#my last pre-movie set!!! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wandasgf · 6 months

Text

THERE'S JUST ONE THING I WANT (your blood all over me)

pairings: final girl!reader + slashers!wandanat, pre-established bucky + reader

summary: movie night at your boyfriend bucky's on friday the 13th, what could go wrong?

warnings: depictions of violence and murder, cult dynamics (cult leader wanda), character death (not reader), cheating, manipulation, patriarchal ideals, misogyny, power dynamics, pet names, mommy kink, dom!natasha, sub!reader, dom!wanda, fingering, groping

wc: 5.7k~

A/N: sorry bucky...

Friday the 13th, a universal day of bad luck and bad omens. You were never one to be overly superstitious, you did have a black cat, Liho, after all, but something about this just felt like a bad idea. Bucky had proposed the idea of having a movie night of sorts to celebrate the unofficial holiday, wanting to invite some friends over and watch a few horror movies. He explicitly wanted to ‘watch Parker piss his pants over a little movie,’ which you rolled your eyes at.

“I don't know if this is a good idea, Buck…” You sigh, looking up at the taller man through your lashes, your arms wrapped around yourself. “Oh, come on, it'll be fun. Who doesn't love a good horror movie?” He laughs, though he knows you don't, “besides, I'll keep you safe. Don't worry.” He pulls you into him, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“You know I don't like those kinds of movies,” you huff, “and your friends are always… weird.” You mumble, burying your face in his chest. He sighs above you, starting to run his fingers through your hair, “I know, I know, but it'll just be one movie. And it's just the guys! They're harmless, come on, you know that!” His tone is lighthearted, but he tugs a little on your hair at the last part. “You can invite some of your friends,” he offers, “who've you been hanging out with lately? Wanda? Natasha? Carol?” and then he quickly changes his mind, he doesn't like her attitude towards either of you, “Ugh, no, don't invite Carol… How about that Kate girl? You can invite the redheads and Kate?”

“...okay, but promise you won't pick one that's too scary?��

“Promise, scaredy cat.”

Friday comes quickly and you're currently preparing for Bucky’s friends to come over, making sure there's cold beer in the fridge and snacks for them to eat. Your boyfriend was setting up the television apparently, telling you that you were always better in the kitchen than he was and then disappearing into the living room. Some of your friends were coming too, which you were grateful for. You had debated inviting Carol even though Bucky said not to, but decided against it. Wanda and Kate would be here soon, but Natasha said she had something she needed to do with Yelena tonight and wouldn’t be able to make it.

You play with the ring around your finger before you start to put bowls and dishes on the island’s countertop in front of you, humming softly to yourself as you make sure it looks presentable. You were never one to like an ugly spread. Bucky chooses this time to come into the kitchen and wrap his arms around your waist from behind, “see? Told you, you’re so much better in the kitchen than I am.”

“You’re just saying that because I cut up some plums for you.”

“You got me.” He chuckles, reaching forward to grab a slice of the fruit, “the boys should be here soon, you should get changed.” He pats your bare thigh, the shorts you’re wearing are decidedly too short for him, and then pulls away from you and starts to walk away.

“You didn’t seem to mind my outfit earlier!” You call out after him teasingly, and he just turns around to give you a pointed look, opening his mouth to speak before promptly closing it when he hears a car pull into the driveway. “That must be Steve. Go get changed.”

“I’m going, I’m going.”

It did turn out to be Steve, and you greet him after you’ve come back downstairs. This time dressed in a pair of jeans and a brown sweater. Bucky’s friends arrive in quick succession after that: Steve, Sam, Tony, Peter (Quill, not Parker. Parker couldn’t make it), and even Rhodey showed up which was apparently something of a miracle. Wanda’s friend Vision was away for work, otherwise you might have asked her to bring him too. You sip on a drink in the kitchen with Wanda while you wait for Kate, it was far too loud in the living room with all the boys. Especially because Tony had started drinking. You don’t envy Pepper, the man could be loud while sober, so this was almost unbearable. You remind yourself that they’re Bucky’s friends and it’s just one evening, he’ll make it up to you tomorrow.

“You know, you could have just told him we were going out and you wouldn’t have had to deal with all of this,” Wanda hums, lifting her glass up to her lips and taking a sip of wine, “I know how much you hate these kinds of movies.”

“I know, but he seemed excited about it, and you know him… I don’t want to be down on something he’s actually excited about.” You lean against the counter, holding your glass in both hands against your chest. “He said he’d pick a movie that wasn’t too scary, but we can probably get away with just being in here for the whole night. It’s not like they’ll really notice.”

“You don’t think Bucky will notice if you’re not within two feet of him at all times? You must have forgotten who you’re talking about.” Wanda laughs humorlessly, a tight smile on her lips. None of your friends were particularly… fond of your boyfriend. It’s not that they hated him, he could be a nice guy, it’s just that sometimes the way he treated you was more like the way you’d treat a child or a trophy than a girlfriend.

Just then Bucky’s voice interrupts the two of you with a ‘babe!’ and you excuse yourself from the kitchen. You’re semi-grateful for it, not wanting to get into this Wanda right now, but you wanted to avoid the guys for longer than you were able to.

It turns out he had just wanted another beer, which you brought him and he accepted with a kiss to your cheek. You’re certain that Peter was going to ask for one too until he and Bucky had some sort of silent conversation, so you slipped out of the room to avoid whatever the outcome might have been. Things between the two of them could get tense.

Wanda gives you a look when you re-enter the kitchen and you shrug, “he was having some sort of debate with Steve, he didn’t want to lose his train of thought.”

“Uh huh…” The strawberry blonde opens her mouth to say something else, but she’s cut off when she hears a sharp, feminine scream pierce her ears. A scream that she knows doesn’t belong to the horror movie everyone is supposed to be watching tonight. She gives you an indecipherable look, and you look back at her with wide eyes, frightened. “Was that… the movie? Buck didn’t say he was starting it yet…”

She doesn’t answer you, waiting to see if maybe she can hear the background noise of a movie coming from the living room, maybe they decided on a different movie. But when she doesn’t hear anything besides confused chatter she can’t quite decipher she shakes her head, “I don’t think so.”

You’re soon joined by Bucky and the rest of the guys in the kitchen when he rushes in to make sure the scream he heard wasn’t, in fact, his girlfriend. “What the hell was that? Are you okay?” He holds you at arm’s length to inspect you, making sure you weren’t hurt. You could be a little clumsy, and he knows you’ve been drinking some wine, so he thought maybe you had decided to cut up some fruit and dropped the knife, accidentally cutting yourself. But after a quick once over, he realizes that you’re fine.

“I-I don’t know. Wanda and I were just talking in here and then we heard a scream. I thought maybe you started the movie without us. Do you think someone’s hurt somewhere? Oh God, this is exactly how those horror movies you like so much start out. I told you doing something like this today was a bad idea, Buck–”

The back door opens and you barely hear it, still rambling until Bucky puts his hand over your mouth. You furrow your eyebrows, and you’re about to move his hand to tell him off, who cares that his friends are here, until you hear a set of footsteps and realize that everyone is standing still and tense. Bucky’s house had a bit of an odd layout. Whereas other houses kitchen’s were in the back of the house, his was near the front.

Your boyfriend was always hyper vigilant, even when there was no reason to be, but when he brings his finger up to his lips to signal you to be quiet, you think that maybe there is a reason this time. Even Tony seems to have shut up, looking slightly concerned. Maybe all your talk about bad omens was getting to everyone.

There’s a tension in the air and everything is silent for a moment until the footsteps continue, getting closer and closer…

Your breath gets caught in your throat when a masked figure steps through the doorway. They have a long, sharp, knife-like blade in one hand, the front of their shirt and mask splattered with blood. In the other hand, you see a coat you recognize, one you know belongs to Kate, splattered and stained with blood. Wordlessly, they hold it up and tilt their head, their green eyes sparkling at the recognition and horror on your face. A scream rips through your throat before you can stop it.

Bucky turns and he’s quick to push you behind him as soon as you scream while everyone else is frozen in place, eyes wide with shock. “Very funny guys, love that you hired an actor to scare the shit out of my girlfriend, very clever. When I said I wanted to scare her, I meant with the movie. So she would be extra clingy tonight, so we could– not the point. This isn’t cool.” His tone hardens with the last three words, feeling the way you’re shaking slightly behind him from fear.

“Buck, we didn’t… this isn’t us.” Sam speaks up and the masked stranger decides that this is enough talking for now before they surge towards Peter, who’s drunk enough to move just a bit too slowly. Their knife plunges into his stomach and he lets out a loud yell, drink dropping from his hand and glass shattering against the floor, doubling over when the knife is taken out and then plunged into his flesh again and again and again.

The action is enough to snap everyone out of their frozen states and send everyone running in a panic. You vaguely hear a ‘holy fuck!’ before Bucky grabs your hand and drags you out of the room, planning to circle around the killer and then exit the house. He lives at the end of a relatively secluded street, but he has his car and if he can get to it, he knows he could get the both of you away from danger quite quickly. He’d be sorry about his friends, but he can always make new ones.

“B-Buck, wait! We can’t just leave Wanda, what if she’s next? Please, we can't just leave. That was Kate’s coat, they got Kate. We can’t leave everyone.”

“We might get killed and you're worried about that redheaded b– fine, we can make sure Wanda’s okay.” He concedes when he sees your face, pulling you into the bathroom with him and shutting the door. He takes a breath and then locks it. If all else fails, the two of you can stay in here until morning, but right now he apparently needs a new plan.

He pats his pockets to try and find his phone, if nothing at all he needs to call the police. He groans when he realizes he left it on the couch. “Fuck.”

At some point you and Bucky get separated, it's hard to stay together in chaos like this. Maybe going back for Wanda was a bad idea, but you just couldn't leave her to fend for herself, especially after what you can only assume happened to Kate. And seeing what happened to Peter, you couldn’t let that happen to her. Stupid, maybe, but she was one of your closest friends.

You don't know how long it's been until you find yourself in a group again. Except now you're missing Peter, Tony, Steve and Rhodey. By the look on Bucky’s face, you know they all must have suffered the same fate as Peter.

“What do we do, man? We could try to leave, but that only got Steve killed. Did anyone call the cops? I can't find my phone.” Sam paces the room.

Steve’s body lays limp and slightly cold on the stone path leading from Bucky’s porch to the driveway. He didn’t get very far.

“I did.” Wanda speaks up from the doorway, keeping watch in the one on the left and scanning the whole room, paying particular attention to the doorway across from her. “I hope they'll be here soon. They might have already been here if James didn't live so far from town.”

“Oh, are you blaming this on me? Are you saying this is my fault?” Bucky shoots a glare towards Wanda. The tension between the two of them was always thick, but right now you think even a knife wouldn’t be able to cut through it.

“If the shoe fits.”

“Listen here, you–”

“Watch your tone.” Wanda's accent slips out and your eyes flit over towards her.

“Please don't fight, it won't make things better.” Your voice is quiet, scared, as you speak. You stand close to Bucky, arms wrapped around your torso. You're shaking slightly, the image of both Peter and Steve making you nauseous. You hadn’t expected to see him when you walked out the front door, and the image was enough to have you running back into the house.

Bucky grunts in response and Wanda doesn't say anything, crossing her arms tightly over her chest and looking towards the other entrance of the room you were all in again.

Perhaps she should have been paying more attention to what's behind her, though, because the masked stranger is suddenly right there. Your eyes widen and you don't have time to warn her before she shrieks as they force her hands behind her back and press a knife against her throat. It's a bit of a struggle, but the masked assailant is clearly strong as they manhandle Wanda into the room.

“Wanda!”

“Fuck!”

“Man, fuck this!”

You, Bucky, and Sam all stand alarmed near the center of the room, looking with widened eyes at the scene in front of you. A beat of silence passes, all that can be heard is labored breathing. And then the knife falls from her throat and Wanda starts to laugh, bent over from the force of it. “Oh, you should have seen your faces!” She laughs like this is the funniest thing that’s ever happened to her before she stops abruptly and stands up, a gun suddenly in her hand, pointed straight towards you. “Come here.” Her accent is back now, the fake American one dropped.

“W-Wanda, I don’t… what’s going on?” You sniffle, tears falling freely down your cheeks.

“W-Wanda,” she mocks, faux pout on her lips, “Come here.”

“Don’t listen to her. Stay right behind me.” Bucky steps in front of you, shielding you with his body.

“What a gentleman.” Wanda sneers, gun steadily pointed at Bucky’s chest now.

“Wanda, sweetheart, don’t get ahead of yourself.” Natasha speaks up, taking the now bloody hockey mask off and revealing herself. It had been so hard for her to keep her comments to herself and remain a mystery this whole time. Usually it wouldn’t be, but today was just so exciting. And it was personal.

Oh, she had been the one to give Wanda the handgun.

“Now what the fuck?” Sam makes the mistake of making himself known again and Wanda rolls her eyes, turning and aiming the gun at him instead. “Oh, shut up.” She pulls the trigger and a bullet goes straight through the man’s skull, blood splattering onto the floor and the wall behind him. He drops to the floor with a thud.

“Jesus Christ! You’re both fucking insane!” Bucky takes a glance towards Sam’s body on the floor, feeling bile rise up in his throat.

“Buck, I-I’m scared.” You whimper, and he pulls your body against his, hoping to bring you some comfort by running his fingers through your hair. This is not something he ever thought before, but maybe he should have listened to you when you said this was a bad idea.

Wanda takes a deep breath, her head jerking involuntarily at the sight, like she’d just seen something horrible. “I won’t ask again. Come. Here.” The gun is pointed at you again and her hand shakes slightly. Her eyes flash and you look up at Bucky, afraid she might actually shoot you. “Buck, I-I maybe I should go over. T-To calm her down… I don’t want her to hurt you.”

You sniffle again and he takes five seconds before giving a small nod. “It’ll be okay, baby. They won’t get away with this, I promise, I won’t let them.” He says in a way that he hopes is comforting to you. You hesitate before pulling away from him and slowly walking over to Wanda.

“Hi, Wands,” you smile up at her sweetly, “did I do good?”

“You would have done better if you didn’t let him put his hands on you like that,” she spits. You pout up at her and she softens slightly, leaning down to kiss you. She knows you were only playing a role, but that didn’t make it better, “you did great, baby.”

“What the fuck is going on!”

You spin around, eyes wild, no longer hiding anything now that the charade has been dropped, angry that your moments with Wanda are still being interrupted. “Will you shut the fuck up for five fucking seconds?! We are trying to have a conversation here.”

Bucky, poor guy, looks the most shocked you’ve ever seen him. He never would have seen this coming, he never could have. This wasn’t like you, you were sweet and quiet and would never speak to him like that. You couldn’t possibly have anything to do with this, not voluntarily. The way you were acting wasn’t making any sense.

“Baby… Come on, this isn’t like you. Whatever they said to you, whatever they did to you, you can tell me. I can help, I’ll get you out of this, you don’t have to worry.” He chooses almost the exact wrong thing to say, and you grab the gun from Wanda, pointing it towards him. Wanda and Natasha look toward each other, this wasn’t part of the plan. Not exactly, anyway.

"Oh, you can help me?! You'll help me!" You think of these past couple of months, years really, that you’ve spent with Bucky, stuck with Bucky. You did it to yourself upon the request of Natasha, but that doesn’t make it any better. You're practically hysterical at this point, waving the gun in your hand around with your finger on the trigger, "because you're a big strong military man, you can help me! Oh, and I bet you’ll save me too!" You're laughing now, shaking as adrenaline pumps through your veins. "That's what I am to you, isn't it? Proof of your ability as a man to save a woman? Your little trophy to prove that you're a good guy." You point the gun steadily at Bucky now, looking him directly in the eyes, "unfortunately for you, I've never been yours to save."

The thing about your and Bucky’s relationship is that it was never built on anything good. It would have been better, for him mostly, but the both of you, if you had just stayed friends like you wanted to, but he just kept pushing. He loves you, don’t you love him too? He knows you do, he can tell. He’s loved you since middle school and he’s never found the right time to tell you, but now that you’re both starting university, he couldn’t take the chance that you’d find someone else. (Unfortunately for him, you already had. The extra 10 years of friendship Bucky had, had nothing on the connection you had with Wanda and Natasha).

Bucky watched you grow up, watched you turn to him when your parents fought, watched you take your father’s mistreatment of you and your mother, and watched your little fear of abandonment grow when your father up and left one night. Watched the way you hoped he wouldn’t leave too, took advantage of it, really. And you watched him, watched the cracks in his nice guy persona get bigger, watched as they became canyons when you wedged yourself into them, watched as he hoped, God he hoped that you were your mother’s daughter.

And Wanda and Natasha watched you both, content to keep your relationship a secret as you explored the ways in which you could exploit Bucky, expose his true colors. They didn’t do very much pushing on your part, they wanted you to be free to make your own decisions. They may be in charge, but this was your idea, they just gave it the green light. Well, Wanda may have planted a few seeds, but that’s what she does. You were free to ignore them if you wanted, but she knew you didn’t. She knew you’d make her plans blossom.

The switch from hysterics to calm and collected has your boyfriend's head spinning. He doesn't know what part of this is real and what isn't, still half hoping this is some sick prank. Because this isn't like you, it's just not. The first time Bucky had ever shown you one of his guns, you were like a deer in headlights. You'd refused to even touch it, scared of such a weapon, a monster of human creation, you'd called it. That's who his girlfriend was, not this person standing in front of him. This mad woman, this crazy bitch. So this had to be fake, it had to be a prank.

It's not, of course, because what Bucky doesn't understand is that nothing with him had ever been anything but fake. What Bucky doesn't understand is that even though he's your boyfriend, you've never been his girlfriend, you've been Natasha and Wanda's. You've always been Natasha and Wanda's.

Natasha comes up behind you and wraps her arms around your waist before pressing a kiss to your cheek, "go on, pretty girl, you can do it," she whispers encouragingly. This may not be a part of the original plan, but the sooner they get this done, the sooner she can take you back to her and Wanda’s apartment. And the sooner Wanda can stop obsessing over this. "Remember how he treated you. Remember how we treat you."

“Be a good girl, we’re so close.” Wanda’s voice hits your ears and it’s like you can’t help but listen to anything she says. You take the shot without a second thought, the bullet going straight through Bucky’s chest as your own chest heaves, your breathing slightly labored. You’re still holding the gun towards him as his eyes widen and he drops to the ground, touching the wound like he can’t believe what just happened. He chokes slightly, coughing, as blood starts to spill past his lips and you shut your eyes. If only he hadn’t turned into such a rotten guy, he would have survived.

You feel Wanda’s soft hand slide up the length of your arm as she slots herself behind you now, Natasha going to check around the house to make sure no one has miraculously survived being slain. A smile graces the Sokovian’s lips and she envelopes your hand in her own, gently transferring the gun into her own grip instead, letting your arm drop to your side before lowering the weapon and tucking it into her back pocket, “you did such a good job, baby. I’m so proud of you.” Her voice is so sweet and loving that your bottom lip trembles involuntarily.

You love Natasha, but Wanda has always had an affect on you, and you know that if the Russian had said the same thing instead, you wouldn’t react this same way. The overwhelming feelings that loomed over tonight come back in full force as you let out the first sob. “Oh, sweet girl,” Wanda coos, turning you in her arms and bringing you against her, holding you tight, “such a big night for you, huh? But you know that what you’ve done is for the greater good, right? You know that, don’t you?”

You nod and she kisses the top of your head. “B-But Tasha came early, and I didn’t know that Katie– I thought– Tasha was too early, and I couldn’t tell if–” You can’t get your thoughts together anymore, your mind racing with everything that’s been going through your head since the beginning of the night. The fear for Kate, the confusion when Natasha showed up before 10:02pm, the very specific time she was supposed to, the way Wanda had looked just as confused as you had.

“Oh no, did she scare you?” Wanda laughs lightly, endeared and a little amused, “I’ll have to give Tasha a little talking to. She was a little early, huh?” She smooths her hand along your hair, petting you, “don’t worry about Katie, darling, she’s just fine. You know how Yelena would react if she wasn’t.”

“I-I know, but–”

“Shhh, I know, sweetheart. It’s okay, you didn’t know. Now, why don’t you give me a kiss, hm? Don’t I deserve a thank you?”

A ‘thank you’ for what, you didn’t know, but Wanda clearly thought she was deserving of one and who were you to question her? You lean up to give her a kiss, your arms wrapping around her shoulders as she grips your waist. You sigh against her lips, feeling yourself relax a little just from the comfort any amount of affection from Wanda gives you.

“I leave you two alone for five minutes and you’re pretending like I don’t exist.” Natasha stands from where she was leaning against the doorframe as she looks at you and Wanda, “do you have any idea how long I was standing there?” It had only been long enough to catch Wanda’s ‘don’t I deserve a thank you?’ and watch the two of you kiss, but still.

You pull away from Wanda and huff, your tears now forgotten, “I’m mad at you!” You glare at Natasha and she raises an eyebrow, walking towards you now, “mad at me, зайка?” She furrows her eyebrows slightly, as if she’s confused, and there’s an annoyingly attractive little smirk on her lips as she gets closer.

She grabs your hips and pulls you away from Wanda and the Sokovian would usually protest against the Russian’s audacity to steal her girl away, but she’s content to watch the two of you bicker for a few minutes. Natasha pulls you against her, “now what did I do to deserve that?” She squeezes your hips softly, looking down at you. “You were early!” You push against her chest before resting your hands there, playing with the fabric of her sweatshirt, “we had a plan!”

“Well, we didn’t exactly stick to the plan anyway, did we, baby? Huh? I don’t think the past 15 minutes were part of the plan. How about you, Wands?” Natasha turns her head slightly and makes eye contact with her girlfriend, to which the strawberry blonde just rolls her eyes, “this is not my problem. She’s not mad at me.”

“We might have if you showed up on time! You scared me, you asshole!”

Natasha is perfectly happy to humor when you’re ‘mad’ at her and even when you play fight against her or hit her, but she is not happy to hear you speak to her like that. Her movement is swift as she reaches up to grab your jaw, her grip harsh as her fingertips dig into your cheeks, “watch your tone and your language, yeah?”

You whine quietly, nodding. Natasha hums, releasing your jaw in favor of patting your cheek, “good girl. Now, why don’t you tell me properly why you’re ‘mad’ at me?” Her next actions contradict her words as she slips her hands underneath your shirt, sliding her palms up your stomach and then back down again.

“You were…” you trail off, distracted by Natasha's hands on you. She slides her hands back up and gropes your covered breasts, “I was?” There’s a smug look on her face as she looks down at you, pleased with how easily she can distract you. “You were early and… and you scared me, I didn’t know it was you.”

“My sincerest apologies, princess,” Natasha slides her hands back down and grabs your waist, squeezing roughly, and then she grins, “I didn’t realize you were so easily scared.” You’re about to curse her out, but she leans down to capture your lips in a kiss before you get the chance. The kiss is sloppy and rough as your hands grip her sweatshirt, tugging her as close as possible.

Wanda, never one to like being left out, takes her place behind you, sandwiching you between her and Natasha. Her hands slip under your shirt and replace where Natasha’s used to be, cupping your breasts and groping them softly, “let us make it up to you, ангел.”

The sound of Wanda’s soft voice in your ear relaxes you in their arms and you make a noise of agreeance against Natasha’s lips. “My poor little angel,” Wanda murmurs, “my divine little lamb. You didn’t deserve to be scared like that, did you?” Wanda’s questions are almost always rhetorical and you’re glad for that right now.

One of Natasha’s hands moves from your waist to unbutton your jeans and then slides into your panties. You grip her sweater tighter to try and urge her to move her hand further down, but she leaves it splayed just above your cunt. She pulls away from your lips, the both of you panting as you catch your breath, a string of spit connecting your lips and then dripping down.

“Say please, зайка. Just because I’ve upset you doesn’t mean you lose your manners, does it?”

“Please, Tasha. Please touch me.”

“Tell me thank you for what I did today.” She’s trying to stay in control of herself, but you can tell from her labored breathing and the flush of her neck that you’ve affected her.

“I’m so happy you freed me, Tasha. Thank you. I’m so grateful I can be yours forever now. Thank you, thank you.”

Natasha surges forward and crashes her lips against yours, a moan escaping your lips at the contact. Wanda hums in approval and it lights a fire in both yours and Natasha’s stomachs. You both know, this time, Wanda is only here to watch over the two of you, and to know what you’re doing has her approval means more to the both of you than anything you’ve ever done.

Natasha swallows your gasp when you feel her fingers beginning to rub at your clit, slow circles that work you up at just the right pace. Wanda places small kisses on your neck as Natasha works, groping and squeezing at your breasts as she does. She knows she’ll have you to herself later while Natasha works on cleaning up today’s mess, so she’s content in watching her prized possession feel good.

When Natasha moves her hand further down and sinks two fingers into your cunt, you pull away from her lips and let out a little whimper. Usually, she’d work you up, but she knew the three of you shouldn’t linger in the house longer than necessary. “Shhh, that’s it baby, you can take it.” She lets you bury your face against her chest as she pumps her fingers in and out, grinding the heel of her palm against your clit.

“There you go, that’s a good girl.” Natasha coos. She’s being uncharacteristically gentle and you think it’s because Wanda is watching or maybe she really does feel bad for scaring you like she did. She holds you tight against her as she leans over you to kiss Wanda. You feel your knees get weak when you realize what’s happening and you clench around Natasha’s fingers.

They both pay you no mind except for the fact that Natasha’s skilled fingers are still working against your cunt. She curls them just right and you bite down on her collarbone. She gasps and pulls away from Wanda’s lips, her other hand gripping your waist tighter, her blunt nails digging into your skin and leaving little crescent marks.

“Forgot our little зайка was a biter.” She grunts.

It’s not long before Natasha’s fingers work you up and push you over the edge, cumming with both her and Wanda’s permission. When Natasha pulls her fingers out you let out a little whine, sensitive from cumming. “Open up, pretty girl.” She brings her fingers up to your lips and you let her push them inside, cleaning your cum from her fingers, your cheeks hot at the action.

Natasha pulls away from you and pushes you to your knees, your shaky legs doing very little to hold you up anyway. Wanda’s fingertips drag across your cheek as she moves in front of you, standing next to Natasha. “What do you say, маленький ангел?” Wanda speaks as she uses her middle and ring finger to tilt your chin up.

You peer up at them, adoration swimming in your eyes, “Thank you Mommy. Thank you Tasha.”

#alice's fics !#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x fem reader #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanov imagine #natasha romanov x reader #natasha romanov smut #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda maximoff imagine #scarlet witch x reader #scarlet witch smut

827 notes · View notes

gracieheartspedro · 7 months

Text

Somewhere With You

Part 4 of How Long

pairing: f!reader x brother-in-law!joel miller

FIND Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 HERE!!

description: sleeping with your exes brother is one thing, but envisioning a whole life with him? that's a dangerous game. but you did it. now you're here, and tommy is fucking pissed.

word count: 5.3k

warnings: MINORS DNI! this is 18+, pre!outbreak joel, there is smut in this part!! fear of being caught by sarah?, unprotected p in v, oral sex (f receiving), joel is a CONSENT KING, dirty talk, overstimulation, titty fucking (yw caly), light violence, tommy is literally evil.

author's note: jesus christ i'm so glad I am finally here with this. I feel like finishing this is my greatest success in life lmao. I will probably continue this series but this is the last part for a while. I appreciate everyone's love on it and I can't wait to get more stuff out to y'all!

“Are we going to have a celebration when we get home?”

Joel laughs, “Yeah, we can. What did you wanna do?”

You just listen to Sarah list off all the possible ways to celebrate winning the tournament. The movies, going to the mall for new jeans, going to the local ice cream parlor every night of the week. Joel shakes his head at that one as he turns the truck onto the highway. You have your knees up to your chest, the zip up Joel let you borrow hanging off your shoulders. You had complained about how cold you were all weekend, so Joel shut you up by tossing you his zip up. You haven’t taken it off since.

The sun was setting over the horizon, drawing the Sunday to a close. You had to work in the morning and you were dreading concluding the weekend you spent with Joel and Sarah.

Everything with them seems natural. It felt like family.

You did not want to face tomorrow, especially when there was no set plans as to when you would be hanging out with them again.

Luckily, Sarah has not mentioned much of anything about what she saw early Saturday morning, so there was no awkward tension. The only time it came up was when you all were tired from Saturday’s events and you arrived back to the hotel room.

“You two sleeping together tonight, too?” She asked, her eyes heavy with exhaustion. She wasn’t even trying to be rude or demeaning, she just wanted to know if she could fall asleep in one of the beds without being stirred.

“Yeah, you can have that bed hun.” Joel answered.

Sitting on those horribly uncomfortable bleachers and cheering Sarah on had taken a lot out of you, so you were ready to throw yourself into the plush mattress, too.

You watched Sarah throw herself onto of the comforter, sinking into the pillows face first. It makes you giggle while you grab your pajamas to change.

Joel nudges you while you dig through your duffle, “No funny business tonight, ma’am.”

You shake your head, his comment making your stomach turn upside down with nerves. You smack his chest with the back of your hand, “No duh, asshole.”

Sarah puts her headphones on, drowning out Joel’s humming to an old country song. You just stare ahead, watching him speed pass car after car. His truck revs every time he does it which makes you clench your knees a bit tighter.

“In a rush, dear?”

The nickname makes his heart race.

He taps his fingers, trying to act like that nickname doesn’t drive him insane. “Want to make sure to get you home so you can be rested up for work in the morning.”

“That’s mighty sweet of you, but take your time. I’m in no rush.”

He eases off the gas a bit, taking your advice.

“You talk to your Mama lately? She still likin’ Maine?”

It wasn’t a question you were expecting coming from Joel. You had told him about your mom around the time that she moved away, however long ago that was. You truly didn’t expect him to even remember.

“We talk every week, she likes it there. Wants me to come experience a winter there, so I may go up for Christmas,” You explain, remembering back to conversation you two just had last week. She wanted you to feel what fluffy snow felt like and maybe go skiing with her.

It makes Joel’s heart sink a bit. Not because you would be visiting your mother, but instead you would not be here to spend Christmas with him and Sarah. He had already planned on making a spot for you at the dining table.

“That’d be nice,” He licks his lips, contemplating if he should say what he really wants to say, “‘M bettin’ she misses seein’ your beautiful face everyday.”

You smile, your cheeks burning hot at Joel calling you beautiful. You knew you had to throw him off and give him a sarcastic response to keep him on his toes.

