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90ekz · 3 months

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BLEED INTO ME!

in which… ony is your vampire boyfriend, and he tends to overfeed, even when you tell him not to. guess you have to teach him a lesson, yeah?

word count: 3.4k (WOAH?)

content. smut + plot, sub!vamp!ony, light angst, nicknames (baby, princess, ma, pa, pretty), dacryphillia, heavy discussion of wounds and injury, established relationship, n-word usage, hematolagnia & blood consumption, black!domfem!reader, overstimulation, handcuffs, light feminization, handjobs, male squirting, dry humping.

syno speaks. i really apologize for the delay on this, but i hope y’all love it! thank you for all the support :) btw, i know some people are squeamish about blood, so if that bothers you in any way you may need to avoid reading this. kk that’s all, love y’all 💋

ony annoys the fuck outta you.

he always has, ever since he came shimmying through your houses’ chimney while you’d fallen asleep on the couch watching your favorite movie. the action hadn’t even registered in your bleary mind until he was poking his sharpened talon against your cheek, silently praying that you’d wake up so he could explain his current situation.

the poachers were running a muck on the town, and they were out to kill any and every vampire they could find.

ony, specifically, had been a prime target, due to him being the only full-breed left in the country. he had been on the run for months now, and whether it was finding caves to sleep in or crashing at his boys’ houses when he could, he’d been keeping his distance between him and the enemy, until now.

he’s suddenly awoken in his cave to the sound of heavy footsteps clammering against floors of the gravel, and he recognized the sound like his own voice. he wasn’t quick enough to move out of their line of sight before he was shot in his stomach and chased through town, only getting away once he saw your house with an easy entrance.

“hey, wake the hell up.” ony complained, his jabs slowly getting softer as he took in the state of your sprawled out body.

your appearance should be the least of his worries right now, but you were so captivating. even with the droop of your plump lips, and the way your blanket was completely kicked off you, revealing only a crop top and shorts. your curves were on full display, and he felt his fingers itch with the need to touch, to mark.

as your eyes blinked open, ony hovered over your frame, drool pooling in his mouth as he patiently waited for your full awakening.

“oh, look who decided to join us.”

silence stretched over the room for an unbearable amount of time as your brain caught up to what exactly you were looking at, and you were scrambling to your feet and behind the couch. you were swift on your feet, and suddenly ony had a knife barreling toward his head that he barely dodged. the knife cemented itself into the wall, a reverberated sound bouncing against both of your ears.

“get the hell out of my house!” you gritted out, trying to keep your voice even. ony’s eyes are wide as he flicks his attention between you and the literal machete in the wall, what just happened?

“can you, uh, let me explain first?” ony presses on as he tried to ignore the way your voice was calling to him like a siren song. something about you was making his knees physically weak, but he would figure that out later when you weren’t ready to chuck another knife at him.

“explain what—you’re a random nigga in my house! how did you even get in here?!”

“the chimney, look can you just calm down—shit.” ony doubled over, as more blood started to leak from his wound. he hadn’t been fed in over a month, and was now losing his own blood. his regeneration isn’t as effective when he’s hungry, but he couldn’t risk going to some hospital to get help either.

you let a gasp slip out as you saw his hand clutches against his stomach, and you warily made your way over to his crumpling form.

“fuck, is that a bullet wound? i’ll um—let me go get some gauze, don’t move.” you rushed into a room outside of ony’s field of vision, and just as suddenly as you left, you were helping him to the couch. ony flopped down, quiet curses falling out of his mouth. you felt your cheeks heat as you removed what was left of his shirt and inspected his wound. it wasn’t too deep, and you were able to pull the bullet out with your tweezers without much effort.

the rest of the process was seamless, and ony was left relatively feeling impressed as he eyed the stained gauze wrapping his stomach. you even handed him a glass of water, and kneeled by him on the floor. you were so caring, and his stomach was in knots at your close proximity.

you kept making eyes at him like you wanted to ask something, until you finally did.

“what the hell happened to you?” your voice was much softer this time around, and ony was definitely a bigger fan of this tone. ony hooked his pointer finger into the corner of his mouth to reveal one of his pearly white fangs, his tongue lolling out involuntarily.

“poachers.”

he really did owe you a better explanation, but his head was much too fuzzy from hunger and blood loss to fully spit out that whole monologue. plus, your cheeks were now stained burgundy with shyness and another emotion he couldn’t quite pinpoint, and you looked way too cute like that.

only now did you finally take a good look at the man before you, and you were embarrassed to realize that this was the man that had been labeled all over the news as “the last living full-breed.”

and he was bloody, shirtless, and sexy right here on your living room couch.

“y-you’re…”

“the last living full-breed vampire? yeah, something like that.” ony rolled his eyes, his hand waving in a nonchalant manner as if he wasn’t the most wanted… thing walking right now. you’d built up an impressive saved folder of videos, blog articles, and news headlines about him and his whereabouts, and you’d always felt so bad for him.

a bout of shame washed over you at your previous actions. you’d attacked him and screamed at him without even realizing that this was the same man you’d been pitying for months now, and now that he’s here, you have a strange urge to protect him.

“i, uh…i’m sorry for all the knife-throwing and stuff,” you mumble into the arm of the couch. “i didn’t realize it was you.” ony huffs, clearly amused with your response.“i did break into your house to be fair. i wouldn’t sweat it.” he shifts in his seat on the couch, still unable to fully sit up without the pain spreading. fuck; he really needs to eat soon.

comfortable silence sits in the room with the two of you, the same thing on both of your minds.

“so, what’re you gonna do now?”

“no clue. i can’t go back to my cave, and most of my homeboys live in the old city i was staying in, so i can’t go to any of them. probably just gonna skip town. again.” ony mentions sadly. he was tired of always having to run from people, and it was getting lonely without any of his friends or family around anymore. it was a constant battle, and he was tired of fighting for it.

you him to affirm him, but can’t shake the ridiculous idea you have brewing on the back of your tongue. it should be out of the question, but you wanted to protect him, and he needed somewhere to stay. what’s the worst that could happen?

ony sighed, and as he went to stand up, you grabbed his wrist firmly.

“why don’t…why don’t you just stay here?”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“onyankopon, i’m not boutta play wit you all night.”

“please baby, im so hungry.” ony presses his cheek against the innard of your thigh while you diligently finish on the outline of your english literature essay and pouts.

fuck you and your dedication to a masters degree, hmph.

he’d been teasing you for hours now so you could feed him, but you wouldn’t take the bait. you just roll your eyes in response as he grips onto the fat of your thigh, licking and sucking at the bite mark from 2 days ago that hadn't faded all the way yet.

this only spurred ony further, his instincts just telling him to ruin your thighs for any one else, to just drain you of everything you had.

so he did.

“o-ony! what did i just say?!” your thigh trembles against his lips as he digs his fangs in, his eyes low and cloudy from your taste. this, this right here, was his personal heaven—desperate whines slipping from your lips, your fingers gripping his hair, your sweet stream hitting his tongue as he sloppily drinks you alive.

ony groaned deep in his chest as his pants began to feel far too tight all of the sudden. this happens often, and he wasn’t ashamed of it. it isn’t uncommon for him to come completely undone just by feeling your sweetness flow down his throat and pool into his stomach. your blood was his weakness; it made him stronger, faster, and healthier than he’d ever felt or been, and you protected him.

you the first—and the only—to not cast him out, and for that reason, he fell deep for you. deeper than he ever thought possible.

and even now, ony craved more of you.

you shakily pressed three taps to the side of his biceps, your sign that you needed him to stop. he whined loudly, but pulled away nonetheless. he knows that restraint is very important when it comes to this, but he’s still so hungry. you feel your cheeks heat up as you brush a thumb of his now trembling lips, and take in just how wrecked he looks.

his eyes are watering tinted and watery, and his hair was ruffled from the way you’d pulled on it. ony was a complete mess of himself, and you felt your pride swell at how easily your blood can do that to him.

“mmm, fuck ma, tastes so fucking good—‘m so hard fr’m it…”

you smile down at him, loving how quickly he fell under your spell. ony’s your obsession, but he had disobeyed you, and you couldn’t let that slide. as much as you wanted to just give into him and let him take what he needs from you, you had to remind him who was boss.

“uh huh.” you shrugged, simply going back to your paper. you wanted to make him even more needy than he already was.

“‘fuck you mean, uh huh? make me nut already.” ony licks over the freshly punctured bite as a little blood rushes out. he expects you to do something, anything in response, but you just huff and continue to work on your paper. you’re basically done with it already, but you choose to add little details just so he gets irritated, and boy is it working. ony was absolutely itching to just break that stupid laptop so you'd pay attention to him, but it was all in vain.

no matter the amount of kissing, licking or teasing he did, your resolve didn't crack one bit under the pressure of his touch, and that in itself made ony's blood run cold. he just wanted you to look at him, and his cock was throbbing even without your attention.

“don’t act like you ain’t just drink a whole pint outta me even when i said wait. you not gettin’ shit else.” you wave him off with a simple signal of your hand, and his stomach drops. not only were you ignoring him, you were shooing him.

ony raises to his feet and nuzzles his face into your neck, positively whiny now. he undid the button of his pants and you gasped as his cock sprung free. of course the freaky nigga wasn’t wearing any drawls, he strange like that.

“ony, put some damn drawls on.”

“baby please, ‘s literally throbbing. ‘can’t take it.”

you found yourself holding back a smile as he peppers kisses along your face and neck, and you’re trying not to giggle. your restraint is slowly slipping, and you figured that you could indulge him just a little. you meet him halfway, his tongue slipping into your mouth easily. it was just how you liked it. ony had a way with kissing—his fangs usually came as a bit of a roadblock, but you two found ways around it. you tug the back of his head toward you, and he’s stumbling down to your height.

you smile, and ony feels himself melting once more. you could tell that he was getting needier, the glint in his eyes giving away how ready he was to be ruined by you.

“you need it bad, pa?”

“fuck, so bad.” he gasped into your mouth, his fang nipping your lip and watching a bit of blood bead at the tip of it. he eagerly licked it up, and you could feel your own arousal building. your gray panties did nothing to hide the wet spot growing in your core, but you had bigger things to worry about.

you wrapped a manicured hand around ony’s wrist, pulling him to the bedroom. he chuckled deep in his chest as he trailed behind you like your personal mutt, and you couldn’t help but smile. you loved when he got like this.

as soon as you entered the room, ony blinked and he was suddenly cuffed to your king sized bed, the silk of the sheets rubbing up against his skin. he already felt overwhelmed, and was pouty about not being able to touch you, but he had to remember that this was his punishment, and he wanted to be good for you. he was completely naked and the cold air of the room barely registered to him as your clothed pussy rutted against his bare cock.

it was like torture, but he knows that’s the point.

“c-cmon ma, you can go harder,” ony sighed, gesturing his head toward your matching bra and panties. you ground your pussy down against him harder, wanton moans falling from your glossed lips. ony cursed under his breath as he watched you stimulate yourself on his cock. your nails dug into his waist as you moved, arousal clear on your face. “is fat ma wet for me yet?”

it was a ridiculous question, really. he already knew the answer, and you did too. squelching noises filled the room as your sticky underwear made friction against his cock, and that was answer enough, but ony wanted to hear you admit it. you weren’t that vocal in bed (at least not with words), but it was always ony’s goal to make you.

“mmhm, she’s so wet f’you pa.”

“oh fuck.” ony feels his hips jerk up involuntarily as you talk dirty to him, he loves that nasty shit. he can’t figure out if it’s because you’re kinda mad at him or something else, but you were so responsive today and he needed to be inside you now. just the simple act of watching you climb the ladder to your climax was enough to have him panting and moaning along with you.

your head drops backward as you get closer to that sweet release, and ony is falling in love all over again. you look perfect like this, drooling over his cock rubbing between your folds without even properly touching you. your hand rubs under his chin as you force him to look at you, and he hopes he isn’t blushing.

“ony—fuck! ‘m cummin!” the coil in your stomach snaps, and ony watches in awe as your panties get completely ruined. his lap is sticky from the mix of his own pre and your juices, and he whines as his fangs start to protrude from arousal. you smile and let your thumb trail over his teeth and tongue, and he’s struggling against the cuffs.

there’s so many thing ony wants to do to you right now—but he wants to touch you more than anything. run his fingers up the indent of your wide hips, choke you, rub your oversensitive pussy, fuck, and he really wants to bite you. he wasn’t even that hungry, but there was an ache under his skin to mark you and make you bleed, and watch it all drip out.

just the thought was enough to have a spurts of cum shooting onto his stomach, and you let out a little coo at his twitching stomach as you take the opportunity to begin stimulating him, not even caring if he was too sensitive. you ran your fingers over the head of his cock, pay extra attention to the tip just the way that makes him fall apart.

“w-wait!”

“for what? you were just begging me to make you nut earlier, weren’t you?” you smirk as he bucks against your hand. when ony gets sensitive, his voice will pitch up and it’s the sexiest thing in the world to you. he’s always the neediest after he feeds, and it’s so cute. your eyes landed on the lube sitting on your nightstand, and you took the opportunity to squirt a few drops onto your hand. it was almost too slippery for you to keep your pace, but the added moisture made it easier to stimulate the most sensitive parts of him.

“shit, it’s so wet.”

“yeah? wetter than me?” you asked, tilting your head to the side.

“uh uh, ‘s nothing wetter than you mama—oh shit,” ony’s mouth dropped open as your finger passed over his slit once more, and he was spilling into your hand with a groan. there was more of it this time, and his hands tugged at the handcuffs as you continued to work him through his second orgasm. you were almost afraid that he was going to break them with his pure strength, but you just let him struggle.

you’d seen him break many things in your shared house. door handles, alarm clocks, your counter, (don’t ask about that one) so you wouldn’t be shocked if he tried to break his restraints, but you knew he loved them too much. “baby—can’t take anymore, fucking hurts!” ony trembles, his legs bucking under you as you stroke his harder. both of your hands were working on his cock now, and his lip was bleeding from gnawing on it too much. a few stray tears even started to trail down his face.

“cmon princess, you can give me one more,” you kiss along ony’s neck and chest, and smile as you feel his breath stutter under your touch.

“ma, w-wait! ‘m serious, it feels weird—shitshitshit—”

before you could ask what he meant, ony’s orgasm was slamming into him and a clear stream of liquid was shooting out of his cock in uneven spurts. each shot was shorter than the first, but you were taken aback nonetheless. he’d never done anything like that before, at least not that you’ve ever seen, but you could feel arousal pooling in your belly again as he writhed under you. you finally released his cock as it softened against his stomach, and room was developed in silence apart from the heaving breathing of both of you.

you gave him a wet kiss on his cheek and began undoing his cuffs, his look of embarrassment not going unnoticed. he rubbed his wrists together, inevitably proud of the marks you’d left on him. “onya.” you pressed your chest to his, but he wouldn’t look at you. you figured he was embarrassed about what had just happened, even if you didn’t know exactly what that was.

“hmm?”

“you gonna look at me or just do that blushing school girl shit all night?” that made him smack his lips and finally let his eyes meet yours. you held his jaw with your hand, stroking right where he was starting to grow some hair finally. it was a shame, ony really had no idea how pretty he was, even with his eyes streaked with tears, swollen lips, and marks left all along his neck and chest. his hands finally grasped your waist, eventually sliding down to paw at your doughy ass.

“you’re ruining my street cred, fat butt. out here makin me squirt and shit.”

“what street cred, nigga? you from the woods!” you laughed against his chest, and he felt his heart swell. he lifted your chin up to look at him, and your little smile made him remember that everything would be okay as long as he had you. you’d saved him, taken him away from a dangerous life, and he couldn’t find any way good enough to properly thank you.

your eyes twinkled and you closed the distance between the two of you. the kiss was slow and ardent, and you wanted to stay like this forever.

“you did so good, ony. ‘so proud of you, baby.”

“if you were really proud, you’d feed me some more—”

“mmkay, don’t push ya luck.”

special tag 444 my baby <3 @hoesluvshanti

#onyankopon #onyankopon x you #onyankopon x reader #onyankopon x black y/n #onyankopon x y/n #onyankopon smut #onyankopon snk #aot onyankopon #ony x y/n #ony x you #ony x reader #ony x black reader #ony aot #attack on titan smut #aot smut #syno’s picks 💌#this is freaky woah

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onestopfanficshop · 8 months

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parenthood hcs (141 + los vaqueros + könig x f!reader)

tbh i feel like this sucks but like... i've been working on it too long to scrap it lol 💀 i might come back and add more as my brain starts to solidify again so if you read it and come back to more stuff just pretend you don't see it. so uh... enjoy the hot mess under the cut i guess

ghost/simon riley

during the pregnancy/delivery

—the reality of you being pregnant didn’t really sink in until after you started showing. that’s when he was like oh shit this is actually real this is actually happening

—if he was a light sleeper before (which i’m absolutely sure he was), he’s practically awake with his eyes closed at night now. very sensitive to every single movement you make, whether it’s you slightly shifting in your sleep or you getting up to use the bathroom. can’t really “fall asleep” until he’s absolutely sure that you are.

—has the most horrific nightmares of all the things that could go wrong with you and the baby, and he always feels so guilty afterwards, as if he was somehow willing those things to happen. he never told you about them until years later either

—likes to whisper to the baby when he thinks you’re asleep and can’t hear (except you can, and it nearly brings you to tears)

—was anxious to let you leave the house, insisting on getting all the groceries and whatever else you needed so you wouldn't have to go outside

—is paying attention to and remembers all of the important medical info that the doctor tells you two at your maternity appointments, especially when pregnancy brain is getting the best of you

—simon can't remember the last time he's cried in his adult life, but when he gets to hold your baby for the first time and they latch their tiny little fingers onto his larger one, he certainly does.

random parenting moments

—mans can hear the baby crying before the baby is even crying. being a light sleeper + having incredible hearing is a goated combo. he'll race into the nursery and try to take care of whatever the issue is to avoid waking you up at all costs

—absolute hell to fucking no to the hot diggity dog no when it comes to corporal punishment. no ands, ifs, or buts. (for the record, i don't think any of these men would do this, but simon especially, given his past). and it'll be a freezing cold day in hell before simon raises his voice at your kids; he simply doesn't see the need to

—gives his kids washable markers and lets them color in his tattoos

—shooting my girl dad blaster at this man because i can. (*pew pew*) he's the best tea party attendant in the history of tea party attendants. doesn't matter that he can barely even fit one thigh on the tiny chairs at his daughters' kiddie princess table–he'll make it work!

—i can definitely see him having sons too, which i know would be really bittersweet for him. he's determined to be a better father than the one that life afforded him. seeing that brotherly bond between his sons would be really therapeutic for him :(

—very surprised that his kids find funny, mostly because he's got that dry sarcastic deadpan humor, as opposed to the slapstick-type humor that most kids at that age gravitate towards. he's certainly not complaining, though; he loves making them laugh. he swears his kids' laughter is one of the best sounds in the world.

soap/johnny mctavish

during the pregnancy/delivery

—honestly is surprised at himself for deciding to settle down (finally). he knew he wanted a family eventually but he wasn't expecting it to happen so soon. he certainly isn't complaining though, because he thinks you'd be an amazing mother

—is constantly talking to your belly, even before the obgyn said that your baby had formed their ears. very determined for your kid to have his accent so he’s talking to them 24/7 lmfao

—and he definitely believes that the baby can communicate back 😭

—"okay, if you're a boy, what'd you think of this name? kick twice for yes."

—gives the absolute best foot rubs. would literally put a trained masseuse to shame

—so ecstatic when he finally gets his kid in his arms. he finally gets to see the little human that he's been talking to for the past several months; literally a dream come true

random parenting moments

—does the thing where he falls asleep on his back with the baby lying on his stomach

—his kids' first words will probably be curse words, no thanks to johnny 💀

—i'm picturing three kids: two boys (possibly twins; idk he just seems like a twin dad. it makes sense in my head, okay?)

—very relaxed parenting style, with an emphasis on letting his kids "fail" on their own and learning from their mistakes. relaxed shouldn't be confused with permissive, though, because he will definitely put his foot down and be more assertive if need be

—always down to play video games with his kids

—finds it absolutely hilarious to kiss you in front of the kids because they all make the most exaggerated sounds of disgust

—teaches your kids how to swim, which eventually leads to them convincing him to put a pool in the house (it took a lot of convincing but johnny just can't say no to them)

—has his own designated "dad" chair in the living room and gets disgruntled if he sees someone else sitting there. but one time he came back to one of the kids curled up in his chair late at night, fast asleep. he couldn't bring himself to wake them up so he just covered them in a blanket

gaz/kyle garrick

during the pregnancy/delivery

—lowkey has a stronger nesting instinct than you lol 💀 constantly is cleaning the house not only for you, but because it makes him feel calm

—always willing to hold your belly for a few minutes (or however long you need) to relieve you of the weight of carrying a whole human inside of you for a while

—also adores talking to the baby through your stomach, and loves putting headphones on your belly to play them music

—down to try your craving combos with you. sometimes he like “this is incredible" and other times he's like "what is this monstrosity" lol

—when you guys were putting together the nursery you discovered that ky has an impeccable eye for interior design. most of the unique pieces of furniture and paintings in the nursery were picked out by him

—has the biggest smile on his face once he gets to hold his kid for the first time. like his face hurts thats how hard he's smiling

random parenting moments

—literally doesn't want to put that baby down. like at all 💀 you practically have to beg him to give you your daughter so you can at least feed her

"just let me hold her for 5 more minutes!"

"kyle, your daughter is going to starve if you don't give her to me!"

