#i told her she’s gonna have to trim it back i don’t think she’s gonna do it though | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

from-the-clouds · 1 year

Text

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

series masterlist | series playlist | writing masterlist | previous chapter | photo cred

chapter summary: You knew yourself, and the way that you could get hung up on the right kind of person. Joel was that kind of person. But you don’t like how formal this feels. So real. -- In other words, Joel takes you on your first date. pairing: pre-outbreak!joel miller x f!reader words: 8.6k chapter warnings: SMUT, 18+ ONLY (it's happening, folks!) - unprotected sex, please dm if you want specifics but I’m not trying to spoil too much. If you don't want to read the smut, it doesn't happen until about halfway through the chapter. Crying after sex. Angst. FLUFF. Mentions of anxiety & self-doubt, alcohol consumption. a/n: Help! I can’t stop writing fit checks into this story!! This ended up being insanely horny but also shockingly sweet. I worked way way way too hard on it so please say nice things to me. Might need to take a couple days off because I'm really feeling burnt out. So please enjoy in the meantime.

-May 16, 2003-

Joel doesn’t like lying to Sarah.

Although, he’s not sure that he’s lying to her as much as he is simply….omitting information. Depending on who you ask, that could still be considered lying.

He’s fresh out of the shower when he steps into the living room, fishes through the catch-all basket located just inside the front door, and pockets his wallet and keys.

“Where are you going?”

Sarah’s lounging on the couch, on her back, one of her hands slung behind her head. There’s a book opened on her lap, but she’s not reading. “You’re all dressed up.”

Joel looks down at his green flannel shirt, tucked into a pair of dark jeans. Truth be told, he’s a little ashamed he doesn’t have anything nicer in his closet. It’s not like he ever has any occasion to dress up, but he’s already feeling self-conscious and being (most likely) underdressed isn’t helping. Based on the very limited information he knows about your past relationships, you’re probably accustomed to crisp dress shirts, ties, blazers. He doesn’t own any of those things — he did, at one point, have the tux from his wedding, but he’d gotten rid of it after the divorce. Every time he saw it in the back of his closet, it made him sick. Regardless, tonight he’d done the best he could otherwise - showered, trimmed his beard, and even dug through his medicine cabinet for an old – probably expired – bottle of cologne. Hopefully it was enough.

“I’ve uh….I’ve got a date.” Joel says.

The theme song from That’s So Raven is blaring through the living room, but it immediately cuts out as Sarah presses mute and sits up entirely from her spot on the couch. “Really?”

“Don’t act so surprised,” Joel says. “Your uncle is coming over, though, he’s gonna drop me off and then he said he’d take you to the movies.”

As if on cue, he hears Tommy’s truck pull into the drive. “Yes!” Sarah leaps up from the couch. “I have to change first.”

“Hurry up, babygirl, I’m already runnin’ behind,” Joel calls after her.

Tommy knocks twice on the front door before letting himself in anyways.

“You’re late,” Joel informs, shutting the door behind him. They should’ve left five minutes ago, and the last thing Joel wants is for you to think he’s not punctual. To be fair, he’s not, and almost never is. But you don’t need to know that….yet.

“Hello to you, too,” Tommy trails after him into the kitchen. Joel is tempted to chug a beer, or fish the half-empty bottle of whiskey he’s got in the cabinet out to take a shot — just to take the edge off. But he refrains. It wouldn’t be a good look to show up smelling of booze.

“So…who's the lucky lady?” When Joel doesn’t answer right away, Tommy presses. “Come on, Joel, who is it?”

He contemplates telling his brother the truth, but he doesn’t want to give him the idea that he had taken his advice. He didn’t. Well maybe he did, but he knows Tommy will become insufferable if he finds out.

“Is it who I think it is?” Tommy asks. “It better be.”

Unfortunately, Tommy knows him too well. They’re brothers, and really, Joel’s first and oldest friend. The answer is written all over his face.

Tommy grins. “Fucking finally. Oh my god, dude, I thought you’d never-”

“Alright, alright!” Joel interjects, eyes darting nervously up the stairs, where he hears his daughter shuffling around in her bathroom. “Keep your mouth shut, I haven’t told Sarah yet.”

Tommy raises his hands in defense, but at least seems to understand how serious Joel is. “Don’t worry, I’m not gonna say anything. Are you excited?”

“Yeah,” Joel looks down at the countertop, and is compelled to be honest with his little brother. “I’m uh….I’m a little nervous, though. Been awhile since I’ve done anything like this.”

Tommy grows serious. “Do you want my advice?”

“Yours?” Joel feels like whatever advice he has to offer is likely questionable, particularly with someone like you. “No thanks. I’d rather make a good impression.”

His brother ignores the subtle dig. “You sure? Because unlike you, I actually go on dates. I mean, it’s been what, like….ten years?” He crosses his arms, pretends to think. It’s probably only been a couple of months since the last time Joel took someone out, and Tommy knows it, but he loves to dramatize. “I mean at this stage, you’re basically a born-again virgin. Do you even remember how to put on a condom?”

Joel crosses his arms and glares at his brother, who begins giggling at his bad joke. “I knew I shouldn’t have fucking said anything to you,” he shakes his head.

“Oh come on Joel, you’ll be fine,” Tommy says. “Really. She’s into you. I could tell when we were all together the other night. Even when I was dancing with her, I kept catching her lookin’ your way…”

“Yeah, well….” Joel rubs the back of his neck to play off the surge of warmth he gets from this information. “Thanks.”

Sarah’s bathroom door opens, and he hears the staccato beat of her sneakers coming down the stairs. Joel points at Tommy one last time. “Not a word, understand?”

Tommy nods just as she rounds the corner.

“Uncle Tommy!” Sarah raises her hand to give him a high-five, which they both purposely miss so they can collide palms on the downswing, grab each other’s hands and then begin a secret handshake so complex that Joel, who has seen it a thousand times, still doesn’t think he could execute correctly if he tried.

“How’s my favorite niece?”

“I’m your only niece.”

“Touche,” they shoot at each other with finger guns before she wraps him in a hug and Tommy presses his nose to the top of her head. Despite the fact that their little routine is costing Joel precious time, almost all the annoyance he’d been feeling with his brother dissipates at the sight.

“We all ready?” Tommy asks her, then points at him. “Don’t want to make this casanova late.”

“Yeah, of course not,” Sarah looks over at Joel with a smile that doesn’t seem entirely sincere. When she was younger and he’d gone on dates, she always had a lot more questions. Who is it? What is she like? When can I meet her? Is she pretty? Over the years, however, she became less and less interested. It was because she was smart, and had caught onto the pattern - he’d go on a date, maybe one or two more, then there’d be a long period of nothing before the cycle repeated itself every couple months. It rarely developed into anything that would concern her, and Joel always kept the details to himself.

While they’re en route to the restaurant – a little French bistro that had opened up recently — Sarah and Tommy bicker about what movie they want to see.

“I wanna see Holes. I just read the book.”

Tommy grimaces. “What about Matrix Reloaded? It just came out.”

“I already told dad I’d go to that with him.”

“So?” he looks between Sarah and Joel. “Why can’t you just see it twice?”

“No,” Sarah says emphatically. “I have to see it with dad first. It’s not fair.”

Tommy groans, mutters under his breath. “I can’t believe you let her watch that crap,” as if he wasn’t about to do the same thing.

“She likes it,” Joel shrugs.

“All the more reason to see it tonight.”

“Tommy,” Joel warns.

“Fine.”

“I don’t really like it, though. I just like to keep dad company so he doesn’t have to see it alone.”

“You’re too nice,” Tommy takes a beat. “Are you sure you aren’t adopted?”

“Shut up,” Joel and Sarah answer at the same time, and Joel holds his palm behind him for his daughter to slap.

Tommy acquiesces, his truck jolting as it pulls into the parking lot of the restaurant. Joel’s heart rate picks up immediately. The car rolls to a stop and Joel turns to look at both of them. “Alright, I’ll be home by midnight.”

“Sounds good,” says Sarah.

“Have fun,” Tommy raises his eyebrows, winks, and thankfully Sarah doesn’t see it, because she’s getting out of the truck to take Joel’s spot shotgun. He makes sure she’s settled with her seatbelt on before he shuts the door.

He isn’t trying to waste time, but Joel watches them pull out of the lot and back onto the street before he goes inside the restaurant. Really, he just needs a minute to collect himself. There’s no good reason for him to be as anxious as he is, he’s already kissed you once, and you had seemed to like it — quite a lot too. For the past week the feeling of your body pressed up against him, legs around his torso, was pretty much all he thought about when his mind wandered. Mostly at night before bed, and even today, in the shower when he was getting ready - just to try and calm down. Even now, the idea leaves him flustered.

Nevertheless, this probably isn’t even technically a first date. He hasn’t had issues speaking to you in the past, so this should be easy. Right? But what if you change your mind? And what if it dawns on you that he’s not your type? Even worse, what if you realize he’s just not good enough?

Joel forces himself inside before he talks himself out of this. When he enters, he sees you first. You’re across the room, leaning over the small bar where a few other patrons are. Greedily, he takes you in, and it’s easy to trace your figure in the tight black shift dress you’ve got on, sheer black tights underneath. It’s sleek, stylish - not that Joel knows much about that. As usual, you stand out in stark contrast to every other person in the place. He likes it. But he feels underdressed. He’ll look ridiculous standing next to you, and he briefly considers turning around, leaving, and saving himself the embarrassment.

That’s until you move, angling yourself towards him and scanning the restaurant, an elbow resting on the bar, a hand on your knee. You’re looking for him, waiting for him, and finally, you’re rewarded when your eyes catch. Suddenly, Joel doesn’t care about what he’s wearing. He doesn't care that he’s not good enough. At the very least, he doesn’t have to guess if you’re interested in him anymore, not with how you’re gazing at him — a soft smile and narrowed eyes that betray your enthusiasm. Sure, he's not good enough, but he decides if he’s going to go down in flames, he’ll do it trying to convince you otherwise.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Maybe I should’ve eaten a proper lunch, you think to yourself. You’ve barely touched the drink in your hand, but you’re already starting to feel it. And even though you are the designated driver tonight, for now, the slight buzz is welcome, working to soothe.

Over the years, you’d been on your fair share of first dates. Unlike most…you don’t hate them. For whatever reason, getting to know new people had always come easy, particularly if they were the right person. Being a lawyer, you had a knack for talking yourself into or out of almost anything. So it was just as easy to let someone know if they weren’t the right person. The best part of first dates, however, was that they lacked all the things you hated — promises, expectations, and conversations that went deeper than general pleasantries.

So all things considered, you shouldn’t feel as tense as you do right now.

There’s a few factors that might have something to do with it, and your brain turns them over, biding your time until your date arrives.

First is the text that sits opened on your BlackBerry.

Dad’s home from the hospital. Doing better. Call when you can. - Vince

Your father has been in and out of the hospital for the last month or so, his health rapidly declining. But every update from your brother, however innocent they may be, feels like veiled threats. You should be here. You should know this. I shouldn't have to text you about it. I can’t believe I’m the only one looking after him. A part of you wants to believe that Vincent wouldn’t play that sort of game with you, but as you’ve gotten older and grown apart, you’d gotten worse at deciphering his motivations. Vaguely, you acknowledge that you could just be projecting, and you are the only one trying to make you feel bad.

And then there’s Joel.

He’s running late, you hope, or he’s stood you up. And you have already promised yourself that you’re only gonna wait ten more minutes before heading home with your tail tucked between your legs. The thought of that makes you regret agreeing to this in the first place. You’d already embarrassed yourself the last time you were together, practically begging him to take you on the kitchen countertop, but he’d insisted on doing this right. You should’ve pushed harder because you’re starting to think that maybe, just maybe….a zipless fuck would’ve sufficed. Oh, who were you kidding? You knew yourself, and the way that you could get hung up on the right kind of person. Joel was that kind of person. But you don’t like how formal this feels. So real.

He knows you better than most first dates do. You’ve told him more about your family, about your fucked up childhood, about your aversion to committed relationships more than any friend you’ve made since moving to Texas. And he listened. It should make you feel better. He knows what he’s getting himself into, and he asked you here anyways. Maybe he’s having second thoughts.

For what feels like the thousandth time, you check your emails and take a sip of your dirty martini – your preferred vehicle for alcohol consumption. Ultimately, you like the idea of a martini more than the actual taste, but you appreciate how direct they are. You scan the restaurant one last time, doing your best to look casual, like you don’t really care. Like you’re supposed to be there alone.

But when your head turns towards the entrance, Joel is standing across from you.

He gives you a bashful smile, one that makes your stomach flip, and makes his way over – though he doesn’t seem to be in a rush. It’s like he knows you’d sit and wait for him for as long as it takes – you would, you will, you are.

When he finally lands in front of you, one thumb hooked in the belt loop of his dark-wash jeans, he leans forward and presses his lips to your cheek for the briefest moment, and pulls back, looking you up and down.

“It’s good to see you, darlin’,” he murmurs softly. The term of endearment makes your ears feel hot. You're shocked at the effect he has on you, almost can’t believe it. It scares you, too, but you want to chase the feeling. “You look great.”

“So do you,” because you’re not one to lie. He does. As good as always, but he might’ve trimmed his beard for the occasion and maybe….put on cologne? It’s hard to tell, and in your brief experience being so close to him, he’s always smelled good regardless.

“Sorry I’m late,” he apologizes. “Can’t count on Tommy to get me anywhere on time.”

“It’s alright,” you say casually, like you hadn’t had your whole exit strategy planned out just minutes ago. “I got to have a drink while I wait. You want something?” you gesture towards the bartender.

“Sure,” Joel answers. “How about an old fashioned?” There’s no room for him to sit, so he leans next to you, arm on the bartop, invading your personal space while you wait for your table. Your skin buzzes like you’ve never been this close to a man before in your life. Pathetic.

He orders his drink before he speaks to you again. “Have you been here before?” he asks.

You shake your head no. “I was planning on coming a couple months ago but….never got around to it.”

“It’s good,” he says. “I’ve been a couple times.”

“Is this where you take all the girls you go out with?” you raise an eyebrow, grateful that your voice sounds even despite the way your blood is fizzing, your heart pumping so fast you can feel it in your ears.

Joel shakes his head no. “That’s down the street.”

“Oh?” you nod, sip your drink. Whatever buzz you’d been feeling is gone in the wake of adrenaline. “So….why didn’t you take me there, then?”

“It’s not as nice,” Joel smirks, leaning in a little closer – if it were possible. His lips are practically touching your ear, and his voice is raspy for what comes next. “And I’m trying to impress you.”

“Right,” you can’t help but smile, pulling back so you can lock eyes. He’s so sincere you can’t even think up a clever quip in return. “How thoughtful.”

He gives you a cheeky grin. You want to touch him, want to hold him, want to fist the front of his shirt or tug on the hair at the back of his neck and stick your tongue down his throat like you aren’t surrounded by an entire restaurant of patrons.

It’s going to be the longest fucking dinner of your life.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You survive.

But at a cost.

And you don’t learn anything new about Joel, except for the fact that your memory hasn’t exaggerated how charming he is, how charismatic, how thoughtful. All the times you’d allowed yourself to daydream about him didn’t hold a candle. Enjoying the meal is difficult, because you just want to get him alone. He can sense it – you’re pretty sure, because he orders himself a coffee after dessert, and sips on it ever-so-slowly, smirking at you over the rim of the mug.

When dinner’s over, you offer to drive Joel home, since he’d gotten a ride here. By this point, the martini is long gone from your system and you sort of want to pour yourself another when you get home. Even if you don’t drink much, the nerves have resurfaced.

He walks a few paces behind you as you leave the restaurant, taking his time, and you step to your side of the car, making to unlock it – until something grabs your bicep – briskly – and spins you around.

It’s Joel. He snuck up behind you, you hadn’t heard, and he’s right in front of you now, pinning you between the car and his body, surrounding you entirely. He lifts a hand, cups your cheek, and kisses you. It happens so fast you let out a whimper of surprise – directly into his mouth, but he swallows it down, and cradles you so gently, but still firm. Resolute. I’m not letting you go.

When he pulls back, you notice his cheeks are flushed, ever so slightly. It makes you wonder what you could do to see them get even redder. Your arms have found their way to rest on his shoulders, and you’re boxed in, the handle to your car door digging into your ass. Without a word, just a cheeky grin, he retreats to the passenger's side of the car and gets inside.

You settle in the driver's seat beside him, and he looks over at you. “Hope that was okay, I couldn’t wait…” he says, almost apologetically. “But I was tryin’ all night to be good.”

“Yeah, well….not much use in that anymore,” you tilt your head. “Do you want to….hang out at my place?”

“Yeah, we can ‘hang out’ at your place,” Joel quips.

Scoffing in mock offense, you offer a retort. “What would you rather me have said? Come over for a nightcap? That’s a little cliche.”

He grimaces, as if he’s in agreement. You continue. “Or would you rather I be more direct? Joel, why don’t you come over so we can have sex?”

That makes him laugh, loudly, and it’s such a warm, comforting sound, you wish you could find a way to capture it and hear it over and over again. “Oh, is that what’s going to happen?” he asks.

“Guess we’ll find out,” You shrug, trying to play it off, in case you overstepped. Then you focus on putting the keys in the ignition without fumbling.

It’s not a long drive back to your place, but Joel seems determined to make sure it feels like it is. Either that, or he’s trying to get you to cause an accident. First his hand is resting on the back of your neck, brushing through the hair at the base of your skull. Then it’s on your shoulder, his thumb pressing into your taut muscles. You actually have to bite your tongue so you don’t moan. It’s not even sexual, really, but it just feels good to be touched, especially by him.

Eventually, you hit a stoplight, and while you’re waiting, his hand continues to wander…and comes to rest just above your knee. His hands are fucking huge, first of all, which maybe you’ve noticed before, and there are a few scars and scratches on the backs of his knuckles. It's the weight of it, the warmth of it, the way he’s settled it so casually like it’s nothing – like it belongs there, and he doesn’t even have to ask. Of course he doesn’t. And the confidence, the cockiness. It feels like someone’s taken an arrow to the pit of your stomach, and something thick and hot starts curling down, down, down….

You swallow hard, and he’s looking at you. He doesn’t speak right away, just stares, something dark and unfamiliar in his eyes.

“I hope I’m doing alright,” voice raspy, low, but still smooth as ever.

Shaking your head, you’re able to surface just enough over the haze of arousal. “You want a performance review?” you tease, giving a small smile. “We should hold off on that until later…”

That makes Joel laugh again, your stomach flips, and his thumb begins to stroke your kneecap, his fingers kneading into the soft flesh, inching forward to clasp farther inward, nearly grabbing at you, squeezing. The only thing separating his skin from your own is a thin pair of stockings that end dangerously close to where his hand is working. If he finds out that he’s just a few centimeters away from meeting bare skin, you’re afraid of what could happen.

“Joel,” you warn.

“What?” he asks, voice light and innocent.

“You’re distracting me.”

“You want me to stop?”

No. The light turns green, and you have to hold back the impulse to break every traffic law if it means you’ll get to have him just a second sooner.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“--my room is–” Joel cuts you off with another searing kiss, and it takes a second before you can conjure the self control to pull away again to finish the thought. “--down the hall.”

“Yeah?”

He’s got you crowded back against the entry closet of your house, hovering over you, one of his hands bracing itself beside your head, and the other slowly dragging down your body, his lips following….moving down your neck.

“Uh-huh,” you barely can get it out between strangled gasps for air.

And then he’s hooking his hands behind your knees. “Are you sure you don’t want, like-” Joel lifts you, and you lock your legs around his torso. “An amaretto or something?”

“No,” he’s gripping on to you so tightly it hurts, but you don’t mind.

“I could put on….a record-”

“No,” he repeats, and you’re being carried down the hall.

You hadn’t expected him to pounce on you the instant that you came in through the garage door. Not that you minded. It’s just that usually you’d play it a bit more coy. You’d set the mood, light a candle, have a chat. But, you suppose you don’t need to do anything to get you in the mood. You’re already there.

Joel’s mouth never separates from you, not until you’re in your room. He’s so sure of himself, you think he might be the type to throw you into the mattress, climb on top of you and rip at the zipper on the back of your dress. But he doesn’t. You’re laid down delicately, like you’re made of glass, and he’s being careful not to break you.

He weaves his thumb and forefinger around both your wrists, then pulls them up so they’re pinned above your head. This way, you’re completely at his mercy. When he lowers himself between your legs, and you feel the weight of his body pressed against you, you groan, fighting against the restraint, desperate to touch him. So you do the best you can and wrap your stocking-clad feet around his waist, trying to get some leverage, to bring him closer.

“Just wanna take my time with you, darlin’,” he murmurs softly, like he can read your mind. You’re starting to think he can – how else can he be so irresistible on his own accord?

Joel makes good on his promise. With you all docile beneath him, he takes the opportunity to kiss every inch of exposed skin available – even though you’re still fully clothed. Each press of his lips has you breathing unevenly – sighing, then gasping, then sharp, short inhales. When he finds a particularly sensitive spot on your neck, you can’t help but giggle and quirm.

Joel huffs in response, releasing you from his hold, and he tilts his head to whisper in your ear. “Do you have any idea how much I like hearing that? Knowing it’s because of me?” Immediately, you lower your hands to cup his cheeks, to regard him. He can’t be serious.

“You’re too sweet,” you mutter.

“So are you,” he answers, and ducks his head to return to your neck. “So sweet, and so fucking pretty, too…” His hands begin wandering, one of them cupping your breast, thumb finding a peaked nipple even through the fabric of your dress and your bra. The words he’s saying are too much, you’ll do anything to make him shut up, arching your back so you can feel him – already hard – against your clothed core.

“Joel-”

“God, I want to see you-fuck!” he pulls back, rolls you over, and you shift your weight so he has access to the dress’ zipper at your side. He makes quick work of it, and brings you to a seated position, helping you remove it all the way before kissing you again, then abruptly stopping. He wants you so badly….but he’s trying to savor the moment. “Let me look at you for a second.”

He takes you in, the stockings you’re wearing and the matching set of black lace you’d picked out beforehand. Of course, you’d thought about this. You always did for occasions like this, but Joel had stumped you. What would he like? This….was pretty understated, but he seemed like a salt-of-the earth guy. Not what you were used to. It probably wouldn’t make a difference whether or not you were in full-on lingerie. And even if you knew he wouldn’t care, you still had wanted to impress him. All the more reason to try.

“This for me?” he asks, hooking his finger on the inside of your stockings and snapping the elastic.

“Yeah,” you nod, honest. “I want you, Joel.” And there’s more to it, too. You’ve thought about just how badly for months. It kept you up at night, then helped you fall asleep when you couldn’t shake his image from your head. For now, you are going to keep that to yourself. But it doesn’t mean it’s not gonna slip out. Not when he’s looking at you like this.

“Yeah?” he says, steps forward, towers over you. “I want you, too, so fuckin’ bad. So fucking pretty, baby,” Dropping back to your elbows, you feel…small. Any other time, you might sit up, try to feel some kind of control, but for whatever reason, you stay where you are.

Joel wasn’t exaggerating when he said he wanted to take his time. It’s frustrating. It’s torture. He worships you, makes sure his mouth is on nearly every part of your body before he finishes undressing you. Your ankles hook over his shoulders, his hands grazing, dragging thin nylon up and off each leg. He kisses your calves, the inside of your knees, your thighs. He uses one hand to unhook your bra and pulls it away. He spends what feels like hours with his mouth on your breasts – sucking, licking, nipping – hands cupping, grabbing, pinning you down. The whole time, he’s telling you how badly he wants you, how pretty you are, how good you’re being for him. He’s either touching you too much, or maybe not enough. It’s hard to say. Only after he’s reduced you to an incoherent, whimpering mess do you somehow find the strength to fight back.

By this point, you’re lying in the middle of the bed, your leg hooked over his hip, the waistband of his jeans digging into bare skin. He’s still got all his fucking clothes on, which makes everything so much worse, because it’s clear whose in control here, and it’s certainly not you.

The button of his flannel is where you start, and then you work downward. Joel doesn’t stop you at any point. You think he might, just because of how things have been going. But he’s as easy as you are, and you take him in all the same after you’ve shucked off his jeans, and he’s closer to your state of buff.

To be fair, you’ve spent enough time lingering by the windows – when he’s outside mowing the lawn shirtless, or picking up his newspaper in the morning, or doing workouts in his garage with the door open (such a tease!) – to have an idea of what to expect. He’s not ripped by any means but neither are you – and you’ve never liked that anyways. But it’s not hard to ascertain that he spends all day in the sun, lifting and hauling things around. His muscles are defined, rippling lightly under his skin with each panting breath he takes. Joel’s a spectacle – broad and tan, a line of dark hair dipping from his belly-button down into the waistband of his dark-gray briefs. You can make out the way his cock is straining against the fabric.

Once you’ve appraised him as best as you can – you can see that he’s studying you, almost like he’s anxious, like you might not like what you see. As if he doesn’t know. Ridiculous. You aren’t going to leave him guessing. “You’ve got to be kidding me, Joel,” you shake your head. “You’re a fucking stud.”

Joel’s face breaks out in a grin and he yanks you back so you’re on top of him, legs on either side of his chest. And finally, finally, you can touch him like you’ve been wanting. His skin is warm – it’s kind of hot in your room, you’d forgotten to turn on the A/C, so you’re both a little sweaty. But and it’s unclear if it’s because of the heat or just how worked up you are. It doesn’t matter, because it only turns you on even more. You trace the broad plane of his chest, hand snaking down…all the way to his boxers, but he stops you.

He’d let you undress him, allowed it, but this…it crosses a line. Joel hooks his hands behind your thighs and begins to drag you up, up, up, while he shifts lower. It takes a second to register what he’s doing, and when it does, you try to stop it.

“Joel, wait I-”

“I have to taste you darlin’, that okay?” His dark hair is fanned out around his head, resting on your floral pillowcase. In the dim light, his pupils are so blown out you can barely see anything else except black. “I’ll give you whatever you want, but you’ve gotta let me taste you first.”

It’s not that you don’t want it, but he’s taken you off guard, and you’re already overwhelmed by how intimate all this has been, gentle and languid while he whispers honeyed words into your ear. His mind seems already made up, and you don’t really want to tell him no.

“Alright,” you manage, and you grip the top of the headboard.

It’s embarrassing how wet you already are. It started with his hand on your knee in the car, and you have spent the last hour clenching around nothing, squeezing your legs together and searching for friction. Anything. Well, you are about to get it.

Joel’s lips press to the insides of your thighs, once more, dangerously close to where you’re weeping for him. His nose bumps your clit when he turns his head, and you whine – hips sinking to seek the contact that he’s been denying you, and then immediately pulling back in a moment of clarity.

“No, no,” Joel’s hands immediately land on your hips to hold you in place, bringing you lower. “Stay right there for me.”

You don’t dare move.

Finally, his mouth finds you. You think he might tease for a little bit, go slow, because he’s been doing that all night, and it’s become infuriating. But he doesn’t. He eats you out, laves at you. A hot, velvet tongue that works up a steady rhythm. It’s interrupted only by the vibration of his moans every so often, which only add to the pleasure. For a moment, you miss how he’d been talking to you before, but you’re so sensitive, so eager, that you think you’ll sacrifice anything if it means he’s not going to stop. Joel keeps you still with a bruising grip on your hips. All you can do is let him have his way and whimper his name over and over, listen to him groan in response.

Being consistent is key for you. And Joel is nothing but. Practiced, but feral….like he’s been holding back all night. It’s been a long time, or maybe he’s just that excited, it’s hard to tell. Either way, it doesn’t matter. Can’t bring yourself to care about much more than him, the man below you working you over with just his mouth.

“I’m…Joel, I’m-” you try to pull off again, it’s too much, but he doesn’t allow it. Even if the position he’s in is compromising, he’s managed to find a way to assert himself. The coil inside you has wound so tightly that almost every muscle in your body is tense. Now, can’t even move, not even if you wanted to, and he keeps going, your words have only made him more determined.

The coil snaps. You cry out, using the headboard to stifle your noises – not worried that it will probably leave a mark. If you get nothing else from Joel, then at least it will serve as a reminder that he was here, beneath you, lapping up everything you have to give him. The orgasm leaves you weak, trembling, but he holds you up, works you through it until the waves begin to cease, and then you’re so overstimulated, so sensitive that you start to feel lightheaded. “Fuck, Joel, I can’t-” You tug on his hair, hope he’ll get the hint and release you, but he doesn’t. If anything, it only spurs him on.

His mouth is white hot on you, his tongue damp, firm as it circles your clit and drags downward. He gives you nowhere to go, no opportunity to come down from the high, so within minutes, or seconds – at this point, you’ve lost track of time – he’s worked you up to the precipice of release, and you’re coming again, crying out to him.