“Gonna freeze my ass off there. May have to borrow some of your flannels.”

He chuckles, tilting his head towards you, “You already havta’ have about four of my t-shirts, now that hoodie. You wanna raid me some more?”

“If I’m remembering correctly, you said I just had to “get with you” to get clothes,” You’re whispering, leaning into him. You don’t want Sarah to hear the words you’re speaking to her father, “How many times do we need to go at it before I get one of those denim jackets you own?”

He peers over at you. You smirk, quirking one eyebrow up.

“You with me to get my clothes or somethin’?”

“That and other things,” You tease, pulling away, leaning your back against the seat again.

Joel peers into the rear view mirror. Sarah is asleep, her headphones blasting her favorite pop album. He tilts his head towards you, his eyes not leaving the road, “You’ll havta remind me of those other things when we get home.”

He could get used to always having you in his passenger seat.

Sarah was dead asleep in the backseat, so you both decided to get all the stuff from the back inside before nudging her awake. You quietly shut the door, grabbing Joel’s one bag from the driveway and slinging it over your shoulder.

You follow close behind him as he unlocks the front door and places Sarah’s stuff on the staircase.

The idea of having to leave made you want to scream. You didn’t feel like driving home and laying lonely in your own bed. You didn’t want to resume your boring life at work. You just wanted him.

This weekend made you realize that you really couldn’t live without him. You’re not only comfortable around him, but he’s exciting. He cracks jokes and compliments you when you don’t expect it. Those couple of months without him were still months he was plaguing your mind, even though he wasn’t physically around you.

You snap out of your thoughts quickly. You start watching Joel’s muscles restrict over his gray t-shirt and it’s enough to send you to your knees. You didn’t even realize how crazy he was driving you. His messy curls that were trapped under a hat most of the weekend are finally loose and curling up his neck. And the way his jeans hugged his ass while he walked away from you? You didn’t know how long to could refrain from telling him you needed him, right this second.

“I may call out tomorrow. Too tired to sit on my computer all day and run reports,” You say while he wonders back to you from his bedroom down the hall. You’re hoping it leads to an offer.

He nods, tossing his keys on the entry table next to you,“Yeah, I am off tomorrow. Have to get this house in order and make sure Sarah actually wakes up for school in the morning.”

No offer. Maybe you could propose it?

“Maybe I could just spend the night.”

The air is thick instantly with tension. You can hear the hitch in his throat. Once you say it, you realize how desperate you must sound. But you want to be able to lay next to him again. You want and need him.

“If that’s what you wanna do, sweetheart. I don’t mind none. Love havin’ you here.”

He grabs your waist lazily, pulling you into his chest. The connection sends chills down your arms.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to you to think I’m being needy.”

He doesn’t even hesitate, he just bows his head to capture your lips with his, giving you a slow sensual kiss. You move your hands up to his neck, pulling him down further into you, eager to be close to him.

When he realizes that’s where it’s going, he pulls up for air.

“Lemme go get the last couple bags and get Sarah inside.”

As he says that, the door flings open behind you. A sleepy Sarah blinks at both of you, shaking her head instantly when she sees her Dad’s arms wrapped around you. You push back, flinging yourself backwards and away from Joel.

“Can you lovebirds do that somewhere else,” She groans, while rubbing her eyes, “Don’t need another sibling created right in front of m-”

“Sarah Jane!”

You smile when Joel drops onto his mattress with a huff.

“So…” You drift off, crawling onto Joel’s lap, “You come here often?”

He chuckles, his hands beginning to trail your waist.

“Come here quite often, actually,” He jokes, his hands resting right under your shirt and on your hips. “How about you?”

You hum, “Not really. Maybe a couple times. Would love to come around, more though.”

“That so?”

You lean down, using your fingers to pull back his brown locks and pivot his head upward. You kiss him gingerly, smiling at his small groan.

You pull away, “I’d love to come to your bed every night, Joel Miller.”

The guttural moan he makes sends a rush to your core. He grabs the nape of your neck and brings you back down to his lips. He takes control of your movements, switching positions by gently laying you back. He leans over your body, his lips carrying the weight of his emotion. You’re scrambling though, tugging at his shirt, trying to rid it off his body. He pulls away to throw it off his body, motioning you to do the same. Soon, you two are completely naked.

“I never get sick of this view,” He rasps, his eyes raking your body.

You smirk, “Back atcha, babe.”

He positions himself on top of you, his lips lingering on your neck and collarbones.

Joel’s kisses are always intentional. It’s like he knows every pressure point on your body. His lips are always wet and supple, dragging across your soft skin.

When his mouth reaches the skin around your breast, you start to arch up for more contact. He grabs your stomach, pushing it softly down onto the bed.

“Patience, baby,” He mumbles, kissing the same area on the other breast. You jerk up again, absentmindedly.

“Can’t help it,” You whine, trying not to sound so desperate.

He clicks his tongue, “You can and you will.”

His lips wrap around your nipple and you just watch with hooded lids. His eyes are closed, so focus on teasing every inch of your body. You can feel the slick pool between your legs at the sight.

“Joel, please.”

He releases the pink nub, “What, baby? Use those words.”

“I want you all over, Joel.”

“Yeah? Where? Here?”

He grabs your breast roughly, making you mewl.

You finally gesture down. Your hand slides between your legs, dragging up and down your own slit. You gather as much slick as you can, bringing it up to Joel’s surprised expression.

“I see…” He brings your fingers up to his lips. You gape at his next actions, amazed that he’s so filthy. He takes your two fingers and licks them like a popsicle. You audible sigh as he sucks on your fingers like a man starved.

“You goin’ to be extra good for me?” He asks when your digits escape his mouth.

“Always am.”

Your voice is shaky when you say it. It makes Joel smirk. He loves when you sound ruined.

“Love hearing those words come out of your pretty little mouth.”

He crawls down your body, peppering kisses from your stomach down to your thighs. You watch him closely as he props your thighs over his shoulders. He does not waste time, diving straight into your divine center. You try to refrain from screaming his name, knowing Sarah may not be asleep yet. You clap your hand over your mouth while he licks your sensitive clit. He lays his tongue flat, pressing into you as he shakes his head back and forth. When he does that, you yelp into your palm.

“Mmm, baby girl wants to be loud so bad,” He chuckles darkly, using his fingers to spread your lips, “You wanna be loud for me huh?”

“Yes, please, God,” You pant, “Need you in me, Joel.”

“Yeah? Lets stretch you out a bit,” He doesn’t even give any warning when he sinks his fingers inside your pussy. “Gotta make sure you’re nice and ready, baby girl. Want you to cum before I stick this cock in ya.”

You swallow, letting him take the lead like usual. You liked it this way, when he ravishes you with his abilities and you get to cum several times. You never had sex like this in your life, especially consistently.

His fingers curl inside you, pumping in and out. You can hear how wet you are, the wetness sequelching against Joel’s fingers. Your pussy is graced with his tongue again while he fucks you with his digits. It’s like it’s pulled out of you. The orgasm sends white hot flashes to your vision. You know you’re saying something, but it’s no word in the English language.

When you come back down from euphoria, Joel’s ontop of you again. He’s kissing your cheeks, mumbling something about how beautiful you are when you cum.

“Joel, please,” Your hands grab onto his biceps, “Want you inside me.”

His cock drags along your navel, as he situates himself between your legs.

“Yeah? Always so eager,” He grabs his cock with his free hand, “Wanna try something a little different?”

Your stomach drops, “Like what?”

He toys with your nipple with his pointer and thumb, “Always wanted to fuck these.”

You smirk at the thought, your stomach finally at ease.

“You want to fuck my titties, Joel?”

“If you’ll let me,” He squeezes your boob gently, “Think these things are perfect. Want my cock right between them.”

You nod, “Fuck ‘em then, baby.”

He pulls you up, practically shoving you on the ground beside his bed. He wasn’t being aggressive, just guiding you to follow his lead. You sit on your knees, watching up at him as he pumps his cock over you. You use both hands to push your tits together. He grins as he touches the head of his cock to your hard nipples.

“So good for me,” He groans, slipping his cock between your cleavage, “Obeyin’ me and doin’ everythin’ I want. My fuckin’ dream girl.”

He starts to fuck your squeezed together tits as you stare up at him with a completely spent expression. You dribble some spit down between the break in your breast to lube up the area. Your pupils are blown and you feel the wetness of you slit soaking the skin of your legs. You can tell by the look on Joel’s face that he could cum at the sight of you.

But he stops and instead, grabs your bicep and tosses you back on the bed. You watch him crawl up between your legs, his face untamed and filled with anticipation.

“Need to cum in that pussy,” He pumps it a couple times before slipping in between your pussy lips, “Do you need me to put on a condom or anything? I don’t have to fuck you raw every time.”

You bite your lip, “I like feeling every part of you, Joel. I promise.”

“Mmm,” He hums, sinking his cock head inside you, “Love to hear that, baby.”

You circle your hips, practically fiening for him to sink all the way into you. He takes the hint, plunging into you with one snap. Once he’s finally sheathed in you, you groan out which only instigates him. He draws out and back in, his pace painstakingly slow. You grip onto his forearms, digging your nails into them. Maybe he will take the hint that you need it faster.

But, no.

“Words, darlin’. Tell me what you need.”

You choke out the words, “Faster. Harder.”

He kisses your lips, shushing you as his tempo picks up. He wants to feel the vibrations of your moans. He knows if you’re too loud there may be listening ears, so kissing you will hush the sounds of pleasure. He sits up and repositions, grabbing the back of both of your legs, practically folding you in half. You smirk in delight, watching his furrowed expression focus on your body’s reactions.

“This pussy is mine,” He huffs, watching himself plow into you, “All fuckin’ mine. Ya know that?”

“Yes,” You manage to peep out, “It’s yours, Joel.”

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” He spreads your legs, opening you up nice and wide. His thumb finds your responsive clit, circling it with the momentum of his hips, “Cum for me, baby. Soak this fuckin’ cock.”

Your body reacts in the way he finds so satisfying. Your hips lift up as the climax takes over, your whole body shaking at the ecstasy he brings you. He doesn’t let up, chasing his own bliss. You are so overstimulated, you are just gasping for air. He starts to falter, his pace slowing as he coats your insides with his cum.

You start to chuckle when his body practically collapses onto you. His sweaty curls stick to your perspiring cheek. You find yourself kissing his temple, practically thanking him for fucking you so good every time.

He stands up, his half-hard dick slipping out of you pain-stakingly slow. You whimper at the feeling, still a mess from your orgasm.

“God, you are perfect,” He mumbles, his hand slipping down your bare thigh, “Could fuck you every day for the rest of my life.”

You are still awestruck by the interaction, you don’t even know you’re saying it, “Why don’t you?”

He smiles while he helps you sit up, “I will. Now let’s get you all showered and ready for bed, huh?”

“Yes, please.”

Luckily for you, your body naturally wakes up at 5:30AM. You creep out of the bedroom, making sure not to stir Joel awake. You find the house phone and call your boss, letting her know you were “sick” and needed to use a sick day. She just mumbled a “whatever” and you hung up, heading back to the warmth of Joel’s bed.

Joel wakes up as soon as you crawl back into bed, but he knew he had to get up and make sure Sarah got ready and off to school, anway. He cuddles you for a bit, watching you nod back off to sleep. He let you sleep in while he cleaned up the house a bit. He tries his best not to much too much noise, not wanting to rattle you awake.

You did wake back up when you heard the vacuum. You pull yourself together, putting your hair up into a bun as you stumble out of the bedroom. Joel stands in the living room, not even aware you’re behind him. He jumps when he notices you in the threshold, turning off the vacuum.

“Mornin’ sleepin’ beauty,” He laughs as he wraps up the vacuum cord.

“Mornin’ handsome.”

You watch him roll the machine back into the hall closet before taking note to how nice and clean the house looked.

“Looks good in here,” You mumble, noting how every surface looks dusted, “It’s missing one thing. You have a vase?”

He silently nods, looking at you confused.

“Go fill it with water, I’ll be back.”

You walk towards the front door, swinging it open as you begin tip toeing to Joel’s side garden. He had started it with Sarah years ago, and for the most part, it was completely overgrown. Some flowers still bloom in the Texas sun, so you pick the prettiest from the dirt. Once you have a bundle, you practically jog inside to show Joel your bouquet.

“Hmm,” He smirks, “Didn’t think we needed flowers.”

“Well, you do.”

He shows you the vase on the coffee table, letting you take on the responsibility to make it pretty. He watches you carefully, your tired eyes trained on the task.

You were his dream girl, truly.

Once you’re satisfied with your arrangement, you make a grand gesture.

“Beautiful, baby,” He beams, wrapping his arms around your waist. He drops down onto the couch, pulling you into his lap.

“Who me or the flowers?” You joke.

“Both.”

You give him a lazy kiss, smirking into it.

This part of life with Joel is so domestic and perfect. You two could create this little world and live in it forever. He appreciated your silly antics, knowing how neglected this side of you must have been with Tommy. He didn’t care about the small gestures like Joel did.

It was so reassuring being with Joel. He praised you like you had never been before.

As you pull away from his lips, you hear a door slam outside. Before you could even react, the front door swings open into the house. You sit on Joel’s lap, turned away from the front door, completely dumbfounded.

“What is going on here?”

His voice scares you. You don’t even want to turn around in Joel’s lap to face him. Joel slowly helps you out of his lap, his eyes never leaving Tommy’s.

When you finally turn to face Tommy, his eyes are wild and bright red. He looks like he hasn’t showered in days, his longer hair greasy and standing in all sorts of directions. It’s not his appearance that scares you, it’s the energy he’s brought into Joel’s living room. It’s the same scary tension you experienced when he lashed out on you before.

Joel finally speaks up, clearing his throat. “What do you mean?”

But Tommy isn’t talking to Joel. He’s looking at you.

“Are you fuckin’ my brother?”

He’s pointing at you, his finger waving at you like an adult who’s scolding a child. You open your mouth, but you can’t say anything. Your throat is dry, the shock and terror taking ahold of your vocal chords.

“Tommy, we aren’t doing this.”

Joel puts himself in between Tommy and you, ensuring he doesn’t creep closer to you. You want to believe Tommy would never get physical with you, but the way he looks now, you’re not one hundred percent positive.

“That’s not what I fuckin’ asking, Joel. Are you two sleepin’ together?”

His voice is booming, bouncing off every corner of the room. It makes you shrink three sizes.

Joel places his head up, warning him silently not to get any closer, “Tommy-”

“Answer the fuckin’ question!”

You want to curl into a ball. You knew this would fucking happen. You knew he’d go insane.

You look at Joel finally. You realize your eyes were trained on Tommy in terror, unsure on how to console him. Joel licks his lips, rolling his eyes a bit. You just nod, trying to answer Tommy’s question without saying anything. You didn’t want him to realize how shaky your voice was.

Once he gets confirmation, all hell breaks loose. He’s pushing on Joel with his chest, screaming expletives at him. You stand in the corner of the living room, your body practically wedged between a lamp and the couch. You want to become one of the dustbunnies on the floor boards, not wanting to be apart of this situation.

“You’re a fuckin’ asshole! You fucked my girl-“

Before he can even finish the statement, Joel becomes a brick wall. He’s staring down at Tommy now, all the while snot is running down at his little brother’s face. He looked pathetic. As he nudges Joel’s chest, he hardly moves a milimeter. Joel doesn’t even hesitate when he says the next words.

“Not your girl.”

You truly cannot believe the words coming out of Joel’s mouth. You knew what he was insinuating and it brought chills up your back. Tommy’s movements completely halt and he stands there in a stunned silence. Joel’s jaw is slack, his eyes trained down at Tommy. It’s a stand-off.

Tommy crooks his head to the side, like he’s stretching it. “You want to pull that shit now, Joel? I knew you wanted my sloppy seconds the moment you told me she was at your house that night.”

Being referred as “sloppy seconds” makes your blood boil. It’s so dehumanizing.

“Stop talking about her like that,” Joel warns, his voice a whole octave lower.

“No,” Tommy growls, his gaze finally falling on you again, “You’re a whore. Just like your stupid sister.”

You swallow hard. It’s finally your moment to shine. The burst of adrenaline chorusing through your veins finally propels you forward, pushing Joel out of your way.

“You’re the town whore, Tommy Miller. You fucked your way around Austin and then came home to me every night,” You are shaking. Luckily, your voice isn’t wavering, “You lie. You cheat. You are a decietiful little shit. And I’m so glad you are because if you hadn’t slept with my sister and told me, I would have never realized how terrible you were to me all these years. I wasted so much time on babying you.”

The vein in his forehead is bulging and it makes you smile a bit.

“If I could go back in time, I would’ve saved my fucking tears and ran the other direction.”

He has the audacity to giggle, “Instead you ran right into Joel’s arms.”

You don’t hesitate, “You never gave a damn about me, he actually did. I should’ve taken the hint the moment he brought me flowers for my graduation, and you showed up with a flask.”

“You graduated college! Big fuckin’ deal! Get over yourself!”

Now you’re laughing.

“Bite me, Tommy,” You reach out and grab his t-shirt, pulling him into you. It makes Joel super nervous how close he is to you. He knows Tommy’s temper and how easily he will snap. He doesn’t know the next words about to come out of your mouth.

“You cheated on me, you fucking loser. I told you then we were done that night, did I not? What I did after that point is not your business. I’m not yours anymore. And your brother, he treats me real good. Way better than you ever did. He can actually last, unlike you,” You smack your lips together, “He can fuck me better than you, that’s for sure.”

Joel’s eyes widen at the words. Tommy looks completely dazed, but as soon as the last line leaves your mouth, he pushes you backward, right into Joel. You squeak at the contact, your brain registering that he actually put his hands on you. Joel quickly grabs you from tripping over him, and places you behind him quickly. Tommy reaches out for you, but Joel stops him meer inches from your face.

“Fuck you!”

Tommy tries to throw his hand at Joel’s head next but it’s quickly stopped by Joel’s forearm. Instead of Tommy continuing the fight with you two, he takes it out on the new flowers and vase you just put out on Joel’s coffee table. He uses all his force, grabbing the vase and launching it towards the wall. The glasses shatters, water splashes on the wall, and pieces of flowers litter the floor.

The action sends Joel pushing Tommy backward and against the wall. You want to yell out for them to stop, but all that comes out his Joel’s name.

When he pins Tommy to the wall, he finally turns to you.

“Don’t.”

It’s the only word you can say. You’re shaking, your eyes welling with tears. Joel knows you don’t want to see him demolish Tommy with his fists, so he thinks quick. He grabs Tommy’s collar, dragging him out the front door.

You follow far behind, not sure what Joel’s gameplan is.

Tommy is yelling, telling Joel to unhand him. Joel just tightens his grip.

“Coming into my house, talking to my girl like that. Fuckin’ disrespectful little shit.”

“Fuck you, Joel,” Tommy yells, his voice probably waking the neighbors. Joel launches Tommy’s body into the front yard, right near the flower bed. You watch from the doorway, wanting to keep your distance from the confrontation.

“Remember when you had temper tantrums when Momma told you no as a boy? Nothings changed. You’re an immature little brat.”

Joel reaches down into the flower bed, grabbing the hose. Tommy is still on the ground, scrambling to get up. Joel does something so unexpected, it makes you yelp. He starts soaking Tommy with the hose.

“Yeah, like the girl said before,” He aims towards Tommy’s face, “bite me.”

Tommy starts to spit up water, jumping up and away from the stream of water. Instead of tackling Joel like you anticipate, he just shakingly wipes his hair out of his eyes.

“You two are sick. Fuckin’ sick. And everyone will know about this.”

It makes your heart sink to your stomach. You don’t really care if anyone knows anymore. You knew this was going to be the worst part, but its the way he makes it sound like a threat.

“I bet they will, I just don’t give a damn.”

Joel sprays him while he stands up, making Tommy groan and yell out in annoyance. Joel just smiles, sickly.

Tommy storms off to his truck, dripping wet from the shower Joel just gave him on his front lawn. Joel tosses the hose back into the garden, satisfied with his work. You two stand there, watching Tommy do a burn out and speed off down the road. You breathe out loud, your hands finding your face. Joel glances between his neighbour’s houses, ensuring there is no one outside watching the events unfold. He did not care if they did watch, but he knew you would probably care.

He grabs ahold of your shoulders, guiding you back inside the house. Your eyes instantly fall on all the shattered glass and flowers as you walk inside. Joel ignores it and brings you into the kitchen.

Your mind is racing. You knew every word you said to Tommy was right deep down. But the girl you were, she wouldn’t have instigated his rage. She would’ve sat there and took every word he said to heart and believed them.

But the girl you are now, that girl is completely ruthless. You are petty. You are harsh. You are angry.

You kind of scared yourself.

“Joel-”

“No baby,” he mutters, “You better not say what I think you’re gonna say.”

“Joel, we can’t d-”

“We can. Because fuck Tommy. Fuck everyone,” He grabs your hips, letting his hands settle softly on your curves, “I want you. I want you so bad. I am not lettin’ you get away. Tommy can tell everyone in the fuckin’ world about us, and I won’t fuckin’ care. What he says doesn’t reflect you. You did nothin’ wrong. Okay?”

You swallow. You know he’s right, but you’re so scared of all this fallout. You don’t want it to scare you away from Joel, but it’s nervewracking to wait around and anticipate all of the chaos that will follow this incident. You did not want to tear apart a family. It’s the same feeling you had the morning after you first slept with Joel.

You’re scared to have him because of what it means for him. It means weird holidays and weird stares at grocery stores. It means you will be known as his brother’s ex girlfriend never just his girl.

You don’t realize it, but you’re staring past Joel. He tilts your head towards him, making your eyes connect.

“I love you, okay?”

His words make your heart flutter with relief. Maybe that’s what you needed. You needed him to finally say those words. Because those words were hanging in the back of your mind, simmering, waiting to be said.

“I love you, too, Joel.”

#joel miller smut #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #pedro pascal #the last of us #joel miller the last of us #joel miller x reader smut #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x fem!reader #joel miller x you #tlou fanfiction #tlou fic #gracieheartspedro

756 notes · View notes

carolmunson · 8 months

Text

it's like sugar sometimes.

(older!modern!dad!eddie)

welcome back to the: orange colored sky setlist a/n: this can be read as a stand alone, give or take some references. but as a pre-cursor: you and eddie are about twelve years apart, meeting in late twenties early thirties, his late thirties early forties. you're deeply in love and we're fast forwarding a bit and now you have a kid. shout out to my nephew because without countless videos of him being the same age as the baby in this fic i would not now how babies baby. cw: pure fluff. pure dad eddie goodness. pretty tame. some mild arguing and swearing. some saucy kisses at the end. a new entry for the fall frenzy extravaganza. this fall frenzy is in honor of @jo-harrington who said i could do whatever, so here we are lmao.

songspiration: how sweet it is (to be loved by you) | james taylor

The ride to the orchard is going much better than you were expecting after such a rough morning. Tears from the moment Gwen came into your room just before four in the morning because she had a bad dream. Then it was too hot for her in bed with both of you, then she was too cold, then Ed’s snoring kept you both awake until she couldn’t keep her eyes open anymore. Then there was the kicking and stretching and rolling around. Aren’t they supposed to sleep like logs? She just turned three. Ed woke up refreshed, frowning when he turned over to see you sitting up against the headboard reading with puffy tired eyes. “Hey,” he says softly as to not wake Gwen who was curled up into his side, “She come in last night?” “Another bad dream,” you shrug, looking at him over your book, “I don’t know if she’s really having them or if she’s just starting to have a little regression period. Maybe we can get her a new night light or something.” “Why don’t you try to go back to sleep for a little and I’ll get her ready,” he asks, voice still raspy from sleep, “I’ll just take her into the shower with me.” You smile lazily at him and nod, looking over at the clock on his night stand – a little past six. Maybe an extra forty-five would do you some good before you went to the orchards upstate. Gwen’s eyes open up to her dad awake, her face contorting when she sees him. “Had a bad dweam,” she sniffles, reaching her arms out. “Poor Gwen, you had a bad dream?” Eddie coos, pulling her up out of bed with him, “Tell me all about it, angel.” Her babbles echo down the hall even after Ed closes the door behind them.

Piercing sobs woke you up instead of your alarm, though that went off right after to remind you that there’s a whole day you have to start. You rub your eyes and groan, sliding out of bed and stepping into your slippers. You grab your robe, shrugging it on as you leave the bedroom and wincing while another cry pours out of your toddler and goes straight to your chest. “I know, honey, I know,” you hear Eddie soothe, “But we’re gonna go do something so fun. You wanna go pick a pumpkin, right?” “No pumpki-i-in,” she sobs, deep and guttural. You open the door to her room slowly, a very teary Gwen stands in the corner, hair wet in a new set of pajamas. You look at Eddie, pulling out an outfit for her and laying it on her toddler bed. “What’s goin’ on, in here?” you ask gently. “Gwen doesn’t wanna get dressed to go apple picking,” Eddie says quietly, “She wants to watch Blue’s Clues.” “Wan’ see Bl-blue, mommy,” she sobs, “Pwease.” “Hey, hey,” you try your best to settle her, “Thank you for saying please, honey. We can still see Blue but daddy has to get you dressed first.” “Did she eat?” you ask, pulling Gwen up to your hip while she cries into your shoulder. “Yeah, she had some mini waffles and a banana,” he opens her closet and fishes out a tiny pair of Chuck’s to go with her outfit – a little black sweatshirt screen printed with the Halloween movie poster paired with a set of leggings meant to look like jeans. “Did you eat?” you smile, coming over to him to plant a kiss on the cheek. “Yeah, her leftovers,” he laughs, “There’s a cup of coffee waiting for you on the counter.” “Thank you,” you nudge him, feeling Gwen squirm and whine while she tries to shimmy down from your hip, “Okay, okay.” “Gwen, please,” Eddie begs with a twinge of frustration in his voice when she makes it to the door, on her tiptoes to reach the handle, “Let’s just get you dressed and you can watch Blue’s Clues while we do your hair.” She stomps, wet curls bouncing with her when she does, “Wanna watch now, pwease!” “Thank you for asking nicely Gwen, but that doesn’t always mean you get your way,” he explains. She shrieks, loud enough that your eyes squint, stomping again onto the fluffy white carpet below her, “I wanna watch Blue’s Cwue’s!” “Why don’t you take a deep breath for me, huh?” Eddie asks her, he pats your lower back on the way to the door. A silent way of letting you know to just go get yourself ready, he can handle the rest, “Do we need to take a time out?” “No time out,” she starts to cry again when you slip out of the room. More frustrated whines and wails boom down the hall, dissipating while you make it down the metal staircase to the coffee on the counter. Your heart swells when you notice that he already emptied and reloaded the dishwasher.

After you’ve packed some snacks for later and gotten yourself dressed, you make your way back upstairs. You approach the bathroom with your coffee in hand, Gwen’s sippy cup full of water in the other. Her bubbly squeals respond back to whoever is talking to her, barely looking up from Eddie’s phone to look at you when you open the door.

“Who’re you talking to, miss girl?” you ask, putting her sippy cup next to her on the bathroom counter. “Steeb,” she says, eyes glued to the screen, much happier than she was before. “She’s watching 90s Blue’s Clues?” you laugh at your husband who’s busy splitting her Gwen’s hair into a middle part, looking in the mirror that she’s sat in front of. “No, she’s FaceTiming with Steve,” he shakes his head, pulling one section back into a high pigtail. “Hi peach!” Steve’s voice rings from the phone, he lowers it back down to parentese to address Gwen, “Is that mommy? Can you say hi to her for me?” “Steeb say hi,” Gwen says, lifting the phone up, showing the screen to the ceiling of the bathroom. You take the phone for a second, seeing Steve’s annoyed face in the frame.

“You’re on thin ice,” he says, his fiancee’s laugh ringing out of frame, “I can’t believe you’re going this week when we’ll be there in two. You always go before we come to visit.” “There will be plenty of apple picking trips to do together when we move, I promise,” you assure, “She starts gymnastics and swimming next weekend, we won’t have another time to do it.”

“Gymnastics?” he asks, “Does she have tights? Leotards? What can I get her?”

“She has like, I don’t know Steve – forty leotards? She’s gonna grow out of half of them in six weeks,” you explain, “Don’t worry, your husband got it covered.” Eddie snickers, wrapping an elastic around one of the ponytails in his fingers. “Well if she’s gonna grow out of them then she’ll need more,” he scoffs, “I’ll get some sent over.”

“You’re impossible,” your eye roll is something Steve is just as used to as Eddie is. Gwen whines again, reaching for the phone with grabby hands, a quiet ‘Steeby’ escaping her. “I can hear her asking for me, gimme back to my girl,” he sighs. You hand the phone back to Gwen who giggles when Steve makes a funny face at her through the screen. “Look how pretty those ponytails are. Daddy did such a good job,” Steve coos at her. “We payin’ be-yoo-dee sawon,” Gwen explains. Eddie looks up at you, whispering ‘Can you grab her bows for me?’ You nod, reaching into the bottom drawer to snatch a basket full of bows, holding them out to him while he picks.

“Beauty salon,” Eddie corrects softly, “Orange or black bows?” “Bwack,” she says, waving him off like you do when you’re busy, “I’m on da phone, daddy.” “Yeah,” you say, meeting her sass, “She’s on the phone, daddy.”

He lets a ‘pfff’ push out of his lips while he grabs two black bows from last halloween, little sparkly spider webs parked in the center. You leave them to it, heading down to get the car packed up and make sure you have Gwen’s bag set up before you leave.

Despite the dramatics, the ride is going well. Gwen happily eats an apple sauce packet in her carseat while the two of you sip on coffees and eat breakfast sandwiches from a drive thru off the highway. It’s nice to get out of the city for a while and get Gwen used to the idea of not being in it anymore. The drive consists mostly of James Taylor’s greatest hits because Gwen is her Grandpa Wayne’s baby before she’s anyone else’s. She hums along to Carolina and sings only the chorus of Mexico. Her favorite song is Mockingbird even though it’s Carly Simon featuring James Taylor. The two of you throw it on the record player every other day to sing it to her, even if she doesn’t ask for it. It’s selfishly your favorite song, too, just ‘cause you get to see your husband play along with you. “And if that better way ain't so, I'll ride with the tide and go with the flow, And that's why, I keep on shoutin' in your ear, Saying (yeah, yeah) whoa-whoa-whoa-whoa, whoa-oh.” You lean your head back on the passenger’s side to make eye contact with Gwen through the visor mirror who giggles back at you. She mimics your ‘whoa-whoa-whoa’, shimmying in her carseat with her shoulders. Gwen’s no stranger to shimmying, always finding some way to dance off beat to Ed’s music when he plays at a venue she can be at or practices at home. His number one fan.

