

“Mommy, where are we?” Came your small, fragile voice. Wanda’s heart melted hearing the pure innocence in your tone, she could listen to you speak for hours.

“Well, I know you’ve never been camping, so, I thought, why not take my favorite girl out on a trip? Just me, you, and the wilderness.” You leaned back to look at her, a smile growing on your face.

“Oh thank you, thank you, thank you! I’m so excited! Oh, can we go fishing? Or catch frogs? Did you bring our board games? We could play those and-” You continued your rambling as Wanda chuckled and set you down, you looked over the cabin and ran around each room at least five times.

“So, what do you think?”

“I love it, mommy! It’s perfect!” Your body plopped down on the couch in the living room, feeling the cozy blankets fall on top of you. Wanda took a quick look around the place, making sure everything was alright for her little one. She promised to make this the best trip of your life, she wasn’t going to break that.

“Well, I think the first step in this place is to cook something. I know you don’t like the whole hunting aspect so, I bought us some fruits and pre-cooked food to make. And, I may or may not have snuck in a little dessert that we could make if you’re good.” She trailed on, watching the happiness in your expression.

“Yay! Thank you, mommy, this is already the best trip ever!” She walked you both over to the kitchen, well, she followed behind you as you ran to the room.

“Slow down there speedy, don’t need you tripping over yourself.” You mumbled out a small apology and grabbed the food from the bag, which she soon set you aside to do herself.

The rest of the night was spent with laughter, treats, and your adorable rambles about nature. Wanda wouldn’t trade it for the world. And now, she was helping you get ready for bed. She brushed your teeth, did your skincare, and dressed you up in your cute pajamas. You wore a tank top looking shirt with little bears on it, your shorts matching. She bought them specifically for this day.

“Alright my little bear, time to get you to sleep.” She handed you your stuffed animal and laid beside you, puffing up the pillows behind her. You whined lowly and looked at her with pleading eyes, ones you knew she could never resist.

“Please mommy! I don’t want to go to bed, I want to play.” Your pout was adorable, it had to be Wanda’s favorite thing about you. But she had to deny, she couldn’t have her little one all sleepy during the trip.

“Sweetheart, if you want to play, you need to sleep. I promise, tomorrow will be so much fun! I’ll even teach you how to fish, but only if you’re good and go to sleep.” She bargained, making it impossible for you to say no to her.

“Fine, but only because I want to catch fishies!” You giggled, cuddling your build a bear closer.

“Alright baby, lets go nighty night. I’ll wake you up extra early just so we can watch that beautiful sunrise.”

“Goodnight mommy, I love you.” Your body leaned into hers and your head landed on her chest, using her boobs as a pillow.

“I love you more, my sweet little angel.” And with that, you both fell into a peaceful sleep. Well, for her at least. You were in dream world, a very interesting dream you could say.

“Mommy! Feels so good!” You whimpered out as she pounded into you mercilessly, not letting you mutter out a sentence without moaning in between each word.

“Yeah? You like my dick filling up this tiny little cunt? Oh I bet you do, I bet you fucking love it. You know why?” She panted, trying her best to keep up the hard and fast pace. Her hand landed across your ass, creating a loud cracking sound that mixed in with your thighs slapping together.

“I asked you a question, baby, I expect an answer.”

“W-why mommy?” She chuckled darkly and leaned towards your ear, taking the lobe in her mouth before speaking.

“Because you’re my dirty little whore, you just love to be used by mommy, don’t you? You love being her sex doll? Her pet?” You nodded desperately, already feeling your orgasm approaching for the third time this night.

“Yes mommy! I love it! Love being your toy, your cockslut.” She could feel you clenching around her, the desire to breed you plaguing her mind.

“I can tell you need to cum, fucking do it. Cum with me baby, let me fill this hole till you’re dripping.” She grunted, pre-cum already dripping into you.

Wanda was awoken by soft movements near her thigh, when she looked down, she was greeted with the sight of ler little one humping her leg. Your soft moans filled her ears as she watched in amazement for a moment. Her arms trailed down to your body, twisting your nipples ever so gently through the fabric of your shirt. Her other hand curiously made its way down to your soaked shorts, your arousal making a dark wet spot on the thin clothing.

