#she helped me come up with most of these clips and I could never ever repay her

[chrollohearttags]

french tips • sanji x black!fem reader

your new nail tech suddenly becomes your favorite after an appointment you’ll never forget!

nail tech!sanji, modern au, him being a gentleman ofc (he’s not a perv in this, hadn't watched the live action but from clips, taz seems a lot more charming so that’s who i'm going with! 😭) massage, handjob, foot and nipple play, service dom, fingering, squirting, calls reader miss + my dear, praise kink, says good girl a couple times, sanji has a tongue ring

word count: 2.5K

whoever sent this idea, thank you for your contribution. I don’t know if you are being serious or facetious but either way, you have awoken something in me. sanji fuckers, come get y’all’s juice!!

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you were a little hesitant…downright apprehensive even. You’d been coming to this shaking for years and each time, you sat in the same chair, got nearly the same services and entrusted your beauty needs to the same hands. “I’m sorry, (y/n). She’s on vacation right now and won’t be back for at least three weeks.” “I understand but I wish she would’ve told me before I booked the appointment..” you were flustered and rather frustrated to boot..you had an important event coming up and the last thing you needed was your routine disrupted. It was already enough chaos in your hectic life! But nail tech!sanji was willing to swoop in and make things easier.

“Miss, if you don’t mind..I’d be more than happy to help you today. My next appointment isn’t for a few hours so I’ve got plenty of time to get everything taken care of.”

nail tech!sanji, who’d been an esthetician and licensed massage therapist for years, had just begun working there but his work and reputation far preceded longevity at this particular shop. The man was an absolute master at his craft and his catalog spoke for itself. He had won competitions, curated some of the most beautiful designs you’ve ever seen and worked with absolute proficiency. “Is there a specific design you’re looking for?” nail tech!sanji had also mastered the art of de-escalating tense situations. When working around women and people who did not play when it came to their appearances, he knew one wrong move could result in his head or termination so he was flawless in his final product..left with no other choice, you’d accept nail tech!sanji’s generous offer. “Fine. But if you screw up one thing on these nails, I’m done with this shop for good.” but little did you know, you’d be so glad that you did take the services from him! nail tech!sanji, who’s work area was absolutely spotless, smelled of vanilla incense and looked so out together, it shocked you. “I find vanilla helps soothe the senses…makes you feel a lot more relaxed. Don’t worry, I’m going to take good care of you and if at any time, I do anything wrong, you let me know. Okay, miss?” nail tech!sanji, who looked better suited for a repair shop with his tattoos, blonde wefts and tongue ring, certainly took you by surprise. He was gentle, attentive and made certain that you were comfortable. “Can I offer you some water? Or perhaps something else to drink?” As the nail salon you frequented also doubled as a bar. “No alcohol for me today, please. I drove. I’ll just take the water..” nail tech!sanji, who noticed that you were still nervous, decided to take your hand and redirect that tension.

“So tell me about this event. I’d love to hear about it if you don’t mind.” nail tech!sanji, who was not only kind but handsome and rather charming to boot. He had a great sense of humor and was very quick witted..this man who was all but a stranger thirty minutes ago, had you laughing and fanning yourself as he dabbed balls of acrylic onto your nails and sculpted your tips to perfection. nail tech!sanji, who did thorough work whilst also listening to you attentively as you divulged about your career and how you were going to be attending a gala for the company’s sponsors. “Sounds like it’s a room full of snobs.” “You don’t know the half but hey, they keep my bills paid so I can’t complain too much, I guess.” nail tech!sanji, who was absolutely smitten by you, couldn’t stop staring from across the table as he gently kneaded lotion into your hands. His touch was so soft and inviting, making you wish he’d never pull away. It didn’t help matters that he was so damn attractive! nail tech!sanji, who made your nails look the best they ever had, was pleased to see the smile on your face after he finished!

“..only the best for a valued customer and such a beauty at that. I do aim to please.” “I’d say you exceeded that. Thank you, mr. sanji..they’re gorgeous.” “Thank you for allowing me to take care of you. I’m honored.”

nail tech!sanji, who wasn’t quite ready to part ways with the gorgeous woman he’d come to be acquainted with, decided that he would take on all of your services today. Including your pedicure and massage…nail tech!sanji, who saw that you opted for the deluxe package, whisked you away to the private room with the entire setup. Something you’d always paid for. A massage bed in the corner and the pedicure chair with a tub full of milky liquid and rose petals scattered about…soft, ambient music playing from the speakers and waves displayed on a mounted television screen crashed around. It was so peaceful and just what you needed for the long week ahead and the one you’d just gone through. nail tech!sanji, who rolled up his sleeves as he sat down to work on your feet, made you chew at your bottom lip..weirdly enticed by the sight of his veins protruding from his forearms. But that wasn’t the only reason…he’d soak your heels and work on each one as the other marinated in the softening solution. nail tech!sanji, who delicately massaged up and down those calves, couldn’t help but to chuckle when he felt you slightly tremble yet again when he began to gently knead his fingers into your pressure points, causing you to melt right there! “Looks like someone enjoyed that. You’re really tense for some reason, miss..something on your mind?” Trying to feign the embarrassment of admitting that not only were slightly turned on by how gently this man handled you but the fact that beneath that skin tight sundress, you weren’t wearing any panties, as you had just come from your wax appointment before arriving here and he was seconds from getting an eyeful! “N-no, I’m fine. Just feels really good.” “Well that’s all I want to hear.” nail tech!sanji, who was quick to sense the energy shift, went to retrieve your polish of choice after rubbing your legs down in lotion and wrapping them in warm towels.

“White toes..good choice. And a personal favorite on a lady too.” ���You’re a man of good taste then. I like that.” Causing the blonde to blush a bit himself..as he could tell you weren’t exactly some scared little girl. You were a grown woman..who was strong, handled her business and always got her way. Just his type! nail tech!sanji, who set up for your final service as he allowed your toes to cure under the gel lamp, began to dim the lights and lay out all his materials. Knowing that you were watching him carefully…snaking his tongue out intermittently to reveal that steel ball stuck between it. Not to mention the silver bands wrapped around his perfectly manicured fingers.

“..can I have you remove your clothes and wrap yourself in the towel, please? I can step out for a moment and you just let me know when you’re ready..” helping you from your seat as he removed that lamp and grasped your hand..this man was the epitome of a perfect gentleman and you were becoming more and more ecstatic that you had decided to come in today. But unbeknownst, the best was yet to come..nail tech!sanji, who’d stepped back in to find you lying across the table on your stomach, a single towel covering your frame and ready for him to work his magic. nail tech!sanji, who had to all but bite his fist to restrain himself as he inched closer and prepared to make you feel the best you had in ages…warming a palmful of oil as he rubbed them together. Waiting in anticipation, you’d glance back and be greeted with a smirk. When he began to knead your muscles with those strong hands, your body would immediately melt within his grasp. So carefully working out all the sores and kinks that had mounted throughout the stressful work week. Meetings, business negotiations, dinners with your bosses…it was all taking its toll. But if anyone could put you at ease, it was nail tech!sanji..

“How are we feeling, my dear?..”

“Amazing..you’re really good at this..”

and luckily for you, this wasn’t even the beginning. Because as he kept going, (y/n) began to release soft whimpers in response to those subtle touches. Chewing at your lower lip, you’d allow your mind to escape to a place that it should not have been. Abashedly, you didn’t want to admit it but it’d been quite some time since a man had touched you, less known, made you feel this damn good! It was apparent that he was no amateur..in many ways than once. “Mmmm…like that.” The words slipped out subconsciously but it didn’t even phase nail tech!sanji, he just chuckled and kept going. Everytime he moved, he questioned and asked for your permission to place his hands lower. By the time he reached your lower back, you’d let him know it was quite alright to do as he pleased. “Please…keep going. You know what to do..” you were never a promiscuous woman by any means but you were the kind to have your way..when you wanted it. And what you wanted right now…was for him to give in to his desires and take you right there!

“In that case…flip over f’r me and I’ll give you exactly what you need.” The sexual tension that had accrued between you two was undeniable and neither of you were interested in playing coy. So with the command being whispered into your ear, causing a shudder to run down your spine, you’d follow his command and turn over to lie on your back, exposing your breasts. He couldn’t help but to subtly grunt at the sheer sight of those erect, dark hues nipples and toned tummy. The only thing making it better was the glass colored liquid pooling across it and spreading as he rubbed it in. Your brown skin glistening underneath the hue of auburn lighting.. “..there we are..much better.” nail tech!sanji took his sweet time in caressing your body. Honing in on your stiff little buds and watching you squirm. Your dark eyes glaring through him with unadulterated lust. Especially when he’d wash his hands off and proceed to go lower beneath that cloth covering your upper thighs. “You sure know how to work your hands..” “I’m only getting started, my love. Just keep your eyes on me and don’t move…” his dominance was not only attractive but captivating. You needed him more than he could imagine! So much so, you’d reach over to grasp for his clothed erection that was growing from the confines of his pants. But nail tech!sanji was quick to halt you, gently clutching your wrist.

“Aht..not yet, gorgeous. It’s my turn.” Chuckling as he commanded you to lean up so you could watch his every movement. He’d part your legs as he kept an arm cradled behind your shoulders and the other between your thighs, working those nimble fingers on your sensitive spot. “Oh my gosh..” “…mmph, you’re soaking, pretty girl.” watching you writhe and whimper as those digits circulated your clit. nail tech!sanji, who latched his lips around your nipples and suckled as he moved about, working them inside of you..whispering into your ear, marking your throat with kisses and filling your head with sweet nothings as he clutched his hand around it. “Ooh..you needed this, didn’t you?…yeah, I know. Just need someone to take care of you every once in a while.” Pegging you to a tee..so independent and headstrong that sometimes, you forgot what it felt like to be spoiled. Clutching around his knuckles, you’d grasp for his arm and hold onto it as your lips met in passionate pecks. Exchanging saliva and whimpers in the process. Tasting one another as the kisses deepened. Sensing that mounting ball of pleasure forming in your core, he’d curl his index and middle digits to work that orgasm out of you. “Good girl..there you go. Keep fucking my fingers. Just like that..get yourself off..” nail tech!sanji, who was practically yearning to bury himself inside of your pussy, could no longer fight his own urges and gave you permission to stroke his cock, shuffling his waistband around to remove it. “Mmph, damn…” “..like what you see, miss?” Knowing that you were taken aback by his size and length. A glowing red tip with precum seeping out..you’d carefully take into your grasp as you stroked that shaft. You’d pleasure each other through lilted moans and stifled cries. Practically shoving your tongue down the other’s throats as you brought each other to ecstasy. “Should I speed up? I can if you need me to..” but you’d quickly decline, finding that the pace was perfect. He was equally as needy but his resolve outweighed his pleasure at the moment and he was determined to let you get yours before his own. Which wasn’t too far away..

“You wanna come, beautiful? It’s okay, you can tell me.” “Y-yes! Please, Sanji..” and with that, he commanded your release with a sharp tug upward and a quickened flick of his wrist..you’d finally cave and release. Letting out loud whimpers, along with a stream of juices, that soaked the table and your quivering thighs. nail tech!sanji, who enjoyed the sight of watching you writhe from his volition, was quick to get a sample of the mess he contributed to. Moving down your torso with the swipe of his tongue piercing, grazing your skin; lapping up those sweet juices from your center down to your thighs..leaving a trail of kisses in his wake until he reached your calves and feet. nail tech!sanji, who’d place those freshly done toes into his mouth, sucking them momentarily as he concluded your massage.

“So..did I do a good job, my love? Satisfied with your service today?” Receiving by far the best compliment he’s ever gotten when you snatched him down and made out with him once more. Showing your gratitude. “I’ll take that as a yes..” giggling with him as the two of you came down from your climatic bliss.

y/n, who was apprehensive before coming in here, was now leaving happier than ever. And nail tech!sanji, who had never picked favorites among his clients, was now looking forward to your next appointment!

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tagging: @lotus-flower-writes @spaceforher @highpri3stess @themagnificentgoat @ichigosluvrr @ladymomo

#cherry’s works ✦⭒ #one piece #one piece headcanons #black leg sanji #vinsmoke sanji #one piece sanji #sanji x black reader #sanji x reader #one piece x black!reader #one piece x reader #black fem reader #black reader #black reader smut #one piece au #one piece modern au #op x reader #op modern au #op headcanons #sanji drabble #sanji headcanons #sanji vinsmoke #op sanji #sanji fanfic #sanji #one piece fanfiction #one piece smut #one piece live action #one piece fic #one piece hcs #one piece drabble

[bandgie]

On Your Knees

ONE | TWO

incel!Seungmin x fem!reader

warnings! MDNI18+, drinking implications (no one is drunk) dubious??, pussy eating, face fucking (m!), hate sex (but no sex) seungmin is an ass (low key misogynistic), reader is kinda mean note! this is not meant to represent Seungmin or any of the members in any way. I just like the trope :)

2.7k words

The party was getting boring in all honesty. Truth-or-Dare is only fun for the first couple of minutes but gets repetitive. Same old questions on who you're fucking, if you're fucking someone, if you've ever fucked someone. The flat beer sloshes in your red solo cup as you sit on the floor of the living room.

You can tell Han is trying to come up with something interesting to ask Seungmin. Most of the somewhat funny questions were already asked, but Han still purses his lips as he thinks of something clever. 

"Okay, I got it!" He claps his hands. "Best pussy you've ever eaten. Go."

Ah, I guess that's something, you think as you divert your attention to the cross-legged man beside you. 

Seungmin is awfully quiet at house parties and looks as though he would rather be anywhere else. You don't like Seungmin, but you don't not like him. He's just a guy Han likes to bring around on occasion. You observe Seungmin raise an eyebrow, in surprise most likely. But what he says is even more shocking. 

"Never eaten pussy."

"What?!" Everyone collectively shouts at his admission. Now this peaks your interest as you stare wide-eyed at him. "No way," you can't fathom the thought of someone in college never tasting a cunt. "Are you a virgin?"

Your bold question makes Chan choke on his drink, coughing until the bitter liquid finally passes through. "Jeez dude, you just can't ask that."

"It's literally Truth-or-Dare. I literally can," you retort. 

The clamor of everyone settles as they wait for Seungmin to answer. Now that he can feel the pressure of everyone's eyes, he shifts in his seat uncomfortably. "I'm not a virgin," he says. "I just don't eat pussy."

"What the fuck?" You make a confused expression. "You don't eat pussy? Fuck does that mean?" Seungmin finally casts his gaze on you, acknowledging your presence for the first time tonight. "Exactly what I mean. I don't like it."

"You don't like it?" Han sounds exasperated. "You gotta be fucking with me. There's no way you fuck a girl and not want to eat her pussy." Despite Han being an idiot half the time, you agree with him. Every guy you've hooked up with jumps at the chance to eat you out and you know plenty of them would do it for nothing in exchange. 

To meet a guy who's never had the opportunity to only means two things, and you're praying it's not what you're thinking. 

"I just fuck to cum. I don't really care if she finishes or not."

It's worse than you could have imagined. 

The room goes dead quiet and you suddenly figure out why Han doesn't bring Seungmin around too often. His stiff posture, his blank expression, the way he hardly regards you in any manner. It all points to signs of the worst type of man. 

"So like what?" You can't help the clipped tone in your voice. "You some type of incel?"

Chan, who likes to keep the peace, says your name in warning. "Don't start." Though he means well, the fact that you're the one getting in trouble for speaking up only fuels your fire. "Don't start? He's the one who started with his dumb incel shit."

Seungmin scowls, "Ugh. I didn't even say anything bad. You're being so emotional."

The tips of your ears burn red and you feel your entire body heat up. You can hear Chan trying to diffuse the situation, but you hardly care about maintaining 'the peace' any longer. 

"Oh, fuck off," you sneer at Seungmin. "You can't even make a girl finish. Fucking incel virgin."

Now that does it for him. You see Seungmin tighten his hands into fists as his neck grows red. "I'm not a virgin. And I can make a girl cum. I just don't care to." He enunciates his words harshly, some speckles of spit landing on your face. Both of your jaws are tense, teeth clenching as you glare into each other's eyes.

A vein sticks from his neck and his lips are stretched back into somewhat of a snarl. With a flushed expression, you easily see his cheeks heat up in anger. It's here that you realize he looks good when he's mad. You hate it.

"Okaayyy!" Chan claps his hands three times loudly. "I think it's time to call it a night." Everyone tries to stand and talk about anything else, but Seungmin and you are too busy having your own little conversation to notice. 

"Never eaten pussy, can't make a girl come. Why you lying about being a virgin?" You mimic the vicious on Seungmin's face. He keeps his eyes steady on yours, "Whoring yourself out for a fuck. You're everything that's wrong with women today." 

This makes you laugh, "At least they make me cum."

If you thought Seungmin was mad before, he's furious now. You must have struck a nerve because he stands suddenly and spins on his heel to leave. 

But you're not done with the conversation. You raise on your feet and follow him, never ceasing to stop your vicious spewing, "Just be honest with me, Min. It's okay to have never felt a woman's touch. Not that you ever will, being an incel that is."

Seungmin hurries up the stairs of the house with you on his tail. You can't see his face, but you can feel the anger rolling off him. 

He suddenly stops in his tracks, making you effectively bump into his back. "I'm not an incel," he keeps his voice low, but strong. "Eating pussy isn't even all that. You just have an ego bigger than your tits."

You try and play it off with a scoff, but you feel your face heat up. You grope your chest offendedly; you like your boobs. "Not all that? Come here." Pushing on Seungmin's back, you lead him to the nearby bathroom and shove him inside. He stumbles and trips over his feet, shooting a hand out to balance himself on the counter as you close and lock the door behind you.

"Fuck was that for?" He whips his head around to glare at you, but he's surprised to be met with an eerie smile on your face instead. He gulps nervously, "What are you looking at?"

You shrug nonchalantly, "Looking at someone who's going to eat me out." Seungmin looks as though you've slapped him across the face as his eyes widen. "What? Who said I was gonna do that?" 

You're already hiking your skirt up to your torso, biting the cloth between your teeth, and showing the pretty little thong you put on in hopes of a hookup. It barely manages to over your clit and you can see the outline of your pussy underneath the material. With one hand, you use the tip of your finger to draw soft circles on it. Seungmin drops his eyes to your clothed core.

His Adam apple bobs.

"Come on," you wiggle your eyebrows playfully. "Get on your knees for me."

For a second, you think he's gonna walk out. He was so persistent about not wanting to eat pussy and his shitty attitude was...well...shitty. You begin to think that there's no hope for Seungmin, but he proves you wrong by bending one knee and looking up at you.

"I'm just going to look," he says more to himself than to you. "Just so you could stop your whining." 

His hands grip the plushness of your thighs as he stretches the skin. The lips of your pussy peek out at the movement, but Seungmin is far from disgusted. His ears pick up on the sound your cunt makes when he uses his thumb to pull and push the skin together. Slowly, he moves his hand up to pull your thong down, exposing the very thing he claims to revolt against. 

You shiver against his warm breath, his warm touch. You reach your hands down to pull up on the skin of your pelvis to further stretch your pussy. "Getting a good look, Seungmin?" You giggle at the annoyed expression on his face. His lips may be pulled pursed into a frown, but his eyes are wide with lust.

Seungmin is trying his best to hold back, but it's near impossible. Everything about you surrounds him: your smell, your soft skin, the way your voice echoes in the bathroom. He shocks himself with how much he enjoys watching your clit peek from your pussy lips and how the first signs of arousal make your entire cunt shine. 

"Shut up," he mumbles. 

You're thinking of a witty remark to snap at him, but you're instead pleasantly surprised with his lips ghosting over your core. Your body stills, letting Seungmin explore pussy on his tongue for the first time. He runs his lips over your own, feeling how soft and warm it is. Seungmin already knew how hot a cunt is, but tasting it on his lips is a whole other level of heat.

"Mmm," you hum at the sensation. "What happened to just getting a look?" 

Seungmin looks up at you, mouth still attached to your core. His nose bumps on your lower stomach with his hair tousled over his face. Before you can think, you brush the bangs from his face to get a good view of his form. The sight makes you groan, bucking your hips further into his face. Seungmin makes a hmmf! sound as you bury his face deeper into your pussy, but he makes no move to deny you.

It's not until you start rocking your hips that he finally sticks his tongue out. He starts at the peak of your pussy, letting the nub roll over his tongue experimentally. Seungmin notes how your legs shake when he does that. He feels your hips still so he could properly suck on that part of your cunt. 

The taste of you settles on Seungmin's tastebuds and he finds his tongue digging deeper into your lips. They dip down to your labia before going back up. He likes how soaked you make his wet tongue, how your hands twist his floppy hair to drive him deeper. He hates how much he likes it. 

Truthfully, you're in the same boat. His mouth may not be experienced, but you upsettingly like how he lets you ride his face. "See Sungie?" You say his name mockingly. "Not too bad, is it?"

Seungmin doesn't stay put in your cunt. This time, he pulls away from your throbbing core to talk back. "I never said it was goo- mmf!" As lovely as it would have been to hear his voice, you reason that his words may not have been as nice. You had gripped the back of his head and forced him back to your center, uncaring how he gently slapped the back of your thighs in disapproval.

"Just shut up and stick your tongue out." You're impatient needless to say. Seungmin can tell by how you keep one hand steady on his head while the other gives his cheek light taps. "Open up, come on." You probe the man between your legs until he finally relents, widening his jaw so your entire clit fits in his mouth.

You hum at his mouth taking your core in, "Good boy. See? You were made to eat pussy."

Then you hook one of your thighs over his shoulder and wrap that leg around his body until his face is pushed against you. His eyes widen, screaming at you as if saying this wasn't part of the deal! But the panic only makes you laugh. He can pretend all he wants, but you know the bulge in his pants all too well as you look down on him.

Grinding on his face is easy with you in complete control. You sloppily rub your cunt all over his tongue with his head following your movements. Seungmin groans and grunts in your cunt, but it's far from the disdain he was filled with earlier. His hips thrust into the air at the feel of your essence dripping down his chin.

His jolts make you chuckle breathlessly. "Fuck, just look at you. You wanna cum? You wanna cum, don't you?"

Screw his pride, screw any stupid podcast he's watched, he needs to cum. He wants to feel your pussy clench on his cock, not his tongue. Yet, he can't find it in himself to tear himself away from your clit. If you taste this good already, he can't imagine the savor of you creaming on his tongue. 

To not let a second go by without his mouth on you, he nods, looking up at you pleadingly. He's sorry for being a dick, for being an incel. If you let him finish in you, he'll never-

"Sucks to suck," you shatter his dream. "You're gonna make me cum. Don't move."

And he doesn't, but it's not because he means to obey you. You have Seungmin on his knees, mouth enclosing over your pussy while you tug on his hair and hump his face and you're not going to let him finish? At all?

Then there's no point of him being here. Seungmin should tear your grip off him and leave the bathroom, but he can't. Fuck, he can't. It's like you've put a curse on him, glued him to the floor with his jaw unhinged and tongue out as you grind on his face. 

It has to be witchcraft because why else would he still be here? Does he really like the taste of you that much? Maybe it's how you look; flushed, sweaty, close to a high Seungmin's never been able to bring a girl to. Seeing you so close to your orgasm makes him eager to stay, eager to please. And god, he loves how your clit twitches in his mouth.

"Shit," you curse. "Gonna cum. Imma cum all over your face. You want that? Want my cream all over your tongue?"

Seungmin would rather die than tell you the truth, so he responds by sucking harshly on your clit. The suction is enough to tip you over the edge, digging your nails into his scalp as you bend the upper half of your body over him. 

Your cunt pluses around nothing, but that hardly matters when you hear Seungmin gulping down your release. The very same man who claims to not like eating pussy, to not care if his partner finishes. That man eagerly licking you clean with his eyes rolling behind his head. 

You shiver and mewl as you cum, softly grinding your hips to come down from your high. "God- fuck! Put your tongue in my pussy."

He does, finally getting a feel of your walls for the first time. They squeeze and pulse around his tongue and he gives a few testing thrusts that you respond to positively. 

Fuck, you taste even better inside. 

Seungmin can't stop fucking his tongue deep inside you. Not even as you wrap your leg from him and straighten up. A part of you debates on whether or not to let him keep going. At this rate, he might make you finish a second time, but you don't want to give him the satisfaction of that. Plus, you've been gone long enough for the other men to question your whereabouts.

You place the palm of your hand on his forehead and push him away. The shove makes him detach from your cunt with a lewd pop! as he catches himself backward on his hands.

