#or rescue a girl in deep shit

[soullumii]

stranded | joel miller x f!reader

pairing: joel miller x afab!fem!reader

summary: you get stranded in the middle of a blizzard. joel comes to your rescue. you share a bed for warmth. things escalate from there...

warnings/tags: 18+ content, MDNI!, smutttttt yurrrr (vaginal fingering, unprotected piv sex, dubious consent, lil bit of somnophilia, joel is packinggg), no outbreak!joel, modern au, implied age gap, soft!joel, pet names (peach, baby, darlin', sweet girl, sweetheart), lil bit of joel being jelly, cuddling to keep the cold at bay, fluff, NO USE OF Y/N

word count: 7.6k (idk what the fuck happened)

“Damn it!” 

You press down hard on the gas pedal, grimacing when your engine revs but the car doesn’t move an inch.

Your tires skid uselessly over the snow and your headlights reflect into a white wall of nothing—the snowfall so thick you can’t see anything in front of or around you, as if you’re trapped in a snow globe. The road is practically gone from existence.

The only thing you can hear is the wind whistling and the staticky sound of Carrie Underwood’s ‘Jesus Take the Wheel’ going in and out on the radio.

Yeah, you wish he would right about now. 

“Fuuuck,” you whine, eyes stinging with unshed tears. You hit your wheel in frustration, dropping your forehead onto the horn. It honks pityingly. 

Of course, the one time you were actually going out, you had forgotten to check the weather. 

You’re probably going to die out here on this back road through the woods. There’s no one around, not that you can tell, and you’re low on gas. You were going to fill up once you got out of the woods and back into civilization, but the blizzard had other plans.

Your stomach rumbles, crying out for the dinner you had skipped in hopes of having a hearty, post-sex meal with the hook-up you are—or were—on the way to see. Though, that’s certainly not happening, and the snacks you usually had stuffed into the glovebox are gone, your sister having stolen them last week after you dropped her off at school.

(Darn that growing goober!) 

You don’t have anything that might prove useful in this situation besides the long, slim heels on your pumps (which could be used in defense), and the thin peacoat wrapped around your shoulders. You check your phone to see if you can call a towing company, but of course, it has zero bars. 

“Shit, shit, shit,” you whimper, pressing the heel of your palm to your watering eyes. 

“It’s gonna be fine,” you say to yourself, picking your head up and rubbing away the tears in your eyes. You take deep breaths and put the car into park. “You’ll be fine.”

The sudden sound of a knock on your window startles you so bad you yelp, jumping in place as ice cold terror rises up your spine. 

You can hardly see who had knocked, only their gray silhouette in the white blizzard.

The stranger knocks again. 

“You alright in there?” The shadow asks, a hint of a Texan accent curling their vowels. Shit. It’s a man. 

You slowly grab your shoe from your foot, holding it so the heel faces the window, and snow blows into your face as you carefully roll it down an inch or two for precaution, because who knows if it’s a fucking cannibal-axe-murderer who preys on unsuspecting women stranded in the snow. Maybe he does this every year—maybe this is his prime harvesting place and time. 

Your eyes are wide as you peer through the opening warily, heel at the ready. 

He’s close enough now that you can make out a prominent scowl, hard brown eyes, salt and pepper hair…

…wait a minute. You’d recognize that glower anywhere.

“Joel?”

Your lungs suddenly remember how to work again, and you inhale on a shaky breath. The hand holding your shoe drops to your thigh in relief.

His brown eyes narrow. “Peach…? The hell are you doin’ out here?” He asks, and Jesus you forgot about that stupid nickname he gave you. It sends butterflies loose in your stomach. “It’s a goddamn blizzard.” 

You scowl in exasperation, though, at his obvious observation. “Yeah, I think I know that, Joel. What are you doing here?”

“I heard a honk, figured someone needed help.” He looks you up and down, his gaze lingering on the circles of mascara around your eyes. “Guess I’m right.”

You straighten in your seat, the gratitude you feel at his presence is overshadowed by the need to look self sufficient and capable, because you are. You’re a grown ass woman! So…

“I don’t need your help,” you huff.

He arches a brow. “Really.” It’s not a question.

You glower. “Maybe.”

Joel leans an arm on the frame of your car, and taps your window once more. “C’mon. Let’s go.” 

God, this is so embarrassing!

“Fine.” You roll up the window and turn off the car. Joel tugs the car door open as far as it can go and offers a gloved hand to help you out. You wobble a bit when you step out in your heels, grateful that Joel is there to steady you. Though, the feeling sours a bit when he huffs in disbelief at your shoes. 

You send him a glare, “I had plans for tonight, okay?”

“In the middle of a blizzard?” He deadpans.

“It wasn’t that bad when I first started driving.”

“Riiiight,” he drawls, “Well, I’m sorry to say, peach, but you ain’t driving in this mess anymore. You can stay with me tonight.” He says, closing the car door behind you. 

Stay? With him? 

“Joel, I couldn’t bother you with—“

“I wouldn’t offer if it was a bother.”

Joel’s as stubborn as a bull, more so than Ellie. And she is stubborn. You don’t argue, because it’s fruitless to argue with a brick wall like him. And, faced with freezing to death out here or staying in a well-insulated building, choosing the latter is obviously the right thing to do.

“Okay,” you relent and point to your trunk. “I have a bag back there.”

He raises a brow. “Heels and a bag…What kind of plans were we talkin’ about here?”

A hook up, Joel, you mentally drawl. Because…that’s exactly why you were out. 

Like hell you’ll tell Joel that, though, he’d disapprove. He’s always been the protective type. You’ve known him since your junior year in college, after your families practically merged. But you’ve never seen Joel as another dad. He’s always been…something else to you.

“A trip to Nunya.” You supply instead of the truth, crossing your arms over your chest to try and conserve some heat. 

“Nunya?” Joel’s brows furrow. 

“Yeah. Nunya business, Joel.” You give him a sardonic smile. 

He shakes his head and sends you a look you’re quite familiar with, the one that makes you feel inches smaller. And ten degrees hotter. 

Joel sighs in exasperation and wordlessly wrenches the trunk open. He slings your bag over his shoulder as if it weighs nothing.

(It weighs a lot. You’d know, you shoved five different erotica books in there, just in case your date failed to make you orgasm.)

(Though thinking about Joel probably would’ve been enough.) 

You lock your vehicle with a bemused glance. “What are we gonna do about my car?” 

“I’ll tow it out tomorrow,” Joel says. “Roads are a fuckin’ mess right now.”

You trudge behind Joel to his quaint cottage sleeping cozily between tall pine trees and chubby evergreens. The porch light is on, and the windows glow a comforting orange. Puffs of smoke drift up from the chimney. It looks warm and inviting, like straight out of a Christmas movie. 

You’re impressed at how close you managed to strand yourself to his house. Maybe Jesus really did take the wheel. 

Joel kicks the snow off his boots on his front porch, then opens the door, gesturing for you to enter first. 

When you breach the doorway with Joel at your heels, warmth settles over your cold-bitten cheeks along with an alluring aroma of meat and tomato and spices that hits you in a wave. You’ve never seen Joel cook anything other than Chef Boyardee Beefaroni, or burgers on Tommy’s rusting grill before, so this is certainly a surprise. It could be Sarah or Ellie’s cooking, but last time you checked, Sarah could cook eggs and Ellie could cook, well, nothing.

“So did you hire a personal chef to make whatever smells so good?”

He sets your bag down in the foyer with a grunt and shrugs out of his coat. “I made it.”

You can’t help the disbelieving laugh that bursts out of you, and the slightly offended look on Joel’s face only makes it harder to stop. You cover your mouth with your hand, but you’re absolutely positive he can see the mirth lighting in your eyes.

Though he’s offended, there’s a twitch to his lip, as if he’s trying not to laugh. “I’m perfectly capable of cooking.”

“I’m sorry—I’m sorry,” you try to stamp down your giggles. “Yes, you’re capable but… is it edible?”

Your stomach decides in that moment to start rumbling, and he smirks.

“Guess you’ll have to find out.”

You take your coat off and follow Joel towards the kitchen. As you follow, you take in his aggressively Texan decor and furniture. Paintings of cowboys and horses and mountains are hung artfully on cozy, beige walls. The Eagles’ discography drifts merrily in the air from an old record player. There’s a guitar stationed in practically every corner. It’s all so very Joel, though the random space ornamentals and butterfly drawings sprinkled about are so very Ellie and Sarah. It makes you smile. 

“Where are the girls?” You ask, because usually those little stinkers would be stationed at the dining room table, bickering over the answer to a ridiculously difficult math problem.

“At Dina’s,” he answers, taking off his gloves and dropping them on the table. “They wanted to play in the snow.”

Oh. So you’re here alone with him. Anxiety prickles at the edges of your mind, sinking in your stomach.

“I guess I was the only one that didn’t know about the blizzard, then.” 

“You must be livin’ under a rock to not know about it.”

You grumble in protest, but your grievances disintegrate on your tongue as you enter the kitchen and near the simmering pot. You breathe in the aroma, the smell so powerful it's almost like you’re actually tasting it. 

You look over your shoulder at him. “Is this chili?”

He nods. “Want some?”

“Absolutely.”

He comes up beside you to open a cabinet. “Go ‘head make yourself comfortable on the couch. I’ll bring it out to you.” Your mouth dries at the sliver of skin that peeks out beneath his flannel as he reaches up.

You force yourself to turn around. “Wow. Such a gentleman, didn’t realize you were capable,” you say, your saccharine sweet tone doing well to mask how flustered you feel. You can breathe easier the second you exit the kitchen and enter the living room. 

His voice follows you. “A simple ‘thank you’ ‘stead'a this attitude would do you some good, y'know?"

"I know," you sing-song, grinning as you settle yourself down onto his couch, grabbing a blanket from a basket on the way. A fire crackles in the hearth and you study the flames with fascination as warmth spreads across your skin. You tug the blanket around you, pulling it up to your chin. 

Joel emerges a minute later and your gaze darts from the fire to the bowl he holds out to you. “Here.”

“Thank you, Joel,” you say emphatically, accepting the bowl and cradling it in your hands. 

He smiles, “There we go. Guess you do have some manners.”

You give him a half-bow. Joel just smiles in that familiar way, like you’re just so ridiculous he can’t believe it. It makes your stomach curl giddily. 

Having rolled up the sleeves of his flannel to his elbows, Joel’s forearms are on display, muscles flexing as he tosses another log into the hearth, and you drop your gaze to your chili, as to not get caught staring. He sits down in the armchair adjacent to you with his own bowl.

You blow on the steaming chili before taking a bite, an involuntary moan releasing from you the moment it hits your tongue—paprika, peppers, tomato, cumin. It warms your stomach pleasantly. Who knew Joel could cook so well?

“This is so good,” you mumble around your bite. 

He swallows his own chili down, pupils large as he watches you. “Edible enough for ya?”

You nod enthusiastically, “I’m sorry I ever doubted you.”

“Mmhmm,” he hums, unconvinced, but he’s smiling at you again, and you can’t help but return it. 

Comfortable silence lapses between the both of you as you eat your meals. Joel finishes first, of course, setting his bowl on the coffee table and leaning into his chair with a satisfied groan. He throws an arm over the back, spreading his legs. You watch him while he watches the fire, heat licking through you.

Eventually, after you slow down, you speak again.

“Thank you, Joel, seriously, for letting me stay.”

His eyes find yours and he nods. “‘Course, peach. Wouldn’t’ve let you freeze out there.” 

You nod and glance around, taking in his cabin. A large, stone fireplace is set in the wall, a tree trunk coffee table stationed in the center of the living room, some handmade wood carvings of horses and other animals scattered about. There’s a drawing of himself sitting on the mantel, “To: Joel, From: Ellie” signed at the bottom. Your heart swells. 

“It’s been awhile since I’ve been here,” you remark.

“I know,” Joel says. “You should come around more often. The girls miss you.”

Your smile turns shy and you feel a spike of bravery. “What about you? Do you miss me?” 

He takes a moment to answer, a veiny hand coming up to rub at his beard as he leans on the arm of the chair. Onyx eyes drag down your figure. “‘Course I do, darlin’” 

Heat pools hot and thick between your thighs at that look, and you’re about to press him about how much he really misses you when a buzzing in your pocket captures your attention. Your phone. Guess you have some bars now. 

marcus: where r u?

Oh right, the hookup!

you: blizzard blocked the roads. won’t make it tonight.

marcus: ok. 

You scoff at the lack of depth in his response. Not even a “stay safe out there”? Jesus. You settle into the couch with a frustrated sigh, head thumping against the cushions, eyes falling shut as exhaustion creeps into you. 

Boys always thinking with their dicks. Why do you even bother?

“What’s that about?” Joel asks. You peek an eye open at him. Firelight dances across his tan skin. He gestures to your phone. “That gotta do with the real reason for your trip tonight?” 

You rub your temple, “Yeah.”

He hums. "...Listen, I know it's none of my business but—“ 

"It was a hookup, Joel," you interrupt, already knowing where he was going with that. He tends to do that, beat around the bush so much until you’re desperate to just say it. More desperate than he was to know it. You’d rather just skip that whole process. 

"Oh,” his brows furrow.

"Yeah," you repeat dumbly, fiddling with the blanket.

"There, uh, ain't no shame in that, darlin'."

You quirk a skeptical brow, "I know."

"Alright," he mumbles, avoiding eye contact with you. Awkwardness settles between you.

"Things are just a bit dry," you supply, though you have no idea why you're still talking, or why you described yourself and the state of your love-life like that because Joel doesn't need to know that. Nobody needs to know that

But it captures his attention, because he's looking at you again, though this time annoyance is written on his features, along with something else you can’t name, his eyes practically black. Damnit, you knew he’d disapprove, even if he claims there’s no shame in it.

“And you went to some random boy for that?"

You straighten on the couch. "Who else am I supposed to go to, Joel? You?” Sarcasm drips from your words. 

What the hell is he implying?

His gaze jumps to the fire, the muscles in his jaw clenching, his fingers flexing on the arm of his chair. "Never mind I said anythin'."

Your arms cross defensively over your chest. "I don't need your judgment, Joel.”

"I ain't judgin'."

"Sure sounds like it."

He stands abruptly, running a hand through his peppered locks. "I'm not, I just—listen, it's gettin' late. You should sleep. I didn’t have time to get the girls’ room ready, do you want my bed?”

You shake your head, "Couch is perfectly fine, Joel. Thanks."

“You sure?”

“Yes, Joel. I’m a grown woman who can handle her decisions.” 

"I know that.” Frustration laces his words. He sighs, hand coming up to rest on his belt. “Just... let me know if you need anythin'."

“You got it.”

He turns the living room light off on the way to his bedroom down the hall. You don’t watch him leave. 

Once he's gone, you change into your pajamas and settle yourself on the couch beneath a blanket or two. The crackling of the fire and the howling wind outside lulls you to sleep faster than you expect. 

-----

“Fuck.”

The aggressive shivers that wrack your body are what wake you up in the middle of the night. 

Your blanket is wrapped tightly around you, but it’s a thin, furry thing. Nothing like the down comforter you have at home. The fire has also gone out in the hearth, low flames flickering in the ash.

You pull the blanket up to your chin, curling in on yourself as the cold permeates your skin. 

Aside from the chattering of your teeth and the squall outside, it’s eerily silent in the house. You realize, now, that the whooshes from the heating system you had grown accustomed to before are gone

Shit.

You reach for the lamp on the side table, pulling down on the chain. It doesn’t turn on.

“Shit.” 

You sit up, blanket wrapped around your waist. The power is out. The snow storm must’ve knocked out a power line. It’s too cold to stay out here with only your thin blanket and the clothes on your back. And Joel had said…

Let me know if you need anythin’.

You really don’t want to bother him, but the goose flesh rippling across your skin and the pathetic way your lips are quivering, along with the shudders that wrack your body as it attempts to maintain homeostasis are not something you can just sleep through.

You tightly wrap your blanket around your shoulders and tiptoe down the hall. You can see a warm light from Joel’s bedroom, the flicker of a flame on the cream walls.

You slowly push the door open but hesitate at the sight of Joel buried comfortably beneath his comforter. You don’t want to wake him… but his room is awfully toasty from the fire crackling away in his own hearth. And his bed looks absolutely heavenly. 

You steel yourself and pad to the side he sleeps on. 

“Joel?” You whisper. He doesn’t respond.

You lean over to gently push his shoulder. “Joel.”

“Mm—“ His brows furrow, and he scrunches further into the blankets, reminiscent of a cat curling its paws over its head when woken up.

You push his shoulder again, a bit harder this time. “Joel. Wake up.”

He swats at the air, as if your hand is a fly buzzing around his ear. “‘M awake,” he mumbles against the pillow. 

“Joel—the power went out. I’m freezing.”

He’s silent for a moment, eyes still shut. He’s no doubt rolling the words around in his head, trying to make sense of them through a sleepy haze.  

Then, when he does, he wordlessly scoots back and reaches for the comforter. He lifts it, offering the space next to him to you.

“C’mere.” 

You splutter, taken off guard by the invitation. “What? Joel—“

“‘M not askin’, peach. C’mere.” The last word leaves his lips like a command, and you straighten reflexively, apprehension holding your limbs hostage as want curls dangerously low in your abdomen at his tone of voice. That should be enough warning to not climb into bed with him.

You debate telling him to get his ass up and give you another blanket along with a couple more logs in the hearth so you can avoid any kind of proximity between you (lest you feel those capital-f Feelings), but you can practically feel the heat radiating from the bed and his body beckoning you in. 

Oh fuck it.

You let loose a shaky breath and hesitantly slip beneath the covers, facing away from him. You stay glued to the edge of the bed, careful not to let any part of you touch him. Your legs curl into your chest for extra measure. Immediately, it’s so much better. So warm. So comfortable.

And it smells like Joel.

You inhale the earthy and spicy scent of him that lingers on the linen as your head sinks into the soft pillow, but your inhale chokes off as Joel’s strong arm snakes around your waist beneath the comforter, his large hand burning like a brand when it settles hot over your stomach.

He pulls you into him, the sheets swishing as he tucks you into his body. Your back slots against his warm, broad naked chest. His bare legs intertwine with yours, his pelvis almost flush against your ass, only covered by a thin pair of briefs. 

Holy shit. 

You can feel everything. 

“Joel?” You question, voice quivering at the sudden closeness. “What are you doing?”

“Keepin’ you warm,” he mumbles against the nape of your neck. 

You do feel warmer, though it might not be entirely because he’s holding you, but rather because of how he’s holding you. He’s curled around you, like a koala around a tree, thighs bracketing yours. 

You can feel his beard scraping at the nape of your neck, breaths puffing against your feverish skin. 

His thumb is rubbing softly along the pudge of your tummy, palm branding your skin, his fingers dipping innocently beneath the hem of your shorts. 

You can barely breathe, or even think, heartbeat stuttering as arousal pools liquid hot and heavy between your legs. Every unknowing twitch from Joel’s fingers makes it worse. Every touch of his calloused fingertips against your skin is pure agony. Every brush of your ass against his pelvis has you throbbing. You stare wide-eyed into the darkness, gaze roaming the pitch black, as if something out there could make you forget about the ever-growing desire you feel for Joel. 

You can’t sleep like this.

It seems like Joel can though, appearing to already be deep in slumber. He hasn’t moved in a few minutes, his exhales even and slow against you. 

You try to ignore the wetness between your legs, ignore the instinctual urge to roll your hips back against him. You should just go to sleep. But this ache you feel, pounding and deep and relentless…You have to do something about it, even with Joel holding you close.

He won’t mind…right?

But how are you supposed to touch yourself with Joel’s hand in the way? 

You could just move it. That’s the right thing to do, but it feels too good, so hot and heavy on you that you just don’t want to, and as a result, an idea so absolutely fucked worms its way into your mind, lust and desperation destroying any last semblance of rational thought. You could…

No. No. You can’t do that. He’s a human fucking being, not a hand shaped vibrator. 

But… you really want to, and he’s asleep so…he won’t even know…right?

You make up your mind and slowly curl your fingers around Joel’s deadweight palm, biting your lip in concentration and shame as you carefully urge his hand further into your shorts. After each nudge of his palm, you wait to see if Joel gives you any sign of him being awake. But he’s dead asleep. After a moment, you keep going. 

This is so fucked, but you can’t bring yourself to care when you finally feel his thick fingers brush over your clothed folds.

“Shit,” you whisper, breathlessly, holding back a whimper. You manipulate his hand so that his palm is resting large and warm over your aching clit, while his index and middle finger are placed heavily above your heat. 

And then, you really say fuck you to your morals. 

You give an experimental thrust of your hips into his palm, shuddering at the contact against your clit. Then you wait to see if Joel reacts, your head tilting a bit to look over your shoulder. But Joel hasn’t moved, hasn’t said a word. Good.

Confident he won’t wake, you rock your hips again and again, holding onto his hand with your own, pressing it down with each thrust of your hips to get that sweet contact. The heel of his palm bumps your aching clit with each thrust, and you bite back moans and whimpers well enough, but you can’t hide the deepening of your breaths as you climb closer and closer to your climax.

Everything else fades away as you just focus on that one goal. On crawling over the edge. You hardly feel the growing smirk pressed to the back of your neck, or the way Joel’s cock is now hard against your ass as you grind against his palm.

“F-fuck,” you huff, eyes tightly shut as you ground yourself in his presence behind you, the beat of his heart thudding against your spine, the rise and fall of his chest, the light, unconscious brush of his lips on your neck. Closure is on the horizon as you imagine him lifting up on his arm and leaning over to actually get you off, his teeth biting down on your shoulder as he thrusts his fingers into your aching cunt. 

“Joel—“ you quietly moan. 

The moment his name slips from your lips, his hand suddenly pulls back, and you let out a frustrated groan (he can’t do that!), which quickly turns into a squeak of mortification (oh yes, he absolutely can!).

Because Joel is awake. 

He. Is. Awake.

And he knows what you were doing, his chest rumbling against your spine as he—is he fucking laughing at you?

“Needy girl, aren’t you, peach?”

Mortification ignites in your cheeks, nausea pooling in your stomach. “Joel, oh my god, I’m so sorry—“

His hand gravitates to your thigh, curling around it. He pulls it up, inserting his knee in between your legs and he griiiinds it into your clothed cunt. Your desperate apology is cut off by a reflexive wanton moan, your back arching as pleasure reverberates inside you.

“‘S okay, baby, I understand. So fuckin’ desperate you had to use me while I was sleepin’, huh? Didn’t get what you wanted earlier so now you’re searchin’ for somethin’ else, hm?”

His large hand finds your waist again, sliding down your stomach to inch beneath both your shorts and your panties now. You gasp as his fingertips find your clit easily.

“I’m just a ‘lil offended I wasn’t your first choice,” he chides, fingers slipping through your soaking folds. “But I like this much better than you findin’ some boy to get you off. You need’a be fucked by a man, darlin’. Ain’t that right?” 

His words send heat straight to your core, thighs clenching around his knee as he ruts it against you while simultaneously stimulating your clit with his fingers.

“Yes, Joel,” you moan. “Need you.” 

His teeth scrape against your throat when he growls, “Goddamn right you do.”

You can’t believe this is happening.

Joel slides his hand further into your panties, his middle finger curling in to sink into your soaked cunt. You choke on a gasp. 

“Who’s the guy?” He asks, randomly, while his finger rocks into you.

You can’t think as Joel inserts his ring finger alongside the other, stretching you so deliciously. “W-what?”

“The boy you were gonna see tonight. Who is he?” 

Who was it? Mark? Matt? And why does he care? You don’t know, you don’t care, only thoughts of Joel Joel Joel consume your waking being. 

“I—I don’t know, Joel. Please, oh my god.” 

He hums pityingly. “Poor thing can't even remember his name.” His other hand comes up to slide through your hair, gripping the locks at the nape of your neck. He tugs, and you melt. “I’ll make sure you don’t forget mine.” 

He doesn’t need to worry about that.