At last, he eases off, lets you relax. You do, carefully, and so does he, gradually removing his mouth from you while your hand untangles from his dark curls. Joel holds you steady as he sits back against the headboard, keeping you splayed across his lap. You don’t waste your time saying something stupid like “you didn’t have to do that,” because you’re not gonna pretend you didn’t love every second, but mostly because you’re not sure you’re capable of speaking just yet. His hand catches your jaw, and he looks at you – innocently, like he hadn’t just done what he had done, like his fucking beard, and chin, and lips weren’t still wet with you. But the ornery glint in his eyes gives him away. “You liked that?” he has the audacity to ask.

A shaky hand comes to pinch your eyebrows as you let out a weak laugh, nodding. “Yeah, Joel….yeah.”

“Good,” he answers.

“I was right about you,” you manage.

“Yeah?” He murmurs, and his hand skates up your arm, the other settling on your waist. It’s grounding, reassuring as your heart attempts to steady its beating.

“You’re trouble.”

“Yeah,” Joel murmurs, and he leans in close. “Only for you, pretty girl.”

Your hips jolt back at the term of endearment, so much so that you feel the length of his cock, hard against your ass. It’s your turn to take care of him, but it shouldn’t be difficult, because your arousal is already building again. It’ll be much, much, easier to come again, specifically around him. Plus, right now, you are willing to do just about anything for him. You kiss him, and it’s sloppy, lick the taste of yourself out of his mouth. Heat curls again in the pit of your stomach, and you grind yourself down on him through his underwear.

Joel’s head falls back, bonks the headboard, and the thud of impact is overshadowed by his agonized moan. You reach down between your bodies, let your touch land over his clothed cock. He pants out your name. So many things you could do – with only your hand, or your mouth, but before you can decide, he speaks again.

“Wanna be inside you,” he grits out. “So fucking bad.”

“You don’t want me to-”

“No,” he cuts you off. “No, no. I need you.”

“You can have me,” you nod, leaning forward to kiss his neck, pushing down the elastic of his underwear. Joel lets you, his hips stuttering, until he freezes. “Shit.” He reaches out to halt your movements.

You look up, his eyes are wide. “What is it?”

“I’m sorry, I uh, I left my wallet in the car,” Joel’s voice is pinched, palms leaving your body to press against his eyes, frustrated. “I brought condoms, but they’re - I’ll have to go get them.”

“I have some,” you pipe up, nodding towards your bedside table. Joel reaches for it, but it's your turn to stop him. “But I mean, I’m clean,” you say. “...And I have an IUD, so…”

Joel pauses, stares at you under thick lashes. “You sure that…” So tentative. “....That’s okay with you?”

You feel yourself smirk a little as you look at him. It’s not something you’d allow anyone to do. But you’re feeling a little lost in the moment. The part of your brain that usually tells you to run for the hills whenever things get too real has turned off. It’s not the first time he’s caused that, and you sort of enjoy the delusion. There’s no question. It’s Joel. “Oh, yeah.”

The words ignite something in him that you weren’t entirely prepared for, and he’s pulling you hard against his mouth with one hand, while the other pushes his briefs down the rest of the way. You don’t get the chance to see him, to feel him, before he’s lining himself up with your slick cunt.

It’s a soft glide of sensitive skin across sensitive skin, and you shake with anticipation. You don’t even know you have your eyes closed, focusing on the sensation, until you hear Joel’s voice.

“Open your eyes,” he commands. “Please just-” he swallows hard. “I wanna watch you. So fucking pretty.”

You obey, and he guides your hand to replace your own. It’s not until your hand wraps around him that you’re aware of just how thick his cock is, throbbing and leaking, and it makes you all the more eager. Slowly, you start to sink down, but it’s too challenging to take him all at once. So first, just the tip, you roll back to ease the sting, then gradually sink lower and low.

Joel moves closer to you, holding his breath, guiding you along, propped back against the pillows. “That’s it, so fucking good, baby…”

You understand why he was moving so languidly earlier. This is meant to be enjoyed. After some time, and lots of praise, your hips settle flush with his own, and he’s seated fully inside of you. It’s a delicious stretch that your body isn’t fully ready to accommodate, but it has your toes curling and mouth hanging open, bearing down on him involuntarily. Under Joel’s watchful gaze you feel terribly, terribly exposed.

“Keep going,” Joel encourages. So you move. It’s experimental at first, small ruts against him, getting used to the way it feels. It doesn’t take you long to find the spot that makes you abandon eye contact, throw your head back, and –

“Oh, Joel.”

“Yeah?” he asks, and he sounds strained, pinched – he’s holding back, but still enjoying every second. “That feel good?”

You nod furiously. He lets you find a rhythm that works for you, lets you take your time, and once you do, he starts to match your pace. His hands don’t stay in one place for very long. First, they’re resting gently on your ass. Then they’re cupping your tits, watching them bounce as they sway with your movements. He brings his knees up behind you, pressing his feet into the bed, and uses the leverage to fuck himself deeper each time you lower yourself onto him.

At this point, you’re unaware of what types of noises you must be making, and you’re thankful that you’re alone so you can be as loud as you want. His cock is hitting places inside you that you didn’t know existed, and rolling across the same spot over and over and over.

“You feel so perfect for me,” Joel says, his jaw clenched, his chest rising and falling. “So, so good, baby, so fucking pretty.”

“Mm-hmm,” is all you can answer, nodding furiously and feeling yourself grow wetter and wetter with every thrust.

You’re too easy for him. And you were too worked up to begin with. “Joel, I can’t-”

He slams his hips up into yours so hard you cut yourself off with a choked gasp. Then he does it again. “You gonna come for me?” he asks. “I can feel you, baby, I know it’s close.”

“Y-yeah,” he’s got you stammering on your words. You’re clamping down onto him so tightly it hurts. But you’re so desperate to come, to feel what it’ll do to him, that you don’t stop.

“Come here,” he murmurs, hands around your waist, pulling you down so your lips are nearly touching. “Stay close to me.”

“Oh, fuck, oh-” The warmth of his body so close to yours, your hands bracing themselves on his chest, the comfort of his arms around you, all coupled with one vicious rut of his hips has you right there. Joel tilts your head back just enough so you’re forced to look directly at him – and then you come undone.

You want to close your eyes, turn your head, but you’ve got nowhere to go, and he’s right in front of you. Joel’s touch slides up your back, draws you even closer, and you ride out your third orgasm of the night while pressed entirely against his chest, forced to be vulnerable in a way you’ve never been with anyone before. “So good, baby, so good. Such a good fuckin’ girl for me,” he praises you through it, works you through it, until you’re all but melted in his arms, and he still hasn’t pulled his eyes away.

Utterly spent, you know, distantly, somewhere, that he has to come. However, Joel takes over, flips you both so you’re underneath him, and presses himself deep into the cradle of your pelvis. He’s heavy on top of you, but the weight is somehow soothing.

“I thought about you,” you murmur, hoping it’ll help. His jaw is set, solely focused on his own release. “How good you’d feel.”

“Fuck, really?” he grunts. “I-I- did too.”

“Yeah?” you ask, feeling flush at the admission. “I thought about….letting y-you use me.”

Joel groans your name, curses loudly, ruts into you even harder. You can feel him throbbing, so fucking close, and you arch yourself up to meet him, pleasure already building again, even though you thought it wasn’t possible.

“It’s so much better, Joel, you’re so much better–”

Than I imagined. But you don’t have to finish the thought. The idea of you, thinking of him, seems to be enough as it is, and you feel him pulsing, warmth blooming and spreading out as he groans, throws his head back and spills himself impossibly deep inside you. If you weren’t utterly spent, the feeling of him coming – and nothing between you, probably would have set you off again. For now, it’s enough.

His whole body goes limp as he relaxes his arms from where they’re braced on either side of you, his head falling into the crook of your neck. You hear him take a few, haggard breaths once it’s over, and then a deep chuckle vibrates in your ear. “Fuck, baby.”

You rub his shoulder lightly to soothe him, and his lips find the underside of your jaw, kissing lightly his beard scratching your cheeks. For an undetermined amount of time, he remains there. Normally, you’d probably check his watch, but you’ve noticed that the one he always wears is broken, and really….you feel content.

Finally, Joel pulls away, cursing under his breath and withdrawing from you. He runs his hand through his hair, and flops on his back by your side, and you feel horribly empty. After he’s cupped your cheek, turning you gently to look at him – he gives you a tender, affectionate smile.

It hits you like a freight train.

He was not the type of man you dated. The men you dated liked to slap, choke, withhold. That had always been what you’d gotten off to. The more frenzied, the more impersonal – the better. That wasn’t to say Joel hadn’t been passionate. But you’d never experienced anything like this before.

You tear away from his gaze, focus on the ceiling. Heart pounding, threatening to break through your ribs, you feel your mouth dry up, your eyes burn and fuck – you’re about to cry. Try to turn yourself away from him, but he sees it.

“You alright?”

“Yeah, just uh-” your voice catches on the lump forming in the back of your throat and cracks audibly, raw.

“Hey– ” you hear the mattress shift, he’s moving closer, and you start to scramble. You’ve gotta leave. Get to the bathroom, compose yourself. “Where are you goin?”

“Joel, I just need to-” but his hand circles your wrist, and you don’t have the power to resist him. The bones of his hand press firmly in your cheek, turning your head so you have to look at him. There are tears in your eyes.

“What’s wrong, baby? I didn’t hurt you, did I?” Up close you can see that his eyes aren’t brown – they’re hazel. Mesmerizing, long lashes – gold and green rimming his irises. How had you not noticed that before?

“No, no not at all it was just…” you’re talking so fast, not even sure where you’re going with the sentence. “I’m sorry, I liked it I just-I don’t know,” you stutter. Shaking your head, you cover your face. You don’t want to feel this way with him here. “I’m not used to-”

Joel, who has never seen you at a loss for words, frowns, draws you against him. “Come here.”

“It’s okay,” he lets you press your face just below his jaw. He’s being so soft, it makes everything that much worse. Tears slip down your cheeks, landing on his skin. He strokes your hair, holds you so tightly, firmly, "It was intense, huh?”

You want to resent the way he’s speaking to you – like you’re a child who fell off her bike and skinned her knee, and not a grown ass woman realizing how disconnected she’s felt with every other partner until now. But unfortunately, it’s kind of working. You murmur an affirmation in response. ”I’ve got you, it’s okay,” he promises.

He holds you until the tide of emotion swells, settles, lips against your temple, his fingertips tracing up and down your spine, and gives you the time to compose yourself.

“That was really nice, I promise,” you say, eventually. And then, because he’s been so gracious, you’re honest. “It’s just been…a long time…” Forever, really. “Since I felt…”

“I know,” Joel nods. “Me too. It’s alright.”

“Yeah,” you bob your head. He holds your face reverently, and pulls you in for a chaste kiss before tucking you back against his chest. You close your eyes, nestle against him. He strokes your hair while you listen to the steady beat of his heart.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The next thing you know, you’re being gently shaken awake. Somehow, you’d fallen asleep.

“Hey, baby,” Joel murmurs softly.

“Mmm?” you groan in response, exhaustion clinging to your limbs.

“I’m sorry, I gotta get going.”

You scoff into his neck and make a noise of protest, still not entirely roused, he’d woken you too delicately. When he speaks, his lips brush against your forehead, hands still tracing up and down the lines of your body and making you shiver. “I told Sarah and Tommy I’d be home by midnight.”

“Right,” you mutter, finding the strength to push yourself off of him and stretch. Joel sits up, very tentatively releasing you from his grip.

“I’m sorry I had to wake you, I can see myself out.”

“No, no,” you shake your head. “No, please. Do you need anything?”

“Can I use your bathroom?”

“Of course,” you point towards the ensuite.

Joel collects his discarded clothes off the bed, then the floor, and disappears. You hear the sink running, watch the shuffling shadows he casts in the crack below the door. While he’s doing that, you slip into your robe and run your fingers through your hair, taking in the disheveled state of your bed, before deciding to clean up in the extra bathroom down the hall.

On your way back, you run into Joel, who looks better than ever, tanned skin glowing, a soft smile on his face. “Hey,” he says.

“Hey.”

“This was nice. I had a really good time.”

“Me too.”

“Will you…” he trails off, rubs his jaw. “Will you be okay? I don’t want to-”

“I’m fine,” you say, dismissively. “I just had a moment.”

“You sure?”

“Of course.” Joel studies you carefully, and you’re prompted to continue. “I promise. Joel. This was nice.”

“It was,” he grins. “I’d like to see you again.”

“Me too,” you don’t even think before you answer, despite everything. It surprises you, how willing you suddenly are.

“Good.” He kisses you, slow and lingering. “I’ll give you a call.”

“Okay.”

part vi

taglist: @yaskna@venomous-ko@lomljigg@yeehawbitchs@ay0nha @eldahae @lol-im-done@melancholicmelanin@reggies-floatie @omniscientqueer@superflymaterial@mikkorantanev@zbeez-outlet @nadja-antipaxos @strawberri-blonde @jabbajambler @ponyboys-sunsets @kyuupidwrites @r4efromvenus @loveatfirstsight-atlastsight @korianderbandit @nicoleoeoeoe @hotgirlsshareaccounts @madisonred88 @crustyrustydusty @sflame15-blog @issybee0611 @darkemeralddiamond @grandmana @totallynotastanacc @ay0nha @virgogaia @lunarxeclipse @marysucks-blog @jabbajambler @surazim @naiomiwinchester @raindrcpsangel @dorotheapascal @mythical-mushrooms13 @chernayawidow

1K notes · View notes

mrsevans90 · 1 month

Text

Puppy Love

Captain Syverson x OFC Emma Miller Part 17

Summary: Austin Syverson has returned to Texas after retiring from the military and starts his own contracting business. Syverson is used to being alone and thinks he prefers it that way. While at work he stumbles upon an injured and abused puppy. When he meets the new veterinarian in town, Emma Miller, he is immediately smitten with her. It turns out Emma has some baggage of her own. Will they be able to make it work? Or is it just a case of fleeting puppy love?

Pairing: Henry Cavill as Captain Austin Syverson x OFC Emma Miller

Warnings: Fluff. Smut. Oral (F receiving), fingering, squirting, P in V intercourse, innuendos, language, romantic love making.

MINORS DNI! Must be 18+

I do not authorize any copying/pasting, stealing of my work, or using my words as your own.

This story is not beta’d. All mistakes are my own.

A/N: I am an imperfect person who makes mistakes. All that I ask is to please be kind and if you enjoy it then please comment and REPOST! I appreciate any love, comments, and reposts more than you could know. Thank you for reading!

Part 16

After spending the day on the beach and in the ocean, I was getting mentally prepared for the big proposal tonight. I had no idea what I’m going to say to Emma, as verbal confessions of love were a bit of a struggle for me. I know without a doubt how I feel about her, but I just suck at putting all of the words together. I tend to show her how I feel, rather than say it which hasn’t steered me wrong yet but I wanted to make this perfect for her.

I told Emma that I had booked us a dinner tonight at sunset so to get all gussied up and be ready for a fancy meal. Emma showered first saying she wanted to do all sorts of shaving and exfoliating and needed some room. I trimmed up my beard before she was wrapped in the hotel’s bathrobe as she began drying her hair. I went to shower next and spent most of my shower trying to come up with the right combinations of words in my head but being distracted as Emma bent over and flipped her hair from side to side as she dried it. My cock twitched every time she did it because I could only think about how she does something similar when I’m taking her from behind. I willed my dick to calm down, hoping that we’d have an engagement to celebrate later tonight that I needed him to wait for. I tried my best to refocus on my upcoming declaration of love and said a prayer everything would go smoothly. We still had an hour until dinner so I laid down on the bed in my underwear and decided to check in with my grandparents and let them know that we had arrived safely and make sure Mills and Aika were behaving. Nana was so excited about having the dogs spend the week with them, that I swear she might try and keep them.

“Hello?”

“Hey Nana. How’s it going?”

“Oh, I’m so glad you called! I was wondering if y’all made it safely. How is it there?”

“It’s really nice. Very fancy and we’re having a great time so far. How are y’all doing?”

“We are just fine. These dogs are just a delight, Son. I don’t want to give them back.”

“Maybe I’ll let them come over more often if you don’t spoil them rotten.”

“Well, that’s my job until you give me some human babies to spoil. Maybe you should start working on that. Have you proposed yet?”

“Not yet. I’ve got a dinner booked tonight but I don’t want to say much else. Em’s in the bathroom getting ready.”

“Okay, but you better let me know what she says. Are you nervous?”

“Nah.” I said, but I don’t know why I even bother putting up a front with her. She can read my voice like a book from across the world.

“Don’t be nervous. Just say how you feel, from your heart. You knew right away that she was different and you need to tell her how much you care for her.”

“I’m going try. You know I’ve never been the best with words.”

“You’re better than you think you are, honey.”

“Thanks. I’m gonna let you go, but I just wanted to check in. Don’t feed my dogs too many treats.”

“Too late! They love Nana’s house the best!” She chuckles.

“Love you.”

“Love you too! Good luck even though you don’t need it.”

I hang up with Nana and listen to Emma softly singing some pop song while getting ready and decide I better get myself dressed as well. I put on my “church clothes” as my mama always called it and discreetly pocket the ring in my pants pocket. I’ve organized for a photographer to hang back out of sight and photograph the proposal which was the only stipulation that Emma’s mom had when I asked for her hand. I wanted to make the trip to Alabama to ask in person but there was no way I could do that without Emma finding out or getting suspicious. I think back to that nervous phone call.

*Flashback*

I had arranged to speak with Emma’s parents via facetime while she was at work one day and I was nervous as hell to make the call.

“Hi Austin!” Diana and James greeted when they accepted the call.

“Hey there. How are y’all doing today?”

“Good, probably not nearly as nervous as you.” James said and Diana smacked his arm with a shake of her head and I couldn’t help but chuckle because they were right.

“You wanted to talk to us about Emma?” Diana prompts.

“Well, I know we haven’t been together terribly long, but we are so good together and I have never been so sure about someone before. I have fallen deeply in love with her and I would love nothing more to ask her to marry me, with your blessing of course.” I ramble out probably too quickly.

Diana and James look at each other with a smile before responding.

“We had a feeling this is what you wanted to ask us because we saw the way you both looked at each other and gravitated around each other when we came to visit. Emma has really opened up since we met you and I have never seen her so, herself. It’s like she finally stopped worrying about every step she took and allowed herself to just be happy.” Diana said and I couldn’t help but smile.

“The answer to your question is yes, you have our blessing as long as you promise to love her and take care of her and treat her with the utmost respect. She may be grown and not need us, but she’s always been my little princess.” James said with an almost sad smile.

“I swear to you both, that Emma is the love of my life and I will do anything and everything to provide for her and give her everything she could ever want.”

“I’ve seen how you both are together that weekend we came to stay and knew it was the real deal. I’ve never seen her so happy or so in love before and we would be proud to have you as a son-in-law. You’re a good man.”

“Thank you, sir. You don’t realize how much that means to me. Becoming a part of your family would be a blessing. I’m just hoping she’ll say yes. Do y’all want to see the ring?”

“Of course, sweetheart!” Diana responded while clapping her hands as I carefully opened the box and tilted it towards the camera.

“Oh, it’s beautiful, Austin!” Diana coos and I feel proud that her mom is so sure she will like it.

“I’m relieved you think so. I was a little out of my depth but I just felt like it was something I could see her wearing every day. It’s a 2 carat round diamond, with something called baguette diamonds on each side on a platinum band. I plan to ask her when we go to Jamaica in two weeks. I still haven’t figured out exactly where, but I think she’d like it if I proposed near the beach.”

“It’s perfect. I just know she’ll say yes! Could you do us a favor? Could you have a photographer take pictures for us to see? I know she would cherish them as well.”

“Yes ma’am.” I make a mental note to call the resort and see if I can hire someone to take pictures. I hadn’t thought of anything like that, so I’m glad her mom mentioned it.

“Well, we’re proud to have you join the family son. I appreciate you asking us and letting us in on it. I know she’ll be blown away.” James says.

“Thank you both so much.”

I swear, I almost cried after we got off of the phone call. The only man that I ever looked up to was my PawPaw since my dad split and started a new family. I felt lucky to have PawPaw but always wondered why I wasn’t good enough for my dad to stay. Having Emma’s family accept me into their own so willingly, really caught me by surprise. I didn’t expect those old feelings to come back up, especially at my age. I guess you never grow out of wanting a father that actually wants you.

*Present*

I think I’ve got an idea of what I’m going to say to her but when she enters the bedroom all thoughts leave my brain. Emma is stunning in a full length royal blue dress and heels with her long hair in soft curls over her shoulders. The dress is simple with thin straps on her shoulders that cross in the back and a cut up to her knee which gives me a peek of her perfect legs when she walks. I’m literally stunned speechless.

“I’m ready. Don’t you look handsome.” She says with a smile as she makes her way to me.

“God damn, Sugar. I’ve never seen anything so beautiful in my life.” I tell her honestly and her cheeks blush as she gives me her shy smile. I wrap my arms around her, angling the ring box away from her body and inhale her perfume.

“Thank you, baby.”

“I’m tempted to keep you here all to myself but you look so stunning it would be a shame not to show you off.” I whisper in her ear and she giggles.

“Let’s take a picture since we are all dressed up?” She asks and holds her phone out for a selfie. She giggles in the first picture as I kiss her cheek before she makes me smile for a real photo of us together.

“Perfect.” She says as she reviews the photos on her phone.

“Hungry?” I ask and her tummy responds with a little growl which makes me chuckle.

“Let’s go get that fancy shmancy dinner. If their portions suck, just know I’m going to come back here and order a burger from room service.” I joke as Emma wraps her arm through mine and intertwines our fingers. She seems a bit surprised when I lead her towards the ocean rather than one of the big restaurants on the property until she spots the gazebo covered in twinkle lights at the end of the pier. There’s a man there holding a bottle of red wine near a table covered in flowers and candles atop a white tablecloth and I hear Emma whisper “holy shit” to herself as I lead her towards our dinner location. The water gently crashes against the shore around us and the sunset has cast an array of different colors into the sky, mostly orange and pink which even I can admit is gorgeous. I take a peek at my watch and see that we have about 40 minutes until the sun is officially set. Damn, I did better than I thought with setting this up. I can only hope the photographer I hired has set up somewhere and will be able to get pictures.

“Oh my god, Austin.” Emma says with large eyes filled with surprise at our dinner location.

“Wanted to spoil my girl.” Is the only excuse I offer, hoping it will be enough for now.

“This is beyond stunning! Thank you, baby.” She says as she looks around and begins eating her meal. I had to order for us in advance since we aren’t in an actual restaurant, and I chose filet mignon, seasoned vegetables, small potatoes and bread. I planned to propose after she ate so we talked about how amazing the vacation has been so far, and if there were any excursions she would like to go on. She decided she would like to stay around the resort and get a couple’s massage tomorrow. I’ve never had a professional massage, but am not opposed to the idea especially if Emma is with me.

Before I knew it, the waiter had left to retrieve our dessert and we were both finished eating the main meal. It was time for me to propose. I was nervous as hell but after a large gulp of wine and a deep breath, I began. I reached across the table and took her hand in mine.

“Em, I couldn’t be happier that we took this trip together and even more so that we officially get to go back home together since I somehow sweet-talked you into moving in with me. I know I’m not the best with words, tending to rely more on my actions to show you how I feel but I’m trying to get better about that. You deserve every single day to be told how incredible you are. I want…I wanted to tell you how deeply I love you. I’ve never felt like this before and I truly didn’t think this type of love and connection would exist in my universe. You are an incredible veterinarian and the best mama to Aika and Mills. I know that you will be the most amazing mother to our future kids one day and it makes me so excited about the future. You are the most beautiful, loving, generous, stubborn and funny woman wrapped all into one and I consider myself the luckiest man in the world to have you as mine. That being said, I would love to have you become mine in every way. Would you do me the honor of marrying me, Sugar?” While I was speaking, I moved around the table and got down on my good knee while holding her left hand. I pull the ring box from my pocket and open it up to reveal the ring that I got her.

“Holy crap! Really?” Emma says with wide but tear filled eyes and jumps from her seat.

“Really, Darlin’” I answer with a nervous chuckle.

“Austin, oh my god! YES!” She squeals with a little excited jump as tears pour down her cheeks. I pull the ring from the box but before I can even slide it on her finger, Emma is suddenly on her knees nearly choking me in a tight hug before her lips find mine. She kisses me passionately and I feel the wetness from her tears against my cheek as she kisses me deeply.

“I love you so much and I can’t wait to marry you.” She says against my lips.

“I love you too, Sugar. Can’t wait for you to be my wife.” I say and I pull back and slide the ring on her finger before wiping her eyes.

Emma holds out her hand to admire the ring. “We can get something else if that isn’t what you had in mind.” I tell her, hoping she’ll be honest with me.

“Oh, Austin, this is more beautiful than I could have imagined! I love it baby.” She says with another kiss before I help her up off of the pier. I smile when the photographer that I hired, Joseph, walks down the pier and introduces himself before congratulating us and asking to take a few more photos before the sun sets. We take several photos before sitting down to eat the dessert brought by our waiter that’s covered in chocolate and drink the champagne that he brought along with it.

All I can think about is the fact that she said yes and was going to become my wife. Emma is smiling from ear to ear and she’s absolutely radiant as she looks down at the ring weighing on her finger.

“How did you know my size?” She asks.

“I took the ring your grandma gave you while you were at work. I know you don’t wear it there since it’s hard to put on with gloves, so I had them measure it at the jeweler.”

“Brilliant. Thank you for having someone take photos. I can’t wait to see them!”

“Ah, that was a request from your mama and I’m glad she made it because I didn’t think anything about it.”

“You talked to my mom?”

“Of course, and your dad. Had to get their permission and show them the ring.” I tell her and she giggles with a beaming smile.

She wanted to facetime her parents so while we were there, she called them and proudly announced that she said yes and we were getting married. They spoke for only a few minutes with endless congratulations and excitement before she wanted to call my Nana and PawPaw and tell them as well. After that call where we had to practically hang up on my Nana who I imagined was flitting around the room with her excitement, we took a stroll along the moonlit beach hand in hand.

“You’re going to be the most beautiful bride, Sugar.”

“I can’t believe we are getting married! This is everything that I ever wanted and more. You are everything I could have wanted, Austin Daniel Syverson.” She says and kisses me.

“Mmm…” I grunt and she licks into my mouth and presses her body against mine.

“Fuck, Mrs. Emma Syverson sounds so good.” I tell her and she moans as I kiss near her ear.

“Take me to bed, future husband.”

“My pleasure.” I grunt as I reluctantly peel my body from hers so that we can go back to our room.

Once we arrived, I’m pleased to see that the staff went above and beyond for us. Filling the large tub with bubble and flowers, champagne chilling on ice, and rose petals carefully arranged across the perfectly made bed to spell out, CONGRATS. Candles have been lit and are placed throughout the room giving it such a romantic feel.

I walk up behind Emma who was admiring the romantic setup and pressed my body against her back.

She quickly turned around and kissed me hungrily.

“I love you so much, Darlin’.” I whisper in her ear as she starts unbuttoning my shirt.

“I love you more, baby.” She says as she pushes the dress shirt from my shoulders.

“Not possible.” I turn her around and find the zipper to her dress and push the straps off of her shoulders to reveal that she was wearing a lacy black bra and matching thong set under that dress. I bite my lip and push away my desire to be rough with her. Tonight, I’m going to make this as romantic as I can. Slow and sensual.

I pick her up and place her gently on her back on the rose covered bed before stripping myself down to my navy boxers.

“Austin, I need you.” She moans as her hands roam up and down her body in an attempt to ease her need.

“I’m gonna take my time with you tonight, Sugar. Want to show you how much I love you. Gonna make love to you, angel.” I tell her before kissing her deeply. I kiss all over her, removing the strapless bra first on my journey down her body, before removing her panties and spreading her legs to fit my wide shoulders. I kiss along her hip bones before finding my place at the apex of her thighs. Gently sliding my finger across her sensitive skin, I spread her wetness before gently guiding one finger, and then another inside of her before licking, sucking and kissing her folds. Focusing on her clit, I glance up to see the reflection of her engagement ring shining in the candlelight as she reaches up to grasp her breast and I instinctively rut against the mattress. Fuck, this is my fiancé. I’m going to marry this woman falling apart underneath me. I groan against her pussy. Emma moans and gasps soft, ‘oh fuck’ or ‘yes baby, right there!’ as I work to pleasure her. I focus even harder to get her to her climax and before I realize it, Emma is squirting her release across my fingers and chin. I lick and slurp her arousal before gently removing my fingers and caressing her thighs. Emma is positively wrecked above me as she tries to come down from reaching her peak. I use this opportunity to dry my fingers on my boxers which are wet with precum before I slide them off and lean back over Emma to kiss her.

“You’re so beautiful.” I tell her and she gives me her shy smile.

“Never seen anything more gorgeous than you coming apart for me, Sugar.” I continue before she wraps her arms around my neck.