—i'm thinking two kids for kyle is the perfect number to him; gender doesn't matter to him :)

—tries to keep up with pop culture so he won't be called old by his kids (and fails)

—always down to game with his kids

—has a really hard time saying no to them 😭 if you weren't there to keep him in check, your kids would be so spoiled

—LOVESSS halloween. taking his kids costume shopping and taking them trick-or-treating is one of the highlights of his year. and he's always down to customize a costume, too. anything from buying a bunch of different pieces to make one look or sanding down some plastic armor and painting it to look weathered—he's so unbelievably creative

john price

during the pregnancy/delivery

—collects sooo many books for the baby. especially loves the soft cloth books that have all of the different crinkly textures

—absolutely cherishes that first trimester where you’re not really showing and he gets to keep the two of you to himself and away from the rest of the world

—"sternly" tells the baby to stop kicking their mum (aka you lol)

—always has a protective arm around you while you two are out and about. was absolutely shocked by how many strangers would try and reach out and touch your stomach unprovoked once you started to pop. most of them were women, so the most he’d do was give them a hard look. still hated it though 🙄

—helps you make a checklist for your hospital bag + packs everything for you with military-like efficiency

—so so gentle when he holds his baby for the first time. he was never sure if he would get the chance to even be a father so it's quite emotional for him

random parenting moments

—your babies will have the largest vocabularies ever thanks to john, who refuses to use baby speak with his kids. instead, he speaks normally, as if the baby can understand him perfectly, and the results are pretty amusing

"love, did you move the almond butter?" john calls to you from downstairs.

"i swear i didn't!" you call back from upstairs, busy with your morning routine.

"hmph." he plants his hands on his hips, turning around, only to be met by the blinking stare of your infant daughter.

"darling, did you see your mother move the jar of almond butter?" he asks her, arms crossing over his chest.

*cue unintelligible-to-others-but-perfectly-understandable-to-john infant noises from the baby*

"bloody knew it. love, our daughter is saying you moved it. and she doesn't know how to lie yet, so i have no reason not to believe her."

—this man is so girl dad coded it's insane. but i'd like to think he'd have one son; he'd possibly be the middle or youngest kid

—you and the kids love to play "hide the bucket hat" from dad. price puts on his grumpy old man act but he secretly loves it because it always ends up with him chasing you guys until you all collapse in a laughing heap on the carpet

—constantly dropping bad dad jokes like he's paid to do it 😭 kids are always looking at him with a mixture of pity, disappointment, and mild annoyance

"dad, i'm hungry."

"why hello, hungry. my name's dad."

"no, your name is john.

"...how do you know that 😐"

alejandro vargas

during the pregnancy/delivery

—always showing you off to LITERALLY everyone, especially his family

—always finds a way to bring up the fact that your pregnant in every single conversation with a stranger lololol

—if you're the first one in ale's family to be pregnant (which you very well may be because i headcanon him as the oldest child in his family heehee) prepare to be spoiled by his siblings and the rest of his family. you have enough gifted clothes for your kid to wear an entirely different outfit every day for a year i'm not even kidding

—very protective, but not in a controlling concerning way. it’s more so seeing you visibly pregnant with a ring that he put on your finger that gets him all riled up

—was driving like an actual mad man to get you to the hospital when you woke him up in the middle of the night and told him your water broke (and by "driving like a mad man", i mean he forgot to use his blinkers and ran one singualr stop sign lmfao)

—first time he got to hold his baby it was absolutely love at first sight. gives you the most tender kiss on the forehead to say "thank you"

random parenting moments

—if you have all girls he is SUCH a girl dad. i think out of all the boys, he's the one that i can say would 100% have all daughters. he's playing princesses, doing hair for school, letting the girls experiment with makeup on him, all the works.

—and he absolutely doesn't let those "oh you're trapped in a house with all of those girls poor you!" comments slide. like at all.

—"not trapped, just lucky." he always says (before glaring at the person once they turn around)

—tries so hard not to curse in front of his girls but fails 💀 swear jar is always full

—the idea that your girls can do and be anything they want is drilled in from day one. naturally, this means that ale is the biggest sports dad EVER. he's at every recital, every game, every showcase, every scrimmage– you name it, he's there if he can make it. whenever he can't be there, he's always doing two mandatory facetimes; a pep talk before the game, and a debrief after

—one non-negotiable? self-defense. signed up each of his girls for self defense classes when they each started middle school

—not overprotective by any means. i mean, he can definitely be protective at times, but he knows his girls can handle themselves (you two raised them, after all).

—takes saving for their quinces as seriously as saving for their college funds (as he should)

—secretly a huge disney fan. he's watching all the disney princess movies, pretending like he's doing it for his daughters, but he's really doing it for himself hehe. still whisper-yells everytime he watches snow white eat the poison apple 💀

roldofo “rudy” parra

during the pregnancy/delivery

—is literally the most gentle person with you ever and it’s so sweet :(( always willing to massage out any knots you have in your shoulders or neck

—does all your pregnancy exercises with you (even though he’s not the one delivering the baby lol) just so you won’t feel alone :)

—always down to cook whatever cravings you desire (or run out to the nearest grocery store or gas station to get them)

—he's already a pretty touchy person but it's amplified times 10 during your pregnancy. he can't keeps his hands off of you, especially your stomach

—his abuela is always on back, asking you if he's taking good care of you and scolding him if she's sees you so much as lifting a plate by yourself 💀

—when your baby was born, he was quite sensitive to the noises of the hospital, getting fussy and crying a bit whenever he heard doors closing and loud beeps and such. you noticed however, that when rudy was holding him whenever this happened, he never shushed him to keep him quiet. he would simply rock your son back and forth, whispering quietly to him about whatever was on his mind until the newborn would calm down. just witnessing this alone solidified the fact that you'd basically picked the perfect man to be the father of your children.

random parenting moments

—carries his kids everywhere when they're young, even when they can walk. he just loves holding them :(

—incredibly rational, even in the face of conflict. when your kids get to be teenagers and get into typical teenage trouble and whatnot, he sits down with you first to break down what happened and what an appropriate response would be. not a fan of reacting on emotion (which teenagers can make very tempting to do) , which is always appreciated by both you and the kids

—i think he'd have the biggest family out of all the boys; i'm thinking 4 at the very least, with more girls than boys

—takes birthday party planning seriously, even when they're little and won't remember it all

—lovesss cooking with his babies. he gets ‘em those little kiddie knives that are safe to use and teaches them the proper technique and everything

—very frantic whenever one of them gets sick. even if it’s the mildest headache or a slight upset stomach, he just hates seeing any of them in pain

—drop-off duty warrior. has a whole system in place to get all the kids into the car on time and he’s literally never been late. it’s honestly very impressive

—vicks vapor rub is the solution to everything. sore throat? vapor rub. headache? vapor rub. bad day? vapor rub. broken leg? vapor rub (jk) (not really)

könig

during the pregnancy/delivery

—if you have mood swings, könig has to try his absolute hardest not to panic right along with you. he knows that your hormones are giving you a hard time right now, so he really wants to be your rock through all of it (however, if you start crying out of nowhere, he'll probably definitely start panicking)

—once you start showing, he likes talking to the baby in german to "give them a head start" (his words not mine)

—also good luck with that delivery babes because that's gonna be a 10 pounder at LEAST 😭 high probability you're getting a c-section

—if there's any complications, especially with a c-section, best believe any shred of social anxiety is disappearing and he's running on pure adrenaline when he yells at tells the medical staff in the room that he refuses to watch you and his child die here

—was so thankful you two were both okay that his hands were shaking a little when he cut the umbilical cord

—holds his kid like they're made of glass because he's so big that he fears hurting them :(

random parenting moments

—when the kids finally get to the toddler stage, he's pumped. they can run now, and he absolutely loves chasing them. also the kids love to treat their dad like a tree, climbing him and dangling off his arms like he's a human swing, which has given you a mild heart attack more than once 😭

—loves reading to them every night before bed

—i’m thinking two kids for him; either a boy and a girl or two girls

—big fan of doing doing arts and crafts with them (your house is constantly covered in scraps of construction paper)

—also loves taking the kids to a local fairground where they can go on a bunch of rides, pet some animals at the petting zoo, and play games. könig is usually too tall to ride the rides comfortably (rip), but he doesn't mind. as long as the kids are having fun, that's all that matters to him!

—yearly trips to visit his mom and grandma in austria are an absolute must

—kids are always clinging to him during the colder months because he just radiates heat

—his homemade remedy: soup! the kids absolutely love the different soups that he makes and it always seems to make them feel better whenever they're under the weather :)

#könig x reader #john price x reader #alejandro vargas x reader #simon riley x reader #soap mctavish x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #rudy parra x reader #cod headcanons #onestopfanficshop

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fuckyeahdindjarin · 10 months

Text

IV ║ Notch

Joel Miller x F!Reader

{ Part III: Edgestitch | Behind the Seams: Part IV | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist }

Rating: E, but not that explicit

Summary: While Ellie works her first shift at the Outfitters, Joel drops by yours to return the blouse you left behind at the baby shower. Turns out, there's plenty around the house to keep him occupied until the teenager clocks off.

Warnings: Sexual tension, body insecurity, some language, inaccurate descriptions of gardening, gratuitous descriptions of the male body, undervest supremacy, flirting, dry humping, shy!reader, reader has a nickname related to her job, soft!domestic!Joel, no use of Y/N

Word count: 8.9k

Notes: Once I started writing this chapter in earnest, it came together a bit more quickly than I expected! It's extremely self-indulgent, with plenty of white undervest and belly action because you guys deserve all of that goodness for being the most patient, loving readers a writer could hope for 🥹 Thank you, I love you all! ❤️

Notch – diamond shaped marks that stick out beyond the edge of the pattern to line up all the pieces when sewing the garment. They come in pairs to be matched up.

Joel is sleeping - which is not something that could be said until a couple of months ago.

After the outbreak, sleep as a concept ceased to exist. What took its place is literal ‘shuteye’, either engineered by pills knocked back with moonshine, or a preventative shutdown by his body to avoid total failure, having pushed his physical form to the living limit.

It’s the kind of sleep that is destitute and provides no relief. It keeps the cogs turning just enough that he doesn’t expire, standing in his boots - which, on most days, are not the only things held together by duct tape.

But after the hospital, even that turned out to be too much to ask for. Some nights, the itch for chemical-induced relief got so bad that Joel entertained the thought of asking Tommy for illicit pills, ready to crawl on all fours to his brother’s house two streets down because he was shaking so hard he couldn’t lock his knees. But he didn’t trust him not to tell Maria, and with Ellie in the picture, he wasn’t about to tempt fate.

So instead, he asked Maria to assign him to night patrols. She hmmm’d at his request like she knew something he didn’t, but she humoured him, letting him take the graveyard shift for a couple of weeks straight. She didn’t have to tell him that she could see the way he tripped over his own feet and hear the slur in his voice. She’s too sharp not to notice.

But she didn’t say anything.

What she did do though, was not so subtly wean him off the late-night patrols. It started with a couple of random, last-minute changes, and then the next thing he knew, he was working morning shifts exclusively. When he tried covertly swapping stints with another guy, he showed up at the guard tower at midnight to find his sister-in-law standing in the doorway, arms crossed over her pregnant belly.

As he trudged home begrudgingly with his head down and her stern reprimand in his ears, he couldn’t help a chuckle. Gotta hand it to her.

Banished back to his bed, Joel went back to staring owlishly at the ceiling, watching the moonlight slide across the plaster until he knew all the cracks in it with his eyes closed (metaphorically). He’d listen to Ellie snoring away two doors down and marvel at the fact that she somehow still slept like the dead, even after… all that.

And then, one night, it happened for him too.

Admittedly, he ate a bit too much at Tommy and Maria’s - on top of running the town like a well-oiled machine, she makes a mean chicken fried steak - and Ellie had not so subtly plonked a second helping on his plate without asking. He was lying in bed, steeling himself for another long night, when his eyes drooped. The motion was so alien that it jolted him wide awake, but he couldn’t shake the weight that clung to the seams of his lashes. The next time he opened his eyes, it was morning.

Turns out you can teach an old dog new tricks.

It’s nowhere near consistent, and more often than not he wakes up in a cold sweat in the small hours, but in between, he’s sleeping. For once, he’s feeling rested. And it’s a nice fucking break from the relentless exhaustion that he’s convinced is fused into his bones.

He always wakes up earlier than Ellie though. She never stomps down the stairs until he’s already had breakfast, and hers has gone cold.

So on the Saturday morning following the baby shower, with his face plastered into the mattress, body curled around a pillow - old habits die hard - Joel nearly falls out of bed at the banging on his door.

‘Joel! Get the fuck up!’

For one disconcerting moment between sleep and wake, he’s in his bedroom back in Texas. He half expects to look up to see the posters on the wall and the perpetually overflowing laundry basket at the foot of his bed.

Blinking through the urge to close his eyes, the colours fade and he stares blearily at the digital clock on his bedside table.

7:30.

What the fuck? More often than not he has to drag the teenager out of bed by the ankles, kicking and swearing, at 7:50 to get to school at 8:00.

His knees groan as he staggers onto his feet, grabbing yesterday’s jeans from the floor and pulling them on. He finds a passably clean shirt about five deep on a chair, which he shrugs on over his white undervest. With a grunt, he yanks open the door and heads downstairs on bare feet, frowning at unfamiliar sounds coming from the kitchen.

Joel pauses in the doorway, hands on hips. ‘What do you think you’re doin’?’

Deeming his question unworthy of a response, Ellie tosses him a roll of her eyes over her shoulder and resolutely ignores him.

Shuffling closer, he asks, ‘Are you - cookin’?’

Brandishing the spatula at him, she snarls, ‘What does it look like I’m doing?’

He goads her with a smirk. ‘To be honest, it looks like you threw up in the pan.’

Ellie elbows him hard in the stomach. ‘Fuck you, man!’

He grins. There’s nothing like winding her up first thing in the morning. Grabbing the pan, he bins the ruined eggs, scraping off the burnt bits stuck to the bottom. ‘Crack some more eggs, I’ll make ‘em.’

Ten minutes later, in their usual seats at the kitchen table, they tuck into scrambled eggs and buttered toast.

‘Slow down,’ warns Joel as Ellie wolfs down hers. ‘You’re gonna choke.’

‘You hurry up! Can’t be late for my first day,’ she garbles through a mouthful of food.

‘Why can’t you be like this about school?’ he grumbles, then he winces as his teeth catch something crunchy. Picking it out, he gives her a pointed look. ‘Eggshell.’

‘Calcium,’ she shoots back without even looking up, too busy shoving the rest of her breakfast into her mouth, stuffing her cheeks like a chipmunk.

That one word stops Joel in his tracks and hurls him twenty years back in time.

But then Ellie is jumping up and practically throwing her empty plate into the sink, sneakers squeaking on the tiled floor as she dashes out of the kitchen. ‘C’mon, old man!’

Joel smiles, the memory warm like sun on his face.

He shakes his head, slowly finishing his breakfast - like he wishes he did that day.

They turn out to be fifteen minutes early.

To his chagrin, Ellie admits freely that she lied about the time so they wouldn’t be late. He’s a punctual guy, thank you very much. He certainly doesn’t need to be schooled by the little brat.

Joel sits on the stairs, while Ellie has her face squished up against the door, unabashedly leaving smudges on the glass panels as she keeps up an uninterrupted running commentary on every last piece of clothing she can see.

He tunes her out easily, shifting in his seat so that his right ear is to the door. In his hands is the blouse that you left behind at Tommy and Maria’s at the baby shower. He’s been meaning to return it to you, but the week got away from him, and there’s no time like the present.

Considering the state of his knees, he impresses himself with the speed at which he stands at the sound of footsteps on the otherwise quiet main street. Squaring his shoulders, he discreetly pulls on his shirt, suddenly seeing wrinkles everywhere in the fabric, and runs his fingers through his hair, wishing he’d taken another look in the mirror before he left the house -

But it’s Lucy who appears at the bottom of the stairs with her unfailingly sunny smile.

‘Hi, you must be Ellie,’ she chirps.

She eyes Lucy cautiously, lips pinched to one side. ‘Where’s Pin?’

Joel growls. ‘Manners.’

Ellie puts her hands up in surrender. ‘Sorry. I meant - nice to meet you, where’s Pin?’

Lucy beams good-naturedly and fiddles with the lock. ‘She’s off today, and it’s all my fault because I made her work three weekends in a row. You’ll be helping me in the front anyway, so I’ll show you the ropes.’ Stepping aside and swinging the door open, she prompts, ‘In you go now, hon.’

Ellie doesn’t even look back at him, rushing into the shop like a thoroughbred fresh out of the starting gates.

Pocketing the keys, Lucy smiles. ‘Hi Joel.’

‘Hey,’ he nods back. ‘Sorry about Ellie.’

‘Don’t be, I was exactly like her when I was younger. Still am sometimes,’ she jokes. Then with a sly side eye, she remarks, ‘And honestly, you look more disappointed that I showed up than she does.’

He splutters, ‘Dunno what you’re talkin’ about.’

She smirks knowingly, gesturing at the blouse clutched tightly in his left fist. ‘I can pass that to Pin for ya.’

Joel hesitates for just a second, and Lucy bursts into laughter, elbowing him teasingly. ‘The way your face fell! I’m joking, Miller. Relax.’

He shakes his head. ‘It’s fine, guess I’ll give it to her next time she’s ‘round.’

Just then, from the depths of the shop, Ellie gasps dramatically and yells at the top of her lungs, ‘I want thissssssss one!’

Meeting Lucy’s eyes, Joel asks, ‘Sure you gonna be ok left alone with her?’

She shrugs. ‘There’s only one way to find out.’

He flashes her a thumbs up. ‘I’ll pick her up at three then.’

He’s about to walk away from the Outfitters when Lucy’s voice stops him. ‘Hey, Joel!’

Looking up at the wraparound porch, he raises an eyebrow in a silent question.

‘She lives in the yellow cottage on the same street as the shoe shop. Keep going north, you can’t miss it,’ she says with a two-finger salute and a parting line that he’s heard before. ‘Say hi to Pin for me!’

You’ve always had a soft spot for the turn of the season, when late spring blooms graciously give way to summer buds. The grass smells greener, and the air is pregnant with pollen and nectar. It’s not overly warm yet, but you can feel the intensity in the sunlight, muted only by the early hour. Good thing you’re starting early.

It’s unseasonably warm for June, and the vegetable patch on the far end of your garden has suddenly burst into life. The cauliflower has finally come through after two failed crops in a row, and both the tomato vines and pepper plants are thriving. Closer to the ground, the onion and garlic shoots are patiently waiting to be pulled, and asparagus shoots spear through the earth in tidy lines one after another.

Pulling on a hat and gloves, you get to work.

You’re halfway through the second row of onions when there’s a faint knock on the front door. Even though you’ve only been in the sun for a little while, the coolness inside the house feels like a balm to your skin as you pad inside, peeling off your gloves before reaching for the door.

Swinging it open, you’re stumped by the sight of Joel Miller on your doorstep.

You haven’t seen him since the party, where you’d agreed on a start date and time for Ellie’s first shift, and -

Since the kiss.

You’ve felt his absence keenly. You’ve caught yourself loitering on street corners, hoping to catch a glimpse of him, knowing you’ll be able to spot him just by the way his shoulders swing with his long strides. You’ve kept an ear out for the southern lilt that has chased goosebumps across your skin, or any mention of his name, but all in vain.

Jackson has a habit of growing in size, usually in direct proportion to one’s desperation.

Now that he’s somehow here, you’re aware you’re gaping at him, so broad that his shoulders are blocking out the daylight. Too many years out of practice to count, you have no idea what the protocol is when you next see the man who literally made your knees buckle with just his lips and nothing else.

‘Mornin’, he finally says with a small smile.

You stammer. ‘H-hello. What, um, I mean, how -’

‘I dropped off Ellie at the shop and Lucy told me where you live,’ he explains, shaking out the blouse in his hands. ‘Thought I’d come ‘round and return this.’

Your palm twitches with the urge to smack yourself on the forehead. Of course that’s why he’s here.

Taking the top from him, you smile back gratefully. ‘Thank you. And of course, it’s Ellie’s first day. I’m sorry I can’t be there, but I’ve been subbing for Lucy on the weekends for a month straight and I needed a break.’

He waves away your apology. ‘Count yourself lucky. She was just ‘bout bouncin’ off the walls.’

‘Bless her heart,’ you chuckle, breaking off when his eyes flicker over you, as if he’s just registered your very minimalist ensemble of a white cotton tank top and denim cut-offs. Your skin prickles under his scrutiny, flattery winning out against self-consciousness at the deliberate drag of his gaze over you, a thoughtful weight behind it.

That is until something catches his attention, and you flinch when he peers under the brim of your hat. ‘What -’

Before you can even articulate your question, he’s taken one step towards you, his work boots heavy on your creaky wooden porch. His voice is low but rough around the edges, just the way you like it.

‘You got some dirt -’ he swipes his index finger firmly on the end of your nose. ‘Right here.’

Your jaw hangs open, then clamps shut, in quick succession, the shell of your ears burning hot at his fleeting touch. Throat suddenly dry, you barely manage to squeak, ‘Thanks.’

One day, you will at least try and keep your cool around this man. But alas, it is not this day.

Rearranging himself, Joel leans on the doorframe with his arms crossed and remarks conversationally, ‘You look outdoorsy this mornin’.’

Flashing the soil-stained gloves at him, you try to keep your voice steady. ‘I’m just doing some gardening out back. The vegetable patch needs harvesting.’

He purses his lips at that. ‘Didn’t peg you as the gardenin’ type.’

You don’t know where the bravado comes from, but you swat him on the arm with the gloves and quip, ‘There’s a lot you don’t know about me.’

‘You got me there,’ he huffs a laugh and gestures towards the back of the house. ‘Anythin’ I can do to help?’

The refusal is on the tip of your tongue. You don’t say yes to a whole lot nowadays, other than when Lucy makes you. But then you hear yourself ask, a challenge in your voice that you didn’t know you had. ‘I don’t know. Are you any good with your hands, Joel Miller?’

At the boldness in your words, which you don’t take back, Joel’s eyebrows reach for his hairline. Biting your lip but standing your ground, you watch him grind his jaw as he considers his response.