“Oh-wange twees, mommy,” Gwen says, tiny finger pointing out the window at the foliage lining the road. “I see them, aren’t they pretty Gwen?” you nod back at her. Eddie’s head turns slightly to watch her watch the trees, eyes shining at each change of color hits her. His heart beats a little quicker knowing she’s able to make those distinctions between orange, red, and yellow – too smart, getting too big. “Daddy’s git-tah,” she yelps, pointing hard at a tree covered in dark red leaves while Eddie slowly turns down the entrance of the orchard. Gwen lets out a tiny ‘woah’ when the car jostles that makes him laugh, he wishes she’d stay this little forever. “Yeah, that’s the same color as daddy’s guitar, good job sweetheart,” he smiles back at her, “Are you ready to pick some apples so we can make Uncle Stevie a pie for when he visits?” “Ya!” She nods, happy and excited. She doesn’t know what he said, but whenever he talks to her with a smile she’ll do whatever he asks and vice versa. Still ‘sort of rockstar’, definitely ‘meant to be father’. Parking is less of a nightmare than expected since it’s early in the day – most families come after the first morning nap, at least that’s what the mom groups told you on Facebook. Gwen hardly naps anymore, but you won’t be surprised if she knocks out earlier than usual tonight. Eddie gets the backpack full of Gwen’s essentials and you grab the baby. “I have to carry you through the parking lot, babe,” you say when she starts to bounce in your arms, eager to run on the grass in her sneakers. “Wanna walk, please,” she begs, her hands on your cheeks while you make your way towards the entrance. “You can walk when we get inside but there’s lots of cars out here and no stop lights,” you say, batting her hand out of your hair when she reaches for it, “I’ll put you down in a little bit.” “You think we should take the stroller?” Ed asks from the trunk. “They have wagons, we can just pull her around,” you shrug, “I don’t think the back up stroller is good for this kind of place, we’d need the one at home.” Eddie shrugs, joining you on your walk to the entrance to get your empty bag and your wagon, putting Gwen at the back as you get to the trees. “Walk, please,” she begs again. You hesitate, it’s just too big of a place and she’s a runner, “Honey, I would love it if you–” “Let her walk,” Eddie says, “She’ll get bored after a few minutes and wanna watch anyway, just let her walk.” “Come here Gwen, hold my hand,” he says, offering a tattooed hand to her pudgy one. She clumsily crawls out of the wagon, bouncing over to her dad to put her hand in his. He pulls her up once, making her squeal and giggle as she floats next to him. “More, more!” she laughs, letting Eddie swing her ahead a few more times while you all make your way through the trees.

She likes apple picking more than you expected, arms up constantly to be lifted onto the branches to grab some off of every few trees. Gwen had a good eye, better than you and Eddie, for super crisp ones – pointing up and jumping to get at them. If she was a little bigger you wouldn’t be surprised if she climbed up the trees with the ease of a jungle cat. Your husband encouraged it, climbing up the branches like he was still twenty – sitting with his legs dangling off and having you pass your toddler to him. “Please be careful,” you warn, passing her up to him. “Babe, I know what I’m doing,” he scowls, a hint annoyed before changing his expression for Gwen when he helps her onto the low branch with him. “You don’t have to be a jerk, I just want her to be safe,” you snap back. “And I’m keeping her safe,” he says with a smile as to keep your daughter none-the-wiser. Still looking at Gwen while she reaches for another apple. She hands it to Eddie who hands it to you, your fingers brush. “Sorry,” he says, looking down at you, “I’ll be careful. We’re not very high, but you’re right. I’ll be careful.” “Thank you,” you nod, taking the apple and pressing a ghost of a kiss to his knuckles. He blushes red, red, red. Red like the leaves, red like his guitar. “Why s’pink, daddy?” Gwen asks, passing him another apple. “I just love mommy very much, honey,” he smiles, pressing a kiss into her hair, “She makes me turn pink like a heart.” “Like on da phone,” she says, clinging to him like a koala when he slides down off the low branch with her. “Yes, like on the phone,” he nods. You’re not Peach 🍑 in his phone anymore. You’re The Wife 💗. Right now he’s Gwen’s Dad in your phone because you got in an argument two months ago and haven’t changed it back to Rockstar Husband 🎸❣️because ‘Gwen’s Dad’ makes you laugh too much. He hates it. “How you like them apples, G?” you ask when Eddie puts her down in the wagon, she looks up at you confused and shrugs; brown curly pigtails bouncing at she does. “Kids today,” you shake your head at Eddie while you press onward, “No culture.”

“No culture,” he agrees enthusiastically.

You peruse, the bags you bought are filled to the brim with apples. Some red, some green, a few yellow so Gwen can try them and see if she likes them. It’s a calming walk, the chatter of other families, the squeaky roll of the wagon, the rustle of the trees when the early autumn wind catches them. Eddie holds your hand loosely, always needing to keep touching you in some way, always wanting to keep you close to him. You look back, Gwen going between looking around at the other families and playing with her V-Tech phone. Eddie goes from walking slow to speeding up to make the wagon jostle just to hear Gwen’s giggles peal through the trees. After about an hour of walking and picking, you’re about as pooped as your toddler should be. Once you get to the tree line you see the farm and market down at the base of the hill, a little relieved that you’ve all made it to the end of the road unscathed.

That is, until Gwen climbs out of the wagon when it comes to a stop and without warning, books it towards the edge.

“Gwendolyn Rose!” Eddie’s call is rough and loud out of fear, but it sounds like anger. Gwen stops short, startled, falling backwards onto the seat of her leggings. Like clockwork the first whine starts, building up into a needy, sad wail. You know they’re crocodile tears so you keep your pace with the wagon behind you. Your husband however, despite the constant reminder that she knows he’s easy, rushes forward without a second thought. “Oh no, my baby girl, shh, shh. I’m sorry,” he coos, reaching down to hoist her up onto his hip, “I didn’t mean to yell, sugar. You just got daddy scared is all. I’m not mad.” Gwen wipes her face, pushing away tears that never fell, sniffling and hiding her face in his neck. He rubs her back while she settles, guilt tugging on the lines between his brows.

“No baby girl,” Gwen pouts, “I’m big girl.”

“Oh that’s right, you’re my big girl,” Eddie grins, kissing her cheek. She’s not amused, frowning down at him while she pushes up against his shoulder to squirm out of his hold. “That’s a very grumpy face, Gwenny,” you giggle. “Hey, are you mad at me?” he asks up at her before popping her back down onto her feet at the edge of the tree line, “Why’re you lookin’ so mad?”

“I’m big,” she announces, little foot stomping on the grass below her. Eddie lets a sigh out through his nose and kneels down to her level. She takes several deep breaths and you both know it’s the beginning of what could be a very long second tantrum of the day. “I know, you’re a very big girl,” he nods, “But what do mommy and daddy say you have to do when we don’t have you in the stroller?” “Hode hands,” she repeats back in a whine. “That’s right, we hold hands – and if we’re not holding your hand you’re supposed to stay close, right?” He watches her nod, tucking a finger under her chin to make sure she’s absorbing what he’s saying. Her lower lip juts out, cheeks puffing while her shoulders sulk. “I walk by - by mysewf,” she urges, sniffling, “Pwease.” “Not today, sugar. I’m sorry,” he sighs, cupping her cheek in his palm, “I have a fun idea, do you wanna get on daddy’s shoulders and you can tell us how far we are from the farm?” She brightens up a little, giggling when he reaches down to tickle her sides before scooping her up to lift over his shoulders. He groans the way old men groan when they lift something and you stifle a laugh, smiling up at Gwen when she smiles down at you. “Hi mommy,” she beams, waving her tiny hand. “Hi baby,” wave back lazily, the shoddy sleep you had last night starting to settle into your eyes. “Do you see the farm, Gwenny?” Eddie asks, she nods enthusiastically, “Maybe we can go get you a donut, how does that sound? Will that make you happy?”

“Ed,” you click your tongue, “She’s never gonna get to sleep later.” “We’re making memories, babe,” Eddie says, reaching up to hold Gwen’s hands to keep her steady, “Some extra sugar won’t hurt her.”

“Yeah, you love extra sugar, don’t you?” you laugh.

“Matter of fact, I do,” he smirks, shooting you a wink. He laughs when he sees two of those twelve foot Home Depot skeletons posed outside the front of the market, promoting their haunted hayride with signs and other silly decor, “Shit, that’s fuckin’ metal – s’ridiculous.”

“S’dic-yoo-liss,” Gwen repeats. “S’ridiculous, Gwennifer!” Eddie repeats back in concurrence. “Sss’tick-you-luss,” she bounces, laughing when he laughs. They have the same one, though his has years on hers, gruff with age, with cigarette stains.

Pumpkins get picked, warm donuts devoured, the morning finally feels like it’s coming to a close. You park Gwen down at a picnic table while Eddie goes to get the goods, hanging out with your threenager who can barely keep her eyes open. You’re thankful you still have the wagon because there was no way you’d be able to carry all of it back to the car. Caramel apples, cider donuts, three gallons of apple cider, honey sticks, pumpkin pie, and anything else Eddie thought was good enough to bring home for the season weight heavy in the brown paper bags in his arms. He comes back sheepishly, biting his lower lip when you look at the bags and then at him.

“Hm,” you hum pointedly.

“I just really like fall flavors, peach,” he shrugs, “And the old lady at the front was so sweet telling me about the deals I couldn’t not get everything.” “You’re such a sucker,” you laugh with a roll of your eyes, “You ready to head out?” He nods, ticking his forehead at Gwen whose cheek is smushed against your chest, eyelashes brushing the tops of her cheeks, “Looks like this pumpkin’s ready to go.”

“She’s out,” you say softly, brushing her hair away from her face, “Lasted five minutes on my lap.”

“Let me get a picture to send to Steve,” he says low enough that it doesn’t wake her, “The background is perfect.” “Ed you have a thousand pictures of her from today,” you complain. “Shh, shh, come on,” he smiles, taking out his phone – you know he’s only snapping Gwen by the way he lowers the camera to your lap. He puts the bags in the wagon while you slowly stand with her wrapped around your front. You wait at the entrance for him to pull the car around, leaving the wagon behind. She doesn’t wake up when you pop her back in the car seat, slowly rolling out of the parking lot with the rest of the afternoon in your wake.

“I got her a little gourd painting kit, somewhere in those bags,” he says, “She can make some decorations.” “Oh she’ll love that,” you nod, peeking at her sleeping face in the visor mirror again, “I’ll do it with her before dinner.”

He pulls in slowly at a stop sign, hand reaching out to snake into yours, pulling it to his lips to bless you with soft kisses on the back of your hand.

“Thanks for such a good day, baby,” he murmurs.

“You’re very welcome.”

Later on, just before dinner, Eddie hears a tiny knock on his office door paired with two giggles from his favorite girls.

“Yes?” he calls out. The door creeps open and he hears you whisper, ‘Ask ‘Are you busy, daddy?’

“You busy, daddy?” Gwen pipes up. He shuts his computer, moving away from the two additional screens. “No, honey, never too busy for you,” he smiles, creases by his eyes showing up through his glasses, “Do you have something to show me?”

“Yeah,” she nods, pulling on your hand to pull you into the room. He uses the same candles he always has, deep spice, like his cologne. Warm like the way he holds you. Still in his hunter green Dickie’s overalls from this morning.

You give Gwen her little pumpkin that she painted to present to her dad, beaming with excitement while he looks it over.

“Such a good job, Gwenny,” he coos, “Are these –”

“I did bats,” she grins, finger touching the sparkly black sort of bats adorning the outside. Covered in glitter and sequins, falling onto his office floor.

“You did bats? For Halloween?” he asks. You shake your head no, smiling big when Gwen goes on to explain.

“No cause, daddy, cause you have bats,” she hurriedly explains, “Issa daddy pum-kin.” She reaches to his left arm, pointing at the bat tattoos on the inside when he was a kid. She runs her finger over them, “See, bats like daddy.”

“That’s so sweet, honey,” he coos, “Is it for me?” “Yeah,” she squeaks, “For here.” “For your office,” you say for her, trying not to giggle when his eyes shine with tears. She could give him a piece of trash and he’d cry over it, “‘Cause you have so many Halloween decorations in here.” He laughs, looking around at all the tour posters he has from bands he’s seen over the years – to a three year old they probably are a little scary. “And what did you say it was when you were done, Gwen?” you ask, “What did you say daddy would think the pumpkin was?” “Fucking med-oh,” she giggles. “Oh my god,” he sighs, thumb and forefinger immediately going to temples. “Fucking metal,” you repeat back him, knowingly, “Wonder where she got that.”

He tries not to laugh when he looks down at Gwen, “Don’t say that word, baby, that’s a bad word.” “Sowwy,” she whispers. “It’s okay, you didn’t know,” he grins, pulling her in to kiss her all over. She shrieks the way babies shriek when they’re excited and runs out of the office toward her bedroom at the end of the hall. You turn to go after her before feeling Eddie’s hand on your shoulder. “Hey,” he says quietly in your ear, you shiver, “Remember when you said I like a little extra sugar?”

Your cheeks burn hot, turning to him, “I do.” He leans in slow, lips capturing yours in a way that they only do when you both get to be alone, “Don’t forget to keep givin’ me some.” “I won’t,” you murmur back, letting him kiss you deeply one more time before pressing a slow kiss to your favorite place under the hinge of your jaw, “You’re bold, Munson.” He shrugs, breaking away, “Needed somethin’ sweet.”

As if he isn't sweet enough. Eddie spends the rest of the night looking up ways to preserve a painted gourd.

masterlist | fall frenzy | ko-fi

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #dad!eddie #dad!eddie munson #older!eddie #older!eddie munson #modern!eddie munson #eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x reader fluff

703 notes · View notes

runningfrom2am · 8 months

Text

in this life or the next

summary: It's the seventy-fifth annual Hunger Games, and you were just unlucky enough to get picked; but lucky enough for this Quarter Quell to feature pre-selected teams. You get paired up with District One's pride and joy, the one and only Rafe Cameron.

pairing: rafe x fem!reader

wc: 15k (oh my LORD)

tags/warnings: its the hunger games so like... yeah... violence and gore and stuff. definitely swearing, spoilers for the og Hunger Games movie I guess (but also not bc i changed it up a bit- you'll see), reader has a special talent that i won't spoil here, Rafe is lowkey a dick at the beginning, Ward being a shitty dad (what's new). also this isn't thoroughly edited bc.. its 15k words and i'm lazy.

masterlists // nav // requests

join my taglist here

a/n: hello lovelies!! oh my gosh i have been slowly chipping away at this for actual literal months, and i am so proud of how it turned out!! i’m really glad i could finally post it by my birthday!! (i’m 23 wtf??)

thank you so much if you're going to put in the time to read this, but it honestly means a lot to me that you've made it this far. reblogs and likes would be so appreciated and let me know your thoughts in the replies! i really, really hope you guys enjoy reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it. let me know if you want a part two of what happens post games, bc i think i left it at a minor baby sized cliffhanger. anyway, i’m off to eat cake now! enjoy!

Staring blankly out at the crowd in front of you, you attempt to process the echoing of your heartbeat in your ears.

"I'd like us to give a round of applause for our brave, brave tributes this year, and wish them the best of luck in this year's quarter quell!" Your attention is drawn to the woman next to you, the District Five escort, Opal, dressed head to toe in bright yellow. A universally happy color- what a joke.

The crowd is mostly silent and you can't bear the thought of even glancing in the direction of your parents. You turn silently as you're ushered back into the building from the stage, tripping slightly over your feet as the shock sets in. People are talking, possibly to you, but you can hardly hear a thing. You almost made it. You were almost eighteen- one more year and you would have been free.

You were granted the briefest of goodbyes to your family, but you were tempted to even turn that down. An action you regret not taking as your parents walk into the room, your mother with tears already coating her cheeks and your father trying to keep a strong resolve for you and your siblings.

"We'll see you soon, Bug. Remember we love you," He whispers into your hair as you sob into his shoulder. You know he doesn't necessarily mean in this lifetime.

Your tunnel vision settles back in as you're walked out of the room, glancing one last time over your shoulder only to see your dad's shoulders shaking from his silent cries as he turns his back to you.

You are quickly pushed onto the train taking you out of District Five, ignoring the other three tributes and your mentors as they talk. You just stare out the window with tired, red eyes and say a silent goodbye to the home you're already sure you'll never see again.

"Y/N..?" The girl next to you says, tapping you on the shoulder and making you jump.

"Hm?" You hum your acknowledgment, looking at the girl beside you. She's only a year older than you, and you went to school together for years; Maisie, you remember.

"I just wanted to make sure you hear them," Maisie whispers, gesturing to Opal as she starts to explain what the premise of the games is this year.

"So," she claps her hands together, clad in tacky yellow gloves. "I'm sure you have noticed that this year there are four of you, and you'll each be paired up with another tribute to compete. Not necessarily from your own District, but, anything is possible, I suppose. The exciting news is that there's a possibility for two winners this year! You and your teammate will be given a score throughout the games, and if your score as the final two is above ten, you will both be crowned victors!" The woman says excitedly- like it's a good thing.

"And if we don't have over ten?" The boy sitting across from you asks flatly.

"Well... the games shall continue," Opal explains vaguely, but you know what that means. You've seen it before.

"Okay, well, how do we get a good score?" The boy asks.

"I-" The escort starts, hesitance clear in her tone as she's quickly interrupted.

"You kill people," Your female mentor answers. She's leaning her elbows on the end of the table, standing with a knife in her hand, spinning it around like it's some kind of toy.

Your eyes drop from her form, staring down at the table in front of you, suddenly remembering your glass of water and quickly grabbing it when you realize your mouth has gone completely dry just from the idea of what's to come.

You arrive at the Capitol in the middle of the night and despite this fact, the crowds are still there. You didn't expect this, even though you've seen it on the beat-up television in your living room every year. It feels less real, somehow, when you're the one getting pushed through the crowd, not knowing what to do besides give awkward smiles to people yelling your name.

Your room is beautiful. You've never seen anything like this, but you can fully customize it at will with a remote, and this level of technology fascinates you. You spend hours flicking through different images that can appear on the walls, surrounding you in another world. Exhaustion and the sound of an artificial thunderstorm put you to sleep with the remote still resting in your palm.

"Up, up, up, my dear! We've got a big day ahead!" Opal's cheery voice startles you awake from your less-than-cozy spot on the floor. "There's breakfast on the table then we've got to get you down to prep, so hurry up, please." She says, and just like that she's gone, no doubt off to wake the other District Five tributes in a similar fashion.

"You're going to be meeting your teammates for the first time today so you can train together- gosh isn't that just so exciting!" Opal claps as you all stand in the elevator. There's a silence that follows as you and Maisie just nod, not excited about the whole idea. You're about to meet someone who will either be spending the last days of your life with you, or be killing you themselves, and you're not fond of either.

"This way you'll get to train together first, which I do believe to be a very generous act on behalf of the game makers." She adds, making you roll your eyes. How considerate. The most you can hope for is someone who is capable, and preferably someone who isn't in the twelve to fifteen age range, having seen that there were several drawn from different districts.

You shift on your feet as you try to adjust to the uncomfortably tight catsuit they squeezed you into, covered in what must be sapphire and diamond rhinestones, pinching your skin with every slight movement. Gold accents line the seams of the suit, extending out into something that resembles wings and lightning bolts protruding from your back. District Five; power. You get it, but we're the diamonds necessary? You hardly take note of the varying outfits you're surrounded with from the other kids in your district, before Opal is guiding the four of you up the line of extravagant carriages you're meant to parade out on for the people of the Capitol to fawn over.

You take note of where all of the other tributes from Five are lead, guessing based on the order of carriages that Maisie got paired up with another girl from Eleven, and the boys somehow ended up paired together. There must be some sort of personal aspect to this decision, considering you have watched those two boys fight back home. You're last, and Opal looks at you excitedly as you follow her up, and up, and up- to the very front of the line.

"Surprise!" She grins, clapping excitedly as you approach the very first carriage. "Y/N, getting paired with a career is huge. Your odds are good already, your partner has trained his whole life- he even volunteered."

"Sucks for him." You mutter under your breath as you get closer, eyeing up the boy in front of you, wearing an almost matching outfit. All the rhinestones make sense now, blending power with luxury could only mean as much.

"Y/N Y/L/N, meet Rafe Cameron. He'll be your teammate in the games." She smiles as she introduces you.

"Hi." You say quietly, taking his hand as he holds it out to you to help you up onto the carriage.

"Hey." He mutters, avoiding your gaze. It's off to a rough start for him for sure, seeing he's being paired up with someone from an outlying district must be daunting, when for you it should be exciting. Rafe did volunteer, yes, but he doesn't want to risk any kind of attachment- despite what the people of the Capitol want for their entertainment. He wants to come out alive, he doesn't care so much about who he's with.

"Okay, Y/N, remember to smile, please." Opal reminds you and you nod, looking down at her as you hold onto the handle in front of you.

You promise her with a nod, willing to do almost anything at this point to win the favour of possible sponsors. Again, your odds look better next to a career on that front, as well.

Quickly everyone is cleared away from the horses and the carriages and you start moving, catching you off guard and you stumble a little, readjusting your grip on the railing. "Careful." Rafe says beside you, quick to reach out to steady you if you needed it. You think you see the smallest of smiles on his face, but that must have just been your own mind trying to find comfort in anything around you.

"I got it." You whisper, blushing slightly. You've been with your teammate for all of a minute, and you're already proving yourself to be clumsy.

The lights hit your eyes the same time all the cheering does, being the first carriage, it's already so loud you can hardly hear yourself think. You snap out of it quickly, plastering on a smile once you see your own face on a giant screen ahead of you, you don't even look like yourself anymore. Your eyes land on the screen adjacent to the one showing you, seeing Rafe as well. He's smiling too, clearly having headed Opal's advice, or his many years of training is getting to him and he's excited. You really don't know. Then his head turns, and you turn your head as well, making dead eye contact with him for only a moment before he's looking past you into the crowds, taking in the moment.

When you finally get out of the extremely public eye and back into the building you exited from, you feel like you can finally breathe again. Not fully, in the tight, rigid suit they had you dressed up in, but more than you realized you were with all that yelling in your ears and lights in your face.

"District Five, right?" Rafe asks you as you're both stepping down and you nod. "Jeez, you don't talk much, do you?" He follows up with, taking a water bottle from someone who's walking by with them.

"I talk." You reply quietly. "Just... not much to talk about at the moment."

"The shock? Yeah, that'll do it." He nods, taking a sip from the water bottle and holding it out to you. You shake your head and push it away, making him shrug. "Shitty bust when you're not a volunteer."

You just stare at him, taken off guard by the comment. "That being said..." He leans in closer to make sure no one else hears. "I've been waiting my whole life for this, so don't ruin it for me, yeah?"

You pull back away from him and just nod again, not wanting to get on his bad side already. He won't be the one to kill you, probably, but it would still be nice if you spent your final days without your teammate hating your guts. "Thanks, darling." He smirks, patting your shoulder and brushing past you to go to the elevators.

The next day, bright and early yet again, you have your first day of training. You're sure Rafe won't even need it, but you certainly will. Your mentor told you he will likely be using it to size up the other tributes, especially considering there is a staggering amount of them this year, and you will need to focus on survival skills. Only survival skills, if you had to pick one thing- and your mentor drove that into your head until it was all that was echoing in your mind when you entered the training center.

After the trainers speech which ironically tried to do the same thing, you beeline straight for the fire making station. You're shocked to see almost no one else listened, definitely none of the boys, mostly lining up to show off their physical strengths, likely to try and intimidate each other. You'd be lying if you said it wasn't working.

You look up as you hear echoing laughter coming from the other side of the room, eyes scanning over the wall lined with silhouette targets, and racks with an array of weapons before landing on your teammate, laughing away with the other career tributes over a joke you didn't hear. He's got a spear in one hand, leaning his weight on it as his head drops back with laughter. You shake your head to get back on task, rolling the rough wood in your palms in hopes of making a spark. Good to see at least one of you is having fun, especially in your final days.

After a few minutes you get it, sitting back into your calves where you were kneeling on the ground, taking a breath of relief as you're satisfied with your success. You glance around to see how others are doing, giving a small smile and wave to Maisie when you see her, reading a book about different edible plants and trying desperately to memorize every image. You watch as Rafe takes the same spear he was leaning on before, hurling towards one of the targets. A direct hit, right in the chest, slightly right of the centre. You jump a little at the sound it makes on impact, looking finally at the boy who threw it.

He's pacing, huffing and looking a little frustrated with himself. A little to the left would have been perfect, but it was a kill shot nonetheless. There would be no coming back from that, and you count yourself lucky that it likely won't be you in place of the target in the games.

You quickly put out your fire and try again, making sure you've got the hang of it. You'll sit here all day if you must. After three more successful attempts, you're satisfied for the day, deciding you'll return to that station tomorrow and try again. You get up and brush the dirt off your knees, trekking over to where they have supplies to make game traps. You've never done this before, but there's no better time to learn, especially since your teammate has shown no interest in survival skills so far today.

"What are you doing?" Suddenly Rafe is standing behind you, as you're once again kneeling on the ground attempting to get the trigger on your bladeless trap to work.

You jump a little, startled by someone talking to you. "Uh, trying to make a snare, I think." You answer, turning to look up at him.

"Looks good." He nods, crouching down next to you. "Uh, isn't there supposed to be a blade or a spearhead or something on that piece?" He says, pointing to it.

"Well, yeah, I just didn't want to stab myself by accident." You laugh slightly, trying the trigger again- and this time it works, snapping forward into his arm.

"Ouch, yeah, fair enough." Rafe chuckles, rubbing the spot on his arm where the wood made contact.

You just nod and begin to reset it to test it again. "What if you can't get any of this shit in the arena?" He asks.

"What, a stick?" You ask, hitting the trigger one more time, sending the stick into his arm again, which he had decided not to move.

"Ow! Yes, a stick. We don't know what it will look like." He rubs his arm, examining the trap you built closer now.

"Then we're screwed I guess." You joke, leaning back on your calves again, watching him dissect it piece by piece to figure out how it works.

"So, is this like, your thing?" Rafe asks, and you tilt your head at him as you think it over.

"My thing?" You ask, unsure entirely what he meant. "I've never made one before, if that's what you're asking."

"Really?" He seems shocked by this.

"Uh, yeah, really. Unfortunately for you, you got paired up with someone who has zero survival or combat skills."

Rafe looks at you, a smug grin crossing his features. "Ha ha, very funny." He clearly thinks you're joking, but you're definitely not.

"I'm serious." You say, confused as to why he doesn't believe you.

His smile falters, replaced with wrinkles of confusion on his forehead. "But- I just watched you look at the instruction book for no more than like, three seconds before sitting down to make this."

"And..?"

"If you've never done it before it's supposed to be harder than that."

"Well, I've seen other people do it on TV and stuff every year for like, ever." You shrug. "I've just got a good memory, I guess."

Rafe nods, looking at the deconstructed trap in front of him for a moment, thinking about the implications of this. How far does this go? Could he use it? He'd never dreamt of having to work in a team in his games, but maybe it would benefit him after all. "Come with me." He stands up, and you follow as he paces over to two big screens, covered with a large array of different symbols.

"Try this, I just want to see something." Rafe says, standing next to you with his arms crossed as you quickly look over the screen, reaching down toward the one in front of you. You notice quickly that the screens mirror each other, all the images placed in the same spots as they are above. You look up at your teammate briefly who nods at you and then you tap one, watching it disappear from both screens before you tap the matching symbol. It's a matching game.

Your eyes are locked on the top screen as you tap away at the bottom one, quickly making all the images disappear one by one. It takes you no more than a minute to get rid of them all, and then a timer appears on the screen replaying your every move in real-time. Forty-two seconds. Were you really going that fast?

"Neat." Rafe says to himself, nodding as he watches it replay on the screen. That was impressive, sure, but his mind is straining to find a practical implication for this in the arena. "Go back to survival stuff. Learn as much as you can." He settles on, turning and walking off back to where he was before, returning to combat training.

The four days of training fly by insanely fast, and that's likely due to your dread of what's to come. you've got through everything in survival no less than three times, and you're pretty sure last night you dreamt of plants and making a fire. Not surprisingly, Rafe has left you pretty much alone the whole time, but you did watch from a distance as he cycled through every weapon the training center had to offer, proving he's almost mastered every last one. Of course, with over ten years of training, anything less wouldn't make sense. What scares you is the other careers showing a similar skill level to that of your teammate, but he seems to be on good terms with them. Again, maybe this would be a good thing in the beginning of the games.

You sit down for your last day of making fires and fishing hooks, working solely on memory since day one, you're feeling pretty confident that the elements or exposure won't be what takes you out- but you don't know if that's a good thing or not. You just hope your death will be quick.

"Y/N, c'mere." Rafe is suddenly calling to you, motioning for you to join him in the combat area. Not seeing much of a choice, and not looking forward to another day of doing the same thing over and over, you listen.

You make your way over, avoiding the gaze of other tributes who are looking at you like you're about to make a fool of yourself. It's possible you are. "I want you to learn how to use this." He says as you walk up, holding out the handle of a knife to you.

You take it, turning the sharp blade over in your hand. "I thought you were the weapons master." You joke, looking up at him briefly.

"Well, I need you to make fires and shit so you have to stay alive somehow, and if we get separated or something I need to know you can at least defend yourself. These are good from a distance and up close, but remember that any weapon you have they can take and use against you. So keep distance whenever you can." He answers, pointing over to the target about fifteen feet away. "So, throw it."

You look over to where he was pointing, adjusting your grip on the handle as you nod, taking in the information he's dumping on you. He is probably right, especially since you don't think he plans on protecting you himself. Why would he? If you die, he can still win without you.

You lift your arm over your shoulder, closing one eye to narrow down your aim before throwing it hard towards the target, which the knife bounces off of and clatters to the ground. You and Rafe both turn at the same time to look at the group that's laughing at you, the clang of the metal on the cement echoing loudly in the vast space.