"Geez. You're gonna lick it off," you pick your underwear up and step through the leg holes, ignoring how uncomfortable it feels on your sensitive cunt. Seungmin seems in a daze as you drop your skirt from your lips and adjust the material. Even as you walk closer to the mirror and touch up your make-up, Seungmin stays in place on the ground. 

He liked it. Dear god, he loved it. Even with the tent in his pants, he hardly seems to notice how his cock throbs when he can still taste you on his lips. You only face-fucked him to prove a point, but you changed the trajectory of his life forever.

Yet, you wash your hands and use a hand towel to dry yourself like you didn't just make Seungmin question his entire purpose. You throw the rag to the man on his knees, managing to land it on his lap. "Your face is soaked. Clean it before they see how much of a munch you are, yeah?"

a/n: idk why I was at work was thought "yk what would be hot? making an incel seungmin worship you" and boom, this was birthed. I kinda wanna make a part two I have ideeassss also two fics in one week?? who am I? thank you for reading!

#smut #skz smut #stray kids smut #skz #stray kids #skz seungmin #seungmin x reader #stray kids seungmin #seungmin smut #seungmin #skz hard thoughts #skz hard hours #sub!skz #sub!stray kids #seungmin skz smut

[sameschmidtdiffname]

Slip

Mike Schmidt x Gender Neutral! Reader

Summery: At some point or another, the words slip out. It's just that, naturally, you're an idiot who can't pick the right moment.

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific pronouns for reader, night terrors, disassociation, attempted comfort, miscommunication, brief non sexual shower scene, unintentional harm, anxiety, sweet ending. (fr this time, I'm not pulling a 'Repentance.') Slight spoilers for 'Petals On The Wind' by V.C. Andrews.

Notes: I had a vision and I tried. Pls give me mercy.

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The night air is sweet, fresh with the smell of citrus from the soap I had used earlier that evening in my shower mixed with the damp smell of the dew forming on the grass and the leaves outside. The curtains shift slightly as the air spills into the dark room, the only light born by a small lamp clipped to the cover of my book as I read quietly.

Beside me lays Mike, facing the ceiling and looking as peaceful as he ever could. It was a relaxation that doesn't come to him in consciousness, too busy with thoughts I sometimes am not privy too. But I don't pry. I've heard most of the story from him and from Abby, and he is allowed to grieve the past alone. He knows I am always available to help him.

It had been a long day for him. He didn't need to tell me, it was obvious by the way he'd sat at the kitchen table, thinking he was alone and hands buried in his hair. I hadn't meant to spy on him, having just slipped out of my shower. He wasn't crying, but his face was pale and dreadful. The bags under his eyes a dark purple that they hadn't been earlier at dinner, and the haunted quality of his stare had increased in an alarming manner since I'd left him. Had he moved since dinner? Abby was in her room, her voice trailing quietly down the hall as she hummed to herself behind the closed door. The overhead yellow light directly above Michael made him look like a painting of doom, covered in shadows with sharp edges as dark as his thoughts.

When I guided him to bed he wouldn't talk to me. Not when I removed his shirt to change him into something clean. Not when I opened the bottle of pills he'd been able to relax on for the past couple weeks. And not when I held a glass of water to his lips, his mouth only moving to take a long drink before I guided him onto his back, where he stared at the ceiling quietly while I stroked his hair, watching him carefully until he drifted away into a drugged dream of obliviousness where hopefully he could find the peace he needed.

More often than not I read before bed. Usually Mike would lay his head on my chest, his eyes reading the same bits I would and commenting on something here or there, once in a while spoiling the next paragraph for me. But I never minded when he did, it was always an accident.

It did get to the point where Mike imposed a limit of two chapters a night, knowing I could become so enraptured in a story I wouldn't even pay attention to the world around me until I finished it, usually with the early light beginning to peak through the branches outside and create dancing rays of sun along our bed. It wasn't really a rule, more so a concerned request. There was no punishment if I didn't comply, if I deprived myself of sleep reading all that would exist as a reprimand is my own exhaustion. Mike would always silently pick up on this, more gentle with me and luring me away from my nightly ritual with his arms wrapped around my tired body, fingers combing through my hair and his even breathing coaxing me into the sleep I needed until his alarm would wake us, still wrapped around each other and warm in the morning glow of a new day with a new chapter. And recently I realized it was something about him I loved. Though I dare not say it out loud. Not yet.

I'm only a handful chapters into this book. It's one that I've read before, an ironic favorite from when I was younger and snuck books home that I'd borrowed from the woman next door after playing with her granddaughters. The subject of the novel was taboo, Gothic horror I would hide under my bed away from my mother's eyes until she would lay in her own bed, allowing me to click on a light and read until school the next morning. It's been years since I've revisited it, and this copy I had bought at a local thrift store for only a quarter with an excited smile, causing an amused look on Mike's face as he'd watched me.

"Shouldn't you read something you already own?" He'd teased while we walked out of the store hand in hand, Abby leading the way to our car.

I'd rolled my eyes, smiling as I checked for cars coming through the parking lot with no regard for little girls.

"Am I not allowed to spend a quarter on my passions?" I said.

"You absolutely are. I'm just wondering how you're going to read everything," he said with a small squeeze of his hand.

The answer is by drinking a cup of tea and working through the book in one sitting as he lays next to me, no work ahead of me for the next two days that would demand proper rest. No limitation able to stop me now. I'm a few hours into my plan when I notice his leg jolt beside mine, no movement otherwise.

I glance at him quickly, seeing if he's woken with a start. His eyes remain closed, lips parted slightly in sleep and otherwise seeming fine. So I resume my book, flipping to the next page to start chapter eleven.

Halfway through chapter thirteen, Mike gasps. Loud and quick, causing a cough to escape him. I slip a finger inbetween my pages, turning to face him and worry stabbing my chest as I wait for him to choke and thrash frantically. But he doesn't. He remains still, his pulse visible near his adams apple as his breath quickens slightly. I watch him, waiting for any signs of distress. But he remains still in sleep, and reluctantly I return to my book once more, having decided it was just a dream.

Finally, at the early hour of four o'clock his hand reaches out, nails digging into my thigh desperately in a way that's painful against my bare skin, raking down and surely creating a trail of blood in his wake as a short, startled yell of Abby's name pierces the air, his body going ridged. And then he's still, body shaking and eyes wide open in confusion, darting around the room as though he cannot place his environment in his still drugged state.

"Hey," I say softly, abandoning my book and turning to face him, unsure if I should touch him or what I need to say to tear him away from the horrors of his mind. "You're okay, you're awake now."

If he hears me he doesn't give any indication, his breathing so quick and unsteady I'm scared he'll knock himself out from hyperventilating.

"It's okay, it was a dream," I tell him. I place my hand apprehensively on his chest, feeling his heart slam against the cage of ribs below my touch. "You're awake now."

His head turns slightly towards me, but he's still panicking, his hand gripping my thigh hard enough hard with nails he hadn't meant to let grow out for the past couple weeks that I have to make a conscious effort to not whine in pain.

He's saying something, quiet and mixing with his irregular breathing as his other hand grabs my hand upon his chest, pressing it tightly against him. But I can't make it out, I can only hear fragments of 'sorry' and 'take.' And the words only blur more as he starts sobbing beside me, the noises he makes terrifying as he struggles for air.

"Let's sit up. Come on, let's sit up," I say. I'm close to panic myself, trying to find his shoulders to pull him up in fear of him choking in such a state. But his hand is too tight around mine, and trying to take it away seems to only cause further distress, his teeth gritting and nostrils flailing as he tries to breathe in as much air as possible. I manage to get one arm under his shoulders, wrapping it around his body and pulling us both up. The shift of his body seems to make something click, his hand suddenly releasing my thigh as he gasps once more, eyes seeming to show recognition of something.

"You're home. We're in our room, Abby is down the hall," I tell him.

"They'll come here, they knew where we live," he says in a rapid but finally coherent voice.

"Who?" I ask. He's scaring me, making me want to join him in my own hysteria. But I don't show it, the pain throbbing in my leg giving me a point of focus to keep my voice even. "No one's coming."

"My aunt- she- they-"

"She's not coming over, no one's coming to take Abby," I tell him, stroking him arm and trying to shift my body to face his. "Everyone's home and safe. I won't let anyone go."

This seems to hit him, his shoulders relaxing slightly. He looks at my face, staring and trying to focus on me.

"I won't let anyone go anywhere," I repeat gently. His shoulders relax, his body leaning towards mine.

"You don't have to worry," I tell him. "I'm here."

His head lands on my shoulder, hand still pressing mine tight against his chest as his arm finds my waist, body wracking with sobs.

"It's okay. Slow your breathing," I say softly, my hand finding his hair and holding him close against me. "Focus on me and slow your breathing."

He's trying, I can tell by the way he gasps against my chest in even tempo that he's trying to regain his breath. His skin is hot against mine, body wet with sweat. Maybe I should get this shirt off of him, take away the sticking cotton and allow his skin to feel the cool morning air against it to prevent overstimulation. Or maybe the sudden change would throw him into more distress. I don't know what to do, what to offer.

"Do you want me to distract you?" I ask. At this he lifts his head slightly, a small 'what?' Asking for me to repeat the question. "Do you want me to distract you?" I repeat, anxious I've said something wrong.

He seems to think for a moment, his heart still beating at a concerning rate.

"How long have you been reading?" He finally asks, eyeing the book I'd practically thrown to the edge of the bed in my panic.

"A few hours," I say. "Started reading when you went to sleep."

He nods, going silent once more for a few more minutes. I focus on his hair, how some curls wrap perfectly around my fingertips, how soft his hair is even though he doesn't take proper care of it.

"Is it any good?" He asks softly, his mouth against my neck as he tries to relax.

Okay, talk about the book. Book with dead parents. Ah, fuck.

"Not... particularly," I admit. "The first one was better."

"Yeah?" Mike asks. "How so?"

Well, Mike. This is a V.C. Andrews novel. So there's an unsettling amount of incest that serves a horrifying point that I don't think you wanna hear about right now because that's gonna take several hours for me to explain. I wish you'd asked sooner.

"...questionable decisions," I decide is how I'll phrase it.

"Sounds like me," he mutters against my skin.

"I promise you it isn't," I mutter back, trying to think of what to say next.

Mike doesn't say anything, still breathing hard against my skin but finally gaining a steady rhythm. His body shakes less, my fingers gently combing through his hair as I finally speak again.

"It's something you'd laugh at if you felt better," I feel stupid, useless as I try to bring him back to me. But it seems to work, his shaking decreasing as he focuses on my words. "The main character is... dramatic, and... passionate."

I feel his smile against my skin, his fingers stroking my waist. "Oh?" He asks.

"Mm-hmm," I say. He hums, waiting for me to continue. And I'm not sure if I should.

"What's the plot?" He asks. Not something you should hear in your state, Michael. Lots of people die.

"It's about..."

Fucking half the town out of spite.

"...family."

That's one way to put it.

"And... doing what's right."

By burning a house down.

"And taking care of those you love."

Well, at least that point is accurate.

He seems content with this, pulling me down onto the bed once more and keeping me close.

"Are you okay?" I ask him carefully.

"I will be," he says softly. "Thank you. For caring."

"Of course I care," I say with a small laugh of nervous relief. "I love you."

Oh.

Oh.

Oh motherfucker, no.

"What?" Mike asks in a small voice, his body going still, mine going stiff.

Goddammit.

We've been together for about a year. And this is a normal point to finally say the words to each other, a sweet moment of realization and commitment that I'd been wanting to have. And I'd been trying to find the right moment, wanting to say it while he serves pancakes in the morning that he douses in syrup because he hates them dry. To say it when he pulls me close at night, taking a deep breath as he smells my hair. When he falls asleep on the couch or with his head on my lap. And maybe he's wanted to say it too, the way his eyes linger on me when I spin around the room with his sister, or when I fix her hair before walking her out the door, or when I slip out said door to return to my own home only to find myself back here the next day anyways, unable to stay away.

But this is the wrong moment. A moment of fear and terror and I have been selfish enough to dare utter such words that he may not even reciprocate while he's in such a vulnerable state. Shit.

"What did you say?" Mike asks, pulling away to look into my face, suddenly awake and clear of any fog that had been torturing him.

I can't speak. I can't tell him. What if he doesn't feel the same way? Or worse, what if he says it back in a desperation for approval after such pressure has been placed upon him to respond. Or what if he convinces himself he feels the same way only because I do?

"I- Shouldn't-" My head is shaking, eyes wide in worry as I try to think of a response.

"Shouldn't?" He says in the most heartbreaking voice.

"No!" This is all wrong! It all sounds wrong.

"Oh," he says quietly, eyes casted downwards.

"No, wait a minute. This is wrong-" I stutter, my hands shaking slightly.

"I heard you the first time," He says flatly, eyes avoiding mine.

"I'm sorry," I blurt out. "I didn't mean to say anything."

"Then stop saying things," He says sharply, pulling away and turning to face the room.

"I'm not- I can't-" One of the ways Mike and I understand each other is by the way vulnerability makes us choke, gagging on sincere words for fear of rejection and becoming fools. And this time is one of them, even if I'm fighting against it. The silence is too long as I choke on my own tongue.

"It's fine," he says. He stands from the bed, not looking back at me. "I'm gonna take a shower."

I open my mouth to speak, my mind urging me to extend my hand in explanation. But he walks quickly, opening and shutting the door before I can even begin to put the words together in my mind. And I'm alone. With no one but my book to offer comfort.

I try to read. Try to focus on Cathy's piss poor plan that ends with her toes broken because of her terrible husband that she married to avoid her adoptive father. (Don't ask.) But all I can think about is what I should have said. And what Mike must be thinking. Of course he misunderstood me, his mind still racing from adrenaline and nightmares of losing his sister, addled by his sleep medication that would still be in effect. Vulnerable situations are already tricky with Mike, who'd lost his family young and had been forced to create his own stability with no comfort or care returned to him until the past few years when he finally began to create a new inner circle. It was understandable that he was gun shy around this sort of topic. And his already darkened mind earlier today? What a horrible day for a moment like this.

It feels like an eternity, but it must have only been about half an hour when Mike comes racing back into the room. Wet, towel crudely wrapped around his waist and holding up his hand as he rushed towards the bed.

"There's blood on here," he said. "Who's is it?"

I squint as I try to look, reaching out for his hand. He offers it quickly, and at the sight I remember. My thigh. Earlier when he'd gripped it so hard, nails digging in. I can see the blood underneath his nails, dark and most likely having just been noticed by him.

"Earlier when you were upset you grabbed my thigh," I say. Within seconds he's on the bed, ripping the sheet off of me and dripping water all over the place. It's not exactly a pretty sight, cuts from where his nails had dragged and sunk into me. His eyes go wide, cheeks turning pink with shame.

"Jesus," he says. "I didn't mean to."

"I know, you were scared," I say. "Don't worry about it."

"Let me clean this," he says, moving to stand from the bed.

"Mike, we need to talk," I say, grabbing his wrist. He doesn't stop, trying to pull his arm free.

"After I clean this."

"No, now," I say. My voice sounds so much sharper than it should in a situation like this, like a command rather than a request. But he finally stops his rush, his eyes meeting mine as he stands still, gripping the towel around his waist as he contemplates.

"I left the water running," he finally says.

"Clean me in there," I offer thoughtlessly. He raises an eyebrow at me but doesn't question it, tugging me up by my hand and not letting go as we walk to the bathroom in silence.

The water stings on my cuts as Mike kneels in front of me, his body between my slightly parted legs as his hands wash me carefully, lathering soap and working at my thigh with careful concentration. 'It's been ten minutes. Say something, dumbass,' I think to myself.

"I love you," Mike blurts out suddenly. His hands don't rubbing soap onto my thigh, and his eyes don't meet mine. "And you don't have to feel the same way, but you should know that I do."

There's another long moment of silence, dread filling my chest.

"Why are you saying this?" I finally ask. He looks up at me with an unintentional glare.

"What?" He asks sharply.

"Are you saying this for me or for you?" I ask. His brows furrow.

"I don't know what you mean," he says.

"Earlier I said I love you and that was a mistake-"

"You don't need to remind me."

"No, my timing was a mistake. You were vulnerable," I say quickly, sliding quickly down the shower wall to join him on the floor of the bathtub. "Are you saying this because I said it or because you mean it?"

Realization seems to finally sink through, Mike blinking at me slowly.

"So, you love me?"

"I'm sorry that I was an idiot earlier-"

"But you love me?"

"I've been trying to say it for months, but I couldn't-"

Mike's kiss is hard and clumsy, teeth clicking together and making us both draw away in a fit of stupid, teenage like giggles from the way he'd tried to be romantic and jump on me, my face now covered in the orange scented soap from his hands.

"You need to lead with that next time," he says, laughing and covering my face in quick kisses without care that he's smearing the soap onto his face too. "You had me scripting our conversations for the next month in here."

"I was trying. You know I can't- that-" I can hardly respond between his kisses, tasting awful but so sweet I can't help but want more.

"I love you," he says. Then he says it again, and again. Like a dam has been broken and he can't stop the river spilling forth. "I love you."

"I love you too," I finally say, relieved and melting into his touch under the warm stream that he drags me under, holding me close to his body.

Later, as we lay in bed, I finally tell him the real plot of my book, to which he says "I take it back, get out," before dragging me under the covers to repeat his devotion again and again until we can't say it anymore. Coherently, that is.

                             ¤▪︎{♧}▪︎¤

I'm gonna be fr, I haven't been happy with my writing lately and that's mostly due to my packed schedule. This is a draft I've been working on in bits and pieces for the last couple weeks when I've had a spare moment at work, and honestly will probably regurgitate at some point in the future when I have the time and energy to get more detailed with this concept in a more detailed fic. But for right now, I did want to put this out as a drabble. So, I hope you enjoyed it, and I promise I'll try to get some more properly fleshed out content out soon for y'all <3

Taglist:

@cassiecasluciluce @gh0u1ishly @joshhutchersons-slut @schmidtsbimbo @sugarevans @wompwompwomp57 @jhutchissupercool . Thank you for your support pookies!!! <3

               •▪︎Masterlist▪︎•

#josh hutcherson fanfic #josh hutcherson #mike schmidt #jhutch #mike schmidt smut #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt fnaf #fnaf mike schmidt #fnaf mike #mike schmidt fluff #mike schmidt imagine #mike schmidt x reader smut #mike schmidt x you #mike schimdt x reader #mike schimdt smut #mike schimdt x you #mike schmidt x y/n #jhutch1992 #josh hutcherson x reader #josh hutcherson fluff #josh hutcherson imagine

[ectoentity]

Ectoplasm Gives You Wings 0.?

Hey here's a scene that happened long before Danny showed up have fun

Here is the subscription post

Need to know concept:

When you're in a world where wings are associated with ghosts, you're gonna assume that coming back from the dead with wings means you have some unfinished business. Harley Quinn POV.

Ever since Joker died, Harley expected his killer would come after her. She hadn't been with him for a couple years, but that hardly made up for the shit she'd done while they were together. Really the only surprise was that they hadn’t killed her first as a warning to him.

So when she walked into her apartment kitchen to see a guy with huge wings wearing a red helmet, Harley wasn’t terribly surprised. Not about the break-in or the gun pointed at her, at least.

"How'd'ya manage to fit those things in here?" she asked. The guy didn't answer. The wings flexed like he wanted to open them, but there wasn't any room.

"Harley," the Red Hood said, sounding very intimidating with some kind of voice modulation. "You know why I’m here."

"I can make a guess, big guy," Harley said sadly. "Nothing I can do to change your mind?"

"You let it happen. You helped him. Why should you escape justice?"

"I did my time for most of it. And I spent the last couple a years trying to put him in the ground. That doesn't fit into your equation somehow?" She tried edging slowly to a shelf where she had a gun of her own. Red Hood noticed. He stepped forward and grabbed her by the collar of her shirt.

"Did any of that bring back the innocent people you killed? The children you tortured?"

"Woah, woah, woah, time out. I never did anything like that to kids." Harley held her hands up in a T shape above Red Hood's fist. "I did some awful stuff I ain't proud of, but I never tortured kids."

"You didn't seem to care that he did."

Harley sighed and lowered her hands onto Red Hood's arm and tried to look into the eyes of his weird helmet. "What do you expect to happen here? You want me to beg until you feel satisfied? Sorry, buddy. Not really my style! I don't like a lotta what I did back then, but I can't fix it. I'm trying better now. If that's not good enough for ya, that's too bad."

The Red Hood didn't move for a moment. It was kind of creepy, if Harley was honest. He didn't say anything, he didn't twitch. Was the guy even breathing? It was always hard to talk to someone in a full face mask. There was no way to tell whether they were even listening. Contrary to popular belief, Harley didn't talk just to hear her own voice! Not often, at least.

The hand let go of her shirt. Harley pulled back to regain her balance, but she didn't relax just yet. There was still a big murderous birdman with a gun in her apartment. Even if he wasn't about to shoot her just now, he was still dangerous.

"Fucking hell," the guy said. He seemed to stagger backwards until one of his wings clipped the half-wall separating the kitchen from the living room. Then he leaned against the pillar heavily.

"Shit. You're right. This is pointless. Why am I here?"

Harley took her chance to grab her gun just in case, but Red Hood didn't seem to notice. She stared at him with suspicious, narrowed eyes. "Do you mean here in my apartment, or are you really having an existential crisis right now?"

"I'm not having a- Fuck. I guess I am." He held his head in his hands. "I'm sorry, Harls."

Well, that was an unusual nickname. It wasn't something she heard much outside of kids from the Bowery or Narrows. Most other kids in Gotham got swept up by their parents before they could talk to her.

"You lose somebody?" she asked softly, gun tucked in her pocket. "Sibling? A kid?"

Red Hood choked out a bitter laugh. "Myself." When Harley's eyebrows did a wild semaphore of emotion, the asshole deigned to explain. "He killed me. I... I came back. Figured, y'know, I must've been brought back for a reason, right?" He sunk down further against the pillar, the white tips of his mostly-black wings spreading across the floor like the fabric of a cape.

Damn, Harley thought. That made a fucked up amount of sense. "I can't really blame you for thinking that," she admitted. "The feathers a new fashion choice then?"

"You could say that. Shit." Red Hood reached up to the bottom of his helmet and depressed some trigger there. Harley heard a hiss of pressurization before it popped off the guy's head. The first thing she saw was black hair. That wasn't surprising. The surprising thing was when he leaned his head back against the pillar, revealing a young face and a shock of white hair in his bangs. Then he opened his eyes, and they were as blue as the sky.

"Hey kid? What did you say your name was?"

He took a devastatingly long time to respond.

"They called me Robin, once."

#dpxdc #jason todd #harleen quinzel #i originally wanted this to go further #but the last line was just too good #ectoplasm gives you wings #egyw

[daddy-issues-99]

Step Dad John wick x Reader~Smut

Notes: AFAB reader, Daddy kink, virgin reader, slight bdsm, implied age gap.

You always wanted your mom to be happy and after she met John she finally was. But you felt otherwise.

When you first met John your mom had brought him over to have dinner together. The minute you saw him you got butterflies. He was handsome, tall, mysterious, just perfect.

Throughout the night you couldn't help stare at him. When you would quickly glance at him, he would be looking at you as well.

From then on that's how it went but for your moms sake you tried to ignore him. You wanted her to be happy, not ruin her happiness by ruining her relationship.

After they got married you and your mom moved in with John. His house was huge, lots of rooms and beautiful design. Your mom and John let you have the bedroom on the far side of the house to be able to have some privacy while they got the master bedroom on the other side of the house.

It was annoying trying to move your stuff into a room that far away but luckily John moved most of the stuff in for you. You busied yourself with unpacking trying to avoid the tension between you and John.

Finally everything was moved. Your mom had moved the bed in and decided to call it a night and go to bed early, leaving you to unpack the rest of your things.

You had finally got your bed set up and plopped down on your bed.

"Very nice." You jumped up at the sound of John's voice from behind you. He was leaning against your door frame towering over you sitting on your bed.

"John! You scared me, I thought you were in bed. What are you doing here?" He smirked walking towards the bed closing the door.

"Just seeing my favorite girl. Your the only one on this side of the house, doesn't it get lonely?" He said raising his hand to caress your cheek with his thumb.

You blushed, holding your thighs together. "I-I manage. What about you though, you've worked so hard moving us in, aren't you tired?" You said trying to ignore your nerves.

"Actually yes, I could really use some stress relief. " he said lifting your head with his index finger and thumb.

"Like what?" You asked blushing, trying to sound calm.