Joel moves his thumb to circle your clit as he thrusts his thick, long fingers up and into you, curling them to hit that spot that has your heartbeat dropping between your thighs, desperate and loud and begging for release. 

“Hhhoh— Joel!” 

“Tha’s right, baby. So goddamn wet. You’ve been dealin’ with this for awhile now, huh?”

You nod into the pillow on a broken moan as his fingers withdraw and sink into you at a steady pace, his thumb circling and circling and circling.

“Words, baby.”

You cry out, hands gripping the pillow. “Yes, yes. Joel. Been wanting this f’so long.”

“Should’a come to me first. Would’a helped you out a long time ago,” he drawls.

Yes you absolutely should have, based on how quickly you’re approaching your orgasm.

Your cries are so loud, but you don’t care, focusing only on your pleasure and the feel of Joel’s mouth on your throat. 

You’re finally getting what you want. And fuck, is it amazing.

Your eyes roll back as it all builds up inside you, Joel’s hand unrelenting as he fucks you closer and closer to the edge.

You’re scorching, everything hot and intense, your stomach tightening, your legs stretching out as the pleasure builds and builds.

Fuck, you’re gonna cum—

It rips through you violently, eyes prickling with tears, your thighs clenching as your walls bare down repeatedly around Joel’s fingers, making him groan. 

“Good girl,” Joel murmurs, hand eventually inching out of you and your shorts to squeeze your thigh appreciatively as aftershocks run through you, thighs quaking and clit throbbing. “That’s what you needed, huh? S’it feel good, cummin’ all over my fingers?”

His fucking voice!

“Mhmm,” you hum in agreement, sinking into the sheets, eyes drooping shut as pleasure lulls you to sleep. 

He tsks, “Wake up, darlin’ I ain’t done with you yet.”

His beard scrapes against your neck as he moves to your ear.

“It’s my turn to use you.”

Your eyes shoot open. Fuck. 

Joel pulls your panties down your legs as far as he can, and you squirm to wriggle them off of you.

He pulls away for a moment, but when he’s back, the bare, hot, thick length of him is pressed between your ass cheeks, and a full body shudder runs through you.

Holy shit, he’s big.

He grips your thigh again, but this time he throws it over his own. And then you feel it, the slick head of his cock as he guides it through your folds.

Oh fuck.

“You okay, peach?” He asks, laying a gentle kiss on your shoulder. Now you have tears in your eyes for an entirely different reason. His hand slides across your waist and up beneath the hem of your shirt, palming your breast. Your nipples tighten. 

Your mouth feels dry and you swallow down a lump of lava. “Y-yes, Joel.”

“Good. Wanna give you all of me, how’s that sound, darlin’?”

You will take whatever, anything you can get from Joel.

“Good, Joel. Yes, please, oh my god.”  

“There are those manners.”

A desperate whine slips from your lips as he directs the head of his cock into you, slowly and carefully, his hand running up and down your thigh in comforting strokes. God, he’s stretching you so much, hot and thick and pulsing inside you. It’s almost painful, but it’s a welcome pain.

“Jesus, Joel,” you moan when he stops to let you breathe, “You’re so big.”

“I ain’t even halfway in yet, darlin’.”

“W-what?” How is that even possible? 

“You can take it.” He says, sliding in some more and fuck you don’t have much of a choice. but you can, and you will because he feels too fucking good, and you’re ready for him to make you feel it into next week.

“Is…is it all the way in yet?” You ask, thoroughly stretched and filled. 

“Almost, sweet girl,” he breathes. “Goddamn, you’re tight.”

That makes you clench down even more, and he releases a pained groan behind you. “Relax, darlin’, c’mon.”

You do your best and let yourself sink into the bed, taking deep breaths and concentrating on the crackling of the fire.

And then, he thrusts fully into you, filling you up completely, and your mind is right back to him, a soft cry slipping from your lips into the pillow.

 “There we go, tha’s it. Good job. Taking me so well,” he croons, stroking your side.

“F-fuck me, Joel, please move.”

He squeezes your ass in his large palm in retaliation to your command. “You use me, I use you, remember?”

But he listens anyway, likely desperate to move himself, because then he’s gripping your hip with a large hand and pulling back just to sheath himself fully into you once more, his cock head bumping against your cervix, and holy fucking shit.

“Joel!” You cry, and he leans over to kiss you, teeth biting at your plump lower lip as he thrusts into you again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

He rolls into you at a steady, bruising pace, and you’re practically boneless as you just take it. Cries and whimpers and moans spilling out of you like a gas leak as he mouths down your throat, sucking and biting and oh my god this is way better than just getting yourself off on his hand. 

Then Joel shifts, pushing at your side to press your stomach into the mattress. You whine as he pulls out of you to situate himself behind you. He grabs your hips with both hands and pulls them up and backwards, easing himself back into you until your ass meets his skin, then he rolls his hips, driving his cock deep from a brand new angle.

All you can do is sob into the pillow. 

He’s so fucking big, so fucking deep you can’t think of anything else besides him and his wonderful cock, or the filthy things he’s whispering into your shoulder blades.

His large hand plants itself on your spine, and your hands scramble for purchase on a pillow.

“Sweet girl, taking me so fuckin’ well,” he purrs. “You were desperate for this cock, huh? God, I wish you could see yourself. Split open on me like this. Your little boy toy wouldn’t be able to fuck you like this, ain’t that right?"

You shake your head. God, why did you even make that dick appointment in the first place?

You hadn’t even realized what being fucked by a “real man” meant until now.

Joel knows how to fucking deliver, you guess that’s why he’s so successful in his contracting business. He’s delivering you straight to that blessed release. 

You clench around the girth of him, the filthy sounds of your arousal echoing in his room along with the cracks and snaps from the fire burning steadily in the hearth.

If you couldn’t sleep before, you definitely will be able to after this because you’re mindless as he fucks you into oblivion.

“Joel, fuck—mmph—!” 

“Yeah, that’s right. Can’t say anythin’ but my name.”

His breathing has become more labored, desperate grunts escaping his lips as his cock twitches inside of you. He’s getting close, deep and gravely moans falling out of him as his thrusts become harder and more sporadic.

His hand sneaks around your front, spanning your entire stomach as he slides down to your soaking folds, his middle and ring finger finding that sensitive bundle of nerves and giving them a gentle tap before circling, using that same method from before that had you squirming.

You writhe on his length, legs falling out beneath you as your orgasm swells within you. 

“Please Joel,” you whimper into the pillow. 

“I’ve got you,” he promises. 

It’s there, filling your body, building and cresting and searing white-hot through your limbs. 

And then he thrusts a certain way, hitting that spot within you, and his fingers are circling and—

Yeah.

You fall boneless to the mattress as you come apart, your arousal coating Joel’s cock as he continues to fuck you through your release, stroking your spine. Pleasure floods through your body as the tension releases, and tears freely fall as you cry into the pillow.

Because goddamn it!

How can something feel so good? 

And then Joel’s pulling out of you and letting loose a long, satisfied moan as he comes all over your back, hot stripes painting you. 

He collapses next to you, groaning something about his back.

And you can’t help but laugh, delirious and soft, and Joel’s laughing too, brown eyes sparkling. His calloused hand comes up, runs his thumb along your jaw, and he’s smiling at you, soft and unlike anything you’ve ever seen before.

“You alright, peach?”

“Ohhh yeah,” you giggle, sighing with contentment.

You’re gonna be feeling this for days, just like you wanted.

Joel’s lips brush against your forehead gently, and you’re too tired to acknowledge it, slumber pulling you under far too quickly. You think you can feel the gentle swipe of a wet washcloth on your back before you pass out.

-----

“Fuck…”

The bed is empty when you wake, and a spike of anxiety shoots through you as you sit up. A fire still crackles in the hearth, a fresh log dropped in the ash. On the night stand is a note, beneath it, one of Joel’s t-shirts, your jeans, and a pair of your underwear. 

Mortification climbs through you as you read:

Peach,

My bathroom’s on the left if you’d like to shower. I hope you don’t mind, I went through your bag to get you some panties  underwear. Lot of books in there. You sure like to read.

Oh god, he found your erotica stack. The covers are not misleading, either, he definitely knows what kind of books they are. You force yourself to keep reading through the humiliation.

I’m out picking up Sarah and Ellie, I’ll be home soon. There’s pancakes on the counter. We’ll tow your car when I get back.

Also–about last night…we don’t have to talk about it, if you don’t want to. But, I want you to know that if you ever need something like that again, I’m here. And for anything else. I’m here. Always. 

See you soon. 

Warmth fills your body and you reread those last sentences over and over. 

Always. Does he really mean that? 

You check the alarm clock on his nightstand–it’s eleven fucking a.m. Holy shit, you haven’t slept that late in a long time. 

When you stand, an ache radiates through you, and memories of last night flit in your mind and along with them, a fresh new wave of arousal. You scramble for the shower.

You emerge fresh and clean twenty minutes later, smelling like Joel, having only his body wash and shampoo to use. Each inhale is practically torture, and the ache between your legs is just another reminder. Seeing yourself in his shirt makes it worse. You try and push it away.

You descend the steps, halting when you hear the sound of Ellie’s voice from the kitchen.

“And I was like, pew pew! And I got both of them out!”

Sarah’s scoff of disbelief follows. “Nuh-uh! You didn’t even hit me!”

You creep down the steps, smiling a bit at Ellie’s outcry of “Yes I fucking did!”, and then you hear it–Joel’s low laugh, the Texan drawl.

“You kiddos are gonna drive me crazy. Just eat your damn pancakes.”

“Why’d you make these in the first place? You don’t even like pancakes,” Sarah teases. 

“Uh…”

You decide you should probably help him out. “Hey girls.”

Three heads snap in your direction. The eyes of one skirting down your body, a blush creeping across his cheeks. The other two brighten in shock. 

“What are you doing here!” Ellie gasps. 

“We haven’t seen you in forever!” Sarah adds.

You enter the kitchen and come up behind them to pull them in for a hug, your arms hooking around their necks. You smush their cheeks against yours. Ellie grumbles, Sarah laughs.

“I know! I’ve missed you guys so much. I’m just super busy with being an adult and all that shit,” you say, letting them go so they can breathe. You round the island, grabbing a plate and stacking two pancakes on it.

“Well, stop being busy. We miss you,” Ellie says.

“If I could, I would.”

“Why are you wearing Dad’s shirt?” Sarah asks, eyes narrowing, a mischievous smile pulling at her lips.

“I–um–” the question catches you off guard, and you scramble for an excuse, eyes flicking to Joel desperately. He clears his throat and crosses his arms over his broad chest, now covered in yet another, dark flannel. How many does he own?

“Snowstorm stranded her here last night, and she didn’t have any clean clothes,” Joel says, definitively.

It’s not a lie at all, and yet, it feels like one.

Sarah and Ellie exchange a look that says, yeah fucking right. You shovel pancake into your mouth to try and cool down the blush in your cheeks. 

“Speakin’ of,” he continues, “I’ve got the tow dolly all hooked up so when you’re done, we can tow your car out.”

“Great. Thank you, Joel.”

His brown eyes flick between yours, his hand coming up to rest large and warm on your shoulder. “‘Course, sweetheart.” 

You finish your pancakes without any more embarrassing questions from the girls, thank God, and then you’re out in the snow wearing a pair of Joel’s boots stuffed with socks (they’re too big, but they’re better than heels) and bundled up in one of his coats, watching Joel tow your tiny car out of the snowbank.

It’s just as cold as yesterday, though the dreary sky has cleared into a baby blue, the sun bright and high above the clouds. The roads are clearer, the snow plows having come by not too long ago. 

You grimace as you hear your car groan and creak as Joel pulls it out of the snow, big puffs of it falling off the roof in clumps. Eventually, it’s on solid ground once more, and he tows it back toward his cabin. 

Back in the driveway, Joel hops out of his truck and double checks your car. He pats the roof of it when he deems it accetable. “All good to go, sweetheart.”

You sigh in relief, “Thank you so much Joel, seriously.”

He nods, though he looks…nervous for some reason. “‘Course, darlin’. Glad I could help.”

You don’t really want to leave, but you’ve bothered him long enough, so you stroll to the driver's side and go to open it, but suddenly Joel’s hand comes down to keep it closed. You look up at him confused. 

His expression is hard, serious as he looks down at you. “Do you regret last night?”

Well. You were not expecting that. You thought that, maybe, it would just remain undiscussed. A blip. Something you both shared, but never spoke of again. You know your answer, though.

 “No. I don’t.”

“Good,” he says, eyes dark, “me either.”

He opens the door for you, pauses for a second then shuts it, voice desperate. “I just need to say this, before you go.”

You nod, encouraging him to go on.

He takes a deep breath, rakes a hand through his graying locks. Pinches the bridge of his nose, and shuts his eyes tight. When he opens them again, there's a hard determination in them. Your pulse quickens, your legs turn to jelly.

“I like you, peach,” he says. “I understand if you don’t want to be with me because of the whole single father thing. And, also because I’m me. But I just thought I’d tell you how I felt, because,” he huffs out a laugh, shakes his head, “I’m thinkin’ you might like me, too.”

Your hands are shaking, and not because of the cold. Maybe you should buy a lottery ticket with how lucky you've been these past fifteen hours.

“I’ve liked you since the moment I met you, Joel," you confess. 

“Oh,” he says, breathless, and a smile pulls at his lips.

“Yeah,” you breathe, your own grin forming to match his. 

The breeze shakes the evergreens, drifting flakes of snow onto Joel’s graying hair. His nose is reddened by the biting cold, but his eyes are warm as he smiles down at you. 

“Not gonna lie to you sweetheart, I’m kind of glad you got stranded here.”

"Yeah, me too," you laugh, and then you pull him down to you, pressing your lips against his, smiling into the kiss.

This kiss is the exact opposite of the one he gave you last night. It’s careful, sweet, tentative. He reveres your mouth, rather than ravishes it. You’re both bundled in multiple layers, standing in the freezing cold rather than lying naked in a warm bed. 

And yet, it’s just as perfect, if not more.

Eventually Joel pulls back, hands heavy on your waist. He’s still grinning. His hands frame your face, his thumb running softly along your cheekbone. 

“Peach,” he says. “Would you like to stay for dinner?”

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #tlou #tlou fic #pedro pascal #joel miller smut #joel miller

[fuckyeahdindjarin]

💬 I’d love to put Pin and Joel in a compromising position (as innocent or as spicy as you like) where someone walks in on them. Specifically either Ellie or Tommy. Someone that will make Joel burn bright red with embarrassment as they rib him mercilessly. And even though Pin would normally be mortified seeing Joel squirm is so endearing and hilarious for her.

(P.S. huge fan girl of your writing ♥️)

Rookie Mistake

Seams sleepover micro drabble request | 590 words | warnings: rated a very light E, making out and touching in a semi-public place | can be read independently of the series but is part of the Seams universe

This is an extension of Hallow'seams, following immediately from the end of that drabble. I recommend a re-read it before diving into this one!

Joel knows it’s a rookie mistake. It’s embarrassing, really.

But when it comes down to it, it’s your fault. All the blood from his head rushes south once he spots that little costume of yours, until the only thought left is to hold you to your invitation.

‘And what does my champion demand as punishment -'

He never thought much of the toolbelt, a hand-me-down he picked up at the local shop in his first weeks in Jackson. 

But on you, it’s something else. Gripping the well-worn leather, he manhandles you across the small space of the bathroom to press you against a waist-high cupboard, and you take the smack on your ass as a cue to hop onto the surface with a grin.

And with that, he’s fucking throbbing for you, straining against the cheap, fake leather gladiator skirt. He knows not much can happen here, but the sound of the party just outside the flimsy door lends an excitement that makes his breath ragged.

Tipping you back so that you’re leaning against the wall, he pushes your legs apart to stand in between them. He pulls roughly on the toolbelt, prompting a gasp from you when he jolts your hips into his, rasping, ‘How am I supposed to look at that from now on, huh?’

‘Let’s just hope Tommy doesn’t borrow it,’ you sass back.

He growls at your retort, as if he can get any harder than he already is. ‘I got half a mind to tell you what to do with that smart mouth, sweetheart -’

Grabbing the scruff of his cape, you pull him in for a hard kiss, the boldness coaxing a deep groan out of him as he presses into you, big hands palming your ass and pulling you flush against him, hips rolling, rubbing his clothed cock between your thighs, chasing friction through the layers -

‘Holy shit!’

It takes Joel a second to pull back from you, the beer in his system rendering him slow to respond to the sudden interruption. But still, his first instinct is to shield you from whoever it was that showed up at the door.

That whoever turns out to be his little brother, in a baker’s costume (Maria is the oven with the bun, get it?), with a shit-eating grin on his face, leaning on the doorframe like the cat with the cream.

‘Get the fuck out of here, Tommy!’

‘I don’t know about that, big brother. Looks like you need me to rescue you from the big bad contractor trying to get under your skirt,’ he grins and waves at you over Joel’s shoulder. ‘Hey, Pin!’

Going beet red, fists clenching, Joel spits out, ‘Goddamnit, I mean it, fuck off Tommy!’

‘I wish I could, but Maria needs to pee. You know how pregnant women are.’

Breathing a frustrated breath through the nose, he grunts. ‘Fine. We’ll be right out.’

The door closes with a thud, and with an embarrassed groan, he presses his forehead to yours. ‘Sorry my brother’s such a dick, sweetheart.’

‘I heard that!’ comes Tommy’s indignant reply through the door.

You laugh, combing a hand through his tousled hair, but your glazed eyes tell him that you’re no happier at the disruption than he is. ‘What else are little brothers for?’

Making room for you, Joel catches you when you hop off the cupboard, and just so you know that the night is far from over, he slants his lips over yours in a heated kiss.

‘So - your place or mine, sweetheart?’

Note: Thank you for this request @pedroacrossthestreet! It was so fun to revisit Hallow'seams, and I absolutely had to have Tommy walk in on them, you know that man would give Joel shit for months to come 😉

Thank you @firefly-graphics for the divider.

#seams sleepover #hallow'seams #fuckyeahseams #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller imagine #joel miller smut

[erwinsvow]

you write rafe so good and like you get me like sometimes i’m reading and i’m like “how’d they know😦” so HEAR ME OUT lifeguard!reader (bc i’m a lifeguard at a few country clubs) and i think rafe would be drooling and kelce and top would make fun of him and they’d like break all the rules like back flipping off the diving board just to get readers attention

oh my god first of all i completely adore you!! im so glad yess we must be little brain twins <3 i would love to know which parts made you think that! but here is the best i could come up with for a lifeguard au which is soooo cute but imagine.. its a pogue reader...

rafe knows every pretty girl who frequents the country club, he's made a point of making sure he does. so a fresh face in the crowd stands out pretty easily, especially one like yours.

you're pretty without trying, hair tugged behind you in a ponytail and a simple red one piece, the bottoms covered with denim shorts. it's not the usual kind of outfit for the club, but maybe you're headed out by the pool or something.

he can only see you from the back, though when you turn around, he sees the white cross on the front of your swimsuit. then he sees the boy in matching red trunks next to you, the whistle around your necks and a little first-aid box in your hands. a hot life guard, it doesn't get much more stereotypical than that.

you look around the club, following the boy who can only be giving you a tour of the facilty, with curious eyes like you've never been here before. it's only then a comment from top snaps him into a frankly startling realization.

"can't believe they hire pogues for this shit. wouldn't be surprised if shit started going missing by the pool deck."

rafe thinks normally he'd throw another line in, laugh at what top's saying, but he can't find it in him today. so he keeps watching, the sweet way you smile at a little girl who stopped you to ask for a bandaid, the way you nod while taking in something else in your training.

"alright. you've been staring at that pogue girl for twenty minutes. what gives?" kelce asks finally, after rafe ignores what they've been saying to him for the third time.

"huh?" he snaps back, tearing eyes away from you to look at his idiot friends.

"don't tell me you got hots for the lifeguard. what're you, thirteen?" they laugh, but rafe doesn't.

"shut up." he stands, downing the rest of his drink. "m'goin' to the pool. you loser can come and shut up or stay here and yap."

when he finally gets out there, you've shed the shorts, looking over the kiddie section of the pool with a watchful eye, taking the responsibility of watching brats seriously. he doesn't hesitate, jumping into the deep end with a huge splash, one that gets your attention.

you walk over, making sure whoever that was didn't just fall in, when two boys yell over.

"hey! lifeguard! our friend needs help!" you turn to look back at the boy who's been training you, wondering if you should dive in or wait since you're still in training, when you hear them again.

"not him! you! in the red. hurry!" you don't hesitate, though you're confused, jumping straight in and swimming over to the boy. he doesn't look like he needs help, in fact, he looks like he's floating.

"um, excuse me-" that's all you get out when you get close to him, because he scoops you up like he's rescuing you, carrying you out of the pool like a bride. you kick your feet, yelling out. "hey! put me down! you're not even drowning!"

he sets you down, and you wipe your face, staring up at pretty blue eyes and an arrogant face, once you recognize, one that your best friends hate.

"oh. you. i should have known."

"me? yeah, heard about me, have you? only good things, i hope."

"yeah, no. what the fuck was all that? i thought you were drowning."

"yeah, i was. thanks for the help." confused, soaking wet, and not appreciating his two little sidekicks snickering behind you, you try to get away, when rafe follows.

"so, uh, how long you been working here?"

"it's my first day."

"yeah, i thought so. i never forget a pretty face, so-"

"are you serious?"

"dead serious. and yours is definitely pretty."

"rafe," you say, leaning in closer so he can hear you clearly. "stop hitting on me. i have to work. some of us actually have to work."

"know my name already, huh? what else have you heard-" you roll your eyes, he laughs.

"i heard you're a good swimmer," you say, taking another step closer.

"yeah. from who?"

"i don't know. i'm about to find out." with one hand, you push his chest, and he falls backwards into the pool, the water splashing around your feet. you laugh, watching him bob in the pool, his friends laughing too. "good talk. hope we never speak again."

rafe gets out of the pool, pushing his wet hair back. he calls out after you.

"yeah we'll see about that."

#oooo she a snippy girly #its bc she spends all her time with jayjjjjjj #if you wanted something more cutie i can make her the lifeguard in the kids section & rafe brings toddler wheeize #lmk bae #this is actually garbage lmfao itwas a fun exercise tho

[butch-reidentified]

anyone here seen the show Resident Alien?

bc holy shit am I obsessed with the portrayal of 30-something women, their solidarity, feminism, friendship, and fun and self-expression! GODDD I did not realize how BADLY I needed to see a tv show actually depict (attractive but not "bikini models" by any means) adult (and admit they're adults, real adults not 20 yr olds) women as human beings with deep complex personalities and relationships, who really stand with each other despite being flawed humans who do sometimes hurt each other, who are silly and goofy and get into shenanigans bc oh my god WOMEN CAN STILL HAVE FUN AFTER TURNING 30.

Especially later in season 1 and in season 2 (I'm still on s2), there's just so much female badassery and solidarity that I love. there's also a gym workout scene in s2 with my favorite character D'Arcy and tbhhhh that scene is 😨🥵 Like, my wife said "this scene was definitely filmed by a lesbian, right?" 💀 It really did feel like celebrating an attractive woman build muscle without the typical male gaze-y lens. it actually focused on her flexion, facial expressions, sweat, flushing, yk, the things we are supposed to pretend women don't do even while vigorously exercising.

this same woman leads her friends on a drunken midnight raid of town hall where they review the town budget and discover they're paid less than the men. cut to the entire group of women (one of whom is the mayor's wife) standing in the mayor's bedroom in the middle of the night, standing over him and informing him "no, this isn't a nightmare, what the fuck is wrong with you, pay us fairly" like?? holy shit lmao. D'Arcy then proceeds to RENT A HELICOPTER to drop fliers all over town telling women about this and encouraging female solidarity in fighting back. this barely scratches the surface of her character's feminist heroics. in another seen she cuts the brakes on her best friend's abuser's truck and sends it down a hill in front of him, before telling him she'll happily kill him if he gets near her friend again. it's just so much fun to see. she also rescues herself and 2 others from a crevasse in the glacier by climbing 30 feet in a storm with a broken wrist. oh and shes a FORMER OLYMPIC SKIER bc fuck you

I've actually been very impressed with this show in a number of ways. they have a young girl character whose family is Muslim, and the writers seem to want to critique Islam while being aware that they have to avoid performative liberals picking up on this too much. so at first I was a bit 👀 thinking they were going a certain way with the character, but they ended up sneaking in a lot of critiques of Islamic patriarchy. they keep surprising me.