"Don't worry about them. They're not there." Rafe is quick to grab another one, handing it to you the same way. "Try again, this time, hold it like this..." He says, grabbing your hand and placing your fingers in the correct spots on the handle. "Keep your wrist tense and straight, don't flick it or anything. Yeah, like that." He nods, taking a step back.

You look over how you're holding it, committing the feeling and finger placement to memory before raising your arm again. You throw it again, and this time it sticks, but your aim is off and it ends up in the target's leg. You look over at Rafe, unsure if you're hoping for approval or just satisfaction. "That's perfect." He nods. "Not a death blow, but that'll buy you time to get away. which is all you need."

"Okay." You agree quietly.

"Would it help if you watched me?" He offered, already grabbing a new knife while you nod. "So, you want to follow through with the throw, your shoulders should end about here if you're doing it right. You get more power that way, and better aim." He explains, standing with one foot forward, parallel to the target.

You step back to watch his strategy, noting the way he held the blade and his form when he aimed to throw it. He lets it fly from his fingers as his shoulders fall forward, smirking to himself as it hits the bullseye circle, right in the chest.

"You got it?" He asks, standing up straight again. You nod in response and he's handing you yet another knife to try again.

You go back and forth for hours, not caring that you're keeping anyone else from practicing. You're not the best at it, but it's become muscle memory now, and every time it sticks, most of the time hitting the silhouette somewhere. You tried the moving targets briefly, the gold, pixelated figures running at you quickly. You were immediately overwhelmed, and Rafe ended up having to step in to help. He said after that the minimal skill you had would be good enough to get away, and that is all you would need. You just have to focus on that.

You didn't talk a lot, besides taking a few short breaks to gather the knives and his arrows as Rafe explained the pros and cons of every weapon they had present, showing you briefly how to use some of them. Mostly how to defend yourself against them. It's hard for him to sum up years of training in one day, but he's dead set on the idea that you won't need most of it- just having to focus on keeping the two of you sheltered and fed, he can handle the rest; hopefully.

You sit outside the training center next to Rafe, waiting for your name to be called. It was the youngest female tribute from his district first, so if you had to guess, you would be third and fourth to go, which doesn't buy you a lot of time to decide what to do to best show your skills.

"What are you gonna do?" You ask, whispering in the deathly quiet room.

"Huh?" Rafe hums, leaning closer to hear you better.

You clear your throat, before speaking this time, unsure if you were clear enough. "What are you gonna do? Like which skill?" You clarify.

"Oh, uh..." He mutters, adjusting how he's sitting as he thinks about what to say. "I'm just going to cycle through some different weapons, different distance targets, I think. My mentors want me to show like, a variety of what I can do."

You nod at this, making a mental note of that. Maybe you should do the matching game and then try the knives. Opal told you that you would be scored both individually, and as a team. You hope you won't bring down his score too much, since you know he's aiming high. You planned on going for a mid-level score, not to be seen as a threat but also not as an easy kill. A perfect six would be your ideal score. "What about you?" Rafe interrupts your thought process.

"I'm not sure." You answer honestly.

"You should do your survival stuff. That will improve our team score, if we show them we have strengths at both." Rafe suggests. That's not actually a bad idea. Your individual score will likely be lower, but that's a risk you're willing to take.

"Yeah, I'll do that."

You ended up scoring a six, the judges obviously not seeing you as any kind of threat. This is what you expected, though, and you were correct about your group score as well. Rafe and you together scored a ten. On his own, he scored a ten, so you hadn't affected it in the way you feared. This left you reeling over the idea of other tributes seeing you both as a threat as you stand in yet another extravagant dress, waiting in line to be called out for your interview. The games were tomorrow, and the last thing you wanted was to get in front of a crowd and subtly plead with them to let you live, to send you gifts, and to give you their sympathy.

So far it's been in the same order they called everyone for assessments yesterday, which means you would be next. Rafe stands behind you, arms crossed in a suit that looks more expensive than any you've seen back home in all of your life, but he looks comfortable in it. Your dress is once again covered in rhinestones, and your waist is cinched in so tight you can hardly breathe as it is, so you're not looking forward to going on stage.

"Our next tribute, welcome to the stage from District Five, Miss Y/N Y/L/N!" You hear the familiar voice of Caesar Flickerman calling you out and some guards usher you forward onto the stage, very briefly glancing over your shoulder at Rafe.

You're quick to smile as you turn back around, giving a small wave to the host and then out to the audience as they cheer for you. For a brief moment, you feel as if they don't plan on watching you die as early as tomorrow, you feel as if they're rooting for you. "Hi!" You say as you get closer and Caesar stands up to greet you, shaking your hand and giving you a quick hug before gesturing for you to sit down across from him.

You look around the large theatre, spotting every camera you can. Your family is out there watching, somewhere, and you know they'll see right through this show you have to put on. You wish they wouldn't. You can picture so vividly your living room back home, with your parents and siblings scattered across the couch and the floor watching you with bated breath, they can see you- and on some level, you can see them too.

"Miss Y/L/N. Thank you for being here." Caesar sighs, reaching out and patting your hand where it sits on the armrest next to you.

"Well, I didn't have any other plans for the night, so..." You shrug, making him laugh. Laughter echoes from the audience and you smile, hoping that your plan to win people over is working.

"What? A beautiful girl like you?" He asks after he's done laughing. "You weren't planning on spending some of your free time with your teammate?" As if you got even a minute of free time since you've been here.

"Well, I guess we'll never know." You chuckle, looking back at the boy where he stands in the wing, giving you a small smile.

"Now listen, Y/N, Rafe is..." He has to stop after mentioning his name as cheers erupt again, laughing as he waits for the audience to quiet down. "Your teammate is, as you may have guessed, a popular face in the Capitol right now. Are you feeling lucky about your pairing?"

Rafe crossed his arms as he watches intently, feeling smug about his odds, especially now knowing the Capitol's opinion of him. He knows his dad is back home watching, full of pride that his son has become a fan favourite.

"I am." You answer honestly. "He's very talented."

"And handsome, don't you think?"

"I mean, who am I to argue with the people?" You joke, waving your hand dismissively as you hear the cheers pick up again. "Besides, his looks won't save us. We will save ourselves." You add seriously.

Caesar nods in acknowledgment, showing that to an extent, he agrees with you. "Well, I hope that you are right, dear." He smiles, getting up to signal you've run out of time. You stand as well, taking his hand as he holds it up above your heads. "It was so lovely to meet you, and may the odds stay ever in your favor. Y/N Y/L/N, everyone!"

You smile and thank him quietly, waving to everyone with both hands as you walk across the stage to exit on the other side. You take a few deep breaths as you step into yet another waiting room, watching the screen as Rafe is called out right behind you.

Rafe sits down on the chair across from Caesar after his introduction, which allows a few moments for the audience to quiet down. He smiles proudly as he rests one of his feet on his other knee, bouncing his leg with anxiety. He hopes it's interpreted as excitement. "Rafe." Caesar smiles at him, sitting back down as well. "I'll be honest, I have been so excited to finally meet you."

"It's good to meet you too." Rafe grins, chuckling slightly at the few whistles he gets scattered from the crowd.

"You got a fabulous score, how are you feeling about that?"

"Really good, yeah. Obviously I've been waiting my whole life for this opportunity, so it feels amazing to see it all paying off." Rafe answers, focussing on keeping the confidence in his tone.

"We can tell, can't we?" Caesar laughs, riling up the audience again, making Rafe laugh to himself as he softly shakes his head. "Yeah, yeah. So, with all this planning you've been doing, how do you feel about getting paired up? You probably expected to be going in solo."

"I did, for sure, but I don't think this is a bad thing." Rafe admits.

"Oh, getting along well with your teammate?" Caesar asks, a hint of suggestion in his tone.

"Yeah, we get on really well." Rafe exaggerates your relationship a bit, knowing it will earn you more sponsors, and maybe keep other tributes away from you in the games. "At least I think we do, I'm not fully sure about her thoughts on me, though."

"You scored incredibly well together, despite Y/N having a fairly average score on her own. What are your thoughts and feelings on that?"

Rafe chuckles as he leans forward a bit, pointing out to the audience as he speaks. "Don't underestimate her based on the score. I won't give you any spoilers, but trust me, don't overlook her. She's got as good a shot as any of us. Maybe better."

Caesar makes a surprised expression as he nods. "Well okay! Does she have some sort of secret weapon we should be worried about?" He chuckles, gripping the armrests and looking around as the audience laughs.

Rafe just shrugs in response, smirking slightly, which you can tell the audience just eats up. You're trying to decide if this is good or bad for you, though, as you watch, gnawing at your nails in anticipation as you stare at the screen.

"Okay, alright, don't spoil anything then." Caesar laughs. "It'll make for a better show, and I can get behind that."

After a moment of waiting for the cheers to die down, Caesar speaks up again. "Rafe, if I can ask, I know your father has a lot of influence in your district- how is he feeling about your selection for the games?"

You furrow your brow a little bit as you look at the screen, finally learning something interesting about your teammate. If he's from a prominent family in District One of all places, that would certainly explain his attitude. Rafe, on the other hand, doesn't want to talk about his father at all- but of course they would bring him up.

"Yeah, of course." Rafe replies, shifting in his seat. "He's thrilled, it's a huge honour to be here, and to be the first out of his children to be chosen is really special to me. I just hope I can make him and my sisters proud, he's always encouraged us to volunteer."

"I'm sure that you will." Caesar smiles at him. "I hope I will have the honour of hosting one of your sisters on this stage one day, as well."

Your stomach churns just watching this. How can any father who loves his children want this fate for them? This was your father's worst nightmare. You watch as Rafe nods with a smile, and you can see behind his eyes that he doesn't want that, not at all.

The audience cheers as they both stand up, shaking hands before Rafe leaves the stage, a cocky smirk on his face as he waves and winks at the audience. Before Rafe makes it down to the waiting room, you're grabbed an escorted out, heading for the elevator back to your room.

You can't eat, but you know you should. This will likely be your last meal for a while. You decide on just taking a large bowl of fruit and toast to your room, trying to get it down slowly with all the nerves, while you have a bath. Your parents never let you eat in the bath. It's hard to get out knowing this is likely the last bath you'll ever have.

The morning goes by in a blur, you feel Opal's arms around you as she hugs you goodbye and wishes you luck. You know you'll need all of it. You stare down at the ground in front of you as you're pushed onto a plane, of sorts, along with all the other tributes. Once you're sat down, you look around at everyone else. You remember all of their names as you scan over their faces, but you wish you didn't. You get stuck on one of the girls from District Eleven, Hope, who was only thirteen.

She's shaking, and you can see that from where you're sat down the row from her. She reminds you of Rue, the tribute from last year. Her death was a tragedy, it broke the hearts of everyone outside of the Capitol and the career districts. Hope's curly hair sat in a bun on top of her head, and tears fell down her cheeks as she sniffled. She got paired up with a girl from Twelve- the lengths the Capitol will go to to make a mockery of last years games will never cease to amaze you.

"Hey, you look a little pale." Rafe whispers, leaning close to you. You didn't even notice him sit down on the other side of you.

You shake your head slightly, looking down at your knees. "I'm fine."

"Don't think about it." Rafe instructs you, holding his arm out for the tracker to be injected as a guard approaches with the device.

You wince as you hear it get shot into his arm and he chuckles, shaking his arm off to ease the sting. You raise your shaking arm as they hold their hand out expectantly to you. You don't know what it is they're putting in you, but you've never been fond of needles. This is a million times worse. "It's not that bad," Rafe tells you, and you squeeze your eyes shut as you feel pressure on your forearm, followed by a sharp, stabbing pain. You bite your tongue to keep from making a sound, dropping your arm onto your lap as they quickly walk away.

"What did they do?" You ask him, trying to keep a steady tone.

"It's a tracker, so they know where we are in the arena." He explains quietly. You were the only two talking, and you notice it's earning you glares from several other tributes. Rafe notices this as well, leaning back in his seat and crossing his arms, taking this time to size everyone up.

The plane takes off, and before you know it, you're landing at the arena on the outskirts of Capitol property. You wonder if you're close to the ocean, not that you'll get to see it anyways.

You're paraded off of the plane, still trying not to let it show how afraid you are of what's to come. You make the briefest of eye contact with Maisie as she's pulled towards a different hallway, and neither of you have it in you to smile anymore.

"We've gotta get supplies, that's our first move." Rafe says to you as you're led out of earshot of other tributes, into your own hall.

"My mentor said to run." You reply quietly.

Rafe scoffs, shaking his head. "Your what, one mentor said that? Cool. I have fifteen that are still alive and well enough to show up every year. I think we should get supplies." He tells you firmly, but you know that will get you instantly killed, maybe not him, but you stand no shot. "Just stick with me if you want to live."

You just nod a little bit, glancing at him again briefly before you're directed into a separate room across the hall from him. His pedestal will be next to yours, which is a bit of a relief. Your stylist quickly instructs you to strip, and then she helps you into the uniform you assume you'll all be wearing. It's exactly the same as last year, you notice this quickly, but with a '75' logo embroidered on the chest where the District Twelve tribute had her pin placed. Katniss, you remember her name was. She had volunteered for her sister, and at the time you contemplated heavily on whether or not you would do the same. She was so, so close to winning- to getting to see her sister again, but she and the boy from her district, the final two tributes, ended up committing together rather than giving the Capitol their Victor. It was an admirable stance, but you couldn't imagine what that was like for her family, and his.

You step off the concrete floor once you're dressed, instructed to get into the pod that will lift you up into the arena; a glass elevator. Your stylist says nothing to you as they walk out of the room, the glass door sliding shut in front of you. Your knees get weak as you realize you are totally, completely alone, and likely no more than twenty minutes from dying. You think of your family, your siblings, your dad- and the last words he said to you. You'll see him soon.

Your thoughts are halted when the elevator starts to move, lifting you up as the ceiling falls away and you can see sunlight coming through. You squint and shield your eyes as you try to look up to get a better grasp on your surroundings before you can even see anything. Once trees come into view you're frantically looking around, trying to process as much information as you can, and quickly. It's exactly the same as last year, but from what you can tell, flipped in reverse, and made larger to accommodate twice as many tributes. Or everything on camera last year was flipped. There's a silver cornucopia in the middle with the timer that's immediately counting down and supplies inside and scattered around the field in front of you. Rafe is to your right, and a boy from Seven on your left. He scored a six, the same as you, so he's not the biggest threat to you immediately.

You adjust your stance, getting ready to run once the timer hits zero. In what direction, you don't know yet. Rafe wants you to run to the supplies, but statistically, the most deaths will happen in the next five minutes and you don't want any part of that. The supply bags and weapons spread out on the grass are all the same too, by the looks of it. The closest bag to you got picked up by the girl from Seven last year, and it didn't have much of anything helpful. If you're remembering right, it had a rope and some matches, and that was it. It definitely would be useful, but you know you can do better. There should be a bag four pedestals to your right, with a water bottle, an emergency blanket, a fire starter, a first aid kit, and a knife. Right now, that's the one you have to get to. That's your best bet.

Ten, nine, eight... The timer ticks down to the final seconds as you look over at Rafe, who's already looking at you. You point to the bag as your eyes land on it on the other side of him across the field, and he looks at you confused. He's closer, he has a better shot, but you know he won't take it.

Rafe is confused, following your finger and spotting the bag. Why would you want that one specifically? There are others closer, he doesn't feel like now is a time to be picky.

Four, three, two...

Your ears ring with shock as the clock reaches zero, and you're watching most of the other tributes booking it for the center. No one has seen your bag yet as you jump down, beelining across the field and narrowly brushing past Rafe in your move for the small backpack. He stops to let you pass, almost crashing into you head-on. He doesn't have time to worry about you, so he continues on his path to the middle, but he's lost time. Precious time that he doesn't have to lose right at the beginning of the games.

He gets into the bloodbath that the cornucopia has already turned into, looking back over his shoulder quickly as he grabs at any weapon he can get his hands on. He quickly has to sacrifice the blade he just grabbed when he hears footsteps quickly approaching from behind him, turning quickly and plunging it into the boy's chest. He doesn't think to look at who it was.

Cannon's echo around you, and you're counting how many internally as you get to the bag, reaching down to grab it as you run past, trying not to slow down. You look back over your shoulder, hoping to spot your teammate somewhere, but you can't see him. You're scanning the area, blocking out the blood you see flying and scattered along the silver metal of the cornucopia. You can hardly hear any screams over the sound of your heartbeat pounding in your ears. You can't help but watch as the girl from Three jumps on who is supposed to be her partner, a girl from Twelve, snapping her neck in a second. Within moments, she just drops to the ground next to her- another cannon following. That makes a strong incentive for working in teams. At least Rafe won't betray you early on.

You freeze up for a moment, stopping to scan your surroundings. You still can't find Rafe, taking in the number of bodies scattered around the cornucopia and a few tributes running into the tree line. At least some people were smart. Something flies past your head, making you jump back a step as you look up ahead of you. Within an instant, you're being tackled back by the body of the boy from your district.

"Y/N, fancy seeing you here." He chuckles darkly while you try and fight him off.

"Don't!" You squeak out, him pressing his forearm down against your throat on the ground.

"I've wanted to do this since the second they called your name." He growls, shoving you down again.

"We can help each other, Jack..." You say weakly, clawing at his arm.

"You don't need me. You've got your career boyfriend- and whatever your secret weapon is." He scoffs. "You don't have a secret weapon, Y/N. He's bluffing and he won't convince us."

You gather all your strength and knee him in the crotch, scrambling to get away as he fumbles for just a moment. "God- you are a bitch!" He shouts, grabbing for your ankle just has you pick up the knife he had thrown at you. You grip it the way Rafe had shown you, quickly shoving it into Jack's leg. You just needed to get away.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" You exclaim, backing away quickly. Jack doesn't say another word, cutting his losses and getting up to make an escape for the woods. You hope he ends up okay.

You make your break for it as well, running back towards the woods as you once again scan your surroundings for your partner.

Suddenly you're on the ground, having run straight into the side of one of the pedestals and falling over it. You yelp with the sudden impact of the ground, scrambling to get up and continue when suddenly someone is grabbing your jacket, slamming you into the pedestal again. You scream, trying to shove them off, but they're much stronger than you. "Jael! Wait, wait- Jael!" You make out your own voice yelling the boy's name, which makes him falter. He's the oldest tribute from Eight- he seems shocked you even know his name.

In the moment when he loosened his grip, he jerks forward and then falls over you, a cannon booming making you gasp as you panic to get away. Rafe is quickly running towards you, slinging the bow he just used over his shoulder and yanking the arrow out of the boy's back. "Y/N, let's go!" He shouts, motioning for you to follow him as you continue toward the tree line, both of you keeping an eye on what's happening behind you as you disappear into the woods.

"Let's stay close, but not too close," Rafe suggests as soon as you feel safe enough to slow down, your chest heaving with the exertion of energy and boost of adrenaline. He glances at you briefly, then does a double take. "You okay? Are you hurt?"

You shake your head, coughing to ease the stinging in your throat. "I'm fine. You?"

"Good," Rafe answers, slowing his pace to match yours.

"We, uh, I think we should go the other way." You say, looking around to try and mentally place where abouts you are.

Rafe stops and furrows his brow at you, seemingly frustrated by your resistance. "Why does it matter?"

"The arena, it's the same as last year. Exactly the same. Just, scaled up a bit." You explain. "We should head south, that's where the river is. We'll need water soon."

Rafe laughs slightly, his demeanor changing as he places his hands on his hips and looks at you. "No shit," He says, truly surprised and impressed that you could tell. A lot of the games tend to look like this, and he would never notice a repeat arena down to the rivers if it punched him in the face. Your 'secret weapon' is already paying off. "And you could tell that right away?"

"Yeah, I mean, I guess so. The bags were all the same, everything was laid out the same. I bet there's a river down south." You nod, having a sudden realization. "We should get to that cave- the one the tributes from Twelve holed up in last year. That'll be a good, stable shelter. We can pretty much wait it out." You say, starting to walk in what you believe is the right direction.

"No," Rafe replies, making you stop in your tracks. "Unless you want me to have to kill you in the end."

"Oh, right." You forgot about that part, keeping score. "We're still going to need somewhere to sleep, though."

"Yeah, we'll find it anyways." Rafe nods, carrying on in the direction you started heading. You follow a few steps behind, keeping a bit of distance in the somewhat awkward silence that fell over you two after his comment about having to kill you.

You walk in the thick of the woods for about an hour before you feel like you're reaching the river. You can feel it under your feet, the soil is slightly softer, and the trees a little more green.

Cannons interrupt your thoughts a few times in the hike, totaling up to twenty-three by the time you reach the riverbank. "You were right." Rafe chuckles, mentally disparaging any skepticism he faced during the long, quiet walk.

"Thank god." You giggle, dropping your bag and crouching down to dig through it, hoping for a water bottle. You were right, everything you expected was accounted for.

"Why that bag?" Rafe says, already sitting down on the rocky water's edge to rest for a moment.

"Huh?" You question, unsure you heard over the shuffling of the bag while you zip it up.

"You pointed to it, during the countdown. Why did you want that one?"

"Oh, uh, like I said they all looked the same as last year, and I hoped I remembered what was inside." You say, laying down to reach into the water and fill up the bottle.

"Were you right?"

You nod with a small smile, sitting back up and holding the bottle out to him as you cross your legs.

"That's actually insane." Rafe shakes his head in disbelief as he takes it, downing just about everything in it before handing it back.

You take it and refill it again for yourself. "I'll choose to take that as a compliment."

Rafe wouldn't admit it, but at this moment as he's watching you drink, he's grateful that he got paired up with you. But now, that it's been shown on national television that you know the arena in and out, he wonders what obstacles the gamemakers will desperately throw your way.

"We should keep moving. I feel like a sitting duck out here in the open, I don't like it." Rafe mutters, checking his attitude as he stands up. You're quick to fill up the bottle again, following behind him yet again as the arrows in his quiver rattle together against his back walking over the rocky and unstable terrain, knife gripped tightly in his hand.

You wonder to yourself how he's feeling about leaving behind his predestined alliance of the career pack, but with the factor of most of them being paired up with other districts, it was already too unpredictable. You wouldn't have stuck around either.

The sun started to set as you followed the river upstream. You didn't want to settle without some kind of shelter, and you were committed to finding that cave before you could relax. You could tell that Rafe had the same idea, his steps ahead of you gradually picking up speed with the bow still gripped firmly in his palm.

"It's a beautiful sunset." You speak your mind before thinking, desperately wanting to fill the silence.

Rafe just hums in response, looking up only briefly before training his gaze once again on the ragged rocks at his feet and continuing on. "What's it like in District One?" You ask.

"Fine." He replies coldly. You aren't sure what you expected, but this response was pretty on par. You knew you had almost no chance of survival, so it would at least be nice to get to know the person you spend your final days with, even if he would be the one to kill you in the end.

"I've never been, but I've heard it's... nice." You've only ever heard about it from the perspective of other bitter individuals from Five, jealous of the cushy lifestyle everyone knew they must have lived.

"Yeah." Rafe agrees, clearly not wanting to discuss it.

"What are your sister's names?" You ask, deciding to push a little bit. It's not like he can kill you just yet.

Rafe sighs, but answers anyways. "Wheezie and Sarah."

You're shocked that he answered at all, but you could tell in his interview that he has a soft spot for them. "Cute." You nod, smiling to yourself. "Is Wheezie a nickname?"

"Yep, it's short for Louise."

"That's adorable." You grin, shaking your head.

"Hey, look. There." Rafe says, changing the subject and pointing down the rocks, where there's a small opening under a ledge.

"That's it!" You exclaim, deciding to drop the topic of his sisters in favour for finding your shelter for the night. You rush past him, watching your step as you climb down into the small cave.

Rafe quickly draws his bow, slowing down and peaking into the cave and bracing himself for your screams. How could you be so careless in a game like this? He doesn't understand your lightheartedness, your somewhat positive attitude, and your ability to make small talk despite the circumstances. "Hey, careful!"

"It's perfect!" You call back out as you look around, and Rafe steps down carefully, looking around more carefully than you had. He relaxes once he's satisfied that there's nothing down there waiting to kill you.

"Nice, okay." Rafe nods to himself, and you both get to work making a small fire near the entrance, hidden from view.

You take off your jacket and roll it up, using it as a makeshift pillow as you lay next to the fire, staring at the orange flicker of the flames you made.

Rafe is sitting across from you, knees tucked up to his chest as he does just the same. His mind is absolutely reeling- he needs to find something to eat, and soon. That will be the first thing you'll do in the morning, he'll have to employ your help to find something edible. "How are you with making traps?" He asks.

"I can do it." You reply, sitting up and leaning on your elbow so you can see him. "I'll set some up in the morning."

Rafe nods a little bit. He already knew you could, of course, but he's wondering about the logistics of how they work. "So like... hypothetically, would they work the same if you made them bigger?"

"Like... human-sized?" You ask, catching on to what he's suggesting. It's not ethical- but nothing about this game is. For you, this would definitely be preferable to fighting other kids to death over and over again.

Rafe nods, adjusting how he was sitting and crossing his legs.

"Yeah. I can't see why not." You answer. "It would be harder since I've never done it, but I think it could work."

"Then I say we try it."

The next day, you wake up as the sun rises and the light beats down on you from the entrance of the cave. You didn't sleep comfortably, that's for sure, waking up twice throughout the night to the sound of the cannon. That's twenty-seven. You wonder how many teams have already reached their ten-kill quota, you imagine someone in the career pack already has. Both times when you were startled awake, Rafe was standing at the cave entrance, bow drawn as he squinted into the darkness, hoping that whoever was out hunting other tributes wasn't nearby.

You sit up slowly, stretching out your tired limbs as you look over to see Rafe, fast asleep with a blade in his hand. You should let him sleep, and get to work on finding something to eat, and making some traps.

You grab one of the knives Rafe somehow collected from the bag laying next to him as quietly as possible, sneaking outside and taking in your surroundings. The sound of the river flowing and the smell of morning dew was amazing- you wish you could truly enjoy it in different circumstances.

You quickly get to work tracking down something to eat, landing on a few different plants you know to be edible. You're trekking through the woods near your cave when you come across an apple tree- making you pause as you look it over. It looks out of place- and maybe no one got close enough to it in the games last time that you wouldn't have seen it, but that seems unlikely. It must be new; it makes for the perfect place to try and set up a trap for the next hungry tribute who would be unfortunate enough to wander too close to your hideout.

You're digging a hole in the ground with your hands, avoiding the roots of the tree and sticking in some sticks you sharpened when you hear a twig snap behind you. You freeze, hoping that by some miracle, it's just an animal. You slowly turn your head to try and look, picking up the knife from the ground next to you and holding it tight.

"Just me." Rafe's voice relaxes you, and you stand up, brushing off your knees.

"You scared me." You admit as he takes to looking down into the hole you just dug.

"That looks... awful." He chuckles, patting your shoulder. "It won't kill, but it'll slow someone down enough that I can finish the job."

You nod slightly, staring into the dirt as well. You hated the idea that you were crafting something intentionally to bring harm to another person, but realistically you have no choice. "We'll set up more, along the riverbed and closer to the career pack. We can't monitor them all at once, though- can you make more fatal ones next time?" Rafe asks, pointing back towards the river to accentuate his point.

"That depends, how many arrows can you spare?"

The next few days saw the death toll rise to thirty-six. You kept track every night, scratching their numbers and names into the walls of the cave despite being able to remember anyway. You viewed it as a small memorial, Rafe saw it as a timer ticking down to when he'd have to kill you.

Your first trap had worked on one person, their screams of pain from a cut-up leg summoning your teammate back to the apple tree. He insisted you stay behind as he finished what you started. You had to reset several other traps as well, closer to the cornucopia.

Rafe would never admit it, but he was really starting to like you. He didn't want to hurt you- he was worried the traps wouldn't do enough. The passive approach you so preferred wasn't what he expected, and he knew his dad would be disappointed in him. But Ward would never understand.

He sighed as he poked at the fire with a stick, leaning his head back against the rocky wall of the cave, another cold night ahead of you.

You had your head laid on his lap, his thigh replacing the thin material of your coat that you had been using the last few days.

"How old are your sisters?" You ask out of nowhere, prompting him to look down at you. He had thought you fell asleep a while ago.

"Why does it matter?" Rafe replies, and you just shrug a little bit.

"Gives us something to talk about."

"Fifteen and Eleven." He relents.

"Hey, me too." You smile a little to yourself.

"You have sisters?" Rafe asks. He never asked much about you- he didn't really want to know, in the case he had to kill you.

"Yep. And a brother." You nod, sitting up a little bit. "He's older though, he aged out last year."

Rafe finds himself clenching his jaw. He can't hear that- to see you as a little sister. He doesn't want to imagine what it would be like to see his sisters face the same fate. "Lucky guy." He says quietly.

"Why? I thought it was a privilege, and all that." You chuckle.

"Well, yeah, but not for most. For the outlying districts like you."

"At least you get it." You agree. "How does it feel? Now that you're here, I mean."

"Scary." Rafe admits, throwing caution to the wind now with what his father will think. "Not what everyone tells you it'll be like."

"Is that because of me?" You ask after a few moments, and he nods slightly.

"Not in a bad way, though. It's just different. I expected to be on my own, to die alone, or kill my allies if I had to. Now... I don't know that I have to. Or if I even could." He can practically hear his father shouting at their large screen at home, or storming out claiming he was an embarrassment. He was told his whole life to never show weakness, to 'be a man', but now, at the end, that doesn't matter to him.

"I won't take it personally." You giggle softly, voice shaking as you try to make light of it. "My family won't either, I don't think. Maybe my dad, at first, but eventually he'll understand. They'll forgive you." You try and ease his mind, knowing that in the case that Rafe does win without you, he'll have to face your family in the next month or so during the victory tour.

"I wouldn't ever expect him to." Rafe tells you, tossing his stick into the flames now. He feels sick hearing you talk about it like it's inevitable- but if he has anything to do with it, you'll be coming home with him.

"They're good people." You assure him.

"Don't say that." Rafe chuckles, shaking his head. "I would never forgive myself."

"Okay, fine. They're awful. Just... the worst." You smile, looking up at him and resting your chin in your hand.

"That's better. Thank you." Rafe laughs, poking your forehead and gazing out onto the river as the flames illuminate the water.