‘Why don’t you try me, sweetheart?’

‘Like this?’

‘Wait - slow down.’

A shuffle of hands. ‘How about now?’

‘That’s it. Yes, that’s good. Keep going.’

A raspy grunt. ‘I think I’m almost there.’

‘Yeah, that’s right, don’t stop -’

‘Alright, you ready?’

‘Come on, Joel -’

With one last flick, the knife slices clean through the base of the stalk, and Joel plucks the cauliflower head out of its leafy cradle with a triumphant grin.

‘How’s that for good hands, huh?’ he crows.

‘I’ll get back to you in the fall when we see if the cauliflower grows back,’ you tease.

He huffs, squinting up at you through the sun. ‘You’re hard to please, sweetheart.’

You preen at the playful turn of the conversation. If you were a little braver, you’d give him a mischievous wink - but for now, you gesture at the patch. ‘Can you handle the rest? I’ll get started on the peppers.’

He nods. ‘Leave ‘em with me.’

The pepper plants are having a great season, standing at four feet tall and heaving with fruits. You’ve left them alone on the vine for the last three weeks to sweeten, and they have dutifully ripened into a beautiful red. Settling onto your knees, you methodologically comb through the peppers from top to bottom, cutting off each one by the stalks.

It’s a big harvest, half of which you plan on giving away to your neighbours in exchange for their berries and lemons. Some you will cook. Lucy is due to come over for dinner, and she loves your stuffed pepper recipe. The rest you’ll have to find time to roast, skin, deseed and preserve in oil, which will last the rest of the year -

A shadow falls over you, stilling your hands and drawing your eyes upwards.

The sight is familiar - feet planted shoulder-wide by your knees, chin tucked in as he stares down at you, your nose level with the front of the jeans that you picked out for him - you’ve seen it all before, except for one small detail.

Joel is sweating. A lot.

His thin plaid shirt - you’re not sure if you’ve seen him in anything else yet - is sticking to him like a second skin, clinging to the solid outline of his biceps as he holds onto the basket full of cauliflower heads. The sunlight glances off the perspiration dotting his hairline, and the wispy grays that normally curl away from his face have wilted in the humidity.

There’s a flush under his skin as he swipes at his forehead with his shirt sleeve, and your gaze follows a bead of sweat dripping down the prominent vein on the side of his neck, and into the deep V of his shirt - wait, is that the outline of an undervest that you can just make out underneath -

‘Should I take the cauliflower in?’

‘Um -’ you stammer to a halt, eyes still plastered to the front of his chest, just like his shirt.

He clearly mistakes your gawking for something else, flashing you an apologetic smile at his state. ‘Sorry, I work up a sweat real easy.’

Oh, come on. Now all you’re thinking about is how else he works up a sweat -

Seized by the sudden need to get out of the heat in more than one sense of the word, you rip the basket from his grasp and turn on your heels to sprint into the house with a choked, ‘I’ll be right back!’

You nearly trip over your own feet running into the kitchen, your heart thumping so loudly in its ribcage it feels like the whole house is shaking to the beat.

And all that man has done is sweat in front of you.

‘Pull yourself together, Pin,’ you mutter to yourself as you tip the cauliflower heads onto the kitchen table. Grabbing a jug from the cupboard, you put it in the sink and turn on the faucet. Watching the trickle of water, you make yourself take three deep breaths.

Joel’s kind enough to do you a favour, you could at least have the courtesy to not perv on him while he helps you out.

Nodding determinedly to yourself, you pluck two glasses from the drying rack, putting them inside the empty basket that you hook on your elbow, and march back outside -

Only to almost swallow your tongue and drop the full jug of water right at your feet.

Joel’s sweat-soaked shirt is now hanging on your washing line like a white flag, having surrendered to the heat. And just like that, the very image that has been inconveniently seared into the back of your eyes since the party is suddenly before you in all its glory, in the morning sun, out in the open air.

The white undervest stretches over the breadth of him, and if he didn’t look so good in it, you would’ve laughed at the comical way the flimsy straps are clinging onto his shoulders for dear life. Then he bends over to inspect the tomato vines, the bottom of his vest riding up with the movement, teasing a flash of skin above the waistline of the jeans pulled tight over his behind. One big hand reaches out, the outline of his arm flexing as he does, and he palms the bottom of one tomato, testing if it’s ripe for the picking.

Except in your head, it’s something else he’s cupping with such rapturous attention.

He doesn’t notice you until he stands up with a low grunt of effort. Pointing an apologetic finger at his shirt, he says, ‘I hope you don’t mind, I’m sweatin’ right through it like nobody’s business.’

You make a noise in your throat that you pass off as an answer, and with shaky hands, pour him a full glass of water which you shove in his direction.

‘Appreciate it, sweetheart.’ He salutes you and takes a long drag, tipping his head back. You watch, transfixed, as the sunlight bounces off the lines of sweat criss-crossing down the strong column of his neck, and the hard bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallows.

Suddenly, you’re parched. But you don’t trust yourself to stay upright, let alone pour yourself a drink.

‘It’s hot today,’ Joel breaks the loaded silence, though it’s possible that it’s unilaterally so on your side.

‘Uh-huh,’ you croak, still holding onto the water jug like a shield.

He peers at you with a touch of mischief. ‘You ain’t gonna swoon or anythin’ are you?’

Probably. And definitely not for the reason he has in mind.

You attempt a weak smile that may have come off as a grimace. ‘I’ll try not to.’

Reassured, he nods towards the garlic patch. ‘C’mon. Let’s get our hands dirty, sweetheart.’

By the time the vegetable patch has been thoroughly picked and the baskets crammed full, the sun is high in the sky, the morning clouds burned off with the heat.

Joel isn’t the only one who’s sweating through his clothes - your light cotton top is now clinging uncomfortably to your skin, sweat dripping down your sternum and dampening the cups of your bra. You heave a sigh of relief when he helps you move the haul to a shaded corner near the porch where you have an outdoor sink and wheel hose installed.

Emptying the root vegetables into the sink, Joel steps back and casts a critical eye over the rain gutters that line the eaves of your house. Fingers spread over one jutting hip, he leans his weight on his right leg, the stance creating all kinds of angles that are completely unnecessary in this kind of heat.

He points at the leaves and branches that are clearly sticking out from the channels, but you’re only really interested in studying his large hands. The bumps and veins on the back of them, the watch with the broken face on his left wrist, the dirt coating his thick fingers, pushed under tidily trimmed nails. The logical thought that follows is how he would leave dark streaks on your white top when he pulls you in by the waist -

‘Looks like the gutters need cleanin’,’ Joel declares.

Well, the gutter your head is currently dunked in can certainly do with a good scrub.

‘Rainy season doesn’t start for another few months, they can wait.’

He uh-uh's sternly. ‘I’ve heard that before. Do you have a ladder?’

‘You really don’t have to -’ you protest, but he won’t hear it.

‘It’s no big deal, I’m sweaty anyway,’ he replies. ‘Besides, you’ll be doing me a favour keepin’ me occupied. I don’t pick Ellie up till three.’

You bite your lip. ‘But I feel bad working you so hard.’

Without skipping a beat, he winks. ‘Don’t worry your pretty head, sweetheart - I like workin’ for it.’

Jesus Christ. This man needs to be locked up and the key thrown to a colony of clickers.

The inner contractor in Joel comes out to play as he climbs deftly up the extension ladder propped up against the eaves, gloves on and a tarp bag tied to the top rung for collecting the debris. Discreetly, you shuffle around the freestanding sink so that you have a clear view of him as you turn on the water and start washing the dirt off the onions.

He’s starting close by, just a couple of feet away from you, patiently scooping out the dead leaves and twigs by the handful. Up on the ladder with his side to you, you’re eye level with the swell of his belly, which stretches the seams of the vest, and the underside of it peeks out every time he reaches up for the gutters. Your cheeks warm with the memory of how the soft folds felt against you, so warm and solid that you ache to reach out, push the flimsy vest up and nuzzle the tender skin with your nose -

It takes you a couple of minutes to realise that you’re not even pretending to be washing the onions anymore, the hose running in your idle grasp as you stare, head cocked to one side.

You don’t hear him when he turns to you. ‘Can pass me the hose?’

You stare dumbly back at him. ‘Huh?’

‘The hose, Pin,’ he repeats, a playful condescension in his smirk, like he knows exactly what you’ve been looking at. ‘That onion looks sparkly clean.’

You’re not sure what happened. One second you’re holding onto the hose with the intention of turning off the water before passing it to Joel, but your brain skips that crucial first step, and the next thing you know, you’re pointing it straight at him, spraying him in water from face to chest.

As he splutters, you shove the hose into the sink and screech, mortified. ‘Oh my god! I’m so sorry!’

You watch in horror as the water trickles from his hair, down his stubbled chin and onto his chest - okay, that’s a lie. It’s definitely not horror that’s twisting in your tummy and then much, much lower between your thighs.

And if you thought this man looked good sweaty, well - you’ve seen nothing yet.

He might as well put you out of your misery and take off his undervest right about now. It’s completely see-through, pebbled nipples and the firm ridges of his pecs showing through the wet fabric, rounded out by the endearing soft pouch of his belly.

He wears the early summer tan so well, and for the first time since the outbreak, you think about the swim club in your old neighbourhood. Watching the water drip off his skin, it’s not a stretch to imagine this man pulling himself out of the pool after a quick dip to cool down, before stretching out on a sunlounger to dry in the sun - all in slow motion, set to the track of a corny sax riff.

‘I’m sorry,’ you say on reflex, but the apology rings hollow with the way your gaze lingers over his chest, and he notices.

He chuckles, carding one hand through his wet hair to slick it back, standing taller under your eyes. ‘As I said - never a dull moment with you, sweetheart.’

Joel takes his time, clearing out all the blockages and hosing the gutters clean so that you don’t have to worry about them for another six months. He dumps the leaves and sticks in the compost post, rinses the soiled gloves and his hands clean, before taking his shirt off the washing line and heading into the blessed shade.

He finds you in the kitchen, back to the door, putting away clean plates and cutlery from the drying rack, porcelain knocking together and metal clanging.

This is the most he’s seen of you, in a tank top and shorts, bathed in light spilling in from the large windows that open out into the backyard. He sees touches of your workshop right here in the kitchen - dried herbs and seasoning in mismatched but tidy boxes on the shelves, knives organised by size on a magnetic knife block, plates and bowls arranged in neat stacks behind glass cabinets.

Not wanting to alarm you, he deliberately scrapes his shoe on the tiled floor to make his presence known.

Whipping around - and just a touch startled - you smile with a quiet hey, and Joel’s not sure if he’ll ever get over how the sweet shyness still clings to the curve of your lips despite the fact that he’s kissed you right there.

He stays by the door for now and says, ‘I put the ladder back, and the gutters are all done, but I spotted some shingles missing on the roof while I was up there. I’ll come back to fix ‘em some other time.’

‘Thank you so much Joel, but really, don’t worry about the roof. You’ve done enough.’

‘You basically got Ellie outta my hair every Saturday for the next few months, so I’ll have plenty of time to kill,’ he half-jokes.

A comfortable lull sets in, and he looks up at the ticking clock, surprised that it’s almost noon. Shifting his feet, he opens his mouth and is about to excuse himself when you blurt out, ‘I’m sorry I soaked you.’

The jury's out on who's more taken aback by your phrasing. Exasperated, you groan, ‘I did not mean to say that.’

Joel’s kept a respectful distance since he arrived at the house, the pliant weight of you in his arms and your taste on his tongue kept firmly at bay in the back of his mind, not wanting to bring up anything that would make you uncomfortable in the light of day. But now, he pushes himself off the threshold of the door and crosses the cosy kitchen, pleased that you stay put when he plants himself in front of you, toe to toe.

Brushing a finger under your chin so that you’re staring up at him, he deliberately pitches his voice low and gruff, the double entendre almost crude in its delivery. ‘Just so we’re clear, you can soak me any time, sweetheart, in any way you want.’

Your lips part and your gaze darkens, and he feels his body instinctively react, invisible threads reeling him bodily into you. When you speak, your voice quivers, his name at once a single-worded reprimand and a needy whine that takes him right back to his brother’s spare bedroom. ‘Joel -’

‘Yes, Pin?’ he baits you playfully, just like he did that night, taking one last step so that you’re crowded against the countertop, bookending you with his palms planted on the wooden surface.

Finally shedding that last bit of shyness holding you back, you retort with no real bite, ‘You’re such a tease, Miller.’

‘Don’t pretend you don’t enjoy it,’ he quips easily, his attention on your mouth. He hears your shaky intake of air, the whole moment suspended on tenterhooks as you skirt each other on the brink -

Just then, a breeze drifts in from the open window above the sink, providing instant relief from the humidity that hangs heavy in the air. All of a sudden, he’s acutely aware of the fact that he’s sweaty all over, so much so that he might actually smell.

Self-conscious, he clears his throat and murmurs ‘I should probably go, I need a shower and a change of clothes -’

‘You can shower here,’ you interrupt, stumbling over your words in your haste. ‘I have a spare shirt somewhere.’

You don’t need to ask him twice.

He smiles. ‘Sounds good, sweetheart.’

Your ensuite bathroom, like what he has seen of your house, is clean and organised. There’s a neat stockpile of soap bars in the cupboard, and he spots the familiar bottles of regulation shampoo and toothpaste that the town mass produces.

The water is plenty hot as he efficiently lathers himself top to bottom and front to back, but the pressure is a bit weak for his liking and can be easily fixed. Something else to add to the list.

The towel you left on the rack is soft and smells like the sun. Patting himself dry and rubbing it through his hair, he wipes away the condensation off the mirror above the sink. He peers at his reflection, ruminating that it’s time for a shave, and pushes back his wet hair so the strands don’t get in his eyes.

Out of his clothes, only his jeans are passably dry, so he forgoes his boxers and pulls them on, carefully doing up the zipper. Using his shirt as a sling, he bundles up all the dirty clothes and opens the bathroom door.

He catches you coming into the bedroom as he steps out, and your jaw drops at the sight of him in just his jeans before you slap your palms dramatically over your eyes, the tshirt you’re holding onto covering your whole face and muffling your voice. ‘I’m so sorry! I should’ve knocked!’

Joel chuckles at your reaction. ‘Sweetheart, it's your house. And I’m not exactly naked.’

Lowering your hands sheepishly, you still clutch the tshirt to your chest like a security blanket, admitting, ‘Sorry, I just - I just realised I’ve never had a man in here before.’

Something wraps itself around his stomach and pulls, and it takes him a beat to put a name to it because it’s been so long. It’s possessiveness that rushes through his veins and goes straight to his head, and he has to bite the inside of his mouth to keep his voice from wavering. He demands, ‘Never?’

‘Never.’

He lets the word wash over him, appeasing the beast in him for now. With a slow nod, he takes three measured steps towards you, stopping just an arm’s length away. Gently coaxing you to let go of the purple tshirt, he snorts at the huge Lakers logo blazoned across the front.

He quips, ‘I’m more of a Longhorns fan myself, actually.’

The tension cracks, and you grin back, ‘Well, not anymore.’

After your confession, it’s probably redundant, but he wants to hear you say it. Flashing the tshirt at you, he asks, ‘Old boyfriend’s?’

It’s the most personal question that’s been exchanged between you so far by a mile, and it’s probably none of his business, but you can’t explain why your pulse spikes at the way his normally warm gaze hardens with something unfamiliar.

‘No,’ you answer. ‘I keep some of the stock here when there’s not enough room at the shop, that’s all.’

Joel rasps, ‘Good.’

With that one syllable, his shoulders visibly relax, suddenly drawing your attention to his topless form, which you’ve been too mortified to actually look at. It’s a lot to take in, and even though you’ve seen most of him already, there is one conspicuous part that you haven’t yet -

But before your eyes can trail that low, Joel turns. ‘Thanks, I appreciate it. I’ll just -’

You’re slow to catch onto why he trails off in the middle of the sentence, still far too distracted by his general state of undress to notice until he’s already made his way to the top of your neatly made bed. And then you see it…

The flannel peeking out from underneath the duvet.

Oh. Fuck.

With an almost flippant flick of his wrist, Joel peels back the corner of the bedspread. Wordlessly, he stares down at the red plaid shirt he lent you at the baby shower, tucked snugly in your bed, buried half under your pillow.

He stares at it for so long that you interrupt the silence for once.

‘I’ve been meaning to return it,’ you squeak, hands flailing awkwardly, desperately wanting something to hold onto. ‘I just - forgot.’

Joel half-turns to you, arching an eyebrow. ‘You’ve been keepin’ it in your bed?’

Backed into a corner - and you’re not proud of it - you lie. Outrageously. ‘I don’t know how it got in there.'

He picks up the shirt by the collar. It’s wrinkled all over and obviously worn in. He smirks, ‘I’m not so sure about that.’

You’re this close to swivelling around and making a break for it, but as soon as your axis of balance tilts backwards, Joel grabs you by the wrist and pulls you in, hauling you firmly into his bare chest.

‘You’ve been wearin’ it to sleep, haven’t you?’ he asks in a tone that brooks no argument.

Your fingers curl into his chest, his skin blazing warm under your palms. There’s no point fibbing anymore, and you admit, ‘Yes.’

His voice is hoarse when he asks, ‘You wear anythin’ underneath it, sweetheart?’

You hold your breath for one long moment, the tension in the room swelling so quickly that your ears pop. Eventually, under his patient yet heated stare, you shake your head, lips sealed.

His pupils dilate and his nostrils flare, and you feel his grip on your hips tighten.

‘No bra?’ he prompts.

‘No bra,’ you parrot back.

His jaw clenches so tightly that you’re surprised he manages to articulate his next question. ‘No panties?’

‘No panties -’

You barely get the word out before Joel is kissing you, pushing the syllables right back into your mouth until you swallow them with a whimper.

And then he’s pulling back, growling against yours, ‘And what do you do naked in my shirt, hmm?’

You stutter, ‘I - I think about you -’

An undignified squeal escapes you when he suddenly spins you around, your back hitting the bed, denying you the chance to catch your breath. The ceiling fan turns directly above you, but it does nothing to quell the heat between your bodies as Joel clambers over you on his hands and knees, sliding his mouth over yours again in a hard kiss.

You always thought your bed was a decent size, but now, with the bulk of this man hovering over you, you’re not so sure anymore. His ridiculously wide shoulders fill your entire field of vision, and even though he’s holding himself up with his forearms by your ears, you can almost feel the full weight of him through sheer anticipation of his touch.

His heated words brush by your ear, making you shudder. ‘Tell me what you think about, sweetheart.’

‘Your arms, your shoulders -’ you hesitate, dropping your voice shyly. ‘Your belly.’

Joel looks taken aback. ‘My belly?’

You duck your head almost guiltily. ‘Yes.’

His brows draw together in an endearingly confused frown. ‘Why?’

‘That time in the workshop, when we met, you were sucking it in so hard you could hardly breathe - but you don’t anymore.’

The dots connect, and his lips part in an oh. ‘I didn’t even realise.’

‘I know. That’s why it’s sexy,’ you point out.

He looks at you incredulously, as if you’ve lost your mind. ‘My belly is sexy?’

You grin. ‘Yes, and your confidence. You walk differently now, you know.’

He makes a noise at the back of his throat, a self-satisfied smirk tilting his lips upwards. ‘You been watchin’ me?’

‘Maybe,’ you tease.

You exhale long and heavy through your nose when he sucks delicately on your bottom lip, opening you up so that he can dip inside, stealing a taste of your tongue with his.

‘Been thinkin’ about you all week, sweetheart,’ he whispers, trailing fire across your cheek and the hollow behind your ear.

‘I haven’t seen you around at all,’ you whine, tipping your head back as he nudges the tip of his proud nose down your throat.

‘I know, it took three fuckin’ days to clean up after the party,’ he complains, his disgruntled tone prompting a giggle from you. ‘Never again.’

‘I’m not so sure about that. There will be plenty of birthday parties to look forward to, Uncle Joel -’

An open-mouthed kiss on the side of your neck catches you off guard, the unfamiliar texture of the wet suction and scrape of his teeth jolts you clean off the mattress, sending you body slamming into his ribcage.

Joel hums, pleased at your reaction. ‘So sensitive. I’ve barely touched you yet, sweetheart.’

It’s immediate, the shame that burns under your skin at his remark despite knowing he doesn’t mean anything by it, and Joel frowns at the way you stiffen under him. Regret colours his words as he cups your cheek. ‘Pin, I’m sorry, that came out wrong -’

‘No, that’s the thing. You’re not wrong,’ you interrupt with a shake of your head. There’s no point denying it - you’re a grown woman, and there’s something fundamentally embarrassing about losing touch with that part of yourself over the years. ‘I - it’s been so long, I don’t even know my own body anymore.’

His eyes dip downwards and slowly, over the curve of your breasts and the arch of your back. With an encouraging smile, he argues, ‘I’m not sure about that. Looks like your body’s reactin’ perfectly to me.’

Your lips twitch despite yourself. ‘You’re just saying that to get into my pants.’

He takes the unexpected turn in the conversation in stride and runs with it. ‘Trust me, sweetheart, if I were tryin’, I’d already be in them.’

‘You’re such an ass, Joel Miller.’

His roguish grin has you squirming and fisting the sheets underneath you. ‘I dunno. Somethin’ tells me you like it.’

Wrapping one palm on the back of his neck, you drag him into you again, relishing in the weight of him as he pins you to the bed with the broad frame of his shoulders. He moans into your mouth, claiming it with deep strokes of his tongue, while his calloused palms sneak under the hem of your shirt and pull you into him by the small of your back.

Even as your hips buck, begging for friction, Joel holds back, propping himself up on his knees to keep a tenuous grip on his self-control. Pulling back from your lips with a wet pop, he assures you through heavy breaths, ‘We can stop any time, sweetheart. Just say the word.’