#mine #resident alien

[ozarkthedog]

𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐒, 𝐏𝐀𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐄: 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟏

summary: hitchhiking is especially dangerous during the outbreak.

chapter warnings: 18+ only. mdni. dark!joel miller x rescued fem!reader x dark!tommy miller. dubcon → noncon. set a few years after the outbreak and before they meet tess. mention of dead bodies and guns. no beta.

word count: 1414

author’s note: I just want to be their plaything ☺️ this part is pretty tame fyi but the following chapters will be intense.

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭 ⋅ 𝐋𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲

No one dies from love Guess I'll be the first Will you remember us? Or are the memories too stained with blood now?

You curse your car as it breaks down halfway to your destination. A town on the outskirts of the state that supposedly was a safe haven. As smoke billows from the hood, you sling on your backpack and head out on foot.

The scenery was the same mile after mile. Carnage mixed with bountiful greenery. Burnt, dismantled bodies no longer empty vessels as flowers and weeds filled the cavities.   

A vulture circles the darkening sky above you as the low rumbling of a truck catches your attention. You turn on your heel towards the sound as it echoes up the road, growing closer.   

It was rare to run across friendly folk. Everyone was trying to survive. Doing things they never thought they’d do and that included yourself.

You knew you were unlikely to survive another few days out in the wilderness with no food or water. Taking a chance on whoever was driving was your only hope. Your hand drops to the gun strapped to your hip. It holds only 3 bullets but no one has to know that. 

The truck slows to a stop and idles. The dim headlights cut through the evening haze and make it hard to see the driver but you hold your ground. There could be a little old lady behind the wheel (unlikely) or a massive motherfucker has his rifle trained on your forehead. 

You raise your hands hoping the little sign of submission will help your cause. You need to find shelter soon if this is going to go south.

The driver’s window rolls down. It’s dark inside the cabin but you can make out the driver’s face as he lights a cigarette. A flicker of orange gives you just enough time to see brown eyes and a head full of dark, loose curls.

Smoke billows from the window as a man leans an elbow on the frame. The silver moonlight paints an eerie haze over the scene, highlighting just enough to know he didn’t have a gun on you.

“What’s this now? You tryin’ to get killed or somethin’?” He asks, a sly smirk tugging on his lips. 

His pointed eyes rake up and down your body and spies your side piece as he takes a heavy drag on his cigarette before flicking the hot embers away. 

“I- My car-” You start but trip on your tongue from the nerves building in your belly.

He looks up and down the road then back at you. “You alone?” 

You nod. “I’m not looking for anything but a ride to the next town.”

The man tongues his cheek in thought before looking to the right. “Whaddya’ think?” 

Shit. There was someone else in the truck.

“She looks nice enough.” The driver mutters ominously. His eyes never leave yours as he takes another drag on his cigarette.

You shift on your feet and swallow down the notch in your throat.    

“Sure.” A deep voice rumbles from the pitch-black passenger seat. “Why not.”

The driver grins and lets out a little holler. “You heard him, girl,” he hooks his thumb over his shoulder. “Hop in.”

Relief washes over you like a hot bath. “Thank you. I’ll give you anything you want from my pack as payment.” You offer as you open the back door behind the driver.

“Now hold on a minute, Sugar.” The driver raises a hand. “Give me your gun.”

Fuck. You knew it was too good to be true.

“How about I give you the bullets?” You counter with a half smile, not wanting to part with your gun even if it was unloaded.

The driver shakes his head. “No can do. The gun or no ride.”

You grit your teeth and weigh your options which are bare minimum at best just as the raspy screech of a clicker sounds in the distance.

“I’m taking off in 5 seconds whether you’re with us or not.” He informs and settles a hand on the shift.

Another screech echoes into the night forcing you to unholster your gun and shove it at the man before jumping in the backseat of the pick up truck.

“Good choice.” He flicks his cigarette onto the pavement and puts the truck in gear. 

The dimly lit cabin reeks of grime and gunpowder. There’s a sack filled to the brim on the seat next to you. You assume it’s weapons or food as your eyes flick to the front seat and meet the grim stare of the passenger.

He’s large; the flannel shirt he’s wearing tugs on his bouldering shoulders as he shifts in his seat to keep an eye on you. His salt and peppered jaw sets in a hard line. “You gotta name?”

He’s unnerving as he stares you down. You squirm but do your best to put on a brave face as you tell him your name. The passenger's jaw twitches but he remains stoic as he keeps his eyes trained on you. 

You couldn’t stand the unnerving silence despite the man’s intimidating presence. “How far are we from the next town?” You ask, timidly.

“‘Bout a day's drive.” The driver says, flicking his eyes to look at you in the rearview mirror.

Your heart plummets. “Shit.” 

“Not to worry. You can stay the night with us.” The driver suggests, sending his partner a smirk.

“That wasn’t the deal.” You argue, instinctively reaching for your gun only to have your hand brush your empty hip.

“You’re not really the one to be calling the shots, now.” The passenger hums before patting the empty seat between the two men. “Join us up front.”

“I’d rather stay back here.” You quip while scanning the back seat for any kind of makeshift weapon. 

“I wasn’t asking.” The older man warns as he cocks your gun, pointing it at you.

Tears fill your eyes but you don’t let them spill as you shakily raise your hands. The man keeps the gun trained on you as he shifts closer to his door to make room. “Climb over.” He commands. “Slowly.”

You quickly nod and do as he says. It was awkward climbing over the bench seat. You try not to bump the two burly men as you settle in between them but with the lack of space your limbs brush their arms and jean clad legs.

Even with the open view of the road through the windshield, you’ve never felt more confined. The passenger slides an arm around the back of the seat and turns his body towards you. “Ain’t this nice, Sweetheart?” 

“The name’s not, Sweetheart.” You seethe through gritted teeth. 

The two men chuckle at your feeble attempt at coming off stronger than you really are. “We’ll see about that.” The older man muses.

You spy your gun as he casually rests it on his knee. You wonder how long you’d have to wait before making a move to grab it.

A harsh hand suddenly grips the back of your neck making you cry out. “Don’t even think about it.” He growls and lifts the gun, pointing it towards your body. 

“Alright. Alright.” You gasp, your throat constricts until nothing but a whimper slips through.

“God damn. You make some pretty noises.” The driver says while pinning your stare and rubbing a callous hand over his crotch.

You want to vomit. This can’t be happening. You needed to find a way out fast. 

“Can see your mind working, Sweetheart.” The passenger claims your attention when he tips your chin towards him with the barrel of your gun. “Don’t think too hard or this won’t end well for you.”

Ice gathers in your veins. You can barely hold the man’s stare as tears fill your eyes. 

“It’d be a hell of a waste to dump this sweet body.” Lust filled eyes trail down your quivering frame as he lets the threat linger. “But it ain’t no skin off our backs.”

Tears spill down your cheeks as your heart beats against your chest. “Don’t be scared, Sweetheart.” The passenger thumbs at the wetness with a soft coo. “You’re in safe hands.”  

He tucks you into the crook of his body despite your weak protest. He smells of cedar and gun power as he cages you into his side. 

The truck veers off the road suddenly. It follows a long winding dirt path that eventually leads to a small cabin surrounded by trees.

The driver lays a hand on your knee making you twitch. “Welcome home.” 

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[powderblueblood]

HELLFIRE & ICE — eddie munson x f!oc as enemies to star-crossed lovers

CHAPTER THREE — EDDIE MUNSON COMMITS TREASON (BREAKS UP a CAT FIGHT)

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summary: you deal with the fallout of your fight at steve harrington's party... in the passenger seat of eddie munson's van. so much for pretending you didn't exist to one another, huh? content warnings: as always, MINORS FUCK OFF, because we have *deep breath* implied fantasy smut, lots of swearing, confused yearning, themes of threat, heavy snark, another mention of the drink tab which i feel like is/was gross word count: 7.2k

Dear Dio, Tommy Iommi, Gary Gygax, Pee-wee Herman, Ronnie Ecker — forgive me for what I’m about to do. 

I know I’ve done a lot of stupid shit in my life. Like the time I lit all my hair on fire and spent middle school with a buzz cut. Or the time I almost trapped myself in a spread eagle with my own handcuffs. Or the time I got my arm stuck in a wall for an entire afternoon when I was trying to rescue a feral cat. 

I’ve done a lot of stupid shit. But the stupidest among it all has got to be saving this girl from the bare knuckle wrath of Carol Whatsername. You know the one. 

Tonight, for whatever reason, this insane ex-rich chick has decided to teeter on the edge of a pool of boiling hot lava and for whatever reason, I feel like it’s my responsibility to yank her back.

Which sucks, because she’s a total bitch to me. 

Even if she just told everybody Tommy Hagan had crabs and has been cheating on his girlfriend in such a deranged way that it almost made me pop a semi. 

Anyway. Tell my guitar I love her. 

The world around Eddie slows to the tick of a football game replay as you let the last incendiary word you speak to Carol bounce around the goddamn Roman amphitheater Harrington’s back yard has become. 

This is insane. What he’s watching is insane. Like, he knew you and your dumb little court of Hawkinsites bickered back and forth, but you’re the last person he’d ever expect to air their dirty laundry like this. 

It’s incredible to watch the fascist leadership that he and the rest of the social nobodies have suffered under for so long rupture in real time. 

What’s even more incredible is how little hesitation there is on his part, shoving through the crowd when he sees Carol leaping for you. Eddie’s nearly jostled backwards by some slobbering roid heads— they’ve already called CAT FIGHT! and a crowd is clamoring. But Eddie’s got years of thankless equipment lugging behind him, giving him deceptively strong arms.

And thank god, because you are not an easy girl to hold onto. 

Carol lands a decent punch to your face, slamming with a dull knuckle-on-cheekbone crunch that makes all the onlookers, including him, go ooof! You stagger back in a state of shock (though, c’mon, you heard what you said just now, right?) and Eddie takes his shot just as you dive forward to retaliate.

He grabs you under the arms so you can’t like, elbow him in the fucking nose, a pale imitation of an illegal wresting move that Al Munson had forced him to learn at the tender age of seven. His dad had fancied himself a wrestling manager at the time— you can imagine how that worked out. 

But Jesus, can you ever squirm! Your body writhes against him—stop—hips bucking—don’t go there—as you try to get free. He doesn’t even think you realize who’s dragging you away from the screaming harpy, otherwise you’d probably turn your fury on him. 

He takes full advantage of the rage blackout and manhandles you through the party, earning a baffled look from Steve Harrington, who’s finally graced his own party with his presence. A pinch-faced Nancy Wheeler lingers behind him, but then again, Wheeler’s always all pinch-faced.

“What the fuck?!” Harrington breathes, exasperated. 

Eddie struggles against you struggling, just about dragging you over the front doorstep. Trust this guy to be upstairs in a domestic dispute, missing all the action while getting no action. 

Even in the chaos, Eddie will never pass up an opportunity to fuck with Harrington.

“You gotta start hidin’ your bath salts, man! Chicks are going crazy in there–Evil Dead type shit!” 

—

“You’re dead, Lacy! Monday morning, you are fucking dead!” Carol screams down the hallway. 

“It’s a date, bitch!” you screech, Munson’s nelson hold on you stronger than your thrashing. With a lot of work, he manages to haul you as far as Harrington’s front yard before you wriggle out of his grasp. You shove him, hard, all white hot and punch drunk and regular drunk on top of that. 

He yelps, high and frightened. You weren’t expecting a noise like that to come out of a surly-looking dude like him. 

So you do it again. 

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” you spit, and Munson flinches.

“Cutting you off!” he exclaims, this half-yell, half-laugh. It stings, the way he’s looking at you– like your anger isn’t anger, like it’s just amusing to him. 

“Well, who gave you the right? Who died and made you my parole officer, Munson?!” 

“Oh, I’m not– but I also didn’t feel like being woken up at home when the cops come looking for you after you go all Raging Bull on Carol. You haven’t been around the park long enough to hear ‘em, but those sirens really perforate the eardrums!”

Your jaw sets itself stiffly and you bind your arms over your chest. Unfuckingbelievable. “I would’ve, you know,” you breathe, seething, “Beat her up.” 

Munson’s dark eyes glide over you, like he’s checking you for concealed weapons or signs of a zombie bite— you avoid his gaze entirely, staring square into the middle distance. 

You promised that he didn’t exist to you, yet here he is. Driving you off the road. Breaking up your fights. Existing.

“Yeah, I know you woulda. You’re scary,” he says. You shrug, and he reaches to massage his shoulder. “And strong. Shit.” 

Your eyes flick over to him, but you don’t feel bad. You don’t feel bad because he’s grinning at you now and despite yourself, despite everything that’s transpired and the everything about him, you’re trying your hardest not to grin back. Adrenaline and vodka are still burning a hole in your chest. 

“Stay out of my way, then.”  

“Noted, but,” a couple of steps from Munson’s end closes some space between you. He’s peering at your face, right where Carol clocked you. A hand reaches out, angling your chin closer to the Harrington’s glaring porch light with his fingertips. You stiffen and squint, performatively wary, but you don’t stop him. You just let his eyes pan over you, looking anywhere but into them. “You might need a little first aid first. And a ride home.” 

“I was actually planning on carjacking Hagan,” you say coolly, the smile you were trying to beat away edging its way across your face. Munson releases your chin and the spot where his fingers were buzzes. It’s just the cold. It’s just your slutty librarian outfit, you tell yourself. You have to swallow in order to speak again. “Seems like fitting payback.”

“Jesus, sweetheart, what did I just say about cops?”

—

Eddie tolerates your eyes rolling back in your head when he props the passenger door open for you, helping you into the cluttered van with an outstretched had. 

See, I’m not the kind of asshole who doesn’t open doors for girls wearing stilts for shoes.

Those things were not made for clambering into a vehicle like this, sure, but they’re– nice. For what he knows about shoes, which is nothing. They make your legs look more… leggy, and for whatever reason this is making his brain soft. 

In your other hand is a cold can of High Life, which is the closest thing to an ice pack he could nab. That bruise blooming under your eye is going to be nasty, and he’s a little curious how you’re gonna look with it. You, with nary a hair out of place on a bad day, with a big ol’ purple shiner in a place that’s hard to hide.  

Gunning out of Harrington’s hood, a silence settles between Eddie and you. The radio hums in the background– a mainstream station for once. He thoughtfully figured that an aural assault by Sabbath would kinda rub salt in your wound. 

He’s thoughtful, but he’s not not nosy. So, of course he’s gonna ask– 

“That whole… verbal smackdown back there,” Munson starts after clearing his throat. “With Tommy H and everybody.”

On your end, the adrenaline has worn off and the numbing effects of the booze have amped up. You feel loose and warm, apart from the beer can cooling your bruise. There are twice as many streetlights streaming past you as usual. This is going to blow later– if you don’t blow chunks first. 

“All that about your dad pimping me out?” God, I mean, Hagan couldn’t compose a written sentence to save his life but maybe he had a future in speculative fiction. Did he just come up with that on the fly? “Take a wild guess, Munson.” 

Eddie recoils in his seat– gross. Gross. “Not the– the shit with Tina and Carol and–”

“Oh, the crabs? Yeaaaah, that’s true,” you slur, “But I rejected Tommy waaay before I knew that. Call it my brilliant instinct. And then he has the nerve to call me frigid, which– trust me, I’m anything… anything but.”

Munson seems a little surprised at this. You can see it in the way his eyebrows dart under his curly bangs. 

But you’ve had your share of disappointing experiences with the blandly acceptable boys in your circle– it’s par for the course, it’s part of advancing in the field. You can’t throw your cat into the street completely, but god forbid you be choosy about the boys you want to copulate with. The ones you’ve hooked up with, all unremarkable and perfunctory, always seemed so smug afterwards. Like they’d conquered something. 

But from Eddie’s purview, you always held yourself like you were above everyone else; not just the underclassmen and the social rejects, but even your own friends. He’d watch you sometimes, because it’s hard not to watch you. He’d wait for the few flickering moments you let your guard down, when you thought no one was paying attention as you sat at the lunch table or walked the hallways. So achingly unamused by the guffawing, the backslapping, the forced camaraderie of your forced high school persona and your forced high school friends. Then, one of them would say something like, Right, Lacy? and your brow would unarch and you’d be right back in the groove with the rest of them, giggling dumbly and glossing your lips. 

He always wondered how you did it, tolerated it. And why.

“Now, far be it from me to agree with a shithead like Hagan–and I don’t, before you get scary–but I kinda get where he’s picking that up,” Eddie winces, throwing a glance to you, glassy-eyed with your head against the window. You’re looking at him with narrowed eyes, eyeliner smudged. Even that look could cut down a man with twice his ego. “You’re a little bit frosty. Cold shock in the middle of a summer’s day– which, y’know, could be–”

You absolutely do not let him finish the thought.   

“It’s caaaalled being aloof, Munson,” you drawl, shuffling your shoulders against the passenger door and pulling a stray thread from your skirt with a sharp snap. “Playing hard to get, duh? Leave them wanting more? You wouldn’t get it because you’re so goddamn big and obvious all the time…”

“Obvious!” he brays, letting his jaw hang open with theatrical flair, “Obvious! Lacy, you wound me, I–”

“Obvious,” you bark back, “Obvious like a neon sign, obvious like a circus tent, obvious like– like– look at me, look at me, I’m a weirdo!” Your Munson impression, complete with devil horns, is a little dorkified but it shuts him right up. That loose little tongue of yours has trasmuted your mood from wrath to barbed silliness. “So obvious you wouldn’t know that kind of subtlety. Not if it hit you in the face.” 

A familiar tune whistles from the radio, distracting you. “… or cause you’re a virgin.”

“Okay—!“ Eddie starts, immediately assuming the position of point guard. His hackles are raised, but to be honest, he’s so willing to let you ramble on. It’s the first time he’s heard you talk this much, ever, save your little tête-à-tête by the lockers the other day. 

Eddie doesn’t want to stem the flow just yet. He’s not thinking about it too hard.

“Oh shit, do you hear that?” Like a Virgin pumps from the tinny speakers and you reach to turn it up, your head drunkenly bobbling on your neck. Eddie winces; it’s so weird, watching you like this. It’s like dream logic. It’s like opposite day. “Munson’s a virgin! I’m gonna touch him for the very first tiii-iime! Munson’s a vii-iir-gin—“

“First off, no I am not and no,” he audibly swallows, positive you didn’t realize what you just sang, “no, you are not, ‘cause— well.” He clears his throat. A flare of heat burns around his collar. “I’m not the type to bone and tell.”

“Bone and tell.” You guffaw, a sound so unbecoming yet so endearing coming from you, and slump back in your seat. That tight little skirt you’re wearing rides up about an inch and a half. “Sounds like something a virgin would say.”

Eddie huffs; no way around this. You’re fucking with him, and it’s the indefatiguable male ego that’s not going to let him let you win. 

He fucks, okay? Or has fucked, prior to this. 

Not that there’s anything wrong with not fucking. 

But he’s done it.  

Eddie’s eyes dart between you and the road, and you’ve got him like a stuck pig with that expectant glare. His eyes linger on your exposed upper legs for a half a second. 

Christ, you’re annoying. It occurs to him that wants to bite the soft flesh of your thigh and hear you squeal about it, but you are annoying as hell. 

“Fine. Fine. You wanna know?”

Your head lolls against the rough upholstery of the seat and you bat your lashes at him. “I really wanna know.” 

And Munson will tell you, you know, because you’re the kind of person people tell things to. 

“Nicole Summers.”

“Bullshit. Nicole Nicole? My Nicole?”

“Nicole Nicole. Nicole, formerly yours. The only-girl-meaner-than-you Nicole. It was tenth grade,” he snorts bitterly. “Most unforgettable thirty seconds of my life.”

“Nicole told us she got her v-card stamped by a board waxer in Maui.”

“I’ve got a lot of side gigs. You don’t know about me.”

You snort too, despite yourself. That’s a lot of despite-ing tonight, Lacy. You sit up in the seat a little, interest catching. Flame to a candle wick. 

“How was it?” you press. 

Munson furrows his brow, like duh. “Most unforgettable thirty seconds of my life, I just told you.” A beat. “Until— …Cass Finnigan.”

Now, an encounter like that is less surprising, but still you holler, “Bullshit!”

“I’d say the same shit if it hadn’t, y’know, happened to me,” he stage whispers, “In this van.”  

Your eyes widen, a flicker of a grimace sailing across your face. You wonder how he pulled that off, but all that comes to mind is the start of a bad porno– Cass meets him at that dingy little bench out back of the school to pick up and he’s, I don’t know, test driving some of his new supply and offers her a toke. She’s all, why the free samples, Munson? and he’s all, I only let the prettiest girls test the product. And because Cass is notoriously insecure–who among us, girl–she’s all, who, me? and he’s all, come back to my van, and she’s all, but I’m going steady with Mikey B, and he’s all, I won’t tell if you won’t and then he fucks her in the ass. 

Because Cass is saving the first hole for marriage and you know that. You’re the kind of person people tell things to. 

What you don’t expect is a weird pull of… envy. Why, in this imaginary scenario, had he never invited you back to his van? Well. You know why. But you’re drunk, so logic begone. “When did all this go down?”

“Uh, right before school got back,” Munson answers, kind of apprehensively. He could be lying, you figure.

“Well, Cass has been having a weird year,” you mumble, meaning to think that rather than say it. You know, because you’re the kind of person people tell things to.

“What’s that supposed to imply exactly?” Eddie says, an edge in his voice. He can’t help the way something in his chest flares; like he forgot to wait for the other shoe to drop with you, and now it’s dropping. 

“It stands to reason that she’d wanna, like, do something stupid,” you explain, and you know how it sounds. It’s mean. But honestly, you’re so drunk, and so past the point of attempting to spare people’s feelings.

“Like hook up with the local freak,” Eddie finishes for you, tone flat. You couldn’t not put him in his place, could you? Not that he thought Cass liked him or anything, he could feel her (literally feel her) going through the motions like a social experiment but– God, a little delusion doesn’t hurt now and again. 

“Exactly!” and even in your inebriated state, you can feel the tension in the air, hanging between you like a balloon full of noxious gas. Rather than cut it, you want to poke at it, unfeeling as to whether that’ll make it worse or better between you and the boy in the driver’s seat. You hike yourself up further, leaning toward him, pulling the can of High Life from your face. 

Munson’s profile is this beguiling mix of hurt and irritation, lit by the scuzzy orange hue of the passing streetlights. 

“What, did you want me to act impressed? Did you want me to lie to you?” 

“What? No– look, I know what girls like that– think of me, but,” Eddie’s voice shrinks in his throat, making him sound completely pre-pubescent. He notices you lean forward in his peripheral vision, like you have to strain to hear it, “that doesn’t make it any less shitty.” 

Oof. He did not need to unleash that little piss-shake of earnestness right now. He mentally steels himself for a ribbing from you, a cackling, piercing laugh like you let out before Carol punched you. 

“Of course it doesn’t!” you froth, “Just like it doesn’t make it any less shitty when guys act like they’re settling a bet with their buddies when they hook up with me.” You cross your arms to your chest with a quickness, slamming back into the seat. “Bet you couldn’t make it with Lacy, she’s got a combination lock on her pussy. Fuck you, dude.”

That coaxes a bark of a laugh from Munson, which makes you giggle a little in turn. It’s a weird feeling. It’s not quite relief; more like satisfaction. One point to Lacy, you made him laugh. 