In the morning, you're awoken to something brushing your leg. You groan and roll over, head landing once more on Rafe's extended arm underneath you. At least he was finally getting some sleep, pretty much unable to close his eyes since you set foot in the arena. You feel the brush again, followed by something moving on your arm, several things, suddenly, and your eyes fly open and look down when you remember where you are. You let out a scream, scrambling to sit up and pushing yourself back against the wall.

Rafe wakes up quickly, scrambling for the bow next to him when he realizes it won't be any help. You're surrounded by and quickly almost covered in a sickening combination of snakes and spiders.

You're still screaming, trying to shove the creatures off of you. "Come on- come on!" Rafe is yelling at you, grabbing your arm and pulling you towards the exit. You don't get the chance to grab your back and you regret that as you're jumping into the river in attempt to get the spiders off of your skin and out of your clothes.

You're breathing heavily as you come up for air, and Rafe is quickly there, brushing his hands over your hair to make sure every last spider is gone. He looks back at the entrance of the cave, chest heaving like yours as the bugs and snakes spill out of it. It sends a shiver down his spine- he was never a fan of snakes.

"I guess that's the gamemakers telling us enough was enough." He sighs, gently pulling you towards the shore again a safe distance away. "Are you bit?" He asks once you're a safe distance away.

"I don't think so..." You reply, hiking up the ankles of your pants to look at your calves and over your bare arms as you sit on the shore. "You?"

Rafe shakes his head, doing the same. "It was probably just a warning. We have to move." He quickly lowers his pant leg over the puncture wounds in his leg, hoping you didn't see. If it gets worse, he'll tell you. The bite itself didn't hurt much, so if it's going to be fatal, he's glad he won't have to hurt you.

Rafe helps you up, leading you up towards the tree line. "They probably want to push us in toward the other tributes, I think we should go with it before they throw something worse at us." You, the two of you now left with nothing but what you had on you, along with Rafe's bow and a few spare arrows.

He nods. "It's our best move anyways. How many tributes are left?"

"Twelve including us." You answer quickly. "There's Avril, a boy from six, Maisie, she's from my district, most of the careers I think are still in it but not their teammates," You begin to rattle off the list,

"I don't want to know names." Rafe cuts you off, and you understand why. He's been doing all the dirty work, and part of you knows it's because he's hoping to have time to learn names and feel guilty about it later. Right now, he can't afford to see them as human.

"Right." You agree. "It doesn't really matter, anyways."

"Do you know scores?" He asks, walking alongside you now.

You nod, beginning to list off all the remaining tributes and their scores, from lowest to highest. The lowest being you- and the highest being ten, shared by Rafe and a boy from district two.

After hearing two more cannons that day, and checking all the traps you had set, you're circling back to the river to be near fresh water before you set up camp again. You don't have your water bottle anymore, or anything to set up any kind of shelter with, you do your best. You set up a fire, Rafe insisting that if it draws other tributes to you so be it- he's ready for this to end just as much as you, but you don't want to rush into your death or an ambush. It's safe to say you won't be sleeping tonight.

You didn't sleep, but at least, curled up under a tree, the night sky was beautiful. The stars seemed realistic, and you wondered if somehow they were real. Between the two more cannons that struck overnight, you still wondered if you were somewhere near the ocean, or somewhere closer to home. While you're sitting next to each other in a peaceful silence, both admiring the vastness of the night sky, you hear a ringing sound coming from above.

Rafe quickly stands, reaching for the small silver pack with a parachute before it hits the ground. He's quick to open it as you stand up, looking into the container. You grab the small card, tilting it into the light of your fire to read it.

For our Y/N,

Keep fighting. Please come home to us.

Love You Always, Dad

Tears form in your eyes almost instantly, your hand coming up to cover your mouth. "It's just a water bottle and some kind of granola bars... or something." Rafe says, turning the water bottle over in his hand.

He looks up at you, frowning when he sees how upset you look. "Hey, what's wrong?"

"Nothing." You quickly shake your head, wiping your eyes. "Uhm, it's from my dad."

The fact that your family could spare enough money to send you something in the games at all was amazing to you. You heard horror stories of the astronomical prices of trying to send something from outside of the capitol, without the status and funds of a sponsor.

"Oh." Rafe replies, handing you the tin and bottle now, taking the card from you gently. He reads it over slowly, and over and over again. His family had seemingly endless amounts of money, and they had sent him nothing. He knew his father viewed it as cheating, and that you shouldn't need any kind of help to win. If he loved him, though, that wouldn't matter. He should be willing to do anything he could to keep his son alive. The way your parents did.

"My mom made these." You sniffle, grabbing a small bar from the container in her hand. "They're my favourite, she only makes them on birthdays or special occasions." You explain.

"That's... that's really nice." Rafe says, putting the card back in the tin. He doesn't know how to handle this, or what to say.

You smile sadly as you sit back down against the tree, placing the tin on your lap as Rafe joins you. "Here." You hold the bar out to him.

"They're for you." Rafe shakes his head, pushing it away.

"They're for us." You insist, holding it out to him again. "They wouldn't have sent two if I wasn't meant to share."

"Thank you." Rafe smiles genuinely, for the first time in weeks as he takes it. He's starving, having eaten only small amounts of meat and plants over the last week or so, so he's quick to take a bite. It's sweet, more so than he expected. He never thought he could enjoy sugar this much.

"No wonder they're reserved for celebrations, hey?" You giggle, having intently watched his reaction.

Rafe nods. "Yeah, it's really good. Super sweet." He says, mouth still full. You grin, satisfied as you take a bite of your own.

The night flew by so quickly, you're feeling as though it must have gotten shorter. The sunrise went by fast too. You're guessing the gamemakers and the viewers were getting antsy. To be honest, you were as well.

Renewed with your energy the sugary baking your parents had sent, you set about gathering food and water, while Rafe goes on to check a few of your traps to see if they needed to be reset. He could do it on his own, but he liked watching you do it, working the ropes between your fingers and tying intricate knots, pulling back on the stick used to trigger the arrow. By the afternoon, having taken a mental note of the amount of cannons that had fired. It was a few, at least. You must be getting down to the end. He prayed it wasn't you, but the cries of some kind of mutts in the distance right before the cannons lead him to believe that you were fine- but he should be getting back soon anyways.

You were wandering down to the water, reluctant to leave your camp, but you knew water was a priority. You were just filling up the new bottle when you heard a scream. It sounded like a boy. You quickly look back over your shoulder, noticing it was nearby. Toward the apple tree. You stand slowly, looking around as you attach the water bottle back to your side with a carabiner, reaching instead for the knife Rafe had left with you. God, you hoped it wasn't him. The absence of a cannon gives you hope, though.

You quietly head in that direction, watching your step so your presence isn't detected. When you get closer to the tree, you hear crying. Painful crying, as you're faced with the reality of the trap you set.

You watch from behind a tree as the boy from eight tries to pull his leg up from the ground, screaming out again as the sharp sticks dig into his flesh. You should go get Rafe- you feel guilty, but you can't kill him yourself. You turn quickly, and before you can get a step away you're face to face with one of the other careers- a sword held up against your neck.

"Don't move." Blake says, a smile that can only be described as evil spreading over his lips.

You try and scream out for help, hoping Rafe was still in earshot but a hand is quickly covering your mouth. "Not yet." He whispers, shaking his head. "We've got a plan, it'll be fun. You wouldn't want to ruin that, right?"

As Rafe gets back to your small camp, he expects to see you there waiting. He scans the trees above him, wondering if you had climbed up for some reason. He calls your name when he doesn't see you, brow furrowed. You definitely should be back by now. As he's heading down to the water to look for you, he hears a cannon, which at this point wouldn't bother him- if it wasn't for the scream that followed after. It was you. No doubt in his mind that it was you. With his bow drawn, he's moving quickly towards where he heard your voice, throwing caution to the wind.

You scream again, crying as the tip of the sword is dug into your shoulder, laying down next to the apple tree. You can't help it- but you don't want their trap to work. You don't want Rafe to come, so you bite your tongue until you taste blood, hoping to keep quiet. "It'll only get worse for you if you don't scream, Y/N/N." Blake scolds you, digging in the blade more. "He has to hear you." He adds through gritted teeth.

You hear a twig snap just outside the small clearing, and Blake is quickly turning to look with the sword still pinning you to the ground. "Rafe it's a trap!" You shout, hoping that it's him.

Rafe steps out then, into full view with his bow drawn as he aims at the boy in front of him. When they first met, he knew they would have been good friends if they met anywhere else. "You won't shoot me." Blake chuckles, and Rafe quickly readjusts his grip.

"I will." Rafe says sternly, pulling the string tighter as Blake moves the sword to hover over your chest. Over your heart.

"If you shoot, the last of my energy will go into killing her. I don't think you want that." He shakes his head, smiling smugly.

"I don't care." Rafe says, making your heart clench. You know that you're friends, at the very least. He does care. He's bluffing- you have to believe that.

"If you didn't care you would have shot me already." Blake calls it, and Rafe tenses up, looking down at you only briefly.

"Then what do you want?" Rafe spits.

"Oh, nothing. I just wanted you to watch." Blake shrugs. "Just makes it a little more fun, you know? But don't worry, you'll be next." You know he just wants to prove himself, somehow, not having scored as high as Rafe did. You wonder if his family was somehow similar- that he needed some kind of approval that he thought he might find through sadism.

Rafe looks down at you again, and you just nod, tears streaming down your temples to your ears. He quickly readjusts before letting the arrow fly, planting straight in the shoulder that held the sword as you quickly roll over, slicing across your chest and shoulder in the process. It was well worth it.

Rafe fires another arrow into his chest, not taking any risks and the cannon quickly follows as he rushes to your side.

"Are you okay?" He's asking, hands hovering above you as he's kneeled next to you, unsure what to do.

You nod, still biting into your tongue as blood continues to slide down your skin, dampening your now torn up clothes.

"It's not that bad." Rafe says, looking over the cuts as best he can, but you wince when he pulls the fabric away. "You're gonna be fine, alright?"

"Yeah, yeah..." You mumble, letting your head fall back against the brush below you. Rafe is quick to take his coat off, using it to push down on the deepest part of the wound on your shoulder, trying with his other hand to apply pressure to the rest of it. You try and focus on your breathing, rather than the pain, but it's hard when a significant amount of weight is being applied to your shoulder and chest.

"I'm sorry, I have to." Rafe tells you, jaw tense as he lifts his coat to check whether or not the bleeding has slowed. You didn't even realize you were crying.

After a few minutes, he's lessened the pressure a bit, still holding the fabric firmly over your skin. "You could have ran." You mumble, voice hardly above a whisper.

"I wasn't gonna leave you." Rafe shakes his head, gently peeling away his now blood soaked windbreaker.

"You at least shouldn't have saved me. Not much point in that, is there?" You smile softly, trying to sit up and Rafe is quick to help.

"There is. You have to win." He mutters.

"I'm not winning, Rafe." You smile sadly at him. "Infection will kill me if you won't, and if no one else does first."

"No, they'll fix you up. This cut will be gone in a week, the technology they have is-"

"Rafe." You grab his attention again and he looks up to meet your eyes. They seemed to suck in all the light of the sunset above the two of you, reflecting back at him in a way that makes his breath hitch. The thought is cut short, however, when you say something that breaks his heart. "Don't give me hope like that."

"Why? You're gonna go home. I mean it." He promises. "I'll make sure of it."

"I don't think we have enough." You remind him sadly, a small smile still evident on your lips as you reach up to cup his cheek in your palm. "I never expected to go home. I'm okay with that."

Your friend shakes his head softly. "That doesn't matter. You have your family to get home to, I read that note from your dad. They need you, I can see that. For me, these games are all I was raised for. I have nothing left for me after this." He admits, avoiding eye contact with you. "I could never forgive myself if I didn't get you home."

Tears are forming in your eyes again as you look up at him. The world is watching, and in this moment of vulnerability you feel that more than ever- despite the quiet sounds around you being only the rushing water in the nearby river and the birds chirping around you. "You're a good person, Rafe." You smile at him, watching as he gently raises his hand to yours, grabbing it in his own. "I hope you know that."

In this moment, you settle on the idea that you would die for him. You never understood last years tributes, honestly, how they were willing to die for each other instead of getting home to their own loved ones, but now you do. Completely.

Without a second thought, you find yourself leaning closer, Rafe doing the same as he kneels next to you in the dark. Your eyes meet once more, lips only an inch from touching when you hear a howl in the distance, and you snap your head to the direction it came from. "The Mutts... Already?" You say, scrambling to get up and ignoring the pain in your shoulder.

"I- I heard them earlier, they sound far away." Rafe says, trying to calm you.

"You heard them? You didn't tell me?" You ask, frantically grabbing his bow from the ground and handing it to him as he goes to pull the discarded arrows out of Blake's body.

"I didn't think it mattered!" He defends, trying to hide the panic in his voice.

"There were four left last year when they sent them out. I think... yeah I think that's right. There's four of us. We have to run." You say in a panic, pulling on his hand. "Our best bet is making it back to the cornucopia."

"It'll be too open- can't we climb a tree or something?" Rafe says, following after you as you're running through the bush now in the direction of the open field.

"I don't know if that will work, but I know we'll be safe there." You explain like it's obvious. "We have to risk it- and if you can get to the others first, if they have the same idea, we'll be at ten."

You're out of breath already, adrenaline pushing you through as you hear scattered barking getting steadily closer after one more cannon. Part of you wants to stop, turn, and force Rafe to take the win if you couldn't have it, but with any hope left, you have to try and get back to where this started. The traps was an unfortunate choice in how you got your kills, because you couldn't keep track of how many since by the time you got around to checking them, the body's would have been airlifted off if it wasn't a misfire. If you had to guess, though, you were sitting at eight.

Rafe is running similar calculations in his head as he lets you lead him by memory straight to the field, mind short-circuiting as he sees the silver moonlight reflect off the cornucopia.

You sprint across the open field, blood pouring from your undressed wound again with the intense exertion of energy. Rafe doesn't pass you, though, despite you expecting that he would. You have tunnel vision as you make it to the metal structure, practically slamming into it before you can even stop. Rafe is quick to lift you and shove you up, both of you looking over your shoulders as you struggle to hold onto the edge, kicking the sides to hold yourself up.

You finally get up, reaching down to help pull Rafe up. He grabs onto your arm for leverage, mostly pulling himself up and you wince as you feel the tension from his weight in your cuts.

You flop down onto your back on the cold surface as he climbs over you, immediately standing up with bow drawn as he intently scans the surrounding area. He's only got the two arrows left, which makes him nervous if that's all he has to defend the both of you with.

You try to settle your breathing, which only lasts for a moment until the sky lights up with the recap. You miss your cave, where you could contribute to your memorial, especially seeing the face of Maisie flash above you on the sky while the anthem plays.

You close your eyes, just listening to the music now until you hear barking just outside of where Rafe can see, and you're quickly sitting up. He draws the bow tighter, aiming in the direction the howls came from just as someone pushes out into the clearing. Rafe is aimed straight at them, bow string pressed to his cheek. He's getting dizzy, and quickly. His aim can't fail him now, he doesn't have that option.

You watch them, in the dark you think it's the other boy from district one, and in your exhaustion you can't remember his name. You wouldn't dare say it, anyways. He's screaming for help, a call you know you can't answer, and you watch as they stumble on their feet, shoes and hands digging into the ground as they try to get up, just ten or so yards from you by now.

Rafe wants to shoot just then, it would be as simple as letting his finger loose and the arrow would fly towards its target. It would be a merciful end for the boy he's trained with for years now, only a couple years younger than him. The muscle in his jaw is aching from the tension he's put on it when he forces himself to let go. He has to do it, for himself, if he wants to go home.

He misses. The yelp of one of the mutts tells you it landed in a paw or back, and you look up at Rafe who's already drawn his second. "Rafe!" You cry out, pushing yourself up onto your feet and standing behind him now.

He hates to admit that your empathy has rubbed off on him. Watching you every night carving seemingly endless names and numbers into the rocks that lined the space you stepped in. He recalls waking up one morning and seeing your name and his carved in as well, closer to where he laid by the fire, his underlined and yours with a heart at the end. Like a signature on the top of a math test. He had wondered if you always wrote your name like that, and in this moment as he releases the bow again, he knows he has to find out for himself.

It happened so fast, the mutts knocking down the boy and the arrow flying from Rafe's shaky hands into where he should have been right as the cannon sounds. You don't know that it was Rafe's arrow that did him in.

"No..." You mumble, clamouring forward and onto your knees again to look over as the boys body is torn apart by the mutts. "You had to have done it. You had to." You say, trying to get a better view.

In a second, Rafe's arms are around you and he's pulling you back from the edge, sitting now behind you with his arms wrapped tightly over your body. "It's okay.. it's over." He mumbles, kissing the side of your head as the sunlight comes over the trees. He's fighting off the urge to vomit, everything spinning around him now.

You sit with him, gripping onto his arms and crying. Nothing is happening, so you must not have made it to ten. You feel sick- your heart is in your throat and suddenly you're really hot, moving away from him to look over the edge again, this time incase you have to throw up. You freeze, looking over to where the boy's body once was. The second arrow was in the ground. He missed again.

Rafe sees it at the same time as you. He sighs, hanging his legs over the edge. "Shit... Y/N, I'm sorry." He mumbles, gently reaching over to rub your back.

"No, no. It's okay." You insist, sitting up next to him. "I knew this would happen."

"I'll get you home." Rafe says, sliding down the side of the cornucopia before you can stop him. He stumbles the landing, swaying in his walk as he heads towards the arrow lodged into the dirt.

"Wait! Wait, wait, Rafe!" You're sliding down after him, running to his side and grabbing his arm before he can get to the arrow in the ground.

He turns to you quickly, hand on your cheek and he's pressing his lips to your forehead. "Sit with me?" He asks, knees already giving out as he falls to the ground.

You're instantly on the ground beside him, practically holding his head up with your free hand as you search him visually for some kind of injury. "What happened? Are you hurt?"

"Uh, I guess so." Rafe mutters. "Snake bite. I think."

"You didn't tell me? I could have fixed this, I could have helped..." You ramble on, his eyes dropping shut now. "Hey, eyes open."

"It's okay. Just sit with me..." He says again, smiling weakly. "Wait with me... please?"

You nod, sniffling as you fight back the tears that want to fall. "Yeah, of course. I'll stay."

Before he closes his eyes, the music starts again and your eyes are drawn up to the sky after you notice Rafe is looking first.

Then, begins a similar slideshow of faces you recognize. Ten in total. Rafe's eyes flicker with slight recollection, remembering any kills he made himself and you gasp when you see Jack. Whatever damage you had done when he tackled you on the first day must have killed him. "Rafe.." You mumble, lowering your eyes to meet his. "I think we won."

Your point is accentuated by the voice of the head gamemaker over some unseen speakers. "Introducing the Victors of the Seventy-Fifth Annual Hunger Games!"

"We did it." Rafe laughs weakly, squeezing your hand.

You fully ignore the aircraft hovering down in front of you on the grass, turning your head to look down at him. You don't say anything, neither of you do, and you finally feel your lips against his. The kiss is bad, it doesn't really work when both of you are stuck smiling ear to ear, but you don't care one bit. The only thing that matters is that you got this chance at all.

Rafe pulls away from you slowly, using all the strength he has left to lift himself onto his feet as you steady him. "He needs help!" You shout to them, and you're quickly being lead onto the plane.

"They've got really good technology," You mock what he said to you just the day before. "It'll be like it never happened in a week, okay?" You chuckle, feeling waves of happiness, worry, and relief all at once as you quickly wipe away a tear with your free hand, other arm wrapped tightly around Rafe's waist to hold him up.

He laughs, and you lean into him more, your forehead against his shoulder as the aircraft door slides shut behind you.

taglist: @bookishbabyyy @madelynie, @whore-4-drewstarkey, @slut4drudy, @winterrrnight, @totalswag, @sadfury @fullfledgedemo @rafemotherfuckingcameron, @urfaveluvr, @chenslucy, @hxnnah-397, @s-we-e-t-t-ea, @tahliac11, @saccharinesammie, @ietss, @maybankslover @redhead1180, @suzyheartsrafe, @wpdailyminimeta, @aegons-bitch, @rafegirly, @lovelyxtommy @dee127

581 notes · View notes

haddonfieldwhore · 1 year

Text

bedsheets - ethan landry

nsfw // no spoilers 🔪 // pre ghostface attacks

warnings: nsfw, protected!sex, sub!ethan, sub!reader, friends to lovers, language, slight praise kink, it’s just fluffy as hell, not edited!!

soft ethan playlist 🎧

can be read as a part 2 to “tired” or on its own

you and ethan walked out of study hall together, after an especially boring lecture that had you almost asleep at your desk.

“that was the longest 2 hours of my life,” you sighed, adjusting your bag on your shoulder as you shoved your textbook into it. “i think i’m gonna skip the afternoon today.”

“i could meet up with you later? i’ve still got english today, but i’ll be done at 3,” he offered. you grabbed his hand, dragging him in the opposite direction of his class, and he smiled as he followed behind you.

“or…,” you began. “you could skip your classes and just hang out with me now,” you suggested,

giving him your best puppy dog eyes. ethan knew he could never say no to you, and let you drag him to his dorm building.

the door closed behind you as ethan set his bag down on the floor, and you followed him to the living room area of his dorm.

“hey man,” you heard his roomate, chad call out to ethan from the other room.

“hey. we have a guest so i hope you’re decent,” he laughed.

“yeah i’m good, dude.” chad said walking out of his room, indeed fully dressed. “hey,” he greeted you, and you smiled in return.

“don’t you have class right now?” chad asked ethan, who was grabbing each of you a drink from the mini fridge in the tiny kitchen area.

“yeah.. i was gonna go, but this one’s a bad influence, they convinced me not to go.” ethan gestured to you, and you playfully raised your hands in surrender.

“well, i’m on my way out, so the place is yours,” chad explained, winking at ethan behind your back, and the he pushed his shoulder in return. you sat down on the couch and waved goodbye to chad as he slid his letterman jacket on and walked out the door. ethan sat next to you, turning on the tv.

“movie?” he suggested, and you nodded.

“you pick- i’m cool with whatever,” you replied, and ethan flipped through a stack of dvds before picking one and putting it in the player. the menu screen for “i know what you did last summer” popped up and ethan pressed play. you weren’t honestly too interested in the movie, just happy to not be in class. ethan and you had both seen the movie before, so you didn’t think he’d mind talking over it.

“where was chad going?” you asked.

“to hang out with tara i think,”

“do you think he’s ever gonna make a move on her?” it was obvious to everyone that chad and tara were into eachother, except for chad and tara themselves. ethan laughed, a smile spreading across his face as he thought of his friends.

“maybe. i can’t believe neither of them see how into eachother they are,” he admitted. “i think i’d figure it out if one of my friends had a thing for me.” you hoped ethan couldn’t see the blush on your face as you thought you were going to sink into the floor. you and ethan were best friends, and had always been incredibly close. it wasn’t uncommon for the two of you to fall asleep in each others arms after a movie on the couch, or for you to sit in his lap at sam and tara’s when there wasn’t enough chairs for everyone. and you were perfectly content with it never being anymore than that, since you thought that’s what ethan wanted.

“yeah…” you replied, trying to focus back on the movie, but all you could think of was how close you and ethan were. his leg was just inches from brushing against yours, his arm over the back of the couch. it would be almost too easy to curl into his side, to rest your head in his chest and listen to the rhythmic beating of his heart like you had what felt like a thousand times before. so why was it any different now? why did you have to complicate things all of the sudden?

“you okay?” he asked, leaning closer to look at you, and you tried to avoid looking into his pretty brown eyes.

“just…. tired,” you whispered, not even sounding convincing to yourself, as you looked down at your lap.

“you know i can tell when you’re lying right?” he asked softly, and you looked back up at him, your noses almost touching.

“eeth-“

“can i kiss you?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper. you tried to reply, but couldn’t form words, nodding instead. ethan leaned forward, closing the gap between you and gently pressing his lips to yours. “come here,” he whispered, taking a hold of your arm and pulling you onto his lap, straddling him as his arms wrapped around you, holding you close to him.

“please-“ he cut you off by kissing you again, his lips so soft as they moved with yours. your fingers clung to the fabric of the front of his t-shirt, before sliding over his clavicle and up the sides of his neck, and he let out a whine underneath you. ethan’s arms tightened around your waist, moving you against his lap slightly, and you moaned softly into his mouth. his hands slid up the back of your shirt slightly before he stopped, separating his lips from yours.

“is this okay?” he asked, his eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation.

“yes, this is more than okay,” you assured him, connecting your lips again. his warm hands still sent shivers up your back as they slid underneath your shirt, leaving goosebumps in their wake as they moved higher. your hand moved up the sides of ethan’s neck and twisted into his chocolate brown curls, tugging slightly.

“hmm..fuck,” ethan whimpered, and you bit his bottom lip gently, causing him to moan loudly. his hands slid down your sides to grip your hips, moving you to grind slightly against him. “can you feel what you’re doing to me?”

“i’m sorry….do you want me to help you with that?” you teased, moving your hand down to palm his hardening length through the fabric of his jeans. his head fell back against the soft couch, exposing his neck. his adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, and you leaned forward to gently nip at soft skin below his jaw.

“i need you,” ethan moaned as you left hickeys up his throat, and he shuddered underneath you as you found his sweet spot. “fuck-“

“you can have me,” you assured him, and he lifted his head to look at you, his gaze soft as he brought his hand up to hold your chin lightly, his thumb tracing over your lips. you opened your mouth and let him slide his thumb past your lips, sucking on it slightly, and he involuntarily bucked his hips upwards slightly in response.

“do you….do you want to go to the bedroom? or stay here?” he asked, quickly loosing his composure as you continued to move yourself against him.

“bedroom?” you said, but you honestly didn’t care; you just wanted him, it didn’t matter where. lifting you slightly as you stood, ethan leaned down to kiss you now that you were both standing. his hands still on your hips, he guided you towards his room, his lips never leaving yours as you tried not to fall while walking backwards through the doorway.

ethan gently laid you down on the bed, grabbing something from his dresser drawer before crawling on top of you and gently kissing your forehead. his fingers traced your face from your temple down to your chin, and he tilted your lips upwards to meet his again. you arched your back, lifting your hips to meet his and he moaned, allowing you to slide your tongue into his mouth. your hands slid under his shirt, silently requesting it be removed and he got the hint, pulling away and sitting up slightly to pull it over his head, messing up his hair slightly in the process. you took the opportunity to undo his belt buckle, before his fingers found yours and took over, removing the belt completely.

“can i..?” he asked, waiting for your permission as his hands found the hem of your shirt. you nodded, and lifted yourself upwards to make it easier to remove. removing your remaining articles of clothing, you were both naked in front of each other for the first time, but there wasn’t any time for feeling self conscious or nervous as ethan kissed you again, and your hands traveled down to stroke his length gently. he moaned into the kiss, before burying his face in the crook of your neck as you began to move your hand back and forth. he whimpered as you ran your thumb gently over the tip, and he pressed sloppy, wet kisses to your neck.

“you sound so pretty, baby.” you cooed in his ear, and he bucked his hips into your hand at your voice.

“please…god you look good like this- underneath me,” he mused, and you smiled. “slow down,” he instructed, his fingers wrapped around your wrist to stop your movements. “i wanna be inside you.” you nodded, and he grabbed a small packet from next to him on the bed, opening it and letting you help him slide the rubber onto himself.

“ethan-“ you moaned, as you felt him position himself at your entrance.

“are you sure?” he asked, and pushed himself into you after hearing you reply yes. you both moaned as the feeling of his movements sent shockwaves through your bodies. he waited while you adjusted, pressing his forehead to yours until you gave him the okay to move. starting off with slow thrusts, you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled his lips down to yours again. he began to quicken his pace and you tugged harshly at his curls in response.

“do that again-“ he inhaled sharply as you obliged, pulling his hair as he thrusted harder into you. “fuck, you feel so good,” he whined. “i’m gonna flip us over, okay baby?” you nodded, and ethan rolled over, now sitting on the bed with you in his lap, your legs around his waist, allowing him to reach even deeper inside you than before. your eyes rolled back in your head and he held you close, his large hands roaming your back.

“ethan… fuck-“ you had trouble forming words, you eyes glossy as you and ethan looked at eachother. he rested his forehead against yours again as he thrusted upwards into you, his rhythm becoming sloppier as he neared his peak.

“you’re being so good for me,” ethan whispered, and you rolled your hips against his, causing him to swear under his breath.

“i’m so close, e,” you whimpered, so near to the edge that you didn’t know how much longer you could hold on. “tell me i’m yours.”

“your mine,” ethan almost growled, and his movements stuttered as you tumbled over the edge, contracting around his length as he frantically slammed into you.

“fuck, i’m never gonna get over you,” he whimpered in your ear, the feeling of him inside you getting to be too much.

“come on, baby, i wanna hear you when you come,” you pleaded, tugging on his hair harder than before, and he moaned loudly, shaking as he finished inside you, his warmth spilling into the condom as you moved your hips to coax him through it. you were beginning to feel a little overstimulated, and tears began to form in your eyes as he slowed his hips before stopping his movements completely. collapsing gently on the bed, ethan carefully pulled out of you, removing the condom and disposing of it before getting a warm cloth from the bathroom to clean you up.

you lay in bed next to him, his eyes closed as he lay facing you, his curls messy and damp with sweat as you gently brushed them off his forehead with your fingers. his eyes were closed, a light blush in his cheeks and a soft smile on his lips. his brown eyes opened slightly, and his hand reached up to gently caress your cheek. you leaned forward to kiss him and his arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you into his chest.

“we should’ve done that a long time ago,” you admitted, your fingers crawling up his skin to gently trace the shape of the dark purple hickeys you’d left on his neck and collarbones.

“yeah- we should’ve. but we can do it a lot more times,” he said, laughing lightly, his voice deep with drowsiness. “i like you here like this. in my bed.”

“i like being here; with you,” you replied, relaxing into ethan’s embrace and closing your eyes. with a final kiss to your forehead, you drifted off to sleep, and ethan followed shortly after, safe and warm in each others arms, where you belonged.