Your response comes fast and sure, but he can read the hesitance between the lines, ‘I - I don’t want to stop.’

He presses a patient kiss to your lips, but backs away before you can deepen it. ‘How about this - we’ll flip you over so that you’re on top, and you decide what you want to do. Is that ok?’

You pause to consider his proposal, sliding your tongue over your bottom lip - he’s this close to kissing you right there and then. You ask shyly, ‘And it’s ok if we - you know, just make out?’

He smiles. ‘I can do with some good old-fashioned neckin’.’

‘Ok then -’

You yelp when Joel turns you over without warning, the sudden movement making your head spin. Sitting up against the headboard, he drags you in his lap and asks, ‘Alright?’

You nod with a nervous smile. It’s intimidating, being so close to him that there’s nowhere else to look but into his thoughtful eyes that are watching you for any signs of discomfort. Catching your breath, you settle into the moment and realise that you’re straddling him, hands clinging onto his shoulders, knees sinking into the mattress on either side of his hips. His belly is warm and soft where he’s pressed up against you, but lower, nudging insistently between your legs -

Joel is hard.

The revelation robs you of air, want and need rushing like blood to your head, and you stiffen, not knowing what to do.

Joel catches on - you’re beginning to think that nothing ever escapes him - and he reminds you, ‘Just kissin’, ok, sweetheart?’

Snapping out of your freeze frame, you nod, ‘Yes. Ok.’

Giving you somewhere to start, he prompts, ‘Where do you want my hands?’

Tugging on his wrists, you watch his jaw go slack when you place his palms squarely on your ass, where your denim shorts hardly cover the top of your thighs. He lets out a lewd moan at the way your soft curves fill his hands, fingers squeezing and kneading greedily, and you push your hips back into his contact.

‘Not so shy after all, hmm?’ he rasps.

You preen at his praise, and riding the wave of boldness, you tip forward and press your lips to Joel’s before you could overthink it. Over the roar of blood in your ears, you hear him suck in a shaky breath, and you feel the deep groan in his throat taper into a whimper when you swipe your tongue into his mouth.

You’re completely unprepared for the power the sound unleashes in you.

Somewhere in your consciousness, a door is cracked open, and memory crackles at the edges of your mind. Each shuddered breath shared, every slide of skin on skin, brings to the surface what you thought you’d forgotten.

Your fingers burrow into the still wet locks at his nape, earning a loud moan from Joel when you pull on the grays that have distracted you on more than one occasion. He nips his way sloppily down your neck, trailing spit and beard burn as he goes, while your palms skate over his chest and down, down, down until your fingernails drag over the pliant folds of his tummy, hanging over the waistband of his jeans.

‘Sweetheart,’ he groans brokenly at the contact, forehead knocking into yours.

Spreading your fingers over soft flesh, you choke on an inhale when he bodily rocks into your palms. Your thumb catches the hollow of his belly button, fingers tenderly squeezing the creases and dimples of his belly. His eyes crack open under tightly knitted eyebrows, vulnerability etched in every line on his face.

Something shifts - something that neither of you can take back. And suddenly, it’s not just kissing anymore.

Caught somewhere between writhing instinctively under his touch and a deliberate pursuit of friction, your hips find a rhythm that has the seat of your panties quickly twisting and dampening as you grind on the erection straining against the zipper of his jeans.

Blunt nails bite into your thighs as Joel growls, ‘Shit, sweetheart. That’s it.’

You want to bury your face in his neck, feeling too wanton in the way you’re panting in needy whimpers, but he preempts that on no uncertain terms. ‘I want to see everythin’. Look at me.’

You do just that - you can’t deny this man even if you tried - watching him watch you with his pupils blown wide and wild, wetting his bottom lip the same time his eyes drop to your tits, as if he can see right through the thin fabric. He doesn’t touch you anywhere else though, his hands staying where you put them. You can feel his grip dig harder and harder into the swell of your ass, but he doesn’t try to change your rhythm, giving you free rein to ride him any way you need.

When your peripheral vision starts to go, you know it’s not a coincidence that your thoroughly soaked panties shift and strain against your clit, pinching it just so that you cry out, hips faltering.

Joel bares his teeth, and you feel his hips rut upwards into you, his restraint slipping. ‘There you go. You’re close, aren’t you?’

You can only nod, frantically grinding into him now, your whole mind narrowing until the only thought that remains is chasing that high that you can almost taste. Everything swells, electricity fills the air, his name a sacred chant on your tongue as you claw at his back, teetering precariously on the brink of something that promises to devastate you.

‘Joel, Joel, Joel -’

He catches you when you break - you fling yourself at him, knocking into him so hard that the back of his head hits the wall, but he doesn’t even flinch. Tucked safely into the crook of his neck, you whine and wail as you thrash in his hold, and his nostrils flare at your scent. He can smell you, he can smell the slick leaking from your pussy, humid and heady in the air between you, making his mouth water as he aches to taste you - all of you.

One day.

Right now, the hinge of his jaw almost cracks as you milk the last remnants of your orgasm with a needy swivel of your hips, rubbing against his cock at an angle that makes his vision swim, and he knows he’s too far gone. His control slips like shifting sands, and a primal instinct takes over as he bucks roughly into you, fingertips leaving imprints in your skin that you will feel for days after.

‘Oh fuck, sweetheart, wait, I’m - shit, I’m gonna -’

When it hits him, it’s fucking relentless - he cums and cums until his voice goes hoarse with your name, until it feels like his abdomen would cave in and collapse, spurting and spilling until it feels like he’s turned inside out. It goes everywhere, thick, milky strands filling the gaps in his jeans and sliding down his legs in a sticky mess, and he slumps bonelessly into the headboard, panting against your lips as he catches his breath.

Sweetly, gently, he tilts his chin up just enough to kiss you, his nose nudging your cheek intimately when he pulls away, his lungs too deprived of air to keep going. He winces when you shift above him, knowing that you can feel the wet spot pooling under your bare thighs.

Joel breaks the sluggish silence first, cracking a grin. ‘So much for just makin’ out.’

You clumsily climb off his lap and crash land sideways onto the mattress. ‘Is that a complaint, Joel Miller?’

He drapes a heavy arm over you and pulls back you flush into him. ‘Well, these jeans are fuckin’ ruined. I want a refund.’

‘I’m afraid we don’t accept cum-stained returns. Store policy.’

He pffts. ‘Damnit. Should’ve read the fine print.’

You grin. ‘Well, at least there's something deeply poetic about cumming in the jeans that I picked out for you.’

‘Touché, sweetheart,’ he grunts and presses a kiss to your forehead. Glancing down at the unmistakable wet patch on the denim, he asks hopefully, ‘Any chance you got some pants I can borrow?’

Ellie bounces her leg irritably, hunched over on the stairs exactly where Joel was sitting this morning. Where the fuck is he? He’s twenty minutes late, and he had the nerve to get all huffy when she lied about the start time today. Unbelievable.

Moodily looking left and right, there’s still no sign of him. She’s about to give up and wait for him at home when something conspicuously purple comes to a stop in front of her.

Her jaw hits the floor.

‘Oh. My. God.’

She’s never been high before, but she’s pretty sure this is the stuff hallucinations are made of.

This being Joel Miller in a purple tshirt with a tacky logo she doesn’t recognise printed on the front and khaki cargo shorts that cut off at the knees, holding a basket of vegetables that she’s pretty sure he doesn’t eat.

With a roll of his eyes, he snaps, ‘Shut your mouth, you’re trappin’ flies.’

Pasting on the most obnoxious grin she can muster, Ellie croons, ‘Man, don’t you look pretty.’

Turning on his heel, Joel starts walking without looking back. ‘Shut up.’

Jogging to keep up, she cackles, ‘Hey, did you fall into a wormhole and went shopping at a farmer’s market in 1999?’

‘Shut up.’

‘You really should wear shorts more often, y’know, show off those knees. And purple really is your colour, Barney!’

Joel frowns, shooting her a sidelong glare. ‘How the hell do you know who Barney is?’

Ellie shrugs. ‘What do you think they teach us at school?’

He’s the one who starts it. The quake in his shoulders would have been imperceptible to anyone else, but nowadays, there’s not much that he can hide from her. As usual, she giggles first, which trails into a squeal when Joel gives her a shove on the back, sending her stumbling over her shoes.

‘Fuck you, man!’ she snickers and basically rugby tackles him, but he barely budges, lips pulling back into a toothy grin.

Across the street, unbeknownst to the pair, Tommy smiles to himself as he watches his big brother laugh, really laugh - the kind that has him doubling over and gasping for air through watery eyes. For the first time since the world ended, he looks up at the sky with a reassuring nod, and he knows deep down - Joel will be just fine.

Notes: You guys continue to blow me away with your support - I cannot be more grateful for all the reblogs, asks and interaction with my silly Behind the Seams posts and random updates. Thank you so so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and I can't wait to hear what you think ❤️

I will be having a think over the next few weeks about where Seams will go from here. This chapter wraps up the first mini story arc, and I'll be dedicating August to wrapping up my Palomino series, so it will give me some time and distance to mull over what's next for Joel and Pin. I'm also a few followers away from a big milestone, so I might have something fun planned! 🥰

#fuckyeahseams #seams iv #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x fem!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller imagine

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gyeomsweetgyeom · 2 months

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[1:44 pm]

(cw: f!reader, "ass")

Fratboy!Jaehyun had woken up groggy and confused. He wasn't sure what time it was or even what day it was. His mouth was dry and it took every ounce of power to pry his eyes open. His room was dark and his internal clock told him at had to be at least mid-morning. He could hear his fray brothers going about their days. He could hear pots and pans banging in the kitchen, people going up and down the stairs, and someone had just gotten in the shower.

He rolled out of bed- literally, he got tangled in his sheets and fell with a muffled groan in pain.

He walked out of his room, walking down the stairs toward the kitchen to see if anyone would offer him any leftovers or second servings.

It was all hitting him now, he had just had his last final yesterday. A week full of studying until his brain felt like mush and his eyes burned. It was tough but he felt really confident. So his reward to himself was a day of playing hooky from work and all responsibilties.

That apparently meant you too... You'd been calling and texting him for half the morning and all your messages went unanswered and undelivered. His location was off because his phone was off so you frantically made a trip to the frat house to see if he was there and most importantly alive.

Your frantic knocks were answered by a calm Haechan who reassured you Jaehyun was alive and asleep. You even saw yourself. His mouth was wide open and his snores were practically shaking the wall.

So that's how you had ended up with Haechan, in the kitchen, wearing his hoodie, covered in flour, and that's how Jaehyun found you.

"What's going on here?" Jaehyun's groggy voice asked.

"So we were making a cake together and we started making the frosting but the powdered sugar went everywhere," you explained with a sheepish smile.

"You're making at cake in the morning?" Jaehyun deadpanned.

Haechan laughed, shaking the powdered sugar from his hair which created a large white cloud, "bro it's like 2 in the afternoon."

Jaehyun's eyes widened, he was in shock, but that didn't take away from the grumpiness he was feeling after waking up and promptly falling on his face. "So you came over and instead of spending time with your boyfriend on his day off you came over and made a mess instead?"

Your face fell and Haechan tensed. "But I called you and texted you all morning and you never answered! I came over because I was scared something had happened and you were knocked out!" You explained.

"So you decided to stay with one half of dumb and dumber and make a big ass mess?" Jaehyun countered.

Haechan pouted, mumbling under his breath, "I'm not dumb."

"We're obviously going to clean up, why are you being so rude right now?" You asked stepping closer to Jaehyun and out of Haechan's ear shot.

Jaehyun sighed, closing his eyes, "I spent the whole week studying my ass off and I woke up later than I wanted to then I fell on my face." His face flushed, "then I come down and see my girlfriend with her other boyfriend and I'm just hungry and tired... and I'm sorry."

You cup his cheek, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips pulling away to tell him, "you are such a baby when you wake up. I'll make you something to eat and then we can watch a movie, yeah?"

"And you're staying over." Jaehyun mumbled against your lips.

"Sure, I'll stay," you chuckle.

"Wasn't a question, baby," Jaehyun smiles, pressing one last kiss to your lips before you turn and help Haechan clean up the mess of powdered sugar.

You crouch down to clean up the mess on the floor while Haechan wipes down the counter. Haechan glared at Jaehyun as soon as your eyes meet the floor. "Don't ever let me catch you talking to her like that again," Haechan whispers.

"Huh?" You ask, peeking your head up.

Jaehyun has a stare down with with Haechan, "Nothing, baby."

#kpop imagines #kpop au #kpop scenarios #kpop reactions #nct #nct imagines #nct fluff #nct timestamps #nct x reader #jaehyun fluff #jaehyun imagines #jaehyun blurb #jaehyun timestamps #jaehyun x reader #fratboy!jaehyun #frat!jaehyun

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eddiesxangel · 2 months

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I Don’t Think We Are In 1986 Anymore? | Eddie Munson x Reader

Participating in the Stranger Prompts directly from the Twilight Zone. Created by @bettyfrommars @allthingsjoeq @somnambulic-thing 🖤

Choose a prompt from the list, add in your choice of Eddie or Steve, and spin the story however you like!

Combining two prompts bc why not ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

1.He shows up at your house covered in mud in the rain, but the problem is, he died two months ago

11. You find a man hiding in your house, and he says he’s from another dimension.

cw: Mentions of Eddie's death (dw he ain't dead) and his injuries from the upsidedown.

wc: 2.3k

1986

It had been two months since the events of Vecna ensued. There was a memorial for the friends and families of the victims who suffered the gruesome death caused by the supernatural creature. Unfortunately, Eddie Munson was still considered to be the culprit and did not get the chance to defend himself against the wrath of the people of Hawkins.

Only those who knew Eddie in the end stood at his grave site, unable to retrieve his body; they mourned the loss of their friend at an empty grave.

Eventually, life moved on, and his friends kept his spirit alive by regularly talking about him and the stories of Eddie the Banished turning into Eddie the Brave. They never would let one another forget the events of that fatal night...

2024

You were just getting out of the shower, walking into your bedroom to get ready for your work day. It was about 6:39am. Your usually morning routine as going to plan, you were about to pick out an outfit before sitting to dry your hair.

That was before you were almost frightened half to death. A blood-curdling scream left your throat when you saw a young man covered in dirt and filth crouched in your closet.

He screamed back in return, being more scared about what was happening to him that you seemed to understand.

Eddie had gone through literal hell, and back that had left him emotionally and physically drained. He found himself waking up back in the real world, unsure of how he'd gotten there. Looking around, he realized he was in a place resembling his hometown of Hawkins, but something was off.

He was in immense pain and covered with his own blood, demobat blood and dirt… lots of it. It was caked into his skin as he looked down at himself, it looked like he went through a mud slide. His fingers were a deep earth colour and he couldn’t tell where the blood started and the dirt stopped. He could feel the dried cracked mud covering his face. It made him think about how anyone could stand those mud masks if they made your skin feel this tight and dry.

Despite the confusion, Eddie recognized where he was. He was in the trailer park, or what used to be the trailer park. It was the same plot of land where he had lived for years. The street signs confirmed this, but there were houses instead of trailers.

As he looked around, he noticed that the tree to the west, which had always been a familiar sight, had aged considerably. Its branches were bent and twisted, and its leaves had turned a dull brown colour.

Eddie couldn't help but wonder how much time had passed since he had last been in this place. He felt uneasy, unsure of what to do next. What he did know was that he needed to get his wounds patched up, take a shower, and get some food. There was no way he was going to a hospital, so he tried his luck, and the house's back door, where his uncle's trailer use to be, was unlocked.

Eddie had no clue what time it was or what day. So he risked walking into the house, look around for any signs of life and decided to enter.

As he felt a parching thirst, he walked towards the refrigerator and opened it. Inside, he saw a clear and chilled water bottle that caught his eye and immediately reached for it. He twisted the cap open and took a few big gulps, feeling the water quench his thirst and refresh his body.

As he drank the water, his eyes wandered inside the fridge, and he spotted a shiny red apple lying on the shelf. He decided to take it, as he felt a sudden pang of hunger and knew that he needed some nutrients to boost his energy levels, not really having any since Chrissy's death a few weeks ago. It was a miracle, he didn’t starve to death let alone escape the Upsidedown.

He reached for the apple and turned it around in his hand, not bothering to wash it before he took a bite, feeling the crunch of the juicy flesh and the sweet taste of the fruit. After he ravaged the apple, Eddie spotted some packed cold cuts and some cheese. He swiped those and made his way to try and find a bathroom.

Eddie didn't have much luck on the first floor as he wandered your house, so he walked up the stairs and saw your bedroom door open. Before he could look elsewhere, he heard running water being shut off and a light hum coming from what he could only assume was the bathroom. So Eddie panicked and jumped into your closet to hide.

After a few more minutes of terrified screaming, as you stood there in nothing but your bath towel, you threatened to call the police.

"Please, no, I'm not going to hurt you, I swear! I'm innocent!"

"Innocent! You broke into my home."

"I'm sorry I was so hungry, and you have no idea the month I have had." He got up, and you flinched, stepping back and gripping your towel tighter.

As the man stood, you noticed he was limping; he had dried blood smeared on his clothes and face. He looked to be in a lot of pain.

Against your better judgment, you felt sorry for him. He looked scared and helpless, not to mention dressed peculiarly. He had a bandana wrapped around his head, covering his long hair. Guys don't have that kind of long of hair nowadays. He also wore a bulky green vest over a leather jacket—odd for the summer months? and his shoes, they were vintage.

"I should call you an ambulance or something." You mumble as you try to cover as much of your body as you can.

"No!"

He screamed, and you flinched again. You looked over to your dresser where your phone was sitting, wondering if you could get to it before this psycho kills you.

"I'm sorry, but no, no hospitals." He shakes his head; he looks like he might cry.

"But you're hurt!" you protest. Why? You don't know. You have an extreme empathy meter, and now you hate yourself for it.

"What day is it?" He changes the subject.

"Friday"

"No I mean… last I remember it was March?."

"It’s May 17th, 2024," you reiterate.

"Excuse me? I think I have dirt still in my ears. You said what now?" He chuckles uncomfortably.

"It's May."

"No, I heard that; what year is it?" He asks with a hard tone.

"Two-thousand-and-twenty-four," you sound out each syllable like it was an idiot.

"Jesus H Christ," He whispers as his doe eyes get even bigger than you thought possible.

You didn't know what to do, this guy clearly needed help and maybe a psych evaluation, but you wanted to help him. If he had wanted to murder you he would have done so already.

"What is your name?" You bravely ask.

"Eddie... uh.... Munson"

"WHAT" you scream, almost dropping your towel in shock.

"What? What's wrong? I'm innocent; I swear I didn't hurt that girl!"

"No, I know that! I know that name... But Eddie Munson died in the eighties?"

"Hate to break it to you, sweetheart, but I am, in fact, Eddie Munson and very much alive... unfortunately."

"What year were you born?" Maybe this was a coincidence? Maybe, there could be two Eddie Munsons from Hawkins, Indiana, who your father never shut the fuck up about.

"1965" He answered confidently.

"You sure about that?" you question."

"You want me to go back in time to get my birth certificate?" He still can't believe he is in the year 2024, but then again he just went through a lot of stuff he still cant wrap his head around.

"No, no, it’s just you’re very young for a 59-year-old," You giggle.

"I’m not crazy!"

He looked kinda crazy

"Ok, ok, I’m sorry." Why were you apologizing?

"What year were you born?" he asks.

"1995"

"Woah." He walks over and plops himself on your vanity chair. This was too much. Eddie wanted to go home—to be clean, eat, and be with his uncle. Now, he was stuck in another dimension. The future?

You stood there and watched as the wheels in Eddie's head started to turn.

"Listen... I uh- fuck I'm absolutely insane," You mumbled to yourself. "I will let you use my shower... and I'll give you some clean clothes. I'll give you my phone to call whoever, okay?" That would be you and him sometime.

"Thank you." He signed. His shoulder dropped and he genuinely looked relieved.

You walked to your closet to get him a fresh towel and showed him to the bathroom. You also grabbed a fresh toothbrush for him. Who knows the last time he had access to a bathroom? As he stripped, you saw a very familiar, albeit ripped, logo plastered on his chest under the layers of grime.

You had to confirm with your dad what this Eddie Munson looked like. You felt like you were going crazy.

When Eddie was in the shower, you finally changed into clothes and immediately called your dad.

"Hey, Honey, what's going on?" He sounds like he was just waking up.

"I need your help!" you half scream in a whispered tone.

"Are you hurt has happened?" Your dad piped out of bed frantically.

"No, I'm okay, I need you to come here as soon as possible, its an emergency"

"Ok im coming. Do you need me to stay on the phone?"

"No, but I need you to get here as soon as possible." You bite your nail out of habit.

"Ok, ok, you're freaking me out-" You hear the jingle of keys and your mom yelling in the background "-you promise you're okay?"

"Yes, just please get here. Now," You hang up and collect Eddie's clothes and throw them into the washing machine.

Once you hang up with your dad, you call in sick to work because there is no way you're going in now. This had to be some weird fever dream. The wheels in your head were turning, and you saw Eddie emerge from the bathroom, cleaned up and no longer dark brown from being caked in blood and dirt.

Your eyes widen as you fully take in the man standing in your house. You finally recognized him; you had seen his picture plenty of times before.

"What? What is wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost?" He half smiles, and your heart swells. You can't believe what's happening, but you have to play it cool.

"Do-uh, do you need any help with uh-" You motioned to his middle; there was a nasty gash on his side; it looked irritated and swollen.

"Um, yeah, if you have any alcohol or something to clean it?"

"Ok, I should, um, you can go to my room; I left you some sweatpants that should fit and a t-shirt." You pass by him back into the bathroom to find your first aid kit.

"Uh, so I don't know if this is expired or not; let me just google how long rubbing alcohol can be opened for." you smile, picking up your phone and not giving it a second thought.