“Combination lock, huh?”

“Allegedly.”

“Bet none of those losers even know how to crack a lock.” 

Your head tilts in his direction, forward this time. “And you do?”

Munson’s eyes flash at you, a dangerous orange glint sparkling in the darkness of his irises. “My criminal skillset is pretty diverse.”

He pins you down with this look from the driver’s seat and for a heartbeat or two, and you let him. Just long enough that a stab of sobriety sneaks in– and you can’t deny it, but you wish it didn’t. 

You’re drunk. 

If you can stay drunk, all bets are off. 

If you can stay drunk, whatever you do doesn’t matter, because you were drunk. 

You could reach over and press your fingers into the soft denim between his legs, make something hard there. You could squeeze the thickness of him over his zipper and kiss the shock of alabaster skin on his neck, where his pulse goes all jackrabbity under your touch. You could make him forget he ever heard the name Cass Finnigan. 

And it would mean nothing. 

And you wouldn’t have to justify it, because you were drunk. That’s what you’ve always been taught.

But you uncross your arms and you pull at the hem of your skirt and look to the road, just as the van swerves into the trailer park. Munson doesn’t take such a hard turn at the corner this time, probably wary of your risk of ralphing all over the van if he does. He pulls into that negative space between your trailer and his and instructs you to wait in your seat. 

“Trust me, the descent out of this baby is much trickier than it looks,” he assures you, jogging to the passenger door, a jingle of keys and pocket chains and belts on leather, “and you’re way too gone to make it in one piece, princess.”

So he holds his hand out again (“M’shitfacedlady,”) and gingerly you take it, and it becomes very apparent very quickly that your legs have turned to rubber on the drive home. 

“Oh, shit!” 

Your attempt at gracefully exiting the van is ruined by an unsteady ankle, sending your weight right into Eddie Munson’s chest. Luckily, he was braced for it– just about. “Told you you couldn’t make it without me,” he breathes as you clutch a handful of his Metallica shirt, vision quadrupling. He’s warm, and you suddenly realize that you’re freezing.

Trembling.

“Stop flirting with me,” you hiss to one out of the four Munsons in front of you. “I need to go to bed.”

Eddie forces himself to bite back another double entendre, which is a shame, because they’re doing an awesome job of covering up how goddamn nervous he suddenly is. He moves his arm to your waist, helping you haul ass to your front door. He’s got to keep one arm outstretched behind you in case you lose your balance again– which you almost do, a couple of times, wavering around like a dashboard Jesus. 

He watches you like he’s trying to commit this to memory, the rare case of you being so beyond your usual composure. He’s even got to intervene after the first five minutes, making unlocking your front door a two idiot job.

Eddie’s about to wave you off and disappear to scream and something else into his pillow when he sees you take a dangerous lunge into the darkness of the trailer. “Woah, girl–” 

But you recover, in a kind of brainless way, taking a measured Bambi-like step forward. One after the other. 

Fuck. He can’t leave you like this. 

You’re gonna trip and brain yourself on a Fabergé egg or whatever the fuck it is you and your mom have in there. 

“Uh– Lacy?” 

The trailer is eerily quiet. You feel like you’re trespassing in your own place. Boxes of out-of-place, too-expensive ephemera are still strewn everywhere, but you navigate the maze of them like it’s nothing. Sense memory. You don’t even entirely register that Munson is following you inside, that he’s frantically whispering after you, until you reach your bedroom door. 

A coldness shoots up your spine as you turn on him. You didn’t invite him in here, did you? 

“What do you think you’re doing?” you ask for the second time tonight. This time, it comes out a little fearful. 

Eddie picks this up, right where you’ve erroneously dropped it. His chest gets a little tight. You didn’t think he was trying to–? 

“Making sure you lie down in the recovery position, that’s all,” he throws his hands up in total surrender, Scout’s honor, all that shit. “I’m not tryin’ to pick any locks tonight. I swear.” 

“I don’t need your help, Munson,” but just as you twist the doorknob, you keel over through the door, hitting the floor like a lead balloon. 

“Yeah, you keep telling me that,” he blearily smirks down at you, “And yet.”

But Munson’s not such an asshole about it that he just leaves you there. He hauls you up, again, and you stagger towards your bed, flopping face down on top of the comforter. He says some variation of okay, well, that’s how you choke to death on your own vomit, Jimi Hendrix and bullies you into the recovery position. 

“Don’t freak out, I’m just–” and Munson sits gingerly on the edge of your bed, taking one of your high heeled feet in his hands. 

What the fuck, you mumble, either aloud or in your head. But he’s fiddling with the tiny buckle at your ankle, gently undoing it. Another chill runs through your body but you don’t move, not an iota. You just… let him do it. His hands on your aching feet aren’t a totally unwelcome touch. He’s being featherlight about it, almost afraid to touch you even though he had no problem sheepdogging you into bed. 

“You could do anything to me right now,” you hear yourself saying. “No one would even know. No one would even care, I bet.” 

It’s meant to sound like you’re goading him, or even flirting with him, but it comes out sounding pitiful. You cringe, your hands creeping up to cover your face. 

“I’d care.” Munson’s voice is a tiny mumble– you know he’s just defending himself, but it kind of sounds like something else. He slips your right shoe off and sets it on the floor next to your left one. He hesitates for a moment before getting off your bed. 

“Alright, well– we can forget this ever happened. Resume being assholes to each other on Monday. Don’t, like, die in the meantime.”

“You say resume like we ever stopped being assholes to each other.”

“Have a fun hangover, Lacy.” 

–

You do not have a fun hangover. You wake up late Saturday afternoon after Friday’s bacchanal and don’t emerge from your room save from the occasional bathroom trip to puke up what little dignity you’ve got left. Sunday morning is when your mom hammers on the door and drags you to the kitchenette after confirming that you’re still, y’know, alive. 

“This is your game face, hm?” she says, pulling at your chin to examine your violet bruise that seems to have developed its own heartbeat. She doesn’t hold your face the way Munson did, gentle and searching, just tugs into the sparse light streaming into the dingy kitchenette.

You attempt to steel your jaw, but your bottom lip is starting to waver. 

“What happened?” your mother asks, and beneath all the jagged broken glass, there’s a tiny sliver of tenderness. 

Call it your pride, but you don’t reach for it. 

“I went out,” you say tightly, “and I made a fool of us.”

She hacks up a scoff through her smoker’s cough and disappears into her bedroom, leaving you alone to pick at a cold waffle. The few moments of consciousness you’ve had since Friday night have been spent trying to piece the party together– you remember clearing the better part of a bottle of cheap, cheap, shitty vodka with Robin Buckley’s help (weird), you remember getting into it with Hagan and Carol and getting wailed on. You remember getting a ride home with Munson, but the finer details of that are fuzzy. 

You think, and this is a thought that turns your already 180’d stomach, you let him into your bedroom, but you can’t be one hundred percent sure. All you know for an absolute is that your shoes came off that night, and you would never bother to take your shoes off after a night like that. 

So somebody must have. 

Meanwhile, Eddie’s been having a hell of a meanwhile. 

Fact of the matter is that you managed to detonate a nuclear bomb at Harrington’s party just under an hour after your arrival, which has got to be some kind of world record. It was also a world record for how little product he’d managed to sell during one of those parties, because he was preventing the manslaughter of a teenage girl– could’ve been you, could’ve been Carol. He nearly wishes he let that fight play out, as he stares into his empty wallet. 

Eddie’s gotta busy himself somehow, gotta do something– weirdly, he’s not in the mood to make a whole lot of noise. It’s not such a terrible day for working on his van, so he slams his toolbox on the ground and gives a couple dozen casual glances toward your bedroom window.

Your blinds still aren’t fixed. That’s got to have been shitty when you woke up with a splitting vodka headache and a shiner the size of Canada. 

Eddie keeps finding excuses to pace back and forth in perfect view of your window. Not in a peeping Tom sort of way, but in a way where he’d kind of like to see any sign of life from you. Even if you just rose from your bed like Nosferatu and gave him the finger. Then, he could relax. 

“Ed,” a gruff voice comes from the makeshift trailer porch, “fuck’re you doin’.” 

Those dulcet tones would belong to his beloved Uncle Wayne, who, ever since his hours got cut at the plant, has become unbearably observant of Eddie’s every movement. Wayne’s not a neglectful kind of father figure, not like his blinders-wearing real dad is, so he actually gets concerned when Eddie’s acting out of sorts. 

“Engine,” Eddie mumbles, pivoting fast like a kid caught doing something he shouldn’t, “Engine’s making hinky noises.”

“Sounded alright last night,” Wayne levels him instantly, “when you came home.” 

“Didn’t mean to wake ya,” he twists an oily rag in his hands, avoiding Wayne’s stony stare. 

“I was up.” He crosses his arms, leaning against the doorframe. God, whenever Wayne susses him out, it’s like drip torture. He’s slow as molasses with the confrontation on purpose, making Eddie sweat and out himself on every little fuck up he’s ever made. “You go in there?”

Chin jerks towards your trailer. Eddie’s shoulders shrug towards his ears, head tilting back. “Wayne, it’s not– she was real drunk, like blotto, I just–”

“You steer clear of that one.” It’s the definite nature with which Wayne says it that makes Eddie’s stomach drop. No prelude to it, no I know, kid, you were just tryin’ to do right by her. Nothing. 

“Wayne–”

“She ain’t what you think she is. Not if she’s anything like her bloodline.” 

He says this like the realization hasn’t hit Eddie like Carol hit you on Friday fight night. 

He says this like people haven’t been saying the same thing about Eddie for years.

–

Monday morning comes and you’re still somewhat suffering. A headache nags at your temple, but you pin that down to anxiety rather than an extended play of your hangover. 

It occurs to you that you should dress as down as possible today– realistically, of course, as you’d never be caught dead in sweatpants. You need comfort, you need something that feels like a well-worn blanket so you opt for a deep burgundy sweater dress that actually belonged to your mom in the 60s. 

You’d found it in the back of her closet when searching for a belt you knew she’d stolen from you and pulled it out. Mom! you chirped, How cute! How come you never wear this?

Oh, God, she’d cringed, batting the garment out of her way as she passed you in a cloud of Shalimar, Just throw that ratty thing out for me, would you?

But you didn’t. You kept it tucked away in the back of your closet and took it out when you needed it. When you needed to bury your face in it. Substitute it for a comfort she refused to give you. Which you realize is terrifically sad, but so’s life. 

The warm red is a distant cousin in the color family to the bruise under your eye. That bruise, it’s a glaring reminder of what a fucking loser you’ve become. The old you, the real you would never have stooped to that level– never had let them drag her down like that. But now you’re the kind of girl that screams and starts fights at parties, you guess. 

Your rage feels ugly in the cold light of day. 

You’re locking the door of the trailer behind you just as Munson emerges from his humble abode and it’s nothing short of awkward. Like you’d both seen each other naked or something.

You both stand there, in your relative doorways. His mouth gapes like he’s about to say hi, say something, and a memory comes back to you. Cold shock in the middle of a summer’s day. No one likes that. No one wants that. 

Regret stabs at you.

“Can you see it from there?” It’s the only thing you can think of to say, because you’re sure as fuck not saying hi. 

“What?”

“The bruise. Can– can you see it from over there?” 

Munson sort of half-snorts. “Not from here–”

“Ugh, thank god.”

“--but this is like, over fifteen feet away.” 

You roll your eyes, which hurts a lot, thanks guy, and walk toward his van. 

“Now?” you say, waving a hand under your eye, right where you’ve applied and blended and applied and blended a criminal amount of concealer. Munson leaves about a foot of space between you, on purpose, and you crane your neck back, on purpose. Reinstating the forcefield between you. 

“Oh yeah, you can barely even see that you got your ass kicked.”

“It’s not even eight in the morning, Munson. Do you really want to start your day with a knee to the balls?”

“You’re right. That’s usually an after-dinner activity,” he grins and jerks his head toward the van. “Need a ride?”

Need a ride? Like it’s the most ordinary, everyday thing in the world, Eddie Munson offering you a ride to school in his deathtrap of a van. Your stomach pulls at the sense memory of being in there on Friday night, and what you’ll look like getting out of it in the parking lot of Hawkins High. 

“No,” you say, shaking your head, definite and resolute. “I’m walking.” 

He scoffs. “C’mon. It’s too late to start walking now. You’ll be late for first period.” 

You scoff back, imitating him. “So what?”

“You’re never late for first period.” 

“I can be late– how the hell do you know I’m never late for first period?” 

“Because, dummy, I’m always late for first period,” he tells you, yanking open the passenger door, “And I sit behind you in History, and you’re always there when I come in, leaning back with your nose in some dumb book and your stupid hair all over my desk.” 

It’s true– you are always reading in history, because Kaminsky can’t teach for shit and you’ve already read ahead on the coursework anyway. You liked to rub that in his face by pulling out some unprescribed literature during class. Plus, no one you really care about is in your class, so you don’t have to worry about getting made fun of for having your nose in some dumb book. Illiterate jocks would never try that shit with you– nobody there would. 

Until now. 

And it’s true that Eddie Munson sits behind you, and barrels in like an idiotic excuse for a hurricane with some idiotic excuse for being late that you always scoff at, because does he ever get tired of his own bullshit. But after that brief cameo appearance in your day, you really do forget about him. 

Until now. 

“So?” he says, all expectant. 

And you consider it for a second, you really do– but you don’t think you can handle the blowback of leaving a party with Eddie Munson on Friday then turning up with him on Monday. Going to the same class. Where he sits behind you. It’s just… overexposure. 

The same realization must hit him, because all of a sudden he’s slamming the door shut with a roll of his eyes. “Whatever. Your tardy slip, babe.” You can’t help but think he sounds a little wounded. 

But fuck it. Fuck it! Since when do you stand around feeling sorry for Eddie Munson? 

Before you know it, the van roars out and leaves you in the dust. 

You don’t make it to school until after second period, because that so-called bus route a fifteen minute walk from the trailer park must not even exist, so you forge a note from your mom in the parking lot. 

As your fountain pen hovers over the paper, brainstorming an excuse, you consider pulling out the big guns– say you had to attend visitation day at the penitentiary. Use this disaster to your advantage for once; but you pull back. Scribble something about a doctor’s appointment and dot your mother’s ‘i’s with eerie precision.  

You make quick work of dropping the note off in reception– the uptick of being the kid of the town’s gossip beacon is some people still feel sorry for you. Some people weirdly include Janice, Principal Higgins’ secretary, who snatches the note from you before you can even reach the actual receptionist’s desk. 

“I’ll file that for you, dear,” she says, all coo-cooey with an unwelcome hand on your shoulder, “How are you and your poor mother doing these days? And your,” her croaky voice drops to a whisper, “dad? How is… he being treated?”

You blink at her, gripping the fountain pen in your hand. “Do you know what a shiv is, Janice?”

Just then, the bell trills and you take your leave, stepping out into the linoleum. 

Someone calls your name from down the hall. You crane your neck to see Ronnie Ecker jogging toward you, paper in hand. 

Now look, you’ve never had a problem with Ronnie Ecker. You can’t say you’re particularly fond of her but she’s smart; she keeps to herself and she was a decent lab partner during your junior year of dissecting frogs together. Squeamish, but that’s why you were there, to handle the scalpel. As much of a social outcast as she is, she’s not nearly as odious as the rest of them. That’s pretty goddamn remarkable amongst the Hawkins student body. 

She is also, you’ve come to notice, a resident of Forest Hills trailer park. 

“Hey!” she says, “Um, I noticed you missed first period and Kaminsky was handing our papers back so I figured you’d want yours…” 

“Why is everyone so obsessed with me missing first period?”

“Huh?”

“No– nothing,” you huff, taking the paper from her. A solid B on A+ material– told you Kaminsky couldn’t teach for shit. He’d be hearing from you about this. “Thanks for this, Ronnie.”

You start down the hall but notice Ronnie’s keeping in step with you. “I also just wanted to say– I heard about what happened Friday. And I think it’s sick, you standing up to Hagan like that. Asshole needed to be put in his place.” 

Well, there’s only one person she could have heard the nitty gritty of that news from. You know she’s trying to flatter you, but all you feel is a flame of embarrassment, plus a touch of anger– even though the news has easily circulated the school hallways by now. 

Along with the rumors of you taking Hargrove, Buckley and Munson, and not in a fight. 

“Well. Y’know. I was pretty wasted,” you attempt to brush it off and you see Ronnie deflate a little. 

Like you’re not the blazing hero someone made you out to be. 

“Okay, but is it true you had a threesome with Billy Hargrove and Robin Buckley and Robin was wearing the Tigers mascot suit?”

“Oh, Jesus Christ.”

–

Classes pass in a monotonous blur, like most Mondays, but worse. That would be thanks to the extra shot of dread that’s served with your cafeteria meal of a wilted salad and soda. Last week at lunchtime, you at least had a tenuous standing with your former circle– you could still sit between Tina and Nancy Wheeler and suffer Tina’s thinly veiled jabs at you with a semi-placid look on your face. Nancy would look at you with eyes full of pity, and you’d want to punch her face in, but you’d be fine. 

But now, as you stand in the cafeteria swirling with people and catch the death glares from your old table (save for Nancy and Steve Harrington, who just straight up refuse to make eye contact with you), you’re just about ready to snap. 

Your flight instinct tells you to toss the tray out of your clammy hands and run, and keep running, until you disappear into the woods behind the school, never to be found. Your body becomes mulch before anyone remembers to look for you. Maybe you make really good fertilizer and a couple of pretty weeds sprout up from where you die. 

Your bruise, under its flaking layers of concealer, throbs twice– as if to say, don’t you fucking dare.

You make a confident beeline for the table, chin tilted and eyes set in a stare that could be categorized as withering, if only it was trained on anybody in particular. You grab a chair that some dumb underclassman is about to sit in and drag it with you, legs screeeeeching across the waxed floor. 

Who gives a shit who you were on Friday night. 

“I can sit here, right?” you say, and place your tray on the table next to Ronnie Ecker. 

She just stares at you for a hot second. That’s too long to stay standing in uncertainty, so you settle your stolen chair at the table and sit next to her. 

Ronnie isn’t the only one staring, however– the rest of these dorks, all in their matching t-shirts with Satan’s fiery head emblazoned across them, are watching you with their mouths agape. 

“Is this a prank or something?” one of them, a curly-haired freshman, says. 

This question is directed toward their fearless leader, decked out in denim and leather at the head of the table. That is to say, the direct opposite end of the table that you’re sitting at. 

“That’s no way to greet a lady, Gareth,” Munson says, feigning coolness but you can tell he’s a little flustered. The dead giveaway is in the way he misses his mac and cheese with his fork, the way his solid gaze double-blinks. You’ve thrown him off game– and because he’s impossible not to overhear sometimes, you know that game is all he’s got going on at this table. 

There’s that feeling again– point to Lacy. 

“To what do we owe the pleasure?”

This is Munson’s version of what the hell do you think you’re doing, but you choose to ignore him. It’ll drive him insane, and you know that, glaring red warning sign that he is. Instead, you flash a smile at the freshman that almost makes him pass out, Cupid’s arrow struck straight through the heart. 

You cross your legs and angle your body toward Ronnie– and by extension, in the direction of your old table. You can see Carol burying her face in Tommy’s shoulder, the both of them on the verge of losing bowel control with laughter. Laughter at you. 

Who gives a shit who you were before Friday night.

“So, Ronnie,” you say, taking a sip of your Tab, “You get up to anything fun this weekend?”

author's notes: let me get ahead of everything and say yes, i am absolutely fucking with the timeline. suspend your disbelief, my beautiful babies, and enjoy steve, carol, tommy and ronnie ecker still being in high school because I SURE WILL. but on an absolutely serious note, thank you so much for all the support and each and every note you’ve put on the chapters so far. i seriously, seriously appreciate it. now, the notes: - you think eddie munson doesn’t fuck with pee-wee herman heavy? you think he didn’t watch this movie in reefer rick’s, high out of his gourd, and think oh yeah i love this freak? get REAL! RIP paul reubens, this one’s for you. specially every time i mention a handjob - eddie munson also has charlie kelly disease - speaking of iterations of always sunny characters, much like frank reynolds, there’s not a get rich quick scheme al munson hasn’t tried. we’ll get into that a little more… later - admittedly, the whole ‘face eating on bath salts’ thing didn’t gain traction until the 00s, but if hawkins is going to be ahead of its time in anything, it’s fucked up shit happening to people! - did you notice how i blended eddie and lacy’s povs in the van? i’m going to continue doing that in moments where they’re on a similar ~wavelength~ - jimi hendrix did unfortunately die of asphixiation, but instead of thinking about that, watch this sick video of him playing guitar that eddie definitely has committed to memory - RONNIE ECKER KLAXON. i know that in flight of icarus she’s described as tall, but that hasn’t stopped me fancasting her as ayo edebiri in an eddie munson wig - at this point, you might be thinking damn, everyone sure seems to hate each other in this story. like, why is nancy wheeler catching strays? i’m here to remind you it’s the 1980s and teenagers kind of suck. play the track - thanks again for all the love! you can keep this crazy train going by liking, commenting, reblogging and generally showing me the same kindness you’ve shown me so far. love u my little hellcats

#published by powder #in progress #hellfire & ice #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson fic #stranger things fic #e. munson by powder

[abookloverlmao]

𝑆𝑡𝑢𝑐𝑘. {𝐹𝑟𝑒𝑑 𝑊𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑙𝑒𝑦 𝑥 𝐹!𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟}

Warning: Making out, reader has mommy issues (family also), mention of Umbitch and Reader getting punished by her, neck kissing, swearing, slight enemies to lovers, slight grumpy x sunshine, gryffindor!reader, flirty!Fred, scars, female!reader (I'm sure I forgot some things)

Summary; What will happen when you get stuck with Fred Weasley (the person you despise) in a closet to hide from Umbridge?

I wrote this based on a dream I had, so yeah it's quite shitty but I hope you enjoy it.

7th year; The order of the phoenix

She was always quiet, people saw her as nothing but a grumpy girl who was likely and mostly found in the library or ordering the Gryffindors, she had always an annoyed look on her face and according to most of her classmates her eyes would always sparkle at the sight of Fred Weasley (which she would roll her eyes at), the well-known prankster that always seemed to find a way to make her heart flutter, the guy who got most girls their age around his fingers along with his twin brother, even Remus Lupin noticed it as well. 

They always were bickering in the hallways, common room, and even in class, leading them to be stuck in detention together, where they still found a way to bicker.

but both their heart would start beating so fast at the sight of the other.

Ever since Umbridge became a professor, Y/N started to have more detention, no not because of bickering with Fred but for expressing her opinion or defending herself, leading her to become very annoyed and slightly ruder especially when DADA was her favorite class, now she despises it, she tried to talk to a professor and even Dumbledore, but no one listened.

As soon as Harry walked inside the common room everyone fell silent making her grunt and put down her book cocking her head to the side lazily watching as Seamus and Harry started fighting, "well, nobody was there the night Cedric died." Harry and his anger issues immediately snapped back bitterly, Ron came to the rescue and tried to calm his best friend, she got up.

"Seamus, sit down, now." she ordered the boy eyeing the chair with a glare, he did as told without a second thought, "you believe in his rubbish?" he exclaimed to the girl immediately regretting opening his mouth at the first place, he wanted to hide from her burning eyes.

"I don't believe anything or anyone in this room, so everyone better put those papers away and stop being dramatic, and go to bed, it's not summer anymore." she snapped back her voice getting slightly louder but she wasn't yelling, she hated to say that, she sounded like her mother and it was so disgusting.

Everyone got on their feet muttering 'good nights' while brushing past her in silence, hurriedly going to their beds.

Fred Weasley was the only one left as he walked up standing beside her with crossed arms and a raised eyebrow, "you know, you're hot when you're ordering." he spoke leaning in slightly to whisper against her ear, "I love it." his voice knocks the air out of her lungs as she turned around to look at him, eyes locking ad noses accidentally bumping and his lips ghosted hers.