“Oh Y/N, so needy for mommy even in your sleep. It’s alright, I’ll take care of you.” She didn’t care if you couldn’t hear her, she still treated you like her baby. Her dick grew hard just at the thought of your dreams, she knew she shouldn’t, but she needed to see what you were thinking about.

Her small gasp echoed throughout the room, she couldn’t believe your innocent self would be dreaming about that. She always showed you care in the bedroom, she never thought that you might actually like being tossed around a bit.

“Oh my, you’re getting mommy all hard from that little brain of yours. And you’ve made such a mess! You’ve practically ruined your shorts, the ones mommy picked out just for you.” She fauxed concern and made her way down the bed, spreading your legs just enough to pull down your undergarments.

“Shit, you’re even wetter than I thought. You really are a slut, aren’t you? My little slut.” Her tongue made it’s way to your dripping folds, moaning as the taste of your sopping cunt. She needed more of you, she needed to feel you clench around her mouth as she licked up all of your juices. She dove back in, making sure to lick every inch of you.

“Fuck baby, you taste amazing! Wish I could eat you out every second.” Your body moved slightly, your eyes starting to flutter open.

“Mommy?” Came your small, groggy voice, clearly still being tired as you slipped in and out of sleep.

“Shh, my love, it’s all just a dream. Go back to sleep, I’ll be right here when you wake up.” You gave a short nod and did as she said, falling back asleep with little to no effort. She laughed quietly and removed her own clothing, stroking her hard dick. Her palm went under your shirt, playing with your nipples teasingly. She pinched the swollen buds, picturing it was her mouth on them instead. She lifted the article of clothing just above your tits, moving to take one in her mouth just like she wanted. Her hand continued her motions on her throbbing length, feeling the coil in her stomach tightening.

“Mm, wanna cum all over this cute body. So dumb, such a dumb baby, can’t even register mommy fucking you. I bet if I slapped this precious face, you’d wake up, I know you’d want that.” She muttered, not talking to anyone in particular but fueling her needs. When she heard you whine in your sleep, it only brought her closer.

“Yeah, that’s it, moan for me, you bitch. I know you want this, you love the thought of me whoring you out, making you my precious toy.” Her hands sped up, her mouth moving from your puffy nipple to the neglected one, sucking as if milk would come out. Cum spurted out of her length as it twitched so deliciously in her palm, coating your pussy. Her hips stilled, her eyes screwing shut.

When she looked down, she admired your dripping pussy covered in her release. She used her digits to slowly finger the cum inside of you, your hips jerking up in your sleep.

“M-mommy? What are you doing?” She didn’t take her eyes off of your cunt, being too engrossed in your body.

“Shh, you were just having a wet dream, I had to take care of you. You understand, right? Just had to make my baby feel better.”

“But, it’s all tingly down there. It feels weird, mommy. I-It feels weird in a good way.” She smiled down at you and moved to sit next to you, giving a little pat to your stuffie that you picked back up. You looked down and saw your shirt had ridden up, you quickly and embarrassingly pulled it back down.

“Oh that’s alright sweetheart, I’m here to take care of you. I can’t leave my baby all tingly without any help, now can I? Now, sit back and let me lead the way, just do whatever mommy asks of you.” You nodded and spread your legs slightly, shyly moving your hand to her cock.

“Can I play with you too, mommy?” She could’ve came on the spot hearing your sweet and soft voice, the words you muttered with it making it even harder not to destroy you right then and there.

“Of course you can, baby. Remember that time I taught you how to please mommy? Do exactly that while I play with your little cunt, just sit there all pretty and let me touch you.” You did exactly what she asked, smiling when you heard her moan.

“Like that?”

“Yes! Just like that, you’re doing amazing, my love. Now let me finger this sweet little thing, I know you want it. Or did you want me to fuck you with my dick like in your dream? You want me to destroy you for anyone else?” Your eyes widened hearing the last sentence, how did she know?

“Don’t give me that look. When I woke up to you humping my thigh, I just had to help. What kind of mommy would I be if I didn’t help my angel?”

#wanda maximov #wanda fanfic #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximilf #wanda x y/n #wanda mcu #mommy!wanda #mommy!wanda x little!reader #mommy!wanda maximoff #mommy wanda #mommy!wanda smut #wanda smut #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff smut #wanda imagine #wanda x fem!reader #wanda x gn!reader #anon #anon ask