#ethan landry playlist #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry one shot #ethan landry headcanons #ethan landry smut #ethan landry fanfiction #ethan landry imagine #ethan landry #ethan landry fluff #jack champion #jack champion fic #scream #scream 6

2K notes · View notes

cottonlemonade · 8 days

Note

Can i have a medium to large peach lemonade with boba for atsumu??:)

Sunday Morning With Your Husband

warnings: mdni, nsfw

_________________________________

Looking at your planner you had huffed at the things that needed to get done around your house. But after breakfast your husband Atsumu had requested a quick cuddle session and quite frankly, you’d be a fool to turn that down. Sitting on his lap, you had begun to set gentle kisses to his lips and ran your fingers through his hair.

He hummed happily and pulled you closer. Sundays like this should be the norm, you thought. You didn’t want to get up and do boring housework when instead you could use the little time you had with your always busy spouse to make sure your love stayed as strong as it was. You rested your forehead against his and smiled when he booped your nose with his.

You shifted, trying to get a bit more comfortable but felt something pressing against you.

You really should have known better. “Nooo, baby, why are you hard? We have things to do.”, you said with a mock whine.

Atsumu laughed in disbelief, “Ya really can’t expect me to stay soft with my wife so close to me.”

You giggled and tried to get up but he pulled you back, setting you firmly on his … (you gave a dreamy inward sigh) magnificent thighs.

“No, stay.” He pouted, squeezing your plump ass, making you jump and inadvertently grind a little against him. He grinned and kissed your neck.

“Tsumu… didn’t you hear when I said we have a lot to get done?”

“No…”, your husband ran his tongue along your neck, making you shiver and grind further.

“Come on, babe, we already didn’t finish our list last weekend.”

“Then, let’s just take a break.”

“We haven’t even gotten started yet.”, you chuckled, tightening your grip on his hair when he nibbled at your collarbone.

“See it as a pre-break. I’ll be good after I promise, but right now I don’t have the brain space for anything other than this.” He brought a hand up to massage your breast.

You let out a quiet moan when he played with your nipple through the thin fabric of your shirt. “You promise?”

He nodded eagerly, sensing victory.

“Once my wife is satisfied I’ll do anything ya want me to. And I’ll make lunch.”

Feigning to think over his proposal you set your hands on his broad shoulders, rolling your hips against him and making him whimper.

“And take out the trash.”

“And I’ll take out the trash.”

“And watch that new movie with me when we’re done.”

“And I’ll watch that movie with ya when we’re done.”

“And take a shower with me.”

“And I’ll -“, he smirked, “Yer chores are really interestin’, my love.”

_____________________________

a/n: thank you so much for your request! I feel like I should think more about husband Atsumu, he is too cute 🥺 please enjoy! ✨

#sunnys lemonade stand #atsumu x chubby reader #haikyuu x chubby reader #chubby reader #haikyuu smut #haikyuu drabbles #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #miya atsumu #atsumu x you #atsumu x reader #hq atsumu #haikyuu atsumu #atsumu smut

196 notes · View notes

aaronsrpgs · 4 months

Text

In Praise of Random Encounters

I'm in my "responding to frequently asked Reddit r/rpg questions" phase, so please allow me to defend the random encounter. This post is in response to everyone who goes, "Why do people use random encounters? They interrupt the flow of the story, and it doesn't make any sense to have something randomly show up and fight."

Did you know there was a Pokemon named after me?

In this post, I will argue against these strawmen, make a case for random encounters in certain games, and describe my favorite random encounter situations from my own games.

This disputation against random encounters can be broken up into three parts:

they interrupt what is already going on ("the story")

they are illogical

they're automatically a fight

I'm going to address these last to first.

Random encounters shouldn't jump right into fights. If used as intended, they come with an encounter distance, meaning sometimes you just see signs of the encounter, or you spot them from far away. And they should also come with what used to be called a reaction roll, which dictates how the encounter feels about the PCs. These were rolled on 2d6, which meant there was a bell curve that favored results in the 6-8 range, which were usually something like "wary" or "neutral."

Second, the logic of random encounters. If you're using them right, random encounters should make sense. They should only have a chance of happening in places where the encounters could be, and encounter tables ought to be chosen based on location. So you won't get a dire trout in a desert or whatever.

This last bit is the hardest one. If it feels like a random encounter would disrupt "your story," you're probably running a game whose underlying philosophies are opposed to random encounters, yes. It's probably also opposed to many other frameworks that were present in traditional/old-school rule sets. If your game has a pre-planned story or plot, if that plot requires a certain pace or order, and if the injection of outside elements would disrupt that plot, you probably shouldn't use random encounters.

(You also shouldn't use D&D or its cousins. You might also not want to have other players, since they can disrupt those plots. But that's just me being petty.)

A page of random encounter rules from Advanced Dungeons & Dragons. This is a shitty example. I promise it's easier than this.

So when SHOULD you use random encounters? Use them if the game you're running is attempting to simulate a world that has its own logic and background that is not dependent on the player characters. Random encounters help show that the world is in motion at all times and that people and creatures move about of their own volition. They don't show up when it's meaningful to the plot or the other characters; they wander. They're random.

Another key component of this style of gaming is that they usually consider story as something that emerges from or comes after play. "Remember how we tried to cross the raging river full of electric eels, and you dropped your sword, and I almost died, but we made it across? That was awesome." These things didn't happen because they were important plot points predicted by the DM; they are the results of rolls at the table, rolls that are honored in their immediacy and only made sense of after the fact. Does this mean that you risk having a disjointed mess from which no pleasing story can emerge? Yes! But you also risk having a story emerge that no one could have planned, that is equally surprising and pleasing to everyone at the table.

This emergent storytelling is probably the greatest joy of the random encounter. Don't approach the encounter with, "It doesn't make sense that a goblin would be here." Instead, adopt the attitude of, "Let's figure out why this gobllin would be here." (And while you're at it, use that same attitude toward books you read and movies you see.)

A related aside: in some play cultures, the DM is considered to be someone who plans everything out and slowly reveals bits of story as rewards to the other players. As a DM, this can feel really stagnant, and it can be a lot to keep track of, and there is far less joy of surprise. Using dice at the table to introduce new elements can bring some of that fun back to the DM.

Everything I've said so far is a synthesis of dozens of rulebooks and blog posts I've read across a decade of running games, so please allow me to introduce a final element: my own experience with the joy of random tables.

In 2014, when 5E was coming out to great demand on the backs of Stranger Things, Critical Roll, and The Adventure Zone, I started running a campaign for friends and coworkers. There was no developed play culture around 5E at the time, no cottage industry of third-party developers. So in running it, I was drawing on what I had been reading for years: old-school roleplaying and story games.

So I prepped my starting town (doing way more work that I would today), including random encounter tables for the area. And when the players were out searching for some ruins and getting lost west of town, I rolled a random encounter. It was some gnomes. All the gnomes here had escaped from a gnome hell for greed, so they weren't exactly kind. And their reaction roll was just south of neutral, so they were a little surly.

A bad screenshot of my "west of the town of Wall" encounter tables.

They led the players to the ruins and waited, trying to trap them inside after they'd been run down by the undead inside. But the players overcame the trap and told the gnomes off. (They didn't want to get in another fight after going through the ruins; more emergent storytelling.) So the gnomes ran off, but they would remember this.

Flash forward to a different session. In the main mega-dungeon under the town, the players were exploring a new area. Another random encounter: the devil of gnome hell! It was a giant mole with masses of earthworms for limbs, and it was searching for its escaped prisoners. It threatened to kill the PCs unless they gave it a magical item. So Pepper the elf gave up his winged sword, which he'd found in the aforementioned ruins. He loved that sword.

And here's where it all comes together. The gnomes were trying to settle the land west of town, but the humans had a fort there. The players were going to that fort to get some information about the faerie realms. How could I show this situation in a way that would, as succinctly as possible, illustrate the tension while giving the players a choice on who to join? Well, the gnomes would be attacking the fort. This normally wouldn't be much of a battle…but the vengeful gnome from the ruins had made a deal with the gnome devil for power. And now he was wielding Pepper's sword, using it to fly over the fort walls and attack.

Pepper was pissed! He wanted his sword back! The other players were more interested in figuring out a way to stop the ongoing conflict between gnomes and humans. And the gnomes were split between wanting to peacefully settle their new land and get revenge on the players for driving them off from the ruins. Who would prevail?

I hadn't planned a story, but I had created a situation a story was likely to emerge based on the players' actions and the results of the dice.

Conclusion

This isn't me saying this is the only way to play. It's not the only way I play. In a short one-shot or a tightly paced, emotional game, I would never use random encounters. But they can be fun! And they (and their associated suite of rules) can address some of the issues that lead to DM burnout and genre predictability.

If you find me in the wilderness, I will fight you.

#rpgs #dnd #random encounters

296 notes · View notes

motherofdogs1010 · 2 months

Text

Letters to Juliet & Romeo I (Thomas Shelby x Reader)

Summary: Heartbroken and in the midst of the Great War as a nurse, Y/N L/N writes to a person she never expected to write to before... her brother's friend, Thomas Shelby... But the war's over now and it is time to face the letters...

Warnings: wartime angst, talks of wartime violence, pre-Peaky Blinder Tommy, soldier Tommy

Italics: content of the letters

A/N: Inspired by the movie 'Letters to Juliet', also there is no real timeline of when Tommy goes into the tunnels in France

January 1916, 2 Years into the Great War (WW1)

"L/N, you got a letter."

Looking up from the book she was reading, Y/N set it to the side as one of the soldiers came in, handing her a envelope that was a little dirty, had seen a little wear and tear but she recognized the hand writing on it.

She recognized his handwriting after months of writing to Tommy, Y/N remembered the first time she had written Tommy; it came after months of not hearing from her brother when he had left to France with the rest of the men in Small Heath. Y/N had made the decision to join in as a nurse with the Red Cross and maybe it was foolish, but she remembered the night before leaving on the train, when her nursing uniform was on her bed as the nerves were coursing through her that she grabbed a piece a paper and began to write.

Dear Thomas that letter began, she poured out everything about how Small Heath was, how she had signed up as a nurse and how she prayed she wouldn't find any of them in the camp hospital she was going to be. She had written how she barely had made the qualifications of being a nurse for the Red Cross with her just having turned 25 and such.

"Who keeps writing you, F/N?" one of her fellow nurses teased.

"Don't you know that's her boyfriend?" another responded.

"He's not my boyfriend", she denied, feeling a heat go through her.

"Sure he isn't."

The letters have begun as something innocent when Tommy had responded back to her first letter, she could sense the shock in his letter about her writing him but as the letters progressed, so did their relationship through their letters.

Opening the newest letter, Y/N felt a sense of anxiety in her as she remembered having had the courage to send Tommy a picture of her in her uniform; she remembered taking the picture once her training had been done, having donned the periwinkle, long-sleeve floor-length dress with the white apron that wrapped around her and went down to the ground. She had to tightly wrapped her back back into the white cap like habit.

A big red cross over the chest of her apron, she had sent the photo off with her letter and prayed that he didn't dislike it.

Reading the letter, she traced over his handwriting, feeling where he pressed hard on the paper as he wrote as she read how he found her to be beautiful in her photo.

You look even more beautiful than when I last saw you...

It made her heart clench as she saw how he wrote how he hid the photo in his service jacket from the others, that he didn't want them to see the lovely girl that kept writing him letters because he felt possessive over this same piece of heaven that was keeping him sane.

Y/N could picture Tommy in the trenches, covered in grime and dirt as he had to listen to the horrors of the wartime. She read how he longed for the war to be over, how he was fortunate enough to be with people that he knew, but he was terrified.

They're sending me to the underground soon. They want me and the others to be sappers, dig in the tunnels under No Man's Land

Y/N felt her heart drop at the prospect of Tommy going into the tunnels, having to dig with shovels under the handles broke and he would be forced to dig with his hands. She had seen some soldiers came in, having treated their hands for digging under the trenches and dealing with the explosives.

My only comfort is you, being able to bring the picture you sent me down in the ground where death might be waiting for me... the only thing that has gotten me through this damned war is you...

"Ladies, we got mass casualties coming in!" their head nurse shouted into the tent. "Look alive, ladies!"

Y/N tucked the newest letter into her pillowcase, knowing she was once again about to face the horrors of the war as she reminisced on Tommy's smile, she knew he smiled a lot.

But now, she had a feeling he didn't smile as much.

Dear Thomas,

I'm sure you're curious as to why you received a letter from B/N's litter sister. Frankly, I'm a little shocked I'm writing to you, I've not heard from my brother no matter the amount of letters I've sent.

That was how the first letter started, Tommy sometimes would re-read the letter when he couldn't sleep amongst the noises of screaming soldiers and anxiety.

"Shelby, ya girl's sent another letter", one of his fellow soldiers said as he held out a envelope.

Tommy grabbed the envelope, none of his brothers were around as he opened the letter; he remembers the shy smiles Y/N would send him when he would see her as she visited her brother, the little nose wrinkle she got when she would laugh a loud, deep belly laugh (one that he knew others called unladylike, but that he remembered fondly).

He felt the smooth texture of a photo in the letter, pulling the picture to his eyes and he felt a sense of... love come over him as he saw the picture of her in her nursing ward uniform. A small smile on her full lips, the roundness of her cheeks that only made her look younger, he could see in her eyes the nerves of everything. The cap hid her hair from view and he wondered if she had cut it short like other nurses were forced to do because of sanitation and he was curious if she still smiled.

He hoped she did because the only time he smiled was when he got her letters...

#peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders #x reader #chubby reader #reader insert #thomasshelbyxreader #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby #thomas shelby smut #peaky blinders x reader

183 notes · View notes

milfsloverblog · 9 months

Text

Friday Nights (NSFW)

Miranda Hilmarson x fem!reader

A/N: Nobody requested this fic, I just woke up this morning with the visceral need to write it. And so I did. Enjoy this smutty domestic fluff <3

AO3 link in title

Miranda loved the routine that had set itself up between the two of you on Friday nights.

She’d come home around 5 pm, 6 if Robin held her back a little longer, and you’d be in the kitchen busying yourself with making dinner.

“It smells absolutely delicious in here.” Miranda wrapped her arms around your body from behind, placing a soft kiss on the crook of your neck. “Sorry I’m late, babe. Robin’s been stressing the whole station with this new case.”

“You’re not late, you’re just in time.” You smiled and pecked her lips. “Have a quick shower, I’ll set the table and get everything ready.”

“Mhm.” Miranda agreed and reluctantly let go of you to walk to the bathroom.

You couldn’t help but steal a glimpse as she walked away, how you loved the way she looked in her uniform. You bit your lip and shook the dirty thoughts away.

“You look good in that apron,” Miranda said when she walked out of the bathroom a moment later. She crossed the kitchen and pulled you in for a soft kiss. “Let me take it off of you later?” She purred against your lips, earning herself a gentle swat on the arm.

“Sit down.” You said, nodding towards the table where dinner was waiting.

“Yes, ma’am.” Miranda grinned and settled at her spot at the table.

She watched as you moved around the kitchen, her eyes never leaving your back. You heard her breath hitch when you opened the fridge and bent down to grab a bottle of white wine, no doubt that her gaze had fallen on your ass.

“How was work?” You asked, pouring two glasses before settling down in front of your lover.

“You know I don’t like bringing work at home, even less over dinner. But if you really want to know-“ The blonde started.

A woman, a magician’s assistant, had been found dead in her hotel room, tied to a chair and with a bullet in her skull. She was still wearing her sequinned costume when they found her, a deck of cards had been scattered on the floor around the chair and the ace of hearts had been shoved inside her mouth.

Robin and Miranda had been working on the case for a few weeks but didn’t seem to make much progress which made Detective Griffin easily irritable. More than she usually was.

You didn’t particularly enjoy hearing about the gory details of Miranda’s work, but you knew she needed to get it off her chest from time to time, no matter how much she tried to deny it.

Your lover’s shoulders looked visibly more relaxed when she finished telling you about her day. She had finally told Robin to stop texting her about work when she was at home.

“When I’m home, I’m with you. Not with Robin, not with any work matter.” Miranda had told you when her phone had buzzed for the third time in less than fifteen minutes the previous Friday.

“Have you picked a movie for tonight?” Miranda snapped you out of your thoughts, taking a mouthful of salad and happily munching on it.

“Mm? Oh, yes, yes I have.” You gave a nod and placed your cutlery down on your plate before pushing it away. “Since you picked Imagine Me & You last time, I thought we could watch Carol tonight?”

“Yeah, sure!” Miranda said excitedly and you wondered how long it’d take until you’d both run out of sapphic movies to watch.

When she was done eating, Miranda squeezed your hand and suggested you go change into your pyjamas while she cleared the table, which you happily agreed to. Filling the dishwasher was one of your least favourite thing to do, emptying it was a very close second.

“Everything’s ready,” Miranda called from where she was sitting on the couch. “Just need you laying in my arms.”

You chuckled softly and finished buttoning your silk pyjamas before joining your girlfriend in the living room. You made yourself comfortable, lying between Miranda’s legs with your back pressed to her chest.

You pressed play on the movie and Miranda wrapped her arms around you, holding you close against her body.

You’d seen the movie half a dozen times already, but it was Miranda’s first time and you loved listening to her commentary.

“Do you think it’s possible to fall in love at first sight?” She whispered in your ear when Therese and Carol locked eyes.

“What? Are you saying you didn’t fall in love with me the very second we looked at each other?” You tutted, feigning to be offended.

“I spilled my frappuccino on your shirt at Starbucks, falling in love was the last thing I had in mind, not when the look you gave me scared me shitless.” Miranda laughed and you joined her, loving the way you could feel her chest moving up and down as she giggled behind you.

“Fair enough,” you admitted. “Fair enough.”

The two of you fell quiet again, except for Miranda’s occasional comment on how good Cate Blanchett looked, and her excited shriek when Sarah Paulson appeared on your screen.

You absentmindedly brushed your fingers on the expanse of Miranda’s leg, unaware of the fire it ignited in your lover’s belly. Miranda knew there was no ulterior motive to your fingertips drawing patterns on her skin but, no matter how hard she tried to focus on the movie, all she could think about were the shivers your touch sent down her spine.

Your eyes were locked on the tv screen, knowing Carol and Therese would soon share their first kiss, when you suddenly felt Miranda’s hand moving down your front only to stop on the elastic band of your trousers.

You looked from the corner of your eye as your girlfriend’s slender fingers played with the drawstring until she gave it a gentle tug, silently requesting permission.

“Yes.” You breathed out, laying your head back on Miranda’s shoulder.

Miranda didn’t waste any more time, immediately slipping her hand inside your pants between silk fabric and silkier skin. She skillfully parted your lower lips and sank two fingers inside you with no preamble, relishing in the gasp it pulled from your lips.

“Mira-“ You whined when she dragged her fingers out of you only the push them back inside deeper, making you clench around her knuckles.

“I know, babe.” She purred in your ear as she started pumping her fingers in and out of you, the soft, slick sounds of the movement echoing in your living room and drowning out the distant movie dialogue.

Pressed into Miranda’s front, you blushed a deep red as your skin grew hot. You easily opened up for your lover, your hips rocking onto her hand to invite her always deeper. Miranda felt like she could do this forever, holding you close as you fell apart in her arms.

Suddenly she shifted you, keeping her fingers buried inside you as she helped you lie down until she was on top of you. She leaned forward, smiling at how your lips immediately parted, and flicked her tongue over them. With her free hand, she lifted your silk shirt, her mouth watering at the sight of your breasts.

“You’re beautiful.” She whispered, keeping her eyes on you as she lowered herself to take one of your nipples in her mouth. She sucked for a moment before gently sinking her teeth in it and soothing the sting with her tongue, grinning when your hand flew into her hair to tug at it.

Miranda trailed down your body, leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses on your chest and the skin of your stomach. Her free hand swiftly removed your trousers before she settled between your spread thighs and lightly blew on your clit, making your thighs shudder on either side of her head.

You nearly saw stars when Miranda finally wrapped her lips around your clit and sucked harshly, her fingers curling deep inside you. She licked and sucked, teasing the nub with the tip of her tongue and relishing in the way you struggled to keep your legs open around her head.

When she felt you clench dangerously around her fingers, Miranda doubled her efforts, picking up the pace and sucking hard at your clit, determined to bring you to an earth-shattering release.

It only took a few more pumps for the coil behind your navel to snap, Miranda’s name coming out of your lips again and again as you pushed her face deeper into your cunt, refusing to let go of her short blonde hair.

“I love you.” Miranda sighed happily as she pulled her fingers out and kissed your clit.

She sat up, stretched her back, and pecked your lips before getting on her feet and disappearing into the bathroom, coming out a few seconds later with a wet cloth.

“You simply couldn’t resist, mm?” You smiled lazily, looking down as Miranda cleaned you up.

“Who could blame me?” Miranda chuckled softly, dropping the cloth on the coffee table and helping you put your trousers back on.

You settled back down into your original position between your lover’s legs and rewound the movie up until Therese and Carol’s first kiss. You smirked as you thought of the upcoming sex scene, knowing Miranda wouldn’t get to the end of the movie without moaning your name out and coming on your tongue.

Miranda loved the routine that had set itself up between the two of you on Friday nights. And so did you.

————————————————————————

tag list: @weemssapphic @larissaoftarthweems @principal-weems09 @pro-weems-places @readingtheentrails @catechristiesstuff @kimiinou

#gwendoline christie #miranda hilmarson x reader #miranda hilmarson #Miranda Hilmarson x y/n #top of the lake #no beta we die like miranda #what can I say #yes they’re watching Carol #and they’ve watched Imagine Me & You #bc I’m something of a sapphic stereotype as well #larissa weems x reader

476 notes · View notes

takaraphoenix · 6 months

Text

Family Trees of the Multiverse: Bat Family

The last of my Multiverse Family Trees!

And due to the family's size, it got split into three trees, for clearer visualization. The Wayne/Kane family for one, all the Robins and their parents, siblings and children got their own, and due to Dick's messy multiverse-life, and the fact that the majority of his kids are Babs' kids, Dick and Babs share a third tree.

As always, color-coded. However, due to just how big this family mess is, I'm not listing all the colors. Just the three key colors:

Black represents current Prime Earth continuity, red indicates a character or relation is from the New Earth continuity and orange stands for the Pre-Crisis continuity (-> if it says [New Earth] beneath the character in red but the frame is black, that means the character was first introduced during the New Earth continuity and continues existing; if the frame-color matches the label, then the character is exclusive to that era/Earth).

Some notes for additional clarification since things are MessyTM:

Terry and Matt McGinnis are technically biologically Bruce's children, since Amanda Waller altered their father's DNA into Bruce's. I don't know how to visualize that in a family tree and since they are his adopted children in later comic continuity, they go into the adopted children section.

Usually, when parents have various names throughout incarnation, I just indicate that by color, but in Jason Todd's case, Joe and Trina as the Flying Todds are very different people from small-time criminal Willis and his wife Sheila, so Jason gets two sets of parents on the tree.

Barbara Gordon's backstory is a mess; she was first conceived as the biological child of Jim and Thelma in Pre-Crisis continuity, then became the biological child of Jim's brother Roger and Thelma, who got adopted by Jim and Barbara Eileen and to whom Sarah Essen was a stepmother, however in Gotham Noir, Sarah Essen is her biological mother. Also, Babs has three different middle names - Lee in the Gotham TV continuity, Kathleen in the Killing Joke movie, and as of the Prime Earth continuity, she got the middle name Joan (before that, she was just Barbara Gordon).

258 notes · View notes

hiraeth-ink · 9 months

Text

Busy Man (a Joel Miller fic)

Summary - pre-outbreak!Joel x reader - Joel has been so busy and overworked for a while and all you want is some good dick, something Joel is very willing to give.

Word Count - 2,941

Warnings - smut!! p in v, ass play, swearing, slight angst?

my first smut! I'm nervous

Joel was late. Again. So late dinner had already been eaten, a portion for Joel set aside. So late that Sarah had already gone to sleep, tired of waiting for his return from work. So late that you had abandoned your hope for the quality time he had promised you that morning.

“I know we haven’t spent a lot of time together lately darlin’ it’s just, you know how work’s been,” he’d said this morning, full of promises of a dinner with you and Sarah, a movie and what you’d been constantly thinking about for days now; sex. Your busy schedules had never been a problem when it came to intimacy before but with Joel and Tommy’s big new project the last couple of weeks, Joel was reduced to an exhausted, low energy and grumpy version of himself. He came home, kicked off his work boots with a struggle and lazily shuffled to the shower before landing himself on the couch with a grunt. He would eat dinner quickly, a starved expression on his face, followed by a satisfied rub of his stomach and expressing his thanks for the meal. Not long after, he’d kiss you on the forehead, grumble a tired apology, “M’sorry baby but I gotta head to bed, m’exhausted and I’m out early tomorrow, I love you”. His heavy footsteps echoed on the stairs and he was already asleep by the time you had finished your night routine, light snores being carried through the open door of the bedroom.

This routine was followed almost precisely for the last couple of weeks; work, eat and sleep. Joel worked hard at his business, long days of physical labour to appease his clients and support his family. You worked too, but your hours were not as long as Joel’s and nowhere near as physically demanding as his work either, so in support of him the least you could do was make sure a home cooked meal was ready for him when he arrived home after a long, gruelling day, a massage on the days he didn’t retire to bed almost immediately after eating.

But your hunger has not subsided over the last week, your cravings have only grown and grown each day he hasn’t touched you, simmering inside of you, threatening to boil over when you see him walking through the front door. His tight, almost too tight, t-shirt displaying his biceps was enough to weaken your knees, but the sheen on his arms, the way the shirt was subtly sticking to his back and chest almost destroyed you. You felt feral upon seeing him again, almost embarrassed at your animalistic reaction to such a simple thing as Joel’s sweat, but the embarrassment was forgotten when he quickly pulled off his boots, straightened his back and wiped the sweat off his brow, showing off his strong arms once more.

As he walked into the kitchen and towards you, he immediately started apologising, but you struggled to listen as the heat built up inside of you, your body’s reaction to him so strong that your mind was struggling to concentrate on what he was saying.

“I’m sorry I’m late, baby. We got caught up at the site and then Tommy forgot to do the damn paperwork, it was a whole mess”, he exhaled as he reached to the top shelf of the cupboard for a glass. You were lost for words, a response appearing in your mind and disappearing just as quickly as he reached the top shelf, his shirt riding up and flashing a sliver of his soft tummy, even catching the top of the dark hairs that led to the exact thing you’d been craving.

“Baby? You ok?” he asked with slight concern, but you only noted how deep his voice sounded, the low baritone going straight to your core as you imagined his voice in you ear while he rutted in and out of you, uttering the most filthy words you could imagine, things only Joel could get away with saying to you, as he played your body the way only he knew how to do, effortlessly coaxing multiple orgasms out of you.

As you looked at him with your lips slightly parted, as if you were ready to finally break your silence, your mouth was dry but you didn’t bother getting a drink, not caring about water or anything else. You were thirsty for him, hungry for him. You felt feral again as you rushed to him, wrapping your hands around his thick neck and, lips searching for his, kissed him with all the want in your body. His hands wrapped around you, sliding down from your back to grab your bum, squeezing the soft flesh as he let out a groan.

“I need you to fuck me Joel, missed you so much,” you breathed as you released his lips from yours, staring into his eyes, watching them switch from fatigue to hunger as he lifted you into his arms effortlessly, encouraging you to wrap your legs around his waist, kissing him again as he carried you up the stairs and into the bedroom. He grumbled something about, “I’ll eat later, been neglecting my baby recently”, to which you replied with a whimper, feeling his cock hardening through his pants against your soaking core.

He threw you on the bed and wasted no time taking off your shorts and spreading your legs, keeping hold of your ankles. His presence was overbearing, the difference between the hurried kisses and short hugs you’d exchanged recently, and now being in such close proximity to him, his face so close to where you needed him most in this moment. You felt him everywhere, his intense gaze on you, switching from the patch of wetness on your underwear to your face, his warm breath on your clothed core, the strong grip he held your ankles in.

“Please Joel”, you panted desperately, bucking your hips up in search of something, anything to relieve the ache between your thighs.

His hands moved from your ankles to the backs of your thighs, his big, rough hands gently caressing your skin along the way and pushing your thighs towards your stomach, folding you into place.

“You missed me baby? Missed me touching you?” he said before teasingly licking a stripe up your folds and circling your clit through your panties, all while looking into your eyes. You whimpered and couldn't help but attempt to roll your hips into his mouth, but his steady grip on your thighs held you still.

“Please Joel, I need you so bad, been thinking about this all day, all week” you begged, looking into his eyes with a pleading look. You were hungry for him, desperate for him to do something, to feel his fingers or his cock or his tongue if he would just take off your-

“Fuck Joel oh my god”, he pulled your panties to the side, and sucked your clit into his mouth, suddenly frenzied and impatient as he licked and sucked at your clit, groaning at your taste. You couldn’t fight the whimpers and moans that climbed up your throat and escaped your mouth, you couldn’t control your sounds, Joel was forcing them out of you with every lick through your folds, every stroke of his tongue pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

He pushed two fingers inside you, forcing more animalistic sounds of you, and curled them, reaching deep inside of you and coaxing your first orgasm of the night, of the week, out of you. You came with a loud cry of his name, your hips bucking up to meet his mouth, legs shaking and twitching uncontrollably as you came down, breathing heavily and crying out once more when he removed his fingers.

“Fuck me Joel, I need you inside” you mumbled deliriously, your orgasm not having fully subsided yet, but the need for him to fuck you stronger than ever. The need to have him inside, close to you, was all you could think of.

“I will baby, I will,” he said as he hurriedly removed his clothes, using your slick to wet his hard cock and stroking it once, twice, before lining up with your entrance. He looked at your face with dark eyes, “Been neglecting this little pussy haven’t I baby? You’re so fucking wet for me, came so quick too, been waiting for this huh?” he drawled, cockiness oozing from his words, but he wasn’t wrong. You were dripping, a wet spot surely growing on the sheets beneath you as you looked at his thick cock, the pink head almost angry looking and a small bead of pre cum dripping out, enough to make your mouth water with need,

You were ready to beg for him again, but as soon as you started, you broke out into a broken moan, suddenly feeling full as he thrusted his cock all the way into you in one, smooth stroke. The stretch of him against your walls had your eyes rolling back, desperate whimpers being forced out of you again as he pulled all the way out and back into you with a groan. He set a slow but forceful pace, allowing you to feel every inch of him, hard and thick and overwhelming. His hands were gripping your thighs, pushing them back onto your stomach so you felt him impossibly deep, his tip lightly kissing your cervix, not enough to cause any pain but enough to make you release a whimper everytime it happened.