"What a Goolgle?"

This made you chuckle.

"An internet web browser," you smile, typing away.

“What’s that?” he points to your cell phone.

"A cellphone?" Maybe he was telling the truth about being from 1986?

"That’s not a cell phone." He scoffs.

"Yes it is" you giggle.

"You can call people from that thing?"

"And go online, FaceTime; it holds music, takes pictures, text, it has a flashlight, it even has a calculator." you wink.

"Face what?"

"Oh, uh. Video call… "

"Woah," Eddie was shocked.

"It can do a bunch of other stuff, but uh, let's stick to researching the life of opened-up rubbing alcohol, shall we?"

You find out that it should be safe to use, dab it on a cotton ball, and gently pat Eddie's wound, and he winces at the sting.

After a few minutes of silent concentration, you stand up with a satisfied smile.

"That should do it. Can I get you anything to eat or drink?" you motion for him to follow you, and he does as he pulls the only band shirt over his wet mop.

"Uh yeah, anything. I'll take anything." Eddie was still famished.

You get some eggs, bread, and bacon, a quick and hearty meal for him.

As the sizzle of the bacon fills the room, Eddie's stomach growls.

"It will be done soon" You smile from over your shoulder.

"Hey, um you never told me your name..."

"Oh, everyone calls me Birdie... Kinda named after my aunt." you smile.

"Nice to meet you, Birdie." He smiles, and your heart flutters a little.

Stop it right now. You scold yourself internally. What the fuck was wrong with you?

You shake off your thoughts about how attracted you are by the weird stranger sitting at your kitchen table and serve him his breakfast.

Eddie doesn't say much as he wolfs down the home-cooked meal.

"Oh god, this is so good," he moans just as you head a pounding at the door. Eddie freezes like a deer caught in headlights.

"It's not the cops, I promise." You reassure him, resting your hand on his forearm.

Before you can stand up, your dad unlocks your front door, running inside with your mom right on his tail.

"Birdie, honey!" He yells out.

"In the kitchen, Dad!"

"Dad?" Eddie looks to you.

You can no longer hold back your smile, and your dad comes running into the room, running to you, pulling you into a tight death grip of a hug, making sure you are, in fact, okay.

You lock eyes with the man sitting at your table. As your dad turns to see the not-so-stranger sitting at his daughter's kitchen table.

"Holly shit Eddie?!”

"Henderson?!"

"I'm calling Uncle Steve."

#eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x g!n reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson prompt #strangerprompts #Eddie Munson blurb #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson

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whore4abby · 5 months

Note

ooo i always have so many ideas but then my mind just goes blank lol

maybe abby and the reader are at a family dinner at either abby or the readers like aunts house idk and they sneak off to a bathroom/somewhere more private to make out all messy but then the reader stops abby before anything else happens to tease her and get her all worked up??

sorry if that’s horrible 😭

-🎀

home for the holidays; abby anderson

i literally had so much fun with this aaaaaaa thank u so much for this request <3

warnings; smut - dry humping, pussy slapping, fingering, abby covering readers mouth, reader sucking abby’s fingers

wc; 1.8k…..i got very carried away hehe

you’ve always loved spending christmas with abby’s family you always have such a fun time even if it was a little hectic and frenzied at times. most of the afternoon was spent making small talk with the rest of abby’s family which abby herself was in the kitchen helping her dad make dinner.

you hung out with her siblings for a little while and played all of abby’s little nieces and nephews until you got a little disinterested and all you wanted was to just see your girl again.

you wander into the kitchen and see her stood at the island preparing ingredients for dinner. abby is doing her best to keep calm as she slices vegetables but you can tell she’s getting a little agitated with being around so many people in such a small space. you notice her hand gripping the knife harshly, freckled knuckles turning white and her jaw tightly clenched.

she’s so focused on chopping up the vegetables that she doesn’t hear you behind her.she suddenly feels a pair of warm hands on her shoulders. she nearly jumps out of her skin when she feels your touch, and she slowly turns around to face you, suddenly feeling more at ease at close proximity. "hi, my love..."

she leans into you for some much-needed comfort, leaning her head against your shoulder and you feel tension in her body beginning to dissipate. you can feel her breathing slowly becoming more even and regular as she relaxes against you.

the last couple days have been spent over at her dad’s house have been hectic and busy to say the least, leaving you little to no alone time with abby. she's been craving some time alone with you for fucking days, but the constant hustle and bustle of the house makes it difficult to fulfil.

all she wants is to have a moment where it's just the two of you, where you can spend some quality time together and not being able to do so us causing her to become more frustrated as the hours pass by.

she glances around and notices how busy the kitchen is, realising it would be pretty easy for the two of you to sneak away without anybody noticing. she’s suddenly pulling at your sleeve and ushering you through the house and up the staircase.

before you reach and empty room she’s pushing you up against the wall so hard the picture frames hung above your head rattle and clang against the drywall. you’re paranoid of somebody catching you and you swiftly pull her into the nearest empty guest room.

before you know it you’re pinned under her as she straddles you, her thick thighs pinning you down either side of your waist. abby chuckles as she struggles to take her shirt off due to the sheer excitement of finally getting her hands in you. you’re already a giggling mess as you reach up to help her pull her shirt up and over her head, sending it tumbling to the hardwood floor.

her hands start to slip up under your sweater as she desperately tugs it off your body before she starts to roughly grope your tits over your lacy bra. she gives a soft smirk and without warning, she leans down pressing her lips lovingly against yours as her hips grind against you. you pull apart for a second, looking up into her eyes with a needy gaze. “please, abs….been too long.”

“i know baby…i know.” she reassures you, glancing down at your lips before leaning close again. her mouth hungrily meeting yours, tongues swirling against each others, causing her to let out a soft groan.

her body is pressed tightly against yours as she continues to grind her hips against you. "i've missed this so much." she whispers, her voice a raspy murmur as her lips glide over your throat.

she wedges one of her thighs in between yours, her knee pressing into your cunt over your pants. your body practically goes lax as you finally get some stimulation exactly where you need it. “fuck. feels so good, abby~”

she continues to kiss you messily and grind against you, her breath becoming more shallow as she starts to lose herself in the moment. "mhm.. that's right~" she smirks, that familiar cocky look on her face as she sees how much you’re loving this.

abby's breathing becomes more shallow as she continues to rock her body against you with a bit more intensity, her teeth biting down on her bottom lip to stifle her voice as she lets out a deeper, more primal moan that makes your pussy clench around nothing whilst her knee bumps into your clit over and over.

just as the two of you start to get into a steady rhythm, you’re interrupted once again by someone calling out for the two of you from downstairs to tell you dinner is ready.

“every fucking time.” she curses under her breath as once again your alone time has been interrupted and she’s forced to pull away from you. her chest still heaving as she sits on the edge of the bed, grumbling to herself as she throws her shirt back over her head begrudgingly.

you lean up on your elbows, watching her as she practically sulks like a little child. “why does this keep happening?” you whine and throw yourself back on the bed dramatically. a second later you’re being pulled off of the bed by your forearms and your shirt is being slung over your head by abby.

you desperately hope no one will notice you slightly disheveled clothes and hair or your lip gloss that’s now sloppily smeared around your mouth. you giggle as abby reaches out to wipe the gloss away, ‘innocently’ opening up your mouth slightly and letting her thumb slip into the warmth of your mouth before she quickly retracts it. she grits her teeth and grips your jaw with her strong hand, “don’t be a fucking tease.” she mumbles sternly, pressing a long, hard kiss straight onto your lips before pulling away and dragging you out of the room and back downstairs.

hours later, everyone has gone to bed in their respective rooms for the night after all watching a movie together which finally leaves you and abby alone for the night.

she's laying on the sofa with you resting in between her legs. she watches as the next movie of the channel starts to play, but you can tell she's not really paying attention to it as her fingers run up and down your thighs teasingly, inching closer and closer to the edge of your panties each second.

she slowly starts to hike up the edge of your nightdress further exposing your thighs to cool air. she stops her teasing and eventually pulls the nightdress up over your hips so she can see the mess you’ve made in your panties. there’s already a wet patch right in the center of your pretty panties and she can’t help but run her finger over it lightly, seeing how you react.

your breath hitches in your throat and you look back over your shoulder at her wordlessly begging her to carry on. she smiles and pressing a kiss to your cheek before she pushes your panties to the side to get a glimpse of your pussy that she’s been desperate to get her hands on for the last four days.

“missed this fucking pussy so much.” she growls as she slaps your pussy sending a jolt of pleasure through your body and you whine out her name. she chuckles cruelly and slaps at your swollen clit again, harder this time whine has you loudly moaning out her name, causing her to cover your mouth with her giant hand, “shut up. be a good girl and shut up for me, yeah?”

you nod obediently and she starts to rub doting circles over your clit, snaking her other hand round to pinch at your nipples through the soft cotton of your nightdress. you’re trying you absolute best to stay quiet but you can’t help the squeaks that leave your lips, pathetic noises slipping through her hands attempt to muffle you. “shut the fuck up or i’m not letting you cum.”

your eyebrows furrow as you try your best to stay silent. her fingers move from your clit down to your weeping hole and she dips her fingers into your folds, inhaling sharply as she feels how wet you are. “god baby, bet you could take three fingers right now. you’re so fucking wet~” she slips her middle and ring finger inside, pumping them slowly as the pads of her digits bump into that spongy spot inside.

your back starts to arch into her and you attempt to pry her hand from your mouth, desperately wanting to kiss her and feel her tongue against yours. she doesn’t even have to speak as the look in her eyes says it all - she’s obviously serious about not letting you cum if you make even the tiniest of noises - she reluctantly pulls her hand away and your arm is quickly wrapping around her neck and pulling her down towards you. the both of your mouth meet in a rough kiss, tongues and teeth clashing together messily.

she adds a third finger and you have to bite down hard on your bottom lip to keep yourself from moaning as she stretches your tight hole out with her thick fingers. they’re pumping in and out of you at an eye-rolling pace, completely coated in your slick and glistening in the low light emanating from the christmas tree in the corner of the dim room.

abby notices how hard you’re biting down on your bottom lip and offers you the fingers of her free hand instead. she’s nudging your chin up towards her and before you can even reply your mouth is stuffed full of her fingers exactly how your pussy is.

she’s fucked you so dumb you don’t even think twice before your sucking her fingers into your mouth, moaning around them as she plunges her fingers in and out of your dripping hole pushing you closer and closer to the edge each time. “that’s a good girl, cum for me baby~” abby murmurs, kissing up and down the shell of your ear as she keeps up the pace of her fingers.

the base of her wrist smashing against you clit with every stroke has you literally drooling all over her fingers as your pussy clenches and squelches around her fingers obscenely. your head falls back against her chest and you’re whining and gasping as you cum all over her fingers, syrupy slick gushing out of your abused hole.

abby’s fingers eventually slow down and she slips them out of you, but not without you whining in protest at the empty feeling your experiencing without her fingers stretching you and keeping your pussy stuffed to the brim. “shh…shh, it’s okay. you did such a good job baby, i’m so proud of my girl~”

#*ੈ✩‧₊˚ ⋆.ೃ࿔myfics⌨️#⋆｡˚ ੈ✩‧₊˚requests🫙#abby x fem!reader #abby anderson x female reader #abby anderson smut #abby anderson x fem reader #abby anderson x reader #abby tlou #tlou abby #abby x you #abby the last of us #abby x reader

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kenananamin · 6 months

Note

I saw a TikTok of a mom cleaning her daughters room while she slept and I think Nanami would do that with his messy partner. 😭 ❤️

damn, you’re so right anon 😚👌🏼 he would absolutely do that for and with his messy partner and would talk about his whole day and let you rant about literally anything. so with that…

Here are my hcs of Nanami with his partner after the kids go to bed and the next morning

it gets a little suggestive in there but overall fluffy lol

he will go to you for a hug and kiss right after closing the kid’s door. they don’t always lead to something else or get too spicy but its part of the routine now. even on the bad and/or tiring days, he’ll meet you in the hallway for a quick peck and hug that’s got you both happily sighing

he’ll use the time after that to go around the house looking for any dishes the kids may have hidden or just dropped somewhere as you get the dry clothes from the dryer

he’ll pop everything in the dishwasher (yes, he’s a dishwasher user now bc kids go through dishes like it’s their job and they have overtime to do) and meets you on the couch to fold the clothes

sometimes you’ll both talk about the parts of your day that he didn’t see and he’ll do the same, other times you’ll listen to music or a podcast, and other times you’ll watch some brainrotting television

once you both know the kids are definitely asleep and not faking it, you’ll sneak back into the rooms to organize what the kids couldn’t. of course, you both tell the kids to clean but they’re young and don’t always fix everything where it should be (and you’re both a little OCD so you have to fix it behind your children’s back to avoid hurting their feelings)

laughs whenever a toy or thing clanks too loud and your immediate reaction is turn around with your mouth and eyes wide open, panicking if that woke up the sleeping child

gives the kids another kiss before leaving their room and sometimes snuggles with them while they’re sleeping. they’re growing up and don’t want to be hugged all the time and nanami misses when they’d crawl all over him and beg to be carried

will make you a nighttime tea as you put the clothes away and meets you in your room to get ready for bed

will set the bed while you shower and will quickly shower while you do your skincare

gets out of the shower and grabs the hairdryer to dry both his and your hair

you sit him down on your vanity stool and do his skincare while he holds your hips and he uses that time to just look at you. ✨lovingly✨ of course, mucho mucho amor 🥹

pretends to look away while you switch your robe for your pjs. well “pjs” — nanami likes buying silky or lighter pajama sets and he uses the pants while you use the top which is usually always a soft button down or oversized shirt

you pretend to know he’s not looking but give a lil extra while you change bc it’s fun to see him twitch a bit and clear his throat

makes sure the door is locked before… mommy and daddy time 😃👍🏼 does not want to traumatize his kids or have the talk too early on

PRAISES YOU — i will die on this hill but nanami loves praising you. whether it’s your thing or not, he does it from the bottom of his heart bc he loves you and appreciates every single thing you do for him and the kids

…if it is your thing… he likes watching you twitch and squirm 🤭🤭

he’s a giver, what else can i say 🤷🏻‍♀️

unlocks the door afterwards bc emergencies can happen at anytime and wants easy access to the kids and for the kids

will check in with you about 3 different times to see if it’s too cold or hot in the room

will tuck you in on one side then will hug you from the other

if it’s not a snuggling kind of night, he’ll sleep close to you and on his stomach with one arm wrapped above his head or arm stretched out to scratch your head as he drifts off. if he can’t touch your head or hair then his hand is either on your back or stomach as you sleep. always some kind of contact

he’s a light sleeper and wakes up often so he’ll check on the kids once a night then will return to you in bed. once he comes back then it’s a guaranteed snuggle, you feel him and lean into him

wakes up first and early either from the alarm on weekdays or naturally on weekends and goes to wake the kids and make sure they’re out of bed and in restroom/living room/kitchen anywhere but close to a bed where they can lie back down and sleep then be late for school

goes back to the room to wake you up so softly and gently whispers a variation of a soft ‘good morning darling’, ‘it’s time to get up’, ‘you look beautiful’ etc etc

likes brushing his teeth w you. he likes the visual of you both standing next to each other, both with crazy bed head, winkled pajamas and the kids running in to say good morning as your toothbrush hangs between your teeth to hug the kids. so domestic, so simple, and so incredibly cozy

you both get the kid’s clothes out and help in washing their faces, brushing teeth and getting their hair done

you both go back to your room to change for the day. sometimes it’s quick if the kids are still eating breakfast, but if they’re playing or just watching tv…. nanami locks the door again

kisses. lots and lots of kisses. short and quick or long and slow, you both love kisses

OVERALL, nanami just loves and lives for domestic bliss. it’s all he wants, he doesn’t want a crazy life with so many hectic and crazy parts (the kids are hectic enough for now at such a young age but he’s def looking forward to retirement). he wants simple, happy, and completely fulfilling domestic bliss 🖤

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recreationalfanfics · 10 months

Text

Yandere Adventurer NSFW Headcanons

*You are responsible for your own media consumption*

Mentions of: Dumbification, intimate dreams, bongage, choking, praise and degradation, dry humping, use of the word "slut", masturbating

General:

- First thing to note about Jesse: he is panromantic, meaning he adored his darling for how and who they are. Does he have sexual urges? Yes and those sexual fantasies of his darling develop as he descends into his obsession. Does that mean he feels like he NEEDS to have sex with his darling? Absolutely not. Give him a fleshlight and his darling's undergarments and he's good to go. Would he want to have sex with them? Yes but if they ain't into it, they ain't into it, but that's fine because he just wants to spend every waking minute being with them.

- Jesse is definetly a switch. Yes, he'd love to use his whip to tie your hands above the bed and watch you squirm underneath him in pleasure but he also would love the idea of waking up to see you straddling him and looking down at him with hungry eyes.

- LITERALLY DOESN'T CARE IF YOUR EXPERIENCED OR NOT, HE IS COOL EITHER WAY. If you're inexperienced then he'll try be as gentle as possible, softly guiding you through it and showing where to touch and helping you. Will absolutely stop in the middle of sex if you have any concerns and it's amazing how goes from seductive to listening to you so patiently and smiling softly at you as you speak on your concerns and he tries to reassure you as best as he can or tweak his whole approach and once you're all good, he goes back to being seductive.

- If you're pretty well experienced, he is absolutely excited to see it for himself. Would love to be beneath you even when he's the one domming/topping because he wants to see if he can make you experience an orgasm like you've never felt before or touch you in ways you've never been touched if you let him.

- Jesse would feel an extreme amount of guilt at first. He wakes up in a coldsweat in his tent in the jungle because he had an erotic dream about the two of you and he just pants softly before he rubs his face and tries to shake it out of his head.

"C'mon, Jesse, the hell's wrong with ya?"

- He knows he has feelings for you at this point, he just isn't yet aware of how dark they are. In the beginning, he'd try to wake himself up as fast as he could when he had those dreams but the deeper he becomes obsessed, the more he allows himself to indulge in them.

- You wouldn't know about this either, since he's very good at treating you same as ever. He might be easily flustered around you a lot more but he plays it off as just lack of sleep from researching and adventuring and thats why he's so weird and out of it. But then you look away and he just stares intently at your ass and shakes his head and goes back to what he was doing.

- If you happen to leave an article of clothing or something in the archives of the university you both work at, like a scarf or a jacket or anything else then it is his now. First he would put them over his pillow and cuddle it and pretend it was you but then one night he had one of his damn dreams again and well, he felt absolutely pathetic as he used it to try and get rid of his boner. When he returns it after it loses your scent, he makes up something like that it was in the lost-in-found but really dirty so he took it home and cleaned it. His heart soars when you smiled and thank him but frowns when you ask: "Jesse, you're honestly the most amazing friend anyone can ask for!"

"Aw, shucks, darlin'...That's-...That's real sweet of ya."

- WHEN YOU TWO FINALLY GET TOGETHER, IF YOU WANT TO EXCITE HIM: use the keys you have to get into his house and wait for him nude. He'll come home, tired and exaughster but when he walks in the bedroom and sees you there with your legs spread nice and open for him. He just smiles like a doofus and is quick to strip and jump in bed with you.

Kinks:

Dry Humping: God he will absolutely hump his hips against his bed or his pillow when he thinks or dreams of you. In general, he'd love how sensual and exciting dry humping is. Like, you'll he bent over one of the tables in your shared work spot and you moan softly and desperately as he grinds his hips against you from behind, or maybe you'll wrap your arms around him and grind against his thigh and palm at the bulge in his pants and he'll squeeze your ass through whatever bottoms your wearing. It's like heaven honestly when he looks down at you and your looking up at him, your eyes dreamy and half-lidded but when he hears footsteps of the annoying headmaster, the both of you are talking about the history of some civilization and once he leaves, you and Jesse look at each other and smile. But yeah, you wouldn't even have to be naked for Jesse to want to bend you over the table, just let him hump you from behind and massage your chest as he leaves hickies on your neck.

Fingering: God please just let him shove his fingers in your hole and give you the most pleasure you've ever experienced. His hands are big and calloused from his adventures and sometimes you catch yourself noticing the veins on them. They'll feel so good as he uses them to squeeze your thighs and they'll feel even better once they're inside you. If AFAB, PLEASE LET HIM FINGER YOU IN THE MIRROR. Lean against his chest and moan and beg as his fingers explore inside of you and fuck you so good that you'll keep a hand on his wrist to let him know that he's not done yet. Let him see himself touching that sweet pussy of yours and how he leaves you so nice and wet. If AMAB, him jerk you off and if you'll let him, stretch out your ass. Just him gently whispering about how good his darling is doing for him as he pumps your cock with his hand and praise you for taking his two fingers so well and being so good for your sultry moans and whimpers.

Brat taming: Yandere Adventurer has the whip and the "fuck around and find out attitude". Jesse is a sweet man but even he has his limits, especially if it's his darling trying to tease him sexually or being a little difficult. When he finally gets his hands on you, he will make you absolutely cry as he somewhat mocks you.

"Aw, whats wrong, poor baby? Don't worry, after ya learned your lesson, Jesse'll take care of you real good. Just hold on a lil' longer~"

Pegging: LOOK, IF YOU WANT TO BEND HIM OVER AND TIE HIS HANDS BEHIND HIS BACK WITH HIS OWN WHIP AND RAIL HIM WITH A GIANT STRAP ON, HE WON'T STOP YOU. If you want to grab his lil pony tail and pull it back so you can hear him beg and yell like a whore in his southern drawl, he is down for that. If you want him to get on his knees and suck on your strap on and then grab his hair and face fuck him with it for the fun of it, HE HAS NO COMPLAINTS. But like, only if you want to tho-

Anything that has to do with you sitting on his face: Please let him eat you out. When you're stressed, sometimes he just thinks that maybe you'd be a little less stressed if you just sat on his face and let his tongue take away all the stress from your pretty little head. If you're worried about hitting him, he will reminded you he got trapped in an elephant stampede and survived somehow.