“Make love to me, Sy.” She tells me as she reaches down between us and guides my cock into her tight wet channel. I groan as I fill her up inch by inch with me. God, she feels so good. Will this ever stop being so amazing? I really don’t think it will.

“Baby, you feel so good.” Emma says as I start to thrust into her. She starts kissing on my neck and moaning in my ear and I swear I’m biting my lip to keep from coming before her. Her legs wrapped tightly around my waist as I intertwine our hands above her head and rut into her.

I continue to thrust into her as we share heated kisses, our tongues dancing against each other and gentle nips at each other’s lips. I gently tug on her nipples and grope her breasts as we find our highs together and I release my seed into her warmth.

I roll over beside her as we are coming down from our orgasms. Every muscle in my body is now fully relaxed since she said yes to my proposal. I was more nervous than I even admitted to myself and now, my body felt almost jello-like as I felt the relief surge through me. I reached down and brought Emma’s hand to my lips as I kissed her engagement ring and she rolled over on top of me.

“Thank you for making all of my dreams come true.” She whispers.

“Thank you for doing the same, Sugar.” I smile at her and kiss her forehead. A few moments later, I can feel us getting sleepy so I pick her up bridal style and place her in the bathtub that was set up for us before following her in. We relax against each other as she sleepily but excitedly recounts her thoughts of the dinner and my proposal and I smile the entire time she talks. Emma is so happy and I feel a surge of pride as though I had successfully made this as romantic as I possibly could have for her.

Emma is asleep against my chest roughly forty-five minutes later and I gently rouse her so that I can dry her off and get her ready for bed. She wants her makeup off so I help her wipe her face with her makeup wipes before we brush our teeth and climb into the pristine bed still covered in rose petals now in disarray.

Emma is wrapped around me like usual with her head against my chest as I gently stroke through the soft curls of her hair.

Thinking she’s already asleep, I admire the ring on her little hand and smile knowing that she’s agreed to forever with me.

“Goodnight, fiancé. I love you.” She whispers and I smile before kissing the top of her head.

“Goodnight, my bride. I love you too.”

Part 18

Taglist: @shellyshellshell, @henryownsme, @caramariehurst, @beck07990, @mollymal, @kingliam2019, @syversonswife, @identity2212, @starfirewildheart, @hannah9921, @wa-ni, @kneelforloki, @cutedoxie, @enchantedbytomandhenry, @foxyjwls007, @geralts-yenn, @courtlynwriter, @corrie1013, @squeezyvalkyrie, @summersong69, @livisss, @mayloma, @uunotheangel, @warriormirkwood, @sofiebstar, @wetzilly

A/N:

This is how I felt while writing the proposal! Sorry y'all will have to wait a little bit on the balcony smut, but I wanted to keep this one romantic 🥰❤️ Hope y'all liked it!

#captain syverson #henry cavill characters #captain syverson fic #henry cavill fanfiction #captain sy #captain syverson fanfiction #captain syverson smut #henry cavill #captain syverson fluff

113 notes · View notes

mmountseb · 1 year

Text

Does he know?- Mason Mount smut

Warnings: smut. Mature language. Mentions of breath play. A bit angst

Summary: Y/n is Mason Mount’s ex. They’ve been separated for over a year now but both haven’t gotten over each other yet.

Notes: this is mainly pure smut. Sorry for any mistakes. English isn’t my first language so bare with me. Enjoy!

Y/N is Mason Mount’s ex. They’ve been separated for over a year now but haven’t gotten over each other yet.

The reason for their break up was their busy schedule.

He was a full time footballer and she was a bartender.

She worked in one of London’s most famous bar, Nightjar, and that’s exctly where she had met Mason.

He had gone there to celebrate his birthday with a few close friends, and she was serving their table even if she had gone there to have fun in that night since it was her first night off in weeks.

A year later they figured they’d work out better as friends so that’s what they did, they went back to being friends.

Everyone knows that usually never works.

For Y/N’s 22nd bday in November 2023, she decided to go to Nightjar with her friends, and her sorta boyfriend, to celebrate her newly Taylor Swift year.

All of her friends adored Cam, they all would tell her he’s sweeter than Mason.

That he was truly the right man for their friend, she couldn’t disagree more.

He was absolutely a nice lad, gave her space when she needed.

Never forced her doing anything, and he was kinda okay at sex, meaning he was vanilla,

She usually caughts herself, calling and hanging up right away on his phone, she thought he wouldn’t notice but she called enough to give off a notification to his phone.

He always saw her missed calls, and a smirk would always grow on his lips knowing she was calling for him even if she had someone lying next to her every night.

On November 8th she threw a birthday party on Nightjar, she didn’t know that Mason and his gang would be there as well.

This wasn’t definitely going to end well.

Y/N p.o.v

I had alredy finished getting ready, and raring to go and celebrate my Taylor Swift year.

I pulled up into the bar and quickly found my friends waiting for me to celebrate and getting pissed.

I was truly having so much fun dancing with Cam when I suddenly caught Mason’s gaze.

It was penetrating me with such a force and I was definitely getting intimidated and thirsty.

“Cam, if you excuse me I’m gonna go get a drink, go back to the table I won’t be long”.

He simply nodded and let me go to the bar, he sat next to my best friend who obviously asked where I was.

I noticed her following her gaze to where I was headed and slightly smirked when she saw who was at the bar.

She simply told Cam to have fun that I would be back soon.

I hadn’t moved from where I was until she gave me a nod, telling me to go.

She knew me so freaking well, I was quick to approach the bar and sat next to the guy was eyeing me when I was on the dance floor.

“You look absolutely amazing tonight y/n. Happy birthday by the way love”

Love, ahhh, the name he used to call me every single day.

I turned to look at him, being welcomed with a slight smirk on his face and his beard trimmed.

Fucking hell, he looked delicious, I smiled and stared into his eyes.

“Thank you Mason, it’s nice to see you. Have you been waiting here for a while? I can manage to serve you if you’d like” I offered making him snort

“No, thanks love. Today’s your off day, and birthday So I should be the one offering you a drink. Not the other way around” he said coming closer to me and taking his hand to my arm,caressing it

“In case you didn’t know, I have a boyfriend So it’s kinda inappropriate of my ex to be caressing my arm don’t you think?” I asked him

That didn’t stop him from coming closer, and taking his hand to my discovered leg, caressing it straight away.

“Yet, having a boyfriend didn’t stop you from coming over as soon as you saw your So called ex boyfriend innit?” he fired back making me fully turn over to him.

He was standing in the middle of my legs, moving his hand closer to the hem of my dress.

“What exactly could you possibly want from me Mason?” I asked, putting my hand on top of his to prevent him pulling it even further up.

“Am just curious about how you have a boyfriend that seems like he’s good for you, makes you feel like you should. All of your friends say he’s the one for you and that his love is true. But it’s missing something, innit?”

I instantly nodded, watching his upper lip forming a curve, indicating that it was exactly what he wanted to hear.

“It’s just, he treats me amazingly and is honestly a good lad. His company is great but…”

“But the sex isn’t great.” he added making me blush.

“Tell me exactly what bothers you in sex with him”

I giggled and hid my face “Why am I talking with my ex about my sex life when I’m supposed to be celebrating my birthday with my friends” I asked while having my left hand supporting my head

He moistened his lips and shrugged off “cause I know your body better than no one. So let’s be honest, you tell him you’ve finished when you haven’t… And then you probably watch some porn and finish yourself off.”

“Well it’s not exactly porn..” I say making him confused “It’s our sex tape”

He smirked and moistened his lips “So you’re telling me you finish yourself off watching us have sex? Is he that bad?”

“Mason! God when you say it like that makes it seem like he’s terrible. It’s just that he doesn’t know where to touch me like you do- did.” I said hearing him snort.

He got up and pulled me to the dance floor.

As we got there, like a moth to a flame, he pulled me in.

Back to what I initially needed.

I turned around, pressing my back against him feeling his breathe on my neck.

“So love, does he know you call me when he sleeps? Does he know you keep the pictures and that vídeo to pleasure yourself after making him think you’ve finished?” he asked and I blushed, he knew I was calling him every night even if he never picked up cause I didn’t let him to.

“Does he know the reasons that you cry, when you’re all curled up because you’re tired of the shifts. Or does he know where your heart truly lies when you’re lying next to him?

He asked, So I turned around and took my hands to his face kissing him forcefully.

“He knows nothing Mase. Cause it’s you and it’s always gonna be you no matter what.”

He smiled and pulled me in even more “Stay with me tonight, I’ll give you a proper birthday celebration” he plead taking his hands to my ass giving it a squeeze.

I smirked and nodded “take me, I’m all yours”

Right after entering Mason’s appartment, he pinned me against the wall feeling the cold of the tiles on my bare back.

I wasted no time in attacking his neck with kisses, bites and hickeys.

Mason’s p.o.v

I made sure to make her look me in the eye as I inserted my fingers inside her helping her build the orgasm.

I felt her getting wetter at the frantically moves my fingers were making inside her.

I let her come around my fingers and lay her head on my shoulder with the pleasure that was taking over her body.

"Do you think this is over? My love it's not" I said, licking my fingers while giving her some time to recover from her recent orgasm.

I took her to my room and didn’t waste any time taking out clothes off

I positioned my member at her entrance, entering with everything feeling her squeeze my shoulders and moan low.

I took her hands in mine and started to make strong thrusts reaching her G-spot, she squeezed my hands, arching her back, while loud moans came out of her mouth.

I took my mouth to her chest biting and sucking her breasts and neck.

It didn't take long for her to come. I got off of her and she looked me in the eyes confused.

"On your knees. Now!" I spoke in an authoritative tone seeing her getting on her knees and putting my dick in her mouth without me having to tell her what to do.

I watched her suck my cock better than ever just as I remembered, quickly reaching my orgasm by tilting my head back and letting a hoarse moan leave my lips. Due to the build up tension we had going on from our intense dancing in the pub.

She stood up again and kissed me, pinning me on the bed making me smile between kisses.

"You still fuck like you used to" she said kissing my neck leaving some hickeys.

I took my hands to her ass and squeezed it watching her lips part and an accidental moan came from her lips making me smirk.

“Can’t really forget how to fuck a pussy like yours can I?”

After having my dick sucked and finished having sex, she made me lie down getting on top of me

She looked at me innocently while biting her lips, this girl was driving me crazy.

"Is that a round two I’m seeing your eyes plead?" I asked seeing her nod as I reached my hands to her ass squeezing it harder.

"Do you want it rough or soft love?" I asked while inserting my dick inside of her without moving.

She moaned at the sudden act, biting her lip while moving her hips wanting more contact. She wasn't planing or answering my question I see.

"Answer or I'll leave you here without sex" I threatened with an authoritative tone making her shiver.

"I want it rough Daddy" she said whining at the lack of contact I was depriving her from.

I moaned at her choice of words and started to move myself slowly inside of her to make her beg for it.

"Fuck. Mason just fuck me already, I'm getting impatient" she said while moving her hips up to get more contact between us.

I smirked as I saw her growing impatient for my touch so I took my hand to her neck squeezing it a little bit just to see her reaction.

"Beg for it babygirl. Beg for daddy to give you his cock. Beg for me to fuck you so good that you won't be able to remember his name" I said in a seductive tone just to see her get more impatient and surrended to me.

"Please daddy fuck me. Fuck me so good just like you know how to. Make me take your cock just like the good girl I am" she said making me almost come with her dirty words.

I loved when she talked dirty to me, just how I talked to her.

"I'm not so sure if you've been a good girl baby" I teased seeing her roll her eyes "teasing daddy like that earlier wasn't nice"

She had teased me in the dance floor, rolling her hips against my hard cock, forgetting about the so called boyfriend who had some girls tongue shoved on his throat.

"I'll do everything you ask me to if you fuck me now. But please just fuck me like you always know how to" she begged making me smirk

So I did as I was told, I started to move myself inside of her strongly but slow, just to hear her moan like crazy. I kept thrusting hard making her roll her eyes almost seeing her brain.

"Fuck, are you taking my cock well princess? Do you like the way I'm fucking you?" I asked between moans as she nodded not wanting to get any words to come out off her mouth.

"Fuck daddy don't stop! I’m almost there" she said as I saw her body starting to shake as if it was signaling me she was almost about to come.

"That's it baby, let it all go. Come for daddy love" I said making her squirt, my orgasm came righ after as she clenched her wall around my dick.

"Fuck.” she said while breathing heavily.

She was totally wasted, she let herself fall on my chest to recover from the double orgasm I had given her

I smirked at her and kissed her forehead myself covering ourselves. She stared at me with a shy smile.

"Was it good enough for birthday sex or does a round three sound good?" I asked caressing her hair making her smile.

“Think I’ll definitely need a round three to make up for all that vanilla sex I’ve been having” she said giggling

I took her face in my hands and kissed her.

Safe to say, she had an amazing birthday

#mason mount #mason mount smuts #mason mount smut #masonmountfluff #masonmountblurb #mason mount x reader #masonmountimagine #mason mount imagine

445 notes · View notes

ornii · 5 months

Text

Folie a Deux IV: Jealousy

(I also Made an alternate Cover! Don’t know why)

A college student finally finished their midterm exams and makes their way back to the dorm. First thing they do when they enter is check YouTube and spot the perfect video.

Jenna Ortega and (F/n) (L/n) answer the Webs most searched questions. It plays as the two sit casually together.

“Hello I’m Jenna Ortega.”

“And I’m (F/n) (L/n), and we’re here to Answer the Webs most searched questions about us.”

The video begins as the duo take a board and answer various internet searches. (Y/n) tears off one.

“Is (Y/n)… Blind.” He said, he turns to the camera, staring at it as people try not to laugh.

“…No.” He answers, “It was just a Character I was playing, I’m not actually blind, but what I will say is that acting blind is a lot harder than you think.” He explains, Jenna eyes him as he looks at her.

“Okay so let’s say we’re doing a scene, and I have to listen to you, I can’t look directly at you even though I obviously want to, I have to basically look in your general direction but not directly at you.” He said, she nodded, admitting that makes sense.

“He’s smarter than he looks she says jokingly, the interviewer continues as another question pops up.

“How did.. Jenna Ortega and (F/n) (L/n) meet.” She said, “it was… the Grammys?” She Said and (Y/n) nodded.

“Yeah it was the 2020? I remember they told I was gonna sit next to Orgeta so I thought, “oh it’s probably Brian Orgeta or something.” This was my first Awards show so I was obviously anxious and I had a few things in my brain to say to break the ice, well it didn’t end well. I look to my left and this, beautiful girl just sat down next to me and, you remember the old windows PC’s and that blue screen sound effect they make? That was my brain.” He explains without cracking a single smirk, Jenna pursed her lips, trying not to laugh, also because he said she was beautiful.

“But yeah, ever since that, and us getting casted in Wednesday we’ve been friends ever since.”

“Yeah, Friends.” She mutters.

With the last question, they both tear it off and say in unison. “Are Jenna Ortega and (F/n) (L/n).. dating.” They look to the camera to speak but the video, hilariously and abruptly ends.

“So they cut the video for dramatic effect?” (Y/n) Asks Miss Ortega as he sits at a marble table inside a beautiful kitchen, it was part of a beautiful villa in Tuscany Italy. He asks the girl walking out of the room putting on a pair of gorgeous golden earrings, her hair done so well, adorning a beautiful gold trimmed Princess Line dress. He saw her and much like before, his brain couldn’t fathom her beautiful, he simply stood up and walked to the window, looking out to see the gorgeous countryside and it’s beautiful hills, perfectly matched by the slowly setting sun.

“I really appreciate you coming with me.” He said, “I mean getting invited to some ball was pretty scary.” He explains, Jenna shook her head. “It’s funny to hear that, I’ve been doing this since I was a kid, it’s natural to me.” She explains, walking next to him she also looks out the window. Taking in the slowly setting sun over the beautiful Italian mountainside.

“I could look at this forever.” She said, reveling in the beauty of the moment. (Y/n) nods, his phone suddenly rings, checking it was his manager and he reluctantly answers.

“Hello? Oh, yeah I’m just waiting I— oh, she did?” He said, Jenna turns to him, her interest growing in his conversion.

“That’s, fine? Okay.” He hangs up, and turns to Jenna.

“Apparently Olivia’s going too, so that’s fun.” He said, Jenna was taken aback slightly. Not expecting someone else.

“It’ll be nice to see her at least, cmon we should get going.”

The two were escorted, mostly driven to there. (Y/n) was humming to “Good 4 U”. Jenna, having a taste for music picks up.

“You must really like that song.” She said and (Y/n) nods, “Love it. Actually, I guess the boys version I made was okay, but nothin compares to the original.”

“Boys?” She replied, and (Y/n) reluctantly shows a video, it was a small recap of it all. (Y/n) releasing a version that swaps the protagonists of the song. Not to diss Olivia but to show that breakups are nasty on both ends. Turns out, Olivia loved it, and obviously retweeted it.

“Breakups suck on both ends a lot of times, it’d be like if you and I stopped being friends, we’d both be hurt.” He explains, Jenna sees the look in his eyes, she always found he was always honest, even if it was painful and the look in his Eyes, he would be hurt if they stopped. Jenna reached out, her hand almost grabbing his, until the vehicle stopped, they halted and prepared to make center stage, as the door opened (Y/n) stepped out first, adjusting his suit he then turns to the door and reaches out for Jenna, she smiles, taking his hand and steps out. The duo make their presence known.

Cameras flash and (Y/n) was still a bit novice at this, Jenna took it for the moment to make her power move, her arm wrapped around his and he was surprised but didn’t make any attempt to stop her, the two walk in to the Ball, adores with tapestry and music, it felt like the 1900’s once more, a whimsical prince with a beautiful princess on his arm, this was a fantasy to many, but a dream come true for (Y/n).

It was mostly mingling and talking, the two keeping close to each other. While they weren’t locked arms they were still in yelling distance, mingling and enjoying the ambiance. Staying in the Limelight, but something caught (Y/n) in the corner of his eye, a girl with sleek black hair approaching, in a large silver Ball gown, it was Olivia. She smiled and approached, (Y/n) was caught off guard by another beautiful woman talking to him first!

“(Y/n)?” She asks. (Y/n)s pep picked up and he smiles.

“Yeah, it’s nice to meet you!” He offers a handshake and Olivia kindly shakes it. Yeah we’ve talked on the internet before but, it’s weird in person.

“You come here alone?” (Y/n) asks.

“Yeah, it was nice to not be on tour or stuck making music, good to get out, you?” She replies, (Y/n) looks over.

“No, Jenna’s with me.” He said, Olivia nods in jest, “A nice date night then huh?” She said.

“What? No it’s, she came as a friend, I’m not too good with people.” (Y/n) awkwardly admits. Olivia looks around for a moment, spotting Miss Ortega, who sees the two chatting and, isn’t in the most enjoyable mood. Olivia smiles.

“Hey, Mind if we talk in private? Something I want to run by you.” She asks, (Y/n) casually agrees and Jenna watches the two walk away to a more secluded part of the Ballroom. Her frown was very prominent, and she sulked after, slowly following them. They pass by a pillar To the outside and Jenna has lost their trail, listening to any talking she picks something up, she follows past a pillar and to smaller balcony, she was suddenly stopped as (Y/n) came around the corner. They almost bumped into each other.

“Oh! Sorry!” (Y/n) said, Jenna’s worry faded as she looks around.

“It’s fine, so, what were you up to?” She asked.

“Olivia.” He said at first, “she wants to collaborate on a song, first collab for me!” He said with a giddy smile. Jenna couldn’t help herself with a smile. (Y/n) walks out to the Balcony and Miss Ortega soon follows.

“So, music?” She asked, “Yeah, she’s working on something called.. “Vampire.” Can’t say much more.”

“You aren’t taking any more acting roles, are you?” She said, a hint of sadness on it.

“I don’t know… I’m not really fit for it. I mean I had my first kiss on a Netflix show, am I really made for this?” He says to her, Jenna shrugs off his fears.

“It’s a rough thing at first but… wait, First?” She asks, not fully catching that first part. (Y/n), lacking any awareness nods.

“Yeah, that scene we did after my character did that whole speech and Wednesday had that vision.” He explains, Jenna blinks a few times in disbelief.

“Was I..?” She asks, trailing on. (Y/n) awkwardly nods. “Yeah, you were my first Kiss. So, how did I do?” He admits, for the moment the roles were reversed, Jenna was the dumbfounded fool whose heart skipped a bit. Jenna’s face was perfectly lit by the moonlight which hid her growing blush, she turns to face the party, hiding her smile so much.

“You did… you did fine..” she said, and calmly but confidently walked back to the Ball.

#male reader #reader insert #jenna marie ortega #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x male!reader #jenna ortega x male reader #jenna ortega x reader #olivia rodrigo #olivia rodrigo x male Reader

111 notes · View notes

darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 1 year

Note

Yeah, I just was vibing. Hope you don't mind if I go off again...

I do not mind!! I now want to meet Steve’s girl and have the reader teach her some recipes. Or maybe the boys take them on a group date to a baseball match?

This is from Steve's girls' POV

Baked Over

No explicit warnings but you know the tone of my work. Bucky is a big jealous baby.

Please let me know what you think <3

🥧🥧🥧

“Try not to make a mess,” Steve’s large hand rests on your hip as he kisses your forehead, “and listen,” he whispers.

You wince as his breath tickles your ear and you give a nod, “yes, Captain.”

“Good girl,” he winks as he pulls back and looks at you, “I really like this,” he plays with the frilly trim of the apron he gave you that morning, “you look nice.”

“Thank you,” you smile and rub your arm as you glance over at your visitor. She watches you vacantly as her husband’s hand lingers shamelessly on her behind. “We should get started.”

“Yes, I can’t wait,” Steve says, “Buck, come on, we gotta figure out this thing today or I’m just gonna trash it.”

“I told you it was a clunker,” Bucky parts from the other woman with one last pinch, “but you never listen to good sense.”

You give a shallow laugh as the men leave. The other woman goes to the counter and unpacks the cloth bag she brought with her. She’s quiet as she sets down three shining Gala apples.

“Thanks so much for this,” you come to her side, “I’ve been watching all these videos but my pastry just doesn’t turn out.”

“No problem,” she says, “pastry is… fickle. And I need to do something with these apples.”

“Last time I served pie, Captain got sick.”

She tucks her lower lip under her teeth and nods as she continues to pull out ingredients, “you really call him Captain all the time?”

“Um, habit, mostly just… to him, but it’s easier,” you have to keep yourself from hyperventilating, “he likes it.”

She looks over at you, “yeah, they’re like that. Anyway,” she sighs, “I wasn’t sure if you had a good pan but I have a spare, so I brought it with me.”

“Oh, thank you, you didn’t have to do that.”

“It’s fine,” she shrugs.

You smile. It’s nice, you only hope you don’t ruin it. She starts, running through the steps by rote; peel and chop the apples, next, mix the dry ingredients, then… you try to follow her instructions, even as she slows down and has you do it yourself. Still, you don’t have a mind for it. You told Steve a dozen times, your head doesn’t work like that.

“You okay?” She stops as she lines the pan with the dough. It looks better than anything you’ve ever done.

“Mhmm,” you hum weakly. She’s so confident about all this. “Um,” you stare at the band on her finger, the large stone sparkling beneath the remnants of flour, “how long have you and Bucky… been married?”

“Couple years, I think,” she answers dully, “are you and Steve planning to…”

“Oh, er, he really wants to. It’s all he talks about but I just think it’s so early. Moving in that was… a lot. And it’s only because my building kind of… well, there was something about a buyout. Anyway, um, I’m rambling.”

“No, it’s fine, Bucky’s not much of a talker.”

“Yeah, he’s scary,” you say without thinking then cover your mouth. She looks at you but doesn’t answer. You drop your hands, “I’m sorry, I didn’t–”

“Let me give you some advice, don’t marry him,” she says, “if you can, get out. This Captain thing, that’s the first step.”

“What do you mean?”

She gives you another long stare. You teeter on your feet and blink as you avoid her gaze.

“You know,” she says and she’s right, you know, but she doesn’t know, you can’t leave.

#steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #drabble #dark drabble #dark!drabble #ask drabble #mcu #marvel #bucky barnes #captain america

435 notes · View notes

darklydeliciousdesires · 1 year

Text

Four Roads to Heavenly Hell - An EZ Reyes/Reader, Angel Reyes/Reader, Bishop Losa/Reader & Gilly Lopez/Reader One Shot Story.

So yes, this is a beast of a one shot and I am absolutely knackered after writing it, lmfao! I’m posting and going to SLEEP! My brain aches! Enjoy, besties!

Words - 4,216

Warnings - FILTHY smut below the cut, four dudes running train on reader, minors DNI!

You told him to be careful.

You begged him not to get out of the car and give them attitude.

He didn’t listen, which is what led to this, sitting around a large table within the clubhouse of the Mayans MC, four stern looking members glowering right at your boyfriend, the president sitting at the head of the table, his eyes combing over your boyfriend, his VP standing behind him, a large gun jammed against the side of his neck.

“All of this could have been avoided,” the handsome man begins, picking up his shot of tequila and sinking it, continuing to stare dangerously. “I think you know that now, don’t you?”

Your boyfriend is silent, the VP pushing his gun harder against his neck. “Answer him.”

“Yes, yes I do.”

“Not only do you cut us off, then fuck with us, trying to knock two of my guys off their bikes, but then, you don’t even have the sense to apologise and drive off. Nope, you had to try and act like the tough guy, likely showing off in front of your girlfriend. At least she had the sense to tell you to leave it alone and just apologise. It’s a shame you didn’t listen to anything other than your ego. For that, we’re gonna punish you.”

Hearing that causes a chill of frost to surge through your veins, the president noticing your body stiffen, his eyes moving from your boyfriend as he looks at you, smiling widely suddenly, his tongue wetting his top lip as his eyes sweep over you. The action makes you settle a little, but still, your brain is speeding through all of the scenarios likely to befall your boyfriend as punishment. None of them are good, because nothing good comes from fucking with a bunch of outlaws.

“No, no, please, I’m sorry, I’m really sorry,” your boyfriend begins, the president laughing darkly, his perfect, white teeth gleaming in the low light of the room.

“Oh, now you’re sorry, huh?”

The tallest of them, a gorgeous man with raven black hair snorts softly, pouring himself a shot of tequila and sinking it. “They always are, a half hour too late.”

“Any thoughts, EZ?” the VP asks, shifting his weight to the other foot, the gun still pressed firmly.

The handsome man leans back in his chair, running two fingers over the corners of his moustache and down over his chin, his nails scratching at the short, nearly trimmed hair there as his eyes once again flit to you. “I do, Bish.” He rises from his seat, slowly walking around the table until he reaches you, extending his hand. “Come on.”

“No,” you immediately sob, beginning to quiver with fear.

“Please, please!” your boyfriend pleads. “Don’t hurt her, she didn’t do anything!”

The president turns to him. “I know she didn’t do anything, and I’m not going to hurt her.” Glancing back at you, he jerks his head back softly. “C’mon, baby. Nothing bad will happen. I swear to you.”

You still don’t believe him despite his reassurance, being led around to the head of the table, his big hands bracketing your waist and lifting you up, seating you atop the shiny wood. You’re still shaking, wondering what is about to happen, your fate now tied in with your boyfriend’s punishment, it would seem. Your eyes dart over to him, but this time, you’re angry. Angry that because of his actions, you are the one who’ll be paying the price. All because he had to be an asshole.

“Hey.” A gentle hand touches to your cheek, turning your head. “Look at me, there you go. I meant it, nothing bad is gonna happen to you, I swear it. Your boyfriend, though? He’ll wish he never fucked with us, after he’s watched me lay you back on this table and fuck you right in front of him.”

“No! Please don’t do that, don’t rape my girlfriend!” he squeals, getting up, the VP’s hand cuffing his shoulder and pushing him back down into his seat. EZ turns to him, beginning to grin.

“I’m not gonna rape her, bro. I ain’t that kind of man. Believe me, your girl will consent.” You get the distinct impression that something worse will befall your boyfriend if you don’t, but yet when he focuses on you once more, the way he looks at you evokes a pleasant bloom in your tummy. “You hear that, beautiful? Told you, nothing bad will happen, I want you to know that, alright?”

You nod, yet you’re still terrified.

“My name’s EZ, and you?”

“(Y/N)”

He grins, reaching to stroke your neck, his mouth nearing your ear. “Pretty name for a pretty girl.” His lips land in a soft kiss against the side of your neck, his tongue touching in a featherlight lick, another kiss following. “Relax, querida. I promise, I’ll make sure you love every last second of this.” His hands touch to your legs, the action making you jump. “Shhh, don’t be nervous.” Another kiss presses your throat, the hands resting on your thighs coaxing them to part gradually, yours grasped on the edge of the table in a white-knuckle grip.