John smirked letting out a dry laugh. "Darling don't try to hide your true feelings from me. I see how you look at me. How those pretty eyes stare at me, longing for my touch. How you lay in bed at night, letting you hand wander between your thighs wishing it was me teasing you. How you quietly moan my name when you come undone. Don't lie to me princess. Tell me what you want? "

"You. I want you John."

"Good girl."

John gently pushed you back onto your bed giving you a passionate kiss. His hand trailed to your neck and gently squeezed causing a small moan to escape your mouth. The kiss soon because sloppy moving to your jaw like and your neck.

John lifted your shirt and started to caress you breasts, pinching your nipples causing you to gasp. "Such pretty noises. All for me. "

"Only for you Daddy." John continued his assault on your neck leaving hickeys and bite marks untill he reached the neckline of your shirt.

"Take these clothes off, I wanna see that beautiful body you've been hiding from me."

You quickly got up from the bed as John repositioned himself to watch you. You took off your shirt and shorts. You moved up to un clip your bra but stopped.

You slowly tried to cover yourself with your arms, embarrassed.

"Well? " John asked. You glanced up at him blushing violently. "I-I don't know what exactly I'm supposed to do" you said letting out a nervous laugh.

John slowly stood up with a smirk on his face. "You've never been with another man?" He said, standing inches from you. "No, you're my first."

He slowly lifted you chin up, giving you a gentle kiss on the lips. "Don't worry, I'll be gentle. If you ever want to stop just say so. Okay? " You nodded in response.

"Now let's get these clothes off." He slowly moved his hands to your chest, gently fondling your breasts. He unclasped your bra letting it fall to the floor. "So pretty."

He slowly moved his hands down your sides caressing your waist and hips. "Your so perfect." "Please John" "Please what? "

"Please Daddy I need you!"

"Good girl."

He gave you one last rough kiss on the mouth before directing you to the bed. "On you hands and knees."

You quickly moved to the bed and got into position gripping the sheets. John slowly got up on the bed, discarding pieces of clothing in his path.

The positioned himself behind you, his shirt discarded showing his abs. He caressed your ass, massaging the soft flesh. "So fuckin beautiful. If I'm being to rough at any time please let me know. Okay?"

"Yes Daddy! Please just fuck me! Beat me, bite me, whip me, anything! Just fuck me! "

"So needy. " John gave a quick smack to your ass and moved your panties out of the way before slipping one finger into your cunt. You moaned at the sudden feeling. "Your so tight. Just one finger could fill you up. But I don't think that's enough." He slowly added a second finger, spreading them apart and stretching you out.

He slowly began to move as a sickeningly slow pace. "Please Daddy." "Please what princess?" "Please I need more!"

"I don't wanna break you princess." "Please! I-I have some lube-in the dresser!"

"I thought you said you were a virgin sweetheart?" He asked with a confused expression. "I bought... I bought it for you. " you said burying your face in the pillow trying to hide your embarrassment.

"Oh, such a needy slut. I love it. "

John quickly went to the dresser and retrieved the lube you had hidden under your clothes.

He sat back on the bed positioning himself behind you. He pulled his cock out from his pants, took a condom out of his pocket and put it on. You looked back and let out a whimper "Are you gonna fit? " you asked as he applied the lube. "Don't worry princess. The little present you bought me will do just fine."

You let out a nervous laugh, thanking yourself for buying the lube when you had.

John positioned himself between your folds, grabbing your waist to ground himself. He slowly slid in to you as you practically screamed from a mix of pain and pleasure.

You buried your face in your pillow. It felt like you were getting split in half. John leaned over and kissed your shoulder and neck, gently caressing your sides. "Are you okay?" He asked. "I'm fine, just give me a minute."

After a moment John slowly started to move. First only a little but after a moment he was bottomed out. He pounded into you with pure force, rocking the bed frame. You were lucky you weren't close to the other bedrooms in the house.

John quickly slapped your ass and massaged the hand print he made. "Who's Daddy's good fucking girl?" "I am Daddy! I'm your good girl!" He delivered another rough slap to your ass. He moved one of his hands to your clit and started rubbing the sensitive bud.

You let out a moan at the sudden feeling and covered your mouth but John soon grabbed your arm. "Don't you dare hide those pretty noises from me. Understood? " "Yes Daddy."

"Good Girl. Now, why don't you ride daddy's cock. " John quickly pulled out, leaving you feeling empty from the loss of contact. John sat on the side of the bed and guided you over his cock lowering you onto it. You threw your head back in pleasure.

You quickly began moving, John placing his hands on your hips helping you move. He moved one hand to your clip rubbing it in quick circles. You were practically screaming from pleasure. "You like riding Daddy's cock. Hmm? Like Daddy filling you up?"

"Yes daddy! I-I love it." John slapped your ass as you continued to ride his cock. His mouth quickly went to yours giving you a sloppy kiss as his tough slid into your mouth. He continued slapped you thighs and ass as you both felt your orgasm coming on.

"Daddy I'm close." "Come on my cock princess. Milk Daddy's cock!" He began thrusting up into you even harder, his thrust becoming sloppier by the second.

Within seconds you came on his cock, bidding your face in the crook of his neck and you let out a string of curses.

John soon followed letting out a growl, roughly gripping your sides that would surly leave a bruise.

You respect your head on John's shoulder, both of you catching your breath, coming down from your highs. "Did you enjoy yourself princess?" John asked gently caressing your curves.

"Yes Daddy. Thank you~" you said gently giving him a kiss, resting your forehead against his. "I love you princess." "I love you too Daddy. "

#john wick x y/n #john wick x reader #john wick smut #john wick x you #john wick fanfic #john wick #john wick fluff #smut

[mishapocalyse]

When We Were Young

->Anon asked: Reader was in love with Ben before he became soldier boy like as kids and then grew old watching him become and asshole and then “die” and imagines what their life could have been (would be heartbreaking to read but hey let’s get emotional)

Description: The fond memories of growing up with Benjamin Gilman, the man who eventually became America's Greatest Superhero, become a thing of the past.

Pairings: Soldier Boy x (Eventual Supe) Reader.

Warnings: Soldier Boy is his own warning, language, sexual content.

Note: I twisted the request a bit and made the reader a supe. This is still the most devastating piece I think I have ever written. Please read at your own risk.

To the children you both used to be, growing up on the streets of South Philly. Two peas in a pod; inseparable. Never one without the other.

You were the child of a farmer and a midwife, the two who absolutely adored you, showering your childhood with the love that you deserved.

It was 1934, he was 15 years old, and you were a year younger than him. Benjamin Gilman sat beside you on the front porch swing, barefooted, the warm summer air, scents of the floral attributes that wafted amongst you both. The scenery was just as peaceful as his hand intertwined with yours.

"My old man kicked me out again." Ben hesitated.

You sigh, leaning your head against his shoulder.

"I don't think my daddy would mind if you slept in the barn again. As long as you don't bother ole' Tessa." You chirp, as he looks down at you while you turned your head to glance up at him.

"Yeah. I know. Thank you, Y/N. You're the best." Ben exclaims.

"You say that to me a lot Benny." You joke, nudging him with your shoulder. Ben leaned up from you, letting go of your hand to dig around in his pocket for something.

You raised a brow, to which he noticed.

"Hold on. I got you something." He chortled.

When he pulled out the object you were stunned at first. In his hands he held a locket. The gold piece was gently placed around your neck as he clipped it together for you.

"Ben.."You started.

You could hear your mother calling from the kitchen as she peeked her head out from the kitchen window.

"You kids should come inside! I about have lunch ready. Ben, sweetheart! Could you be a doll and fetch up Y/N's father, that man is going to get a rash if he isn't careful?"

Ben nodded, standing up to straighten his tapered trousers, and pinstriped cotton shirt. Snagging the thin velveteen coat from the swing seat, he gave you a serene smile as he trudged off into the field. In the distance you watched Ben disappear into the rows of corn towards your father who was manning the tractor.

The both of you were young, and you smiled to yourself while your mother called your name once more to come inside and wash up--the locket beautifully adorning your neck as it glimmered.

-----

In 1947, the beautiful green eyed boy, who was no longer the boy, but a man that you had waited for to come home.

Your mother had wanted you to start working with her as an apprentice as to which you had been over the moon to start. So when you had seen Ben sitting on your front porch swing, you practically threw yourself into his arms. The 28 year old Ben, chuckled to himself, as he pulled you up into his arms.

"Hey there sweetheart!" He was polite, as he set you down.

"And good afternoon Mrs. L/N. Please...let me help you with your bags."

Your mother jerked her things away from him.

"That is quite alright Ben. I got these. You and Y/N should catch up. It has been what? Almost three years since you two seen each other?" Your mother added, moving around Ben to go inside of the house.

Ben dragged your back into his chest, picking you up. The patterned dress material spinning with you while he twirled you around, the wood creaking underneath him. You giggled wildly, as he peppered soft kisses to your cheek.

"Oh Ben. I missed you." You cried.

"I missed you too, Y/N. You know I will always come back home to ya'. You know that right?" He asked, his hands on your shoulders.

From the short distance you took him in. His appearance was surely different from when you last saw him three years prior.

He was exceptionally taller. The lankiness of the young man you remembered had filled in the rest of his clothing leaving a firm and toned man standing in front of you. His hair freshly combed, he was wearing an army uniform, a proper man he had become.

"Was it hard being away from home for that long Ben?" You queried, his hands finding yours, tugging you to sit down next to him, like the old days on the porch swing.

"Being away from you, hurt like hell. All I had were them letters you sent me." He stated, his free hand rose to brush a stray lock of hair from your face.

"Now you’re home." You whispered just loud enough for him to hear you.

Ben's expression slowly saddened, as he let go of you. You raised a brow, tilting your head.

"You are staying around, like you promised in our letters? Right Ben?" You continued to question.

----

Over the years it had worsened.

The world was not like it used to be.

Thirty five years had passed since Ben had seen you. He recalled 1947 as his “golden days” where women flocked to him after he was dosed with Comp V and became known as Soldier Boy. However, he also pulled out the long forgotten memories of the young woman he had left behind.

Soldier Boy was seated in his penthouse, wearing nothing but a silk robe, fisting a glass of bourbon while half-hazardously trying to calm his nerves. On the table in front of him laid a bottle of Bennies crushed and ready to have been snorted. Yet, Soldier Boy hesitated. A heaping wave of regret washing over him.

The year Soldier Boy was getting himself riled up for Herogasm in 1982. The iron embroidered clock struck 8:30 in the evening and he knew if he was going to be fashionably late he should leave before 9:30PM. It was hard telling how the others were doing.

He had promised Couze, Crimson Countess-his publicity stunt of a girlfriend that he would meet all of the team there when he himself felt like showing up. Which was going to be now.

Soldier Boy sighed, dragging himself into the bedroom, to head towards the shower.

Once he got into his suit, the helmet slid over his chiseled facial features as he took one last look in the mirror before disappearing out his front door.

—

“Where the fuck have you been? Don’t you think it’s a bit unprofessional to show up to Herogasm four hours late? The fucking thing started at 5.” Countess bitched, while Soldier Boy rolled his eyes, turning his gaze towards the crowd of people mingling, and to others fucking each other senseless in more ways than one.

“To be fairly honest with you Couze. I’d appreciate it if you would shut that cumdumpster of a cockholder you call a mouth.” He hissed, taking a sip of his drink.

“Go fuck yourself.” Crimson spat.

“Already did, whore.” He replied.

----

Soldier Boy had eventually moved away from Countess and the others, ending up on a balcony outside of the main event. It was a bit more enjoyable with the cool night air. He pulled out a pack of smokes and took one into his mouth.

Digging a lighter out of his pocket, a throat cleared.

He tensed while he slowly looked back.

“Had no idea you smoked, Benny.” The glass shattered on the floor as Ben whipped around.

“Y/N?” He shook his head.

“Who else would it be, Benny.” You cooed.

“Looks like you got some work done.” He stated, taking a step forward.

“I gave up on you a long time ago. When you left me on that front porch swing. After my daddy died.” You gritted your teeth in frustration.

“You were dead, I was told you-“ you had to laugh.

“Is that what Vought wanted you to think? No, when they got word you had someone back home-- they wasted no time hauling my ass up to the superhero factory. They pump me full of fucking poison. I waited and waited with a small sliver of hope that you-“ you trembled, the words not wanting to come out.

“Forget it.” You turned from him. “Looks like you took that offer huh? Became a weapon-a toy for Vought American to profit off of.”

You stared back into the party, the patrons visible, sick slapping of flesh and putrid moans escaping the lips of the many who partook in this disgusting festival.

"I wanted something more." Soldier Boy started.

"Here you are then. You have got everything you wanted. The money, the fame...hell you even have someone back home. Keeping your bed warm." You interjected, as you whipped back around your face expressing how utterly livid you were to face the man that had once been your entire world.

"Shut your fucking mouth, Y/N. You got no business talking to me like that. Everything back then was temporary, whatever was between us, the things that happened, were merely one of those things." He hissed, shoving himself away from the railing, his attention on you.

Your lip quivered, you were on the verge of snapping.

"I wanted to show you the life you could have lived if you would have just stayed in Philly. We grew up together, ran the streets, we were two against your father's entire regime. It was just the two of us. I loved you, Benjamin." You couldn't help the couple of tears that rolled and stained your cheeks. You weren't finished, you never were when it came to facing Benjamin Gilman.

"You know, before you just disappeared, back in 49', my mother had asked about you. She wanted to know if you would be coming to celebrate the holidays. I didn't have the heart to tell her that you had--" You quickly swiped the tears from your eyes again.

"Your letters stopped coming. I waited and waited until I couldn't wait for you anymore. And here we are... both of us back together again. It is truly pathetic." you quipped, a small whine escaping from your lips.

"There was no us, Y/N. There never was. When I came home in 47' I was ready to tell you I was heading to New York, that I was leaving you, but I couldn't bring myself to tell you. Because why should I? You were just another girl. There's more of them around me now. I have a lot of them I can choose from." Ben sneered.

"Decided to choose the one that hates you huh? Real classy, Benjamin." You spat.

He stomped towards you, backing your back into the hard brick as it hit the siding. Caging you in with both of his arms, he leaned close to the side of your head, his lips inches away from the tip of your ear.

"You're nothing to me. Fucking nothing. Shoulda' never came here, Y/N. Don't belong with the big leagues. You keep your mouth shut about things you have no idea about" He pushed off of the wall, his back to you again.

"This is what you call the big leagues? More like a bunch of super abled brats, running around with their knickers in a twist. I wanted something amazing for you. I wanted you to have a life. This? This isn't a life. This is a place where you're going to end up dying." Your cheek had burned when he slapped you hard, as you fell onto your ass. You furrowed your brows, silencing yourself, rubbing the side of your face.

"I fucking warned you to shut your fucking mouth. Get out. Start walking. I moved on, Y/N." He gritted his teeth, pushing past you and back to the railing.

"Is this how little you think of me? I don't regret meeting you. You made me happy. Even after everything, even just the interactions between us now, I still love you. I never stopped. I don't think I ever will." You reached out to try and touch Soldier Boy's shoulder. When you placed your palm onto it, he let you. Letting out a sigh, he slightly turned his head to look at you from the corner of his eye.

"I know somewhere deep down in that heinous, arrogant heart of yours, there is a part of you that still cares about me too. I don't hate you, I don't hate the person you used to be--the Benny I adored. I hate the person you have become. Maybe things could have been different in another life." Pulling away from him, you had begun to walk away, until his hand wrapped around your forearm and pulled you back.

He tucked his head into your neck.

"Life was much simpler when you were gone, when I thought you were dead, Y/N."

You loosened his arms, as he let you go. Your hands moved to touch the clasp around your neck, as you unclipped the locket he had given you. You then placed the piece into his palm, closing it.

"Then I guess this is the end to our little fairytale story." You stood on the tips of your toes, planting a light kiss to his cheek, to then make your way back through the crowds of people.

"Wait-don't go! Y/N! Please!" The sound of Soldier Boy's voice had been drowned out by everyone before you could even look back at the man you had grown up with.

Only time would tell when you would see him next.

----

Two more years pass, the wad of pain that erupted from within your chest, brought you to your knees. The news of Soldier Boy, Benjamin "Benny" Gilman, had died to save the lives of the American people.

Not much was said after that, besides the array of memorial celebrations that honored his death, countless events, holidays created that brought inspiration to the new generation of people.

Even when Crimson Countess found out about you, she had somehow ended up at your front door, with a folded up flag. Since he was out of her life, she donated the rest to museums. Countess did not want the man to plague her even after death.

Y/N did warn him that she didn't love him.

----

Present day was much worse than what you had expected. You hadn't aged a bit, it had taken thirty years for you to even age one year. Even then, the memories still haunted you.

Payback had dispersed, becoming run down entertainers to scrounge up whatever money they could to keep their lives luxurious.

None of them had aged well.

You had become numb to the world around you, watching the Seven become popular, rising to the top of the rankings, watched their leader make a fool of himself. It was a position you gave yourself. You didn't have to work, you didn't have to eat much, nor sleep. Practically immortal, actually you could have been immortal. You were starting to believe the latter.

William Butcher and his team had met with you on some occasions after digging into files and finding your name written within. Wanting to know information about Soldier Boy. You had given those fucks the same answer that he was dead. Gave his life, like in the documentaries.

They had buried him in the cemetery, whatever was left of him of course. They had a closed casket funeral, for the sake of those who attended.

Now, you visit his grave, every Tuesday, and you sit with him. Talk about how your life was going. You wished you could have had more time.

---

It had been in the middle of winter, a Tuesday. A coat keeping you warm, while you made a place to sit, continuing the routine. The cemetery was silent, not a noise within earshot. That is until you heard the sound of crunching footfalls within the snow. Chalking it up to other people visiting their loved ones, you quietly returned to your conversation.

Someone cleared their throat.

A man.

"Still pissed at me, Y/N?"

#jensen ackles #jensen ackled #askmishapoc #the boys #soldier boy #the boys s3 soldier boy #i need soldier boy to snuggle with me #soldier boy🍦🪖🎯 #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy the boys x reader #jensen ankle bracelet #jensen ankle bracelet and the soldier of boys

[non-stop-imagines]

whenever you’re ready don’t be shy to drop a lil teaser and a release estimate for that Charles fic 🙈

Hehehe, I thought you'd never ask... 😈

(I literally have not read through it yet so this little blurb is horribly unedited;It's also from kind of the middle and broken up into pieces but just enough for you to be able to pick up what I'm putting down 😚)

_____★_____

You decide, for the practice session at least, that you were going to sit up in as private of an area of the Paddock Club you could find. You didn't have the energy to hear anymore "You look different but still cute!" compliment. You knew they all meant well, that in a normal situation you would've loved this type of attention, but when your mind has been flipping through painful past memories where people doubt anything you did and told you that you wouldn't get anywhere dressing the way you did, the last thing you wanted to here was anyone else saying that you're "still cute". Yes, you were fully aware that you got to this point, viral video, and thriving YouTube channel and the hottest, most supportive boyfriend on the planet by being "cute", which was essentially just you being truly and unapologetically you, but what if that cup was running out? What if people initially got pulled in because of that, but expected you to change eventually? What if that was what Charles was thinking?

You had already found an empty table in an unfounded corner of the large open room, a large white wall with a TV screen on it, partitioning you from the rest of the room, giving you the moment of soliace you needed. You even briefly closed you eyes to take a deep breath and ground yourself, and it was working until you heard heels clicking toward you. The quiet attempt at retreating is what finally made you open your eyes.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I saw you and was about to come say hi, but then I saw you trying to...meditate or something..." It was Lily.

"You can sit, you know..." You giggle at the fact that she was still standing, but your small smile falls a bit when you see her eyes moving around your appearance.

"Oh, yeah. I like the look, by the way. It's-" You interrupt her words by with a quick "stop" hand gesture.

"If you say cute, I am going to rip every piece of hair that I have in this claw clip out." The look you gave Lily made her hesitantly finish sitting, and rethink her compliment.

......

"All I have seen were rave reviews about your outfits and how in love Charles is with you." Her hand is finally removed from your person after her comment, reaching in her clutch that was placed on the table and pulling out her phone.

"Yeah. I guess those are the majority, but there have been other ones...meaner ones..." You trail off into your own thoughts while more cars roared by, continuing when you have the prolonged feeling of Lily's eyes on you, waiting to see where you were going with it. "Lily, how often does Alex say you look sexy in something?"

"I-uh-woah. You caught me off guard there, um..." She stopped to seriously consider your question. "I guess kinda often. Especially when he can tell I'm excited about an outfit or it's, like, a special occasion. Why?"

"Charles has only ever said I was "cute". Or "pretty". Or "beautiful". Never sexy. Not even if I try to lead him into saying it." You turn around for a moment to check where Charles stood on the Practice session leaderboard and how much time was left. "I honestly have no idea if Charles thinks I'm sexy."

"Oh, honey. I'm sure he does." Her fingernails went to caressing up and down your back as she turned all of her focus towards you while Alex goes 3rd fastest.

.......

"Lily, you genius!" You exclaimed, catching her off guard again, this time by throwing your arms around her neck and giving her a couple of light, glossy pecks to the cheek.

"Anything to help." You were already typing away at your phone, nearly vibrating with excitement, imagining Charles reaction. Another round of car roaring traveled by, but the speed of those machines had nothing on that of your scrolling thumbs.

#anon #black reader #i hate that i go mia when im writing something #i really try not to 🙃 #f1 imagines #formula 1 x black!reader #formula 1 #f1 x black!reader #request #sneek peak #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x black!reader #charles leclerc

[moodymelanist]

happy day 3 of @cassianappreciationweek everyone! for todays prompt I didn’t have anything ~official~ planned, but I always think about how Illyria doesn’t really have its own canonical holidays. So I started thinking about how my dad has always talked about how in the Caribbean, Boxing Day (the day after Christmas) is a holiday in its own right… and it got me thinking maybe Illyria has something like that.

anyways hope you enjoy this slice of holiday fun in the middle of the hottest summer ever ❤️‍🔥

“Girls, do you have your costumes?” Cassian yelled up the stairs. They only had a quarter of an hour before they were due for the parade, and of course their home was chaotic as usual.

“Yes, Papa!” came his older daughter Seraphina’s reply.

“We’re coming!” Nesta yelled down right after. “Nasima, let me help you with your hair.”

In Illyria, Solstice wasn’t considered one of their own holidays. Sure, Cassian loved spending time with his family and celebrating Feyre’s birthday, but it wasn’t his tradition the same way it belonged to Mor or partly Rhys. Instead, they celebrated the day after Solstice, with training being paused for the day and most of the local businesses being closed. There were parades and more than enough food, drink, and warmth to go around, with many of the younglings putting on bright clothes and painting their faces with traditional symbols of life and good luck.

It had been Cassian’s favorite holiday as a youngling himself — and he was so honored to be able to share this with his own children, probable lateness aside. Their lives in Illyria were worlds away from his own, and that was the way he liked it.

Cassian looked up at the sound of three sets of feet hurrying down the stairs, a wide grin spreading across his face at the sight of his family. “Finally.”

“I didn’t see you offering to help,” Nesta replied pointedly. She had on a thick, blue cloak and matching fur-lined leggings, her cheeks pink from all the rushing around.

“I helped plenty!” Cassian protested. “I was the timekeeper.”

“Girls, your papa is being silly again,” Nesta said, pulling giggles from their daughters.

“Papa so silly,” Nasima, their younger daughter, repeated. She was in that stage where she parroted back everything the two of them said, so Cassian had had to learn to censor himself before she picked up anything inappropriate. “Up?”

“I’ve got you, princess,” Cassian said, bending down to pick her up. Her dark hair was pulled back into two pigtails, leaving more than enough room for the bright clips and soft pins Nesta had adorned her with. “You look so festive, Nas.”

“Mama helped,” Sera informed him promptly. She was almost ten years older than Nasima, in that awkward age where she wanted to cling to her family but she didn’t want to be embarrassed about it, and Cassian knew the moment they got outside she’d make a break for her friends. “Can we go already?”

“Yes, yes, let’s go,” Cassian replied, though not before muttering some choice words in Illyrian under his breath.

Once they all made it outside, it was like stepping into an explosion of festivities. There were bright decorations dotting the path to the main campgrounds, the smell of meat on the grill was intoxicating, and someone was playing the fiddle with so much zeal it was a miracle they hadn’t snapped a string. Cassian couldn’t help his smile as the four of them made their way toward the center of it all, the sight of so many smiles reflected back at him only making his spirits soar even higher.

“Mama, Mama, can I go play with Aria?” Sera asked, spotting Azriel and Gwyn’s daughter immediately. Nesta had hardly agreed before Sera was tearing off through the crowd, her bright yellow outfit disappearing in the blink of an eye.