“You sound so pretty darlin’, all for me,” he said as he circled your clit with one hand, his other moving up your body to your neck, lightly squeezing your nipple on the way, before wrapping his hand around your neck and giving it a gentle squeeze.

He chuckled at the way you smiled when he choked you and in his low Texan drawl said, “Dirty little thing, tell me how much you love it, how much you missed it”. His length thrusting in and out of you, slowly but hard and deep, coupled with his fingers rubbing your clit in steady circles rendered you unable to form a coherent thought. All you could muster was unintelligible moans, causing him to break out into a cocky grin before demanding you to answer him.

“When I tell you to do something, you better do it baby. Wouldn’t want me to stop would you?” he taunted, continuing to fuck you and rubbing your clit quicker than before.

“I love it Joel! Love it so much, missed it-Oh fuck. Can’t live without it Joel please don’t stop-Please,” you cried out quickly, your words all morphing together, worried he would stay true to his word and stop, robbing you of the relief you desperately needed.

“That’s right baby, my good girl, come for me,” he cooed, aware of how hearing him call you his good girl affected you and you came almost instantly, whimpering his name over and over. His name ran through your mind quicker than you could follow, a continuous chant of Joel Joel Joel Joel, until you came down from your high, relaxing instantly. But Joel didn’t give you any time to relax or adjust as he rolled you on to your front, expertly manoeuvring your body so that you were on your knees, your cheek resting on a pillow, and thrusted into you again from behind.

He’s relentless now, fucking into you hard and fast, no longer fighting the groans and grunts that leave his mouth as he loses himself in the way you feel around him.

“So fucking good peach, wet and warm,” he interrupts himself with a guttural groan as you clench around him at his words, “so fuckin’ tight, fuckin’ perfect baby”, the words topple from his mouth as he loses his restraint. Your endless whimpers only spur him on as he continues to push his hips into you.

“Missed this pussy so much baby, never going this long without fuckin’ you again,” the words make you cry out in agreement. You want to speak, to tell him you can’t do it either, that you need this as much as possible but the words fail you. All you can do is take it, take whatever he’s willing to give you and be grateful for it.

“You can’t even talk can you sweetheart? ‘M’I fuckin’ you so good you can’t think straight? My dumb little girl,” his words go straight to your core, squeezing around him as he continues to spit the filthy words from his mouth.

“Ohmygod Joel” you almost scream as you feel his thumb circling your tight, puckered hole, the sensation sending new waves of pleasure to your core, doubling as he pushes his thumb inside, both you and Joel letting out a groan as he does.

“My good little slut, lettin’ me do whatever I want huh baby? Hm, bet you’d let me fuck your ass right now if I wanted to wouldn’t ya?” he says through gritted teeth, you know he’s close and so are you. Everything he’s doing has you hurtling towards another peak, his cock fucking you with urgency, his thumb inside your tight hole, his words, him moaning and groaning above you. You’re speeding up to the peak, unable to stop the moans tumbling from your mouth as his thrusts speed up and up until your mouth opens in a silent scream and you come. You come hard. Whole body shaking as he fucks you through it, you barely hear him calling you his good girl, your whole body burning with pleasure, lighting up in flames as your eyes squeeze shut, vision going black and you can do nothing but take it. As you start coming down you hear him again, coming with a groan of your name, stilling inside you and catching his breath.

Your legs collapse on the bed as he moves away from you. You somewhat hear him saying something along the lines of, “gonna clean you up darlin’”. But when he comes back you don't feel a warm cloth cleaning you, instead you feel his big hands spreading your cheeks apart, groaning at the sight of his come trailing out of your puffy, used sex. Unexpectedly, he licks at your folds, and pushes his tongue inside your entrance, licking up his come, before pulling you up into him so that your back rests against his chest. He cradles your chin softly and turns your head, slotting his lips to yours and pushing his tongue inside your mouth, pushing his spend past your lips. You take it all, moaning at the taste of both of you mixed together. Joel continues to kiss you passionately, as if still trying to make up for lost time. He pulls away to catch his breath and carefully places you on your back. Reaching for the warm cloth, he wipes your folds and your inner thighs before tossing it in the washing basket in the corner of the room.

“How you feelin’, sweetheart?” he asks as he climbs in bed next to you, pulling you into his warm embrace, tenderly kissing your forehead. He looks at you lovingly, but you can’t miss the guilt filled expression written across his face.

“I’m sorry I’ve been so busy lately. I promise after this project is done I’ll have more time for you an’ Sarah. Kills me that I’ve been neglecting you both,” he continued, his voice, usually strong and commanding, was now small and quiet, conveying his guilt and insecurity of his shortcomings when it came to you and his daughter.

“Joel baby, you haven’t been neglecting us, you’ve been working. You work long and hard hours, you do it for us, so we can live a good life. We both understand baby. Sarah knows you love her more than anything Joel.”

“And you?” he questions quietly, “Do you know how much I love you?,” his question melts your heart, his brown eyes staring into yours with so much love and appreciation forces you to smile up at him, tears threatening to spill from your eyes at his attempt to reassure you of his love for you.

“Of course I do, Joel. And I love you too. So much,” you profess, heart constricting at finally having him close after feeling so far away from him. But you know it isn't his fault.

“I love you and I appreciate all that you do, Joel,” you reassure him, trailing circles into his chest with your nails. He lifts your chin, slotting his lips to yours in a kiss but you’re interrupted by the loud growl of his stomach, a reminder that his dinner was forgotten downstairs. Abandoned in exchange for his hunger for you, your hunger for each other. You laugh as you pull away, telling him to eat and hurry back to bed so you can cuddle.

“Will you come sit with me while I eat? We can watch that Western we’ve been dyin’ to watch,” he suggests with a sly grin, pulling on his sleep clothes, stomach still angrily rumbling as he throws you a fresh set of pyjamas.

“We’ve been dyin’ to watch? Are you kidding me, Joel?” you bark out an incredulous laugh at his suggestion, though you know that you would watch whatever he wanted if it meant you could cuddle up to Joel on the couch, his strong arms wrapped around you, head resting on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. Anything to be close to him.

#joel miller smut #the last of us hbo #joel miller #joel tlou #Joel tlou hbo #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal imagine #joel miller angst #joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #Joel Miller x reader smut #pre-outbreak!Joel #pre-outbreak!Joel smut #pre-outbreak!Joel fic

277 notes · View notes

luvrsbian · 1 year

Text

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐍𝐄: 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐂𝐔𝐓𝐄

A/N: she's finally here!!! this was initially supposed to be a one shot but has kinda turned into a draft up of a pretty plotless, sweet, fluffy mini series. it follows canon for the most part minus eddies death ofc but because im bad with canon lore and science shit, its not heavily mentioned (some minor canon lore was changed but it's not super important.) this is a fem!reader, no use of y/n, set in 1992, 4k words, and i've kept reader pretty vague for inclusivity minus some background lore. this series is not 18+ (yet) but my page is, so please do not follow if you are a minor. thank you sweet baby mona @enam3l for beta-reading for me (ily)

MASTERLIST ✿ PART TWO

Eddie Munson liked his life. He liked his friends, even if a lot of them have now dispersed across the continental United States for school, jobs, general life (minus Robin who has somehow managed to make her way to Australia doing God knows what.) He liked his home, a house on the edge of town – slightly bigger than the old trailer – which he still shared with his uncle. He liked his style and hobbies and taste in music and movies that haven’t really changed much in the last 5 years since his final senior year.

He really liked his job.

Which felt odd for him to admit to himself.  It wasn’t anything like what he thought he would be doing. A younger Eddie Munson would imagine himself traveling city to city, adored by fans, living creatively and free spirited. 

But a middle school janitorial gig kept him young. One could argue 26 wasn't even that old, however, compared to his friends (who he'd already been older than) with their careers, relationships and growing families, he felt like a lonely old man. So, yeah, the awkward, funny, and extremely honest pre-teens made him feel young. 

Initially he thought the job would be lonely. It’s a small town with even smaller schools. Besides him, there was only one other night janitor that he alternated weekend cleans with and only really ran into during day-to-night shift changes. Ron was nice enough, older than Wayne, with a far higher patience for children. Unsurprisingly, behaviours from high school died hard and the teachers and administrative staff all kept to their own little cliques. Resulting in Eddie keeping to himself, rarely speaking outside of his custodian duties or the occasional faculty meeting.

He didn’t even think he’d interact with the students aside from cleaning the odd vomit or getting stuck balls out of the gymnasium rafters. He unintentionally found himself yet again the outcasted mother goose to a small hoard of pre-teen metal heads when their unofficial leader, Matty Sherman, caught site of the various posters Ed keeps hung up on his office (custodial closet) door. The seventh grader quickly forcing himself under Eddies wings and refusing to budge. Matty was a good kid. Reminded Eddie a lot of himself at that age. He was loud, abrasive, and way too confident for such a gangly frame in ill-fitting clothes. Matty had hair though which 13-year-old Eddie couldn’t relate to.

There was also Ms. Virginia Wagner. The eccentric, nurse who has been working at Hawkins Middle since Eddie was attending. Maybe even before that, he wasn’t quite sure and whenever he asked anything close to finding out her age, she quickly shut him down. She was sweet. She was funny. She was also a mean old hag sometimes, but God did Eddie love that about her. If he was just 20 - or more realistically 40 - years older and wasn’t almost certain she swings the other way, he’d shoot his shot. 

The Summer season was extremely uneventful for Eddie. Due to the kids being out of school, his hours were cut in more than half with only the yearly repairs and deep cleaning needing to be done. He went into work about 3 days a week, spending the extra free time to do some manual labour gigs here and there around town. When he wasn’t working, he was hidden away at home watching movies, listening to music, trying to plan out ongoing and future campaigns for Hellfire meetings that have begun to be fewer and far between now that everyone has dispersed. On some rare occasions when he didn’t feel like a complete shell of a person and was able to leave the house to socialize outside of life obligations, he met up with the few friends that remained in the Hawkins area (which at this point in time was really only Steve Harrington and Gareth Emerson.)

It was now the Monday of the week before students would return back to these fluorescent lit halls. That meant all other faculty were now gracing the school to prepare for the year ahead. Organizing and prepping and finalizing lesson plans and class rosters. 

Eddie had a slight pep in his step as he walked through the halls, scuffed up sneakers squeaking on the shiny, extra polished tiles. He whistled a silent tune that clashed with the jingles of his keys that he swung around his middle finger. Getting to the janitors closet to put on his navy coverall and put his hair into a low bun. He zips up the stiff material, covering the self-altered muscle tank top that had the logo for some local band down in Indianapolis he saw a few years back before things went to shit. A cracked and stained mirror hanging up over his work sink being used to make sure his hair looked casually messy in the bun. With a final once over, he hooks his keys to the belt loop of his coveralls and preps for the day's work. A glance at his wristwatch, the one that has somehow survived hell and back just like him, reads 7:58. Just 4 hours and 2 minutes until lunch. 

He couldn’t wait.

Eddie used those 4 hours and 2 minutes to check each stall in all bathrooms were fully stocked with toilet paper and the likes, clean the actual toilets themselves, and make sure the water was running properly in every sink. Once that was taken care of, he began on his biggest task of the week of dragging desks and chairs out of the back storage building to be put into classrooms. Sheryl from the administrative team having left the small packet of papers indicating how many seats each room would need for the coming year. 

He could move the chairs in stacks at a time but could only really stack two - maybe three if he was careful - desks on his hand truck before it became a safety problem. Once moved into the main building, he had to wipe them down, tighten any loose screws that could make them wobble, and make sure they were still in usable condition. Eddie had completed almost 3 of the 32 classrooms before lunch finally rolled around. 

He grabbed his lunch sack from the custodial closet and whistled on his merry way to the nurse's office. He’s been eating lunch with Virginia for as long as he can remember. Of course, there was those 5 years of High School and then the year of recovery following the events of his second senior year, and the summer breaks of course, but besides all those he’s been eating with her for a good 7 years. 

This ritual beginning in his 6th grade, the first year he moved in with Wayne, all sad eyed and past aside due to events outside of his control. Kids he had grown up with suddenly not wanting anything to do with him. He wouldn’t really make any friends again until 7th grade, and his first band of misfits was created, Corroded Coffin. 6th Grade was the worst year of his life until 1986 and now it’s about tied. 

Sadly, in middle school who you ate a meal with or gave the time of day too was so integral into maintaining the hierarchal balance of the ecosystem. It was bullshit. With everything that happened that lead to his father going to jail and him burdening his uncle, the kids of Hawkins middle school decided Eddie wasn’t worth risking their own reputations. He doesn’t remember exactly how it happened, his brain kicking the memory out at some point to make room for more important stuff like D&D lore. But he does remember he went from eating lunch in the bathroom to eating it in Nurse Wagner’s office. 

Even after being integrated back into the Middle school social circle, he couldn’t just leave her to eat lunch by herself. She needed him with his alternative music education and retelling of the fantasy books he’d been reading lately and his strong headedness that could keep up with her dry and sarcastic quips many interpreted as rudeness. Although Eddie would still refuse to admit it, in actuality he probably needed her more than she needed him.

He doesn’t knock, just moseys his tall frame into the nurse's office, wide dimpled smile on his lips as he hears rummaging coming from the actual office area that was blocked off by a wall. He looks at the two plastic-y beds covered in paper sheets, inhaling that antiseptic smell that can only seem to be found in medical settings. No fluorescent lights were on, only natural light being let it from the two big windows. 

There are curtains on them now which surprises him. Floral pinks and yellows with lace on the edge that really fit the grandma vibes Virginia has but refused to acknowledge. The windows all have blinds, but curtains were deemed a non-necessary commodity by the school board budgeting team, meaning if you wanted curtains, you’re gonna have to fork money out of pocket for them. Eddie had asked Virginia about it once, commenting about how it would help spruce up the place. Make it look a little less sterile. She told him to go to hell, that she’s a nurse not rich. Any out-of-pocket money she spent on work only going towards things that actually matter, like the allergen friendly laundry detergent and the nicer, name brand candy for the candy bowl.

Putting his lunch on the side table of the first bed, he lays down in a relaxed position. Hands behind his head, legs crossed, eyes closed, he lets out a relaxed sigh.

“Virginia, dear, I really love what you’ve done with the place,” he calls out to her, hearing the close of the filing cabinet and footsteps soon following, “feels all homey now, dontcha think.”

The footsteps stop.

“I'm glad you like them. You feelin’ comfy there?”

That was most definitely not Virginia Wagners voice.

Eddie jolts up, eyes wide and cheeks red. He’s not one to get embarrassed easily but since recent events he’s been a bit more reserved in how comfortable he gets around strangers. And you were most definitely a stranger. A pretty stranger. A very pretty stranger in a teddy bear patterned scrub top and an oversized cardigan with embroidered sunflowers. You’re a disorienting mess of patterns and colors but you’re also, like, really pretty and Eddie isn’t sure how to go about this.

“You’re not Virginia,” is all he can get his voice to come out with.

“I’m not Virginia.” You give a chuckle. A positive response, Eddie thinks.

“Where’s Virginia?”

Eddie is now standing away from the bed and closer to the door, ready to run from the situation if needed (something he’s learned to embrace in the last few years.) You give him a friendly smile, hands in your cardigan pockets, the sleeves bunched up. You look cozy. 

“Florida. She’ll be in the Caribbean by the end of the month,” you supply. He can tell your fingers are fidgeting in your pockets. His hands are fidgeting at his waist, pinching at the material of his coveralls. 

“Why?”

You shrug your shoulders, “Retirement.”

“Oh,” Eddie sighs, eyes breaking contact with yours for the first time since standing, shifting to look at your white - almost pristine - sneakers on the tile floor her spent all summer mopping and waxing and removing scuff marks from. “That sucks.”

You snort. Teeth biting your bottom lip to stop from laughing at him further during this awkwardly endearing meeting. Your own eyes looking him over now that he isn’t completely focused on you. He’s cute. His cheeks stained your favourite shade of pink once he realized you weren’t the now retired nurse he had been so fond of. Hands covered in jewlery. His inability to stay still so natural it makes you think he doesn’t even realize he’s been shifting his body weight back and forth from his toes to his heels this whole time. Tall, lean, maybe with some extra fluff hidden under the baggy attire. He’s got some shadow of hair on his cheeks. And if you weren’t a civil person and he wasn’t a stranger, you’d be begging to kiss at the column of his throat.

Your gaze moves to look around the waiting part of the office to avoid thinking even more things about this guy. A brown paper bag chicken scratched with the words ‘ED LUNCH’ catches your eye. Before you have a chance to speak yourself, he starts his interrogation again.

“Who are you?”

Your attention cuts back to him quickly. With a smile that shows all your teeth and a hand leaving your pocket, held out for him to shake, you give your full name.

He takes it with his own reserved smile. His hands and rings are warm, but they still tingle your skin from the unfamiliarity of the metal. You enjoy it you think. Before he can introduce himself, you beat him to the punch.

“You must be Edward, right?”

He grimaces, “Just Eddie,” your handshake falls. His hand back to his hip and your hand back into your pocket, “Just Eddie is fine. More than fine, actually. Preferred, really.”

Another chuckle from you. Eddie knows he’s funny when he wants to be but if it’s this easy to make you laugh, he doesn’t ever want to stop.

“Well, just Eddie,” you smirk at his eye roll, “you can join me for lunch if you’d like. I feel like my presence may have ruined your initial plans,” you let out a huff of a laugh and gesture to the lunch sack by the window. He grimaces again at your wording and shakes his head.

“It didn’t ruin any plans just was shocking ‘sall,” his hand moves from his hip to rub at his slightly scruffy chin, pretty brown eyes back on yours, “but um, yeah. Yes, I’d love- like to join you for lunch.”

You smile. He smiles back.

Eddie has sat in this chair, in this office, and eaten his lunch for years. Today it feels awkward and unfamiliar. 

It might have something to do with you sitting where Virginia used to sit. Same chair, same desk, same office, but completely different. Virginia didn’t decorate her space, leaving it functional and impersonal, if people wanted to know about her life they could ask her. She wasn’t going to flaunt it. 

You were very different. An orange, gaudy looking vase filled with fake flowers. A matching candy bowl with various sugary, little treats. A picture frame of you and what he could only assume was your family based on the similar features shared between each person. A decorated Coke can with the top cut off and trimmed with glued on lace and covered in holographic stickers of vibrant cartoon animals, sparse enough to still see the iconic red drink logo, was now holding an assortment of colorful gel pens. 

Even the chair wasn’t safe from your interior decorating, a purple knitted blanket folded over the top of the rolling seat. The seat itself now adorning a red, white, and black cushion of an ugly faced bulldog with a spiked color and cap with the letter G, the words ‘GEORGIA BULLDOGS’ splayed above him. A sports team he assumed. 

The conversation hadn’t started back up since the introduction in the sick room. Both of you taking your respective seats in the office area, opening your lunch bags and digging in. 

Eddie being a creature of habit brought his usual bag of pretzels, a can of Pepsi, and a sandwich made of whatever he could find in the kitchen. Today it was two slices of whole wheat, mayo, lettuce, the last piece of deli ham, and shredded cheese. 

Your own lunch seemed much more put together. For starters, you had an actual lunchbox, a bulky and vibrant plastic thing with Snoopy sleeping on his dog house on the front. Inside, there was your own ziploc bag of green grapes, a can of Coke, and a sandwich cut into triangles. White bread, crunchy peanut butter, and grape jelly. A Little Debbies Swiss Rolls pack sitting on the corner of your desk for dessert.

He’s mid chew on the final bite of his sandwich, half his Pepsi left, his pretzels being the first thing devoured, when you speak up. Your own sandwich having on triangle section left, grapes gone, and Coke untouched.

“Have you always lived in Hawkins?”

You’re wiping your mouth with a folded paper towel, curious eyes focused on him. You’re very good at that, he’s realized. Eye contact. Focusing on your center of attention. Eddie has never been good at it, having to remind himself to look at the person talking to him. It’s polite, Wayne would say, shows people you’re listening and interested in what they have to say. Eddie gets so worked up in remembering to seem focused, he loses it and doesn’t hear what’s being said. He hasn’t had that problem with you so far. He thinks he could look at and listen to you all day if you let him.

“Born and bred,” he swallowed his bite and shrugs his shoulders, rubbing his hands together to get the crumbs off, “you’re not though, are you. Feel like I’d remember you,” he raises an eyebrow. Feeling a little more confident in himself, especially with the obvious signs of you not being a local, and gives a playful smirk.

“You got me,” you hold your hands up in mock surrender, moving your arms back to rest your elbows on the edge of the desk, “I’m from Georgia.”

Eddie nods, the seat cushion making sense now. It’s your home team for… sports. A sport. Probably football. Eddie mentally pats himself on the back for guessing it was a sports team. Good on him for knowing sports. (Eddie doesn’t know sports.)

“So,” Eddie lulls, small talk never being his forte. Much more interested in getting into the nitty gritty of conversation when interested in someone but he doesn’t know you yet. He needs to find something to relate with you on and he can’t do that with tidbits he may know from growing up in town like he could other people his age or older here. “You’re like a southern chick,” it was your turn to grimace. 

“You’re really bad at this,” you snort and shake your head, finishing up the last of your own sandwich. Tidying up your desk, throwing away the ziploc bag and sandwich wrapping and paper towels. Opening the coke can and moving the swiss rolls pack to in front of you, looking back to Eddie. With a tilt of your head and saccharine grin you ask, “Splitsies?”

He nods at the opportunity to get a sweet little treat before addressing your initial comment, “Small talk requires talking and I just don’t really do that anymore with people who don’t already know me or just have a preconceived idea of who I am,” he shrugs his shoulders again, voice softer, slight regret in being too real. Eyes watching your fingers open the package, folding another paper towel (which he has now realized are coming from a roll kept in the lowest drawer of your desk), and setting one of the processed roll cakes on the indented paper before placing it in front of Eddie’s seated and slouched body. “Thank you,” He looks back up to you and you’re already looking at him.

“Virginia told me a lot about you,” you smirk, lifting your own cake to take a bite. Your eyes not leaving his except for split a second to give an appreciative glance and hum to the cream filled ‘pastry.’

“We’ve been corresponding for months,” you snicker at your own use of the word, making you feel like some sort of 18th century countess or captain, rather than a young nurse taking over the position of an older nurse. 

He looks panicked at this reveal. Which is cute considering he had a bit of white cream on his upper lip. Although he looked so pretty when his brow furrowed, it was clear he was frightened so you were quick to reassure him.

“All good things, of course. I think she’s just worried about you. It’s cute, really, just really cute.” Another kind smile on your lips and your hand holding out the paper towel - his now eaten roll was sat on - as hint for him to clean his mouth off.

Eddie knew Virgina wasn’t one to gossip but the prospect of a rare new person in town he’s actually interested in, being privy to all his shit-uations without him telling them himself, scared him. But Virginia did love to meddle and that may be worse. She was a big supporter of Eddie needing friends his own age. 

Letting out a sigh of relief that his tragic history had yet to be exposed, Eddie returned your smile with his own half one. You reach into your desk again, pulling out a letter instead of paper towels this time. ‘Edward’ scrawled in a familiar, loopy handwriting with blue ink on the white envelope caught his eyes. Eyebrows furrowed in confusion and intrigue. 

You hold it out for him to take like it was something precious, “This is for you.” From Virginia, is unspoken but recognized between the both of you. Who else would it have been from. Eddie flushing as he realized, Virginia never told him about you. Virginia never even told Eddie she’d be leaving. They didn’t speak much, or really at all, during the summer unless they happened to run into each other outside of these brick walls. 

Callused finger pads grazed your palm when he took the letter from you, he kept his eyes focused on examining the letter. A sad smile on his lips appreciating the loops of the E and W and curves of the D’s. Realistically he knew Virginia probably wasn’t gonna be gone from Hawkins forever, she had roots here. A son. That’s son kid or maybe kids now, he wasn’t sure, hadn’t checked in on Rick since he got out of jail in ‘88. But it still hurt that she was gone, without a word, and was happy enough to talk to her replacement about him but not to him about her. You.

“I’m gonna read this later,” he mumbles and puts the offending but appreciated letter in his deep pocket. A quick glance at his watch read it’s been about an hour since making his way into the nurses office, lunch was over. He threw his trash out in the bin by your desk and gave you a friendly smile, standing from the seat in front of your desk.

“Maybe we could do this again sometime,” eyes shifting around the office again, not really taking things in, just needing to not get trapped back into your gaze. “Ya know, with my lunches free now and everything,” he humorlessly chuckles.

“Eddie,” you spoke softer than you had before, a more sympathetic smile on your lips, “I’d really like that.”

He looks at you now. You have really shiny eyes. What a weird observation, Eddie thinks, but it’s true. With a quick wave of his hand before retreating them back into his pocket, fingers playing with the paper edges of Virginias letter. He begins his trek out the door. 

“Hey, next time though,” he stumbles in a spin to walk backwards while speaking, “We’ll speak more about you than about me. Feel’s like you know too much about me,” he huffs with a smug smile before spinning back to look forward. “See ya, Peach.”

Your sweet laughter follows him out into the hall. You call out, “See ya, Eddie,” to his retreating back, watching the door long after he’s left. 

“Peach,” you snort and shake your head, teeth tugging on your bottom lip to stop from smiling too wide.

the clean up crew (taglist): @avobabe87 @bakugouswh0r3

comment or ask to be added to the clean up crew!

#ʚ by gwen ɞ #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfiction #joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn x you #joseph quinn fanfiction #stranger things x reader #stranger things fanfiction #tcu #school janitor eddie x school nurse reader

760 notes · View notes

the-cat-and-the-birdie · 7 months

Text

Another case for Mild!Miguel:

HOBIE is the reason I think Mild!Miguel exists. Hear me Out:

Inversions & Parallels in ATSV

[A post where I talk about how the existence of Hobie's arc backs up and/or proves my Mild Miguel theory.

MEDIUM length, I talk about plot connections and writing stuff as well as my predictions for Miguel in BTSV.]

Subversions: Character Building in ATSV

One thing that sets ATSV apart from a lot of other Superhero movies is that it's centered around not 'heroing', but the characters and the relationships they hold.

Each character in ATSV has a Subversion in their arc.

Subversions being the defying of the audience's expectations pre-conceived notion of a character. Almost every character we see experiences a conflict with how we first understand them.

Gwen goes from being closeted and closed off both emotionally and literally in terms of her Spider-identity. She starts the movie pushing away her close friends, and ends her arc embracing her dad.

With Jess, she is introduced as a family woman, who talks about her husband and child openly. When in reality, she's not a familial or a parental figure in the slightest.

Pavitr is introduced as a confident guy, who can effortlessly save everybody and still have time for school, a relationship, and a collection of streetdogs. But in reality, he's still just a kid who hasn't taken an L yet. He needs help, panics and sucks at hiding his secret identity.

Peter is shown as a happy comfortable new father who has perfected the art of being a full time dad and changing avocado poop pampers. But later, we see he's just a guy, still figuring this whole dad thing out.

With Rio & Jeff, they start the movie literally grounding Miles, and by the end, they're forced to trust him out there in the big world.

Even Miles experiences this, as he goes from a kid who wants to be apart of something bigger - before realizing that he only needs himself.

The writers of ATSV use these subversion in order to make three dimensional characters.

And Hobie Brown, may be the best example of this. The Writers preying on our pre-conceived notions of punk, and love triangles to give us a vision of Hobie before he even appears on screen.

In the film Hobie, is the only subversion that is purposeful. He's the only one doing this behavior on conscious effort.

Hobie is an outlier. His subversion is intentional - and doing this gives him enough power to exercise a lot of influence over the plot going forward.

Hobie Brown is the king of Subversion.

But who doesn't have a Subversion? Miguel.

But let's hold that thought for a second.

Parallels: Relationship Building in ATSV

All of the subversions are what cause conflict in plot. And in ATSV, ever character and their conflict, as an a equal reflection of their situation - A Parallel.

And the same way each character experiences a subversion, that leads to conflict -

Each Conflict has a Parallel situation that mirrors theirs.

And these parallels can help us predict the story.

Gwen & Miles Parallel each other:

Miles' family is desperate to be apart of his life, while Gwen's family - her father, openly rejects her. And in the end: Miles ends up as far away from his parents as possible, around the same time Gwen returns to her fathers arms.

Jess & Peter Parallel each other:

Jess begins the story with a hands-off mentoring approach - while Peter's is more emotionally driven. And in the end: Jess begins questioning her callousness towards Gwen, meanwhile Peter questions if his approach and babying of Miles is actually what he needs.

Rio & Jeff Parallel each other:

Rio starting the film being more stern on Miles - the last one in the guidance consolers office and the one to remind him of the cake. Meanwhile, Miles' dad is the one trying to cut Miles some slack. And in the end: Rio is the more open one - she's the one who lets Miles go with Gwen, and the one who hears when out at the end. Meanwhile Miles' dad is the opposite - ready to jump at the accusation of drugs. (lmao)

Hell, even characters that we see on screen for less than ten minutes could be considered parallels:

Pavitr & Margo Parallel each other:

Pavitr is inexperienced, but loving life. He's out in the field enjoying himself and his universe. While Margo is more experienced. She works the Go-Home Machine. But unlike Pavitr, she's not out in the field, and she doesn't enjoy her universe. By the end of their arcs: Pavitr is humbled and realizes there's some dark moments that come with Spider-man, and some close calls. While Margo regains her motivation and spark through Miles, heading out in the field again.

Every character has a subversion - Ever subversion causes conflict - and every conflict leads to a parallel. And through that, the story is made.

Just one problem:

Hobie doesn't have a Parallel. Neither does Miguel.

Why does Hobie - the only one who purposely uses subversion - not have a parallel?

If Hobie is 'The guy playing a pretentious fake punk based on people's preconceived notions of his ideology and appearance, who uses it to his advantage only when he wants to, and uses it for good - that results in a growth in community'

Where is 'The guy playing a pretentious authority figure based on people's preconceived notions of his ideology and appearance, who uses it to his advantage only when he wants to, and uses it for evil that results in a loss of community.'

Where is that guy? Can you find him?

Oh, damn it's Miguel.

Story Structure in ATSV:

If we look at the story structure of ATSV not only do we see that there's subversions and parallels, but we see a hole in the story.

With each character going on an arc the completely subverts audiences expectations - Why doesn't Miguel? (he does.)