You glance at your boyfriend, his face a picture of horror and disbelief, EZ turning your head back to him. “Just look at me, baby girl. Yeah, that’s it.” His mouth then meets yours softly, the kiss chaste to begin with, his body moving between your thighs, the action which prompts it to deepen, your lips parting, allowing the intrusion of his tongue into your mouth to press and roll against yours.

Warming to it, your hands slacken their grip, enjoying the way he kisses you, although it throws up conflict, feeling your boyfriend’s stare boring into the side of your head, not wanting to let yourself get carried away, not wishing to hurt his feelings any more than they already will be at being forced to watch another man have sex with you. However, a little voice in a far-flung corner of your mind whispers to you, telling you that if he got you into this mess, in a situation that truly could have resulted in you being hurt, then why not enjoy yourself a little?

Letting go of the table, you rest your hands to his chest, stroking, the feeling of hard muscles beneath causing heat to mist at your apex, your legs wrapping around him, his hands clutching at the soft of your thighs as he moans faintly against your tongue.

“Yeah, you want me, don’t you?” he whispers quietly, his hands coming to stroke your face as you bite your lip, your eyes giving him all the permission he seeks as he reaches beneath your dress, grasping your undies and pulling them off.

“She didn’t say yes! She didn’t!” your boyfriend protests, EZ rapidly drawing his gun as he lunges forward.

“Yeah, she did. Now, you sit down and watch me take care of her. You never know, you might learn something.” His words are cocky, and a little part of you wants to laugh, EZ seeing it in you as he grins, putting his gun away and kissing you wantonly, grasping your dress and pulling it over your head, your bra cast off with equal swift deftness. You’re shy of being nude in front of four men you’ve never met before, until their words make you settle instantly.

“Damn, that’s a beautiful body,” the tall guy with the black hair praises, his eyes raking over you, the big, bald man he’s talking and drinking with giving you an equally approving look.

“Beautiful tits, querida.” He winks, throwing back a shot, he and the black-haired guy continuing to converse quietly as your focus returns to EZ, who kisses your neck, murmuring in your ear, exalting your beauty before he sits down, shuffling the chair closer to table, pulling your body near to the edge. He spreads your thighs, taking a look at you closely, the hunger in his eyes burning before he dips his head, kissing your pubic mound a few times, his tongue rolling through your folds.

A soft exclamation flutters from your throat, the warmth of his tongue instantly searing, your pulse quickening when you hear him rumble a quiet moan. Each lick parts the petals of your cunt, and when his tongue seeks your clit, you whimper, wet warmth circling slowly, his lips gently closing to suck, alternating until the noises he draws from you louden, your cadence sweet as he laps at the nectar of you.

You can feel the horrified stare of your boyfriend as he watches you enjoying it, but you don’t dare turn your head to view it, or let him see the desire in your eyes, stirred by the man who currently has a mouthful of your pussy, his tongue laying long, slow licks against you, driving cool fire over your very bones.

“Mmm, right there?” he asks, a flat lick making your clit bounce.

“Ahh, yes!” you cry, panting, your hands reaching to grasp his head, your hips rising off the table, EZ continuing delighting you with those firm licks, the sizzle of sensation sharp rooted and twisting a coil within you, your bud swelling against the unrelenting heat of his mouth.

He pauses for a second, kissing your inner thigh before turning his head. “Does she moan this pretty for you, bro?” Every man in the room who isn’t your boyfriend laughs, EZ looking up at you with a wink before continuing to lick you like you are ripe, summer fruit, his talented mouth working the bliss potently as your back arches, your nails dragging his scalp, unsure whether it’s too much or not enough.

He conjures little bursts of magic to snap down your spine, grinning against your soaking folds as his tongue becomes rapid at your bud, forcing a wail from you, glimmers rolling through your walls, walls that beg to feel his cock parting, such is the absolute splendour of his mouth upon you.

“Oh god, that feels so fucking good!” you can’t help but grit, EZ emerging from between your legs, licking the gloss of your arousal from his lips, grinning as he unbuckles his jeans.

“I’d have eaten you all night long, querida, but fuck. I gotta be inside that pretty little pussy right now.” He pulls a condom from his kutte, slipping his jeans and boxers to his thighs, a long, thick cock springing free. Your eyes light up as you watch him roll the condom on, excited at the fact this is the first big dick you’ve gotten to enjoy in a while, EZ moving between your legs and kissing you with smouldering heat.

The bulbous head of him snags at your opening before gliding in, a gasp fluttering over your lips as your tongue battles with his, drawing a sumptuous groan from him as you yield to his length, sheathing him well, his strokes slow and contained, pushing you back against the table, his hands holding your legs spread as he watches your wet little hole swallowing his cock whole.

Your nerves sing in symphony as he spreads you, dragging your walls with biting pleasure, the pressure of him within you perfect, your mouth falling open. Little cries leave your throat, EZ’s hands sliding down over your nakedness to grasp your thighs, holding you as he begins to rail you against the table, a few more inches of him slipping in as your cunt becomes wetter and more supple against the deep punch of him.

You tremble as lightning crackles beneath your skin, the pleasure searing right to your marrow, his dark eyes fixed on you as he smiles, watching you falling apart for him. “Yeah, look at you, enjoying the fuck out of my dick.” His turns to look at your boyfriend, smirking widely. “And all you had to do was admit you’re a dickless jackass and apologise, and you’d have saved yourself all this. Although, I’m pretty sure your lady is glad you didn’t right now.”

And as you feel him speed up, his hands clutched tight upon your thighs, you are glad, because god, the way he fucks you. He leaves you wanting more as your bodies race to culmination, his thrusts becoming staccato as he grits curses, his eyes closing tightly as he pounds into you, a torrid chill of heat flooding your veins as you wail, coming hard around the rapidity of his cock as it jerks and spills, leaving you breathless.

“You enjoyed that, didn’t you?” he pants, pulling you up to kiss you, gently sliding from within the trembling clasp of your cunt, pulling the condom off and rearranging himself back into his jeans and boxers, noting the hunger in your kisses.

“Uh huh,” you gasp, giggling softly.

“Didn’t quite dampen your fire though, did it?” You shake your head, kissing him again. “Anyone else want a crack at this insatiable little thing?”

“Oh yeah,” the man to your left immediately speaks, EZ giving you one last kiss before trading places with him.

“Have at it, Bish.” He then sits down to the side of the table, not obscuring your boyfriend’s view. “Damn, your girl has a fuckin’ sweet pussy. I’d apologise if me and my guys are gonna wreck sex with you for her one by one, but nah. You deserve it.” While EZ laughs at the look he’s given in return, your attentions are captured by the gorgeous guy before you, his smirk entertained.

“Well, ain’t you gorgeous, sweetheart,” he rumbles, pulling his cock out, whistling to EZ sharply and holding out his hand. The president roots around in his kutte and passes him a condom, Bish nodding in thanks, pulling it on and parting your thighs wider before he sinks himself into you with a grunt, his head dipping to lay kisses over your chest as you sigh with gratification. He isn’t as big as EZ, but god, what a beautiful cock. “Mmm, I’m gonna enjoy this.”

Your body moulds to his, the leather of his kutte offering delicious friction as your pebbled nipples rub against it, one hand clutching the table, the other wrapping around his neck as you meet his thrusts, bouncing against him, the roll of your hips taking him all the way up into you. Each thick vein gives the most incredible stimulation as your walls clench around him, your tongues entwined as you pant against one another, your nails raking at the nape of his neck.

“Yeah, fuck me.” You purr, and oh, how he does. You’re two amazing cocks past even noticing that your boyfriend is still in the room, continuing to look on in disbelief, seeing you getting so into it. Your eyes couldn’t be torn away from the lustful intensity that Bish stares at you with, though, not for anything, his teeth biting your lower lip between magmatic kisses, his big, rough hands kneading your tits as his hips rock into you, fucking into the sodden clasp of your cunt with hard snaps.

He has you cresting with a scream, your nails ripping at the back of his neck as he lines you up only to topple you completely, his cock twitching through each raspy grunt, resting his forehead to yours as he grins.

“Damn, that girl can take a fuckin’ pounding, shit!” the guy with the black hair remarks, raising an eyebrow, winking at you. “Oh, honey, you gon’ get it hard when you get to me.”

The huge bald guy snorts. “Yeah, you goin’ last, homie. You ain’t ruining her with the widower maker you got in your pants.”

He smirks, sinking a shot. “Don’t be jealous, Gilly.”

Your eyebrows flutter. “Widower maker? Should I be scared?”

“Yes,” comes the joint reply of EZ, Bish and Gilly. Immediately, you look back at him, watching him grin as he scratches his beard.

“Yeah... you won’t be able to stand up after I’m done.” The wink he follows it with has your stomach rolling over pleasantly, but you’re too preoccupied by Gilly moving to you to give it much more thought, being handed a shot before he lowers his head to suck your nipples with a hungry groan, his mouth finding yours, kissing you with the kind of skill that makes your pulse throb, his hand sliding down your body, thumb pressing against your clit and beginning to circle.

Sparks crackle through you as you suck his tongue, your arousal gleaming once more at the fresh contact against your aching bundle, while you look over at EZ and raise your eyebrows.

“Jesus fucking Christ, what am I, a goddamned vending machine?” His mutter has you giggling, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a handful of condoms, scattering them on the table. “Something tells me you’re gonna use all of them with us, am I right?”

Picking one up, you rip it open with your teeth. “Oh yeah. Unless big guy over there ruins me, but even then, we got all night.”

You boyfriend sits up, a spluttered exclamation of ‘What?’ leaving his mouth, EZ pressing his boot to his chest and shoving him back in his chair. “Yeah, I doubt she’s still your girl, mano. Still don’t mean you get to leave, though.” The guys laugh as you pull the condom from the packet, Gilly letting his jeans fall as you eye his cock, placing the little roll of latex against your lips, and then hopping off the table to roll it down over him with your mouth.

“How’d you want me, big fella?” you purr, kissing the side of his tattooed throat once you’ve straightened again.

“Turn over, ass up.” You oblige, his big hand striking your cheeks in turn before he pulls you back, pressing your entrance and shunting forward, filling you instantly. There’s no slow build with him, he’s ravenous from the get-go, pounding into you as he spanks your ass, the wide drag of his cock sending pulses through your walls, the coil within you beginning to wind on itself like an angry serpent as you cry out.

His hands grip your hips hard, his fingertips pressing into your bones as a slight tilt of his hips sends him a fraction deeper, hitting something within you that has you pulsing around him as your thighs quiver, sweat slick over your spine as you begin to pant hard, looking over at the gorgeous guy who is set to finish you, making a motion with your finger.

“C’mere,” you pant, watching him sink a mouthful of tequila from the bottle before he saunters over, seating himself on the table and lying back, his head beneath yours. “Couldn’t wait.” Leaning to him, you begin to kiss, those kisses like honey dripping over a blade, sweet and sharp, full of longing. He’s the one you’ve had your eye on from the beginning, hoping that somehow, once your nerves had calmed, things would end up how they have and eventually, you’d get to enjoy him as well.

Your body is sore and tired, but you’re far from done being passed around like some kind of outlaw fuck toy, Gilly spanking your ass hard as he moves into you like a piston, your kisses with the man below you gaining heat as you stroke his neck, one of his hands moving to fist in your hair as he moans into your mouth.

“Don’t you fuckin’ be distracting her up there, Angel,” Gilly pants, a particularly hard shunt into you making you whine helplessly, lightning flickering your spine.

“Nah, bro. Just being soft with her before I fucking break her goddamned back.” And his name is Angel? Seems much more demonic than his name would suggest, his mouth returning to yours, his other hand playing with your tits as your inner walls begin to clamp onto the cock splitting you wide, milking Gilly of his release as yours floods through you, the tingles lapping in waves right to your fingers and toes.

As soon as he’s slid from within you, Angel hauls himself onto the table properly, his big body covering yours, your hands savage at him, yanking in his hair, nails clawing at his neck, unfastening the buttons of his shirt rapidly, needing to feel male flesh against yours, since the other three remained almost fully clothed. His chest is a feast of well-defined muscles and smooth skin, his weight crushing your body to the hard wood beneath you, his kisses predatory, your hands slipping between you to unfasten his belt.

“Yeah, want me to ruin you, beautiful?”

Your head dips, your teeth biting his neck where the short hair of his beard trails to. “Yes. Right now.”

Your demand is met by another blazing kiss, his hand reaching out and snatching a condom from the table, tongue licking between your tits as he moves back to his feet. You move after him with hunger, unzipping his jeans, your hand delving within to grasp what you can see bulging through the black denim, your mouth falling open. Your fingers don’t even close around it, and when you run your hand up to the head...

“Holy shit, where does it end?!”

Your exclamation has the guy's guffawing.

“Told you,” Gilly nods. “Widower maker.”

“I think we’ve proved our point, so we’ll get rid of the distraction for you, sweetheart,” Bishop then speaks, hauling your boyfriend out of the chair he’s been held at gunpoint in, snorting with laughter. “Not that he’s been much of one with us here to take care of you, pretty girl.”

You don’t even turn around, Angel shedding the rest of his clothes before pulling the condom on, a shiver running through him as he watches you stroking your clit, bringing your wet fingers to his mouth and sliding them over his beautiful lips. He sucks them, biting down hard before picking you up, and then literally dropping you down on what can only be described as a third leg. Wow.

You stretch around him, your mouth falling open as he secures a strong arm around your waist, his other free to lay hard, repetitive spanks against your ass as he begins to bounce you on the hugest cock you’ve ever had inside of you, hanging onto him as you wail, muted only by his mouth returning to yours, kissing you with unbridled want.

Each spank of his hand hurts, your body tender already from the three men who came before him, but your nerves sparking like he’s the first, glimmers shocking you, dancing upon your bones, mingling with your very marrow, Angel moving rapidly to cage you against the nearest wall, his hands slipping down to grip your thighs as he ploughs into you savagely. Oh god. He’s a beast, his groans all grit and sin as he lays bites along your jaw, his cock so heavy in you, you feel as if you’re taking an entire storm within, thunder rolling through your groin as he pounds you until you scream.

He slows a little then, letting you enjoy the humongous length of him dragging your walls, lighting you up, your soaking cunt fluttering on him as he rolls his hips up into you in slow, delicious rhythm, tongue circling with yours.

“Fuck, you take a dick so goddamned well, querida.”

Why yes, even you yourself are impressed at how well you’ve managed so far that evening, definitely glad that he was the last in line, because boy, you know you’ll be ruined after him. His groans are long and heated as a bonfire of pleasure crackles up your spine, Angel beginning to arrow into you faster once more. You can feel his abs tensing against you, his pubic bone grinding against your clit, sending a hail of pleasure pelting beneath your skin, your kisses messy and filthily indulgent as smoky groans temper the air.

Your veins are warmed by the unrelenting, sharp waves of pleasure as you both chase the swell of release, your body sweat slick and heaving into his, until you feel it winding like a summer tempest, and when it hits, cracking through you like ice over a frozen lake, Angel railing into you with a string of expletives as he follows you into tumbling, surging bliss.

“Yeah, yeah you were right,” you pant, your head thudding back against the wall. “You ruined me. I need a drink, a shower and a nap.”

He carries you back over to the table, gently lifting you from his cock and seating you upon the cum stained wood, pulling the condom off as he catches your eyes in a gaze. “I can make all three of those things happen for you.”

You started out the night being scared of where you’d end up because of the Mayans. By 2am, you’re shower fresh and in bed curled around the one who wrecked you in the sweetest way possible. The other three, they were amazing, wonderful, hot as hell encounters, but never to be enjoyed again. Why? Because Angel doesn’t actually let you leave his house until you tell him you’re his girl.

It’s perhaps not a story you plan on telling your grandchildren, but definitely one you’ll never forget.

249 notes · View notes

luigisblueoveralls · 1 year

Text

A Promise

Luigi x Reader Short

(Y/N)= Your Name

(H/C)= Hair color

“(Y/N)."

“(Y/NNN)."

“(Y/N)."

I groaned in response as I could feel my boyfriend shaking me awake.

“Noo.” I mumbled, pulling the covers over me.

“It’s like, almost eleven o’clock.” He told me.

“I don’t care.” I mumbled back.

“Pleasee.” Lui begged as he wrapped himself around me, holding me tight.

I don’t know why he thinks that will help when it just made me melt into his touch.

“Do you want me to make you something to eat?” He asked me, feeling his mustache tickle my neck.

“No, but you need to trim your ‘stache.” I commented, making Lui laugh.

“Come on though, you need to wake up.” Lui encouraged me.

I sighed in response as I sat up, stretching my arms out. I looked out the window, remembering what world I was in.

“You know if it weren’t all the mushroom shaped houses, I would’ve forgotten what world I was in.” I commented, making Lui chuckle.

We both eventually got out of bed and got dressed into our outfits. Everyday is always a surprise on what could happen. We could end up at Acorn Plains or go to where Bowser is being kept at and mock him, or go back to Brooklyn for the day. Who knows. Lui and I just finished up when there was a knock on our door.

"Who could that be?" Lui asked.

"Probably your brother." I answered.

And I was right.

"Hey Mario. What's up?" Lui asked him, slipping his hat on.

"Peach wants the three of us at the castle as soon as possible. Something about another human crossing over here by accident." Mario explained to us.

I quickly slipped my combat boots on, put my (H/C) hair into a bun and followed the two brothers out. Mario drove his kart over here and Lui and I were gonna go in his over there. I mean we could walk but who wants to do that? Lui got in the front while I climbed in the back seat, to were I was sitting like I was sitting on a kayak.

"Seatbelt on?" Lui asked me.

"Yes sir." I said, tightening it.

"Okie dokie." Lui said as he started the kart and followed Mario closely to the castle.

The fresh breeze, I'll admit, was nice enough that I leaned my head back and let the wind whip through my hair like a storm. I really wish moments like these could happen for forever. Just me and my long term boyfriend in his kart going high speeds through the nice weather. Makes me ponder for the future. Lui suddenly hit the breaks and we were stopped in front of Peach's place. Or castle for a better word. I unbuckled my seatbelt and as I was getting out, Lui grabbed my hand and helped me step out of the kart and onto the ground without tripping.

"Why thank you kind sir." I thanked him.

"You two make me so sick sometimes." Mario joked, making the three of us laugh.

"You have Peach so I don't even know what you're talking about, Mario." Lui mentioned as we both walked through the front doors, greeting the Toad guards as we passed them.

"Yeah yeah, I just like picking on y'all, mostly Lui." Mario said, making Lui roll his eyes.

The three of us finally made it to where Peach was waiting for us at, the main floor where her throne is at. You'd think a person like Peach is all snotty and rude since she is royalty but nah. Her and I are practically best friends and we love hanging out just the two of us, while also talking about our boyfriends.

"What's up, Peach?" I greeted her.

She was crouched down on the floor, looking down at something intently.

"What is it?" Mario asked as we surrounded her, upon seeing what she was looking at.

It was a human. A baby human.

"So uh is this the human you were talking about?" Lui asked her.

"Yep." Peach answered, rocking the cradle the baby was in.

The baby was asleep. I mean what better place could the baby have crossed over to? Toad people and a very nice princess who wears a lot of pink.

"What did you need us here for, Peach?" Mario asked as she stood up tall.

"I have to go to the Jungle Kingdom. Something that Cranky Kong wants." Peach told us.

I noticed the immediate hard eye rolling and scowl that formed on Mario's face. I could only imagine that he was thinking about that one day when he had to fight against Donkey Kong to win the Kong army. Don't get me wrong, him and DK get along fine now, but back then it was a whole different story.

"It will only be for like for a day or two." Peach reassured Mario, pinching his cheek, making Lui and I laugh.

"Okay." He sighed deeply, gently shooing Peach's hand away.

"What about me?" A high pitched voice shouted.

We all turned and looked through the open doorway that he was in. Tiny Bowser, in a cage with his piano.

"Who left his door open?" Peach mumbled, "you will stay there and only there."

"Aww." Bowser said as he turned to his piano, starting to sing his song about Peaches.

I shook my head as I went to the door and slammed it shut, muffling Bowser's voice to the point of silence.

"Okay back to the baby." I said, getting us back on topic.

"Yes. While I am gone I need one of y'all to watch her." Peach told us.

Of course Mario immediately starts eyeing Lui and I. I can tell Lui was nervous. I can't even remember the last time we discussed having children or even talking about them. But this shall be a test for the both of us.

"Sure thing Mario, Lui and I will take her." I monotonically announced.

"Aw you guys are the best. Now if Peach was staying I would've taken the baby." Mario reassured us.

"Hmhm. Sure brother." Lui said, seeing through his bullshit.

"Perfect. It's just for two days I promise." Peach promised us.

Peach then gently picked up the baby and handed her to me. I naturally supported the baby's head and held her close to me, feeling my boyfriend watch me in awe even though I already knew where this feeling was coming from.

"Here's a bag of all of the essentials you will need and I will send Mario to y'all with the cradle." Peach told us as she handed Lui a big bag of stuff.

"How much does one baby need?" Lui asked, slipping the heavy bag on his shoulders.

"You'd be surprised." I said.

I can tell Lui was a bit confused by my comment. I don't think I have ever told him have I? Well what better perfect time to tell him as we are babysitting this baby girl.

"Have a safe trip, Peach." I told her as the three of us left the main floor and eventually the castle itself.

"I'll go slow, I promise." Lui reassured me as I stepped into the back seat of the kart.

The baby was starting to stir a little but went right back to sleep. She was so cute and adorable. I didn't even ask Peach for a name. Oh well. Lui helped Mario strap the cradle in the back seat of his kart and then got into the front seat of us, with the big bag of stuff up there with him. Lui then carefully started the kart up and drove slowly back to our place. While the trip up there took longer than usual, it was okay. Lui was careful not to make tight turns or big swift movements as he usually does. We eventually made it back to our place and Mario helped us unpack everything.

"Alright you guys, I hope everything goes okay." Mario announced as he was about to leave.

"Same here." Lui agreed.

Mario came and hugged Lui and then came and hugged me from the side since I was still holding the baby.

"Take care." Mario said as he left us alone.

I came and sat next to Lui on the couch.

"Are your arms not tired yet?" Lui asked me.

"No, I have had lots of practice." I commented.

"Speaking of, um, did you have a baby or a kid before we met?" Lui asked me.

I knew this question would come up. I sat the baby in her cradle, that was on the ground in front of us, and sighed deeply. This is gonna be hard. I have only ever told Peach. Reason I never told Lui cause the conversation never really came up.

"Before, you and I met, I did have a kid. A baby girl in fact. I had only had her for a couple of months before she got really really sick and passed." I briefly told him for if I spoke anymore, I would go into a crying fit.

Already Lui held me tight, leaning my head onto his chest, soothing me. Rubbing my back and holding me tight.

"Why did you never tell me?" He asked me.

"Because I'm afraid it will happen again."

"What do you mean, honey?" Lui asked me, running his fingers through my hair.

"I'm afraid if I tried again they would get sick and die too." I confessed, feeling the tears escape my eyes and onto his shirt.

Lui started rocking me back and forth gently as I just cried it out onto him. I miss my baby so much. Being with Lui has helped me move on but now with Peach having us do this, it's made me remember everything all over again. The feeling of bliss and joy when I first saw her, the first burp, the first smile, and even when I was in the hospital with her. The feeling of dread and sorrow when the doctors told me the news. I am feeling it all over again. Lui was giving me soft kisses on my forehead, still rocking me and trying to ease me.

"You're okay, (Y/N). I've got you. It won't happen again. I promise." Was all I could hear from Lui through my sobs.

"Honey, look at me."

I wiped my face as I looked up as Lui, his softened gaze and his twinkling blue eyes immediately putting me at ease. He just has that power for some reason. Lui then held my cheek and placed a soft kiss on my lips. Just a blissful kiss, nothing more than that but it was enough to make me feel better. I pulled away, rubbing my lips.

"You need to use chapstick more often." I commented, making Lui laugh.

"Here." Lui then made me sit up straight and he did as well and held my hand.

"I promise, solmely promise, that we will have a child together. I'm not sure when exactly you know, but I promise. I just don't think I'm exactly a hundred percent ready right this moment." Lui explained to me.

"I understand Lui."

"But I do, want a kid with you, (Y/N). You're the best person to ever come into my life and you're so caring and patient with me. And you're just so gorgeous as well."

"Stop you'll make my nose bleed from all of the blushing." I joked with him.

"It is true though." Lui told me.

"I know. And you're just the cutest most handsome damn person I know." I said, twirling his mustache.

He giggled at that.

"Speaking of which, you need to trim it. It's getting long." I commented.

"Hey, leave my stache alone." Lui guarded it with his hands in a joking matter.

I laughed at that, which made me realize that all of those bad feelings from earlier were gone.

"I love you, (Y/N)." Lui said as he hugged me.

I hugged him tightly as my eyes gazed over to the baby who was still sleeping soundly in her cradle. He will keep his promise, (Y/N). You know that. He always has.

"I love you too, Luigi."

One day, (Y/N). One day.

#luigi x reader #super mario luigi #luigi nintendo #luigi #super mario movie #super mario #x reader #luigi fluff #luigi x reader fluff #sfw

130 notes · View notes

gwilymz · 2 years

Text

with bated breath--steve harrington x afab!reader

Synopsis: Rumors fly after you attend Steve Harrington’s party one weekend in September. Thinking they were his doing, you do everything in your power to avoid him, which proves easier said than done.

Warnings/Notes: Both Steve and reader are 18; smut, unprotected sex, slow burn, angst, degradation, name calling, spit, oral (f receiving), p in v sex, confessing feelings, etc. etc.

Word Count: 7,250

A/N: this is my very first stranger things/steve harrington fic so i really hope you enjoy! i’ve poured my energy into this for awhile so im so excited she’s finally ready to share with the world :-)

Read on AO3

Friday, September 7, 1984

“I’m not gonna say you have to go,” Jennifer told you. Slinky blond curls framed her face, as swirls of an all-too-pink peony blush flushed her cheeks with false coloring. She pulled it off, though. Lashes coated in cakey mascara, dark brown, ‘cause black was too much. That was rule number one.

But, this was too much. Your first week at Hawkins was over; five days of classes, homework, begging for a companion–someone–and now you were somewhat there, at someone’s house. A powder blue suburban accolade, a white latticed sanctuary of conformity in suburban Indiana.

You didn’t really click in the way you had with your friends back home, but she would suffice. A filler friend, there for the time being. Jennifer back-combed her under-swept, feathery bangs, crunchy from the aerosol glue that held her appearance together like art drowned beneath a toxic pool of resin, a product stuck in place forever.

You rested your elbows on your knees, leaning forward on Jennifer’s bed. Frilly pink with white lace trim and tattered teddy bears with matted paws where her fingers dented the evenness of their cotton-candy insides. Mementos of a childhood suspended in time were juxtaposed with posters of movie stars in tight Levi’s, the corners faded and ripped from where the tape eroded at the glossy paper.

You were nervous to go to this party. You hadn’t really talked to anybody all week, opting instead to scribble in the margins of your homework, rushing home as the clock struck three to call your friends--the real ones. The ones who played hopscotch with you five days a week and re-etched the uneven blocks as soon as the August rain dried up and your perpetual canvas was anew.

Everyone in Hawkins was just–stuck, it seemed. They had their friends, their interests, an opaque black box marked in red, permanent ink with COMFORT ZONE. And it seemed like nobody had room for a new friend. Like the quotas had been met, exceeded.

You hummed in response to her statement. It had been a few minutes; she was now sponging a cool blue shimmer on her eyelids, pink and smooth, tinged with purple veiny tendrils, extending to the bottoms of her freshly plucked brows. You sort of wished you were her. Careless in the way that was cool, open, confident. She had seen you wandering on your first day at Hawkins, lunch tray in hands, tears poking the backs of your eyes like a pin prick bathed in flames.

“Are you okay?” She asked, smoothing her houndstooth skirt over her knees. “You don’t have to go, but I think it would be good, you know, to put yourself out there?”

You nodded, both as an agreement and as a yes. You were okay, you just predicted where the night would go. Pools of sweaty teenagers, clung to each other in loosely tied cohorts. You would try, weakly, to make a friend, enter a group and likely be met with tight-lipped smiles and answers that were long-winded but never quite got to the point.

“I’ll go,” You said. “I just don’t know what to expect.” You lied.

Jennifer shrugged, pulling a cable knit sweater over her torso. It wasn’t too cold outside, but a slight breeze whistled through the vents, and the early September air was just enough to nip at your shoulders. “I think that’s the fun of it.” She pulled her purse over her shoulder, motioning for you to follow behind her.

–

The walk to the party was short, but brisk. As cute as Jennifer’s kitten heels were, you were glad you had opted for tennis shoes. The uneven sidewalks of Hawkins were hard to walk on; tufts of dead grass and clovers tickled your ankles as you knocked on the door. The house was a behemoth, wrapped in veins of green vines, curling and climbing up exposed brick siding. There was a tall oak door and a clean trimmed lawn, peppered with a littering of beer cans and a stepping stone path of discarded shirts leading to the pool in the backyard.