"...A-Are you comparing me to an ELEPHANT?"

"WHA- NAH, I'M JUST- That definely ain't what I meant! See? This is why ya gotta sit on my face so I don't say dumb shit like that-"

".... Have a good day, Jesse-"

"DARLIN', I JUST MEANT TO SAY YA DON'T GOTTA BE AFRAID OF ME GETTIN' HURT!"

Manhandling: Look, he grew up in a farm in the south so he absolutely is able to to toss, choke, and hold you down but since it helped him realize his own strength, he knows how gentle he's gotta be with you too. But yeah him just holding your wrists above your head as he pins you against the wall and his other arm wrapped around your waist so he can fuck you. Or like, 69 you but HE'S STANDING UP. So if you're sucking him off but slowing down, he can grab the back of your hair and bob your head for you as he does his part to make you feel good.

- Bondage: Loves the idea of tying you up and being tied up himself. HE'D BE SO DOWN FOR SUSPENSION but understands if you don't want to do it, but let him tie your hands together and tie your legs apart. Another thing is that he's escaped ropes before so when you tie him up and he acts all whiny and helpless as you tease him, just know that he's actually enjoying it. Also, about those dreams he's had, he's definetly had one where he got stuck in a bunch of tree vines and was suspended from the ground but was exactly crotch level to your face and instead of getting him down, you sucked him off. He walked into a wall the next day and when you asked about his black eye, he tells you that it was a hitman-

- Choking: It goes without saying that Jesse won't try to hurt you, since, after all, he's fucking you so YOU feel good but he does like it when he leaves bruises on your neck from his hands or small indents if his nails and he licks over them when you're both in the bathtub and he's cleaning you up. If you choke him out? Instantly nutting and he's absolutely shameless about it.

Praise/Degradation: If want to be praised, he's got you! He praises you all time in non sexual ways but moments when you're sitting on his lap and he's planning for his latest trip that he decides to be mean and whisper sweet nothings and seductive praise. For degradation, he's a bit hesitant and would want to talk about it since he doesn't think people who love each other should say things like that to each other but if you're into it, watch him slowly enjoy calling you his cockdumb slut. He also likes praise himself, no matter whose being more submissive that session, but if you want to degrade him, he'll hesitantly allow it but the longer he's with you, please call him a manwhore. A pervert who instantly opens his lega for you and only you. Be smug that you got the most amazing and impressive historian underneath you and his eyes are rolled back as you call him some mean names that don't cross over the line TOO much. Whether you're being mean or being nice, he loves it, but he comes to find out that you being a bit mean to him hits different.

- Overstimulation: THIS MAN HAS SO MUCH STAMINA IT IS INSANE. NO TOY CAN OUTDO OR MAKE YOU FEEL HALF AS GOOD FOR AS HALF AS LONG AS HE CAN. Cry as he fucks you through your orgasm, go numb with pleasure as his mouth licks and sucks whatever it can reach, and whimper timidly when you feel his calloused hands grab you and pull you into him because he promises this is the last tine and he'll be done. Alternatively, OVERSTIMULATE HIM. Put him to the test by using so many toys and vibrators on him while having him eat you out or such or bitting into him. Watch as that happy little smile turns into a lip bite as you make him orgasm for the 6th time that night and how he'll hasp in surprise as you get ready to make it 7.

- Dumbification: He loves watching you turn into a babbling mess. He loves having intelligent conversations with you but he also discovered that he loves it when you talk absolute nonsense because his cock is pounding you so good. He will get dumb with you two and soon you both are just two bodies pressed each other mindlessly fucking and he loves it. He loves that all you can do is incoherently beg for him not to stop and that your whines are the only thing that his brain can hear and that the pleasure of his cock being squeezed by you is the only thing he can feel.

#In honour kf my becoming 18 have some smut-#HOPEFULLY THIS ISN'T TOO AWLWARD #yandere oc x reader #male yandere x reader #gender neutral reader #yandere x gn reader #gender neutral nsft #IF IT ISN'T GNC ENOUGH LET ME KNOW IN THE COMMENTS.#oc: Jesse Reeves #yandere adventurer #yandere adventurer x reader #yandere hcs #yandere headcanons #yandere male #male yandere #yandere smut #smut #tw yandere #yandere x reader smut

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tired-biscuit · 1 year

Note

Step-dad bakugo breeding kink part 2.

cw: stepcest, breeding kink, daddy kink, age gap, infidelity // 18+ mdni, fem!reader

part 1

ever since filling you up that drunken night on the couch, bakugou becomes addicted to fucking you completely sober, too.

some may call the first time it happened an unfortunate mishap, perhaps even an accident to some extent, however katsuki is already hooked after a single taste.

and much to his surprise, it seem that you are, too.

it's the way how you offer him the googly eyes not a moment after you step foot out of your bedroom the next morning, that has him thinking that. how hearts are literally lighting up inside your pupils like that damn effect which you've shown him trending on social media a while back, your pretty eyelashes fluttering; driving him batshit crazy every time your gazes meet as he drinks his coffee and eats his breakfast instead of taking the fuck off like the smart man he claims to be.

it's how you bend over as dramatically as you're able whilst rummaging through the fridge then, dressed in the tiniest pyjama shorts he's ever seen a woman wear before turning to smile at him over your shoulder because you just know he's watching. it's all of that.

you're insufferable, you make him want to claw at the walls even if his nails are blunt. and god, you're just so young. so ditzy and vigorous that you make him feel alive again by turning him into a leech for the thrill only young pussy can give to a man like him. i mean, how can he possibly resist slamming you again, when you're right there; throwing yourself at him in the middle of his fancy kitchen?

so he doesn't resist. no, instead, bakugou sighs as if it's a chore to indulge you as he pushes up from his favourite chair that he never allows you to sit on and walks over to where you're standing; still smiling that wretched grin that makes him want to slam his cock down your throat deep enough to wipe it off your lips. he shakes his head as if it's a bother to bend you over the kitchen counter and give you exactly what you're so shamelessly asking him for. he grunts as if it's a burden for him to fuck you stupid and make you cry for your daddy by the end of it.

but that's not what he actually thinks of the entire thing, of course not. no, because weeks pass, and yet he spends them all by continuing to slam you stupid on every single flat surface inside his home - the big, enormous house with plenty of room, and tables, and desks, and sofas, and counters, and beds; all of which he pays for with his sky-high pro hero salary and doesn't mind breaking at all.

and speaking of that, he also doesn't particularly care if you're on birth control or not either - never even asks if you are. the fact that there is a possible risk of him knocking you up is not important, because all that matters is taking you raw over and over again; getting the full experience of just how sickeningly sweet his little girl's cunt can be.

how your walls can squeeze him in a way his wife's can't as he fucks you amongst the stupid plushies in your new bedroom; how your grip turns so fucking tenacious that it feels like you're going to milk him dry whenever you become undone and he has to use those skilled, scar-riddled hands to paw at all of your trembling pieces before assembling you back together. how he gets to leave a mark behind after it - gets to watch his cum leak out of you, as well as the way you frantically squeeze your thighs together to keep it from spilling out of your abused hole every single time.

and fuck, he smirks whenever you do that: panic and try to push him off the moment he pulls out. you're nasty and filthy - letting him pound the shit out of you with zero protection and stuff you full with his cum, sure, but you're also weak; easy for him to manipulate you into letting him do just that, and to tease you about it, too.

especially when you're scared of your own mother coming home to find you like this, when you're so fucking afraid of the possibility of having to explain the mess on your bed sheets to her, because there's never a boy there to cause it in the first place. the only man that's allowed inside the house is your handsome stepdaddy, after all.

and much to your misfortune, he's more of the provocative sort.

#katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugo smut #bakugou smut #bakugo x reader #biscuit drabbles #cw stepcest #bnha smut #mha smut

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mxqdii · 8 months

Note

angst to fluff matt sturniolo but he's stubborn about talking it out with reader so it lasts long to the point where reader gets frustrated yk? maybe this is too specific 😭 also if u do this, do it however!!

did you mean it? - m.s

pairings: matt sturniolo x reader

summary: matt accidentally says "i love you" and just pretends it never happened, leaving the reader sad and conflicted.

warning(s): angst, confession, crying? (idk help 😭)

"this is why i fell in love with you" he says and i freeze

he loves me?

i look at him, blank expression on my face

(which is definitely not how my mind is reacting)

his face turns bright red

"you-" i start but get interrupted

"i didn't mean it like that" he says and i feel my heart drop

"oh, okay.." i say, almost in a whisper

my heart just shattered into a million pieces. matt, my boyfriend, the love of my life, doesn’t mean it like that.

we continue making dinner, the awkward silence filling the room.

suddenly nick and chris come downstairs, and for some reason i'm actually thankful for it.

they start talking to us but my mind is elsewhere, maybe it's my fault. i mean, i didn't say it back fast enough which could've caused matt to second guess, or he just didn't mean it, or-

"y/n you there?" nick says and i snap out of my thoughts

"yeah! yeah im here.." i say with a dry tone and a short smile

i'm too upset to be cheerful right now.

we finish making dinner and finish eating, which is when me and matt decide to watch a movie.

throughout the film, i noticed how matt started acting like nothing happend

i hate it.

i feel like we should at least talk about it, or like.. mention it again?

maybe it wasn't that big of a deal

maybe i should let it go

or maybe, matt is being stubborn.

"matt" i say, abruptly

"yes love?" he says and i feel shivers go down my spine

do i really wanna ruin this? now?

i just am so in my head i cannot leave things like that.

"i- uh.." my words get caught in my throat and i feel like i can't get out what i wanna say

maybe it's for the better.

"i'm gonna go, home- yeah." i say

"oh, okay." he answered

i quickly grab my keys and jacket, saying bye to nick and chris, then giving matt a quick hug and immediately leaving.

fuck fuck fuck, what do i even do.

i get home and feel a sense of lonliness, emptiness fill me.

i can't help but burst into tears

i messed up

i don't know why my mind immediately went to it being my fault, i guess that's just my instinct, matt was actually the one who noticed i always assumed things were my fault, so he would always reassure me thing's weren't.

after that whole situation earlier though, things are different this time.

the thought of matt makes me cry harder.

minutes pass, then hours, and suddenly its been a day.

it's currently 10pm, the last time i heard from matt was yesterday, when i left his house actually..

i've been crying all day just watching TV

i am a mess.

suddenly i get a knock on the door

i wipe my tears, running to the bathroom to make sure my nose and eyes arent red anymore (which thankfully arent)

i look fine, i look like i've been fine.

perfect.

i run back to the door, quickly opening it, knowing i've kept whoever waiting long enough

matt.

i go speechless, like, i literally don't have the words, and even if i did, i'm not sure what i'd say.

"you're a mess" he says, breaking the silence

"i'm not a mess" i exclaim and he looks down with a laugh

"i can tell you've been crying" he adds on, confirming his 'i'm a mess' comment.

fuck, this boy knows me too well.

i open the door wider, gesturing him to come in.

"so.. why are you here.." i ask and he turns around to face me

"because i'm stubborn and you're frustrated." he replies, causing me to look at him in confusion

"i've never lied to you, until last night. i do love you y/n, i should've said it but i just- i couldn't. and then i got scared and tried to ignore it, causing me to be distant. but every second we didn't talk i was thinking about it- i was thinking about you."

all this information is too much for my slow brain to process

"so you- you meant it? you love me?" i repeat and he steps closer to me

"yes y/n, i love you" he states and i smile

he puts his hands on my waist and kisses me

we pull away, still inches away from eachother

"i love you too matt."

TAGLIST:

@strniolo @stargirlv0id @annaisabookworm

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ghouljams · 9 months

Note

Are you fucking kidding me???? Like??? Be real??? I have been asking you to write a fucking executioner!Konig for months and all I get is diddly. But some rando asks for a medieval!cod and you headcanon for everyone BUT Konig????? Don’t ever talk to me again. I hope you date goes bad. Karma is a bitch. I hate you.

- 👹

Where's my call-out post bitch? I'm literally just called you about writing fic for you. What happened to not reading your older siblings writing? Huh???

I'm spraying König with the hose right now, are you happy? Die.

König is a hunter. He likes the quiet of it, the solitude. It's easier to think with a bow or a knife in his hands. And it's simple. Hunting doesn't mean he has to talk to anyone, he sells to the butcher, keeps what he wants. The most talking he has to do is when he goes out to buy bread. Past that there's no reason to say anything to anyone.

Not that anyone wants to talk to him anyway. The deadly hunter, the silent giant, he is feared and respected in equal measure. He lives on the edge of town where he won't get visitors and its enough to make him call himself happy. Whether or not he actually is, is up for debate.

He's hunting when he first sees you. You're by the river, doing your washing against the well worn stones. The quiet birdsong and rustle of leaves accompany your humming. He watches you silently from his hide. The sun hits your cheeks through the leaves of the forest, and you're so beautiful he thinks you might be a nymph or some other spirit of the woods. He doesn't catch anything that day, too preoccupied with his silent vigil.

The next time he sees you is further down the river. He'd been careful to avoid the shallow end of it, not wanting to disturb you or his hunt. It's a wasted thought. You've waded out into the basin of the river, your clothes folded neatly on the shore as you slough off the summer heat and sweat. He watches you longer than he should, longer than is proper. He thinks of you later when he's alone.

He meets you a third time buying bread from the only decent baker in town. He's dropping coin into their waiting hand when you come out from the kitchen with fresh loaves. His mouth goes dry as you catch his eye and smile.

"You're in that house on the edge of the forest, right?" You ask, sweet as can be. He nods. "It must be a long walk here," another nod, "and lonely?" He hesitates, you smile a little wider, "maybe I can make a delivery sometime."

"That would be kind of you," he isn't sure quite how to respond, too worried he'll give himself away if he says too much, or too little.

"Yeah? I figure if you see me more often you won't have to spy on me in the woods." Your smile doesn't falter, König leaves quickly.

#Spec i hope your next bowl sends you to the shadow realm #ghoul speaks #sister tag #👹 anon #the real answer is that König is who i spun off into original fiction #hes a king with a terrible curse and a one sided crush on his maid #könig mw2 #könig x reader #könig x oc #könig call of duty #medieval au

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abbysbunny · 6 months

Note

hiii i was wondering if i could make a fic rec for hazel where hazel and reader go to a party and reader gets hit on by a jock that won’t leave her alone and hazel gets jealous and protective of reader

JEALOUS GIRL

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

plot: some jock won't leave you alone and hazel has to intervene

warnings: men, harassment, also not proof read

word count: 0.6k

notes: this is my first request I literally did 4 backflips when I got the notification, I hope you like it anon!!🫶🏼

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

you had no idea why you were here, you hate parties, they're loud and smell like sweaty teens who are apparently allergic to deodorant. hazel had dragged you here so you could have some fun, the "fun" you were having was sitting on an uncomfortable couch waiting for your girlfriend to be done talking with some old classmate.

you felt the left side of the couch sink, 'oh good hazel's back' you thought, you turned your head and saw some guy on the football team, are you fucking kidding me. he introduced himself and you gave him a nod and a dry hello, he kept and kept talking, 'hey sorry I gotta go now' you gave him a small smile before getting up from the couch just to feel two hands grab your waist and pull you back down. you immediately pushed yourself off of him and backed up.

hazel had been keeping an eye on you from afar making sure nothing like that would happen, when she saw him do that she mumbled a curse under her breath and quickly said goodbye. finally out of the corner of your eye you saw hazel say goodbye and walk back over to you, as she was walking back he was still trying to "talk you up", he put his hand on your thigh and that was hazel's last straw. she ran up to you guys and pulled you up from the couch.

'hey what the fuck dude' the generic looking jock shouted, hazel scoffed and rolled her eyes, 'you know not every girl is at your dispose' she shouted back, she slid her hand around your waist and stared to walk away holding you tight, 'have fun dykes!' he yelled back at her, hazel quickly turned around and walked back up him, punching him square in the nose, you covered your mouth in shock let out a chuckle, hazel hissed in pain and saw her knuckles turn red. when he got back up hazel saw the anger in his face grabbed your hand and sprinted away.

you ran out of the party and quickly unlocked hazel's car and jumped in the front seat, she turned on the car and started driving away, her hair still messed up and still laughing, you looked in the review mirror and saw him behind your car with a bloody nose, you turned to hazel and she still had that rush of adrenaline, 'hazel you punched him!' you tried to hold your laugh. when her laugher died down she put her hand on your thigh, 'hey I hope you know I'll always defend you, even against buff assholes like him' she said keeping her eyes on the road.

when you eventually got to your house she parked in your drive way, you unbuckled your seatbelt and she opened the door to you bowing, you giggled and got out of the car gently closing the door to not wake your parents, at your front door she pulled you into a tight hug. 'I'm gonna miss you soo much' she mumbled into your neck, you chuckled and let her go from your embrace, 'hazel your gonna see me tomorrow at school' she put her hand around your hips and with the other one gently cupped your face with her hands. she kissed you with passion, still holding you tight, your lips stay connected for a couple more seconds before pulling away. you looked into her eyes and just giggled.

'what's so funny?' she questioned with a grin on her face, 'nothing I just love you so much' her gaze softened and stoked your soft cheek with her thumb, 'i love you too'.

#lou and anons(⁠◠⁠‿⁠◕⁠)#hazel callahan x reader #bottoms 2023 #bottoms movie #hazel callahan #hazel callahan oneshot #hazel callahan fanfiction #hazel callahan imagine #hazel x reader #hazel callahan x you #hazel callahan x fem reader

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granolawriting · 8 months

Text

A change in fate ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

pairing: no breakout!Joel x fem reader

Summary: Your toxic ex kicks you out of your place without another word. Only hiring a mover to get your stuff somewhere else. And when Joel finds you in a state of disarray, and stays indifferent, you butt heads until it comes to a head when your paths cross again after that night. That time, much more complicated.

Content warning: age gap, you're 21 and Joel is mid 30s to early 40s. Enemies to lovers.

word count: 4k

A/N: this is the first of a two-part series inspired by an old movie I grew up with. If you can recognize it, I'll like, give you a really big treat. no nsfw this chapter, but the next one will. And as always, let me know if you like my work or if you have any suggestions for anything else I could write :)

Part 2 out now!!: to make you forget

“NO. No. No no no no no no no NO!!!”

Your fist hits solid wood once more. Every slam that pounds upon its impenetrable front leaves a mark on your hand in the shape of bruises and soreness-- you try the door once more. It's locked, as it had been the last ten times you attempted to open it. Desperation laced in the fruitless fervor that played its sound of metal clanking on metal as the knob refused to turn.

The thump on the ground follows a fall of your knees. Defeated, hopeless, in a dress that isn't even yours. Tears stream from your face in such passion you can't even feel them anymore as more of you is wet than it is dry. You imagine you look a mess, hair disheveled as you held it as you screamed at him-- makeup once beautiful and elegant streams down and across your face in the motion your hands chose to wipe away your tears.

A screeching of tires followed by the shutting of a door is what knocks you out of this pathetic display. A man walks over to you and begins to pick up the boxes right beside you, carrying them to the back of his truck that has the title “MOVERS” painted on its side. You clamor to your feet, disorientation doesn't help the heels strapped to your feet as you chase after him;

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going with those? Who the hell are you?”

Rancor coats your tongue as your anger spits out onto him, He stands in the middle of an empty parking lot with only the light emanating from houses and lamps decorating the street are you able to take him in.

He was tall, perhaps 6ft, an older man. Salt and pepper hair covered just above his forehead and a stern face was complimented by equally gruff facial hair of similar color, and a frown that seemed natural for him. He wore an old jacket-- probably made in the same year you were born with plaid linings on its inside to support a Carhartt branded outside. All the clothes upon his body seemed worn, from the stained jeans and a belt fitted so many times it might as well have been made for the exact curve of his body, to the heavy worker's boots with every scratch telling a story beyond your years. He looks at you. Up and down his eyes register curiously the woman that stood before him. He scoffs, and with a low Texan drawl he replies in kind;

“Well princess, looks here like someone was kind enough to get yourself a mover for all them boxes outside the house. ‘Supose you know where i'm to drop em off?”

“They can stay right here.”

It comes out of you not in a literal sense, but you guess a plea of desperation. You can't imagine that this is actually happening. You can't just leave. After all the years you spent with him, all the hours you poured into his care and the best he can do is call up some old guy to take your shit somewhere else?

“Now you know I can't do that. I ain't come all the way down here just for’ nothin. Now, I was hired to move, least you can let me do is my job.”

His palms outstretched to you as he finishes putting the first box in the back of his truck, looking to you with little care for what you’re properly going through, moreso just a plea to let him go home sometime before 1 in the morning.

your breath grows uneven again, you feel something build up in you again as you just refuse to accept this. Turning your back to him, you storm over to another box untouched by him and kick it, screaming and crying and truly just making a mess of yourself as you collapse once again on the curb of the sidewalk. Folding your arms across your knees, and with a head buried deep in your chest you sit there for a moment as you listen to the crunch of his boots against the loose gravel along the pavement trail back and forth past you as each box is stored into the vehicle.

“Still haven't given me an address. Or were ya’ thinkin' of just sitting here and lettin' me take yer’ things?”

Irritation follows his tone as he becomes increasingly impatient about your behavior.

“I don't have anywhere to go.”

“Surely you got someplace. Now get a move on, I'm bout damn tired of all this.”

He drags you up by your upper arms, feeling his calloused hands hold onto the smoothness of your body as he lifts you to your feet. Shocked though, you push him away from you in haste;

“I can get up by myself. Thank you very much.”

You dust yourself off for just a moment before continuing, he looks at you with impatience.

“And I need a ride.”

He stammers a bit as he begins to speak,

“A- fucking,? Damn. alright then. Just get the hell on alright? Sure you wouldn't want em’ having to pay me extra.”