Her eyes fell to his lips and back up to his beautiful eyes and he did the same thing but with a cocky grin, her cheeks burned under his gaze as they always do, but she wasn't going to burst his ego, "Ugh!" she scoffed in fake disgust while rolling her eyes, walking away from him trying so hard to ignore how hot her body suddenly became along with the room temperature rising.

His burning eyes watching as she left, only made it worse.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Christmas was getting closer and here she is walking down the hallways heading to the library when suddenly Fred Weasley stood in front of her panting heavily, she frowned, "I'm in deep shit." he spoke voice raspy from all the running while looking behind him, she raised her eyebrows at him with crossed arms in front of her chest

"do I even look surprised? nope" she popped the 'p' and watched as he gritted his teeth, jaw clenching and eyes looking behind every second, "hide me. Umbitch is after me because of my prank, and.. she thinks that you are in it too." eyes slightly widening in rage and disbelieve she pointed her finger at him, "are you serious? are you fucking serious?!" Fred tried not to meet her eyes and instead would shoot her a pleading look.

"We don't have much time!" groaning in frustration she grabbed his wrist running down the hallway at a very fast speed not caring about the students groans and huffs, pushing the door open to an empty classroom she death glared at the boy, "stay silent." Fred followed behind her as quietly as he can, towering over her form.

Peeking from the crack she watched, her eyes slightly widening at the sight of Argus Filch, "Fitch is walking down the hall, hide!" she whispered harshly hearing him check the other classrooms, grabbing his hand this time she pulled him towards a closet pushing him in, the closet where they kept the blazers to potions that will probably ruin their clothes.

Fred being the prankster started chuckling, to shut him up she placed her hand on his mouth shooting him an 'I will kill you if you laugh' look, her body pressed against his, her face inches away from his since she was standing on her tiptoes due to him being taller, he smelled so amazing; New card desk, Zonko's joke shop, treacle tart and...broomstick handle?

Whatever, she still loved it.

Taking her hand out from his mouth she looked everywhere but his eyes, Fred kept staring at her watching as she peeked through the crack, backing away she suddenly tripped, closing her eyes tightly waiting for the worse to happen, but nothing.

Fred's hand pressed firmly against her waist making her freeze and his other hand on her mouth as he pulled her towards him, her back pressed against his chest and their legs slightly crossed, goosebumps ran through her body like a wave as her breath became heavier.

both their lips pressing together dangerously, as soon as he put his hand away from her mouth he whispered, "you like it, don't you?" yes, she did and that made her so mad at herself, turned to look at him she watched as he smirked down at her, smug motherfucker. she thought grabbing his wrist with a murderous look

"don't fucking touch me!" she whispered-yelled harshly but wanted to say the complete opposite, the redness in the cheeks and eyes that sparkled said otherwise, "Woah there, darlin', you will get us caught.." he whispered this voice low that made her shrink and loosen her hold slightly.

Gulping, she looked away from him letting go of his wrist, but Fred always loved challenges and this one was perfect, in one swift movement she was pressed against the wood of the closet, both her wrists were held by Fred as he stepped dangerously closer if that's possible.

this time she didn't fight back and looked at him with eyes sparkling even if it was dark and the only light was coming from the crack under the door, "merlin, you are so beautiful yet annoying... I fucking love it, my type." that was all he needed to say before she pressed her lips against his.

Soft and gentle as his hand let go of her wrist to hold her cheek, of all the kisses he had before, she was the best and truest one, her eyes fluttered shut as she kissed him melting as soon as he kissed her back, her head hitting the wood slightly as they kissed.

it was just like they dreamt, soft and sweet.

That was until he decided to deepen it, his tongue pressed against her lips and that was the only thing he needed to do before she opened her mouth to welcome him.

His fingers went from her cheek to her hair making her sigh and melt against his lips, he grinned while rolling a piece of hair between his fingers his lips not leaving hers, she tasted like vanilla and caramel and merlin how it was intoxicating.

Y/N ran her hand through his hair, breath getting heavier by the second that passed but she didn't dare to stop not once, too intoxicated by his lips, but once one of his hands went under her thighs squeezing she gasped, pulling slightly away and wrapping her legs around his waist.

That cocky and proud grin never left his lips as he whispered, "you broke the rule of boys and girls are not permitted within 6 inches of each other." she chuckled her chest going up and down, her lips were numb but she didn't bring herself to care, "I never listened to Umbitch rules anyways." 

She grinned back proudly watching as he gulped it was as if he has a hard time pulling himself together, her lips were like a drug that he wants to get high too forever, she squealed once he slammed his lips against hers pulling him slightly by the scarlet and gold tie.

his hand went down her white blouse and caressed her skin softly making her gasp against his lips, her cheeks flushed as she smiled against his lips driving him insane, "I need you, you make me feel so good." he whispered littering her face with kisses making her chuckle softly.

"you make me feel good, as well-oh~" the feeling of his lips kissing her neck made her whine as she looked up running a hand through his hair and the other slightly scratching the back of his neck making him grunt, a warm and fuzzy feeling tingling in her stomach as she fluttered her eyes shut in pleasure, his lips wandering down her neck and leaving a trail of warm kisses, teeth plucking at the soft skin. 

"Fred.." she whispered feeling him suck on her skin before she could let out a small whine the door to the classroom slammed open and both of them froze, her eyes were wide and Fred's breath hitched still holding her.

Argus looked around not even caring about the closet and let out an annoyed huff, checking behind the chairs, Fred suddenly sucked on her collarbone making her put her hand on her mouth to keep herself from moaning.

Fred watched as she looked down at him watching as he raised his eyebrow at her with a smirk, Argus suddenly stood in front of the closet and both the teenagers stayed in their positions, Fred's lips still on her collarbone and hand caressing her body up and down, her hand was on his hair stroking and pulling slightly making him look up at her with heart eyes.

her legs were still wrapped around his waist as his other went up to lace with hers, the look on her face was filled with pleasure and he swore that he would do anything to see her like that on repeat, she was treasuring every moment, his eyes on hers, his hands on her body, not caring that Umbridge was looking for them, she surrendered to bliss.

Argus walked away not even bothering to check the closet and closed the door behind him, Fred helped her and set her back in front of him, her hair was messy, her lips numb, her eyes sparkling, her tie loose and uniform messy.

The flame of passion burned her whole body as she tried to straighten her outfit to not seem suspicious, Fred helped her, opening the door both of them walked out of their make-out spot, "Okay.." she spoke turning around and looking up at him, "I will get out first so we don't look suspicious.." she muttered smiling up at him.

Fred nodded with a smile, melting at her genuine grin, it was for the first time she ever smiled at him genuinely, he walked up towards her brushing the top of her hair before placing his hand on her cheek, feeling how hot she is against his cold hands, she leaned against his hand lovingly.

he leaned in kissing her lips softly and gently holding her as if she was going to vanish if he let go, she kisses him back standing on her tiptoes, "thank you... for today." she whispered once they parted, her voice soft and not filled with sarcasm, she couldn’t think of a time she’d ever been happier.

"Come, spend Christmas with me, please?" he begged, he knew that she planned to stay at Hogwarts for Christmas like she always do, and her heart throbbed with happiness as she nodded, "I will." he thought he would die of joy at her response, littering her face with kisses once again.

"thank you, love." that was all he needed to say before she pecked his lips and walked out of the classroom, smiling brightly to herself and replaying the moment they both had in the closet.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

That night passed by them pecking each other's lips anytime they walk past each other. Hermione noticed the dark mark on her collarbone of course.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Christmas holidays came and here she finds herself standing just outside the door, she wore a black turtleneck along with light blue jeans, converse, and a brown jacket, let's not forget about the beanie that Remus Lupin handed her as a birthday gift.

knocking, she stood there awkwardly staring at her shoes watching the foot trance she left, it was snowing, and her nose was slightly red from the cold as she stuffed her hand in her pocket for some warmth, a woman with red hair and a kind smile appeared at the door.

"oh hi! you must be Y/N!" she exclaimed watching as she took off her beanie politely with a smile, "yes ma'am." Molly pulled her inside the house who was so beautiful, "oh call me Molly, please! you are so beautiful, I am so happy you came to spend Christmas with us!" Molly was a very kind woman and her calling her beautiful made her so happy, as she took off her jacket.

"thank you so much, that is very kind of you. I hope I'm not bothering you." she replied with a kind smile, Molly heard a lot about the L/N family most of them got sorted into Slytherin and became death eaters but seeing Y/N so kind and a Gryffindor was very surprising.

"oh please my darling, you are more than welcoming with us," Molly replied before calling out for her sons and daughter, Fred was the first to walk down the stairs and immediately kissed her lips, "you came!" he said pulling her towards his embrace, she wrapped her arms around his waist with a smile.

"Yup, I did." Fred pulled away and turned to look at his mother who smiled softly at the couple, "show her around Fred while I get dinner ready, yeah?" her son nodded and walked up the stairs, maybe spending Christmas with the Weasleys is an amazing idea.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Molly loved Y/N, really, she loved her so much that she wanted her son to get married to the H/C-haired girl, she was kind and helped her cook dinner, helped her clean the dishes, set the table, and even bought everyone gifts from London.

Y/N never felt loved by her family and Molly being so kind made her think as to why her mother couldn't do such a thing, "I made you this gift, it's not much but I hope you enjoy it." spoke Molly whole handing the perfectly wrapped gift, Y/N heart melted as she hugged Molly as a thank you.

"thank you so much, it's perfect," it was a beautiful handmade F/C sweater with the first letter of her name in the center, she could feel the tears covering her eyes as she immediately wore the warm sweater without a thought, grabbing Molly's hands in hers she spoke, "thank you so much for being so kind to me." 

Molly pulled the girl into her embrace, Fred had told her about her relationship with her family and Molly was more than happy to have her part of the family.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

This was probably her favorite time ever, a new sweater, a new family, and a boyfriend she loves with her whole heart, what more could she want? this Christmas was full of her dreams and wishes coming true

Laying on the bed beside Fred with their legs tangled she listened to his heart, it was beating so fast every time she would smile or reach for his hand to intertwine her fingers with.

Fred played with her hair taking a strand and twirling it between his fingers, glancing up at him she watched as he brought her hand towards his lips, pressing kisses on every knuckle, her sleeve fell showing the scars of Umbridge's idea of punishment.

They healed but didn't disappear, Fred looked up at her in confusion as to where she got these scars, "Umbitch." was the only thing she said looking everywhere but his eyes, "and you didn't tell me?" he asked, he wasn't mad at her or anything, he was just worried.

"Why should I? me and Harry are her easiest target, I tried to talk to dumbledore but he didn't even bother turning around or listening, me and Harry, both needed his help.." Fred listened quietly, he would always try and make jokes when someone is feeling down.

but the sight of her hurt made his heart pang, the word wasn't 'I must not tell lies' like Harry, it was the word 'Mistake' over and over again, 4 times all over her arm, Fred didn't say a word and instead just kissed each letter on every scar making her eyes water.

she looked up trying to blink the tears away, of all the years she had been in Hogwarts not once did he see her cry, not even when she was in terrible pain, Fred scooted closer towards her before cupping both her cheeks.

She looked at him deep in the eyes trying so hard not to break down at his painful look, "this isn't you... you're never sad. please, laugh, smile, prank me, do anything just.. don't look at me like that, Fred. I am begging you. I hate seeing you like this." she said, Fred Weasley not smiling or cracking a joke is very rare and her seeing him staring at her eyes feeling terrible about not knowing about these scars, made her feel so scared and worried.

he was always an outgoing and goofy but protective person and that was one of the reasons why she loved him, she can give him 100 reasons as to why she fell in love with him.

"You are my family Y/N, we used to fight a lot but trust me those fights always made me smile when I rethink them before going to sleep, and your smile, merlin I hate it when George would tease me whenever I stare at you when you smile to Hermione or Ron, not to mention I was kinda jealous of Ron..." she laughed, her laughter was like music to his ears.

"jealous of your brother?" she asked watching as he nodded with flushed cheeks in embarrassment, she cupped his cheeks and placed a soft kiss on his lips, pulling away she watched as he grinned childishly in her hold, "go to sleep, dork. you're cute but please stop smiling like that." she said about to get up when he suddenly grabbed her wrist pulling her back down.

pinning her to his bed he towered over her form watching as she cocked an eyebrow at him, "told you we will finish what we started." he spoke voice low that made her shiver, "oh yeah?" he nodded and for merlin knows how many time today, he kissed her lips making her hum ad wrap her arms around his neck.

"I hate you."

"oh no, you don't, darling."

"no I don't.." she sighed against his lips.

Best Christmas ever. Whenever she looks at him it's like she just realized what love truly is, she never had a soft spot for someone only the Weasleys, Fred never found a smile so bright until he saw hers, it was like the moon, and Fred swore that he always fell in love with the moon with each glance.

He fell in love with her with each glance.

just like seeing her for the first time.

the way they always seemed to catch each other's eyes even when they were in a crowd, the way he would watch as she put her hair in a messy hairstyle when she was reading, the way she would frown when she doesn't understand something, small details.

They fell in love, maybe hiding with Fred Weasley in a tight closet to run away from Umbridge was not a terrible idea after all, in fact, Y/N was glad that Fred did this prank.

#fred weasley #fred weasley x reader #harry potter x reader #x reader #gryffindor!reader #james phelps x reader #harry potter #harry potter and the order of the phoenix #hermione granger #george weasley #ron weasley #imagine #molly weasley #fluff #enemies to lovers #grumpy x sunshine #slight smut

[sluttywonwoo]

LIX THOTS TO THE RESCUE❗❗❗I imagine felix using his voice as a way to get you squirming, writhing underneath him. Even better if its mirror sex. He'd totally hold you up against the mirror, praising you in his deep motherfucking australian accent. One hand is around your throat, forcing you to maintain eye contact- another shamelessly rubbing your clit. He'd totally use his voice and purposely make it go 3 octaves deeper, to get you squirming.

“don’t you look pretty?”

your eyes are barely open and you can hardly make out your reflection in the mirror but you’re positive ‘pretty’ isn’t the word you would use to describe yourself right now. still, you know felix is expecting an answer so you nod.

“you know you gotta use your words, baby,” he urges. the words, spoken against the spot right below your ear, tickle, making you shiver.

“y-yes,” you choke out.

felix uses his free hand, the only that isn’t between your legs, to angle your chin so that you’re forced to look at yourself straight on.

“yes, what?”

“yes i… look pretty.”

“that’s my girl,” he praises, starting to rock his hips into yours again. he’s careful not to go too hard— he doesn’t want to slam you into the countertop over and over again. you’re already fragile enough. “i’d fuck you like this every day if i could. we’d never use our bed again. that’s a lie,” he adds before you can protest, “i’d never be able to give up fucking you in missionary. i love being on top of you, kissing you all over your face, watching you fall apart for me… shit, you’re gorgeous in any position, baby.”

“s-so are you.”

felix smiles, bright and blinding, and kisses you tenderly on the back of the neck. “you’re so sweet to me.”

“you deserve it, ah-”

“careful,” your boyfriend warns, quick to pull you back against him since your legs had decided to practically give out on you. “what happened there, baby?”

“felt too good,” you whine. “‘m sorry.”

he nods in understanding, hiding a smirk behind your shoulder. “oh, baby… am i hitting it?”

you’d been trying your best to hold eye contact with your reflection but it becomes impossible as soon as the words leave his mouth. your eyes roll to the back of your head and you melt further into the pleasure.

“yes… feels so fucking good, lix. please don’t stop…”

“don’t worry, baby,” he assures you. “i wouldn’t dream of it.”

#ty anon #i split ur ask in two for the sake of answering like this! #answered #anon #stray kids smut #skz smut #felix smut #lee felix smut #yongbok smut #lee yongbok smut

[pandorxxx]

Search & Rescue(Chapter 2)

Lo’ak x Omatikayan fem reader (all aged up)

Warnings: Cursing, Angst, mentions of depression, fluff, oral, p in v, spitting, creampie, soft-dom lo’ak.

Synopsis: Lo’ak has a bit of a reputation that he’s been trying so hard to break out of. He just needs the right girl to come and rescue him. Looks like he found her tonight.

For the best reading experience: listen to Ozone by Chase Atlantic or Search and Rescue by Drake

“Yess lo’ak! Right there!” You whined, gripping the sheets as he sent you hard/firm strokes from behind. Clapping sounds so loud that you feared people could hear.

“Mhm, you feel me baby?” He moaned, watching the source of pleasure before smacking your ass. You nodded, throwing your head down on the cot to arch your back for him.

“Shit, just like that! Don’t fucking move!” He growled, wrapping your hair around his forearm. He sped up his pace, making sure to smash against your sweet spot with every deep stroke.

“Baby, y-you’re gonna make me fucking cum!” You screamed, muffled by the sheets beneath you. “Oh yeah? Go ahead, mama. Cum on this dick, I know you want to.” He chuckled, smacking your ass a few more times before gripping your hips, bringing you back to meet his thrusts. Your mouth fell agape, and your eyes rolled back in pleasure.

“Mmm fuck, im cumming!!!” You let out a high pitched scream, letting your eyes fall shut…waking up from your wet dream. You sat up lazily, wincing from your pounding headache.

“Goodmorning, my little screamer.” Lo’ak said sarcastically, sharpening his knife in the corner. You grimaced, eyes narrowed from the sun pouring in.

“Huh?” You asked in a confused tone, going to shift your legs to the side of the cot. “How was your….dream?” He asked, still razor focused on knife. That’s when you realized that he heard everything, and a wave of embarrassment washed over you.

“Shit, you heard?” You asked hesitatingly, running your hands through your hair in frustration. “I think everyone heard. They probably think I’m in here giving you the best dick of your life.” He joked, standing to his feet. You let out a stressful sigh, hiding your face in your dainty hands.

“Umm I- I should go.” You stuttered, standing up swiftly before grabbing your cloths off of the floor. You went to walk past him and he picked you up, placing you on the table behind him.

“Not until you eat something. I brought you breakfast. I kinda figured you would miss it, and I was right.” He smiled, grabbing a price of fruit off of the plate, holding it up to your mouth. You hesitated at first, but finally opened your mouth for him to place the fruit in. You started to chew slowly, staring into his golden eyes.

“I umm- went by your hut today. Grabbed some cloths for you. Your comb and hair accessories too. I didn’t know what you wanted, so I grabbed some options.” He spoke sweetly, pointing to your items on the drawer behind you. You were shocked, never in a million years did you think he was even capable of picking out an outfit for any woman.

“You know I’m leaving, right? You didn’t have to do this.” You chuckled, watching him bring another piece of fruit up to your mouth.

“About that. I was hoping you’d stay with me again, tonight? We can even go to the party together.” He confessed, watching you lick his fingertips clean after you ate the piece of fruit. You looked up at him in confusion, chewing slowly.

“You… w-want me to stay here again? Why?” You asked, eyeing him up and down. He rolled his eyes, stepping closer to stand between your legs. So close that his loincloth rubbed against your bare cunt, shielded by his huge T-shirt.

“If it’s not already painfully obvious. I like you, dumbass.” He spoke lowly, placing his hands on either sides of your thighs. Your breathing hitched, and your core began to heat up in arousal. His eyes were glued on yours, looking at you with nothing but interest.

“I’m not fucking you, lo’ak.” You said, voice shaky as you watched his lips come closer to yours, hoping that he would close the gap in between you two. “I’m not fucking you, y/n.” He smirked, glancing down at your lips before meeting your eye contact again.

“Why not?” You asked, completely tranced by his closeness. You glanced at his large arms, engulfing your thighs. Then to his broad chest, trailing all the way down to his chiseled abs before meeting his gaze again.

“Because you’re not ready.” He replied. “Ready for what?” You spat. He dropped his head, chuckling before looking back up at you.

“I’ve gotta go. Go get yourself cleaned up. I’ll be back later on tonight. Then we can go to the party.” He smiled, backing up from between your legs, walking over to his bow, placing it across his chest.

“You’re just gonna leave me here? What do you suppose I do?” You shouted, watching him walk towards the hut door.

“Just stay your pretty ass here! I’ll be back later on!” He shouted, walking out of the door before shutting it behind him.

“Ugghhh! LO’AK!” You shouted in frustration before the room fell silent. You looked around, noticing the bottle cans you missed from last night, and the drawer with cloths falling out. Probably from when lo’ak picked out cloths for himself this morning.

“He’s such a fucking pig.” You whispered to yourself, rolling your eyes before hoping off of the table. You took this time to deep clean his hut. Grabbing buckets of water and towels to wipe dirty areas. Hand washing his dirty cloths, fixing the sheets on his cot. You picked up all of the garbage on the ground, and organized all of his accessories.

After you were done, you walked to the nearby stream, taking your morning shower. Ridding yourself of all the makeup and body glitter from the night before. You spent most of the day in lo’aks hut, desperately waiting for him to come back. In your free time, you did your hair in 2 Dutch braids, decorating them with the hair accessories lo’ak brought for you earlier.

It was starting to get dark, and you were expecting lo’ak any second. You sat on the floor in-front of his mirror, doing your make up and applying the same body glitter from last night.

“Hey, pretty girl.” Lo’ak spoke in an exhaustion as he limped to the neatly made cot. You snapped your head at him, scanning his bruised body, wombs patched up and cured with yalnabark.

“Lo’ak, what the hell?” You shouted in concern, standing swiftly before darting over to him. He sat on the edge of the cot with his head hung low. You kneeled before him, taking his bow from around his chest, removing his necklace and other accessories.“You wanna tell me what the fuck happened?” You looked up at him, his hair hanging in front of his face.

“Thanator.” He replied. “You’re lying.” You spoke sternly, pushing the strands of hair behind his ear. He sighed loudly, meeting your gaze.

“I got into a fight.” He replied, clenching and unclenching his jaw in anger. You hit his chest hard, however, it didn’t even phase him.

“Why?! Why do you continue to get yourself into trouble?!!!” You shouted, eyebrows furrowed as you awaited an answer.

“Doesn’t matter.” He shook his head. “Tell me, or I leave.” You spat, pointing in the direction of the door. He looked into your eyes, looking for any sign of you joking. Finding none, he finally came clean. “Some guys were talking about you, inappropriately. And it pissed me off.” He confessed.

“So you fought all of them???” You asked with a slight whiny tone, hoping he didn’t fight multiple men for you.

“You’re damn right! And I’d do it again. No one talks about you the way they did! NO ONE!” He growled, angered to the point of no return.

“Ok, ok. Just calm down, please.” You stood, wrapping your small arms around his head, bringing him to your chest. He instantly wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you in between his legs. And without a second to spare, he finally let it all out, weeping loudly in your arms.“I know. It’s ok, lo’ak. Let it out.” You comforted him, rubbing his back as he clung to you tightly.

“I-It hurts so bad, y/n. I-I don’t know what’s going on with me.” He whimpered, tears falling down to your chest. “I’m just so fucking tired. I can’t do this shit anymore.” His voice became lifeless, shaking his head in defeat against your chest.

“No, don’t talk like that. you- we are going to get through this. And I’m not going anywhere. I’m here for you, lo’ak. Always and forever, no matter what. Do you hear me?” You spoke softly, caressing his head, blinking back tears as you’d never seen him like this.

It hurt your heart to know that behind the facade, he was struggling. Struggling with his identity, struggling with his relationship with women, struggling with alcohol, struggling to find reasons to wake up everyday. And then there you were, with him every step of the way. In the past 24 hours, you’d seen more

of him than anyone ever has. Seen him at his absolute lowest. Yet and still, you didn’t run away like every other girl. Instead, you listened to him with no judgment, held him close to your heart.

“Mhm.” He whimpered, sniffling against your chest. You bent down again, wiping his face dry. “I-I’m sorry if I’m scaring you. Just please…don’t leave me.” He whispered weakly, eyes red from his emotional breakdown.