That’s where the boy who answered the door led you to. Tight jeans in light wash and a salmon crew neck, crisp white collar tucked neatly underneath. His hair was floppy and long and chestnut brown, big and voluminous like the smile that creased his eyes and etched the divots by his mouth. He was charismatic already, with the only words you had heard teeter from the wet slope of his lower lip, a slurred, “Come out back.”

You listened; it was easy when the speckled saddle brown of his big eyes were swallowed by the entirety of his pupils, wild black orbs shielded by fluttery eyelashes and much-too-heavy eyelids. He held an empty beer bottle in his left hand, an unopened one in his right. Tossing the empty one over his shoulder into the plush chartreuse of the deadened grass beneath his tattered reeboks, he pulled a pack of cigarettes from his snug back pocket, a lighter from his front.

He stumbled forward, tripping over crumpled jeans; black and silver belts slithered along the ground like serpents.

“Fuck,” He rolled his thumb over the ridged raw metal of his lighter, white and chipped, its plastic sheath peeled from the body.

The cigarette bobbed between puckered lips, eyes deep, entranced. It seemed like most of the girls there were watching him, the concentration in his boyish eyebrows, darker than the hair on his head, still blonded from the edge of summer.

Maybe you were supposed to know who he was. Maybe it would be smarter if you didn’t.

The sun was setting; it was early for a party. Much too cold to wade in the pool, where soggy, wine colored leaves clustered in heaps at the corner, by the stairs where couples groped onto raisiny skin and kissed purpled lips.

There was no more room in the pool, and your legs were cold, arms freckled with goosebumps that climbed over your collarbones. You went inside, where it was much warmer, and nets of people leaned against the kitchen island. You found an unopened beer, warm. Pebbles of condensation made the counter slick as your elbow leaned on the marbled linoleum, scratched and greasy from the sea of fingertips overlapped upon each other.

You opened it, catching the fizz over your tongue. It soaked your cupid’s bow and tasted bad, yeasty. Spotting a free spot on the taut leather couch in the living room, you walked over there, fingers tight around the can.

“Hey, Tommy, keg is here. Help me–” The boy from earlier was walking backwards, hand carding through his hair, shoes untied. His legs were wobbling; he was clearly tipsy, and he ran into you. Amber liquid stained your shirt, deepening the navy blue of the fabric and the hue of your cheeks. Your jeans were soaked; even your shoelaces puffed up, swollen from being steeped in the stale beer.

“Fuck!” You shook your hands; acidic droplets of the cheap beer clung to your fingertips like icicles.

“Oh my god, I’m–so sorry.” He clasped his hands down on your shoulders, one ankle giving out as he rolled it, tripping over the tangle of shoelaces, the slippery wooden floor sheathed in alcohol and pool water.

And then he fell, slipping onto his knees. Patches of wetness stained his jeans; his crew neck was damp like the corners of his eyes, pretty and brown and oh so big. They looked like they were saying sorry in the softest of voices, like pleading hands. Like they always got whatever it is they wanted.

“I’m sorry,” He repeated. He was obviously drunk. Ringlets of hair framed his square jaw, tickling the edge of his bitten lips. “If it makes you,” He gulped. “Feel better, my clothes are kinda ruined too.” He giggled. “Can you help me up? I could–get you something new to borrow.”

You sighed, reaching your hand out. Everyone was staring; new girl and drunken popular pretty-boy in a spat. Who wouldn’t be. A few girls with shades of purple painted onto prissy lips were rubbing his shoulders like he was some sort of monarch. Frankly, it embarrassed you.

Ignoring the syrupy coos echoing off the shell of his reddened ears, he took your hand, standing back up.

“‘M okay!” He swigged the last of his beer, already empty. “I’m okay. The party goes on!”

And then, as if everyone else's conduct was dependent on the orchestration of his cordial permission, they resumed. Drinking, leaning into half-remembered kisses and tongues wrapped in seedy marijuana smoke.

He looked into your eyes and you sort of understood the single-file line of your peers begging for his attention, a quarter of a glance, the whisper of their name. He was easy to look at, easy to listen to.

“I can get you some,” He sighed, swallowing. “New clothes to borrow. ‘M sorry.”

You shook your head, peeling his sticky hand off the slope of your shoulder, sore from his pressure, dead and drunk. “It’s alright. Probably my cue to leave anyway.”

His shoulders sunk, eyes cartoonish with despondency, the reflection of the deep yellow lighting making them look wet–or maybe he was actually upset.

“Leaving already?” He pouted. “You just got here! Didn’t even catch your name.” He wrapped his arm around your shoulders, and you felt a daggering of black-lined eyes and knees dressed in flimsy pantyhose pointed at you.

“I’m Y/N.” You said. “And yours?”

You could tell he had never been asked that before. Like people came into his life as know-it-alls about himself, his past–-full to the brim with preconceived notions and curdled rumors, piggybacked off one another.

“I’m Steve. Steve Harrington.” His eyes were dopey and downturned, and you loved to look in them.

So this was Steve. You had heard about him at every pass through the hall, tangled on the tongue of every girl as they twirled their hair and puckered their lips in desperate hopes that he would notice for once. Finally.

But Steve seemed happy to have the chance to introduce himself to someone for once, hand outstretched and teeth a glittery white.

You could stay for a little longer.

“I guess I could stay. My shirt’s a little–”

“Wet?” He gestured to his own. “Yeah mine too.” He guided you to the stairs, hand over the small of your back; it felt hot, anxiety-inducing, but he was just hovering. An almost-touch felt scarier than the real thing. “But listen, I can let you borrow something. I gotta change anyway.”

You nodded, entranced by the depth of his eyes, how his mouth hung open, perpetually equipped with something else to say to you, so easily. He rolled his sleeves up; his forearms were strong, still tan from trips to the lake in late July.

His room was dark; the only visibility you had came from the backyard, the turquoise glint of chlorine and body heat catching the light of the waxing moon, hung crooked in the sky.

He stumbled turning his light on, closing the door but leaving it open, just a crack. He was getting drunker, freckle adorned skin the salmon of his crew neck, all from the beers well-settled in his system.

“I’m really sorry for that–I usually don’t really get too drunk at these things, but y’know,” He shrugged, pulling his collared shirt over his head. “God, it’s so hot in here.”

You quickly turned back around. “I’ll give you some privacy.”

“Oh–” Steve covered his chest, lightly hairy and moderately muscular. “‘M sorry. I didn’t even think.”

He threw on a flimsy grey t-shirt and kept his jeans on, bending down to rummage through his dresser. He was more organized than you expected of him; each drawer full of neatly folded polos, old hoodies with peach, bleach stains dotted on the wrists. Heaps of nice Levi’s,--a tie die of navy and cobalt-- filled the drawer by his foot.

“You can pick, like, any of these. And feel free to change in the bathroom.” You expected him to tend to his party downstairs, the groupies flocked at the landing of the wooden stairs, chestnut like the belt Steve was unbuckling, throwing on his bed, taut with plaid sheets. But he just turned around, flopping forward onto his comforter, giggling with the same cadence of the innocent little boy he once was. “Just gonna lay here.”

You picked a loose red crew neck embroidered in cream with Indiana, in thick blocky letters, and changed quickly. Steve’s face was buried in his pillows, his hands shoved over closed eyes as an extra promise to you. I won’t look.

His breathing was jagged, and you would have thought he was asleep if not for his feet kicking at his loosened shoes, trying to pry them off.

You grabbed his ankle, pulling them off for him.

“Thanks, Y/N.” He said, voice muffled by drool-coated pillow cases.

“Are you alright?”

Steve had turned around; he was lying on his back, eyes still screwed shut, straining. His lips were chapped from the cold outside, the constant moisture of a new beer. “‘M fine.” He held his stomach, eyebrows arching. “On second thought,”

He shot up, dizzied, as he ran to the bathroom connected to his room, hunched in two.

“Are you gonna-”

Steve threw up, hands tight against the peach-colored porcelain. His shirt was soaked in a film of sweat.

“It’s so hot in here,” Steve grumbled.

You weren’t sure what to do. Still hunched over the toilet, he unbuttoned his jeans.

“Is it ‘kay if I take these off. Underwear stays on, obviously. ‘M so sweaty.”

You nodded, before realizing he couldn’t see you. “Yeah, Steve, that’s fine. But hey, if you want me to go–”

He shook his head, body lurching forward as he vomited again. “No,” His voice was high-pitched, nervous sounding, different from the saccharine self-assurance he usually wore proudly. “Stay, please. Don’t feel good.”

You kneeled down, rubbing his back gingerly, smoothing his hair down. It smelled like lavender, like Jennifer’s hairspray, like fleeing adolescence and the simultaneous desire to hold onto eighteen forever.

“Alright.” You whispered. “Are you done?”

He shook his head. “Think there’s one more–” He was right.

“Do you want some water?”

Steve sat up, leaning against the sink, head tilted back. His adam’s apple bobbed with discomfort and the citrusy tang of acidic residue. “Yes, please. Sorry again.”

You shrugged, plucking the empty glass toppled on his bedside table. “No need to apologize. It’s all okay.” Bringing the glass to the sink, you filled it with cold water and sat down next to Steve, who drank it quickly. Some water dribbled down his chin; you tried not to look at his grey briefs, thin and tight around his thighs.

“Thank you so much,” He sat the glass down on the linoleum, blinking up at you as he laid down on the cold floor, his hair fanned out behind him. Freckles lined the tuft of hair on his chest, dewy with a sheen of sweat. “This isn’t typical for me, just so you know.”

You raised your eyebrows, lips tugged between your teeth. “Alright, Steve.”

“What?!” He sat up, resting on his elbows. The wooden cabinets slammed against the expanse of his back. “It isn’t. Just drank too much this time around.”

“Looks like this isn’t the first party you’ve thrown.” You could hear the subtle bass of Tainted Love, sharp splashes of water, the pattering of wet feet on cold cement.

“You’d be correct.” He turned towards you, eyes flitting over your lips, almost quick enough for you not to notice. Almost. “Hosting is hard work,” He clutched his chest, sliding his jeans over his lower half, covering himself.

You turned away, laughing. “Seems tiring. Wher’re your parents anyway?”

Steve parroted your laugh; his was louder. “Who fuckin’ knows.”

You sat there for some time, wrapped in a cocoon of comfortable silence. Eventually, your head had migrated to Steve’s shoulder, strong and warm and unwilling to move once your hair feathered against his cheek. He vowed not to move; his shoulders were cramped and the bite of dormant nausea ate at the pit of his stomach, but you looked peaceful, comfortable. And really, really pretty.

–

You woke up before him; the sallow light of the bathroom was still on and Steve was toppled over, you tucked under his bicep, strong, dotted with a stippling of moles. His upper arms were paler than the rest of him. Somehow, one of his socks was stripped off, slunk on the rug by the running toilet.

He held you tight; your arm had fallen asleep, but you could still feel the warmth emanating from his chest, hugged by heather grey cotton. Drool puddled by his mouth, hung slightly ajar like the door itself.

“Steve,” You shook him lightly, and he moaned, turning slightly. He had granted freedom to your arm, and you slipped out from his own. “Steeeve.” You singsonged.

He shot up, cheek etched with the imprint of woven tendrils matching the shag rug under his head. One side of his hair was matted, the other making up for the sudden lack of volume.

“Oh fuck,” He wiped his eyes. “What time is it?” He checked his watch, eyes squinted. It was nearing five in the morning; beyond the bay window by Steve’s bed was just obscurity, and the obnoxious silence of a party evaporated.

“Is everyone gone?” You mirrored his movements, standing up to look at your reflection.

“Hope so,” Steve ran a hand through his hair, a taste of trepidation in his tone. “I hope I didn’t ruin your night last night.” He tucked his knees into his chest.

You looked down, meeting his eyes. “No, no. You didn’t. There was quite literally nothing happening. If anything, you made it more interesting.”

“Embarrassed you had to take care of me–not that you had to. But I appreciated it, you know.”

Steve stood up, going back to his room to search for some sweatpants; he had forgotten he had taken his jeans off.

“No worries at all,” You didn’t know what to say. It was hard to think–to focus–with him there, like that. Illuminated by the moon and the artificiality of the outdoor lights refracting off of the stillness of the pool.

“I can take you home, if you need a ride. I’m obviously sober now.” He offered. His toothbrush hung from his mouth. “Just need to get the nasty taste out of my mouth first.”

“What about the mess?” You looked out the window. The glass back door was wide open; discarded cans and soggy potato chips swam in polluted pool water. Everybody was long gone, but the evidence of their stay was symbolized by the parts of them they discarded for Steve to pick up.

“Oh, that?” He spat in the sink, rinsing his mouth out with cold water. “I’ll clean it up. I got ‘til tomorrow night.”

You felt bad. He had this sullen look about him, like he was mad at himself, at his loneliness, at the fact that he needed some sort of offering for people to stay with him, even if just for one night. A pleading with his classmates that saw him as nothing more than crinkled eyes and a forced joke. A party, booze bought with his dad’s credit card. Steve was handsome, and he had money and status–but stripped down, he was a performance piece for their laughter and ogling and obsession, ankles stuck on the top rung of a social hierarchy he didn’t create. He just perpetuated it, needed to be on top of it–or else his loneliness would tear at his skin and gnaw at him to the bone and leave him where he was now, with a pretty girl wanting to go home and a cold, empty house, the door wide open but no one daring to step foot inside, left alone with all the parts that nobody wanted.

You offered to help him, but he shook his head vehemently, lighting a cigarette and flashing a pseudo-smile, gummy and white.

“C’mon.” He opened his bedroom door; it was much colder in the hallway. A torn piece of notebook paper fell from in between the door and the frame, bleeding through with red ink.

Week 1 and already a whore?

Steve plucked the unlit cigarette from his mouth.

“What’s that?” You asked.

Steve crumpled it up, tossing it across the hallway, toward his parents’ room, the door shut like it always had been.

“Nothing, just people trashing the place.” His voice was hollow.

Steve took you home and didn’t say a word about his sweatshirt still snug on your body. He sort of thought it belonged there, with you. And you both said goodbye awkwardly, with bitten-lipped smiles and a listless wave goodbye, maybe so neither of you seemed so enthusiastic.

And maybe Steve was jumping out of his skin when the door shut behind you, when he was alone with his thoughts and the pang of an empty stomach. For the first time, a girl hadn’t pulled at his collar and adorned him with a cherry-red kiss on the corner of his mouth, crossing her fingers he would reel over it on repeat until his fingers were dialing her number by memory.

He hadn’t even gotten your number.

–

Monday, September 10, 1984

Going to school on Monday felt good, comfortable. Nothing had changed between the weekend and now, except for your pulsating, headache of a crush on Steve. How his voice had crept into your skull like a parasite, a slithering tapeworm indoctrinating you with cyclical thoughts of those lips, the tautness of his bicep. Handsome and wrapped tightly in blue stripes and menthol smoke. He sat in his BMW, eyes on you like yours were on him. He wondered if you knew yet.

School was a flock of pigeons, searching for scraps, discarded and unwanted–and you were right there. At your locker, where the rounded page of a composition notebook was pasted to the door, anointed with SLUT and a sad face, a makeshift pity. You tore it down, but it was four-and-a-half minutes to first period, and the careening ears of your tight-lipped peers made it clear they had already seen it. Heard all about it.

What it was, you didn’t know.

Jennifer scoffed at your desperation for communication, her bubble gum a stale, dirty pink against the red of her tongue.

She leaned against your locker, uncrumpling the paper clutched in your hand.

“Week two and your reputation seems to be set on easy. I’m sure Harrington appreciates the new notch on his belt.” Jennifer threw the paper away, not that it fixed anything. Floating down on the dirt-caked linoleum, speckled in the pastels of putty chewing gum, it was stomped on, pressed into the ground, a truth, symbolic of those words that preceded you.

Y/N Y/L/N: easy, whore, slut.

You were livid because you trusted Steve. Multiplied tenfold because you liked him. And now he was leaned against exposed brick, the brooding yet exceedingly impossible-to-hate protagonist of a John Hughes film. Girls flocked to him like lint, hard to pluck off but so easy to see, so bothersome. And the coyness of his smile pissed you off, how he entertained them, teasing them from beneath a bomber jacket, behind brand-new Ray Bans and slicked back hair and cheap fabrications, made at your expense.

Steve looked at you, though, through the fog of a September morning and the lens of longing for something that wasn’t so easy to grasp for once.

But you slammed your locker shut and faced first period without care for the whispers that stung like darts on your back. You only had to survive one more year, and maybe making friends wasn’t even worth it, with college applications peeking over the cloudless horizon.

You slumped in your seat; an ugly tan desk tethered to plastic blue, a chair etched with profanities: cunt, slut, bitch. Hearts and arrows and initials crossed out, replaced with suitable successors, forgotten, but still there.

A note flopped on your desk; you pushed it off, not wanting any more insults. You’d almost rather they be flung at you through words and venomous spit than the permanency of pen ink and exclamation marks. But it was Steve, playing footsie with you from behind you, his handwriting boyish and scrawled in lead.

It wasn’t me.

Three words that meant nothing. Where was the context?

You pulled the cap off your pen with your teeth, watching to make sure Mister Anderson wasn’t looking, but the desperate, dry scratch of chalk confirmed your suspicions. He wasn’t

Then why do you look so guilty?

You dropped the note back on Steve’s desk; he audibly sighed. You had never heard an eye-roll so clearly.

He stood up, chair screeching, muttering a half-assed ‘I don’t feel good’ and slamming the classroom door. The note had found itself back in your hands.

Boys bathroom. The one by Mrs. Ringer’s room.

He couldn’t be serious. Maybe you were easy; you excused yourself not a minute later.

The bathroom he was in was as empty as it was dirty, and soiled paper towels made a makeshift rug on cobalt blue tiles, caked in muck.

“Are you fucking crazy, Steve?”

Steve held a finger to his lips. “Quiet. Sound travels.”

You rolled your eyes, leaning against the door.

“This bathroom has a lock. That’s why I chose it. Nobody else is here.”

You scoffed. “Yeah, because we need more people making assumptions.”

“You chose to come in here.” Steve deadpanned, watching you twist the hair tie on your wrist.

“Don’t have much to lose, now, do I?”

He laced the room with unease and a rotten, oozing tension that felt sticky around you. Overgrown and teetering on parasitic, even though it was not even three days old.

“I just wanted you to know that,” He said, quietly. “--that I didn’t say those things.”

His sleeves were bunched up, wrists freckled and strong and twined with fine, little hairs as he leaned against the door you found yourself at.

“I’m supposed to believe that? That–I’m not just some joke to you? A way to show how your game is so slick you could even fuck a girl within fifteen minutes of getting her name?” You whispered the second part.

Steve’s eyes read your lips like a book, rereading the same line over and over and over because he didn’t quite catch it the first time. And paying attention was hard. Oh, so hard when you could smell the cherry wood musk of his cologne and the sharp cut of aftershave tickling your nose.

“I’m assuming they think what they do because we went upstairs together.” He straightened his collar, and the wind of spearmint toothpaste and menthol cigarettes on his breath was gone.

“Nothing happened.”

“I know that. I’m not sure what you want me to do–I–I can tell them that it didn’t happen, but I don’t think they’d believe–”

“Why do you care so much? Shouldn’t you be out there, off the bench, courting some other girl you find pathetic?”

Steve scoffed. “I care because I don’t want you to hate me. And I don’t fucking find you pathetic. Now you’re just putting words in my mouth.”

You watched his. The pout of warm pink, the peppering of stubble you could only see if you were allowed so close to him. King Steve. What a stupid fucking nickname. Self-indulgent. Cocky.

You didn’t hate him, but you felt like you should just wave the white flag and join the club of sad, little girls who were once Steve’s little plaything, but who now have vaporized from the glossary of names in his dynamic tour de force of a short-term memory.

“I don’t hate you,” You looked away from him; he refused to.

“Could’ve fooled me.” His smile was evil, impossible to say no to. So you left before he could ask.

Wednesday, September 12, 1984

Avoiding Steve was hard, as hard as he was to miss. Hair adding at least four inches to his height, the static buzzing that followed him like a swarm. He had tried to communicate through kicks under your desk in first period. And then fourth, and then fifth. Whispers in your ear at lunch, offering you a ride the second school let out, with a fat pout and eyes that had a physical reaction to the word no.

But today he drove by you, slamming on the brakes and shutting the radio off with a determination that was new.

“Just let me talk to you!” He pleaded, eyebrows straight across with worry. “I can take you home.”

You shook your head, continuing to walk as Steve’s BMW trailed next to you, so warm and enticing and his.

“I can walk. It’s not too far.”

“It’s about to rain!” He gestured at the sky, at the belly of a fat cloud.

“I said no.”

“What if I told you I know who started the rumor?”

You stopped at the outskirts of school property, stuck between freedom and those dopey brown eyes.

“Knew that would get your attention.”

You tugged your lip between your teeth, leaning into Steve’s window. He kept eye contact with you, firm and unwavering–even though your shirt hung so loosely around the swell of your chest.

“Okay, so tell me.”

“Get in the car and I will.”

“I’ll get in the car if you tell me.”

Steve rolled his sleeves up, checking the subtle click of his wristwatch. “Got places to be.”

He was flirting, shamelessly. Coconut lip balm sheathed on that mouth and chewing gum lazy on his tongue like your name.

“Then you’d better get there, Stevie.” You batted your eyelashes and Steve hit his head against his headrest before leaning over to unlock the door.

“Just–get in.”

You faked a pout. “Pretty boy can’t stand being denied.”

“You don’t wanna know? S’fine by me.” And he drove away, but not without a few glances in the rearview mirror, one, two, three.

Friday, September 14, 1984

One week of invisibility and a big fat target on your back and Steve’s relentlessness was almost over. Almost.

Lunch was the worst; an amalgamation of every type of peer with one glaringly clear common ground: a distinct unwillingness to come close to you. A select few’s distaste metastasizing and ballooning until you were left by your lonesome, swirling peas around a spoon and jumping out of your seat when Steve Harrington sat next to you, chair squeaking, jeans tight around his hips.

“Shouldn’t you be avoiding me?” You deadpanned, opting not to look at him.

Steve scooted even closer to you, whispering in your ear. “Let them look.”

“You’re not the one being called a whore and a slut and easy.”

“If you’re easy, I’m easy.” He took a bite of a turkey sandwich, stray lettuce flaccid around the edge. “Plus, you never even heard who started it.”

You looked at him quizzically. His hair was messier; he hadn’t shaved in a few days.

“The rumor. It was Jennifer.”

You plastered on an insincere smile. “Yeah, no shit.”

“You knew?” Steve tilted his bag of Lays toward you. “Eat some.”

You felt the sting of eyes on your back, saw the heartbreak on the pouted strawberry lips of girls Steve would never give the time of day.

“She’s obsessed with you. Kind of been pining over you since freshman year, as she told me. Makes sense why she’s a little butt hurt about me seeing your room so soon, you know? When we fucked?”

Steve choked on his water, spewing it over the speckled ivory of the table. “I talked to her for, like, three days. Boring as fucking rocks.” He ignored the latter part of your statement.

“Oh, and I’m more interesting? Because you can fix me?”

Steve crumpled his napkin and tossed it on your tray, scooting back on the metal legs of his chair.

He leaned in. “No, because I actually have a crush on you.”

–

You walked to Steve’s house by memory that night with a monologue in your head and his crew neck tucked under your arm.

Words that all fell dead and dormant on your tongue as you rapped on his door. He had mentioned in passing his parents would be gone again, and you half expected a party and pretty girls hung on his hip. But the house was unrelenting in its silence, and you could see Steve’s light was on, his car idle in the driveway, pebbled with the rain you hadn’t noticed until now.

And then it was pouring, and Steve opened the door in running shorts and his basketball t-shirt, and the scowl on his face lifted into a smile of surprise.

“Y/N. Wanna come in?” He left a space for you to enter; your head shook involuntarily. “It’s fucking pouring, please--just come in.”

“I’m just returning this.” You held out his crew neck, splotchy and darkened from rain.

“Okay, well, if you’re just gonna go back home, let me drive you.” He plunged his hands in his pockets; his shorts were exceptionally small. “Sorry, I had to throw something on.”

The rain was soaking your hair into a tangled mess, and beads of water fell from the slope of your nose. But Steve looked at you with a boyish longing, defeat, a curiosity of why he suddenly wasn’t good enough.

“Will you just come in?” He flung the door open all the way and then stepped outside, the rain pouring over his half-matted hair, making the thin white cotton of his shirt cling to the contours of his torso, the tense expanse of his back.

“Steve, just go back inside.”

Steve crossed his arms over his chest. “If you’re gonna leave, just leave! You’re standing here in the fucking rain, acting so intent on going, but here you fucking are!”

“You’re in the rain too!”

“I know, and I’m freezing my ass off, and I know you are too, and my house is right there, but apparently I’m so miserable to be around that this–” he gestured to himself. “Is preferable.” His arms slung down, heavy from defeat, the pattering of sideways showers against his ear.

“I have a crush on you, too.” You admitted. Your voice was small, and Steve would not have caught it if he wasn’t reading the shape of your lips with such distinct fervor.

Steve trapped you against the door frame, his hands cradling your head as he kissed you. His lips were freezing, but the inside of his mouth, the curling of his tongue against yours was oh so warm, inviting. Your fingers tangled in his hair and you pulled him closer; your noses slid against each other as he moaned into you, one of his hands trailing down to your waist. He tasted sweet, like a honey cough drop and the longing he held in his mouth like a breath mint, flipping it over and over like a wish. She wants me, she wants me not.

He was manly enough to hold your hips and guide you inside, but still boyish in the way his cheeks flushed and eyelashes tickled against your cheek as he used you to slam the door behind your back.

Everything was squeaky; pants echoed from high ceilings, off the wooden floors of the open foyer, sterile, empty, all for you. Steve squeezed your ass, one of his hands coming up to pull on your hair, enough to gain access to your throat, where he left open-mouthed kisses.

“You’ve fuckin’ played hard to get enough.” He said, in a low voice.”Definitely not easy.”

You whimpered, yanking on the hem of his wet shirt, stuck to him like papier-mâché. He pulled it off, and you admired him in the momentary glow of the lightning nearby, punctuating like an exclamation mark the smoothness of his bicep as he wrapped his arms around you. His kisses were possessive and fluttered against your pulse point as he dropped to his knees in front of you.

He unbuttoned your jeans, eyes flitted upwards for your approval, peeling them from your legs. You nodded so quickly, you got dizzy. Your knees buckled as Steve kissed your navel, the pads of his fingers dragging across the hem of your panties assuredly. He cupped your cunt and his thumb rubbed over your clit in slow circles before the cotton was pushed aside and Steve was groaning against your mound, eyes huge with wonder and lust–the same drunkenness he was adorned with the night you met.

His fingers slid over your slit, and he reveled in your wetness like it was a prize; it was. He dug his fingers into the globes of your ass as he buried his face into your pussy, nose resting over your clit as he licked and sucked and spat–and you clutched onto his wrists behind you, desperate for purchase as he devoured you.

“I fucking need you,” He said. You could see his bulge growing from beneath forest green polyester.

He pushed a finger inside your cunt, and you gasped, knees giving out. Steve was messy, all over the place, wanting to do everything and be everywhere at once. But he caught you as you fell, laying you down against the oriental rug that cost more than all of his birthday presents combined–and he spat on your clit. Pulling moans and expletives from the back of your throat like the remnants of a cold that Steve was more than willing to share with you.

He rubbed globs of his spit over your cunt and ogled at how you clenched for him, how pliable you were with his middle finger knuckle deep in your hole.

“So tight.” He rubbed at your clit with his thumb as he fucked his finger into you, moving up to kiss you again. You pulled him into you, and he laughed against your neck. “I’m worried I won’t fit.”

You huffed as his spit and your arousal coated your tongue, his cock twitching against your center. “Stop teasing me.”

Steve grabbed your jaw, squeezing your cheeks. “All you’ve done is tease me.”

You untangled your fingers from the dampness of his hair, cupping his cock through his shorts; you could tell he was wearing nothing underneath. His kisses got less calculated and sloppier as you palmed him, soft mewls and whimpers, voiceless begs permeating the air like sticky humidity.

“Cocky are we? Saying you won’t fit.”

He pulled away, a string of saliva a temporary tightrope between your mouths. “Might not.” He smiled innocently.

You untied his shorts and spit in your palm, stroking his length and thumbing his thick, mushroom head as he sprang free. Holy shit.

“God, Steve.” You admired his cock, veiny and thick and his. “Your cock is so big.” You relished in how he twitched at your words.

He all but growled, rocking his hips to fuck your fist, mouth hung open as he hovered over your half-naked body.

“Please–take your shirt off.” Your nipples peaked through the sopping material, but he wanted more. Wanted them in his mouth.