“She’ll be fine, my love,” Nesta told Cassian before he could even voice his worry. “You know she never takes that necklace off.”

Nesta had enchanted so many of their daughters’ jewelry items over the years with that same spell she’d used in the Rite that Cassian knew he didn’t have anything to technically worry about, but still. “I know. I just worry anyway.”

“Dare I say this is one of the places you can worry the least,” Nesta replied, leaning up to press a quick kiss to his cheek. “Now which way is the parade?”

Cassian spread his wings a little further than necessary to help create a path through the crowd for them, still holding Nasima securely in his arms. She didn’t really start to squirm until the familiar banners for the parade came into view, her blue eyes wide with excitement and wonder as they approached the familiar line of people. Cassian exchanged greetings with so many people he nearly lost count, and by the time they made it to the front he was more than willing to put Nasima down in the chair they were using for the face painting.

Emerie had gotten roped into doing the face painting this year, though she looked more than happy to wield the paintbrush when she saw whose face she’d be painting next. “Hello, my little warrior.”

“Say hello, Nas,” Nesta said gently.

“Hi Emwrie!” Nasima tried her best to form the syllables of Emerie’s name, but it was so adorable none of them could stomach correcting her. “Face paint!”

“That’s right, Nas,” Emerie replied, reaching for her set of paints. “What colors do you want this year?”

“Red!” Nasima yelled. Cassian, Nesta, and Emerie both managed to hold back their winces at the shrillness of her little voice. “For Papa!”

Cassian just about melted on the spot, bending down to press a kiss to the top of his daughter’s head. “Thank you, zogu.”

His little bird just beamed up at him and held herself as still as she could. Emerie used red and white to decorate her brown cheeks, the three adults making their usual small talk as she worked.

“All done,” Emerie announced. She held a little mirror up to Nasima’s face, and judging by Nasima’s happy shrieks, she was a satisfied customer. “I wish I could talk more, but this line…”

“We’ll save you a seat after the parade,” Nesta promised, scooping Nasima up with practiced ease. “Bye, Emerie.”

They wished each other a happy holiday in Illyrian before Emerie called the next child over. Cassian loved hearing Nesta speak Illyrian, loved seeing how much she’d thrived in his homeland over the decades since their mating ceremony. He couldn’t help but sneak a kiss in before they started walking toward the parade.

They made it just in time to start walking with the other families. He took Nasima back from Nesta so she could sit on his shoulders, her little wings flapping with excitement every time they saw someone dressed in a bright costume. Nesta was magicking up silver flashes that wouldn’t burn for the crowd’s amusement, though Cassian suspected she was mostly doing it to hear Nasima clap her little hands together in pure joy. Even Sera managed to sneak into the parade and back to their sides, letting Nesta wrap an arm around her shoulders as they walked.

Cassian knew he thought this every year, but as they walked and danced and sang his people’s songs, he knew this was his favorite holiday yet.

tag list: @perseusannabeth | @bookstantrash | @charming-butt-insane | @oversizedbats | @melphss | @sv0430 | @podemechamardek | @autumnbabylon | @live-the-fangirl-life | @julemmaes | @that-little-red-head | @jmoonjones | @sayosdreams | @thewayshedreamed | @hiimheresworld | @brieq | @pearlfortears | @swankii-art-teacher | @nerdperson524 | @snickerdoodlechittybangbang | @imsointobooks | @nesquik-arccheron | @sweet-pea1 | @champanheandluxxury | @dustjacketmusings | @mrs-shadowsinger04 | @unlikelypersonalknight1 | @goddess-aelin | @arinbelle | @talkfantasytome | @simpingfornestaarcheron | @duskandstarlight | @letstakethedawn | @vidalinav | @c-e-d-dreamer | @dealfea | @katekatpattywack | @burningsnowleopard | @thatsowlmazing

#cassianappreciationweek2023 #Nessian #Cassian #nesta archeron #Cassian x nesta #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf #pro Cassian #pro Nessian #moodymelanistwrites

[slutforstabbings-archive]

May I request a scenario of a fem reader liking Corey, but she doesn't let herself be loved (even though deep down she wants to be) and instead hooks Corey up with Allyson instead? Perhaps the fem reader prefers others to have a happy ending over herself, and imagine if Corey came back to the reader like, "But I love you..Why won't you let me love you?". Eventually the fem reader breaks down and lets him, like a heartwarming ending? (Angst, fluff)

sorry for the long wait, but here it is! it's lengthy because I was in the mood for worldbuilding i guess lol.

Corey Cunningham x fem!Reader

5,954 words!

angst, fluff, hurt and comfort, miscommunications, all that stuff. canon divergent, takes place during the first part of the film

beloved taglist: @rebel-blue @nachtmahr666 @vanellygal @cordelium @multifandom--mess @wolvesandvampires

The First of Many

You tap a stack of invoices on your desk, aligning their edges before filing them away. Then you make sure all the customer keys are labeled and hung appropriately. You know they are but you’re trying to kill the last few minutes of your shift at Prevo Auto. You refresh the shop email and no new messages come through. 4:57. Come on 5pm! You look through the window in the front office into the garage to try to see Corey, but you only see your father. You empty the small trash can under your desk. 

Dad is how you got the job working Prevo’s front desk, and how you first came to know Corey. Dad was one of Ron’s first hires when Prevo opened up on the outskirts of Haddonfield. You went to the same school as Corey, the only high school in Haddonfield, but you never crossed paths with your fellow Husker. No, you’d see him when work brought your families together, the Prevo Christmas party, you and Dad visiting their house for dinner once or twice (and then never again to avoid spending any more time in the vicinity of Ron’s horrible wife, Joan). A few times in the spring Corey turned 21, when Dad hired him to help out with yard work. 

The first time you ever got to really speak to him, you’d been sitting cross legged on the back porch squeezing petunias out of little plastic cups from the nursery and massaging their roots so he and Dad could plant them. He sat down next to you, soil and grass clippings sticking to his sweaty legs, taking a break from the sun. You’d talked a while, the longest and most private conversation you’d ever had with him, and found him extremely likable. He was smart and ambitious and he made you laugh. He was looking really good too, his short time doing landscaping for people in town already adding bulk to his limbs and bleaching little copper streaks into his brown hair, the sun encouraging his freckles. 

You found out he’d just turned 21 and didn’t do anything for his birthday, so when all the work was done, you’d brought him a beer and a Hostess cupcake. 

“This is your birthday party now,” you told him. One corner of his mouth lifted into a smile before bringing the other side up with it. You ended the day with a little crush on him.

You started your job at Prevo not long after that, hoping it meant you would see Corey more often. Then the accident happened. It fell to you and Dad to keep the ship afloat while the captain was away, running the auto shop the best you could to help take pressure off Ron, who was gone every day for weeks, driving two hours one way with Joan and Corey to Springfield for the trial. You wanted desperately to sit in the courtroom gallery and support him. To be a kind face is the sea of snarls he had to look out into every day. But you knew you were needed at work, that you were supporting him from behind your desk. A couple times in the evenings you delivered a casserole to the Cunningham-Prevo house, wanting to make sure they were eating well despite all the stress and time spent out of town. 

Since Corey came to work for his step-father, you’ve become good friends. Joan serves dinner at 6:30 like clockwork and makes Corey’s night hell if he’s late, but Ron cuts him loose at 5, even tho Prevo is open til 6, to give him 90 glorious minutes of free time before Joan can get him back under her thumb for the evening. The flow of customers has usually all but dried up by then, so the ends of your shifts align. 

You stand in front of the ancient time clock in the back, hand hovering, prepared to insert your time card as soon as it rolls over to 5:00. A massive pair of hands comes from nowhere to cover your eyes. 

“Guess who?” Says a raspy voice in a Northeastern accent. As if it could be anybody else.

“The Easter bunny?” You ask. 

Corey chuckles. “Not quite.”

“Okay, then it’s probably… James Dean.”

He scoffs. “No.”

“Shit, okay,” you say, pretending to be disappointed. “Final guess… Corey Cunningham?”

He lifts his hands from over your eyes and steps to stand next to you. 

“Third time’s the charm,” he says. 

“You’re such a dork,” you tell him playfully as you clock out, at 5:01, thanks to him. 

“I learned from the best,” he says, taking your place in front of the time clock. 

Corey changes out of his coveralls and washes all the grease off his hands in the bathroom. You check your phone, thinking of texting your friend Allyson. You haven’t heard from her in weeks, maybe months, which isn’t uncommon. But last you heard she was still trying to untangle herself from that scummy cop she’d been with since 2018. You feel like you should check on her. But before you can finish composing your message, Corey comes out of the bathroom. You never look at your phone when you’re with him. You get to spend too little time together to squander it.

The two of you enact your routine for afternoons you spend together. You ride on his bike pegs first to the gas station, then to the part of town where the old Myers house used to sit, a desolate and decaying neighborhood with a park you can’t believe the city still bothers to mow. You sit on the cracked swings creaking from rusty chains and dig your toes down into the ancient mulch, all the way to the rotten tarp underneath. How much Corey wants to talk varies a lot, so you let him set the tone. Although he was playful at work, he seems to have fallen deep into thought on the bike ride, so neither of you says much. 

Suddenly you remember something you used to do as a kid. You use your feet to rotate the swing 90 degrees, then 90 more, so you’re facing the opposite direction and the rusted chain is crossed above you. You complete another half turn and the chain braids around itself. You dig your feet into the mulch and slowly turn yourself around, again, and again, getting more and more difficult as the chain kinks, gaining resistance and raising you further from the ground. It makes a scraping sound as the rust grinds together, and a concerning groaning from the stress on the bolts holding the chains to the support structure. Corey watches you skeptically. When you can’t twist the chains anymore you rest for a second before lifting both feet off the ground.

The chains unravel and you spin back the other direction, even faster than you expected, the chain coiling back around itself. You laugh heartily, shocked that it’s still so fun. Corey’s skeptical look changes to delight and he laughs as he twists his own swing’s chains. You both spin over and over, cackling, until you get so dizzy you slip backwards out of the swing and land on your ass. 

“Be careful!” Corey says, jumping off his swing to help you.

You’re still laughing. You take his outstretched hand and he pulls you up. You stand there, your hand lingering in his for a moment. Then his alarm goes off. 6:15. Playtime’s over. You dust yourself off before once again you mount his bike pegs. He drops you off at your place before biking the rest of the way home.

“How was your date?” Dad asks from the living room as you come inside.

“It wasn’t a date,” you say, kicking off your shoes.

“Whatever you say, Pumpkin,” Dad replies. 

You wish it was a date. The little crush you formed that day on the back porch has only grown in the intervening years. Deepening and strengthening, fueled by your respect for how he handled himself in such a horrible situation, your awe at his inner strength, and your delight to find his sense of humor lingering after everything he’s been through. In the moments at work when you hand him the keys to a car or end up in the break room at the same time, and those short hours when Joan thinks he’s still at work, you’ve fallen in love with him.

You’ve fallen in love with him and it is totally fucking unrequited. Corey loves you, you don’t doubt that at all, but it’s excruciatingly platonic. When you first realized how you felt, you’d tried to pay attention, look for signs that he felt the same way. Sometimes you thought you saw something, in the way he looked at you, or how his hand always seemed to brush yours when he handed you a set of keys. It wasn’t exactly the most compelling evidence. You couldn’t trust that you weren’t just reading too much into things. Corey is shy, awkward, inexperienced. But surely he would do something more obvious if he felt the same as you do.

So it’s not reciprocal. You’ve done your best to accept it. You weren’t meant to be anything more than friends with him, so you just enjoy his friendship. You work hard to be the best friend you can be. Somebody has to look out for him in this town, this world, that seems set on destroying him. 

You eat dinner in front of the TV with Dad, then you spend the rest of the night in your room. Listening to music and pacing in the lamp light. Trying not to think about Corey, refusing to indulge the temptation to imagine what a future with him would be like. Instead, you fold your laundry.  You rearrange your bookshelf. You remember your half-written text to Allyson and finish it, hitting send but not expecting much. Eventually it gets late enough for you to climb into bed.

In the morning you’re brushing your teeth when you get a pleasant surprise. Allyson texts back. You suggest the two of you grab lunch to catch up and she agrees. She comes to Prevo to pick you up. Her car rattles so loudly it’s hard to hear her music. 

“When you take me back, I’ll have one of the guys look at that rattle!” You say, raising your voice a little over the racket. 

“It’s not a big deal!” She says. You raise your eyebrows at her and she laughs. “Okay, it’s a big deal!”

“Don’t worry! Family discount!” 

You get to the restaurant and are shown to your table. Allyson tells you that her grandma bought a house and they live together now, that she’s expecting a promotion soon at the Mathis Clinic, that her annoying ex has pretty much faded into the background. You’re so happy she’s doing well. After everything she’s been through she could easily be forgiven for giving up, but she hasn’t. You’re proud of your friend. 

“Anyway there’s this Halloween party at Velkovsky’s tomorrow. I wanna go because Lindsey works there and arranged the whole thing, but I don’t wanna go alone,” she says. 

You’d offer to go with her but you already have plans with Dad tomorrow night to drive across the border into Iowa to visit a giant pumpkin patch he’d seen online. It’s unclear whether the patch or the pumpkins are giant, but he read that it’s popular with influencers so you agreed to leave the night before your visit. The plan is to stay in a motel so you can be there as soon as the gates open. God forbid all the midwestern Instagram girlies buy all the pumpkins before your father can get one. 

Suddenly, a brilliant idea strikes you. “I could set you up with someone, if you want,” you tell her. 

“Oh jeez, I don’t know about that,” she protests. 

“No, no, he’s an amazing guy. He’s really cute and I think you’ll find you have a lot in common,” you tell her. 

She thinks, anxiously tapping a chip against the bowl of salsa on the table. “Okay,” she says. “I’m trusting you… if you think he’s a great guy then I’ll give him a shot.”

Instead of dropping you at the gates to Prevo Auto, Allyson pulls into the scrapyard and you show her where to park. You run inside and look for Corey. You find him in the break room, drinking from a glass bottle of chocolate milk. 

“Are you busy?” You ask. 

“Not really,” he says, smiling. 

“Awesome. Come out front with me, a friend of mine needs something quick and I want you to meet her.”

Corey furrows his brows. He hates meeting people. But you do so much for him, he trusts that you wouldn’t bring him to someone who’ll treat him like most of Haddonfield does. He puts the cap back on his milk and sets it back in the fridge. You lead him out into the yard. Allyson is leaning against her car. She’s so pretty and kind, there’s no way Corey won’t be into her, you think to yourself. You never imagined yourself as the friend who plays matchmaker. You feel the tiniest lump form in your throat. You want Corey to be with you. If you can’t have him tho, you know Allyson will treat him right, that she can understand the trauma and tragedy of his life in a way you probably never could. You’ll be the best (wo)man at their wedding, and a devoted godmother for their children if it comes to that. 

“Allyson Nelson, meet Corey Cunningham. Corey, Allyson.” 

“Hi,” Corey says sheepishly, wiping a broad hand on his coveralls before holding it out for her to shake.

“Nice to meet you,” she says, accepting it.

“Her car’s been rattling super loud,” you explain. “I thought you could take a look at it.”

“Sure. Probably the exhaust system clamp coming loose. It’ll take like, five minutes. Super cinchy,” Corey says.

Allyson looks at you, then looks at him. “Cinchy?” she says. Corey laughs. 

“Okay, I’ll leave you to it then,” you say. You hold your arms out for a hug and Allyson leans in. “Always great to catch up with you. Let’s not wait so long next time.”

“For sure,” Allyson says.

Then you drop your voice to a whisper. “Invite him to Velkovsky’s!” you say into her ear. Then you let go. You clap Corey on the back reassuringly as you walk back into the office.

The phone has a blinking red light. You listen to the voicemails left while you were at lunch and take notes, but your attention is split. You keep looking through the office windows to watch Corey and Allyson. You wish you could hear them because they keep making each other laugh. He puts her car on the lift and rolls under it on a creeper. She keeps talking to him while he works. He rolls back out from under the car and lets it down from the lift. Attila, one of the other mechanics, comes to return a customer’s keys and update the log of what’s been done to their car. When he walks away you can’t see Corey anymore and Allyson’s car is gone. 

At 4:55 Corey is already at the desk, waiting for you to do your last minute organizing and email checking. 

“Allyson’s really nice,” he says.

“Yeah,” you say, smiling. You hope it’s convincing. “She is.” 

He gives you a strange look, like he’s studying you, but he doesn’t say anything else. The two of you don’t talk at all, all the way to the gas station, through buying snacks, and to the park. While he locks his bike against a tree, you cross to the old merry go round. It’s covered in dry orange leaves and you dust a spot clean. You lay on your back with your legs hanging off the edge, looking up into the gray autumn sky. Corey comes and cleans a spot across from you so that when he lays down your heads are next to each other. 

“Do you ever think it’s weird that we didn’t know each other in high school? Well, nobody knew me. But do you think it’s weird that I didn’t know you?” Corey asks.

“Nobody knew me either,” you say. “But I wanted to know you, from seeing you at work stuff. I just  never saw you in the hallway or anything.”  

“You wanted to know me?” 

“Well, yeah. Dad told me stuff about you that Ronald told him. And it would’ve been nice to have someone closer to my age to talk to at the Christmas party and shit. I was always too shy to say anything when we were actually at the Christmas party tho. I wanted to have a class with you or something so we could talk that way.”

“I didn’t know that,” Corey says. A few times it seems like he’s going to say something else, but he stays quiet the rest of your time together until he says goodbye when he drops you off at home. 

Later that evening you get a text from Allyson, letting you know she took your advice and asked Corey to the party. Then you get a text from Corey, a rarity since his mom still looks through his phone, confused and surprised that Allyson asked him. You encourage him to go. You feel bad about it, but you craft your replies to make it seem like you’re going too. You hate to even be kinda semi-dishonest with him, but you know he’ll say no if he knows you can’t make it. You hope Allyson won’t mention it. If he just shows up, you know he could have a good time. It’ll be a costume party, no one even has to know it’s him. They’ll have a blast and before the night is even over, they’ll agree to a second date. 

A smile comes to your face, but your eyes fill with tears. Nothing could make you happier than imagining Corey happy. Your deepest wish is that you could be the one to make him happy, but you have to let go of that eventually. Grow up, move on. They’ve both suffered so much more than you have and they both deserve the best. You’re lucky just to be on the periphery, and you should feel honored to be the one who introduced them. You feel sick to your stomach instead.

The next day at Prevo is super busy, and you’re thankful for it. You don’t want Corey to ask you about the party in person. You haven’t actually lied to him, and you won’t do it if he asks you directly, so it’s easiest if you just don’t talk to him all day. He does wander into the front office a few times, but you’re on the phone or ringing a customer up every time and he doesn’t interfere. When 5 rolls around you can’t avoid him anymore, but luckily all he says is that he has to go straight home to get ready. You tell him you do too, and that technically isn’t a lie either. You still have to pack your overnight bag for the pumpkin patch. 

-

“What’s the matter, Kiddo?” Dad asks as you approach the state line. As far as you can see in either direction, the road is flanked by the dry remnants of this past summer’s crops. 

“Corey’s on a date with Allyson Nelson right now,” you say. 

“Allyson Nelson? How did that happen?” he asks.

“I set them up.” 

“Well, why’d you do that? I know I tease you about it a lot, but I was really tickled that you two have gotten so close.” Dad’s always been fond of Corey too, it’s not news to you that he’s a fan of your friendship.

“Yeah well, I’m tickled too, but he’s not.”

“Why would you think a thing like that?” 

You shrug and slouch in your seat. “He hasn’t said anything or done anything to make me think he’s interested in me like that.”

Dad laughs and sighs your name. “I think you’ve been a little blind. Corey adores you.”

“Platonically,” you amend. 

“Have you asked him?” 

“No,” you say quietly.

“Well Pumpkin, I think you found the problem,” Dad says.  

“I just… What if that fucks our friendship up? He doesn’t have anybody else.”

“I know Corey’s important to you, but that doesn’t make him your responsibility. He’s an adult. And I hope your friendship is strong enough to handle a little status update conversation.”

“I think it is but I’m just not 100% sure. I really don’t want to lose him.” Your voice cracks. 

“So you set him up with Allyson to keep him?” Dad asks gently. 

“My brilliant plan doesn’t sound so brilliant when you say it,” you tell him, and laugh a little. “But it’s too late now.”

“Well why don’t you just wait until we get home and tell him how you feel before you decide that.”

Because he’ll already be falling for Allyson by then, you think but don’t say out loud. 

Your phone hasn’t had service for basically the whole drive, and you still can’t get anything to load or go through when you get to the motel. They have wifi, but they charge extra for it. In a way you’re relieved. You don’t want to know how it went yet. You just turn your phone completely off and lay in the stiff motel bed, listening to Dad snoring and the endless episodes of Ancient Aliens on the vintage motel TV.

-

Allyson picks Corey up on the corner, down the block from his house. He doesn’t want Momma to see him getting in a car with a girl. He didn’t have a costume so she brought him a mask. He expected you to be in the car with Allyson, all three of you carpooling, but he’s disappointed to be her only passenger. 

At Velkovsky’s Allyson orders them drinks and Corey sips his apprehensively. She tries to get him to dance and the alcohol has lowered his inhibitions just enough for him to reluctantly agree. Surely you’re on your way and he just has to have a good time with a new friend until you get there. Inside his mask he’s overheating, and the alcohol whispers for him to take it off even though he knows it’s a bad idea. But he’s having fun and you’ll be here soon, so he slips it up over his head and drops it on the pool table.

Allyson is pleasantly surprised to see Corey’s face. You were right, he is really cute. He’s sweet too, and of course she knows what he’s been through. It touches her that his ordeal doesn’t seem to have made him hard the way it sometimes feels like her trauma did to her. She can’t help but wonder why you’re not his girlfriend. She’s heard the admiration in your voice when you’ve mentioned him over the years. Maybe she had just been mistaken about the kind of affection you have for him. 

Corey approaches the bar to order another drink, leaving Allyson on the dance floor. He doesn’t notice Theresa Allen slumped on a bar stool nearby. Unfortunately, she notices him. 

“You!” she says, sitting up. “You just here dancing, having a good time with your friends?” 

Corey flinches. “I’m sorry,” he mutters.

“Oh, sorry? You’re sorry!? For killing my son?” She slides off her bar stool to get in Corey’s face. He backs away, trying to find the exit behind him. “I wake up every day and I can’t get past the pain. It kills me, do you understand?” Corey’s back finds the wall and he’s trapped. “No, you don’t understand if you think you can come in here and take off your little mask and have a good time with your friends.”

Lindsey appears from behind the bar and grabs Mrs. Allen, pulling her away from Corey. But that doesn’t stop her from screaming. “The judge might’ve said you were innocent, but I know you! You pushed my little boy because you got mad and lost your fucking mind! Innocent people don’t do that!” Corey finally finds an exit behind him and makes a break for it. Allyson hears all the commotion and turns in the direction of the chaos just in time to see Corey slipping out the door. She rushes after him. “Evil people do!” screams Mrs. Allen. “Evil!”

Corey runs blindly across the yard outside the bar. Allyson follows him, screaming his name. He gets to the street and a car flies past, nearly hitting him. 

“Corey, look out!” Allyson shouts, voice breaking. 

He stops and she catches up to him. 

“Where is she?” he wails.

“Mrs. Allen?” Allyson asks, confused.

“No!” 

Then Allyson realizes. He means you.

“She went to Iowa with her dad for that pumpkin patch,” she says. “Didn’t she tell you?”

“No! I thought they were going tomorrow. I’ve been waiting for her to show up. I don’t…. I don’t do things without her.” Corey sobs and balls his fists. 

“You didn’t think this was a date?” Allyson asks. She feels a little stung but she’s trying to understand. 

“A date!?” Why would he think it was a date? His mind swirls. Traffic rushes by. Suddenly the October air on his sweaty skin makes him cold. 

“She told me she was setting us up…” Allyson says. 

Then it dawns on him. “Oh,” he says, in a much quieter voice. He takes Allyson’s hand. “I’m so sorry. You seem really cool, I’d like to get to know you better. But I… I’m…”

“You’re in love with her?” Allyson finishes for him.

Corey nods. “I’ve been trying to build up the courage to tell her. I guess I waited too long and she gave up on me.” He collapses in on himself, his already usually stooped posture worsening, broad shoulders almost parallel to the ground. He puts his head in his hands and sobs. 

“Corey,” Allyson says soothingly. “Hey.” He looks up at her. “I was surprised too. She’s always seemed to really care about you when she’s talked about you. For like, years. I think you should just talk to her.”