“I wasn’t planning on it. I’m here to stay.” You smiled, voice shaky as you held back tears. And that was the moment he knew that you were the one. He had a feeling before, but the way you were willing to stick by his side, flaws and all solidified it for him. His emotions got the best of him, and he swiftly picked you up off of the ground, placing you on the bed gently before he hovered over your small frame.

“I guess we’re not going to the party tonight?” You spoke breathily, heart beating at the speed of light as you waited for his next move.

“Nope.” His voice was low and deep. He shook his head with a smirk. You smirked back.“I’m not fucking you, lo’ak.” You joked, this time hoping that he would give in.

“You don’t have to. Just lay here and look pretty for me.” He said, licking his lips before bending down, french kissing your neck. You gasped, immediately feeling that tingling sensation in your core. He kissed your neck sloppily, moving down to your chest.

“You better not play me.” You moaned, throwing your head back. He grabbed both of your hands, pinning them above your head.

“I won’t, I swear on my life.” He spoke breathily between kisses. He slid down to his knees in front of you before sliding your loincloth off of your legs. Then he went for your thigh-band embroidered with gorgeous crystals. He flashed his fangs at you before attaching them to the band, sliding it off of you like he had been dying to do ever since he laid eyes on you.

“You trust me?” He asked, grabbing the band out of his mouth, staring at you as if you were his last meal. “Mhm!” You hummed, nodding your head frantically.

“Hold out your wrists.” He commanded, and you obliged immediately. He proceeded to wrap your thigh-band around your wrists firmly, just enough to securing you. “Too tight?” He asked, pulling you closer to him by your thighs. You shook your head no, desperately waiting for his next move.

He bent down in between your legs, pulling them over his shoulders. He looked into your eyes hungrily as he started off with kitty licking your clit, just to see how you’d react. You completely lost it, back bowing to the cot as you let out a high pitched moan. And that was all he need to know. “Mmm you’re a virgin, huh?” He spoke lowly, before tongue kissing your cunt.

“H-How can you tell?” You moaned, focusing on the soft kisses he planted on your throbbing clit.“You’re so sensitive, like you’ve never been touched before.” He hummed into your cunt, sending jolts of electricity up your spine. He backed up, spitting on your clit before going back to work on you.

“Mmm yes!” You moaned, screwing your face in pleasure. “Look at me.” He growled, flicking your clit with his tongue. You looked down, locking eyes with him as he devoured you whole. That scene alone was driving you crazy, and he knew it.

“Lo’ak I-I think!-“ you whimpered, tears blurring your vision. Your legs started to shake around his head, and you felt your stomach muscles tighten.

“You’re gonna cum.” He mumbled against your clit. “Go ahead, cum in my fucking mouth. I wanna taste you.” He growled before sucking on your clit like a pacifier.

“I-I think I’m cumming, lo’ak!” You screamed before releasing your juices onto his tongue, and he guzzled them greedily.

“Fuuck!” You screamed sharply, as you reached the very peek of pleasure. Your breathing was heavy as you finally calmed down. Lo’ak sucked your sensitive clit one last time before detaching completely. Standing up in between your trembling legs.

“You feeling ok?” He asked, walking to his drawer to grab a towel. You watched him intently as he walked back to you, wiping your core and inner thighs gently. He was learning how to be a gentleman for you, and it made you hot. You wanted nothing more than for him to fuck you senseless. “What are you doing?” You asked in a confused tone. He smirked, glaring at you will wiping you clean.

“I’m cleaning you.” He replied. “No I mean- I thought we were going to-“ you started before he cut you off. “I wanna do things differently with you. I wasn’t going to do anything you weren’t comfortable with.” He confessed, throwing the towel to the side. You sat up, shifting to your knees in-front of him, wrists still tied together.

“And the fact that you’re willing to wait for me shows me all I need to see. So I’m begging you…please. Please fuck me lo’ak. I need you.” You rambled, looking up into his eyes desperately. His ears perked up, mouth agape with shock.

He grabbed your wrists, holding them close to his heart before kissing your knuckles. “The things you do to me…” he spoke lowly, chuckling against your dainty hands. “Let’s just wait, y/n. I want your first time to be special.” He explained, going to caress your head. You backed away before he could.

“All I need is you. That’s special enough.” You spoke sensual, turning around to bend over in-front of him. You let your head find comfort on the cot as you spread your legs farther apart, exposing your dripping cunt to him.

“Give it to me, lo’ak. I’m so fucking needy for you. I can’t help it anymore.” He watched the whole scene unfold in-front of him with intent. His tail wagged quickly behind him, looking down at your glory, practically sitting on a platter all for him.

“Shit…” was all he could say. Running his hands down his face as you backed up into him. Your bare cunt rubbing against his growing bulge. This provided the right amount of friction for you, causing you to let out a series of soft moans.

“All you wanna do is fuck me. What about “hello” or “how are you”.” He joked, smacking your ass hard, causing you to wince in pain.

“Yeah yeah. Just give it to me..Pleaaasseee?!” Your whines muffled by the cot. He rolled his eyes, before smirking slightly.

“And here I thought you were a good girl. But deep down, when it’s all said and done. You’re really just a fucking slut.” He explained, untying his loincloth from around his hip, letting it drop to the ground beneath him. His cock sprung up, hitting your bare cunt in the process, causing you to moan at the friction. Beads of precum dripping to your ass, gliding down to your aching hole. It was such a beautiful site for him.

“It’s no coming back from this, mama. Once I give you this dick, you’ll be fucking hooked, I promise you that.” He growled, jerking his cock in the direction of your cunt. His words had you hooked already. He knew exactly what to say to have you wrapped around his finger.

“Mmm, lo’ak! Put it in me!” You cried desperately, pushing back onto him again. He chuckled at your desperation before lining up with your cunt, sinking it into you slowly, inch by inch.

“Fuuuck! I’ll move in a second. Just want you to get used to me first.” He moaned, watching you screw your face in absolute pleasure, whimpering and squirming around under him.

“No, lo’ak I’m ready! Fuck me! fuck me! fuck me!” You screamed, throwing your ass back on him, immediately finding the relief you were looking for. He was completely dumbfounded, watching you use him for your own pleasure.

“Mhmm! “Im not fucking you, lo’ak”…. Does that ring a bell, baby?” He spoke sensually, smacking your ass. He deemed it a good time to start meeting you halfway, thrusting into you firmly. Your eyes rolled back, smiling deliriously as your moans rippled with every hard stroke.

“Yesss! Keep fucking me just like that. I-it’s so *thrust* fucking *thrust* gooood!!” You whined, tears threatening to fall as you gnawed on the sheets deliriously. He watched you fall apart right before his eyes. And it sent him over the edge. He moaned loudly with you, throwing his head back as he drilled deeply into you.

“Shit baby! Let me see your wrists.” He moaned, watching you shift around slightly to expose your wrists to him. He untied you quickly, throwing the restraints across the room.

“Fuuuck!” You whined, reaching around to grab your cheeks, spreading them wide for him. He took this as an opportunity to stick his tongue out, letting his saliva glide down in between your folds. You turned your head, meeting his lustful gaze.

“Lo’ak, I fucking love youuuu!” You whined, moans staggered from his hard thrusts. He bit his lip, staring at your screwed face. “I love you more!” He moaned, jaw clenched as he watched your eyes roll back.

“N-Never leave me. Ok?” He grunted, grabbing your arm, and you clung to his arm as well. You two stared into each others eyes, as he tried to blink back tears, his emotions getting the best of him again. He didn’t know what you were doing to him, but he loved it. He had never felt this way about any other girl.

“I-I’m not going anywhere, baby! I promise!” You cried, feeling that familiar sensation from earlier. The eye contact had your stomach doing backflips, and you just couldn’t quite explain the way you felt for him. You didn’t know what he had done to you, but you couldn’t get enough. This moment that you two shared was indescribable. He couldn’t help but let his tears fall, biting his lip as he watched you share the same exact reaction. Tears blurring your vision as you let out a series of moans, maintaining the most dangerous eye contact. The type of eye contact that could make you fall In love, and you two were falling deep.

“I love you, y/n. I love you so fucking much!” He cried, voice shaky as he sped up the pace slighty. “I-I love you too!” You moaned before your legs started shaking beneath you.

“Cum with me, y/n. I know you’re just as close as me. I can feel it!” He grunted, smacking your ass once more. He felt his stomach tighten, signaling that he was going to cum any second.

“In me, please? I need it.” You whimpered, feeling his swollen tip slam against your sweet spot. His eyes widened at your request.

“You sure, my love?” He spoke breathily, focusing on his in coming orgasm. You nodded frantically, shutting your eyes tightly as you started to shake violently underneath him.

“OH MY- FUCK LO’AK! IM CUMMING!!!” You screamed, every stroke revealing his cream coated cock. “Shit, Me too! Me too!” He whimpered, before his jaw dropped. His thrusts became sloppy, releasing his seed inside of you, filling you up just how you asked him to.

“Mmm yesss, so good lo’ak!” You hummed, feeling his seed leak into your empty womb. You two came down from your highs, breathing hard as your sweaty bodies collapsed. You shifted around to face him. You both stared at each other, with new found love lingering in the air.

“Come here.” He chuckled lazily, gripping your neck before kissing you passionately. And you two kept this same energy all night. Fucking each other for hours and hours until you both finally crashed.

- - -

“LO’AK WHAT THE FUCK?” Echoing screams muffled in your mind, waking you up from your sleep. Your eyes squinted from the morning sun as you grimaced.

“LO’AK! ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS? WHO IS THIS BITCH IN YOUR BED?” A clearly angry voice shouted, waking you up completely. You saw a girl standing over you two. She went to hit him, immediately waking him up.

“WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING HERE? GET OUT!” He shouted, halting her attempts to hit him as he held her wrists together.

“W-What’s going on?” You spoke groggily, watching the entire scene unfold in-front of you. “Why are you in his FUCKING BED!” The girl hissed at you. Your eyes widened, wrapping the sheets around your naked body.

“I-I didn’t know you two were together.” You whispered, completely heartbroken. Your eye contact shifted between him and the girl he was holding onto for dear life, trying to stop her from hitting him.

“WE’RE NOT TOGETHER Y/N, I SWEAR ON MY LIFE! SHES JUST FUCKING CRAZY!” He growled, shifting off of the bed to push her out of the hut. It was a slight struggle before he pushed her out completely, shutting the door in her face. He faced the door for some time, knowing exactly what your reaction would be when he turned around.

“Y/n…I know what this looks like-“ he started before you cut him off. “No.” you spoke, voice shaky from your incoming breakdown. He turned around, darting over to you before kneeling next to the cot.

“Y/n, I swear! Me and that girl are not together! We had a one night stand a couple of weeks ago and that was it! I swear baby, please!” He rambled, tears streaming down his face.

“I-I’ve gotta go.” You whimpered, wiping tears from your puffy eyes. You pushed passed him, putting your cloths on swiftly before grabbing the rest of your things.

“Y/n, please! You said you’d never leave me, just let me explain. I-I can’t lose you. I CANT!” He cried, kneeling down in front of you. You stood before him, so confused on how you felt. A part of you knew it wasn’t his fault, but you just couldn’t take it. She wouldn’t be the last girl you had to deal with, and you knew that. You didn’t know if you were strong enough to deal with that. So you chose not to…

“I-I just need time to think. I can’t do this right now, lo’ak.” You spoke, barely above a whisper. “Please…” he whimpered, reaching out for your hand before you backed up from his embrace. Completely shattering his heart.

“I-…goodbye lo’ak.” You whispered before turning around, darting out of the hut door, not even looking back as you walked to your own hut.

And there he was. Just as empty, if not more, As the day you found him. And just like that, the cycle starts over…

Taglist: @number1gal @loak-bae @tiredmamaissy @neytirishottie @viajaeger @terrorthewolf @lethargicluv @reyzzsostellar @m0nst3rfk3r @agelsully @jakescumdump @wekiamo @st-cass @cleardonutangelwagon @tsireqas @satanlovedays @afro-hispwriter @thecutieyahia @urfavgirlmakenna @fanboyluvr @iameatingmyhair @secretflowerobservation @violet-19999 @neteyamsprincess @xreadersstuff @sweetllamaparadise @lia-nath @sullymenrhot @dotheyevenknowmars @xdbluesky @slay-nt @domino-x3-blog @ladylovegood-69 @itssomeonereading @sweetirilly @skxawngmia @downbadforloak @loaks-tanhi @loaksbabyy

#avatar #avatar smut #avatar the way of water #avatar loak #loak headcanons #loak x reader #loak x y/n #loak smut #loak fluff #loak x tsireya #loak #loak fanfiction #loak sully #loakedit #loak imagine #atwow loak #neteyam fanfiction #neteyam headcanons #avatar neteyam #neteyam x y/n #neteyam x reader #neteyam te suli tsyeyk'itan #neteyam smut #neteyam sully #neteyam

[gatheringbones]

[“Terry’s hair was long & thick, bleached blond, perhaps because she wanted to be a princess in a fairy tale instead of real. We wrote letters to one another, passionately declaring our eternal love, which the technicians stole. One night when she was sitting on my bed in the dorm after lights out, as I brushed her hair, they threw on the lights in a frenzy of disgust & separated us for being lesbians. We were too drugged and too frightened to do more than hold hands. The head nurse was a lesbian, who called Terry’s mother, who came the next day to take her home to her psychiatrist father, to whom she had not spoken in over four years. I was sent to the old women’s ward for punishment, where my job was to feed the bed-bound ladies, some of them in restraints all the time. The stench of urine & untreated cancer was overwhelming. I wrote long, intense letters to Terry, which I could not send, hiding them under my green plastic mattress. Terry’s stars are deep burgundy, & I bleed into the other colors when I mourn that we never made love.

Then Maggie was dragged onto our ward, in hot pink tights & purple smock, her teeth glittering with mischief Far from being depressed by the surroundings, she sang bawdy songs to the old ladies she fed, opening our misery with laughter. She was from a wealthy Marin family who sent her there to straighten her up & scare her into agreeing to marry the man they wanted to sell her off to, although they wouldn’t say it like that (she did). Somehow her wedding veil was among her belongings. She liked to wear it to the vast dining barrack because it annoyed the nurses so much. It was very beautiful, expensive lace which she trailed behind her like indifference. One day Maggie & I decided to get married. The guy who thought he was jesus was happy to perform our ceremony, held in the courtyard of our adjoining wards, surrounded by hundreds of old glass windows barred with iron grates. I wore Maggie’s veil & my Napa State Hospital white cardigan tied to make a train. We both carried huge bouquets of lilacs, which were blooming wildly in that hot, dry country. All our patient guests cheered & clapped so loudly that we couldn’t hear what jesus was saying. We only got to stroll down the sidewalk, showered with rice that Edith had filched from the kitchen where she was one of the cooks, before our union was rudely interrupted by burly male guards straining with anger in their white uniforms.

Everyone was locked down, some of us in solitary, & the bells went off for riot alert. Maggie’s poor veil was ripped apart by their feet & rage & arms. The head nurse (another lesbian) called Maggie’s mother that night, & before I had a chance to kiss her hello & goodbye, Maggie was driven away the next morning in her father’s limp-dick limo (her words again), as we ate our powdered eggs, silently depressed.

However, Maggie was a very sneaky & smart girl. She calmly arrived the following day in her VW bug (custom-painted purple, as are her stars) & said she had come back to collect her belongings, which no one had thought to pack up. Her mother, a master materialist (probably hoping for the veil), was very understanding. The hospital wanted to be accommodating in hope of future funds. So Maggie surprised me by returning to busily pack up not very much. We weren’t allowed to talk, & the nurses were watching us sharply until Ursula, understanding our need, threw her tennis shoe at the TV, screaming. Maggie palmed me a note to meet her by the lilac hedge behind the building, where she had conveniently parked. I left as though going to my new job at the dairy (cow shit apparently being a step up from human shit). The other women realized Ursula’s intentions & took off their keds, too. My last sight of that day room (where I had been declared incurably schizophrenic) was of flying sneakers, screaming technicians, breaking glass, & laughing patients—a really lovely melee. Because, of course, Maggie had returned to rescue me. We pulled out the backseat of her bug & I lay down across the battery. She laid a Mexican blanket over me, while I tried to project looking like a backseat. She piled her boxes, mostly empty, on top of me. The guards at the main gate were distracted by another call from the ward where the women who weren’t strapped down could not be contained. Maggie smiled, they gave her back her driver’s license, & off we went. On the other side of town, Maggie freed me from my seat charade & I tasted the wind in my hair for the first time in more than a year. She drove me to Big Sur, where I’d never been & they wouldn’t look for me (I had seven previous escapes, which is why I was on the violent ward so often, a curious juxtaposition—is freedom indeed violence, for lesbians?). In her trunk she had a sleeping bag, some food, money, & clothes that didn’t say Napa State on them for me. She dropped me near an overpass under which fellow fugitives of all kinds were camped, driving back to Marin, where perhaps she did escape marrying him. My belongings & three cartons of writing may still be in a dusty storage room at Napa. I guess I’m AWOL. Freedom’s worth the loss. If not for Maggie, I’d still be in the loony bin, incurable & terrified, not allowed to be a lesbian except with technicians. But I ripped that nurse out of the quilt.

Big Sur was rich with empty summer houses we raided for canned goods as a gang of teenage runaways, Vietnam War deserters, Rez escapees & drug dealers. We caught and roasted a wild pig. We hid out from the park rangers. We flirted with soldiers from the base for bags of potato chips, Hostess lemon pies, & chocolate bars. It was my theory we wouldn’t get scurvy if we ate the pies. We dropped acid & had orgies & stole into the mud baths at night. I was in a fog & detoxing from the nuthouse drugs, until one dusk when my eyes became diamond sharp at the sight of a thin young guy getting out of a hitchhiking ride at the convenience store near the campgrounds. He had black wavy hair cut in a DA falling forward over his face, wearing a leather motorcycle jacket that oozed sex. Our eyes caught across the parking lot & I fell in love like slamming into earth. I walked over, offering my open bag of BBQ pork rinds. Her reaching hand made me laugh & I blurted out, “I thought you were a guy.” She looked me up & down intensely, startled me by stroking my crotch with a quick secret movement, & growled, “Good.”]

chrystos, from cherry picker, from a woman like that: lesbian and bisexual writers tell their coming out stories, 2000

#chrystos #lesbian literature #terra preta #cw abuse #mad pride

[ghostofthemost141]

Serene

Ch.1. Ch.2. Ch.3. Ch.4. Ch.5. Ch.6. Ch.7.

Pairing: Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish x F!Reader

First POV & Third POV

Word Count: 1,707

Themes: Some Fluff

!Warnings!: Near Death Experience

About: You're on vacation to the beach and you think you're about to die when you're caught in a riptide until an unlikely hero comes to your rescue. Precisely a Scottish man that bores a tail.

Notes: Something different for this one! May turn this into a fanfic series who knows 👀 Hope y'all enjoy! Name for you here is Dove and you got two friends named Gem and Pixie with limited descriptions so you can imagine them however you want to imagine them! Italics = Third POV

The waves were crashing against the shore, the seagulls were lively, and the sand was warm. The weather was perfect for the beach and you couldn’t wait to dip your toes in. 

“Dove, them waves look rough.” Gem, one of my  best friends, told me with concern. 

“I know how to swim, girl, you don’t have to worry about me.” I  reassure her, as waves crash onto my legs. 

Gem looked at you with her bright colored eyes full of concern. She knew that you were a great swimmer but the way the waves were going about, it worried her deeply. It also worried your other friend Pixie as well. 

“Just stay in the shallow. Neither of us are great swimmers like you are, Dove.” Pixie mentioned. 

“There’s a lifeguard on duty.” I joke, knowing they won’t have to do their job today with me. 

Both girls looked at each other with concern, but non verbally agreed to keep an eye on you for your sake. Gem and Pixie laid down their blankets and chairs and chilled on the sand while you were knee deep in the water. The water was at perfect temperature to accompany the hot weather that was out today. But the waves were indeed getting rougher, but that didn’t deter you away. No, it only made you want to go further. You felt a sense of not only pride, but a burst of your ego. 

“You can do it.” I mumbled to myself, feeling the waves get stronger. 

Gem and Pixie, though promising themselves to keep an eye on you, were distracted by some attractive people and doing everything that they could to grab their attention. From a distance you noticed a sandbar but it was some distance away. 

“Pfft. Can’t be that far.” 

It was maybe a walk or so away. Granted I won’t be able to touch the farther I get but I’m a good swimmer. I’ve got nothing to worry about. 

You pushed forward, suddenly feeling the drop off of how deep it got. It scared you but only for a second as you began to doggy paddle towards the sand bar. It was when your heart dropped when you realized that the sandbar was indeed farther than it looked. It was too late to back out now. For a second you think you hear Gem and Pixie calling for you, but you were too far out to tell. Your heart started racing, but for some reason your own ego took over and you kept pushing forward. The waves were getting harsher and rougher that you decided that now, maybe, you should turn back around. Yes, that’s a good idea, you thought. You swam around and started making your way back to shore. Your arms burned and you felt a cramp start to form in your lower region. 

“Why, oh why?” I grumbled to myself, immediately regretting my decision. 

This was stupid. Stupid, stupid. 

Your arms burned more and more, to the point that you realized you were going further away from shore. 

“Sh-Shit.” 

The cramp got worse, stinging your insides and taking over. You tried to float, but then you started to panic, feeling the cramp get worse and worse and you were getting further and further from shore. 

“No, no, no, please God-” 

You were cut off by a big wave crashing onto you, sucking you under water. You inhaled way too much water than your lungs could handle, causing you to choke and try to swim up the surface, but you were sucked in too deep. You fought with every bit of strength you had left to get to the surface. You could feel the sweet relief of air the closer you got to the surface. You were nearly there. 

Nearly there. 

Nearly. There. 

Nearly…there. 

Nearly…

… 

You went limp just as you reached the surface, the cramps and intense burning taking over your body and making you succumb to drowning. Pixie and Gem had noticed your disappearance and were already calling for help, even though they wouldn’t be able to locate you. Your body floated further and further down from the surface. You felt as if you were floating, but in a weird way and you were asleep. You were consciously fighting to stay awake, even though your body was limply floating in the deep water. You sunk down more and more and the lifeguards were just now getting on to finding your body, but by the time they get to the deep end, you’ll be long gone. 

Long, long gone. 

A pair of bright blue eyes spotted you from the deep waters. The eyes watched you as you limply started sinking down and down to the deep waters ever so slowly. He knew you were in trouble. He knew he had to rescue you even if he couldn’t be spotted. The creature slowly started making his way towards you. The two of you were in deep enough water that no one would be able to spot you from the surface. You didn’t react or even twitch when he swam up close to you. 

“Poor lass.” He mumbled, holding onto your body. 

The creature wrapped your body around him and started swimming to the very far side of where the people are at. He knew you had just passed out so he still had time to save you. He couldn’t risk being seen by people, but he would do it for you. He couldn’t help but notice your distinct features. The way your hair flowed in the water, your vibrant skin, and your bright colored lips. He shouldn’t have noticed these features of you in this situation but he couldn’t help it. You were that pretty to him. Once he got far enough from everyone else, he brought you onto shore, laying you gently on your back. He looked back and forth to make sure there were no people around. There wasn’t. Good, he thought. The creature leaned down and immediately started giving you mouth to mouth. Opening up your mouth and breathing his air into yours, while pumping your heart with his hands in unison. As quick as he started, you were back. 

Shit, shit what happened? What the hell happened? My head hurts, my chest hurts, everything hurts. 

The creature backed up away from you a little as you came to. He has never wanted a human to see him like this until he saw you. Creatures like him never believed in love at first sight, but that’s very much what he was doing. 

Who saved me? I forced my eyes open, to find a pair of bright blue eyes looking down at me. Oh my god, he was gorgeous. A gorgeous man. 

“Are you my savior?” I asked, feeling slightly delusional after coming back from the dead. 

The creature chuckled, hoping you wouldn’t notice his unique features. 