You obliged, and he sucked on your nipples with hollowed cheeks, drooling around the buds. It was filthy and wet in more ways than one, touching each other like this, raw on the Harringtons’ ruined rug. No time to go to Steve’s room or ask sweetly for a kiss with bated breath and crossed fingers.

The need for each other was palpable, and Steve’s hips jerked, his mouth falling open against yours, drooling over your bottom lip.

“I wanna fuck you.” He grabbed your jaw and pressed your foreheads together as he lined himself up with your soaked cunt, teasing your entrance with the thick head of his cock.

“Please–” You nodded, and Steve pushed in, slowly, agonizingly slowly, yet all at once simultaneously. He stretched you, and you were his, at least for now. Completely at his mercy, legs shaking with the torment of pain and pleasure, teetering on top of each other like a jenga tower, crumbling to the ground.

He fucked into you with faster strokes, falling to rest on his elbows as he hiked your legs around his waist. Cradling you like a porcelain doll, fucking you like the whore they all thought you were.

“God–you feel so fucking good.” His head fell forward and he felt weak, unable to handle the feeling of your lips against his neck, your bodies overlapping, a jigsaw puzzle of limbs and neediness.

All your breaths filled his lungs, and his filled yours, a terrarium of the lust settled in your throat, your stomachs, your limbs that felt one another with certainty, as if this had all happened before, as if you were fitted just for each other’s pleasure.

Steve’s thrusts were languid as he held your face, shakily planting kisses in your mouth and licking and biting your bottom lip.

“I can’t– believe,” Steve moaned, nibbling your ear. He grabbed your jaw and forced your head to face him. “That you thought I started the rumor.”

Your back arched as he punctuated his sentence by pulling out just to slam into you again--and he took that as a sign to fuck you harder.

“Fuck Steve–” Your heels dug into his lower back, sheathed in sweat.

His thumb pulled on your bottom lip. “Maybe they’re true.” His voice was breathy as you opened your mouth for him, allowing a string of spit to fall on your tongue. “Maybe you’re my little slut.”

Your moans grew more desperate at his words, at how he was in complete control over your body, your pleasure, your feelings.

Steve was testing the waters, seeing how much you wanted him--if it could even compare to how he writhed for you. He swore could have come just from kissing you, from the smell of your shampoo, triggered by the rain.

“‘M all yours, Steve.” Your kiss was wet as you claimed him with the thrash of your tongue against him, twisting and braiding you together as Steve felt himself finishing at your words.

He pulled out quickly, painting your navel and chest in thick ropes of his cum, his head thrown back. Your name an avalanche tumbling through his teeth.

“Fuck, Y/N–” He regained his composure as you lost yours, the pumping of his fingers in your soaking cunt enough for you to finish, hands grasping at Steve’s strong wrist as it flexed from his movements.

“Steve–” You sat up on your elbows as he rested on your chest, relaxed by the proximity of your heartbeat.

“Mhm?” He nuzzled into your neck. Groggily, he said: “I don’t think you’re a slut, like, actually–”

“Yeah, I know.” Your laugh vibrated his head. “I just wondered if you actually wanted me to, you know?”

“Be mine?” Steve opened his eyes, mouth agape as he blinked at you. “Well, that I do actually want.”

“I do too.”

“Are you just saying that because I made you cum?”

“No, Steve.”

“I have to tell you something, just to start things off on the right foot, though.”

You craned your neck down to look at him; the fanning of his breath was warm, and you liked the patterns of freckles that cascaded down the length of his neck and his Adams apple when he swallowed with anticipation, his eyelashes kissing your shoulder.

“Yeah?” You asked.

“I spilled my drink on you at my party on purpose.”

#stranger things #steve harrington #steve harrington smut #steve harrington angst #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington oneshot

238 notes · View notes

monsterrae1 · 1 year

Text

I don't know what this is but it's @eddiesbleps fault, so this one's for you Gee!

Stop time right here in the moonlight.

It had been weeks now.

Weeks of waiting to hear any news about his state, weeks of keeping a bed side vigil at every chance he could, weeks of holding Buck's unmoving hand and plead him to wake up. Weeks of crying confessions while tightly holding his hand, weeks of watching him breath through a tube and hearing the heart monitor beat in a slow rhythm.

It had been weeks, and the only thing that seemed to change in Buck was his hair, and his beard. Both hadn't stopped growing in the time he had been laying in that hospital bed. Eddie had taken the job of carefully trimming down his beard without disturbing his breathing tube, and making sure his hair didn't tangle.

If Buck had been awake, he'd be telling Eddie that the average hair growth per month was half an inch, and that finger nails grew 3 millimeters per month. Eddie would've laughed and told him it was disgusting.

But now, now when according to the inch and a half growth of Buck's hair he had been gone for three months. Not gone, no. Asleep, in a coma, whatever, he wasn't fully there and that was what was killing Eddie slowly.

He ran his finger slowly through the long curls, the longer it got the wilder the curls got, Eddie had experience with Chris hair, so he started to bring brushes and once or twice a week he would just sit there and brush out the tangles made by time, by the nurses moving him around and not paying attention to his hair - Eddie didn't blame them, he knew that they were busy - and he'd tell him about his day.

"Chris drew you another picture" He said that day "Can't lie, kid's getting better, we might have to look into some art classes for him, if he wants to"

Naturally, Buck didn't answer. They had taken out the breathing tube two days ago, he had started to fight it in the middle of the night and everyone thought it meant he'd wake up soon. But he was taking his sweet time to do so.

"I miss your eyes, how stupid is that?" Eddie admitted as he got settled into Buck's side, close enough to brush his hair out without issues, they had been cleaning it with dry shampoo and Eddie usually brought some leave in conditioner to keep it from drying out. He knew how picky was about his hair, and he didn't want him to wake up and hated what had happen to it. "I also miss your laugh,

I never noticed how bright it was, until…” He shook his head, falling into silence as he focused back on his task. These weren’t thinks he hadn’t said before, he felt like maybe he’d been saying it every week for the past three months.

Once he was done with his hair, he moved down to his beard. Thanks to the breathing tube it had gotten a little out of control, and Eddie knew how much he hated having a beard, so he had come prepared this time, draping a towel over Buck’s chest and tucking it around his neck, taking out his scissors and starting to trim down the long hairs.

“I could go pro by now” Eddie mumbled “I’m gonna bill you for all of this once you’re awake” A nurse laughed on the other side of the room, attending to another patient. “Sorry” He apologized “didn’t see you”

“It’s okay, you must love your husband very much” she said with a sad smile “We keep seeing you here, and you’re so devoted to him, we’re all rooting for him to wake up soon”

Eddie smiled “Thank you, we’re too”

He didn’t correct her on her assumption, he didn’t want to have to say, we’re not married, I’m hopelessly in love with him and he’s slipping through my fingers. No. No. He rather they think he was a devoted husband, and not a broken hearted best friend.

Eddie focused back on his task, carefully spreading the shaving cream around his cheeks, chin and neck. Taking the razor and slowly started to remove the hair, being careful to not cut him.

“When are you going to wake up Buck?” Eddie said once he saw the nurse leaving “Please don’t take your sweet time with this, please, please, come back to me”

Buck didn’t wake up that day, or the day after that, or the one after. But the next week he did, just as Eddie was running his fingers through his hair and reading a book to him, he waited until Eddie was done with the chapter to let him know he was awake, and after jumping out of bed and dropping the book to the floor, Eddie finally, finally was able to see those beautiful ocean blue eyes staring back at him.

“Hey Eds” Buck said with a raspy voice from disuse.

“Hey Buck” Eddie smiled at him.

He knew he had to call the nurses in, the doctors too, and that Buck needed to be checked out by everyone, but he was awake, and Eddie knew, he was done wasting time. After all, he knew that tomorrow wasn’t promised to anyone.

Taglist under the cut:

Tag list: @swiftiediaz @elvensorceress @lostinabuddiehaze @idealuk @imaginger @mr-and-mr-diaz @yelenasbuddie @ldntommo @jacksadventuresinwriting @spotsandsocks @buckleyobsessed @ci5mates @aka-hawkguy @buddierights @prettyboybuckley @peaceofficerdiaz @lightningbuck @loveyourownsmiilee @eddiediazisascorpio @rogerzsteven @satashiiwrites @dickley-buddie @daughterofbuddie @bekkachaos @the-likesofus @shortsighted-owl @jobairdxx @alyxmastershipper

#my writing #buddie #buddie ficlet #my head hurts so i didn't edit a word of his #if it doesn't make sense blame in on my headache

69 notes · View notes

supernovaslut · 1 year

Text

TRACK 2: OVER MY HEAD

Joel Miller x OC

Word Count: 9.2k

Warnings: MDNI, cursing, canon typical violence, guns, men being men, emotional unavailability, minor character deaths, tragic backstory™

Previous Chapter ~ Masterlist ~ Next Chapter

“You can take me to paradise

And then again you can be cold as ice

I'm over my head (Over my head)

Oh, but it sure feels nice.”

“How much longer?” Ellie groans as the trio hike through the forest, sunlight filtering through the trees, giving the area a calming glow. They’ve been hiking all morning, and Ellie is getting sick of how silent it is with Rhia and Joel refusing to speak to each other.

“’Bout 5 hours,” Rhia and Joel say at the same time.

They glare at each other until Ellie speaks up, “We can manage that.”

Rhia smiles at Ellie, then stomps ahead, passing Joel without so much as a glance. They walk for another hour or so, making it onto an actual road and out of the forest.

“You've gone this way a lot? No Infected?” Ellie asks the childish adults, hoping to spark conversation.

“Not often, no,” Joel says curtly, scanning the edges of the forest as Rhia keeps an eye on their six.

“What are you looking out for?” Ellie asks them.

“People,” Rhia replies, her voice flat and serious.

“Oh,” Ellie says, then, “Are Bill and Frank nice?”

“Frank is,” Joel answers.

Rhia smiles back at her, “You’re gonna love Bill.”

“Is he cool?” Ellie asks.

Rhia laughs, “I don’t know if ‘cool’ is the word I’d use.”

Rhia hasn’t spoken to Bill and Frank in months. It was getting harder to do much of anything since her cat died and she was left alone. Again. She has to apologize when she gets there, Rhia thinks, maybe she should have brought a peace offering, too.

“How'd you get that scar on your head?” Ellie asks, which brings Rhia back to attention. She realizes Ellie is asking Joel, but the phantom sting on her eyebrow answers all the same.

“What? Is it something lame? Like you fell down the stairs or something?” Ellie asks again when Joel doesn’t answer.

“I didn't fall down any stairs,” Joel says after a sigh.

“Okay, so what then?”

Rhia shakes her head at the pair. She had asked Joel this same question before and already knows the evasive story he is telling Ellie now.

· · ─────── ·⌖· ─────── · ·

*4 ½ Years Ago*

“The deal was I help you out and you tell me what you find,” Rhia said, pushing a finger in Bill’s face. The pair were standing in the dining room of Bill’s house, Rhia incensed, hair loose and wild and jumping with her movements while Bill watched stiff and emotionless as always.

They heard a creak in the floorboards and Rhia turned around to see Joel entering the house. Rhia froze, getting a good look at him after 6 months. He was wearing a flannel similar to the last time she’d seen him, but his hair had a touch more silver in it, his beard recently trimmed. She hadn’t had a welcoming first impression from the man, but she couldn’t deny how handsome he was. She thought that maybe the grumpy demeanor was part of the appeal.

“Oh, good. You’re here,” Bill said, stepping away from Rhia.

“Tess here?” Rhia asked, looking past Joel.

“I told you I’d do this alone,” Joel said to Bill, ignoring Rhia.

“And I’d like to ensure that I get my truck back in one piece, so Rhia’s goin’ with you,” Bill said.

“Like hell.” “I think the fuck not,” Joel and Rhia said at the same time.

Frank walked in, carrying a bag of what Rhia guessed was produce from the garden. “Oh, Joel, you made it,” he smiled, setting the bag on the table, “You two heading out soon?” He looked between Rhia and Joel smiling. He knew the two couldn’t stand each other, but he had a feeling the two would one day come to realize how alike they truly were.

“I don’t want to spend 20 minutes with the man, let alone 20 hours. Let him go alone. I have nothing in this, anyway,” Rhia shrugged, grabbing her backpack.

“I guess you don’t really want to find them, then,” Bill said, making Rhia freeze in her tracks. Joel looked between the two, curiosity and suspicion weighing down the center of his brows.

“If I go, you’ll help?” Rhia asked, turning to Bill.

He nodded.

Rhia groaned, “Fine. Let’s get this show on the road, then. I’m not driving first,” and stomped out to the truck. Joel gave Bill and Frank a look of annoyance.

“Stay safe,” Frank encouraged.

“Try not to kill each other,” Bill laughed.

Joel rolled his eyes, “I’ll remember this,” and turned, following Rhia to the car. He slid into the driver’s seat, Rhia already having made herself comfortable in the passenger seat, one foot resting on the dash.

“Take your foot off the damn dash,” Joel ordered, starting the car.

Rhia gave him a sideways glance, narrowing her eyes, before she put her other foot on the dash, keeping her eyes on Joel. He let out a deep sigh, pulling out of the driveway.

“Have fun!” Frank laughed from the gate, letting them out of the neighborhood.

Joel drove for hours. It was about a 9 hour drive to Richmond, Virginia where Bill had set up a deal with some Fireflies to trade guns for drugs to then make deals with FEDRA officers back in Boston for food stamps for Joel and Tess and whatever the hell Bill needed, Rhia hadn’t paid attention. Around and around it went and she was just along for the ride. She only needed one thing from Bill and he was gonna hang it over her head as long as he could to keep her smuggling for him.

Rhia finally got bored staring out of the window and turned to look at Joel. She examined the entire right side of him. The gray strands twisting into the dark curls of his hair, his downward sloped nose, and his stiff posture, one hand on the wheel while the other rested on the center console.

“What?” he asked, noticing her eyes on him. He’d avoided looking in her direction all morning, choosing instead to keep his eyes on the never ending roads. They hadn’t even been listening to music.

“How’d you get the scar?” Rhia asked, referring to the raised line at Joel’s temple, retreating into his hairline.

He didn’t answer.

“C’mon, old man. We’re not listening to music, we’re not talking. I spend ninety percent of my time alone, I’d like to be able to speak to the few people I do see, especially when I’m stuck alone with them for twenty hours,” Rhia huffed, crossing her arms as she fully faced him, back resting on the door.

“Stop calling me ‘old man,’” he ordered.

“Tell me how you got the scar,” Rhia countered.

He looked at her then, astonished by the gall of this little shit. Her arms were crossed tightly across her chest, the sleeves of her oversized gray Boston College sweater hiding her hands. She had pulled her hair up into a bun, loose strands framing her face where her eyebrows furrowed and her lips pressed together tightly, eyes boring into him with a challenging glare.

He turned back to the road, “Got shot. He missed.”

“That’s it?” Rhia asked, shocked, “You at least get the asshole?”

“No. I missed, too,” he said after a moment.

“Shit aim,” Rhia ribbed, earning a side-eye from Joel. She knew he wasn’t telling her the whole story for a reason, but she didn’t want to push him. She was surprised she even got as much as she did.

“I got this scar fighting another kid for a ration pack,” Rhia said after a moment, showing Joel the jagged white marks on her forearm, “I bit him, he bit back. FEDRA asshole took the pack, kept it for himself. I was so pissed at the kid until I realized it wasn’t his fault that he was hungry. It was FEDRA’s for starving us. Sometimes we take things out on the wrong people for the right reasons. I’m no pacifist, but did the guy you tried to shoot at least deserve it?”

Joel looked ahead at the road, grip tightening at the wheel, “At the time … I thought so.”

· · ─────── ·⌖· ─────── · ·

*Now*

“You know, seeing as it’s just the three of us, I was thinking I should pro…” Ellie says when Rhia tunes back in.

“No,” Joel cuts her off.

Rhia rolls her eyes, “Why not? I had my own gun younger than her.”

“Really?!” Ellie asks excitedly, “That’s sick!”

Joel turns to Rhia, noticing the vacant look in her eyes, the shake in her breath—until she straightens up and shakes her head, saying, “On second thought, Joel’s right. You don’t need one.”

“What?!” Ellie exclaims, disappointed, looking between Joel and Rhia.

Rhia chuckles, “Don’t worry, kid. You’ve got us.”

Ellie sighs dramatically. They come upon a dilapidated building and Rhia recognizes it as one of Joel’s stashes.

“Cumberland Farms,” Ellie reads the crumbling sign.

“Hang back a minute,” Joel says to the girls as he pulls ahead towards the building, “Gotta grab some stuff I stashed.”

“Stashed? Why do you have stuff stashed here?” Ellie asks, following him. Rhia takes another look around them, ensuring they’re all clear, before following as well.

“You ask a lot of goddamn questions,” Joel grumbles. “Yes, I do,” Ellie nods. “So, are either of you gonna answer me or what?” She looks to Rhia, already knowing after less than 24 hours that she is far softer than Joel. Still a bit of a brick wall, Ellie notes, but who isn’t in this world?

“We hide supplies on routes in case we find ourselves short on gear,” Rhia answers as she enters.

“Which I currently am 'cause,” Joel starts until Ellie cuts him off, running to a broken down Mortal Kombat arcade machine.

“No way! You ever play this one? I had a friend who knew everything about this game. There's this one character named Mileena who takes off her mask and she has monster teeth, and then she swallows you whole and barfs out your bones!” Ellie sighs deeply, feeling the buttons, “Oh, man.”

“Forget the spot?” Rhia asks, sitting on the countertop island in the center of the room. She watches Joel kick debris around in search of his hiding spot.

“No. I'm just zeroing in on it. It's been a couple of years,” he denies, giving Rhia a sassy look. He knows that she knows damn well the last time he was there because she was with him.

“Okay, well, I'm gonna take a look around, see if there's anything good,” Ellie pipes up from across the room, realizing Rhia and Joel wouldn’t notice her stepping away with their attention so focused on each other. For people that claim to hate each other, they can’t seem to leave each other alone, Ellie thinks, theories filling her mind.

“Trust me, it's all been picked over already,” Joel warns, kicking the wall.

“Maybe, maybe not,” Ellie replies, walking to a different room, “Is there anything bad in here?”

“Just you,” Joel quips, still searching.

“Ah. Getting funnier.”

Ellie disappears around the corner and Rhia watches the doorway for a moment before turning to Joel when he utters a quiet,

“Fuck.”

“You doin’ alright there, cowboy?” Rhia asks, enjoying watching him struggle.

Joel turns to her, hands on his hips, “You could help.”

Rhia frowns in mock contemplation, tilting her head. She gets more comfortable on the table then smiles, “You got it.”

Joel rolls his eyes and continues searching, “If you just came along to give me grief the whole time, you can go back.”

Rhia scoffs, “I bet you’re prayin’ I quit. I’m not going anywhere, Joel.”

“And why not?” Joel stops his search, getting fed up with this damn woman.

Rhia stares at him for a moment, debating whether to be truthful, whether he’s earned it.

“I need to know that kid gets to where she’s going,” she finally says, standing. She’s told him her truth, but she’s lying to herself. “Why are you taking her, Joel? And I don’t wanna hear about anything Tess said.”

Joel sighs, looking anywhere but at Rhia. He may not be much of an extrovert, but Rhia had always been able to read him. It took her a while to know all of his little mannerisms as well as she does now. She knows he’s going to tell her the truth.

Joel’s mind is spinning. Joel knows how to read people, and what he sees when he looks at Rhia is contradiction. She is half his age, yet, for as long as he’s known her, she has carried the heavy coat of grief the depth of which he’s only seen in the mirror. She is immature and petulant, but serious and adept. She is outgoing and kind, yet suspicious and guarded. A teasing smile, but darkened and weary eyes. Every time he thinks he understands her, she continues to surprise him. She did it when she chose to come this morning and she’s done it again now.

“Tommy’s somewhere in Wyoming. Marlene promised Tess and I a car so we could go find him if we brought the kid to a meeting point. Problem was, everyone was dead when we got there, so now I’m taking her to Bill to see if he can get a hold of the Fireflies,” Joel explains.

“Why didn’t you take her back to the QZ? Why did you bring her with you? You can try to convince yourself it’s because Tess told you or because you want to find your brother or any other righteous endeavor, but I know you better than you want me to, Joel Miller,” Rhia steps up close to Joel, their faces inches apart. She’s searching his face. For what, Joel doesn’t know, but he pulls away before she can find it.

“You don’t know a goddamn thing.”

His voice is low and gravelly and Rhia knows she’s got her foot right on the line. She steps around him, walking to the end of the aisle and stopping at a shelf. She turns to Joel, making sure he’s watching as she stomps lightly, the floor beneath her giving a hollow sound.

“I just want to know which version of you I’m getting for this run,” she says innocently, stepping back so he can access the hatch.

He slowly approaches her, looking down to the hatch and back up to her face, another contradiction. Her tone tells him she’s apathetic, but her eyes are wide and hopeful. He used to think she was a sheep in wolf’s clothing, but he’s learned better than that over the years.

“I’m taking her because I need to know that she gets to where she’s going,” Joel echoes her response, a hint of something in his eyes that Rhia thought she’d never see again.

Joel doesn’t wait for her reply, crouching down to free the hatch. Rhia opens her mouth to speak, then stops, looking towards the dark doorway Ellie had gone through.

“Where’s Ellie?” Rhia asks as Joel takes what he needs from the stash. He stops, both of them looking to where Ellie had disappeared.

“Ellie?” Joel calls. No answer. He calls her name again. Nothing.

Joel and Rhia give each other a look, pulling out their guns in tandem as they approach the doorway, Joel taking the lead. As Joel reaches the dark entryway, peeking around, he relaxes and Rhia watches Ellie stride in.

“Picked over my ass,” Ellie scoffs, triumphantly shaking a box of tampons.

“Holy shit. You’re sharing,” Rhia gasps, earning a laugh from Ellie.

Joel shakes his head and goes back to the stash, sticking the rifle he’d been carrying into the hole.

“What are you doing?” Ellie asks.

“There's not much ammo out there for this thing. Makes it mostly useless,” Joel replies, closing the hole and standing.

“Well, if you're just gonna leave it there …”

“No,” Rhia and Joel reply in tandem as they exit the store. This time, they don’t acknowledge it.

They hike in a newly comfortable silence … that is until Ellie speaks up.

“Holy shit.”

Joel and Rhia turn their heads and slow to a stop as they see the remains of an airplane, mostly reclaimed by nature after twenty years.

“You guys fly in one of those?” Ellie asks in wonder.

“A few times, sure,” Joel says, humored by the kid.

“Once,” Rhia smiles sadly. Joel notices the softness in her tone and her distant gaze. A memory of firelight and auburn hair flashes in his mind.

“So lucky,” Ellie sighs as she looks at the plane, imagining what it is to fly.

“Didn't feel like it at the time. Get shoved into a middle seat, pay 12 bucks for a sandwich,” Joel says, shrugging. Rhia nods, chuckling, and, to his surprise, Joel feels proud to have caused it.

“Dude, you got to go up in the sky,” Ellie said in amazement.

“Yeah, well, so did they,” Joel rebuked, humor gone.

He and Rhia walk off as Ellie mutters a quiet “Grim,” following.

“So,everything came crashing down in one day?” Ellie asks, walking between Rhia and Joel.

“Pretty much,” Rhia shrugs.

“How?” Ellie asks, confused and curious, “I mean … no one was infected with Cordyceps, everybody’s fine, eating in restaurants and flying in planes. And then, all at once? How did it even start? If you have to get bit to be infected, then who bit the first person? Was it a monkey? I bet it was a monkey.”

“It wasn’t a monkey,” Rhia laughs.

“I thought you went to school,” Joel mocks.

“FEDRA school,” Ellie replies matter-of-factly, “They don't teach us how their shitty government failed to prevent a pandemic.”

Rhia and Joel look at each other, then Joel sighs, giving up.

“No one knows for sure,” he starts, “but, best guess … Cordyceps mutated. And some of it got into the food supply. Probably a basic ingredient like flour or sugar. There were certain brands of food that were sold everywhere, all across the country, across the world. Bread, cereal …” He pauses, “pancake mix.”

Rhia picks up for him, “You eat enough of it, it’ll get you infected. So, the tainted food all hits the store shelves around the same time, Thursday. People bought it, ate some Thursday night or Friday morning. Day goes on … they started to get sick. Afternoon, evening, they got worse …” Rhia trails off.

“Then they started bitin’. Friday night, September 26, 2003. And by Monday, everything was gone,” Joel finishes.

Ellie watches her haunted guardians as they speak, their faraway looks. She may be young, but she, too, understands how much death can weigh.

“It makes more sense than monkeys,” she tells them, “Thanks.”

Rhia gives her a pained smile as Joel stiffly replies, “Sure.”

He stops them, then, gazing out across the fields. Rhia knows what he’s thinking.

“What?” Ellie asks.

“We’ll cut across the woods here,” Joel points.

“Isn’t the road easier?” Ellie asks.

“Yeah, it's just... There's stuff up there you shouldn’t see,” Joel says evasively.

“Well, now I have to see,” Ellie says.

“I don’t want you to,” Joel orders as Ellie walks off, “Serious. Ellie!”

“Can it hurt me?” Ellie calls back.

“No,” Joel answers truthfully which earns a humorous sigh from Rhia.

“You’re too honest, man. Should’ve said ax murderer,” Ellie laughs. She looks around as she walks, Joel and Rhia following.

“Uh … whatever it was … think it’s gone.” She stops, her gaze falling on the pit of bones and personal effects.

Rhia and Joel stop beside her, the latter speaking up, “About a week after Outbreak Day, soldiers … went through the countryside, evacuated the small towns. Told you you were goin’ to a QZ, and you were … if there was room. If there wasn’t …” He trails off.

“These people weren’t sick?” Ellie asks, a twinge of anger in her voice.

“No, probably not,” Rhia shakes her head.

“Why kill them? Why not just leave ’em be?” Ellie asks sadly.

Joel answers somberly, “Dead people can’t be infected.”

Ellie looks to Rhia, and the woman turns away, the teen’s pleading eyes reminding her of her own, so many years ago.

· · ─────── ·⌖· ─────── · ·

*September 26, 2003*

The sun set over the forested mountains of Tennessee, the Wynn family settling in for dinner in their stilted cabin. 8-year-old Rhiannon watched the planes soar overhead from her bedroom window. She’d never seen so many in one day, though the whole day seemed to be out of the ordinary.

She’d counted 17 ambulances and 8 fire trucks on the drive home from school. Her sister, Stevie, winded through the hills up to their home carefully to keep out of their way. She’d just gotten her license that morning and proudly showed it off to her little sister when she’d picked her up.

“Woah! You really did it!” Rhia had exclaimed, examining the license.

“Oh, you thought I’d fail?” Stevie laughed, flicking her eyes between her sister and the road.

“Daddy said you were an ‘accident waiting to happen’, but I think you were an accident 16 years ago,” Rhia joked, smiling mischievously at Stevie who gasped, feigning hurt.

“Damn, Ri. Guess this accident isn’t driving you to Dollywood tomorrow,” Stevie shrugged, an exaggerated sigh leaving her lips.

Rhia’s eyes widened and she turned in her seat, leaning over the center console, “Dollywood?! I wanna go! Stevie, please. I’m sorry! You’re a great driver. Pleaaaase!”

“Okay, Okay!” Stevie laughed, gently pushing Rhia back into her seat, “You win. Settle down.”

“Rhia! Stevie! Time for dinner,” their mother called, snapping Rhia out of the memory.

“Coming!” she heard Stevie call. Rhia exited her room, following her sister down the stairs to the dining table. It was set for 4, yet their father was nowhere in sight.

“Where’s dad?” Stevie asked, sitting at the table.

Mom sighed, shaking her head, “I don’t know. He hasn’t answered my calls. He’s probably caught up in traffic from whatever’s goin’ on in town.” She looked at the door, then back at her kids. “Sit down. Eat. He can warm up his dinner later.”

The sisters sat, piling their plate with bread and meat and vegetables. Rhia went to take a bite of bread when they all heard a bang at the door. Rhia jumped, dropping the bread on her plate. She turned around as her mother walked to the door slowly.

Another bang and then jiggling at the handle. Rhia looked to Stevie who watched the door curiously. Their mother got closer and closer to the door, until—

Bang! The door swung open, slamming against the wall as a man stumbled in, holding a hand to his shoulder.

“Dad?” Stevie questioned, standing.

“Dear?!” her mother exclaimed, going to help her husband to stand. “What happened?” She walked him to the couch, sitting him down and looking over his disheveled body.

Stevie and Rhia rushed over, watching from beside the couch as their father panted, “We need to leave. Charlotte, help the girls pack. Only the essentials.”

“Rhys, what the hell are you goin’ on about? What happened to you?” Charlotte asked frantically, examining the wound he’d been covering. It looked like a bite mark. “Who did this to you?”

“Daddy?” Rhia asked softly, worry in her voice.