He walks back to his truck as you follow, The two footsteps upon the concrete road are all that can be heard in the neighborhood as your pain slowly wells into your chest, and the outbursts cease.

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

“Now, listen here. We've been drivin' for damn near an hour now, and ain't nothing come of it. Where the hell am I takin you? Or I'm about to leave ya on the side of the damn road. I've got a kid at home.”

“Just take me to the other side of town.”

“Are you fuckin kidding me? Now, I don't know what you've got goin on and I truly, don't want to. But you're real damn selfish ya know that? Makin me drive all over town like this like I'm some goddamn taxi. This place best got some money to pay me for.”

His voice is deep, gruff, and when laced with the anger of a despondent woman who seems as if she has all the time in the world he's not keen to hold back judgment anymore. His hand grips the steering wheel firmly and doesn't look at you for a moment as he speaks to you.

You're taken aback, to say the least. After the pain you've felt, the torment you've faced the only thing to greet you is the unwanted mouth of some old man who doesn't know what he's talking about.

“I'm selfish? You don't know the night I've had. How can you call me selfish? You were hired for a reason so why don't you just do your fucking job okay? As long as you’re getting paid it shouldn't matter a damn to you.”

You shrug your shoulders and cross your arms in his passenger seat, watching him with disdain as he grips the wheel and drives relatively carelessly through the empty streets just to get you out.

After a few minutes more, and by a few you mean around 30, you find yourself in front of a home you’d never think to see again truthfully. As you take in the sight of it, a simple house facing an otherwise unimpactful street, but you held memories of all your years within the confines of these blocks. You were home, after so many years away.

“Get out.”

He says bluntly. The clock shines a bright 1:47 on its dash, signifying that you definitely didn't meet his “before 1” pleas. But damn, could he have been any nicer about it?

You watch as he hops out of the car himself, to the sound of a hard opening of the back that held all your belongings. And as you made your way ever so slowly out of his truck, trying to not fall as the step was coated in the darkness of the night that was no longer politely illuminated by street lights. As you made your way to the concrete below you, rounding his truck was he almost done putting your stuff back out, only on a different curb this time. And without a second to spare, he gets back into his truck, and leaves. Not a word said to you, not even an exchange.

What an asshole.

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

“So you’re telling me, that the man you were with for how many years, kicked you out for what?”

The voice of your childhood friend rang once more through the old walls of the house, in the kitchen where you two sat. this was her family home, one that she now inherited, and one that after many years of silence on your part, she gladly opened up to you as well.

“We were together almost 3 years. And he just, found another girl I guess. But she was in my closet, filled with her clothes. It's as if he’d moved me out overnight. He didn't have a word to say to me, it's like I never even mattered to him. But I've told you this time and time again, what more can I even do at this point?”

She repositions herself with her legs crossing over one another as she looks for a response, taking a sip of coffee before having it dawn on her.

“Today. 3 pm. Uncles holding a barbeque. You remember my uncle right? Everyone will be there. Maybe we could find you a good little rebound to bring you down to earth.”

“Are you- a rebound? Seriously? Is that all you can think of right now?”

“Listen. The only thing you can do with a broken heart is fix it. And that doesn't happen in a day. Least you can do is get something tasty to chase the pain with. Like hot old guys. You’re only 21! This is the prime time to do whatever you want.”

You think for a second. Letting this wash over you as you try and figure out the next thing to do. Do you really doll yourself up after the most traumatic evening of your life is not even 24 hours in your past, just to eye all of your friends older relatives, and family friends that you’ve been ogling at since you were 16?

I mean fuck it, what else are you going to do.

Following your friend up the stairs, she lets out an excited giggle at the prospect of having you back after so many years. There's so many things to tell, different people to see, and subsequently laugh at, but the best of all her skills with a brush have gotten much better since the last time she helped you look good. Much better, apparently for as you looked at yourself in the mirror you could barely recognize the woman looking back at you-- let alone any trace of the girl sat in a torn dress the night before screaming outside her ex’s house.

You put on a pretty yellow dress, adorned with flowers It's hemmed all properly frilled to some level, and the flow of the skirt portion barely getting over your back end does the top also treat you well; a low neck cup to shape your chest perfectly as the daintiness of your outfit, paired with little yellow heels, made you look properly irresistible.

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

“Guess whos backkk!!!”

The excited shrills of your friend beside you make everyone who'd arrived at the party thus far to crane their heads back to look, all of which subsequently smiled with shock as they looked upon you. None of them had seen you since you were 17, about 18 years old. That's when you left, the moment you could. Looking back you missed all of this so much, the community, the story told in every face that looked upon you. But all is lost now and the most you can do is make the best out of the time you have right now-- and as it stands you’re at the center of it all.

They approach you by the droves, asking every question they can that have undoubtedly had rumored answers to in your absence; detailing from where you've been, what you’re doing, where you go to school, where you work, and most hurtful-- how your ex was doing. You briefly told them all that you and him had since parted, and that you were just getting back on track, spending some time at your friend's house in the meantime. They all looked upon you in sympathy, but as more people entered the party the more they dispersed to greet other guests.

“Oh my god, is that who I think it is?”

A low, familiar tone enters the backyard where you stand, and turning around to face you is your friend's father. Who, for most of your life was like a father to you as well. He opens his arms and you follow suit, embracing him in what feels like a much-needed hug, before setting you down again to continue talking to you.

“Oh, honey if, if I'd known you were coming I'd have brought you something. How long has it been since I last saw you? God, you seem so grown up now. It's like I barely even know you.”

His head moves to look behind him for a second, and soon he ushers someone forward to join in the conversation.

“Ah, there's something I'd love for you to meet. This is a good friend of mine, Joel. I haven't had him around any of these much, he just moved back here from Texas a couple weeks back. But he's someone I've known my whole life. Kinda like you and my daughter in a way!”

Though as the man who emerged behind him reared his head, you couldn't believe your eyes. It was him, of course, it was him. That asshole that drove you home like you were the greatest burden he's ever had to carry.

“Yer fuckin kidding me.”

He looks at you in shock. Nothing more. However, you see that to his side is a young girl, no older than 12 who seems to be in awe over you. Her hair was tucked into each side of her face to illuminate it in a crown of curls that came to her shoulder and stretched all the way to her ears in volume. She wore a small shark tooth necklace, and some form of singer on her shirt that you didn't recognize.

He-, Joel, looks down at her;

“Sarah how bout you go say hi to your friends for me. I'm gonna be busy a moment”

She runs off, and your friend's dad begins to speak again.

“Do you, know each other from somewhere? I can't imagine you do.”

“She's that insane little girl I told you ‘bout. The one kickin n’ screaming all over the place. Reason why Sarah hadta’ stay the night at your place.”

“The insane little girl?”

You chime in.

“There's no way- Joel, you’ve probably got the wrong girl”

“No, he has the right one.”

You stare directly at him, sending daggers into each of the brown eyes that look back at you.

“He kicked me out of his car at almost 2 in the morning without a single word. Isn't that right?”

Though no matter how piercing your gaze it fails to impact him as it should, for with equal level tone he snipes back;

“Yep, after makin me drive all the way cross’ town just cause she wanted to. Knowin I got someone waitin’ for me. Clearly, something she don't understand all too much anymore.”

That was unnecessary.

Something brews inside of you as you glance upon his finger void of a ring, even a tan that would indicate its recent removal. Though as the only sane-minded person seemingly left to observe watches your eyes as you make such a connection, he swiftly puts an end to it.

“Now, Joel. you know how young girls are they-”

“I'm not that young.”

“Alright well, they. Are just passionate, that's all. She was with him for how many was it now? Three years? Left the moment she turned of age. Clearly she just doesn't know how a mans supposed to be. This is all she really knows.”

This is all she really knows.

That's all that rang through your head as the conversation died and Joel exchanged brief apology. That in a way, he was all you really knew. And now you’re back home, and you don't know what to do with yourself, really. You don't know what you like, or what you don't like. It was all just, him. For so long. You vowed to yourself that day that, no matter what went on you would say yes to anything. To embrace kind of, anything that came your way as some divine fate, or at the very least a fun experience.

As the night droned on, and you fielded the barrage of squeals, hugs from people you don't remember, and a bit more liquor you could've accounted for, the night came to a slow end. Feeling eyes on you constantly was one thing, but feeling the eyes on the man with who’d you'd had a comfortable reunion was even worse in a way. Although, as you looked upon him in your own moments you saw in him something unveiled after the veil of hatred and sorrow fell off of you. Something, interesting about him. Attractive. Obviously nothing you were going to personally indulge in, but an interesting assertion nonetheless. He stood in the light of the evening, fairy lights covering the backyard as it illuminated his now more time-appropriate outfit; one of marginally better jeans and a plaid shirt, rolled to his elbows to reveal what were impressive forearms, and with the proper fit of his shirt, showed an impressive physique for a single dad.

… … …

Thats stupid. Anyways, the night drew to a close and as you saw your friend too wrapped up in the conversation of someone relatively older than her, you decided to take the few blocks walk home, especially since you didn't have a car anymore either. Though as you exit the front door to travel down the sidewalk you hear a familiar accent call out to you after only a few feet have been made distance between you and the doorframe;

“Ya’ walking home this late at night?”

“Yeah, I am. Not like I've got a car do I?”

You turn your body to look at him, but only after you've finished your sentence, using the body language of someone unequipped for any more stupid banter to cue him into leaving you alone.

“How’s about I drive you home. Least I can do after what I’d said today. It wasent quite my place.”

His voice has an unfamiliar tune of sympathy as he lets out that apology of sorts, so you engage. Though, begrudgingly.

“Don’t you have a daughter to take care of? That seemed what got you so mad before.”

He sighs a little, you notice you've hit a bit of a nerve.

“Well, she’ll be stayin' at a friend's place for a few days, really hit it off. Got nothin but time on my hands now.”

“Well in that case I'm not gonna say no to a free ride. Obviously.”

You smile a bit, a first with him. Other than ones of sarcasm, every interaction you've had with him thus far hasn't been all that pleasant. And he smiles back. And, as the light of the moon shines down upon his weathered face, the smirk on his makes your smile grow even more.

Hopping into his car once more, you take the road to your place with a little more enjoyment than how it transpired the night before. This time, the sound of his music accompanied by a hum through his car is what played to fill the silence of the atmosphere. Something old, country, of course. You’d never heard it, and it sounded well beyond even his years. But despite that, there was a comforting air that was shared in the car-- cool air blowing in from the windows rolled down, watching as his arm held on to the side of the car door from the open window, tapping its side in unison to the beat.

“This here is it right?”

Pulling up to your shared home you felt almost a little reluctant to respond with a yes. Though when you do, he steps out of the car as you do as well. You watch as he awaits your circle to the front where he stood, as a means to walk with you to the front of your door. Looking at him curiously as you reach the entrance, he gives response to your motions, though you watch as his fingers fiddle with one another ever so slightly as he poses such a response;

“It ain’t right leaving a lady to walk all by herself after dropping her off. And, I just wanted to say again that it ain't my place makin assumptions about you like that. Wanted to know if I could make it up to ya’. Kinda seems like lifes dealt you a bad hand right now, thought to offer you a drink over it.”

A drink?

You thought about that for a second. The man that kicked you out of his car, literally less than 24 hours ago, is now offering to take you out for a drink. Well, it was as a means for apology. So that's something. Nothing more to it, it's a Southern thing. They drink to anything. Especially sorrow.

“I think I’ll have to take you up on that. You’ll know where I’ll be.”

You reply with a smile that grows just large enough to show your teeth. He gazed at you for a bit longer, as his eyes grew brighter at the prospect of an invitation accepted. He was a lot less harsh than meets the eye, it seemed. But you still weren't properly convinced. And, there was still much a mystery about him that although intimidated you, enticed you even more. You cock your hip to the side of the doorframe, leaning up against it as he spoke to you as a means to accentuate your figure just a bit as he looked at you. Just to see what would happen.

“Oh, alright then. 7 alright with you? I’ll come pick you up course’.”

“Seven’s more than alright with me. I'll see you then, Joel.”

As you bid farewell to him, you watched as his eyes tracked your movements as you did so. The way your hips have shifted place, the tone at which your voice shifted ever so slightly. He took in your gaze, a small cat eye that sharpened your eyes paired with the sly smile of a woman your age was enough to catch his stare for a moments longer than it should've. You relished in that.

He leaves you off with a nod and a smile, though you take the time that he walks back to his truck as a means to take in all that he was without interruption. He was handsome, to say the least. There was something to be said about a man with southern hospitality and an ass made from manual labor that reached deeper into a realm of attraction that was often untapped by the men of your age range. And you enjoyed greatly that you’d discovered such a thing.

Tomorrow, 7pm, Joel.

#joel #joel miller smut #joel tlou #joel x reader #joel smut #joel fanfic #joel miller #joel miller x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #pedro x reader #pedro pascal #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfic #joel tlou x reader

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jahayla-parker · 3 months

Text

Made For : Finnick Odair x Reader

(Finnick Odair x Victor!Reader / Finnick Odair x Tribute!Reader / Finnick Odair x District4!Reader / Finnick Odair x Gf!Reader / Finnick Odair x fem!reader)

Descr: 5k wc, set to the time of What Was I Made For by Billie Eilish, Y/n finds herself questioning her worth and what she was made for when she finds herself in the same situation as her boyfriend Finnick Odair has been in since he won his games when his body began to be sold or given as gifts to those in the Capitol; Finnick seeks to help her through it. Hurt-Comfort, Angst, Fluff, Support, Healing, Etc.

Warnings: Hunger Games type warnings, mentions of Snow’s sex trafficking of victors (aka rape, but NOTHING explicit, everything post events), violence, trauma, bruising and injuries, crying, self-blame, and related. Please let me know if I missed anything!

I used to float, now I just fall down

I used to know but I'm not sure now

What I was made for

What was I made for?

Takin' a drive, I was an ideal

Looked so alive, turns out I'm not real

Just something you paid for

What was I made for?

Was this all there was? That seemed to be the case lately at least. To be fair, as a former victor, what else was there now? What was she made for outside of this? This had become not just a part of her life but her story, her identity. Was she really made for this? Could she be made for more? Would the Capitol even allow that?

These thoughts were on constant repeat in y/n’s head as she walked back to her house in the victor’s village. This was a routine occurrence as of late. So much so she actually debated if it made more sense to simply move to the Capitol rather than walking to the train and back every time she had a client to attend to. It would certainly save time and energy. But then again, her time was expendable and her energy was practically non existent by now. Besides, the train ride back to District 4 offered her solitude; something she had learned to equate to safety. The solitude that came with the train ride also provided her the chance to zone out, something she often resorted to after the events of the her visits to the Capitol. She also utilized the walk home from the train station as a way to try to compose herself before she returned to her boyfriend. Finnick knew what she was going through, far better than he should, given he was in the same position himself. But, that’s precisely why y/n wanted to make the most of the time they had together by not having to deal with the traumas imposed on them by Snow. She also needed the physical separation from the ever present carelessness and cruelty that was the literal foundation of the Capitol. Lastly, but by far the most important factor in her decision to not simply move to the Capitol, y/n wouldn’t live somewhere where Finnick wasn’t.

I'm sad again, don't tell my boyfriend

It's not what he's made for

What was I made for?

“Oh! Fin,” Y/n gasped, frantically wiping at her damp cheeks. Finnick had left a note saying he had some things to do in town, so she wasn’t expecting him home already. She hadn’t known he would be back from his errands so soon. If she had, she’d not have let herself break down this much.

Finnick frowned as he took in the state of his girlfriend. “Honey, what’s happened?” He asked, quickly making his way over to her. When she mumbled a quiet “nothing” in response, he sighed sympathetically. “Okay,” he nodded, cautiously taking y/n’s hands in his. “You don’t have to say anything honey, just know I’m here for you, okay?” He proposed, squeezing her hands as he scanned her tearful eyes.

“You’re allowed to cry,” Finnick commented lovingly when y/n seemed to whisper an apology before taking her hands back to resume drying her face.

“No,” y/n argued vaguely. She kept her eyes on the wood floor under her feet as she pulled the collar of her shirt up to dry her tears faster. He didn’t need to deal with this.

Finnick’s worried frown deepened. “Why not?”

“Because I should be used to this,” y/n answered, her tone laced with self-deprecating judgment.

Finnick’s chest caved in painfully as he came to understand what was troubling y/n. It wasn’t that he was truly surprised. While she was at the Capitol, he’d gone to the market to try to find some y/f/d for her for when she got home. It wasn’t much, but he was hoping it would help cheer her up slightly since he knew she’d unexpectedly had to leave two days in a row so far this week. He’d also been sure to tidy up and get some extra cozy blankets out of their closet for her. He had intended on being home by the time she got back, but the typical place he went to was out of y/f/d so he’d had tried to search for awhile. If he’d known y/n was already home, he’d have rushed back earlier.

As painful as it was to know what y/n was going through, and knowing he was powerless to stop it, this was almost worse. Finnick hated that she felt she had to become immune to the pain that came with having to attend to clients at the Capitol. She’d never expected him to do that, so why did she think she needed to? Finnick shook his head and took her hands in his once again, “no, you shouldn’t. This isn’t acceptable”.

Y/n mindlessly shrugged her shoulders. “I mean, if you ask Snow,” she commented, having actually done that herself not too long ago. “I.., this is what I was made for,” she concluded with a defeated sad smile.

Finnick felt his anger flare and he clenched his jaw to keep the tension in his face and not his hands that held y/n’s. “That’s such bullshi-”, he began but paused and sighed. His anger wasn’t going to help the situation, especially if there was a chance she might misinterpret it as being directed towards her. “Y/n,” he cooed in a much softer tone, “that’s not true”.

Y/n huffed lightly. She slowly lifted her gaze up from Finnick’s shoes until her eyes reached his troubled face. “Then what was I made for, Fin?” She asked timidly.

Finnick offered y/n a sad smile. He released one of her hands so he could use his now-free one to cup her cheek. “You were made to be you,” he said, his smile warmer now, “that’s all you ever have to be”.

“This is me,” y/n pointed out as she stared into Finnick’s attentive eyes.

Finnick’s brows scrunched together. “No”. He shook his head slowly. “This is something being forced upon you,” he reminded y/n delicately. “This is a chapter of your life, albeit a painful and traumatic one. But, you are not what is, or was, done to you”. When he noticed she was about to argue, he tapped her cheek tenderly. “Do you think this is who I am?” He asked, knowing full well despite them being in the same position, she was seeing herself through a much harsher lens than she would ever dare to see him.

Y/n rapidly shook her head worriedly. Of course that’s not what she meant! Seeing the way Finnick’s eyes and expression communicated the fact he already knew she didn’t see him that way calmed her. She slowly understood why he’d asked that question if he already knew her answer. He was right, it was ironic and hypocritical. But, she could see so many purposes Finnick had outside of this ordeal. The same couldn’t be said about herself.

Finnick silently gasped as he watched y/n close her eyes and begin to break down in tears. “Can I…” he trailed off, wanting to make sure he conveyed the message that it was her choice and he’d understand either way. “A-are you okay with me holding you right now?” Finnick questioned softly.

Finnick smiled faintly to himself when y/n gave him a silent nod in response. He made sure to give her enough time to change her mind if physical contact was understandably too much for her right now as he moved to he pull her to him. “Let it out love,” he encouraged, “you don’t need to keep this bottled up inside”. Finnick carefully let them to the couch, watching her to see if the action would be too triggering for her right now.

Y/n sat in silence in Finnick’s loving embrace for an unknown amount of time. Just listening to his whispered sweet nothings as she let his warm hands release her tension as he delicately rubbed her back. After a moment of contemplation, she leaned back to look up at her steadfast boyfriend. “How do you do it?” She asked quietly.

“What?” Finnick questioned, tilting his head down to see y/n more clearly.

“Live like this,” y/n explained. “I mean! I know you don’t have a choice either!” she corrected, cupping Finnick’s face apologetically. “But,” she sniffled. “You’re so much better at dealing with all of this,” y/n croaked.

Finnick pouted and sighed. That wasn’t something she should be trying to meet. He knew what she was seeking, the ability to get by without feeling the burden of all of this. But it shouldn’t be something anyone should have to seek. Much less something she should be ashamed for not having been able to do yet. “I’ve had a few extra years, honey,” Finnick reminded her solemnly.

Y/n smiled sadly and nodded minimally. “So,” she sniffled, tracing imaginary shapes on Finnick’s shirt. “I’ll get better at it?” She asked, her eyes moving up to meet his.

Finnick let out a long sigh. “I want to say no…” he admitted. “Because you shouldn’t have to. This shouldn’t be something you experience, let alone get used to.” He grit his teeth as he thought about the things he wished he could do to Snow for making y/n have to deal with any of this. “But, yeah…,” Finnick nodded sadly, “time will make it less noticeable. I’ll be here to help you with this too”.

Tears sprung into y/n’s still watery eyes again. She silently clung onto Finnick tightly. She knew her shaky sobs were making his shirt wet and was appreciative that he didn’t seem to be annoyed by it. “You know you don’t have to, right?” Y/n questioned in a hushed voice.

Finnick’s face furrowed slightly as he replayed y/n’s muffled voice, trying to see if “hearing” it a second time would allow him to understand what she’d said. Her face was buried in his chest, her lips pressed against the fabric of his shirt, making whatever she’d tried to say incomprehensible. “What’s that, darling?” Finnick asked tenderly as he brushed some of her hair away from her face.

Y/n slowly pulled herself off of Finnick’s chest in order to repeat herself. She needed him to hear her clearly. It was important that he knew this. “I want you to know that while I do appreciate everything, you don’t have to do all of this,” y/n told him breathily. “I know it’s a lot, and I’m needy, and I-“.

“Shhhh, honey,” Finnick whined, his face contorted with worry.