Allyson leads Corey back to her car and drives him almost home, dropping him off on the same corner that she picked him up on. He opens his door, then closes it.

“Hey Allyson? Could you not talk to her until I get a chance to?” He asks.

“Sure thing,” she says.

“Thanks for being understanding. Maybe the three of us can hang out sometime.”

“I’d like that,” she says. 

-

When Corey comes inside Momma is waiting for him. She demands to know the details of his night, but he does something he almost never does. He ignores her. He walks straight up the stairs and into his bedroom, locking the door behind him. Momma follows him up the stairs, pounding on his door and yanking on the knob, cursing and complaining. Eventually getting no reaction wears her out, and she goes into her room and closes the door. 

Corey lays on his back in bed, bathed intermittently by the red light from the radio tower coming in through the window. He thinks of trying to text or call you but he doesn’t know what he’d say. He kicks himself for not being more proactive. Is it too late now? If you’re setting him up on dates with other people does that mean you’re not interested in him the way he is in you? The way he has been since the spring he turned 21? 

He remembers so clearly how scandalized you’d looked when he told you he didn’t do anything for his birthday. How you insisted it was a milestone worth celebrating, even tho Corey had never done much of anything for his birthday except to spend the day even more smothered by Momma than usual. How you’d thrown him a “birthday party” on your back porch with a beer and a snack cake. It didn’t take a lot of effort on your part, it didn’t cost you much of anything. But the fact that you’d cared enough to do anything, to make any kind of deal about it, really mattered to him. 

He couldn’t believe the effort you and your dad put into helping his family during the trial either. During the darkest part of his life, the worst thing that ever happened to him, you’d been there. He hadn’t spoken a word to you for months, but he’d felt the same care eating the casseroles you’d prepared that he had felt when you brought him that beer. He mattered to someone other than Momma and Ron. He’d never felt that before. And he’d never properly thanked you. 

Now it’s his turn to show you how much you matter to him. He just has to figure out how. 

-

You wake up to the screaming of the old analog alarm clock on the table between the beds in the motel room. Dad reaches over to it and slaps it blindly a few times before turning it off. It’s still dark outside. The TV, never turned off last night, plays an infomercial for some kitchen gadget or other. You reach over to look at your phone before remembering that you turned it off last night. Oh. Right. 

You and Dad get breakfast at a Denny’s inside a truck stop across from the motel before heading to the pumpkin patch. When you get there, there’s already a line, but it’s not too bad. The sun starts to creep over the horizon as you wait, and by the time you get in it’s fully light. It’s a gorgeous day. You keep your phone off, trying to just enjoy marveling at how truly giant the pumpkins are, to drink coffee and eat a pumpkin donut without thinking about Corey and Allyson. 

At the far end of the field there’s a little platform with several hay bales sitting in front of it. You spin Dad to look in that direction, where some people dressed very conspicuously like cowboys are setting up amps and a drum kit. You pick your way through the mud and the pumpkin vines and sit on a hay bale right up front. You overhear that it’s a country cover band and get excited. This will either be a group of people so genuinely talented you can’t believe they’re playing a show at 8:30 am on a Saturday for a fucking pumpkin patch, or so genuinely terrible you can’t believe they’re playing a show at all. Delightfully, it’s the former, and you manage a whole hour without feeling like you’re on the verge of tears.

When the band’s done, two employees load the pumpkins you and Dad picked onto a big wooden cart and push them to the car. They’re so heavy they make the backseat think someone’s sitting there and you have to buckle them in to make it stop beeping. With the children secured you head home.

-

Corey dresses in the gray light from the window, picking an outfit that he hopes looks nice. He slips down the stairs, wanting to be gone before Momma wakes up. Ron’s asleep on the couch so Corey goes out the back door instead of the front. He rides his bike to your house. He has no idea what time you’ll be home, but he’s prepared to sit in the rocking chair on your front porch until he has to leave for dinner. The sun rises. He starts getting hot in his jacket, so he takes it off and drapes it on the back of the chair. He’s hungry, but he doesn’t think about it. He has to sit here until you get home. 

-

When you get close to Haddonfield, you finally turn your phone back on, knowing you’ll have a signal and fearing the messages that you assume have been waiting for you all last night and all this morning. Gradually all your notifications load, and there are a lot of them. You hold your breath as you watch for something from Corey or Allyson to appear, but there’s nothing. Somehow that feels like the worst option. You don’t want to cry, so you just close your eyes. 

“Hey Kiddo,” Dad says as he turns onto your street. “Looks like you’ve got a guest.”

You open your eyes. At the end of the street you can see someone sitting in the rocking chair on your front porch. Someone in a flannel with the sleeves rolled up, someone with a familiar mop of curly brown hair. Why is Corey here?

“I’ll just go inside and leave you to it,” Dad says as he pulls into the driveway. He parks the car and climbs the stairs. “Afternoon, Corey,” you hear him say as he unlocks the door.

“Sir,” Corey replies, inclining his head in Dad’s direction. 

You sit in the car. When the front door closes Corey stands from the rocking chair and walks to the edge of the porch. His jacket falls off the back of the chair, but he doesn’t react. You make eye contact with him from the passenger seat. You can’t read his face. Why did he come here instead of trying to call or text you? How long has he been waiting? You open your car door, and he comes down one step. Your heart pounds in your ears. You get out of the car and close the door. 

Corey comes down the rest of the stairs and crosses the driveway in three huge strides to pull you into his arms. He gets to you so fast his momentum almost knocks you over, but his arms keep you upright. You hold your arms out awkwardly, startled and confused, before relaxing into his embrace. He nuzzles his face into your neck, holding you like he can’t believe you’re real, like if he lets go, you’ll disappear. Your knees go weak at the amount of affection, getting from him what you’d always wanted but barely dared to imagine. 

The hug goes on forever, but when he pulls back, it feels painfully short. He takes a single step away from you. 

“Why did you do that?” He asks, and his voice sounds wounded. That wasn’t the emotion you were expecting at all, and suddenly you feel extremely guilty. You can’t look at him. “Why would you think I wanted that?”

“Because I… I just thought…” You begin to sob.  

Corey takes your face in his hands, gently making you look at him. He uses his thumbs to wipe the tears off your cheeks, despite those that fall from his own eyes. “I’ve wanted to tell you, but I thought you already knew.”

“Knew what?” You say, voice creaking. 

“That I love you,” he says. “I’ve been in love with you the whole time.”

You half sob half laugh. “I love you!” You say. “But I didn’t think you felt the same way.”

Corey pulls you back into his arms. 

“Is Allyson mad?” You ask.

“No. She understands.”

You reach up to Corey’s face and wipe his tears from under his glasses. “Wanna come inside?”

“Please,” he says. 

You hold hands as you ascend the stairs to the porch. Next time you hang out after work it will be a date. Before you open the door, Corey leans down and plants a gentle kiss on your lips. The first of many to come.

#corey cunningham #corey cunningham x reader #halloween ends #corey cunningham fluff #mine #ask

[zweetpea]

The blue roses adorning his eyes (TBRAHE) Chapter 1 The Anniversary 

Content warning: pg13 Swear words, talking about groping (once), infidelity, arranged marriages, read at your own risk

Let me know if I missed anything

The sun shone brightly through your window, as a knock on the door sounds throughout the room. “Your highness! Are you up? You have a lot of work to do today!” 

“Come in Addie!” You shout. A nice lady about 18 or so comes in. She has short blonde curly bob, parted at her left, and dark blue eyes. 

“How are you today your highness?” Addison smiled at you, as she brought you a tray of tarts. 

“You can be casual with me Addie. The past 2 decades haven’t changed; we’re still friends and we always will be.” You snack on the tarts. 

“I know, it’s just a bit awkward to call you by your nickname ever since you became queen.” 

“That was two years ago. If the others in the palace can’t get it through their thick skulls that you’re special to me then they’re not worth the effort to explain it.” 

“What if the king says something?” 

“Then I’ll pick him up and throw him into the wall with my cursed technique.” 

“What?! You can’t do that! He’ll have your head on a platter if you do that!” 

“He’d have to get a blade through my neck to do that though.” You smirk knowingly at her. “So, what should I wear today, Addie?” 

“How about the dress your father bought you recently?” 

“The blue one?” You grimaced. 

“Well, it is your 2 year anniversary; and it would match your husband.” 

“That’s what I’m apprehensive about.” You said as you grabbed the dress from your wardrobe and walked into the bathroom to get ready. 

After a bath and Addison helping to tie up your hair in a bun you exited your room in your new dress. White sleeves, a sapphire blue low cut bodice corset, a white skirt and a matching blue waist cape belt. “Y/n, wait! You forgot your jewelry.” Addison clipped a sapphire necklace, with silver flowers, on you; and finally placed a gold crown embedded with rows of sapphires throughout. “Cheer up, Y/n. I hear your husband has a surprise in the works for today.” 

“If he has a surprise ready, it can’t be anything good.” 

“I know that he’s a bit of an… eccentric man, but please, for the sake of the whole kingdom, try to trust him.” 

“Okay.” You wouldn’t admit it to Addison but you’d try to get along with the boar that was your husband if it’s for her happiness. 

You walked through the halls to your office and did some paperwork until noon. Noon was tea time and that’s when you’d be hosting a party for your anniversary. All of your and Satoru’s friends would be there. 

“Y/n, It’s nearly time to go.” Addison reminded you. 

“Addie… would you do me a huge favor?” 

“Of course, your highness.”

“No, not as an order. I’m asking as a friend.” 

“What do you need of me?” 

“Could you accompany me to the party?” 

“But, there’ll be so many nobles there! I’m just a simple maid, I can’t be a guest at your party! Plus I don’t have anything to wear, and I won’t know what to do or say.” 

“I won’t know anyone else, there. You don’t have to dress up, but please come with me.” 

“What if I embarrass you?” 

“You could never embarrass me. You’re the most wonderful person in the entire palace. If I had you there it’d be a lot more fun.” 

“Okay, if it makes you happy, I’ll go.” You smiled, hugging her while squealing your thanks to her over and over.

The garden was beautiful. A floral arch opened the garden, fountains on all four corners, every kind of rose lined the wall (a personal touch of your), and in the middle was several circular tables. At the table in the middle sat Shoko and Suguru. You and Addison walked over. “Is this where the king and queen plus company sits?” You asked. Shoko nodded inwhile Suguru rolled his eyes. You smiled politely at the two and sat down with Addison next to you. There was one more open chair next to her and you were grateful you wouldn’t have to sit next to your husband. Honestly if he didn’t insist on bringing his two lackeys everywhere then you probably wouldn’t even remember their names. 

A little while into the party a woman came over to the table. She was in a short cyan mermaid dress with poofy sleeves. She had long blonde hair and gray eyes. “Excuse me, you’re in my seat.” She said to Addison. 

“Huh?” Addison asked. 

“This is my spot, it’s next to the king. Move. Now.” 

You shot out of your seat. “Excuse me? How dare you speak to Addie like that!” 

“Why is a stupid maid even at this party? It’s for important people… oh yeah, and the queen.” 

“You insolent tramp! Don’t you insult the queen!” Addison spoke up. 

“Do not raise your voice against me! Do you know who I am? I can have you drawn and quartered for your disrespect.” 

“Have you gone mad? I am the queen and Addie here is my honored guest. Guards! Take this wench to the dungeon!” 

“Hah! Like they’ll listen to you!” She mocked. 

“Sorry ma’am but we can’t do that.” 

“Why not? I am the queen!” 

“Why is the harpy shouting?” The king entered the garden and several of the nobles snickered at his comment about you. 

“Babe!” The floozy ran over to the king, jumped into his arms and kissed him right on the lips. “The queen is being so mean to me.” She pouted faking distress. 

“Satoru, what is this?” 

“She is my lover Marrisa. How could you be so heartless as to hurt her?” 

“How could I? HOW COULD I?! YOU BROUGHT HOME A WHORE ON OUR WEDDING ANNIVERSARY!! Do you have any idea how humiliating this is for me?! Here! Take the stupid seat! Take mine too! Addie and I aren’t going to watch two sluts grope each other while the rest of us try to eat!” 

“Your majesty, you disgust me. I hope and pray that these buffoons come to their senses and leave as well.” Addison remarks to everyone around and wrapped a protective arm around your shoulder. 

Back inside your bedroom you sobbed into your pillow. “What am I going to do now Addie?” 

“I don’t know; but I know that whatever happens I’ll be right next to you. We’ll get through this together.” 

“Thank you for always being there for me. That’s one of the many things I love about you, Addie.” 

“Thank you, your highness. I care very deeply for you and your wellbeing.” 

#gojo satoru #gojo #jujutsu kaisen #gojo x reader #gojo x y/n #gojo x you #gojou satoru x reader #jjk #jjk gojo #jjk satoru #satoru gojo #satoru angst #satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen satoru #satoru x you #satoru x y/n #jujutsu satoru #geto #geto suguru #shoko ieiri #jjk shoko #jujutsu kaisen shoko #jjk geto #jujutsu geto #jjk x reader #jujutsu gojo #TBRAHE🩵💙🦋🌹 #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo x y/n

[arielhopepeace]

Welcome, my loves, to another Joel Miller fanfic! Please be sure to read the trigger warnings before reading this story since this one focuses on the traumatic past of y/n ❤️ it shows how she’s able to push past the trauma to find love in a man again. This is something I have personal experience with, and I know how hard it can be. So, I’m hoping that it may be a comfort to anybody who needs it. It certainly was comforting to write 💕

She is a successful 25 year old lawyer, and Joel is a successful 35 year old dad who owns his own carpentry business and seeks out y/n for help! This was a story suggestion from a good friend of mine, and I hope you all enjoy it.

Part two is here

18+ only

Tw: smut, talk of sexual assault, trauma flashbacks, anxiety, panic attacks, age gap, talk of death of loved ones, talk of drug abuse

Word count: 7,500

   "Ms. Y/l/n, your three o' clock is here," my receptionist says gently over the intercom.

I let out a preemptive sigh, squaring my shoulders as I adjust myself in my chair. It's not common for me to take on male clients, being that I'm not particularly fond of them.

The only man in my life is my dad. Even though he lives about an hour away, we still talk every day with the occasional FaceTime chat so that we can see each other when our schedules are too busy for in-person meetings. He's my rock. He got me through the most difficult times in my life, and worked two jobs just to put me through college.

Thanks to him, I'm now an accomplished lawyer at twenty-five years old. I owe my life to my dad, and I know that no other man could ever live up to everything he's done for me. It doesn't matter if they tried. I'd never trust them, anyway.

"Send him in," my voice barks.

It's not Cynthia's fault that I'm on edge about a man coming into my office. It's only that he's the first man I'll have been alone with since...him; the name that I never allow to pass my lips, the name that any time I hear it out in public it makes me cringe and spark that bit of fear in my chest. He is the reason for my total disrespect and mistrust for men, because he showed me how truly evil they can be.

There's a knock on my office door, and I let out a short, clipped entry to the client. He steps in and closes the door behind himself, the lock clicking only promoting my apprehension for accepting his case. I wish my boss wouldn't have talked me into it; wish he wouldn't have made a fuss about me not accepting a male client and how it's not ethical. I can accept whatever client I damn well please, and I don't want a man telling me otherwise. But I have to keep my job. It's always been my dream to be a lawyer. It was my father's dream, too, but he could never afford the schooling. That's why he worked so hard to make sure I got in. He wanted it for me as badly as he wanted it for himself.

"Hi, I'm Joel Miller," the man's voice interrupts me from mindlessly shuffling through papers on my desk.

When I turn my gaze up to his I feel myself gulp, flicking my eyes briefly over to the shut door before having them settle back onto his. They're soft and brown, inviting, and seeming wholly innocent. His skin is tanned and smooth, only having slight wrinkles at the creases of his eyes. He has dark hair that's a bit longer, resulting in small, half-curls scattered sporadically on his head.

His hand is extended to mine, and I stand, reluctantly taking it to maintain professionalism. I never should've accepted a male client. My heart rate must be through the roof at this point, my palms a sweaty mess that he probably took notice of. God, get it together, y/n. It's your job.

"How can I help you today, Mr. Miller?" My voice projects smoothly, not having a hint of anxiety in it.

How did I manage to pull that off?

He shifts a bit in his seat before his eyes meet mine, still having that magnetic, gentle demeanor to them. "Well, I just wanted to say thank you for seeing me on such short notice."

I smile with a nod, even though I didn't really have a choice. My boss was so heavily insisting that I chose a male client, that he basically threw this guy into my lap.

"Of course, Mr. Miller."

"I own Miller Carpentry over on Hugh street," he gestures a tanned finger in the general direction, "and recently I hired a few new people to go do some jobs independently without me being a shadow. Well, that was a mistake. One of them took the money from a few jobs and never gave me, the company, a percentage of it."

My pen glides across the paper as I take notes of his claim, trying not to focus on the fact that we're alone in the room. I make bullet points of everything I'd like to incorporate if this gets brought to court, adding potential selling points beneath each sentence.

"And I'm assuming you tried to reach out and you had no luck?"

Joel shrugs. "It's like he's a ghost. Can't find him anywhere."

"How much did he make off with? Do you know?"

He exhales sharply. "At least five grand."

My eyes flick to the closed door again, letting out a gentle sigh as I try to relax. "I'll contact a friend at the police station and see if he can't find your worker. If he doesn't pay, he'll go to jail and end up having to pay you back one way or another."

"I contacted police, and they said to find a lawyer in the meantime because he most likely won't just give it up."

I scoff as I roll my eyes. "People are untrustworthy."

Joel beams at me once I stop scribbling, my tense body shifting again. "In the ten years I've had my business, this is the first time this has happened, so I'd like to say that's not true."

"Ah, so you're a carpenter and an optimist. Sounds exhausting."

He laughs heartily, the sound slightly relaxing me. "I think it's only normal for lawyers to be pessimists. You deal with criminals for a living."

"I like to avoid taking on cases that make me uncomfortable, Mr. Miller. So, no. I don't normally deal with criminals."

His fingers scratch at his slight facial hair as he continues smiling. The hairs are gray mixed with mostly black, like a medley of salt and pepper.

"I don't blame you. I couldn't do it. It's mentally demanding, I'm sure."

My mouth twists up slightly. "It entertains my therapist."

Joel chuckles, my shoulders relaxing a bit more. "I wanted to discuss cost with you. How much will you cost if we go to court and we win?"

"When you win, it'll be about two and a half grand."

He breathes out heavily. "Okay, I can swing that. I'll be able to use the half of what I'm owed from him, then."

"There's cheaper lawyers out there, Mr. Miller. If finances are an issue, I can refer you to someone else."

He shakes his head vehemently. "A friend suggested you to me, and she said you were great. So, I thought it would be best to go to someone that has a good reputation."

I beam. "I'm glad to hear good things about me."

Joel grins back, flashing a neat, white smile. I'm ashamed to admit that I find him incredibly attractive. It's been years since I've looked at a man in any way other than a predator, but Joel seems—kind. I'm immediately putting an end to those thoughts, shaking my head in disgust for betraying the promise I made to myself when I was seventeen. I'll never let a man in again, and I intend on keeping that promise.

Clearing my throat, I pick up my pen again. "May I have your home and email addresses, please?"

He recites them to me and I scribble them down, nodding my thanks.

"I'll keep in touch via email with any updates on what I hear back. Could I also get the man's first and last name?"

"Kevin Bridges," Joel says bitterly. "Bastard."

I chuckle, a sudden buzzing interrupting the meeting. Joel pulls his phone out and gives me an apologetic look before he answers the call.

"Hi, honey, I'm in an important meeting. Are you okay?" Joel hums sweetly.

Must be his wife, right? I glance over to his left hand and notice an empty ring finger. Okay, his girlfriend, then.

"I'll be home soon. Just stay with Mrs. Cheshire until I get there, okay? I don't want you home alone." His eyes briefly flick to mine and I smile. "Okay. I love you too, Sarah. Bye." Joel sighs with raised brows as he beams. "I'm sorry, that was my daughter."

"Oh," I grin, for some reason feeling relieved. "How old is she?"

"Ten. She thinks she's a full-grown adult who can stay home unsupervised. I just have her go by the neighbor's when I don't make it home in time after school. She's an old lady that loves my Sarah to death."

My chest aches when he talks about his daughter, so much enthusiasm and evident love in his words. It reminds me of my dad and I, and it makes me miss him desperately.

"Sarah seems like a lucky girl to have you as her dad," I smile. "It's just me and my dad, too. My mom left the picture when I was very little. Drugs."

Joel's brows knit with what I can only describe as sympathy. I don't want him to pity me. "I'm sorry. Sarah's mom died when she was a baby, so she doesn't really know what it's like to have a mom."

"I'm sorry for your loss." My voice is robotic, as I always have to be to detach myself from my clients. "Poor girl," I say with a hint of my genuine emotion.

"Ah, she's wonderful. Highest grades in her class, and quick as a whip," he laughs fondly. "Definitely gets it from her mom."

I chuckle, clearing my throat as I stand, holding my hand out. "It was nice meeting you, Mr. Miller. I'll be in touch."

He stands, too, taking my palm into his and giving a firm shake. "It was very nice meeting you, Ms. Y/l/n. Thank you again."

I nod, practically sprinting to the door to allow the fresh air into my suffocating office. Joel walks out with a grin, my eyes briefly following him before I disappear behind my desk again. It feels like I can finally breathe now that he's not here. It's not that I felt unsafe or uncomfortable in his presence, but it's exactly that fact that concerns me. Last time I felt comfortable around a man, horrible things happened. I can't let a man force his power over me ever again. I won't let it happen.

My house is empty as it always is when I walk in, the crisp air greeting me in the delicious way it does to alleviate my warmed body from the scorching summer weather. It's July, and I'm convinced the sweltering heat will be the death of me.

I kick off my heels and strip off my stockings from beneath my skirt, laying them on my neatly made bed before walking naked to the shower. The hot water is a welcoming feeling after the stress of the day.

Joel Miller is the first male stranger I've been alone in a room with since I was seventeen, which was eight years ago. He was friendly and handsome, but he also needed something from me. Men are always nice to you when they need something. I can't think about his soft brown eyes and expect them to be just as inviting when he no longer needs my help. 

How am I going to continue meeting him in private until his case is solved? I'm so damned anxious the entire time, and it eats me alive. Yes, he seems kind, but so do all men until it's their time to strike and you instantly become their prey.

Panic consumes me, reliving the horrible, violent memories that I've experienced as I fall to the shower floor, holding myself tightly in my arms. I was so young, and somebody that I loved and trusted took advantage of me. Of course I've somewhat moved passed the sexual abuse, but there's always my days where something triggers my brain, and I'm in a rough state for the remainder of my time awake.

Today is one of those days. Joel's presence set me into a downward spiral of all-consuming panic. I'm tempted to plead to my boss about it, and beg for him to be reassigned elsewhere, but I know he won't have it without an explanation.

Nobody knows what happened to me when I was seventeen besides my dad and a few police officers. My ex-boyfriend who abused me, Justin, got a few months in jail since he was also seventeen. The man who helped him, however, was twenty-four at the time and got sentenced to one year in prison. I wanted the judge to grant a lengthier sentence, but since it was their first offenses, he cut them some slack.

Being a lawyer, I've had several opportunities to defend sexual assault victims, and I have. I've always advocated for lengthier sentences, and almost every time I'm met with a judge who takes my suggestion. I can't help but wonder if Joel's friend who suggested me to him was a woman who I've helped with a sexual assault case.

I'm glad that it's not common knowledge amongst the public about my past. It's not something I want people knowing and pitying me for, or thinking I'd be too emotional to do my job. Never once have I lost my composure in a court room during one of those cases, and I never will.

Before anything else, I'm a professional, and I don't let my emotions get the best of me at work. I'm not the type to express my feelings, either, not even to my dad. He always knows when something's bothering me, but I normally change the subject and brush it off as to just being tired. It's just hard to open up. I hate doing it.

  Later as I lay in bed, slightly wine-drunk and ready for sleep, I'm reminded of the gentle burr of Joel Miller's voice. His hand was heavy and calloused in mine, making me feel as if someone had just given me a massive weight to hold. His tanned skin flashes in my mind, and I can't help but wonder what he smells like. Does he have a specific scent that smells just as manly as he appears?

Without realizing, I'm grinning with my eyes closed, picturing my fingers in his loose, soft-looking hair as I inhale whatever aroma lingers on his neck.

***

  My eyes scan the document in front of me, nodding as I copy a few pieces of information and type it into my email for a client. A slight ding hums through my computer, and I instantly click on my email notification.