“Maybe, doll.” 

Oh, he has an accent. A thick accent. 

“Where are you from?” I ask. 

I could tell the man was nervous for whatever reason. 

“Uh..” The man paused. 

I felt an eerie silence beckon over us as I glanced down, feeling my heart race. It wasn’t the gills on his side that I noticed, but the fact that he doesn’t have legs. He has a tail. A fucking tail. 

“W-What? I must be dead.” I slightly joked, not believing what I was seeing. 

I could tell the man, or merman, was a bit unnerved by my comment. His deep, dark blue tail flopped onto the wet sand, making a loud ‘plat’ sound. 

“Sorry, it just feels like a childhood liking of mine is a reality.” I say, to try and uplift the mood.

He smiled at me, his beautiful eyes beaming down at me. I glanced down, seeing how fit he was. How on Earth is he this fit for a mermaid? There ain’t no way. 

“Well can I know the name of my savoir? Considering I was being stupid.” I admit. 

The man smiled at me once again. I couldn’t help but stare at his tail. It was so pretty. The prettiest shade of blue I have ever seen, besides the shade of his eye color. 

“Johnny.” He said. 

“Johnny, I’m Dove, the dumbass you had to save.” I said, joking. 

Johnny chuckled. 

“How long have you had a tail?” 

“For as long as I can ‘member.” Johnny answered. 

You smiled at that, feeling your heart race the longer you stare at Johnny. He was so drop dead handsome, despite being a mermaid, which you could hardly believe he even was one. 

“DOVE!!” A familiar voice screamed out. 

Before you could even react, Johnny was immediately gone. You felt sad, seeing your savior disappear like that but you didn’t know his relationship with humans, despite him getting that close to you and letting you see him. 

“Holy shit! Are you okay?!” Gem frantically asked me, getting into my space. 

“Y-Yeah. I am. I think.” I said, reeling in from who I just met. 

But if he immediately swam away upon hearing Pixie’s voice, that tells me he doesn’t want to be seen or known. 

“How did you get back to shore?” Gem asked. 

“I just..swam.” I lied through my teeth. 

I could tell they didn’t believe me, but they were more concerned about me being alive versus how I got back to shore. 

Gem and Pixie helped you to your feet, commenting about how you keep looking out into the ocean. You lied and told them it was you being proud of yourself for getting yourself back to shore. When really you were searching for Johnny. You felt special, in an odd way. The fact that he let you see him, but fled when Gem and Pixie were coming means you were indeed special. You wanted to see him again. You just didn’t know how to expect to come back to the beach. As Pixie and Gem dragged you away, you could see a familiar pair of bright blue eyes staring at you. This confirmed everything. You wanted to see him again. But until then, he was your secret. And you are thankful you’re still alive to this day. 

TO BE CONTINUED? 

#cod #callofduty #call of duty #cod modern warfare #ghostofthemost141 #cod x reader #modern warfare x reader #john mactavish x reader #john mactavish #john soap mctavish x reader #johnny soap mctavish x reader #john soap mactavish #soap x reader #soap mw2 #soap cod #johnny soap mactavish #soap call of duty #johnny mactavish

[cowgurrrl]

Sweet Creature

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader (plus platonic Ellie Williams x fem!reader)

Author’s note: holy shit thank you for your ideas this is my favorite. also i put it in the tags of darlin’ i’d wait for you BUT there is a beautiful easter egg in the baby’s first and middle name and the first person to tell me what it is gets a kiss on the mouth

Summary: “Helping one another is part of the religion of our sisterhood.” - Jo March, Little Women aka Ellie rescues you and Joel [1.3k]

Warnings: newborn DRAMA, post-partum anxiety if you squint, Joel being a softie for his daughters

"C'mon, Charlie girl, you've gotta help us out." You mumble as you bounce your crying baby around the room. It's been an hour of her crying nonstop, and you've tried everything. Nursing, changing her diaper, changing her clothes, burping, changing the room's temperature, and playing music. You even went as far as to check her for any injuries that you may have missed. You're not sure what kind of trouble your one-week-old could've gotten into to warrant an injury, but you're exhausted, and it seemed to make sense. 

Joel woke up with her first, as he has done every night since you gave birth, so you had the chance to get some rest. Recovery has been rough for you, and he's already doing so much for you. He and Ellie barely let you get out of bed most days because they want to ensure you take the time to heal. Even though the thought is nice, you wake up and listen when Joel gets up with her every time. It's not that you don't trust him. It's that you're already the world's lightest sleeper, and Joel is deaf in one ear and is rarely aware of just how loud he is. You also don't mind secretly watching as he lays her on his bare chest in the low light of your room, singing to her or explaining what he's doing for her to engage her little brain. He's caught you staring at least twice since she's come home. 

But tonight was different. She woke up crying and was pretty much inconsolable until Joel brought her over to you. She nursed for a minute or two before wrenching away from you and screaming. Since then, you and Joel have been taking turns trying to get her to go back to sleep. It's hard having a newborn with two capable parents. You have no idea how you had a baby as a single mom. 

"D'you wanna try to feed her again?" Joel asks as he stands next to you, disheveled and overwhelmed but trying his best to comfort the both of you. 

"I don't know," you shake your head, your throat starting to feel like sandpaper. You were always the more emotional person in your relationship, but postpartum emotions are nothing compared to your regular ones. "I don't know what's wrong." You cry. Joel touches your back and makes a sympathetic noise as tears fall down your face.

"Let me take her for a little bit so you can sit down, okay?" He suggests as he carefully takes Charlie from you. She chuffs at the transition before going right back to screaming her head off. You sit on the edge of the bed and watch as he holds her like a football and hums what sounds like Hank Williams to her. You'd be surprised if she could even hear him over her own crying, and you take a deep breath, racking your brain for what could be wrong. 

"What are you doing to her?" Ellie asks as she walks into the room, rubbing sleep from her eyes. She's wearing one of Joel's shirts and hand-me-down shorts from Maria, and her hair is as messy as Joel's. If you weren't still crying, you think you'd probably laugh. 

"She's just a little fussy. You can go back to bed." Joel says, but she shakes her head and walks over to where he's standing with Charlie. 

"What's going on, bug? Huh?" She asks, crouching to look at Charlie's tired, sad eyes. She may have your eye shape, but she got those heartbreaking brown eyes from Joel. When she cries like this, they look like the saddest puppy dog eyes in the world. "D'you want me to try?" Ellie asks, and Joel shoots you a look.

You've been very intentional about not putting too much pressure on Ellie to help with the baby. She's sixteen, and she shouldn't have to be burdened with that if she doesn't have to be. You told her she could help as much or as little as she wanted, but she took it upon herself to help more often than not. You just didn't want her to wake up for midnight cry sessions or feel like she had to be put in a parenting position. She's still a kid.

"It's worth a shot," Joel says, and you shrug, way too tired to argue with him. He carefully passes Charlie to Ellie, who cradles her close and pushes her hair out of her face. Joel stays nearby in case she decides to hand the baby off, but he doesn't intrude on their moment.

"Hey, it's alright. You let it all out," Ellie says as she sways. Her fingers muss Charlie's hair, and she's quieting down. Not a lot, but enough to see it as crying instead of blood-curdling screaming. "I've got you, sweet girl." Ellie's hand moves to her chest, gently scratching and rubbing little circles into Charlie's onesie, and like magic, she stops crying. She turns her little head toward Ellie and yawns big and long like we kept her up. You sigh in relief and tip your head up to the ceiling as silence fills the room. Your ears are still ringing, and your body hurts, but it's quiet. 

It would be easy to claim that Charlie calmed down because Ellie's wearing one of Joel's worn shirts or that she just finally hit a wall and fell asleep, but you like to think she was just missing her sister. Joel looks between Ellie and Charlie in disbelief, mumbling "shit" under his breath. "What can I say? She loves me." She shrugs, and you quietly laugh as she walks over to the rocking chair in the corner and curls up with Charlie. She snags the yellow blanket one of the older women in town knitted for you off the back of the chair and drapes it around them. You would think they've known each other for centuries. 

Joel is still standing in the middle of the room, his curls a mess on top of his head, as his sleep-deprived brain tries to piece together what happened. He scratches at his stubbly jaw and shakes his head as he thinks. "You don't have to stay up with her. I can put her back in the crib." Joel offers, and you watch her hold on Charlie get a little tighter.

"It's gonna take me a long time to fall asleep. You guys should get some rest. I've got her," Ellie says, a smile pulling at her lips. "Besides, I like hanging out with her." You would cry again if you had the energy, but you don't. Instead, you crawl back into bed and get comfortable. Joel looks to you for confirmation, always looking for your approval as the mother of his child before making any decisions, but you're already half-asleep again.

"If she's volunteering, I'm not gonna stop her," you mumble into your pillow. "Just don't fall asleep."

"Sir, yes, sir," Ellie says. They may have stayed up talking. You're not sure, but when you wake up, Ellie is between you and Joel in bed, and Charlie is in her crib. She's tucked under the arm Joel is using to hold your waist as he sleeps, and her hand is on his chest. He's snoring lightly as he holds you both, perfectly content to cuddle with his girls in bed. You smile and kiss each of their heads before falling asleep again.

You vaguely remember fearing how the new baby would affect Joel and Ellie's relationship and worrying if Ellie and the baby would get along. You don't know exactly why Charlie was crying last night or why she calmed down so fast once Ellie had her, and you don't need to. 

Sometimes a girl just needs her sister. 

Sometimes a father just needs to baby his sixteen-year-old a little longer.

🍓

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taglist: @evyiione @nyotamalfoy @abbyhaslongshorts​

#look for the light #the last of us #joel and ellie #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #the last of us x reader #joel tlou #ellie williams #joel miller the last of us #joel miller fluff #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #ellie williams fluff #dad!joel miller #he’s so girldad your honor

[dulc3vida]

puppy!reader

girl next door, mom owns a bakery with heyward level success (doing alright, but not as successful as the wreck). her house was always the spot for the pogues growing up bc her mom always fed them and looked out for them. her mom is a curandera (folk healer) and always has someone in the house picking up some remedy she concocted or getting their stomach massaged to help digestion. during the summer, pup is on the beach with her lil cart selling cups of fruit and she also offers palm readings on the side.

john b is puppys best pairing bc they're both such lovers. like pup just oozes affection, its in her name. all of pups friends expect a hug, a kiss on the cheek, and a "i haven't seen you in sooooo long" when really its been a few hours. she greets john b with a million kisses all over his face and he eats that shit up every time. john b loves a lazy sunday with her where he can share the hammock with her head on his chest, listening to her read his palm.

"tell me again, whats that one mean?"

"that's your lifeline." she traces her finger over the line on his hand. "it's deep and long which means you're gonna live a long life." she unknowingly soothes john bs anxiety over an untimely death. (lets be real, that boy doesn't see himself making it to 30).

they also make a good match bc they balance each others energies. john b grew up around masculine energy so being around you was his only time to be soft and you didn't know your dad so you benefited from the stability of john bs friendship your whole life.

our resident woo woo girl is always going on and on about the power of the tongue. pope could be giving some real ass advice about the stupid shit they're gonna do and she disregards most of it because it's pessimistic.

"all i'm saying is that your positive affirmations aren't gonna keep the cops from recognizing our faces on cameras and arresting our asses. i mean we let jj plan this, he's gonna get himself shot." pope is looking at this mission from every angle, trying to cover everyones asses.

pup rolls her eyes. "and all I'M saying is that you're being really negative right now. if you keep speaking 'we're not gonna make it and jj is gonna get shot' into the universe, then we're not gonna make it and jj will get shot-"

"you speaking that shit into the universe pope? i thought we were friends what the fuck?" jjs offended voice came from the side of pope.

"we need to look at our solutions and not our problems." pup scurries into the chateau and comes back with a box of beanies she knitted for john b. "see, solutions. no one will see our faces."

"to find a solution you have to look at the- nevermind." pope shakes his head when he sees john b petting pups hair and kissing her forehead telling her how smart she is.

OH! and pup loves to knit and crochet. she makes a lot of her own clothes and stuff, even had a bikini unravel on her in the ocean which prompted a rescue mission and a stern (maybe a smidge condescending) talking to from john b.

"what did i tell you, huh?" john b is staring down at her wrapped up in his shirt, sitting in the sand not looking at him. he has his arms crossed and is staring down at her in that disappointed john b way.

"the top was gonna fall apart." pup pouted.

"and what happened?"

"it fell apart."

"you gonna listen to me the next time i say somethin's not ready?"

"mhm..." she looks up at him, unintentionally giving him puppy eyes because its just a natural response.

john b decides she had enough embarrassment for the day and takes a seat next to her, patting his thigh. "com'ere. not mad at ya. come to daddy." and pup crawls into his lap to watch the sunset.

#john b #john b routledge #john b x puppy!reader #puppy!reader #john b x reader #john b x latina!reader

[suuuupernovaaa]

txe'lan

txe’lan [t’ɛʔ.ˈlan] n. heart

Anonymous Request: Can I request a Neteyam fic where his female mate was with his siblings without him exploring the forest like in the first part of the movie and they get captured by the RDA and are rescued by Jake, Neytiri and Neteyam. They all escape but his mate doesn’t realise that one of the recom soldiers is behind her and he shoots them with his arrow saving her and she runs straight into his arms him hugging her tightly consoling her. Jake goes up to them both asking if they’re okay and pulls them both into his arms and comforting them. They all return home and Neteyam and his mate go to a quiet corner in his family’s place and both lie down facing each other arms around each other in silence and just touching each other gently as they both need to feel that they are both safe and need reassurance. His mate eventually cries softly and gets closer to him for comfort thanking him for saving her and he reassures that he always will save her calling her his favourite Na’vi pet name for her whilst wiping her tears with tears in his eyes too and she kisses him to distract him?

I love this request - please excuse any errors, I've only seen the movie one time so I'm going off that memory! In this fic, Neteyam is 20+, while Kiri, Tuk and Lo'ak remain the ages they were in the movie.

953 words

A rancid RDA avatar holds the base of my braid tightly, sending shockwaves of pain into my skull, keeping my body tense and on edge.

I followed Neteyam's siblings to keep them out of trouble as they wandered through the woods, looking at the wreckage from the great battle, and wound up knee-deep in shit myself. Neteyam is going to kill Lo'ak, and Neytiri is going to kill me.

I look over to Lo'ak, who's being held by someone who is obviously the leader of this troop of backwards soldiers.

"You're his, aren't you?" the solider says, narrowing his eyes and smiling in a sinister way that sends chills up my spine. What I would not give to drive a knife deep into the flesh of his synthetic throat.

Lo'ak tries to hiss, but the pressure on his braid makes it come out hoarse, and I struggle against my captor once more.

"Settle down, girl," he says, his mouth too close to my face. He smells like pa'li shit.

I hear the sound then, and look to Kiri and Tuk. Their eyes are wide. They heard it too.

Short. High pitched. Any of these idiots would have thought it was an animal - but we know. It's their mother, Neytiri, letting them know she's close by.

Relief floods through my veins and it's only moments later that arrows fly. Kiri is freed, and shortly after Tuk. In the commotion, I'm able to throw my captor off me. There is a knife tucked into his belt, and I grab it, plunging it into his heart.

I don't have time to watch the light fade from his eyes, though I might like to. I have never killed before - but I would kill anyone who would hurt children, and that's exactly what Tuk, Kiri and Lo'ak are.

I turn, looking around as I crouch over the body, and I see Neteyam, running for me. At the sight of my mate, I stand up. "Neteyam!" I scream.

"Duck!" he screams, and I obey without question, crouching back down on all fours.

His arrow zips above my head, landing squarely in the chest of the RDA soldier that I did not even know was behind me. A gun falls from his hand, and I realize I was seconds from death.

I stand up, and sprint towards my mate. He puts his bow around his chest and opens his arms, beckoning me to him. I collapse once I reach him, and he has to wrap his arms tightly around me to hold me up.

Now that I know I'm safe, my body feels weak, and I'm flooded with a mixture of relief and terror. "I'm so sorry!" I say through tears. "I was trying to keep them safe, to convince them to turn around... but they wouldn't, so I followed them. I failed you."

"Shh, shh," Neteyam whispers in my ear. "You're all okay."

"Neteyam, Y/N!" Neteyam's father, Jake, appears next to us. Just behind him, I see Neytiri with the three kids. "Are you okay?" Jake grabs my arm, looking me over. He glances over my shoulder and sees two bodies.

"Did you...?" he asks Neteyam.

"Y/N one, me the other," he says, and Jake's face falls. I know he wants to keep Neteyam from violence, but now that he's a man, and a mated one at that, it's impossible to keep either of us from war.

Jake pulls us into his arms, and we both hug him.

"You did what you had to do. I'm proud of you," Jake says.

It helps to calm me down, but only just.

--

We all return home together with minimal admonishment from Neytiri - who tells me I should have gotten the kids to turn around, but she knows how Lo'ak is. Neteyam calls Lo'ak all manner of names, but I know he's glad his siblings are safe.

Neteyam pulls me aside, away from everyone, to our tent just next to his family's.

"Are you okay?" he asks again, pulling me down so that we're sitting on the floor together.

"Neteyam, that was... I thought they were going to hurt Tuk, or Kiri, or Lo'ak. When I killed that man, I felt nothing, Neteyam. It was right, to kill him."

Neteyam nods as he listens.

"Those men are demons! But I am not a warrior, Neteyam. I did what I had to but... I do not like killing."

Neteyam pulls me close to him, and lays us down on the floor together, so that we are facing each other, our noses nearly touching, our legs intertwined.

"Take deep breaths, Y/N," Neteyam says, and I realize my breathing is coming in and out rapidly, and I'm having a hard time calming down.

When I close my eyes, I see that gun, and the man lying dead on the ground. If Neteyam had not been there - I would be the dead body on the ground.

He places his hand on the side of my face, gently rubbing his thumb over my cheek.

"You're safe, my txe’lan."

Slowly, with Neteyam's quiet encouragement and gentle touches, my heart rate and breathing slow down.

"Thank you for saving me. I would have... I'm glad we are all safe. I will never let your family be in danger again, if I can help it."

Neteyam places soft kisses all over my face, slowly, taking his time with each. His hand is over my heart now, and I hold it there.

"My txe'lan, you are my family. They think of you as their own, too. We all protect each other. Sullys stick together."

I lean forward, pressing my forehead to his, finally feeling safe. "Sullys stick together."

#neteyam #neteyam fic #neteyam x reader #neytiri #Jake sully #avatar 2 #avatar twow

[tightjeansjavi]

𝕓𝕝𝕦𝕖 𝕛𝕖𝕒𝕟𝕤 𝕟’𝕋𝕖𝕩𝕒𝕤 𝕕𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕞𝕤

𝕡𝕒𝕣𝕥 𝟙𝟚 “cowboy like me”

♡ 𓃗 ♡

Pre! Outbreak Joel × horseback riding instructor f!reader

A/N: I wrote this entire chapter in one day and I’m pretty proud of how it turned out. Definitely a more angsty/feels chapter but I absolutely adore how close Joel and Tommy are as brothers in this. Enjoy! ♡

~word count: 5.5k~

Summary: horse dad! Joel throws in a little punch at your shit excuse for an ex boyfriend. Things get a little angsty, and emotions and feelings are openly shared.

Warnings: angst, mild violence (Joel punches your ex and breaks his nose) brief mentioning of blood/injuries. Gaslighting, egging on, toxic behavior from readers ex, Readers ex is an animal abuser (this is directly stated so proceed with caution) anxiety, fear, guilt, yelling, anger, reminiscing on the past, foul language, drinking, admittance of feelings, tooth aching fluff scattered throughout (especially between Joel and Tommy) making up, forgiveness. (+18) minors dni!

blue jeans playlist:

Austin, Texas

“What in the actual fuck do you think you’re doing here Logan? This is private property. You are unwelcome here.” You spoke firmly despite the slight quiver in your tone. You were simmering in anger, trembling in rage.

“Oh, my darling. Is that really any way to speak to me? Y’know…that’s the funny thing about restraining orders, you have to renew them or they expire. Besides, did you really think I wouldn't show up here again?” He pushed himself off the side of Frankie’s stall, a swagger in his step as he approached you and Joel. “After you dragged my fucking name through the dirt? Created all these false claims that I’m an animal abuser?” He chuckled, shaking his head. “Did you really think I’d let you fucking get away with it? You think I’m that much of a fool?”

Your Texas tall glass of water was instinctively stepping in front of you. Acting as a physical shield to protect you from your ex’s harsh words. “Imma need ya to take 5 steps back from where you came from. 5 steps. Now. I don’t know who you are, but what I do know is that you’re a piece of shit. You don’t get to come here and spew some shit like you own the fuckin’ place? Man, who the fuck taught you manners cause you sure as hell ain’t have any. Secondly, you ain’t gonna talk to my girl like that. You ain’t gonna go and make her feel like she’s inferior. You ain’t gonna try and scare her into submission like that. Now, if you know what’s best for ya, you’re gonna walk on outta here with your tail between your legs. You’re gonna go home, lick your wounds and leave her, and her horses the fuck alone. Do I make myself clear buddy? Cause..I ain’t gonna say it again.”

Joel’s voice didn’t waiver like yours did. He was stern, and straight to the point. His own blood was beginning to boil like a hot kettle on the stove. His eyes were narrowed, holding a harsh edge of disgust. Who the fuck was this prick? How dare he talk to you that way. What a sorry excuse for a man. Fucking pathetic teenage, alpha male mentality.

Logan laughed. Of course he fucking did. He was so far out of touch with reality that he had himself convinced that he was the hottest thing since sliced bread. “Ah, you the boyfriend or something? She got you wrapped right around her pretty little finger, huh sweetheart? She’s got her claws deep into you man. Can’t blame you for falling so hard, she’s got the sweetest—”

“You ain’t talkin’ to her. You’re talkin’ to me. Yeah, I’m her boyfriend, and you’re runnin’ my patience real fuckin’ thin. You like runnin’ your mouth? Huh? Such a tough man you are. Comin’ in here n’puffin’ your chest like a fuckin’ imbecile. Now, like I already said, you go on home now and lick your fuckin’ wounds. Get fuckin’ lost.”

“Oh ho ho! The big scary boyfriend coming to your rescue? You're gonna let him talk to me like this sweetheart?” He ignored Joel completely as he looked over the other man’s shoulder, directly at you.

“That’s enough!” You finally spoke, fed up with your ex trying to get a rise out of Joel. You had been with Logan long enough to understand that game he always would play. He was an instigator. A cockroach that would never die; no matter how many times you stepped on it. “Go home Logan. I don’t know what you thought was going to happen when you showed up here, but you need to leave.” You stepped around Joel, taking matters into your own hands as your finger prodded against Logan’s chest firmly.

“Go home? Yeah, not gonna happen baby. It’s going to take a lot more than your grumpy guard dog of a boyfriend to get me to leave. Besides, do you think I just came here to humiliate you? No. I came back for my fucking horse. Whiskey belongs to me. Now you’ve gone and turned him into a sack of meat. A children’s lesson horse nonetheless? Fuck you—”

You shoved at him hard, placing your hands on his shoulders as you pushed him back. “Whiskey does not belong to you. He belongs to me and he is well fucking loved. You’ve got some real fucking nerve showing up here thinking that I’m just going to let you take him! You should be rotting in fucking jail for what you have done to my horses. Let alone how you have treated me when we were dating. If you don’t leave my property now, I will call the cops.”

Joel’s blood had hit the boiling point. The kettle had screamed, steam billowing as his fists clenched tightly at his sides. If this son of a bitch ever laid a fucking hand on you, his girl…breathe, Joel. Breathe.

“Oh, go on right ahead and call the cops, baby girl. I’m sure your daddy would love to see me!” Logan sneered with a wicked grin on his face as you pushed him back. As soon as his hands grabbed your forearms, there was no stopping Joel from intervening.