And with each subversion, in Hobie's case, if everyone has an reflection of themselves and their situation that tie them into the story by common themes - Why doesn't Hobie? (he does.)

Why is Hobie the face of 'fake rebel that leads to great purposeful action' - and there's no 'fake leader than leads to horrible un-purposeful action'? (there is)

Did the Writers just leave this hole, and not tie Miguel and Hobie's arc in the same way as everyone elses?

No. There is a connection there.

Hobie is Miguel's reflection. Miguel is his parallel. Miguel's subversion is that he's not mean. He's putting on a persona.

Their parallel is - that they're both putting on an act. One for rebellion, one for order.

The difference is - Hobie enjoys his act, he uses it for good, and good things come of it. When he drops his mask as the 'fake punk', he does it out of the urge to empower himself.

Hence why he demasks himself in the comics.

And on Miguel's hand - He doesn't enjoy his act, he uses it for bad, and bad things come of it. When Miguel drops his mask and tells Miles two days, that is his mask dropping. It happens not out of empowerment, but vulnerability.

The whole scene in the lair is a purposeful ACT. That's why when he looks at Hobie (ironically, his parallel) he is able to turn it off immediately. Within seconds.

Whereas Hobie drops his mask in times of trust or action and rebellion - Miguel drops his in times of apathy or vulnerability - aka HIM SHOWING MILES GAB'S DEATH.

Miguel's conversation with Miles here - is the only time we see him not putting on the 'evil, angry, grumpy boss' mask.

He's vulnerable. This is Miguel unmasked. MILD MIGUEL.

While they were walking - Hobie takes his 'fake punk' mask off to be candid with Miles. He speaks honestly and offers empathy - and that is the GOOD inciting incident for Miles' rebellion.

Miguel is the parallel.

He purposely strips his 'fake mean boss' mask off in order to be candid with Miles. He speaks honestly and offers empathy - by telling him how long his father had to live (something he didn't have to do). And that empathy that Miguel gives is the BAD inciting incident for Miles' rebellion.

And when Miles is faced with the parallel of both Hobie and Miguel in rapid succession - it's enough to spawn him to escape.

Hobie and Miguel are opposing but mirrored forces on Miles.

Every character has a subversion. Every subversion causes conflict. Every conflict causes a parallel that spans action.

If Miguel doesn't have a subversion - and Hobie doesn't have a parallel, then how can those conflicts meet? Why this gap in the writing.

If Hobie does have a parallel, the only one left is Miguel.

But, if we're to believe that Hobie does have a parallel, and Miguel is that parallel - then naturally, they're mirrors of each other - and just like Hobie is - Miguel is putting on an act too.

And because the strongest representation of Miguel we see is anger, we know the anger is a mask for something else; aka MILD!MIGUEL

Which is what we see at the climax scene, the real Miguel.

Miguel and Hobie reveal their true colors at the same time, because they're parallels.

Hobie chuckles - the next shot - Miguel snaps.

It's meant to show in that moment in those two shots, these two characters are at their emotional peak. A battle between the two of them - convincing Miles - that Miguel doesn't even know about.

Hobie wins in this moment, Miguel loses, and we see them completely demasked, come to find out - we were wrong, Hobie the one in control and calm - and Miguel is not, he's grasping for control in anyway possible and it's literally slipping from his hands.

There stories are linked, and they barely share any lines at all.

Mild!Miguel exists because Anarchist!Hobie exists.

And all of this is why I think the following:

My predictions for BTSV:

Looking at Hobie's arc:

Fake Persona - Persuasive Set-Up (Talk with Miles) - Inciting Incident around Miles that leads to action (Miles breaks out, Hobie leaves to give Gwen the watch) - Self evaluation and commitment to the cause (joining the gang)

I think Miguel's is gonna follow the same thing

Fake Persona - Persuasive Set Up (This is Everything Speech) - Inciting Incident around Miles (Miles breaks out, Miguel snaps) - Self evaluation and commitment to the cause

Miguel re-evaluates himself and changes sides, turning the Societies resources on Spot.

Based on the subversions, parallels and plot arcs we see in ATSV, my most honest guess is:

Miguel is gonna redeem himself by choice very early into the film.

You know how the first half of ATSV is writen so when you rewatch it again, you'll see the complexities of Hobie's character?

I think the whole movie is written that way. So when you rewatch it AFTER Beyond the Spider-Verse, you can see the complexities of Miguel's character as well.

______________________________ THERE THATS WHY I THINK MILD MIGUEL EXISTS BESIDES EVERYTHING ELSE AND ALL THE VISUAL QUES AND STUFF. THIS IS THE MAIN REASON.

THAT'S WHAT I MEANT I'm so relieved to finally make sense of it. GOSSSSHHH

If you read this far, thank you for your time and entertaining me I'm SO SERIOUS THANK YOU

Please let me know what you think I'm DYING to know

Anyway closing RANT BELOW

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[Warning: I go Miguel Mode below]

Thats why this WHOLE TIME I've been like he's RIGHT THERE HJSGDGKDS Cause like -- the story calls for it. if hes not faking why does he have that platform???? Why doesn't Hobie have a paralllel?? Like why is Hobie just this random ass OP character randomly dropped in for funsies - he isn't he's there to reflect Miguel's fake power. Hobie hides his true power the way Miguel hides his powerlessness AHHHHH

THATS WHAT IVE BEEN TRYING TO PUT IN WORDS!! THAT LIKE...I WAS WATCHING THE MOVIE *deep breath* I FEEL SO RELIEVED.

I was watching the movie and feeling like somethings missing in the story - that there's a whole connection that's MISSING There's SOMETHING we're not getting - there's something there. Something that can tells us SO much about the next movie

and seeing peoples interpretations of Miguel made me be like no.... he cant be the only 3 dimensional one. Everyone is the OPPOSITE of what we think they are. Everyone.

And everyone has a parallel. And this is the connection that is missing.

tTHIS IS WHAT I MEANT HOLY FUCK I FINALLY FIGURED OUT HOW TO SAY IT.

When I say 'He's in the room with us, he's standing right there' - I mean 'His existence as a character is what completes the plot. Mild!Miguel HAS to be there logically speaking'

DO YOU GET WHAT I MEAN LIKE MILD MIGUEL AND MIGUELS ACT AS THE LEADER IS CENTRAL TO THIS MOVIE AND THE NEXT.

MILD MIGUEL IS GONNA BE A HUGE PART OF THE NEXT MOVIE

ahhhhhhhhhhHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.

Anyway if you're still here after THAT Hello hi I love you - Please tell me your thoughts and if you think it makes sense!

Here's Hobie for your travels!

Bye.

#no proofread #just vibes #spiderman #atsv #spider man #marvel #across the spiderverse #hobie brown #spider punk #spiderpunk #miguel o'hara #miguel ohara #spiderman 2099 #gwen Stacy #Miles morales #across the spider verse #atsv analysis #btsv

260 notes · View notes

joelsgreys · 8 months

Text

Talk Tonight l Part 1 (Joel Miller x OC Female Reader)

Series Masterlist

Summary: After their flight home is canceled, two complete strangers decide to spend the entire night getting lost together in one of the most beautiful cities in the world—what could go wrong?

Pairing: Pre Outbreak Joel Miller x OFC Camila Mendoza

Warnings/Tags: 18+ Only Minors DNI. NO big age gap, Joel is 35 and Reader is 29. Reader is a mixed woman of color, she is multilingual, although it is written in second person POV (I am terrible at doing third person, sorry) she does come with a name. I also do give her a physical description EXCEPT for her body type (she is shorter than Joel though). Ultimately, if you choose to read this story, you’re more than welcome to read it how you want! If you want to picture her as I write her or as your own—whatever tickles your fancy!

Chapter Warnings/Tags: preface angst (I sorry), we have our girl Sarah, Tommy is a pain in the ass but we love him, airport meet cute, Camila has a physical description, talk of her career and profession, I think that’s about it.

Word Count: 4.3k

A/N: Well, here she is. My lil passion project. It has been kind of nice to write something with zero expectations, not going to lie. No pressure, just straight vibing with this one. This chapter is quite tame, not a whole lot of action yet, but it obviously sets the story up for the good stuff. Tbh, the next chapter is my FAVORITE of the whole series and I almost wish I could skip this part and post that one because when I tell you it is cute, it is so fucking cute lmao. But anyway. I know this series might not gain a ton of traction, but I hope that the few people who DO read this enjoy my OC and grow to love her as much as I have and that you love this story as well. Also I just want to shoutout Doni @morning-star-joy for being so lovely to me and supporting my idea and letting me scream about Camila to her. 🩷

Charles De Gaulle Airport

Paris, France

September 26th, 2002

07:00 Hours

“I beg your pardon?”

Startled by the sound of that rich, deep voice, that heavy Southern drawl that had become so familiar to you over the last nine hours, you lifted your face from your hands and whipped around in your seat; you’d turned so fast that you almost gave yourself whiplash. Your lips parted slightly in surprise when you saw Joel Miller standing there in the aisle with his plane ticket clutched in his hand.

He looked at you, then his dark eyes flickered over to the man sitting next to you. “Sorry I don’t mean to be a bother, but would you mind swappin’ seats with me?” He asked, politely. “I’ve got a good seat up in business class. It’s all yours if you’re willin’ to switch with me.”

The man raised an eyebrow. “What’s the catch?”

Joel shook his head. “There ain’t no catch, sir.”

“There has to be a catch,” he said, suspiciously.

“Ain’t no catch at all. It’s all yours, no extra charge, sir,” he told him, earnestly. “It’s more comfortable; there’s plenty of legroom. There’s also free food, a better selection of movies to watch. Oh and all the complimentary drinks that you can toss back from here to Austin,” Joel added, practically shoving his ticket right under the man’s nose. He hoped it had been enough to tempt him into agreeing to switch with him. “So? What do you say? Can we swap?”

“Well, I say you had me at complimentary drinks,” he remarked with a grin. He stood up, grabbed his carry on bag from the overhead compartment and took the ticket from Joel’s hand. Eagerly, he made his way up the aisle towards the front of the plane.

Dumbfounded, you couldn’t help but stare at Joel, your eyes widening as he slid himself into the seat beside you. “Hi baby,” he greeted you, his lips, soft and warm, brushing against your temple.

“Joel?” You sniffed, quickly dabbing at your damp, swollen eyes with the sleeve of your cardigan. “I’m confused. What in the world are you doing here? Is this even allowed?”

“It’s fine, Mila. I asked one of the flight attendants, she said it was okay so long as he agreed to it.” He put on his seatbelt and glanced over, noticing that your own seatbelt remained unfastened. Reaching over, Joel grabbed the two straps and pulled them around your hips, buckling it for you. He then gave it a firm tug to make sure it was secure. He felt the way you were looking at him and murmured, “Just wanna make sure you’re safe, baby. That’s all.”

“Joel,” You whispered his name thickly. “Seriously, what are you doing back here?”

Joel’s eyes met yours. “If I can get just a few more hours with you, I’m gonna take them. Camila, I will take every last second I can get with you, alright?”

“But—”

You stopped, clamping your mouth shut as a fresh batch of hot tears threatened to spill over.

“C’mere.” He cupped your cheek with his opposite hand and delicately tucked your face into the spot between his neck and his collarbone, soothing you softly, “I’m here, baby. It’s okay, I’m right here. I’ve got you.”

You clutched fistfuls of his denim jacket and clung to him desperately—it was almost as if you’d been clinging onto dear life itself.

“It’s gonna be okay,” Joel promised. “We’re gonna be okay, sweetheart. We’re gonna be okay.”

But that couldn’t have been father from the truth.

You and Joel weren’t going to be okay.

You knew that.

And he did too.

Charles De Gaulle Airport

Paris, France

September 25th, 2002

21:00 Hours

“You’re still in Paris?” Sarah shrieked loudly.

Wincing, Joel pulled his Nokia away from his ear.

She had nearly blown his goddamn eardrum out.

“Please tell me this is some kind of sick joke?”

He sighed heavily, tiredly rubbing at the side of his face with his opposite hand.

He should have known, expected even, that Sarah wouldn’t take the news of his current predicament all too well—she wouldn’t take it well at all.

Joel brought his phone back to his ear. “Sorry, but unfortunately this ain’t a joke, babygirl,” he replied to her after a minute, letting out another sigh. Joel glanced across the crowded airport lounge and he squinted over at the big digital sign hanging above the airline’s counter displaying all the details of his flight home to Austin, Texas. Even after about four hours, it still flashed red, signaling to everyone the flight was still very much delayed due to the harsh weather conditions on the route. Like Joel, several other passengers were growing restless. “We were supposed to take off a few hours ago, but there’s a pretty bad storm on the East Coast—”

Sarah cut him off with a dramatic groan.

“Oh, come on man! Are you fucking serious?”

“Hey now, you had best watch your language!” He chastised his teenaged daughter. “Don’t you think for one second that I ain’t gonna ground your little behind from halfway across the world, missy. I will ground you right from this airport.” He reached up and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Christ, I leave you alone with Uncle Tommy for one weekend—”

“Tell me you’ll be home by tomorrow night, dad.”

He could hear the disappointment in her tone.

As if she already knew she would be let down.

Joel couldn’t blame her.

“I’m not sure when I’ll be home,” he admitted. “It’s lookin’ like the flight might get even canceled.”

“But tomorrow’s your birthday!” Sarah cried. “You have to be home for your birthday.” There’s a long, silent pause on her end of the line, but just as Joel was about to ask her if she was still there, she said in a sad, devastated voice, “It was supposed to be a surprise, but Nana and Grandpa are coming into town tomorrow. We planned a big birthday dinner, even ordered a special cake and everything. You’re always working on your birthday, we haven’t had a chance to properly celebrate it together in years.”

Joel’s heart sank, the guilt creeping in. “Sarah, I’m sorry, babygirl—”

“You just can’t be stuck in Paris, dad. You can’t—”

Suddenly, he heard Tommy in the background.

“Wait a damn minute, what did you just say? He’s stuck where, now? You’ve gotta be—here, give me the phone, kiddo.” There’s another long pause and then his younger brother’s voice came on the line. “What the hell do you mean you’re stuck in Paris?”

“Exactly what it sounds like,” Joel replied, flatly.

“You better be fuckin’ talkin’ about Paris, Texas.”

“Christ, Tommy! Watch your fuckin’ mouth around my daughter,” he hissed, knowing damn good and well that Sarah was standing beside him, listening to him. “I’m stranded at the goddamn airport here in France. I’ve been sittin’ on my ass for hours now just waitin’ around. My flight’s delayed due to that big storm over on the East Coast,” he explained. “I don’t know how long I’m gonna be here since they grounded all air traffic to the States. Nothin’s flyin’ out in that direction right now.”

“Oh c’mon, that can’t be true! Somethin’s gotta be flyin’ out of that airport to the United States. Have you tried switchin’ airlines?”

Annoyed, Joel snorted and rolled his eyes. “Jesus, Tommy, that ain’t how it fuckin’ works, you moron. Nothin’ is flyin’ out in that direction right now,” his voice was firm as he repeated himself. “That really so goddamn fuckin’ hard to understand?”

“Those Europeans put somethin’ in your water?”

“The hell you fuckin’ talkin’ about?”

“‘Cause your ass is crankier than usual, brother.”

Joel pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to keep his composure.

Even in his late twenties, Tommy refused to grow the fuck up and it often drove him to his wits end.

“Look, this long distance call is costin’ me a damn fortune, so listen and listen good, ‘cause I ain’t got a whole lot of time left,” Joel snapped. “I need you to do me a real big favor, alright?” Without waiting for a response from his brother, he continued, “It’s Sunday, so I need you to make sure that Sarah got all of her homework done this weekend. But check it for yourself—and don’t let her lie to you, Tommy. She’ll swear to you she did it, even if she didn’t. I’ll also need you to take her to school tomorrow. She can’t be late again. Her homeroom teacher already chewed me out for droppin’ her off after first bell. I need you to get her there before eight o’ clock. Do you think you can handle that for me?”

Tommy clicked his tongue. “Sorry I wasn’t listenin’ to you, what did you just say?”

Joel’s jaw clenched. “Tommy, I swear to Christ—”

He laughed. “I’m just fuckin’ with you, Joel. I got it all handled, okay? Uncle Tommy to the rescue.”

“Uncle Tommy’s a fuckin’ idiot,” Joel mumbled. “It ain’t a joke. Can I trust you to do this for me or do I need to call Mrs Adler and ask her for her help?”

“I’m a little offended,” Tommy scoffed out. “I think I’ve been takin’ real good care of Sarah on my own over these last few days since you’ve been gone. I mean, she’s alive and she’s breathin’ ain’t she?”

“Tommy—”

“Relax, Joel. I’ll check out her homework tonight, I promise. And I’ll get her to school tomorrow, make sure she ain’t late. You can trust me. Alright?”

“Not like I’ve got much of a choice,” he muttered.

“That’s the spirit.”

Joel rolled his eyes. “I’ve gotta go. Tell Sarah I love her and I’ll do my best to make it home on time for that not so surprise special birthday dinner Mama and Pop are comin’ into town for tomorrow night.”

“You got it, big brother.”

Joel ended the call and then shoved his Nokia into the pocket of his faded, black denim jacket.

He had to get back home by tomorrow night.

If he didn’t, Sarah would be absolutely crushed.

He’d spent his last three birthdays working double shifts just to help make ends meet—but ever since he finally got his construction business going with Tommy, the hours had been even more brutal now that it was just the two of them doing big jobs. He swore both to himself and to Sarah he would try to take more time off—for birthdays, holidays, soccer tournaments, dance recitals. To spend more of his time with her.

So far, he hadn’t been able to keep his word.

He felt like a jackass for it, but what could he do?

It wasn’t just about paying the bills anymore.

Sarah would be turning fourteen next year.

In a few years, he’d be putting her through college.

He needed to work to secure her future for her.

Joel sank back into his chair, taking a look around; his dark eyes scanned the lounge with disinterest.

That’s when you caught his attention.

Caught it and held onto it with a vice like grip.

Joel’s throat went dry.

Christ, you were so fucking beautiful.

Dark brown curls, soft skin the color of deep sand.

Your white sundress only accentuated the warmth of your smooth complexion, giving you a glow that was so radiant it knocked the wind from his lungs, making it hard for him to catch an even breath.

You were sitting in the row of chairs opposite his, a couple chairs down. He couldn’t be too sure, but it seemed like you were traveling alone—the chair on your left was empty and the one on your right held your tan leather satchel bag. Your nose was buried deep into a worn out, paperback book and he took notice of the way you would take the ballpoint pen that you had tucked behind your ear, using it to jot down notes on the crinkled, yellowing pages every so often. Then you would put the pen back behind your ear with a the tiniest, satisfied little grin.

Joel swallowed, his throat bobbing harshly.

He couldn’t take his eyes off of you.

You must have felt his stare because you suddenly looked up from your book, meeting his gaze. You’d seemed a bit startled at first, but then flashed him a pleasant, friendly smile.

Embarrassed, Joel quickly turned away from you.

Way to go you fuckin’ idiot, he thought to himself, silently. She probably thinks you’re a damn creep.

He feigned a sudden interest in the airplane that is parked right outside the gate, the very same plane he was supposed to have boarded four hours ago.

“Êtes-vous coincé ici aussi?”

The sweet, feminine voice came from beside him.

Startled, Joel looked to see you’d moved, and now occupied the once empty seat next to him.

“Uh, sorry. I don’t speak French,” he sputtered out nervously.

“Oh, I’m so sorry about that,” You said, making the effortless transition from French to English. “I just assumed, but I shouldn’t have.” Tossing him a soft and apologetic smile, you asked, “So then, you are an American too?” Of course, there was no reason to ask such a question when the answer was quite obvious, but you were trying to get a conversation with him going.

“Yeah.” Joel winced, mentally kicking himself over how curt he’d sounded. “I’m from Texas.”

Your hazel green eyes glimmered with amusement and you flashed him a brilliant smile that made his heart skip a beat or two inside his chest.

“I thought I detected a hint of a Southern drawl.”

“Oh trust me, it ain’t just a hint, darlin’.”

You threw your head back slightly, laughing. “Well, hello there cowboy,” You teased him, playfully. You were even more stunning up close and all he could do was hope that you couldn’t tell how nervous he was underneath the surface—eager to be chatting up a stunning woman like you, but still nervous.

“So what did you ask me just a minute ago?”

“I asked if you’ve been stuck here like me.”

Joel grinned, feeling a little more courageous.

“Ain’t it obvious what flight I’m waitin’ on, angel?”

“Oh very much so, cowboy.” Grinning back at him, you leaned back into your chair and made yourself comfortable. “I’m waiting on that same flight too.”

Joel chuckled. “At this rate we’d get to Austin a lot faster by swimmin’ across the Atlantic.”

“It’s too bad I don’t know how to swim. Otherwise, I’d say let’s get paddling,” You kidded, causing him to laugh again. “How long were you here in Paris?”

“Few days,” he answered. “Buddy of mine married his longtime girlfriend here. I was his best man.”

You wrinkled your nose at him. “Really?”

Amused, he asked, “Somethin’ wrong with that?”

“I mean, getting married in the most romantic city in the entire world? Don’t you think that’s just a bit cliché?”

Joel shrugged. “I suppose it is,” he agreed. “Come to think of it, can’t get more cliché than that. But I couldn’t say no to Wyatt. He’s been my best friend since we were in diapers,” he explained. “He asked me to be his best man. I couldn’t say no to him, no matter how fuckin’ cliché the whole thing was—”

He suddenly stopped, face burning.

“Sorry darlin’,” he apologized, sheepishly. “I should mind my manners. It ain’t polite to curse when I’m in the presence of a lovely lady.”

Your laugh sent a pleasant shiver down his spine.

Waving a hand, you assured him, “It’s totally fine. I don’t it mind at all.”

Joel smiled, angling his body towards you.

His nerves hadn’t disappeared, not completely.

But as the seconds ticked by, he felt more at ease.

Talking to you felt as natural as breathing.

Joel decided to turn the tables. “What about you? How long were you here for?”

“Oh, I wasn’t. I’m actually just here on a layover.”

“From where?”

“Somalia.”

Joel frowned. “I damn near failed geography when I was in high school. You’re gonna have to help me out a little here, darlin’. Where’s Somalia?”

“East Africa.”

“Africa?” His eyebrows shot up in surprise. He had never been into traveling—he preferred to stay put in his bubble in Texas. Flying out to Paris for Wyatt and the wedding had been Joel’s first time leaving the United States. He never had a desire to go and see the world, nor the interest. But he would have been lying if he said you hadn’t piqued his interest with such an unexpected answer. “What were you doin’ down there?”

“Working. I’m a traveling physician.”

Joel’s mouth fell open slightly. “You’re a doctor?”

You quirked an eyebrow. “Is that such a surprise?”

“How old are you?”

“It’s not polite to ask a lady her age,” You smacked his arm playfully. “Don’t you know that?”

He flushed. “Sorry, it’s just—you seem a bit young to be a doctor, that’s all. I wouldn’t have thought.”

Tilting your head to the side, you asked, “Well how old do you think I am, cowboy? And don’t lie to me just to stay in my good graces. I won’t be offended by your guess, I promise.”

“Twenty five?” Joel guessed, honestly. “Or twenty six?”

“You flatter me, but no. I’ll be thirty in December.”

“So tell me, doc. How long were you in Africa?”

“About a month,” You replied. “I was there with my team to visit some of the villages in Somalia to see families in need of basic healthcare. We offer them medicine and supplies, we offer vaccines. I tend to the children, mostly. I specialize in pediatrics.”

Joel couldn’t help but stare at you in awe.

“What?”

“That’s just really impressive,” he admitted. After a minute, he found himself asking, “Now that you’re done workin’ down there, are you goin’ back home to Austin for a while? That where you’re from?”

You shook your head, and he hoped he didn’t look as disappointed as he felt.

“I’m from Laredo,” You said. “But then I moved for college. I did pre-med at The University of Texas in Austin.”

“You visitin’ your old stompin’ grounds?” he joked.

“Something like that.” You giggled. “One of my old professors, he invited me to give a lecture to some of his students who are interested in medicine and might want to pursue careers in the field—I’ll only be in Austin for a day, then it’s off to my next work assignment.”

Joel shot you another incredulous look.

“What? Why do you keep looking at me like that?”

“I just figured you’d have to be some old geezer to give a lecture to college students.”

“Nope. You just have to be really good at what you do,” You winked at him. “That’s all.”

Before Joel could say another word, an attendant at the airline counter picked up their radio to make an announcement over the intercom—the flight to Austin had been canceled and all passengers were required to book a new one for the following day.

There was a collective groan in the lounge.

“Well, that’s a bummer,” You let out a tiny sigh and stood up, slinging the long, thick strap of your bag over your shoulder. Turning towards him, you gave him a warm smile. “Thank you for talking to me. It was nice having some company.” Lightly touching his shoulder, you said, “Good luck in getting home tomorrow, cowboy.”

Retracting your hand, you whirled around.

Joel jumped to his feet, ready to stop you.

But it was too late.

With the hustle and bustle of everyone scrambling towards the airline ticket counter, he’d quickly lost you in the massive crowd of people.

Joel craned his neck, searching around for you.

“C’mon,” he muttered. “Where’d you go?”

Finally, after a couple of minutes, Joel spotted you walking away from one of the counters with a new plane ticket in hand.

He didn’t even have to think twice about it.

Making his way through the crowd, Joel rushed to the counter and up to the same blond woman who had assisted you. “That girl who was just here, the one with the dark curly hair,” he said. “Can you tell me which flight she booked?”

The attendant gave him a strange look. “Yes she is on the first flight available to Austin,” she stated in a thick, French accent. “Seven in the morning.”

“I need to be on that flight,” Joel told her. Noticing the hint of annoyance on her face, he added in the most polite tone he could muster, “Please. And I’d like the seat next to hers, if it’s possible.”

She shot him another odd look, but typed away at her keyboard and checked the computer screen.

“My apologies, Monsieur. But the seat next to her has already been booked by another passenger.”

“What ‘bout one close to her, then?” He tried.

“I am afraid the only seats left available are at the very back of the plane or business class.”

Joel sighed. He pulled his wallet out from the back pocket of his jeans and handed her his credit card.

“Fine. I’ll just upgrade to a business class seat.”

The attendant nodded. “Of course, Monsieur.”

Once he was all set, he thanked her and started to make his way through the lounge and towards the exit. He walked outside and took a look around the terminal, his eyebrows pulling together.

He knew the chances of finding you were slim, but he took comfort in knowing that he would see you in the morning on the flight back to Austin.

Until then, he had about nine hours to kill.

“Suppose there’s worse cities to be stuck in,” Joel muttered to himself. Most places had translations, and he figured he could get by on his own alright. The hotel he’d stayed at with the wedding party, it wasn’t too far from the airport—after a drink and a bite to eat, he could book a room for the night and crash until the morning.

He started down the sidewalk, but then stopped—out of the corner of his eye he caught sight of your curls and his stomach fluttered eagerly.

You were standing in line waiting for a cab holding what appeared to be a map in your hands.

Before his mind and body could even try making a connection, he found himself walking over to you.

“Hey there,” Joel greeted as he approached you.

You looked up from your map and beamed at him.

“Hey! Did you manage to get a new flight home?”

He nodded. “Yeah, I did. I’m on the first one out to Austin at seven o’ clock in the mornin’.”

Your smile widened. “I’m on that one too!”

“You don’t say,” Joel said in a nonchalant tone. He didn’t want to admit he already knew that. “Well, if that just ain’t a funny coincidence.” His eyes fell to the map in your hands. “What’cha got there?”

“A map to the city.”

He laughed. “Gonna go sightseein’ or what?”

“I am indeed going sightseeing, actually.”

Joel’s smile faltered. “You serious? At this time?”

“I’ve been to Paris a couple of times before. I have always wanted to see it at night, but never had the guts to do it,” You confessed. “But here I am stuck for the next nine hours, so I suppose tonight is the night I finally do it.”

“You’re crazy.”

“I prefer the term adventurous.” Folding your map, you looked at him. “What about you, cowboy? You have anything planned for your night?”

Joel shrugged, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “Was gonna go grab a bite to eat and then get a hotel room to crash in.”

He was tempted, oh so tempted, to ask you to join him for a late dinner and drinks—just when he had worked up the courage to go for it, you spoke.

“Did you get to see the city while you were here?”

“I didn’t see much of anythin’,” he admitted. “With the weddin’ and all, I didn’t have the time. It ain’t a big deal, though. I ain’t a big sightseein’ kinda guy to begin with, you know?”

You raised your eyebrows at him. “Wait a minute, I just want to make sure I have this straight—you’ve got an entire commitment free night in Paris, and you’re going to spend it cooped up in some hotel room?”

Joel shrugged. “I reckon I am.”

“No way.” You grabbed his arm and started to pull him over towards an available cab. “You’re coming with me tonight.”

“Wait just a minute, darlin’—”

Ignoring him, you continued to drag him along. “It would a crime if you didn’t see this city before you go back home,” You stated, opening the back door to the car. You tried shoving him into the backseat but he caught himself on the roof of the vehicle.

“Whoa, whoa. Hold on there a second, angel,” he said with a chortle. “You’re really just gonna spend a whole night in a foreign city with a complete and total stranger you just met half an hour ago? What if I’m some kinda serial killer?”

You blinked. “Are you a serial killer?”

“Well no I ain’t a serial killer, but my point is—”

“Then we’re fine,” You chirped. “Come on, let’s go. There’s no time to waste.”

Pushing past him, you climbed into the backseat.

“You coming?” You asked over your shoulder.

Joel chuckled, sliding in next to you.

“Guess I am.”

He shut the door behind him—this was happening and yet somehow it didn’t even feel real.

A chance to spend the entire night with you?

It just didn’t feel real to him.

“I’m Camila,” You introduced yourself, extending a hand towards him.

He took your hand, holding it in his.

“Camila,” Joel repeated with a smile. “That’s a real pretty name for a real pretty girl.”

You grinned.

“How about you, cowboy? You got a name?”

“Joel. Joel Miller.”

You gave his hand a squeeze.

“Well Joel Miller, it seems like we aren’t complete and total strangers anymore, are we now?”

His own grin widened. “No, darlin’ I suppose we ain’t.”

#queued to post #fic: talk tonight #joel miller x ofc #joel miller x original character #Joel miller x original female character #joel miller fluff #joel miller angst #joel miller story #joel miller series #pedro pascal characters

255 notes · View notes