Charlotte looked at her daughters, hoping she didn’t show them as much fear as she felt. “You heard your father. Stevie, take Rhia upstairs. Help her pack a bag,” she ordered. Stevie nodded, taking Rhia by the hand and leading her upstairs.

When they were out of sight, Rhys grabbed his wife by the shoulders, leaning forward, “Charlotte. It’s madness out there. Some sort of disease. I don’t know.”

“Honey, you’re not making sense, and you’re scarin’ the kids. Hell, you’re scarin’ me!”

“You need to listen to me!” Rhys bellowed, shaking her, “Folks are attacking each other. I saw Raymond at the gas station getting his neck torn out by some old lady. Tried to help him and he turned on me. That’s how I got this.” He motioned to the bite on his arm.

Charlotte shook her head, “What the hell, Rhys? Is this to do with all the commotion in town? The riots on the news?”

“Yes,” Rhys nodded, then winced in pain, “Everyone’s lost their minds and we need to get out of here.”

“Why leave? We’re in the mountains. Almost an hour away from town,” Charlotte asked, helping Rhys stand.

He stumbled towards the stairs, “It’s not safe here. It’s not safe anywhere.”

“Then where do you suppose we go? Huh?” Charlotte stopped at the base of the stairs, trying to talk sense into her husband, “I’m not gonna pack the kids up and freak them out for nothin’. Where are we gonna go?”

Rhys sighed, sitting on the stairs. He shook his head, the horrors from town replaying in his mind, “I don’t know, Char. I just know that sooner or later, they’re gonna start coming up the mountain. Whether it’s to hide or kill, I don’t wanna be here for ’em.”

Just then, the tv turned blue and a National Emergency Alert came on, the siren blaring through the house. Charlotte looked to Rhys, who stared blankly at the wall.

She took a shaky breath and scrunched her eyes closed before nodding, “Alright. I’ll pack the bags. Can you bandage that yourself and meet us at the car?”

Rhys nodded, “Yeah. I can do that. Hurry.” Charlotte casted one last worried look at her husband before bounding up the stairs and straight to Rhia’s room where Stevie was helping shove her clothes into a backpack.

“Mom? What’s going on?” Stevie asked, stopping. Rhia sat on the bed, fearfully clutching a stuffed giraffe.

Their mother looked between her daughters, wishing she could ease their fears and kiss them goodnight like any other day, but she knew they would not be coming back to this house again.

“We’re going on a road trip. Pack warm clothes and sneakers … like when we went to Washington to go hiking in the parks. Remember, Rhia?” She looked to her Rhia who nodded, a spark of hope in her eyes.

Charlotte smiled sadly, “Gonna be just like that, okay?”

“Can I bring my stuffies?” Rhia asked, looking at her mountain of stuffed plushies in the corner of her room then back at her mother, searching for comfort her mother cannot give.

Charlotte held the tears back and shook her head, “You can’t, sweetie … but you can pick one. Just one.” Rhia frowned, then held her giraffe closer. “Okay,” Charlotte nodded, “Stevie, when you’re both ready, go downstairs and pack a bag of food and water. Only pick stuff that won’t perish, okay?”

Stevie nodded, catching the weight of her mother’s fear so her sister wouldn’t have to. Their mother left them to go pack and Rhia looked up at her sister who stood frozen and staring at the empty doorway.

“Stevie? I’m scared. What’s happening?” Rhia asked, tears welling up in her eyes as she hugged her giraffe tighter.

Stevie winced and put a hand on her sister’s head, “I know you’re scared, but mommy and daddy need us to be strong, okay? I don’t know what’s happening, but whatever it is, we’re gonna be okay. I promise.” Rhia nodded, wiping her tears away.

The sisters grabbed their bags and headed downstairs where they packed up a backpack of food and water. Stevie tossed in the first aid bag from under the sink as well. We won’t need it, she thought, but just in case.

“Girls? You ready?” Charlotte asked as she sped down the stairs, bat in hand.

“What’s with the bat?” Stevie asked.

Charlotte looked at the bat like she didn’t even know she was holding it, “Just in case.”

“Just in case of what, mom? You haven’t told us what’s going on,” Stevie protested.

“Nothing. Let’s go. Your father’s waiting for us in the car,” Charlotte dismissed. The siblings followed their mother out the door and down the driveway where the car sat running, their father in the driver’s seat.

“Rhys, open the trunk!” Charlotte called out as they approached.

Nothing happened.

“Rhys, come on!” She banged on the window of the trunk. Still nothing. Charlotte looked through the window to see Rhys just sitting there, unmoving.

“Stay here,” she ordered her daughters, handing them her bags and the bat. She approached the driver’s door, seeing Rhys look dazed and empty eyed.

She called his name, hoping to get his attention. When he didn’t react, she opened the door. At the sound, Rhys turned, his eyes milky and devoid of consciousness, dark veins crawling up his skin. He snarled and launched at his wife, toppling her to the ground, teeth clacking together as he tried to bite her. She yelped, begging him to stop as she held him back with her arms.

“Mom!” Stevie yelled, running over and smacking her father in the head with the bat.

He flew off of Charlotte and Stevie dropped the bat, freezing in place as she said in horror, “Oh, my god. Oh, my god. What did I do? Dad?!” She took a step towards him as he shuffled on the ground, his limbs moving in odd directions.

Charlotte held Stevie back, “No! Stay away from him. Something’s wro-”

Before she could finish, Rhys launched at her from behind, sinking his teeth into the flesh of her shoulder. She screamed in pain, turning her body and slamming back into the side of the car, holding him down.

“Get in the car! Now!” she yelled. Stevie stayed frozen in her spot, “Stevie, now! Get Rhia!”

At the mention of her baby sister, Stevie snapped back to attention, turning to where Rhia stood surrounded by their stuff, crying.

“What’s wrong with daddy?” Rhia cried as Stevie picked her up, running to the other side of the car and opening the back door.

“Don’t look, Rhia. Just stay down,” Stevie instructed, tossing the bags in with Rhia and slamming the door.

Stevie ran around the car again just as Charlotte slammed Rhys into the side of it again. He released her shoulder and she crumbled to her knees.

“Mom?!” Stevie asked, not getting too close.

“Get in the fucking car, Stephanie!” Charlotte yelled, grabbing the bat and swinging it at her husband’s head. She screamed as she bashed her husband’s head in. Screams turned into sobs, tears mixing with the blood of the love of her life, dead at her hand. She stumbled to her feet, holding a hand to her shoulder. She dropped the bat and got into the driver’s seat.

“What happened to dad?” Stevie asked from beside her.

“Mommy? Where’s daddy?” Rhia quietly muttered from the backseat. Stevie hadn’t let her look out the window.

Charlotte ignored her children, putting the car in drive and taking them away from home forever.

After about an hour of silence, Rhia had fallen asleep. Stevie reached back for one of the bags, keeping her eyes on her mother’s wound. She took the first aid kit out of the backpack, opening it up and taking out a mini hydrogen peroxide spray bottle.

“Don’t waste it, Stephanie,” Charlotte instructed, pushing Stevie’s hand away when she tried to clean her wound.

“It’s gonna get infected, mom,” she protested. Charlotte let out a shaky breath, tears spilling down her cheeks, “I think it already is.”

Stevie paled, “What are you talking about?”

Charlotte sighed, pulling over when she felt they were far away enough from civilization, deep in the mountains, “Your father had a bite like this … and then he … became whatever it is he became. It’s gonna happen to me, too.”

“No,” Stevie shook her head, tears flooding her eyes again, “No. You don’t know that.”

“I do. Honey, I do. I can already feel it. I can’t put you and your sister in danger like this.” “No. Mom. No,” Stevie cried as her mother opened the door and stepped out.

“Take care of your sister. Never, ever leave her, okay?”

“Mom, plea-”

“Promise me, Stevie!” Charlotte cut her off, “Promise me you’ll stay together. No matter what.”

Stevie got out of the car, circling it to stand in front of her mother. She was as tall as her mother, having grown a few more inches over the summer. She remembered being as small as Rhia, looking up to her mother as this untouchable, giant goddess. Now she can see the top of her head. The illusion is over and her mother is only human. In this moment, they are equals.

She stared at the spreading infection on her mother’s shoulder for a long while before she managed to choke out, “I promise.”

Charlotte nodded, “Good.” She looked at her sleeping daughter in the backseat, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, but you have to be strong. Whatever’s going on out there, whatever happens … I love you both so much. So did your father.”

Rhia slowly came to in the backseat, groggily looking towards the front of the car to where she expected her mom and sister to be. When they weren’t there, she sat up, finding them when she looked out the window.

“Mommy?” Rhia asked, her voice muffled through the door.

Her mother looked at her, placing a hand on the glass, then turned to Stevie again, “Head north. Find somewhere safe. Only trust each other.”

“Mom, I don’t know what to do. I … I only just got my license. I can’t-”

“You can, Stevie. You can, and you shouldn’t have to, but you need to.”

“I can’t do this alone, mom, please!” Stevie cried.

She held her hands, examining the face of her daughter one last time, “You have to. I love you. Your dad and I will always be with you. Always.” She slowly backed away.

“Mommy? What’s happening, Stevie? Where’s mommy going?!” Rhia asked, pressing her cheek to the window to see her mother.

“Go,” their mother ordered, “Stevie, go!”

Stevie numbly turned around and got into the driver’s seat. She put the car in drive. “No!” Rhia screamed as they pulled away, banging on the window, trying to reach her mother’s retreating form, “No! Mommy! Stop! Mommy, please! Stevie, stop! We can’t leave her! Mommy!”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” Stevie muttered to her sobbing sister over and over again like a mantra, driving away and not daring to look back at her mother in fear that she’d turn back around. She was only a child, now forced to be both mother and father in a crumbling world.

Charlotte watched her daughters drive away, an odd twitch beginning in her arms and head. When her children were safe and out of view, their mother sat in the empty road, muttered a prayer to a god who never listens, and let the infection take over.

· · ─────── ·⌖· ─────── · ·

*4 ½ Years Ago*

Rhia slept peacefully in the truck, curled up against the door … until she was roughly shaken awake.

“We’re here,” Joel said, turning off the car.

Rhia groaned, opening her eyes, “You’re a dick.” She exited the car, grabbing her backpack from the foot well and following him to the truck bed where they unloaded the cargo.

“I can drive back since you drove the whole way here,” Rhia offered, closing the door with her foot.

“No need,” Joel said curtly, walking off to the meeting point.

“What? You don’t trust me? Don’t think I’m a good driver?” Rhia asked, offended.

Joel huffed, “Well, I know you definitely never got a license.”

“Well, I’m so sorry the fucking world ended before I got the chance to,” Rhia scoffed.

Joel ignored her and walked ahead to where the Fireflies stood waiting with their cargo. Rhia was getting real sick of being ignored and belittled by this pretentious fuck.

“Miller. Who’s the girl?” the man Rhia assumed was the leader said.

“Nobody. Let’s get this over with, Carson,” Joel replied, dropping the crate on the floor between them.

Rhia glared at Joel before turning to the Fireflies with a smile, “Rhiannon. Nice to meet y’all.”

The man, Carson, ignored her, focusing on Joel, “This is less than Bill and I talked about.”

“Yeah, well, more’s gonna cost ya,” Joel said nonchalantly, face void of emotion.

“This is what it should cost,” Carson said, looking down at Joel. “Not anymore,” Joel replied, not feeling threatened. Rhia could have laughed at how Carson attempted to intimidate Joel, using his height over her partner to no avail. Joel was immovable, untouchable. She wasn’t scared of the Firefly’s temperament with Joel at her side. Carson gave in, sighing and nodding to his lackeys to hand over the goods.

As Joel packed the crates in the truck bed, Rhia grabbed the last crate from the leader.

“So, where’d you come from?” he asked, looking her up and down. “Oh, just a few hours away in a little town called Nunya,” Rhia scoffed.

His lip twitched in annoyance, grabbing her arm when she made to walk away.

Just as Rhia opened her mouth to tell him off, Joel called out, “Rhia! Let’s go!”

Rhia ripped her arm from Carson, walking over to the truck. All the while, Joel stared Carson down, arms crossed and eyes narrowed as Rhia closed the trunk and spun around, joining Joel in his staredown. Mirror images of each other.

Carson looked between the duo and laughed, “’Till next time, Joel. Rhiannon.”

· · ─────── ·⌖· ─────── · ·

They were two hours into the excruciatingly long drive back to Bill’s when Rhia broke the unofficial silent treatment they were giving each other.

“You know, I didn’t need your help back there.”

Joel scoffed, “You were about to get yourself shot. Again.”

“You know, if you stopped treating me like I’m just arm candy, maybe they would, too,” Rhia rebuked, glaring at him.

“Oh, so it’s my fault?” Joel asked sarcastically.

“Well, it sure as hell ain’t mine,” Rhia pursed her lips, “You don’t treat Tess like this.”

“Tess can handle herself, unlike you.”

“Well, how the hell am I supposed to prove that I can if you don’t give me the chance? Huh?!” Rhia exclaimed, absolutely in awe of how little he thought of her, “Don’t even trust me to drive.” She let out a cynical laugh at the thought.

“I’m a great driver,” she muttered, hugging her knees and looking out the window, “My sister taught me.”

Joel froze. She’d never mentioned her sister before, and, in this world, it wasn’t hard for him to guess why. Their argument ended there, but Joel spent the next two hours thinking about the girl sleeping beside him.

He had a hard time admitting to himself that she was right. He was treating her as a hindrance instead of a partner, but he didn’t need a partner. It was hard enough for him to let Tess just past the stony front, but not much farther. It didn’t make sense to him that this young, reckless, beautiful woman could get under his skin so quickly. He shook away the thoughts slowly forming in his mind, thoughts he hadn’t had in a very long time.

After another hour, Joel pulled over on the side of the road. The sun had started to rise in the distance and as much as he wanted to get back to Bill’s and as far away from Rhia as possible, he couldn’t drive another second without at least getting a quick nap in. He thought of just sleeping right there and driving again when he woke up, but then he looked at Rhia and sighed deeply.

“Hey,” he said, shaking her lightly unlike earlier.

“Tired, Stevie,” Rhia mumbled. Joel’s hand hovered over her shoulder. There it was again. A small puzzle piece in the enigma that was Rhiannon.

“Rhia, wake up,” he said, shaking her again.

Rhia shot up when she heard his voice, eyes wild as she turned to him. She relaxed when she realized it was Joel. She hoped he wouldn’t ask about Stevie. He didn’t.

“You drive,” was all he said.

Rhia rubbed the sleep out of her eyes and looked at him with confusion, “What?”

“You wanna drive or not?” he asked, unbuckling his seatbelt and opening the driver door.

“Um … yeah,” she said, doing the same.

They both got out of the car and circled the front, stopping in front of each other at the hood.

“Why?” she asked, looking up at him. She was a tall woman, but he was still taller than her by at least a whole head. She thought of Stevie, then, and wondered if she was taller than her now. She couldn’t remember.

“I’m tired. We’re gonna end up in a ditch if I keep driving and I don’t wanna waste time sitting here, either,” he shrugged, looking anywhere but at her.

She narrowed her eyes, suspicion giving way to satisfaction as she nodded and passed him to get in the driver’s seat.

When they were settled in their switched spots, Rhia smiled, “You’re gonna see how great of a driver I am.”

“Don’t push it,” Joel grumbled, reclining the seat a bit farther and shutting his eyes.

Rhia chuckled and started the car, setting a steady speed down the road. She smiled proudly as she drove and didn’t notice Joel peeking at her with one eye. He stifled a smirk at her giddiness and forced himself into slumber. Only four more hours with her, he thought, Then, he’ll never have to see her again. For some reason, that thought didn’t bring him the peace of mind he’d been hoping for.

· · ─────── ·⌖· ─────── · ·

*Now*

The world is so often silent nowadays. Rhia can hear the squeak of the swinging sign before they even make it to the fence surrounding Bill and Frank’s. The world is so often silent nowadays, but this is different. This silence feels like a warning. Joel and Rhia give each other a look as they approach the fence.

“Stay there” Joel says to Ellie as Rhia punches in the door code.

Joel opens the door, letting the girls in first. They walk silently down the road, stopping in front of Bill’s house. Rhia notices the wilting flowers at the front end of the lawn. She already knows what they’re going to find inside.

She prays she’s wrong as Joel reaches for the handle. It’s gonna be locked, she thinks, It’s gonna be locked and they’re just asleep inside. The door swings open and Rhia lets out a defeated sigh.

“What the fuck?” Ellie says as they step inside.

“Bill?” Joel calls out. Nothing.

“Frank?” Rhia tries. Nothing.

Joel looks down the hall and then steps into the dining room, turning back to Ellie to say, “You stay there. Ya hear anything, you see anything … yell. Rhia, check upstairs.”

Rhia nods, ignoring the itch in her throat to tell Joel off for telling her what to do.

“What if they’re gone?” Ellie asks quietly. Joel stares at Ellie and Rhia can tell he’s trying to fight the lump forming in his throat. Ever the emotional avoider, she thinks as he walks away without a word. Ellie turns to Rhia who frowns, her eyebrows knitting together.

“Stay here,” Rhia reiterates. She turns and heads upstairs, checking each room with her gun held out in defense.

Empty. Empty. Empty. Each room looks like it hasn't seen foot traffic in weeks. Rhia doesn’t want to jump to conclusions just yet. Frank’s been in a wheelchair for the past couple years. They haven’t had much need to go upstairs because of it.

No amount of rationalization can explain away the stench of death that’s settled upstairs … or the note addressed to her on the nightstand in the guest bedroom Rhia was all too familiar with. She picked it up and sat on the dusty bed, trying her damnedest to push away the memories floating around the room. She opens the letter, attempting to read the jagged, unsteady handwriting:

Rhiannon,

If you are reading this, Bill and I are dead. Somber, I know. I’m hoping Bill lets me die alone, but I’ve spent enough years with the man to know better. It’s damn near impossible to write nowadays, so I’ll keep this short. Forgive Joel. If anyone can get through to him, it’s you.

Do not mourn us. We lived as we died: together. I hope you can do the same.

~Frank

Rhia lets the words settle around her, hands shaking as she grips the paper tighter. She hears Joel call for Ellie downstairs. She lets out a deep breath, deflating, eyes squeezed shut. Then she stands, eyes empty as she leaves the room behind.

“So they're dead?” She hears Joel as she starts down the stairs.

“Mm-hmm,” Ellie responds so softly Rhia almost doesn’t catch it.

The steps creak under her feet and Joel turns to her, his face hardened as he tries to hide his grief. Rhia sees it, anyway; the dull eyes, the pursed frown, eyes looking anywhere but at her or Ellie.

Joel glances up at Rhia as she joins in beside him. He sees his pain reflected in her; balled fists, tight jaw. She meets his eyes, an unspoken understanding forming between them. She brushes her hand against his as she turns to face Ellie.

“You, you wanna?” Ellie asks them, her eyes glancing down at their hands hovering barely an inch away from each other.

“Go ahead,” Joel shakes his head, “You do it.”

“August 29, 2023,” Ellie starts, “If you find this... please do not come into the bedroom. We left a window open so the house wouldn't smell, but it will probably be a sight. I'm guessing you found this, Joel, because anyone else would've been electrocuted or blown up by one of my traps. Hehehehehehehehe. Take anything you need. The bunker code is the same as the gate code but in reverse.

“Anyway… I never liked you, but still, it's like we're friends… almost. And I respect you. So, I'm gonna tell you something because you're probably the only person who will understand. I used to hate the world, and I was happy when everyone died. But I was wrong because there was one person worth saving.”

Rhia doesn’t notice Joel’s eyes on her. She is too far in her head thinking of him.

“That's what I did. I saved him. Then I protected him. That's why men like you and me are here. We have a job to do. And God help any mοthеrfսckеr who stand in our way. I leave you all of my weapons and equipment. Use them to keep Rhia and—” Ellie stops.

Joel takes the paper from her, turning away from both girls to read on. He reads it. Reads it again. He ignores the food and wine pairing Bill recommends and rereads the same line over and over again, “let yourself care about her before it’s too late.”

“You get one, too?” Joel turns at Ellie’s question, following her eyes to the piece of paper crumpled in Rhia’s fist. Rhia avoids his gaze and he hardens again.

“Stay here,” he tells them and leaves.

Rhia stays where she stands, but her mind is far away, deep in memory.

“You don’t hate each other,” Ellie says not as a question, but a fact. The sheer confidence of the statement brings Rhia back to her body, a powder keg of every emotion she’s ever felt.

She looks this child dead on, eyes a half-lidded void, “What do you know?”

“Nothing,” Ellie says quickly, turning away from her.

Rhia shakes her head, the weight of guilt pushing her impending implosion to its limit, “I’m sorry. I—I’m sorry.”

She hurries away, blowing out the front door. She doesn’t stop until she’s down the road and standing in front of the gate to leave. She reaches a hand out for the door, but cannot bring herself to grasp it. She drops to her knees, ignoring the scratch of the rough pavement, and cries.

She clutches her neck, heaving quick breaths as her mind spins. She can’t bear the pain in her chest, the fear squeezing her bones. She is alone. As always, in the end. Alone. Her parents, Tess, Stevie, Bill, Frank … all gone.

Her mind wanders to Joel. Her jaw clenches, the things she’s kept buried coming to claw through her throat. Anger, joy, grief, love. All for him. She wonders what else he will claim of her.

She stands, roughly wiping her tears away and turning back to the house. She enters just as Joel and Ellie come up from the basement.

“You didn’t leave?” Joel asks, the twinge of relief in his voice surprising him.

“Thought I told you,” Rhia smiles as if she hadn’t broken down sobbing a few moments ago, “Not getting rid of me.”

He nods, “Then grab what you can and stick it in the truck. I’m charging the battery now and then we’re heading to find my brother.”

“They’re gonna help us find the Fireflies,” Ellie adds.

Rhia nods back, “Let’s get to it.”

Over the next hour, the trio combs through every inch of the house, taking what they need. Clothes, food, weapons. All of it stocked up in the truck.

“Needs another hour,” Joel says to Ellie as she runs her hand under the faucet of the garage’s sink.

“They have hot water!” she exclaims happily, “I’m taking a shower, and then you’re showering because seriously…”

She lets out a puff of air as she leaves the garage, running into Rhia. “Hey, Rhia. Guess what? There’s hot water! We can shower!”

Rhia smiles at her excitement, “Yeah, I know. Go enjoy it while you can.” Ellie smiles and runs off.

Rhia enters the garage and Joel turns to her, eyes wide in anticipation. She mentally curses those big, brown eyes of his. They make it hard for her to think, and she needs to think clearly around him.

“Something wrong?” Joel asks, noticing the dazed look in her eyes

“Why did you come back?” she asks quietly, eyebrows knit in confusion, “You didn’t need me to get to Bill’s. You didn’t know you were going to have to take her across the country yet. Why did you ask me to come?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugs, meeting her eyes. She knows he is lying.

“Joel, if we’re gonna take this kid across the country together, we need to trust each other,” Rhia frowns, “And right now I don’t trust you.”

“What do you want from me?” He asks, letting out a frustrated sigh.

“The truth.”

“The truth?” Joel starts, “I wasn’t thinking. I shouldn’t have brought you into this.” It is the truth, in a way. He just omits the why. He wasn’t thinking when he showed up at her house. He was in pain and his body brought him to her. He shouldn’t have brought her into this danger, but he wanted her.

In his grief over Tess, he sought Rhiannon out, and, like a fucked up post-nut clarity, he now regrets it. At least, he tells himself he regrets it. His mind wanders to the end of Bill’s letter again. Let yourself care about her before it’s too late. Joel thinks it already is.

Rhia nods, looks around the room. She’d spent many mornings in this garage packing, unpacking, idling, talking. Most of which was spent with Joel. Now, she looks around and sees the gathering dust of dead friends and deader memories.

“You think I can’t handle it?” Rhia asks defensively, “I’ve saved your ass plenty of times, Miller.”

“It’s not that,” Joel shakes his head, “I know you can handle yourself.”

“If you’re just trying to get me to bail, it’s not gonna work,” she says, stalking up to him. She stops, so close to Joel that she has to lift her head to meet his eyes, “But don’t for a second think it’s because of you or anything we once were. I’d love to turn around and never see you again.” She lets out a dry, humorless laugh. “Hell, I’ve prayed for it. But Ellie’s not gonna make it all the way across the country just the two of you. So, I’m coming whether either of us likes it or not.”

If she wasn’t so blinded by her anger and rejection, she’d notice his hands hovering just off her waist. Joel doesn’t even realize he’s doing it, unconsciously drawn to her.

Joel’s mind is a racetrack, going around and around in hopeless circles over whether he should apologize or push her further away. He’s so caught up in his self torturous loop, he doesn’t notice her eyes flicker to his lips, chapped and slightly parted, before she spins around and stomps out of the garage.

After they all shower and pack up, the trio finally can head out. Joel, obviously, takes the driver’s seat and Ellie and Rhia reach for the passenger door handle at the same time.

“Nuh uh. Kids go in the back,” Rhia tuts.

“Aww, c’mon. It’s my first time in a car,” Ellie begs.

“Fine,” Rhia chuckles, then quickly adds, “For a little bit.”

Ellie settles in the front seat, touching every inch of her area, “It's like a spaceship.”

“No, it's like a piece of shit Chevy S10, but it'll get us there … I think,” Joel says, buzzkill as ever.

“I can’t believe this piece of shit is still kickin’,” Rhia laughs, leaning forward from the middle seat, her arms resting on Ellie and Joel’s seatbacks. She looks at Joel and loses herself in the wet curls of his slicked back hair. He smells of cheap soap and the unwashable outdoorsy scent of twenty years of unreliable hygiene. She catches his eye in the rearview mirror. How long had he been watching her stare at him?

“Old as you, Joel,” Rhia jabs, pulling back to her hostile facade.

He purses his lips in annoyance and turns to Ellie, “Seatbelt.”

Ellie gives him a confused, but excited, “Hmm?”

He sighs and leans over her, pulling the seatbelt out and strapping her in, “Seatbelt.”

“So cool,” she remarks under her breath.

“Aww! Baby’s first car ride,” Rhia jokes.

“Ha, ha!” Ellie says sarcastically as Joel pulls out of the garage. She opens the glove box, pulling out a cassette tape and shoving it in the player, ignoring Joel’s protests.

“Put it back … Ellie. Oh, no, wait,” Joel changes his mind, turning up the volume as “Long, Long Time” by Linda Ronstadt plays over the shitty speakers, “No, leave it. Leave it. Oh, this is good. This is Linda Ronstadt. Do you know who Linda Ronstadt is?”

“You know I don't know who Linda Ronstadt is,” Ellie deadpans.

“I don’t even know who Linda Ronstadt is,” Rhia pipes up, still leaning forward.

“Sit back,” Joel orders. Rhia parrots his words mockingly, unmoving.

And so Joel, Rhiannon, and Ellie begin their journey, unaware of all that lies ahead…

Taglist: @pedritosdarling

32 notes · View notes

andysorbit · 1 year

Note

Hi!! Sorry I took so long 🙍🏾‍♀️ if it’s still ok, i tell you it now? so I had like a nap dream about Yuta (but I woke up before seksy time ㅜㅜ) that I know if anyone could flesh out for me, it’d be you! I send a seperate ask with the details so you don’t have to post all of me telling you it? I only remember bits of the dialogues but it boiled down to my minor Daddy Issues & how I had No Guidance™️ until my former SD-turned-actual-bf, Yuta

MINORS DNI

Hiiiiii!! Sorry this took so long but I hope you enjoy this!

You look through your purse from the previous day, "Where is it?" You grumble. You hear Yuta come in, "Okay, maybe daddy can sort this out." You say and fix the trim of your dress before and trotting out, "Oh daddyyyyy!" You sing as you make your way to the living room. You stop when you see his coworkers coming in the door behind him. You've never been good with names but it's not like they're your friends, "Hello Mr. Suh, Mr. Lee number one, Mr. Lee number two, and Mr. Jung." You say sheepishly. They all greet you and you reach out to take Yuta's hand, "Can I have a minute of your time?" You ask him politely. He removes his shoes by the door and turns to the other men, "The bar is in the lounge as you guys already know. I'll be there in a bit." He instructs them. "Yes, daddy." Donghyuck laughs. "I will fire you." He sighs.

Once you two are alone, "Yuta brings a hand up to cup your cheek, "What's the matter, sweetheart?" He asks as he presses a kiss to your forehead. "I can't find our black card. I thought it was in my yellow purse from yesterday but it's not." You say with a pout. He chuckles, "Remember last night when I told you to start getting your things ready in advance?" He asks you. You nod. "Well, l know for sure you picked out your outfit for class tomorrow and you wanted to bring your pink backpack so your wallet should be in there, right?" He says sweetly. "Oh right." You murmur. "Why don't you go check and let me know, yeah?" He hugs you and you squeeze him back, "I'll be right back." You say as you two separate. He turns to go into the lounge and you go to your bedroom. Just like he said, your wallet along with your black card is in your pink backpack and you smile.