Y/n smiled faintly at her endearing boyfriend. “No it’s okay,” she promised, “I know I am, but I just…” She swallowed thickly and moved her arms away from Finnick’s torso, up to his face instead. “My worry isn’t about that. My worry is that I want to be sure that you know you don’t have to exert yourself to this extent.” Y/n once again offered him a tiny smile despite the turmoil in her mind. “You’re already going through a lot yourself, you don’t need to take me on as a burden too,” she assured him.

“You’re not a burden, my love,” Finnick argued with a soft shake of his head.

Y/n let out an airy half-laugh. “Regardless, Fin, I’m serious, you’d still be the best boyfriend, and the love of my life, without taking this on too. I need you to know that you don’t need to do this,” she explained fully.

Finnick smiled warmly as he continued to gaze down at y/n. “I do”. He leaned his head into her hand on his jaw. “I do know that, honey”.

“Good,” y/n breathed out in relief. “I don’t ever want to pressure you to do anything, even small, that-“ she began to ramble.

“I know,” Finnick nodded in understanding, his pointer finger trailing down her jaw. “I feel the same, angel,” he pointed out softly. “I want this. I want us. And, I want to be there for you, to lighten this darkness as much as I can for you since I can’t stop it.”

Y/n let out a choppy cry before she dove back into Finnick’s embrace. She held onto him tightly. “I love you so much, sweetheart,” she whimpered against his shoulder as her arms snaked around his back.

“I love you too, honey,” Finnick cooed, his own arms tight around y/n. “I love you too.” He closed his eyes and breathed in her familiarly comforting scent. “We’re going to get through this.”

'Cause I, 'cause I

I don't know how to feel

But I wanna try

I don't know how to feel

But someday I might

Someday I might

Y/n gasped as the bathroom door opened unexpectedly. She’d been staring at her bruises through the mirror for hours. Or so she suspected. She’d dissociated and lost track of time. As such, when the door opened, she had just been standing there alone in her and Finnick’s bathroom in only her bra and panties as she continued to take in her appearance.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Finnick guiltily rushed out, stepping back into the hall and quickly pulling the door shut. “I didn’t know you were home, I’m sorry,” he whispered. His brows were scrunched as he tried to keep his anger at bay over having seen the marks on her body. Whoever her body had been sold to today hadn’t followed the contractual restrictions of not marking her up. The limitation was one of Snow’s rules for the acts one could commit against the victors he sold to the residents of the Capitol. It was not for the protection or sake of the victors themselves, but rather because it decreased their worth until the marks healed; Snow didn’t take discounts, meaning injuries risked a victor being out of commission for some time.

“‘s okay, Fin,” y/n whispered. She wiped the unshed tears from her eyes. She felt bad for the way her gasp made him feel like he was in the wrong for simply opening the door to his own bathroom. But, there was a more prevailing sense of blame that she felt right now regarding what he just experienced because of her. “Sorry, you didn’t need to see that… to see… me… like….” She rambled.

Finnick rested his head on his side of the closed bathroom door. “Honey, no, please don’t apologize,” he frowned. “Are you okay?” It was a stupid question, but he found himself needing to ask it nevertheless.

“Y-yeah,” y/n’s voice trembled through the door.

Finnick winced and pursed his lips. “Y/n,” he whispered knowingly.

“I can’t…. I…” y/n huffed. “It’s just…, I don’t know how to cover them,” she choked out. “Snow’s…. Snow is going to blame me”. Despite being on the other side of the door, her worry was evident in her tone.

Finnick squeezed his eyes shut. She shouldn’t be worried about this. She shouldn’t be dealing with any of this. She was meant for far more than this. “It’s not on you,” he reminded her gently.

“It was…,” y/n began, but paused, not wanting to burden Finnick by informing him of the name of her client. It was something they both often protected the other from. Since they would have to run into previous clients at mandatory Capitol parties, knowing who they were would only cause them to be constantly be mad at those specific attendees after knowing what they had been capable of doing to their unwilling partner. It was a morbid resolution, but one the couple had settled on in order to survive.

Y/n shook her head as she stared into the bathroom mirror. She watched herself as she poked at the bruising on her side. She flinched at pain and stifled a hiss. “He…,” she paused and took a deep breath, “he’s too close to Snow”. While she wouldn’t bother Finnick with who he was tonight, she knew her boyfriend was set on understanding why she was worried about being blamed for this when it was the one thing that usually fell on the clients. “It’ll be pinned on me for not having stopped him, that I should’ve-,” y/n sighed.

“That’s not your responsibility,” Finnick quickly pointed out. Y/n needed to know that. None of this was her fault nor responsibility. She was merely trying to survive. Something that shouldn’t be this difficult. “That’s not even something you are allowed to do, don’t let them trick you into blaming yourself by pretending that you suddenly had the privilege to stop him. None of this is by choice. None of this is your fault,” he reminded her. Taking a deep breath, he pressed his lips into a thin line. “Regardless of what you have to do or not do, none of this is your fault. No matter what you did or didn’t do, do or don’t do. Okay?” Finnick practically pleaded softly.

“Okay,” y/n agreed. She stood in silence as she stared at the purplish stains on her skin. “I don’t know what I’m going to do,” she confessed after another moment of contemplation.

Finnick bit his lip. “We’ll worry about that later,” he promised. “For now, do you need medical attention?” He asked worriedly. He’d only seen y/n’s injuries briefly before quickly shutting the door so she could regain some privacy.

Y/n chuckled darkly. “Like that would ever be an option,” she scoffed. The sold victors, even when covered in injuries despite their clients being told not to cause any, weren’t allowed to seek medical services or treatment. No matter how small or severe. It was clear Snow feared that the victors doing so would potentially expose the villainous was he was running a sex trade for the Capitol’s most prized residents. Not that anyone would likely do anything even if they did.

“It is,” Finnick corrected, his worry increasing as he wondered if y/n had gone without help for injuries before tonight. “We might not be able to go seek it out,” he acknowledged. “But, I’ve got a kit.” Finnick bit the inside of his cheek as he prepared to hear her answer to his next question. “Do you need anything?”

Y/n sniffled. “There’s nothing you can do for bruises,” she sighed.

Finnick’s fists balled at his side as he heard y/n’s shaky breathing and sniffling. “I… there’s a… a uhhh..” he rambled, his mind spinning. “A balm in the bottom drawer, to the left of the sink, it helps with pain,” he offered. He leaned against the doorframe, his ear pinned to the door as he waited to see if there was anything he could do for y/n.

After a few moments of silence, Finnick finally heard y/n’s small voice call out his name. His head perked up against the door. “Yeah, honey?” He asked. “I’m still here, what’s happening?”

“I, uhhh…” y/n frowned, burdened with guilt. “I’m sorry,” she sighed. “I can’t… I can’t reach it.”

“The balm?” Finnick questioned. He tried to visualize where it was and what severity or type of injuries might be preventing y/n from being able to reach it.

Y/n hesitated for a moment, uncertain how to answer without sounding weak and worrying Finnick further. “No, the… the handprint on my back,” she choked out.

Finnick winced, his fists clenching together and eyes screwing shut tightly. “Do you want some help?” He asked once he’d regained some of his composure.

“Do you mind?” Y/n whispered.

Finnick opened his eyes and frowned as he stepped back slightly from the door. “No, ‘course not, honey,” he promised. “Let me know when you’re okay with me coming in, alright?” Finnick instructed tenderly.

“Uhh yeah..,” y/n agreed slowly. She gazed at her exposed body in disgust. “How much… uhmmm. How much do you want me to cover up?”

“What do you mean, love?” Finnick wondered.

“I…,” y/n sighed. “How much should I cover up? Like… just leave my back exposed?” She asked as she eyed her discarded pile of tainted clothes in the corner of the bathroom.

Finnick frowned at y/n’s worry. “Whatever you’re comfortable with, love,” he advised gently. “As much as you need.” Finnick quickly tried to find a better response, knowing that a direct answer would help her since she was feeling sorta out of it right now. “If you prefer, I can blindly apply it to your back under your top,” he offered.

“Okay so you want me fully dressed?” Y/n asked rhetorically as her slow mind thought through her next steps. “One moment,” she agreed, turning to her pile of abandoned clothing.

Finnick’s brows furrowed. “It’s not about what I want, honey.” He sighed silently to himself. He hated how much she was worrying about him right now when she was the one needing help. “I just want you to be comfortable… as much as you can,” Finnick explained.

“So, I…” y/n began as she made her way back to the bathroom entrance. She cracked the door open lightly. She held it in place, forming just enough of an opening to stick only her head out of it, the edge of the door pressed into her neck. This way she wasn’t exposing Finnick to the sight of her injuries just yet. Y/n hesitantly looked up and met his patient eyes. “You’re okay with me not putting my shirt back on yet?” She clarified.

Finnick nodded, “I’m fine either way”. “This is about you, y/n”.

“Okay,” y/n said with a weak nod since her head was pinned. She offered Finnick a small smile, “thanks”. “‘Cause the fabric hurts right now,” y/n confessed.

“You don’t need to thank me,” Finnick reminded y/n lovingly.

Y/n pulled her head back in through the slightly opened door. “I know, it’s just, I know how ugly my body looks right now,” she explained as she slowly opened the door for Finnick.

“Hey, hey, don’t say that,” Finnick scolded softly. “You’re beautifully breathtaking, honey, always,” he promised. “Of course I don’t want to see you like this, but that’s not because it changes your beauty, only because I hate that you’re in pain, that someone hurt you,… I mean, I know it always hurts… I don’t like that either… I just meant.. right now with it being… more than…” he rambled.

Y/n nodded in understanding. She grabbed Finnick’s hand tightly. The warmth from his palm helped soothe her some. A shiver went through her as her body began to release some of the tension she was holding in.

Finnick stared intently into y/n’s eyes. “You’re in charge here, okay? You control where I look or touch, okay?”

When Finnick finished his scan of y/n’s body for any more injuries to attend to, he sighed with the tiniest bit of relief. “I promise you,” he said as he stood before her and took her hands in his. “I’m going to see to it that we find a way to make this end, to take our lives back, because you’re made for much more than to be used for Snow’s cruel plans”.

“We,” y/n corrected lovingly. She smiled softly at him, temporarily forgetting about the painful bruises that had led them to this tender moment.

Finnick smiled back. “Yeah.” He stepped closer to y/n, never breaking eye contact. “We are made for much more than to be his pawns. And I vow, one day it won’t even be something we have to worry about ever again”.

Y/n stared deeply into Finnick’s calming and beautiful eyes. “Maybe I was made for loving you, Fin,” she commented dazedly.

“Wh-…What?” Finnick stumbled breathily. “What, honey?” He asked. He couldn’t have possibly heard her correctly.

Y/n smiled tenderly at Finnick. She pulled his hands towards her, pleased when his feet followed and brought the rest of him with. “I said, ‘maybe I was made for loving you, Fin’,” y/n happily repeated.

“I.. I don’t…,” Finnick gasped with a timid shake of his head.

Y/n smiled up at Finnick as she wrapped her arms around his neck. “It’s never even been a choice,” she admitted admiringly, “although if it were, it’d have been the easiest decision in all of Panem history”. “It’s just so easy and comfortable to love you, Finnick. It’s just so right”. She shook her head lovingly as she continued to peer into his sea-green eyes that felt like home.

Finnick knew he was undoubtedly a blushing mess. But he didn’t care. “Well,” he mumbled and cleared throat. “If that’s something one can be made for, then I was made for loving you, my dear,” he hummed. Finnick smiled lovingly at y/n before bowing his head to kiss her forehead.

“One day everyone will know that’s all we’ll ever have been made for,” y/n hummed, returning Finnick’s encouraging sentiment from earlier. She leaned into his kiss and cuddled up in his arms.

Finnick was careful in his positioning due to y/n’s bruises, but he nevertheless returned her embrace. He cautiously held her to him with a soft sigh. “One day, honey, one day”.

Think I forgot how to be happy

Something I'm not, but something I can be

Something I wait for

Something I'm made for

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demontonic · 10 months

Text

Hayden Christensen - The first time

H.C x actor reader

In which you try to avoid him during training but it’s useless when Ewan puts you up against each other in a friendly match.

Word Count: 2099 words (que spiderman theme song. IM NOT JOKING THIS IS THE ACTUALLY COUNT)

You were new to the industry, you had only been in two movies thus far. The first one wasn’t big, it was just an indie film that horror movie nerds happened to like. From there you got picked for an audition for a bigger movie that would be put in a few theaters. However here, now, you’d never really expected such a huge change, you weren’t going to be playing a huge part. It was a flashback for the upcoming series Ahsoka, you were going to be a Jedi for a short time. They were doing another scene for order 66 in which Anakin goes against someone whom he’d become acquainted with during training. A battle was to be choreographed which meant you were going to be up against the actor who had single handedly started your acting career.

You were a huge Star Wars fan and without a doubt one of the kids who had lightsabers and a few Clone Wars coloring books. As you got older you looked into Anakin’s actor Hayden Christensen and grew to love the movies he’d done. Of course you thought he was hot, who wouldn’t love the nerd in Shattered Glass, or the punk in Life as a House? Sure he’s older now but that didn’t stop you from absolutely freezing up the second you walked into the training area. He’s significantly taller than you, that much you already knew but now it made you feel even more anxious. Interviews of him (which you of course obsessed over in your younger years) depicted him to be very nice, but you can’t always judge someone based on their interviews.

“Oh my god,” you whispered to yourself as you placed your hand to your cheek.

“Are you okay?” The trainer had questioned, a slight concern showing on her face. Hayden had also looked to you, the thin lightsaber prop swinging effortlessly to his side as he awaited your answer.

“Uh- Sorry I just got a… um- a headache is all.” You lied while your hands gripped onto the prop like it was the only thing grounding you.

“I have tylenol in my bag, or some water if you want?” Hayden’s hands gesture over to the black backpack that was leaned against the wall next to yours. Your throat ran dry as you opened your mouth to speak, before choking on your words and coughing… quite literally choking on your words.

“Yeah, the water should be fine.” Hayden walked over to his bag before pulling out two bottles and handing one to you. He stood there however as you took a small sip and placed it back down.

“Nervous?” He snickered lowly while he waited for you to collect yourself.

“Pfft… can you tell?” You questioned softly, looking up at his sparkling blue eyes. My god you’d dreamed about meeting him for practically half your life, but all you did was fumble. The casting crew never really gave you a lot of information, just that it was for upcoming Star Wars content and that they’d needed to fill a small jedi role. Nothing could’ve mentally prepared you to meet your living, breathing, wet dream.

“It’s just training right now, so there’s really no need to stress, we can all help you learn everything you’ll need to know.” His voice was so calm and endearing, maybe it was the daddy issues talking or the fact he is a dad, but it was so comforting.

Even three months into your training you’d distanced from Hayden as to not make a complete fool of yourself. He’s almost 40 at this point with a child you’d assume he was tired of the wild fans. Even so during training you’d often slip up while your eyes were trained on his swift movements. Sometimes you guys would get together and have little matches to see who could win. It was a random pick or whoever decided to challenge someone, and it was no different today. Everyone had finished training but the energy had been so vibrant that here you were on the cushioned floor in a circle. At this point it was no secret your character and Anakin were to have a final battle, but you had never gone against each other in these matches.

“Okay before we start, would anyone like to call someone out?” Rosario Dawson, Hayden’s childhood friend who’d been training for a separate project, questioned the small group.

“This isn’t a call out but I’d actually like to see Hayden vs Y/N without their choreography.” Ewan suggested while sitting on the blue mat cross legged, a childlike smile on his face. On one hand you were a shell of a human around Hayden, but with Ewan it was like he was your favorite uncle. Had you at some point in time found him incomprehensibly attractive? Yeah, but he’s the kind of nice that makes you feel like you’ve known him your entire life.

“Oh come on, is that even fair?” You whined, alluding to the obvious experience points he had on you.

“Are you calling me old?” Hayden jokes lightly as he steps forward into the circle, the group collectively letting out a low ‘oooooooh’.

“I mean your character is the chosen one, I don’t know if my three months of training can compare.” In all honesty you had tried your hand occasionally at a lightsaber when you were younger, so you had a little bit more experience than you let on. The amount of times you’d watched the behind the scenes,their practicing and training helped you recognize his moves.

“I’ll go easy on you, how about that?” His arms were outstretched to his sides in a shrug. A smirk was playing on his lips as he stared at you expectantly.

“Easy? Okay Christensen I’ll fight you.” Competitive couldn’t even begin to describe the drive that suddenly pumped through your veins. The way his eyes zeroed in on you, and the familiar smirk you had only dreamed of seeing in person made your adrenaline kick in. All the information you’d ever retained while watching those extras, would finally be useful for more than proving a point in a dumb argument online.

“Let’s not forget who’s had more training.” Hayden said with a scoff as you both got into your beginning stances. Yours mimicking the form Obi-Wan took while fighting Grievous, Ewan didn’t miss it, how could he? He simply stood with his left foot pointing towards you, his right braced for a sprint, and his saber behind him ready for a strike. You were reading him like a billboard, he never strayed from the forms he was taught, but you were a fan with too much time so you had a few of your own moves.

“May the force be with you Master Skywalker.” You said before he charged, you dodged the first strike but he had already begun to recover from the miss. A huff came from his chest as he swung the flimsy pole back down, meeting yours with a loud clash. The group let out sounds of shock and excitement as he pushed you down to one knee, he was stronger than you. It was no secret as height wise he’s an entire foot taller than you, so you quickly rolled from your position in front of him. He stumbled forward slightly, then twisted around to meet your blows. One to the head, down to the legs, up to the arm, then back down to his torso since it would be an awkward position for him to hold. You were both fast, you’d spent so much time learning basic defense in case one of you made a mistake it was too easy. Stamina was probably the only way you’d win this, or so you thought.

“You’ve learned well, young one,” he tripped you up, while you were focused on his words he’d hit you with the same move Anakin used on count Dooku. “although you’re too focused on me,” your ‘saber’ swung upward to slash his torso, but with a small step back, he dropped the pole to his open palm.

“And not my hands.”

“Fuck.”

The cool, thin, dented metal was up against the side of your neck as your arms were still tilted up in your last strike. Heavy breaths left the both of you as your small ‘audience’ went silent. The sound of your pole hitting the mat, signaled your defeat and in true style you dropped to the floor. The room erupted with groans and yells of victory from those who bet on Hayden. A few seconds of lying on the floor Hayden walked over, standing above you holding out his hand.

“Come on loser.” His smile was so genuine it made your face blush softly as you rolled onto your back.

“I can’t, I’m dead, rigor mortis.” You mumble, letting your tongue hang out the side of your mouth. You felt two arms scoot under your back and knees, quickly feeling your body lifted into the air. A scream came out of your throat as your hand quickly gripped onto Hayden’s loose shirt. The group laughed as he basically tossed you up and down, pretending like he was going to drop you.

“I don’t know why you’re screaming! Dead people don’t scream!”

“Oh- OH MY- PLEASE! GOD PLEASE! OBI WAN PLEASE!” He’d even managed to flip you on your stomach, your fingertips almost meeting the ground before he flung you back up again. Sure it wasn’t a crazt high distance from his arms, but add that with his height it was terrifying enough.

“So uncivilized!” Ewan mocked in a bad Obi-Wan voice, Hayden finally held you against his chest as he laughed with the rest of the group. Ewan came over with Rosario, both of them cooing softly at your semi panicked state.

“Put the poor girl down already!”

“She’s as red as a tomato Hayden!”

He let you down to your feet, still holding onto you as you stumbled lightly. Your chest heaved as you rested your hands on your knees, completely oblivious to how you practically pushed against Hayden’s crotch. His hand came down to rest on your lower back, rubbing softly while you regained your breath.

“I’m-… I’ll kill you for that one day Christensen.” You said through heavy breaths before standing straight again. Hayden’s hand coming up to rest on your shoulder, sporting a smug smile as the group began to discuss the next match. Hayden pulled you off the far walls where your bags lay, you both sitting in front of each other while he pulled out water bottles. For a while you sat in silence, just leaning against the wall watching Rosario and Ewan go at it.

“Were you ever going to tell me about your tattoo?” Hayden questioned, his voice staying low in contrast with the yelling from the group. At first you almost didn’t know what he was talking about, but then your cheeks turned to a dark red. On your wrist was the japor snippet Anakin gave Padme when they first met, and under it read ‘Skywalker’ in Huttese. Usually it was covered by a scrunchie or bracelet, but it must’ve slipped your mind today.

“I wasn’t planning on it, it feels too embarrassing to show you.” You held your arm out to him, since he’d already seen it there was no use in hiding it now. His hand pulled your wrist closer as he traced it with his fingers.

“I always wanted to get a replica of the japor snippet but I never did. I think this is really cool Y/N, you don’t need to be so nervous around me all the time.” He said quietly as he set your arm down on your thigh. Hayden was nice, but you were feral, you still couldn’t grasp the fact you avoided him like a schoolgirl avoided her crush.

“I-… I am not! The job is just so… overwhelming you know?” Lies, you shook as bad as a chihuahua when you were alone with him, practicing lines, fighting, and in general.

“It’s been three months and you still get distracted by just staring at me mid-fight.” A chuckle resonated in his chest as you looked at your blushing face.

“Okay… I just didn’t want to look like some nerdy, obsessed fangirl, I didn’t know how well that would go over.” Holding the cool bottle against your face you let your hair shield your face from the older man.

“I think it’s cute.”

And for the first time, you felt like maybe the star would align, maybe you would have a chance with the man you’d worshipped during your teen years.

I need to be his controversially young girlfriend HIS BIRTHDAY IS THE DAY AFTER MINE idk i think its a sign or whatever🤞🏼 hope you liked this! feel free to make any requests! i might make a part two but idk yet

Masterlist

#hayden christensen x reader #hayden christensen #hayden and ewan #anakin #star wars fanfiction #star wars anakin #stephen glass #sam monroe #anakin needs a hug #anakin x y/n #D3M0NT0N1C #demontonic

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