It happened in a flash, Joel grabbed Logan’s hands and yanked them from the firm grip they had around your forearms. He pushed him back so hard, he fell straight back on the aisle floor. “You don’t fuckin’ lay a finger on her! You fuckin’ hear me?! YOU DON’T LAY A FUCKIN’ FINGER ON MY GIRL.” Joel had grasped him by the collar of his shirt, yanking him up harshly from the floor. He shoved him once more, jaw clenched and veins bulging along his neck.

“Lay a finger on her? Well, I hate to break it to you, but I wanna do so much more than that—” Logan egged him on.

A sickening sound on bone and cartilage crunching under Joel’s heavy fist echoed through the open stables. Your Texas tall glass of water wasted no time on clocking this mother fucker right in the face, knocking him out cold. Joel was not a violent man at heart, but he would be damned if he’d watch from the sidelines and not deal with this shit bag head on.

He was seeing red-hot rage blazing behind his eyes as his fist connected with his face. A clean shot, a broken nose. Far less damage than Joel felt that he deserved. His fist ached, and the torn skin around his knuckles stung, but the adrenaline was freshly coursing through his veins as he turned over his shoulder and looked back at you.

“Joel..” your hand was covering your mouth in shock, and a twinge of fear. You were not one for condoning violence and Joel could see it written all over your face.

“Baby, I’m sorry..I—he wasn’t gonna stop. He wasn’t gonna leave.” Joel tried to reason with you.

“I know, but we—we need to call the cops. Just..stay there, okay? I’ll go get some ice for your hand, and I have a medical kit in my office—” you were already pulling out your phone from your pocket when you felt his warmth embrace you. Calloused palms resting along your cheekbones.

“Okay, we can call the cops. I know we have to, but are you—are you okay?” He spoke softly to you, eyes nervously searching yours as his thumbs gently stroked away the tears that had begun to freely fall.

“Joel..I’m fine. Okay? I’m fine. Please just..call the cops and I’ll go get the ice, okay?” You pleaded with him, heart clenching in on itself when his face fell.

“Okay. I’ll call the cops.” He agreed as he slowly dropped his hands from the gentle hold they once had on your face. He watched momentarily as you quickly made your way to your office space, swinging the door shut behind you. He scrubbed a hand down his face as he dialed 9-1-1 on his own phone, bringing the device up to his ear with a heavy sigh.

Tears blurred your vision as you grabbed a pack of ice from the fridge and the medical kit from the cabinet next to it. You quickly wiped your tears and fanned your face. You weren’t mad at Joel, not really. You understood why he did what he had to do, but at the same time you were upset, and a little overwhelmed. Okay, a lot overwhelmed. You took a few minutes to calm down before you left your office.

Joel was sitting along a tack trunk in front of Whiskey’s stall, with his head in his hands when you reappeared. “I called the cops. They’re on their way now.” He wiped away his own freshly brewing tears.

You momentarily glanced at Logan’s knocked out form laying on the dusty ground as he let out a pained groan and rolled over onto his side. “You son of a bitch..” he grumbled, spitting out blood onto the floor. “You’re gonna pay for that motherfucker.”

Joel ignored him as he was too focused on the way you were gently dabbing antiseptic ointment across the split skin on his knuckles. He truly couldn’t get a good read on how you were feeling in that present moment, but he appreciated your touch of kindness regardless. His forehead was gently touching yours as he pressed the softest kiss to skin between your brows, closing his eyes momentarily.

Once you finished applying the ointment, you placed the small bag of ice over the skin to help bring the swelling and bruising down. You gave his good hand a gentle squeeze before you stood up from the tack trunk.

You tossed the other bag of ice in Logan’s direction before all your attention was turned on making sure that your horses were okay.

Once the cops arrived, they took your statement and Joel’s. Logan was crying about his broken nose in the back of the ambulance as another cop took his statement.

Joel had no idea as of yet that the chief of police was your father. Although the resemblance was striking, he didn’t want to go and make any assumptions right off the bat.

You spoke to your father off to the side as another officer was detaining Joel and placing handcuffs around his wrists, with his chest pressed up against the side of the cop car.

“Look, I know that you have to do your job here dad, but is it really necessary to arrest him? Joel did nothing wrong. Logan showed up here uninvited and he wasn’t going to leave. I tried to get him to leave and he put his hands on me and that’s when Joel snapped.”

Your father let out a sigh with his arms crossed over his chest. “Sweetie, you know I’m just doing my job here. He hit another man, and that’s classified as assault. A family member will have to pay a small charge to bail him out, but I’ll pull some strings to make sure it won’t end up on his permanent record. As for Logan? I’m not going to be as nice. Now, I want you to lock up here and go home. Call Ryder up to spend the night or something, okay?”

Your dad was a tough man, but a real softy at the same time. You both watched as the other officer pushed Joel into the backseat of the vehicle. You let out a sigh as you looked over at your father and nodded.

Joel was in utter defeat as he sat in the back of the cop car with his head resting back against the seat. Normally it was Tommy getting his ass arrested, but Joel? Never. It was a new low for him and he was simmering in it.

“Not the usual Miller brother that I’m used to picking up.” Your father spoke as he leaned back against the side of the car. He had picked up Tommy Miller a few too many times but this was his first time meeting Joel.

“Yeah, I think my brother Tommy has mentioned you a few times before sir. I’m always the one bailin’ his ass out..” Joel responded with a defeated sigh.

Your father nodded. “Yeah, your brother Tommy and I are on a first name basis. Always going on about how his big brother always bails him out.”

“Well, Tommy is always finding his own way of getting into trouble. I apologize for you havin’ to be on a first name basis with him. He has gotten a lot better as of late.”

“Are you dating my daughter? I might be old, but I can put two and two together.”

Joel felt all the color slowly drain from his face. His palms began to sweat when his assumptions that the chief of police was in fact your father was true. He swallowed hard, clearing his throat. “I am dating your daughter sir.”

“Are you treating her right?”

“I am sir. Your daughter means a lot to me. She’s a wonderful woman, and I’m awfully lucky to know her.”

“Good. I can tell you treat her right just based on the fact of how quick she was to defend you. Meeting under these circumstances is not ideal, but you’ll have to come over for dinner one night.”

She defended me?

“Sir, I would be delighted to have dinner with you and your family.” Joel was in disbelief to say the least. He was not expecting your father to be so open to him like that.

“I also want to say I appreciate you sticking up for my daughter. She’s pretty good at holding her own, and she gets that from her mother, but thank you for keeping her safe.”

“You’re welcome sir.”

“Once we get you booked in the station, you can call your brother to come pick you up. It’s a small fine to be paid, but I’m sure he can manage it.”

Joel could only nod as your father closed the back door before climbing into the driver's seat. The drive to the station was a quiet one and once Joel was booked in, he immediately called Tommy.

“Tommy? Hey, it’s Joel. Uhh..listen, are you busy right now? I uh—I’m in jail.”

The last thing Tommy was expecting was for his big brother to call him and say that he got himself arrested. It was unlike Joel and completely against his nature. “Joel? What the fuck are you talkin’ about? The hell did ya do to get arrested?”

Joel pinched the bridge of his nose as he inhaled deeply, resting his forehead against the cold brick wall. “I punched Clover’s ex in the face..well, in the nose. Broke it and everythin.’ He showed up to the barn uninvited, and he put his hands on her and I lost it.”

“Clover? Ohhh is that your girl’s nickname? That’s cute. I just can’t believe that my big brother, Joel fuckin’ Miller got his ass thrown in jail. Man, I’m never gonna live this one down.”

“Yeah, that’s her nickname ‘cus she’s my lucky charm. Anyway, can you cut the crap and just come fuckin’ bail me out? I don’t wanna sit here all night. Also, do not fuckin’ bring this up to Sarah. She ain’t need to know that her dad got arrested, alright?”

“Aw, she’s your lucky charm? Man, that’s so stinkin’ cute! Yeah, hang tight big brother. Tommy is coming to the rescue! I won’t bring this up to Sarah. You have my word.” Joel could hear Tommy smirking through the receiver.

“Thank you so much. However will I repay you?” Joel grumbled sarcastically.

“With a big ole’ hug and kiss!” Tommy laughed as he grabbed his keys quickly.

“I ain’t gonna kiss ya Tommy.”

“You ain’t got much of a choice, big brother. Alright, I’m gettin’ in my truck now. See ya soon!”

Joel hung up with a sigh. At least your father was kind enough to place him in a semi comfortable holding cell. It was still pretty cold, but it was just him in the room thank god.

Tommy arrived at the police station about 20 minutes later. He gave the chief of police a little salute and a wink before paying the small fine of $500 and signed his brother out. He had a big smirk on his stupid face when Joel was released from his short stay in jail. A grimace was plastered on his face as Tommy pulled him in for a hug, to which Joel begrudgingly returned.

Once the two Miller brothers were safely in Tommy’s truck, Joel barely had a second to breathe before his younger brother was opening his big mouth. “Joel, what in the hell were you thinkin’ hittin’ her ex like that?!? Man, you’re so lucky that you didn’t have to sit in a cell all night! What do we say to Tommy? Thank you so much for bailin’ me out of jail! You’re the bestest brother I could ever ask for!”

Joel let out a frustrated groan at his brother's antics as he reached over the dashboard and trapped him in a headlock. “You and that big fuckin’ mouth of yours is always gettin’ you in trouble! I did what I had to do. The guy was a total fuckin’ prick, and like I told ya earlier, he put his fuckin’ hands on her.”

Tommy playfully pushed his brother away. Well, he attempted to but Joel’s grip was pretty damn strong. “Okay, okay! I yield! I yield! Lemme go! C’mon big brother, I was only messin’ with ya!” Tommy pleaded with him.

Joel gave him a knucklehead sandwich as he messed up the younger Miller’s hair before he finally released him.

“Seriously though, are you alright Joel? No silly talk I promise.”

Joel let out a deep sigh as he sunk back into the passenger seat and scrubbed his hand down his face. “Yeah, I’m alright. I just..I probably shouldn’t have punched him in the face. He had it comin.’”

“I mean, yeah. You probably shouldn’t have punched him in the face. I ain’t one to judge ‘cus I woulda done the same thing.”

Joel looked over at him shaking his head a little. “I guess the only thing I’m worried about is if Clover is upset with me..I think she is and I can’t really blame her but at the same time, I don’t want her to be upset with me.”

“Yeah man. I get you. Listen, before we get into this deep brother to brother talk, how about we go and pick up some burgers and beers, and park somewhere n’just relax for a minute. Does that sound like a good plan to you?”

“Like what we used to do in highschool after football practices, and when your prom date ditched you senior year for what’s his name? Brett somethin?’” Joel was snapping his fingers as he tried to remember the running back that stole Tommy’s date.

“Brett-go-fuck-yourself-date-stealin’-rotten-son-of-a-bitch.” Yeah, I remember him. That was the first night you and I really talked too. Like, on a deeper level. Shit, didn’t we go and egg his house afterwards too?” Tommy looked over at his brother with a big grin. It was nice to reminisce on the past.

“Yes! It was like what, three in the mornin’ or somethin?’ God, if Ma would have known what we were doin’, she woulda killed us.” Joel chuckled.

“Best part of the whole thing was Brett’s sister felt sooo bad for what had happened that she personally apologized by givin’ me a blowie in my truck the followin’ weekend. ‘Oh, Tommy! I’m so sorry that my mean brother stole your date like that let me just suck’—”

“Okay, now you’ve just gone and ruined the moment. Jesus Christ, Tommy. Is there ever a moment where you’re not thinkin’ of sex?” Joel asked with an exasperated sigh.

“Pssh. Of course there are moments where I’m not thinkin’ about sex! I’m not a total imbecile y’know.” Tommy shot him a playful wink as he started the ignition.

“Yeah? Well, I ain’t too sure about that bein’ true Tommy.”

“Oh my gosh, are you..are you callin’ me a whore?” Tommy looked over at him in disbelief, with his hand across his chest.

Joel gave him a ‘are you serious?’ look before he rolled his eyes. “Uh huh. That’s exactly what I’m callin’ ya. You’re a whore and you’re proud of it too.”

The Miller brothers went to their favorite drive through joint in town. They each got a burger, fries, and 2 beers to go. They pulled up to their old highschool and parked near the football field.

Tommy put the radio on low while he inhaled his burger and fries. The summer air was warm, and there were fireflies flashing all over the pitch black football field. ‘Take On Me’ was crackling through the old radio system.

“Hey, Tommy? Uh..how soon is too soon to tell someone that you love them?” Joel asked with uncertainty laced in his tone.

Tommy slowly turned his head to look at his brother. He blinked a few times as he processed the 4 letter word that Joel hadn’t uttered in years. “Uh..are ya feelin’ alright big brother? You ain’t got a fever or somethin’ do ya?”

“For fuck sakes Tommy. Don’t look at me like that. I just—is it too soon?”

Tommy reached for his beer in the nearest cup holder and took a big swig as he sank back into the old worn leather on the driver's seat. “Alright, so it’s undeniable that you two love each other. Anyone with two goddamn eyes can see that. However, I think you just need to take a step back for a moment, and calm down a little. I don’t wantcha jumpin’ the gun and confessing your undying love to her.”

“You..think she loves me too? I ain’t gonna go and confess my undyin’ love for her. Don’t be so dramatic.”

“Joel, of course she loves you. I just don’t want to see ya hurt. Not that Clover would ever hurt ya or anythin’ but as your brother, I gotta look out for ya. I love you too much to see you hurt again. I just wanna see you happy Joel.” Tommy was genuine with his words of course. He loved Joel dearly and he truly did just want his brother to be happy.

“I love you too, Tommy. Even when you annoy me half the fuckin’ time. I’m not gonna do anythin’ irrational I swear. It’s just that..well, the last time I cared about someone this much was—”

“Sarah’s mom. I know Joel. I was there, remember?”

“I wish I didn’t remember honestly. It was such an ugly situation for me. Comin’ home and seein’ all her shit gone. Our bedroom empty. She didn’t even leave a fuckin’ note.” Joel bit back his bitter tears from spilling as he remembered the night he came home to an empty bed.

“I never saw you cry so much in my fuckin’ life…I wanted to cry for you.” Tommy softly admitted as he reached over and gently squeezed his brother's shoulder.

“Thank god Sarah was just a little thing at the time..she didn’t understand what was goin’ on. Remember the look on the neighbor's face when I was drunk n’sobbin’ in the front yard? Good times. Good fucking times.” Joel laughed pathetically.

“Hey, listen to me okay? Yeah, that was a real dark fuckin’ time for you. My heart broke for you, and Sarah that night. You got somethin’ good now, Joel. Somethin’ real good. You ain’t ever gonna cry like that again. Alright?”

Joel sniffed as he wiped at his nose and looked over at him. “She won’t hurt me like that. She’s too kind to do that. Too gentle, too wonderful. The loveliest person that I have ever had the privilege of knowin.’” He was teary eyed as he looked at his brother. These weren’t sad tears; these were tears of relief.

“Nah. She’s a dime in a dozen. ‘Special in every way. Now please shut up before you make me cry too. I’m too fuckin’ pretty to cry!” Tommy jokingly said.

“So what does that make me? An ugly crier? I see how it is.” Joel teased.

“The ugliest crier of all fuckin’ time.”

“Shut your whore ass mouth up, Tommy. That was mean.” Joel said with a grin.

It was nearing 3a.m when Tommy drove Joel back to the barn so he could pick up his truck. “Hey lover boy? You drive straight on home. Don’t stop at her apartment, cause I know you’ll be tempted to. Just give her some space to breathe, and you can see her in the mornin.’”

Joel twirled his own keys between his fingers as he went to open the passenger door. “Alright. I’ll drive right on home. I won’t go to her apartment. I’ll call her in the mornin’ or somethin.’”

Tommy thought it was a little suspicious that Joel wasn’t trying to fight him on this. Regardless of his suspicions, he decided to trust his brother. “Alright. Text me when you get home then, alright? I’ll be at Ryder’s.”

“At this hour? Well, you have yourself a good time with her Tommy. Tell her I say hello.” Joel gave him a little nod before he slipped out of the driver's seat.

“Well, uh yeah. She’s my girlfriend, and we love to have late night sleepovers.” Tommy said with a grin.

“Girlfriend? Congratulations, baby brother. She’s a lucky lucky gal.”

“Nah, I’m the luckiest man. She’s amazin.’” Tommy was just as lovestruck as Joel was.

Both Miller brothers waved goodbye as they drove off in separate directions. Of course..Joel didn’t keep his word on driving straight home. He had to go and make sure that you were okay. It was going to eat him up inside if he didn’t.

So that’s how your Texas tall glass of water ended up standing outside your apartment at 3 in the morning. His hands were shoved deep in the pockets of his jeans after he knocked on your door.

He was just about to head back down the steps after a few minutes when he heard the front door creak open and your soft voice drifting through the calm balmy summer air. “Joel?…what are you doing here? It's like..3 in the morning.” You were rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you leaned against the door jamb, wearing nothing but Joel’s t-shirt and a pair of panties.

“Baby?..hey, m’sorry. I know it’s late. I didn't mean to wake ya. I just..I wanted to make sure you were okay after everything that happened..” he sheepishly whispered as he stood with his hands still shoved in his pockets.

“You drove all this way..to make sure I was okay? Joel, baby. You’re exhausted. Do you..do you want to come in for some tea?” You looked up at him through sleepy lashes.

“Yeah, I’d love to come in for some tea..” Joel gave you a small hesitant smile as he stepped inside your quaint apartment, taking his boots off by the doormat as you closed the door softly.

“What kind of tea do you like?..” you padded past him into the kitchen as you grabbed the kettle and filled it up with water. “I have mint, sleepy-time, hibiscus, chamomile..and like anything your heart desires.”

Joel set his phone and other personables down on the coffee table after he texted Tommy and let him know he got home safely. “Sleepy-time is one of my favorites.”

“Mine too.” You grabbed two mugs and started the kettle on the stove. There was a fallen silence between the two of you as you waited for the kettle to boil. Once it was ready, you steeped the tea bags in the mugs before bringing them over. You gently handed Joel his mug before sinking down on the couch beside him.

You each took a few small sips before Joel broke through the ice. “Listen, I just wanted to say that I’m sorry for how I reacted earlier. I’m not a violent person..and punching your ex in the face like that was pretty fuckin’ stupid of me. I understand if you..need some space from me or somethin.’ I can’t blame you if you do.”

You rested the mug between your palms as you looked over at him. “Joel..I don’t want any space from you, okay? That’s not what..I don’t want you to think that all of a sudden I don’t want to see you anymore. I promise you that’s not what’s happening here. Am I upset that you..acted in violence? Yeah, I am. It’s something that I don’t condone. However, I’m not mad at you. I know why you did what you did, but you can’t let people get to you like that. Logan is an instigator. That’s how he always has been. He just wanted to get a rise out of you.”

Joel slowly looked over at you as he took another sip of tea. “Okay..I just, I wanted to make sure because if you did want space, I would 100% give it to you darlin.’” He reached over with his free hand and gave your exposed knee a gentle squeeze. “I know I shouldn’t have let him get to me. It’s just that when I saw him grab you like that..I just couldn’t hold back. I’m sorry. I don’t want to scare you or anythin.’”

You gently rested your head against his own with a soft sigh, wrapping your hand around his bicep, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Hey, I know you would give me space if I asked for it, cowboy. I’m not scared of you at all. The situation just..it got out of control super fast. I know you’re not a violent man Joel. It would take a lot for you to scare me away.”

Joel kept his hand gently resting along your knee, brushing his fingers across the underside of it before he was coaxing your legs to rest along his lap. “Okay, I’ll try and not dwell on it too much. I’m glad we could have this conversation. Tommy told me I should wait till tomorrow..but I get anxious over these things. I also truly just wanted to make sure you were okay, baby. I could have called, texted, but I needed to see you in person.” His hands were gently massaging your calves now as they were draped over his thighs.

You let your back rest along the pillows on the couch comfortably as he massaged your calves. You knew that Joel Miller presently had multiple love languages. Acts of service, physical touch, and words of affirmation. This combination felt like a warm cup of tea, doused in sticky sweet honey that melted on your tongue. “I was going to call you earlier. I just didn’t know if you needed space as well. So, I ended up calling Ryder over and she came and hung out with me for a few hours. I’m really glad you came over. I wanted to make sure that you were okay too.”

“I’m glad I went against my brother’s words. My gut was tellin’ me to come and see ya. The tea is just a wonderful added bonus.” He softly chuckled.

“Well, I’m glad you went with your gut. Although, Tommy is probably gonna disagree. I can butter him up for you.” You softly giggled.

“Butter him up? Nah, I’ll handle him. Besides, I don’t need my girl butterin’ up my little brother. He’s got enough ego boostin’ as it is. How about you save that butterin’ up for me? You got any to spare?” He wiggled his eyebrows at you playfully causing you to snort tea up your nose.

“Is that an innuendo for?..” you giggled as you wiped away the stray drops of tea from under your nose.

Joel was as red as a fire hydrant now as he looked over at you and shook his head vigorously. “Dear god. I gotta stop spendin’ so much time with my brother. He’s rottin’ my damn brain from the inside out.” He nervously chuckled.

“Oh baby, don’t be embarrassed. It’s okay. Besides, I was just messing with you.” You shot him a playful wink. “You wanna finish watching the episode of Friends that we left off from last time?”

“With you? Absolutely. Put it on and get nice and comfy.” He grabbed your mug from your hands gently and set it along the coffee table before he pulled you into his strong arms so you could fully rest your body along his chest.

You fell asleep after halfway through the episode with your cheek comfortably resting against his chest, right where his heartbeat lay, and his fingers gently playing with your hair.

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[gregrulzok]

Honestly thinking about Fugo drives me up the goddamn wall sometimes like-- Like--

The gang were his family. He was with Buccellati the longest out of anyone, and he loved and admired him, and he helped bring the rest of the gang together, and he was such close friends with Mista and Narancia and they goofed off and did stupid teenage shit and choreographed little dances

And he'd grown so used to A. His boss being generally very sensible and caring for them all and B. His boss coming to him for advice

And then one day someone shows up and just... Takes over leadership basically entirely. Just. Has so much influence over the man who practically raised Fugo. And immediately starts directing him towards what is basically guaranteed death for at least some of them

When Fugo stays behind, digs his heels in and says "No, this is a bad idea, someone's going to get killed" don't you think he thinks, deep down, that Buccellati will listen to him? Will snap out of whatever rose-tinted glasses he's put on and take the advice of the person he's been relying on this whole time?

Because Fugo is smart, Fugo is rational, Fugo advises Buccellati and helps keep everyone safe, just as Buccellati helps Fugo not do anything impulsive out of anger. They know each-other and balance each-other and they TRUST each-other. And Fugo was looking for that trust. In that moment don't you think he expected that Buccellati would trust him?

And instead he gets left behind on the shore basically without a second thought. Just. "Okay. We won't force you. Bye." From his best friends. From the man that has been with him since he was a lost, scared little kid in need of a home. Even the boy he rescued from the goddamn streets leaves him behind, not for a noble cause, but for the sake of a girl they just met.

And Fugo was RIGHT, he was correct, they did die, his best friend died, his father figure died. Only One Of his actual friends survived.

There's no triumph in that though. No I-Told-You-So. It's just guilt because he could've saved them. If he hadn't assumed that they'd listen to him, and cared for his input. If he'd somehow known that he was that dispensable and could be left behind without a second thought. He could've gone with and literally just stood in the same room as Diavolo and killed him. Everyone else could stay outside.

Only one of them really had to die for everything to resolve, and that one was Fugo.

Why do you think he was so eager to go rushing to his death for the sake of what little remains of his family in Purple Haze Feedback.

#god im just #im so feral #hes just like me fr fr #i love him so goddamn much #jjba #jojos bizarre adventure #jjba patt 5 #jjba fugo #fugo jjba #pannacotta fugo #fugo pannacotta #golden wind #vento aureo #jjba golden wind #jjba gold experience #jjba vento auero #purple haze feedback #jojo #jojo part 5 #jojo part five