As you step into the lounge, Yuta turns to look at you, "Was I right?" He asks you gently. "Yeah... you were right." You say with a sheepish smile. You watch him finish undoing his tye and loosen the top buttons. "Y/n, we're discussing a few financial things, you wanna take notes for your classes?" Ten asks. "Yeah sure. I'm gonna go put on some water for tea. Would any of you like some?" You say. "I would please." Johnny says. "Me too. Thanks." Jaehyun says. As you leave the room and round the corner, you hear the conversation pick up. "So we're just not gonna talk about how this girl is calling you daddy?" Donghyuck asks. You can hear the Audible sighs. "Who do you think paid for all fo this? That dress she's got on? Those backpacks to match her outfits? Everything in her closet? Come on. Of course she calls me daddy." Yuta says. "Sir, that's not a closet, that's a bedroom." Ten says with a chuckle.

"Closet, bedroom- call it what you want. I'm the one giving her all of this. By choice, of course. You know she works part time but that because she likes staying busy but she knows I'll take care of her. She's my baby." Yuta says casually. You both agreed that you'd keep your Cafe job but only part time whole you finish school. You like that you don't necessarily have to work but it makes you feel good having your own money- especially when it comes down to buying Yuta gifts. They aren't always elaborate but it feels good knowing that you didn't use his money to buy him something special.

"How does her father feel about this?" Jaehuun asks. Yuta snorts, "Should I know much less care? When Y/n and I started dating, he asked me if I was just some bum who wanted to use her for a good time and then dump her when shit got difficult. I told him I don't date for fun, I date for my future and that I saw a future with her and that I very much intend to take care of her to the best of my abilities. He told me to prove it so I am. Now, did he know who I was at the time? No but I kept my word and I'm taking care of my girl so of course she calls me daddy." He explains coyly. You smile and imagine the smug look on his face. "Uh... maybe the fact that you're fucking his daughter and she's calling you daddy?" Jaehyun replies. "He knows that we live together so I'm sure he already knows that we do more than play chess on the weekends. Besides, he wasn't really much of a father to her when she was younger anyway so I don't really care how he feels about it. As long as Y/n is happy, that's what matters to me." Yuta says.

You break away from their conversation to go out on the tea then come back. "Daddy, can we go see a move tomorrow." You ask as you come back into the living room. "Did you finish your term paper?" Yuta asks. Donghyuck snorts and Yuta quickly shoots him a dirty look and the younger man shuts up. Yuta turns his attention back to you, "Questions require an answer." He says. "Well... you see. I started it and I'm almost done with it but I haven't written the conclusion or cited my sources yet." You say sheepishly. "So you haven't finished it?" He presses. You shake your head no. "Then no. We're not going anywhere this weekend." He says. You stand there confused and chuckle softly, "What?" You say incredulously. "No. Now hop to it. I'll be all yours as soon as we're done here. It shouldn't take too much longer. Some of us just need to stay on topic." Yuta says. You pout. "Is she gonna fucking cry? Dude, why are you so mean? Like she's literally tearing up." Ten says sympathetically. "Better to cry now as opposed to later on when she has to retake the class- Y/n, that paper is half your grade. Take it seriously." He says. You chew your lip and nod, "Okay." You whisper.

You go into Yuta's office and pull up the paper on his computer. You try to finish it but you can't. You end up going over to YouTube and watching Coryxkenshin videos. Some time later, the door opens and Yuta comes in, "That doesn't sound like you're very busy." He says firmly. You pause the video and stand up, "I couldn't... I tried but I can't." You say softly. Yuta comes over to you and sits you on the desk, "Aren't you supposed to ask me for help when you're having a hard time?" He asks. You nod. "Talk." He presses. "Yes, but you've been busy and I didn't wanna bother you." You reply. "Are you upset that I told you no?" He asks. "Yes. How could you tell?" You whisper. "Well aside from the fact that my employees think I'm the worst person in the world for making you cry, you're not calling me daddy right now." He says and presses a kiss to your lips. "You never tell me no." You mutter. "I've never had a reason to tell you no. It was justified, don't you think?" He chuckles. You shake your head, "You're just mean." You sulk. Yuta slides his hand up your dress and rests it on your thigh, "Can I apologize for being mean to you?" He whispers. "Yes, daddy." You say and instinctively spread your legs.

Yuta pushes your panties to the side and dips his fingers between your slick folds, "Will this get you to forgive me, princess?" He whispers as he slowly rubs your clit. He pulls back to look at you and you blush, "Daddy, faster... please." You moan. "Tell me you're not mad at me anymore." He urges. His voice is soft and warm, "I want you to tell me you're not mad at me anymore. If you tell me that, I'll give it to just how you want it." "I- I'm not mad at you anymore." You whimper. His fingers speed up and you cling to him, "Daddy... oh yes daddy." As you cum, "You press your face into his chest and cry out. "Hush, sweetheart. They're still in the lounge." He laughs and continues to rub your clit. You shriek and writhe, "Daddy." You choke out, "I can't." "You can be quiet. Just take one more for me." He purrs. You keep your face planted firmly into his chest and whimper as another orgasm shakes through your body.

He pulls his hand out of your panties and slides his fingers into his mouth to suck them clean. "Until they leave, you'd better be in here working on that paper or we're gonna have a bigger issue than you being upset because we're not going to see a movie this weekend." He says and walks out.

♡♡♡

Hey!! I'm sorry this took so long! I hope that I was able to do your request justice. Thank you for trusting me with it.

- Andie

#neoculturecollectives #nct #nct smut #kpop smut #nct 127 smut #nct 127 #nakamoto yuta smut #yuta smut

68 notes · View notes

lanayru-the-water-god · 7 months

Text

Gifts of gratitude

In this fourth installment of “All for the maiden,” Lanayru returns to her best friend’s spring to reunite with Ivory.

Word count: 1471

Slowly and steadily, Lanayru’s footsteps echo against the shiny surface. In front of her is Nerin’s spring, which over the centuries has become her second home, and today she comes to receive a gift from the eternally grateful swan maiden.

The one she sacrificed her life once more to save.

Memories of her sacrifice dwindled away as she slept, leaving only tiny fragments of a blurry haze. But still she can see the fallen maiden, close to her final breath, the blood pooling against the tiles. She can feel the glow of her hands, and soon her entire body, overflowing with the healing magic as she thrust every last inch of it out—

And then…nothing.

Several days after her awakening, Lanayru is still slightly fatigued, but finally strong enough to travel to her best friend’s domain. Her heart flutters with a mixture of relief and excitement, eager to reach the sweet maiden.

As she makes her way around the quiet, serene spring with its pure waters and soft swan feathers, her eye catches on two figures close by. One of them is the Swan Goddess, her fluffy shawl wrapped around her body and loose white hair framing her face. And the other one…the dainty being is strikingly familiar—

Ivory.

“Lanayru!!” the swan maiden shrieks, bolting toward the Water Goddess and throwing her arms out. “Oh my gosh, hi!!”

Before she can respond, Ivory’s head is already resting against her chest, arms wrapped around her frail body in a tight squeeze. Lanayru grunts in surprise, chuckling as she glances up at Nerin. The Swan Goddess simply smiles.

“This one has not been patient, waterdrop.”

Lanayru runs gentle fingers through the maiden’s soft hair. “Are you alright, my dearest one? I know you’re still recovering.”

“What do you mean?” Ivory slowly loosens her grip on the Goddess, glancing up at her with a frown. “I’ve been good as new for a while now. You’ve just been out for-“ She pauses. “…a long time.”

“I know, my apologies. If only saving you hadn’t taken such a toll on me…but I digress. You’re doing well, sweetheart, and you have no idea how delighted that makes me.”

Ivory steps back, her smaller form glancing up at Lanayru. With her limited memories of the maiden, it’s as if she is meeting a stranger. But Ivory knows her now; so much more time has passed than she can grasp.

“You look so, uh…so…different!” The maiden’s cheeks flush pink as she speaks. “Like- your hair!”

The Water Goddess runs a finger through her short bob of blonde locks, cutting off above her shoulders. Days before, it had reached all the way down her back, having not been trimmed in several years.

“Yeah, it’s a little shorter, isn’t it?” she replies with a chuckle. “I was thinking of chopping it before I healed you, but I just never got around to it.”

“Well, it looks absolutely stunning.” Ivory fidgets with her white dress, seemingly a bit nervous. “So…Lanayru, are you feeling okay? Were you in pain at all?”

“Well, I don’t really remember…but it was painless, my dearest one. It felt almost like a nice, long nap.”

“Aw…thank goodness, I am so glad to hear that…I mean, I was there when—when you…”

Lanayru’s heart sinks. “When I—?”

…died?

“Yeah, when you lost consciousness…I saw it all…” Ivory mutters, breathless. “Oh, my heart couldn’t take it, Nerin was so devastated…she explained a bit to me, how you were gonna be gone for a while.”

That’s right. Nerin told her to keep the death a secret, worried that it would upset the troubled maiden even further.

The guilt still pangs in her chest, just as it has each day since awakening…Nerin knew. The Swan Goddess watched Lanayru fade out, and she knew. Soon her darling waterdrop would stop breathing, her body shutting down completely, anywhere from seconds to minutes of a lifeless form lying where the Water Goddess once stood…

“It was very hard for her, yes,” Lanayru confirms, careful to not let out the truth. “Ivory, I am so sorry…I never meant for you to go through that.”

“Why are you apologizing? You- you saved my life.” The maiden stares at her with pleading eyes. “I owe you everything, Miss Water Goddess, far more than I could ever offer.”

Lanayru sniffles. “Ivory, please—“

“Lady Nerin, give it to her,” Ivory turns toward the Swan Goddess, who grins with delight.

“You’re gonna like this one, waterdrop.” Nerin tells her with a smile. “A lot of thought went into it.”

To Lanayru’s confusion, Nerin takes off the fluffy shawl around her shoulders, stepping forward and holding it in outstretched hands.

“But…isn’t that yours, little one?”

“No, silly, it’s for you. Take it.”

The Water Goddess carefully obeys, gasping in awe as the large shawl drapes over her wrists and arms.

Oh my Goddesses.

The assortment of white and gray swan feathers, with even tinges of baby blue, blend together on a neatly cross-stitched base pattern, one that clearly took an immense amount of time and care.

“Ivory, this is…beautiful,” she gushes, eyes beginning to water. “Did you make this?”

“I sure did, my darling. That was the one good thing about you being unconscious for that long…I had time to really create something memorable.”

A pleasant warmth washes over Lanayru’s body, bringing her a sense of peace and calm…each one of the delicate feathers seems to have a life of its own, glowing in the daylight.

“Wh-what is this? Is it a shawl?”

“Not quite…it’s a blanket, made from my own thread and magical swan feathers. Each of us offered a few of our feathers and Nerin helped gather some too…when you sleep with it, a bit of our swan magic will come to you. I bet you’re even feeling it right now.”

Oh.

Oh my—

“I-I can’t accept this! Please- this is far more than I ever need—“

“You must, Lanayru.” the maiden interrupts, gently touching the blanket with her hand. “I know that someday, you’ll save an innocent soul once again. When you’ve slipped into a deep sleep, I will come to drape this across your body, and your… slumber, should I call it that, will be as peaceful as the waters you give us.”

Tears roll down Lanayru’s cheeks; as both her hands are occupied from holding the blanket, she is unable to wipe them away.

“This was far too sweet of you,” she states, sniffling again as she holds the blanket close. “I-I can’t believe you…you did this for me…”

“I wouldn’t be here right now if it wasn’t for you!” Ivory shouts. “Goddess, please, stop all this. You did the most selfless thing any of us could have imagined, something that I’m sure half of us wouldn’t have the guts to do—“

“What choice did I have? It was either to save you, or just stand there and watch you fucking die—“

“Lanayru!” Nerin’s firm voice startles her. “Don’t.”

“Oh…sorry,” she mutters. Her friend has never been too fond of her profanity. “It-it’s just that…I will never expect a reward for my actions. Always remember that.”

“I know.” Ivory reaches a hand out toward Lanayru’s tear-stained face. “Here, is this okay?”

The Water Goddess nods, letting the maiden’s cool, dainty hands wipe the tears from her cheeks.

Nerin steps closer to the two, beaming with delight. “Save your tears, waterdrop,” she explains. “This isn’t the only gift for you today.”

“H-huh?” Lanayru chokes out. There’s…more than one?

“The other maidens know everything, we couldn’t possibly hide it from them…Lanayru, I still don’t think you really understand how grateful we all are. Every one of our maidens is extremely special to us, and you care so much about our well-being.” The Swan Goddess gestures to the stunning front entrance of her residence. “Come inside with us, waterdrop.”

Ivory turns back to Lanayru, touching the blanket once more. “RuRu, why don’t you wear this around your shoulders?” The maiden pauses suddenly, brow furrowing. “Oh…is it okay if I call you that?”

“Of course,” she replies, nodding slowly. “You have my permission, darling.”

She has reserved the nickname RuRu only for those close to her, but for Ivory it just feels…right. And perhaps they can indeed become close friends as the months and years go by. She may have Nerin, and all the Dwellers…but she can always open her heart for another companion. With her devout kindness and joyful spirit, Ivory is a perfect one.

Lanayru wraps the soft blanket around her shoulders, just like how Nerin wears her feathery shawl, and begins to follow them along the path. Embracing the warmth of the swan magic from the blanket, she listens to their soft footsteps among the peaceful sounds of the spring.

#the goddess lanayru #bailey writes #nerin the swan goddess (by the amazing trippy!)#ivory the swan maiden (also by trippy)#tw death mention (temporary and near-death experience)

18 notes · View notes

nuagederose · 6 months

Text

Dark Roots of Earth | Chapter One: Empty Spaces

(book two of As the Seasons Grey)

“When’s the last time it snowed in L.A.?” Christine asked.

“No idea,” Eric confessed. “I do know it’s been a hot minute, though. A cold minute, rather.” He peered out the window to the jagged, snow-capped peaks of the Rocky Mountains down below the plane; Christine followed his gaze to see the mountains for herself. After a nearly two hour layover in the airport in Dallas, she looked on at the vast landscape far below with a twinkle in her eye and her lips slightly parted. The only mountains she really knew were the Catskills and the Appalachians; to see the faint glimmers of Denver off in the distance under the snow line, nestled down on the edge of the Rockies made her think of Christmas time. Christmas in the beginning of June, with the tinsel and trimmings on everything even as summer commenced all around them. She leaned back in the seat with her feet up on the rung underneath the seat before them, and she sighed through her nose.

It was a long time coming there on that flight, and she was eager to feel the breeze and the spray from the Pacific Ocean. Eric had told her about the Santa Cruz Boardwalk before they boarded as well, the West Coast equivalent to Coney Island.

“All I know is there's a big amusement park there,” he had told her. “I don't know what else, just that it's a lot like Coney Island.”

It was nearly summertime, and she needed a day in which she could let loose and not think of anything for a while, especially not pertaining to that summer wedding as well. If only she could have brought Alex along, then she would not have to imagine him in a monkey suit, drenched in sweat under the New York heat. She closed her eyes and she tried to think of something else.

Anything else.

Anything that had nothing to do with a Fourth of July wedding.

“We should make a trip into the mountains at some point,” Eric then suggested, which in turn made her eyes pop wide open. “You know, just to check it all out, ‘cause we don’t really have mountains back east.”

“Right?” she chirped. “I’m eager to see the Pacific Ocean, though.”

“Oh, absolutely,” he said with a nod. “Given the choice, I’d take the beach over the mountains.”

“The mountains can be rough at times,” she followed along. “There’s just something… dare I say, romantic about the beach. Romantic and lively.”

“Romantic and yet also sinister,” he added. “You’re looking out to the ocean, which extends for as far as the eye can see. You’re at the end of the world, pretty much…” His voice trailed off, and she noticed that he was looking at something across the aisle from them. Christine turned her head for a look over at the empty seats next to them: through the window on the other side, she spotted a field of cloud cover over the southern most part of the country as well as what appeared to be Mexico.

“Looks like there's a hurricane coming in,” he remarked.

“Already?” she wondered aloud.

“Oh, yeah. This side of the country's been crazy active weather wise for like the last year or so. Getting lots of snow and rain, and then lots of wind thereafter. It's just gonna be up and down and up and down from here on out, I suppose.”

Christine craned her neck for a better view of the blanket of puffy white clouds down below, and more so as they seemed to extend far off into the distance with the curvature of the earth. The sight of the clouds made her think of the heavens, and more so when she returned her gaze to the window next to Eric: she peered up to the stretch of deep royal blue directly overhead and she thought of Chris.

She thought of those final moments in the graveyard before they left for California, and she wondered if his spirit was still among them down there on Earth, or if he had made his place elsewhere. In that rich field of blue over the roof of the plane, she imagined him up there, long lush dark curls under the knit yarmulke, chubby little childhood tummy that was always so soft and warm for her...

If only there was a way that she could tell Alex about him. Accessing his memory to bring forth to crystal clear words was such a daunting task for her that she had no idea as to where to start. Perhaps she could begin from the very first day in which she and Chris had met, but it would require hours upon hours of story telling on her part for him, and as far as she knew, Alex didn't have hours and hours of free time for her. The man was going to be married to Captain Howdy in a little more than a month, and she could feel the sands of time slipping away into the black rocky swells of the earth below. She gazed down below at the mountains, at the way the sunlight only just caressed the white caps and missed the pitch dark ravines in between. She couldn't help but think of Alex and his helmet of black hair lined with a gray streak.

They soared over the Rocky Mountains and proceeded over the rolling, rocky desert in Arizona and the southeastern corner of California. At some point, as the plane began to lower closer to the earth, she spotted the vast strip of blue on the horizon beyond them in the window opposite them.

“There she is,” Eric declared in a low voice.

“Pacific Ocean blue,” Christine said, and she could scarcely contain her excitement all the while.

The plane shuddered and shook with the incoming wind, such that she clutched at the armrests on either side of her.

“Turbulence,” Eric assured her. “And the first we've felt since we left New York, no less.”

They stared out the window to the rolling desert down below: on the distant horizon stood the glimmering subterranean jewel of Las Vegas as well as the cold, vast White Pine Mountains off to the left.

“I assume that big gap there in the ground is Death Valley,” she remarked with a gesture to the left of the mountains. Indeed, a long low dark shadow spread north all along the base of the mountains, to which Eric took a closer look at.

“I'm not too sure,” he confessed. “I thought Death Valley wasn't that close by.”

Another round of turbulence welled up around them, and Christine clutched at the armrests again. They soon cleared the desert only to follow it up with the Sierra Nevada Mountains, which were also still capped with thin blankets of snow as well. Christine felt her head spinning as the mountains fell away to the expanse of the Central Valley down below.

“I think we're getting close,” Eric told her, and sure enough, the lights for the seat belts flickered on, and they did just that. “If I remember correctly, Monterey Bay comes up after the next mountain range here.”

The Central Valley stretched on north with the Interstate 5 and the collection of tiny dots and lines that were the cars and big semi trucks. All the stories to tell down there, and so little time to even so much as consider them.

“Where's Paso Robles?” she asked Eric. “I remember Alex talking about that place when he and I had a couple of glasses of wine together.”

“Paso Robles? I think we're gonna fly right over it.”

She peered out the window on the other side of the aisle, where she was met with the tops of the coastal mountains followed by rich blue ocean. She knew they were flying over it as she could barely see the edges of the vineyards or the heart of town. Nevertheless, she wondered about traveling there at some point, traveling there and trying a bottle of wine or two with Alex and Eric on either side of her.

Another gust of turbulent wind, and they ducked further down towards the earth.

“I reckon we're gonna make a circle around Monterey before we land,” she said aloud.

“Yeah, I think so, too,” Eric quipped. “It's too windy otherwise.”

They dipped further down, and Christine spotted the low green hills that surrounded Monterey Bay and the long, low crescent of a coastline that hugged the royal blue waters of the Pacific Ocean. Somewhere down there stood the runway.

Eric gripped onto the armrest next to him as they sank further down.

Christine closed her eyes and thought of Alex again. If only there was a way to interrupt the wedding. If only they could think of a proper plan, and if only there was no worries about Valentina potentially getting caught by Captain Howdy or even Alex himself. That wedding mustn't happen. She knew in her heart that they must not go through with it.

Even if it did take place on the Fourth of July, that marriage was a disaster waiting to happen. They wouldn't be married a week for the arguments to unfold; Christine still flashed back on the first night when she and Eric had helped themselves into his apartment and she nearly caught them in Alex's bedroom as well as the bathroom. The memory of that still lingered in the back of her mind, like the demon Captain Howdy was to Alex himself.

Soon enough, the plane dipped down towards the stretch of black tarmac down below, and they touched down at the Monterey Airport, a few miles outside of the town itself.

Christine was eager to step off the plane and take in the smell of the Pacific Ocean, especially once Eric got the keys to their rental car. They were greeted by a hard gust of wind out from the northeast, as if nature wanted to tell them that home was still on their shoulders. Their little black car had been parked near the front of the lot, right by the big glass sliding front doors of the airport: he helped her load up the trunk and the back seat of their rental with their things and the two of them hastily climbed into the newly upholstered front seats.

“Yowza,” Eric muttered as he ran a hand over the crown of his head so his hair would lay flat.

Something about the winds made Christine think of Halloween and also Day of the Dead: perhaps it was from the fact that everything around them, despite being a mere stone’s throw away from the beach and the ocean, felt as dry as a bone. Dry as a bone, the bones of Chris’ remains left six feet under.

Eric drove them away from the airport to the Monterey-Salinas Highway, the main artery that led closer to the Pacific Coast Highway itself: all the while, they were met with the view of the ocean and the field of blue that expanded for as far as the eye could see. Far off in the distance stood a thin veil of gray as the beginnings of a marine layer once the winds died down with the incoming nightfall. The gray that reminded her of the streak of gray in Alex’s hair.

The highway morphed into what she assumed was the main street of Monterey, Fremont Street, whereby Eric brought them to the next streetlight. He caught it green and wheeled it around so they could reach their hotel with the red roofs on top in one fell swoop. They bounded into the narrow parking lot behind a series of butterscotch-colored low buildings, and he turned to her with a straight face.

“You, my friend, are nuts,” she declared.

“Nah, it’s just all about timing,” he assured her. “Especially here.”

“And it’s amazing that you remember the way to the hotel here, too,” she noted.

“I looked up the map before we left and it seemed simple to me,” he assured her with a shrug. “Leave the airport and just follow the signs and keep an eye out for the place with the red roofs.”

They both climbed out as a big gust of wind slammed into them, and they ducked into the front lobby to check in. Christine stood next to Eric with her hands tucked into her pockets, and she wished that she had brought a light jacket with her, something other than her long green jacket.

“It's so windy!” she exclaimed as Eric signed them in.

“It's a Santa Ana event,” said the girl at the front desk. “Or a Diablo winds as they're known up in the Bay Area. After this, the southern tier of the state is supposed to get slammed with rain.”

“Wow,” Christine gaped at her. “Well, we're from New York, so... you know, if it gets windy, it gets windy. Rain usually doesn't follow for a couple of weeks or so. We have more clear cut seasons.”

“There's a big part of me that's envious,” said the girl with a smile, and she handed Christine the room key.

“No reason to be!” she insisted. “I've always wanted to come out here to the West Coast, I've never been here before.”

“You'll love it here, I promise.” The girl flashed her a wink and, after she and Eric thanked her, the two of them made their way out of the lobby and towards the covered walkway on the other side of the blacktop. It was a bit of an event to lug their things into the room, a cozy but spacious room with a cleanly scrubbed muted blue carpet and two twin beds. Christine set her bag down on the table next to the television, and then she stretched her arms over her head. Eric took his seat on the edge of the bed closest to the bathroom, and he bounced on the mattress a bit as if he was a young boy again.

She whirled around, and then she stepped over to the window to open the drapes. The afternoon sunlight washed through the clean glass onto the white vents of the air conditioner and the heater as well as the grains of the carpet. The only thing missing about the room was a series of nets and sea creatures: Christine wanted it all to be indicative of the ocean and the heart of the Pacific coast.

“Okay! So, what should we do first?” He rubbed his hands together and ran his stout fingers through his inky black hair.

“I’m kind of hungry,” she said. “I actually haven’t eaten since we left New York. You wanna get something to eat?”

“Oh, absolutely,” he replied. “The girl at the front desk told me there’s all manner of restaurants up and down the street here, and about three blocks away is a big grocery store. We could get some food and then take a walk down to the beach.”

“We should go down to Cannery Row tomorrow morning after breakfast,” Christine suggested.

“Ooh, yeah! I was hoping we could walk around down there tomorrow. You know, spend half the day there, and then we could go to the Boardwalk at some point. We’re here a week, we’ll make the most of it all.”

“Eat the food and have all the fun near the beach,” Christine declared. “Get some clothes, too.”

“Get some clothes and surprise Alex,” he added.

She thought of him right then, and she thought about keeping a log for their trip there on the California coast just to bring home to both him and Valentina as well: she knew she would want to know about the West Coast once they returned home.

Eric took a step into the bathroom: within seconds, Christine was met with the whirring sound of water in the pipes. Thus, she had time to herself to write the first part of it all and call her parents with the phone on the nightstand.

It rang three times and she realized that Wendy wasn’t home yet.

“Hey, Mom, it’s Chris,” she began. “It’s about three o’clock. Eric and I landed in Monterey and we made it to our room okay. We’re gonna go and get something to eat and then take a walk down by the beach. Tomorrow, we’re gonna go to Cannery Row and maybe the aquarium, too. I’ll tell you more later afterwards. Love you—bye.”

She hung up the phone, and she padded over to the table with her purse. She took out a pen from the inside pocket, and then she picked out the pad of paper from underneath the lamp.

The flight from New York to Dallas, then from Dallas to Monterey. The views of the mountains and the vast Great Plains. The stretch of the Mississippi River into the unknown. The veil of blue overhead. The hurricane coming into the mainland from the Pacific Ocean. She thought about Alex, and she had the impulse to call him to tell him they had made it in one piece.

As far as she knew, Captain Howdy was there with him. Waiting. Haunting him. Haunting him like how Chris haunted Christine herself.

The water switched off, and she tucked the single piece of paper into her purse. She returned to her suitcase for a fresh change of jeans before he ducked out of the bathroom. All she could think about was Alex and the wedding. That wedding.

There had to be a better way. It was something she couldn’t stop thinking about as she unpacked her long green jacket and slung it around her body.

Eric left his hair to fly as they walked down the street to the big grocery store in question, a big warehouse nestled back in the trees about a block from the beach.

“This place is like a mansion,” Christine declared as she picked out a basket. The assortment of smells that hit them, from the fried chicken to the Chinese food to baked goods, followed by the big produce section and an entire aisle dedicated to kosher cuisine.

The boxes of black and white cookies and New York cheesecake caught her attention. She picked up a box of black and white cookies, and she looked on at her own reflection in the plastic.

“You ever had any of those before?” Eric asked her.

“From one of the bakeries back east, yeah,” she told him. “It’s been a long time, though. I haven’t had one since I was like ten.”

“Let’s get some,” he suggested. “Some rainbow cookies, too…” He also picked out one of the cheesecakes on display as well. She spotted some coffee cake on the bottom shelf, and she wondered if Alex would go to bed that night with a warm feeling inside of him. He was going to bed with someone who didn’t love him.

They filled up their basket by the time they checked out, and proceeded on down to the beach. It was a bit of a walk, but it was something the two of them could handle, especially with the wind blowing and the smell of the sea salt all around them. Eric kept the burlap grocery bag in hand as they strode over the rise of sand dunes; when they reached the summit, they stopped, and they looked out to the ocean before them. The sun hung low over the blue waters and the never ending expanse of waves, and the chill of the ocean loomed over them.

“What’re you thinking about?” he asked her over the noise of the gales and the waves that crashed down on the shore below. Even with the Santa Ana event in full swing on the mainland, the sea still thrashed down before them as if that aforementioned Pacific hurricane had made landfall right then.

“Alex,” she told him. “I just… I wonder how he’s doing right now. I wish he was here with us, too. I wish he could see the ocean like we are right now.”

“He’s with us in spirit,” Eric pointed out as he reached into the bag and took out the black and white cookies for her. Christine gazed back at him and the little thoughtful smile on his round face, accentuated by the hazy sunlight right over their heads. His long black hair lapped behind his head against the winds as if he walked with a sail behind his back. She stood there with one hand in her pocket and her other hand holding onto the box of black and white cookies.

If only there was a way to tell Alex about Chris.

And if only there was a way to Eric about Ann.

#as the seasons grey #as the seasons grey fanfic #dark roots of earth #dark roots of earth fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #chapter 1 #traditional art #oc art #eric peterson #testament #testament band #artists on tumblr #badgalnirvhannahart

8 notes · View notes