To: Y/n  Y/l/n

Subject: Rat Bastard

  Hi, Ms. Y/l/n,

I was just reaching out to let you know that the son of a bitch was finally caught. He agreed to give me back what was owed to me, and wants to avoid court and jail at all costs. I decided to not press charges even though he's still a bastard. Thank you again for all of your help so quickly. I really appreciate it. I know that you don't need to be paid unless you win the case, but I still took up your time. If you ever need some carpentry work done around your house, I'll do whatever you need for free. Please don't hesitate to call or text if you ever need anything. My number is 276-555-0909. Thank you again.

Joel Miller

A little sigh leaves my curled lips, my heart drumming in my chest. I'm relieved yet saddened that Joel won't be joining me in my office anymore. Of course I know that I can contact him at any time, but I don't need any carpentry work done around the house even a little bit.

My washer has been on the fritz, leaking a bit almost every time I do laundry, but I was just going to buy a new one. The one I have isn't old, there's just something wrong with it. Should I ask Joel for help with it?

No, that's ridiculous, right?

How insane am I that I'm letting a strange man into my house just because I want to spend some time around him? No, I'm crazy. I can't do that. What if he hurt me? What if he tried to attack me?

I immediately halt my racing thoughts, closing his email and resuming my other one. Just because I find Joel attractive, doesn't mean that I can just start letting my sky high walls down. He's still a man, and that makes him dangerous.

  At home, I finish my call with my dad. We caught up on our current work lives and anything new that's happened. It's luckily all the same as usual, and we made plans to see each other soon.

My bare feet patter into my laundry room, seeing that there's a puddle on the floor, making me scoff and curse. It feels like the universe is telling me to call Joel and have him come over to help me, but I'm too afraid.

If I invite him over, he'll be the first man ever in this house, and I don't want to forsake my promise. Deciding to throw caution to the wind, I let out a sharp exhale, pulling up the email app to copy Joel's number, pasting it into my phone. My thumb hovers over the "call" option, my heart feeling like it's about to leap out of my chest.

Before I realize what I've done, the line is trilling, and it's too late to hang up now.

"Hello?" he answers curiously.

"Hi, Mr. Miller. It's y/n  y/l/n."

"Oh, hi!" Joel says brightly. "I take it you got my email, then."

"Yes," I say shyly, clearing my throat. "Um, are you busy?"

The line is quiet for a moment, then he speaks. "No, actually. I just settled into the couch with Sarah to watch some show that she likes, but I don't think she cares whether I'm here to watch it or not," he laughs. "What's up? Is everything okay?"

"How much do you know about fixing washing machines?"

Joel chuckles. "I'm a very handy man, Ms. Y/l/n."

"Mine has been leaking for a bit, and I just walked into my laundry room to find a huge puddle. You think you can help?"

"Definitely. I'll grab my tools. Could you send me your address? I'll leave now."

I clear my throat, panic constricting it. "Uh, if you're comfortable with it, you can bring Sarah. I know you said you usually leave her with the neighbor if you can't supervise her."

Joel laughs lightly. "I'm not sure if she'll want to come, but I'll ask her. Thank you for thinking of her. That's sweet of you."

I giggle, the thought of Sarah being here comforting me. "Of course. I'll see you soon."

"Bye."

"Bye." I hang up.

I'm suddenly scrambling to my bathroom, drying my wet feet on the carpet that lays in front of the sink. My fingers run through my hair in an anxious manner,  attempting to tame it a bit. I opt for throwing it up into a messy bun, reapplying my subtle makeup just a bit to my eyes.

Why am I trying to look good for Joel? God knows. I haven't been this way in years, but something about him just draws me in. Everything in my mind is screaming at me to not give in, and to stay alone as I had planned to. It's safer when you're alone. There's no one here to hurt you. It's just you and solitude.

  When I hear my doorbell, my heart picks up its pace, and the panic has settled in to my bones. I'm letting in deep breaths, breathing them out slowly. Joel won't hurt me, right? He's only here to fix my washer. He wouldn't do anything else...right?

I swing open the door and see Joel with a smile fitted onto his face, and a large toolbox in his right hand. He's wearing dark blue jeans that hang from his hips, a white v-neck shirt and large brown work boots on his feet.

My eyes search for his daughter, desperately hoping that she's here. "Hi, thanks for coming by." I gesture him inside.

Joel nods and steps in, standing in the living room. "Your house is beautiful. When did you buy it?"

"Last year," my voice croaks, making me clear it. "But thank you. I like it a lot. It's my favorite home I've ever lived in."

He chuckles, his eyes briefly on the floor before they meet mine again. "Care to show me to your flood?"

I laugh, beginning to walk toward the laundry room. I open the door, revealing the several towels that I've laid out to clean up the mess. Joel steps right onto them, his boots leaving a distinct print in the fabric.

"Did you turn the water off to the house?"

I nod. "Yes, actually. I figured that might be a problem."

Joel settles down onto his knees on the damp tile, opening the washer door. "Just don't want to be sprayed."

My eyes linger back to the closed front door, shifting in the entryway of the laundry room. "So, Sarah didn't want to come, I take it?"

"Nah, she wanted to watch her show. I told you she didn't care if I was there or not."

I giggle, admiring the flex of his biceps as he stretches into the washer. "I'm sorry to pull you away."

"No, don't be," he beams at me. "I'm more than happy to help you."

"Would you like a drink, Mr. Miller?"

He chuckles. "Water would be fine, and please call me Joel."

"Right," I smile, my cheeks feeling hot.

I leave the laundry room, making my way to the kitchen to grab a bottle of water out of the fridge, walking it back to Joel where half of his body is inside of the washing machine. My lingering gaze admires the strength of his thighs in his jeans. He's such a man.

God, what is he doing to me? I never think like this. Not even about handsome celebrities I see on tv.

"Here you go," I finally say, setting the bottle down beside him. "Is there anything else you need from me?"

"No. I think I see your problem, though."

"Oh, yeah?" I ask hopefully. "What is it?"

"There's a bit of a hole in your water connection. I'm not sure how that happened, but you'll need a new pipe."

I sigh, shaking my head. "How much do those cost?"

He leans out of the washer, standing up. "Free, because I'm buying it."

My eyebrows fit together. "Joel, I can't have you purchase the part and install it. It's too much."

"You helped me. Now I want to help you."

"I barely did anything."

He smiles vastly. "But you were willing to do everything."

"It's just my job." My voice is small.

Joel eyes me. "Do you not like people doing things for you?"

I sink in to myself, my cheeks feeling hot. "I don't know. I guess not."

"Hm," he smirks. "Would you like to go to the supply store with me for a new hose?"

"Sure," I say before even thinking.

Joel beams as we exit the room, my hands shaking as I slide on my shoes. I grip my keys, feeling them jingle more than necessary from my trembling as I lock the front door. I turn around to see a large black truck, relaxing a bit at the roominess of the cab.

Why did I agree to having Joel drive me around town? The last man who ever drove me anywhere was Justin, and I was stuck where he took me, having horrible things done to me with no escape. The memory makes me wince as panic twists in my chest.

Joel opens my door for me, and I look to him with a shocked expression. He holds his hand out for me to grab and surprisingly I do, loading myself into the passenger seat of his truck.

He steps into the driver's seat, my eyes adverted away from him as I buckle my seatbelt. My leg is bouncing anxiously, my gaze fixed out the passenger window.

"Are you okay, y/n?" Joel asks gently from beside me as we drive down my road.

"Yeah," I say breathlessly. "Sorry, just a long day."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

My head turns to look at him, and he's giving me a gentle smile back, the wrinkles by his eyes deepening. His eyes are still that puppy-dog style brown that is alluring and comforting all at once. He isn't looking at me any differently than he was in my office, and he no longer needs anything from me.

"Oh, uh, just a difficult case, I guess. I can't give too many details, you know," I fib.

He nods, "Of course. Well, from what I've heard, you're a wonderful lawyer. My friend raved about you."

"Who's your friend?"

"Vivian Meyers. You helped her with her sexual assault case."

My body stiffens. Damn, I knew it. "Oh, yes. I remember her."

His eyes soften as they look to me. "You really helped her get justice."

"It's just what should've been done. Too many of those creeps get away with light sentences. I don't let that happen, if I can help it."

He beams wide at me, turning his gaze back to the road. "You're an incredible woman, y/n."

My cheeks warm to his compliment, my body wiggling in my seat. "Thank you."

  After the supply store, Joel gets right to work on the washing machine, shoving his body behind it to unscrew the faulty hose on the outside to replace it. My stomach turns with hunger, my hand flying to it to grip it tightly. I was far too anxious to eat earlier, and now I'm suffering the consequences of that decision.

"Can I treat you to dinner?" I ask Joel, gazing at his legs since it's the only part of him I can see.

He laughs. "You don't have to repay me for this, y/n. I really don't mind."

"C'mon," I laugh, "please? You've been so kind."

Joel lets out a loud, dramatic sigh, making me giggle. "Fine. What did you have in mind?"

"Ooo, something simple. I'm not much of a cook."

He laughs. "That makes two of us. I'm good with anything. I'm not picky."

"Chinese food?"

"God, my stomach is growling just thinking about it. Yes, please," he says loudly.

I chuckle as I pull out my phone, adding a few things to the basket that I want. "What do you like? I ordered chicken and broccoli, egg rolls, pork fried rice, and steamed dumplings."

"Oh, god," he groans playfully, the sound stirring something unfamiliar within me. "Yes. All of that sounds perfect. Maybe just add a general tso's chicken and that'll be good. That's my favorite."

"You got it."

"I'll be done in about five minutes. The old hose is almost off," he grunts as he exerts himself. "Forgive me for not being dainty for dinner."

I laugh, watching him reach his hand out for the new hose. "Please. I'm just in my comfy home clothes. You're fine."

"I'm a mess and I smell like old water. You sure you want me to stay?"

"Joel, please," I almost scold. "Yes, I want you to stay."

My eyes widen as I realize what I've just said. I've broken so many of my rules today, and I don't know what to make of it. I've let him in my house, let him drive me around, and now I'm insisting that he stays for dinner. What is this man doing to me?

  Joel pops out from behind the washing machine a bit later, the Chinese food saying it'll arrive in twenty minutes. His white shirt is dampened on the side, causing it to be a bit see through. His body looks soft, but still in shape. I'm not even sure how old he is, but I know he has to be older than me by at least a few years since he has a daughter that's ten.

My eyes linger on his wet shirt. "I'm sorry, I don't have anything for you to change in to."

He shrugs with a smile. "If you don't mind, neither do I." His eyes look around as we leave the laundry room, making our way to the living room. "So, you live alone, I take it?"

"Yes," I breathe. "Being alone is one of my favorite things."

Joel chuckles. "Not me. I couldn't stand it if I didn't have Sarah. She's a blessing for many reasons."

I smile as I walk into my kitchen, bending down into my fridge to pull out an amber bottle. "Beer?"

He nods. "Didn't take you for a beer drinker."

"I keep them around for my dad, actually," I chuckle. "More of a wine drinker, if I'm honest."

Joel twists off the top and discards it on the counter, leaning against it as I take out my wine that I was drinking just last night, thinking of the man standing before me as I fell asleep.

"Where does your dad live?" he asks.

"Oh, about an hour from here. We see each other when we can since we both work like crazy."

He grins wide at me. "What does he do?"

"He works in a warehouse. I'm always worried he's going to hurt himself, but it keeps him in good shape."

"I'm sure he'll be fine. How old is he?"

"He's forty-five. My mom and him had me when they were both young."

Joel's brows furrow, seemingly wanting to say something upsetting, but it looks like he decides against it when his face changes. "Yeah, my wife and I had Sarah when I was twenty-five."

He's thirty-five?! God, he's still so young, but older than me by a decent amount. Why do I find that so attractive?

"You said your wife passed away," I begin cautiously, "how did she die?"

He gives me a soft, small smile. "Car accident. She was on her way to work and someone t-boned her on the driver's side going sixty miles an hour. They told me it was quick and she didn't feel anything."

My hand reaches out and grips his forearm. "God, Joel, I'm so sorry."

"It's okay. It was nine years ago. I've come to terms with it and learned how to cope. It took a long time, but—" his voice trails off. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to be depressing."

"No! I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked." I suddenly move my hand, realizing that it was lingering against his skin.

"Y/n," he chuckles, shaking his head, "you can always ask me anything."

We stand there smiling at each other for a moment, the air feeling electrically charged between us. I take a sharp breath in as the doorbell ding rips me from my little daydreaming bubble, and I slightly jump before scurrying away to the front door.

The young girl hands me the food and I thank her as she leaves, gathering the bags in my hands and settling them down gently onto the coffee table.

"Not the dining room?" Joel asks with a slight chuckle.

I grab the remote and flip on the tv. "Thought we could do with some entertainment."

He leaves to go to the kitchen, returning with my wine and his beer, placing them on the table beside the food. "I'm good with anything."

Joel sits beside me on the couch, and I'm hyper-aware of how close he is. I pull out all of the food, quickly finishing the wine in my glass before I pour myself some more.

I turn on a random movie that's playing, not really knowing what it is. "Chopsticks?" I hand him a pair.

Joel takes them and breaks them apart, giving me a slight smirk. "Do you want me to grab a plate?"

"Only if you want them. I'm fine with just eating out of the containers. Doing dishes might be my least favorite thing to do."

He laughs loudly, his head cocked back. "For someone who doesn't like doing dishes, your house is extremely clean."

"Well, I'm a bit of a control freak, I guess. I'm lazy, but my brain doesn't let me be."

Joel chuckles, flashing that gorgeous smile of his. "Being a control freak probably comes from being a lawyer."

No, it's because I don't trust anybody and I must do everything that I can myself.

"Yeah," I lie, chuckling slightly.

I dig my chopsticks into the chicken, pushing the meat and broccoli between the thin wood before bringing it to my lips. I groan at the flavor, my stomach growling in delight.

"This is so good," I moan, nodding my head.

Joel takes a bite and rolls his eyes in enjoyment. "This is exactly what I needed. I usually eat dinner by now."

"Me, too. I was just too distracted with the washer. I'm sorry for dragging you out here."

He shakes his head. "I wanted to help. Please, stop apologizing. You don't ever have to apologize to me."

I swallow the dry lump of attraction that has formed in my throat, leaning forward to pour myself more wine, quickly downing the glass.

Joel laughs as he glances at me. "I guess today was really tough, then?"

No, being near you is next to impossible.

"Yes," I lie again, pouring myself another glass. "I'm glad you got your money back. I'm surprised he was so willing to give it back once he was caught. Most people would fight it."

He shrugs. "He's stupid."

I laugh, shoveling some rice into my mouth with a hand beneath the chopsticks to prevent any rice from falling onto the floor.

"Most men are," I blurt out.

Joel laughs. "I'd love to say you're wrong, but you're not."

I laugh with him, the alcohol lightening my anxieties. "You're not, though."

"Oh, that's not true," he chuckles. "I've done some really stupid stuff."

"Like what?"

He leans back slightly, wiping his mouth with one of the provided napkins. "When I was a teenager, probably about sixteen, I really wanted this girl to like me. So, I thought the cool thing would be to light fireworks off in front of her house. I swore she would think it was the most romantic gesture she's ever seen. Well, turns out that the tree she had in her front yard was incredibly flammable."

I gasp with my hand to my mouth. "Oh, my god!"

Joel nods with a vast grin. "Yup. Tree burned to the ground and she never spoke to me again. Damn thing nearly fell onto her house! I was lucky her parents didn't try to get me in trouble for that. They were furious, but they knew it wasn't my intention."

I laugh loudly, my head cocked back. "I can't believe that. That's hilarious!"

"She did not think so."

"I've never had anyone do something so crazy for me before." My laughter fades, flashing back to Justin and his friend cornering me in that unfamiliar room.

Quickly, I down more wine, my leg beginning to bounce again as I attempt to push away the negative memories that are replaying in my head. No, no, no. This can't happen now.

"Are you okay, y/n?" Joel asks, cutting me back to reality.

My body is trembling, and I'm doing my best to remain calm, but the terror in my mind won't stop. "Yeah, I'm fine."

"Y/n, you're shaking." Joel goes to reach out but I quickly retreat. "Was it something I said?"

"No!" my voice answers quickly. "No, Joel, you're fine."

He lets out a sharp sigh. "You're having a panic attack, I can tell. I had them all the time after my wife died. Talk to me, y/n. What's happening?"

"I can't tell you, Joel. It's—too much."

He backs away a bit as he nods. "Okay, how about I tell you another story about how I'm stupid?"

My eyes squeeze shut, nodding my head. "Tell me."

"When Sarah was born, I hadn't gotten much sleep that night before my wife went into labor because I was so nervous about being a dad. I hadn't been eating or sleeping well for a few days, actually. Anyway, she finally goes into labor and I'm wide awake, running through the house to collect all of her things and get her to the hospital. Well, when we get there, and she's finally having the baby, I faint."

I laugh, my heart rate beginning to settle. "You fainted?!"

"It wasn't the blood, the screams, or any of that. It's because I freaked myself out so bad that I couldn't sleep or eat! So, I basically missed my daughter's birth because I'm an idiot."

My lips quiver up. "You were scared to be a dad?"

"Oh, definitely," he nods, beginning to smile, "but once I held Sarah, I knew being a dad is what I'm meant to do with my life. I loved her from the second I saw her, and I still get that feeling every time I look at her. That girl has my whole heart with her."

My brows slant, emotion welling up in my chest that I force down. "Joel, you're an amazing dad. I can already tell that."

"Thanks," he laughs shyly. "I do my best. It's hard being two parents."

"My dad has been two parents from the time I was Sarah's age. He's everything to me, and I know you're everything to her, too. My dad got two jobs just to get me through law school, something he wanted but never had the money for."

"He sounds like an amazing man."

I nod with a small smile. "He is."

Joel's eyes flick to my legs, then back up to my gaze. "Your legs stopped bouncing. Are you feeling better?"

"Yes," I breathe out slowly. "Thank you, Joel."

He nods. "You're welcome." His eyes flick between mine. "Do you get those often?"

"Not super often, no. Just lately I've been having some triggers, I guess."

Joel frowns with furrowed brows. "What I always tried to do was just take deep breaths and distract my brain by watching something light. Have you tried that?"

I nod with a smirk. "Therapist recommended."

He chuckles. "Mine too."

"You helped a lot, honestly. My dad is the only one who was ever able to help talk me down from an episode."

Joel looks to me with those soft eyes, my living room light shining off the velvety brown of them. "That's a very nice compliment. I had to go through them completely alone. I only had my one year old daughter when they were at their worst. If you ever want to reach out when you're panicking, you can. You shouldn't have to go through them alone."

My gaze softens, those tears trying to make their way to the surface again but I shoo them away. "That means a lot, Joel. Thank you."

"You're welcome, y/n."

  After the movie ends, and I'm tipsy from the wine, I lean onto Joel's shoulder, my eyes beginning to flutter closed. I feel calm in this moment beside him, and I'm not sure if it's the alcohol or just Joel.

"Y/n?" he whispers.

"Hmm?"

"It's getting late and I have to get back to Sarah. Will you be okay if I leave?"

I nod, lifting my head to look up at him. "Of course."

His eyes search mine, concern etched into them. "Promise me you'll call or text if you're panicking again. I don't want you going through them alone."

"You're sweet to care, Joel," I beam at him. "Thank you."

He grins as his slightly glares at me. "You didn't promise."

"That's because I can't. I don't open up or express my feelings to anybody, not even my dad."

Joel goes to touch my face, but stops himself. "I was that way too. I promise it's better to not face whatever you're going through alone."

With a steady hand, I grab his and place it on my cheek. "I'm sorry for freaking out earlier. I'm embarrassed."

He tucks some hair behind my ear, cupping the side of my face. "No, don't be. I'm glad I was here to help."

I lean into his touch, my eyes closing a bit to savor the feeling of his skin on mine. When I open them, I see Joel gazing at me, giving me a look that I know is want. Normally it would completely freak me out, but the tipsy affect of the wine mixed with Joel's gentle aura have me feeling incredibly—safe.

"You can," I say softly, my eyes on his lips.

Joel cocks his head. "I can, what?"

"Kiss me. I can see that you want to."

He chuckles slightly, rubbing his thumb against my cheek. "Do you want me to?"

I nod. "Yes."

Joel slowly leans in, my heart suddenly pounding in my chest as he gently takes my lips against his. His mouth is gentle and eager, my own mouth parting to allow him to slip his tongue into it. He does exactly that, eliciting a quiet moan from my throat. He tastes of beer and Chinese food, mixed with his own unique flavor. It's intoxicating, making me feel more drunk on him than the wine.

My fingers go into his hair, gently tugging to control the kiss as our tongues swirl together. My body is alight with a passion I've never experienced, and there's an ache between my legs. Joel's right hand stays on my face, the other at the small of my back, pulling me in closer to him.

I part our lips and kiss his stubbly jaw, moving down to his neck and throat. He lets out a small groan of approval, the sound further arousing me.

"Y/n," he breathes out, stopping me in my tracks. "Please don't take this the wrong way, but we should stop."

My lips come to a halt from his bobbing Adam's apple, moving my face into view of his. "You want to stop?"

He strokes my face, his gaze having a bit of heat to it. "I've thought you were beautiful since the moment I walked into your office, and I've wanted to kiss you all night. That being said, you drank a bit, and I don't want you doing something you'll regret."

I stare at him with a dumbfounded expression, the rate of my heart only increasing from the realization that Joel might actually be a good guy.

"I—" my voice trails off, "I can't believe you said that."

Joel cocks his head as he chuckles. "Why? Who the hell would take advantage of a drunk woman?"

"A lot of people."

"A lot of fucking creeps," he mutters. "It makes me a bit sad that you're impressed by the bare minimum from a man. Have you ever had a decent boyfriend?"

With tears filling my eyes, I shake my head. "No."

Joel's eyes soften as he pulls me in to a tight hug, my body weakening in his hold. He embraces me for a moment, the tears finally spilling over my lids and onto my cheeks. Is this the way men are supposed to treat women? Am I supposed to feel this safe and cherished? I barely know him, yet I feel like he'd go to war to protect me.

"Joel," I say through my sniffling.

He pulls away, swiping my tears away with his thumbs. "Yes, y/n?"

My shoulders sag as I let out a large sigh. "Would you like to go on a date with me some time?"

Joel beams, nodding his head. "Definitely. This Saturday?"

I giggle, "I'd love to."

  When Joel leaves, he gives me a soft, lingering kiss at the front door, smiling as I watch him walk away with his tool kit in his hand. My body stays leaning against the doorframe until he drives away, letting out a sigh of pure contentment.

I haven't felt this giddy since Justin and I first started dating, but the fuzzy feelings towards him were short-lived. We didn't date for very long before we slept together for the first time, and after that it was like something switched in him. I was upset that I gave him my virginity, but I trusted him when I did. It was probably about two weeks later when him and his friend took me to his house and had their way with me.

My eyes close as the vivid images of them come back, doing my best to shoo them from my mind. I'd like to be honest with Joel and tell him just how scared I am of being intimate with him, but I don't want to freak him out.

Maybe I will after our date this Saturday. I was more than ready and willing to jump his bones tonight, a feeling I never thought I'd get again. But Joel seems to be changing me, and though I'm terrified, I'm somehow also hopeful that it'll be okay with him.

****

#pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fic #smut #yn fanfic #pedro pascal #joel miller smut #joel miller #joel miller fic #tlou fic #tlou smut

[cuddl3s4shur1]

Me You And Basketball

Basketball riri x Fan y/n Inspired By: Just Wright

Summary: You deiced to take you friend Maris out for a basket ball game ,she is trying to get all prepped up so she can make one of the players her future wife. You on the other hand are just trying to enjoy this moment. 

Authors Note:I love The movie Just wright so much and i thought it would be good to make this basketball fic sense im doing a cheerleading one for shuri,I know I’m supposed to be taking a break but this idea came to me and hit hard so I just had to make it . To make the story more accurate to rl I put riri in the WNBA

Taglist: @tuesdaylovesu (Wifey FR) @writesbyriri @womenlxver @letitias-fav @locoforshuri @lunax0654 @randomhoex @niaalove @atssukoo @saintwrld @ziayamikaelson @secretgyals @malltake12 @adeola-the-explorer

Y/n's Pov

YOU were at your parents house.You lived there because You were making minimum wage at your job.You where trying to get known and help basketball players if they ever had a Injury.People doubted You thinking you will never get known.So far they where right most people didn’t know your first name . Yet you still have hope that your prime is coming . But instead of you worrying about that you where going to go out.

Maris's outfit YOU and you friend Maris who was basically like your sister decided to go out to a basketball game . She made it seen like a big thing to your parents .She was trying to get on of the basketball players numbers so they could date . She was trying to be a basketball wife. She insisted that you should dress like one to but you decided to keep it casual. It’s a basketball game. “Girl you acting like we going to the club or sum shit come on” you say as you do try moving her to the door . “Wait I got to make sure my makeup is good “ she says as she goes back to the bathroom. “We gone be late waiting for you and this make up” you say annoyed. “Well you’re going to understand this hard work when I get my wife” she says as she rolls her eyes. “Girls come here” your mom yells from her bedroom. Maris drops her makeup brush and heads out the bathroom. “You finished your makeup right “ you whispered to her. “Yeah I’m done now” . You guys walk into the room and stand Infront of your moms bed. “This necklace holds history , family history” she says she takes the family necklace out. the necklace was your great great grandmothers she wore it the night she met your great grandpa and said it gave miracles and love to whoever wore it . you mother begin to stand up and un-clip the necklace. She stands Infront of the two of you . She begins to walk towards maris and place the necklace on her . You look at her as she places it in disbelief. You felt your heart shatter and break into to tiny pieces. You walk out the bedroom and head to the car .”Wait y/n” you hear your mom says. You make your way outside and you unlock your car. You try hard and hard to open the door. “Great know out of all time it doesn’t wanna fucking open” you say as tears run down your face . your car was your great grandfathers old car . It was a classic and you wanted to keep it in the family. But so far you might have to give up the car. The door is hard to open or it’s easy, it’s hard to close most of the time. The car runs out of gas easily but you were determined to keep the car. you open the door and sit in the car. You start to close the door and it gets stuck midway.”why just why” you say as you close it hard. You begin to cry before you got a knock on the window. The person opens the door and you begin to see who it was . It was your dad. “Can I come talk with my daughter” he says as slight opens the door . “Yeah you can come in “ you say as you wipe your tears off your face. “What’s wrong” your dad asks you. “Mom” you say. you felt heartbroken and betrayed . You were Betrayed by your mom by maris . Did your mom not believe in you falling in love. She knew that maris was going to get a man but she always made it how she was going to get a basketball wife. She only did it for the money.Maris had a plan for it, Be hard to get, fall in love , get married , take the money and dip.You always told her that she she should have real love, but she never listened the only thing she listens to is money talk. ��What did she do this time” you dad says as he chuckles and rolls his eyes. “The necklace she gave it Maris , I know I should be happy for her and all but I feel heartbroken” . You say your dad starts to give you a hug.”it’s ok y/n your mom still loves you no matter what” he says as finished hugging you .”you need a shirt on top of that” your dad says as he leaves the car to do something. You look down trying to remember what you were wearing. You wore a black bikini top with some Chicago basket ball shorts And a hat.

The outfit

YOU turned on some music wating for your dad to come back . You put on some old school . 'Love Like like this before by faith evans " begins to play. You begin to chill and slowly dance to the song.

Your dad opens the car door and sits on the passenger side . "I want you to take this" he says as he gives you a ring. It was a gold ring . He always said you would get it when you where old enough , you were now finally old enough to have it.

"Thanks dad" you say putting the ring on your finger."No problem and remember stay calm" He says as he opens the car door to get out . "thanks dad I'll remember, and tell maris to come out she taking to long" you say your dad closes the door and walks back in the house "Will do " he yells.

Maris comes in the car and sits on the passenger side.Then she closes the door."You good " she asks you. "I'm good" you responded to her. "Also after the game I'm going to hang out with the basketball wives so we can get an invite to RiRi's party tomorrow". You nod to her in response and you drive off.

Riri's Pov

IT was the 30 seconds of the game. I begin to feel overwhelmed. They pass the ball to me and now I'm starting to go to half-court. it's now 15 seconds on the clock. I begin to dribble feeling the ball bounce back to my fingertips. I shoot the ball now only having 5 seconds on the clock. I watch the ball like a hawk. The ball goes through the hoop as the game ends. Fans begin to cheer and I become happy. I begin to look in the stands at the fans but my eyes quickly make eyes with her. She was in a black dress next to someone. I begin to look at her friend. I thought old girl in the black dress was fine but looking at the girl with the Chicago shorts is overall heaven. I begin to see her get up so I rush to the locker room hoping I can see her.

I rush to the locker room and try to put on my clothes. "Hey ri nice shot on the game". I hear my friend mi says. "Thanks, thanks" I respond taking off my jersey. "where are you going in a rush," she asks. "I saw this girl in the stands and her and her friend were just fine I think she leaving so ima see if I can find her" I respond as I put on my top and jacket. "Just find her insta" she says trying to be smart."Oh I definitely know her insta" I saw being sarcastic as I move quocl taking off my shorts." Whatever but since you said her friend is fine how about you put me on," she says. I put my pants on and put on a bandana and I head out of the locker room after I spray some cologne. "I'll see what I can do" I respond with a yell leaving the locker room.

Riri's Outfit. I drove to the gas station realizing I had a 3rd of a tank. I park my car and then I got a call from my party director. "Oh what now, " I say I answer the call annoyed. All week I have been getting problem after problem with the party. "The ice sculpture isn't going to be done in time and the only substitute we can do is a chocolate one," My director says. I look out my window to see the girl from the stands buying gas. "yeah yeah just do the chocolate".

I get out of my car and make my way to the girl." hey Ms. Chicago" I say chuckling I named her after her shorts. " Hello, Ms half court" they respond to me with a little laugh. "Well I wanted to say your outfit is fire, " I say breaking the ice. "Thanks, I like your outfit also" she responds."Originally my friend wanted me to me wear a dress, but I don't think she understands it's a basketball game," she says with a laugh."You would probably look good in one" I respond being flirty."All though I look like a stud I can fit every style" she says striking a pose."I can see that" I respond. "So how long have you been a fan " I ask her just wondering. "Im not weird I promise but I have been a fan sense you been on the Las An sparks"She says I begin to get surprised . "damn you a og huh " I ask her . "You could say that. She says with a laugh . For the next 30 minutes I was talking to Ms.Chicago . She was just like me . "I gotta get going but I was wondering if you would wanna come to my party tomorrow" I ask her hoping she would say yes. "Yeah I'm down to have a little fun for a party" she says I begin to feel excited "Yes" I whisper to my self hoping she didn't hear. "I mean uh cool that's cool" I say going back to my calm cool and collected attitude . "Is Ms.Half Court In love " She asks being cocky . "Maybe maybe not " I begin to look at her and she does a slight lip bite ."Ms.Chicago whats your insta" I ask her I take out my phone and open insta. "Lemme see" she gets holds her hand out I begin to look at her hands as her rings. She types it her insta in and gives my phone back . "Is that all you need " she says looking at me in a flirtatious tone . "Yeah I guess so " ."See you Ms.Half Court~" she says in a seductive tone doing a simple but seductive wave . "See ya ma" We go are separate ways and I get in my car.

No Pov

WHEN Y/n got back into her car she became excited never did she think she would meet her favorite basketball player and get invited to her party.

With riri she was trying to deny the fact that she was in love with a fan or in love who she calls Ms.Chicago. Riri could try to convince herself that she wasn't in love Ms.Chicgo but she knew .

Was Riri In love with Ms.Chicago NO ( Yes and it was Obvious)

ㅤ✷ ࣭ ࣪ ˖ ☞ ࣭ ࣪ ᩠ ֗ ✦ ࣭ ࣪ ˖✷ ࣭ ࣪ ˖ ࣭ ࣪ ᩠ ֗ ✦ ࣭ ࣪ ˖ ᩠ ֗ ✦ ࣭ ࣪ ˖✷ ࣭ ࣪ ˖ ࣭ ࣪ ᩠ ֗ ✦ ࣭ ࣪ ˖ ᩠ ֗ ✦ ࣭ ࣪ ˖✷ ࣭ ࣪ ˖ ࣭ ࣪ ᩠ ֗ ✦ ࣭ ࣪ ˖

I hope yall enjoyed this it has been in my drafts for a hot minute but yall know I had to DOUBLEE IT ( Two stories one day )

#ririxyn #riri x reader #riri williams #riri x shuri #shuri x riri #riri williams fanfic #riri williams fluff #riri williams x reader #riri wiliams x reader #ironheart fanfic #ironhearxyn #ironheart #ironheart x reader #black panther #black panther wakanda forever riri willams #black panther wakanda forvever spoilers #basketball !riri

[icey--stars]

Stories To Be Told: PART 21

Series Index

A shadowsinger, a warrior, an Illyrian, that's what she was. Trained by one of the most formidable female warriors. Escaped the Illyrian camps and her clipping when she was barely sixteen and is now the holder of 6 siphons. What happens when she tries to sneak into the City of Starlight? And starts down a whole new road of chaos?

a/n: warning for mentions of… a missing hand. ya’ll get it. ALSO! in accordance to yesterday's post on the update schedule for stbt... updates will now be once a week on mondays :)

↢ 『 ☾ 』 ↣

After Starfall, as promised, I prepared to fly down to the River House and talk with Rhysand.

But Azriel was walking toward me, and I was inclined to listen to him speak, instead of going to Rhys right now. “Are you going to go talk with Rhys?” He asked.

I nodded. “I have to… face it eventually, don’t I? Perhaps finally get the revenge I deserve.”

Azriel’s eyes shone with sympathy. He reached forward, grabbing my hand in his. Just a little touch, but it was reassuring. And with the close proximity, I also felt a rush of comfort run down that little thin set of strings between us. It eased my nerves ever so slightly.

“Do you want me to come with?” He offered.

I swallowed, closing my eyes briefly as I considered his offer. Then I nodded jerkily. “Please,” I whispered.

Azriel smiled a little, squeezing my palm lightly. Our shadows running over each other’s wrists, playing with each other. I never saw it before, but I heard all their voices, and maybe Azriel’s were a bit more… scrambled, as I didn’t know them– but they were there. And clearly were infatuated with the aspect of me and Azriel being near, and being able to mess with the other’s shadows.

“They’re playing,” I chuckled, momentarily distracted from the aspect of visiting Rhys.

Azriel grinned wider, his eyes locking on our twined hands. “They are,” he hummed. “It’s kind of…”

“Cute?” I guessed, watching as one set jumped into the air between us, dancing around freely. 

“Yeah,” Azriel chuckled. “Cute. Just like you.”

I blushed. “You fucker,” I swore, glancing up at his face again. “That was sly, and that’s the only reason I’m letting it slide.”

He smirked mischievously. “It’s not the first time you didn’t kill me for it, so I think it’s ‘third time’s the try?’ Yeah?”

I rolled my eyes. “You’re an idiot,” I scoffed.

“Better than other things,” he hummed. “I believe you called me an asshole first. I think I’ve stepped it up, haven’t I?”

I shook my head, but a smile was on my face.

“Ready to go?” Azriel asked gently, as if hesitant to bring up the matter again.

The dread from earlier immediately resurfaced and I tried to push it down again, but to no avail. “Yeah,” I hummed, eyes suddenly distant. “Let’s go.”

We took off, gliding down to the River House situated along the Sidra. Rhys opened the door, probably having either sensed us or seen us fly in.

“How’s the headache?” Rhys asked, going for a lighter tone after we’d entered the house.

I actually hadn’t had too bad of a headache this morning from the alcohol. Even after downing close to 10 drinks throughout the night. The hangover hadn’t been too bad.

“Could be worse,” I replied. Azriel nodded in agreement beside me. “And you?”

“Same,” Rhys hummed. “Are you alright with talking about what happened in Ironcrest?”

I swallowed, and nodded. “Yeah, yeah.”

Azriel grabbed my hand immediately, squeezing it. It was comforting to have that touch for once. To have that little grounding force keeping me from falling into my thoughts and memories.

“Let’s go sit,” Rhys recommended, motioning toward the couches just a few feet away. I nodded, sitting on a couch. Azriel sat next to me, not letting my hand go. Internally, I swore to thank him. As a friend, as a mate, as something, but he was helping considerably.

“Right,” Rhys said, sitting in an armchair nearby. “I’ve heard most of what happened from Azriel, but if possible, I’d like to hear your point of view, or at least what happened when Az disappeared.”

I took a deep breath. “When Az left…” I began. “Ambroz stood, and I followed. He… uh… slapped me, and when I tried to draw a dagger, he grabbed onto my wing.”

I felt a pulse of anger from the bond in my chest. “I wasn’t able to get to my other weapons. He took one of my daggers, and held it up to my wing. He was planning to… clip me. Finish the job, he said. Az burst in not too much later.”

Rhys nodded, eyes shining with sympathy. Azriel gently nudged my ankle with his boot, squeezing my palm. I experimentally sent some of that thankfulness I felt for the actions down the bond. A pulse of something that resembled affection came back in reply.

“Well, I suppose, mission accomplished,” Rhys hummed. “I’m sorry you had to go through that to warrant it though. It never was my intention, nor anyone’s to cause that to happen.”

I nodded, looking down at the floor. “It’s fine,” I lied. It wasn’t fine. No, not in the slightest. Not with these horrible feelings spilling from me.

“The next thing I want to ask,” Rhys continued. “Is if you still want to claim his killing blow. It’s yours if you want it. And if you’d like to gain some closure by speaking with him, then you are free to do so.”

I took a deep breath, eyes closing briefly. “I’ll do it,” I muttered. “When can I?”

“Whenever you’d like. Just… don’t go alone,” Rhys replied. “And if you’d like to do it as soon as possible, we can grab some gear and go right now.”

I looked over at Azriel, silently begging him to come with me.

He dipped his head, a small smile tugging at his mouth. “If you want to do it today angel, we can. I can go with you.”

I nodded. “Let’s kill this asshole,” I said in the most even voice I could manage right now. My heart was pounding against my chest, the sound of blood rushing through my ears only adding to that anxiety curling in my gut. “I’ll get my sword.”

Rhys glanced at Azriel incredulously, but he soon turned back to me. “We can all go,” he decided.

I nodded, standing from the couch and letting Azriel’s hand drop from my own. He stood up beside me. “We’ll be right back brother.”

And barely fifteen minutes later, I was standing right outside the cell of Lord Ambroz of Ironcrest. My father. With my High Lord, and my mate as the spymaster. “Let’s go,” I ground out, putting my hand on the handle of my sword from where it rested at my hip. 

Azriel leaned in to whisper in my ear. “One word, and you can leave and never think about him again, got it?”

I nodded, and then motioned to Rhys to open up the door that did not have a door handle. The High Lord did not have his wings out, despite flying here, but his dark magic was showing, flowing around so similarly to my shadows. Speaking of my shadows, they were curled up close to me. A few whispered to sing with them. And though I wished I could right now, there was a job I had to finish.

The door opened and the High Lord went in first, and I followed with Azriel right on my trail.

Ambroz was locked tightly in chains connecting to the wall. He looked ragged, and so much different than the last time I saw him. He was indeed missing a hand. Halfway through his left forearm, it had been cut off. Bone severed through rage. And his healing had only been able to close the skin around the stub.

But the male himself? Oh, he smirked when he saw me. He looked so incredibly proud of what he did.

Rhys spoke first, voice speaking in a deadly sort of way that curled up like his darkness. “Ambroz, I believe you have some things to speak about with Y/N.”

Ambroz chuckled lowly. “Indeed I do.”

I took a final, deep calming breath before stepping closer to the male. “Why’d you do it?” I asked. “Why did you do it?”

Ambroz rolled his eyes. “Daughter, you look well.”

“Answer the fucking question,” Azriel snapped from my side. I saw his hand go down to his thigh, where one of his prized daggers was tightened into the sheath.

The prisoner rolled his eyes dramatically. “It is custom, daughter. And I am a lord, appeasing the citizens of my camp.”

“It isn’t your camp anymore,” Rhys snarled.

“Oh really?” Ambroz chuckled. “Whose is it then, High Lord?”

“Mine. Until I can find a reasonable replacement.”

“As if you’ll find someone,” Ambroz scoffed.

I cut in. “Stop acting as if you’re better than everyone else, Ambroz. I don’t fucking care. At the moment, you are the one in chains. And you are the one who’s going to die.”

“That’s what you think, daughter,” Ambroz said smugly.

I tensed, the word ‘daughter’ finally worming its way into my skull. “I will never be your daughter,” I snarled.

“Oh, but you are,” Ambroz smirked. Probably enjoying the fact he was finally getting into my head. “And you will forever be. It makes me curious, because you never dared wonder about your eye color, did you?”

I didn’t share the eye color my mother and brother had. I’d always had something different. And now that I looked into Ambroz’s eyes… They were the same color. Exactly the same. “Shut up,” I growled, tightening my grip on my sword. “Just shut the fuck up.”

Azriel, beside me, put a hand on my shoulder. The touch grounded me enough to realize my wings had flared out in my anger, and that I was tensed as hard as a boulder.

Ambroz scoffed. “Look at you, still uncontrollable.”

Azriel snapped his head up, his glare accentuated by the shadows curling in his hair and around his ears.

I turned away, taking a few steps away from my childhood torturer. There was a soft tap on my mind’s shields. Dark claws skittering along the edges of the barrier I kept up to protect my thoughts. I opened up hesitantly.

Rhys’s voice filled my mind, the dark claws gentle as they stood at the edge of my mind, not going in too far. You’re not obligated to stay, you know that right? I said if you want the killing blow. Not that you needed to make it.

I’m fine, I replied.

Just wanted to remind you, that’s all. And then Rhys retreated.

Ambroz continued to snarl insults at me, but I heard Azriel and Rhys snarking right back at him.

Finally, I turned back. “Ambroz, you will pay for what you’ve done to me and others in the past. But not by my hand.”

I felt surprise from the bond in my chest. I leaned in to whisper into Azriel’s ear. “Give him hell.”

Azriel turned his head to look at me, and finally, resolution filtered into his gaze. “I’ll find you later,” he promised. “After I make him pay for hurting you.”

I nodded, and then cast one more glance at Rhys before I winnowed into the skies above Velaris, snapping my wings open to glide. The silence and comfort of flying didn’t last as long as I liked, and I was forced to turn back to the House of Wind, going to my room only to collapse onto my bed, groaning at the horrible feelings I had right now.

Not just from Ambroz, but for some reason, just something felt wrong. So wrong I couldn’t even muster the energy to get up. I felt like absolute shit. And I wasn’t even sick! I just felt like shit for what was probably no damn reason.

It was hours before Azriel returned. I heard him walk into his room, boots squelching against the floor. Another hour passed before he softly knocked on my door.

“Y/N?” He called. “Could I come in?”

I groaned, but called out to him, “Come in!”

The door knob twisted and Azriel padded into the room. I turned my head to look at him, lifting my wing out of the way from where it draped across the bed and down to the floor. Azriel wasn’t wearing his leathers anymore, he was just wearing a loose shirt. He chuckled, amused, when he saw me.

“You alright angel?”

I laid my wing right back down, my face going into the bed to muffle my next groan of frustration.

Azriel huffed. “It’s not about that asshole, right?”

I shook my head. I had trusted Azriel to take care of that and exact revenge from Ambroz. I trusted Azriel. “I just feel like shit, sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” he admonished. “I get feeling like shit.”

I chuckled, lifting my head to look at him. His hair was wet, and almost looked fluffy like this. He must’ve taken a bath to clean off the blood that had surely been spilled.

“Do you care if I scratch your head? You seemed to like it before,” he asked, walking around my wing to crouch at the head of the bed, looking at me.

I hummed, closing my eyes again. “Sure,” I hummed.

I could almost feel his shit-eating grin from here. One of those beautiful scarred hands trailed up the back of my neck, producing just the slightest shiver, before scratching at that short hair, his short nails feeling great against my scalp.

I hummed, content.

“Am I allowed to call you cute now?” Az chuckled, trailing his hands up along the side of my head, scratching near the ear before moving to the top.

I grumbled, not opening my eyes.

“I’m going to take that as a yes,” Azriel said.

I leaned into his touch, too utterly emotionally raw and tired to care how it might be seen. It just felt so good to have someone I trusted, and loved–when did I establish I loved Azriel?–just gently scratching at my scalp. The feeling was only proving to make me sleepy, despite it only being midday.

“Rest, angel,” Azriel hummed. “I’ll stay until you fall asleep.”

I smiled, and got more comfortable, bringing my wings up to rest on the bed instead of the floor. Azriel pulled the blankets out from under me carefully, not touching my wings or any part that he hadn’t gotten strict permission to touch. Then he ever so gently tucked the blankets around me, and continued to scratch my head from where he was kneeled on the floor. I fell asleep easily, feeling so incredibly safe, loved and at home. And with the scent I called home before, of cedar trees and night-chilled misty air… it was just perfect. Everything felt just perfect.

↢ 『 ☾ 』 ↣

TAGLIST (see post for getting added)

@mis-lil-red, @bunnymallowo, @judig92, @biblophilefox82, @azzydaddy, @thegirlintheshadows101, @whatupmydudes01, @feyres-fireheart, @elizarikaallen, @xenlynn, @panzees-bizarre-adventures, @starswholistenanddreamsanswered, @baebeepeach, @nyctophiliiiiaaa, @brekkershadowsinger, @officiallyunofficialperson, @bookslut420, @margssstuff, @bluephoenix908, @goldentournesol, @rebloggiest-reblogger, @inpraizeof, @ladylokilaufeyson5,

#azriel #azriel x reader #azrielxreader #acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar fanfic #rhysand #original character #hurt/comfort #mywriting

[perpetuelledaydreaming]

18 | chapter twenty-two

warnings: naked people.

listen to: How do I lose you - Ella Jane | Cherry - Lana del Rey  (playlist here)

Please go look at the playlist, I revamped it all so you can read the chapters with the new songs and also maybe give your guesses of what's coming next given the songs?

word count: 3.1 k

series masterlist + read the next chapter early on my ko-fi!!

It’d been nine days post-breakup (at least as Eddie and you had named it) and somehow it felt like a regular Thursday. It was strange, how everyone could move on with their lives and yet you felt like yours was cracking.

Pushing yourself up from your bed, a small sigh slipped your lips as you tried to continue with your morning routine as you’d been struggling to do since the disastrous date with Billy. The regret of what you’d caused felt heavy on your chest as it dawned on you how much of a mess you’d caused in the past few days. 

You often wondered if Billy felt it as well. 

You hadn’t talked. Though this time it was worse than before, with no conversation clipped with insults in under a minute or glares. It was just ice cold, something you believed you could never feel with Billy. His furnace of a body and his warm personality had become the highlights of your days, the way he would press you against his body and immediately comfort you was something you couldn’t believe you’d spend three weeks without. You’d miss his laugh and his smile, the comments that make you roll your eyes playfully, and his voice when he sang to you.

Maybe it’d been all a mistake, letting someone get so close to you that he bulldoze down your walls but in the way crashed against your heart too. 

The cracks of your breakup were visible to everyone but only Eddie truly knew what was going on with you. Jason had tried to ask you out for a second date before he had gracelessly tried to press a kiss to your lips. You’d thanked him for the dinner but told him it wasn’t going to happen again. He glared at you and walked away without saying a word, back at school you saw him snickering around his friends as he glanced at you with pity. 

He probably had told everyone that he’d gotten to second or third base with you. If you had the energy, you would’ve told him off but honestly, you couldn’t care less. The only thing you could think about was the way that Billy had looked at you before he’d left the restaurant and how he had refused to look at you ever since. 

Maybe you’d judged him too fast, he’d assured you that he hadn’t kissed Tina back. Maybe you should’ve listened to him and yet you couldn’t help yourself to say something to him. You buried yourself in your school work, almost avoiding English class at all costs and focusing on your applications. 

That’s how you were as you prepared yourself with your cheerleading uniform for the basketball game that you had to be at tonight. Billy was going to be there, being the star of the basketball team, and you would be looking at him nonstop. 

You sighed softly as you leaned into the mirror while applying the mascara, most of the cheerleading team was already out on the basketball court, a few girls remained but they weren’t paying much attention to you and you weren’t paying attention to them either. You were too focused on your reflection to even realize that someone was standing next to you until they had cleared their throat. 

You jumped slightly as you turned around to see Chrissy’s sheepish smile. “Chrissy, you scared me,” you said softly as you closed your eyes for a second and took a deep breath. 

“Do you want some help?” she asked you as she offered you her hand gently. You glanced down at Chrissy’s hand, she could see your face falter softly before you nodded and offer her the mascara. 

Chrissy smiled at you as she took the mascara and began to place it on your eyelashes in the most delicate manner. No one ever before, other than your sister, had helped you with make-up. When your mother passed away, you were too young to get near make-up so it was always something you’d yearned for. Chrissy applied the mascara gently as you did your best to remain still. 

“There,” she said with a smile as she finished. 

You looked at yourself in the mirror and smiled. Lately, you didn’t have the energy to even worry about make-up but now you felt better than before. You looked at Chrissy who was staring at you with a smile. She had always been so sweet with you, even taking into account that you’d agreed to a date with her ex-boyfriend. 

You shook your head, the icky feeling of what you’d done overwhelming you. 

“Chrissy, I’m sorry,” you said as she waited for you to say something about the make-up. A confused glance toys on her face as she stares at you. 

“About?” 

“For the date with Jason, I know you dated for like four months and I didn’t even ask you how you felt about me going on a date with him,” you aren’t sure how she’s going to react, it’s not your best plan apology as you looked at her while fidgeting with your hands. 

Chrissy’s face softened slightly as she realized what you were talking about. 

“It’s fine,” she replied softly, giving you a small shrug. You frowned slightly as you watched her features, she seemed so calm with your statement that it surprised you slightly. She watched you search for any sign of deception in her statement and she let out a small laugh. “I recently realized how shitty Jason treated me,”

Your face faltered. “Oh,” you muttered as you blinked at her statement. 

“Honestly, I felt kind of stupid chasing him around. He never really cared about me and I was still there,” Chrissy said as she shook her head in disbelief. “I mean, I wished someone had told me earlier how it truly felt to love someone. I realized that I probably didn’t even like him,”

You watched a smile toying on Chrissy’s lips as she told you about her break-up and only until then something clicked for you. You’d been so busy with your heartbreak that you hadn’t even really had time to notice how much Eddie had been helping you through it, with his chirpy attitude that he’d developed since Steve’s party. 

“How did you realize that?”

Chrissy seemed perplexed that you’d manage to catch onto what she was talking about. 

“I found someone that has shown me how he truly cares about me,” Chrissy said softly and you smiled. It was the first time that you’d truly smiled in weeks. “There’s that smile, I don’t think I’m the only one that’s been missing it,” Chrissy said as she took your hand softly and squeezed it. 

But then your smile faltered as the heaviness of what happened with Billy overwhelmed you once again. 

“I messed up, Chrissy,” you finally said as you tried to refrain the tears from breaking free. “I hurt him so much and I don’t think he wants me anymore,”

He. You knew you didn’t have to say his name, Chrissy already knew who you were referring to. 

“California will freeze over before Billy stops wanting you,” Chrissy smirked and you finally laughed. “Just talk to him, I’m sure he wants to talk to you but he seems like he has more trouble admitting his feelings than you,”

“I don’t think he wants to hear me,”

Chrissy shook her head. “I’ve never seen anyone look at anyone else the way Billy looks at you,” she stated. “Just tell him that you’re sorry. It’s always going to be okay if you show him how you truly feel,”

You found yourself thinking about Chrissy’s words as you watched Billy playing the game. The forty-eight minutes felt heavy on your chest as you saw how he maneuvered his way against the other players, how he smiled widely each time he scored, and how momentarily his eyes would fall on you. You wondered if he thought about you in the same way, if he regretted what had happened between the two of you, how you fell apart. You wondered if it was worth it, putting yourself in the line for him, without knowing if he would feel the same. 

You do your best to follow the routine that you’d learned over the past few months but your mind is too busy thinking about what you can tell Billy at the end of the game. 

You were never really good at telling people how you felt, at least not in the way you felt about Billy. You didn’t really know how this was going to go until Billy scored the last point of the game. 

Hawkins won. 

Everyone cheered for Billy and as you saw him smiling as a crowd formed around him, you realized that you needed to let him know how you truly felt. Your eyes never left Billy as he was placed down by the team, he managed to get away from the rest of the crowd who had gotten down from the bleachers and were celebrating in the court. You took a deep breath before you chase him towards the changing rooms. He managed to do it in silence, no one really noticing that he was actually gone but now you didn’t care if someone saw you. 

“Billy, wait,” you managed to say as loud as you can with all the noise around you. Billy turned around fast as he heard your voice. He frowned slightly as he realized that he wasn’t dreaming, it was you. You opened your mouth for a moment before closing it again. You were never good at this but you didn’t figure it would also be this hard. “Congratulations,” you finally squeaked. 

Billy’s frown immediately turned deeper. 

“Are you serious?” he asked exasperated as he stared at you from the edge of the court. You want to facepalm yourself for that one but Billy continued. “We haven’t talked in weeks and now you want to,”

“I just need to explain and I need to tell you that,” you begin but Billy cuts you off. 

“I don’t want to play anymore, y/n,” he stated as he crossed his arms over his chest. You frowned at his statement. 

“I don’t want to play either,” you scoffed incredulously. Billy rolled his eyes and shook his head. You are just as stubborn, Billy didn’t really know why he wondered you’d changed, at least he was pleasantly surprised that you were the one who made the first move. 

But he still didn’t have the patience, he was still hurt. 

“Well, then talk to me another time, I want to take a shower,” Billy grumbled as he walked away from you. 

“Billy!” you managed to call for him but he quickly entered the men’s locker room. 

Billy stopped in his tracks as soon as the door closed. He took a deep breath as he closed his eyes. Since the first time he saw how you looked at him when you confessed each other's feelings, he knew he was going to have a hard time saying no to you, but he was doing his best not to fall for you so easily. 

And then he heard, the door of the locker room opening behind him. He was momentarily startled and then a smirk toyed on Billy’s lips when he heard your voice as you mumbled something under your breath. You were following him without a care in the world, you were risking it and he knew it. But he quickly shook it off, he rolled his eyes as he turned to see you and then he walked to his locket without putting much attention to you.  

“Look where I am, I’m serious Billy,” you pleaded as you walked behind him while he stood in front of his locker, you could still see the beads of sweat running slowly down his tanned arms. 

Billy took a deep sigh as he glanced at you momentarily. “I’m listening,” he said as he began to take his shirt off and looked for his towel. 

“I know that we’ve been having ups and downs,”

Billy frowned as he glanced at you while he took his converse off. “Mostly you,” he replied while raising his eyebrows. You frowned, and yet your eyes glanced at him as he took off his socks too. 

“Sure, as you’d always been the voice of reason here,” you mumbled annoyed at his comment. 

He didn’t respond to you, instead, he glanced at you as he took off his shorts, leaving him in that tight black underwear you’d seen him before. Your breath hitched slightly as you glanced at him, your eyes trailing his body, watching the muscles on his back flexing as he reached up and placed his clothes on the locker. Then your eyes met those damn blue ocean eyes and the mischievous glint in them.

 “Can you stop undressing?” you asked him as you fidgeted with your cheerleading skirt. 

“What?” Billy asked playing dumb. “I don’t want to be sweaty,” he replied, his lips quirked up slightly when he saw the blush on your cheeks. 

“Billy,” you pleaded as you tried to look away but then Billy turned to you, giving a step closer to you. You could only smell his cologne being this close to him, mere centimeters separating your bodies. You stumbled back slightly, eyes widening as you tipped your chin up to look at him. 

“You didn’t listen to me at that party but now I’m here listening to you and I want to hear you say what you have to say,” Billy stated seriously as he glanced at you, those pretty blue ocean eyes looking at you like he used to do before everything got fucked up. 

“I’m sorry,” you finally breathed out. 

Billy smiled softly as he glanced at you and he sighed, then he hooked his fingers to the waistband of his boxers and pulled them down in front of you. You swallowed hard. He threw them on the locker without looking away from you. 

“And?”

The sane part of you would’ve screamed that you could’ve done this another time. But, your heart, your poor heart. Quickly, you stepped forward, grabbing either side of his face, and tugged Billy forward, pressing your lips to his.

***

author's note: next chapter are going to be sooo good. thank you for reading!!

***

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[letterstomonkey]

No Choice but My Mother

If I had no choice or all too many of them, I would come home to her. 

I would make for you the last of the food I scavenged and stored away for my life’s worth of winters to hibernate. 

All of my savings, I would hand it over on my own accord and lick the bottom of my feet before bed every night. 

Electric sensations of salty spit stinging, sticking, singing to me in the bathtub; Upon these feet, the mother wound stings me where I live for the satiety of healing myself from forfeiting pieces to you, it is personal to me, the way that I would carry you on my back barefoot over broken glass if you asked to be taken somewhere you had a chance at finding sleep. 

You, and me,

Hiding, and seeking, 

Swearing, and leaving, 

Frothing, and teething, 

Crumbling, and weeping, 

Crawling, towards healing, 

Healing, and teething, 

Practicing, speaking to you.

I listen to you chewing, and swallowing, every last crumb of your dinner prepared for one as I lose my head atop the staircase, coming undone, vividly picturing myself ripping the hair out of your head. 

My hunger has always been a choice to you, a voice in my ear that I could turn off should I choose, a voice that sounds a whole lot like you. I have always been so hungry but all of my hunger is directed at you. I want a full belly and I ache to be fed, only by you, and

I ache to be read, only by you,

I weep at the hands and sliced feet of the mother wound.

I am helpless yet the most helpful because of a woman. 

I am helpless at the hands of a woman;

I learned how to give myself away from the woman I watched have her wings clipped, constantly kept at bay, held back and bound to the bedpost of a bassinet,

What a wicked way to wander into a bleak betrayal. 

It is not my mother’s fault she played the game. Please understand that I hate the game, I despise, detest, I resent I request a recount of the votes because she may have lost everything but nobody can convince me to hate her player and not the game 

when the game is oh, so despicable at twisting and turning the rules every which way, 

Another day another downfall, 

Another alarm, another missed call 

A misstep means less when it’s hopscotch, 

But a hell of a lot more when you have already had one hip replacement you couldn’t afford.

It was like A miscalculation of sorts,

How you believed you could check yourself out of parenting as swiftly as the library books we checked out every week until you got sick of driving me. 

A conscientious and cumbersome white flag attached to her existence. 

I detest the salt of tears when I am reminded of how many years it has been since you handed me a bowl of fruit cut carefully 

By you, for me.

I have never tasted a sweeter sentiment.

My sweet teeth, you gave me cavities and I would have killed you to have a glimmering, white smile, but I would have killed for you to be even the smallest sliver sweeter to me. 

I have fruit shaped slices of anger sitting like a peach pit the size of a piggy bank in my stomach. I have the weight of a thousand hospital bills parked in the piggy bank of anger adding up in my belly and it will never go anywhere until I can repay this debt I sold my soul to, I sold my soul and I don’t remember when exactly I realized we share the same one. 

Pennies and nickels and loans, I promise I swear I will repay the debt I never forgot I owe. 

Living off pickles and crushed ice and sweet tea. Living off skating the outskirts of survival but tasting the confetti. 

Your Facebook birthday post for me contains the nicest words I heard from you this month. 

I wore your clothes to my office job and returned home in shambles after everybody complimented the navy blue blouse of yours, a square neckline and puffy sleeves, tagged by Old Navy,

I wore you proudly.

I must look like my mom in this. 

My mom is the most astonishing, breathtaking, threatening woman I ever did spawn from. 

She is a Capricorn and I am a Cancer. 

She is a teacher, missing her key with all the answers.

She is a listener,

The one audience member laughing ferociously for every bad joke my lips ever spoke.

She holds her head high and hands to the sun digging her feet into shore

Patrolling me diving headfirst into dark ocean floor. 

She would turn around and tell her sisters before you could finish asking her to keep it a secret. 

If I had no choice or all too many of them, I would share a room with my mother again, freshly fourteen next to you at forty-three, two twin sized beds and a loud enough wall to wake one another up banging our heads against it. 

If I had no choice or as many choices as apologies I owe you, I would lock us inside the bedroom both of us hated having to share. I would grind up and chew the key to our bedroom into the finest chalk dust and drink it with a bottle of your favorite champagne.

How old was I when I stopped wanting to share everything with you? 

Did you ever stop wanting to share your life with me?

How old will I be when you start missing my birthdays, and

Who will celebrate me the way you always try to?

I would sit there with you in the car, in the back seat looking at the back of your headrest, avoiding meeting your eyes in the rearview at all costs, rage on my tongue and blood in my tears and fighting for you to tell me 

What I should have done differently, 

Where I wound up on the path to become you, and

Who were you trying to become all these years, rather

Who were you so desperate to stray from becoming and why was it your own mother?

How much longer am I in time-out, and

What will it take for me to earn my place at the dinner table?

Have you sent the invitations yet and 

Why do you always invite the ghost of me at age six?

Can you please unzip my dress and can you close the garage door before you start the car? 

Can you sit here with me and see past my pores into my thoughts?

I would rest in so much peace in the stillness of my mother’s Hyundai backseat.

I feel rest only when she is watching over me. 

I feel scared around her sometimes. 

I am scared to hear what she will say when I am done speaking. 

I am so scared to find out how she really feels about me, 

What she says about me when I’m nowhere near, 

What does she pray for when she mentions me to God, and

Why didn’t she spend some of that time praying,

Just listening to me instead? 

Has anybody seen my mother happy? 

Is there a way to know happiness once you’ve known motherhood? 

Is there a light at the end of the tunnel or is that something they say without checking to see if they overbooked the train my mother was supposed to take out of the tunnel? 

I wish to meet her, a 15 year old girl, the living epitome of vulnerability, was she really as chubby as she tells me she was? She curses her mother for feeding her TV dinner trays that plumped her cheeks and kept her mouth too full to fuss for every evening she was left to fend for herself. 

I wish to ask her about her dreams, the ones she never thought about again after she left the NICU at twenty one years old. 

Where did she hide them and how deep did she cut her skin open to stitch the key inside herself?

If I had no choice or a million and one with my mother watching over me, I would dedicate all of this prose littered with my own heartache 

to the woman who woke up and worried about me against her own will. 

I would run from her until my lungs collapsed in on me, 

and I would sing to her until my lungs collapsed in on me, 

and I would paint pastures and red roses and wild horses and coastal sceneries until her eyesight gave up on her. 

I will make my words into watercolor

My voice into the softest paint brush and 

I will make her bed and lie with her inside it

I will make us into a canvas and let the world paint us how they please

They will never understand you like I do

And they certainly will never grasp the greenery the way we do together

The way the deer still graze our greenway through misty mornings apart

And we tie our car keys in a bow with our shoelace

Banana bread, I will bake more for you

And I will brush your hair more tenderly

Than you ever did brush mine

And I will laugh at the jokes you make at my expense.

If I had no choice or as many as I had reasons to run from you,

If I had no choice or a choice for every sacrifice slain on the front door, 

If I had nothing in my savings but my mom in my passenger seat, and I passed a poor man on the highway in the grueling August heat,

would she yell at me for volunteering all the cash I had on me? 

Would she secretly feel sorry for me, seeing how I inherited my mother’s inability to help myself before I help everybody else?

If I had every choice in the world but my mother was watching, would I always move in synchronization to the beat of my mother’s heart, for always, forever?

If I had no choice or all too many of them, I would come home, to her.

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[ritualcaster]

Im a man of my word.

DAY 1.

Although I'm writing this down, it's only a courtesy to any who may find this journal. Today Isn't something I think I'll ever forget.

We got lucky. Oh so very lucky. The trains were still running when I sent for Cattail and our colleauges in high society, most of them managed to make it out before the rings were declared a quarantine zone. That said, we didn't get everybody, and not nearly enough either. Cattail hasn't left the guest bedroom I lent him since he got here, he didn't have time to go back for Eden or his wife so I can hardly say I'd fare any better.

For some reason, Fossil stayed behind willingly, presumably to research and possibly find a cure. If anybody can do that, its her. Our communications were cut by rioters before she could fully explain.

We had no response from carrot.

DAY 20.

Theres nothing i can do from here except

Trek there by foot and lead my own rescue mission.

Push has advised against it... strongly...

I can't just leave them.

I have supplies for 2 months.

DAY 23.

Cattail was already packed when I went to tell him I was leaving. I wasn't able to convince him otherwise, but I won't deny I'm happy to have his help.

Cattail knows those outskirts better than anybody. I'm glad we're both omnivores.

Cattail and I fully planned this mission from top to bottom with 3 main goals in mind, save "Eden" and her best friend, dynamite, collect data on the situation, and find at least one sample to bring back.

I originally planned to set up more reliable contact with fossil as well, but Cattail decided traveling into high society would be too dangerous and limited me to as far as the middle ring. To be truthful, I was not expecting him to be this level headed, all things considered.

If possible, although dangerous, we will attempt to bring back other surviviors from the center ring as well.

DAY 24.

We set out for travel today, and, to go back on my word, we did not set out on foot.

Who doesn't love a good off-roading trip in a car that may-or-may-not belong to your boss?

DAY 26.

We can see the rings from here.

We will not be traveling to the center ring.

DAY 28.

We parked the jeep near the wall and decided to climb instead of using the main entrance to avoid rioters and a paniced mob, Cattail and I decided to split up for exactly 24 hours, and meet back here, I suggested it because I was worried Cattail wouldn't survive an encounter with whatever these things are.

DAY 29.

They got my fucking eye.

Excuse my profanity.

I managed 2 different samples

The first was by far less dangerous, I stalked one for about 4 hours, and managed to catch what seems to be some kind of maggot that fell off of it as it rounded a corner.

The second was stationary it was completley different than the first, with multiple roaming around it, almost gaurding it as i observed from the rooftop.

But even more worriesome were the "spikes", maybe "stingers"? Regardless, I watched a crow get a little too close, they both lunged at it midair and before long the crow was nothing but rotting flesh.

I should have backed down there, but I was determined, I took the crossbow from my bag, I only brought one bolt, not expecting this kind of foe. With two paper clips, a rubberband, and a long piece of stitching thread from the medkit I managed to create something extrordinary, a crossbow bolt with two paper clips on it. It was enough to get a small sample, so i don't think it mattered. I climbed down from the roof top, carefully avoiding the ones roaming around, and staying well out of reach of the stingers, I fired the bolt at the main structure, then yanked it back with the thread, as for how I lost my eye, every single one that was roaming around the structure made a beeline for mee as soon as the bolt hit the main structure. I "shelled up" a little too late. After attacking me for what seemed like years, the parasites eventually left me alone.

I'm never coming back here again.

DAY 30.

I didn't realize the full extent of the damage I took yesterday until i was done writing, they didn't just get my eye, they cracked the back of my shell aswell. I must have been in shock because this is incredibly painful. My shell has taken hits from bears, beastials, and once even a "false king" on my missions and never once has my shell taken any damage more than a scratch.

Cattail managed to find the two we came for, albiet not in the best state. Eden looked so different that i originally didn't recognize her, and not just in the maturity sense, she had apperently completely changed forms multiple times since I last saw her, I always assumed Cattail was exagerating, but this truly isnt normal even for her object type. I'll have to talk with her about that later.

We made it back to the jeep and from there we were home free, just a three day drive back.

DAY 32.

Those kids apperently worked up an appetite because we ended up having to forage multiple times. We packed for *two months* what happened to these two?

I tried making conversation, but all three of them seemed to be out of it, even more so than myself!

DAY 33.

It's worse than i thought

We arrived home and unpacked, but as soon as the two walked inside cattail pulled me aside and told me what had happened too them in such a short amount of time. How it spread so quickly terrified me, and i later checked the samples, which had both "died".

I feel horrible for not leaving earlier.

Its a lot harder than you'd think to write with one eye. I'll leave these three alone for awhile while i get my eye fixed, they need time.

DAY 34.

I got in contact with pin, and they respawned me in treatment as a quick fix as per push' suggestion. My eye was fixed but for some reason I still had all my scars and my shell had visible "fuse" lines.

When I asked about it they shrugged.

I need a better doctor.

Day 35.

I woke up in push' office, I talked with push in person, and she told me the goverment of reaching gardens is seizing my samples, but push should still have a say over what happens to them from her position.

I don't know what I was expecting really.

I'll stay with push for now, They need space.

DAY 36.

Who knew push could cook?

Anyway after we studied the sample all we could see was printer materials and not much else. Honestly if these things are made by terminals Fossil might actually have a chance, esspecially with carrot helping her! Luckily already cut off the terminals from the rings, we got readings they weren't functioning properly and cut the connection weeks before the outbreak. Who knows what would hablve happened if we didnt.

With just these two samples and limited knowledge om terminal coding and function, this is all the research we can do for now

DAY 37.

I asked cattail for updates today, and they had gone to court without telling me. Accirding to Cattail dynamite had snuck out shortly after i left and confessed to an officer, but all charges the were dropped as soon as they heard he was from the rings.

I can only imagine how guilty he must feel.

I began planning a second "rescue mission" with push. I may not enjoy it but I'm obligated regardless.

DAY 38.

Neither of us slept at all.

We're looking to rescue as many people as legally and physically possible but with our sparce resources the most we're looking at

Is two helicopters and a few ground vehicles.

I called shotgun

DAY 39.

With each passing minute i'm getting more and more anxious to leave. I won't let this situation progress any further.

Push managed to haggle the government into three times the resources if we bring back a live sample, but i have no idea how we'll make it into center ring let alone high society even with those resources.

DAY 40.

Everything is in place to leave

We're bringing extra food this time

Cattail decided to stay here with mushroom and dynamite after I urged him these resources were plenty and his help wasn't needed.

I may have been too harsh, I'm not good at lying.

DAY 41.

Writing [???] helicopter [???]

[??????]

they [???] really big tank

[????????????????]

DAY 44.

I apologize for my previous notes, the "tank" i mentioned is a glass tank they gave us last second for the live sample, its very small so I have no idea how we'll manage. Perhaps my eyesight hasn't fully recovered quite yet, but writing from a helicopter is surprisingly difficult.

The land party went in though the gate this time, they were armed, but for the most part it was seemingly empty.

This mission is going WAY better than last time so far, we're already just outside the center ring!

DAY 45.

Our radios picked up a short message,

But it went to static to quickly to understand or respond, they reffered to these things as "parasites" which seems much more accurate than "those things" so I'll use that from now on.

When we first got into the center ring, our windows fogged up completely, we actually had to land. typically the rings arent nearly this humid.

We decided to set up camp at the center ring, that way if things go south, we can too! So far, no survivors, we have gunned down about three of these things now, but we switched to a handheld flamethrower push brought (???) Because the noise was attracting parasites and possibly scaring off survivors.

That radio signal gave me an idea though

DAY 45.

Push's flamethrower has been incredibly effective at keeping them at bay while I broadcasted our location over the radio with a short message about the situation.

The first too arrive was a group of 5.

4 adults, one child.

When they arrived the set up their own section of camp without a word. One of them was severely injured, but we fixed him up ok. He'll live for now.

That kid and her chalk is getting pretty annoying.

DAY 46.

I suggested we move into high society but push was against it. Shes the one rrunning this mission so I couldn't really argue.

We had 2 seperate groups of survivors arrive today, but they seemed to know each other. Why is everything with these survivors so complicated?

The first too arrive were two girls that I was afraid to make eye contact with. They were a lot more talkative then the previous group, I explained that we were a rescue party from reaching gardens, they offered too help defend camp while we waited for more survivors.

The second group was much larger, and all three groups keep giving each other dirty looks. They all seem to know each other and not in a good way. Im debating leaving these guys if we get over crowded...

DAY 46

We were debating whether or not it was time to try and capture one alive when a smaller fellow wandered in, and I do mean wandered, he's the only one that not here from the radio signal.

We were warned by two of the previous groups about him, but not in any particular way, just that he was somehow more dangerous than he looked. With thise warnings in mind, I gladly put him in the tank. Temporarily of course. I picked him up with one hand to do so, I am unsure if this guy is dangerous in any way, but better safe than sorry...

DAY 47.

We were almost at max capacity and debating leaving and coming back later, when we were alerted by one of the pilots that something was coming, A massive horde of parasites was headed directly for us, but even more importantly just ahead of the massive horde was a jeep going faster than i have ever seen a jeep go.

Fossil you crazy bastard.

She made it too us well before the horde did, and we left immedeatly.

I avoided writing this one until we landed.

DAY 50.

We made it back, and with bullets to spare.

I was getting tired of gunshots.

We didnt manage to get a live sample though, so Push is about to have to pay so much money.

I kept that weirdo in the tank, maybe he's enough of a specimen.

DAY 51.

He was a specimen.

We scanned everybody for infectiom when we got back using an invention of fossils.

He was the only one who came up positive.

My luck has come though a suspicious amount of times now...

DAY 52.

That weirdo, "Wagyu" he said, is probably the strangest person I have ever met. Although, considering the circumstances, that does make sense.

From what we can tell, wagyu isnt infected quite like the others, for some reason, the thousands of parasites crawling all over him won't mutate him at all.